#Boxing As Isolation Technique

[msclaritea]

#Black vs White #Old vs Young #Boomer #Ageism #Queer As A Slur Campaign #LGBT Without The T Campaign #Colorism #Black Community #Dark vs Light Skin #Poor vs Rich #Boxing As Isolation Technique #Social Engineering #Divide and Conquer #The Vice of Kings #Jasun Horsley

[femsolid]

TW: Trans activists

For more than a decade now, trans activists have been harassing those who belong to a feminist philosphy we call radical feminism or the women’s liberation movement.

Radical feminists, like most feminists, believe that men use sex to oppress women. Meaning they oppress women through sexual exploitation and by perpetuating sexist discrimination towards those who belong to the female sex. They were the first to research and expose violence against women as endemic and traumatizing, and to create shelters for rape and domestic violence victims. Those shelters are now being vandalized and defunded by trans activists.

Because radical feminists don’t believe in gender identities, gendered souls, gender roles or any form of innate personality based on sexist stereotypes, they have been receiving rape and death threats on a daily basis. The acronym “terf” was soon invented and is now used to describe any person who doesn’t support the trans movement, even if they’re not feminists, just as long as they're women, though lesbians and feminists tend to be the primary targets.

As a whole, the trans movement claims that its biggest enemy and threat, its most pressing matter, its most dangerous opponent is the women’s liberation movement or what they call “radfems” or “terfs”. This is where their energy and anger is directed, typically in the form of sexist and sexual harassment, intimidation techniques, violence, censorship and social isolation. So let’s talk about that.

From the book Hate Crimes in Cyberspace:

Cyber harassment involves threats of violence, privacy invasions, reputation-harming lies, calls for strangers to physically harm victims, and technological attacks.

Victims’ in-boxes are inundated with threatening e-mails. Their employers receive anonymous e-mails accusing them of misdeeds. Even if some abuse is taken down from a site, it quickly reappears on others. Victims’ sites are forced offline with distributed-denial-of-service attacks.

While some attackers confine abuse to networked technologies, others use all available tools to harass victims, including real-space contact. Offline harassment or stalking often includes abusive phone calls, vandalism, threatening mail, and physical assault.

The Internet extends the life of destructive posts. Harassing letters are eventually thrown away, and memories fade in time. The web, however, can make it impossible to forget about malicious posts. And posts that go viral attract hundreds of thousands of readers.

Online harassment can quickly become a team sport, with posters trying to outdo each other. Posters compete to be the most offensive, the most abusive. An accurate name for such online groups is cyber mobs. The term captures both the destructive potential of online groups and the shaming dynamic at the heart of the abuse.

Cyber harassment disproportionately impacts women. The U.S. National Violence Against Women Survey reports that 60 percent of cyber stalking victims are women, and the National Center for Victims of Crimes estimates that the rate is 70 percent. Of the 3,393 individuals reporting cyber harass-ment to WHOA from 2000 to 2011, 72.5 percent were female. The most recent Bureau of Justice Statistics report found that 74 percent of individuals who were stalked on or offline were female, and 26 percent were male.

Researchers found that users with female names received on average one hundred “malicious private messages,” which the study defined as “sexually explicit or threatening language,” for every four received by male users.

According to the study, “Male human users specifically targeted female users.” By contrast, men are more often attacked for their ideas and actions. John Scalzi, a science fiction author and popular blogger, has found online invective typically situational. When he writes something that annoys people, they tell him so. People do not make a “hobby” out of attacking his appearance and existence as they do female bloggers.

The nature of the attacks similarly attests to bigotry’s presence. Hate expresses something uniquely damaging. It labels members of a group as inhuman “others” who do not possess equal worth. It says that group members are inferior and damaged. Bigotry conveys the message that group members are objects that can be destroyed because they have no shared humanity to consider.

Cyber harassment exploits these features by exposing victims’ sexuality in humiliating ways. Victims are equated with their sexual organs, often described as diseased.

Once cyber harassment victims are sexually exposed, posters penetrate them virtually with messages that say “I will fuck your ass to death you filthy fucking whore, your only worth on this planet is as a warm hole to stick my cock in.” 

Rape threats profoundly impact women: over 86 percent of rape victims are female. Virtual elimination may follow the imagined penetration: “First I’ll rape you, then I’ll kill you.”

One woman who faced online abuse noted, “Someone who writes ‘You’re just a cunt’ is not trying to convince me of anything but my own worthlessness.” Despite the gravity of their predicaments, cyber harassment victims are often told that nothing can or should be done about online abuse. Journalists, bloggers, lay observers, and law enforcement officials urge them to ignore it. Victims are called “whiny baby girl[s]” who are overreacting to “a few text messages.” Often victims are blamed for the abuse. They are scolded for sharing their nude images with loved ones or for blogging about controversial topics. They are told that they could have avoided the abuse had they been more careful.

A related message sent to victims is that the benefits of online opportunities are available only to those who are willing to face the Internet’s risks. They are advised not to expect anything different if they want to make a name for themselves online. The choice is theirs: they can toughen up or go offline.

The Internet is governed by society’s rules. Life online bleeds into life offline and vice versa. The notion that more aggression should be tolerated in cyberspace than in real space presumes that virtual spaces are cordoned off from physical ones.

Most victims do not report cyber harassment to the police because they assume that nothing will be done about it. Sadly, they are right. Law enforcement frequently fails to act on victims’ complaints even though criminal law would punish some of the behavior. Victims are told to turn off their computers because “boys will be boys.” Online harassment victims are told that nothing can be done; they are advised to ignore rape and death threats. During the summer of 2013, high-profile women were subjected to a torrent of online threats. The feminist activist Caroline Criado Perez received hundreds of graphic rape threats via Twitter after her successful campaign to feature more female images on British banknotes.

Members of Parliament and female writers who publicly supported Criado-Perez faced the same, including bomb threats. One tweet featured a picture of a masked man holding a knife with the message, “I’m gonna be the first thing u see when u wake up.”

Because the Internet serves as people’s workspaces, professional networks, résumés, social clubs, and zones of public conversation, it deserves the same protection as offline speech. No more, no less.

Without doubt, the free speech interests at stake are weighty. Free expression is crucial to our ability to govern ourselves, to express our thoughts, and to discover truths. For that reason, government cannot censor ideas because society finds them offensive. Truthful speech must not be banned just because it makes people uncomfortable.

But credible threats, certain defamatory falsehoods, social security numbers, and nude images posted without consent contribute little to discourse essential for citizens to govern themselves and discover truths. Their net effect is the silencing of victims. Victims could blog, post videos, and engage on social networks without fear of destructive cyber harassment. They could raise money using networked tools unencumbered by rape threats, reputation-harming lies, and distributed- denial- of- service attacks. They could take advantage of all of the expressive opportunities available online. Protecting against online harassment would secure the necessary preconditions for victims’ free expression.

With the help of law and the voluntary efforts of Internet intermediaries, parents, and teachers, we might someday achieve a free and equal Internet. We need to take action before cyber harassment becomes a normal feature of online interactions. A hostile online environment is neither inevitable nor desirable. We should not squander this chance to combat discriminatory online abuse; it is early enough in our use of networked tools to introduce equality of opportunity as a baseline norm of interaction.

#trans #terf #feminism #radfem #radical feminism #cyber harassment

[yamy-brett]

Jeremy Created a Detailed Past For Sherlock Holmes

During a 1991 NPR Interview Jeremy spoke about how Laurence Olivier taught him to always develop a backstory for any character he played as it would greatly enhance the actor's portrayal. It would be an understatement to say that Olivier was an expert at this technique.

Jeremy said, in the 1991 interview, that he created a very detailed past for Sherlock:

"...his nanny...; for example, she was covered in starch. She probably scrubbed him, but never kissed him. I don’t think he probably saw his mother until he was about eight…. Probably he didn’t actually see his father until he was twelve. I guess college days were fairly complicated because he was quite isolated. He probably saw a girl across the quadrangle and fell in love, but she never looked at him… so he closed that door. And he became a brilliant fencer… and a master at boxing…and many more tiny little details which I have to kind of make-up to fill this kind of well… that Doyle so brilliantly left out. To bring it off the printed page for myself, I invented little stories about… the loneliness of his university days, of his brilliance at sports, and his total removal from any kind of social activity… everything to bring a bit more illumination.” (NPR Interview 1991)

#jeremy brett #granada holmes #sherlock holmes

[atzfilm]

clair de lune. (m) - part seven

genre; yandere, vampire!au, reincarnation! au angst, smut

pairing; ot8/f.reader

word count: 23k

warnings; manipulation, explicit scenes, murder, blood, smut, gaslighting, prior abuse/assault mentioned, knives, wounds, brief talk of religion, mass murder

summary; you’ve finally gotten the chance to enter “clair de lune”, a infamous night club to see the band hiraeth. but why did you feel like their eyes only watched you?

note: this first deals with the subject of yandere. with that being said, a lot of the things happening in this fiction will be manipulation, gaslighting, and various other techniques displayed by the characters. if you are not comfortable with that, please do not read.

masterlist | final

Chapter 7:

He balances the two fruits in his hands. In another time, maybe years from now, it’d be humorous to take the box of peaches and bring them home to you. Maybe you’d scold him but laugh after a while. But now, it’s not the case. He grimaces at the thin film coating the apples, eyes flicking to the imported country it came from. He only sighs, placing it lightly on the top of the pile and continuing down the aisle. What other fruits did you like? He cannot recall any that you’ve mentioned, Wooyoung being the one to insist on buying you peaches. It’s interesting that none of them asked you if you truly liked it, if it was your favorite fruit just as it was Rose’s. Another failure on their part, he supposes. In all honesty, he cannot recall you mentioning anything about peaches. He throws in a few vegetables he’s seen you eat without scrunching your nose, a warmth overcoming him at the image. Though you are not as close with him as many of the others, he enjoys your presence, nonetheless. If it were possible to somehow turn back time, make you see him as he is now, he would have. If it were so, maybe you’d see him in a different light. Maybe you would smile at him just as you do with Yeosang.

Or did, rather.

He sighs, placing his basket upon the counter and softly thanking the cashier for scanning. Just as he begins to bag a familiar scent fills his nose.

“How unfortunate,” he murmurs, not bothering to glance back to see the man. “We have an agreement, Han. Or are you too isolated from the others that Subin cannot reign you in?”

“Your scent has always been in its best condition.” He enters his view, leaning against the wall as he watches him pack the food. “I’d never thought I'd see the day Park Seonghwa shopped in a market.”

“Come back at the same time in a few days and you’ll see me again.” He ties the bag, eyes flicking to his old friend’s. He looks sickly in comparison, skin translucent, eyes bloodshot. Even his hair looks thin and brittle, the long strands framing his face can easily fall with a high burst of wind. At another time, he’d feel pity. On another day, he’d even offer him some blood. But all he can do is shake his head, stepping past him.

“You treat me as if we were never friends, Park.”

“What do you expect me to do, welcome you with open arms?” Seonghwa holds the door for him. “We’ve had an agreement for over a century. And as you may know, it’s been broken a few times the past few months. Not wise to come here and break it even more.”

“I have not touched one human on your side.”

“That I can tell,” his breath is long as he turns back to him. “What do you want? Blood? I cannot give it to you, you know that. Joong would kill me before even touching you. And I'd rather keep all my limbs. They're quite helpful–"

"I don't care for blood, Park. If that were the case, I would have left long ago."

He doubts that entirely on his appearance alone. But he lets him speak. There's little chance for anything other than a few jabs here and there. Maybe an insult. "What do you desire then?"

"y/n is leaving," he starts. "Asking how I know is a moot point, but everyone knows. Clans beyond just ours. We aren't sure if Sejun shared it or not, but word is spreading. She will not be as safe as you think outside your walls. Once she is away, she will be hunted. Every vampire desires to taste the blood of the descendant of the first woman who was turned. Especially since she belongs to you all. It will not end well."

It is as he expected. Seonghwa grips his bag, thinking. The first thought is to tell Hongjoong, have him come up with a plan. The next, perhaps tell you of the danger? Have you stay longer in their care? He doubts you'd even consider it. But what other choice does he have? Letting you step outside and die? Seonghwa’s gaze moves to your old best friend's.

"What are you gaining out of telling me this?"

"Protection."

If his brows could furrow tighter, they would. "Pardon?"

He sighs loudly, glancing behind him before turning back around. "Subin is planning something big, and I need your word that you will protect me when it happens. I will do anything for my clan leader, but I cannot and will not risk my life for a woman I barely know."

"That's quite sad, seeing as she's been your friend for several years now."

"Seonghwa," He hisses.

"I cannot promise something that has no value. Unlike you, I am under the will of my captain. What he says goes. If he wants me to kill you at this very moment, I'd do it without hesitation. My loyalty is solid. I am sorry." And it is genuine. Having to nearly beg on your knees in front of your enemy for your life is not what he wishes upon any. It goes beyond pathetic. Almost revolting as he sees the defeat in Seungwoo's gaze.

"Will any of you ever think for yourselves? It's been hundreds of years and you are still under his thumb. It's pitiful. Especially for you, Seonghwa. He will never look at you the way he looks at her. Sooner or later you'll see that he will pick her every time."

His grip tightens around the bag in his hand. "My interpersonal relationships are of no consequence to you. And you're telling me things I already know. Do you think that I've spent these years deluded? I know where I stand in my relationships. But it seems that you still don't," he takes a step toward him. "I feel bad for you. Your clan leader is so involved with himself that he does not care about all of you. Hongjoong could care about me the least and he will never neglect me to the point I'd have to follow my enemy into a grocery store, and beg for protection. It's laughable, now that I look at you."

His lip quips at the glare forming on his face.

"Seems like I've been wrong about you. You're the same as the rest."

"That's your fault for taking my kindness for weakness, Han. Now go before one of the others appear. They don't take trespassing as lightly as I do."

Seungwoo stands there for a moment longer. He looks as if he wants to say more, but all he does is shake his head, disappearing down the street. Once he's out of view, Seonghwa sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. Mild surprise is an understatement. He'd rather not deal with the aftermath of telling the others of his presence, but lying by omission will only make everything much worse.

He slides into his slippers just as he enters his home. There's always a few conversations happening when he enters, often Wooyoung bickering with San, or Mingi and Yunho teasing one another. But all he can hear is silence. He glances in the empty living room before entering the kitchen, placing the groceries on the table. Should he check up on you? Or have you left somewhere with the others? It's not uncommon for one of them to steal you without telling anyone else.

A door just outside the kitchen slams against the wooden pane, splintering from the force. Seonghwa winces, sighing. What happened now? He leaves his groceries unmanned, peeking out the kitchen doorway. Yunho stands there, pacing back and forth, gaze glossed over. He doesn't bother saying a word to him, Mingi stepping out of the room after him. His eyes flick to Seonghwa, widening before looking away.

Said man’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What happened?”

“He took her, hyung,” Mingi whispers, wincing as Yunho’s fist hits the wall beside him. “We were too slow, we didn’t get to her in time.” The steaming coffee in his hand spills, skin unaffected.

Without another word, Seonghwa moves past the both of them, striding down the hall. His eyes move to the small group of them crowding around your door. They step aside as he enters her room. The first thing he notices is the broken window, and no signs of you. All he could think is that you're gone. They lost you when you were underneath their roof. And he was out and about, unable to help.

Just like before.

-

“I’ll take care of you, y/n. I’m not like the rest of them,” his touch is rough, bumpy scars dragging along your cheek. You flinch but he only digs his nails deeper, forcing you to stare at him. Just as he leans forward, you let out a brief cry. His eyes narrow, letting you go. You tug on the metal that encases your ankles, grunting. It’s hopeless, fruitless, you know that. Especially with him standing there and watching you. But you’re desperate, your thoughts only on you leaving.

“What do you hope to achieve with this?” You ask, turning to him. “Do you think this kidnapping will make me trust you? Because I feel far from it, Sejun.”

“From what I remember you liked being tied up.”

“I am not Rose,” your tone is filled with exhaustion. It’s as if none of them listen. You’re not that woman, you’ll never be. No matter how much they desire it. “I”ll never be her. All of you need to move on for fuck’s sake.”

He laughs, shaking his head, “You don’t remember anything at all? Those little visions didn’t help you figure out that they’re fucked in the head? Vampirism doesn’t only force you to suck the blood out of humans forever, y/n. It does some crazy shit to you. Makes you believe things that aren’t true. They don't love you, never will.”

He leans against the wall. "You say you're not Rose but you are just as stubborn, just as oblivious. Though she did take the easy way out while you seem to be hanging on a bit longer," His head tilts as he loses himself in thought. "You said you were leaving, where are you going?"

"Home."

His brows furrow. "Home? You’ve decided to endanger your family because you're afraid of solving your own problems? Taking that great of a risk is not wise. They want you, and they will do anything for it. Your family will only end up being pawns. Though I am sure they know where they live, entering your family’s home is a death sentence."

"Then what can I do? They're all I have; none of my friends respond to my calls or texts, my apartment is flooded, I have nothing. All I have left is them, and I can't stay there," You can feel the tears threatening to fall. "Your brother poisoned me, you know that? He wanted me to be like them so desperately he fucking poisoned the peaches I ate."

A surprised laugh punctuates his sentence, shaking his head. "A bit of a shock, no? That kid loves human warmth more than anything. Thought he'd let you live longer than that. Must have ruffled his feathers in some way," he tsks. "Too late now, I suppose."

"Why did you pretend to be Seonghwa?" You ask, ignoring his harsh words. "Why would you try to convince me to stay?"

He shrugs, "To make you believe that I was actually him. I was taking you with me either way. Just easier for you to think I was him so we could leave without catching unnecessary attention. Unfortunately plans changed when you noticed my body temperature," he sighs, rubbing his forearm. "Pity that Hongjoong couldn't duplicate it for the rest of them. You wouldn't have noticed then."

"Why would he turn you?"

"Believe it or not," he rocks on his heels. "Him and I were good friends before this all happened. For a while. Longer than he's known the clan he's with now. Not as close, no, but I was the experiment of his. The first person he turned," his sigh is exaggerated, prolonged. "The person who made him into this didn't exactly like that. Made it so no one else could be as we are. He probably hates my existence now, but there's little he can do about it. Him and I are nearly the same age, give or take a few years. But that matters so little, so I digress."

There's something bothering you about his words. The possibility of him being the first turned is fine, sure. But it wouldn't make sense if he's Wooyoung's brother. He watches you as you think it through, head spinning. The way Wooyoung crumbled to the ground when he saw him, they must be related in some way. Devastation like that is hard to fake.

"Wooyoung and I are not blood brothers," he interrupts your thoughts, answering the lingering question. "He believes it because his captain convinced him. The reasoning is beyond my own knowledge, but I followed everything he said back then. Not as much now, since his influence no longer works on me. I've learned to ignore those deep whispers in my mind," he taps his temple. "Unfortunately, Wooyoung will never know. But lies fall from his lips anyway so he shouldn't be that disappointed."

"I saw how he looked at you, Sejun. He cares for you deeply, cared. He thought you were dead. He’d be broken if he found out the truth." The way his hold trembled against yours in that shop, the drop to the floor due to the onslaught of emotions. "You speak of him like he's an inconvenience."

"That he is," he shrugs. "You were my goal in the end, nothing more. His attachment to a man that died hundreds of years ago is none of my concern."

"Why me?"

This time he stares, eyes flicking over your body. It chills you the way his stare hardens, swallowing slowly. "When Rose was alive I made mistakes. It's nothing I can fix nor apologize for because she's dead. And before your thoughts stray, I am not obsessed with you like the others. I acknowledge that you are different. It is just that, the thought of there being another Rose was impossible in my mind. No, in fact, it was never a thought of mine. Once she died, the horror was over. All of us would be able to live our separate lives without ever meeting again. Subin made the choice of keeping an eye on them, which was a mistake, but in a way, a good thing. Neither of us would have found out about you.

"Hongjoong has always had this obsession with things that were out of his reach. The past is irrelevant now, but much of it can explain why he is the way he is now. To put it simply: He has been in love with every iteration of you. And every time he gets close, he loses you. Rose, her mother, her grandmother. I thought the line would have ended since Rose was unable to have children. Unfortunately her soul still lives on," His nose wrinkles. "Thousands of years have only made the obsession fester rather than dissipate. Your appearance resembling Rose has only amplified his delusions. None of this is your fault, y/n. If it were possible to change your face, your soul, it would have been done already. I owe that much to your prior life,” his eyes flick over you, pained. “Saying sorry to you means nothing because you’re not her, but I am. I am deeply apologetic.”

You take in his words, eyes glued to the floor. Rose had a hard life from the glimpses you’ve witnessed. She struggled every waking moment, moreso when she met this clan. You’re not sure what happened between her and Sejun, but from the way he speaks they were involved somehow. Romantically more than likely; from what you’ve seen, Rose enjoyed her extracurricular activities. And Sejun is far from ugly. You suck in a breath, thinking. Is there any way to convince him to let you go? It may be unlikely since he infiltrated their home just to get you. So why, what is the reason?

“What are you planning on doing with me, then?”

He swallows slowly. “I owe Subin. To put it simply: I fucked up back then and ruined everything. I never got the chance to apologize to him, so I told him I’ll do him a favor. He wanted you, so I agreed. It would have been farther down the line, but Hanse is dead now. He only has a few left in his clan and he doesn’t want to risk any of them. So he asked me to get you. I’m supposed to bring you to him right now actually, but I wanted to speak to you alone. Hopefully get a look into that head of yours, and see what you’re thinking. So far there’s nothing interesting.”

“An insult, how kind of you,” you frown. He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I can see why it’s hard for them to tell the difference. You’re more alike than you think.”

“The restraints then?” you gesture to them. “Do you expect me to run? I wouldn’t get far, anyway.”

“You still tugged on them a bit. And it’s easier to speak to you without having to chase you around this room," he slides down the wall, sitting. "Maybe try to change your mind about going back to them after this all blows over."

"... I'm not going back."

He chuckles dryly, "Right. Just like the sun isn't going to rise tomorrow. Listen, Subin is going to attempt to kill you."

"What the fuck?" You pull harshly on the chains. "And you expect me to just agree?"

"Who the hell would agree to that?" He scoffs. "No, I'm warning you before we get there. Just because I owe him a favor doesn't mean I'm gonna let you walk in there blind. Rose back then wanted him to kill her if she was close to turning, and he agreed to it. In his mind he believes the promise is still valid despite you two being different people. Tell him no, and agree to his plan that he suggests otherwise. We will move from there."

"We, there's still a we in this? How can I believe anything you're saying?"

He stands, moving closer to you. He tugs lightly, chains immediately falling apart in his grip. "There's no reason for you to. You shouldn't believe any of us in all honesty. All of us have our agendas. Mine just happens to line up with yours. I don't want you to die. Not like this. Not again. Suffering in another life because of all of us. It's hard to believe I know that, but what options do you have? Subin, the kid that wants to bury you? Your newly adopted clan that's willing to turn you into one of them without your permission? Again? Rough choices."

You rub your wrist as you look up at him. He crouches and pulls off the restraints around your ankles. There are choices. You can run, eventually get caught by one of them. Try to kill them, though you are very aware of how that ended for Rose. And you have less than half of the confidence and strife she had back then. You couldn't even watch the man who poisoned you suffer, unlikely you'd be able to hurt any of them yourself. Running home. Risking your family– No. You look at Sejun. You cannot trust him, but what else can you do? What other choice do you have?

"I don't trust you."

"I know."

"All of this, in the end, will I be free?"

He stares at you. "Honestly? Probably not. I might die before we get to the end. Actually, I'm pretty sure I will when Hongjoong finds me," he rubs the back of his neck. "But I'm not afraid of death. It's been long enough. I'll try my best to lend you my knowledge before I go. I'll leave the rest to you."

There's something else.

"Sejun," you start, slowly standing. "What were you to Rose?"

He grins, "An asshole ex, y/n."

“Did you…?” You don’t say the words.

“I had a temper back then. I hurt her accidentally plenty of times, yes. But after the first time, is it really an accident?” He keeps his gaze to the floor. “I hurt her even if I thought I didn’t mean it. I did it. Just another part of her suffering back then. I’d do anything to change back time, somehow remove myself from Hongjoong, from her life. I deserve to suffer twice as long as she has. I can help you now.”

-

"We have to get her."

"No," Hongjoong adjusts his coat, frowning as he pulls off a dust ball. "She made her choice. She wants us gone, she wants to leave, then let her. No more rescue missions, no more devoting our hours to her. Let her go."

Seonghwa narrows his eyes, "You have to understand that I do not believe a word falling from your lips."

Hongjoong snickers, shrugging. "Then that is so. Either way, it is unwise for any of you to go running after her. It is for her own good. She refused to trust us and our words, so she will suffer the consequences. She will see what it means to have us removed from her life."

Yeosang steps closer, "He may hurt her–"

"A few bruises never hurt anyone," he points out. "You know that well."

His hands slowly form into fists as he glares at him. Hongjoong notes this, tilting his head as he stares at his friend. "What will you do, hm? Go against my words? You know you don't have to follow them. You can run after her if you'd like. She would probably want to see you the most. As she always has."

"You will not stop us?" Yunho's brows furrow, arms crossed against his chest. "That is unlike you."

"Because I know you will see how unsuccessful the venture will be. He will not go down without a fight. He will kill every single one of you because he is nearly as strong as I. Have you forgotten? He has the privilege, he is older than you all. Human blood still runs through his veins. The only one who stands a chance is myself, and I want to teach her a lesson. So go if you like, lose your lives so that I am the only one remaining. I am sure she would enjoy it."

The others say nothing. Jongho is the first to break the silence.

"Then what will we do?"

His wild, cheshire grin stuns them. "We go to our show. We perform, and we feed. I will tell you the next step then."

-

“Pull yourself together.”

San watches as Yeosang paces back and forth, fists clenching and unclenching. He has rarely ever seen him filled with this much fury, thoughts seemingly scattered as he ignores every word San attempts to tell him. San tried to stop his pacing but was met with such angst that he moved out of the way, letting him continue. Yeosang runs his fingers through his hair, breaths heavy as he controls his breathing.

“It’s been days. Subin will kill her,” he starts, looking at San. “There is no doubt in it. y/n will die.”

“We aren’t certain of it—”

“He’s spoken about it for centuries, San. Centuries. A day with her isn’t going to change his mind and we both know it. She’s going to die,” Yeosang holds himself up against the wall, unable to handle the onslaught of emotions cascading from him. He’s forced himself to not feel for all this time, to push back the thoughts that caged him inside of this body, made him ill for an unknown amount of time. But how can he stand here and listen to Hongjoong? He finally has you, and he’s already lost you once more. “If she dies–”

“You will not perish along with her,” Wooyoung enters the room, shooting San a look. “Control yourself Yeosang, I thought you were over this.”

He shakes his head, gaze lifting from the floor to look at his friend. “Do not stand there and pretend all of this isn’t your fault. You poisoned her and you made me lie. You influenced my hand without my permission. When you explicitly told me you’d never use your hold against me again, you did. And now we’ve lost her.”

“I poisoned her for everyone’s sake. She would have been ours. Right, Sannie?” Wooyoung looks at his closest friend, “Isn’t that what you’ve wanted?”

San swallows softly, looking between his two friends. It’s been like this ever since Wooyoung turned Yeosang. A push and pull between the three of them, a longing in Wooyoung’s eyes as he desperately wanted Yeosang to accept him as he is, followed by refutation every single time. Growing closer with San because of it, the relationship between the trio strained. He rubs his face, thinking.

“I want her, yes,” he says simply, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with either of them. He’s learned that it is best to toe the line, never choosing a side. “But it is likely we might not ever see her again if we continue down this path.” Not until now, of course.

Wooyoung’s bright smile wavers, brows furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

“If you don’t understand his words then you never will, Woo,” Yeosang says softly. “All he has ever done is try to nurture you, to accept you as you are now, mourn who you once were. We all have at some point. But it is hard when your mind is so diluted with need for her that you cannot think properly. How many times must we go through this to try and make you see that what you’re doing is not okay?”

“I’ve been this way long enough for you to get used to it,” he sucks his teeth. “And don’t place all the blame on me. It wasn’t my idea to flood her apartment. I wasn’t the one who killed her friend. We all have a role in this. I’m sorry if you loved the pathetic man I was before, he’s been gone for hundreds of years now.”

“You call him pathetic,” Yeosang whispers. “But I called him my best friend.”

Wooyoung steps closer to him, crouching down to meet his gaze. “Called, you say? Am I no longer that? Do you no longer consider me your best friend?”

He says nothing then, the tension thickening in the room. Wooyoung takes several steps toward him, San standing in the way. He merely laughs at his friend, pushing him aside. He stands just before Yeosang, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Do you consider me your best friend, Kang Yeosang?”

Yeosang swallows. Though he does not say it, Wooyoung can see the twitch of his lip, the slight shake of his head. It is enough to push him to the edge. His eyes darkened, red slowly fading.

“You will listen to my words now and follow them,” his fingers dig into Yeosang’s shoulder as he stares down at him. “Every word that I tell y/n you will agree is true. You will convince her that I am not as bad as she may think, and you will do it diligently. If she does not believe you after days of trying…” Wooyoung trails off, eyes glazed over. “If she does not believe you, you will leave this home. And you will not remember me being the one to tell you this."

“Wooyoung—” Yeosang’s eyes widen, trying to remove himself from his grip.

“Enough.”

They all turn to the new arrival, Yunho leaning against the door frame. He frowns at them all, lingering on Yeosang’s crouched body, Wooyoung’s grip. Said man lets him go, though there is a sly smile on his lips. “Hongjoong found out where she is.”

-

“Do we go against his word?”

“Is there any other way? We’ve followed along with him for centuries with little protest. Of course, there will come a time when we do not. And that time is now,” Yunho stretches his hands through the sweater, adjusting it in the mirror. “We do this on our own.”

“Hongjoong said we’d be killed.”

“And you believe him?”

 Wooyoung purses his lips, eyes shifting to Seonghwa in the corner of the room. “There was never a reason for me not to."

“A lot of things you don’t know about, Wooyoung,” Yunho tosses Seonghwa his bag, scoffing at how the man dodges it, letting it fall to the floor. “He isn’t coming with us so there’s no need to worry about him.”

“He’ll tell captain.”

“Probably,” Yunho shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. “Hongjoong could stop us if he wants to. Doubt it though.”

“Why?”

Yunho sighs, turning back to him. “When were you ever one to ask so many questions? You usually follow.”

“It’s…” Wooyoung’s eyes shift to Yeosang, noticing how the man is curled on the floor, eyes shut. There’s little he can do to persuade him to come unless he forces him to, but he’s dealt with those consequences already. Doing it again will only feed his benefit, and no one else’s. Wooyoung sighs, buttoning up the leather jacket he does not need, shifting his eyes to San in the far corner. He leans against the wall, watching the two of them. “How long will it take to get there?”

“Not long,” Yunho shrugs. “They brought her to our club.”

This catches the attention of the others in the room, Seonghwa’s eyes widening at the news. Yeosang still does not move from his spot, even as San nudges his body. A knock on the door interrupts them, Hongjoong standing there silently.

“Ready?”

They tense, only causing him to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t go alone. There will be others to handle there other than Subin,” he glances at Wooyoung. “I’m going to kill him for good this time. You know that right?” He does not utter the name, but he sees how his body shifts at the thought. “Having him linger around is not wise, Woo. Especially around y/n.”

“I know,” he closes his eyes briefly. “I know that.”

“Then I need your word you will not interfere when I do so.”

He sucks in a breath, nodding. “You have it."

Hongjoong chuckles dryly. “Great. You’re staying here with Yeosang.”

“Captain—”

“Ah,” he holds up his hand, stopping his incoming rant. “No need to protest because I will continue to stand here and deny your requests until I am blue in the face. No. You’re not coming, and you’re staying with the man you’ve manipulated for months on end. These are only the consequences of your own actions, Wooyoung," he leans against the doorway, arms crossed. "Did you believe I would let you off the hook just because she favors you? I have not forgotten what you were doing. If she were not there, you would no longer be on this Earth.” He tilts his head, thinking. “I could persuade her that you are a danger and truly remove you from our sights, but that would be unfair to the others. In their minds, some part of the old Wooyoung exists beneath the one we see today. But I’ve spoken too much. Yunho, San, let’s go.”

Hongjoong does not bother to acknowledge Seonghwa sitting on the opposing side of the room, exiting without another word. San nods at the others, following behind Yunho and his captain. He shuts the door behind him, leaving the three alone.

-

Freedom only seems to mock you as you gaze upon it only a few steps away, lit by the fire encased inside lanterns adorning the hallways. It is of no fault of your own that you missed how eerie it truly is inside of their club; consumed by loud music and screaming concert-goers. Still you can’t help but scoff at the blatantly obvious red flags only steps away from the door. Perhaps everyone else was too intoxicated to notice the strange markings on the walls, the endless hallways. All of it brings strange feelings within you, auras of discomfort. Spending time here without the crowds of people makes it seem all the more odd. If it weren’t for Sejun pulling you into the back room, you would have left without a second thought given.

 “Their allurement is what makes this place lively. Without them it only feels like a creepy box,” he says, matching your thoughts entirely. “They never needed to clean up this place; blood stains the floors and walls. Disgusting if we truly think about it, though Seonghwa himself tries his best to make it look at least presentable. Now he doesn’t have much time to do so since he spends his days with you.”

If there was a semblance of jealousy in his words you cannot find it. He drops your wrist, shutting the stage door behind him as he paces back and forth. He seems unsettled, and you don’t speak up to make him even more so. His eyes flick to you, narrowing when they meet. “Subin told me he’d be here.”

“And I was not lying about it, friend,” his voice appears just behind you, goosebumps covering your skin. You turn around, meeting the deep, tired eyes of Rose’s brother. He nods at you, glancing around to look at Sejun. “Did they follow you?”

“They’re too preoccupied in their own snags to pay attention to their surroundings. Though I’m fairly certain Jongho has figured it out by now, he seems attune to her scent the most.”

“Our time is limited, then,” Subin sighs, focusing back on you. He takes a step forward only for you to mirror him. He tilts his head back in exasperation. “They will come for you soon y/n, it’s best to end this now.”

“End what exactly? I’ve spoken to you twice in the past few months, and we never discussed anything ‘ending’. Be more specific.”

A smile rests on his face, “Never-ending in your quick wit even after hundreds of years passed.” He rests against the familiar seat, one you sat in when you first met them all; the beginning of your descent into their hands. If you knew then, you would have never accepted your friend’s invitation to the performance. Things would be different. He seems to know it as well, fingers brushing against the leather cushions.

"When you were my sister, you spoke to me about ending your life if you were ever in danger of being turned into one of them. Us, rather. Back then I was too involved with the captain to take your words to heart, but by the time I realized you were in peril I was too late. You’ve already died. I mourned for you, for the loss of ever knowing you, and I thought that was done. I accepted your fate. But seeing you now, after Hanse told me of your presence in the club, it felt like almost a favor. I have always been quite a religious man, so it must have been an act of God. He’s given me another opportunity to save you. Who would I be if I didn’t take it?”

Oh, they are all misguided, aren’t they? Sejun does not seem to believe his words either, rolling his eyes as Subin speaks.

“You believe that I would want you to kill me now?” You furrow your brows. “You do understand that we are not the same people?”

“Outer appearance does not matter, though you look eerily alike,” he notes, “It was a promise I plan to keep, y/n. There’s no reason for me to break it now.”

“Well I do have one.” You have several, in fact. “I am not her, so the promise does not hold true. And I do believe you have bigger problems. You have no more places to feed, Subin. That’s something you should be worried about.” And forget about you completely, hopefully. "Continuing to follow me around when I'm with them is not a good idea."

"You wish to be with men that would kill anyone who speaks to you?" His brows furrow. "You're worried for me because you know they'll kill me if given the chance. That's who you desire to be with? Are you sure of your choice?"

"Hongjoong said he wouldn't–" you stop in the middle of your diatribe, remembering the switch of tone, the evil lurking in his gaze when he proclaimed that he'd kill Subin. "I'm leaving them so you don't need to worry anymore. Just leave me alone, come up with a compromise that doesn't lead to your death. Rose and I both will be happy if you stay alive." As alive as a vampire can be. But you digress.

"Rose hated me," Subin frowns. "When I became like this she hated it. She would have killed me if she saw me alive today, not let me live. That is the difference between the two of you. Rose hated vampires, hated the bloodshed, hated being one. You do not hate it. They will take advantage of that. They already have. You were being poisoned by Wooyoung and you saved him. Do you realize how tightly they've dug themselves into your life? You saved the monster that was slowly killing you. You didn't run out of fear, leave immediately. You saved him. How can you not see?"

Sejun scoffs from his corner, shaking his head. "Fucking hell."

There’s no use in questioning how he knows, all of these vampires seem to know things you’ve never uttered. "I'm already gone, I can go somewhere. Maybe abroad, I don't know," you stumble over your words, knowing it's of no use. They will find you anywhere. Your time apart will be brief, until you see them stumbling into somewhere you've escaped to. So you say the only thing you can think of.

"I don't want to die, Subin. I've barely lived."

Subin’s brows furrow, eyes filled with sorrow. "Is that what you desire? Do you truly want to live the rest of your life in fear of them? Unable to run away?"

No. That's not what you want. "I want to live as I did before and I know it's not possible anymore. But do I have no other choice than death? There's nothing else I can do?"

"There are few things in this world that make Hongjoong weak. Though most he would never admit to."

"Care to share?"

"That makeshift family of is," he waves his hand, nose wrinkled. "He will never say the words himself, but they are the remainder of humanity he has left. I am sure he has told both you and Rose, but he wasn't this… caring when it came to humans. Not until he met those seven. Especially Wooyoung. He is quite fond of Sejun’s brother even if he would kill him in just a brief moment," he furrows his brows in thought. "I am sure it will haunt him until the end of his days."

You can't imagine hurting any of them. Their past is something that often buries itself in the back of your mind, but never irks you. Killing them to get back at Hongjoong will never be a choice of yours. Even Wooyoung, the man who slowly poisoned you. It is all stupid and ridiculous when you think deeply about it. But so is love, unfortunately.

"And you, y/n," he says. "You are his weakness. He will kill every single person on this planet so that you're content. I would advise to never divulge what your past partners have done, or old friends. They would end up in the back of the papers soon enough. Now that I think of it though, you can use that to your advantage. He is infatuated with you. Make him believe you love him the same, then kill him."

"Kill him?" Rose back then would have done it without a second thought. But you? You step on a small beetle by accident and it ruins your week. Making Hongjoong fall for your lies then killing him… it's unimaginable. "That's the only choice I have?"

"y/n, listen to my words carefully." He bends his knees, balancing on the edges of his feet as he meets your eyes. "Hongjoong will not stop until he gets what he wants. He has waited hundreds of years to have you. He is smart – he will be able to read the lies you feed him."

Subin’s eyes flick behind you, before meeting your gaze again. "Every creature can be killed. Even abominations like us. That you know from Hanse's death. If you would like, I can tell you our weaknesses. I couldn't save you back then, I was too late. But if you would let me, I can save you now. I can show you how to, to finish the plan that Rose couldn't complete herself."

Kill them?

The thought pains you. It's the last thing you want. But seeing how tortured they are, how easily they could switch their personalities, how they more than likely forced Rose to become a vampire, how Wooyoung attempted the same for you.

You have no choice.

You glance back at Sejun, his snickers and jabs silent now, wanting for your response. You turn back to Subin, Rose's brother. His expression doesn't give away anything, patiently waiting for you to decide. You close your eyes, ignore how much your chest hurts at even considering it. Pushing through your heart's desire, you nod slowly.

"Okay."

-

Hongjoong is the first to enter, hands resting against his back. His shoes echo across the hardwood. Though he cannot quite decipher who is in the room with you, he can smell you. And that scent overpowers them all. Yunho and San follow just behind him, blades in hand, coated with poison. Subin has kept to himself for decades now, barely interfering with the others. Your presence has brought them happiness, but has led to this. Not that any of them mind, really. If it meant that they would have you, they’d do anything for it.

-

“They’re here,” Sejun stands, moving closer to you. “We don’t have time. Remember what we’ve told you?” He asks, fingers wrapping around your bicep. “We are going to die, and you will do everything possible to stop them. Do you understand?”

“They wouldn’t–”

“They would, my dear sister,” Subin says simply, eyes flicking to the door. “I’m quite sad that we were not given the chance to catch up once again, but I do hope if there is some afterlife, I can meet Rose.” His jaw tightens, hands slipping behind his back. “Promise you will rid of them soon.”

You hesitantly nod, and he gives you a small grin back. “Of course, I will have to show them a bit of blood to get them going. It will be quick, y/n. They'll heal you, alright?"

"What–"

Your sentence is cut off by the sharp blade pushed into your stomach. Sejun’s eyes widen as Subin slowly slides it out of you, the pain too overwhelming for you to even utter a sound, falling to your knees. Your hands immediately go to the cut, gasps falling from your lips as you turn down to look at it. He pushed it in deep, the blood spilling down your shirt quickly, staining the hardwood floors. He throws his arm back too quick for you to prepare, his fist landing against your cheek.

Sejun’s eyes burn into Subin’s. “You idiot–”

The door is thrown open, Sejun backing away from the two of you as they enter. You can't quite concentrate on what's happening, the sounds of murder happening around you. Shouting and screaming, bones breaking, the smell of blood filling the air. Sejun is thrown down next to you. Several cuts covering his skin, brown blood spilling from his wounds. He coughs, grabbing one of your hands. Forcing you to focus on his words.

"Kill them," his grip on your hand is tight. You can barely see his eyes through the blood covering his face, his hold growing weaker as the seconds pass. "Kill them and you'll finally be free."

Blood splatters in your eyes, covering your face just as he finishes his words. Hongjoong from just behind you drives the stick deeper into his chest, grunting the more force he puts into it.

Your vision blurs as you stare at the blackened blood dripping down your hand, disappearing beneath your sleeve. This was never something that you wanted, despite it being in their plan. Sejun was not supposed to die. You do not doubt that he's done things to Rose in the past, things lost to you. But he's helped since you've spoken to him. It's silly to be upset about his death, but here you are. Staring down at his bloodied body, fingers slowly curling into your palm, hands trembling. Your eyes lift to the murderer, eyes wide as he stares at the body beneath him. He touches his face, smearing his skin with whatever poison he used. The exact one Subin provided for you just moments ago.

"Joong…"

He turns around, expression softening when he sees how distraught you look. His warm fingers brush against your cheek. You wince at the touch as he apologizes for pressing too hard against your skin. His lips press against your forehead, a sorry escaping them. You welcome his touch, sighing as he pulls you against him. His smell encompasses you, your sore wrists aching as you grip his leather coat. He lifts you with ease, your lids too swollen for you to open them. Is it tears? You're not too sure.

The room is quiet. No longer do you hear the crunching of limbs, the muffled screams as they ripped Sejun apart. No. All you can hear is the way your heartbeat throbs in your ear, the breaths of Hongjoong as he guides you out of the room. How foolish of you to believe that you did not need him? That you were so stubborn to see that without him, you would be safe? In the end you're still entrapped in his embrace, softened at the delicate care he does to bring you safely back to his clan, his coven. Your thoughts no longer linger on Sejun, or her brother, or any of the others, in fact.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, the sensitive cuts on your lips tingling as heavy breaths escape. "I should have trusted you." Why are you saying this? Why do the words not feel like your own?

"None of this is your fault," he whispers. "Trusting someone is a difficult task to undertake. Please do not speak anymore until you're able, alright?"

You cough, blood spilling from your lips. His eyes shift to your stomach. Without another word he drags his blade across his arm, lifting your shirt and pressing it against your cut. You gasp, gripping his forearm as he pushes it harshly. He whispers something you don’t bother to understand, holding you close.

The part of you that screamed for you to push him away is silent now. You can only tuck yourself further against him, feel the vibrations of his chest as he hums a song to you. You cannot quite place it, but it feels familiar. He does not begin conversation with you, asking how this happened. Instead he carries you out into the night, holding you close as he enters a car. You hear the soft voice of San speaking to him, their voices low enough that you do not bother straining to listen.

The scene you blocked out suddenly begins to replay in your head. Yunho appeared. You see the glimpse of Seungwoo behind your eyes over and over– when did he arrive? The terrible, garbled scream that left her brother– Subin’s, chest. The sickening sounds of him dying. Did Rose hear this often? How was she able to handle it; the carnage, the smell, the sounds? They only seem to roll on a tape over and over again in your mind.

"What can I do?"

You know he's speaking to you, lips dry as you run your tongue over the cracks, the metal taste coating your tongue. "Nothing." Time passing is only making your head spin. Where's Hongjoong? When did the car start moving? Will you ever see your family again?

"...Okay," San says simply. Hongjoong must have left some time ago, the hum of the car is the only sound around you. "I can't lose you again." His voice is softer. You force an eye open. His fingers are curled around the steering wheel, body rigid. His eyes flick to the rearview often, fingers fidgeting. You're not too sure what your relationship with him is – he's avoided you for weeks now. Now though, you can see how he thinks he cares for you, worry coating his face. His shirt is stained just like the others. Did he kill? Was it Seungwoo? Sejun? Subin? It's all a blur to you now.

How could you pretend to care for any of them when you want to run away? "You will," you respond, lids heavy. "You have already."

"Is there nothing I can do–"

"Yes, there's nothing." Why lie? Why continue the lies that they've started? There is not a moment where you could look at any of them and feel some sort of happiness. "You've lied."

"Rose."

"And you've never called me by my name despite me desperately asking for it, San. You've treated me like the woman you've once loved since we met, and you expect me to love you back? You don't see me." Your throat hurts as you speak to him, but you've wanted to let it out. Show him how it feels to be treated like her. "Let's no longer pretend that you do."

He does not respond. You tuck your legs further into your body. You told him you wouldn't lie, but why does it feel like you are? Why the fuck do you care so much about these men that could give two shits about you? To the point that they're slowly carving you into Rose, a woman that despised their very being? And why are you so desperate for them to see you as yourself, as a human woman completely disconnected from your prior life? Have you so deeply involved yourself that you need their love, their affection? Is that why you've fallen for many of them so easily?

How the hell did that wound on your stomach heal so fast?

"I'm sorry, y/n."

-

What you find behind San's door shouldn't be as surprising as it is. His bed is in pieces, wooden beams scattered across the floors, sheets ripped into throwaway fabrics, pillow feathers floating around the room. Most furniture is destroyed. You take slow steps into the room, hand resting on the edge of the only intact piece: his desk. Fear slowly swallows you as you read the notes you see. Your name is written over and over. Neat in the beginning, slowly losing legibility as it goes on. By the end of the page the characters are mixed together, blood staining the page, paper punctured from how hard he pressed. One line is written clearly at the top of the page.

I will say your name, y/n.

It's been a couple of days since you've gotten back from your kidnapping, from that massacre in the backrooms of Clair de Lune. The smell of death still hasn't left your nose. It's the first time you've left your room, the men leaving your food outside of it, avoiding you in the hallways if you decided to leave. You would thank them under different circumstances, but now you know it's only because they don't want you to ever leave them.

Which bears the question on exactly why you haven't left yet. The blatant warnings are there. Wooyoung was legitimately poisoning you slowly. Many of the others must have known about it. So why are you still here? Why can't you make yourself leave?

Why does it feel like you can't?

"Are you alright?"

You glance at the door, Mingi and Seonghwa standing there. Mingi's arms rest against his chest, a slight limp as he enters. He still has not fully healed from the basement incident, though he looks healthier in complexion. Especially in comparison to you.

"He left," Mingi glances at Seonghwa, eyes flicking back to yours. "For a walk."

"Did the captain tell him to?" You ask, and Mingi shakes his head.

"He left on his own. As you can see," Mingi gestures to the surrounding area. "He's been a bit distraught since you've come back home. He thought leaving would help his mind settle. Mellow out for a while. Yeosang joined him."

"Yeosang?" Is that why you haven't seen him? You presumed that he was avoiding you, but it seems to be the opposite. Yeosang is the only one you could tolerate being around without getting upset, and now he's gone.

"He deals with San during these moments the best. Everyone agreed that he should join him to keep him in check. They shouldn't be gone for too long, so no need to worry."

Worrying is all that you do; especially for them.

But you only acknowledge his words with a quick nod, hands lingering on the edge of the desk. You have not seen Hongjoong either, though it is probably due to your insistence on not allowing him to enter your room. The others begged and pleaded for you to give him a chance – but how could you? His half promises and lack of care for your well-being has left you numb. Before meeting them, you were sure with your emotions, your feelings. Now you only feel like a shell of yourself. You rub your face, ignoring the two men watching as you go through your emotions.

“What will we do now, then?” your eyes shift to the side, noticing that Mingi left already. Strange how quiet a man of his size can be.

Seonghwa slowly moves into the room, arms resting against his chest. “Shall we have a meeting when they come back? I know that you still want to leave, so we can speak about it—”

“Seonghwa,” You lean against the table, wincing as your hip brushes against the wood. His eyebrows furrow as he glances at your hip, only for you to wave him off. “We’ve done enough talking to last a thousand lifetimes.” With how effortlessly Sejun manipulated you into thinking he was truly Seonghwa, there’s little doubt that one of the guys wouldn’t be able to persuade you to stay. Especially with the way he’s looking at you now. No wonder Rose fell for them with ease. It hurts you to even say the words.

“I’m sorry,” his voice is softer, eyes glued to the wooden floors. “I wasn’t here when he took you away. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shake your head. “I should have noticed it wasn’t you from the start. The words you were saying were a bit…” Cheesy? Out of character? Overwhelming for the moment? Now that you think back to Sejun practically begging on his knees, his eyes were not his. They were a deeper brown. Seonghwa rarely, if ever, showed his brown eyes to you. Only in public, never in private. The truth was right in front of you, but you were too overcome with the events that passed to even recognize it.

“Did he speak poetry?” Seonghwa’s lip lifts, a smirk forming. “Sejun used to make fun of me often for my verbiage. I think he referred to it as having a stick up my ass.” You place your hand over your mouth, a laugh escaping. Seonghwa’s grin widens, light chuckles leaving his lips. “And now you laugh because you find it to be true.”

“It’s not… well, you do speak a bit proper sometimes. I just assumed it was because of your past. From a prestigious family?”

His eyes widen briefly, lips finally curving into a full smile. “Rose assumed the same of me when we first met. Maybe I do need to loosen my lips a bit more,” he sighs. “But nevertheless, I am apologetic."

He easily slides past the question about his family, but you let him have it. It’s not like you exactly overshare when it comes to yours. A knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts, Hongjoong lingering in the doorway. Seonghwa moves to the side, sending you a quick look before departing. Hongjoong remains unchanged from the night they found you. Your blood still stains his clothing, hair tousled, eyes red. He looks like he’s worse off in comparison to you. Just as Hongjoong begins to speak, you interrupt.

“Thank you.”

Your words stun him momentarily, raised hand falling to his side. You could almost smile at his shocked expression if you weren’t so exhausted. You hold your hand against the bandage covering your stomach. It’s barely scabbed over, blood still coating the gauze.

 “Thank you for saving me,” you say again. “It’s more than what I’ve asked for but thank you. I’m not sure if I would have survived another day.” It’s very likely that you would have, especially with Sejun there. But stroking his ego might somewhat increase your chances to come out of this place alive. Vampirism isn’t something you exactly dreamed of undergoing.

“You’re not furious with me?” He asks his question slowly, eyes glued to your face. “Not in the slightest?”

“Why would I be angry at you for what Sejun and Subin did?” At least this part is somewhat true.

He swallows slowly, eyes flicking between yours. Just as a sigh of relief escapes your lips as he turns on his heels to the door, he shuts it behind him. "Did Sejun ever explain the reasoning as to why we separated?"

You shake your head, slowly sinking down into the stool in front of San's dresser. His face changes as he simmers in his thoughts.

"Sejun was supposed to watch her," Hongjoong's words almost feel desperate as he speaks to you, pacing around the ottoman. He stops in front of the bed, running his fingers through his hair, thinking. He seems to steady himself as he wraps his hand around one of the bed's pillars. "Rose. It was supposed to be brief but our ship needed maintenance so we stayed away a few months longer. That's when he wooed her, made her fall in love. It was my fault. When he arrived back on ship he told me all of his tales were false. I thought it was to get close to her brother. But when Rose appeared in front of me and told me of his sins, I could not take it," his grip on the pillars hardened, eyes narrowing. The concerned man he just showed you disappears in that instant. It only frightens you how easily he can turn his emotions. You sink further into the stool.

"I tore him from limb to limb, I let the others watch. I thought that was the end of it, no one could survive something like that, not even a vampire. His body was burned and thrown into the sea. So seeing him standing in that shop, none of it made any sense. It still doesn't. It is a pity that I was filled with so much rage I did not get the chance to ask."

He lets a sigh escape him, "And I allowed him into our home, allowed him to take you."

Your brows furrow. "No one knew he took me–"

He holds up his hand, "I knew. Do you think I do not know everything that goes on? Though I was mistaken and presumed he was himself, not disguised as Seonghwa to lure you. If any of us were there we would have seen through his shadow self. But it's harder for humans to."

The realization sinks into you slowly. You knew you were not safe with any of them, especially with him. But hearing him actually say it, express it–

“I allowed him to take you because you told us you did not need us. That you were okay on your own. And I wanted to honor your wishes so I let it happen. And you saved yourself, did you not? You allowed us to kill him with ease, Ro– y/n!" He smiles at you, true joy lining his features. "You saved yourself without our help, we just cleaned the mess."

Your eyes flick between his. "You let him take me. He brought me to Subin who almost killed me, and you let him take me.”

"You said you did not need saving, my sea. I let you make your own choices."

"Being kidnapped is not a choice, Hongjoong! If it were any of you I would have tried to help, not watch you be taken. Do you hear yourself? Do you?" You straighten your back, anger slowly rising. "I know you're mad, but this is beyond what I expected."

He tsks, wiggling his index finger as he silences you. "No no, this is exactly what you should expect. You do not want us involved with your affairs. You want to leave. I'm not going to go against your word when you insist on it being followed."

“Oh my God,” you rub your face, “What am I doing here? Why did I let you take me back here? This isn’t like me, I’d never do anything like this,” You stop speaking, turning your eyes to him. He keeps his small smile on his face, watching your breakdown. Elated at the way he’s affecting you. Hongjoong does not care. He never has no matter how much he proclaims it. There’s no remorse, not a hint of regret. “You want me to depend on you when you let me go?”

“You wanted it.”

“Hongjoong.”

He moves closer to you, hands covering yours. You try to pull from his grip but it only tightens.

“You fucking wanted it, Cassia,” His eyes widen, a laugh escaping his lips. It seems like he’s detached from himself, words spilling from his lips. “You wanted me to go away so I let you. I let you fucking leave me, leave me alone. What am I to do? I was so desperate for you. Everyone in the village wanted you but you looked at me. You told me you needed space to grow, to breathe. You looked me in my eyes and said that you wanted to be with me forever but you needed time. So I let you go, I let you follow that asshole monk. How was I to know what was going to happen? How could I guess what he would do?”

He moves closer to you, not noticing how frozen you are. His hand slowly reaches up, cupping your cheek. “I killed him for you, I let his blood run the streets. I burned down the monastery for you. I gutted those terrible parents of yours, those friends that never loved you. The village that always made fun of you, called you a whore because they were envious of your beauty. And you cursed me, you damned me. Why would you do that? I did it all for you, for your adoration, for your love, and you pushed me away? You let me become as I am now. I love you, I’ve always loved you. I’m here now, can’t you see? I’m showing you that I will do anything for you, kill anyone for you. Do you not understand this?”

He moved away, pressing his hands on his temples, eyes widening, red streaks falling down his cheeks. He claws at his face, hysterical laughs escaping him. “I will kill him. I will kill them all for you. I let you love them before me and this is what I am repaid for? Your hatred as payment for loving you with everything that I have? We can be happy if you let us. If you see what I will do for you.”

His eyes flick to you, horror filling them when he sees how frightened you look, how you’ve pulled your legs close, arms wrapped around them. Flinching when he meets your gaze. He swallows, licking his lips as he stands. “I will, I’ll be back. One of the others can watch you while I’m gone, okay? Okay, C– my sea?”

He does not wait for your response, turning on his heel, the door swinging open. With his quick pace he does not seem to notice the others just outside the door, deep in his own thoughts as he disappears down the hallway. You blink quickly, still tense as a few of the others enter. A hand touches your shoulder and you flinch. You look up, meeting the gaze of worried San, a small smile on his lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

-

“Steady, hold it steady.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you winch, staring at him slowly stitching up the wound. Somewhere in between your conversation with Hongjoong, the stitches broke open. Though you insisted on a hospital rather than an unsterile, small room, they heard none of it. Especially Yeosang, his soft eyes filled with fear when he saw you. He mustered up the best smile he could before leaving you alone. It’s unlike him to check up on your condition; he asked Wooyoung and Jongho plenty of times just outside the door when they thought you were asleep. Your mind moves to Hongjoong, immediately pushing the thought away just as it comes. Breaking that moment down in your mind will only lead to more madness. The one thing you cannot afford to fall into right now.

“Pretty?” San nudges you slightly, pulling you from your thoughts. Your look at him, noting the bruised lip, the dried slit in his brow. Yours furrow looking at him, swallowing slowly. They saved you again and all you have to show for it is anger, resistance. How much longer could you last pushing them away when all they’ve done is help you?

“You worry me,” he speaks again, slowly wrapping your torso with gauze. “That distant look you get. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Confessing that you don’t deserve their kindness is far from what you want. So you let your head rest against his shoulder, exhaling. “Sometimes I wish you were human.” You say simply, promptly regretting the words just as they leave your mouth.

You can feel him tense under your touch, hesitating in his wrapping briefly. “I like who I am now.”

“I know.”

“And if given the chance again, I wouldn’t change it. This is who, what, I want to be."

“I know, you don’t have to explain it to me. I just let lingering thoughts escape, that’s all.”

He sighs, “No no, I didn’t mean to sound angry, you don't need to apologize."

He rips off a piece of medical tape and lining it up with your bandages. “It’s all I’ve known, pretty. I cannot imagine myself being as I was before. I was scrawnier, smaller. More fearful of the world. My life before Hongjoong was not the greatest. My family was killed because I couldn’t protect them, because I was not strong enough to. But now that I can, I can be of assistance to all of you. It’s what I’ve always sought, and I can’t go back to being a human. I can’t be feeble again.” His eyes flick to yours, softening when they meet your eyes. “I love you too much to see you hurt, pretty. If there were something stronger for me to become, I would choose it without a second thought. I hope you won't try to convince me otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do something you don’t want to, San. Please understand that,” you squeeze his arm. “You’re in control of your life, not me. I can’t force you to abide by my whims. If you want to be like this, I’m not stopping you.”

“Not stopping me – does that mean you won’t accept it anyway?” His words are tight. “You will still leave?”

“If you were a human I’d leave anyway,” you whisper, not daring to meet his eyes. “I never belonged here. If any of us were to become something, I need space. I need a place to go where I can be alone. My room isn’t enough for me.” And run away, you think. You promised Subin you’d kill them, but how could you? Especially with the way he alone is looking at you. Your empathy is endless to the point that you hate it, but it’s not unreasonable to know you can’t hurt people.

A part of you wonders what Rose would do right now. How she’d react to your choices. Is she yelling in her grave right now, telling you that everything you’re doing is bringing you closer to death? Or is she assured that you’re safe in their arms, complimenting you on your choices thus far? There’s so many possibilities, and you’re still not sure what happened back then. All you know is someone in this house turned her into a vampire. And that’s very likely the reason why she wanted to kill them all. You felt her pain, her fear in the brief visions. The cold touch of death when she turned.

You never want to experience it yourself.

“I wish I could convince you otherwise,” he whispers, securing your gauze. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I just hope that you’ll miss us enough to come back home.”

“San-”

“You don’t need to explain why, because I know,” he waves you off, shaking his head. “I mean, I called you Rose for so long without thinking twice about it. Knowing how you felt about it. I didn’t let myself distinguish between the two of you because of my selfishness. I didn’t want to let her go. Accepting that Rose is gone,” he stops in his words. “I don’t think any of us have properly mourned her death. Maybe Yunho or Mingi, but not really. Not truly. The last person to visit her grave was Jongho, and that was decades ago. I’m sorry that I let it go on for so long, and I’m sorry I took your feelings for granted. I think it’ll be hard, but I hope that one day you’ll forgive me, y/n.” He says your name with emphasis, eyes flicking between yours. “Just as I love you.”

 -

"Do you love me?"

His voice cracks at the last word. It's the second time in a day that he's asked. You jokingly replied sure earlier, and he laughed it off. But now, his hands are gripping the bottom of your shirt. Looking up at you from your knees. Eyes flicking between yours, waiting for an answer.

You hear the sentence over and over again in your head. Do you love him? Do you love any of them? Or are you trying to become someone they once knew? Their rose, their sea. The one woman in their life that they lost. It irks you, not knowing if your feelings are true. Or their desperation makes you believe each word that they say. You want to say it, you do. You want him to be assured that you love him, to be secure in his feelings for you. But the word just doesn't want to fall from your lips. So instead of saying it, you hand brushes just beneath his chin. Stroking the soft skin beneath your fingertips.

You lean forward, lips lightly touching his. You hold restraint, but of course, he cannot. He presses his lips against yours, and you kiss him hard. Although his face is swollen with tears and lips are chapped from licking them often, he kisses you.

And you kiss him back.

"Love me," he says between breaths, pulling you down from the edge of the bed. His hands rest beneath your body as you fall to the floor, his body towering over yours, pulling you closer. "Love me," he whispers, fingers digging into your sides as he holds you.

"And what will that do?" You ask, your lips parting from his. Your breaths are heavy, chests rising and falling as you meet his gaze. "What if I say no?"

"I have waited for you for hundreds of years, pretty. I can handle a few more without it. Just please don't tell me to go. I will bear the pain of you not saying it back, but please do not let me go. Remaining unwanted is one thing, but never seeing you again would be the greatest torture I would endure in my endless years."

His words hit you directly in the heart. You hold his face, staring at him. “I cannot promise anything, San. The future is too uncertain for me to say that.”

"Would you say it if I beg?" San moves away from you, slowly sliding down your body. His lips trail along the outline of you before resting at your feet. You lean up, brows furrowed. His hands slowly wrap around your waist, gripping your hips.

"San–"

"Please," His fingers dig into your skin. Not enough to break it, but keeps you where you are. Eyes on him. "I'd do anything for you, y/n. Anything you want."

You rise from the sheets, head throbbing. It was a dream. Of course it was a dream, why would you think otherwise? You swing your legs over the side of the bed, slowly standing. Your side aches as you push open the door. It must be early in the morning, the light seeping through the curtains as you make your way down the hallway. Slow is an overstatement, you’re shuffling. San secured the gauze tight enough for you to sleep comfortably, but moving? Not so much.

The kitchen is empty. The pile of peaches that often greet you is gone, replaced with a sealed box of dried fruits. You ignore it entirely, slowly sinking into the stool at the island. You haven’t had glimpses of the past at all, not even for a brief moment. In the beginning you hated being put into someone else’s body, but now? You wish you could be given something, anything. An assurance that staying here for the moment is a wise idea, or completely terrible.

You lift up your shirt, glancing at the wrapping. It's stained with blood already. Ah, maybe you moved around in your sleep more than you thought.

A cough distracts you.

You turn, tensing.

"Hi–"

"Leave," you interrupt him, glancing at the box in the center of the island. "Please."

"y/n–"

"Please Wooyoung, please just leave me alone," your voice cracks, fear coursing through you. "If you want me on my knees I'll do it. Please," you shut your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Because you know, despite it all, despite everything; One look from him will make you weak.

“What’s going on?” Your eyes flick to the entrance, Yunho glancing between the two of you. His eyes narrow as they meet Wooyoung’s, a frown slowly forming on his lips. “You were told to never be alone with her.”

“I needed to speak to her, that’s all. Nothing nefarious.” Wooyoung sighs, his exhale increasing as he watches Yunho come by your side. Confrontation when you’re this exhausted is not uncommon in this home, though you wish that they leave you alone just as the days prior. A part of you is thankful for Yunho’s presence despite it all; if Wooyoung was so easily able to end his friend’s life hundreds of years ago, ending yours right now would be a piece of cake. “Will you never acknowledge any of us? Or are you only enamored by Yeosang just as you were before? Or have you even attempted to?” Mire coats his word, an unmistakable glare in his eyes once you finally meet them.

You snort, slowly standing from the stool. It’s a bit of a struggle, Yunho leaning forward to help, but you push his hands away, gripping the countertop.

“You all assume that every thought of mine is Yeosang. Like all I’ve cared about since I arrived here is Yeosang when it hasn’t been like that at all. I was afraid of him just as I was of all of you. Your assumptions of my own feelings only seem to ease your own faults. I could have cared for you just as I have for Yeosang, Jongho, Mingi even. But your decision to poison me so that I am forced to be with you was something else entirely. So how can you stand there and tell me that I didn’t try when I did? I was slowly trusting you, Wooyoung. You, alone. And you erased it completely by making me ill. This is your doing, not mine. Never was. So how about accepting your fuck-ups instead of trying to pin it on someone else?”

His fists slowly loosen at your words, angry brows furrowing. How someone as smart as him not able to take your words at face value is beyond your own comprehension. But you’ve laid out your feelings as clearly as you could. It’s up to him to decide if he wants to acknowledge them or not.

“You’re saying that you would have accepted me as I am now?”

“I'm saying that I already have, Wooyoung. You are who you are. Who am I to tell you what you can and cannot be? You're a vampire, that's it. I wouldn’t try to make you a human because I want it. And I hoped that none of you would force me to be a vampire, but look at where we are now."

He takes a step closer to you, only for you to move closer to Yunho. Wooyoung’s eyes shift to him before sighing. “I’d rather we speak in private.”

“Walls are thin, Woo. We’d hear it whether or not I’m here,” Yunho shrugs. “And, frankly, I doubt she wants to be alone with you after everything.”

“You don’t speak for her.”

“He’s right,” you interrupt. “I’d rather someone else in the room.”

“Fine! Fine,” he begins to point at you, before slowly lowering his hand. “Everyone makes me out to be the bad guy. Like it is my fault you died when it’s not even close. I was in the back when it happened! I mean,” he rubs his face, glancing at his friend. “You're letting yourself hide behind a man you don't know, one whose had more involvement than me when it comes to Rose’s turning–”

“Enough, Wooyoung.” Yunho says.

“What? Am I not allowed to tell everyone’s misdeeds? Am I supposed to bear them all on my own? Why am I the lone sinner? Why can I not be the one who she can finally trust? Why do I have to hold your burdens as if they are mine?!” His fingers slowly curl into fists. “It's pushed onto me because you all have designated me as this devil, this monster that cannot be cured. y/n,” his eyes move to you. “I’ll admit my mistakes to you. Yeosang knew about me poisoning you, but it was no fault of his own. I'm not sure if the others have told you this, but the vampire that turns you is able to sire you. He cannot resist my commands if I make it so. He wanted to tell you, but he couldn’t. Because of me. Because of my faults.” He shakes his head, his fingers scratching against his scalp. “I’ll take credit for what I have done. But I will not stand here and pretend everything that has gone wrong around here is all because of my decisions. I'm not going to do it anymore, fuck the rest of you."

“y/n,” Yunho lifts your chin to meet his gaze. “If I may ask, could you please find yourself back to your quar–room, your room. Please. I need to speak with him for a moment.”

You swallow slowly, nodding. You don’t catch the quick flicker of fear in Wooyoung’s eyes at Yunho’s words, keeping your gaze low. There’s so much to process, so many words to accept. Your head begins to throb at the thought of trying to. You step around Yunho, slowly leaving the kitchen. But just before you turn the corner, “Thank you, Wooyoung. For finally admitting it.” Your eyes flick to his. “This doesn't mean I forgive you, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

You leave them be, slowly making your way back to your room without food. You aren’t necessarily hungry right now, it was in all honesty just a stroll from your room. You are still a bit annoyed that it was rudely interrupted, but you digress. Your eyes flick to the quick movement just at the end of the hallway, Yeosang disappearing into his room. You sigh.

It is perhaps not the best time to start something with him, but what do you have to lose? You plan on leaving soon, anyway. You slowly shuffle down the hallway, his door slightly ajar just as you make it around the corner. Taking a long breath, you slowly push it with your free hand, entering his room.

“It’s polite to knock,” he notes. He rests on the seat by his balcony window, leg swinging back and forth. He does not turn to you, though you expected as much. The last time he gazed in your eyes was when you first came back. You haven’t seen him since. His hair seems darker now, blond locks fading into a darker brown.

“You were gone with San for a while,” you start, breathing heavily as you shut the door behind it. It gives you some semblance of privacy, though you’re sure everyone in this house is in tune with your conversation.

“To keep him from losing himself,” he says simply, shrugging. “He would have done the same for me.”

You nod slowly, resting against his velvety couch. Though he doesn’t turn to see you struggle, you can see the scowl on his lips, already predicting his next words.

“You should be resting, not wandering around our home. It makes sense that San had to stitch you up once more. He will have to do it again if you don't sit still.”

“That’s a concern for another day.”

“y/n…”

"Why are you avoiding me?"

He runs his fingers through his hair.

"I could have saved you." He looks small. Arms wrapped around himself, gaze to the floor. Body shaking. "I could have saved you from Wooyoung, from Subin, from Sejun. I could have saved you from them all, but I didn't. I let Wooyoung's words have an influence over me, I," He slowly shakes his head. "You could have died."

His head finally lifts. He looks at the bandage wrapped around your calf, your waist, the bruises on your face. The endless wounds that seem to cover every exposed part of your body. He swallows slowly, lips trembling. "I could have saved you from this."

"None of this is your fault."

"You can't keep saying that. You can't keep pulling the blame away from me. I knew he was poisoning you and did nothing to stop it. You should hate me as much as him, if not more. Don't stand there and pretend you don't–"

“He told me.”

“What?” Yeosang stills, gaze still far away.

“Wooyoung. He told me about what he did to you. How he forced you to abide by his every word, his desires. I didn't even ask for his confession, but he gave it willingly without a second thought. I know he’s doing it only to earn my favor and good graces but him mustering up the will to even explain it to me probably earned him some trust. I doubt that I will be able to forgive him, but I do forgive you, Yeosang.”

He starts to shake his head, fingers digging into his scalp. His grip is harsh to the point that you see red staining the blonde, spilling from underneath his hold. “y/n, you should take every word that comes from him with great caution. And you shouldn’t forgive me for what I’ve done. It is utterly sinful.”

"He sounded sincere."

His lips form a scowl. "And that's your first mistake, y/n. Nothing that comes out of his mouth is close to sincere."

"Yeosang, please listen to me," you take a long breath. "I know that if you had the choice you wouldn’t have hidden the poisoning from me.”

"y/n–"

"Am I wrong for assuming this?"

He shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter because I did hide it. I know you want me to be this pillar of goodness, but I'm not that. I will never be that as long as I am the way I am, y/n. You should never trust any word from me.” His gaze finally meets yours across the darkened room. He looks dreadful, exhausted.

“I want you to love me. I am so lonely, my y/n,” his eyes are filled with fear, sorrow. “These hundreds of years have passed and I am still as lonely as I was when Rose died. I want you to love me as I have loved you. I want you to look at me and see me as I am. To need me as desperately as I need you. I need to feel loved, y/n. But because of my tie to my friend, I cannot,” he swallows slowly, eyes flicking between yours. “You will never be able to truly be mine because there is always him. There will always be him."

"I thought my dream of being somewhat normal faded long ago, but ever since your soul appeared in front of us again all of those emotions came back tenfold. I want to be human. I want to go to places with you, court you without having the fear of somehow doing something to me that's out of my control. To watch a sunset with you. I want to love you the way you deserve, I want you to be truly mine. But that will never happen. And for the sins that I’ve committed in the past and up to now, perhaps it is warranted. Perhaps I was never meant to have even the slightest bit of happiness when I was turned into this. All of it doesn’t matter in the end, though. Because the past cannot be changed just under sheer eagerness.”

Yeosang tenses up. He attempts to move but Wooyoung tightens his hold. “I cannot live without my best friend, Yeosang. And Rose says she will no longer love you if you were anything other than human. Shall we test that?”

“Wooyoung.” The words escape your own lips, though you know it’s Rose’s. You can feel the fear in her chest, the worry in her voice. Is this the moment Yeosang was turned?

Wooyoung holds his hand against the edge of the dresser, dragging it across harshly. His wrist begins to bleed as he presses it against Yeosang’s mouth, forcing the blood into it. He gags against his hold, desperately trying to get him to stop. Tears roll down his cheeks, eyes flicking to yours. You’ve never seen his eyes filled with such fear, horror. Regret.

"Stop!" You push against someone’s hold, but it's of no use. Wooyoung grips Yeosang's body, forcing his wrist against his mouth. Crazed eyes hold him close, fingers almost piercing Yeosang's shoulder with how elated he is.

“This is all for you, Rose. We will test that will of yours.”

Cries escape your chest as you fall to your knees, unable to do anything. You soon realize it is Mingi who holds you, continuing his whispering of comforting words to help you calm down, but you only feel your heart breaking. Wooyoung lifts your knife you left on your shelf, stabbing it into Yeosang’s chest. The stress in your body overwhelms you, body shaking as you lose consciousness.

“y/n!” He shakes you again and you’re finally pulled from it, glazed eyes clearing. Yeosang holds your face in his hands, brows furrowed as he stares at you. You aren't sure how much time passed between the vision and now, but he seems nervous as he holds you. “Are you alright? You weren’t here with me-”

“I saw it,” you swallow. You can remember how he once looked, the utter terror in his eyes as Wooyoung held him against his will. Killed him as he grinned at Rose. Yeosang was full of life then, eyes a softer brown, cheeks flushed. Losing his life in mere moments. The sounds only echo in your ears as he holds you, trying to pull you away from those thoughts. His thumb rubs against your cheek, wiping the tear that falls. “I saw you die, Yeosang.”

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t need to let those thoughts worry you. It was so long ago. It no longer affects me.”

“You never asked to be part of this and were forced into it because of him,” You do not say his name, deeming it unnecessary. “How can I pretend I didn’t just see it? No wonder.”

“No wonder what?” he asks softly.

No wonder Rose could not stand any of you any longer. No wonder she killed herself. Seeing the monster that Wooyoung became, it must have broken her. From the other instances he seemed so kind, loving. But in that moment, you could only feel disgust rising in Rose. Hurt.

"No wonder she didn't want to turn," you whisper.

Yeosang sighs. “We all know what happened before when Rose was turned; forcing you into the same position would only lead to another death. I want you to live a long life as do the rest of us, but their definition of life is certainly construed in comparison to mine.” His hand wraps around yours. You’ve noticed that they can easily blend into crowds without lingering looks because they just look pale from a distance, but watching his hand in yours changes your perspective. There is no color in his skin, a dull gray. But still, you lift his hand, pressing your lips against the back of it. His brows lift in silent shock, lips parting. His eyes flick over yours, a small smile slowly forming as he stares at you. “Why would I ask you to lose your warmth when I enjoy the flush of your cheeks?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his words, letting your head rest against his chest. “In any other circumstance if a person told me they enjoyed how my blood circulated I’d be a bit creeped out.”

“Very true,” he chuckles along with you, pulling you closer into his chest. “I know my next words will be taken with mirth, but I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive him.”

Which him, he doesn’t say, but you can take a wild guess. You sigh, letting your eyes shut. “Would you be able to forgive so easily in my situation?”

He pauses for a moment, “It took me a few decades to accept him as he is. Forgiveness took a tad bit longer.”

“Define a tad bit.”

“y/n.”

“Yeo.”

He sighs. “… about seventy years.”

“Then I’ll pardon him in forty.”

“y/n,” he repeats again, his voice softer. You frown as you meet his gaze, ignoring the pout of his lips, the lax resting of his eyes- Damnit, could you at least pretend to be resilient against his charm?

“Yeosang, I am not going to forgive someone who almost murdered me. In fact, if I ever decided to become a vampire – which I won’t – “ you notice his eyes lighting up at your words. “I would ignore his very existence for the next five hundred years.”

He purses his lips, thinking. “That’s not too bad.”

“Kang Yeosang!”

He laughs, holding you close to him as you playfully shove against his frame. It’s a losing battle, finally slumping into his arms, ignoring the pain on your side from the awkward position. Yeosang seems to notice though, shifting his hold as he lies back on his bed.

"I won't force you to be something you don't want, y/n. Though my words do not hold as much trust as others, I promise I won't."

None of this is Wooyoung's work. His hands pull you closer to his body, soothened at the warmth of you surrounding him. How could he hate himself for lying to you when he gets this in return? He will feel terrible later, yes. He will hate himself right as you leave his side. But for now he enjoys it. Hums as he tucks his face into the curve of your neck, overjoyed when he hears comforting sounds escaping you. No, if he needed to lie again, he would do it. Just to feel you again.

Consequences be damned.

You nod, closing your eyes. "I know. Did you hear that conversation in the kitchen?"

"Walls are only a figurative barrier in this home."

"That's a yes, then."

"I try not to snoop, but I heard you say my name. It was hard not to pay attention to every word that left your lips. I tried leaving before you caught me, but I was a bit stunned. I didn't know how much you cared for me, y/n. I do not mind being your favorite, though." He chuckles, lips pressed into your hair.

"You're not my favorite," you whine, but his laughs only continue. "Yeosang!"

-

Yeosang’s words still linger in your head. Forgiving Wooyoung. Would you ever be able to do it? Whenever he sends you smiles, the memory of him killing Yeosang flashes in your head. It’s been hundreds of years, sure, but from what you know that hasn’t exactly changed him. You can’t even look at fruit the same, the boxes on the counter only piling because you’re scared of touching it. In fact, you only allow a few of them to follow you to the market to get food. With great reluctance, of course. Your place is still to leave.

Though you insisted that you'd never stay longer than another week, it's very much past that. Each time you arrive at an interview with expectations you'll be hired, you're rejected. Your friends still ignore your calls. It’s just as Subin and Sejun said - you have no one. All you have is these eight men who don’t truly love you, and who you suspect all want you to themselves one way or another.

“The food in the fridge is expired,” Seonghwa hums, placing a bundle of bananas into the cart. Yunho lingers next to him, hands tucked in his pocket as the three of you walk through the produce. “You’re the only one who eats, it’s not good to let it go to waste.”

“I told you,” you examine the cabbage. “I’m not touching anything any of you buy.”

“You let Seonghwa grab those bananas,” Yunho points out, quickly averting his eyes when you look at him. “Just saying!”

“Well I can tell he didn’t inject it with something strange, so I trust those for now. As long as they stay in my room.”

“Wooyoung isn’t allowed in the kitchen anymore. It’s safe, doe,” Seonghwa notes, following you to the register. “Hongjoong made sure of it.”

“Ah yes, the most trustworthy man in that house,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “No thanks. I’ll let my room turn into a grocery store before I put anything in that kitchen. And,” you look back at the both of them. “I found a place.”

Seonghwa stiffens, Yunho’s smile shifting. It’s strange how you never noticed before - the shifts in their expressions. If you blinked you wouldn’t have noticed Yunho’s smile lessen into more of a scowl, Seonghwa’s body stilling. The more you look at them the more they feel… scary. You’ve experienced this same feeling before, when you first met them. In all honesty you thought you were over it. That you were fine with them being vampires. But in these moments you can see why the stories considered them terrifying. They can so easily become non-human. Unreal. You look away, not wanting to linger on these feelings.

“Seonghwa, actually,” you start, still keeping your eyes forward. “Would you be able to drop off my food in my room? I need to take a trip somewhere.”

He moves in front of your cart, hands gripping the front to stop you in your tracks. His head tilts, brows furrowed. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not leaving, not yet,” you sigh. “And I have all of my things still at the house. Too many important things to just abandon on a whim.”

“y/n-”

“If you want me to trust you,” you glare back at Yunho. “Then let me go for an afternoon. I’ll be back before you know it.”

They both exchange a look. Seonghwa finally lets go of the cart, walking around and nudging you off the handles. You let him take your place, glancing between the two.

“When you get home,” his eyes flick to Yunho. “Tell Hongjoong that we lost you in a crowd. And take this,” he hands you a small bottle. The words are in a foreign language, nothing you can decipher. “Spray this on you several blocks away from our home. In fact, do it when you’re at wherever you’re going. It blocks our senses of your smell. Actually,” Seonghwa takes it from your grasp, spraying it on your neck. “Tell him you found it in your room on the shelf if he finds you with it.”

“This is a bad idea,” Yunho rubs his face, glancing at you. “He will kill us, truly.”

“He won’t when he sees her safe and sound when she comes home later. Right, doe?”

You nod quickly. It’s true, you don’t plan on running away now. Not until you find the truth. The real truth. He sends you a strained smile. “Good. Please get home by eight at night. Yunho and I will be running in just five minutes before telling them that we cannot find you. It will be… overwhelming for that moment, but it’ll be fine. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He leans forward, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “Then we agree. I will see you soon, my doe.” He grips Yunho’s arm, pulling him along to the register.

-

The door is open before you enter. She never left it open, always afraid that something would happen while she was gone. And it’s warranted - the city isn’t as safe as it used to be. You slowly enter, a strong smell hitting you as you stand in the doorway. Like chemicals were spilled everywhere, the bleach stinging your nose. You take out your mask and put it on, slowly entering the living area. All of her things are in their places, though thrown about just like it usually is. It is almost eerie how perfectly placed they are - even her favorite magazine, open on a page that she would love to look over.

“Siyoon?” You say, picking up the book. A layer of dust covers it, your hands beginning to shake. She used to complain about the mess of your apartment. She’s the last person that would ever let it get this bad in her own home. You’re sure that she cleans everyday. You grip your phone, dialing her number again. It goes to voicemail just like before. “This isn’t funny, Siyoon,” you say, opening her room door.

Her clothing is thrown all over, as if she were in a rush to leave. Drawers thrown open, old makeup cracked on the floor. Spilled and dry, staining the hardwood. Was she afraid of something? Why would she leave so quickly? Your eyes flick to her phone on the dresser. You quickly pick it up, pressing the power button. A zero flashes at you before turning off again. You take it, tucking it in your pocket. Though this isn’t exactly what you pictured, you just hope that she’s okay. Whatever spooked her though, especially leaving without all of her things - what the hell happened?

And why can’t you get rid of the feeling that deep down, you know who was responsible?

-

“You let her out of your sight? What the fuck were you thinking?”

Hongjoong’s voice rings through the home as you step inside, shutting the door behind you. Just as the click echoes, everyone is at the entrance way. You furrow your brows as you meet their frightened eyes, sighing. “Don’t overreact-”

“Why would you disappear like that? We thought-” Jongho trails off, swallowing.

“I’m a fucking grown woman, I can do what I want,” you step around their bodies, glancing at Yunho and Seonghwa briefly. Their gazes are blank, though Seonghwa’s brighter, eyes softening when they rest on yours. You send him a quick smile as well, “Seonghwa? Were you able to finish shopping?”

“I left them in your room, my doe.”

“...Can you help me put them away, then?”

He nods quickly, stepping around everyone else. You can see the venom in their eyes as you ignore everyone else, your hand slowly sliding into Seonghwa’s, leading him down the hallway. Siyoon’s phone feels heavy in your pocket as you do so. You hope that whatever you find leads you to what happened. And despite all the arrows pointing to who obviously made her run away - you wish it wasn't them.

Seonghwa quietly helps you place your things in your makeshift cupboard and drawers, humming as he does so. You place your phone on your dresser along with Siyoon's delicately in your side table when he turns his back.

"I'm glad you're safe. And I'm happy you came back," He doesn't elaborate on his words. "I really am, doe. And I know you don't truly trust any of us really, but thank you for trusting me enough to safely bring your food home."

You nod, looking at him through your mirror. He leans against the opposing wall, staring at you. Your eyes meet in the mirror. Though you really had no time to dwell on it, they're all handsome. You're not ugly, far from it in your mind, but their beauty is intimidating. Having their attention on you had somehow lessened your confidence – though before them you already had plenty – being the driving object of their affections is frightening. You wonder if they look at you and see you, or see Rose. And if she is the temptress they say she was, and identical to you, well that's just another can of worms to dig through.

"We haven't known each other for long, but I can tell when you're overthinking. That distant look in your eyes. Whatever it is, you can say it. I'll answer it confidently."

"It's not a question, just an observation," you shrug, sitting on the edge of your bed. Seonghwa sits next to you, planting himself at the small chair just a meter or so away from you. "No need to look so serious, Hwa," you roll your eyes.

"The look told me otherwise."

"Rose was beautiful," you start, and he nods, though he looks confused.

"As are you."

"What I mean," you struggle with your words. Why is it so hard to speak? Each time one of them is in front of you it's like your words are restrained, harder to describe. "I'm not half as confident as she was. Not anymore. She and I are not the same people. I just don't understand how you could care for me half as much as her–"

"Doe," he shakes his head. "I belong to you."

"I don't want you to. You’re your own person, Seonghwa. How could you not understand that?"

"You must misunderstand my words," he shifts the chair closer to you. "I belong to you, y/n. It is my choice to say these words. Your soul is what I love. I want you to accept me as yours, because in my mind I am already. And I deeply desire for you to be mine even though I know it will never be," his lips tremble as he looks at you. "I hope that our days will no longer be filled with turmoil. It feels as if we haven't had a day of calamity for such a long time."

"Who's fault is that?" It's rhetorical, but he answers it anyway.

"Ours. It is our fault. It is mine as much as it is the other's."

You close your eyes and take a long breath. How could you be brave when he expresses himself with such raw emotion? Your heart oftentimes wavers in his presence. There's no real explanation; whether it be emotions unbeknownst to you from the past, or what you feel now. He just brings out a soft spot within you that you forget. And you hate it. You hate that your own self betrays you, makes you look past everything that has happened. His blatant begging for you should disgust you when you know of their obsession. You know that one of them killed Rose. And you know that none of them did anything to stop it. So why can you only look at him with… love?

"You don't belong to me," you repeat softly, less sure of your words. "I don't want you to belong to me."

"Anything you want–"

"Stop saying that," you look at him, holding back your tears as you meet his watery one's. "Don't look at me like that, Hwa. Don't do that to me."

"y/n–"

"I can't talk to you when you look at me like that," you admit, covering your face. "Fucking Hell, I can't do this anymore."

His cool touch brushes against your skin, slowly pulling your hands away. He presses his lips against the back of them, eyes fluttering. "Don't hide yourself from me."

"I…" You trail off, watching as he presses his lips against your wrist, kissing each fingertip. Your breath hitches as his teeth grazes against the skin of your thumb. "Seonghwa–"

"I love you, y/n," he whispers softly, holding your hands against his face. The red darkened, heavy as he takes in your face. "I won't ever stop."

He moves closer to you, thumb rubbing your cheek slowly. You're not too sure who leans first, but you feel the shudder of his breath against yours. His hands holding your head steady, tongues dragging across one another's, filling the silence. Your heart beats against your eardrums, hands gripping your pants as he holds you close.

"Wait," he pulls away, licking his lips. "I don't want you to think of me as a horrible man. I'm not trying to push your emotions to the side because I can't help myself."

You nod, grip loosening against your pants, "It was too much."

He laughs, shaking his head, "Too much? My pretty doe, it's never enough when it comes to you. But I don't want to rush things. I want the both of us to care for each other fully. Despite the urges," he closes his eyes briefly. "I am still a gentleman."

"You and Rose? Did you ever…?"

His lip curves into a small smile, shaking his head, "Despite my endless yearning and waiting, the only place I ever expressed my love for her was her lips. She told me that my love for her was too great, that it would be devastating if we did anything more. Not to her, but to me."

"Did you believe her?"

He nods slowly, "Rose was the only love of my long life, but I was not hers. And I didn't mind it, no, but she knew my feelings. She knew that I would break if she told me how she truly felt about me. I was thankful that she pushed me away at the time. As I am thankful that I was able to do it now," he admits, eyes roaming over yours. "You don't love me the way I love you. It would be a mistake to let it go further."

You rub your face. He's right, just as he always is. You let the moment get the best of you. Seonghwa has often been your weak point just as Yeosang. "Then can you stay?"

"Stay?"

"Tonight with me? I don't know, I…" Siyoon's apartment is still lingering in the back of your mind. If he's here, maybe you'll be able to ignore it. Ignore the phone in your drawer, the mystery hidden behind the darkened screen. "I need someone to stay tonight."

He doesn't question further, does not investigate. Instead he presses his lips to your forehead and leaves to shower. Soon enough he's back in the room, sliding beneath the sheets with you. Pulling you close against his chest, lips resting against the curve of your neck.

You can't quite remember how much time passed. All you can do is stare at yourself.

Broken.

You touch the bruise on your lips, the darkened skin beneath your eyes, discoloration on your skin. Watch as his hand slowly drags along your skin, wrapping around the curve of your shoulder, lips pressed against the space behind your ear. His low hums, lids opening to meet your gaze in the mirror. The deep scarlet of his irises, slow smirk of his lips as he breaths against you. You look utterly ruined, tiredness dripping from the reflection. And yet here he is. Staring at you with adoration, desire, care. He stares at the broken figure of you and loves it. Your tongue drags across your lips, blinks quick.

"You can look at that reflection and still love her?" You whisper. He moves his lips from your skin, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. His head leans into yours, cheek creasing as he nods.

"How could I not?"

"I don't look like myself," You look dead. The light in your eyes is barely there anymore. Perhaps this is what they've wanted. The scars and cuts on your body aren't exactly his fault, though you've never looked like this before meeting all of them. "I look like I've been run over by a truck."

"You were stabbed y/n, I think giving yourself a bit of leeway would do wonders."

Though he isn't wrong in the slightest, keeping your gaze on the reflection only seems to darken your thoughts. You watch as his hand rests opposite from where his head is, thumb tracing your beauty marks. He keeps his eyes on yours, softening when he sees how moist your eyes are. Without another word, his hand turns your head to him. You look away from the mirror reluctantly, meeting his gaze.

"Do you believe these eyes of mine are lying?" He's never looked more sure than he does now. "Doe, so much has happened to you. The one man you could count on isn't here. We all know that."

You've never said how much you care for Yeosang, but it seems to be more obvious than you realized. Your feelings for Jongho were pretty equal with your feelings for Yeosang, but this dread each time you look at him just won't go away. Yeosang never had a choice, but Jongho did. All of them did.

"You love him more than the rest of us." It's not a question. And surprisingly he doesn't look angry as he says it. "It's hard."

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, "Love is never something to apologize for."

“I don’t know why I do,” you start. “I’m not one to believe in past lives influencing current ones but there’s always been a tie to him. He is one of the reasons why it’s so hard to not stay,” you admit, ignoring Seonghwa’s burning gaze in the mirror. “When he left it felt like I needed to go too. But now that he’s back, it just feels-”

“Like you can’t leave?” He asks, and you slowly nod. Seonghwa doesn’t say anything else, his fingers slowly folding into yours. You let him guide you back into the bed. Though that was the end of the conversation, your thoughts still consume you.

There is this constant thought that everything you say will be used against you. Hongjoong does it often, his sneer and quick glances, taking in your words to remind you of them later. Yunho does it as well, though a bit more secretive. You can’t quite figure out the others. None of this changes your stance though. You’ve told them you were leaving. Yeosang be damned. You’re not going home, the reminder from Sejun that your family wouldn’t be safe. But it’s scary to think that once you leave, you have nowhere to go. Visiting old friends is not what you’d like to do either – they will be the ones hurt in the end. All in all, it seems that in all, it seems that you only have them. Just them.

The thought makes you queasy.

Seonghwa seems to feel the shift of your emotions, the arm wrapped around your torso tightening, pulling you closer. You shiver at his cool arm resting against your stomach, lids heavy. If only you knew what was coming tomorrow, you would have left that night.

If only you knew of the terrors of the coming days.

-

Mingi is the one to break the news.

You’re sitting on the grass in the backyard, notebook in hand as you brainstorm where exactly you’re going after leaving. Yunho’s the first to step outside, a strained smile on his lips as he nods, immediately giving you his back as he starts up his bike. Soon after, one or two of them trickle outside to seemingly random spots. Hongjoong rests against the opening to the outside door, hands against his chest. You aren’t keen on the idea of all of them surrounding you in some way, gripping your notebook tightly as you glance between them. Mingi is the first to move from his spot (he’s been sitting on the lower roof lately), landing on the ground and slowly walking over to you.

“Who died?” You ask just as he begins to speak. His eyes flick to Hongjoong, before landing on yours. “Ah, are we playing another guessing game?”

“Well…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeosang’s gone.”

You roll your eyes, attention back on your notebook. “I never said I wanted to participate in them.”

“No, doe,” Seonghwa appears on the side of you, a small smile on his lips. Since that night the two of you have grown closer. Most of your time is spent by yourself, and the remainder, he usually seeks you out. You don’t mind it, he’s quiet most of the time, enjoying the silence along with you. This expression on his face, though. Worry is never a good look. “Yeosang left. He won’t be coming back.”

Your brows furrow, looking to Hongjoong. “What did you do?”

He only sighs, shaking his head. “You love to blame me for others, don’t you?”

“Who else is there to blame? Yeosang wouldn’t leave on his own accord, not like that. Not without-” You.

You swallow. “He wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t, and yet he did. Pitiful,” Hongjoong sighs, shaking his head. “I was quite enjoying his presence around here. Made everyone else tolerable.”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sighs, shaking his head. “Not the best time for jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

You stand up from your spot, ignoring Seonghwa’s lingering touch on your shoulder as you move closer to Hongjoong. You haven’t spoken to him since the incident, and in fact you’d rather not speak to him at all, but Yeosang left. And there’s only two people who would make him do it. Hongjoong, the prideful captain himself, or …

“Wooyoung made him go?” You ask.

Hongjoong says nothing. You turn around, noticing that conveniently, said man is nowhere to be found. A warm hand touches yours and you immediately step away from him, seething.

“Come with me to dinner and I’ll show you.”

You scoff, “No.”

He rolls his eyes, shrugging. “Then I suppose you’ll never know where your dear Yeosang went off to. And thus, I plead for you not to come to me and complain and whine, but I’m sure you will. It’s what you do best.” He shrugs, a slow smirk forming on his lips.

“Does no one else know?”

“Unfortunately, I’m the only one. It’s a captain’s duty to know where his crew is at all times, my sea.”

“You’re insufferable,” you rub your face, thinking. He waits patiently for a response. There isn’t any point in pretending; you’ll have to go to this dinner with him whether you like it or not. “If I go, you’ll tell me? No tricks, Hongjoong?”

“None at all, beautiful,” his grin only widens. “I’ll see you tonight.”

-

You balance the chopsticks between your fingers, blatantly ignoring the stare down from the man in front of you. You only agreed to this to learn of Yeosang’s whereabouts, and perhaps – ignoring all of the red flags, hoping to see him. Taking Hongjoong’s invitation to a private dinner is the last thing that you ever wanted but here you are. Dining across from a mad man.

You reach for the garlic bread, Hongjoong pushing the basket closer to you.

"You could have just told me where he is and leave out all of this," you say, thanking the waiter as he places the plate in front of you. It's pasta all'amatriciana; Hongjoong insisted that you'd enjoy it. He had nothing for himself of course, tending to a bit of red wine.

He takes a sip, lips resting on the edge of the glass. He uses his free hand to gesture to the food. You would scowl but it's best not to get on his bad side for now. You take a bite, holding in your shock. It's probably the best pasta you've ever had.

"You needn't hide it, my sea, I can see it in your eyes. Good, right?" His tongue drags along the glass. You look away.

"So Yeosang?"

"He's gone. He won't be back anytime soon. Sorry to disappoint."

"Was it his choice?" Your voice is low. The last thing you expected was for him to leave you alone with them. Especially with your last conversation. Yeosang didn't give you any signs of wanting to go. "Or did someone decide for him?"

“It will get cold if you continue to stare so feverously,” his eyes flick to the plate in front of you. “What will you do, stab me with a fork?”

“It’s useless because iron doesn’t hurt you,” you sigh, taking another bite. The restaurant is filled with patrons, all couples from ranges of ages dining. Places like this have never been your cup of tea. Most guests appear pretentious, noses held high, words not used in everyday language falling from their lips. Harsh words to the waiters just doing their jobs. Many moaning and groaning at how delicious a salad with a sprinkle of salt tastes. Hongjoong bringing you here only solidifies that he doesn’t really know you. You’d never enjoy a place like this in your life.

“Your face is an open book,” he grins, taking another sip. “I’ve brought you here for a reason.”

“You’re ignoring my questions, so I don’t really care-“

“Oh, but I think you will once I explain it to you."

You sigh, "Hard to believe. Pretty sure you just dragged me out here for yourself."

"You lack trust," he shrugs. "Why would I bring the one I love to a place without meaning behind it?"

You take another bite. "Nothing has changed over the hundreds of years that have passed. All reincarnations of me, you either risked your livelihood or killed theirs along the way. You will so easily die for love. Does that not terrify you? Willing to give up yourself for a fickle love?" You meet his eyes. "Hongjoong, how do you think this will end? Have you truly deluded yourself into thinking we will be together? That I will fall at your feet, and finally look at you with care?"

He pauses for a moment.

"Loving you less is not possible, my sea. Our souls meeting over and over again like this is no coincidence. I never sought you out, you always came to me. We did not find each other by accident."

"That I agree with," you choose your next words carefully. "But have you ever considered that my soul sought out yours for healing? Because from what you've said and what I know, my soul has only suffered in your presence. If you truly cherished me you would let me go."

His lip quirks.

"Is it so hard to love me? Is it so impossible that you will not even consider the thought? Attempt at merely liking me? Is it so difficult for even a brief moment to look at me and think that there is a part of me that you adore, that you see as worthy of your attention? Can you possibly gaze upon me and see that my love for you is never ending, everlasting. I know that you will never love me as desperately as I do you, but can you not try?" Though you can only see the white of his eyes, his words oddly resonate within you. If it were another life, if you met him under different circumstances, there would have been a chance. A moment where you could look at him and think, well, he could be someone you love. Even now, you care for him in a sick and unreasonable way. But is it love? No.

Hongjoong is not a person you can ever love.

"If you wanted me to love you, you would have let me go long ago, Hongjoong," you say simply, sinking deeper into the seat. Oddly relaxing despite the circumstances. "Perhaps then I would have."

His mind wanders for a moment as he takes in your words. He desperately wanted to be wanted, to have him be the only though in the forefront of your mind, to have only him as the one you desired, you loved. Hongjoong’s plan was not for you to spend time with all of them, no. He wanted you so entrapped in his lure that you would not care if the others were there or not. He wanted you so deluded, that you would not even notice that they were gone in the first place. He does not quite know how much longer he can last, knowing you're just out of his grasp.

That is why he brought you here.

"You desperately want to know where your Yeosang has gone. You see,” He adjusts himself in his seat, eyes flicking over the tables surrounding the two of you. “All of these people in this room were invited personally. You’re surrounded by presidents of the largest companies; CFOs, CEOs, CMOs… all of the horrendously affluent figureheads in our country. They’ve all partaken in some sort of black-market scheme, or invested in a medication that is more lethal than a snake’s venom. They believe this dinner was a congratulations on selling one million doses of death across the globe. It is anything but,” his eyes move to yours. “Yeosang is here to kill them all.”

You tense, eyes widening. “What?“ He places his hand on yours, nudging his head in a different direction. You turn around to follow where he points.

Yeosang holds a glass in his hands, the silhouette of his suit blending into the decorative curtains just behind him. His eyes seem distant, jaw tight. The red seems to be burning each time someone passes him by, the grip on his cup only tightening. He wears a suit like everyone else in the crowd, blending in with ease. If Hongjoong didn't point him out you're sure you wouldn't have noticed him in the room at all.

“He has always been this martyr in your eyes. This pillar of good. Sure, this is a great deed to mankind; killing every single human in this room will save millions. But do they not deserve trials? There are guests here that are just innocents, accompanied by the true sinners. Of course, he doesn’t care for that, because he'd rather a few guiltless people’s lives be lost than seeing these other dejected souls plant their seeds of hatred and greed another day.”

You try to stand but Hongjoong is quicker, stepping behind you before you can blink, forcing your body back into the seat. He rests his head on your shoulder, lips just a brush away from your ears. He presses his hand against your mouth. “When he loses himself in his own thoughts he becomes this way. Detached. Uncaring of human life once he set a goal in his mind. He locked the doors already, y/n. He will start from the back since it gives the people closest to the front less warning of what's happening. Let us watch the one you love do his self assigned duty.”

It happens too fast for your eyes to watch. He starts from the far end of the restaurant as Hongjoong said. You aren’t sure how he’s doing it, until you see each person grip their necks, choking. He’s quick, moving from table to table, never lingering. The music is too loud in the room for people to take notice, laughing and enjoying their time as people die around them. Blood spills across tables, splattering on the white tablecloths.

“It’s a massacre,” you whisper, too shocked to look away. You wonder if he’s even noticed the two of you.

“It’s a revelation,” Hongjoong grins, laughing as the heads hit the silverware. Slowly people begin to notice, murmurs amongst the crowd as he continues his path. Your gaze moves to the table he's coming upon. There sits a small family, a child laughing with their parents as they eat. He seems unfazed by the patrons, expression mute as he makes his way. Hongjoong’s hand falls from your lips, giving you an opportunity to speak.

“Yeosang!”

He stills in his movements, head immediately moving to where you sit. The emotionless expression shifts to horror, gaze flicking over yours, as if you aren’t truly there. So it is as you suspected - he never knew you were in the room. Would he have even cared if he did?

“I’ll let you have a moment with him. Unfortunately, I have to finish the job. No witnesses,” he shrugs, leaving you alone at the table as you stare at Yeosang across the room. He drops the knife from his hand, steps hurried. You stand up from your spot, body shaking as he moves closer.

Yeosang is just like the others. It was foolish to think otherwise. Rose was right in her words – they are monsters, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them. Even Yeosang, the sweet man who wooed you beyond simple words, is just like the rest of them. You try to back away but he uses his speed against you. Hands wrapping around your arms as he stares at you. You look down, the blood staining his fingers rubbing off on your shirt. Surrounded by it often should have numbed your senses. But it is as it was before, your stomach turning. He holds your face in his hands, brows furrowed as he meets yours. You flinch at his thumb rubbing against your cheek.

"You weren't supposed to see me like this, pretty," he whispers, eyes flicking to your lips. He traces the outline, humming softly. "You were supposed to be home."

If it's fear holding you back from speaking you don't dwell on it. His head tilts, sucking in a breath. "Say something to me. Tell me."

You were never able to resist his charm, even now. Your hands rise, covering his. He shivers at how hot yours are, even as you pull them off your face. You take a step back, the screams rising in volume. People around you are desperate to escape; Cries of children. the sounds of gargling, choking, Hongjoong swiftly killing each and every person. You hold your hands over your ears, crouching into a ball as the sounds just seem to grow louder and louder. The cool touch of his makes you tense and he immediately pulls away.

"I…" You stop in your own words, glass breaking. Sobs continue to drake your body. They're killers. They kill. It's so foolish of you to think otherwise.

He crouched down next to you, "Rose–"

He stills.

"I was a fool," you whisper, swallowing slowly. "I'm a fool, aren't I?"

"No. No. It was a slip of the tongue, y/n. I swear it. I know you, I know there's a difference."

“How about you go back home, Yeosang? We have important things to discuss.”

You don’t dare look Yeosang in the eyes again, afraid that what you might see will only hurt you more. You’re not too sure when he left, but the room has suddenly become quiet. You look up.

Hongjoong’s tongue drags across his skin. An almost giddy, joyful expression crosses his gaze– absolutism, resolved, accomplished. How someone can hold pure glee inside of them as they lick off the blood of the person they killed is beyond you. His burning gaze reaches yours. Hungry. Satisfied. The gaze of a man who knows he has won. He drops the last body from his hands, the thump echoing in your ears through the ringing. He steps over the other bodies, kicking some of them on his slow stroll to you.

You crumble. There is no use for it, that you know. You could run to the ends of the Earth and he will find you with ease. No matter what words you say to reject him he merely takes it as motivation to continue, another obstacle to overcome. You could spend your last breath telling him how much you hate him and he will only guffaw. The question you have is silly, obscene even. But you must know. You must know to determine what your next steps will be.

"Will you ever let me go?"

He stops less than a foot away from you, smiling. It's a horrid expression to look back at, lips curled back, eyes widened to the point of being disturbing to gaze upon. He tilts his head the same way he always does, fingers curled around the wooden handle. The irises of his eyes slowly glaze over, red replaced with an iridescent white. He crouches down, lifting your chin with the blunt end of his knife.

"There is not a place you will go where I will not find you, my sea. If there were a chance you'd attempt to get away, I will only appear by your side again and again and again," he pressed his cheek against yours, a low hum. "Why would you want to leave me? You can have anything you desire when you stay."

When. Not if.

"And if I am to die?"

"Oh no," he moves away from you, bottom lip poking out, hand cupping your face. His knife is steady as he rubs his thumb against your cheek. "Your soul is mine. If you die, I will only find you again. Why do through the torture of us doing this all over, when you can just accept it as it is?"

"You've waited hundreds–"

He sighs loudly, "And I will wait more. I will not die. And as long as I am here, you will be. That is just how the fates decide."

He hooks his arm beneath yours, lifting you with ease. "Now let us go home. The others are waiting for you."

His warm lips press against your forehead. Your eyes are wide open as he pushes the bodies to the slide. The blood staining his clothing soaks into yours. He doesn't seem to care though, humming that eerily familiar tune again. It is the opposite of comforting. But you let your body relax in his arms.

You let him take you back home.

 ---

tags: @revehosh @mrcarrots @belletiny @sansblkgirlfriend @hwadump @honeyedtalisman @atzcoke @glitterhongjoong @whatudowhennooneseesyou @marievllr-abg @arkive78 @dysftopia @kpopnightingale @wxnderingthoughts @jenniee-tm @hongshines @atinytease @multidreams-and-desires @yla-aira @wommypeaches @avantalem @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @toxicccred @xciiiomwliah @madelinelina @kirooz @a-tiny-teez @tenebrisirae @ageofjade @n0v4t33z @yoongiigolden @jonghoharibo @fl0r4f4wn @gh0stbish @kodsukein @vitrealislux @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @spiderrenjunfics @aeoliannie​ @tannie13 @leeknowsalot @xshansimsx @seojonneh @shingene @justconniez @mingi-banana @anushka-k @nightmarej1n @watamotee33 @dear-dreamie @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest @jaxavance @malyxsoulpersonal @az-con @charreddonuts @beautysirens @sunukissed @lixpixstix

#fic: clair de lune #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez yandere

[epickiya722]

I'm new to the JJK fandom, and after one month of interacting with the fandom, I noticed that many view Gojo as a womanizer. I believe it to be false.

Maybe it's because of that one time Gege commented that he doesn't see Gojo being faithful to a woman (that man looks like a twink, so I don't blame you, Akutami). Nonetheless, I do not believe it means that Gojo is a playboy/ fuckboy.Let me tell you: while Gojo got the looks, it does not change the fact that he got no hoes He's a hoe repellent no matter the gender.

He is that type of guy that is really handsome, but the moment he opens his mouth, your perception of him changes so much that you would find Deadpool's left ass cheek more attractive. Hell, even Toji's worm. My dude is annoying as hell. He is rude, tactless, and privileged. Add to that the fact that he might also have mommy and daddy issues  because I'm sure he was not treated like a normal kid (but that is another discussion for another time).

Gojo might also have a lot of trust issues combined to the fact that he tends to isolate himself by not letting himself get too close to others. Like this guy is the strongest sorcerer, and his birth caused a shift in the Jujutsu world. Since his birth, people have been trying to kill him. Even the higher up in Jujutsu, see him as a nuisance and are waiting for the opportunity to do him dirty and you to tell me that he doesn't have trust issues? He has infinity on all the time, to the point that he does that subconsciously, and you want to tell me that he's gonna drop that just to get laid? So that he can get  a cursed technique aimed right at his balls?

And even if he is a playboy in the sense that it's not sexual and it's just emotional cheating. The dude feels like no one can relate to him. No one understands what it's like to be at the top, to be the strongest. So what would be the point?

I like Gojo, but in real life, being in a relationship with this man means you'll probably be his therapist because I know this guy has a lot of issues. At least he got money, so you'll be compensated I guess?

I'm rambling a lot, and it's not structured, but I also do not want to write a whole essay in your ask box.

In conclusion: It must be the cash cause it ain't your personality or whatever Beyoncé said.

What do you think?

When I tell you that "womanizer Gojo" is one of the characterizations I hate that some of the fandom has given him I HATE IT.

This is why we take the time to reread something and better understand it because in what world does a womanizing Gojo fits? Especially, in canon when it would be hard to maintain a romantic relationship given the risks Jujutsu sorcerers take? And with the description you gave are other reasons why Gojo wouldn't have a significant other.

Let's be honest, if there was one person who could handle Gojo it was Geto. This isn't me saying this as a shipper, but just stating a fact.

Like, if he would have a romantic partner, it would have him. Shoko's their friend, yes. But that is the most that she sees herself as. Chapter 220, she states hell would freeze over before she falls for any of those two. She's aware of the flaws they both have, but that doesn't she didn't want to be there for them.

One thing I like about Gojo is that despite the reputation he has as a sorcerer, he got his flaws that make him human. Just me, but I don't see the point of adding more flaws to him if I like him already as he is. Like, come on. Just make an OC, at this point.

I know sometimes canon can suck, but fanon? Is worse sometimes.

It's like how some people will depict Yuji drinking and eating anything because "Oh, he's a total dumbass".

I hate that. Yes, Yuji states he's dumb, but he has displayed he does have intelligence and sometimes even he ain't with the bullshit with others. When he said he'll eat anything, it was more on the lines of "I'll eat a cursed object to save people" not "I'll drink gasoline because I was dared to".

Like, damn, he ain't that careless! He ain't that stupid! (Just giving him the Kaminari treatment, huh?)

Just... I wish more people actually stop and think about what they're reading instead of running with it and going with a depiction that others say is "canon" (it's not) or "better than canon". Especially, with a media that isn't from your native country.

#kiya answers #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk manga spoilers #jjk spoilers

[fablesrose]

Ch 5 - The Tap-Out Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: The team goes to Nebraska giving the client a fighting chance, quite literally, with Eliot in the fighting ring.

Words: 3586

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

I only started taking projects I knew I could finish quickly. It was a nice side income, but I wanted to be available when Nate decided on a client. In fact, in my free time or in between my own jobs, I was helping him research. Trying to find douchebags and people who were screwed over. 

“Alright, six tickets to Nebraska, coming right up!” Hardison called when the time finally came.

Nate looked at him confused, “Six? But-”

“Thank you Hardison” I cut in.

Nate turned to me, “I don’t know about that…”

“Come on Nate, it’ll be fun! She’ll be helpful,” Sophie argued.

I grimaced a bit, because I wasn’t sure how true that would be. I wanted to be, absolutely, but I wasn’t sure of the reality of it.

“At the very least she can learn something,” Parker pointed out helpfully.

I smiled and pointed at her to help emphasize her statement. 

“It can even out the girl to boy ratio,” Sophie added on.

Nate sighed, but didn’t answer.

“Uncle Nate,” I said in a sing-song voice that I only used when I wanted something from him. “Come on, I’m already too deep into this, you can’t keep me out now.”

He looked at me and sighed again, “Fine.”

We all cheered and started packing.

The day after Nate met with the client, we started the briefing of our resident bad-guy: Jed Rucker.

“He runs a homegrown mixed martial arts league here in Nebraska,” I explain, “they have a very strong wrestling tradition here, so, supposedly, there's a lot of talent.” I took it upon myself to help Hardison out with the research and background info on this guy, since if I know one thing, it’s research. 

“Wrestlers have a good base for a blended training approach,” Eliot expanded, “they can go from that to jujitsu, kick-boxing, judo.”

“Rucker promotes fights,” Parker concludes. 

“And manages fighters, taking a cut every step of the way,��� Hardison adds. 

“Yeah, you know, plus he’s not above fixing bouts and the Howorths found out,” Nate said, “We’ve dealt with some lowlifes, but when I heard about this guy…”

Hardison started playing some videos of fights on the tv of the motel room.

“That was a nice takedown. Good ground-and-pound,” Eliot comments, “He’s a little sloppy in a closed guard, but it’s a solid arm bar. I mean, you can tell this guy’s a wrestler. This ain’t the UFC, but these guys got skills.”

I admired him from my seat, impressed at his knowledge about all of this stuff. He was focused on the screen, studying the fighting and techniques. It was almost like I could see the gears turning in his head about it all, just behind his clear eyes. 

“Where’d you get these?” Nate asked.

“Online,” I answered, “These are viral videos.”

“See, Rucker doesn’t have a TV deal,” Hardison explains, “It’s pretty much a bare bones operation.”

“You call this a sport?” Sophie asked with a pillow covering her face. 

“Yeah, this is a sport,” Eliot rebuffed, “These are some of the best conditioned athletes in the world. Are you kidding me? It’s about precision, technique, skill.”

“Like cockfighting?”

“It’s not a cockfight, alright? Let me show you something, Hardison. Come on,” Eliot tapped him on the shoulder causing him to stand, he then asked Parker, “Can I borrow you?” 

He then instructed Parker, reminding her what he showed her before. He positioned Parker as if it were a fight, and Hardison laughed before playing along.

“There’s three phases to an MMA,” he paused while Hardison did some footwork to warm up, “to an MMA fight, okay? One, striking.”

Parker immediately punched Hardison solidly in the face, making me flinch.

“Nice,” Eliot praised. “Next is grappling, the takedown.”

Hardison seemed to get that this was more serious than he thought as Parker flung him to the ground.

“Exactly, alright. The third one is jiu-jitsu, try to isolate a joint.”

Parker switched to twisting around Hardison.

“Good, that’s a textbook arm bar. Put some pressure on it,” Eliot instructs, “there ya go, or a choke hold.”

Parker moved to what I assumed was a chokehold on Hardison who was clearly struggling. 

“Then the guy will submit by tap out,” Eliot finished after instructing Parker a bit more. 

Hardison started trying to tap out with little success, in various different ways that made me laugh. 

“These fights are won by inches. It’s all about leverage.”

“Sophie, he has a point,” I commented, “while you may not find it entertaining, there's a lot of work, training, that goes into this. They do deserve some respect.”

Eliot nodded at me in approval.

“No TV deal, you said, huh?” Nate brought the attention back to the task at hand, “Yeah, Hardison, what are this guy’s other interests, this Rucker guy?”

I took a look behind the couch to see he was still struggling with Parker, “I’ve got it, Rotary club, he’s got a golf membership.”

“Golf, huh?” Nate asked.

“Yeah,” Sophie jumped in, “I mean, this guy’s like a 1950s sitcom character. He plays a weekly game with the local businessmen. In fact, last year, he won the club championship.”

I looked at Eliot and nodded back towards Hardison and Parker, wordlessly asking if we should help him.

He shrugged.

“Did he?” Nate asked thoughtfully, “It’s time to hit the links.”

Nate stood up and left in his dramatic way while I attempted to convince Parker to let Hardison go.

I was a little surprised when Nate said he was going to play Rucker at golf, but once Hardison explained the rigged golf balls, I couldn’t wait to watch. I tagged along with Hardison watching the game through the camera attached to Parker. Hardison even let me direct a few of Rucker’s shots into sand traps. Nate won by a landslide soon enough, and with Rucker in debt to him, the plan was set. 

Nate and Eliot left for Rucker's gym to both collect the money Nate won off of him, as well as plant Eliot in Rucker’s sights as a fighter. They told me what was likely going to happen. That they were going to sort of jump Eliot to test him out a bit. It made me nervous despite the whole crew assuring me that Eliot would be fine. 

As promised, it all went well with the fight and then Eliot setting the hook for Rucker and the idea of a TV deal with Sophie. It was only then that I allowed myself to watch the footage. While I knew that Eliot was good, I had never seen him in action before. I watched the video Parker took to upload a couple of times in amazement. His actions were smooth and calculated. I had watched fights before, but I didn’t think I had ever seen such efficiency. Rucker was right about one thing, he fought like something wanted to get out, but the amount of control he practiced… I think that could be more impressive than the skill.

“Like what you see, y/n?”

I closed my laptop with a start. Eliot had come back from the gym quicker than I had anticipated and was standing right behind me. I turned to him with a sheepish smile, “I hadn’t seen you fight before…” I looked back to my closed laptop for a moment, “suffice to say, I’m impressed.”

“What, you doubted me?” Eliot had a spark of amusement in his eye, but I moved to correct myself anyway.

“No, I mean, I knew you were good, heard you were the best even, but I guess, I never really knew what that meant.”

He cracked a cocky smile, “Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, sweetheart.” He left the room to clean up with a wink that left me blushing, more than I’d like to admit. 

The next phase of the con went off with only a slight hiccup. Rucker wanted to meet with Sophie at the concert she claimed to be producing. The crew had it figured out quicker than I thought possible. I hovered around the production booth and backstage with a clipboard and badge that Hardison got me. It gave me a bit of a thrill being somewhere I probably wasn’t supposed to be, but as I’ve learned a couple times over, confidence is key. I wandered around and spoke to some of the workers, learning some of the ins and outs of concerts and filming while listening to Sophie set up the deal with Rucker. If anyone asked who I was, I said I was an intern.

Eventually, it seemed like everything fell into place. 

“Did you get all that?” Sophie asked. 

“Got it. Great job,” Nate replied, “We should be, uh, on our way home by this time tomorrow.”

“Awesome, while it’s not bad, I want something other than this mystery meat they call chicken fried steak,” I tossed my badge and clip board on a table before I met up with everyone else. 

“Have a good time wandering?” Parker asked.

“Yeah, I’m seeing why you guys like this.”

The next morning Sophie went to the gym to get the money. It all went downhill very quickly. 

“So, where are your partners?” I heard Rucker say through the comms, “waitin’ for you to blow me off?”

“Uh, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re…”

“Let me tell you why,” he continued, “Alex’s cousin Jimmy’s in the fight scene in South Dakota, and guess what? He’s never heard of Bill Wells.”

“Nate…” I said through comms.

“I know.”

Sophie laughed, trying to play it off, “Sweetie… I think you’re getting a little paranoid.”

“So, you think you can come to my town, huh? Us country bumpkins, right? Cause all we can do is kick ass.” He paused, “I’ll show you what us ass-kickers will do.”

“Whoa,” Sophie said as Tank started to advance on her. 

“Alright, leave her alone.” Nate and Eliot stormed into the gym.

“Look who’s here. Wells.” Rucker made Tank back off. “So where’s the rest of your crew? In the getaway car?”

I shivered in my seat in the van next to Parker and Hardison. 

“Yeah, alright. Parker, Hardison, y/n, break it down, we’re outta here. Come on.”

The three of us started to scramble putting everything away to ensure once they got out we could leave quickly. 

“Oh, you talk on a wire, huh? Pretty fancy.”

“Yeah, nothing but the best for you, Rucker.”

“Yeah, well we’re not all frauds… People do wanna see you fight. So, why don’t you take on Tank here?”

“I’ve got five seconds to kill our Monday,” Eliot responded.

The way this conversation was goin made me pause in our packing.

“No, no, no, not here, Tank,” Rucker said, “But, you know, you’re probably right. I’ve seen what you can do. But that’s the thing, you know. See, you’re favored, so I’m gonna need you to take a dive.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Come on,” I heard Nate mutter, and it sounded like they were walking away.”

“Fine,” Rucker called, “Go back to LA or wherever. It’s a shame you won’t be here next month when Jack Howorth’s house goes on fire… Or in six weeks when Mark has a car accident. But you won’t be around for any of that.”

“I’ll do it,” Eliot responded after a moment.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Nate responded.

“He’s right Eliot,” I agreed.

“Yeah, I do,” he rebuffed, “and then you lay off the Howorths.”

“You do what you have to do and they’ll be fine” Rucker explained, making my stomach churn, “But I’m betting it all on Tank here, so it can’t look like a fix. And, uh, feel free to use the gym. We don’t want anybody to think you’re not ready.”

They came around the corner where we were waiting for him. Nate had a look on his face as if looking for answers, his hands raised.

“What?” Hardison responded, “ What was I supposed to do? It was cousin Jimmy!” 

“He’s right, we couldn’t have planned for that,” Sophie conceded.

“Look, you know what I can do? I can retask a satellite, I can get level three NSA clearance, but I can’t hack a hick!”

“Alright, it doesn’t matter,” Eliot cut in, “What do we do now?”

“We could move the Howorths?” I asked.

“No, we’re not movin’ the Howorths,” Eliot said, “This is their home, that means something to people here.”

“Yeah, we can’t babysit them forever,” Sophie added. 

“Alright, we’ve taken out bigger players than this,” Nate said, thinking out loud, “There’s gotta be someway, uh, something that we can…”

“No!” Eliot interrupted, “No. I take the dive.” He said it like it was obvious.

“Are you sure?” I asked him, concerned how this could play out. 

“Give me some time, okay?” Hardison offered, “You know what? I found some funny business in Ruckers accounts, I can move some things…”

“Forget the fact that we got beat by Barney Fife, alright? This is the right move,” Eliot insisted, “Tactically, this is the right move. You all know that.” Eliot walked off, showing there was no room for discussion.

Reluctantly, we all followed. 

It was that night when Sophie and I went to check on Eliot. He had been in the gym for hours, training, working, preparing, I wasn’t sure what he wanted to call it. It was late, the patrons long gone, the streetlamps seemed to want to go to sleep, still he was in the ring boxing an invisible figure. 

“Hey,” Sophie called, getting his attention, “Listen, you, you don’t have to do this.”

“Nate’s gonna come up with something,” I assured. 

He shook his head nonchalantly, “I’m losing a fight, not diving on a grenade. I’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not talking physically,” Sophie insisted.

“I think my ego can handle it.”

“Look, you told me it’s all about control,” she continued. “About knowing that you’re never going to be the victim…”

I turned to her, listening as I hadn’t heard this conversation. 

“And that’s what keeps you going right?”

Eliot stopped and approached us, “you think I’m upset because I gotta let this guy kick my ass?”

Neither one of us answered, as we just tilted our heads, allowing him to continue. 

“I learned a long time ago, you can’t control the violence. I can take the punishment. It’s what I do,” somehow he said it with a smile. “What I need to control is not out there… It’s here,” he patted his chest, “Always.”

Sophie just smiled softly and walked away. I stood there for a moment, tracing his sweaty features with my eyes. I then reached up and grabbed a hold of his gloved hand, giving it a tight squeeze. I nodded at him with a tight smile, trying not to get emotional for him, but I wanted to convey that I understood, maybe not all of it, but as much as I could right now. I followed Sophie soon after, but I could feel his eyes on me as I left.

Too soon, the night of the fight came. The crowd was cheering, but I only felt sick. Who knows what Rucker would pull tonight. I vaguely had in the back of my head the plan, but it wasn’t helping. The crew kept me in the back, away from Rucker since he wasn’t as familiar with me, and they wanted to keep it that way. I wasn’t complaining, I didn’t want to be in the fray anyway. 

I watched as the fighting commenced, Eliot and Tank exchanging blows. Eliot sure wasn’t gonna let Tank take the win easy. It wasn’t too long however, when I noticed Eliot getting dazed. I knew it was going to happen, but it didn’t make me feel better. I watched across the ring as Nate sniffed Eliot’s water bottle, and Sophie started arguing with Rucker. Reading Sophie’s lips, I caught the gist of it, she was telling Rucker that Eliot was a different kind of fighter. He doesn’t just do it for sport, that’s how he keeps alive. 

I could even hear her in the crowd when she said, “You’ve just made him more dangerous, you’ve taken the safety off the gun!”

Then Eliot seemed to lose control, he wasn’t gonna be losing this fight. Tank tried to tap out, but Eliot wouldn’t let him. The ref had to pry him off to let him loose. 

The doctor came into the ring, checking on Tank. Eliot sat in his corner, bloody, but otherwise calmed down. I stayed back in the corner, letting them do their work as the crowd was cleared out of the gym.

Rucker stormed the ring, “What the hell just happened?”

Nate shot right back, “What the hell? You could’ve killed him.”

“You know how much you just cost me? I’m gonna make you pay!” 

Hardison had to step between the two.

“Make me pay, huh?”

“We had a deal!”

“Hey, listen to me!” the ring doctor interrupted, “Tank is dead.”

Rucker quickly changed his tune, “No, no wait, wait.”

“You killed him,” the doctor pointed at Eliot, who when I looked at him now, almost looked distraught.

“Wait a second, are you sure?” Rucker asked him. 

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“Listen, he could just be out,” he insisted. 

“I gotta call the police,” the doctor said as he pulled out his phone. 

“No police!” Rucker shouted before turning to a whisper, “Listen to me. Listen, we can work this out. Keep it in the family. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“There were hundreds of witnesses!”

“They’re gone now.”

“Plus we’ve got a dead body, what am I supposed to do about that?! And also?” he continued, “we ain’t family.”

Rucker finally seemed to back off, “alright, alright, you’re right. You call the police, and I… I’m gonna call the athletic commission.” He hurried up to his office, where I knew he wasn’t going to make that phone call. 

I sat next to Hardison once everything was settled down, waiting for confirmation from Parker about the GPS and Rucker leaving. 

Hardison opened his phone to see the GPS tracker on his screen, “Looks like he’s headed to Iowa.”

“Make the call,” Nate said. 

I immediately took out my phone to comply. 

“What’s going on?” Howorth asked as he walked in. 

“Just give me a sec,” Nate replied, “Doc, you’ve got Tank right?”

“Yeah. Oh, he’ll be fine,” the ring doctor stood, calm as could be, “should come around in a few minutes.”

“Wait, wait,” Howorth stepped up to the ring, “he’s not dead?”

“Succinylcholine,” the doc raised a syringe, “it’s a mild paralytic. It only works for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, it was just enough to scare off Rucker,” Nate explained. 

“So, so Eliot wasn’t…”

“No, no. We found the drugged water bottle before the fight, switched it out with a clean one.” Nate explained. “Rucker’s not too original when it comes to this kind of thing apparently.”

“So, Jonny, you were in on this?”

The doc nodded, “Mr. Ford and his friends came and asked me for help. I told him around here, we always stand up for our own.” He looked around, “where’s Rucker?”

“The Iowa State Police just got a tip that a fugitive is headed into their jurisdiction,” I replied.

“And I’m pretty sure crossing state lines with a bag full of cash won’t look too good,” Hardison added. 

“Especially when they find the little surprise in his trunk,” Parker laughed. I recalled how Parker went and picked up a bunch of firearms with the money Nate won off of Rucker in golf. That’s a lot of guns to find in a trunk. 

“That should hold him off until the IRS gets down here,” Nate commented. 

“The IRS?” Howorth asked.

“The money that Rucker makes from these fights,” Sophie began, “well, it’s all in cash.”

“Yeah, and he wasn’t too good about reporting that income,” Hardison finished. “You see, all we had to do was flag the government about the tax evasion.”

“Rucker won’t be coming back to town anytime soon,” I smiled at Howorth, proud of the crew and what they could accomplish. 

“He doesn’t have anything to come back for,” Sophie added, “He literally bet the whole house on Tank.”

“So all that money’s gone?” Howorth asked.

“Well, you see, not exactly,” Nate said. 

Hardison made a bunch of online bookies that Rucker placed his bets with, he explained. Meaning that they had access to the money. 

The doc examined Eliot, “you took a hell of a pounding. We should get you a CT scan. You could have internal bleeding.” 

I sat down next to Eliot, looking him over, hoping he was okay.

“You let yourself get hammered like that on purpose,” Howorth commented, handing him an ice pack, “that’s a hell of a lot of punishment to take.”

“That’s what he does,” Sophie answered. 

Eliot nodded, only making brief eye contact as he held the ice pack to his shoulder.

Once everything was settled, we were able to hand the gym over to the Howorths, encouraging them to be better for those that wanted to be in the sport, to help them. They were excited, and ready to take up the challenge. But for us, it was time to go back home, we all needed some rest I thought, one more than the others. 

Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

[autisticgirliesbracket]

What makes Asa Mitaka from Chainsaw Man the autistic girlie ever of all time? Here's what the people have to say:

Asa-related asks/reblogs: x This post will be updated after each round!

Image ID in alt text and under the readmore.

[Image ID. White slide with a manga panel of Asa in the top right corner, she has been edited to be wearing a blue cap with the words "Please be patient I have autism" printed on the front. She is surrounded by text boxes which read,

"Goes to the aquarium with a guy and infodumps about sea anemonies."

"I kin her unironically. Unbelievable social awkward. Goes to an aquarium date where she spends the entire time explaining facts about the Animals fully in an attempt to impress her date. She must be avenged from the ADHD vs Autism bracket. Is isolated from her peers. Chronically lonely but won't open up to anyone(not sure if that's an Autism thing or just a personal problem probably a combination of both) Have you read the Manga?"

"has a VERY hard time with social interaction"

"She is absolutely baffled by everything + doesn't get most things at first"

"there's an extended scene where she flirts with a boy by lecturing him about sea anemone life cycles, breeding patterns, and other extended trivia. the whole time she is thinking to herself "he must be falling in love with me right about now. this is an irresistible date." "

"Literally infodumps to the boy shes on a date with for like 3 straight pages and then goes "i'm so alluring. he definetely wants me now" "

"from the scene that was all over tumblr where she infodumps about starfish on an aquarium date and considers this her Ultimate Seduction Technique. a guy on reddit literally got diagnosed because he could relate to her. it's awesome"

"Tried to impress a guy on a date by monologuing starfish facts about him, was genuinely astonished that that didn't drive him wild with desire. Also she's sharing her body with a horsewoman of the apocalypse but that's unrelated."

"If her long-winded rant about sea creatures as an attempt to seduce someone wasn't enough, then a lot of her trauma is based around being ostracized for being weird and quiet. She doesn't understand people but wants companionship anyways, even if shes also afraid of it."

"She feels disconnected to her peers. She literally infodumps while on a date for thirty minutes about starfish. She doesn't see this as a social faux pas, but rather something any sane person would do. (Basically, doesn't realize this is abnormal.) She misses social cues frequently. She feels below average empathy, I'd say. Asa also said she wanted to die after embarrassing herself in public. That doesn't mean she's autistic or anything, but I'm autistic and I do it a lot. Also, I'm autistic and I relate to her, so she kind of has a peer reviewed diagnosis by me lol."

"Socially awkward and prone to info dumping."

"shes cringe fail and has no idea what shes doing ever i love her so much (shes just like me fr"

"I’m sure you’ve seen her failgirl cringe aquarium infordump that she’s sure will charm any boy (note: fails to charm the world’s loosest teenage boy.) She sucks at a lot of social stuff but also doesn’t get why and just thinks she’s wrong or cursed or smth. Likes animals over people. Doesn’t have a single friend until another loner who happens to be more extroverted basically adopts her as her friend."

"1) thought lecturing her date about sea creatures for like 30 minutes each would impress him and make him like her and was confused when he wasn’t into it (I would be into it tho it’s ok bby he just has adhd). 2) had the date planned out to the MINUTE and told the poor guy to shut up when he wanted to do something different. Literally a formula for how to have fun and she thought it was foolproof. 3) encyclopedic knowledge of sea creatures either points to a special interest and/or she just decided to research all that shit the night before for the date (she did say she went to the library in preparation), either way. tism I love her I’m rotating her in my brain" End ID.]

#autistic girlies bracket #autistic girlie masterpost #chainsaw man #asa mitaka

[world-cinema-research]

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, by Rachel Powers

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul is a story about Emmi, an older German widow, and Ali, a young Moroccan immigrant. The two meet by chance in a bar and ultimately fall in love. Taking place in 1970’s Germany, this film highlights the racial tensions during this time. Emmi and Ali struggle with judgement and ostracization from the people around them, as their friends, family, and society at large do not agree with or condone their relationship.

Directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Ali: Fear Eats the Soul was released in 1974. With an estimated budget was 260,000 DEM, it made $16,243 worldwide. Fear Eats the Soul was Fasbinder’s first international success, which allowed him to pursue larger budget films and explore different kinds of filmmaking. He completed 44 projects from 1966 to 1982, when he died at age 37. Many of Fassbinder’s films were focused on exposing the moral hypocrisy of German society.

A historically significant event shortly before Ali: Fear Eats the Soul’s release was the Munich Olympics Massacre in 1972. This was the first Olympics hosted in Germany since 1936’s games in Berlin. In 1936, Adolf Hitler used the Berlin Olympics as “a platform for the propagation of Nazi ideology” and there was “blatant racism and anti-Semitism that characterized the Games.” The 1972 Olympics in Munich was meant to “offer the world a contrast to the horrifying spectacle of Berlin.” Unfortunately this event became memorable for other reasons. At the Munich Olympics, eight members of Black September, a group affiliated with the Palestinian Liberation Organization, infiltrated the games in order to take the Israeli Olympic Team hostage and demand the release of hundreds of prisoners being held in Israel. This did not go according to plan, and resulted in the deaths of 11 of Israel’s Olympic team members, 5 members of Black September, and one German policeman.

This event undoubtedly increased racial tensions during this time, which is highlighted in Ali: Fear Eats the Soul. Before making their relationship public, Emmi tests the waters to see how people will react to her relationship with Ali. Her coworkers react horribly to the topic of immigrants. When Emmi tells her family about her relationship with Ali, her son kicks in her television screen. The neighborhood grocer refuses to serve Ali when he comes in for margarine. Emmi’s family stops speaking to her, she is ostracized at work, and the only person she has left is Ali.

As an immigrant in this environment, Ali was already exposed to racism and mistreatment by most Germans. The judgement that he received from his close circle about his relationship with Emmi seemed to be more about her age than her race. His friends said that it would never last, but they let Ali make his own choices and were not nearly as harsh as the people around Emmi.

Fassbinder captures these themes in the look and feel of this film. His composition frequently uses walls and doorframes to box the characters into the frame, where they are alone and isolated.

“Fassbinder borrows from Sirk the technique of framing shots so stringently that the characters seem fenced in, limited in the ways they can move. He’ll lock Emmi (Brigitte Mira) in the foreground and Ali (El Hedi Ben Salem) in the background in such a way that neither could move without leaving the frame, and make you aware of that: He’s saying visually that they are locked into the same space, without choices.” -Roger Ebert

This image shows how Fassbinder uses the door frame to confine Ali and Emmi, giving the viewer the sense of viewing a private, almost secret, conversation. This boundary also foreshadows the limits that their relationship will have in the future.

The composition of this shot shows Emmi and Ali at a cafe, with every chair around them empty. The empty chairs symbolize the isolation and abandonment that they have experienced because of their relationship.

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul is unconventional, especially for its time. The story is not familiar, as the relationship between Ali and Emmi was very much against the social norm - and still is. The story is easy to understand, although the viewer must have a willingness to understand it on a moral level.

“Fear Eats the Soul is urgent and contemporary: it means something relevant in 1974, and in 2017.” – Peter Bradshaw (2017)

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul is just as important now as it was in the 1970’s. It is not simply the love story of an unlikely couple, but a reflection of the prejudices in race, age, and class that still exist in society today.

[chubsonthemoon]

Binderary 2023 Wrap-Up!

Binderary 2023 is over, and I come bearing some stats, thoughts, and a compiled list of my QOTD answers! :3

Stats:

Books planned: 7

Books completed: 7/7 (woohoo!)

Fandoms: 3 (Yuri on Ice, Harry Potter, and The Sandman)

Total word count: 340,654

List of books (from left to right):

Maybe sprout wings by @moorishflower

Flower King by @landwriter

The Politeness of Princes by @aboxthecolourofheartache

Uncertain Results (also by Box!)

I'm caught inside every open eye (also also by Box :3)

Not pictured (on account of them being given away as gifts!):

My Immortal by Tara Gilesbie (aka xxxbloodyrists666xxx) (community typeset by @renegadepublishing)

Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by @kazliin (typesetting by @ziezie13 <3)

QOTD answers under the cut (and these are copied directly from our DW post, just with added tumblr @'s!)

1. What does Renegade mean to you?

Renegade has, in all honesty, probably changed the course of my life! That's not hyperbole--it's had such a huge influence on my hobbies, my friendships, my academic trajectory, even my career. I was still in undergrad when I found ASH's post on fanbinding, and I was very lost as to what the next steps would be. And like so many others experienced, the pandemic only made things even murkier and more isolating. Then I found ASH's manifesto in June 2020, worked up the courage to join the Discord in July 2020, and found a community of like-minded weirdos who were just as passionate (if not even more so!) about their favorite stories, and a craft that I fall a little bit more in love with every day (well, most days. fuckin printers man XD). I wrote my honors thesis thanks to Renegade; I've made lifelong friends thanks to Renegade; I have my current job, in a field I love, thanks to Renegade. (My first Rocky Horror Picture show at Havencon 2022? All thanks to Renegade :D) This really feels like my forever fandom home-- even when I jump around from fandom to fandom, there's always a wonderful and supportive community to fall back on. In short, I really love it here, I'm so pleased with what we've done so far, and I can't wait to see where we go! ❤️

2. Favorite Fic

As everyone else who answered this, this question is IMPOSSIBLE. However, if you put a gun to my head and told me to answer right now, I'd have to say Tell Me About the Big Bang (my binding of it here!) It's one of the fics that has touched me most deeply and which has probably had the greatest influence on my writing. It was one of the first fics I'd ever bound, and I really wanted to rebind it to see how far I've come!

3. One thing you'd like to learn more about

GOD SO MANY THINGS. Backing! Headband techniques. Chisel trimming. Edge gilding. Tiny books. More advanced Cricut techniques. More cohesive and professional-looking graphic design. This hobby is really a dozen hobbies in a trench coat, and there's so much to explore.

4. Paper!

For my textblocks, I use 20 lb. cream Hammermill paper! I order it in 11"x 17" and get it cut in half for short grain, like a lot of other folks at Renegade. Recently I've started experimenting with quarto-sized Legal (8.5"x 14")and fell in love. I also want to try a bunch of the other paper that folks have suggested (looking at @robins-egg-bindery Mohawk Via o.o). For my endpapers, I usually use scrapbook paper from those scrapbook paper packs you can get at Michaels and Joann's (and when they're on sale...WOOF)

5. Cloth!

DUO BOOKCLOTH MY BELOVED. God I wish I'd gotten in on the Renegade group order - but ah well. Big fan of making my own though! There are just so many options to choose from, so it really expands what you can do (again: a dozen hobbies and crafts in a trench coat)

6. The Glue War

LOVE me some PVA! I know that it gives you less time to do things, but I get impatient XD. Plus it's cheap and easy to find and ready to use right out of the bottle, which is great. I've tried my hand at making starch paste + PVA with very mixed (ha!) results, although I had a wonderful time with some methyl cell that @simply-sithel gifted me at Havencon last year <3 So mayhaps will have to buy more of that for a future project!

I also love my Cricut Explore 2, Charlotte! She holds up very well, although I think she's due for a blade refill soon. I've just been setting my pressure higher and higher LOL

7. Machines

Love my Epson ecotank! I recently bought it--for the first two years I was going to my local print shop because the quality was great and I had a discount card. Unfortunately the discount card eventually expired, so I decided to bite the bullet and get my own printer. I really love it! I didn't want to have to deal with laser and printing in color can get pricey--the cartridges are just so goddamn expensive, although I do think laser prints in higher quality. Mayhaps a future purchase, because I'd really like to experiment with foiling!

8. Favorite binding technique

Ooh this one is interesting! I know which part of the process I enjoy the most, which is sewing! Kettle stitch my beloved. ALTHOUGH I am a sucker for the French link too--it's just so pretty! And we just had a wonderful workshop put on last week by @queercore-curriculum on their...embroidered binding/long-stitch binding (??? I don't know if there's an official name for it yet), which I LOVE. Glueless bindings are SO cool and I would love to experiment more with them.

9. Your best tip/trick

Ooh! Hmmm...I'd say: never bind while you're super tired/hungry LOL. I've made many a preventable mistake very late at night because I wanted to get something cased in or glued before bed when I probably should've waited till morning XD That being said, on the flip side I think you should never be afraid to experiment! Go hog wild!!! Use those glitter pens!! Try out that fancy silk for your endbands!! Try that new binding style! And if you fuck up, remember that's okay too! These are handmade objects and those mistakes are proud proof of that, and of your journey as a fanbinder. Stick 'em in the channel on the Discord, laugh and (maybe cry a little XD) about it, and then keep going. tldr; ya live and learn!

10. Favorite Detail

Ooh, this one's hard! I love leaving little Easter eggs in my designs. I'd say my favorite is putting my maker's mark on things! My imprint is Moonham Press (a fun mix of my usernames, chubsthehamster and chubsonthemoon), and the logo includes a little crescent moon. I'd actually been binding for about two years when I finally made the imprint--I used to think that it was...idk, kind of weird to put myself in the book? Like I was taking away from the story inside it. But then I got to thinking--well, hey, I'm the one who made this book, right? If nothing else, putting my mark on it tells someone who may pick it up one day that I was connected to this story. Some conversations with some folks at Renegade during Havencon 2022 also helped me embrace this. So these days I put my imprint logo in the typesetting, and I also put it on the cover somewhere! My favorite spots are either on the spine, between the title and author name, or on the back cover, in the bottom left corner :D

11. Spines

Spines are the bane of my existence. Haha, jk. They're mostly just tedious, since they're one of the only parts of the process that still require precise measurement (I've cut templates for everything else by now, and I use my guillotine to cut boards, so that goes super fast). For my thicker books I use Bristol board; I actually still use the same sheets I bought in 2020 when I first started binding--I didn't know how much I would really need so I think I ordered four massive sheets which will probably last me for ten years LOL. For my thinner books, I use Davy board, which is a pain to cut but gives the book a really nice board feel. And for my paperbacks, the spine is just the cover, which I make out of kraft paper for the backing + the decorative paper (usually scrapbook paper or something I've designed and printed)

12. Mistakes/Fails

Ooh BOY are there many. My most recent was my experiment with making a hardback quarto letter. I made the hinge waaaaay too small so when I tested the case the textblock was sticking out of it LOL. But I've been pretty lucky--this is only the second case I've had to remake in my time as fanbinder *KNOCKS ON WOOD*, but my printer fuck-ups when I was trying to figure out how to print on legal sized paper (since my printer doesn't duplex) probably make up for the luck I've had in the case department XD. Casing in, though--I think I've had maaaaaybe...two or three case-ins where I was completely happy with the results. A large part of this is because my guillotine doesn't cut completely straight, so my squares are never even LOL. But hey, I'm not getting paid for this, and I'm having fun, so eh.

13. Process

Ooh, interesting! My process has remained largely unchanged--I think the only thing that has really changed is now the frequency at which I print. I used to print at a print shop, so I'd make typesets in large batches--usually two to four books, sometimes more (I think the most I've done at a time is five?), and I'd make a day out of it. Now that I have my printer at home though, I can do things in smaller batches! I can also test print things, so I've been able to get a lot more experimental with my books sizes and my covers. Everything else has remained largely the same--the first book I did I typeset in MS Word, but everything after that I've all done in Affinity Publisher. I typeset > print > bind > take pictures! I really like how different each step is (like I said, twelve different hobbies in a trench coat), so there's always something different to do if I get bored. My favorite parts are probably designing covers and sewing the signatures!

14. Storage solutions

OUGH. I have one of those rollaway drawer thingies for all my tools, a dozen scrapbook paper containers, several large baskets for my vinyl and cloth, a hanging stand for my larger sheets of decorative paper, a standing desk which holds my Cricut and printer (a few of the aforementioned vinyl baskets are under this desk too), another rollaway basket thingy that holds my printing paper and my press (also under the standing desk), another desk which holds both my two guillotines and cutting mats (and under that desk are all my scrapbook paper containers and Cricut mats), and a final third desk where I keep all my sewing stuff and where I do my typesetting and other sitting-down parts of the process. And of course my shelves for all my books! This doesn't really give a sense of where everything is, but it's actually fairly organized, and for the most part I know where everything is (except for my FUCKING bone folder god that thing is always ending up in places I do not remember putting it XD)

15. Your Workspace

Ah, see my answer to 14! I'll probably upload a photo here later XD

16. Dust jackets and covers

Oooh, I've never made a dust jacket before--I don't think my printer could handle the wonky paper size that it requires, but they look really cool and I'd maybe be up for making one someday! And covers! Both my greatest love and my greatest enemy. They're super fun to design, but this is one part of the process that always feels like an uphill battle for me! There are so many skilled and talented folks in Renegade with GORGEOUS covers, and it's always a mix of being incredibly inspired and getting some design envy--but either way it's very motivating to keep me out of my comfort zone and to always keep trying new things. I use decorative paper and scrapbook paper mostly for the base material (although I've begun experimenting with designing things digitally and printing them out on Epson matte presentation paper), and then the rest is fuck it, we ball. I usually design the cover last, so I have an entire typeset and title page already when I begin, which makes things a little easier since I have an already established aesthetic to work with. My font selection is kind of determined by how small the text for the title/author name is, since my Cricut isn't great at cutting super small sizes (Times New Roman, funnily enough, is one of the only fonts that it can do at smaller sizes LOL so a lot of the text on my covers/spines are in TNR). I'm excited to keep improving and experimenting in this area!

17. Published inspiration

Ooh!! This one's fun--when I first began making my Master pages in Affinity publisher, I literally grabbed the first few books I saw on my shelf and said 'alright, this looks good' and haven't looked back since LOL. Those books were Vintage's editions of Toni Morrison's novels, Picador's Gilead by Marilynne Robinson, Vintage's edition of Willa Cather's The Song of the Lark, Fall River's omnibus editions of Shakespeare and Sherlock Holmes's works, Penguin Classic's Deluxe edition of Jane Austen's novels, and a few others that I can't remember. I looked at all these books, found what they had in common (for example, a simple title page before the decorative title page, the use of a single graphic or design at the beginning of each chapter, etc.) and went with that! I don't usually take inspiration from specific books, EXCEPT for a project I'm currently working on which I'm super excited about :3 More TK here eheh (ADDITION 3/7: I was talking about Maybe sprout wings here LOL)

18. Illustrations

FANART MY BELOVED. I LOVE including fanart in my books, because it's such a lovely demonstration of the communal nature of these stories and it's so fun getting to collect all the pieces. For free use graphics my favorite sites are Adobe Stock images and Heritage Library. Heritage in particular has a beautiful selection of free vintage graphics packs that I've used for years now. And very occasionally, wingdings fonts will have something I really like XD

19. Favorite tool

Despite my gripes earlier about always misplacing it, I ADORE my bone folder. It's a funky lil dude and it makes all my edges nice and crisp! I can't wait for the retreat bone folder fufu :3 Also a very big fan of my guillotine, which despite its flaws makes my life a hell of a lot easier in the long run, as well as my presses, which were handmade by my dad and do their jobs very well (squiiiiiiish)

20. Favorite part of the binding process

Oooh, this one's fun! I really like the actual construction of the book--sewing sigs is always relaxing and has been one of my fave parts since the very beginning. Recently I've started to really enjoy designing covers, especially if there are a lot of physical elements (like layering scrapbook paper or playing around with Mod Podge).

I had the absolute privilege to hold @clovenhoofbindery's copy of Away Childish Things at Havencon last year. Literally every book Space makes I fall in love with, and her designs are a HUGE inspiration for me. Everything from the typesetting to cover design to physical construction--I lose my marbles every time.

21. Inspo: The binder that inspired you!

Ohhh this one's so hard! Literally every time I check the #show-off channel in the Discord I'm struck by so many beautiful books. I'm going to cheat and name a few people here, but this list is by no means comprehensive and doesn't even begin to cover everyone I could name.

Everything @pleasantboatpress binds is just so beautiful. Their color choices are always inspired and their headbands make me want to cry! Their bind of Unconditional in particular had me foaming at the mouth.

The quality of everything @zhalfirin-binds makes, likewise, always blows me away. Her books are so polished and professional, and her photos make me feel like I'm in a museum when I'm trawling her blog for inspo!

@simply-sithel's tiny books are literally the coolest things ever! I'm still working my way through the Binderary vids and I can't wait to get to hers. Six plays with form in mind-bending and truly innovative ways, and her blog is wonderland of tiny and fantastical book creatures.

@teleportbooks's binds are the definition of classy and refined. They're so good at designing their books according to the contents of the fic--their binding of Thirty-Three Lashes in particular is just the best design centered around fic content and title I've seen. Their designs always make me melt a little when I see them!

@no-name-publishing's endbands are to DIE for. Like fr I am in awe every time!!! And Kam's cover + title page designs are a huge source of inspo for me--forever in love with this bind of theirs, with the beautiful painted cover + matching endpapers T_T

And of course!!! I (and everyone else) wouldn't be here without our beloved leader, @armoredsuperheavy. He's the first binder that ever inspired me, and he continues to do so today!

22. Inspo: The fic that inspired you!

My original answer was also my answer for 27 ("First bind"), but I'm gonna say something a little different here! I usually know pretty quickly whether I'm interested in binding something, but very rarely has a fic gotten me hook, line, and sinker the way @that-banhus's King of Infinite Space did. Like, from the first line I was like "oh god I need to hold this one." And eventually I did! :3

23. Author spotlight: Someone you've bound

AHHHHHH this one is so hard too! I've bound a good number of authors over the years, many of whom are my dear friends, and to spotlight only a single one would be impossible. So I'm just going to poke @dodici12, whose killugon fic See You Upside Down is one of the best killugon reunion fics ever in my very humble hamster opinion. Hiiiii Tessa ilysm <333

24. Author spotlight: Someone you'd like to bind

OOOOOH. Many, many fics are in my queue. I'll keep them to myself for now, since I prefer to ask for author permission via DM, but atm I have my eye on a few Good Omens authors whose work I adore!

25. Favorite bind by you!

THIS ONE IS SO HARD AJLSKDJF. I love all my babies so much and I'm proud of what I was able to accomplish and what I learned from each of them. However, if you put a gun to my head and asked me to choose right now, I'd have to go with my most recent bind of Maybe sprout wings by @moorishflower. I'm really pleased with both its construction and particularly the curation of its contents, which includes the work of nearly a dozen people. It was my attempt at capturing the communal nature of fanfiction's creation and dispersal, and it was also my Big Project this Binderary. I'm ridiculously fond and proud of it!

26. Favorite bind by someone else!

THIS ONE IS SO HARD TOO HELP. Okay this is only one of my many many favorites, but dragging Space back out here again to say that her bind of Away Childish Things permanently altered my brain chemistry. Like, the cutout!!! The patronuses!!!! The title page cutout???? THE KEY??? Again, I held this book in my hands IN PERSON last year and I'm still not over it. The quality of the work is absolutely bonkers crazy incredible and I think about it Often.

27. First bind

The very first fic I ever bound was On Stranger Tides by @theroyalsavage. It's still one of my favorite fics ever today--it has the perfect blend of action/adventure, romance, humor, and fantasy. It gives me the good ol' "roaming the high seas with found family and magic and pirates" ache. It holds a very special place in my heart!

FINAL THOUGHTS

28. Latest bind

See 22! But for funsises, I'm also ridiculously fond of the binding before that, of @aboxthecolourofheartache's fic The Politeness of Princes, because I got to do lots of fun arts and crafty things with the cover!

This was my first year doing Binderary, and I had such a blast! It's so crazy seeing how far Renegade has come, from a little Discord for book shop chatting (ASH mentioned in one of the talks how it was just called, like, "Bookbinding Discord" at the beginning LOL) to now. We're well on our way to a proper organizational structure, with several yearly events, in-person meetups, and thousands of members all over the world. And we have so much more planned! It feels truly special, and I'm so grateful to everyone who makes this possible.

Okay!! That's all from me for today, folks. If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading! <3

#binderary2023 #fanbinding #bookbinding #ficbinding

[violentt-violett]

Ben 10's middle name

Something I wanted to bring attention to before I clock out tonight.

So I'm a massive fan of Ben 10. It was one of my favorite shows growing up, and I can say without a doubt that it not only encouraged my love of superheroes, but also my love of sci-fi and outside-the-box creature design.

Because I'm sad, Ben 10 trivia takes up a massive amount of my brainspace, and one of those pieces of trivia is that Ben's middle name is Kirby. In isolation, this always seemed odd to me, as I generally associate the name with the Nintendo character. It wasn't until very recently that I learned the name's true significance.

Another piece of trivia that I know is that Ben 10's creators: Man of Action, are a small writer's collective founded and owned by four comic book writers and artists. And with that context it might be a bit more obvious that that unusual middle name is instead an homage to a very different person called Kirby.

Yes. That Kirby. *The* Kirby. Jack Kirby, the co-creator of pretty much all the major Marvel characters and teams you can name off the top of your head. The guy was a legend in his own lifetime, and for good reason, and I'm sure many of us know how tragically that all turned out.

But more than just being a legendary artist and passionate creator, something of particular note here is an artistic technique attributed to him called the "Kirby Krackle".

Those pop-art-esque dots were all over the guy's work, especially when depicting cosmic power for the Silver Surfer or even his Fourth World works over at DC.

And they're very familiar to Ben 10, too.

So thank you, Jack Kirby, for all that you did to drive the comic book medium and the superhero genre forward, and all those that you inspired to continue in your footsteps both on the page and on the small screen.

#ben 10 #jack kirby #marvel #dc comics #silver surfer #fourth world #new gods

[thirst2]

There's a Tumblr post out there, somewhere, that I spotted a few days ago that (rightly) points out, for a piece of modern art that was said to be trivial (visually, just a square of solid, painted color), that the point of the piece is in the technique used and that the shade was, heretofore, nonexistent.

In spite of this (in my opinion, fair) justification of the piece, people found apparent snobbery that the artists cared about the particular shade of the blue or that anyone should be unimpressed with what's pretty singularly an exhibit of technique.

In which case…you just don't care about the art or artist. And I don't mean this in a "You're so cruel and look down on the poor, defenseless creator". I mean, – if you really think about it – you've just dismissed the entirety of what goes into the creation of the art.

Progress and development of advances in the field depend on these things; they're not unimportant or irrelevant. You may not like the means by which it's talked about but you can't just not care about it, itself.

And this is routine, right? The same thing was levied towards post-modern writers, as well; "what's the point of writing something that purposefully has no plot? That could have gone towards a meaningful story, instead".

The insinuation that the pieces of the craft – the intricacies – aren't important or, rather, that the average person needn't care. That's not their job, after all: their job is to just derive meaning from and enjoy the final product.

Because, when you don't care about the how or the why, it becomes much more easy to focus on the other surrounding details: like what is the price, regardless of how it was made (e.g. slave labor); does it just work, regardless of how many groups know how it works and whether that number of groups is simply 1 (e.g. monopoly).

Capitalism thrives when we don't care about anything other than the final result; when we're ignorant of the parameters, it becomes so much more easy (for the Capitalist) to have our solutions come in black boxes.

And this doesn't just apply to the arts; I love my field and I love programming and it is like pulling teeth to get anyone even willing to listen to the details of any of it, routinely. And that has real consequences in trying to discuss things like the Right to Repair; because, if people don't know the details of their devices, it becomes so much more easy to just sell them a whole new one. And, rather than growing fond of a phone you've had for – say – 2 decades and that you've lovingly repaired when bits broke so that – even though you've ship-of-Theseused it twice over, by now – you still have this great fondness for its help over the last 20 years, you – instead – have a much more reduced attachment because, when your phone breaks, you just have to get a whole new one (and give them much more money, much more frequently).

While I'm, perpetually, not an anarchist, there's a reason anarchists foster a DIY culture: because it connects you back to the craft in a way Capitalism tries to isolate. When you build something yourself and have to focus on the details of how the thing is even done, you care; it's more meaningful and, notably, it connects you to community and others (which, again, defeats the isolation that Capitalism seeks so that it can be the only answer to trying to solve your problems (including many new problems, now (caused by Capitalism))). There are entire communities around coming up with solutions to fix older hardware and getting Linux installed on older systems; much of the help newer people receive when getting into the fiber arts come from other enthusiasts. And never forget that quilting was often a social event, even capable of being constructed (before the sewing machine) because groups of women came together to work on it – again, as a group.

And Capitalism could charge a fee to help you solve these issues but it'll always (possibly) be a loss of money when you can just go and (possibly) ask your neighbor: better to cut out that possibility, entirely.

And I'm not saying that this information hasn't been, in some form or at some time (including currently), gatekept: but we cannot forget that forced scarcity is always a form of Capitalism, as well (or, at least, something which benefits Capitalism). Making schooling prohibitively expensive and exclusive, keeping enjoyment of the arts to particular social classes – these are still tools to concentrate wealth in certain pockets.

That doesn't mean that the skill itself is irrelevant or unimportant. There is so much effort (often hobbyist and unpaid!) into making things accessible to more people. Many Linux distributions (entire operating systems and software, entirely for free) are sustained by just communities of enthusiasts. Again, many fiber arts communities, providing expertise and recommendations and help and (free!) designs and patterns.

We mustn't confuse our disdain for a system (e.g. the exclusivity of high art) with disdain for a product of that system (e.g. modern art). Anti-intellectualism is a scourge and fascists and authoritarians love it for the same reason Capitalism loves isolation: when you don't have the knowledge of the thing and can't see the full picture – when you can't solve it yourself –, it becomes easier for others to offer up solutions for your very real problems and pains. And why wouldn't you take them? The problem is pressing and you need the problem to go away and you can't solve it yourself.

"Don't worry about how it is produced; I can provide it, or the solution to it, for you."

#Rant #Capitalism #Anarchism #Art #Linux #Modern Art #Writing #Fiber Art #Antiintellectualism #Right to Repair

[lollytea]

☕️ my best girl forever & ever luz noceda!!!

The protagonist ever!!! I love Luz so much!!! She's such a fun subversion of the "plucky girl heroine" thing that media really likes.

She's upbeat and silly and clumsy and hyper and cuddly and a sweetheart and everything you'd expect from that kind of character. But she's so much more than that. Luz is an insightful, curious and imaginative person who loves to create and learn. She's a brilliant artist!! She wants to be a writer when she grows up!!!

I've always adored the very realistic angle they took with her, being an adhd riddled teen who struggles in a typical school environment and how she uses fantasy books and fanfiction and anime as a form of escapism and how it gets to the somewhat unhealthy point where she has a hard time separating her coping mechanism from the world around her. It's just. It's so real. It hits.

And then!! And then!!! Luz actually does escape to a real living breathing fantasy world and she thinks this will be her opportunity to live out her YA protag dreams. But ironically, this fantasy world is the place that actually helps her to come to terms with the complexities of the real world. Like. She didn't exactly get what she wanted. But she got what she needed.

Her whole struggle with wishing she could be special. A "chosen one" but she's so consumed with fantasy tropes that she struggles to see things the way they are. But she learns!!! She learns to accept herself as nobody especially important and decides to make an impact on the world herself, rather than wait for somebody to give her a destiny. Idk I feel like it's a lovely lesson for kids.

And then once she accepts that she really starts to flourish!! Luz would not have made it this far in the series if she wasn't the person she was. She's so smart!! She figures out the mechanisms of glyphs and how they work. She experiments and tinkers until she masters all the tricks of the technique.

She wanted to be a witch so bad but she initially felt limited because she didn't have biological magic. But that's Luz!! She does stuff in her own way!!! She thinks outside the box!!!

She means a lot to me. A neurodivergent teen girl who's always felt so isolated in the world she was living in finally getting the chance to form real emotional bonds with people who care about her for the whacky messy flawed but genuine person that she is.

Just. Luz still having Camila and adoring her but there's still such a poignant emptiness left in her life after Manny's death. And Manny will never be replaced. But it must be so therapeutic for her to form those new familial bonds. Not only does Luz have Camila, but she now has Eda and King and Hooty and Lilith and Vee and Hunter AND AND AND!!!!

Luz being a social pariah at school at best and being bullied at worst, now having friends her own age like Willow and Gus who are also outcasts at school and welcome her with nothing but love. And they get to have all those fun teen experiences together that they've always been left out of!!!! The way Luz is so affectionate with them, calling them cuties and her babies and squishing their faces. Man it's awful thinking about her never having friends before this. There's so much love pent up in her and she's finally getting an outlet for it.

Luz, after being mocked relentlessly at school for being "cheesy" falling in love with a girl who is just as sappy and sentimental as she is who adores her antics and blushes from her smooches and flirting and its just!!! And getting to see Luz, this silly yet insecure and still deeply troubled girl navigate her very first romantic relationship and the mutual care and consideration they have towards each others' trauma....ohhh it's so sweet!! I love her!! I love them!!! The way they have the complete freedom to be their cringe sappy book nerd selves with each other because they found their cringe soulmate. Mwah. Lumity I'd go to war for you.

I LOVE LUZ NOCEDA!!!!!!!

#this isnt an analysis or anything #its just my senseless gushing #i love luz noceda

[theereina]

🍁Welcome to Fall/Autumn🍁 | Part 2

We've all heard of seasonal depression, but did you know it is a real medical condition? The Cleveland Clinic states, "Seasonal depression, also called seasonal affective disorder (SAD), is a type of depression. It’s triggered by the change of seasons and most commonly begins in late fall. Symptoms include feelings of sadness, lack of energy, loss of interest in usual activities, oversleeping, and weight gain." Preparing for fall to prevent or alleviate seasonal depression, also known as Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), involves proactive steps to maintain your mental and emotional well-being as the days get shorter and the weather becomes colder.

Here are some strategies to help you prepare for fall and mitigate the symptoms of SAD:

Light Therapy: Consider investing in a light therapy box, also known as a lightbox. These devices mimic natural sunlight and can help alleviate the symptoms of SAD. Use the lightbox in the morning for about 20-30 minutes to regulate your circadian rhythm and boost your mood.

Maintain a Regular Schedule: Stick to a consistent daily routine, including regular wake-up and sleep times. This can help regulate your body's internal clock and improve your mood.

Get Outside: Make an effort to spend time outdoors, even on cloudy days. Exposure to natural light, even when it's overcast, can be beneficial. Take short walks during daylight hours or eat lunch outside if possible.

Exercise Regularly: Engaging in regular physical activity has been shown to be effective in combating depression. Find an indoor or outdoor exercise routine that you enjoy, such as yoga, dancing, or jogging.

Healthy Eating: Maintain a balanced diet rich in fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins. Consider adding foods high in omega-3 fatty acids, like salmon or flaxseeds, which may have mood-boosting benefits.

Stay Social: Isolation can worsen symptoms of depression. Stay connected with friends and loved ones, even if it means meeting virtually. Plan social activities or join clubs or groups that align with your interests.

Mindfulness and Meditation: Practice mindfulness or meditation techniques to reduce stress and increase self-awareness. Mindfulness can help you stay present and manage negative thought patterns.

Set Realistic Goals: Break your tasks and goals into smaller, manageable steps. Celebrate your achievements along the way to maintain a sense of accomplishment.

Therapy and Support: Consider therapy, such as cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), which has been shown to be effective in treating SAD. A therapist can help you develop coping strategies and provide support during difficult times.

Medication: If your symptoms are severe or do not improve with other interventions, consult a healthcare professional about the possibility of medication to manage SAD symptoms.

Plan Fun Activities: Make a list of enjoyable fall activities and events you can look forward to, such as apple picking, pumpkin carving, or attending fall festivals.

Create a Cozy Environment: Make your living space warm and inviting. Decorate with soft blankets, warm colors, and items that make you feel comfortable and cozy.

Monitor Your Mood: Keep a mood journal to track your feelings and identify patterns. This can help you recognize when your symptoms worsen and when you might need extra support.

Stay Informed: Educate yourself about SAD and its symptoms. Knowing what to expect can help you take proactive steps to manage your mental health.

Consult a Healthcare Professional: If you suspect you have SAD or if your symptoms worsen, seek professional help. A healthcare provider can assess your condition and recommend appropriate treatment options.

Remember that everyone's experience with SAD is different, and what works for one person may not work for another. It's important to tailor your self-care and treatment plan to your individual needs. Don't hesitate to reach out for support from healthcare professionals or mental health experts if you're struggling with seasonal depression.

#fall aesthetic #autumn aesthetic #cozy autumn #cozy fall #cozy aesthetic #cozy vibes #spooky aesthetic #spooky season #halloween aesthetic #halloween #pumpkin season #naturecore #spooky #halloween moodboard #fall #autumn #fall moodboard #autumn moodboard #seasonal affective disorder #depression #mental health #mental health awareness #self help

[basedkikuenjoyer]

"Have you ever been kicked at the speed of light?" It's wild to see how far we've come, using Kizaru as a yardstick. I was closer to being caught up with Aokiji's introduction so remember Kizaru's well. How utterly daunting he seemed. Ice guy was nuts and this dude is just light? Come on, honestly felt like such a wild power I wondered if we'd ever actually confront him directly.

And now we're here. It feels like the right time to have Luffy fight an admiral with no ifs, ands, or buts. They're both starting fresh and instantly locked in an isolated duel. There might be a hidden element of "protecting the command tower" with a final flourish of the Grand Fleet but regardless the Sunny looks like it will get away. If Luffy's truly grown into who he needs to be, this is his chance to wildly turn the tables. If he can beat Kizaru outright...everything changes and he can get what he was trying to do with the intimidation angle.

That said, if our angle is examining how the odd figure of Okiku fits into the bigger picture, this one isn't much of a stretch at all. Kizaru presents that wall at Marineford, enter Izo. Ooh, forgot this scene is a good one for the idea he's a lefty! We properly meet Izo swooping in to run interference on Kizaru. We don't focus on that, but we know he leads a successful charge to get Luffy past. Seeing how he comes back around and Kiku's story...was this a minor beat or did we already have the idea of this unassuming storytelling technique? I still think it's so cool how this shook out. We had one go unnamed but dangled him in just the right spots you'd be able to piece together he's from a place we've named. And if you watch closely he'll have this plus another key moment regarding these admirals. It's fun we juxtapose this with a lot of fun with names actually. It also happens right as the scene goes "dark" in the eyes of the world. Truly a moment that takes on new life in hindsight.

Anyways. Kizaru. What's his deal? "Foggy" Justice. I don't think it's an accident we've dusted off Rob Lucci for this arc as well. His whole "dark" justice was a good motif. Sanctioned violence plus bloodlust. Very bestial. Idea being someone like that can be lead to do anything. Kizaru...feels more and more like the banal equivalent of that. At the risk of opening Pandora's box by quoting Hamilton, "If you stand for nothing, what will you fall for?" suits Kizaru perfectly. His apparent lack of an independent moral center means he can easily write himself off as a cog in a machine despite having godlike power.

The type of mindset that can make it easy to trample over a longtime friend. The mundane inhumanity of "just following orders." Is that not a lovely contrast to the sweetheart samurai who struggled with taking care of a traitor in their midst? It is just an extension of a theme with this sibling pair; a lot of their core beats play off of admirals.

#one piece #izo #kizaru #post-wano musings

[haggishlyhagging]

By mid-century, the job of the home economist was no longer to educate, but to "convince." From a corporate point of view, nothing could be more dangerous than a knowledgeable, "scientific" consumer. The domestic scientists’ ideal homemaker—well-versed in chemistry, sanitation, nutrition and economics—would be as out of place in a garishly seductive, Muzak-filled supermarket as Mrs. Richards herself would have been at an Avon party.

Housework skills themselves were getting out of style. Consider the brain-numbing communications to be found on food packaging: One. Open box. Two. Empty contents into large bowl. . . . Here at last is genuine "scientific management" in the home: the ultimate task breakdown, the complete separation of the "worker" (the housewife) from the "manager" (the manufacturer in a distant office). The semblance of autonomy remains: you have, after all, selected the flavor and the brand yourself, and you may, if you wish, add an egg.

The domestic scientists had expected to elevate the homemaker into partnership with the scientific experts—nutritionists, sanitary engineers, economists. They would have been shocked, at mid-century, to discover that the homemaker had instead become the object of scientific study. Corporate sociologists probed for her foibles; psychologists worked on techniques to make her dazed and suggestible. As a result, supermarkets were designed to make the shopping trip as long as possible. Displays were designed to produce enough "sensory overload" to stimulate "impulse buying." Cereals and candies were placed, cunningly, at the child's eye level.

Consumer education had become consumer manipulation. Market researchers had discovered that the most purchase-oriented shopper is socially isolated, technologically uninformed, and insecure about her own domestic competence. It was these traits that the new consumer "educators"—the manufacturers and admen—sought to cultivate. The TV housewife is anxious about the brightness of her wash, the flavor of her coffee, or the luster of her floors. Enter the male “expert”—a professional-looking man or perhaps a magician-helper like "Janitor in a Drum" or "Mr. Clean"—whose product, “studies show,” will set things right. The actress-housewife beams with gratitude, and testifies to the impact that Hamburger Helper or Brillo soap pads have on her life, if not on her total self-image. As far as the manufacturer goes, the homemaker is still (thankfully) a domestic but not (hopefully) a scientist.

-Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts’ Advice to Women

#barbara ehrenreich #Deirdre English #capitalism in the home #homemaking #home economics #amerika

[miss-m-winks]

apparently it is/was trans day of visibility, so here is a little rough draft excerpt from the story I'm writing!

Context: Evelyn is a major PoV character, she is married to my protagonist, Mori. She's also trans, and her relationships with her parents and other people around her are a huge part of her character arc. So I'm practicing some isolated scenes like this, just character interactions that show off the relationship dynamics and character histories and such.

This seems like a real good one for the trans day of visibility, since it's a trans woman and her dad having a little nostalgia moment talking about a few details of her childhood and transition. Hope you enjoy reading it!

Her father's workshop always smelled of wool and cedar. With every steady breath, Evelyn felt like she had been thrust back into her childhood, sitting in the corner with a ball of scrap yarn while her father wove beautiful patterns on his loom. 

The yarn in Evelyn's hands now was a lovely soft grey, dyed with flecks of green and blue. She held it awkwardly, still trying to recall the hook-weaving techniques she had learned as a child. In and out, she stuck the polished wooden hook through her stitches, pulling the yarn through loop after loop, twisting up new stitches. 

Her father sat beside her, watching her with a gentle smile on his face while he worked on his own small project. His hands were swift, weaving stitches so fluidly that the yarn looked like a living thing. He barely glanced down at what he was doing. 

"Oh-" Evelyn frowned as the yarn slipped off her hook again. A few stitches worked themselves loose before she managed to get the hook back into a working loop. "I swear, I used to feel like I was good at this." She shook her head, and her father laughed.

"It has been a very long time, Evy. You'll get there." 

"How do you get your edges so even?" Evelyn held her unfinished rectangle at arm's length, squinting at the bumpy edges. The whole thing curled on itself, entirely uneven. Izune leaned over and looked at his daughter's work. 

"Your tension is inconsistent." He ran a finger over the stitches, drawing Evelyn's attention to the way some were loose and others were very tight. "That's why it's curling. As for your edges, well-" he brought his own work forward where she could see it better. "It's always going to be a little bumpy. That's why I always add a border around the edge."

"Yours still looks a lot straighter than mine," Evelyn mumbled, tracing her hands over the subtle bumps along the side of her father's work. It was the same color of yarn, the same simple pattern of basic stitches in a basic rectangle. Where her work was uneven and tense, his was smooth. "You make it look so easy." 

"Years of practice," Izune chuckled, sitting back and picking up his stitches again. "You've had years of practice too, you just took a very long break from it. Be patient with yourself; you'll find your rhythm again." He settled into his work, making the yarn flow and twist into place. Evelyn sighed and pulled her row out, starting over with a fresh count. 

Her goal was a baby blanket. Something simple, but pretty enough to be worth keeping. As she worked the yarn into place, she remembered her own favorite blanket from early childhood. Blue and white, handmade with an interlocking shell stitch that felt so soft and round in her little hands. It was in storage now, carefully folded up into a box alongside so many other memories. Memories she and her husband could pass along to their own child, someday soon. 

"You are getting faster," Izune commented, "starting to look more like the work you did when you were seven." 

"Oh, and what age did it remind you of before?" Evelyn shot him a mischievous look. He crinkled his snout with a lopsided grin. 

"I know better than to answer that." 

"Looks like what I did when I was three," Evelyn laughed. Izune snorted and shook his head. 

"No, no, I remember what you did when you were three. Took me a week to untangle all that yarn." 

"Bet you don't miss those days, huh?"

"I do miss them, actually." Izune paused and set his work down. Evelyn's cheeky smile softened and she scooted closer to him. He put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a sideways hug. "You made a real mess of my yarn, sometimes, but I do miss the days when you were there in the corner, trying to make a scarf or a shawl while I worked at the loom." 

"I don't remember why I stopped," Evelyn murmured, "I loved to do this, when I was a little boy." She rubbed her thumbs over the uneven stitches. "Why did I let it go for so long?"

"Well, I figured you just had other priorities and interests," Izune said while combing his fingers through her long hair. "There were a lot of new things on your mind, once you started transitioning." Evelyn nodded and went silent for a while. She snuggled against her father, curling her legs up and making herself small.

"Do you ever wish I had stayed a boy?" she whispered. Izune held her tighter, kissing the top of her head. 

"I used to, sometimes." He sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Felt like I was watching you grow up too fast, all those changes happening at once. But you were so happy, when you looked in the mirror and saw yourself as a girl for the first time." 

"I remember." Evelyn smiled and wrapped her arms around her father. "You made the fabric for my first twirly skirt. I still have it, somewhere." 

"You wore that skirt nearly every day," Izune laughed, "hardly let us wash it." 

"Maybe my own kid will wear it next," Evelyn mused, "we have no idea what gender they'll be. Mori says his people don't really distinguish gender until puberty anyway." 

"I'm still getting used to the idea that my first grandchild will be an egg," Izune teased. Evelyn giggled and sat up, taking the yarn in her hands again. 

"They'll only be an egg for a few months." She started her stitches again, relaxing beside her father, feeling more confident in her hands now. Izune shrugged.

"Well, at least I'll have time to baby proof the yarn stash. Though it might not be enough, if they inherit your mischief." He poked Evelyn in the ribs before he picked up his work again, making her squeak in surprise. She bumped him with her elbow in return. 

"I got it from you first."

#tdov 2023 #trans day of visibility #original writing #winks writing #winks ocs #they're doing crochet #i just can't call it that because i need a new fantasy word for it #might just call it hook weaving lol