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mileycfan4eva33 · 4 years

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Fandom: One Chicago and SVU

Title: Silence Equals Death

Chapter 1: Dear Diary

P O V: Sylvie Brett

A/N: Boy, I am getting sick of these things. But, I'm too paranoid not to write it down. Here are the usual disclaimers, I do not own any of the One Chicago/Or SVU characters that glory goes to Dick Wolf and NBC. Trigger warning for a sexual assault/ rape towards the end. Whose Point of View would you like chapter two to be in; Kelly's, Matt's, Stella's or Kat's, Or Hailey's? This fic will be told through multiple views and be a joint between PD/ Fire and SVU. Reviews are fires to my soul; please leave one. Thank You.

Gaffney Chicago Medical Center

Dear Diary, today is January 31, 2021; it is 12:56 am; I am in Chicago Med. I have to write this all down before it becomes a twisted blur of fragmented memories. Tonight was a nightmare, and a dream all rolled into one. Sitting here now on this cold steel trap of a bed, I am in disbelief that any of this happened, but it did, and it shouldn't have; if I had been smarter, more robust, less drunk, none of this would have happened. I only have myself to blame. It all started so innocently.

Now everything is such a mess; how did this happen? I am not a lovesick teenager, and I shouldn't be making these types of mistakes. If only I could turn back time and not get so damn drunk, but I can't, so here it is, the sick truth of what will surely end my career. The authentic story as only someone who lived it can ever tell it. No Disney fair-tales here, just honest raw truths, every word you will read is what happened to the best of my recollection someday I will gone, and I want my truth out there, so no woman ever has to bear witness to the pain of being raped, and thrown away as if she is the villain.

I am not the villain, but can I say I was a victim?

Sofitel Chicago Magnificent Mile

20 E Chestnut St, Chicago, IL 60611

January 30th 2021 9:35 pm

"My money's on you finding exactly what you want."

Matthew Casey's rugged, sexy voice purrs in my ear. I can't remember when he said that or why the hell he said it; my mind is toasted with the large amount of alcohol I have poured into my body. I can remember what he said after, though, because it's what I deserve. Matt had no idea back then that all I wanted was for him to say he loved me, to tell me I am beautiful. To reassure me that these butterflies I have been feeling forever are not just in my stomach, not only carrying my heart away, but they are in his as well.

He didn't, not then and never since it's been at least two years since he said those words to me. Two years since I felt a brief flutter inside my heart telling me that my feelings for Matt had changed from friendship to something a little less platonic. "God, there ain't enough alcohol inside this damn hotel to take my memory away from this pain."

"I hear ya' sis." Stella Kidd motions for the bartender to bring us two more rounds as she settles against the counter inches away from me, her elbows propping her up. "You look flushed, Brett. Are you feeling okay?" Stella's gorgeous brown eyes are wide in concern as she glances at my body my cheeks are burning, I can feel the heat descending from my head to my face making me sway in dizziness a little as I try to remember how to breathe. Funny how a normal body function can sometimes take so much damn effort it hurts. I need a minute to do nothing, not to feel, think, talk, react or breathe, but of course, I can't have that minute, not with Stella on the case. "Yeah, girl, why wouldn't I be okay?" I fake a laugh, which I don't think fools her even for a second.

"Uh, I am so over these damn things Sylvie, I thought with COVID we would escape this bullshit this year." Stella slides down my shot glass to me as she tilts her head back and chugs her shot of whiskey with one gulp. "Yeah, I would have thought so too; nothing I hate more than a bunch of grown-ass corporate men in suits pretending to give two craps about us little people."

"Amen, sister." Stella clicks her empty glass against mine before I tilt my head back and swallow the rush of warmth that leaves me dizzier; maybe I shouldn't have skipped two meals today before coming here after having no food yesterday. "So what's up with you and Kelly?" I turn my head to my right to catch Stella's eyes, glued to her boyfriend Kelly Severide, chatting with District Chief Steve Walker. Fire Commissioner Carl Grissom and the Deputy Director of Finance Gail McLeod. "Kelly's looking dapper Stella; I think someone is going to get lucky tonight." I hold my hand up to signal the bartender for another round; he fills our glasses quickly, much to my pleasure. "Yeah, from your lips to Kelly's ears, please, he's barely touched me ever since he found out that some people may take offense to me being promoted because we're together."

"Aw, man, I'm sorry he's probably just worried Stella, he loves you Kelly doesn't want to be the reason you fail because we all know you deserve this promotion. At least he cares enough to say the words out loud." I swallow the shot feeling my eyes burn badly as tears filter out. "Aw man, this shit is strong. Phew!" shaking my body out, I signal for another, hearing Stella laugh. "Still regretting telling Matt how you feel?"

I pause for a moment before I answer; how should I respond? Do I regret telling Matt how I feel? "Hey bitches." I'm saved from answering as Leslie Shay comes stumbling over, wrapping her arm over my shoulder and squeezing between us, holding her phone up with her left hand. "Smile bitches." Stella and I hold our full shot glasses up. I love this bartender; he is on his game tonight; we smile and lean into Shay, who is reeking of Tequila. "Give me some love, sugar babes." Yeah, she is drunk, sugar babes? Where did she even come up with that one? We smile brighter even though neither one of us feel happy at this moment; her eyes are on Kelly, who isn't even looking our way, and I lock my eyes on Matt, who is dancing with some woman I have never seen in my life.

The woman is drop-dead gorgeous though five-foot-nine inches is my guess she appears to be Lebanese or Latino with long caramel hair flowing down her back past her waist the silk wrap dress she is wearing clings to every unique curve on her flawless body. Matt's arms are wrapped around her waist he's dancing close with her, my heart races so fast I feel the room sway. "Love is a journey, Sylvie, don't give up yet. I know this moment sucks. I get it hurts worse than anything you've ever experienced. When it gets too heavy, when it feels like the weight of this pain is crushing you, remember the pleasant moments, the breathless enthusiastic moments. Matt's alive, and so are you as long as you live, there is hope."

I wish I could smile at Shay as a thank you, but I can't muster the strength even to attempt a smile. Seeing Matt dancing with this woman is killing me slowly; who is she? Where did they meet? Why did he choose tonight to bring her on a date? Knowing I would be at this stupid First Responders training shit, is he trying to make me jealous?

"Your Casey is out there, Sylvie, but you don't have to change who you are to find him." Gabby's words from five years ago come back to me; she did not know just how right she was when she said them to me; hell, I didn't even know back then that the man who I would want to be by my side forever, the man who I would spend countless sleepless nights crying my heart out over was her Casey. Talk to God, Sylvie, get your head straight; this is crazy pinning over a man you pushed away yourself.

Sometimes I feel so cold the way steel must feel left outside to fend for itself against the weather elements. Some days I feel broken, I forget what living is for, I forget how to breathe or even why I should keep living. Today is one of those nights; seeing Matt with this woman is breaking me; I can feel every string of my heart aching, pulling, and twisting as it stretches my entire inside into a giant trampoline my stomach turns and painfully contracts reminding me.

I am alive

Every ache and every pain reminds me I am breathing, but why I can't seem to grasp it. I'm not suicidal, but I'm finding it hard to find a reason to keep my head up when my brain is screaming at me to run away, to bury myself in Tequila and cuddle under the covers till all of the daylight fades away into a blur of a drunken haze.

"Another shot, bartender."

"Name is Josh." I turn away, not caring, seeing only Matt as he lifts his finger to wipe out a stray hair off the woman's face. I can barely breathe every effort is a raspy painful burn that leaves me gasping, trying to fight off this fresh wave of tears. "Close your eyes, Sylvie, and fucking hold it together for a few more minutes; for God's sake, don't let the man see you cry."

Shay slips her arm around my back under my armpits, quickly leading me out of the ballroom where the music is playing louder than what you would expect at a training seminar. "Remember what I said to picture the pleasant moments." "I can't, Shay..I... can't breathe." "Shh, hey, it's okay. I got you." Shay gently settles me onto a couch inside the ladies' room, handing me a cold bottle of water, which she's already taken a few sips out. Still, she lifts to my lips before I can stop her; the cool liquid splashes over my chin, dripping down what gets inside my mouth is refreshing and helps cool me off, allowing me to breathe easier. Leaning back against the wall, I close my eyes, trying to regain some gravity; my knees are trembling, leaving me feeling as if I will collapse if I try to stand.

I want to kick myself for falling so hard for a damn guy who I knew would never love me back. I knew I shouldn't have pushed Matt, yet I ignored every one of my instincts and went full sped ahead. God, I will remember that day forever- I had been avoiding Matt for days ever since the accident. Mainly because I had my suspicions that Matt hadn't just been lucky in getting to me so quickly, part of me hoped and yes, as vain as it sounds prayed that Matt had raced to me, that the thought of me being in peril had somehow overcome Matt's heart running his blood in fear.

I told myself I was crazy even to think such stupid school girl thoughts. Matt is our captain; it made perfect sense he would be worried about Gianna and me; we're part of his team, nothing more. The job of the captain is to make sure all of his team comes home safe at the end of every shift; Matt's lost too many people in his days, he fears losing anyone, so of course, the entire team raced to us when they heard 61 was in an accident.

I had myself convinced Matt came to me out of loyalty out of duty, not because he was in love with me, I am stupid for even thinking for one mil-la-second that Matthew Casey would ever love me as anything except a friend. I was doing so damn well, too, until Blake Gallo blew up all my rationalization with his account of how Matt jumped out of a moving truck to get to me. Me, not myself and Gianna but only me. Brett, I have to get to Brett, that's what Gallo recalled Matt saying.

Shattered

Read more and please leave a review at https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13807832/1/Silence-Equals-Death

#chicagofire #fanfiction #onechicago #chicagopd #karakillmer #svu #sylviebrett #brettsey #mattcasey #metoo #rape #leslieshay #kidnapping #katazartamin #amandarolins

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davidmann95 · 4 years

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Hey David? Why is ours such a cruel and merciless God?

mirrorfalls said: (If you don't know what I'm talking about, your inbox should be filling up with more specific deets riiiiight about now.)

cheerfullynihilistic said: THE SNYDER CUT

Anonymous said: You don’t seem to think Superman’s public rep will take another beating from the Snyder Cut coming out. Honestly I thought you’d be way more upset than you seemed on Twitter.

Anonymous said: So uhh, against all thoughts and logic the Snyder cut is being released? Maybe as a mini series? Thoughts?

Anonymous said: SNYDER CUT!

Bullies. Jocks. Guys angrily asking if we know who their father is. Assorted dudebro nerd-oppressors of America:

You have failed us. You have failed us so hard. What else do we even keep you around for if not to head this shit off at the pass? Shame on you.

Okay, so seriously: I’m actually gonna put most bitching and moaning under a cut, because I know firsthand there are as many as several non-slavering maniacs out there who dug Man of Steel and Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice and who are simply and entirely reasonably excited that they’re getting this movie after all. I don’t feel like throwing a wall of text at them shitting all over this, so I’ll lead off with I think some fairly even-handed commentary on the real-world circumstances here, rambling speculation regarding the production, and some cautious optimism about the actual movie/s. THEN I’ll get to what I imagine most of you are here to see.

So totally in a vacuum: this is a cool, good thing. I’m the notorious theatrical Justice League-liker, but at best it was a compromised product due to the original creator - who like it or not clearly had an incredibly ambitious personal vision for these characters and their world - suffering a horrific tragedy forcing him off the project, and leaving his final stamp on blockbuster culture and a world he’d devoted years of his life to a flop with his name on it when he couldn’t even truly call it his own anymore. At worst, said tragedy was taken advantage of by suits to ditch him in the home stretch so as to try and shove out something ostensibly more marketable. But now because of a...very loyal fanbase, the man’s getting the opportunity and resources to rise like a phoenix and see at least some of his vision through in a huge way. That’s pretty remarkable.

Not in a vacuum this is fucking horrifying. I’ve already seen folks poo-poohing the reflexive fears that this will ‘set a precedent’, and they were right enough that I deleted my initial tweet on the subject because I didn’t think I could express my own opinion with any nuance in the space of 280 characters. Yeah, nerd whining definitely shaped Rise of Skywalker (another movie I enjoyed in spite of the circumstances of its creation). Hell, Sonic the Hedgehog crunched its CGI team prior to unceremoniously firing them to redesign his model thanks to outcry. That’s already a market force, and just to be clear upfront, if we can’t agree the predominant mode of operation for #ReleaseTheSnyderCut has been a toxic nerd harassment campaign when they spammed posts memorializing deceased actors and chased Diane Nelson off Twitter, we’re not gonna be able to have this conversation. And director’s cuts are you may have noticed also already a thing. But this isn’t changing direction on a project that’s already going to exist no matter what, this is turning back 3 years later on a commercial flop and dumping tens of millions of dollars into it, explicitly in response to that harassment campaign. It’s not *actually* going back and, say, remaking The Last Jedi, but by god to the naked eye it’s gonna be as good as for plenty of fanboys, and probably to some shortsighted execs as well. This is a new thing, and in this context it is a very, very bad one. Hopefully one that won’t amount to anything.

As for the movie itself: what the hell is this thing going to end up being? I assume with this sort of cashola being pumped into it we’re not getting any slapdash greenscreen or storyboarded sequences, but four hours? Is it really just going to be an expanded and revised version of what we saw in theaters, or is this including content that would have been in the originally planned Justice Leagues 2 and 3? My understanding is that those were already compressed into a single Justice League 2 before plans collapsed altogether, were they maybe filming side-by-side and this’ll be the whole shebang? If not is Snyder going to hedge his bets and end this on a clean note, or keep it ending on a cliffhanger in hopes HBO will throw another $250 million his way to keep going? Does DC want to keep going? Would they give into fan pressure on releasing after all what was widely publicized as the first film of a duology or trilogy with dangling threads if they weren’t going to be at least watching the numbers to see the feasibility of returning to this in a bigger way? Not that I think WB execs would piss into Snyder’s mouth if he were dying of thirst at this point if he simply asked to be able to do Justice League 2, but if he floated that if they instead just give him a liiiiiiiitle more money he can finally deliver unto them their very own Avengers - one that they can work on even during quarantine since it’s mostly just VFX work left - and hey if it works out he’s got a sequel or two cued up and ready to go? Maybe they look at their scattered plans and say the hell with it and end up giving this a theatrical release and sequel with Snyder holding the reigns again if this ends up a killer app; stranger things have happened, if not many, and somehow this is already happening in the first place after all. Alternatively, if this succeeds, could they go “thanks and good on ya, totally do another, but it’s gonna be an HBO exclusive so you’re only getting a hundred million, figure it out”? Would Ben Affleck return? How much reshooting will he be willing to commit to even for this? And most importantly, since this is potentially going to be serialized as six ‘episodes’, will We Got This Covered count this as another ‘win’ since their bullshit rumor mill algorithm spit out “Justice League HBO TV show” recently?

As for the project itself: I ain’t subscribing to HBOMax for this bad boy, but once it becomes more widely available I can’t claim I won’t probably watch it. It’s basically a new movie about the Justice League, and if there’s anything I WOULD wanna see Zack Snyder do in the DCU, it’s the movie finally moving past pseudo-realism (aside from some of those dopey costumes) and leaning all the way into godlike superbeings bludgeoning each other through continents. I absolutely wanna see his aesthetic take on the Green Lantern Corps, and New Genesis, and time travel, and all the other weird promises of where his movies were going to go climaxing in a ridiculous super-war across all spacetime. It’s the same reason J.G. Jones was an exciting choice for Final Crisis before he had to leave, seeing a guy known for his work in an ultra-real grungy superhero style starting there and building up to seeing his version of absolutely wild cosmic spectacle. And no, to respond to one of the initial asks, I’m not worried about the impact on Superman. Everyone seems to have accepted this is its own distinct thing whether they like it or not, I think him getting to complete his ‘arc’ will quiet down many of the folks who like to yell at every other version as retro nonsense since now they’ll be able to be smug about having had the best take rather than pining for a lost finale, and I’m not interested in further Superman movies at the moment anyway with Superman & Lois in the pipe (which I was originally paranoid would be endangered by this when rumors first started floating, but if it’s been brewing since November then if they wanted to strike that down to ‘make room’ according to their Byzantine ever-shifting rules, they would have by now). Far as I’m concerned, as long as the other DC movies get to keep doing what they’re doing during and past this - even Pattinson in his corner, however that works - then totally let Snyder work out all his Wagnerian superhero bullshit for another flick or two. If nothing else, maybe we’ll learn what the hell that diagram up there is supposed to mean. And a plea I want to clarify upfront is wholeheartedly sincere: we’re already down the rabbit hole, so let Snyder to literally whatever he wants with his non-theatrically released Justice League. Zero input or veto power from outside parties. If he wants Flash to hang dong or Superman to say fuck or Batman to learn he’s Steppenwolf’s secret dad or Cyborg to learn he needs to eat babies to fuel his machine parts, let him go for it. Whole point is this is now his thing for people who want his thing.

Okay, beneath the cut the filter comes off, so go ahead if that’s your jam.

Hahahahahahaha this is gonna be such a fuckin’ shitshow you guys, Jesus Christ.

They’re giving the dude who did BvS and wants to make an Ayn Rand adaptation someday $30 million to take another crack at this monstrosity! 30 goddamn million smackaroos for four fucking hours of by many accounts roughly the same basic movie, except now presumably with what little coherency, fun, and clean character work the theatrical cut managed to pull off excised in return for weighty staring, ponderous pseudo-philosophical musings, hackneyed symbolism, aimless mythology teasing, and Steppenwolf I understand being decapitated by Wonder Woman at the end rather than taken back to Apokolips. I didn’t even spoiler mark that shit because don’t you dare pretend you care about the fate of Steppenwolf. I won’t have it.

I used to wonder if I was indeed missing the forest for the trees with these movies, that I was so inflexible in my personal image of these characters - even though I appreciate plenty of alternate takes on them and even some stories that bend or break what I consider their ‘rules’, just not these - that I was incapable of grasping or appreciating these films on their own merits as works of art using those archetypes in wildly different ways; even I could see there were good moments and interesting ideas on display despite seemingly failing to come together. No matter how much I personally deconstructed how and why it wasn’t working, I couldn’t do it to my own satisfaction to the point of stamping out that niggling little worry with how many folks whose opinions I respect love ‘em. Until I finally remembered that the Cadmus arc of Justice League Unlimited is totally the same basic story as BvS, centrally driven by an even worse take on Superman, and that’s still one of the best superhero stories of all time. These just stink by any merits, and while I think Justice League absolutely has the potential to be the most *entertaining* of the bunch, it’s not going to magically become *good* in the eleventh hour. Not to lift up Joss Whedon of all people as some kind of savior, I’m on the record that my love for Justice League as-is is some kind of inexplicable alchemical accident, but I promise that there is not going to be one single addition to this movie that’s going to make up for the removal of “Just save one person”.

Also I’m already not looking forward to dudes tweeting “whoa, he’s splitting it up into a serialized narrative, reflective of the sequential nature of the characters’ primitive native pictorial medium! Or mayhap in ode to the pulp film adventure serials which inspired those in turn! Even the Justice League children’s cartoon for dumb babies, which was itself...made up of episodes! That’s three references in the structure of the thing alone! The man’s operating on an entirely different level!” “God, isn’t it amazing how much better he understands the source material than you”, they shall say, about a man who I understand just very confidently referred to Doomsday in his livestream as having destroyed Krypton in the comics. Again, don’t you say they won’t, just the other day I saw folks tweeting they just realized that since Jor-El wears armor over his bodysuit that technically means Superman’s whole costume is underwear which means Snyder’s totally honoring that without putting him in ugly dumb red panties so checkmate, dorks.

(Okay, in fairness, I know Snyder was saying that’s his take on what happened to the moon in the past of the movies and maybe I only misheard that he thought that also happened in the comics, and it’s trivial information anyway. Still sucks though, that seeming out-of-nowhere Jax-Ur shoutout was like the one thing I liked about that otherwise interminable Krypton sequence. And why is there a second Doomsday? You did Death of Superman already!)

And further SPOILER thoughts below on the reported plots of 2 and 3:

It’s also an amazing, perfect sort of narrative synchronicity that the hypocrisy of Man of Steel in presenting Superman as a savior would (will?) be matched by the movies also rejecting that promise long-term. In there, Jor-El’s musings on the capacity of every living thing being capable of good, the closest the film has to a singular moral statement, are proven wrong when Zod has to be put down like a mad dog, and rather than the one who’ll bring us into the sun, Kal-El’s presence draws ruin from beyond the stars to our world. And again in BvS with Doomsday. And again in Justice League 1-3, where in spite of claims by Snydercutters that it’s okay for Superman to be a really lousy take on Superman because it’s totally supposed to take several movies after putting on the costume and calling himself Superman, including his own death and resurrection, for him to really, like, become Superman, man, he remains a liability to the end. His death lures in Steppenwolf, the Kryponian matrix in his genes is Darkseid’s goal, he becomes the villain of the first act of Justice League 3 - possibly of his own free will depending on which version you’ve heard about - and at the final showdown, it’s Batman who sacrifices himself to stop Darkseid and save the world and inspire the rise of superheroism, because Batman, you see, rules, whereas Superman, stay with me here, drools. A letdown given BvS was just about the one major story of the last 30 years to unambiguously conclude Superman is better than Batman, but not a shocker. None of what I understand goes down in these - iconography from the likes of Fourth World, Crisis on Infinite Earths, Death and Return of Superman, Rock of Ages, Final Crisis, and Injustice reused but stripped of all context and thematic weight that gives it meaning (even Injustice is built on the premise of having a ‘good’ Superman to contrast the dictator); Lois being the ‘key’ because of her connections to two men, one she married and one she bears; time travel that even by the very generous suspension of disbelief applied to it in a genre like this operates by two obviously completely different sets of rules in its only two uses, and is then used to write the entire second movie of the trilogy out of continuity in the first act of the third, making one and a half of these movies pointless - is shocking. It’s just more empty notions and unfulfilled promises offered up to a fanbase staking everything on the idea that all the tampering, all the wild swings, all the meandering, it’s all building UP to something, not possibly just a dude who doesn’t understand these characters but wanting to look very clever with them before building up to one more rad punch-up. So yes, make these movies. Let what can be gleaned from them as worthwhile be revealed, leave the rest of it up for examination to be judged as it deserves and let it, finally. Finally. Be done.

#Justice League #Snyder Cut #Zack Snyder #DCEU #Worlds of DC #Superman #Man of Steel #Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice #Superman & Lois #DCTV #Analysis #Opinion

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stoiccthulhu · 4 years

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So many things are rattling around in my brain I don’t know where one thought ends and another begins and which of those thoughts caused this overall feeling of depression I’ve been having almost all day so far...

It’s still early. 8:30ish to be exact-ish. I’ve eaten breakfast and gotten the 2 older children off to school for the day. The baby is sleeping in the other room, but that countdown timer is quickly dwindling away with every passing second.

I don’t know if I feel this way because my girlfriend of over 5 years now is growing more and more into someone I can’t see myself staying with. For several different reasons, the main one being that she’s a very selfish lover. When we have sex, it must be one single scenario played out using several different archetypal characters, but the endgame is still the same. I eat her out, she blows me, we have sex, she wants me to take control while also trying to control the whole situation, and “it’s OK” if she doesn’t get off, but it’s obvious it isn’t. But she also takes her time getting off, not realizing the enhancement she enjoys doing throughout the course only wakes her up more while I’m using more and more of my energy trying to make her happy doing something I was only half into the idea of in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong. I find my girlfriend sexually attractive, and I love her, and I’m not saying these things to cover my ass, I just want to clarify this isn’t me getting bored of who she is sexually. I’m just up to my tits in annoyance in how she can be SO selfish in a lot of ways, but when you mention it to her its not as bad as you make it out to be or all of her selfless thoughts concerning a bunch of other stuff that may or may not involve you.

But that’s what you get when you start a relationship with a narcissist without realizing they’re one before it’s too late and feelings get caught. And before I go further, I’m the same way. I was raised by a narcissist so I became one without even trying or even realizing. But now that I know what kind of person I used to be, as well as the person I am at times nowadays, I am more mindful of my actions and thoughts and words. Unless it’s on this, I don’t filter myself on here because I have nowhere else to go and write something without having to actively worry about offending someone.

The reason why I worry about offending people too much is because as a child I chose to be raised by my father because my absentee mother would always run off with someone new all of the time, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for weekends, sometimes just overnight. But in the end I wound up with a distrust of women I am supposed to love(it’s taken me close to 6 years to get over my paranoia over my girlfriend cheating on me(didn’t help every girlfriend I ever had cheated on me culminating in our relationship ending(especially didn’t help that it was during my formative teenage years and early 20′s)) and I’m still randomly paranoid she’s (going to) (cheat)ing on me when different things happen). Because I chose to live with my father, my younger brother, whom used to look up to me(even though I was as bad for his psyche as our parents were for me), followed me to live at his house for the next (almost) decade. What came from that was years of physical abuse and psychological damage at the hands of our father and from the weekly visits we had with our mother and whomever she was shaking up with at the time. She’s the type to get married without knowing the guy more than a year, which is a bad habit I’ve adopted from her, and what has brought me to this situation we have now. Full circle.

Instead of testing the waters of a relationship with a woman with 2 kids, I went with my feelings in the moment that were, slightly, inebriated, among other things. But when you believe you’re the center of some Truman Showesque experiment/attraction for the masses, and have multitudes of evidence, circumstantial and undocumented of course, but I’ve been a witness to things that have made me question the reality that was placed in front of my eyes since birth.

I mean, think about it. Perception is what is told to us. The easiest example I have for this, or at least to explain it, is that if you were born and someone handed you a spoon, and then told you it was a fork, and every time you questioned it, they would reaffirm the utensil is a fork, not a spoon. This will go until you begin calling the spoon a fork, even though the entire world around you is calling it a spoon. Your entire neural network is wired to believe a spoon is a fork. And then you are told by everyone else, outside this one person, that you’re wrong, and that spoon is a spoon, and to call it a fork makes you look ignorant and stupid.

Now if the world we live in, the plane of existence we call reality, is the spoon, what does that say about our perception of the world? What if we’ve been, for lack of a better term, duped into believing that what we see as reality is the end all be all of existence. There is nothing beyond it, and there is nothing before it. What you see is what you get.

No, I’m not religious. And, yes, I believe that all religious followers (with the exception of Buddhism) are ignorant dipshits being spoon fed lies on how good ideals are the basis for so much hate and bigotry and racism and xenophobia and homophobia for centuries. All religious texts, such as the Bible, started out as a collection of good ideas on how to be better human beings as a species but got warped and twisted to fit whomever was in control at the times regime(it’s not the word I was looking for but it kind of fits in the moment here).

I don’t really have much else to say at the moment. Other than to clarify one thing. I know I can offfend people using this platform to explore my inner thoughts. That’s why I chose this platform to, essentially, journal out things. And that’s because if I’m near a person I am not trying to offend them and I’m unable to say anything offensive unless I’m drunk. I’m always stopping myself from saying certain things. Which, I understand, EVERYONE does that, it doesn’t make you special. That’s fine, but I still don’t give a shit. I’m sick of being the nice guy to everyone. I’m sick of being nice, period. I’m the first one taken advantage of, the first one to have a rumor spread about him, I’m the first one to be attacked for doing anything other than being the timid, child-like, and effeminate man I’ve grown into becoming. Well, less attacked, and more disliked. If I don’t put on the mask of being the nice guy to everyone around me, the elder Doug Forcett of my life. Only I will bite if beaten for long enough, usually in passive aggressive bitching or full blown fight starting or just quickly yelling at the kids for small disgressions like not taking care of a plate properly and soon snowballing it into various bullshit reasons as to why I’m mad at them just because I want to yell and scream and destroy and be the one whom finally is able to have the last word. But that’s just one more thing about my girlfriend that has been getting on my nerves. But that hasn’t happened recently. It’s mostly been me almost always picking fights, and I think it’s because I’m, ultimately, unhappy. I don’t know how else to put it, in all honesty. But whatever has been written has already affected my life in the past so whatever I write from this point forward will affect my life going forward so what do I say?

I had a dream one night that left an impression on me due to how, at the time, it felt prophetic concerning my life. And the moment I’m at in life is the moment in the dream wherein I am with a beautiful woman, but I then pursue and then cheat on her with another, more, beautiful woman whom I am then caught in bed with. At which point a man, in the dream it was John C. Reilly, whom was with my girlfriend walking into the room punches me in the face and I allow it to happen. I’m also watching myself do all of these things from a third person perspective, a witness to my own life, instead of a participant. And now I’m in a position where my girlfriend has made friends with another couple, and it’s a friendship she’s able to be herself in so she’s been hanging around them more often than other couple friends she’s made since we’ve gotten together. And I’ve had lustful thoughts towards the girl since the beginning, almost as if I knew she was going to be somewhat attractive to me. Anticipatory before I even met her as if I was going to meet someone important to me.

This time, I don’t really know what else to say. Writing this hasn’t made me feel better like I was hoping, and now I just don’t care about doing it anymore even though there’s way more up there wanting to get out.

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stormecloudyy-blog · 7 years

Text

Amor Proibido [ii]

“You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else-” Albert Einstein.

What does being happy even mean to me anymore? This is supposed to be the start of writing stories which will shape my career, but this kid is getting under my skin. He tells me he just wants to be happy, and I realize I am not even sure what it means to myself.

My life is supposed to be the most fantastic thing in the world right now… but sometimes I just feel really fucking empty inside. I don’t have the right words to coherently express my unhappiness. However, this isn’t about me. I have to ask this pop star about his music, attend a concert, and write my story.

I don’t need to think about the way I would not mind tracing my fingers over the tattoo on his forearm and softly grasping those arm muscles. Because holy hell, this boy is built like a brick house. All these thoughts are racing through my mind, but my face remains impassive because this is just a job.

Shawn leans over placing his hand on the recording device and clicking it off. Just like that. He does it boldly, his eyes never leaving mine as though daring me to stop him. He acts like he can just get whatever he wants, and it kind of pisses me off.

I snatch the recorder from his hand, eyes glaring, “What the fuck is your problem? You should want me to interview you because a ton of girls will want to fuck you after reading this article. You’ll be even more famous. Isn’t that what you want?”

Hazel eyes bore into mine. “I want to fuck you.”

Preliminary interview complete. However, I still have two more days of dealing with this utter shitstorm I can I tell is just brewing. I keep playing the audio of the interview, trying to make it match with my notes. But I can’t fucking think straight. What the hell am I supposed to write about when all I keep returning to is the way he looked at me the whole time.

“…some of my musical inspirations include Ed Sheeran and Niall Horan…” his voice filters through my big, empty hotel room and I just really need to take a few hours to decompress. Then I can deal with this weird tension Shawn is causing between us, and I can just get this over with and return to my real life. It is just one article/ I don’t need to act like it is going to make or break the rest of my life.

Shutting off the recorder, I stand up and walk over to the window. I could probably just take some time to go out to eat so I am away from this place, but I don’t want to run the risk of seeing Shawn. Not that he would do anything when they were other people around, but I would just paranoid the whole time.

He told me he wanted to fuck me. I mean… I am not sure who the fuck this kid thinks he is. You don’t say those words to a person who is interviewing you for one of the most predominant music magazines in the world. It would be a surefire way to start a scandal and fuck up his own career. But kid is smart. He turned off the recorder and just said it to me. No one knows except the two of us. Shawn has plausible deniability because he is fucking pop star, and no one would believe me just because of my gender. What a fair world we reside in.

My phone starts to ring causing me my thoughts to pull back to the present. Alright. All I need to do is make it through the next few days, and I will never need to see him again. Simple.

Brice calling.

No. No. No. Fuck. Are you serious?

I have been here four hours, not even. And my boss is calling me. What the fuck. Okay, stay calm.

I can just say I was out having dinner and call him back later. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine. My life isn’t falling apart at all. Stay. Calm. My phone ceases to ring, anxiety loosening its grip in my chest. And then it starts once again when his name shows up on the display again. Fuck my whole life.

"Hello,“ I say, sounding false chipper and hoping he isn’t going to tell me I am fired. Oh, my god. I can’t breathe.

“I knew you would answer if I called a second time. You should probably not avoid the guy who makes sure you get paid,” he teases. “But I am calling for a reason. We need press release previews for the interview ASAP. So if you could just send those over tonight, that would be amazing.”

I let out a long groan because this is just my fucking luck. “What the fuck? I haven’t even been here long enough to unpack and you want like three pieces of writing by tonight?” I almost scream at him, feeling the anxiety start to settle heavy on my chest.

“This is a big interview. I told you that. You knew the deal when you agreed. I am not asking you to write the whole fucking thing tonight. We just need a few snippets to get everyone excited.” He pauses, adding, “Shawn’s manager asked us to do it since his concert is tomorrow night. He said Shawn was really impressed. You did well, you know.”

I rub the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, trying to combat the mixed feelings I am dealing with right now. I am supposed to write a whole lot of bullshit to make some other people happy, but he just said Shawn was impressed with me. Why does this make my heart skip a beat? Ugh. “Great,” I retort dryly, “I will just take that great impression and use it to write some press releases when all I wanted to do was relax because I have been working non stop the past week.”

“You need to get these written as soon as you can. The press is already badgering us to find out what you are going to say. Shawn normally doesn’t give interviews as often as his fans want so this is a fucking huge deal for everyone involved. And he is just a kid, how difficult can he be?”

I hold back laughter because Brice has no idea at all. “Yeah, ha ha ha,” I say and let out a sigh. Pretty sure I am using up my sigh quota for the year today alone. “I will just get started on that right now.” I hang up the phone and throw it down on the couch, squelching the urge to let out a primal scream.

This whole fucking this is horrible. I was supposed to be able to just write the article and be on the way to having an awesome writing career. This is way more stress than I should have for a kid. Just a kid. Shawn Mendes is a fucking evil kid who knows how to get under your skin with those stupid eyes and those curls and that stupid voice.

I want to fuck you. Who the hell says that to someone they just met? This is not a fucking porno. This is my life and career. It must be nice he can do whatever the fuck he wants without any repercussions, but I actually have a real life to return to.

Fuck everything. I sit down on the couch, pulling my laptop over to me and trying to find the words everyone is going to want to hear about the apparently not difficult at all kid, Shawn Mendes.

Three hours later, I send off my pieces to Brice and shut my laptop. I am fucking exhausted, and I just want to crawl into bed. But I am also starving. Too lazy to leave to get food, I decide I am going to venture down the hall to the vending machines and have a junk food feast for one. It will help make this shitty day a little less so. I just need sugar and carbs galore.

Not caring I am wearing a faded tank top and kind of small pajama shorts, I grab my wallet and key card to make my trip. The hall is deserted, making it seem like I am the only person in the hotel. All the better because I don’t want anyone seeing how much of a mess I look after putting in more work tonight than I wanted to.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

I spin around and gasp, seeing Shawn poke his head out of his room and looking at me with a smirk. His eyes travel down my body, taking in my outfit and he looks me in the eyes a moment later.

“Fuck off,” I say with a sigh and stare longingly at the vending machines I am still so far away from.

He is shirtless, curls abound. He is wearing only a pair of faded grey sweatpants, low slung on his hips. I can see every muscle in his body and he even has one of those v cuts which leads down to… nowhere. Fuck. Why the fuck does a nineteen year old kid like him look so much older? Not that I am noticing that much, but it is hard to miss when it is right in my face.

He chuckles. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “I am not interested in eating your dick if that is what you’re offering. Earlier was more than enough, thanks. I just want to get some junk food and then eat alone in my room. Thanks.”

His mouth opens and closes, like he is shocked by my comment. “I…no, I was asking because I ordered a pizza and I still have some left over. Plus the mini bar is stocked full of drinks so…” He shrugs. “You are welcome to come in if you feel like it.” He steps aside, creating a path for me to walk away.

I tilt my head, wondering if this is a trap. “I am not going to sleep with you.”

“I am asking if you want some pizza, that’s all.” He gestures for me to come inside.

Too tired to argue, I relent and find myself sitting next to Shawn on the couch with a pizza between us. He seems more relaxed now. There is a random movie playing in the background, but I notice he still keeps sneaking glances at me when he thinks I won’t notice. It is probably because he thinks I am a big nerd for wearing a Harry Potter shirt.

“You keep staring at me,” I tell him, finishing off my first slice of pizza and reaching for the bottled water on the table. Taking a sip, I notice he is smiling. And he has a nice smile. If you simply take into account how he looks, he is very pleasing to look at. He just lacks a good personality, I guess.

“I love Harry Potter,” he replies, softly tracing the decal on the tank top for a second. “Is that a problem?”

“I already said I am not going to sleep with you.” I smack his hand away, pointing to him with my water bottle. “You need to stop acting like I am going to fall for your charms just because I am a woman. That is a fucked up archaic notion all males need to stop. Just because you are a man doesn’t mean all women are going to be interested. I could be a lesbian for all you know.”

He just stares at me before he starts laughing really hard. I freeze, not sure what is going on. He laughs for a long moment before finally stopping and saying, “You should be the one who stops. You keep thinking every action on my part means I want to sleep with you. I know how to be nice as well. It is why I offered you pizza. If I wanted to truly sleep with you, I wouldn’t be offering you pizza. I would be showing up at your hotel room and making you mine.”

The way he looks at me when he says it. Oh, fuck. I can’t breathe and the tingling between my legs is more apparent. FUCK. My body is betraying me in the worst way possible. The way he said he would make me his actually turned me on, but I am not going to let it show. But oh, my god. Those words alone are ones I could touch myself to for days and never have a problem having an orgasm. It is just the way he speaks with conviction. Plus, his voice may be a little bit sexy when he lowers it and tries to be more fucking hot than he has a right to be.

“My boss said you were impressed with me,” I choke out. Trying to change the subject and crossing my legs subtly, I want to know what he said. “It’s funny how you could not even mention that to me at all before I left.”

He shrugs, picking up a piece of pizza and taking a bite. What the fuck. Even the way he eats is attractive. That is more fucked up than it should be.

I glare waiting for him to say something. I can’t understand how he can be so hot and cold with me. I mean, yeah I am doing the same thing. But this is my job. He should be wanting to stay on my good side since I am going to be writing about him. Instead he is getting further and further under my skin. Ugh.

“The last person who interviewed me worked for like MTV right?” he says, finishing up his pizza and wiping his face with a napkin. He chuckles sweetly. “And she was nice. We got along. But she had this idea in her head we were going to start dating. Don’t get me wrong, she was nice. But I was not interested. Nothing happened, I swear. But she told everyone we fucked like a whole lot of times and that she had to stop me from falling in love with her. When I was the one who said no to her. Still she told everyone how I was just madly in love with her, and I just… fucking drama is the last thing I need.”

I don’t reply because I am not sure what to say. This is Shawn just opening up to me as a person. It surprises me because most famous people know to keep their mouths shut around the press. Maybe he knows I won’t say anything since I kept his earlier comment to myself, and I am in my fucking pajamas. Plus, this kid seems like he is trying to be sincere so the last thing I want to do is betray his trust the way this woman did. Not that I care about him, but I do care about my career a lot.

“Don’t get me wrong. I fuck a lot of women on tour. Not like teenage fans or anything, but it is not like I am a saint. But it kind of pisses me off when someone thinks they can just use me to get what they want. I like you though because you don’t care what I think. You just want to do your job, and I get that because that is how I feel about my music…but there is just something about you that…”

He leans in, pushing a stray lock of hair away from my face. “You’re beautiful.”

I can’t breathe. His face is so close to mine if I just leaned my head the right way…

His eyes are looking into mine and neither of us are speaking.

This can’t fucking happen. It-

Shawn presses his lips against mine, and I almost relent. But I can’t. This is my career. I can’t just…

I tense up, placing a hand against his chest and pulling away. “I have to go,” i mumble, running out of the room without looking back.

When I get back to my own room, I fall down onto the bed and try not to lose my shit. That kid just fucking kissed me and I let him for the briefest moment. Fuck. I am going to ruin everything.

My phone vibrates, stopping my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I answer.

The voice on the line says, “Hi, babe, how are you?”

It’s Landon, my fiance.

God, I am so fucked.

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes smut #writing #mine #amor proibido

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wizardsnwookies · 7 years

Text

Campaign Diary- TOD110817

The gathering hall was bustling with people during the brief recess and giving their legs a stretch meant a constant weaving through the crowds. Striding next to him, Skydancer noticed a tension in Lotus’s posture, a taught lock of his jaw, and an overall sense of brooding that was once reserved only for Barton.

“We should have a chat with Lord Neverember, make sure he knows who he’s in bed with, figuratively if not literally.”

“I am content with the fact that she has seen me, and that she is aware that I have seen her.” Lotus stared forward as he spoke, his response sharp as a knife. “Besides, it could cause dissent and we have only now gotten a sort of unity among the leaders.”

“Exactly my point. She could be poisoning her mind, it’s a risk we can’t take too lightly.”

“Who’s to say he doesn’t know full well who she is?” The two had almost missed Osborne walking between them, once again he managed to get lost due to his stature.

“Even more of a reason to confront him, like you said,” Skydancer turned to Lotus. “We only just now got everyone to play nice with each other, we can’t have someone looking to ruin that.”

“So we keep an eye on them. What’s the good in confronting them without anything but suspicions?” Osborne nodded towards the city center through the hall doors, opened to allow the heat of so many bodies to filter out into the autumn air. “This city is in chaos. Perfect time to setup a new fighting ring, especially with so many refugees around. Who’s going to miss a few strays? I say we give them a couple of shadows and see what comes up.”

“I’m not so sure it’s that easy.” Skydancer frowned.

“Isn’t it? With so many new people around a tail would be difficult to spot, especially one magically hidden.” Osborne shrugged the folds of his cloak. “Or if you’re really that paranoid, there’s the old fashioned way and go through the gossip grape vine.”

Skydancer looked to Lotus. “He’s got a point.”

Lotus opened his mouth to answer but was cut short by a cry escaping from a large gathering of people down the corridor. They were all clustered together forming a tight ring that was impossible to see through. Osborne, however, had the unique line of sight to see through a forest of legs just enough to catch a glimpse of what appeared to be a body sprawled on the cobblestone.

The party forced their way past the onlookers and on the other side found a clearing made for a duel. On one side of the circular opening a finely dressed elf turned away from the body on the ground, pulling out a cloth to clean a fencing sword of blood.

Dain knelt before the body and gave it a cursory examination. He had been slain in the instant the blade entered his side, just between the ribs. As it skewered his body, it punctured both lungs and his heart before exiting out his shoulder. “I can fix him. Does anyone have a diamond worth 10,000 gold?”

“What happened here?” Skydancer ignored the cleric and approached the elf noble, his face revealed no concern, no guilt.

“It was a fair duel. They all can attest to it.”

Skydancer turned to reluctant faces who turned to each other before nodding. She remained unconvinced.

“This man insulted my family, my honor, my person. Naturally, I demanded a reprieve, that was all. He was the one that struck first. He decided that steel was best to resolve the situation. He chose poorly.” The elf accentuated his point by sliding his foil back into place on his hip.

“You are all fools.” Lotus shook his head in disgust.

“Seriously. You aren’t content with the dragon cult killing you, you have to come up with petty bullshit to kill yourselves over?” Osborne folded his arms across his chest.

He and Lotus didn’t have to look at each other to acknowledge their shared sentiments. Granted they had different reasons, but both shared a disdain for the elite and were not shy in expressing it. Their admonishment arose no response from the elf, although other nobles in the crowd offered looks of disdain and dismissal their way.

“This is my fifth duel in these many days. Is seek them not. These are troubled times indeed, and those of weaker characters crumble under the pressure.”

Skydancer and Osborne shared a look. Five duels? Even considering the current climate of the city, that was more than a little strange. Then there was the unavoidable observation that while the victor was an elf, the corpse was that of a human. An almost imperceptible nod was all either of them needed to silently agree that this bore further investigation.

“Ahh, Revenging Lilly, so good to see you again.” Skydancer looked up to see the flowing black dress of Lady Nightshade striding across the grounds, almost stepping over the corpse to approach the party and seeming to ignore the growing presence of the city watch come to restore order. “Come, walk with me. You surly do remember me?”

Nightshade held out an elbow, clearly expecting Lotus to take it, but withdrew it before catching frostbite. Skydancer let her hand drop to her hilt. She wasn’t so sure Lotus wouldn’t try anything with the city guard around.

“Goodness, it is surely good to see you are...”

“Alive?”

“Yes, that is one way of putting it.” Nightshade’s smile did not falter. She was a noble born and bred. And with that breeding came the uncanny ability to dismiss any insult as if it were nothing more than pleasant conversational barbs. “You simply must introduce me to your friends.”

“We’re the ones saving your pampered ass from the cult right now.” Skydancer forced her way between Nightshade and Lotus, hoping an additional obstacle would prevent any rash decisions.

“Yes, and most appreciated that is.” Nightshade turned her attention immediately back to Lotus, ignoring Skydancer as if she was nothing but space between them. “How have you been all these years? And how did you ever get to be in such esteemed company as the Waterdeep Council?”

“Ok, listen missy.” Skydancer had had enough. She broke her even stride and stepped out in front of Nightshade, stopping her dead in her tracks. “What are you doing? Are you just here to intimidate him? Threaten him? Because even if he didn’t have us behind him, which I assure you he does...” Tossing her head back towards the rest of the group, Skydancer was proud to see unanimous nods of agreement. “I know him well enough to say you would not come out the better in that contest.”

“Well, I ne-” Feigned noble indignity and fluster shielded any genuine reaction Lady Nightshade may have had. “I assure you it is nothing of the sort. I will grant you that there were indeed dark times in our past. I made some poor investments based on equally poor council from a friend. It all ended in a most appalling business I’m sure I don’t have to tell you. However, I am doing my best to make amends.”

“You’re lying.” A quiet voice sounded from behind her, and for a brief moment the veil was lifted. Anger flashed in her eyes and Lady Nightshade turned to see simple Dain looking quire sure of himself. “You still own slaves.”

She took a deep breath through her nostrils and expelled it with a dropping of her shoulders. Her chin lifted up ever so slightly sot that her eyes may be cast down towards the dwarf. “I assure you, I am no longer in the possession of slaves. Now, if you excuse me, it seems the company here has become quite disagreeable to me.”

Lotus watched as her shoes echoed against the cobblestones, her back slowly disappearing down the hall before he called out. “How’s my old master?”

She turned and offered a forced smile. “That remains to be seen.”

---

“You OK?” Skydancer sat down next to Lotus in the council chamber. The meeting with Lady Nightshade was almost half an hour ago and he was still wound pretty tight.

“I almost challenged her.”

Skydancer paused for a moment, and then recognition hit. “She would have chosen a champion.”

“One of her slaves.”

“There are better ways to accomplish what you’re after.” Osborne chimed in, the whole thing made him pretty nervous. He could see this ending many different ways. None of them good.

“The slave ring we encountered in the Underdark...”

“I remember. We don’t know for sure that’s hers.”

Lotus offered only a look of incredulity.

“But it’s something we can definitely look into. I’m not saying we forget about it.” Osborne felt on the defensive, he wasn’t sure why. If this Lady Nightshade was taking advantage of the situation to make money off the back of slaves, he was all for taking her down. Still, he wasn’t too keen to return to the Underdark. Too many black memories.

“When then?”

“Well, right now we have the bigger picture to think about. Let’s see where the council sends us. If they send us anywhere. If not, then we’ll investigate undistracted.”

“...you has until this is over, then I’m clearing the board.”

With that the council returned to session, to of all things, a report from Lord Neverember. The news he brought from the North was very much the same as had been reported all over the coast. Refugees forced towards their borders. Ever escalating attacks by the cult. But something new as well.

“It pains me to say that, my city may harbor dissenters, traitors. There have been suspicions of those with wealth, funneling funds towards the cult, using my city as a conduit. I pray this proves to be paranoid rumors, but until I can prove otherwise it is safe to say it bares investigation.

“There have also been sightings of the ever elusive flying castle of the Storm Giants. Unfortunately it seems to evade us whenever out scouts draw near, so the information I have to offer the council is regrettably little, last seen over the crags.”

“I will handle my brethren.” Harshnag the bold strode forward from his place within one of the entry ways to the meeting room. He was so large no seat would fit him. “Dealing with frilly nobles does not agree with me, much as dealing with a stronghold of Storm Giants agree with most of you.” His laughter was deep and throaty and sounded like thunder bouncing against the walls.

And so the council was adjourned without any additional discussion. The party stood to leave with Osborne standing on his chair to adress the others.

“This may be a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.” He nodded to Lotus. “The elite of Neverwinter need to be investigated, who’s to say we can’t probe a little deeper while we’re at it. If they’re not funneling gold to the cult, they might be helping fund the Slave Ring with Lady Prissypants wispering dark nothings into their ear.”

“Shrewd thinking.” Lotus agreed. He turned to Skydancer. “If we do this, I don’t want her left here with the council unobserved.”

“You really think she’d try something against the council?” Skydancer blinked, she understood Lotus’s hatred towards the woman, however she didn’t quite feel she was a particular threat.

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to risk it.”

“Fair enough.” Skydancer relented. “We’ll talk with Lady Larrel then”

---

Lady Larrel sat in her chair in the small antechamber and though over the party’s concerns. She had come to know Lady Nightshade by reputation and only through her association with Lord Neverember. She was a noble, and a confident of the Lord, that was as far as she knew. She had no idea what to think of the claims laid against her until Lotus spoke once again.

“Have you heard of someone by the name of Ashbey?”

“Ah, unfortunately yes.” Her lips curled as if her tea had grown sour in her throat. “I know that worm well.”

“He and Lady Nightshade were in the same business. He was my master.” Lotus spat out the word as if it were a cancer. “He was a tyrant towards his people, and he didn’t seem to like it when I started teaching the farmers how to defend themselves.”

“Hmmm, I’m sad to say that sounds very much like the man I know.” Lady Larrel closed her eyes and sighed, her position carried the knowledge of many distasteful truths with it. Fortunately, it also granted her the power to do something about it. “Very well. I will keep her under close watch.”

“It might be prudent to be cautious regarding Lord Neverember as well. If he’s associating with people like her, he might not be able to be trusted.” Skydancer spoke from her position by the door, polishing her sword. This was her first time speaking up during the meeting. This was Lotus’s business, and she would rather not speak for him. However she couldn’t help voicing her concerns either.

“I hope it will not be necessary, but I will be cautious. These are dark times, and although I may not like it, it would be foolish to treat old associates with the blind trust of peace time.” Lady Larrel looked down at her tea. Somehow in the same council meeting, they had both gained and lost allies. It was difficult to see how things would end.

---

“Yeah, they’ve been cropping up all over the city I’m afraid.” The City Watch Captain set aside the paperwork he had finished when the group walked into his office. He placed the parchment on the window sill in the sunlight so the ink might dry faster. “Everyone’s on edge, poor and rich folk alike. Can’t say I’m happy about it, but I’m not sure what to do about it.”

Skydancer and Osborne sat in the two chairs facing the Captain’s desk, the rest of the party stood outside the door as the tiny room was just barely large enough to fit the furniture, let alone several people.

“Let me ask you, are you finding that many of these duels involve different races?” Osborne broached the subject delicately. He never was comfortable in the presence of figures of law, especially when he was about to accuse the influential class of conspiracy.

“ ‘Course. Waterdeep is a melting pot of races, bound to happen.”

“How about elves specifically?” Skydancer leaned forward, putting her arms on her knees while the large man in front of her rubbed the chin hidden under red stubble.

“Come to think of it, yeah. All of them in fact.” The captain sat back down in his chair and reached behind his desk for a leather folder bound with twine. Unbinding it he sifted through the papers within and nodding to himself. “Yeah, ever last one of them we have on report. You think there’s something to this?”

“Tell me Captain, have you heard of the Eldrith Veluthera?”

#Tyranny of Dragons #Dungeons and Dragons #campaign diary #role playing games

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stormecloudy-blog · 7 years

Text

Amor Proibido [ii]

“You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else-” Albert Einstein.

Hazel eyes bore into mine. “I want to fuck you.”

My phone starts to ring causing me my thoughts to pull back to the present. Alright. All I need to do is make it through the next few days, and I will never need to see him again. Simple.

Brice calling.

No. No. No. Fuck. Are you serious?

I have been here four hours, not even. And my boss is calling me. What the fuck. Okay, stay calm.

I can just say I was out having dinner and call him back later. It's fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine. My life isn't falling apart at all. Stay. Calm. My phone ceases to ring, anxiety loosening its grip in my chest. And then it starts once again when his name shows up on the display again. Fuck my whole life.

"Hello," I say, sounding false chipper and hoping he isn't going to tell me I am fired. Oh, my god. I can't breathe.

Fuck everything. I sit down on the couch, pulling my laptop over to me and trying to find the words everyone is going to want to hear about the apparently not difficult at all kid, Shawn Mendes.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

I spin around and gasp, seeing Shawn poke his head out of his room and looking at me with a smirk. His eyes travel down my body, taking in my outfit and he looks me in the eyes a moment later.

“Fuck off,” I say with a sigh and stare longingly at the vending machines I am still so far away from.

He is shirtless, curls abound. He is wearing only a pair of faded grey sweatpants, low slung on his hips. I can see every muscle in his body and he even has one of those v cuts which leads down to... nowhere. Fuck. Why the fuck does a nineteen year old kid like him look so much older? Not that I am noticing that much, but it is hard to miss when it is right in my face.

He chuckles. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

His mouth opens and closes, like he is shocked by my comment. “I...no, I was asking because I ordered a pizza and I still have some left over. Plus the mini bar is stocked full of drinks so...” He shrugs. “You are welcome to come in if you feel like it.” He steps aside, creating a path for me to walk away.

I tilt my head, wondering if this is a trap. “I am not going to sleep with you.”

“I am asking if you want some pizza, that’s all.” He gestures for me to come inside.

“I love Harry Potter,” he replies, softly tracing the decal on the tank top for a second. “Is that a problem?”

He shrugs, picking up a piece of pizza and taking a bite. What the fuck. Even the way he eats is attractive. That is more fucked up than it should be.

He leans in, pushing a stray lock of hair away from my face. “You’re beautiful.”

I can’t breathe. His face is so close to mine if I just leaned my head the right way...

His eyes are looking into mine and neither of us are speaking.

This can’t fucking happen. It-

Shawn presses his lips against mine, and I almost relent. But I can’t. This is my career. I can’t just...

I tense up, placing a hand against his chest and pulling away. “I have to go,” i mumble, running out of the room without looking back.

When I get back to my own room, I fall down onto the bed and try not to lose my shit. That kid just fucking kissed me and I let him for the briefest moment. Fuck. I am going to ruin everything.

My phone vibrates, stopping my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I answer.

The voice on the line says, “Hi, babe, how are you?”

It’s Landon, my fiance.

God, I am so fucked.

#writing #mine #amor proibido #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn peter raul mendes

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ebullientbun · 7 years

Text

The Suspense is Killing Me

Starring: Jimin x You (ft. Taehyung)

Rated: G for gently crack and a little sads sometimes

Word Count: 8.1K

Summary: park jimin is a trusted superhero who constantly saves the day, but can he save them from you, his newest rival and beloved wife

Cameras are flashing left and right, blinding him. There are way too many microphones in front of his face, but he smiles anyways, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and brushes a hand through his jet black hair. They don’t need to know he wears the sunglasses so he doesn’t look like he’s squinting in the PR photos.

“Park Jimin, over here!”

“Mr. Park! What are your opinions on the city’s allocation of funds?”

“Mr. Park, what’s your comment?”

Jimin sighs internally and focuses his attention to the left, pointing to the nearest person. “You there, in the green jacket.” Probably an easy question, he thinks to himself.

“Mr. Park, what do you have to say about the newest rival that has resumed the spot of V? Does this mysterious villain pose a greater threat?”

Jimin gulped, cursing himself for his bad luck. “It was unexpected, but that’s not to say I’m unprepared for these recent turn of events,” he responded, clearing his throat. “I assure the public that their safety is still intact and that the danger is not as bad as V, who is locked up in the highest security prison institution.”

The crowd murmurs louder before resuming in calling his name. Jimin has half his mind to leave the press conference until a lone voice shouts from the crowd, silencing them. “Then why haven’t you killed or caught the villain if they’re so easy? Why haven’t you caught the Suspense?”

Jimin drops his head and takes a deep breath. He knows that he should probably say that he’s investigating the villain’s true intentions and hidden secrets or some other bullshit excuse, but the truth slips out of his mouth before he can process what he’s said, and instantly, he feels regret. The crowd bursts into a loud commotion, and Jimin is quickly escorted out of the place, halting any further questions.

“Because she’s my wife.”

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filtered through the apartment, the noise of the television idly playing in the background. You’re humming, moving clean clothes from the drying machine to your laundry basket. Kicking the machine door closed, you heft the basket into your arms and plop down onto the couch in the living room, dropping the basket in front of you. You grab the remote on the table next to you and turn up the volume, engrossed in the video replay of your husband, Park Jimin, fighting his ultimate rival. You start folding your laundry, glancing up every now and then, wincing when some of the attacks hit Jimin.

“This just in!” You paused your movements, giving the television your undivided attention as a new anchor bounced up and down on screen, the wind from outside covering her face with her own hair. “Mr. Park has captured V!”

You smile, internally planning to buy a celebration cake for your husband before he comes home, maybe buying some balloons just for the heck of it. It had been a cat and mouse game for several years, and now your husband caught his unruly foe.

The video panned to V being escorted into the police car, the mask on his face battered and bloody. A microphone shoved in front of him.

“V the Violent! What’s your remark on being captured?”

V grunted before leaning into the microphone, “Excuse you, it’s V the Voluptuous for my voluminous hair. This is only a small setback. But it will not be the last you see of me… isn’t that right, my spectacular protege, Suspense?”

The reporters clamor at his comment as he’s forcibly shoved into the police car. The shirt in your hands fall to your lap.

“Honey, I’m home!” Jimin declares, slamming the door open only to be met with silence. “Y/N?” He slides off his shoes and shuts the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and grabbed the remote left on the floor beside an unfinished pile of laundry to turn off the television. An uneasy feeling fell into the pit of his stomach as he ventured further into the apartment. He stepped in the kitchen and noted the coffee left cold and untouched in the coffee pot. His breathing turned heavy as he rushed into the bedroom to nothing; the room was unchanged and empty.

Maybe… maybe you just ran to the grocery store and he’s just overreacting. Yes, that had to be it. He reached into in pocket and dialed your phone number. Jimin froze in his spot, hearing the familiar ringtone faintly jingle in the bedroom, buzzing against the bedside table.

He ended the phone call and speed dialed the one person who can find his wife. The line rang once, twice, and then he heard the familiar grumble of ‘hello?’ and rustling in the background.

“Namjoon, can you please find Y/N’s location? She’s not at the apartment but she left her phone at home.”

Typing flooded the other end, Jimin tapping his foot impatiently as he awaited for an answer.

“Alright, so I’ve got footage of her leaving her apartment; she doesn’t look distressed or anything, maybe a little zoned out. Lemme look at the other building cameras to track her location. She’s exiting the apartment… and she walked into the hardware store down the street. Jimin, have you just tried, oh, I don’t know, calling her?”

“She left her phone at home. But she also left the television on and didn’t even finish her laundry.” Jimin nursed his bottom lip with his teeth, not knowing what to make of what she’s doing.

“Maybe she forgot to buy something?” Namjoon suggested.

“No, no,” Jimin insisted. “There’s nothing that she needs there that we don’t already have at home. Where did she go after that?”

“Uh, hold on... Okay, I’ve sped up the cameras as fast as I can, but she hasn’t left the building…”

“And when was she last seen entering the store?”

Namjoon hesitated, “it��s been a couple of hours. Maybe she’s just looking at the gardening displays again. You know how she takes her time looking at those.”

“I don’t know,” Jimin paced back and forth in the living room, “something just doesn’t feel right. She doesn’t normally forget her phone, she gets paranoid about tha-” his phone buzzed with an oncoming work call, “hold on, I’ll call you back. I’ve got a call.”

“Gotcha, Jimin. I’ll let you know if I see anything else.”

Jimin switched the line to the police department, “This is Jimin.”

“Jimin! We need you to come to the city plaza quick! We’re having a civilian attack by someone unknown!” He could hear the chaos of people panicking in the background.

“I’m on the way,” he promptly ended the call, rushing to get his gear and weaponry.

Jimin flew into city plaza, having no need to search for the damage when there’s a large machine monster plowing through the square, shooting bursts of water at civilians running away to shelter. The robot stood at least 4 stories high, a voice emitting from a speaker on it shoulder.

“IS EVERYONE HAVING A NICE SPLASH ON THIS GOOD SUMMER’S DAY?” The voice boomed, soaking the streets, the force of the blasted water flipping a car over.

“Whoever you are, stop what you’re doing right this moment!” Jimin commanded, floating eye level with the robot’s head. The robot lifted an arm to activate a laser beam, shooting around and slicing the statue of the mayor in half.

Jimin pulled out his sword, made of the strongest metals, and raised it to challenge the robot.

The head of the robot split in half, revealing a familiar female with yellow goggles and a purple bodysuit.

“Y/N?” Jimin stops in place and puts down his sword. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He shrieked and dodged a laser attack from her. A laser gun; this is something he’s still trying to process. “Whoa there, stop, baby! Put your weapon down! Why are you attacking me? You need to get out of here, there’s a new villain on the streets.”

“You are truly an idiot, Park Jimin. The villain is me. I go by the name of the Suspense. And no one will be standing in the way of my terror.”

“What?”

“Was it not obvious by the fact I’m shooting water at the citizens and destroying the gardens?” You fiddled with the controls, still trying to learn its functions, closing the head and using the other arm to reach for Jimin.

Namjoon yelled in the bluetooth of his ear, “Jimin watch out! Arm coming on your left!”

Jimin used his sword to block off the massive arm coming his way and flew straight for the juncture of the robot’s arm and shoulder. With all of his strength, he jabbed his sword downwards and dismembered the arm.

“Get one of the legs, too. Throw the robot off balance,” Namjoon instructed. He flew down to the leg of the robot, dismembering one of the legs with much more difficulty. The legs were more reinforced, and he had to saw his sword across as the laser robot arm attempted to reach him.

The robot, losing its balance, toppled into a broken heap in the ground. Jimin heard you shout into the microphone.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, flying down to the head where you sat. Just before he could open the robot, the head automatically detached itself and flew into the sky, shocking Jimin.

“You may have defeated me this time,” the voice boomed, followed by a brief cough, “but this won’t be the last you see of me! Until next time superhero!” The robot head flew at lightning speed away, so fast that he couldn’t catch up quick enough after his immediate shock, but as he flew in the same direction, any semblance of where you went disappeared.

“Did you see where she went?” Jimin asked, patiently waiting for an answer through his bluetooth.

“None,” Namjoon sighed, “all the cameras were turned off for some reason for the past few hours. I think it may have been her doing.”

“My wife is my enemy,” Jimin stated, disbelief coursing through him.

Jimin stands in front of the pristine white door in front of him, awaiting permission to enter. His fists are tightly clenched by his side, and his eyes scream murder. The guard next to him warns him to not kill or heavily maim the inmate he so desperately wanted to tear apart. With a noncommittal grunt to the guard, Jimin’s eyes focus in on the figure sitting in the middle of the room after the doors slide open, and he charges in.

“V!” Jimin yanks the prisoner up from his seat by the collar and spits in his face as he growls. “What have you done to my wife?”

“Aww, is that any way to greet an old buddy? It hasn’t even been what, ten hours since we’ve last seen each other right? You must really miss my company,” V coos.

Jimin scowls at the playful smirk that V shoots at him before shoving him back onto the chair. “What is your motive? What do you want from me?”

V struggles for a short while to get back properly in his chair, settling his triple handcuffed hands on the table in front of them. “Now, now. You can’t barge in here expecting answers to questions I don’t want to answer,” V smiles, idly scratching his fingers along the surface of the table. “Have a seat, Jimin. It’s been awhile since I’ve sat across from you, yeah? I don’t get to look at you properly, those news photos don’t seem to do you justice. You’ve gotten handsomer. Tired, but handsomer.”

“Cut the crap, V. Why is my wife acting like this?”

V sighs, “Don’t call me by that name. We know each other more personally than that, call me what you used to, Jiminie!”

Jimin clenches his jaw, and reiterates, “Taehyung, why is my wife taking your place in terrorizing this city?”

Taehyung frowns, “That’s not the nickname. I used to be Tae-tae. But you can correct that later, I suppose.” He rattles the handcuffs restricting him briefly, before continuing, “Your dearly beloved is acting as such because I hypnotized her. In the event that she hears me call for ‘the Suspense’, she will fulfill my place as the resident evil in my absence.”

Jimin slams a hand on the table. “How dare you lay a hand on my wife, you bastard! When did you meet my wife and how?”

Taehyung flinches before bitterly smiling. “Incredible. You’ve never been mad at me before, even when I stole all the money from the main city bank. Girls can really change a man, can’t they?” He chuckles, but they slowly die off when Jimin remained glaring at him. “Okay, well, it was quite easy, you see-”

It had happened a few months prior, when Taehyung was becoming a little bored with his everyday routine. Sure, it was all fun and games toying around with the city’s superhero every week, but he needed a little bit of spice to his shenanigans. He was scrolling through his phone, ready to play his favorite game, Cooking Mama 3, before the thought spawned upon him. If he’s getting bored with his life, what if that means that Jimin is getting bored of him as well? No, no, no. That wouldn’t do. He can’t have that.

Taehyung closed his eyes, thinking of what he could possibly do to keep Jimin focused and dedicated to fighting him. He was about to doze off in his reclining chair before shooting up out of his seat.

Oh yes. The best idea he’s had yet.

And it involved Jimin’s precious wife.

He followed you from your workplace one day, noticing how you frequently visited this one pastry cafe. The next day, he made sure to be there just after you entered, and he ordered the quickest thing that he could get - a coffee. As soon as he got his order, he headed towards you, sitting alone at the table waiting for your pastry to arrive.

“Um, excuse me,” Taehyung started, waiting for you to look up from your phone. “Hi, uh, I was wondering if I could have a seat here? All the tables are full and I just wanted a place to settle down and enjoy my cup of joe.” He made a point to look around to indicate that yes, the cafe was packed of customers who equally just got off of work.

“Yeah, no problem,” you smiled. You settled back in your chair to allow him more room to place his coffee on the table. Your analyzing stare at the new stranger lingers a little too long on his sharp features that couldn’t stay hidden under his red rimmed glasses.

“Thanks!” Taehyung gingerly placed his coffee on the table, tugging at the collar of his wool sweater, which he wore to look especially harmless. “What brings you over here? I feel like I come here often but I don’t see you around.”

“Sometimes I like to grab a snack on the way home, and this place has absolutely the most delicious scones I’ve ever tasted.” You placed your phone on the table, giving him your attention. “I don’t think I’ve seen you either, but then again, I normally just go in and out. I think they’re making a new batch of pastries right now, which is why it’s taking so long.”

“That’s even better though, right? Fresh pastry tastes better than the ones from the morning.”

You giggle, “yeah, it does. I guess I felt a little antsy because it’s so crowded in here.”

Taehyung chuckled along, trying his best not to sound forced. “I know, I wonder what all the commotion is. Had I known, I probably would have had my coffee elsewhere.”

“Do you normally have coffee in the afternoon? It’s a bit late for you to drink caffeine, isn’t it?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened a bit, mind reeling blank before he regained his composure. “For some, yeah, but I just need my regular fix that helps me stay awake the rest of the day.” He reached for some sugar packets and began pouring some into his coffee. “My name’s Jack by the way, and you are…”

“Oh, I’m so rude! Sorry, my name’s Y/N. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jack…”

“...Daniels.”

“Jack Daniels?” You laughed. “That’s so funny has anyone ever-”

“Yeah, I get it all the time,” Taehyung monotonously interrupted, figuring it was time for Evil Plan #537 to commence. He began to scratch his index finger back and forth on the table, seemly doing it unconsciously. “You know, drinking coffee here makes me feel so... relaxed. Even though it’s so crowded in here.”

You stare at his finger for a brief moment before turning your head to face him. “Really? Most people tell me that it makes them jittery.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, keeping a steady pace of his fingers and maintaining the pace of his words slow and soft, “yeah. It makes me a little dazed. A little tired. I guess that’s what happens when you drink it in such a calm atmosphere. But I love the coffee here, it’s so nice. So warm.”

“I didn’t know their coffee would taste that great quite honestly…” your sentence drifts off, you mind tuned to the constant rhythm of his fingers gliding back and forth on the table, the sharp sliding sounds distracting you. At last, your eyes linger onto his fingers, your pupils dilating.

“I really enjoy it, especially in your company.” Taehyung’s voice drops to a mere whisper. “Sometimes, when I drink it alone, my eyes get all droopy… and it gets a little hard to breathe. I need to take long, big inhales whenever I drink this coffee.”

Your breath comes slower, and you don’t even realize that you’re mimicking the way he’s breathing.

“I feel like I can do anything when I’m in your company, you’re pleasant to be around. Do you think I’m a pleasant company, too?”

You hummed, but by then, your mind is zoned out.

When he’s sure that he’s got her mind entranced, he lowly says, “your company is so nice, I would be always willing to help you. And of course, you would like to help me too.”

You didn’t give any response, you simply continued to stare at his fingers. “Nod once if you will do exactly as I say.” Taehyung observed you ever so slightly nod your head, and grinned. “Perfect.” He reached over and turned off your cell phone on the table.

He continued, “When you hear me say the phrase, ‘isn’t that right, my spectacular protege, Suspense’, you will assume my position as villain and carry out my evil tasks to the city. You will not stop for anyone or adhere to whatever anyone says, not even your husband. You will do so until you hear this one word…” Taehyung leans in to whisper it into your ear. “Nod once if you understand.”

You nodded.

“Here are your instructions for when you assume my position, and you must follow them carefully…”

Taehyung spent the next two hours divulging the plans he wished for you to fulfill and in what order. He let you know where his headquarters were for you to prepare your evil deeds and other than allowing the public to know about how you were his successor - but, you couldn’t provide any more information. “When I say the word unicycle, you will snap out of your trance. You will awaken yourself back into the nice, dainty cafe we’re having a nice conversation in. Unicycle.”

You blinked your eyes, shaking your head before refocusing your vision to the man in front of you, who was rambling about something.

“...in conclusion, I honest to god think that unicycles are the most underrated mode of transportation.”

“What?” you mumbled. There was a gap in your memory, and you couldn’t remember what you last spoke to Jack about. You nursed your hand to the back of your head, feeling an oncoming headache.

“Anyways, it has surely been a pleasure meeting you, and I hope to see you again in the near future.” Taehyung stood from his seat and gently bowed his head before leaving the cafe.

Confused of what just happened, you stared blankly at the pastry that was set in front of you - wait when did that happen - and the cup of coffee left untouched where the stranger previously sat.

“You piece of shit,” Jimin muttered, his gaze unwavering cold to Taehyung, who is the slightest unaffected.

“Wow, you’re starting to sound like my parents. You’ve got the wording and the looks on point,” Taehyung comments, a quirk of his eyebrow has Jimin reeling.

“What was the word.” It wasn’t a question, no, Jimin was commanding.

“I’ve answered too much for my liking,” Taehyung pouted. “Darn me and my oversharing mouth. Be careful, Jiminie. Be nice or you won’t go anywhere. But, as a small parting gift for you paying me a friendly visit, I’ll reciprocate your affections with a hint.”

Taehyung gestures for Jimin to lean in closer. Jimin reluctantly adheres, and Taehyung whispers hotly into Jimin’s ear, “It’s a totally random and nonrandom word.”

“Fuck you, Taehyung,” Jimin growls, and pushes the fiend away from him.

“Toodle-loo, best friend!” Taehyung hollers as Jimin storms out of the room.

“Carrot! Asparagus! Celery! Broccoli!” Jimin exclaimed, reiterating Namjoon’s voice in his bluetooth and struggling to hear the list Namjoon is screaming in his ear. Well, it’s a little hard when you’re chasing him from behind with thousands of knives loaded on the waistband of your pants (and how did you not hurt yourself wearing that contraption).

“Today’s soup of the day is vegetables ladies and gentlemen! Tuesday’s theme was furniture, what will next week’s be?” You hollered, maniacally laughing when Jimin almost trips on a fallen chair.

“C’mon, honey. Put down those knives and just come home,” Jimin pleaded, dodging his head as another knife whizzed by. “That wasn’t nice,” he pouted.

“Sorry sweet cheeks, I’m eliminate anyone who stands in my way. Stop trying, this is the 7th day already.” You threw a knife dangerously close to his head, and cackled at the sound of his terrified shriek of surprise. It was comically hilarious and gratifying. “I guess you could say the Suspense is killing you, huh?”

“Good God,” Jimin muttered in exasperation. He understood why Taehyung named you as such, that cheeky, punny, son of a gun. “When did you become so skilled at throwing sharp objects?”

You reached behind you, latching your fingers on the last two knives you had hidden away. Damn, you needed more, and quick. “I’ve always had great accuracy. You’re just too full of yourself to notice.”

Jimin dodged another knife, briefly squeaking “Potato!” as fear encapsulated him; your aims are progressively improving. “Ouch, baby. Didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

You sneered, “you think you’re perfect?” You threw your last one and painfully watched it miss his shoulder by a hairline. Glancing around quickly, you lunged for a pair of scissors haphazardly fallen into a heap of office supplies.

A heavy weight thrusted upon you, slamming you into the ground on your back. “Shit.” You instantly moved to get up by your arms but they were restricted in Jimin’s grasp. “Let me go,” you strained, tugging to yank your arms out but to no avail.

“What were you trying to do? Huh? This is a paper company office building.” Jimin grunted, forcibly struggling to hold his wife down despite his whole body pressing her into the ground. Had she always been so strong?

“Light it on fire.” You smirked, shifting your hands around to feel the pair of scissors that were near you. Looking to your right, you froze when you realized the pair of scissors were no longer there. Jimin forced your hands above your head to hold with one hand.

“Looking for these scissors?”

You glared back at Jimin; the disappearing office supply made an appearance between his fingers.

Jimin tossed the scissors far across the room, and turned back to his wife. “Y/N, please wake up,” he begged.

“I don’t know any Y/N,” you growled. “I am the Suspense.”

You kicked your knees directly towards his family jewels, and quickly crawled away from him when he flinched away from you and loosened his grip. Quickly getting back to your feet, you sprinted towards the windows before breaking through the glass, falling down 14 stories.

Scrambling to his feet, he ran to the edge of the building where the window broke.

You were gone.

Is it a little odd that he secretly looked forward to his battles with you? Yes, every new and unknown evil deed that you had planned that day would worry him, but at least he knew you were okay, as demented as that was. It was his only time that he could see you, bask in your presence for a second before there’s a stink bomb flying his way.

It was the ass crack of dawn, and the skies lit up to a dim gray, filtering more light into the cold room. Jimin snuggles further into the warmth of the comforter, thinking too much of another warmth he could be having. Could he just turn off the air conditioner? Yes, but was he lazy? Also yes.

His hands linger to the side of the bed that you usually sleep on, his bottom lip quivering feeling the emptiness of the bed. Of the random conversations he had with you late at night, the light giggle you’d give when he nuzzles into your neck - all of you. He missed you. Sure, he got to see you every week, but he doesn’t get to hold you, to love you.

How were you? What were you doing? Did you still miss him even though you wanted to kill him?

He knows the Chief of Police is disappointed in him, is on edge and ready to reprimand Jimin for not fully putting in his best effort to capture you once and for all. He knows that he could’ve caught you at any time - heck, everyone knew it.

But he also knows the kind of place that all the villains are put into. They aren’t kind to them. They aren’t accommodating to them. They will definitely not leave his wife unharmed in their special hammer.

He hoped and prayed that he figures out that god damn word that will bring his wife back to him and to give the city their final state of peace.

He didn’t realize he started crying until the uncomfortable feeling of dry tear runs stiffen his face.

“Food delivery for Park Jimin,” the mailman states as he ambles through the office.

“I don’t remember ordering any…” Jimin states, but after noticing the logo of his favorite take-out restaurant, he concedes, “but if it’s for me, how could I deny it?” He hastily makes grabby hands for the food, happy that he has extra food to munch on during his lunch break.

He opens the container, taking a huge whiff of the tantalizing scent before he grabs a spoonful of oily sesame chicken. He lets out a hum of approval before he chokes, and he immediately spits out the food into his trash can, coughing profusely.

“Hey, are you alright?” The officer in the desk near him peers over in curiosity.

“There was something in there that didn’t taste right, it tasted like straight up pesticide or something.” Jimin chugs down a bottle of water when he notices a small slip of paper peeking out from under the take out box.

If you die, fantastic. If you don’t, at least I know I didn’t marry a moron. Love, your wife.

“Holy shit,” Jimin whispered. You tried to poison him.

“Park Jimin, over here!”

“Mr. Park! What are your opinions on the city’s allocation of funds?”

“Mr. Park, what’s your comment?”

Jimin sighs internally and focuses his attention to the left, pointing to the nearest person. “You there, in the green jacket.” Probably an easy question, he thinks to himself.

“Mr. Park, what do you have to say about the newest rival that has resumed the spot of V? Does this mysterious villain pose a greater threat?”

“Because she’s my wife.”

“Maaaaan, you done fucked up.”

“You think I don’t know that? You son of a bitch,” Jimin curses, turning down the volume of his earpiece now that he wasn’t in a public area. He slouches against the backseat of his car, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m getting so emotional these days, and it’s messing up my game.”

“More like your wife is messing up your game, but not in a good way,” the voice on the other end chuckles. “Anyways, after you get back to your place, could you double check the amount of arms you got in your place for me? I got the numbers in front of me but some aren’t adding up. Might be a miscount.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimin mumbles. “Thanks, Namjoon. Who else will keep me on my feet if it weren’t for you rambling in my ear, huh?” “You say that like all I am is just your hacker tech guy. I thought I was more than that.”

Jimin smiles, knowing that Namjoon is probably sporting his puppy dog pout even though Jimin can’t see him.

“Sorry man,” Jimin joked, “but I’m already married.”

“About that, are we still sticking with the same plan? Randomly guessing your way to un-hypnotize your wife?”

“I mean, what else do you want me to do? Turn my wife into prison? You know they send all the villains into the worst prison, and my baby doesn’t deserve that.”

“There’s over a billion words that he could’ve used, Jimin. We’ve only gotten like a couple hundred at best.

“Then we keep trying,” Jimin growled, becoming more irritated. “If you wanna give up, then fine, but the wellbeing of my wife is in my hands so I’d rather you just stop chastising me for wanting my wife back to normal. I’ll call you later.”

Jimin immediately turned off his earpiece and harshly sighed. He’s got to test his luck again.

Jimin sat across from Taehyung and tilted his head. “You can’t possibly enjoy having someone else take all the glory for evil crimes if it’s not yourself, right? Dude, just stop and give me the magic word and we can go back to physically duelling each other.”

“Mmm, nah. I can see you’re trying to appeal to me, and I’d hate to break it to you, but that’s just not working. I quite enjoy the idea of you suffering because of me as I do nothing. It’s quite divine.”

“How can I cut you a deal so I can finally leave with what I want here?”

Taehyung tilts his head and looks up at the ceiling, pretending to think about what he wants before he grins wickedly at Jimin.

Jimin gulps, unprepared for what dangerous thing he may possibly want. A nuclear weapon? Full access to the government’s trade secrets?

“I want all the seasons of the Bachelorette and ongoing forward to be saved on my television in my cell.”

“The nature of your request is outrageou- wait, what?” Jimin backtracks, processing what Taehyung asked.

“You heard me properly. The guards are big meanies and they won’t let me change the channel or record the latest season of the Bachelorette. I need to know who the final two people will be before she chooses. I am frustrated.” Taehyung proceeds to shoot a glare at the guard outside the door.

“Deal…?”

“Here’s one good hint, Jimin. I think you’ll want to figure out a way to save your dearest betrothed by the end of this week.”

“And that’s because?”

“Well, I didn’t have time to finish planning more elaborate schemes for her fulfill, and let's say this might be the final one.”

“... what happens in the final one?”

“Well, the location is up to her discretion, but it may or may not involve collapsing a bridge or building, and she may or may not have to sacrifice her life to accomplish that task.”

“MY WIFE IS GOING TO DIE?”

“Maybe...I said maybe.”

Jimin leans forward until his face is just a mere inch away from Taehyung’s. “JUST TELL ME THE FUCKING WORD OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER, V. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT POWERS I HAVE TO END YOU.”

Taehyung ignores his yelling and the disgusting amount of spit landing on his face. “Do you remember our childhood, Jimin? We used to be such cute little bastards.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Jimin mutters, kicking his seat to the side and turning to leave.

“But Jimin, think about it for a moment with me. We used to have so much fun together. We used to play detective and criminal during recess, and I’m not going to lie, you weren’t a very good detective. I had to basically out myself every time for you to find me.”

Jimin turns his head. “Why would this matter to me?”

“We used to be best friends, Jiminie. You’re still my best friend. Aren’t I still yours?”

“I don’t know if mortal enemies can be best friends anymore, Taehyung.” Jimin mutters, but he still doesn’t leave.

“But you haven’t killed me,” Taehyung sputtered, “and there had been so many opportunities in the past where I could’ve just died, but you still managed to save me. I know you still care about me.”

“It goes against my morality to kill people. It’s nothing personal.”

“Don’t say that.” Taehyung’s voice cracked, but he continued, “Don’t say that. I know I mean something to you, I know I matter to you.”

“You matter to me because you keep vandalizing the city, putting the public’s safety at risk!” Jimin roars, turning back around and slamming his hands on the table. “As a hero, would it make sense for me to just ignore that?”

“It’s all because of you! This is all your fault!”

“All of my fault?” Jimin scoffed, “now you’re just reaching. How can I be the reason the city is in peril?”

“You stopped talking to me,” Taehyung whimpers. “When we got older, you started spending time with other people. You told me that you would still hang out with me, but you never did, because you were out there making new best friends!” Taehyung’s eyes watered, and he turned his head away from Jimin for the first time. “I was so lonely, Jimin. You are my only friend.”

Jimin stared at Taehyung for a while, the gears slowly churning in his head. Incredulous with the outcome of his thoughts, he murmured, “is that why you’ve been terrorizing the city? Is that your way of hanging out with me?”

“Well, I… I would’ve done it regardless. But I stayed in this city so that you wouldn’t forget me. I can’t have my best friend forget me,” Taehyung spoke softly. He looked back at Jimin with wide eyes, afraid that that moment would be the moment Jimin gave up on him.

Jimin took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again, the words stuck in his throat.

Taehyung watched as his old friend open and close his mouth like a fish, and for the first time in a long time, Taehyung felt nervous.

“That’s a really convoluted way to maintain our friendship,” he finally says. Taehyung lowers his eyes to the table, pretending that didn’t hurt him. “I do what I can to keep your attention, I had no other long lasting options other than using your job and your wife.”

“Taehyung,” Jimin started, “if I start coming by here twice a month to spend time with you, will you stop hurting my city?”

Taehyung’s head hangs low, but he nods ever so slightly.

“And will you tell me what the word is to save my wife?”

Taehyung hesitates, “I think my favorite game between us was the detective and criminal one.”

“Not this again,” Jimin groans, pushing himself away from the table.

“We used to have so many names to call each other during those times, but you and your limited vocabulary, you kept calling me the same damn stupid thing. I, an intellectual far past your capabilities, had the best and diverse names. But either way, sometimes I knew that you grew tired of the game really fast, even though I loved it.” Taehyung chuckled to himself.

Jimin left the room, tired of his antics and feeling like his confrontation led him somewhere and nowhere. Just as the door was closing and he was only within earshot, he faintly heard the last sentence Taehyung stated.

“You still played it anyways; thank you, Jiminie.”

Jimin plopped on his mattress, staring at the ceiling in exasperation. You may or may not be dying by the end of tomorrow, and for that, he is wary. Taehyung gave him little to no clues at all, and he wondered what he’d truly done wrong in this world to receive such predicament.

He closed him eyes, breathing deeply to relax the growing. He thought back to his conversations with Taehyung, breezing through them with no tell-tale hint in sight. He goes through it over and over, until one detail speaks out to him.

Taehyung mentioned the criminal and detective game more than once.

‘We used to have so many names to call each other during those times, but you and your limited vocabulary, you kept calling me the same damn stupid thing.’

The answer he was looking for was given to him after all. Was it that nickname? Jimin furrowed his eyebrows, thinking hard about their old childhood, but he could vaguely remember something from at least 20 years ago. He only remembers images of playing around with Taehyung under the slides, but never what he said.

What could it be? What could it be? Dinglebat…? No, it couldn’t have been.

Jimin yanked at the roots of his hair in frustration, feeling the answer at the tip of his tongue, but not quite there. His phone vibrated in his back pocket, startling him momentarily before he reached for it. “Yes?”

“Hey, Jimin,” Namjoon said, typing in the background. “Any updates?”

“My wife is going to die tomorrow.”

A beat of silence passed. “Well, that’s a little negative, don’t you think?”

“No, Namjoon,” Jimin sighed, “I spoke with V today. It turns out tomorrow will be the day that she will have to die in order to blow up some building or bridge.”

“Oh shit,” Namjoon whispered.

“Yeah,” Jimin affirmed. “I don’t know where though, can you look up some major bridges or buildings nearby that may have been scouted by her?”

“Sure thing, dude.” Jimin waited patiently as the furious clicking and typing resumed, standing up with the phone nestled between his shoulder and ear as he sifted through files on his desk. “Okay, so we have the big ole water tower, the channel news building, city hall, the Blue Bridge - oh my god.”

“What, what is it?” Jimin examined the photo of his wife aiming a gun at him. It’s totally living room wall worthy.

“Get your stuff ready; Y/N is already there setting up machinery along the bridge. If what you’re saying is right, then those are probably bombs.” Jimin cursed before speeding out the door.

You check the fourth bomb that was set up along the bridge, the wiring complex and you couldn’t risk the bomb being improperly wired. How embarrassing would it be if one of your impressive bombs just fizzed into smoke because the blue connected with the red and not the green? You reached into the depths of your Duffle Bag of Cool Gadgets, as V so eloquently labeled it and double checked the instructions manual V so artistically drew out.

To be quite fair, the manual was detailed down to the T, save for the fact one of the pages had a a very detailed phallic in the corner, but you had disregarded that.

Humming to yourself, you decided that the bomb looked fairly decent, and settled to move to the next step - building a bomb on your body.

It never crossed your mind that the severity of the situation and that you were going to die would be something to panic about. You felt that you were in a mindless zone to follow the handbook that V had made for you when you arrived in his secret lair. You went through each mission in order, but not stopping to realize that this one was going to be the last one.

Your skin itched, the worn elastic of your bodysuit was uncomfortable, but it also may be due to the fact that you didn’t wash it from the last battle. Fishing through your duffle bag for extra wiring, the influx of traffic that busied the bridge blocked your hearing of a certain someone flying by.

Jimin surveilled the scene, noting that you were awfully distracted and your senses drowned by the honking of cars. There were six bombs in total, and two of the ones in the middle looked awfully larger than the rest.

“You see what I’m seeing, Namjoon?” The static of the other line echoed in his bluetooth.

“Yeah, man. This is scary. Judging by the build and the amount, they’ll probably detonate all at once with a button. As long as you get a handle of it, and I’ll get all the cars off the bridge, you’d be on solid ground.”

“Thanks, man.” Coming to a stop a good 20 feet away from you, he shouted, “Y/N! Stop what you’re doing!”

You groaned at the familiar sound before turning to face him. “Suddenly, I stop what I’m doing because a lame ass in a cape told me to!” You press the watch on your wrist that activates the jet packs attached to your shoes and you fly up to face him head on.

“Shoo fly, stop bothering me.” You take out the gun strapped to the back of your leg and shoot tennis balls at him.

“Shit,” Jimin mutters before dodging your attacks. “Why do you like to throw things at me so much!” Jimin cried. A tennis ball lands right where his goods were, and of course you would always aim balls at his balls. He topples to the ground, skidding a few meters, deliberating between clutching his hurt shoulder from the impact or his crotch.

Thankfully, by then, Namjoon contacted the local police to block the entrances on the bridge, clearing citizens from any harm. Police stood by with their guns ready to fire when given the command, but with so many bombs around, they couldn’t risk misfiring.

“These balls are calibrated to fire at 110 miles per hour,” you smirked, blowing the tip of the barrel for good measure. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” Deciding to forego assembling the bomb vest, you swept back to the barrel, locating the detonator remote to get the deed over with.

Finally grasping the remote, you were half a second away from pushing the sole red button when Jimin’s body comes slamming into you, once again, knocking the remote out of your hands.

“Oh, fuck you!” You pushed at his shoulders and punched him square in the nose. Depending on the short amount of time his shock allowed, you kicked at his torso to remove him off of you and clamored towards the remote some feet away.

Jimin gasps at the sharp pain on his left ankle; much to his dismay, when you pushed him off his foot caught in a juncture in the cement and twisted his ankle. He grunted, maneuvering his body to crawl towards to you. He yanked at your ankles, dragging you back to him, attempting to pin you down. “Stop it!” Jimin’s mind reeled as he struggled to recollect the nickname he used to call Taehyung. “Stop, dinglebat!”

You wriggled in his grasp, making his efforts more difficult and scoffed, “oh, so now we’re calling each other names?”

You back elbowed him in the jaw, and crawled faster, more desperately to the detonator. You were so close, you just needed a little more.

“No, ninnyhammer!”

The remote in your grasp, you smiled victoriously and tilted your head to see the fear in Jimin’s eyes as he limped towards you. You pressed the button, waiting in the few seconds for the bombs to activate.

In that moment, it was almost as if Jimin’s mind cleared, and he yelled, “PINHEAD! PINHEAD! PINHEAD!”

You froze, the remote dropping from your hands as you slowly regained control of your mind. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your body collapsed to the ground as all your energy fell from you, giving you a nice sideways view of Jimin screaming at you and just barely reaching you -

The ground collapsed beneath you, the bridge exploding to smithereens and you were falling.

There was debris around you and you registered that you were falling. You were falling. You were falling. Panic swallowing your body, you frantically pressed the button on your watch to activate the jet packs but to no avail.

“Y/N!” Jimin yelled, falling briefly before he started to fly again, this time flying straight towards you.

Gravity proved to be a much faster competition, and you plummeted into the depths of the dark blue lake.

Diving into the water, Jimin swam amidst the dust filled water until he saw you sinking deeper into the lake. He swam fervently towards you, grabbing your arm and yanking you into his grasp, holding you as if he were hugging you before he floated upwards. Once above water, he propelled himself upwards and flew the both of you to land.

Placing you on your side on the grass hill beside the lake, Jimin forcefully patted your back to help drain any water from your nose and mouth. “Y/N! Y/N! WAKE UP!” Jimin’s heart crushed seeing the gash on the side of your head, presumably from a large chunk of debris colliding into you. He turned you back on your back and listened for a pulse. Hearing the faint beating of your heart relieved only a small part of him as he immediately propped open your mouth and pinched your nose with trembling hands. Taking in a long, shaking inhale, he pressed his mouth to yours, exhaling four breaths of air and checking your pulse once more. He repeated the cycle over and over until your eyes fluttered open and you violently coughed.

“Y/N,” Jimin spoke softly, lifting the back of your head gently to help you. Your eyes blurring and your throat and lungs burning with soreness, you made out the shape of Jimin hovering above you, watching as he’s sobbing and stroking your cheeks.

“Hi... Jimin,” you croaked, tilting the corners of your mouth when he envelopes your body in a hug, careful not to hurt you and burying his face into your neck.

“You’re back,” Jimin cries, “you’re back.”

#cmbnetwork #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jimin fluff #bts imagine #jimin imagine #jiminxreader #jimin #bts #i hope yall like this fic!!! it took me 5ever

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tempestshakes01 · 6 years

Text

3/24/19

Here’s another entry in this embarrassing public online diary (I love it.):

Health: 4/10

The weird cough is still lingering, but now it’s gotten a bit worse in the daytime. I’m still hacking up mucus until I vomit (or moan and cry to NOT vomit because I just ate and I’d rather NOT throw up a bacon burger, thanks) and it’s fuckin miserable. I’m worried that if this lasts, I’ll have to fly like this and my flight is an overnighter--prime cough/nausea/vomit hours. UGH.

Other than the cough and my persistent jaw acne, I’m the perfect picture of health. I feel great.

Well, no. My ass has a massive bruise because yesterday I slipped down Leah’s stairs (wood laminate is slippery as hell in socks!) running to the bathroom to...ugh...puke up a glob of mucus and bits of burger.

But other than that!

Work: 7/10

I still feel like I did something wrong and no one is telling me. I’m friendlier and peppier now that the winter blues (read: depression) are slipping away with the sunny skies and warmer weather (all that snow--16 inches on the ground at the start of the month--melting), but I think the damage is done.

Except, other than not being super chatty, I’m not sure what the damage is. The only admin that’s normal is the principal. We’re getting along great! A few colleagues are still the same including Mr. Married Lumberjack whom I had a crush on.

I’m probably paranoid though. I’m also bored out of my mind. Things are smooth for 85% of the time and that’s...great, but also...it’s too smooth and I feel judged doing more because Veronica is gone.

Okay, so that most likely makes no sense, but it’s how I feel.

Home: 9.5/10

Things are superb with my parents. I’m headed to D.C. with my mom next week (along with every 8th grader in America...I’m so stupid...) and we’re going to try to keep it as civil as possible when it comes to politics. My dad is texting, but not smothering me with attention. In fact, I should call him more.

My sister seems to be doing...the same. Lots of astrology posts on the gram, but no mention of Paris (her potentially mentally-ill ex) so that’s a relief. The kids are doing great as well. Nick and I are texting more often. He even asked my advice about our parents which was new. I want to ask him about Alyssa because I’m still utterly curious about that situation, but I know he’s still hurting over it and the fact that he had a “quarter-life” crisis when he was working 50+ hours, going to school full time, and interning at the church. He’s decided to graduate as quickly as possible, quit the preacher path, and stay in the coffee game.

Apparently, he got a promotion and a raise, so he’s making really great money. Plus, he’s like...super passionate about coffee. More passionate than he ever seemed about Jesus or school.

We’re currently fighting about NCAA brackets and our current favorite music, and it’s great.

Friends: 6/10

Reconnecting with Jack and Nicol is super nice. I just don’t know how to proceed and how quickly and if I’m an annoyance. I also want Nicol without Jack as well, but I don’t want to offend either of them (not that I think it would! but the chance makes me hesitate...) and they’re such a partnership that I wonder if it IS a big request to separate them.

We went to see Us today and I didn’t like it very much. We’re going to see Back to the Future on Tuesday at the old theater. They invited me to the former; I invited them to the latter. I trust this will all work out.

Gosh, and I don’t trust Leah at ALL which is wild because I probably hang out with her the most out of anyone, but yeah. There’s something about that girl that I don’t trust.

Went on Facebook and saw a photo of my childhood best friends (we were a trio: Valerie, Kristina, and I). They were on a backpacking trip together in Alaska. They live entirely different lives, but they still maintained a great friendship over the years. God, and they went into chemical engineering so they’re both making BANK, but they’re the most down-to-earth women.

I don’t know...I guess it makes me think...for the billionth time...how different my life would be if we’d never moved from El Paso.

El Paso was idyllic. My childhood consisted of bike rides out into the desert, street games with a plethora of neighborhood boys, summer secrets and stars, theme parks and athletics, best friends who were boys that I knew I could fall in love with, best friends who were girls and I knew I could trust with my whole heart. I lived a good life there.

When I left, things started to peel apart, but it sort of seemed--for the most part--most of the El Paso crew grew up in the same way they had been...in that easy, perfect sunset sort of way. Most everyone I grew up with went Homecoming and Prom and did senior sunrise and went to good schools where they did the greek life and then got jobs in the sciences or medicine or moved out to Hollywood. They’re utterly normal and successful now in a very...the way they tell you things will go in life.

Anyway, that childhood best friend I thought I could fall in love with? Went through a long-haired rave phase circa 2012/13, but is currently dating a white girl who wears cowboy boots, no makeup, and studies sports medicine in the same grad program as him. It’s the way things were supposed to be and it’s just weird to see their lives (through the filter and lens of social media) go so simply. Also, his hairline is going and he looks bloated, so the white-half is coming for him in the aging process, ha. His Mexican mom still looks BOMB, so poor guy for inheriting his dad’s hair follicles.

And anyway, that childhood best friend I could trust with my whole heart? Dating a republican future politician named John Smith and traveling South American for the next couple weeks working in various hospital and women’s health care. She’s a nurse and probably a damn good one. She got her boobs done a couple years ago and I sometimes wonder if we’d still get along.

Media: 5/10

This is a bullshit category just to give a VM hot-takes, but I’ll play into my own bullshit.

I’m not watching any TV except B99. I watch about 3 movies a week and I try to make 1 a classic or a “difficult” title. I watch mostly youtube, to be honest. I like Hot Ones, Bon Appetit, Jenna Marbles, theTryGuys, Tasty, Brave Wilderness, Millenium Dance Complex ‘n’ adjacent choreographers’ channels, and various media video essays.

I’m reading a lot of books...but they’re all YA. Which isn’t bad! I’m just laughing that it took me reading Airborn by Kenneth Oppel (my favorite adventure YA book) out loud to the students to remind my dumb reading brain how fun books could be. Apparently, I’m a fantastic reader and I do wonderful voice and I make the story seem like a movie. We’re on the sequel and I’m about to start the His Dark Materials series.

That Worlds podium? TRASH. Justice for S/B.

Yeah, so I’m on a VM cleanse, right? Cause with the winter and all the crazy, it was just an unhealthy piece of media in my life. I miss the GC though, but that’s about it, lol. Oh, and with the new content (I tried to resist!) it’s clear that I did miss them doing their thing and I need to unload some of the thoughts whirling in my head.

Ugh, I have thoughts about the whole timeline of events because I see people questioning or backtracking, and I’m like? We seriously went through an awful series of events that made all the previous weirdness make sense (but left lingering brand-new weirdness). Except that’ll just bring back old feelings that I’m trying to move on from.

Geez, I can’t believe I’m about to talk about them in a gossip-y way again, but uh, I’m glad that they seem to be repairing their friendship and that Scott legit looked happy. The vibes are definitely friendship so far, or like, 2015-vibes. Which who knows where that will lead in the future? Will they do things messy like last Fall/Winter? Do they think they can try again or are they now afraid of fucking this up so badly they can’t come back from it? Are they going to accept each other as only friends and maintain those boundaries? You love me, real or not real? WHO KNOWS. I hate this ride.

Also, I’m aware of some of the gossip because I’m fool who caves from time to time for a few minutes and I remember (god, again, I hate that I’m still invested even with this time off) that J was selling her Coachella tickets, and now it’s been announced that VM are doing that show in Korea which takes place the same days as a Coachella weekend. So. Yeah. I’m putting my money on J being in Korea because why sell the tickets (just take a friend), but I’m also still wondering if this is all going to end up like Klawes-era.

Literally, I wake up believing 100% that J’s gonna be the one Scott’s going to marry because it’s just that time. Then, I go to sleep 98% believing that no matter what, somehow, someway, Tessa and Scott are going to end up together.

inTERSTIngLY, I have neglected to message Tinder matches the past couple weeks and I believe 50% of the time that I’m going to end up alone because I’m not even trying. (Cut me some slack though. I haven’t had an acne flare-up this bad in years and it’s wrecking my confidence.)

Music: 10/10

I take hour drives out of town and find obscure trails and I hike for an hour...and let me tell you my Spotify is killing it.

Current favorite songs:

How Do You Know - CALIPH (you know what I’m thinking)

Stone Street - MS. WHITE (fun)

anything from Oliver Tree (his music speaks to me as does his fucking stupid meme humor)

Wow. - POST MALONE (sue me)

anything from Duckrth (so much fun)

Charms - ABEL KORZENIOWSKI (don’t imagine VM dancing to this)

The Cheek of Night - ABEL KORZENIOWSKI

Sucks - ANGELO MOTA (dark and atmospheric hip hop that makes me wish I could dance cause it’s calling to me to choreograph something to it)

bury a friend - BILLIE EILISH (lol I can’t dance, but I’m learning Kodish choreo for this as a workout)

Beverly Blues - OPIA (a summer jam)

#miranda this is your life

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