* / BLOODSPORTS

the fog has started to settle in a thick layer over the town and when she can’t help but look outside, there’s always someone staring back. only, she can’t make out their expression. their stares burn though. they have her glancing away only to look back again and find the same set of eyes on her as noah slowly drives through the town.

it’s fucking ominous, if you ask her. 

that said, she isn’t too keen on staying in the car alone, even if it seems like a better option than heading out. she also doesn’t want to start anything that’ll only keep them here longer. “alright, don’t do anything stupid…”

when he’s out of sight, emily reaches for a water bottle and takes a sip before letting her hand rest on the door handle. maybe she should go the other way, in case they drove past the station. she wouldn’t be surprised, with the thick fog and all. 

going against every rule of the horror movie book, she opens the door, switches on the flashlight on her phone, and steps out.

shining the light on the occasional storefront sign as she walks, she catches sight of some antique store, stopping in her tracks. someone peeks behind a curtain and this time, emily can pinpoint their expression. recognition. the unease in her stomach grows to the point where she can feel her heart drumming in her chest—is she opening the door?

“fuck this.” she mutters, turning back around and power-walking back to the car. breaking out into a swift jog when she can hear whoever that was call out to her, it seems that their words get swallowed up by the fog.

now just a few steps away from the car, she turns again despite everything in her telling her not to, walking backwards but slowing down when she can’t spot anyone following. but her heart just about stops for a second when her back bumps into something, and as nearly anyone else would, she screams.

he leaves emily with a wink and a playful “i can’t guarantee that, babe.”

noah likes to think that it’s his defense mechanism to when he’s stressed. sure, he’s talkative in his normal state, but he just can’t seem to stop his mouth from running when things gets worse. fortunately, more often than not, his ramblings seem to lighten the atmosphere.

although he can’t say the same for this one.

who the fuck lives in this kind of place? is his first reaction to the glum scenery before him. the fog is so thick that not even the sunlight can break in. and there’s nobody in sight. the shops look like they’ve been closed for months. and he’s starting to feel uncomfortable with the amount of stares weighing his back.

a small creak of a door on the house next to him pulls noah back into reality, and he immediately directs the flashlight of his phone towards the small gap. “h-hello?” he asks in a very manly voice. when no answer seems to be offered, he swallowed the last bit of his fear and decided to approach the open door, arm outstretched to push the handle further--

until a hand comes out of the darkness out of nowhere, gripping his wrist tightly. and being the manly man that he is, noah screams.

Punctuality is his default where good manners are involved: three o’ clock sharp, Table Two by the window laden with frost. He offers a gracious smile at the server who arrives with his London Fog, managing just one small sip before his eyes slide over to his phone. 

The messages read as they should, predictably so, for he doesn’t expect anything more than what’s considered the norm for meetings of this sort. PTSD, depression in all of its varieties, grief, the works. He appreciates the familiarity of it, nonetheless. The ways of people and the ways they come undone, right along the predetermined fault lines. Makes the job far easier whenever the SMPA is involved. 

Leaving the texts be, Saebyok’s gaze shifts up to his surroundings and, as if this too, is predetermined by some pull of chance, lands first on the man that stands askew of the main counter. Cops, they are ever so unaware, aren’t they? But expectation and an extended hand at patience work in his favor, eyes locked in place until the other finds him where he sits.

Wordlessly, he raises his cup in greeting and smiles. With warmth. With an invitation. All unassuming because what could there possibly be to assume from a case like this?

“Just in time.” Saebyok sets the tea back on the saucer. “I’d have ordered a second cup, but it wouldn’t have made a very good impression to make the decision for you now, would it?” 

it is unknown to sangwoo whether saebyok’s quip comes from his disfavor towards sangwoo’s slight tardiness or he’s really just mindful enough to think that his new ‘’’friend’’’ might not like tea like he does. either way he chooses not to think too much about it and pulls a chair to sit on. “right... thanks, i guess.” 

or whatever, he wants to add. but chose not to following his better judgement. as much as he hate this arrangement, he’s mature enough to know which person he should direct his ire to instead of an innocent ( ha ) shrink who’s just trying to do his job. again, fuck his boss.

i’ll start on IMs and drafts now. in the mean time if someone would be so kind to do a plot loosely based on this song or a pining one (icarus/apollo,, achilles/patroclus...) with me that’d be gr8,,, ofc we can mix it up w other plots i just have this urge to write an angsty (mb w happy end) ship skjfhsk

her little human bursts into the forest with boundless energy, bouncing when she finally appears in front of ahri. in the soft sun rays she could almost be mistaken for a fellow spirit, a halo of sunlit brown hair and big bright eyes. ahri reaches out and waves, always close but never touching, smiling when she sees the wide smile directed her way.

“hello, eunnie,” she calls, tails unfurling around her in pleased greeting. “did you bring anything for the offering?” her grandmother’s come once in the morning, which is how ahri’d known to even set out a mat for eunyoung, when the prayer had been for eunyoung’s safe trip over. it’s always nice to have an extra bit of sticky rice dumplings, though.

but it’s more than enough that eunyoung has arrived. she’s missed her, even though these years they’ve spent together are barely a fraction of ahri’s life. the moons are longer without the joyful laughter, and too short when it and the one it comes from is around. it’s been barely two decades and she still has at least seven more with eunyoung, she hopes. perhaps selfishly, because eunyoung is growing up before her eyes, from the child she once was into an almost adult, in a blink of an eye. she’d be almost ahri’s age if she were a spirit. a strange thought, when she feels ancient around eunyoung and yet still youthful. the contradictions of the spirit and human realms; and yet she’s immensely blessed, just to have the little human by her side for these years.

laughing, she cocks a shoulder at eunyoung, two tails balancing the movement in the opposite direction. “same old, little one. have you been well?” the fox spirit’s eyes twinkle a little in mischief, raising an eyebrow when she adds, “i hear you’ve been having sleepovers and camps. is that why you’ve come so late today?”

there’s something about ahri that makes eunyoung feel warm whenever she’s around. she makes her feel safe, and loved, and protected. it’s as if all the noises in the world has somehow quieted down and there’s no one but them. is this what they call as a safe space?

“offerings--” eunyoung halts on her steps, her smile faltering and eyes widening at the spirit’s inquiry. oh crud, no wonder she felt something was missing... she had only brought snacks and her lunch for the day, her sketchbook, and regular outdoor stuff that can’t possibly be given as an offering to a temple. “i... will you accept cheese flavored pringles and milk tea as an offering?” she scratches her cheek with a finger, a small guilty smile making its way to her lips.

but her peace of mind doesn’t last very long as she hears the mention of ‘sleepovers’, and her friend’s voice rings in her head once again. “um!! y-yeah! i’m a highschooler now, and everyone says it’s what highschool girls usually do...” she tries to drive away the warmth that begun to seep under her cheeks. “but that’s not the reason why i’m late!! i missed the first bus, so i had to wait for the second one. it took so long to arrive!!”

she opens her eyes and everything is red.

red as in the blood that paints the walls trapping her inside. red as in the stains on her hands, all the way up to her elbows. ( god, please spare me from your freudian bullshit. ) red as in the wrath she feels overcome her, leaving room for nothing more. but there’s writing on the walls, beige wall revealed underneath the red in letters.

WELCOME HOME.

her arm slips and her head thumps against the car window, knocking her awake.

she opens her eyes and everything is back to normal.

that is, until they pass by a sign that makes her stomach churn. silent hill sounds oddly familiar, and it also sounds like they’ve made a detour. “this wasn’t on the map.” she offhandedly mentions, sparing noah a curious glance, eyebrow raised and all. it makes sense when she sees that they’re running low on gas, but also doesn’t because she’s certain that they topped up just a few hours ago.

opting not to overthink it, emily looks out the window, keeping an eye out for anything interesting despite something in her gut telling her not to. “does this town even have a gas station? like, a functioning one…” shadowy figures lurk behind boarded up windows and only a handful of people linger around the streets. she can’t help but shudder, finally looking at her boyfriend instead, tacking on a smile that could pass for a grimace.

“i think we should try our luck in the next town.”

and not only lost, but also running low on gas. which is weird because he could’ve sworn he filled the gas up to the brim on their last stop an hour ago. he just bought the damn car for this whole trip too, for pete’s sake!

but will noah wake his girlfriend up like an actual responsible adult would and ask her for help? no. 

besides, they just happened to pass by a sign for the nearest town ( bless his luck ). there should be a gas station there, right? he can manage this just fine. 

yet whatever confidence that he had managed to gather seem to vanish into thin air the moment the car pulls into the quaint town. the clear evening skies has somehow transformed into a dull grayish sky, and fog is beginning to settle in that he had to turn on the head lights just to see what’s in front of his nose. not to mention the lack of people or any noises, for that matter...

please don’t be haunted please don’t be haunted.

“i know,” to think about it, noah didn’t see any towns on the map either, which led him to filling the gas tanks just in case. but he chooses to ignore the concerned tone in emily’s voice and looks around instead. “thing is, i don’t think we can last that long... unless you’d rather sleep in the car with me tonight?” he adds, wiggling his brows in hopes of lifting the eerie atmosphere.

emily is right, though. the town is fucking creepy. goosebumps kept running down his spine with each time he catch a shadowy figure on the corner of his eyes. a brief thought to step on the gas pedal and never look back crosses his mind, but he also can’t possibly leave without gas either.

she lets him fall to her feet on the floor surrounded by partygoers who mistake him for another blacked out soul that had too much to drink.

it wasn’t her fault. he had it coming, especially when she was just trying to make her way back home. unfortunately, he made the decision to interrupt her plans, not as well-hidden as he thought he was when he decided to follow her instead of minding his own business. so she does what she does best, never slacking even for a decision as reckless as this. 

anything to feel a semblance of excitement.

besides, he was getting in the way. or rather, he was getting too close, a position he didn’t deserve. she has that spot reserved for a special cia agent who had caught her eye recently — that said, she wonders if this will finally lead to their first meeting in person. this game of cat and mouse can only go on for so long without it.

and when he stops breathing, nobody notices. frankly, it’s a little disappointing. then, she hears a cry over the techno music. she glances up and finds that she was right to be a little hopeful, for her cia agent is making her way through the tight crowd. would you look at that?

caroline makes sure jean can catch a glimpse of her grin before slipping away with ease, heading out through the backdoor, but not leaving yet either.

jeanne should’ve thought about thanking smith ( god bless his soul ) for leaving his post-- which ultimately got him killed and leaving her supervisor-less. but it’s hard to even hear her own thoughts when blood is thrumming in her ears. club lights and sweat mixing with the scent of perfumes and nicotine enough to knock someone out.

most importantly, a one-in-a-lifetime chance to finally put a voice to her face. to the subject of her recent obsession for weeks now.

and a chance to redeem myself, she thinks.

the grin that caroline throws her way sends an odd feeling to her stomach. irritation comes to mind first, and also the urge to wipe that smug off of her face. but there’s also this inexplicable feeling of restlessness. is she nervous?

she ignores the judgmental stares as she cuts through the crowd, janitor’s outfit jarring compared to the glitters and satin glimmering under the colorful lighting. caroline is getting out of her sight and jeanne hasten her steps. not bothering to even spare a glance or mutter apologies.

she can’t lose her now. not when she’s this close.