#(suicide idealization cw for the last parts)

[chlorinecake]

PART 3: GHOST FACE YANDERE imagine

Ｂｌｏｏｄ ＯｎＩｃｅ | 얼음에 피 - a park sunghoon ff

⚡︎ cw: mentions of suicide and anxiety, bullying, violence involving guns and knives, character deaths, swearing, heavy petting/kissing, domestic abuse themes

⚡︎ genre: horror, psychological thriller, slow burn, angst

⚡︎ summary: new relationships blossom as you try to lead a normal life proceeding your abuser’s death, but what happens once a series of chilling phone calls disrupts your peace again?

⚡︎ wc: 15k (have fun with this hour long read lol) ~ previously...

❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ now and then

Since the fateful day of his death, Sunghoon Park was infamously known for the heinous acts he so gallantly committed out of love for his late little sister.

For the most part, the identity’s involved in Sunghoon’s amateur high school killings to his eventually more-experienced university slaughters were publicly announced.

Those victims being Cha Jun-Hwan, Nakamura Kazuha, Maddison Dupont, as well as her twin brother Maxwell, and a few unnamed others.

News outlets gave you, Sunghoon’s deadly obsession in this horror story, the nickname V, as you played the role of his only victor, escaping the torture fest you endured for three months while his other victims could barely last an hour against his signature weapon:

A Buck 120 Hunting Knife.

Memories of the events that Sunghoon sent you through roamed within the darkness behind your drowsy eyes, and it didn’t help that he practically haunted every other aspect of your waking life.

You smelt him after scrubbing yourself near clean of your own skin.

You could hear his daunting voice in stolen moments of silence.

You saw his face behind every masked murderer in your nightmares.

His oh-so-handsomely crafted face.

You could only imagine how many more people would exalt his name as a Dahmer or Bundy after seeing it.

That kind of thing always bothered you...seeing people on social media praise murderous monsters as if they were worthy of admiration.

In the beginning, you always thought that “V” was short for victim, and it honestly enabled you to feel like one.

That is, up until Dr. Lee, who you always just called Heeseung, stepped in to help you recover.

Or… more accurately, forget.

"How long are you gonna let Sunghoon control your life?" He'd ask you in half-whisper, to which you'd only shrug in response.

It wasn't like you didn't want to get over everything that happened.

Hell, if it were possible, you’d want a complete brain-wipe of Sunghoon, but Heeseung tried everything that was clinically moral to help you.

Your treatment started with cognitive behavioral strategies that helped you associate your fears with the strength it took for you to both withstand and overcome them in reality.

Next, you went through imagery rehearsal therapy to get over the nightmares.

Multiple times a week, Heeseung would ask you to describe your nightmares in detail, drawing pictures or writing out the most vivid scenes as needed. Then, you would write out a changed version of the dream, mentally rehearsing the new imagery until your nightmares were replaced by it.

In all of your illustrated revisions, Sunghoon’s face was completely blurred out in black crayon, because in an ideal world, you wouldn't want to remember that face ever again.

And so, you didn't.

It was a rare medical phenomenon that your treatment resulted in you fully forgetting the face of your humanoid fear, but you still weren't quite ready to live normally.

Despite three months of therapy having passed, Heeseung still wanted to work with you in recovery for at least another half-year.

And this is the exact path that led to you and Heeseung developing into something a little more than friends. Something like occasional dinner dates with equally occasional kissing afterward.

On the lips, of course. That's where he liked kissing you the most.

Currently you were marked at three weeks on a prescribed medication for PTSD and anxiety patients, and you can't remember when you felt better.

There were a few side effects to the medicine, like declined appetite and wonky periods, but you’d rather take that over a potentially worse lifestyle without the meds.

You were finally getting your life back, and with Sunghoon officially out of the picture and new friends by your side, you had nothing to worry about.

Right?

➠ monday

2:11pm

The ways of a Café Royale worker came naturally to you, which is why your boss (aka the café owner) put you in charge of training the new employee, Lee Hyun-Seo, but you just called her Leeseo.

You had been training the young girl for over two weeks, yet she still struggled with the entry level basics, like handling restaurant grade coffee makers or properly handling a broom.

Despite how much of a slow learner she was, you and the staff decided to keep little Leeseo around.

One of the reasons being that her parents were struggling financially, and the girl just wanted to lend a hand with some of their bills.

The other reason was that Leeseo had a way of charming people, staff and costumers included—like a vessel of sunshine, she almost always had a smile on her face, and you commended her for that given everything she was going through at home.

“I can help!” Leeseo beamed, leaping to take the second tray of food and drinks you carried.

“Thanks, kiddo,” you chirped, finally using two hands to hold the tray.

“Ugh, what must I do for you to stop calling me that?” She whined, placing the steaming hot mugs on a costumer's table.

“Focus,” you said, pointing out how she nearly spilled a cup of black tea on someone’s lap.

You beelined back to the front counter, grabbing the plate of assorted sandwiches that just came out. “That’s for table 16,” Yunjin said, “and this is for the hottie at 23,” she continued, handing you a folded napkin.

“What, did he ask for math help?” You teased, observing her phone number jotted down in blue ink on the piece of paper.

“Just give it to him, alright?” She pleaded with frustration, turning back around to prepare the upcoming orders.

You hit up table 16 first before making your way toward table 23, where Nate was sitting. He was the same guy with dyed silver hair you met a few weeks ago, and since then, he had become a regular costumer at Café Royale.

The most you knew about him was that he enjoyed writing creatively, and was working on a piece to enter for a contest. He was also very passionate about his afternoon dose of caffeine, which you find rather odd at best…

You’d give it to Nate that he was a particularly attractive guy, but not worth doing anything unprofessional like… I don’t know, passing a customer your phone number at work?

“Good afternoon, Nate,” you smiled, handing him the napkin to which he immediately noticed its inky etchings.

“Damn, now I’m offended that you think I’m single,” he joked, eyes following the series of numbers on the paper.

“Trust me, I’m not your secret admirer,” you replied, pulling out your note pad to write, “What can I get for you today?”

“Oh, I had something at home. I just like writing here sometimes,” he smiled, closing his computer.

“Well, it must be something juicy if you won’t even let me see it.”

“Ugh, it’s in draft form right now! Give me a few days and I’ll be happy to show yo—“

“Focus, ____,” Leeseo interrupted as she walked by, showing off the $50 tip she just nabbed from table 16.

You sighed, both at Leeseo’s petty remark, your loss on 50 bucks, and Nate’s ability to enthrall your attention.

“Good luck editing,” you smiled, closing your notepad before getting back to work.

Nate had become a usual costumer ever since the first day you met about three months after you started working here.

You two grew particularly close, especially once he started staying back at the cafe during your night shifts to walk you to your car.

Whenever the sun set a few hours before your shift ended, he noticed how nervous you looked... staring outside the French café windows as if the starry night whispered threats.

If it weren’t for Heeseung, you wouldn’t even have a personal car to get you from point A to point B. He gave it to you as a gift once you started working.

He was able to pick you up for the first week of your job, but after that, he couldn’t make the commitment anymore given his own chaotic work schedule.

So, in typical Heeseung fashion, he bought you a whole freaking car, and he wouldn’t let you refuse his offer under any circumstances.

“Just take the damn keys, ____,” he’d chuckle, watching as you shyly did just that, walking over to the vehicle and taking your first spin.

Back to Nate though, he had a funny way of telling you “bye” on nights like those.

"Watch your back," he'd say, waving with arguably the most attractive smirk you've ever seen as you’d pull out of the driveway and head home safely.

Of course, you'd never admit that first part to Heeseung.

You read the order note that Yunjin just wrote from the last costumer: Two iced vanilla lattes with four mini dessert pops. As a waiter, you already expected that you’d do a lot more floor work than just placing food and drinks on a table here and there, so you took it upon yourself to help Yunjin out by fixing this order.

“Thank you BIG TIME,” Yunjin exclaimed, wiping off the counter near the register.

“Of course, you’ve stirred enough drinks for the both of us.”

“Pfft, I was talking about passing Nate my number, Strawberry Shortcake. Do you think he’ll actually call back?”

“Hmm, probably not… I think he said something about having a girlfriend already?”

“Liar! You berries and cream filled liar,” Yunjin teased, tossing a handful of blueberries at you.

“That doesn’t sound very PG,” you giggled back to her, eating one of the blueberries that landed on your workspace.

"Hey," Leeseo said shyly, tapping you on the shoulder, “I’m gonna step out for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Mhm, you can’t fool me, iPad kid. Now focus, remember?”

“I am focusing, ____… Its just some girls came in from my school and I really don’t want them to mess with me at my job.”

You handed Leeseo a pair of tongs to grab the cake pops you needed, “I didn’t see any girls, Leeseo.”

The metal tongs clinked against the glass cake pop case, “I told you about them last week, ____… plus, girls like them are pretty hard to miss,” she whispered, pointing her head in their direction.

Pretty hard to miss? Yes, but basic modern day teenagers nonetheless? Double yes.

You tried not to make your peeking look so obvious, so you finished up the lattes and brought them to Leeseo’s classmates to get a closer look.

From their conversation, you could tell the two girls were talking crap about someone, thanks to stream of swear words that flew from their lip-sticked mouths. You placed their order down on the table, but they ignored you, daring to raise their voices even louder so you couldn’t get a “You’re welcome” in.

Yikes, you thought to yourself, thinking about the way your high school self, Maddison, and Kaz used to bash Wonyoung while she was in the same room.

“Aiko’s the short one with the eyeliner, and Maeve's the taller one with pink hair. Don’t let their looks fool you though… Aiko’s the real monster.” You remembered Leeseo telling you when you drove her home after training one time.

That was the same day Leeseo mixed up more than four orders and accidentally sweared in front of a little kid. He asked her for a breakfast croissant to which she replied, “Sorry, but you’re shit out of luck bud, we just ran out.”

Harmless mistake, I know, but the kid’s mother wasn’t too forgiving about it.

“Those girls from my school have been blowing up my phone with hate messages since I left school today… I swear they have nothing better to do with themselves…”

“And does that explain why you said “shit” to a little kid,” you asked.

“N-no, but, they’ve got my head in a bad place… My focus is probably ruined for the rest of the day now,” she sighed, washing the chocolate from her hands before sitting on the kitchen floor.

Leeseo found herself in the same place today, sitting on the kitchen floor as you brought Aiko and Maeve their cake pops before joining Leeseo on the ground.

“I knew a girl just like you when I was in high school,” you began, voice almost falling to a whisper, “Much like those girls out there, me and my friends treated people terribly, especially this one person.”

“So then what happened?” Leeseo asked, looking at you, even though your gaze fell to your lap, stuck in a daydream.

Memories that part of you wished you could forget resurfaced in your mind. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tightening your grip around nothing before answering.

“She killed herself.”

Leeseo’s eyes widened a little at your words, her chest raising differently as her breathing style changed.

You could tell she was shocked, as would anyone who heard such a thing.

She remained quiet as if waiting for you to say something else, and so you did.

“Hey, if you’d feel better hiding in the kitchen until they leave, you can.”

She looked up and smiled. “Thanks, ____!” She beamed, reaching in her pocket for her smartphone.

“Nuh uh, you’re still on shift, buddy, now help Yunjin out with the dishes!” You chuckled, heading to the front to deliver more orders.

Yunjin was the only other person you had told about Wonyoung and everything else.

It wasn’t intentional, but after having one to many egg nog shots at a Café Royale employee's function, you confessed as she drove you home.

You had grown comfortable with Yunjin knowing that dark part of your past, and even now with Leeseo, given that you’d always viewed her like a little sister.

Beep, beep.

It was a reminder on your phone that you'd set yesterday, saying that you had to meet with Heeseung at his place around 5pm.

Maybe the girls won't notice if I slip out for the day, you mischievously thought to yourself, hanging your work apron over the wall coat hook before sneaking out of the café undetected.

7:03pm

Traffic had you running late to Heeseung's place, but he wasn't to upset about it, given that he got held back at work an extra hour to sort files in his office. Needless to say, your dinner "date" ended up starting a little later than desired.

Even so, Heeseung made an effort to keep the night special, but it seemed as though your mind was in a different place at the time.

“You’ve barely touched your pasta,” Heeseung nudged, thinking of any way to start a conversation amidst the awkward silence.

“Oh, sorry! Yunjin brought me a coffee so my appetite’s a bit mild.”

“That’s okay, I’m really just trying to get you to say something,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his lovesick eyes. He just stared down at his plate, twirling the saucy red noodles around his fork.

“Uhm… well, how was work?” You tried, cringing at yourself.

Heeeseung put his fork down, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, “____, why’re you acting like a stranger all of a sudden? You’re always comfortable talking to me. Is it because I was late today?”

Your gaze fell to his lap where he sat with parted legs. Shit, stop peeking, you internally scolded yourself.

You're not sure what made you feel this way tonight, but your mind was on everything else but the pasta in front of you.

Was it the way he decided to cuff his sleeves today? No, he always wore his shirts like that. Maybe it was the way he occasionally tugged at the tie around his neck, or the little breaths he'd let out each time you crossed and uncrossed your legs, or the smirk he'd flash whenever you failed to hold eye contact with him for longer than five seconds.

“So I see you’d rather daydream about my dick than have a simple conversation with me,” He said, voice sounding offended yet prideful at the same time.

You shook your head at his words, biting your lip to keep in the embarrassed laugh that dared to slip past your mouth, “Sure, but you don’t have to say it like that.”

“Why not? I can tell you liked it,” He pressed, talking a sip of the white grape champagne in his wine glass, coating his peachy lips.

In all honesty, you've been sexually attracted to Heeseung since you first met him during one of the darkest stages of your life, and you couldn't help but feel bad about it.

Of course you appreciated him for other reasons, but at the end of the day, he’s your crush and mental health care provider all at once. You dreaded the idea of adding “fuck buddy” to that mix, and frankly, you weren’t sure you'd be able to handle it, despite already testing that boundary a few months ago at his freaking job of all places.

“There are just times when I feel like what you said might be true,” you answered, finally feeling comfortable enough to look him in the face.

“Times where you'd rather daydream about my dick than talk to me?”

“Heeseung!!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop,” He chuckled, his contagious bright smile making you laugh a little yourself, "So what is it?... That happens in your daydreams, I mean," he went on.

"In detail or the safe for work version?" You giggled again, honestly trying not to engage in his flirting for the sake of your own existence.

"I never noticed how pretty your laugh is when you're nervous and trying to hide it," he smiled, tilting his head at you.

"Oh and where'd you find that one, in a Rizzler's 101 Guide?" You teased, nudging his knee with yours.

"No, I really mean it," he smiled again, getting up from his seat and meeting you on the couch.

Gently cupping your face in his hands, he pulled you in for a kiss, which quickly led to a full blown make out session. You don't think you've ever felt hornier while kissing someone as you let out sounds you didn't even know you could make.

Heeseung's hand got lost under your shirt while yours were gripping at his neck, pulling him impossibly close to you. Your legs were hooked around his waist as he softly grinded against you, both of you feeling light headed just from the simple touches and sensations.

You wondered what it’d be like to go all the way, so you took off your top, and he followed after you, kissing down your neck as you clenched around nothing.

The warmth of his breath against your cold skin sent shivers down your spine, your fingers combing through his hair as if trying to calm his growing desire for you.

The little nips he left on your neck reminded you of the way Sunghoon used to wake you up from naps, but you tried to stay in the moment.

Heeseung held your waist with one hand while he slipped past your panties with the other, looking at your face for some kind of cue before touching you any further.

You let out a whine, feeling his fingertip barely graze your sweet spot before he started to rub it in circles.

“I love the little sounds you make for me,” he whispered, inserting two fingers with ease given how wet you were.

The words of Sunghoon echoed in the back of your mind, which was almost worse than actually seeing his face. As much as you wanted this moment with Heeseung, your mind was letting your past get in the way of it.

You felt your heart beat increase with each thrust of Heeseung’s fingers, his pouty lips latched to your skin as if he were a leech.

It all felt so good, but every time Sunghoon crossed your mind, you felt like screaming.

You tried keeping your eyes open so your mind couldn’t deceive you with images, but a certain thought resurfaced when you felt Heeseung pulling down your pants.

I’ll show you just how deranged I am.

“Stop! Stop it! G-get away from me!” You thrashed beneath Heeseung, causing him to jerk away immediately. He stared back at your shaking body in shock, trying to figure out what just happened and why.

“_-____, are...are you okay?” He asked sincerely, looking into your now teary eyes.

Your chest kept heaving as a mix of scary emotions started to build up at your core. “I’m sorry, Heeseung,” you sniffled, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just... I can’t do this.”

“W-what do you mean? Can’t do what?” He asked again, putting his shirt back on and passing you yours.

“The touching stuff... I just-" you sighed, preparing yourself for his response, “I couldn't stop thinking about him.”

Heeseung knew exactly who you meant, despite you not being able to say his name.

“I understand what you’ve been through, ____, but I hate that it has to affect us even now. I thought you said you got over all that...”

You scoffed at his words, “Aren’t you the doctor here? That’s how trauma works, I’m afraid.”

You reached for your own top, snaking your head through the hole and fixing yourself on the couch.

He stared back at the pasta that now set awkwardly on the coffee table before you. As if your words went through one ear and out the other, he went on to ask, “Is there someone else?”

“What? No, Heeseung, I would never do that to you.”

“I get that, but would it really be all that bad? It’s not like we’re officially in a relationship.”

“Heeseung—”

“I know we’ve been through a lot together, and if you’re not ready for this kind of thing, I’ll move on, love.”

“Just because I’m not ready to be intimate with you?”

It was strange how just a few moments ago you were giggling only to now be turning cheeks at each other. The room fell silent for a few moments before Heeseung got up from his seat and handed you your purse, “You can go now.”

You blinked in disbelief, “You're kidding, right?”

“No. I want you out of here for the night. You need some space.”

“Are you sure this is about what I need?” You asked as he walked you to the door.

“Thanks for coming over. Have a good night, ____.” He whispered, not meeting your face before he closed the door behind you.

You felt confused as you stood outside his apartment, feet practically glued to his "Welcome In" doormat.

The irony, you thought to yourself.

You didn't wanna think about if there was something you could've said or done to change the way things went tonight.

Another oddity was that even though Heeseung was persistent on you continuing with therapy because he knew you weren't ready, he somehow expected you to at least trust him in that moment.

Maybe it was time for you to accept the fact that you'd never be normal... not after Sunghoon.

8:22pm

You went straight home after your argument with Heeseung, that is, if you could even call it that.

By now, you were very aware that guilt was one of your strongest emotions, so you felt the need to call Heeseung and leave things on a more positive note.

Or perhaps it was the only way you could try killing off the awkwardness burning in your veins.

Kicking your shoes off, you didn't bother to wash up before plopping your body on the couch, crossing your feet and typing in your phone password.

You went to your "Favorite" contacts list and pressed Heeseung's name, staring at the call option for a few moments before finally clicking it.

Boop... the dial tone rang.

Boop... the sound lingered a few more times before going to the voicemail option.

Ouch.

You instead opted to leave a voice message, rambling some simple (and apologetic) nonsense and pressing send.

He must've read it because three, hopeful dots appeared as you awaited his response... that never came.

Ring, ring, ring, your phone blared, an unknown caller daring to interrupt your silly love affair.

"Ugh," you sighed, hanging up before the number called again.

Ring, ring, ring.

We can all take a guess what your mind immediately thought of at the familiarly ominous ringtone.

Not wanting to feed into your own cowardice, you answered the call, hoping that it would somehow grant you a fleeting feeling of control.

"Long time no see, ____," the raspy voice slithered from the other end of the phone, laced with a craving for mischief.

You were a bit startled by the caller using your name.

"Sorry, but you're a little late with the Halloween pranks. Try again next year-"

"I was thinking, we should play a game."

Oh dear, not this shit again, you thought to yourself.

"Uh, I think you've got the movies mixed up, buddy. That line's from Saw," you replied, fighting back the giggle that danced in your throat.

The old you would've been trembling from a call such as this, but given the circumstances, you were glad for anything that would distract from your cringey thoughts of Heeseung.

"Hmm, I see you're still the scary movie type?" The voice snickered.

"Not at the moment. Right now, I'm more interested in this game of yours. Though, if it involves stripping, you can count me out early."

"Heheheh, don't worry. There's no stripping this time. I've learned from experience that you're not down for that kind of thing. On-top-of-the-clothes fun was always your favorite."

Your jaw clenched at his statement, making you curious to know who was behind the call this time, but you continued to play along.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Perfect. It's called guess who's gonna get skewered like a fucking pig?"

"Whoo, we're jumping straight into the extremes, huh?"

"Absolutely! Extreme is my favorite," the voice went on, but you were now (re)distracted by thoughts of Heeseung, dumbly staring at the three dots on your phone screen that had yet to dissolve into a message.

"Hey, you still there?"

"Oop- Sorry... you must be boring me, I guess," you teased.

"You guess what?"

"Oh, I forgot we were playing a game," you chirped, sitting up straight now as if the caller was right in front of you, "Hmm, do I get any hints?"

"No, you're smart enough to guess without any."

"Fine," you exhaled, assuming that the answer was yourself. Preparing to perform, you cleared your throat in case you had to fake-cry, "My guess is some guy who probably watched the Scream movies one too many times."

"Well well well. Has my life been threatened by the very person who failed to take it?"

"W-what did you just say?"

"Aww, you almost sound excited about that. Do you miss me, princess?"

"Uhh, I don't know what you're talking about," your voice cracked at the dreadful nickname, a fear you haven't felt in months rumbling in your chest.

"Do you miss the way I made you feel?"

"I hope this isn't your idea of a funny prank, because the humor died after you asked about scary movies."

"You have a strange obsession with death, don't you ____? Answer me this: when was the last time you visited my grave? Or my sister's grave?"

"You're sick," you spat, raising your voice a little louder than intended.

"Mhm. That just means we have a lot more in common than you thought. Anyways, should I knock or just carve my way in-"

Boop, boop.

You cut the call, immediately blocking the number and running to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

As if it were a shield, you hopped in your bed, tucking the covers over your head and squeezing your eyes shut.

Albeit, you were now well distracted from any thoughts of Heeseung, but unfortunately, something far more daunting than a pasta party gone wrong took its place.

➠ tuesday

9:15am

You had work at the café early the next morning, and didn't get much sleep after that unexpected call. To no surprise, Heeseung never texted you back, but again, that's not really something you were worried about at the time.

Nate was already at the café when you got there, earlier than his usual time, but you took it upon yourself to serve him before Yunjin could step in to play the role of her own cupid.

"Morning, Nate! Don't tell me you already had something before you came here," you teased.

"Hey, and no, not this time heheheh."

That laugh... were you being paranoid?

"I'll have a black coffee... and maybe something sweet if you wanna surprise me," he smiled before noticing that you looked a little off, "Hey, is everything alright? You don't look too good."

You shifted in your stance, trying to stay in character of the happy waitress he knew you to be, "Oh- yeah, I just didn't get much rest last night. Who knew caffeine was so anti-sleep?"

Ding.

The café door bell rang as a trio of elderly ladies walked in... the same ones Yunjin accused of Karenism after you abandoned ship yesterday.

You didn't want her to have to serve them so you turned in Nate's order so you could take their's.

Leeseo wasn't in work today because she had school, so some guy (who's name you could barely remember) took her place, and boy was he a lifesaver in the kitchen.

He had the older ladies and Nate's order made within minutes, handing you the trays in each hand as Yunjin busied herself doing who knows what.

"Here’s your black coffee and a tiramisu square,” you chirped, placing the mug and plate beside his laptop, “I know you’ve tried this one before, but I really think it suits you.”

“Aww, thanks, ____,” he pouted playfully, “How can I ever repay you for such kind deeds?”

Your gaze immediately fell to Nate’s delicate fingers that rested idly near his keyboard.

“Your story. I wanna see it,” you said plainly, tucking the serving tray under your arm and peeking over his shoulder.

“You’re joking,” he said, slightly closing his computer.

“Aww, c’mon! I’ve been dying to read it! If you make me wait any longer I might literally combust!”

“Fine, okay, I’ll show you,” he sighed, playfully rolling his eyes, “but only because I wouldn’t want anyone to clean up your gory remains.”

He moved his coffee out of the way to prevent any accidents, slowly lifting his computer back up for you to see, “Promise you won’t judge me? Like I said, it’s in draft form—”

“I promise, Nate, now stop stalling,” you giggled, squinting your eyes at the tiny words that filled the screen.

You caught sight of the words ghost face, suicide, and revenge almost immediately, your body language clearly exhibiting how you felt on the inside.

“Is it really that bad,” the platinum haired boy asked with furrowed brows, taking in your now disgusted demeanor.

“I… this is unbelievable…”

“Just give it a chance, ____! Trust me, the plot gets better in the next chapter, when the main character finally realizes that the guy behind the mask was the party host all along—”

"What are you, some kind of sick freak?” You interrupted him, careful not to show your anger as you closed his computer shut.

“I… I’m sorry, what?”

“How much do you know?" You went on, slightly raising your voice.

“____, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he almost laughed, trying to shake off how nervous you were making him feel.

“You’re the pervert who called me last night, aren’t you?”

“____, please calm down, you’re scaring me,” he pleaded, standing up from his seat and placing his hands on your shoulders.

Everything in you wanted to push him away, but once the glares from the surrounding costumers and Yunjin entered your field of vision, you simply backed away, swallowing the anger that bubbled within you.

You reached to take off your apron to which Yunjin immediately scolded you, “Nuh uh, you’re not getting away that easily… Get over here, now.”

Letting out a sigh, you looked at Nate with both confusion and shame, walking behind the café counter to where Yunjin was standing.

“What was that all about?” She asked, shaking your shoulder, “Huh? You’re making me look bad in front of my crush, y’know?”

“I got a call last night. A ghost face call,” you whispered, fighting back the tears meddling with your eyes, “It could’ve been a prank, but it seemed so real.”

She took your hand, guiding you into the kitchen where prying eyes and nosey ears couldn’t interfere.

“And you think it was Nate?”

“He’s writing an entire story about it, Jinnie! I can’t be crazy for drawing that conclusion!”

“And you’re not crazy… probably just a little hangry… and sleep deprived,” she smiled, handing you a cookie you didn’t even realize she was holding til now, “Eat it.”

“B-but the chocolate’s all melted.”

“Eat it, ____,” she giggled, shoving the cookie past your lips and into your mouth.

“Ahh, what the heck!”

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” she grinned, dusting the cookie crumbs on her apron, “now hurry up and finish that… we’ve got a lot more costumers to serve before our shifts ends."

12:16pm

Later that day, you somehow found the balls to apologize to Nate for blowing up on him. You didn’t expect him to be so forgiving, especially considering that you literally accused him of harassing you.

During the brief apology, you explained to him everything you went through in the past, apologizing again for trauma dumping on him. But, like always, he was very understanding, even laughing it off by saying he’s grown used to people having dramatic responses to his art.

“So, you’re V?” He asked, walking beside you as you made your way back to work from your lunch break.

“I’m what?”

“You know, V. Sunghoon’s survivor.”

You usually didn’t like your name being used synonymously with Sunghoon’s, but this time, you didn’t mind as much. Maybe that had something to do with Nate’s undeniable charm.

“Yeah, I-I guess I am,” you half-smiled, walking a bit slower as you weren’t quite ready to leave his side, “Why were you so fascinated by that story, anyway?”

He hummed in thought, looking at the sky before answering, “I’ve got a pretty messed up past, myself, y’know? I hate that certain things turned out the way the did, but it helped to shape me into who I am today.”

“And who’s that, if you don’t mind me asking. Who are you?”

He smiled, licking his teeth at how catty your voice sounded, “I’m an attractive guy with an ugly little kid who’s both obsessed and afraid of death hiding behind it all.”

“Explain that for me.”

“Only if you’re ready,” he said, a silence meddling between you two before you nodded, cueing for him to continue.

“When I was younger, some guys broke into my parents house while my mom and I were solving a puzzle in the kitchen. She hid me in the cabinet, but didn’t have enough time to hide herself before the burglars shot her straight in the chest. That’s just the short version, but part of me hasn’t been the same since then,” he paused, taking in a breath before continuing.

“I know she’d want me to lead a normal life after everything that happened, but I’m still attached to the darkness I saw. It’s a part of me now.”

You were trying not to show it on your face, but you weren’t expecting a guy like Nate to have gone through so much. He handled his pain a lot better than you ever could, and you both envied and admired him for it.

“Sorry, I know that was a lot to take in,” he sighed, sticking his hands in his pocket.

“Nate, I literally just told you that a serial killer held me captive for months while I carried his baby. You’re good,” you chuckled, nudging him on the shoulder.

You two bonded on other things like your experiences with therapy, sharing with him the medication you’d been taking to help with your anxiety.

“I don’t know, ____. I took that same stuff when I was a kid and it fucked me up bad… I’m sure you’ve been having adverse symptoms from it, right?” he frowned, walking up to the café entry with your hand in his.

Ding.

The bell jingled behind you, gracing both your senses with sweet aromas.

“Yeah, actually… I have.”

“So. You can choose to follow doctors orders or take my advice instead. The choice is yours,” he shrugged, letting go of your hand at the sight of Yunjin coming from around the counter.

She wasn’t oblivious to you two holding hands, but it didn’t bother her much anyways.

“Welcome back, strangers. I see you’re both on good terms now? No more witch hunts?”

“No more witch hunts,” Nate confirmed with a smirk, showcasing the faint dimple on one of his cheeks.

➠ wednesday

6:49am

Screech.

The sound of iceskates gliding across a frosty arena filled your ears.

The audience of chilly bodies was silent, eyes gawking in awe at the sight of the skilled dancer practically controlling gravity itself.

It was astounding how skilled this faceless skater was.

You were very much aware that you were currently in a dream, thanks to the mere fact that you’d never actually attend a figure skating show in real life.

Not that you had something against the sport…you just simply couldn’t handle the thoughts that came with it anymore.

Knock, knock, knock.

And in typical dream fashion, you teleported to an entirely different space within seconds, in this case, your apartment kitchen.

Pacing to the front door, you slung it open to reveal a quaint cardboard package lying on the ground.

You picked up the box, walking over to the kitchen counter before placing it down and grabbing a knife to cut through the packaging tape.

Flipping over the cardboard flabs, you were met with the sight of a tiny red sequined dress and a devil horned headband tucked neatly beside it.

Kazuha, you instantly thought to yourself.

“Remember this?” A gentle voice chirped, pulling you from your thoughts.

You whipped your head to see none other than a figment of the late Wonyoung. Even after all your treatment, you could never forget how beautiful she was… even your dream managed to capture the ethereal essence of her beauty.

She held a blue pregnancy test kit in her hand, dressed in the same school uniform she’d always wear, her pink lace socks resting at her dainty ankles.

“Wonyoung?” You asked in shock.

“The one and only. My brother did a good job of making sure you never forgot about me,” she said with a pout, making your own mood fall.

“I could never forget you, Wonnie. No matter how desperately I might’ve tried to.”

She smiled at your words, taking a few steps closer to you, “I haven’t been called that in a while… anyways, the pack said it only came with one test, but it gave me two instead. Trust me when I say you might need this later.”

You nodded in response, putting the test in your kitchen cabinet and closing the box with Kazuha’s costume in it.

“Hey, not so fast!! I wanted to try that on, y’know?

“Kaz!” You nearly yelped, running into her arms and giving her a hug.

“Okay okay, I missed you too, ____, but chill out with the PDA. I have a strict no-homo rule,” she chuckled, kissing you on the cheek anyways.

“Sooo you and Wonyoung get along now?”

“Surprisingly, yes. When you’re dead, I guess grudges just matter less to you. It’s easier to forgive than to hang on to that kind of pain,” she sighed, propping herself on the counter.

“Speaking of the dead,” you began curiously, “how is he? Sunghoon, I mean….”

The light presence in the room suddenly faltered at your mentioning of his name, Kazuha and Wonyoung exchanging troubled looks to each other before meeting your frame with forlorn eyes.

“W-what is it? Did something happen?” You pressed, sensing the dark cloud that slowly engulfed the three of you in the now dull kitchen space.

Wonyoung fidgeted with the beaded bracelet on her wrist before answering you with a shaky breath.

“Sunghoon isn’t here with us.”

Beep, beep, beep.

Awaking from your dream as if struck by lightening, you reached out a hand at the sound of your vibrating phone rumbling against your nightstand, revealing Heeseung’s contact flashing on your screen.

It was now 7 o’clock on the dot.

“Heeseung?” You asked in a groggy voice, rubbing your eyes from how brightly the sun shone from your bedroom window.

“Hi, I’m standing outside your door right now. Are you home? I knocked over ten minutes ago—”

Boop, boop.

You abruptly cut the call, putting on a pair of shorts (since you slept only in your panties), as you ran to answer the door.

Heeseung was standing there in a very nice outfit, but your current emotions weren’t interested in the slightest.

You practically leaped on him, shaking his shoulders with crazy eyes as you spit out words you yourself could hardly keep up with.

“Sunghoon!! H-he’s- He’s still alive, Heeseung! He never died! That… ugh, that means he's still out there! He's wants me dead, Heeseung! That explains everything!!"

“____, slow down. I can hardly understand a word you’re saying,” he chuckled, cupping your face in his hands, “breathe for me, okay?”

“I- I am breathing, Heeseung,” you sighed, anxiety pumping stronger in your veins than oxygen.

“I know,” he smiled, kissing you on the nose, “can I come in so you can tell me everything?”

You let him inside, taking a seat on your living room couch as he helped himself to fixing both of you a cup of coffee as if you were his guest.

“It was a dream, but… it all felt so real.”

“And I get that, but you know you’re not supposed to entertain those sorts of thoughts,” he half frowned, placing the warm mugs on the coffee table before you, “Now be honest with me, did you want to stay in the dream? Did part of you maybe want to think about Sunghoon?”

“Heeseung-“

“You know I have to ask these questions, ____. What kind of answers were you looking for?”

He peered into your eyes as if searching you for the words you were too afraid to say.

That’s when your phone blared with a text from Yunjin.

“Oh, crap!” you pouted, swiping the message on your phone, “I’ve gotta get ready for work in a few minutes…”

Heeseung tried to maintain his cool demeanor, “Well, can we at least finish our coffee first before you abandon me?”

“Of course, Hee,” you smiled, taking a sip of the milky beverage, “what were you doing here so early, anyway?”

He almost appeared to be caught off guard by your question, but you brushed off the suspicion, blaming it on the dream you’d just had.

“Oh- don’t worry about that now. Let’s just enjoy this moment before you go off to serve the fellow coffee-holics in our city.”

Yes, you and Heeseung often behaved as if you were in a seriously committed relationship, but at the end of the day, there was no label between you two.

A few more minutes passed, and your mugs were empty.

“Thanks for stopping by, Heeseung, but I’ve gotta get ready,” you smiled, walking him to your front door.

“You’re welcome, ____. And by the way, I saw your message. I really appreciate you being mature about everything, and I hope that you forgive me for the way I acted,” he said as you slowly closed the door in front of him, beelining to your bathroom to brush away your coffee breath.

2:47pm

Café Royale was closing early for the day as inspections were scheduled during your afternoon shift, so your entire team had the rest of the day off.

You decided to stay back to do some last-minute tidying before you’d leave.

All there was left to do was throw out the table flower water and leave a note for the inspectors.

That’s when you heard a thud against the back wall of the kitchen, high-pitched pleas falling from a familiar voice.

Leeseo.

You dropped the the flower vase, not caring that it shattered on the ground as you made a run toward the door, following the ruckus outside.

On the side of the bakery, you found the two girls from the restaurant pinning Leeseo against the wall while a girl you didn’t quite recognize recorded the ordeal.

Leeseo’s eyes were squeezed shut as the girl brought the camera closer to her face, “Don’t act all shy now, slut. We know how much you like being on camera,” Maeve cackled.

The part of you that would usually freeze in moments like this had died with Wonyoung.

You marched towards the girl recording, snatching the phone from her hand before launching it into the nearby parking lot.

“What the fuck,” she exclaimed before cowardly backing away. You yanked Aiko away from Leeseo, grabbing her face in your hand.

The two other girls were already making a run for it as your grip on Aiko's face tightened, causing her to wince at the feeling.

“Aren’t you like a grown woman or something? Get your hands off me!!” She squealed, possibly forgetting how to use her arms as she fought dumbly trying to escape your hold.

“I hope you didn’t think that shit was funny,” you said, observing her dull blue eyes.

There was nothing behind them, complete emptiness.

Much like Maddison, you thought to yourself.

“You leave Leeseo alone from now on, alright? She’s a hard working girl and doesn’t need punks like you making her life more difficult.”

Aiko's gaze darted between you and Leeseo who stood awkwardly in front of the wall, “An innocent, hard-working girl, huh? Wow... you really are two-faced.”

“I don’t think you answered her question,” Leeseo pitched.

Aiko only laughed in response, blinking a few times before answering, “Like I said, get your fucking hands off me, or there’s gonna be a serious problem,” she taunted, titled her head before you let go, watching as she walked away.

“See you at school, Flash,” she smiled, disappearing behind a corner.

“What’d she just call you?”

“Nothing!” Leeseo responded, a bit louder than planned.

“Don’t lie to me, kiddo. What does that name mean?”

“It means I’m a slut, okay? Just like they said,” she sighed, picking up her apron that the girls had thrown on the ground earlier, “a stupid slut that sends stupid photos to stupid boys who tell stupid girls.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say to her in the moment, as you’re sure she had heard enough of your advice.

All you did was pull her in for a hug, running a hand through her hair as she fought with the lump growing in her throat.

“You are not a stupid slut, Leeseo. You’re a teenage girl just trying to survive in this world,” you encouraged, breaking from the embrace.

That’s when you noticed Nate from afar, walking closer as you and Leeseo tried to recollect yourself.

“What was that all about?” He asked, giving Leeseo a side hug as she hid her face from him shyly.

“Depends, how much did you see?”

“Well, I saw you get all handsy with that high schooler who was harassing our girl over here,” he huffed, “you okay, Sissy?”

“Yeah, Nate, I’m fine,” she nearly whispered, crossing her arms.

“Look, Nate, I’m not usually that aggressive. I just couldn’t hold back when I saw-"

“____, stop your rambling,” he smiled, bringing a finger to your lip for a moment, “You were fucking amazing. Most girls wouldn’t have reacted the way you did, and I’m sure Leeseo is grateful that you stood up for her.”

You felt you stomach flutter at his words, or maybe it was whatever compelled him to touch your lips.

“Yeah, Nate’s right. You’re like… kind of a badass now.”

“Oh, only kind of,” you chuckled, nudging her waist.

“Yeah, because you let her go.”

Nate nodded in agreement with Leeseo, shrugging his shoulders in a teasing way, “She does have a point there, ____.”

“Well, it’s important to end your battles just as wisely as you pick them,” you said, the three of you walking towards the parking lot.

“Well said, Yoda,” Nate teased, making eye contact with you before speaking, “so, you doing anything after this?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta clean up some glass I dropped in the shop, but I’ll text you later if I can meet up.”

“Okay,” he smiled, giving you and Leeseo both one last hug before heading back to wherever he came from, “Stay out of trouble, you guys!”

“We’ll try,” Leeseo called out, walking towards the cafe.

“Hey, you’re off for the day. Enjoy your time-off.”

“I will… after I return the favor,” she winked, heading towards the utility unit and grabbing a broom.

10:15pm

Despite having gotten off from work early, you still felt a little worn out from a certain series of events that occurred earlier. So, you decided to calm yourself down with a nice evening bath before bed.

After blow drying your hair, you proceeded with some simple skincare steps before finally ended with moisturizer.

That’s when you got a call from Yunjin. She was never one to call you this late, so you answered the call, hoping that everything was okay on her end.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked, holding the phone to your ear as you closed your container of face cream.

“Oh my God, someone’s trying to kill me!”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m dead serious. Poor choice of words, but I’ve been running for five minutes and I’m about to give up,” she said, voice starting to crack, “…I thought it was funny at first, but now I’m really scared.”

“Oh my God, do you still see them?” You asked again, clutching to your phone.

“No, but I can hear their feet… I’m so fucking scared, ____.”

“I know, Jinnie. Where are you?”

“In the neighborhood-“

“Okay, I’m calling the police-“

“No, ____, don’t hang up!”

“Yunjin, I HAVE to.”

“Please don’t! I already tried but they sent me to the holding line… I just need to hear your voice right now, okay?”

“This is ridiculous! Your life is on the line here, I have to do something!” You cried, heart racing with your feet as you rushed to put on your coat, grabbing your car keys, “I’m gonna call them right now.”

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck,” she stammered, starting to sob, “you really shouldn’t hang up right now, ____.”

“Everything is going to be okay, Yunjin, just keep talking to me, I’m on my way to you!” You panted, running to your car without even making sure your apartment door was locked. “Do you still hear them?”

“Yes, and they’re getting faster! I don’t know what to do,” she said, choking on her own breath.

“Yunjin, sweetie, I need you to calm down. Your nerves are only going to make things worse.”

“What the fuck, ____, I’m gonna die!!”

“Fuck, Yunjin, don’t say that! Look around, is there anywhere you can hide? Any possible weapons?”

“No, I can’t see shit out here!!”

“Wait- I think I see you,” you said, zipping down the street.

“Is that your car? AHHH!”

“Yunjin!?!! What happened?!?!”

“I tripped- ugh, fuck…,” she sobbed, getting up with adrenaline until she caught a glimpse of the cherry colored blood dripping down her leg, making her feel lightheaded.

“Yunjin, are you okay?”

“Eugh- yeah,“ she groaned, “I just can’t feel my fucking legs… hurry!!”

“Shit, I lost you…,” you cursed under your breath until it hit you, “WAVE YOUR PHONE AROUND ON FLASH!”

“I- o-okay, okay!” She stuttered, fumbling with the phone in her hand as she put on the flash and did as you said.

You saw the faint white light radiating from her smartphone about three houses ahead of you.

Slamming your foot on the gas, you nearly flew down the street, a screeching sound echoing from your tires.

Your brakes came to a clean stop as you drifted around the corner, rolling down your car windows.

“Hurry, get in, get in!”

Yunjin only nodded as she ran toward the car, shoulder jerking as the car door resisted in opening.

“What the fuck, ____, unlock the damn door!!”

“Fuck, I did!!” You cried, frantically pressing the unlock button.

Quick thinking kicked in as Yunjin opted for the window, crawling in desperately as the hooded and masked figure sprinted towards your vehicle from behind her.

You reached out your hand to pull Yunjin’s body into the car the rest of the way before zooming off, the crazy killer having gotten just close enough to graze her calf with his blade.

“Hughh,” She exhaled, struggling to get a hold of her breath, “how does he know you?”

Darting through the neighborhood, you tried your best to escape the psycho, even though he didn’t have a chance to catch up with you on foot.

“W- what? What do you mean?”

“The guy in the mask, he said that he was gonna kill me because of YOU, ____! Holy shit, and he was tall as fuck with that freaky ass voice you were telling me about… And there was another girl out tonight! Oh my God, I bet he went after her too!”

“Another girl??” your voice raised slightly, "w-what'd she look like?"

"She's... I've seen her before... that kid... the one from Leeseo's school who comes around the café sometimes."

"Maeve?"

"No, not her... the prettier one."

You didn't wanna think about how Aiko was likely running for her life outside right now, but it was too late to turn around, so you distracted yourself by something else, “…how’s your leg doing?”

“Fine,” she whined, wiping the tears of black mascara that painted her cheeks.

“I don’t feel safe anymore,” she continued, shaking her head as her lower lip quivered, “none of us should…”

“I know, Yunjin.”

“You keep saying that, but I get the feeling there are a lot of things you’re late on clearing up about this, ____. Help me know, too.”

Your chest raised as you took a deep breath, letting out a sigh before answering, “that guy tonight…. I can’t say that I’m sure, but I think it’s Heeseung.”

“Your boyfriend,” she asked confused.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Jinnie.”

“Yeah, and I also doubt he’s a fucking psychopath. Isn’t he a doctor? He helps people for a living, you know?”

“Fuck, Yunjin, he’s the only other person who knows the full story. It just makes sense.”

Silence filled the car for a moment.

“Okay, now THIS is ridiculous. For the love of God, could you think of any other person that would possibly wanna torture us like this,” Yunjin nagged, looking at you as your eyes were still trained on the road.

“It… it could be… I’m just guessing, but… Sunghoon?”

“Huh,” Yunjin scoffed in disbelief, “So your dead boyfriend?”

“Whatever you wanna call it,” you replied sharply, feeling frustrated from life itself.

“Great, so what do we do about him now? How do we beat the final boss?”

Your grip around the steering wheel tightened as both fear and shame rose in your gut. You dreaded the moment you shared your past with Yunjin, and you dreaded the guilt that came with her almost losing her life because of it.

You took a deep breath and focused your eyes on the road, trying to fight back the tears that dared to spill from your terrorized eyes.

“We tell Nate,” you said, making a U-turn as you trailed down the road.

"Right, the computer obsessed nerd who drinks way too much coffee...” she cheered facetiously before continuing, “oh, and do you have an aspirin with you by any chance?"

"No. Here, drink this for now," you said, handing her the water bottle from your car door that you don't even remember purchasing.

She shook her head, taking a long sip from the bottle before resting it between her legs, "All I know is that this costume party better be fucking worth it."

➠ thursday

2:26am

3:43pm

You took Nate up on his previous offer to hang out and decided to invite him to have drinks with you and Yunjin at the local outdoor tea shop. That's where you two decided to tell him everything that happened the other night.

“I just... I don’t know what to do anymore, Nate," you frowned, stirring the tapioca pearls at the bottom of your cup.

“Every problem has a solution, ____. Your goal is to have your normal life back, right?”

“Yes, you know that, Nate. All I've wanted for the past few months is a slice of normalcy.”

He looked at Yunjin, whose facial expression mirrored the frown you wore, trying to come up with something, if anything at all, to grant you this craved slice of the ordinary.

“Fine. I have an idea in mind, but you might think it's a little crazy.”

"Crazier than looking over your shoulder every five seconds in fear of some punk with a knife kink," Yunjin asked in a goofy tone.

"Not quite," he began, taking a sip of his tea before continuing, "I've been meaning to throw this Halloween party at my house for a while. I'll text you all the updates if you're interested, but people will be wearing costumes."

"You're solution is a fashionably belated adult dress-up party?" Yunjin asked, yet stated in disapproval.

"Exactly. It'll be fun and best of all, normal. Obviously there's no pressure for you two to come, it was just an... a dumb idea, I guess-"

"No!" You excitedly interjected in Nate's defense, "That's actually a really great idea, Nate! We're young adults for crying out loud. Silly parties are literally a defining point of our culture."

You're not sure what got into you, but Kazuha would be proud of your willingness to mingle if she was here. Despite your past experiences with costume parties and undeniable intorvertism, you weren't gonna let some masked goon get in the way of your chance at feeling normal again, even if it was only for a few hours.

Yunjin cocked an eyebrow at you in confusion and concern, "I don't know, ____. Being in an environment like that can disturb your recovery. Plus, I'm not sure if that's the safest idea either, considering how that midnight prankster literally cut me."

"We'll be together the entire time," Nate bud in, "I'm a pretty strong guy, y'know? And from what I've seen, ____ here can be pretty badass when it comes to defense."

You tried not to laugh at the memory of Aiko and Leeseo's parking lot showdown yesterday. It flattered you that Nate viewed your protectiveness as a sign of courage, even though you might've gotten a little carried away.

"Uhmmmm, she's blushing... Why is she blushing?! ____, did something happen that I don't know about? Nate, for the love of God, would you please stop smirking!!" Yunjin huffed, dying to know about this obvious inside joke Nate just told.

"I'm not smirking," he lied, chuckling at Yunjin's words as he struggled to look her in the face out of embarrassment.

"We're not hiding anyyyything. Right Nate?" You giggled, flashing him a corny wink.

Yunjin rolled her eyes at you two, taking an annoyed sip from her boba as you guys fought the growing urge to buss out laughing.

That's when you all spotted Leeseo walking home from school with her hair covering her face. You made an effort to call her over, but she obviously ignored you until Nate said something.

"Sissy," He almost whispered with a now forced smile, sensing that something was off by her foggy aura.

She stopped right in her tracks, bashfully lifting her head to reveal her tear-stained cheeks.

The three of you got up from your table, rushing over to comfort her.

"Hey, why the long face, kiddo?" Yunjin asked, taking Leeseo's backpack so the poor girl could finally relax her anxious shoulders.

"S-something happened to Aiko last night," she let out through broken sniffles, "Maeve was telling the whole school about it today."

Oh my God, you thought to yourself.

A worried expression wavered over Nate's features, "W-well... what'd she say?"

"She was talking on the phone with Aiko last night to make sure she got home safely. That's when Aiko said this weird guy kept texting her... Maeve listened to the whole thing..."

"Leeseo, I'm kind of missing the point here," Yunjin pressed, not being able to read through her words clearly.

"Aiko told Maeve that some guy in a costume started chasing her... Another girl was running away with her, but Aiko couldn't tell who she was..."

"Leeseo..."

"Maeve said she heard Aiko stop running, followed by painful screaming and coughing... we don't know for sure but... people are saying that its a ghost face copycat-"

Nate stopped her mid-sentence, wrapping his arms around her as she weeped into his chest.

"I know it's silly that I'm crying because she was such a bitch to me," her voice cracked, tears leaving darkened grey spots on Nate's turtleneck.

"You're not silly for having a heart, Leeseo," you said softly, holding your own hands from how cold your surroundings suddenly became.

"They found her body, ____," she sobbed, hardly being able to contain her breathing, "that freak killed her."

Nothing else was said as there was nothing left to say. You all stood around Nate and Lesseo in a circle, meddling on the increasingly horrifying status of your realities.

Turns out that the new masked goon on the street wasn't some lame copy cat, but unfortunately, someone much more sinister.

➠ friday

11:54am

During your lunch break, you decided to tell Heeseung about Nate's costume party tonight. Not because you wanted him to join you or anything... mostly because you thought it'd be the right thing to let him know. Though, if you knew he would've reacted in the way he did, you simply would've avoided telling him altogether.

"Why would you go to a party like that, ____?" He scolded, shaking his head at you, "People in masks, carrying fake knives and what not. You're not ready, ____! A kid was literally just stabbed to death in our neighborhood!"

"I am ready, Heeseung! Hell, I don't even remember what Sunghoon looks like at this poin. He's officially a part of my past now, and I thank you for everything you've done to help me heal since that, but please, don't ruin this for me."

"Ruin your mood before a bogus late Halloween party?" He scoffed, leaning against the wall in the cafeteria.

You decided to break the news to him after surprising him at work with some lunch you made for him that morning. You understood exactly where he was coming from: Heeseung only wanted the best for you ever since day one, but you still wish he wouldn't have been so harsh about something as simple as a costume party.

"Please don't get mad at me for asking, but have you stopped taking your meds?"

Your heart dropped at his words. Was there an obvious difference in your behavior that would make him know that?

Now it was your turn to feel guilty, "I'm sorry for not telling you, Heeseung. I haven't taken any over the last few days, but I promise you, I've never been happier!"

"____, you think I don't know about that little stunt at your job? Your emotions are out of control!"

"I only stopped taking the meds because Nate suggested I give them a break. If me not feeding into fear is what losing control of me emotions looks like, then so be it," you fought back.

"God, listen to yourself, ____. Valuing the advice of this Nate guy over me, a professional healthcare provider? Where's your trust in me?" He frowned, voice falling to a whisper.

Beep, beep, beep, the cafeteria microwave chimed through the tension of the room. Heeseung had put the lunch you made him in there a few minutes ago, and you're sure it was pretty over-warmed by now.

"I'm trusting in myself from now on," you replied, adjusting your purse over your shoulder and turning to walk away from him, "Enjoy your food, Heeseung."

9:03pm

Once again, it was a Friday night and the mood was right, as you liked to say.

The decorations, the vibes and snack table—it was all reminiscent of Sunghoon's party last summer, but minus the fear that came with it.

Better.

You couldn't help but think about Kazuha in the atmosphere.

Parties were always her scene, and now that you think about it, Yunjin had a spirit very similar to Kaz, and Nate… well, he was a lot like the person Sunghoon had fooled you into thinking he was.

Kind, gentle, healing.

You and Yunjin were dressed to impress in your flirty cat costumes, Nate opting for a more relaxed apparel in a graphic sweatshirt, silver chains, and ripped jeans.

"It's my emo persona," he clarified for the both of you who were still confused as to why he didn't dress up at his own party.

"Cool, so does this emo version of you go by a different name orrr-"

"You died your hair black," you interrupted, staring in shock.

Nate's smile froze before twisting into something more mischievous, "Yeah, I did. Too bad our friend Yunjin here didn't notice... have you been drinking?" He teased, poking her on the forehead.

"Hands off, Lil Huddy, and no, I'm still waiting for the host to show me where the bar is."

"As you wish," he smiled, taking you and Yunjin's hand in his, slipping past the crowd and beelining toward his indoor bar.

One Of The Girls pulsed from the radio speakers, thrumming through the party air as surrounding bodies either swayed or made conversation to the rhythms. The mysterious aura of the song lingered in your limbs as you struggled to wrap your head around what bothered you about Nate's costume tonight.

You didn't wanna say it was the hair, because this new, dark look made him undeniably more attractive. Still, there was something different about his eyes. Something that made you feel uneasy.

So you brushed it off.

"What's your poison," Nate asked with a cheesy grin, placing three chilled shot glasses and a drink mixer on the counter.

“Hmm,” You began, tapping at your chin, “how about something creamy with a dairy base? In honor of our feline outfits.”

“Got it,” he huffed, rolling up his sleeves and examining the array of shelved alcohols behind him. He went for a bottle of banana liquor and crème de cacao. Pouring the amber liquids into the mixers along with some whole milk and ice, he gave it a theatrical shake before pouring it into your shot glasses. “Voila, my ladies! Tell me what you think,” Nate hummed, looking into your eyes as he licked the bead of milk from the rim of the cup.

Yunjin took a sip first and then you, surprisingly pleasant flavors of warm chocolate greeting your taste buds. “Woah, this is actually really good! The banana doesn’t taste synthetic, either!” Yunjin chirped, going back for another sip.

“That’s because I only buy the finest quality products for my guests,” Nate said, eyes turning back to you as he leaned over the counter, wiping the sweet foam from your lips with his thumb.

“Jeez, I’m still right here, y’know?” Yunjin cringed, making you and Nate both feel a little shy.

“What’s this drink called anyway? I wanna make it at home sometime,” Yunjin continued.

“It’s called a Banshee. You can look up the recipe online.”

“Oooh, sounds dangerous.”

“It’s not. Most Banshee’s only warn of pending deaths, while others relish in the pain of people who’ve harmed them in some way.”

“Interesting, but what does that have to do with bananas and chocolate,” you asked.

“The short answer is nothing at all,” Nate said, walking around the counter to sit in between you and Yunjin, “it’s just a silly name, I guess.”

After you three finished up your drinks, you headed back to the dance floor where you made absolute fools of yourselves. Yunjin, who got the dropsies early on, called in an Uber to drive her back home.

“Yunjin, I’m not letting you go home alone while drunk,” you retorted, walking her to the car, “Besides, I’m sure your driver won’t mind looking at two pussies for the night.”

“Yeah,” she giggled, leaning her head into your shoulder, “but maybe some other time when I'm a little more in touch,” she smiled, drawing your attention to the tinted windows of the vehicle. You could barely make out what the driver looked like.

“Anyways, you and Nate deserve this night together. I’ll be fine, I promised,” she said with slurred words as you watched her enter the vehicle.

“Okay, Jinnie. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you waved as the car pulled off.

“Tomorrow!” She cheered back before rolling up the window.

10:16pm

The party continued as normal, you and Nate sticking by each others side for the entire time. As expected, a few ghostface cosplayers welcomed themselves to the party space, but you weren’t gonna let them worry you.

Buzz. Buzz.

Your phone vibrated in your purple handbag. Pulling out your phone, the bright screen revealed an incoming call from an unknown number.

What a wonderful surprise, you thought to yourself.

You went to press the hangup button, but Nate stopped your hand, meeting your eyes with his encouraging ones.

“Go on… answer it,” he almost whispered, securing your waist with his protective hand.

You’re not sure what compelled you to listen to him, but you felt strong enough to answer the call just as casually as it came.

“Who is this,” you asked dumbly, your gut having told you exactly who it was before answering.

“Does my voice ring any bells?”

Gut wrong. It was Heeseung. You had forgotten all about how you blocked him a few hours after your argument to make sure he didn't get in the way of your party plans. That explains why he called from a burner number.

“What do you want, Hee,” you said with a sigh, now walking away from Nate’s hold.

“Oh, so first, you risk your health by going against my advice, and now I’m not allowed to check on you, either?”

“I’m fine, Hee,” you answered, only for another ring tone to fill your ear.

You glanced at the phone screen: another unknown number was intersecting the call.

“Gimme a second,” you paused, accepting the incoming call and putting Heeseung’s line on hold.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

Nevermind. Gut actually right, just slightly delayed. It was the ghostface creep calling to ruin your fun.

“Enjoying what, exactly?" You pressed, already feeling yourself get a little nervous.

"Enjoying this taste of normalcy, of course. You're not trying to forget about me, are you princess?" The gravelly voice slithered, sending chills down your spine.

It was obvious that this psycho wanted you to think they were some kind of Sunghoon Park reincarnate, coming back to haunt you all over again. The part that you didn't understand, however, was how they knew so much and why they were willing to kill for the sake of a prank.

"Look, I don't have time for your games right now, stay out of my life," You bit back, trying to hide just how scared you truly were.

"Oh, ____, we both know that I can't do that. But I'll promise you this much: No more games tonight. Deal?"

You took a moment to breath before answering, "D-deal."

"Perfect. Now if you're a smart girl who learns from her mistakes, you won't hang up until I say so," the voice hissed.

The sound of what you assumed was a vinyl record scratching against a pin met your anxious ear, an upbeat piano tune rumbling from the track.

"Unusual. They say strange fascination, in...fatuation! A lunatic."

"What is this," you couldn't help but ask, even though you knew there wouldn't be an answer.

"Cause my insides are red, and yours are too! And the red on my face is matching you," the chilling recording sang, "And goodness you're bleeding. What a wonderful feeling. You're down and you're pleading. My head is just reeling-"

You subconsciously walked back closer to Nate as the chorus erupted, bumping into him as you were lost in whatever trance this freak was successfully putting on you.

The urge to hang up grew stronger with each second, but you knew better than to test your luck so soon.

"ꪻꫝꫀ ᥅ꫀᦔ ꪑꫀꪖꪀᦓ ꠸ ꪶꪮꪜꫀ ꪗꪮꪊ " The final lyric whined before the phone call ended abruptly.

Heeseung's line appeared to have cut a few minutes ago, too.

No... he hung up on you.

You called Heeseung back who immediately answered, “Where are you?” You started, not even trying to hide your sense of urgency.

"Why, your new boyfriend abandoned you already?"

"Cut the crap, Heeseung, where are you??” Your voice cracked this time.

"God, I’m at home, ____, why--"

Nate snatched your phone, cutting the call as he turned you to face him, "What the hell was that all about?"

“That ghost face creep wanted me to stay on the phone while he serenading me...”

"You're kidding."

"I wish. Too bad I got scared into listening."

"It's okay. I'm sure you did the right thing. Now where are we headed."

"Wherever Heeseung is. I'm skeptical that he may be behind all of this, but if he's not, that phone call I got was just a distraction. He could be in trouble." You said, taking Nate's hand in yours as you led him outside of the party and to his car.

"Okay. Is there any way you can track his location?"

"Yeah, as long as he has his phone with him," you said, getting in the car and putting on your seatbelt.

Nate passed you your phone so you could pull up Heeseung's whereabouts. From the looks of it, he was driving somewhere, and definitely not home like he said he was.

"What's he doing in the middle of nowhere?" Nate asked, narrowing his eyes at the phone screen.

"I have know idea, but we have to follow him," you said, holding up your phone for Nate to follow the directions.

10:20pm

Yunjin sat quietly in the backseat, observing the night skyline behind the foggy car windows in between her recurrent dozing.

A certain bump in the road caused the car to shake, disrupting Yunjin's slumber once again. That's when she overheard the Uber driver on the phone with someone.

"Hey... not sure if I'm hallucinating or not, but were you just on the phone with my friend?” She asked, having heard a familiar voice on the other end of the call.

The driver didn't pay Yunjin any mind as he continued speaking on the phone, the female voice repeating the name "Heeseung" a few times before hanging up.

"Oh my gosh!" She gasped in shock, taking in the view of the drivers face from the rearview mirror, "You’re Heeseung? Wow, you’re like... wayyyyy hotter than I thought you’d be. Respectfully, of course, since you and ____ have history. She is literally so lucky to have you around.”

“She sure is," he said with a forced smiled, but it didn't quite reach his dark, doe eyes.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he turned down yet another rocky trail.

“Hey, I think you made a wrong turn, my street is that way…” Yunjin mumbled, not wanted to come off as bossy.

“Oh- Yeah, I'm taking a short cut to avoid traffic, don't worry about it.”

She simply nodded in response, dozing off for another 10 minutes before waking back up again. Yunjin was never really a lightweight when it came to drinking. If anything, it sometimes seemed as though she was immune to its effects.

"What the hell was in that Banshee," she thought to herself, rubbing the heaviness from her glittery eyes before looking back out the window again, taking in the view of trees and wildlife that made up her surroundings.

“Hey, we’ve been on this road for a while now, are you sure you're on the right path?”

Heeseung pursed his lips at her question, taking a breath and holding it in his chest for a moment, “I can't take you home tonight," he said, eyes still trained on the road ahead of him as he locked the doors.

"Haha, very funny, but suddenly, I gotta piss. So unless you wanna smell my golden release in your car for the next month, I suggest you take another detour, Dr. Lee," She threatened, unbuckling her seatbelt to ease the pressure around her stomach.

"I'm afraid I don't have much time to tell you this, but someone from ____'s past is out to hurt the both of you. You need to understand that Nate is not who he says he is," Heeseung frowned, letting go of the breath he'd been holding.

“Yeah, no kidding, but that still doesn't explain where the fuck you're taking me,” Yunjin retorted, fidgeting with the car door handle as a way to annoy him.

“Would you please stop doing that? I'm already on edge right now, and you would be too if you actually listened to what I'm saying," Heeseung sighed, raising his voice slightly.

"I am listening."

"Great, so hear this. I'm taking you somewhere safe from whatever's to come tonight.. otherwise, you could be in even more trouble.”

Yunjin let his words sink in before answering, "Okay, I hope that I'm making the right decision by trusting you, but what about ____?"

"I'll take care of her after this, just focus on yourself right now," he replied, pulling the vehicle into the driveway of a mysterious log cabin cradled within the depths of the forest.

"Get out," Heeseung said, exiting the vehicle with haste as Yunjin followed after him, walking up to the front door where a key was hidden beneath the doormat.

"Just follow me, he'll find you too easily up here," he went on, grabbing her hand and leading her to the downstairs basement.

With how fast Heeseung was moving, Yunjin barely had enough time to make out her surroundings, her peripheral vision being filled with colors instead of identifiable objects... Or maybe that was the affect of Nate's Banshee still lingering in her system.

The last thing she'd remember was Heeseung bringing her into the basement before closing the door, approaching her with a wooden chair in his grasp as everything around her went black.

10:52pm

According to your phone's GPS, you were still a few minutes shy from arriving at Heeseung's location. Though, the undeniable familiarity of your surroundings brought up a feeling of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

The way the moonlight peeked through the trees, casting an ominous glow on the hood of Nate's car was all too reminiscent of a few scenes from your nightmares.

Scenes where Sunghoon would drive you to and from the clinic as if it were a daycare center for punished girls, watching from the hospital cafeteria window as bright mornings slowly faded into a starry nights.

Much like tonight, that is.

The bright car headlights of the vehicle glazed the surface of a rectangular sign hanging above the front door of the shady cabin. hidden within the first as Nate pulled into the driveway. A sign that read the words "Park Lodge."

Another sight that caught your attention was the same Uber car that Yunjin got into and the front door that was left open.

Oh God, help me please, you thought to yourself, or maybe prayed, fidgeting with your fingers as Nate stopped the car, ceasing the calming sound of the air conditioner.

"Are you sure you wanna go in, or would you rather stay out here," Nate asked softly, looking in your direction as you simply stared in your lap.

Still dressed in your slutty cat costume, you couldn't help but feel silly, almost as though you'd gotten dressed up to make a fool out of yourself tonight.

So many thoughts and questions were running through your head: Was Yunjin okay? Why the hell would Heeseung come here? Does he have something to do with this recent outbreak of ghost face hysteria? Who could you trust?

Slam.

You closed the car door, leaving your hand bag behind, walking up to the cabin with Nate beside you.

Despite everything you'd been through, this was easily one of the most frightening experiences of them all, but you couldnt let fear get the best of you.

Not yet.

Not now.

"What is this place," he asked, taking in the interior design of this forbidden cabin you knew all too well.

"My former torture chamber," you sighed, opening door after door in search of anything at all, "The place where Sunghoon would..." your voice trailed off, "the place where it all happened."

Nate only hummed at your words, eyes scanning your movements as you continued to search the space like a maniac, but to no avail.

That's when you saw a trail of dirt leading to the basement.

Two trails, that is. One from a man and the other from a female.

"In here!" You called out to Nate who ran towards you, twisting the door handle that refused to grant you access.

"Step back," he said, and you did, watching as he gave the door a few kicks before it slung open, the handle clashing with the wall behind it.

"Watch your step," he warned, taking in the extravagant view of steps that lead to whatever was hiding within the darkness of the basement aside from the many demons Sunghoon left behind.

Step by step, you watched as your feet met each level, Nate's shoes clicking behind yours. Once your boots finally met solid ground, you weren't too surprised to see Heeseung pacing around the room casually.

You didn't even realize Nate was holding your hand until he let go of it, leaving your side for reasons you didn't immediately understand.

“What’re you doing here!?” You nearly shouted, a disgusted look wavering over your face at Heeseung's relaxed demeanor.

But to your surprise, he didn't answer, only watching as Nate made his way to the closet, looking to Heeseung before asking, "Is she in here?"

Heeseung nodded, and with that, Nate took it upon himself to open the closet door, revealing none other than Yunjin's unconscious body sitting, no, tied to a chair with rope, a rectangle of duck tape covering her mouth.

You’re not sure why you just stood there and watched, but you did. Something about seeing yet another person end up in a bad situation simply because they were your friend made you freeze.

Nate’s previously nervous expression was taken over by a much more malicious one, his hand going to grab a handful of Yunjin's hair before giving her head a shake, “Is anybody home,” he snickered, but she remained asleep, only groaning at his actions.

“Don’t touch her like that!” You finally yelped, causing Yunjin to regain her consciousness from the loudness of your voice.

Nate removed the tape from her mouth.

“_-____?” She stuttered over your name through half lidded eyes, looking back at you.

Slice.

Blood trickled down Nate’s arm as he dug the rim of his knife further into the flesh of Yunjin’s throat, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her arms tensed up from the pain.

“Shit, looks like I missed the rope,” Nate pouted facetiously, letting her head hang forward as he licked the bead of blood that trailed down his knife, “I've always had bad aim.” “Why the hell did you do that!!” Heeseung yelled, running up to Nate and pushing him away from Yunjin, “We agreed that we weren’t gonna kill her, that’s why I told you to spike her drink in the first place!”

“But gosh, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Nate defended, to which Heeseung scoffed annoyedly.

“Yunjin didn’t hurt your sister! And she wasn’t like that other girl you killed that night. Our other targets deserved to die. Not her,” Heeseung said with a heavy voice, almost as if wanting to cry, but you knew he wouldn’t.

Closing the closet door, a look of disappointment wavered over his features, “You're loosing grip of your purpose, Sunghoon.”

You felt as though your world stopped spinning at the realization of everything that was going on.

So you weren't just going crazy this entire time?

“N-…. N-no, it can’t be,” you stuttered, feeling as though your legs would give out. “Don’t touch me!” You barked as Heeseung tried to catch you from falling, which you did anyway, right to your knees.

“This whole time… S-Sunghoon, I...I thought... y-you're supposed to be dead,” your voice cracked, another tear joining the cloudy stream that already stained your face.

“With that logic, I guess I'm supposed to be a lot of things... Sane, kind, honest. By now though, you should know that I've always danced to the beat of my own drum," Sunghoon smirked, playing with the bloody knife in his hand, "What did you think of that song, by the way? Pretty good, right?"

“You fucking monster! Y-you… you killed two innocent people!”

"Oh, big woop! It's not like they were going to turn out to be anything anyways," Nate scoffed, twirling the weapon once again, "I'm sure you probably have a lot of questions you'd like to ask, so I recommend you start talking before my patience runs out."

"Heeseung... I... I don't understand your role in all of this..."

"There are no excuses for my actions, ____, but I owed it to Sunghoon. We both found each other during some dark times in our lives. He promised to help me get some pretty bad people off my back if in exchange, I helped him kill off that Jun-Hwan guy... I just got in too deep to turn back.”

"But why? Why go on for so long? Why not just kill me off and relish in your fleeting sense of justice?" You cried, not being able to control the tears spilling from your eyes.

Your entire life for the past 6 months had been nothing more than a big fat lie.

“God, didn't I already explain this part to you everyday when I had you down here all those days? I did it for my sister, ____,” Sunghoon hissed.

"So you tortured me everyday for months while I carried your child for some lame attempt at redemption?"

"Exactly. See? I knew you were smart."

“No... maybe in the beginning your intentions were noble, but now you’re just acting on your own sick impulses! You like hurting people!”

"Okay, I thought I told you to ask questions, not lecture me."

“Your entire plan was to make my life a living hell! All that shit you said about loving me was a part of this grand psychological game you’re playing!”

“Bingo! You’re on fire, princess,” he winked, unfazed by your emotional outburst, "Now, in a few seconds, I'm going to slit your eyelids in half so you can watch as I stab you multiple times in the face. Any last words?"

You couldn't even be mad at yourself for falling for his tricks... People always said that psychopaths had a way of making some of the most convincing actors.

"Fuck you," you spat, lips trembling like an earthquake before him.

"Cute. If you so happen to wake up in heaven, tell Wonyoung I said-"

Bang.

A silver bullet lodged through the center of Sunghoon's chest, the loud sound making your ears pop.

Bang.

Another bullet joined the first one in his chest, the silver blade finally falling from his cold grasp and clashing with the wooden floor.

Bang.

This shot went off with a ring, gushing through his forehead as his now lifeless body met you on the floor, splashes of red decorated your skin. It was interesting how his beautiful face stayed in contact after the collision.

Your jaw went slack at the sight, a mixture of terror and surprise running through every cell in your body.

You turned to see the source of the gunfire, finding none other than Leeseo standing with the smokey weapon still pointed at Sunghoon's head, her index finger slowly easing into the trigger again.

"That's enough!!" You yelled, haulting what would've made her fourth shot at him.

Putting the gun on safety, she tucked it into her brown leather jacket, grabbing you by the hands as she lifted you up from the ground, greeting you with her embrace.

"What the hell are you doing here, kiddo," you sniffled in her shoulder, feeling as though your body was on the verge of breaking.

"I suspected Nate had something to do with Aiko's death, so I started following him and noticed that he kept coming back here for some reason," she whispered, breaking from the hug.

"Leeseo-"

"I'm so glad that I brought my dad's pistol with me tonight. I heard that there was a party going on and I had a feeling what kind of monster I was dealing with early on. It sucks to say that my instincts were right-"

"Leeseo-"

"I saw him kill Yunjin from upstairs. I froze at the sight in the same way you did-"

"Leeseo, listen."

"What?" She said, taking your hands in hers.

“Nate wasn't real… his real name is Sunghoon Park.”

She screwed her eyebrows at your words, "Wait- Like the original guy from the ghost face incidents this summer?"

"Yes," you replied plainly.

"But... the news said he died... h-he... no, V hit him with a car outside of the hospital! He was in a coma-"

"Look, there's a lot more to the story that I have yet to tell you because I'm still trying to understand some of it myself... I'm just glad you were brave enough to stand up for us like that."

All she did was smile. Even in the face of danger, she always had a way of bringing sunshine to the room. "Are you sure I shouldn't shoot him one more time though?"

"He's dead, Sissy. For good this time, okay?" You reassured her as the sound of police sirens rumbled from above the basement.

Could this girl get any smarter?

"Hey... Where'd Dr. Lee go," she asked, taking one more good look around the basement.

"Don't worry about Heeseung. He wasn't on our side, either," you sighed as a team of police officers came rushing down the stairs, infiltrating the space.

➠ a little over one week later, monday

You still think about what would’ve happened if you wouldn't have dragged Yunjin into going to Sunghoon's party with you that night. If you didn’t trust "Nate" over your own gut feelings, falling for his charm in the same way you did when you first met him. If you never continued therapy or even a relationship with Heeseung. If you never betrayed Wonyoung for your friends to the point that she was bullied to death.

Would you, Kaz, and Madds still be friends, attending the same university together as you took on the exciting new adventure of adulthood? Would Sunghoon and Jun-Hwan be professional athletes in the Olympics, Wonyoung cheering them both on from the sidelines?

So many questions, but you're afraid there are only limited answers to them at this given moment in time.

Right now, you were rewarded the chance to lead your life the way you wanted, fear-free. “Hey, ____! Are you still down to hang out after work? I wanna show you the poster I was working on for Café Royale's holiday menu!” Leeseo chirped as she untied the bow to her apron, tucking it away in her sack. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec!” You called out to her, heading to lock up the kitchen before you left.

The owner of Café Royale had flew in town a few days ago, as she was also in search for normalcy some place outside of town. She felt the need to come down and check on things, bidding her condolences. "You might wanna keep a good eye on these," she said, placing the store front keys in your hand as she made her way outside, you following closely behind after hanging your apron over the wall hook. "I really can't thank you enough for this, ma'am," you expressed, watching as she got into her fancy purple car.

"Start by not letting me down. I understand that this is a big responsibility I'm leaving you with, but I know you can handle it. You're a trooper, ____," she smiled, closing her car door before pulling off, joining the rest of the busy vehicles rolling up and down the road. Leeseo was already at your side by now, hooking your arm in hers as she lead you in the direction of her "In Progress Creative Project."

"What'd the boss lady wanna tell you," she started, legs following the exact same step speed at which you walked.

You took a moment to soak up the evening sun, relishing in this feeling of normalcy you oh-so craved for far too long.

Here goes that word again, you thought to yourself, meeting Leeseo's eyes with your own enlightened ones.

"Let's just say I'll be sticking around this town for a lot longer than planned."

Fin.

❅ Thank you all so much for reading Part 3 of this absolute train wreck of a story! Special thanks to @ashgonedash the original requestor of this story, @squoxle my trusted creative assistant, and @yourmomscuntis2tighy for additional support and creative inspo! Couldn't have done this one without y'all!

❅ Make sure to check out my enhypen bookshelf here for my fun reads and yonder content !!

✎ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

taglist: @ashgonedash @nikilvr @ttokyoobv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @fightqueen @addictedtohobi @sltfohoon @lisaaannna @beomgyusonlywife @casualcloddeputyherring @calichuchies-blog @devqrasgirl @rhiannass @lovelycassy @pinapplefntacupss @en-thralled @nikimeows @kaykay11sworld @j-wyoung @flowerbe0m @clarisabutterfliescupcake @wonnyan @sunghoonmyprince @heeseung-min - EVERYONE ELSE I couldn't tag for some reason?? Sowwy hehe

#enhypen #enha imagines #enhypen headcanons #kpop ff #enha ff #enhypen ff #yandere sunghoon #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon smau #wonyoung #kazuha #ive wonyoung #le serrafim kazuha #sunghoon x reader #dark kpop #dark fic #enha x reader #enha sunghoon #enha scenarios #enhypen suggestive #enhypen scenarios #requested #ghostface #ghost face

[the-guilty-writer]

The Big Game and Revelations

Agent Rossi-Reid

Anthology Masterlist

David Rossi x daughter!reader,  Spencer Reid x reader, Criminal minds x BAU!reader

Summary: A fun night out with the team turns into a case, which turns into a disaster, which turns into Rossi-Reid’s own personal Hell.

A/N: Ah, yes… this one should be interesting and after the Super Bowl I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I did try to get this out on the night of the Super Bowl but I fell asleep trying to finish it. I think it was worth the extra week it took to write it though.

CW: Rewrite of S2E14 and E15 so it’s heavy, very minor suicidal idealation.

---

You were actually excited about the Super Bowl this year for one reason and one reason only… 

The Chicago Bears were playing.

And you had a bet with Derek Morgan. The two of you had pooled a week's worth of paperwork each… and the loser had to do all of it.

Of course Derek had his love for Chicago and team spirit on his side.

But you had Peyton Manning.

And Spencer Reid.

Before placing the bet, you had pulled up all the statistics and you and your husband spent your day off deciding mathematically, who would be the most likely to win Super Bowl XLI. Ultimately, the formula that Spencer had come up with predicted the Colts would come out on top. The next day you didn't hesitate to challenge Morgan, and with his competitive spirit and hometown honor on the line, he couldn't resist the bet.

A hopeful blow to Morgan's ego wasn't the only reason you had wagered with him, though. With a whole week of paperwork off your plate, you'd be able to take the Friday after Valentine's day off so you and Spencer could take a mini vacation.

Spencer knew this was the plan the moment you'd given him the stack of papers filled with player stats. He was looking forward to it too.

The entire team, with the exception of Gideon, was at a local bar. You and Spencer were sitting at a table with a few people you'd met, Spencer impressing them with his extensive knowledge of Star Trek. Morgan was on the dance floor, Penelope was shamelessly watching him, JJ was kicking ass at darts. You saw Prentiss bringing drinks toward a table, noticing that Hotch had even brought Haley for the occasion. Quietly, you excused yourself to go say hi to them.

Besides, it was good for Spencer to be left without you sometimes. The last few cases you’d spent more time with other members of the team. Part of that had to do with the nature of the cases, but part of it also had to do with the fact that Gideon had asked you to watch over Emily. You weren’t sure if it was as Agent Gideon who trusted your evaluation of another agent's abilities, or Uncle Jason who knew that you really needed more friends; but it meant that you’d worked with her on a few consults and even been paired together on a case.

The shift in dynamics had forced a shift in Spencer. You could see that slowly, but surely, the confidence in him at work was growing, and you loved to see it. It was in the little ways he would tease Morgan back now, or that he didn’t hesitate to bother Prentiss while she was in the middle of paperwork. Even though the ordeal with Nathan Harris had been tragic, watching Spencer take a role of someone older and wiser, yet still compassionate and still himself, showed you how much he had grown since you’d first met him.

“How are they treating you at the BAU, Emily?” You heard Haley say as you approached them.

“She means, am I being nice to you?” Hotch said.

“Actually, everyone has been incredibly nice.” Emily smiled.

“I think it’d be nice if the boss covered all our drinks tonight,” you said as you walked up beside Emily.

Haley laughed and Hotch cracked a smile. “For everyone but you, (Y/N),” he said.

You faked offense, bringing a hand to your chest before turning to the Hotchner. You knew she always got a kick out of your theatrics. “Haley, do you see how he treats me?”

Haley laughed again. “You be nice to her,” she scolded Hotch playfully. He pouted and she laughed again. “I swear you two bicker like siblings.”

Hotch was about to say something when Garcia interrupted. “Look at him move.” The 'him' in question was Morgan, and the move in question was… questionable. He hadn’t even noticed the Bears had lost. “He’s like a cat.”

“More like a dog!” You and Emily said at the same time. Both of you grinned. Gideon had truly created a monster by making the two of you work together.

“He did not ask them to dance. They asked him,” Garcia defended.

“Okay,” Emily said. “Okay, he’s a cat.”

“An alley cat,” Haley commented. You nodded in agreement.

“Come on, Haley, let’s go show them how it’s done,” Hotch said as he grabbed her hand.

“I’m game if you are!” Haley looked at you as Hotch led her away. You faked a retch, making her giggle.

“That’s so sweet!” Emily sighed a bit.

“It gets a little gross after twelve years,” you told her. “Especially when I had to listen to him pin nonstop for the first two years they dated… "Oh I never thought she’d love me, why do I have to go on a case for twenty four hours away from my love, oh why, why, why’…” You tried your best to mock young Hotch in love.

“So you and Reid won’t be gross in another eight years?” Emily asked.

You watched Hotch spin Haley around on the dancefloor, both of them simply enjoying the presence of one another. The way they moved with one another had nothing to do with acts of lust (unlike Morgan who was… being Morgan), and everything to do with knowing a person inside and out. Hotch leaned in to whisper something to Haley and she threw her head back with laughter. Her laugh made him smile.

In all the years you had known Aaron Hotchner, no one could make him smile like Haley Brooks did.

“Maybe a little,” you said, just low enough that no one could hear you over the music.

“Hey,” JJ said as she approached from behind. You could already tell by the tone in her voice what was coming next.

“We have a case, don’t we?” you said.

JJ sighed. “Yes. We do.”

---

The case was odd, to say the least. With so much evidence, the team should have been able to put a profile together easily, but things just weren’t adding up. The religious obsession combined with the technology, the dominant and submissive team dynamics that weren’t constant, the obvious organization with, what seemed to you to be, a disorganized system.

You were out in the field with Morgan when you got the text that there was another crime scene. Morgan was on the phone with Garcia. “Yeah, baby girl. Tell him we’re on our way.” He whipped the car around. 

When you arrived on the scene, you got straight to work, but just like before, nothing seemed to make sense. The religious ramblings were beginning to irritate you. You understood them enough, but you didn’t have extensive knowledge on different analysis on the passages over the centuries or know the actual wording in Latin like Spencer did. But Spencer wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Hotch,” you called to him. “Where’s Spence?”

“I sent him and JJ to go interview someone who might know something,” Hotch told you. The vagueness of it all told you that it was probably nothing- that it was a stretch.

But hours later, the distress on Hotch’s face and the strain to keep his voice steady made it obvious to you that it wasn’t a stretch. “Hankle?”

“Hotch, what is it?” Morgan’s voice was filled with concern as well.

But when Hotch answered, he wasn’t looking at Morgan, he wasn’t looking at Gideon or Emily; he was looking at you. “JJ and Reid went to interview him. He’s the unsub.”

---

The drive to the unsub’s house was a chaotic collage of names and tactical plans, of kevlar and lights and sirens. But you hardly remembered any of it. Your mind was on Spencer.

There was always a chance that he and JJ were fine; that they realized he was the unsub and parked out of cell service, waiting for the rest of you to arrive. But there was also a chance that they weren’t fine.

When you arrived on scene, your brain kicked into a different gear- it wasn’t wife gear, but it also wasn’t Agent Rossi gear. It was a strange inbetween that you had never felt before- a collected calm caused by panic. You went with Morgan and Prentiss to the barn, only to find yourself on the wrong side of JJ’s sidearm.

“JJ,” Morgan called. “It’s Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss. Don’t shoot.” JJ lowered her gun and Morgan did the same, approaching her. “It’s okay. Are you hurt?”

You approached JJ alongside your other two team members. Your mind was cloudy and clear at the same time, your body shaky but still. In JJ’s frazzled state she continued to talk, ignoring Morgan’s question- the one you wanted to know the answer to- where was your husband?

When Prentiss got her to slow down, telling you that they had split up and Reid took the back, you didn’t hesitate to follow Morgan out into the cornfield. There were obvious signs that someone had been dragged and then the trail stopped. You could see it in your head like a nightmare- Spencer being drug through the vegetation and thrown into the back of a vehicle.

Somehow you ended up in the house with the rest of the team, hearing, but not truly listening to what they were saying. You stood at the window, the flashing blue and red lights highlighting the streaks in the grass. The whole world was slow and blurry, but not from tears; it was from shock. You recalled the first time you ever got shot- it wasn’t bad, but the sudden impact of the bullet and the instantaneous pain that followed made it feel as though your brain had disconnected from your body. But that sensation had ended in a few minutes… this one felt never ending. That was, until, Gideon asked the question.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Gone,” you answered before Morgan could.

Your head came back to you, the shakiness of your hands stopping, something building inside you like a dormant volcano- destined to explode, but no one would see the signs until it was too late. You looked at the team. They were lined up in a semicircle, each of them looking at you with a different adverse emotion- Morgan, resentment; Prentiss, pity; Hotch, anxiety; Gideon, disbelief; and JJ; guilt.

“Spencer’s gone.”

---

You didn’t sleep that night, but Morgan was adamant that you take breaks, drink water, and provided you with many gentle squeezes on the shoulder when he walked by. Prentiss sat down with you and together, the two of you began unpacking the journals before going through them. She was less about sympathetic looks and more about action. It was a good combination for you at the moment.

The rest of the team on the other hand was… Well, JJ avoided you at all costs. Gideon didn’t actively avoid you, but he couldn’t seem to look at you and when you spoke he always left the room. Hotch up and left- driving all the way back to DC to get Garcia and then all the way back. He could have had any other agent do it, but he did it himself. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t trust anyone at the moment, or if it was because he needed to run.

When Gideon got the call that Hotch and Garcia were on their way, all of you gathered in the room downstairs, surrounded by boxes and journals and things that would hopefully lead you to finding Doctor Reid. That’s how you had to think of him right now; not as Spencer, your husband, of Agent Reid, your colleague, but of Doctor Reid- just some smart guy with three PhDs. You knew that it was distancing yourself from the situation, but you couldn’t help it. If that’s what you had to do, you would do it.

“Welcome to our nightmare,” JJ said as Garica walked through the door.

It might just be a nightmare to you, but it’s worse than Hell for me. You swallowed your anger and told the voice at the back of your head to shut up. You had a job to do. She shouldn’t have let them split up.

Morgan and Garcia got started in the room full of computers, JJ went to take a break, and Gideon and Emily went to do some more searching upstairs. You sat down at the table and went through more of the journals. The entries weren’t long, but there were a lot of them.

Spencer would get through these in less than an hour.

“(Y/N),” the voice was strong, but more gentle than you were used to. “You should take a break.”

“I don’t need a break, Hotch,” you told him, looking up to meet his unblinking eyes for just a second.

He didn’t argue. He knew better. “I’ll be back to check in later.”

You went back to the journals.

---

Night had fallen and it felt like you were no closer to finding Doctor Reid than you had been when the sun rose. Most of the journals were religious ramblings, and Garcia was working as hard as she could on the computer system, but it still wasn’t matching up. The profile was still a mess. The whole thing was a mess.

“Rossi,” Morgan said. You didn’t respond. He plucked the journal out of your hand. 

“Morgan-”

“I’m going to check the perimeter.”

“Okay?”

“Come with me,” he said.

You hesitated. “Okay, lead the way.”

You followed Morgan out of the house and into the night. He walked ahead of you, flashlight in hand. You had to admit that the fresh air was relieving, helping clear any residual fog from your brain. You scanned the sides of the house, the broken boards that needed to be repaired, the roof that needed new shingles, and the gutter full of leaves. Your eyes trailed downward, landing on something strange, something new…

“Morgan!” You called. You jogged over to the cellar doors, drawing your sidearm on the way.

Morgan ran up next to you. “Hey guys, I think we’ve got something!”

Hotch and Prentiss were quick to join you. No words needed to be spoken- Hotch would go in first, then Morgan, and you and Prentiss would stand guard outside. The two men entered the cellar, glocks drawn. You listened carefully, but you couldn’t quite make out all their words.

When Hotch and Morgan came out of the cellar, both of them looked disturbed.

“Anything?” Emily asked.

“We found Hankle’s father,” Hotch said. “He’s dead.”

---

It felt like time was moving at the speed of light and standing still all at the same time. You continued to be able to catch small bits of information- JJ and Prentiss were going to look into Hankle’s Narcotics Anonymous meetings, Hankle’s father had been dead for six months, Garcia was making progress on the computer system- making the day fly by and slow down all at the same time. Around noon, your brain failed you and you fell asleep at the table for just a few hours. By the time you’d woken up, the rest of the team had figured out that Hankle was living as three different people and he had a serious drug problem.

You sat in the room full of screens with Garcia, feeling absolutely like the most useless agent in the world. Of course all the progress had been made while you were asleep. You were hardly paying attention to what Morgan and Garcia were talking about when you heard Penlope’s signature “Oh my god,” and looked over to the screens.

For the past twenty four hours all you’d wanted was to see Spencer- but not like this. Never like this.

You gathered around the computers with the rest of the team, trying to keep your face as still as possible. You wanted so badly to be able to focus on what was going on- analyze the situation, the words, the background, in an effort to find out where Spencer was, but your mind couldn’t work. Not while watching this.

Then the feed cut- all the screens going blank- and any hope of finding evidence to rescue your husband was gone. You heard Morgan punch the door as he stormed out of the room. The sound brought you back to reality, and you followed him out of the room.

“Morgan,” you called to him, but he kept walking, all the way out onto the front porch and into the front yard. “Morgan!”

You and Morgan were both known to have hot heads when things got personal and rageful, but your emotions came out in loud and painful words; Morgan’s came out in kicking down doors and breaking down walls. You just stood and watched as he took a piece of wood that was laying in the yard and smashed it down on the ground, causing it to splinter into pieces. His back heaved with heavy breathing, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d be scared of him. But you did know better.

“Derek,” it was more gentle this time, and the other agent turned around to look at you. The fury and frustration now replaced with an expression of agony.

He walked up to you quietly, shaking his head just a bit. “How are you doing this, Rossi?”

You closed your eyes tight, and tears pricked at the corners. The pure pain in Morgan’s voice finally causing all the pent up emotion inside to come out. “I’m not,” you admitted.

Spencer had been in plenty of dangerous situations before- stuck in an ER with a known killer, on a train with a psychotic man with a gun, in a mansion with a bomb- but this was the first time he was somewhere completely alone. You trusted that Hotch and Elle and Morgan would help protect him.

But no one could protect him now.

Every feeling you had shoved inside came out at once, and you collapsed in a fit of sobs. Morgan caught you before you could hit the ground, pulling you so tight to his chest you almost couldn’t breath. You cried so hard it hurt- it hurt your head and your eyes and your chest and your heart. Morgan was whispering something to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the explosion of emotion you were experiencing.

When the dam gates closed and the tears stopped flowing, you gently pushed Morgan away and wiped your eyes. “I need to help get him home.”

“Then let’s bring him home.”

---

It felt strange that the team was inhabiting the house of a killer- eating at his table, using his bathrooms, sleeping on his couch- but sometimes to get in the mind of an unsub, you had to do strange things. One of those strange things was using his appliances, including his coffee maker. The entire team was running off caffeine, and you were no exception. Just as you turned the corner towards the kitchen, you heard voices, and paused.

“It’s funny,” JJ said. You didn’t think anything about this was funny. “I keep thinking, the one thing we need to crack this case is uh… well, Reid.”

You wanted to scream.

“Yeah,” Morgan responded quietly.

“You think Reid and I should have stayed together at the barn, don’t you?”

Everything in you wanted to walk into the room and confront JJ… tell her upfront that they should have stayed together and it was her fault that Spencer was missing. But you couldn’t move.

“JJ, go get some rest.” You could hear Morgan’s exhaustion… but you could also hear his anger.

“I can tell that’s what you’re thinking so-”

“I just wanna get Reid home safe.”

“But if I had his back like I was supposed to, he’d be here now.” The defense in JJ’s voice made your blood boil.

“JJ, what do you want from me?”

“I just… I want someone to tell me the truth!”

“The truth is one of you is here and one of you isn’t,” Morgan said, frustration coming through. “You gotta figure the rest out for yourself.” He walked toward where you were standing, just out of sight. When he saw you, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you with sympathy before walking away.

You walked into the kitchen, avoiding looking at JJ as you made your way to the coffee pot. It was empty. You stared at the pot as it brewed, then poured it into your empty mug, not bothering to wait until it was cool before taking a sip. Maybe if you burned your tongue you could keep yourself from saying rageful words. You went to leave the kitchen when-

“(Y/N)?” JJ said.

You shut your eyes tight for a moment and turned, looking at the blonde, but not saying anything.

“What?” You shook your head slightly, keeping your face as straight as possible.

“I-” JJ swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

You looked down and took a deep breath. “Don’t apologize to me.” You looked JJ dead in the eye, holding yourself in as much control as possible. “Apologize to Spencer.”

Without another word, you turned and left; not feeling any better, but not feeling any worse.

---

You continued working with Prentiss. Hotch and Gideon were working together- an oddity. But so was a member of the team getting kidnapped. There was a sudden sound of shock coming from the room filled with computers. You and Prentiss both shot up from your seats and quickly filed into the room where the rest of the team was staring at the screens.

Spencer’s chair had fallen over, and he laid on the floor, unmoving. You’d seen enough people who were sleeping, dead, or dying to know the difference, even on a screen. And Spencer was dead.

You’d had this nightmare before, and in every single one you instantly crumbled to the ground in a fit of sobs, fighting whoever tried to touch you or calm you down. In your nightmares, the grief was so overwhelming it robbed your body of air until your head was so light that you couldn’t think- as if your body’s survival response to such overwhelming sadness was to make it so you couldn’t think long enough to be sad at all.

But now that it was real, all you could do was stand there- eyes glued to the screen, mouth slightly agape, blood draining from your face. The feeling was impossibly numb. Your mind not processing anything, refusing to believe what you were seeing. There was no survival response to overwhelming sadness; because all the will you had to survive was gone.

You remembered a quote from Dante’s Inferno- the one book Spencer had ever made you read to him since the original was in Italian- “L’inferno e freddo”: Hell is cold.

And you were frozen.

“Guys.” You heard the voice, but your brain was still in a state of limbo. Only the sudden appearance of a man on the screen, giving Spencer CPR, was enough to snap your body from the frost.

And then Spencer was alive.

Your vision blurred as your eyes watered, relief filling your body. But it was only temporary. The next thing you knew, Hankle was speaking.

“Choose one to die.”

“What?” You weren’t sure if Spencer was still in shock from dying and coming back to life, or if he was truly asking.

“Your team members,” Hankle said. “Choose one to die.”

“Kill me,” the words came out of Spencer's mouth like a plea.

Spencer, no. Your chest tightened, your breathing taught. Just say a name, Spencer. Please don’t give yourself up to him.

“You said you weren’t one of them.”

“I lied,” Spencer said. It didn’t matter thought- the math worked somehow.

“The team has seven members. Tell me who dies.”

Just say a name, Spencer… any name.

“No.”

Hankle pulled Reid’s revolver from his pocket, pointing it straight at your husband’s forehead. “Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.” Hankle pulled the trigger. The chamber was empty. A tear streamed down your cheek.

“Choose.”

“I won’t do it,” Spencer’s voice was barely audible over the video feed.

Another trigger pull, another empty chamber.

“Life is a choice.”

“No.”

Choose to live, Spence.

Trigger. Empty chamber.

“Choose.”

“I…” This time Spencer was slower to answer. He was going to choose. He had to choose. If he didn’t, he was dead. “I choose Aaron Hotchner.”

The entire room seemed to become still with shock for a moment, before everyone turned to look at Hotch- you included. The expression on his face wasn’t hurt, or at least you didn’t think so. Hotch had been so avoidant of you the past 48 hours that you weren’t sure that you could read him in this situation. He continued to watch the screen, but you continued to look at his expression.

“He's a classic narcissist,” Reid explained Hotch’s sin. “He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team.”

The wheels turned in your head, and as Hotch furrowed his brow, you could see that the wheels were turning in his head as well. He left the room quickly, and you followed after him. Hotch grabbed the Bible sitting on the table, flipping through it rapidly. You didn’t ask why.

The rest of the team filtered into the room and Hotch looked up. “I’m not a narcissist,” he said. It wasn’t defensive. You’d seen Hotch defensive before, and it was nothing like this.

“Come on,” Gideon started. “Look, you can't think anything from that. He’s not in his right mind-”

“No, stop, stop,” Hotch cut Gideon off and looked around at the rest of the team. “All right, everybody right now- what's my worst quality?”

Silence.

None of you wanted to answer that question. 

“Okay, I’ll start,” Hotch said. “I have no sense of humor.”

“You’re a bully,” JJ said quietly.

“I’m a bully,” Hotch agreed.

“You can be a drill sergeant sometimes,” Morgan said, avoiding eye contact.

“Right.”

“You don't trust women as much as men,” Prentiss said boldly. You wondered how long she’d been wanting to say that.

Then Hotch turned to you, meeting your gaze for the first time since Spencer had gone missing.

“You avoid difficult emotions,” you told him. “Instead of confronting them.”

“Okay, good.” Hotch kept his eyes on you for a moment before turning back to everyone else. “I’m all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't, ever.” That was true. It always had been. “Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that, and he also quoted genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. Read it.”

JJ read the verse outloud. There was more discussion about narrowing down where Spencer might be. You hung onto every word, but you had just called Hotch out on something that you were doing yourself. You’d been burying yourself in work to avoid dealing with the terror and the pain that stirred inside you.

So instead of fighting to let you be in your normal point position when the team raided the cabin, you stayed at the back with JJ. Instead of avoiding her, you worked next to her in silence; both of you sharing a silent and desperate hope that Spencer was okay- that he was alive. When the team spread out, you stuck close to Prentiss, knowing you would need the support if something went awry and not being ashamed that, at the moment, you didn’t trust yourself to stay as steady as you needed to be.

And when Hotch helped Spencer to his feet, you let the tears stream down your cheeks. Holstering your gun, you let yourself go entirely- the relief crashing through your body. You breathed heavily, the cold air causing condensation to form. Morgan put a hand on your arm to keep you upright, and you let him.

You allowed the thoughts that had flooded your mind for the past two days to rise to the surface; that Morgan was probably the only other person in the world who shared what you were feeling right now- disappointment in Hotch for letting Reid and JJ go off in the middle of nowhere on their own, resentment about Gideon nearly getting Spencer killed, and rage at JJ because this never would have happened if one of you were with him instead.

“(Y/N),” Spencer’s voice as he said your name was barely a whisper, but to hear it in person made it real- it made everything real.

You pulled him into a hug, tears free flowing down your face. Spencer wrapped his arms around you tight, pulling you in so your bodies were as close as they could possibly be while standing upright. He buried his head in your shoulder. You leaned your face against the side of his head, pressing your cheek against his curls.

He let go of you slowly, as if you were the one thing keeping him tied to earth, your eyes locking only for a moment before Gideon walked over. You let Spencer lean on you, keeping his hurt foot off the ground.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Gideon said. “Come on.” Gideon went to support Spencer on the other side, helping him forward just a few steps before-

“Please.” Spencer looked at Gideon, but not at you. “Can I have a second alone?”

You looked at Spencer, but he didn’t look back at you, so instead you looked at your mentor. He gave Spencer a sympathetic look before locking eyes with you for just a second and walking away.

You let go of Spencer gently, your hands brushing before your bodies lost contact. He turned away without looking at you and began to limp towards Hankle’s body. You turned as well, looking over your shoulder as you walked. Prentiss was the one to help you this time- resting a gentle hand on your back to ground you.

You let her lead you back toward the SUVs, but you didn’t quite know where you were going; your mind was still full of Spencer. Then again, your mind was almost always full of Spencer- but not in this way. Never in this way.

“He’s going to be okay,” Emily said gently.

You let out a heavy breath. The clearing where the vehicles were parked was lit up by flashing colored lights. An ambulance had arrived, as had a coroner’s van. Officers were talking quietly, Hotch was pacing as he talked on the phone, JJ sat in the open trunk of an SUV staring out into the distance.

It was all over, but somehow you felt like things had only just began. 

“How do you know?” you asked her, breathing out as you did. It sounded helpless, but that was how you felt.

Emily put a hand on your shoulder, looking into your eyes. “Because,” she said- her voice was gentle, but her words were confident. “He has you.”

---

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[housano]

Housano's Live-A-Half Assed Summaries Presents: Welcome to the Black Masquerade Final Part- The Road to Hell is paved with good intentions

For Part 7, click here

CW: Live a Hero spoilers, Suicide mention

So continuing our battle from last episode, Astosis refuses to give up, but eventually falls. Right before Giasal is about to slit his throat, our MC intervenes because someone here has to believe in due process. Giasal comments how he's fascinated with us and our unique strength and he looks forward to fighting with us again before disappearing into the night. Maculata said we've caught the eye of a dangerous villain which we retort that we'll deal with bridge when we get there.

Astosis asked why we stopped him. He tried to frame us to ensure that aliens were banished from Cloges, he and his agents wouldn't be able to fight back and we could kill him if we want. That's no necessary as: 1) the broadcast channel during this whole altercation was opened up, so not only is the outside aware of the shady shit that Chassard was doing, but also the townsfolk, and 2) if he did intend to frame us, there were severel illogical things that he did. First, it did not make sense for him to let Maculata guard Pauderna when he could have easily and slipped through the secret entrance. Second, he let Yohack and Nessen go, knowing full well that Yohack could break into his vault and also providing a hinnt. Finally, it was him who removed the broadcast restrictions under the Chassard's nose.

After assuring him the broadcast has been cut (we'll get into that later), he tells us that he indeed used us all in his quest for vengeance justice. He talks about how he loved and admired his dad. His dad worked with both citizens of Cloges and aliens, building relationships and genuinely cared about his clients and had a strong sense of justice. Because of this, Astosis followed in his father's footsteps and began his apprenticeship under his father. It was also around this time he met Yohack and his family, who consulted his father about laws since they were working with outside sources. He mentions taking care of Yohack during his study breaks as well. However, one day when Astosis came to his father's office, his father was not there. He searched everywhere and eventually found his body in the forest, having committed suicide. Finding a diary and case file in his father's office, his father ended up convicting an innocent man and realized that the Chassard had falsified evidence. The guilt was too much and he took his own life, as he was not the righteous ideal his son admired him to be. Astosis was left alone, feeling that he was responsible for his father's death and not trying to see the truth.

After he inherited his father's office and eventually worked his way to his first trial: Yohack's parents. It was like his father's trial all over again and because of his inexperience, he could not prove the evidence was fraudulent and could only keep saying that they were innocent. It was then that he swore that he would bring justice to Chassard and seek retribution in failing both his father and Yohack's parents. He slowly built up his trust with the Chassard and eventually got involved in the alien exclusionist division and their plans to turn public opinion against outsiders. Step by step, he set weaved his trap with the final piece: the year Pauderna would be on display and they would plan on framing aliens for the robbery. However, they were also wary of Astosis and made him head of security so they could get rid of him from Cloge.

Originally, he was to have the heroes arrested and expose the Chassard during the trial. However, that changed when Yohack got involved as he knew he would be able to break into his safe and get the evidence. Additionally since he also allowed the broadcast to happen and announce Chassard's plans to both Cloges and the universe at large, so he did succeed in exposing them for what they were. He then emphasizes that we all were ust a means to an end and that him thanking us at the ball meant nothing. Yohack is quick to say that's a lie and wants Astosis to tell him his real feelings. Astosis relents and said that he wanted to die by Yohack's hand as the sin of him using us should be judged along with Chassard. He wants to atone for using us, Chassard framing Yohack's parents and failing them as their lawyer and family. Yohack immediately states that he doesn't want that. Despite being banishes, Yohack's parents were able to start another shop and are still highly successful. Even though he missed everyone, he was able to become an extremely successful locksmith. Additionally, even though they were sad to leave, the fact that Astosis and their friends believed their innocence to the very end is what mattered the most. Nessen and Maculata said it's not for outsiders to decide his fate, but the people of Cloges. Astosis is taken aback and decides after he atones for his crimes, he will live his life as a hero and lawyer and Nessen offers him work with his agency as they could always use lawyers.

Jump forward a few days later, Chassard has been dissolved and the conspirators were arrested. Heroes from other planets have been called in on guard duty until things settle down. Additionally, cases with fraudulent evidence used are being reviewed and overturned such as Yohack's parents. As our group heads to the spaceship terminal, Maculata was satisfied and is filled with ideas for her fashions, Yohack got to spend time with everyone he missed and plans to bring his parents back to see everyone. Nessen finally got an idea for a theme and even received Cloges curtains from the workshop we visited earlier. We are then greeted by Astosis, who was also arrested, but thanks to the townsfolk going to bat for him, he's able to have short outings around town while awaiting his trial. Working with a friend of his father who is defending him, he provided all the evidence of Chassard's misdeeds. Depending on the outcome, the organization will have their authority greatly reduced and focused on security and fighting kaibutsu, which was what it was originally created for with the help of outside hero organizations. After his trial and sentence are carried out, he intends to leave Cloges and travel as a hero and lawyer and help those who have been framed and be their strength. He also promises us that he will be our strength and make it up to us. With that our group leaves Cloges and Luna an we end with it becoming just a spec among the sea of stars.

Welcome the Black Masquerade Final Part- Justice is a tiger who gives great hugs- END

Final thoughts: That was an interesting twist. I expected Chassard to be responsible but I wasn't expecting Astosis to be in on it (albeit to expose them). I won't put Astosis in my shit list, but he is definitely demoted to Acquaintance tier and will have to work t get back to the top. Maculata is definitely moving up to Besties. I'll give this event a 7/10. Entertaining twists, but tended to lag in certain points.

#liveahero #live a hero #ラブヒロ #live a hero spoilers #lahspoilers

[blnk338]

I might be seeing correlations where there aren't any but chapter 9 of RWYS is called Against the Bathroom Floor and the first thing I thought of was the song 'Against the Kitchen Floor' by Will Wood. That probably wasn't your intention but I couldn't help myself but make that connection. And some of the lyrics even fit Reapers story. (I might be barking up the wrong tree here but it's almost 2 am, cut me some slack. I just needed to get this out of my head before I forgot about it overnight)

IM SO GLAD YOU POINTED THIS OUT MAN!!! yes yes yes yes yes, it was a direct reference to the song against the kitchen floor!!

i really really wanted to add the song as the chapter song but i thought the title for the chapter would make it kinda cheesy but

CW: mentions of suicide, mentions of death, mentions of parental neglect/abuse, mentions of romantic abuse, self-destruction, self-deprecation, NSFW mentions, mentions of imposter syndrome, mentions of dissociation,

this part specifically highlights her internal strife with knowing that her friends, her makeshift family, are dead for a reason that she blames herself for. there's also a small part of this piece that is actually her apologizing to herself. she knows she difficult on herself and she knows that she needs to be nicer, but she doesn't really know how to do it. "bottom shelf erotic products" meaning, in my mind, the last choice to make someone feel good, is again, how she feels about herself.

that first line is so important because, even though she yearns for closeness and will be there for the people she cares about, in the end, she will always find a way to keep her distance from them, never truly being vulnerable.

I feel like this one's more obvious, but its Reaper trying to explain she really truly wants to be a better person and to be able to receive love without shattering into a million pieces, but she's still learning how to function as a person.

Again, she's promising and trying, but there's a desperation, not a confirmation there. That, yes, she's making an effort, but there's a doubt in herself even before she tries

There's a double meaning here for Reaper. On one hand, she's speaking to the people that she cares about. That even though she's been there for them and she's tried, she still doesn't feel like they're close, it's almost as if it's one big lie. There's a huge sense of imposter syndrome in Reaper's character and this piece gives way to that. The idea that she's giving her body while someone gave their heart-- as if the idea of giving anything more than physical is difficult for her to understand. She didn't think anyone would notice that she was struggling and is confused and conflicted when they do. Also, "the more you reassure, the less I trust," is another hint at the imposter syndrome, that she doesn't believe anyone out there is actually trying to help her, but is actually trying to just shut her up.

But there is another meaning to this. Specifically the first line is something she says to herself. I think her dissocation plays a part in this, but Reaper's a person who, for so long, has felt like a third party in her body. That she still doesn't know who she is, that's she's still lonely in a place where she probably shouldn't be.

I actually think this second line's super impactful because it mentions monkey-wrenching, and it's added another layer to her misery. It's self-sabotage. She's actively isolated herself and put herself in a position where she has fixed ideals.

Explaining that she's lived several lives, one as an abandoned child, another as an angry teen, another as an exiled daughter, one as a soldier, and finally, a vengeful undead being; but she's never truly died. Even though these versions of her have been "killed," she's never truly died.

Finally "But I'm not a real person." This is another moment where she finalizes the fact that she doesn't really know what, even less so who, she is. What happened to the woman she used to see looking back at her in the mirror? She doesn't know.

"I'm just as exposed if I take off my clothes." IS SO FUCKING IMPORTANT. She's trying, fuck, she is trying so fucking hard, but no matter what, there is still a layer of her that she is so terrified to shed.

The next line is also crucial, especially because of Robin. Toward the end of their relationship, there was a distance in their sex life where it was sort of just mechanical to Reaper, less actual love-making. This impacts her because that creates another division in her life-- something that she used to enjoy had become void of meaning.

The rift in her continues to pull apart, knowing that no matter how much she's trying, she's not going to feel good enough for her girlfriend, her mom, but even to herself. Without the proper care in her life, Reaper doesn't know what "good enough" even is.

"Did I really have any of that gravity?" = "Did anything I ever do actually mean anything like I thought it did?"

There's so much misery and lack of self-sustainment in Reaper's actions, wondering how much she's actually sunk down before realizing she was drowning. She hadn't realized how much gas she'd poured on her relationships that, in the end, as everything burned, she desperately just wanted an answer as to how any of this happened in the first place. "Catatonic in your arms," in whose? In Robin's? In her mother's? In her own?

"I'm pounding my head against the kitchen floor." Blaming herself for all of the destruction as the next line she apologies for ever causing any of it, even if it wasn't entirely her fault. There's a dread for what comes next, knowing that the life-sucking relationships will eventually end and she doesn't want them to. For some reason, she fears the day that they'll come because then she'll be truly alone.

She knows the other people she cared about had things they'd gone through, but she can't help but fall into a muddled pile of sadness at all that had been shown to her.

That final line is so fucking important because it highlights how much Reaper can't control herself. There's so much of her that is all impulse and she knows for a fact that if shit did hit the fan that she'd act brashly. There's an effort for one last moment of kindness, one last favor, for the people who are leaving her to at least soften the blow ("But hide my knives before you go, I'll either live or die alone") because she fears that one day something will hit her hard enough and she won't come out the other end.

Here she recognizes her progress, she understands that she's better than the person she used to be, and yet, there's a lack of something in her words-- as if she doubts the obvious improvement that she's made. She's still apologizing for who she was and what she thinks she caused.

She doesn't think she's a good person given all that she's done, she doesn't think she's a person in the slightest, just a hollowed-out shell that's destroyed everything good in her life (true or not).

And again, someday she thinks she'll improve, but she doesn't know when.

The last part isn't as much of a meaningful part to her, but I think it would be interesting to note that maybe she makes an effort to make her reactions explosive to at least get some attention, some recognition that she's not okay.

And of course, she's sorry.

#rwys cn #rwys notes #rwys asks #asks

[astralbooks]

This Cursed Crown - Alexandra Overy

Read: 23/11/2022 - 29/11/2022

Rating: 4/5

Rep: sapphic main character, sapphic love interest, f/f relationship, deaf side character

CW: fire, burning, on-page death, fantasy violence, major injury, torture, magically-induced suicide attempts, references to physical and emotional abuse, mind control, death of a parent (in backstory)

This book picks up a few weeks on from where These Feathered Flames leaves off. Tourin has been left without a ruler following Izaveta’s disappearance, only Asya knows the truth of what happened on what was supposed to be the night of her sister’s coronation, and the political situation in the palace is looking dicier with each day that passes. Asya is faced with having to figure out a way to survive in this environment despite the vast majority of people there despising her, when all she really wants to do is find her sister. Meanwhile, Izaveta wakes up in a totally sealed room, with no idea how she’s even alive, let alone where she is or how she can hope to make it out of there.

Asya was my favourite of the two sisters throughout the first book, and I still loved her here, but surprisingly Izaveta nudged her off that top spot for me. Izaveta spends the first half of the book almost entirely isolated, so a lot of her chapters are dedicated to introspection and trying to figure her situation out. I really loved seeing inside her head, both in this and the second half! Many of the decisions she makes can be seen as heartless, but she always tries to do the best thing she possibly can. The choices she’s presented with often don’t have a clear right answer, and making these decisions isn’t easy for her. Adding to this is the fact that she’s come back to life just that little bit wrong, and she spends a lot of the book’s runtime grappling with this and trying to account for it. Izaveta here is not entirely the same as Izaveta as she once was.

Asya snaps and it’s glorious. Don’t continuously torment the person who can burn you alive with merely a thought if you aren’t prepared for her to burn you alive. Yes, there are consequences that are less than ideal, but they had it coming. Asya has never done anything wrong in her entire life.

When I finished the first book, I was expecting the relationship between Asya and Yuliana to be a lot more complicated going forwards than it ultimately ended up being. The rise of a bigger threat has given Yuliana’s brother a bit of perspective, and Asya forgave Yuliana for her part in everything pretty much immediately. Asya and Yuliana spend this book on the same page regarding their relationship, and I really enjoyed that! They both had more than enough going on, the last thing they needed was relationship drama on top of that, and I was glad that they got to spend the book confident in their feelings towards each other.

I really enjoyed the development of Nikov’s friendship with Asya during the first half of the book! He’s the only person at the palace that Asya can trust to care about Izaveta’s wellbeing, and they quickly join forces to hunt for any sort of clues that could lead them to her. Eventually Nikov and Izaveta are reunited, and their slow burn romance develops some very interesting new layers to it. He cares deeply for both sisters, one romantically and one platonically, and wants to do everything he can to help them and keep them safe. Whether it’s possible for him to do that is another matter entirely. There’s a lot more to him than initially appears.

Like in the first book, ultimately the emotional core of this book is the sisters and their relationship! They love each other so much, to the point that they’re probably willing to go too far and sacrifice too much for each other’s sake, and in Izaveta’s case without much regard for Asya’s opinion on the matter. Watching their relationship develop from this into something a lot healthier, without their closeness having to be sacrificed for it, was a joy. By the end of the book they’re closer to one another than they’ve ever been

I didn’t reread the first book before diving into this one, and that was a mistake. I remembered the broad strokes of the plot but there were a lot of details that ended up being a lot more significant than I was expecting them to be, and I had no memory of them. This undoubtedly limited my enjoyment of this book, which is a shame! I’ve probably learned nothing from this, but maybe don’t make the same mistake as me and make sure to have read book one recently before moving on to this one.

All in all, this was a solid conclusion to a strong duology that I’m sure fantasy lovers will enjoy!

Thank you to Edelweiss, Inkyard Press, and HarperCollins for providing me with an e-arc in return for an honest review

#review #book review #this cursed crown #these feathered flames #alexandra overy #books #booklr

[yaboyspodcastpalace]

@ante--meridiem

Ooh please tell me about your aus 👀

:D !!!!

my main petermartin au is the buried!martin*** one that doubles as a "martin working for peter on the tundra", where basically the Tundra finds a couple of survivors from a wreckage in the middle of the ocean and picks them up with full intention of sacrificing them later, but the more Peter is around them the more he picks up the weirdest vibe of one of them (Martin) not only because he's a sad looking young man that doesn't quite fit with his supposed fellow crew members but also because?? he can see through the fog for some reason and thus spotting him whenever he's being sneaky thats like 90% of the time

there's an obvious resentment at first bc who likes having their space breached like that?? but the more they keep bumping into each other and the more martin talks there's this undeniable loneliness behind his words that obviously hooks peter. recalling a bet he made with elias sometime ago and using "i should practice first... on him :^)" as an excuse to get closer to martin in an attempt to sway him (or consume him, but hopefully sway him, he kinda likes him)

uuuuuh something something recognition of oneself in the other, courting sidestepping but not quite ignoring their respective positions as The Captain and A Sailor, being homoerotic and saying weird shit at the dead of night when martin is on watch duty and they're both alone with only the ocean for company, you know how it is (peter keeps finding odd little details from martin but he just assumes thats the lonely taking a claim on him not... yknow)

there's also some plot bc at some point another one of the survivors tells peter that he doesn't think martin was on their ship at all?? he has no fucking clue who that guy is but is saying he was from there?? do something?? and peters like mhm mhm i see, do the others know this? no? ok dw i'll do smth :) and next day he feeds him to the lonely bc fuck that guy. also turning point bc now martin is like hey... what was that? what ARE you?? bc he doesnt know any other avatars! hes just a guy!!

anyway at the end the waters part martin disappears and peter thinking another avatar took him goes down the path bc hey HE claimed him first >:( but eventually finds him there at the bottom, just chilling, and once he reaches him the waters fall down again trapping them under the crushing weight of the waters. Martin holds on tight to peter and now that its evident of what martin is is explicit the fact that they're both feeding off each other, peter by the crushing weight of everything and the stone solid arms around his waist and martin by the wavering sense that he's actually all alone not only down there but in general. and holds on tighter to peter. Like an ouroboro. The End

***the fic is from peter's pov which is why he never knows hes a buried avatar til the end but it also has letters from martin to his mother (kind of, at first at least) intersected mid story that shed light of this. How martin didn't join the magnus institute years ago, had a string of bad luck regarding jobs with bad pay, the rapidly worsening condition of his mother without being able to put her on a good home and her subsequential death. The absolute crushing loneliness and aimless state of his life and how in one of his latest jobs at some random ship there was a storm and he drowned. And the pressure of the darkening waters was a blessing in contrast to his painful life. Eventually he found that his lungs didn't have any air left and yet he wasn't dying, he was simply there, in stasis, almost unable to move or do anything at all, and it was... oddly comforting.

but he'd get lonely sometimes. and hungry. and find a way to reach the top and get out of the water and for some time it was okay and w/ this new chance he actually got to meet ppl and create bonds n stuff, until he felt the hidden despair of another person and be like "i know how i can make them feel better :)" and drags them down at the bottom of the ocean where they can rest, and isnt it nice? isnt it good to find some peace?

in the last of his letters he mentions that [the last time he resurfaced] he was picked up by a cargo ship with a couple other people, survivors or something, and that he'll try to blend in. He also feels the weirdest vibe from the ship's captain, and wonders if there's anything he can do to help. THE END for real now

#the magnus archives #petermartin #i can fix him/i can make him worse petermartin aus where it ends ambiguous for BOTH are my faves #thank youuuuuu for indulging me a bit <3 #statement ends #magnus archives #fic tag #(suicide idealization cw for the last parts)

[jockpoetry]

the most Leo thing I’ve ever done was change a staunch Hillary voter into a Bernie voter through sheer force of will <3 he was so bashful when he told me he voted for Bernie in that primary but I was so proud of him!

the second most Leo thing I’ve ever done was when I led an entire fictional nation to commit mass suicide in our political theory class simulation. That was me wielding it for evil and I do own that.

#talkin to myself #he was like an older employee of the college and he always came to my table to talk to me about Bernie #it made all the door to door canvassing in {redacted} worth it #the political ideals / ideologies one is because the professor was an agent of chaos and put me in the poorest / least powerful part of #the simulated society and surrounded me with all the kids who didn’t care and I just sat back the whole simulation and gave advice here #and there but on it took two days to starve and the whole nation didn’t feed us one day and the last day of the simulation after they begged #us to eat and supplied food I stood up and said ‘I’m not eating!’ and no one else did and we destroyed civilization <3 #suicide cw #just in case skskskks haha

[merakiui]

the baby trap fic made me curious.. I know you got an ask like this a couple of days ago for scara but how do you think Albedo would react to his s/o seeing absolutely no escape or way out of the pregnancy and then attempting to end their own life? And since he’s not home a lot he wouldn’t be there to stop them. I imagine that Sucrose would give the S/o enough privacy for them to be able to do it without her knowledge or at least without her knowing until it’s too late and klee wouldn’t be able to prevent it at all i imagine.

The way I’m so ready to make this an entire dark story/series(?) after I finish and post the parts for my Xiao story... HELP!! If I did make a multi-part story, it would either be modern au doctor Albedo, college au Albedo, or I’d stick with regular Genshin Albedo. But nothing’s set in stone yet! Xiao story comes first hehe

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, attempted suicide/near-death, pregnancy, female reader, knife/blood/gore)

As Albedo’s s/o, your life is unusually boring. You’re confined to his house and, on some rare occasions, you’ll be brought to Dragonspine to watch him conduct research or to the outskirts of Mondstadt where you’ll pose for Albedo so he can draw you. But on most days you’re stuck inside, forced to live out repetitive days and nights. Sometimes you’ll read and other times you’ll explore his large house, searching for any secrets he might’ve concealed before you were forced to live there.

Your life may be comfortable, but it isn’t ideal. You almost feel as if you aren’t meant to do anything except carry his child and look pretty. On top of that, it’s hard to plan an escape when your pregnancy gets in the way. There have been times where you tried to climb out of the window on the lowest floor just to test your strength; it was difficult and Sucrose had caught you in the act when she had come looking for you. You honestly wish Albedo wouldn’t put Sucrose in charge of you; it’s too tough to lie to someone as sweet as her.

You’ll put on an act whenever Sucrose or Klee are around, smiling awkwardly when they speak about how the baby is so lucky to have such a loving mother and how you’ll do a great job raising them alongside Albedo. Klee’s already started drawing what she thinks the baby will look like and Sucrose has offered to look for items for the nursery for you. Behind closed doors, when you’re finally given some privacy, your expression falls and you feel so tired. Everything’s lost its shine and splendor. You just wish there was an easier way out of this. More than anything, you wish it wasn’t you who Albedo decided to fall in love with.

It’s hard to face him when he checks up on you, wanting to make sure you’re healthy and well. Albedo has developed this habit as a result of your pregnancy. He tends to hug you from behind so that his hands can settle upon your stomach, feeling the life within you stir and kick every now and then. The position is awfully one-sided and you feel very uncomfortable when he holds you so dearly. If anything, you should feel relieved that he’s not a cruel person. He never threatens to hurt you or your unborn child. Rather than that, he warns you of the dangers that can befall you if you manage to stray too far from his house. Treasure Hoarders, the Abyss Order, and even something as insignificant as a few slimes.

Albedo can’t risk losing you and your precious child to something evil and unsavory. It would absolutely break his heart, so he reminds you that it’s better to stay within his house. You’ll be safe and warm, and most importantly you won’t stress yourself out.

Hearing him speak of your future together is one of the last straws for you. You’ve managed to hold onto a few threads of sanity since this ordeal began, but now they’re snapping and fraying all at once. A future with Albedo? Horrible. You: a tied-down mother who can no longer explore the world or do fun things with her friends? Unfathomable. At this point, you no longer care whether you crush Klee’s dreams of being a big sister or hurt Sucrose’s feelings. And you really can’t bother with Albedo. You’ve tried to be nice and put up with it—tried to accept these foul circumstances that have bound you to this crooked relationship—but it’s impossible.

So you decide that suicide is your only option. You can’t outrun him, nor can you rely on the help of those around you, and you can’t use Klee or Sucrose to aid in your escape. As if your worst fears have grabbed onto you and are pulling you down into a maddening spiral, you realize you’re going to die alone: miserable, lonely, and with an unborn child you never got to truly love and care for. There’s no point in crying over the unfairness of it all; it was never fair from the beginning.

You’ve gone over a few methods, wanting the one you choose to be as quick and painless as possible. Eventually you reason that it doesn’t matter and that you’ll be dead all the same. It’s hard to find a weapon in Albedo’s house. Everything that was once Klee-proof is now baby-proof. So it’s a miracle when you find a set of knives resting upon the highest shelf. With a little help from a chair, you’re able to grab one of the knives. You can tell it hasn’t been used in a while because it’s accumulated some dust and the point is sharp to the touch.

Fear runs through your electrified nerves, spurred on by the realization that this will be the place where you die. In Albedo’s kitchen. In Albedo’s house. In some isolated part of Mondstadt that Albedo has put you in. A lonely end for a lonely person. You’re close to crying as you make an experimental cut along your wrist, not exactly knowing how you should go about this. But eventually you dissolve into a deluded mindset, where the location of the cuts hardly matter. As long as you can draw enough blood, you’ll be okay.

Your vision spots as your brain struggles to block the sight of your own crimson from your glassy eyes. Salty tears mix with fresh blood as you make another slice. In the midst of your hopelessness, you get the sick idea that you should kill your child before you end yourself, if only to mitigate their suffering by a little bit. Before you can execute such a twisted idea, Sucrose’s high-pitched scream alerts you and in your shock you whirl around to face her. And having lost so much blood already you slip on your shaky legs, landing painfully on the blood-stained ground.

Everything hurts, but nothing hurts more than the fearful expression she wears when she hovers over you. You want nothing more than to disappear and that’s your final thought as you slip into unconsciousness.

When you wake up, bandaged and healed and lying in a plush bed, you realize your luck has become incredibly sour. And Albedo is sitting at your bedside with a look on his face that you can’t quite figure out. It’s a mix of relief and grief—a potent concoction of fear and anxiety. You know this isn’t your fault; this was bound to happen. But you still feel obligated to apologize.

Escape is futile. Not even death can save you from the future you’re meant to pursue with Albedo.

#genshin chit chat #yandere albedo #yandere albedo x reader #tw: pregnancy #tw: children

[onlyherefortheshowmances]

So I saw someone else get an anon message that said: “I hate to admit this, but I really can't shake the feeling that Benji loves Victor more than Victor loves Benji at this point.” I wanted to respond as well, because I think this is something people are probably seeing a lot and I really want to explain how I’m looking at it (from personal experience and just from looking at and examining the characters).

CW/TW: Mental Health, suicidal ideation/action mention, Addiction, Emotional Trauma, sex mention, Predatory relationship mention, catholicism, homophobia, misunderstandings, lack of communication, spoilers for love victor seasons 1 & 2 [let me know if I missed anything please]

I want to be frank in saying that Benji is my favorite character and I project onto him a lot (along with seeing a lot of myself in him). I’m also white AF, so I’m sure some of you think that’s relevant, but I really don’t think it is in this particular case. I do also however identify with Victor in a number of ways and I am trying to see the characters both as complex individuals with deep personal histories. Both have suffered traumas and both are clearly dealing with a lot of their own shit on top of being sixteen/seventeen and dealing with junior year of high school and all the pressures and expectations that brings for everyone.

I think what people are interpreting at loving someone more/less is actually about prioritizing someone/a relationship more/less. In my mind, from what I see on screen and interpret, they both love each other beyond words. They are both very much in love with one another. It comes down to how they display that to each other and to the public as well as where on their list of priorities this relationship falls.

Let’s start with Victor, struggles and life:

He is dealing with internalized homophobia and associated thought-patterns stemming from his upbringing in the Catholic church as well from the vocalized homophobic remarks from his mother (toward himself and Benji as well as likely at other points in his life toward strangers), his father (stating that he hopes Adrian doesn’t turn out ‘like that’; the scene in S1 where they’re at the church in Texas and he calls the hairdresser ‘flojito’; etc.), and his grandparents (on his birthday and likely at other points in his life). As a result of this, Victor tried to make himself straight (or at least interested in a girl) by dating Mia because he did like her as a person and everyone was telling him that’s what he was supposed to do. He ended up hurting her and almost losing her friendship (temporarily, he did, but she does seem to have forgiven him now).

He is dealing with outside homophobia as well. That kid on the very first day he was Creekwood responding to Benji helping him up. Felix’s comment that same day of ‘you don’t want to give people the wrong idea.’ The basketball team/gym class guys roasting him about not hooking up with Mia on the ferris wheel. Felix saying he’d be crazy to not like Mia. Lake asking ‘are you gay or something’ when he brought Felix along to Mia’s house, etc., etc. Some of these things may seem innocent enough, but they weren’t. Not to Victor who was already struggling to accept even the possibility that he might be gay. Once he managed to come out to his parents, obviously his father got better fairly quickly, but Isabel continued to struggle for six months which put even more pressure on Victor to try to lead this double life. Once he came out at school, the whole fiasco with the basketball team also occurred and that was a lot for him, because Basketball as always his safe-space. It’s where he went to get away from all the other pressure. It was something he didn’t have to think about and now suddenly, he did. Those pressure are also affecting his ability to think about what he may want and it seems affecting his ability to think (at all sometimes) about how any of that is also affecting Benji. It’s affecting him so much that he’s basically blind to how it’s also affecting Benji to see him suffer. He doesn’t even consider that possibility until Felix brings up how hard it is for him the night Felix breaks up with Lake and Venji get caught having sex.

Victor also has struggles away from just his coming out and accepting himself journey. He has the struggles associated with his parents separation. Until fairly recently, Victor always thought his parents had a perfect relationship. He saw that as the ideal. Get together in High School, get married right away, stay together for ever, happily ever after. That’s what he was raised to expect. And now he’s seeing their relationship fall apart before his eyes. Hell, his devoutly Catholic mother had an affair, and he’s wondering if it’s really possible for your first love to be your only love especially after he and Benji start butting heads, so he’s already vulnerable to that viewpoint when Rahim brings up the possibility. He gets so lost in what’s happening to his parents and what Rahim is saying about it not usually working out that he forgets how in love he is and he sort of loses his will to fight for what he wants, because maybe it’s just doomed to fail anyway (until he sees Benji at the wedding and it sort of hits again - and then Felix’s speech thereafter, obviously). He kind of loses his way by getting caught up in the statistic improbability of your first love being the one and watching his parents’ marriage potentially fall apart and he wonders for a moment if it might be easier, if it might be better to just walk away and go toward Rahim who he seem to get along with and seems to understand the things Benji doesn’t about him, but what he fails to examine in that moment is that he’s only barely scratched the surface with Rahim and that Rahim doesn’t know him like Benji does and that every relationship has it’s ups and downs and what it always comes down to is how willing both parties are to work to make things right. How much you’re willing to step into the other person’s shoes and try to understand. In my opinion, even if he were to walk away from Benji and go to Rahim, that bubble of understanding isn’t going to last forever either. He’s failing to remember that when he got together with Benji (and for most of the summer it seems) that’s exactly what it was like and failing to remember that they have grown beyond that into a deep soul-altering love for one another that deserves his time, energy, and effort and NEEDS those things to keep it going.

Now let’s talk about Victor’s priorities in life:

Victor has always been close with his family, especially his mother. The strain on that relationship is very taxing on his mental well-being. He has a hard time ‘standing up to’ her or talking back to her, etc. because he loves her and he just wants their easy, close relationship back. He already overcame his own anger at her affair to get her back, but now she’s the one pulling away because of his sexuality and it’s hurting him because if he was able to forgive her for something that was actually wrong, why can’t she forgive him for something that he has no control over. So he loves his mother and his family and he hates disappointing them. He has spent most of his life fixing his family’s issues (as he explains to Simon in S1), but now he is the issue and he doesn’t know how to handle it. When in 2x1 he decides to just bring Benji over and try exposure therapy with his mom, it backfires in a big way. Even though they barely touch each other. Even though Benji just says the word boyfriend once, it’s too much for Isabel and Victor desperately wants to please. He desperately wants to not lose his mother (who has always been the person he is closest to), so that causes him to take a step back from going against her and the steps he still takes (telling her he wants her to call Benji his boyfriend not just his friend, the whole conversation outside the church, the conversation with Adrian, etc.) are things that Benji doesn’t get to see happening and it frustrated Victor that Benji won’t even listen to him when he tries to say that his mom is making progress at all, because she is so important to him and yet it seems like Benji just doesn’t even recognize or care about that. This leads him to say the thing he does at Brasstown before Benji runs out, because he assumes that it has to do with Benji being white and of course, that is part of it, but I think Victor in that moment is so overwhelmed by the rejection of his mother and now the refusal of his boyfriend to even try to understand that he snaps. He forgets all the struggles Benji has told him from his own past and he just lashes out which causes Benji to leave [more on Benji’s viewpoint of this whole thing later].

Victor also loves basketball. It’s true that in some case LGBTQIA+ individual participate in certain activities to make them seem more ‘normal’. Gay men participating in sports to seem more macho is a common one, so Benji thinking that’s why Victor plays basketball makes sense to an extend, but he never bothers to ask Victor about, only makes assumptions, and Victor feels like the fact that he actually likes sports makes him ‘not gay enough’ (see conversation with Andrew). What he’s forgetting entirely is his encounter with Bram and the gay basketball league in NYC from episode 1x8. There are many ways to be gay, and sports gays do exist and are perfectly valid. That’s not the type of gay Benji or his friends/bandmates are, but it is the type that Victor is and Benji failing to recognize that and failing to understand or even ask Victor about that drives one of many wrenches into their relationship. In episode 1x5 when Benji shows up to Victor’s first game back on the team and does the Go Grizzlies dance with the other basketball girlfriends, it definitely does a lot of help Victor realize this was just a miscommunication/misunderstanding rather than anything malicious. Basketball and his teammates continue to be a priority for him after this, but that seems to be something Benji is now capable of understanding.

Finally, Victor loves Benji. He wants to be with Benji; there is zero doubt about that. However, for Victor when he’s put on the spot (as in episode 2x8) and basically told he has to choose his mom (who has raised him and been his closest confidant and biggest supporter for his entire life) or his boyfriend (who he’s known for almost a year and been dating for six months and is helplessly in love with) it processes as an error message in his brain. He just wants everyone to get along. He’s not mad that Adrian knows that he’s gay (he’s wanted him to know for months), but he is upset that his mom is now even angrier. [see my section about Benji in this moment, for more about Isabel’s reactions as well] In his mind, telling Adrian could wait. In his mind, he was willing to go along with his mom’s requests for a while longer just to keep the peace so to speak. He didn’t want his whole life to fall apart and that’s what he thought was about to happen in that moment. That’s why he asked Benji to leave. He didn’t want to make his mom any angrier. Could he have chosen his words better? Yes. Could he have made Benji understand better? Yes. But he’s sixteen and his brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity because post-sex brain is definitely a thing and he was also looking at his mom who has already been horrible and barely able to look at him for six months, looking even angrier after he finally thought they’d made some progress after church the previous week.

So in conclusion, regarding Victor:

He loves his family (especially his mom). He loves Benji. He loves Basketball. Obviously, he’s not going to prioritize basketball over either of the human beings involved, but I think it’s important to at least note it’s importance in his life. As for Isabel vs. Benji. To Victor, these are the two most important people in his life. All he wants is to be able to love both of them and have both of them love him in return. When they are pit against each other, especially directly, it’s hard for him to make a choice. It’s hard for him to say ‘no’ to his mom and it’s hard for him to say ‘no’ to Benji, but in the moment (episode 2x8 specifically), he takes Isabel’s side, because he knows the ramifications of saying no to her and of making her even more angry that she already is are far worse than the ones for asking Benji to leave for the night. He failed to realize however, how close Benji already was to the edge and how upset he was going to be and how little he understood (or was willing to try to understand) about the situation. This is something he really needs to communicate with Benji (even though it’s not quite as important now that Isabel’s apparently come around). I think it’s important for Benji to understand that Victor values his relationship with his mother enough that it’s difficult for him to go against her without a lot of preparation and having a fully fledged reason, etc.

Now for Benji - Struggles and Life:

The obvious of course is that Benji is a sixteen/seventeen year old that’s barely a year sober and attending AA meetings regularly. Recovering from Alcoholism is difficult at any age let alone for a teenager. One of the most important factors in recovery is looking at the things that led you to drink in the first place. Looking at things that may be considered triggers and either learning to avoid those people/situations or learning healthy alternatives in those situations. I have multiple family members who are both actively drinking alcoholics as well as those in recovery. I also lost my best friend/ex-fiancé to alcoholism a few years ago, so to say I have some personal experience in this arena is putting it lightly. Benji admits to Victor in 1x7 that he used to drink a lot because he knew he was gay, but didn’t want to be. To me that whole story screamed, I’m an alcoholic and while a lot of others agreed with that opinion. I was not shocked that Victor didn’t understand that underlying truth. Those that don’t have intimate familiarity with alcoholism often do not recognize the signs (either as they happen when when they are not directly told). It is made clear in episodes 2x7 & 2x8 that Benji hates this part of himself, in fact he says as much to Victor when he arrives at his apartment late the night of his birthday. Benji has still not fully accepted that the alcoholic part of himself that attends AA meetings and drinks orange juice while his friends are drinking vodka is one and the same with the part of himself that loves Victor with all his heart. This is something I’d really like to see him reconcile and work on in season 3 and beyond. Understand that you can’t compartmentalize yourself. You are but one whole person and all facets of yourself are in fact part of the singular you. [Not accounting for those with dissociative identity disorder.] It’s not directly mentioned if he’s still struggling with urges to drink, but most if not all alcoholics do, especially when experiencing those aforementioned triggers. Seeing Benji meeting with his sponsor after the incident with Isabel/Victor is not shocking to me and if anything, that was the healthy and correct response on his part. The reason he was drinking in the first place was that he was gay and didn’t want to be (internalized and probably external homophobia) and he just experience some really intense homophobia at the hands of his boyfriend’s mom (and partially said boyfriend himself). Benji’s lack of understanding of where Isabel was coming from in episode 1x8 speaks volumes to just how traumatize Benji still is about his own experiences with homophobia. The only thing he can think about in that moment is that this woman hates me for being gay. She hates her son for being gay. Being gay isn’t okay, etc. What he doesn’t factor in is that Isabel is also devoutly Catholic. I honestly don’t think it’s the gay part of the sex that horrified her the most. The Catholic faith is also very clear on the practice of abstinence from sex (at all) prior to marriage. She would’ve responded the same way had she walked in on Victor having sex with a girl, in my opinion, but in the moment Benji’s own trauma is overriding his ability to understand that because all he can see is the homophobia. This is especially true after she calls him Victor’s friend rather than his boyfriend and that in my opinion, is why he snaps. Could he have phrased it better? Yes. Could he have said it without shouting? Yes. But he is a freshly seventeen-year-old whose brain is not functioning on all cylinders in that moment.

Sort of coupled with his alcoholism and recovery therefrom is the allusion his mother makes to ‘dark times’ following his accident. I do have suspicions that perhaps he was also struggling with mental illness, and likely continues to. Depression to the point of suicidal ideation or actions (possibly only in the form of drinking, but possibly in other forms as well). Anxiety is pretty obvious from his actions and reactions throughout the series as well. I also think he is dealing with some sort of trauma-based disorder stemming from the homophobia he experienced (especially the instance of his father taking him to strip-club). It may go as far as C-PTSD (which I myself am diagnosed with) or it maybe something less (or even more). I’m not in the habit of sticking mental health diagnoses of people (fictional or otherwise though). Dealing with these things on top of what in his eyes feels like rejection from not only Isabel, but in a way from Victor as well likely causes some very unpleasant thought patterns and the potential for thought spirals and the likely. I also see indications that he could suffer from co-dependency (whish I also have dealt with in the past), but I’m honestly not sure if that’s me projecting or if it’s actually there.

Then on top of all of that, his boyfriend who he loves more than anything in the world, tells his deepest darkest secret to someone he’s literally never met or spoken to and that said boyfriend has only known for maybe a week at best and thinks it’s no big deal. In that moment, I can 110% see why Benji requests to take a break and I feel that choice is 110% the right one to make. What is a relationship built on if not trust? Victor just destroyed most if not all of the trust Benji had in him. That doesn’t mean he stopped loving him, just that he doesn’t trust him. Love isn’t something you can turn off and on like a light switch especially not the kind these two share. I definitely think Victor has a lot of explaining to do and a lot of apologies to make. I do also think they both need to have a really long, really honest and open conversation. Benji needs to be willing to get a little vulnerable and explain why certain things are causing him so much distress, but he also needs to be willing to listen to Victor explain why he can’t simply go against his mother as Benji seems to think he should. They both really demonstrated a degree of selfishness this season along with an lack of communication and a lack of willingness to understand or even try to understand each other’s points of view and that is a recipe for disaster in any relationship.

There also exists the issue of Benji’s parents. His mother especially seems to overstep quite frequently and insert herself into his life where she was not invited or expected. I do wonder if this was always her personality or if this is something that started after Benji’s accident. I have a hunch it was likely the latter. I see indications that perhaps there was some neglect or just general indifference on his parents part as he was growing up. They clearly missed that he had started drinking heavily and that he stole his dad’s car that night. He was also evidently dating Derek for quite a while before the accident. (Derek is another section by himself though.) This not to mention the fact that his father took him to a strip club and paid for a lap dance when he was no more than sixteen if he was even that old, in an effort to turn him straight. Benji tells Victor in episode 1x7 that he and his dad used to be close and that they used to go to Dollywood on road trips and other such things, but that he’s been distant since he came out. We see from the scene where he walks in on Benji and Victor making out that he’s not vocally/outwardly homophobic, but I would not doubt that he still harbors some of those viewpoints in himself. It’s evident to me that Benji is not close to his parents (he may once have been, but at this point it’s pretty clear that he’s not anymore). Benji doesn’t have siblings to the best of our knowledge. It’s also mentioned that his nana (like a paternal grandmother) is deceased, so it’s really not clear how much contact he even has with his extended family or how much of one exists. For these reasons, in his mind, there is no circumstance where his family (especially not his parents) would take precedence of his own happiness or Victor’s. That is why it confuses/hurts/angers him that Victor doesn’t stand up to Isabel, because if the roles were reversed, he would have no problem at all telling his own mother (or father) off. He doesn’t seem to comprehend Victor’s need to keep his relationship with his mother intact. I’m very glad Isabel pointed out to him that Victor has stood up to her and risked their relationship for him, but the disconnect still lies in that Benji isn’t a fan of the fact that he didn't’ do that in his presence and that he didn’t do more.

Then there’s Derek. Derek is at least a sophomore in college in season 2 as he was clearly in college in season 1 as well. Meaning he is at least 19/20 when Benji is 16/17. They had been together for a year the previous spring (episode 1x6) which means they started dating when Benji was 15 and Derek was no younger than 18 (I think he is like at least a year older than the youngest possibility). Georgia’s age of consent is 16, and there are no ‘Romeo and Juliet’ laws in place in the state meaning it is categorically illegal for anyone 18 years of age or older to engage in sexual acts with anyone 15 years of age or younger unless they are legally wed, meaning until Benji’s 16th birthday, this relationship was illegal in general not to mention the predatory nature of someone in college dating a high school sophomore to begin with. They generally don’t prosecute if the people involved are within 4 years of each other though (which coincides with ‘Romeo and Juliet’ laws in other states) which they could’ve been within depending on Derek’s actual age and birthday. It doesn’t seem like charges were filed either way which is questionable on Benji’s parents part. Benji also tells Victor in 1x10 that Derek made him feel bad a lot of the time about the things he like and about being a romantic, we also see Derek crap all over Benji’s special anniversary date in 1x6. The toxicity of that relationship is sure to have left it’s mark on Benji and carried over into his new relationship with Victor. I also find it questionable that knowing that, Benji was shitting all over Victor’s love for basketball at one point (isn’t that exactly what he complained about Derek doing to him about his interests?), though as you see in my earlier comments, I do understand that perhaps Benji wasn't’ fully aware that Victor actually liked basketball and wasn’t just doing it to seem straight/make his dad happy/etc. I also think it’s quite confusing that Victor managed to come up with that date idea for Benji in 1x6 and then the best he could do for Benji’s birthday was champagne and sex? I’d be more than marginally hurt over that if I was Benji, to be completely fair. It is also worth it to note that Benji stayed with Derek for over a year despite all of their problems (which goes back to the possibility of co-dependency issues) and yet he was willing to break up with him just to chase after the possibility of Victor. They had already connected on so many levels even prior to that night that even the possibility of that relationship made Benji willing to leave someone he’d been with for more than a year (obviously Victor’s little speech in the hallway played a part in that).

Benji’s Priorities:

In Benji’s world, he has a few things that could be considered priorities.

Maintaining his sobriety is obviously one, but he keeps that separate from everything else. I don’t see it being held above or below anyone or anything. It’s just a completely separate thing to him (which again I feel he needs to reconcile). He was able to do that while also appeasing his friends and Victor (see episode 2x4 where he switches out his cups).

His music/band is obviously a priority, but again that’s something basic that everyone knows about and accepts. He doesn’t have choose between that and anything or anyone else that we’re shown.

Victor is his primary priority however. To him, that is the most important relationship/person in his life. He doesn’t know what he’d do without him. He says he loves that part of his life which I take to mean, he loves who he is when they’re together and not so much when they’re apart. To him, there is no question of who he would choose if there was a choice in front of him between Victor and literally anyone else (including his parents). That is why it confuses/hurts/angers him when the choice isn’t so simple for Victor when he actually has to make one between Benji and Isabel. Benji isn’t close with his parents and he doesn’t seem to understand what it is like for someone that is. Even if his parents didn’t come around right away. Even if they still may not be fully on board with everything, it didn't’ matter that much to him, because he could stand up to them because he didn’t care about destroying a relationship, because there already wasn’t much of one to begin with. This leads to him not understanding that Victor is seriously conflicted in the moments where he is made to choose between his boyfriend and his mother, because to Benji that choice is crystal clear. Again, they could really do with an honest conversation about this where Benji actually listens and tries to understand where Victor’s coming from, because right now, I think he just doesn’t quite get it. It’s clear that Isabel’s speech at Brasstown helped him to understand or at least start to, and obviously now that Isabel isn’t so much of an obstacle everything becomes a little easier, but it is still something that I really feel they need to discuss and understand about each other.

In conclusion:

Both of these boys need therapy (individual, family, and couples), and they would really benefit from a lot more open and honest communication where they both are able to speak honestly about their needs and desires as well as both being able to listen to and understand (or try to at least) one another.

#long post #this is so fucking long #text wall #i'm sorry #venji #love victor #victor salazar #benji campbell #mental health #addicition #alcohol #alcoholism #trauma #emotional trauma #homophobia #age of consent #predatory relationships #catholicism #family relationships #neglectful parents #let me know if you want me to tag anything else in this please #suicide

[july-19th-club]

What happened in the magicians?? Please say your doom, doomsayer, I want to know what to be afraid of

o stranger, it is your humble doomsayer's greatest wish not to disturb your sweet ignorance to the fiasco that was the magicians, since you have got thus far without it, and especially because it really bears no relevance on any other show except in my addled and unrested mind...but you asked and i have seen all of the magicians and know all the discourse, so i will tell you and you'll also know why my yardstick for anticipation is so god-awfully long

the magicians as you may know was a contemporary fantasy series on SyFy based on the books 'the magicians' by lev grossman (which are quite good in some ways and a little iffy in others but not the point of this post bc the show diverged from the canon plot fairly early), intended to be a sexy, sort of millennial deconstruction of the narnia concept. it ran from like 2016 through 2019ish and it was pretty good actually until it wasn't

what gave it that extra special sauce was that it had a good-sized following consisting of 'gay people who read the books' and it put a serious amount of effort into teasing a relationship that had been more subtextual in the books between two of the main characters - quentin (the little nerd maincharacter guy) and eliot (the troubled-misanthrope bisexual guy). in the third season an episode was devoted to following them as they build a little life together in a cottage somewhere, which they then of course have to leave in order to do the plot. point is, it was teased so heavily that it stopped being 'idle audience speculation' and started being 'plots reviewers are aware of and keep in mind when discussing the magicians.' many people fully expected that this stuff would get explored further in the fourth season, and it was, a bit, and then quentin, the main character of the goddamn show, is summarily killed in that season's final episode and....that was it.

audience reaction to this was pretty poor for many reasons (he doesn't die in the books, he's the main character, he has a long arc early in the series about overcoming suicidal impulses and then dies in a way that is explicitly linked to suicide) but especially because this character had been built up as part of the next big game-changing queer pairing. the showrunners justified killing the character early in the fallout by saying that (iirc) not even white men were safe on their show! which, if they'd bothered to give their black and brown characters better writing might have come off a little less performative and stupid-sounding. for a lot of people, the writing that had been on the wall re: a decline in general quality for the show and wrt some of its less successful features (aforementioned thin writing for characters of color, an overall overstuffing in the plot so nothing ever got fully wrapped up, only more complicated) meant that its viewership for the fifth and last season was abysmal. they'd yanked their main character without ceremony for shock value and now nobody wanted to watch it!

this show was also, for what it's worth, a sera gamble joint (she was the showrunner of supernatural for seasons 6 and 7 and she's currently the head of the show 'you,’ which seems like her ideal project and good luck to her but i won’t be seeing it). and for my money, one of the things that got people most up in arms about the magicians was that there was a lot of press about how much better it was doing than other shows in its niche. the uproar over stuff that happens on spn mostly stays in the 'spn people' corner; this wasn't supposed to be a little CW show where you went in halfway expecting some sort of clexa thing to happen sooner or later. there were thinkpieces written about it. there were queer people in the cast who spent months eagerly giving interviews about how groundbreaking and exciting it was to be involved in it. we soon learned that aside from the guy that got killed off, nobody else in the cast was told he wasn’t coming back until like, three days before the episode aired. audiences took this to mean they probably would not have talked the season up so enthusiastically if they'd know more about it. so the magicians petered out in infamy and now lives in the sad halls of 'shows that didn't do it', sharing drinks with 'the 100' and other sad, neglected stories of production mishandling.

now, that’s a very long and involved post about something that i don't actually expect to see happen exactly this way again (knock on wood). and you shouldn’t allow it to color your opinions of other projects the way it’s colored mine; it’s just that it was such a ridiculously shitty situation that it still sticks in my craw enough to write about it for forty-five minutes at 7am on a work morning. it was a perfect storm of incompetence, poor engagement, bad writing, and deliberate misdirection of both the audience and their own creative team. but it has become the smoking, still-uninhabitable volcano that my doom prophet points to whenever someone admires a nearby mountain, lush and green in the spring. you know, mountains can blow up at any time! i screech, and i wave my sign around.

#the magicians #i found my rant from this morning! murphy and your law dont even look at this #it ws just.......further down in my drafts #not sure why #because the ask was from last night? thats weird #and i dont get it #but whatever

[drsilverfish]

The Absence of the Feminine in 15x19 Inherit the Earth

I’ve been thinking about the fact that Amara’s absence from 15x19 Inherit the Earth felt... really disappointing. And how that deliberately parallels the disappointment the narrative itself creates at Cas’ absence in 15x19 too (Dean running to the door of the bunker, only to be faced with the huge let down that is Lucifer).  

I’ve previously written about the ways in which Amara and Castiel have been paralleled in the SPN narrative here: 

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/133295635934/amara-and-castiel 

and here:

https://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/633588894701682688/amara-and-castiel-parallels-in-15x17

I was hoping Amara would, as an active power, evidently, transform Chuck from the inside in 15x19 Inherit the Earth; i.e. that feminine power in the narrative would come rushing back.

And in one sense, of course, that did play out. Amara did transform Chuck. 

The ineffable power of the Divine, including Amara, moved on from its vessel Chuck (the Demiurge, or lesser God in Gnosticism) who had proved unworthy, and into its new vessel, Jack Kline Novak Winchester; part human and part divine.  

And inside Jack, Amara’s Goddess-power is in harmony, and in balance, with the God-power of the universe; Creation and Destruction, Alpha and Omega, the End and the Beginning, united at last, in an alchemical Sacred Marriage. 

Indeed, the first power Jack exhibited, after he exploded in The Empty and returned to earth, was a power more compatible with The Darkness and with endings (Amara’s traditional function). He kept sucking the life out of vegetation in 15x19:

Still, Amara’s voice and her form were absent in 15x19.

Just as Castiel was absent in 15x19.

The disappointment at their absence, which the narrative itself creates in relation to Cas, fits with the metanarrative feat S15 is attempting to pull off, in which the current SPN writers’ room drags elements of SPN’s own narrative - personified in Bad Writer Chuck (who is partly a writers’ room self-send-up, and, perhaps, partly, no doubt, a stand in for Exec Level at the CW Network).

God (Chuck), as Metatron said, in 8x23 Sacrifice, was always “a bit of sexist.”

And so has the show been, let’s acknowledge that; the writers’ room is :-).  

So, of course, in the final chapter written by Chuck, 15x19, (although, notice, in that episode, that the Winchesters and Jack start to take over as narrators, as they begin to win) the feminine would be absent. 

Chuck has always tried to write the feminine (which is symbolically equated with love in SPN) out of the narrative. He wanted a story about monsters, not love.

Chuck’s removal of the feminine from the SPN narrative on the earthly plane, mirrored his original sin, of locking away his sister, Amara, starting with the original fridgings of Mary Winchester and Jess. Followed by (remember Old Sexist SPN) the “ganking” of such Biblical anti-woman depictions as the Monstrous Eve, The Whore of Babylon and Lilith.    

As a result, of course, of all the dead, or absent, or monstrous women, Chuck accidentally super-charged his story with homo-eroticism (lol) but that wasn’t his intention. Castiel was, in Chuck’s view “broken” because Cas rebelled and wrote his own (queer) love script. 

So, Chuck tried to remove Cas from the story too; his ideal SPN ending being a Winchester Brothers Only Murder-Suicide, another revenge tragedy. We saw that played out on the angelic plane in the final fratricidal killing of Lucifer by Michael in 15x19.

But Chuck didn’t kill Amara, although his sibling rivalry with her was his driving creative force. He thought he’d won, when he absorbed her in 15x17 Unity. But, she simply moved on from him, to a higher plane, united with Jack. 

Now that Chuck’s power over the story has ended, I am hoping the feminine will return to the narrative in 15x20, in the form of Mary Winchester, Donna and Jodie, Charlie, Eileen, and... Castiel. Castiel, who has been symbolically placed: 1) through his parallelling with Amara, and with Eileen; and 2) through Chuck’s repeated attempts to banish him, in the place of “the feminine”.

Let’s hope the narrative can now, fully, take Becky Rosen’s note (from 15x04 Atomic Monsters):

“It’s feeling a little… thin? Low stakes? It’s fun to hear the boys’ voices, but a story is only as good as its villain, and these villains are just not feeling very… dangerous? Not to mention, there’s no classic rock. No one even mentions Cas. The climax is a little stale.”  

#Supernatural #15x19 #Inherit the Earth #SPN meta #Meta #The feminine God-principle #Alchemy in S15 #Jung in S15 #God is a bit of a sexist #I don't think the writers' room has been entirely successful #In its approach to re-writing the feminine #But under Dabb it's had a good go #With the introduction of Amara #And the return of Mary Winchester

[scribblingplace]

Some Unmeaning Tragedy

"...a loving father..." 

The lie is enough to pull Griffin from the apathetic daze he's spent most of the funeral in.

~~~~~~~~~

Griffin Suffers through his father’s funeral.  CW: Parental Death, Suicide mentions, implied shitty parents. 

This might be part of a series, I’ve been seeing a few people take on writing The Invisible Man from Griffin’s POV, and I’m tempted to try my hand at it.  But I lack any kind of attention span.  So Maybe I just do some of the highlights?

"...a loving father..." 

The lie is enough to pull Griffin from the apathetic daze he's spent most of the funeral in. 

Thus far the day has been a numb tedium mumbling thank yous in response to condolences no one means and trying to affect grief for the benefit of his fellow mourners who he assumes are only here out of the same sense of obligation. 

There's the odd childhood friend, the uncle Griffin hasn't seen since he was nine, he barely recognizes any of these people and in an ideal world none of them would recognize him either. 

No. 

In an ideal world he wouldn't be here at all. He’d roll his father’s corpse into a ditch and be done with it. 

But the world is far from ideal. 

So he's recognized, bombarded with condolences and lies. 

This last one nearly tips him over the edge. 

There were a lot of words to describe his father. Loving wasn't one of them. Not with regards to his parenting or any other aspect of his life. 

Some ugly noise escapes him. Part growl, part laugh, part sob. The sympathetic look it draws makes Griffin want to break someone's jaw. 

Instead he grits his teeth clenches his fists an waits it out. 

He wants to interrupt, to correct the praise being heaped on his late father. But the momentary satisfaction won't be worth the energy.  He knows that. Best to suffer through it then disappear back into his work. 

He's alert now though and it's all so much worse when he's paying attention. 

"Devoted husband” this, “generous man” that. He'd love to meet this complete stranger the preacher was talking about. 

Needless to say when asked if he'd like to say a few words it's a harsh no.  But he suspects the harshness of his refusal and the charged silence that follow say enough. 

Now that the interminable speech is over he's free. 

Nearly free. 

"Chadwick! Is that you!" 

It's an overly cheerful greeting for the occasion, and Griffin braces for the slap on the shoulder that comes with it. 

In perhaps the only moment of reprieve hell get today it doesn't come. 

He lets out a sigh of deep relief as he turns to face his uncle Frank.

 "God you've gotten big!"

"And you've gone bald. That sort of thing happens over the course of decades." 

The cheer drains from Frank's face instantly. And Griffin can't help but be thrilled that he's killed the mood. 

Serves the jackass right, swanning in after twenty some years and acting like he's family. Griffin continues glowering at the man until his uncle clears his throat, and attempts to restart the conversation. 

"How are you-"

 "Terrible thank you for asking." 

The following silence spans centuries. 

Griffin thinks he used to like the man sweating in front of him. He appreciated if nothing else that Frank was usually happy to see him. Loud, patronizing, and prone to acting wounded whenever griffin chafed under his affectionate manhandling, true, but at least he pretended to like the boy. And it did have to be pretense or he probably would have seen him at some point between his tenth birthday and his thirty third. 

"Heard anything about the will?" 

There it is, no more pussy footing about. 

"No."

 "Ahh, well, as his next of kin I'm sure you'll be the first one to hear any thing about it and your father ow-" 

"He owed a lot of people a lot of money. That's why he shot himself." 

It's not the whole reason of course but it's enough. 

Saying it out loud is unexpectedly sobering and something in Griffin sinks. 

But it's easy enough to ignore for now. To focus on the shock and affront on uncle Frank's stupid red face instead and let another hot flash of fury wash over what might be, but as far as Griffin's concerned, shouldn't be guilt. 

"All I've inherited is the funeral costs." He fumes, taking a menacing step towards Frank, who maybe didn't realize just how big his nephew had gotten until this very moment. 

"So if you think you're going to get a bloody shilling from me," Griffin continues jabbing the man hard in the chest for emphasis, "you can damn well get in line!"

The last bit is practically a shout, certainly enough to get the attention of everyone else still milling about the mouldering churchyard. 

He's leaving. 

He's done his duty, paid his non-existent respects. The old man could rot in peace now. 

#The Invisible Man #H.G. Wells #H.G. Wells The Invisible Man #Writing #Griffin #Heeeyyy #Look who's writing again! #Have an attempt at slightly more serious invisible man content #nary an oc or reader insert in sight

[cdkwrites]

fall from grace (6)

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean

When Atem from one of the high houses of Hell is discovered dying in the streets of 1920s Paris by a mysteriously kind angel, tensions of this old war spark when she elects to save his life. The devastating fall out of one simple act of kindness is more than enough to shatter the truce. Soon, it maybe be impossible to avoid the resulting war for all species on Earth.

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend

——-

cw: mentions of blood, self harm (kind of? there’s no scarring involved, it’s more like Allowing Oneself To Starve To Death), suicide idealization (nothing worse than you’d read in canon ygo), some artistic license re: european history espeically re: the french, violence

chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five.

you can read it on ao3 here!

if you enjoy my work, considering supporting me through ko-fi!

From an interview with Katsuya Jonouchi, 1900s “I don’t know what to tell you. I was with Honda when all that happened.”

Dartz was on warpath. Jonouchi almost felt bad for Keket, who was currently the subject of Dartz’s rage. “Seems like Ket let that vampire go again,” Honda said as he joined Jonouchi in Jonouchi’s usual hiding spot. No one knew better than Honda how much Jonouchi disliked Dartz’s moods. “No wonder Dartz is angry.”

“I don’t get it,” Jonouchi said as he examined the terrain below them. High above the clouds, the mortals couldn’t see them but they could see the mortals. Jonouchi could understand why Dartz spent all his time in places like this. Mortal watching could be kind of fun at times. “What spell does that demon have over Keket? She’s normally so smart.”

“Enough about her,” Honda said as he waved off the discussion. Jonouchi turned to him, a brow raised. “How is Shizuka? Isn’t she your responsibility?”

Shizuka was Jonouchi’s latest charge and she was more than a handful. And yet Jonouchi already viewed her as a little sister. “She’s got her own ideas on how to be an angel,” Jonouchi said with an annoyed look on his face. Mortals souls that became angels all seemed to think they had everything figured out. “Unfortunately, guiding her has proven difficult.”

“I imagine so,” Honda said. Honda had already dealt with his own charge a few thousand years ago. He had claimed it had been one of the easiest things to do and that it was so rewarding. It had been part of why Jonouchi had been so willing to take on a charge of his own. “Some mortals who pass have a relatively big head that they take from life into the next form. Why, do you have issues with her?”

Jonouchi shrugged. He knew he should report that Shizuka asked just a little too many questions but he couldn’t bring himself to. He wondered if he had once been mortal, he’d have the same outlook on forever that Shizuka had. Shizuka had been horrified to learn that this was how her afterlife was to be spent and had asked if there were other options. Jonouchi did not know. “No,” he said, squashing the guilt aside from lying to Honda. “There’s no problem.”

He wondered if Honda saw through it.

From the journal of Sumiko Kubota: December 2, 1922, Paris I think my sister is being entirely too difficult. Surely there’s plenty of reason to stick around this shop. And not simply because Duke is utterly fascinating…

Sumiko hadn’t planned on staying in Paris. But Duke fascinated her so much that she had to stay for just a little bit longer. Sure, Kazuko was annoyed the longer they stayed but for once, Sumiko didn’t care. She was learning a lot about the world that her sister stumbled into. Duke spent most of his time either running the store front or in the kitchen.

Today she found him in a new place, however. Sumiko wasn’t sure how to describe the room she’d found herself in. For a minute, anyway. It was like the room was coming into sharp view, as if it had been hidden from her. All the bookcases went right to the ceiling and there was an ornate wooden table in the center of the room. He was humming and Sumiko was struck by how pretty he looked. He seemed relaxed. He looked from the book he’d had open on a podium and grinned. “Why, Sumiko,” Duke said as he gestured towards the chairs around the table. “I see you’ve found the library.”

This was not like any library Sumiko had ever been in. There was this sense that she was not supposed to be in here. And yet Sumiko pressed forward into the room, focusing on Duke. “I didn’t know this place existed.”

“The more time you spend in the supernatural, the more you become in tune with it,” Duke said as he turned to pull a book off the shelf behind him. “Most mortals have an innate sense of magic but spend their whole lives unaware of it. I figured eventually I would see you here.”

“But I was able to see the shop,” Sumiko said as Duke placed the book in front of her. It was in a language she couldn’t read. It was possible it was in French but Sumiko thought the writing looked too different from the signs in the area to be the same language. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Yugi has it set up so people who have had a single strange encounter with the mystical can see the shop,” Duke explained as he took a seat next to Sumiko with a sly grin on his face. Again Sumiko was reminded of a predator who had found its next meal. “However, the shop is so much larger than any mortal who is just dipping their toes into the supernatural can possibly imagine.”

“That reminds me,” Sumiko said, hesitant to ask the one thing she’d been curious about. “Why do you spend all your time here in this shop? Surely a demon such as yourself must get bored of it.”

Duke looked annoyed briefly. “I made a bet with Yugi a few years ago that if I lost a game to him, I’d be friends with him,” Duke said as he leaned back in his chair. “So now here I am, having to honor my end of the bargain. I still don’t know how he managed to win.”

“Powerful demon turned friend by a guy at least a foot shorter than you,” Sumiko remarked, a brow arching up. “How does that happen?”

“Must we talk about it,” Duke said with roll of his eyes. “I’d rather focus on teaching you some of the finer workings of magic.”

“You’re going to teach me magic?” Sumiko narrowed her eyes. “Kaz always says that nothing comes for free. What do you want?”

“That’s how mortals operate,” Duke said, sounding rather dismissive. “I’m not a mortal. I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Really?” Sumiko wasn’t sure she believed him. And yet, despite the fact it was a bad idea to make a deal with a demon, she found herself grinning. “I’ll trust you for now. But I’d be careful. My sister is mean and willing to go pretty far to protect me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, Sumiko Kubota,” Duke said and Sumiko felt strange realizing she believed him. Trusting a demon with her life seemed like the worst kind of mistake she could make. And yet, with those brilliant emerald like eyes that sparkled with promise, how could Duke be anything but an angel?

From the logs of Rafael, soldier of Destiny, keeper of Justice:1900s Master Dartz seems keenly aware that there is a growing problem with Keket. I am unsure if this is the correct solution, however. Yet I know that asking questions merely leads to more problems….

Rafael wanted to ask Keket if all this was worth it. He never thought she’d lose her mind over some demon. And yet she was. Three times now Keket had failed to kill the vampire. Dartz was pacing the length of the room and the anger radiating off him. “There has to be a way to deal with this,” Dartz muttered, clearly not expecting any answers from Rafael. Rafael glanced towards the multiple views of Earth. One of the views was fixated directly on Keket, who hadn’t moved from her house on Earth since the incident. “She has gotten far too attached to this vampire.”

“Surely we can take him out,” Rafael said, confused as to why Dartz simply wouldn’t just order him to deal with it. Rafael still owed Keket. She’d saved his life in that battle so many eons ago. He recalled how she’d moved with grace through that battlefield. “I can do it. I owe her one.”

“Yes, you do,” Dartz said with a side glance at Rafael. Instantly Rafael felt like he’d made a misstep. Dartz seemed to prize strength and many times, Rafael felt he came up short. Perhaps that was why he was itching to prove he was capable. “But would you even be capable of helping her? Perhaps you might need to start with a smaller target.”

And a file appeared out of nowhere, landing at Rafael’s feet. Rafael hesitated for a moment before picking it up. Instantly, he recognized the demon that Dartz was suggesting. “This is that vampire’s father,” Rafael said, almost stunned. The name had been what Rafael read first - Akhenamkhanen. It would be impossible to forget that name. “How is this a smaller target?”

“I thought you were strong,” Dartz remarked with a strange inflection in his tone. “But if you’re too weak for the task, I’m certain one of the other angels could take care of it.”

Rafael looked at the file again. A demon who was king of his realm, who had been alive for thousands of years. It was a task that even the best of angels would struggle with. He tried to imagine himself actually doing the act. “No,” Rafael said as he passed the file back. “I can do it.”

Still, the rumblings of regret were already starting to build in Rafael’s chest. Doubt coursed through him. But what choice did he have?

From the journals of Anzu Mazaki: Paris, December 23, 1922 Bakura arrived at the theater today. I had been unaware that he even knew where I worked. Curiously, however, I found myself not minding that he had shown up…

The candles were such a dim light to read by, Anzu thought absently. She held the script closer, trying to read the words on the page but not really absorbing them. Her mind was elsewhere. She was focused heavily on remembering the last time Bakura had come around. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered that his hands were sure and the smirk he’d worn. “Miss Gardner,” came a voice like silk from behind her. She glanced up into the mirror, already knowing that she wouldn’t see him reflected back at her. The shadows moved in the mirror, however, and this gave her an idea of where he was. “Shouldn’t you have memorized that already?”

“Maybe I should,” Anzu said, grinning as she turned to face Bakura. White paired so lovely with his skin tone, she thought to herself. She’d never say that out loud to him, though. He had a big enough ego as it was. Then again… “What’s it to you what I have memorized?”

“Why, Anzu,” Bakura said, sounding wounded as he reached out to cup her cheek. His finger rubbed along her lower lip and her lips parted slightly. “You know I deeply care about what goes on in your mundane mortal life.”

“Do you?” She liked the dangerous glint in his eye that he got every time she challenged him. She leaned forward, tilting her head up to give him a hint that she wanted him to kiss her. “Is this why you won’t tell me how to become a vampire? You’d miss my stories of my mortal life?”

“No,” Bakura admitted as he pulled Anzu into a standing position. He yanked her closer to him, his hand wrapped around her wrist. “But because it's a rather scary story.” His grin promised something dark and it thrilled Anzu to her very core. “Can you handle that?”

“I can handle just about anything you throw my way, darling,” she said, unsure where that came from. He was so close and his teeth were so near her neck. Near enough to take a bite out of her. “I want to know everything about you.”

His hand was under her jaw, a finger tracing out her jawline. He yanked her back to him and Anzu let out a soft gasp. Her head tilted, allowing him access. Her arm was pinned behind her back and yet she felt no fear. Being bound by him was thrilling. A veneer of having no choice and yet… Anzu would rather be in no other position. She knew he’d let go if she merely said one word - just one. “Do you?” Bakura asked, his lips pressing to her neck. “I would think you’d be done with talking by now.”

She was tempted to say that of course she was done with talking before reality sat back in. “You promised me a scary story,” Anzu said softly, doing her best to ignore how his strong hands felt so nice on her. “I want to know - how does one become a vampire?”

Bakura stilled. For a moment, Anzu wondered if he would leave her frustrated and in need of release. “It’s not pretty,” he finally said. “You mortals have such romantic notions. I’m trying to protect you, Anzu.”

He so rarely used her name. The last time he used it, he had been warning her that she should go find a mortal boy instead. She’d insisted then she didn’t care about the potential heartbreak they could face. He’d merely smiled and said it was on her own head if she got in that deep. “What if I don’t want to be protected?”

A heartbeat passed and he released her arm. She was almost disappointed until his hand was placed on her hip. His forehead pressed against her shoulder and he let out a weary sigh. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

“No.”

“Fine,” he said and Anzu couldn’t pin down his tone. “I was turned thousands of years ago. It was a mistake, of course. Akhandin never meant to turn me. I was a poor thief who no one would miss. He stole me and my mother in the dead night from our village.” He sounded far away and Anzu felt a surge of affection. She tried to picture Bakura as human. Then she tried to picture what Bakura’s mother might look like. “The blood was drained from the bodies and stored in jars for later consumption.”

He spun her around, staring deep into her eyes. Anzu wondered if his eyes were always blood red like that. “So does that mean part of becoming a vampire involves being drained of blood?”

“Yes but there’s a particular order,” Bakura said with a sly smirk. “I fought back and got a bit of Akhandin. Turns out, because I got a bit of him… it was enough to start the change.” He leaned forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. His teeth glinted somehow in the lowlight. “Can you guess what that bit of him it was?”

Anzu raised a brow. “You tell me,” she said, trying her best to not sound breathless. Already she had a hunch and was trying to picture the process. “I’ve just stumbled my way into the supernatural, remember?”

He took her hand in his and pressed a quick kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Blood, my dear,” he said, his tongue pressed against her skin. “I managed to bite him hard enough to take blood. And when that happened, why… him draining me of blood set the wheels of fate in motion. My heart ceased beating and when I awoke, I was filled with thirst.” There was now a manic glint in his eyes. “So thirsty… I drank all the jars he’d stored for later. He hadn’t been expecting to find me there. I fled.”

“What about your mother?” It was, on the surface, an innocent question. However, the pained look on his face told another story. Her stomach dropped. “Bakura?”

“I didn’t know at the time,” he said, as if looking for absolution from her. Anzu had never seen this look on Bakura’s face before. She’d seen so many ways to be looked at but this face… It was almost worshipful. Like a sinner pleading for mercy from a crucifix. “At the time… I was just… so thirsty, Anzu.” He was gripping her hand so tight. “I didn’t know he’d already drained her. And I didn’t… I was a coward.”

The pieces clicked together and Anzu stumbled back. She landed in her chair and he was kneeling before her, begging for her to understand. Of course she understood. “It’s not like you meant to,” she said, reaching out to cup his jaw. “Does that mean… when you’re turned…”

“It’s like an animal taking over you,” Bakura said, leaning against her touch. “The pain, too… It’s more than just a desire for blood. It destroys you. Can’t you see now? I want to spare you that pain, Anzu.”

From the journal of Prince Atem, domain of vampires: London, January 1st, 1923 I hate that angel. I wish she’d never entered my life. She’s ruined it forever.

The phone rang twice before Atem answered it. “Hey,” Atem answered as he examined his throat. He was surprised that there wasn’t even a scar. It was like nothing had happened. “This is Atem. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Atem, it’s Mahad,” came the voice from the other end of the line. Atem straightened up. Mahad typically didn’t call unless it was important. “Before you hang up, I promise that I’m not calling to drag you back to the palace.”

“You wound me, brother,” Atem said, distracted by the shattered pieces of mirror still all over the floor. He needed to take care of it but couldn’t bring himself to. He was obsessing. That angel had entered his home and attacked him violently. And he was obsessed, wondering why she’d done it. “I would never hang up on you.”

“You hung up on me last time I called,” Mahad pointed out, sounding weary already. Instantly Atem felt bad. The last time Mahad called, Atem was just a little too frustrated. He wouldn’t have hung up otherwise. “That’s not what I’m calling about though, young prince.”

“Are you trying to get me to hang up on you?”

“Not at all,” Mahad said and Atem could almost hear the smile in Mahad’s voice. “Merely showing respect, young prince.” A beat passed before he hesitantly continued, “However… something has come up that you need to know.”

“Need to know,” Atem remarked as he picked up the bloodied shard of mirror. She’d shoved it deep in his throat and attempted to hack him apart. He’d reacted by draining her blood mindlessly. And her blood had created a surge through him that he hadn’t known was possible. Was that not something he needed to know? “That reminds me, I have something I need to ask.”

“This is more important,” Mahad said and Atem noticed that he was trying too hard to sound gentle. There was no teasing, no ribbing. The last time Mahad had been this gentle, Atem found himself in mourning. He somehow knew what Mahad was going to say before he said it. “Your father is dead, young prince.”

And just like that, Atem’s entire world was tilted on its axis. “Father’s dead?”

#fic: fall from grace

[honeydots]

190?

“I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought”

Summary: Goro winds up having more to drink than he planned, and who else to find him on his drunk walk home than his soon-to-be-assassinated rival.

cw: underage drinking, minor blood mention

-

(ao3 link)

-

The smell of wine was always too thick for Goro’s tastes. 

He dreaded to hear the hollow sound of the cork popping, and the clink of glass-on-glass as each man drank to their hearty victories. 

It wasn’t uncommon that alcohol was served at these sorts of things, with Shido’s colleagues and their celebratory get-togethers. He would always be expected to attend, but not for long. Just enough time for his presence to be known, so that he could come and go without becoming the prudish center of conversation. 

He knew they spoke about him while he wasn’t around, and that was unavoidable. These little events were the best way to control their conversations from afar. Leave them with more answers than questions and with casual suspicions, not deadly ones. 

Come in, speak in pretty sentences, have a glass of wine, and leave. 

He knew better than to reject drinking. Or rather, he knew better than to reject drinking with this crowd. Some men would come in and make a show of Goro’s being a minor, as if their own morals wouldn’t allow it. Laugh along with their drunkards, and let Goro remain blissfully sober.

Though others, and these were usually the important ones, didn’t care. Goro was to politely accept their offer, and to drink not all but most of his glass. Don’t appear eager, but don’t appear sheepish. Drink to another successful success, another voter turnout, another hit. 

He’d always think too hard about these nights. Figuratively, wine was the blood of Jesus, drunk to remind Christians of the sins that he died for. Goro wondered how figurative his glass was now. Tonight, they were toasting to blood soon to be spilled; it was practically in their glasses.

Goro certainly wasn’t Christian. It was useless to think of wine as anything more than grapes. 

But sometimes he’d imagine watching the men pour their glasses and take a sip, only to discover the salty allure of blood washing into their mouths. Watch them wretch and choke, spit out their consequences onto the ground. A literal taste of their medicine. 

Goro would time himself to his drink. He could even call it a game. Full meant to begin his charming conversations, to grit his teeth and bear through the night. Quarter gone often went by largely unnoticed. If he wasn’t speaking to someone while he was a quarter gone, then he’d done something wrong. He was supposed to be sociable and he’d best act like it. 

Half was a tedious measurement. By half, he needed to wrap up any of his quarter chatters and then stand aloof to the side. Allow himself to be open to any quieter, private talks. He’d wait to be approached, while keeping a watchful eye on the atmosphere. 

Half could also mean he needed to join into whatever room encompassing conversations that he hadn’t been a part of. Even if it was to simply nod along to whatever nonsense the guests were spouting. It was important to be involved in the key factor. 

The last stage, and often the most delicate, was three quarters. At this point, he needed to wedge himself into whatever group he could. To act terribly interested and, when appropriate, deem it the time he must be getting home—he was a working student, after all. He would give his goodbyes, relinquish his glass, and walk home, chewing breath mints like tobacco. 

But this was a delicate stage because, on days like today, there would be the option of a refill. Some guest with intentions would see his glass half empty, and offer to fill it again. Never enough wine (he wondered if blood was applicable here, too) for a young man like him. 

Depending on the party, Goro would reject it. He could even use this method as a way home—saying he’d had enough, and should be going anyway. 

But it was different tonight. The man who he’d managed to dive into conversation with was new and important. The founder of a law firm who’d recently begun business with Shido. He’d grown relevant quickly, and this was the first chance Goro had to make an impression on him. 

Two glasses isn’t too much. 

Goro didn’t care about this man whatsoever, in actuality. As relevant as pond scum in the grand scheme of things. But favors went miles in this business, and keeping his head on his shoulders was more than worth a glass of wine. 

And so he went from three quarters, to full, to half, to empty.

An empty glass was a last resort exit, but it was the most effective against the threat of another refill. He’d stayed too long now. He excused himself, definitely, content with his seamless image he’d left with the man. 

It was when he stepped outside, into cool air and away from the bustle and buzz, that his decision came back for its vengeance.  

He wasn’t exactly dizzy, but he wouldn’t call himself clearheaded. Disoriented, maybe. His face felt a little flushed. He tried to take deep breaths, keep oxygen going to his brain, let himself calm down. Maybe he was just a bit too excited. He faced forward, focused, and walked. Straight lines, straight back. He would be fine—he only had a little more than usual tonight. 

Though, it wasn’t long until he ducked into an alleyway to collect himself. 

Shit, he thought, dropping his briefcase onto the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, trying to get himself to focus. 

It didn’t work. He felt groggy. 

I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought. 

This was ridiculous. He wasn’t some lightweight who couldn’t hold his alcohol. He’d drunk at least this much before, and he’d been perfectly capable of getting back to his apartment. What was different about today? 

A displeased clench of his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten yet. No breakfast, a skipped lunch in favor of an interview, and wine for dinner. 

So, that was it. He needed to eat something. Easy fix, probably. Something a bit hearty would be best, but he was sure he’d see effects even with a small snack. 

He hardly felt comfortable going anywhere in the state he was in. God forbid someone he knew saw him, to say nothing of the media. But a dark alleyway on a Tokyo night wasn’t an ideal locale, either. 

He considered going into the metaverse, just to get himself out of immediate danger and let the alcohol digest a bit. Let it settle. He could easily slip into Mementos and avoid the subway station. No food would await him there, but at least he wouldn’t be at risk of being seen. 

It was dark enough no one would see him enter. He settled it—he’d go inside until he felt sober enough to walk home. Ideally, it would be a short visit. In and out quick enough that he’d still be able to catch the final train. He could excuse being out late with a case, if he was cornered.

He pulled out his phone and opened up the Nav. He was moments away from tapping “Mementos” on his recently visited, when a voice startled him away from the screen. 

“Akechi?” 

Goro whipped around (casually being an afterthought) and stood face to face with who, on a night like this, he’d call his judge, jury, and executioner. 

“Akira-kun,” said Goro, immediately flipping his switch onto a sweeter and less completely deranged setting. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? Awfully late to be out, isn’t it?” 

Obviously it had to have been Kurusu who’d decided to make himself known. Of all the nights to show his face. Shido’s event had just had Goro toasting to the predicted fall of the Phantom Thieves. A celebration of a plan being put flawlessly together, centering around Kurusu’s uncanny murder. His coincidental suicide. 

Goro had hoped to return without even thinking about him, lest he risk himself getting distracted. His death was just business, and that’s how he needed to think of it. Keep Kurusu behind thick walls of paperwork, or as just another shadow in a crowd. 

But instead, there he stood, making the aftertaste of the wine on his tongue turn bitter and guilty. 

“I’m heading home,” Kurusu began, looking uncharacteristically bothered. He had a twinge more of a frown on his face, and his eyebrows were furrowed. It was hardly reassuring. “Are you… okay?” 

Goro bit his tongue. Who else to notice his state of being completely not okay than Mr.Your-Problem-Is-My-Problem himself. Maybe Goro could amuse himself later, thinking about what Kurusu would do if he told him just what was going through his mind. How would he solve that problem? 

“I’m feeling just fine, though thank you for asking. I’m heading home myself, so if you don’t mind,” Goro said, giving a polite half wave and trying to ignore how completely awkward this interaction had been. But two steps forward had him steadying himself on the wall, and Kurusu at his side. 

At his side. He was touching him now. Holding him up. It suddenly felt like all too much. He jerked away, filling his head with a whole new kind of dizzy. He pressed his hands against his forehead, trying to steady his mind. 

It was expected that Kurusu wouldn’t let that slide. He stood back, eyes wide. 

“You’re not alright.” 

Yes, that was clear now, wasn’t it? He felt lucky that drinking didn’t make him snappy.

Goro’s elongated silence didn’t seem to tickle Kurusu. It wasn’t like he was doing a fantastic job at pleasing Goro at the moment, either, so he let the pause hang. 

Kurusu filled the quiet. “Are you… drunk?” 

Goro could feel his edge falling. He would not lean into it. He put on a dazzling smile. 

“Ah, Akira-kun, ‘drunk’ is such a crude term. There’s a better one—what was it? Maybe feeling a bit buzzed—” 

“Did something happen?” 

Kurusu’s gaze was very firm. 

Goro didn’t hold it for long. He sighed and tried to relax his stance a bit. 

“An interesting correlation you’ve just made, but no. Nothing has happened,” he started, folding his arms into himself. “But, I am more intoxicated than I’d preferably like to be, I’ll admit.” 

The concern on Kurusu’s face was thoroughly unwelcomed. 

“How much did you drink?” 

He’d been hoping that Kurusu wouldn’t play the role of saint. The scrutiny of a worrywart was not the attention he was seeking. 

Goro leaned (casually being a forethought, now) onto the wall of the alleyway. “Not enough to warrant your distress, Akira-kun. I simply haven’t eaten much today.” Kurusu’s frown grew deeper, and Goro thought to use it to his advantage. “If you’re so worried, though, perhaps you could get me a little pick-me-up from a convenience store.” 

Goro’s stomach twisted, making him flinch and lose his balance. He scrambled to keep himself straight on the wall, the alcohol not helping him in the least. That was all the convincing Kurusu needed, much to Goro’s displeasure. 

“You need to sit down somewhere,” Kususu said, annoyingly kindly keeping his hands off of him, but prepared to act as a brace. “We aren’t far from Leblanc. Sojiro already went home.” 

“Now, I—” Goro began, but found himself feeling a bit undone by Kurusu’s ever present stare. 

He weighed his options. He could shake Kurusu off and enter Mementos by himself, wait foodless for his mind to clear, risk falling asleep there and being late tomorrow and possibly stumbling into trouble. 

Or, he could rest at LeBlanc for a while. 

Kurusu always had such miserable timing. 

Goro scrunched up his nose. “...Fine. If you’re willing to offer me your hospitality, I will take it,” he said. 

Kurusu’s expression lightened enough to make Goro’s stomach feel bubbly. What a wretched effect he had on him. This was no time to be getting attached. Much more of this and something really would stick. 

Goro straightened his tie, picked up his briefcase, and stood tall. He needed to clear his head somehow. Kurusu was simply his means. He was in an unideal situation that needed to be resolved, and nothing more.

He would not let it be more, two glasses be damned.  

***

The train ride did nothing but make him feel worse. Drunk and hungry was a terrible combination. Each bump of the car made his stomach churn. 

He hadn’t attracted much attention in the shabby railcar, which was lucky, other than the watchful eye Kurusu had been keeping on him. It was humiliating to have someone so nervous over his condition, and Goro wished his choices hadn’t been so black and white.

 He was almost too attentive. Goro wouldn’t think about it. 

When they’d arrived at the café, Kurusu’s word held true. It was scarce, no customers or owner. That, at least, was a relief. 

There was a noise from the attic, and soon after trotted down Morgana. He stopped in his tracks halfway on the stairs, round eyes turning big upon seeing Goro. 

“Akechi,” he said, turning his head to Kurusu. “What’s he doing here?” 

Kurusu rubbed the back of his neck. “Could you give us a little time?” 

Morgana looked between them again. Either Goro missed something, or Morgana accepted that for what it was, because he turned around and headed back upstairs without another word. 

Goro sat in his usual spot, but didn’t feel very typical. He felt wrong just enough to know that he’d be here for a little while. It didn’t help that he was already getting tired. 

Usually, alcohol’s one solace was that it made falling asleep come quickly. Now, as he fought his eyelids from betraying him tonight, he wished it’d do anything but. 

“Is curry okay?” Kususu asked, already tying an apron around his waist. 

Any food would do, really. Anything to help him sober up. “I was under the impression curry was about all you knew how to cook.” 

Kurusu gave way his signature hint of a hint of a smile, and put himself to work. Goro leaned back in his chair and tried to just focus on his breathing. He should’ve said no to another glass of wine. Or even just snacked a bit at the event. Though he loathed eating in front of Shido and his colleagues, it would’ve saved his evening alone. 

Goro watched Kurusu stir the warming pot of curry absentmindedly. The scent was endlessly better than the wine he’d been served. Savory smells of spices and meat. The hunger and the alcohol must’ve been getting to him, because he had to catch himself before he thought it felt homelike. 

This was not a home. This was not his home. 

Kurusu noticed Goro watching, but Goro was growing too tired to care. He needed to eat something before he thought something damaging. A wandering mind did him no good here. 

It was very quiet in the café. Silence wasn’t uncommon between them, but it was rooted in tension. Goro didn’t trust himself much to speak first. He’d always been careful with his words, but the more his thoughts grew out of hand. the more likely he was to spill sensitive information; or say something too private to let anyone else hear. 

Kurusu, on the other hand, was oddly talkative tonight. 

“So, do you drink often?” 

He was as difficult to read as ever. Goro didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current state of disheveledness, but Kurusu maintained his reputation. 

“Not really, no,” Goro readjusted a bit in his seat, and looked down at his hands. “Tonight was… This isn’t a habit of mine.”

He did have the underlying concern that the more he did this, the more it might become a habit, if Shido’s example was anything to go by. He’d hate to have inherited anything from a dastardly man like him, but rancid alcoholism would feel like an all new low. 

Kurusu remained stone faced. “I see,” he replied flatly. 

“Might you be disappointed? I never would’ve taken you for the ‘party animal’ type, but perhaps you aided me for the sake of a connection?” Goro asked, and then immediately regretted not taking the chance to let their conversation die down. Drunk and tired was not a good mix for his big mouth, it seemed. 

“I think I’ll survive,” Kurusu said, raising his eyebrows. He set the temperature lower on the burner and got out a plate. It seemed Goro’s meal was finished heating up. And thank god for that, because the hunger was really getting to him now and he was feeling much more miserable than he’d have preferred for a Thursday night. 

Kurusu served his curry still steaming, and Goro dug in as calmly and controlled as he could manage, with a quick, “I appreciate it,” before taking his first bite. 

He could tell he was being closely watched as he ate. Goro decided not to comment on it quite yet. Getting a little clue-in on Kurusu’s mind always proved interesting.

He mentally berraded himself for thinking that. It was thoughts like those that inclined him to keep his mouth shut. Something about his drowsiness was making him sentimental, and this clearly wasn’t the time. 

“You think I’d only help you because I wanted something?” 

Again, Kurusu was single handedly keeping their conversation alive. He usually required a bit more effort to pry into, and Goro positively knew why it was different tonight, but kept himself from thinking it. 

Goro gave himself a performative moment to think of a reply. “Are you referring to my question earlier? Well, really, is that so odd? Such an intent is hardly uncommon,” he replied, and took another bite. He wanted to say he was sobering up, but so far the curry was only affecting his stomach, not his mind. 

“So you think that’s my ‘intent,’ then.” 

“Do I have a reason to think otherwise?  You’ve set up your own sorts of deals within your friendships, haven’t you?” Goro began again, growing intrigued.  “Kitagawa-kun makes you those cards, as one example. It’s only natural that we, as humans, have a give and take relationship with each other. Wouldn’t you agree?” Another bite. 

Kurusu looked unimpressed. Goro always knew he’d get something interesting out of him when he wore that expression. 

“You think so?” 

He met his eyes solidly and smiled. “I do.” 

There was a short silence. Goro haughtily scraped up a large spoonful of rice.

Kurusu caught him in a mouthful. “So, what are you giving me, then?” 

Swallowing gave him a moment to think. Though it was time wasted, really, because it wasn’t some grandiose question. He hoped he hadn’t said that to sound smart, like some stumping finisher. But Kususu hardly failed to disappoint—so he kept his hopes up. 

The back of his mind told him getting excited was the worst thing to do while trying to detach himself, but he buried the thought. 

Just for now is fine. 

He cleared his throat. Where was he? 

“You don’t think I’ve held up my end of the bargain? I disagree. Let’s see,” Goro crossed his legs and brought a finger up to his chin. “I believe I’ve taught you some sleuthing techniques, haven’t I? Though, that was early on. I can see how you may not be satisfied. However, I have introduced you to quite a few hot spots, yes? And I’m aware of the effects that billiards and darts had on you.” He scooped another spoonful of curry, but finished his thought before he took his bite. “And, I certainly hope I’m not mistaken that our conversations have been gratifying for the both of us.” 

“That’s what you call give-and-take?” Kurusu replied. Knowing him, though, it was less of a reply and more of a challenge. Goro had forgotten all about how badly he wanted to be in bed at home, now. He may have been tired, but this was a rivalry he intended to dominate. The tricks Kurusu had up his sleeve always proved entertaining. 

“‘That’ is what I call ‘what I’ve given you.’ If you’d like my takeaway, well, let’s just say you’ve given me plenty to think about over the last few months.” 

Kurusu leaned onto the counter. Goro appreciated the maintained distance, since he still wasn’t exactly in a sensory mood. The alcohol hadn’t left him yet. “You know, I can think of a better name for that.” 

“Oh?” Goro said, “Can you?” 

Kurusu almost smirked. “Silly little thing called friendship.” 

Goro sighed, shaking his head. Perhaps he hadn’t picked up on what he’d been implying. Kurusu could win some and lose some. “Akira-kun, I’m not trying to argue that friendship is off the table. I simply think any relationship can be boiled down to the action of compromise.”

“And I’m trying to argue that I think that’s a shallow way of thinking,” Kurusu shot back. 

Goro felt his jaw clench. “Your reasoning?” He presented the easiest smile he could muster. 

Kurusu put himself back up at full height and slid his hands into his pockets. “A relationship doesn’t end once a standard has been met.” 

Goro rolled his shoulders back. The high of debate was clearing his mind. He hardly noticed. 

“Ah, but don’t you think another goal could be made? Or, even two or three? And, a connection doesn’t have to start with just one, you could have dozens of deals with a single person at a time,” he argued, feeling quite confident. “Have you heard of the Social Exchange Theory? It suggests that relationships are formed by maximizing benefits and minimizing drawbacks. In other words, what one gives to you is the defining factor, while you try to deplete what is taken.” 

Kurusu seemed to consider that, but his pause gave way to Goro’s unfinished defense. “Let me give you an example: you and Sakamoto-kun are quite close, aren’t you? Is that not a result of both of you, mutually and continually, giving and taking from each other?” He continued, watching Kurusu quirk an eyebrow. “Perhaps Sakamoto is a carefree presence for you, and perhaps you offer him a place of security. But, as one would expect, each of you have flaws. Sakamoto can get rambunctious, and his actions have consequences that can rebound and affect you. That is a cost of his friendship. A give and take, even in non-physical terms.”   

Goro took another bite of curry in anticipation of his response. It was already growing cold. At this point, Goro really didn’t think that the curry had helped him clear his mind at all— it was just their conversation in privacy that had given him a chance to focus. 

Not that the effects of his drinking were completely gone. He was still very sleepy, and he knew he tended to ramble in exhaustion. Goro had done that here before, even. He needed to figure out a way to wrap this up soon, but. Kurusu wasn’t like the men around Shido. He enjoyed their talks. He didn’t have a glass of wine in hand telling him how much longer he needed to hold up. 

It was only talking, between them. 

He would power through it. He imagined that once he was up and walking around and heading back to the station, that he’d regain energy again. It was only the atmosphere that was making him so tired. He couldn’t possibly fuck up so poorly as to say something incriminating at a .06 blood alcohol content. 

“Me accepting that my friends have flaws doesn’t take from me,” Kususu answered, giving Goro another chance to flex his argument. 

“Then, shall I speak more literally? You often cook for your friends, don’t you? That taxes something directly from you, time and effort.” Goro put his spoon down entirely and leaned into their conversation. Kurusu wasn’t the kind of person that Goro felt he needed to chide, but a bit of teasing felt inevitable. 

Kurusu replied straight away. “Me cooking for my friends isn’t the foundation of our relationships.” 

“But, you have made deals in similar fashions, haven’t you? Would you really argue that none of your relationships were formed from a deal you made? You, of all people?”

He watched the reaction his spiel got from Kurusu. Hardly a twitch, but something had dug under his skin. Goro knew he was enjoying this as much as he was, and it almost wrenched out a grin from him.  

Kurusu put a hand out of his pocket and propped himself up, leaning towards Goro on the counter. It closed the space between them further. They still weren’t touching, but his presence was on top of him. It felt close, and Goro had to fight moving away. 

“I’ve made plenty of friendships through a give-and-take. But the idea that it’s the only way to view them is one-sided. You can say that it’s an exchange in hindsight, as an outsider, but I’m not thinking about what I get from people when I’m with them. I’m thinking about them, and that’s all.” Kurusu took his weight off the counter. “It’s material otherwise. Only thinking in wins and losses.” 

Goro pinched the back of his arm habitually. He spoke a bit quieter. “So you think it can’t be effectively utilized?” 

Kursu looked at him firmly. “I think it’s the wrong mindset to have.” 

There was a short silence that hung. They stared at each other. Goro broke the contact, closing his eyes and resting back in his chair. He giggled. 

“You never cease to entertain, Akira-kun. You really are interesting,” he sighed, trying to make it sound a bit wistful. “Would you tell me what led to such a thought process?” 

Kurusu’s expression fell. It was quick, and barely noticeable, but he looked pained. Like what Goro had said had squeezed something hard, but disappeared just as fast.

He replied with his typical emotionless slate. 

“There was something that changed.” 

Goro tilted his head, and brought up a hand to rest it on. “That something being?” 

He wondered what Kurusu might say. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Perhaps a view in a palace, or a girlfriend, or some connection that would be ultimately meaningless to Goro, but something he still wanted to get his hands on.

Suddenly, his mind felt very present. He shouldn’t have thought that. He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be asking this. Now was the time he was supposed to be creating a distance between them, not trying to open him up and solidify whatever makeshift acquaintanceship they’d developed. He was going to kill him in four days. Getting to know him better was supposed to have been a distant ‘what if.’ He shouldn’t feel so curious. 

But Kurusu smirked and said, “A secret,” despite Goro’s dilemma. 

“Ehh,” Goro complained, feeling both relieved and indescribably annoyed. “You won’t be giving me a ticket into the back of your mind tonight? After all that buildup?” 

Kurusu laughed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear it.” 

“Try me,” Goro said, and smiled wide. He ignored his itchy eyes telling him to go to sleep. And the pushing voices reminding him that he was setting himself up for more pain in the long run. 

He knew that. He couldn’t help himself, though. He knew he’d get nothing out of this. 

The realization made him gulp. 

Kurusu eased up. “Maybe once you tell me why you’re ‘buzzed.’” 

Goro wasn’t sure he could do much more to keep the conversation from ending. His little cycle of trying to make things as terrible as possible for his future self was going to come to an end. “I think I’ve been keeping up appearances very well.” 

“You can’t fool me,” Kurusu replied, and grinned a very faint grin. He took off his apron. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” 

“Mm,” hummed Goro, and just like that, Kurusu disappeared from the conversation. Goro put his elbow onto the counter and propped his head up, leaning into his cheek. Their talks often ended in nowheres, neither of them giving up their stances. He tried to keep himself from thinking how nice it was to have such a conversation partner. Maybe it was the alcohol, and his growing drowsiness, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Kurusu wasn’t his friend, but he could be. Could’ve been, was more accurate. He was digging himself into a hole, thinking this way. But he’d buried himself in something deeper a long time ago. 

Goro’s eyes felt heavy. He thought to rest them, just for a moment, until Kurusu returned. Then he could say his goodbyes, their debate having come to an end. And he’d go home, and he’d feel a bit like he was rotting away, and he’d sleep through it anyway. 

But for now, he was comfortable in a café, with low lights and a could’ve been just barely out of reach. He was a little undone, but that was just fine for now. 

He closed his eyes and barely felt himself drift off. 

***

Akira dug through one of his dusty boxes upstairs, while Morgana sat staring at him from his bed. He stuck his arm in deep, feeling around and checking colors and fabrics when he could pull something up for air. 

“You two sure are chatty, huh,” Morgana remarked, flicking his tail back and forth. 

Akira kept his nose in the box. He was almost positive he’d put it in here. Maybe it had gotten more buried than he thought. 

“What’d you guys talk about?” 

It didn’t take long to find his prize. It was a bit stuck in the middle, and he had to yank hard to free it from the mess of clothes. But as he pulled, the tension eased, and out popped his summer blanket. He threw it over his shoulder, and he heard Morgana jump down from the bed. 

Akira got up and waited for him to join him. 

“I’m not sure you’d be that interested.” 

Morgana huffed. “You’re always talking about weird stuff.” 

The two of them walked downstairs. Akira was trying to be quiet, skipping the second and notoriously squeaky stair, while also attempting to shake out the blanket a bit on his way down. 

His silent mission must’ve proved successful, because Akechi was still laying down on the counter sound asleep, in the same position he’d left him. Akira watched his shoulders rise and fall a bit. He looked peaceful. 

Akira spread out the blanket between his hands. It was light, but it was better than nothing. It could get cold some nights. 

“You know, I still don’t get why you’re being so nice to him,” Morgana said. 

Akira didn’t reply. He walked over to the chair Akechi was sitting on, and tried to lightly but snugly wrap him up. 

Morgana hopped onto the counter. “You know what he’s trying to do. You don’t owe him this much.” 

The blanket hugged around Akechi’s shoulders and back well. Akira made sure it wouldn’t fall off. He tried very carefully not to touch him. Waking him would be bad, and Akira didn’t want to initiate something that would make him uncomfortable. His jolt from earlier had kept Akira off—he wouldn’t make that mistake again. 

Morgana persisted. “You aren’t going to get anything out of this.” 

Akira stepped back, and made sure there weren’t any uncovered spots. Akechi looked warm, and he looked soft, and he looked exhausted. Incredibly, incredibly exhausted. 

“I know.” 

#THANKS for the ask!!!!! #also sorry you had to beta ur own request LMAOOOO #i actually struggled a lot more w this one than u think purely bc i was having trouble with coming up with a premise i liked #this was NOT the first idea i had lololol #oh but not to say i didnt have a lot of fun haha #also for everyone who checks tags first: yes its shuake #AND its about 5k #anyway thank u again and i hope u enjoy (enjoyed? heheh) #my fics #ask #i-demand-a-hug #SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO HAD TO DEAL W THIS WHILE THE READ MORE BROKE #my p5 fics

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Permission - Nik

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

CW: fear of dubcon/noncon, conditioning, manhandling, prolonged strangulation, brief suicidal idealization (better off dead kinda thing), brief vomit mention, 

Nik had never been ashamed of crying. It was a natural response, so why should he be? Before, he hadn’t really cared if people saw him cry.

Now, he had more reason to cry than ever.

He laid curled as small as he could. Back in his cell, he was miserable and shivering. His skin was still flush and sensitive, but he felt lightheaded and cold from blood loss. His back was the worst of all; he knew from when he reached back and his fingers found strips of his own skin. The feeling of the thick strips in his hand made his stomach curl, but he didn’t dare let himself vomit. That would surely be worse. He laid on his side, holding himself tightly. It was a hell of impossible opposites, both freezing and burning simultaneously.

No, Nik wasn’t ashamed of crying, he was ashamed of the thoughts that came with the crying.

He wished it wasn’t him. He wished that someone else would have stepped up to protect his people. Kia was so much stronger than me; she wouldn’t have given in so easily. She wouldn’t be this shivering, trembling mess. She would have been better at this. It should have been her.

He pulled himself away from that train of thought. No, he couldn’t think that way. He could never wish this pain on anyone else. 

Anyone else but the vampire, he thought as he bitterly held himself tighter. His chest was still bare, but the cold stone felt, well, not good but better, on his bruised and battered body.

No, he would never wish this on Kia. She deserved to live her life, to be the person that they both knew she could be. They had been friends since childhood, and he thought of her like a sister that he never had.

Besides, humans were known for their… appetites. Either I’m not His type or that’s still yet to come. His mind was cruel, forcing scenes to the front of his mind without his permission. Scenes that flooded his system with fear and made him pull himself so close to never feel so exposed again. No, he needed to get away from this train of thought, too. Nothing had ever been suggested or even implied.

Even if it had, he would give himself every day so Kia would never have to.

Breathe in, breathe out, Nik coached himself. If there was no one else there to give him comfort, then he would do it himself. He focused on his breathing and let exhaustion take him.

When he woke again, he could feel his arms and legs again. He smiled, until the pain started to register. They were just as bruised and sore as the rest of him. He wished the numbness would have lasted until his body wasn’t so damaged. Just a bit of reprieve, please.

He flexed his fingers carefully and weighed the options. He knew healing spells. He could make himself feel better. How much is left in me? he thought. He had never needed to ask himself these questions before. There were limits to what he could do, but he had never even considered it before. He sighed. Last time He went to far, I stopped breathing. He looked at the dark, cold, removed cell around him. Maybe that’s not so bad.

Painfully, Nik pushed himself to a sitting position. As unsteady as he felt, he didn’t dare brace against a wall; not with his back in this condition. He winced as he pulled the bandage away from the cut on his arm. It was deep, but not to the bone. He pulled the words from his mind, mouthing them lightly. His eyes fluttered and he began to massage his palm. Soon, light pooled in his palm. He laid it against the wound, and waited for it close. He felt the skin pull together and go taut with a comforting warmth.

Another source of light caught his eye. The cuffs. The cuff on his left arm was glowing threateningly, pulsing and slowly warming. Before he could register what happened, pain seared through his body. He cried out and fell back to the ground. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

A blink, and the Sorcerer was looming above him. He lightly tapped the cuff on his own wrist against Nik’s, and the pain stopped instantly. It was abrupt, and Nik felt off balance as a result.

“How dare you,” he screeched as his hand wrapped around Nik’s neck. Nik’s hands flew to his neck, to scratch and fight and breathe, but they accomplished nothing. The Sorcerer lifted him by his neck so only his bare toes grazed the floor. Panic set in. His breathing was shallow and restricted, every breath hindered by an iron grip. He scrambled to try to get his feet under him.

“Listen to me very carefully. We made a deal. You are mine; all mine. Every part of you, from the hair on your head to the blood coursing through your veins belongs to me.” His eyes drilled into Nik’s wide, panicked stare.

“You heal when I want you to heal, you bleed when I want you to bleed. You breathe,” the hand around Nik’s neck closed, crushing his airways. Nik scratched and kicked and fought, but his vision started to grow hazy. His head pounded and his legs grew weaker and weaker. He tried to plead, to beg. The vampire had once called him well-spoken, perhaps Nik could convince him, but the grip was too tight. 

He could feel just how crushed his airways were as they pulsed with his heartbeat. He pleaded with his eyes; the man had always seemed to like his eyes. 

Nothing. No pity, no mercy. His hands and feet grew still as his vision got darker and darker. Surely, he wouldn’t let him pass out; would he? Nik’s last coherent thought was overpowered by raw, animalistic panic.

Nik gasped awake, held by his shoulders to the wall. Before the open wounds on his back could rear in pain, his throat cried out. Even without the hand, it was still partially closed and painful. Gasps of dry air might as well have been glass, shredding and tearing through his throat.

“Did I say you could breathe?” came a voice. Nik’s head spun and ached. He couldn’t even form words in his mind. The hand returned to his neck, and Nik’s body went rigid. The grip, the pressure on already damaged skin was unbearable. Nik’s body burned as already exhausted muscles fought again for survival. Darkness came quicker this time, but it still came.

He gasped awake again, hazy and unfocused. He was still pinned against the wall, but he felt as if he was floating. His body didn’t register; not pain or cold or even discomfort.

“Again, you insolent creature; did I give you explicit permission to breathe?” Nik’s mind shot back as the hand laid against his throat. Please, no, please, no no no. I can’t, I can’t, please I need to breathe, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Nik’s mind protested, but none of the words could make it to his lips. 

Fear and panic overrode his system, taking control away from him. Instinct kicked in, but a different instinct this time. He pressed his mouth closed and held his breath. His heartbeat pounded through his skin. Surely the man could feel it? He can tell right? I’m not breathing. Please Gods let him know I’m not breathing. I’ll obey, please let me breathe. Please, I need air. I need to breathe.

“Good. Breathe.”

Nik gasped, taking in as much air as he could. He sputtered and coughed, filling his lungs as quickly as he could. His throat still burned, like the air was made of hot coals. A hand gently cupped the side of his face, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You’re mine. You follow my explicit permission. You obey me regardless of what your mind and body tell you. Do you understand?”

Nik moved to open his mouth, then closed it quickly. Is this a trap? Am I supposed to answer? Is a question explicit permission? His thoughts raced, trying desperately to figure out the right answer. There must be a right answer. He needed the right answer. His eyes flicked up to try and read the face of the Sorcerer to try and gather more information. At the furious glare, pure dread filled him as he realized he never gave any answer.

A fist knocked his head to the side, white exploding in his vision. His ears rung and drowned out the sound of his own body crashing to the ground. The ringing bore through his mind as a flurry of kicks broke his ribs and battered his already weak frame. His body tried to curl in to protect itself, but it was never allowed. When he finally snapped back to his body, his back was pressed down hard against the gravel floor. His back roared and seized, rising above the other pain that ravaged his body. He cried out, voice already breaking from use and fear. He could feel his ribs bend dangerously far underneath the boot that pressed him down.

“Why did you not answer me? You obey me! Tell me!”  

“P-P-Please, Sir,” his voice was broken and split, hoarse from crying out and strained from lack of use. “Y-you, you never g-gave me, ex-xplic-cit permission. I’m s-s-s-sorry”. Tears rolled down the side of his face.

The boot lifted immediately. Nik desperately needed to breath, but he tried to keep it shallow and unnoticeable. His eyes were shut tightly, as if not seeing the blows would make them hurt less.

A soft laugh. A hand cupped the side of his face again. Unsure of what to do, Nik remained perfectly still. No instructions, wait for instructions. Please god let me breathe. Please don’t hurt me again. I’ll obey. I promise; just let me breathe

“You’re not as stupid as those other creatures, are you? You are actually capable of thought.”

Was that a compliment? Was that good? No permission to respond, so he tried to stay as still as possible. He tried desperately to calm the full body trembles, but nothing worked.

Just wait. Just wait for permission and don’t move. Don’t move a muscle.

The Sorcerer wound a long strip of fabric many times over his eyes, keeping them closed tightly. A punishment for using his own magic to heal himself. That, and the beating he had received. Nik laid on the ground, exhausted and in pain. If he ever could have willed himself to pass out, to drift away into hazy darkness, he would have.

~~~

@luminouswhump @lonesome–hunter @pepperonyscience @insanitywishes

#iwrotethis #whump #nik #whumper #magic whump #poor boi #he's trying his best #implied non-con tw #conditioning tw #Magic whumpee #non human whumpee #vomit mention #death thoughts #strangulation tw

[uchikatsu]

( cw for mental illness, substance abuse, self harm, & suicidal thoughts )

since some time in his late teen years, genji has struggled with borderline personality disorder. for a long time, however, his behaviours were attributed simply to genji being genji.

he was diagnosed in early adulthood, though seeing a psychiatrist was not something he personally wanted to do. he would always insist himself to be fine, hated to be honest about his emotions or mental state because he didn’t want to be seen as weak. he faced enough disapproval from his family and the clan as it was.

after being diagnosed, he was scheduled for therapy sessions and dbt (dialectic behaviour therapy), but he only ever attended a few of these appointments. the rest were skipped out on. he didn’t have anyone making sure that he went or even checking that he attended.

he was also prescribed some medications to help him balance some symptoms, but he didn’t keep up with taking them as he was supposed to. they were also abused on some occasions, but he never went back to his psychiatrist to get more after going through the few months of refills.

now i’m going to go through the symptoms of bpd, how genji has been affected by these, and how he coped with them.

FEAR OF ABANDONMENT.  prior to his near-death, genji saw himself as more or less abandoned by much of his family / clan. he was viewed with disdain and seen as a liability, all because of who he was as a person. though he didn’t care a great deal about the opinions of the clan, this all still had a greater impact on his self-esteem than he ever let on. what really terrified him was the idea of being abandoned by hanzo and his father. when hanzo began to pull away and become more involved with the clan’s expectations of him, genji would fluctuate between getting into massive arguments with his brother and practically begging him to spend time with him like they used to, or to not listen to what anyone, particularly the elders, had to say. the death of his father sent him spiraling into grief & depression for the short period of time he had to begin processing it before he was nearly killed.

for the majority of his time in blackw/atch & overw/atch, genji avoided making any attachments to people as best he could under the belief that in the end, they would either leave or betray him. he had no trust whatsoever

by the time of the recall, he’s still somewhat tentative about making new connections with people, but he has regained the ability to trust. there’s still a lingering fear of being abandoned by those he cares about, but this rarely results in any of the lashing out that it used to.

UNSTABLE RELATIONSHIPS.  prior to overw/atch, genji’s friendships and relationships were always short-lived. friends tended to last no more than a month or two before he cycled on to new ones, and ‘relationships’ were less that and more… one-night stands or casual sex. people would seem great at first, but he swung quickly from idealizing to devaluing. plus, if he left them first, they couldn’t abandon him.

relationships were especially tumultuous during his time in blackw/atch — most of the time genji despised the people he had to work with, at BEST finding them annoying. eventually some DID grow on him to an extent, but it didn’t lessen his hostility toward them much. there were occasions when he was calmer and even… open with others, but these moments were infrequent and never lasted long before he was right back to closed off and unpleasant. no one ever knew where they stood with him.

in the time of the recall, his relationships are much steadier, but there are still times where he will idealize others or devalue them, get angry at them for the smallest of reasons, etc. this is particularly the case with hanzo as he tries to mend the relationship with his brother.

UNCLEAR / SHIFTING SELF-IMAGE.  in his younger years, genji swung back and forth to some extremes on how he saw himself. at times he felt he felt great about himself, even felt superior to others, and other times he felt like an utter disappointment, like what the clan elders said about him was true, like he was a mistake that didn’t belong — not that you’d have been able to tell. he was always good at hiding this. even hanzo only saw the cracks in his confident facade a few times.

in blackw/atch, the negative self-image was by far more prominent than anything positive. he hated himself constantly rather than only sometimes, and the only real argument that went back and forth was that of whether he was human or machine.

by recall, self-image is much more stabilized and generally more positive. that isn’t to say he doesn’t still struggle, as there are still times where he feels like he’s a bad person, but he’s come a long way from where he once was.

SELF-HARM.  something that genji mostly engaged in during his time in blackw/atch. he would self-harm primarily through cutting himself and sometimes even tearing at pieces of his synthetic body — removing the outer plates, ripping at wires, etc. many of the scars across what skin he has left were caused by himself. he was also quite heavily suicidal during this time, faced with suicidal thoughts quite frequently. he would sometimes throw himself into battle almost like he was TRYING to die.

EXTREME EMOTIONAL SWINGS.  genji has always been prone to swinging from one emotion to another with enough speed to cause WHIPLASH. he can be perfectly happy one moment and fall into a depressed place the next, could go from somewhere content to outrage over the seemingly smallest things. the swings are intense, but generally don’t last long.

IMPULSIVE & SELF-DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOURS.  though some of his reckless and impulsive behaviours were simply him being young and… well, reckless, a great deal of the time they were fueled by a desperate need to FEEL GOOD, or to FEEL SOMETHING AT ALL. nights spent partying, getting drunk and doing drugs, hooking up with strangers, these were all methods genji used to cope. they made him feel better in the moment and distracted him from his life. on top of substance abuse & risky sex, he’d also spend money carelessly & excessively and commit the occasional crime ( outside his family’s business ), such as shoplifting.

as a blackw/atch agent, genji would throw himself recklessly into combat without any real care for himself. he often wound up in the medical wing with serious injuries, parts needing replacing, and sometimes with entire limbs missing. this was a combination of a need to feel something — anything — and being honestly quite suicidal.

come recall, genji is still impulsive, but he’s far better about keeping himself under control. he’ll still be reckless at times, but not nearly to the extent as in his past.

CHRONIC FEELINGS OF EMPTINESS.  fairly self explanatory. something he dealt with heavily prior to his near death and until his time with black/overw/atch was done. as with the other symptoms, he’s much better in the present, but does still struggle with some empty numbness.

EXPLOSIVE ANGER.  also fairly self-explanatory and, again, primarily a symptom he faced in the past. it was absolutely the most extreme during blackw/atch.

FEELING SUSPICIOUS &/OR OUT OF TOUCH WITH REALITY.  dissociation is another symptom that has affected genji across much of his life and is one of the symptoms that still affects him the most by the time of the recall. it was, understandably, especially bad during the first year or so after having much of his body replaced with cybernetics, but during times of stress, particularly emotional stress that he would and still does hide, he’ll often feel as though things aren’t real, or as though he’s outside his body. he’s good with grounding exercises in the present though, whereas in the past this was another symptom that he would try to solve with distractions & self-destructive behaviours.

#once upon a time i realized i was unintentionally writing genji with symptoms of bpd #and realized it wasn't just me using writing as an outlet for my own but that the disorder actually fits #and it's become a really important headcanon to me #🗡️ — 「 まだまだ 」 headcanon. #mental illness / #substance abuse / #self harm / #suicidal thoughts / #ask to tag /