#im thinking of a few people to give it to but if they decline guess ill die

[dreamofjoys]

Hi! If the requests are still avable, can I ask for Malleus x f!MC who remain forgotten by the dorm leaders on a road trip, at a gas station on the way to idk amusement park or Disney land or a beach, In which it turns out into a makeout. Idk Something like this: Azul:.... I feel like we forgot something

Kalim: Can I speak now?

Leona: If you gonna ask are we there yet for the HUNDRED TIM-

Kalim: You guys forgot Malleus and MC at the last gas station

All dorm leaders :.....

Meanwhile:~~

Malleus and MC makeout at the back of the gas station

If you want to do it, or you can just ignore it if you don't like it. I thought it would be funny. Btw its my first time I ask you a request, and I really like your posts, all of them! 😍🥰🥺👏🙏

anon-☕

a/n: anon we need more people like you 😍 this is so FUNNY I CANT OWBOWBWOWW I chose disneyland park for the trip. and this is au, malleus and mc has a crush on each other, but has yet to confess until they got dumped alone in the gas station. this got extremely long, smut is at the bottom.

I changed dormleader to housewarden

how the trip to disneyland came about

it was definitely NOT crowley’s idea, there’s no way that bird man will allow a group of students to go on a vacation (he needs y’all to stay nice and quiet in nrc to handle the problems while hes the one sneaking out for vacation)

it was kalim who proposed to hold a vacation trip to disneyland park with just the housewardens, including you; i mean think about it, you are technically a house warden too. except your members is just grim and a few dead people aka ghost

and how could that bird man decline kalim? hes literally the son of THE ASIM family, who has donated tons of money to school

crowley could only seal his lips shut, give a stamp of approval to the vacation trip, that is fully funded by kalim’s family

someone needs to smack crowley on the face lol how could you not sponsor your own students-

anyways, all housewardens (including you and yes malleus) were invited to this trip

how the housewardens prepare themself for the trip

riddle: he reads every single rule that is stated by disneyland park. had them memorised in his brain. definitely ready to collar anyone who breaks any rule (thought im not sure if he is strong enough to collar another housewarden. hes probably the most junior in this trip, even azul has.. some more patience than him i guess). he packs a few essentials like water bottle and wallet.

leona: ok look, he doesn’t want to go at first. disneyland park? he thinks that it’s a children thing. he ain’t gonna be a little cub running around, trying out different type of rides. that’s more like a cheka thing. he ain’t cheka, hes a big and strong man- ends up agreeing to go after being persuaded by kalim many many times. his plan is just to sleep through the car ride, go there and eat some meat, and sleep in the car again until he reaches back to nrc. probably doesn’t really pack anything. would just bring himself there lol

azul: like riddle, he reads every rule there, except he is a little more…. business like. he search up on what’s the trend there in disneyland. how are they fairing in their business? at which season do they earn the most money? definitely research all of that. also for the ticket entrance, is kalim really sponsoring it? will double and triple confirm to make sure that he isn’t getting scammed lol. he definitely packs a camera and a notebook so that he can take pictures of the park, and note down any important information that can help mostro lounge.

kalim: this boy is excited. he was the one planning the trip after all, thinking that it would be a nice vacation after dealing with numerous overblots. will eagerly tell his family about it, which means= his dad hiring a private car for all 8 people, ensuring good security in the park, making sure all rides and food are available. i think he will pack some cameras too, just to take pictures for memories. won’t bring any money, cause all he needa say is “just bill it to the asim family!”

vil: a vacation? he thinks is nice to finally relax from his workload. like riddle and azul, he will do some research beforehand to understand more about disneyland park. what are the things that he should look out for? a must go to place? how are the people like there? if vil lives in modern au, i can promise you that he is the type to get vaccination 2 weeks before his trip just so that he wouldn’t catch any viral infection. he packs everything nicely. sunblock, moisturiser, body mist, wet tissue paper, perfume, you name it. he has everything in that small little bag of his.

idia: instantly rejected the idea. he doesn’t want to hang out with normies. doesn’t want to socialise with anyone. he just wants to stay in his room and play with his game. ortho tried to convince him to go, but idia was too stubborn, viewing the whole trip pointless. it wasn’t until ortho pulled out his trump card, pulling his teary eyes out as he sobbed, saying that he just wants the best for his big brother. idia panics, but his decision is still the same. ortho starts crying and wailing, and that’s when idia gave in, finally saying yes to the trip. he brings his phone only, and a big ass jacket to cover and disguise himself; not like anyone will recognise him anyway.

malleus: when he received the invitation, he was happy, elated, delighted, and whatever words that could describe his mood. he consults lilia on what he should do during the vacation. should he tell them some old stories? play some pranks like how lilia did? lilia laughs and tell malleus to act normal and just enjoy the trip. but most importantly, malleus was looking forward since you were going too! he sees it as a chance to get closer to you, with 6 extra people. also doesn’t pack anything, he can get anything with a snap of his fingers.

during the road trip

a typical problem that happens during the road trip, gas running low in the car

the driver decided to stop at a gas station to refill up the gas

the 8 of you decided to step out of the car, stretch some muscles and breathe in some fresh air

leona was actually grumbling about how they could have used the dark mirror to teleport to disneyland instantly

please tell him that is no fun teleporting when you can just sit back and admire the view

you and malleus decided to go to the convenience store at the gas station to grab some ice cream (a/n: all gas stations in my country has a convenience store; like a 7-11 lmao and then you can pay your bills there too but idk about other countries)

but thennnnn the both of you forgot to inform the rest that you and malleus were queueing up to pay for the ice cream, the driver only paid for the bills for gas, failing to notice you and malleus in the queue

and soooo the rest of the housewardens + driver left the gas station without you and malleus 💀

literally no one noticed until the ride was already 30mins in, halfway reaching disneyland park

kalim during the ride: are we reaching soon?

driver: not yet

leona: *groans, trying to sleep*

azul: *frowning cause he feels like something is missing*

idia: *couldnt care less*

vil: *admiring the scenery, but also feels that something is off*

riddle: *trying to get leona and idia to sit up straight and not slouch*

the first one to break the silence was azul

azul: i feel like we are missing something

kalim: are-

leona: stfu and stop asking if we are reaching soon!

kalim: aren’t we missing out malleus and mc at the gas station?

riddle gasps, leona sighs really loud, azul nervously pushing up his spectacles, vil drops his mirror while idia simply ascended to heaven.

they just left the crown prince of briar valley in the middle of nowhere, with a magic less human. sebek is about to scream at them.

poor driver was sweating profusely, literally drives back to the gas station in full speed as the housewardens beg him to hurry the fuck up. they don’t want to face the consequence of dumping a prince alone. technically not since mc is there.

back at the gas station

“they left without us.” malleus said as you whipped your head towards the area where the rest of the housewardens was supposed to be, except is empty.

“im going to call them!” you took out your phone, scrolling through your contacts and looking for idia’s number. how could they forgot about you and malleus?! you found idia’s number and was about to call him until malleus stopped you from doing so.

“before that, mc, can i tell you something?”

“su-sure?”

“i like you.”

du-DUN DUN the malleus fucking draconia, also known as your crush, has finally confessed! your face heats up at the sudden confession, because damn, it caught you off guard, and you didn’t expect him to reciprocate your feelings.

“i like you too,malleus.” malleus grins, happy that you feel the same way.

“so what do we do now?”

“we can make out.” it was just a joke from malleus, or so you thought.

because moments later, he brought you to the back of the gas station, starts lifting up your skirt and rubs on your cloth cunt. you stifled back a moan, feeling embarrassed and unsure if the both of you should be doing this in public. but malleus assures you that is okay, he wouldn’t let anyone see you like this, is a sight reserve for him only. so when he ask if he could take things further, you nodded your head and said yes.

he pulls your panties aside, pushing a finger in as you moaned, feeling that foreign finger inside you. malleus gets you nice and wet first, making sure that he has stretch you enough with just his finger before unzipping his pants, freeing his cock to insert it into you.

he lifts you up and pressed you against the wall in a mating press position. when he finally bottoms out, he groans at the feeling of your gummy walls spasming around him. everytime you clench on him, he could feel his head getting dizzy, feeling how unbelievably tight and comfy you are.

you covered your mouth, suppressing your moans as malleus thrust into you slowly. the vein that decorates his cock brush onto your walls, stimulating and turning you on more, letting you feel just exactly how big malleus is. with how slow and sensual the thrust is, you were sure that malleus was just trying to mould your pussy into the shape of his cock, making sure that it only accommodates him, making sure that your pussy won’t forget how his cock makes you feel.

“fa-faster..” you begged malleus, and he complies to it, increasing his pace, making sure that his balls slams onto you before pulling out and abruptly pushing himself into you to feel your walls again.

it wasn’t long before you orgasmed, your fluids drenching his cock and pants wet again. malleus only hums, amused that he was able to get such a reaction out from your body. he wonders if he could do it again? sadly, malleus knows that the other housewardens are coming back to get the both of you, so he snap his fingers, drying up the mess that the both of you had made while he dresses you up, making sure that you are comfortable.

“does it hurt?” malleus asked you as you leaned your head against his chest. “a little.” you did felt… pain from the stretch at first but you couldn’t deny that it was amazing.

“im sorry, i will be more gentle next time.” malleus apologised, pressing a kiss on your cheek as you giggled. “does this mean that we are official?” “yeah.” you cheered, peppering kisses over malleus’s face while telling him how much you like him. oh dear, i guess someone is really excited to date THE malleus draconia.

malleus felt really happy. today was a good day, he can feel it. he gets to fuck the love of his life and is invited to a vacation. seriously, nothing can get better than this.

anyway a few minutes later, the housewardens arrived, looking for both you and malleus. the both of you were waiting at the entrance of the gas station patiently, so when you spotted the familiar car, you waved at them.

the car stops in front of you and malleus as the automatic door opens. when you and malleus step inside of the car, leona growls and glares at the both of you.

“seriously? that’s what you have been doing while the rest of us were panicking?”

the rest of the housewardens were confused at leona’s statement. you blushed while malleus only smirks. looks like that’s something that only the 3 of you would know.

[gifti3]

okay im back with more for this arranged marriage AU! Heres the last thing i wrote

this time i made something longer--Asmo and MC doing their little meeting/date before agreeing to marriage its fun check it out :]

the only warning is "an upset asmo getting in ur personal space'" other than that i think thats it!

Tomorrow you were supposed to meet your possible future fiancé. This type of affair was not a first time thing for you so you already had an idea of how things would go. Which was the two of you being forced to interact for several hours.

Though you knew what was coming, was it not possible to be a little nervous considering who it was you were meeting?

Asmodeus Morningstar--one of the most influential families in Nefarelin. Their was no shortage of exceptional members in that tree. And to be crass, every other potential spouse you met before were like dried leaves in comparison.

And this didn't even factor Asmodeus's own appeal and popularity. You'd only seen him in passing a few times but you could tell he was quite beautiful even from a distance. On top of that, the general public were strangely obsessed with him. You weren't completely sure why, but he must be very likeable if that's the case.

God, how many people have probably asked for his hand in marriage by now? You could only wonder.

All around it would be pretty foolish to turn this down. And that's why you were nervous…. Your parents were giving you a choice. But it was one of those choices where the answers were 'yes' or 'hmm, okay I suppose'. You did not want to know what would happen if you dare declined.

You'd already considered the logistics of this situation, dwelled on it for days. And it would definitely be a loveless marriage from your side. And that was something normal…but you were fine with how your life was currently! You didn't want to deal with any expectations romantic or otherwise from a spouse.

And what about Asmodeus.

He was well loved by many, had a reputation for enjoying the nightlife and being the center of attention. It seemed highly unlikely that a man like him was looking to "settle down" all of a sudden!

Your hands stop fiddling with your hair.

Wait.

Maybe this arrangement could work.

~

God this is so uncomfortable.

Maybe you underestimated Asmodeus. For some reason the first time your eyes met his saccharine ones, you struggled with maintaining contact. Each time, it felt like he was staring straight into your mind.

Perhaps it was just your nerves but either way you were overwhelmed. You didn't feel like yourself so had trouble talking.

Luckily for you, Asmodeus didn't notice or didn't care as he had been talking nonstop this entire time.

"Hellooo?"

"Oh--sorry what did you say?"

Asmodeus repeats his question while fanning himself. "I asked if you wanted to rest for a minute. I need a break from the sun."

"Okay…"

It was sunny today but not too hot to take a walk. Though you had been outside for a good while with Asmodeus. You both make your way to a gazebo that provided good shade around this time of day.

You rest your elbows on on of the railings and prop your head in your hands. A small sigh escapes you.

"Can you make it any more obvious that you don't want to be here?"

Asmodeus rests a small distance away, smiling but you're not so sure if he's being lighthearted about it.

It was a fair observation. These meetings always felt like a waste of time to you. They were forced interactions. The worst type. And you already knew you'd agree with the arranged marriage at the end anyways.

"Sorry, I'm just a little tired."

You look back at him and try to give a friendly(?) smile. Actually why not just be straightforward now?

"It's kind of hard to believe you want to get married. It doesn't seem like something that would interest someone like you."

"Eh…I guess there comes a time in everyone's life where they think about these things."

Very vague.

Asmodeus leans back in his chair, looking up as if he's scraping through his brain. "But I don't recall running into you beforehand. I definitely would have remembered…so how would you know that?"

"I've heard a lot about you. Kind of impossible not to."

You had a bit of an idea about him before this whole situation. But once it got out that he was "interested" in proposing, well the maids had no problem telling you everything they knew. It was definitely not all true, but it pretty much confirmed what you already felt.

"That makes sense. Isn't it great that now you get to experience me in person instead of by word-of-mouth~"

"…Uh huh. Well I feel like I should tell you now. That I plan to say yes."

"Say yes?"

"Say yes to marrying you."

You watch for any negative reactions but nothing. Though you were still sure he wasn't really interested in marriage.

"…Oh?"

"Listen I understand if you were forced into this position. In fact, I'm sure that you were. And to be honest I've never been partial to marriage myself. I always thought it wasn't in the cards for me…"

You take a step away from the railing closer to Asmodeus. "But wouldn't it be foolish to say no? Outside of the benefits it would have for my family. You're definitely one of the most sought after bachelors…and well just look at you. I'm almost a little envious…"

Asmodeus's curious face changes to something else. Something you can't really place your finger on. You just knew he didn't look very pleased.

"Well at least I know you're not blind." His fingers play with his fringe. "And that's all fine and dandy but…"

When Asmodeus stands and looks back at you your heart skips a beat. You take a step back as he takes one forward. "I hope you're ready to handle me because I don't think you can."

Oh my god what was happening?

You were frozen in place as Asmodeus trapped you against the railing between his arms. You didn't even think to push him away and just stood there stupidly.

"I-I…"

Rustling sounds from a nearby hedge, but when you both look in the direction of the noise there's giggling and the sound of retreating people.

You sigh. At least someone was enjoying the show.

You gently push at Asmodeus's chest so you can make space.

"Sorry sometimes the staff gets bored haha…er should we h-head back?"

"If that's what you want."

Asmodeus turns away from you. "I just want you to know that since this marriage is just a title I'll be sticking to my usual. Hope you don't mind~" He walks away humming to himself.

Your brows furrow…that man. Why'd he have to do all that? You weren't expecting anything different in the first place?

You let out a huge sigh. Was this going to be the norm from now on?

Well at least you both were on the same page about the marriage…. but you couldn't help but think a serious misunderstanding just occurred.

[yanderespamton78]

for those following @turntableart's addison arg!! (sorry for the tag)

TIMELINE

APR 16 :

 6:32 am : Turnons blog opened :D

APR 20 : 

8:35 am : Turnon makes the poll about whether he should investigate smth weird addons doing (this shows that addon has been slightly suspicious since the start)

8:35 am : First morse code!!! With the poll 

4:39 pm : “I miss my past” post (possibly relevant??)

4:53 pm : Maskons first post

4:54 pm : First interaction with maskon (through a comment on a post - he didn't yet have a proper blog)

7:24 pm : Addon makes a blog

8:01 pm : First interaction with the morse code entity

8:10 pm : Addon first translates what the morse code entity is saying

8:15 pm : the giftday party incident (i added this bc it makes me laugh a lot)

8:37 pm : rainbon mentioned. Possibly significant? 

9:24 pm : We find out the morse code entity is actually turnon (im guessing right after the acident but i could be wrong)  (the addisons never find this out)

9:47pm : First time the alphabet code entity speaks through turnons posts. Says “i think that's enough. you're scaring him. he's hurt, you wouldn't want him to dust would you?” presumably referring to the morse code entity. Right after this the morse code entity disappears, and any further interactions respond with “but no one came”

9:57 pm : Second interaction with alphabet code entity who says “stop talking to him you're giving him a headache”. Turnon complains about a headache. This is the first signs of a decline in his health. In the next post he says that hes going to go.

10:04 pm : Addon has been translating bits of the morse code for a bit now. The forth analysis ends up being corrupted, and all the characters are just black blocks. 

APR 21 :

9:26 am : First post says that he got a nosebleed and passed out on his desk the previous night. He also mentions that when he woke up there was a cup of tea on his desk which he presumes is from addon but it was never confirmed.

10:59 am : Mentions that the strange people are back (mentioned in the poll) and that hes getting a nosebleed. Mentions in the next post that he feel really dizzy and is going back to his desk

11:34 am : Turnon describes a building pressure in his head like bugs. 

11:50 am : Turnon says that the nosebleed stopped. Alphabet entity gets accused of being slick. It ignores the question and instead tells us to leave turnon alone as he’s stressed with work.

12:00 noon : This post from maskon? Not sure the relevance of the song. definitely creepy tho.

6:14 pm : Here addon confirms that turnon is in the medbay. This is later contradicted by addon himself.

6:14 pm : “turnon” says that he woke up and has no idea where he is. At 6:23 he tags addon for help.

6:19 pm : Addon says that he opened a zipped file and it shut down his pc. This is presumably what causes the medical documents to get leaked.

6:29 pm : “Turnon” says that he knows where he is and isn't happy about it. What??

6:52 pm : A few posts later “turnon” tells addon that he got hurt really badly. He says hes going to try to walk home against addons advice.

7:42 pm : Something happens and “turnon” starts making disturbing posts. They are in english but don’t have spaces. He seems frantic and scared and at 7:54 pm he doesnt respond to his own name, despite the fact that he mentions his goggles and crypton, which are obviously things that are unique to him. 

7:50 pm : Addon responds to the first spaceless post and comments on how turnon couldn't be making the posts as he is unconscious in medbay 

8:03 pm : When not-turnon is questioned on his name he says it is presson and seems confused. He says he found the phone in queens palace (if he is telling the truth, it would make sense why turnon was unhappy about where he was. Obviously he fell into the acid lake in queens mansion so its unsurprising that he would be on edge.)

8:20pm : Presson denies that it was him who typed the weird spaceless posts. 

9:34 pm - 9:59 pm : Presson comments on how dark and run down seraphim is. When questioned on it addon says its probably something interdimensional or timeline based. At this point, his text starts glitching out. Addon tells presson to put the phone in the big machine, but presson says that it looks dangerous and he doesn't want to. He seems genuinely worried about dying, but addon insists he returns the phone. Finally, he puts it in the machine and you are no longer able to contact presson.

10:52 pm : when questioned on the weird glitchy text, he again chalks it up to interdimensional lag

If we go by addons version of events (which he talked about a few days later on the 24th) at about 6-7pm turnon went out and got badly injured. At about 8 pm some kind of entity (presson) took his phone, who addon electrocuted. At about 9 pm Turnon was found in an alleyway with some kind of black fluid gushing out of his nose. 

APR 22 : 

5:37 pm : confirmation that Maskon is Slick

8:28 pm : The first leak of Turnons medical documents. 

9:07 pm - 9:53 pm : this whole saga... Look i know i put way too much trust into maskon and i apologise BUT ADDON STILL ISN’T TRUSTWORTHY!!

10:06 pm : Maskon refers to Turnon as his husband

APR 23 : 

11:04 am : Turnon wakes up!! In a bad state but alive :3 also at 11:08 am he says that hes missing a few parts

4:08 pm : turnon is told about the (made up) debt issues

4:37 pm : turnon is shown his medical document. At 4:57 pm hes told not to tell addon about it.

5:24 pm : Turnon is told about presson. He also says that his last phone is blown up.

5:25 pm : Turnon talks about maskon

5:42 pm : Turnon mentions his legs feeling numb D:

7:20 pm : Turnon secretly spells out help !! wow !! 

7:47 pm : second Turnon medical document leaked!!  (at 8:23 pm i made fun of addon for being bad at stopping important docs from getting leaked)

8:34 pm : we find out about the hats

APR 24 :

12:51 pm : Click gets a blog!!

10:30 pm : Turnon makes a post asking how long is legs are supposed to be numb, and asking why his fingers are turning black. Click reblogs the post and says that hes coming over. After that turnon starts typing his posts really,,, bad,, theres no better way to describe it. After a minute Surf (ambyu-lance) takes the phone and click demands to speak to him and addon

APR 25 : 

6:57 pm : the third medical document leaked. This hasn't been decoded yet, but the first bit seems to be in nihilistic cipher. 

8:16 pm : Turnon makes a post, a picture he drew of himself with the caption “im a little sad, i'll get better”. When questioned on it he says that hes not used to the feeling of being useless.

8:32 pm : THE TAGS. THE TAGS. LOOK AT THE TAGS turnon makes a post. In the tags it says “hes getting worse” “oops did i say that? oh well.” My dumbass cant tell if this is turnip or turnon saying this but worth mentioning anyway.

9:15 pm - 9:37 pm : Clickon is questioned on whether he talked to Surf and Addon. He says that he did, and no one is completely sure whats up with Turnon. Clickon says that Turnons condition is worsening. Hes paler than usual, his fingers are black, and Clickon accidentally pulled out a clump of his hair. Click says that Turnon is a survivor, but even this makes him worried. After this, Addon reblogs the post saying that he didn't talk to clickon last night and theres no footage of Click entering the building. Click is obviously confused, to which Addon tells click to wake up and to stop living in his fantasies. After this Clickon says he feels weird.

9:20 pm : cool lil drawing. Not really relevant but i thought it was neat lol

9:35 pm : TURNON STANDS!!!! He mentions that his legs are black and hurt like hell but hes standing!! (at 9:53 pm he falls over D:)

9:37 pm : Click makes a post that simply reads “Somethings wrong.”

9:57 pm : When questioned if he's ok, clickon replies saying he never made it, before a wall of binary. It reads “Everything feels stuffy, Shadows I'm in my car, I think I'm being watched”. At 10:02 pm Addon reblogs the post saying “get out. Now.” before a string of numbers that haven't been decoded. At 10:09 pm Clickon reblogs the post again with another binary code, this time reading “I don't know where I'm going, My eyes, My eyes, I can barely see, Is it following me”

10:15 pm : Maskon makes some kind of post about Cotton candy. It translates to “i do like cotton candy dont you?”

10:23 pm : someone asks maskon / slick if he did anything to Clickon. Slick said he didn't want yellow to hang out with someone like that, but he deserves his freedom.

10:40 pm : Clickon makes a post in binary. It reads “The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars”

APR 26 : 

Nothing from turnon all day. 

7:35 am : Ice cream blog opened

2:07 pm : The runner of the Ice cream blog says that he uses the alias pinup (but for some reason, he can't disclose his real name. Could be for privacy reasons though.)

2:32 pm : Pinup gets a coat!! He comments on how it doesn’t have a tag for some reason

5:12 pm : Pinup mentions addon. He says that he sees addon as a friend but he isnt sure if addon feels the same.

3:39 pm : Clickon mentions he just woke up in the woods with a massive headache. He doesn't know how he got there. 

3:42 pm - 4:26 pm : Complaining about various things. He mentions having frozen joints, so he probably slept in the woods all night. He says “at least hes alive” which means he probably thought he was genuinely going to die (or hes just being dramatic)

4:33 pm - 10:11 pm : lots of things happen in this thread. Firstly, Clickon says that it was him making the posts in binary. He says he vaguely remembers typing something out on his phone, and that he was very scared. The first two are relatively self explanatory, he was scared. The third one he said he remembered looking up at the stars. He describes everything feeling trippy and disorientating as he was running, and feeling like he was being chased. He ends up being told all about Slick and all that. He isnt actually too surprised?? He says that he is nearing the city and he can see buildings in the distance. Anyways Important Shit Happened Go read it

11:38 pm : Its confirmed that the reason why Turnon didn't post anything is because addon took away his phone.

APR 27 : 

6:37 pm : Clickon updates us saying he got back to the city and after a rough night and is driving to seraphim, presumably to check on turnon

6:44 pm : Turnon makes a post saying hes going to walk home and addon doesnt know. At about 6:55 pm he passes out in the middle of the road. At this point he is disoriented from the pain medication and thinks he is back home.

6:58 pm : Clickon finds addon in the road and mistakes him for roadkill. By 7:04 pm turnon is in his car and they were going back to seraphim. At 7:14 pm he says that turnon is speaking gibberish. 

7:15 pm : Addon says a taskforce has already been sent out to try find turnon

7:29 pm : no matter what turnip says, addon finds out that clickon has turnon and sends out a bunch of shit to stop him, presumably not realising that he has good intentions.

7:36 pm : Clickon gets fucking SHOT !! 2 mins later turnon also presumably gets shot. NICE!! Later addon confirms it was a tranquiliser dart.

7:51 pm : at this point both clickon and turnon have been captured. Addon refers to them as ”two ominous individuals” at 8:04 pm Addon reports that they have been hooked up to an experimental piece of darkner equipment that hurts them when they move. 

8:19 pm : Clickon makes a post saying he doesn't want to die. Addon replied a few minutes later with what is essentially a threat (8:22 pm) and at 8:28 pm he ends up confirming that he knows about Slick

OUGH WHAT A DAY 

THEN THERE'S THE 28TH!!!

APR 28 :

11:25 am : Turnon wakes up back at seraphim, chained to the bed and confused on why he is there, stating that hes supposed to be home.

5:17 pm : Turnon is acting weird. He is weirdly insistent to get home despite never complaining about the facilities at Seraphim, and says that he would break his leg to get home. At one point there is a font change. This is implied to be slick possessing him.

5:30 - 6:30 pm :Theres a whole thread thats very important. Despite there only being two accounts, there is obviously three people in the conversation. Turnon, Addon, and Slick. Addon seems insistent on getting Slick out, even if it involves hurting turnon (“You should be more carefully you signed the contract years ago now I can legally do whatever I wish to you to get the task finished. Parasite” “If not I can feed you to Melody, atleast someone should benefit from your pathetic existence.”).  Turnon seems scared and confused. POOR FUCKING WET TOWEL I WANNA HUG HIM SO BAD POOR CREATURES BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH

@emiplayzmc @tdlizardshinynest take it you freaks /lh

i put all of the longer threads in one bit to make life easier for everyone

Im going to edit this when needed so itll probably be updated once every day or two

[songofsaraneth]

4, 21, 36

4. Favorite science fiction book(s)

Ooooh i think my Favorite piece of sci fi is actually a novella but i feel like no one is likely to ask the 'favorite novella' question so I'll list it here anyway: Silently And Very Fast by Catherynne Valente, which is available to read online in full from Clarkesworld. It's weird, it's emotional, it's a little sad, it blurs the lines about what it means to be human/a person: and that is my favorite combination of things.

Similarly, the Murderbot Diaries series as a whole is high up there for me, for their combination of fun romp, meaning of being a person, and closed-off character learning to open up.

Actual novel-books. I feel like if I read it now I would probably go "hm" about some parts that I'm sure have not aged so well but Snow Crash was formative to me as a young teen as well as to the direction science fiction itself as a genre, so i'm giving it a spot on the list.

And lastly, even Douglas Adams agreed that he was not really writing sci fi but just using a sci fi setting as a backdrop, but I can't discount my years of enjoyment from Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy either. Some runners-up (runner up's???? idk): I really enjoy the Vorkosigan Saga books though the later ones sort of decline in quality i think. But the first ones following Miles as a main character, The Warrior's Apprentice and The Vor Game, especially were a bright ray of sunshine when i was drudging through "classic" sci fi novels in 2017. Loved the Imperial Radch books because we have found again an example of my favorite trope: an AI/robot sort of entity becoming A Person (im just a sucker for nonhumanity themes). I also did really like Ninefox Gambit and The Three-Body Problem for hard sci fi, but liked the following books in their respective trilogies less. Also not a 'book' but the multimedia sort of webcomic 17776 is another story i love. ok i have to cut myself off or i'll go on forever

21. The book(s) on your school reading list you actually enjoyed

I think the book I had the most fun reading in class was in 4th grade when we did The Westing Game. It was a little mystery story and it was one of the few times I didn't just read the whole thing ahead and we'd really talk about what we thoguht was gonna happen next, whodonnit, motives, etc. And at the end my class (which was actually only like 7 people because it was the advanced reading class) all dressed up as a different character and brought in props for them and other classes came in and could talk to us and read little synopses and try to guess who did the murder themselves. Except since there were more than 7 characters we also had to make a bunch of dummys of the missing characters to sit in those chairs and afterwards the lifeless yet life-size plushie of Sydelle Pulaski lived in my basement for like. 8 years. no idea what happened to her... sorry Sydelle!

36. Your absolute most favorite character(s) from any book you've ever read.

ooouurrghhhh... this is so hard but i think just due to how immediately and profoundly i imprinted on her, and how the archtype of her character played out similarly in subsequent books and every time it ruined me like an earthquake, i have to go with Rachel from Animorphs. she's angry! she's violent! she's afraid of what that means she might become! so she lets herself become a tool for the war so she doesn't have to dwell on the question because if she does, it might break her, and they can't afford that so she shuts away those fears into a little box. uhg every time i reread the series i get 1000 emotions about her all over again.

[racoonkal]

two cups – (h. sero x fem!reader w/ character flaws)

c: ANGST, so much. also this whole thing is the result of an ambiguous angsty scene that im too lazy to write, making this whole piece very ambiguous and slow paced imo. but as always, enjoy.

sfw // best friends with a slight hint of something more 

it was a Saturday morning

and you felt like shit.

well physically you were fine, but your mind couldn’t stop replaying the events caused by your attitude yesterday.

“oh, piss off. it’s not like anyone pays attention to people like us anyways”

“can you stop being annoying for like—two fucking seconds?”

“i can’t wait to leave everyone in this goddam school.”

you had been a total bitch for reasons you couldn’t decipher. maybe it was your declining grades, or your dick of a teacher, or the fact that your friendships with everyone had been anything but steady these past few months, but regardless, you never intended to snap at Sero.

and now it was 7am on a saturday morning and you felt like you had just kicked an orphan in the nuts. (what a great analogy).

again, you felt bad.

so you tried to compensate. you went for a run during the ripe 6am sunrise.

it didn’t work.

you read a book for an hour while the 7am light shined through the large glass windows of the dorm.

still nothing.

then 8am—you made breakfast

and 9am—you took a shower.

and guess what? you were still a piece of shit.

but then 10am rolled around, and you felt your eyes and conscious start to drift away.

“you are…. unbelievable.”

“you sound just like everyone else, you do realize that, right?”

“this isn’t worth my fucking time. you’re not worth it.”

you strangely found that you couldn’t sleep. there was a monster at your feet, sliding it’s way into your stomach and up your throat. you were going to suffocate in the black pit of tar that was your guilt.

you pushed yourself off your bed (the cushions this particular morning felt like rocks) and dragged your feet out to the hallway. your groggy eyes looked up and focused on something that was outside of your control for the first time that morning. the epitome of your anxiety stared back and smiled. she waved her hand as a sign of “good morning” to you. your stomach was at your feet now, consumed by the monster.

you flashed a lopsided grin and waved back.

“she’s such a two faced bitch.”

“her boyfriend thinks i’m some maniacal, narcissistic, demon. and don’t even get me started on the rest of that friend group”

“i hate everyone at this fucking school. and i’m positive those feelings are mutual, so don’t even give me that ‘everyone loves you’ bullshit cause it a fat lie, Ha-”

correction: you hated almost everyone here.

you escaped the dangerous corridors with your sweatpants and large t-shirt still intact somehow. you stared at the empty kitchen and sighed.

you hated coffee, like absolutely despised it.

so you made coffee. you made more than you could ever drink, and poured the amount between two cups. not evenly, of course. one cup was practically milk and foam. the other maybe had a teaspoon of sugar. it made you want to vomit a little bit.

grabbing the wonky tourist mugs that held both cups of coffee, you walked out the kitchen and to the indoor lounge. you weren’t expecting to stay there very long, but your destination had brought himself to you. he was sitting there, and he—surprisingly—seemed very awake. and now the second cup seemed pointless.

he was never awake before 12am on a weekend.

and right now, he was studying. Hanta Sero, of all people, had an open textbook and papers full of notes littered on the table. and he was by himself.

you had really fucked up.

you sucked up your pride though, like you’d never done before, and started walking, hoping the monster would let you go somewhere along the way.

it didn’t.

you placed the mug on the empty space to his right, but didn’t take a seat. your presence had been replaced with his floppy back-pack in the chair. you couldn’t look at him.

“coffee.” that was painful. coffee was painful for you to say. you were absolutely pathetic. Hanta looked you up and down, subconsciously looking for your angle. he didn’t know what you were doing. that made two of you though. you cleared you throat and shifted to try and regain confidence, but your eyes were fixated on anything below his gaze. “i made extra, and remembered how you’re a freak and actually like the taste of coffee, so here: coffee.” you thought saying the word the second time around would be easier, but it still got caught in you esophagus and made your tongue burn. he looked at the warm cup and then at you.

“why where you…” he started and trailed off (but was most likely going to ask you why you were brewing coffee). an instinctive laugh left the back of his throat before he decided to let you into his thought process again. “you don’t like-” but you cut him off from his statement that would’ve most likely regarded your distaste for the drink.

“just take the the coffee, Hanta.” your eyes squeezed shut at the statement, like it was sour on your gums. “look, i’m a bitch–okay?–and the only way i can apologize is by giving you this shitty coffee i made while i was half-asleep. so just take the coffee.” you rushed your naked expressions out in one breath, hoping he would figure out how awkward this made you. and how terrible you were when it came to waving your white flag.

he tentatively brought the coffee closer to him. you’re not sure what you were expecting. silence, backlash, a rejection even, but not him smiling. it was very small, of course, and you knew it wasn’t meant for you, but it didn’t fail to make your shoulders drop and your breathing to soften.

“can you just... say that again?” he asked with almost defensive mannerisms. to most, this request would seem like Sero was trying to milk your faint-hearted apology, but it was more just from his inability to process your admittance to the fact that you were in the wrong.

“which part? the whole thing?” you asked, preparing to be annoyed if he responded with a yes.

“nah, just the part where you say you’re a bitch.” there he was. you were starting to wonder when Hanta Sero would make an appearance. you scoffed through your nose and a half-hearted smirk flashed over your face.

“i’m a bitch,” you repeated. “i’m the bitchiest bitch there is. and... i’m petty and narcissistic and have never been good at this part,” you motioned back and froth through the space that separated the both of you. whether your hand was referring to your apology to him or the strange and totally romantic tension you and Sero constantly choose to ignore was up for him to decide. “but i want to be. i want to be better,” you clarified. “i don’t know why i’ve been so snappy. it’s not a girl thing or whatever, i’ve just been….” your mind trailed off. 

“if it’s so hard for you to be friends with the both of us just fucking leave already. just go! i don’t give a shit anymore.”

“....i don’t know.” there was no way to conclude or even put into words what you were thinking. but whatever you were expressing was how you truly felt, and it left you completely compromised. 

it was Sero’s move now.

he sighed and pushed himself out of the chair. this monologue of an apology was a sight to behold, but he could tell you felt awful about everything that had happened. at least, that small part in him filled with nothing but the best of him had hoped you did.

you looked up at Sero and realized how you enjoyed talking to him more when you were the only one standing. maybe it was a power thing, or maybe you just enjoyed having his deep brown eyes staring up at you. now the roles were reversed, and you were starting to wonder if he had always towered over you like this.

your eyes darting around his features, you thought you knew him well, but this was disproven from the fact that you had no clue what he was thinking. was this it? would this be the end? 

his arms wrapped under yours and his height was now pressed into you. you hadn’t even realized it yet but you were holding him too, your face in his shoulder and hands gripping to the back of his shirt.

this wasn’t real. he couldn’t be real right now.

“i don’t want to pretend like i understand you,” Sero mumbled into your neck. “but i do care, a lot more than i think you want me to.” he was bashful about that last part. and it was–by anyones standards–embarrassing to care this much for someone who tried to glue you back together with a cup of joe. but he didn’t care, or he didn’t want to care.

you pulled back from his embrace. it didn’t matter that he was the most important person in the world to you, your body still somehow made hugging him in public and awkward thought.

“you’re too good to me, Hanta,” you solemnly respond, your side profile facing him and arms crossed, rubbing your triceps. “i don’t deserve it,” you look at him and force a smile.

“you really don’t sometimes,” he shakes his head and tries to lighten the mood before sitting back down at the table. “you can earn it though by helping me study for this economics test.” he bit his pencil and narrowed in on the pages he desperately wanted to understand. 

you leaned over his shoulder to see the material better and pointed at the areas he should focus on more. he asked questions and you explained, not afraid to correct him when he wasn’t on the right track to getting the answer. but you weren’t as ignorant to the vultures as he was. they would pass by and look at you like you were roadkill. 

“i can’t fucking take it with them anymore! i just cant. they look at me like im a piece of meat–in more ways than one. it won’t be long before... before you start to look at me that way too.”

so you let things happen naturally. it’s crazy to think how the simmering water cooled down so quickly once you stopped texting him first. the day you didn’t walk to class with him like you normally do, the nasty glares ceased to exist. in fact, without Sero, you seemed to be invisible to almost everyone. at one point, even to yourself. of course he noticed your absence in his life and in his messages. but when he texted you it was complete radio silence. he tried to approach you but you’d cut the conversations short or had a some god-awful excuse to leave.

he confided in his winged, meat-eating friends and they told him what they knew. you were weird and unsocial and you were probably still mad at him for something. the details didn’t matter, really. but he started to understand. you didn’t care for him, not really at least. maybe you were just bored or were trying to get a little more than a hug from him. it hurt him to know that version of the truth.

the spacious days, turned into lonely weeks that turned into the rushing months before graduation.

you celebrated on your own, before moving far away to a city no one had ever heard of or had the effort to learn about. your social media died off and became ancient, and eventually, so did you.

and you never had to drink another cup of coffee again.

[dulcewrites]

aemond expecting reader, the victim of the situation to spare alys' feelings because her conscience cannot stand being reminded of the fact that she took part in ruining a family???? i know infatuation and love can blind your senses but damn, that is just EVIL. what's next, him agreeing to alys not wanting to be around daella because she would rather prefer to live with him in a bubble of ignorance where the circumstances of them getting together were normal? (though i guess that would work in reader's favor and there's probably no way alys would ever broach the subject with aemond knowing how much it would hurt him). now im even more pissed for reader's sake, she should do a lot more, FUCK being civil 😭 do you maybe have more thoughts on reader's magazine cover shoot of her in the ruined wedding dress? i desperately need her to have at least one instance where in the moment she doesn't think about consequences, one that cannot be explained by it just being a part of her work or anything else but being unmistakably petty (with her maybe looking back at it years later like 'yeah probably shouldn't have done but deep down im glad i did'), i would even be satisfied with a realistic occuring dream of hers or aemond's where she takes her revenge LOL

I like think reader knows how the play the game. She was the lamb to be slaughtered first, now it’s alys turn (rightfully or wrongly). Much her civility, is yeah thats just her personality and how her parents raised her to be. But she also knows when to strike, especially now that the public is actually on her side for the first time since she’s been in Aemond’s orbit.

So let’s say the band does a rolling stone cover/interview. Maybe the journalist is a reader stan LMAO and they comes in swinging. Asks Aemond and alys about the timeline of their relationship and how it seems… suspicious *insert Dwayne the rock Johnson eyebrow raise meme* Alys and Aemond try their best to answer politely (Aemond goes on about how reader is such a great mother… true but a deflection). but yeah it’s not looking good for them 😭. It’s only compounded by the other members making slightly antagonistic comments. Helaena says something about sometimes being in a band, in a family, means dealing with decisions and people you don’t like 👀

Anyway of course this blows up bc they’re a big band and people love drama. Now reader is trying to keep her head down, get her bag. She’s on a shoot for a magazine, maybe a cool one like interview. And a creative director comes up to her and asks if she’d be interested in doing a spread. She declines at first bc she knows they will ask about Aemond and alys. It takes some convincing from tyland and some of her other girlfriends to do it.

The whole shoot is basically about rebirth.. a metamorphosis if you will. And the cover? Her in wedding dress covered in blood. Symbolizing of her essentially killing her old self but also idk if y’all knew this but blood on a wedding dress is considered a bad omen. Basically means regret in the end. The whole spread is about her finding independence away from the group. There’s no explicit “yeah he cheated”. But from the answers she gives, it’s clear something isn’t clean in the buttermilk. The implication is enough plus she gets seen as the victim. Win win. In the end, it’s iconic and she looks great. A lot people applaud her for not completely dragging alys and Aemond when she could. Surprisingly, Aemond has few qualms about the cover but partly bc he knows reader couldve gotten very nasty and hasn’t.

[shmaptainwrites]

Just finished Ground Control! I've scoured the internet for something about him I found one thing....it was a SENTENCE.

Anyways if you will?

Literally anything about Cruise. I'm starved.

I understand if you lost zealous for the character and don't write for it.

-💋

bestie if you’re taking about that one sentence fic in the collection of different RSL characters on AO3 i know exactly what you’re talking about LOL

anyways wow i love cruise so much because he’s literally the definition of “im a huge softy but im gonna act like an ass to cover it up” which i think leads to him being a bit over eager when he wants to approach someone he’s attracted to

i can easily see him coming up to you maybe at a bar in phoenix and being genuinely interested in you but the way he shows it errs a little on the side of asshole so you would probably decline his first few attempts until in a last ditch attempt he throws away the persona and just tells you plain and simple he’s into you and would love the chance to get to know you better

initially you’re not sure why you accept but something tells you that he’s telling the truth and as time goes on and you go out of a few dates you find out he’s actually such a sweet guy and he tries his best to do right by you

cruise also seems like the kind of guy who if he really likes someone he gets excited by all the little milestones in a relationship (ie. first kiss, first i love you etc.) and when he asks to kiss you that first time and you say yes he’s really not expecting it and he just lights up and says “really?” and you just nod your head with a reciprocated smile and he’d pull you in and give you a series of really sweet kisses and just hold you so close because he loves being near you

i guess long story short is i think cruise is a huge softy with his s/o regardless of whatever he tries to act like in front of other people

[hermesserpent-stuff]

ive done an excise before of limiting characters to one word before. I think it would be helpful to list out the core four words for the Tobacco AU as it stands now.

this'll get long as i got a few things im working through

Southern, Supernatural, Steampunk, Poor

southern: Richsten is in the south. and southern food and culture are sort of essential to the au. I didn't want to be in new york. so its not. Tobacco, sweet tea, and shifting seasons define the world. its in the characters and in the city. I like the idea of an overlooked city due to it not being important to the world stage, but being super important to those that live there. Like my home town lol

Baccy cant be herself without this as part of the setting

it also is why electro is dressed the way he is. plus that's a reference lol

Supernatural: Ghosts are freaking fun. And scary. Salt and silver has always sorta detered them. So that goes into Baccy's defenses.

i think there needs to be a separate tool kit for dealing with ghosts. and a sliding scale of what works. Baccy could have like a belt of salt bags to carry around. and sage to burn. her ghost belt! lol. and for stronger ghosts she'll need holy water, mantras, chants, and prolly symbols. Destruction of what holds the entity to this plain of existence is also a method.

Knowing the name of the entity makes it easier to expel them from people and places. I think there might be a funny little place for daredevil as a traveling blind 'priest' who expels demons and ghosts, whose batons are tipped in silver and whose knuckles are decorated with the same metal.

if the ghost knows your name it can control you.

not sure what im going to do with a ghost giving Mysterium his name. Maybe it makes it mentally harder for people to connect the dots, even if it seems obvious that mysterium is Quentin.

I also want to involve sound in some way. like ... tonal magic? Where certain pitches or tunes hold power. idk

steampunk: I love the steampunk look. i think it pairs with the ghosts neatly, as victorians were obsessed. and it fits with the old vibe richsten has. Its why ocks arms are colored the way they are lol. and why mysterium has some coppery look. Steampunk mostly informs the look.

semi related point:

I love the idea of something like this for Tremors (Montana aka this world's shocker) kinda janky looking with hydraulics and powered by steam from a pack on his back. still working on drawing it lol.

and lastly

Poor: Almost everyone is scraping by. Even the city is past its heyday and is declined. Baccy builds her suit herself and stitches it back up after each fight. goggles? from the trash. Skirt? left over leather she scraped from the stable. and she has to help her grandfather run his business. I feel like offering help from a hand already at a loss is more meaningful. idk. She doesn't have much, but she's going to share what she can.

Montana is facing down the harsh realities of being a single 'father' at 19. he has to do whatever jobs he can and builds the Tremors suit from the trash.

but poor is not a core word just in its monetary definition. Ella has poor living conditions. She should be able to go out an participate in everyday life. She just needs mobility aids. but her father denies her this.

I guess my fallout and skyrim influences are leaking through. i guess to be like dnd i could list out other influences: A-Team, Smokey and the Bandit, history museums, and Megamind.

(ill have to sort these ideas into the doc later AHHHHH that do is whoo boi ahhh)

that all aside. I should write more for this au. its warm to read. like home.

[tvxqdbsk]

when I look back at 127 concepts, they're not that great either... except for my personal taste, their debut album regular regulate. that one was the best. their music WAS neo culture. neozone had a lot of great songs, the only album I can repeat with minimal skip. I haven't heard anything since sticker bcos my expectation is going downhil. idk what or how 2 baby sounds like. doesn't intrigue me to listen anymore. I guess for this one they tryna recreate that minimalist-undone concept from their debut album but this is pure lazy. literally look like my office backyard 💀

youre so right about this because ive been feeling the same way about 127 and their musics/concepts. i got into them because their music and concepts were interesting and new and i liked the idea of the futuristic neo culture tech idea and 127 really fit it well. but these past few albums havent been doing it for me. i think the last album of theirs that i still listen to is sticker and the last time i really liked a concept was kick it and punch. the favorite and 2 baddies albums arent memorable to me and after the first few listens i havent gone back to listen to any of the songs again. and comparing that to how i still listen to all wayv and dream's albums regularly and i feel like the quality of their concepts havent declined, in fact i think theyve gotten better. same with full group nct albums like i know some people arent a fan of those but ive been pretty happy with the concepts and music coming from nct 20-- projects. the new 127 feels so boring and while i liked the 2 baddies concept, i thought it was a bit plain and minimalist when nct has NEVER been minimalist. these ay-yo teasers are particularly lazy though like this is a new level of sm not giving a shit. like yes their earlier albums had that un-done un-polished feel to them but they still felt like the proper amount of work was put into the concept and the execution and production of it was incredible. like if you look at limitless, yes it had that un-done rough concept but it got three whole musics videos that were all great and had their own unique creative vision. but ay-yo has NO creative vision. theyre literally just standing there in a studio and outside of a motel and the photography is SO uninteresting and looks like it was taken with a phone. they could have tried at least a little harder with scouting better locations and hiring a better photographer whose work is generally more inventive that just having them just stand there like 🧍‍♂️ and taking the photo straight on.

im going to do a little comparison between similar pics from the ay-yo teasers and other nct teasers to show you what i mean about location and photography. i tried to keep it only photos shot on location instead of a constructed set but i think the glitch mode gas station pics are still a good comparison because i think those could have been done on location if they had wanted and could have still been just as good.

[veggiefritters]

i have words to say. if you know me irl either dont read this or just dont mention it to me. everyone else go ham but dont say i didnt warn you

i just cant. its both that simple and far more complicated. i dont know what or how to feel. i dont know why i feel anything.

i cant just stop talking to people because i always have something i want to say, so just know if i vanish one day odds are im full on dead/in a hospital somewhere.

i dont want to think about the future, its unlikely and uncertain. do i have a future? not at this rate. its too hard to fucking think for me to learn anything.

i do not think i will finish highschool at this rate. if i do it will be with low low marks. and i will be a faliure. so i have less than two years to prepare for that.

i was smart in prep, why couldn't that continue past year 6?

i know why, actually. theres probably a few reasons. one of thems the (until recently, undiagnosed) autism.

the other reason is her.

i fucking hate her. i genuinely hope she dies. i tried to strangle her once. it was both fun and not at the same time, if that makes sense.

before you judge me for attemped murder that i have not been charged with please know that it was rather called for.

because she fucking. i dont know. ill use my big boy words. it'll be hard for me to do but honestly what does it matter, im already fucking upset.

this is your big old warning for s/a. will mark off section end with more red text.

fucking hell i feel sick. seriously sick. but uts like this every time i remember. like my stomachs burning. and i can tell im on the verge of tears, too. or maybe im just really fucking tired.

she essentially sexually abused me for about a year. give or take a month or two, i cant fucking remember. theres things i havent told anyone about, and never will.

i think i want to try and describe it. youre not obligated to read it, so. dont do that if its going to upset you.

october 31st, 2020 hardly counts as anything in my opinion. but it still feels gross. she decided that an appropriate game for her to play was "truth or dare but if you dont wanna do it you strip". these are twelve year olds at the time, mind you. so she had her boyfriend on the phone, on a video call, and did that. i, naturally, was obligated to engage. i did not enjoy it. i said plenty that i dont wanna but you know, i was fucking stupid. i let her convince me. I couldve walked home.

the second time i dont havs a date for, but it was mid november 2020. we were on a school camp. the entire thing sucked, i had terrible hayfever one day and was declined medicine for several hours. they also tried to feed us meat wrapped in bread that was then deep fried. thats not really relevent. moving on from shit camp food. while i was trying to go to bed (note. my bunk ladder was in the back corner of the room) she managed to (mostly undressed for her, as in just her undies. not to be graphic but thats how it is) she managed to pin me in the corner. she was a few inches taller than me, so i could hardly just move. i can only vaguely remember beyond that. it wasnt bad bad that time.

there were other people in the room for part of it. they dont remember. i havent said anything because i dont want them to feel to blame. but holy shit. why didnt they do anything.

then theres very early december 2020. this one was just. yeah. the one, i guess. the big bad or something.

(side note if my phrasing disintegrates its because yours truly is having some kind of intense anxiety attack. i think. either way i would love to kill myself right about now. whatever. but its really vivid in my mind right now so i might as well put it down.)

i just dunno. how do i even put this, really. she uh. okay. if someones wearing lovely thin cotton pyjamas lets not ruin the fabric for them, for starters. i liked those pyjamas. its a real shame. i just fucking cant.

she just. yeah. i dont think i even have to say. she did stuff, she made me do stuff, all while i made it perfectly obvious how unhappy i was. i couldnt do anything about it, much as i wish i couldve. because im too pathetic to fight. i basically froze up. she held my head down. so that i had to do it. i didnt say that was okay. i didnt say any of it was omay.

and to the other person who was there, i dont blame you. you were thirteen. you couldn't have done anything. besides, i think you were playing BATIM so like. beat those ink demons (i havent played bendy).

i didnt sleep that night. until about 3 in the morning. i dont know man.

she "tried" to kill herself the next night. i use quotations because im fully convinced she was manipulating me. she said she felt bad and couldnt live with herself. so why do it again, huh? she fucking lied to me, didnt she. im gonna be honest im just realising this and im so fucking mad. i contacted her mother to make sure she was okay.

theres more examples. just smaller things like publicly grabbing my tits in front of a group of people encouraging her to do so but theyre just numbers now. numbers and occasionally vivid memories. including shit like trying to fuck me in a school bathroom. more than once mind you.

i also fucking hate the girl who decided to be all touchy in the middle of class and i couldn't move where i was sat because it was a partners activity and we were paired up. but eh, she just generally sucks. its whatever.

end section you are safe (?) from here or something

even if you didnt read that section. its just long okay. so damned long. im so done.

look at me. or dont. i actually look like shit. if i had facial hair id be classed as a Wet Cat™. i kinda wish i was tbh... wild. i havent washed my hair in a couple weeks, havent brushed it is i think three days. i have not showered properly because i dont have the fucking energy. its one of those bath-shower hybrids and i turn the water up high and lie down in it because i cant even find the energy to fucking sit up. i havent brushed my teeth in days, maybe weeks, i cant remember. it doesnt matter if i take my meds or not. yet i still apparently "look nice" or something but people lie all the time.

the main reason i cut my hair so short is because i cant fucking maintain it. believe me, i wanted it long. i wanted to plait it and feel pretty. but i just couldn't. i didnt brush it or wash it, i pulled it out, like always. so now i have a mullet and theyre notoriously shit in my town dare i say whole country so noone seems to care.

i think the only times ive slept well recently are after being incredibly drunk. which is concerning. i mean. im sixteen, i know i shouldnt be drunk ever, but if it works, it works. i think i sleep on average about 6 or 7 hours a night, which is not necessarily bad, but its all just fucking abstract nightmares.

at least i dont vape though. thats a win. i have before, do not recommend, very yuk burnt my lungs i think. real talk though if you do i feel ya man everyone does something they shouldn't.

lore drop or something, tumblr user veggiefritters got soft-expelled once! i was suspended forever! all i did was physically fight a few teachers and another student. but she deserved it. and so did they, i daresay.

what did i do after that day? i rode home like usual. i went to my sisters room (she doesnt live here so i slept in there while my old room was being renovated to a lounge room) and i watched youtube until my dad got called by school. then i talked to him. it sucked. then i ate a few nuggets for dinner and tried to kill myself. then, upon that failing, i went to sleep.

i didnt go to school for two months. like. i wasnt enrolled anywhere. family law or some shit, my parents need to hurry up and divorce.

i went to a new school, it was fine, fine, fine, then it wasn't, so i left. i went to a new school, its still fine, thats irrelevant. besides, i have to go there. only public 11/12 school in the town.

but you know what? nothings fine. nothings okay. i just want to be okay, you know? i just want to be innocent. i don't want the past to be the way it is. i with i remembered it all, because while some might say its good that i dont? its terrifying to not know for sure whats happened to you.

i dont like smelling something specific and remembering shit like the eevee themed lunch we made, or the pancakes we made in a saucepan, or the time we tried to solve cicada 3301 for the hell of it. i dont want to sound bittersweet, i dont want to sound like i miss it, but i do, in some weird way.

even though it was clearly manipulation i miss the way she trusted me.

its probably my fault, too, i shouldnt be such an easy target.

if like to tell all of this to my cousin, because i know he'd listen. i know he wouldnt laugh at me. but how does one go about that? i guess i cant. whatever.

shit, man. i dont even know. i went i think a year s/h free? and i was so damn proud of myself. then i dont know what happened. i just broke. and im still not better.

i just think to myself maybe this will be the one that kills me. maybe this one will hit an artery and i can just fucking die.

in my mind, dying feels okay if its on accident. but im seriously considering it at this point because what the fuck else am i meant to do man. im wandering around aimlessly in my own head most of the time. hardly even thinking, just trying to will myself out of existence.

im nothing more than a fucking marionette and whoevers pulling the strings is a sadist.

theres your obligatory shit poetry. i should get that printed on a cap.

ive just moved slightly wrong and its like im tearing my own skin apart. yeow.

ive been writing this at least an hour, i think ive used up 20% of my phones charge! but thats irrelevant. i dont use my pjone much, contrary to peoples belief. i rot my mind with The Computer instead. sometimes the little screen hurts and i need the big screen.

im sorry this is so long. i have a lot of thoughts going on tonight. have a break with a photo of my cat before i keep sobbing. or 4 i guess lucky you. this is shego shes one and shes a little shit. the ants got to her food so she ate them. she refuses to let me take a nice picture of her.

cats, man.

back to me literally crying now.

im scared. im scared of the future but thats common so it doesn't matter. im scared of the past but thats irrelevant. im scared right now because im in bed and its dark so there might be someone there that i cant see.

im scared people will socially exile me again for the things i like, im scared i dont really know any of my friends, im scared ill make a mistake big enough to get me in prison even though technically i already have a few times and nothing happened, im scared people hate me as much as i hate myself.

and fuck, do i hate myself.

what am i good for? i guess people like my writing but what if theyre making that up. sometimes i like my writing too and i go batshit insane over my own characters. but it feels so selfish, i guess.

(i intrude upon myself. i would like a scone right about now)

anyway. what else do i do that people like. im in charge of kids clothing visual merchandising at work. i work in a second hand store, the options for outfits are many. but i dont know. im the youngest person who works there, so what if theyre lying to me?

im creative, apparently. hey, sure, id like to tell myself that but i dunno if i can. i really think i peaked in year two with that.

what have i got about me that people like so much they want to talk to me, because i know damn well its not my appearance. i am fucking ugly. in a weird way. not that my eyes are too far apart or anything i just look dead.

i dont know. i need to let myself live life to the fullest or something but i cant.

i cant just live. its weird.i want to be alive but at the same time its tiring, too tiring, and i dont know what to do about it other that just give in.

you know. give up, and die. how is irrelevant. im so fucking tired, okay.

i dunno. i guess i wonder if anyone would really miss me if i died. but it feels like a selfish thing to wonder. im not sure.

if you want me at my weakest and you want to make me suffer, its your time to shine because right now i am at the lowest ive been in a while.

[glitterponyz]

who's the OC you just shared tell me about em >:3

THANK TOU. I LOVE YOU. ok ermfmmfv im very awkward about talking about my characters but uhhhhfnng.

So to help give a bit of background and context, the universe shes in is like a huge orb planet thing that i guess would play the role of the sun and coming out of it are a bunch of giant ribbons and on those ribbons are entire galaxies and planets and all that. The people who live on the orb in the center are considered the ones in charge of all the ribbons and everything on them, and its entire population is one family tree where the primary leadership is passed down generation to generation. When the previous leader retires, she gives her role as the primary leader of literally the entire universe to her eldest child. The eldest child being Elize, the character referred to in the ask. She does have the option to decline the role and give it to either a cousin or a younger sibling, but doing so is considered to be irresponsible and disgraceful to the family name, so she accepts her new role as leader of.. everything. Shes still fairly young, in earth years and maturity shes in her early 20s and quite frankly has no idea how to handle such a huge responsibility. Her strongest quality is her skill in battle, which i guess she just hoped that she could manage solely on those talents and it ended up screwing her over when she realized theres way more to being a leader than just war and fighting.. i wouldnt like to consider her as a bad person or anything, despite her actions and decisions seeming selfish and irresponsible. Shes very young and just bit off way more than she can chew, but she doesnt have any selfish or bad intentions. Shes a sweet person, but is angered really easily, so for her first few years of ruling shes constantly getting on her own nerves and frustrated with everything around her. In the story shes set in, she does eventually mellow out and accept that shes just not capable of ruling yet, so she passes the role down to her younger sibling and choses to separate herself from the whole "royalty" setting.

As far as character details go, elize is not human. On the drawing i have posted of her, theres a weird blob thing taking up a large portion of the page. That blob is her neutral appearance. I imagine it to sort of work like a ball of wax or maybe clay, melting down into whatever shape she needs to be while still keeping the same mass. Shes naturally really cold, but when shes changing shape she gets very warm to, again, melt into whatever shes trying to be. Her "shape shifting" isnt an endless void of possibilities though, it puts a lot of strain on her and she can only hold that shape for so long. Keeping the same mass can also be rather inconvenient, since her usual self is giant. In order to even that out into her human mimick, she ends up being freakishly tall (maybe 8-9 feet) and having room for like, 4 or 5 heads in her hair alone.

ok i think thats more than anyone would want to read so ill stop there. thank you oktorama i love infodumping

[toomanyfandoms-help]

some of the thoughts, feelings, and emotions ive been experiencing lately. merely needed a place to write this down and get it off my chest, so please feel free to scroll on

not fully sure exactly how to describe. depressive spiral? self-fulfilling prophecy? simply an unhinged, unhealthy person chattering away and scaring those close to them? something along those lines.

cant pinpoint where exactly it started either. i can give guesses, but its definitely something thats been building, rather than something that snapped.

im thinking somewhere in june. too good to be true, too much going right that i got suspicious. or maybe i was picking up on stuff i shouldve picked up on, did pick on earlier, and ignored.

it certainly started to crumble, starting with the trip. havent spoken to one of them since. its been 2 months. never really liked him though, and im quite assured in assuming the feeling's mutual.

then everyone got busy. and work got worse. and more busy. and even worse. hyperbolic, maybe a little. even still.

i dont push. i hate pushing. whenever i do even a little bit i hate myself for it. i take up other's offers gladly, but it gets further between. it feels less like friendship and more like im merely the person these people vent to every few weeks.

the one time (several times, i just stopped asking) i did ask, it got cancelled severely last minute with a half-assed apology. well, no. it was understandable. but still incredibly frustrating.

been spending more time with my family as a result. its familiar, in a tangy, bittersweet way that nostalgia is. we're closer than most, i know that, given the unique circumstances my and my sister grew up in. she knows me well.

everything took a turn when i quit though. on a whim (stressing all week and all day the day-of) setting my key down and leaving with head held high (shaking like a leaf and turning my music up too high on the drive home). combined with the stress of the previous day (shit going wrong with the house and my sister telling me she was probably minutes away from killing herself several years ago (something i already knew but somehow it hit harder (i can guess why))) it all just hurt

i also was with a friend. the day before i quit. kinda.

he helped me, sure. as in he helped with the house issue. but he didnt really talk to me. he tried to show me tiktoks on his phone (i spotted a groupchat with my friends without me in it (the old one with me hasnt been touched since june)) but they were all so. mindless.

we havent hung out since. he tried, twice. the first time i asked how many people he asked before me (its been a reoccurring problem, actually, where i am the last thought of) and he said i was the first. i didnt believe him. he tried again the next day, but i was actually looking forward to hanging out with my family so i declined.

he hasnt reached out since.

i sometimes think about how it makes me upset i cant be angry. im not really allowed to be. which is a weird thing to think about. what do i mean i cant be angry. but i think i mean it in a way like. my anger burns so deep and hot and fast, and its never good. its never for a good reason. being angry feels good, sometimes, but i cant revel in the feeling because i should not have been angry. i did things i regret.

i dunno. anger is a good emotion to have. i know that. it feels good, to feel your blood boiling just a bit and steam clouding your vision. its the one way i can really lose myself.

but its aimless. im usually angry at things i cant counteract or control or do literally anything against. it builds up. i cant release it. and when i do get angry at something i can do something about, well. it usually gets much more than deserved.

but how do you apologize for that. im not sorry for my anger, i was rightful to be angry. but my actions were maybe over the top. maybe i let out too much. maybe im not communicating at all. i dont know

how does one just. stop. not in a suicide way, but also not not in a suicide way.

i cant just go. not right now. my birthdays in 2 fucking days and i cant do that to my family. so maybe after. but we've got a vacation in 2 weeks and i dont want that to be canceled because its supposed to be the last family vacation we have.

but i cant last that long. im in limbo right now, and every single second is tearing at me and i just cant fucking feel anything anymore.

theres things i want to experience and be around for but the price of being a human being is just so fucking high that i cant fucking do it anymore. why do i exist on this miserable mortal coil and drag people down with me. why am i here

can it just stop, please

[munsonsduchess]

I am back Duchess. I am going to claim an emoji so you know when it is me, and considering I spill all the tea, I'll choose this ☕ (which may or may not be coffee but).

So it is i, who am I? Remember the anon who made out with the guy, who had a friend who liked that guy but was married, and that she had tried to push me to a different guy (Jake) until that guy was a little bit creepy? Yeah hi its me. I mentioned how I was visiting my friend, and she was gonna throw a party?

Well I've taken a few days to process everything. And now im here.

So 1) not quite a party but people were around and we all did hang out. 2) there was a new guy, but not the one my friend wanted me to meet. No, no, no. New guy, going to call Aaron, works with her husband and was invited by her husband. He is nice i guess? I didnt talk to him one on one much, but he was very rambunctious. Apparently, my friend thinks he likes me. I declined for her to give this guy my number. At the end of the night, he shook my hand and said it was nice to meet me. It ended awkwardly because he kept holding my hand and I just kind of nodded. My friend thinks there could be potential, I disagree. 3) the guy she wanted to introduce me to, we will call Brad. Brad sounds like a bad idea. Thus the name Brad, as thats the last guy I tries dating and it was a bad idea.

Why is Brad a bad idea? Well well well, thank GOD he was not there. Because, if he was, I probably would have had a meltdown. Why? Turns out HE IS RELATED TO THE GUY I MADE OUT WITH (we are going to go through the ABCs so the dude i made out with is going to be Cole, if I make it all the way to Jake I will probably cry so there is A, B, C and J im) yes. Brad is related to Cole. I did not know that. They don't look relatively alike to me. Regardless, apparently they are. Not only that, but my Friend was telling me about Brad. Brad goes to a wine club once a month, he's in a book club, and he apparently likes those cheese and meet board things. Now, I like books, however I cant stand wine. Hate it. Its too dry. I'd much rather have vodka or a good bourbon. My Friend knows this. Apparently also, as I saw some messages between them two, he calls his mom every day as well as is planning to start online gaming? And eventually quit their job to do fulltime? Which, I do not care for either of those (being a grown adult and having to call your parent every day is something im not keen on). I also am not keen on someone quitting their job just to be an online gamer (but that may because i have talked to a few guys like that before and they have all screwed me over).

thankfully, Brad was not there. Going to point 4) Cole. Guy I made out with. He was there briefly before having to go to work. We didn't get a chance to talk but he smiled and waved at me, also blushed whilst doing. This man has gotten more fine. I hate myself. He was more attractive this time then last and I hate it. I walked to the kitchen to get a snack but had gotten stopped by someone,, and he slid by me as he was leaving, and gently moved me to the side, putting his hands on my hips. We looked into each other's eyes and we both smiled and blushed. The person who stopped me made a comment on the chemistry between us. So that made me awkward.

So long story short, nothing at all happened. My Friend may or may not have brought Cole up multiple times, making me wonder if she still likes Cole. Oh and her husband broke up a fight between two drunk people and kicked them out, that was very entertaining but I have 0 clue what their names were or how they knew them.

So that is the update for now.

It took me a while to get around to this but I am ready to spill the tea.

This is wild honestly

Aaron seems. Nice. That’s about all I can say on that front, the hand holding thing is a little weird but maybe he’s just not great with social cues. Who knows

Brad however. Oh. Those are some big old red flags. The fact that you guys do not seem to have anything in common but books, the whole online gaming as a career thing. There’s a reason why that doesn’t work out for most people. You have to do your full time job and make online gaming your full time job to even get anywhere.

I used to live with someone who quit their full time job for the same reason. Their whole thing was that they were going to be a streamer and get so much money, they were gonna get so hot and then everyone would sub to them and yeah. No.

Look a shark coochie board is just a boujee lunchable for adults. That’s all it is. I will stand by that. It’s cheese, meat and crackers. It’s a lunchable.

I mean it’s nice(?) that he calls his mum so often. A bad relationship with parents for seemingly no reason is a big red flag of mine so the fact that he’s got a decent relationship with his mum seems like a good thing to me.

The whole related to Cole thing is a minefield. I would stay so clear of that. For your own sanity.

Your friend bringing up Cole a lot makes me think she’s trying to suss out what your feelings are for him so she can figure her own stuff out based on what you say. Again. Minefield.

Seems like it was one hell of a gathering tho.

[yanderespamton78]

TIMELINE

im not great at stuff like this and ive kinda changed my style of writing at diff stages, so some bits are more lighthearted, some bits are more serious some bits are all shoved into one post, ect ect ect. sorry about that!! also this doesnt get updated often on tumblr, but if you want the link to the word doc just ask and ill DM it to you :DD

APR 16 :

 6:32 am : Turnons blog opened :D

APR 20 : 

8:35 am : Turnon makes the poll about whether he should investigate smth weird addons doing (this shows that addon has been slightly suspicious since the start)

8:35 am : First morse code!!! With the poll 

4:39 pm : “I miss my past” post (possibly relevant??)

4:53 pm : Maskons first post

4:54 pm : First interaction with maskon (through a comment on a post - he didn't yet have a proper blog)

7:24 pm : Addon makes a blog

8:01 pm : First interaction with the morse code entity

8:10 pm : Addon first translates what the morse code entity is saying

8:15 pm : the giftday party incident (i added this bc it makes me laugh a lot)

8:37 pm : rainbon mentioned. Possibly significant? 

9:24 pm : We find out the morse code entity is actually turnon (im guessing right after the acident but i could be wrong)  (the addisons never find this out)

9:47pm : First time the alphabet code entity speaks through turnons posts. Says “i think that's enough. you're scaring him. he's hurt, you wouldn't want him to dust would you?” presumably referring to the morse code entity. Right after this the morse code entity disappears, and any further interactions respond with “but no one came”

9:57 pm : Second interaction with alphabet code entity who says “stop talking to him you're giving him a headache”. Turnon complains about a headache. This is the first signs of a decline in his health. In the next post he says that hes going to go.

10:04 pm : Addon has been translating bits of the morse code for a bit now. The forth analysis ends up being corrupted, and all the characters are just black blocks. 

APR 21 :

9:26 am : First post says that he got a nosebleed and passed out on his desk the previous night. He also mentions that when he woke up there was a cup of tea on his desk which he presumes is from addon but it was never confirmed.

10:59 am : Mentions that the strange people are back (mentioned in the poll) and that hes getting a nosebleed. Mentions in the next post that he feel really dizzy and is going back to his desk

11:34 am : Turnon describes a building pressure in his head like bugs. 

11:50 am : Turnon says that the nosebleed stopped. Alphabet entity gets accused of being slick. It ignores the question and instead tells us to leave turnon alone as he’s stressed with work.

12:00 noon : This post from maskon? Not sure the relevance of the song. definitely creepy tho.

6:14 pm : Here addon confirms that turnon is in the medbay. This is later contradicted by addon himself.

6:14 pm : “turnon” says that he woke up and has no idea where he is. At 6:23 he tags addon for help.

6:19 pm : Addon says that he opened a zipped file and it shut down his pc. This is presumably what causes the medical documents to get leaked.

6:29 pm : “Turnon” says that he knows where he is and isn't happy about it. What??

6:52 pm : A few posts later “turnon” tells addon that he got hurt really badly. He says hes going to try to walk home against addons advice.

7:42 pm : Something happens and “turnon” starts making disturbing posts. They are in english but don’t have spaces. He seems frantic and scared and at 7:54 pm he doesnt respond to his own name, despite the fact that he mentions his goggles and crypton, which are obviously things that are unique to him. 

7:50 pm : Addon responds to the first spaceless post and comments on how turnon couldn't be making the posts as he is unconscious in medbay 

8:03 pm : When not-turnon is questioned on his name he says it is presson and seems confused. He says he found the phone in queens palace (if he is telling the truth, it would make sense why turnon was unhappy about where he was. Obviously he fell into the acid lake in queens mansion so its unsurprising that he would be on edge.)

8:20pm : Presson denies that it was him who typed the weird spaceless posts. 

9:34 pm - 9:59 pm : Presson comments on how dark and run down seraphim is. When questioned on it addon says its probably something interdimensional or timeline based. At this point, his text starts glitching out. Addon tells presson to put the phone in the big machine, but presson says that it looks dangerous and he doesn't want to. He seems genuinely worried about dying, but addon insists he returns the phone. Finally, he puts it in the machine and you are no longer able to contact presson.

10:52 pm : when questioned on the weird glitchy text, he again chalks it up to interdimensional lag

If we go by addons version of events (which he talked about a few days later on the 24th) at about 6-7pm turnon went out and got badly injured. At about 8 pm some kind of entity (presson) took his phone, who addon electrocuted. At about 9 pm Turnon was found in an alleyway with some kind of black fluid gushing out of his nose. 

APR 22 : 

5:37 pm : confirmation that Maskon is Slick

8:28 pm : The first leak of Turnons medical documents. 

9:07 pm - 9:53 pm : this whole saga. An asker accuses Addon of experimenting on turnon and Addon denies it. Id recommend reading it.

10:06 pm : Maskon refers to Turnon as his husband

APR 23 : 

11:04 am : Turnon wakes up!! In a bad state but alive :3 also at 11:08 am he says that hes missing a few parts

4:08 pm : turnon is told about the (made up) debt issues

4:37 pm : turnon is shown his medical document. At 4:57 pm hes told not to tell addon about it.

5:24 pm : Turnon is told about presson. He also says that his last phone is blown up.

5:25 pm : Turnon talks about maskon

5:42 pm : Turnon mentions his legs feeling numb D:

7:20 pm : Turnon secretly spells out help !! wow !! 

7:47 pm : second Turnon medical document leaked!!  (at 8:23 pm i made fun of addon for being bad at stopping important docs from getting leaked)

8:34 pm : we find out about the hats

APR 24 :

12:51 pm : Click gets a blog!!

10:30 pm : Turnon makes a post asking how long is legs are supposed to be numb, and asking why his fingers are turning black. Click reblogs the post and says that hes coming over. After that turnon starts typing his posts really,,, bad,, theres no better way to describe it. After a minute Surf (ambyu-lance) takes the phone and click demands to speak to him and addon

APR 25 : 

6:57 pm : the third medical document leaked. This hasn't been decoded yet, but the first bit seems to be in nihilistic cipher. IMPORTANT : instead of having Patient 25 : Turnon.G. Addison at the top, it has Patient 24 : Crimson.K.Addison. This means that there could’ve been other addisons that Slick infected.

8:16 pm : Turnon makes a post, a picture he drew of himself with the caption “im a little sad, i'll get better”. When questioned on it he says that hes not used to the feeling of being useless.

9:15 pm - 9:37 pm : Clickon is questioned on whether he talked to Surf and Addon. He says that he did, and no one is completely sure whats up with Turnon. Clickon says that Turnons condition is worsening. Hes paler than usual, his fingers are black, and Clickon accidentally pulled out a clump of his hair. Click says that Turnon is a survivor, but even this makes him worried. After this, Addon reblogs the post saying that he didn't talk to clickon last night and theres no footage of Click entering the building. Click is obviously confused, to which Addon tells click to wake up and to stop living in his fantasies. After this Clickon says he feels weird.

9:20 pm : cool lil drawing. Not really relevant but i thought it was neat lol

9:35 pm : TURNON STANDS!!!! He mentions that his legs are black and hurt like hell but hes standing!! (at 9:53 pm he falls over D:)

9:37 pm : Click makes a post that simply reads “Somethings wrong.”

9:57 pm : When questioned if he's ok, clickon replies saying he never made it, before a wall of binary. It reads “Everything feels stuffy, Shadows I'm in my car, I think I'm being watched”. At 10:02 pm Addon reblogs the post saying “get out. Now.” before a string of numbers that haven't been decoded. At 10:09 pm Clickon reblogs the post again with another binary code, this time reading “I don't know where I'm going, My eyes, My eyes, I can barely see, Is it following me”

10:15 pm : Maskon makes some kind of post about Cotton candy. It translates to “i do like cotton candy dont you?”

10:23 pm : someone asks maskon / slick if he did anything to Clickon. Slick said he didn't want yellow to hang out with someone like that, but he deserves his freedom.

10:40 pm : Clickon makes a post in binary. It reads “The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars"

APR 26 : 

7:35 am : Ice cream blog opened

2:07 pm : The runner of the Ice cream blog says that he uses the alias pinup (but for some reason, he can't disclose his real name. Could be for privacy reasons though.)

2:32 pm : Pinup gets a coat!! He comments on how it doesn’t have a tag for some reason

5:12 pm : Pinup mentions addon. He says that he sees addon as a friend but he isnt sure if addon feels the same.

3:39 pm : Clickon mentions he just woke up in the woods with a massive headache. He doesn't know how he got there. 

3:42 pm - 4:26 pm : Complaining about various things. He mentions having frozen joints, so he probably slept in the woods all night. He says “at least hes alive” which means he probably thought he was genuinely going to die (or hes just being dramatic)

4:33 pm - 10:11 pm : lots of things happen in this thread. Firstly, Clickon says that it was him making the posts in binary. He says he vaguely remembers typing something out on his phone, and that he was very scared. The first two are relatively self explanatory, he was scared. The third one he said he remembered looking up at the stars. He describes everything feeling trippy and disorientating as he was running, and feeling like he was being chased. He ends up being told all about Slick and all that. He isnt actually too surprised?? He says that he is nearing the city and he can see buildings in the distance. Anyways Important Shit Happened Go read it

11:38 pm : Its confirmed that the reason why Turnon didn't post anything is because addon took away his phone.

APR 27 : 

6:37 pm : Clickon updates us saying he got back to the city and after a rough night and is driving to seraphim, presumably to check on turnon

6:44 pm : Turnon makes a post saying hes going to walk home and addon doesnt know. At about 6:55 pm he passes out in the middle of the road. At this point he is disoriented from the pain medication and thinks he is back home.

6:58 pm : Clickon finds addon in the road and mistakes him for roadkill. By 7:04 pm turnon is in his car and they were going back to seraphim. At 7:14 pm he says that turnon is speaking gibberish. 

7:15 pm : Addon says a taskforce has already been sent out to try find turnon

7:29 pm : no matter what turnip says, addon finds out that clickon has turnon and sends out a bunch of shit to stop him, presumably not realising that he has good intentions.

7:36 pm : Clickon gets fucking SHOT !! 2 mins later turnon also presumably gets shot. NICE!! Later addon confirms it was a tranquiliser dart.

7:51 pm : at this point both clickon and turnon have been captured. Addon refers to them as ”two ominous individuals” at 8:04 pm Addon reports that they have been hooked up to an experimental piece of darkner equipment that hurts them when they move. 

8:19 pm : Clickon makes a post saying he doesn't want to die. Addon replied a few minutes later with what is essentially a threat (8:22 pm) and at 8:28 pm he ends up confirming that he knows about Slick

[tomhardyspinkyfinger]

Freddie Gets Caught

Masterlist

Summary: Freddie promises to be loyal, but lying always tops loyalty in Freddie's world.

Warnings: PURE SMUT. literal filth. Cursing and super kinky sex all around you've been warned.

A/N: yeah i really just had this idea and needed to write it. freddie needs to be put in his place and so here is this one shot. no one look at me im so ashamed. its hot tho i wont lie lmao. also hardly edited I wrote this so quick it was like flowing out

Word count: 1885

some people I think would like this: @hecatemoon87 @solomons-finest-rum @darklydeliciousdesires @potter-solomons (also known as some of my fave pages)

I had been seeing this guy Freddie for a few weeks now.

Well, fucking. I've been fucking this guy Freddie for a few weeks.

And god did he fuck.

He all but begged me for a shag when I first met him at the bar I worked at. I declined time and time again, but he kept showing up every night. I had to give props to him for his resilience but I didn't have sex with just anyone.

So I set guidelines.

1. I don't do one night stands, we don't have to date, but there will be a mutually pleasurable relationship.

2. During this brief relationship, the only people we fuck is each other.

Two very simple guidelines, if we fuck, we fuck exclusively.

"Freddie, do you understand?" I had asked him, pulling away from his firm kiss.

"Yeah yeah yeah, c'mon take this off." Freddie rushed out, pushing the straps of my dress down and pushing me against the wall of the dark alley.

That exchange was simple enough, he agreed to my terms and I gave him what we both wanted, a proper fuck.

Freddie was a possessive man in all aspects of our relationship, if by any rare chance we were out in public together his hand remained on my ass practically the entire time, and I can't say I didn't love it.

What I didn't love, was how aggressively possessive he could be. I couldn't look at another bloke without him blowing up on me, so we usually stayed at my flat to fuck to avoid his anger flare ups. But that time alone seemed to flare Freddie's emotions towards me.

He'd call, begging to come to my flat and fuck me senseless. I just couldn't find the space in my heart to deny him. And thus, our romantic relationship began.

It wasn't healthy in any aspect, he would do a line, shout at me, I'd hit him, he'd fuck me twice as hard.

Not healthy at all. But god was it fucking sexy.

It would always end pleasantly though, a hug a kiss and a back massage usually. He'd plea with me to forgive him and I always did.

Forgiving Freddie was usually pretty easy, until I caught him, which brings us to where I am now, staring at Freddie kissing a beautiful blonde woman outside of a hair salon she had just exited. Before I could second guess myself I walked up to the happy couple with a smile on my face.

"Excuse me, do you happen to have the time?" I questioned her. If I could've taken a photo of Freddie's face in that moment I would've. He paled instantly, his eyes widening while the pretty blonde smiled back at me.

"Of course love, its half past two." She spoke looking down at her watch. I spotted the beautiful diamond ring and I could feel more anger growing if possible.

"Thank you, your ring is absolutely gorgeous by the way." I said, still not looking at Freddie and smiling at the woman. She placed her hand on Freddie's chest and let out a chuckle.

"My Freddie knows how to spoil me!" She said, rubbing his chest, flashing her ring. I tied up the conversation and walked down the street, heading towards my flat. I heard Freddie telling the woman to go on home without him because he had work to attend to. At this I picked up the pace, arriving to my flat that wasn't very far away. I heard his steps running behind me, most likely delayed so he could make sure his wife was gone. I unlocked my door quickly, swinging it open and rushing in, attempting to slam it behind me.

Freddie slammed into the door just in time and shoved it open, clearly out of breath.

"Sweetheart, listen-"

"Get the fuck out, Freddie." I growled, moving to my bedroom and tossing my purse on my dresser. He grabbed me and turned me around, distress clear on his face.

"What can I do to make you forgive me? I'll do anything." He said, desperation clear in his voice.

Anything?

"Get on your knees." I spoke, crossing my arms. He released me, confusion clear on his face.

"What?"

"You heard me, do it or get out." I said. I watched as he slowly lowered himself to his knees, looking up at me.

"Beg for my forgiveness Freddie." Freddie let out a huff and paused for a moment, really debating if he was going to do this.

"Please forgive me my love, I should have told you about Jackie. I was going to break it off with her, honest."

Yeah, sure.

I pondered for a moment.

"Take your clothes off and lay on the bed." I commanded. He let out another breath and stood, beginning to do what I asked. When he completed the task. I climbed on top of him, straddling his boxer-covered cock that was pushing into my panty covered core, given I was just wearing a summer dress.

I began to kiss up his chest to his neck, nibbling the spot I knew he loved. His eyes closed and he let out a shaky moan. I quietly reached into the nightstand to the right of me and pulled out the cuffs he had used on me in numerous situations. I pushed his hands above his head with my non-occupied hand and cuffed them quickly.

His eyes snapped open and met mine. I smirked.

"What is this? Trying to take charge are we?" Freddie asked, a sly smirk gracing his features.

"You don't get to be smug now Freddie. Just you wait." I said, pushing myself down his body so I was now leaning over his growing member. I pulled his boxers down and placed him in my mouth suddenly.

"Oh fuck, that's right sweetheart, right there." Freddie moaned out. I continued pleasuring him exactly how I liked. Until a knock sounded out on my front door. Freddie halted his movements and held his breath momentarily. I slid off the bed and stood, smiling at his frustrated expression.

"Excuse the interruption darling, I told my friend Kelly she could borrow my camera for her holiday this weekend. I'll only be a moment." I began to walk towards the bedroom door when Freddie called out.

"Do not fucking leave me here, do you fucking hear me?" He all but yelled, anger growing.

"Oh sweet Freddie, if only you were in any position to be making demands. If I'm honest I've heard quite enough from you today." Freddie watched as I reached up under my dress, pulling my soaked panties down and off. I walked up to his tied up frame and pushed the balled up panties into his mouth.

"That's much better, isn't it?" He glared at me but his cock twitched.

"Oh Freddie, you like this don't you darling?" I teased, touching his tip with my finger. He exhaled loudly from his nose and I smiled wider. I left the room, shutting the door.

I welcomed Kelly in, handing her the camera and starting a small chat.

Well, a small chat that turned into a thirty minute conversation about her upcoming holiday. I was practically squirming at the idea of Freddie tied up on my bed, anxiously awaiting my return. The conversation shifted towards me with Kelly asking,

"How's that bloke you've been seeing? Freddie?" I smiled a wicked smile.

"He's married." Kelly gasped.

"What the hell are you smiling about? Let me have a go at this bloke!" She yelled, anger clear on her face.

"Oh no don't worry, he's in the room right there cuffed to the bed with my panties in his mouth, he'll have learned his lesson by the end of the day." I spoke, knowing Freddie could hear. Kelly's jaw dropped and she laughed.

"You dirty girl! I would say you're yanking my chain, but I know you better than that. I'll be out of your hair then, but that doesn't mean you get to spare me any details!" Kelly said, heading towards the door.

"Of course not, have a great holiday!" With short and sweet goodbyes, I reentered the bedroom, where Freddie laid with his face almost as red as the tip of his cock.

"Miss me?" The glare Freddie gave sent a chill down my spine, but as of now I was in charge, and the repercussions wouldn't be a problem yet. I noticed my panties stayed in his mouth, which widen my smirk. He very easily could have spit them out if he wanted to.

I stripped off the remaining clothes I had on slowly, letting him take in my body before mounting him again. I reached into my nightstand again, retrieving a condom and rolling it on his still rock hard cock. His breathing was heavy again, and watched as I slowly eased myself down on him.

I rocked my hips back and forth and let out a moan. I placed both hands on his chest and rocked faster, smiling at how hard his knuckles were clenched in the cuffs. I rode him until we were both close, but came to a stop suddenly. Freddie let out a loud groan. I pulled my panties out of his mouth.

"Beg me to let you come, Freddie." I said, holding still with him inside of me.

"When I'm out of these cuffs, you're going to fucking get it babe." Freddie growled out, trying to move his hips. I gently smacked his face, halting his movements.

"That's not what I wanted to hear baby boy." He closed his eyes and groaned, knowing he needed to give me what I want.

"Please, please, let me come." Freddie all but whined out.

Music to my ears.

I began rocking my hips back and forth quickly, both of our moans filling the room.

"Let go Freddie." I commanded, feeling my impending orgasm. We both came together, loud moans falling from both of our mouths. I collapsed on his chest, exhausted from the event.

I reached up and uncuffed him before rolling off of him and onto my side of the bed. He put an arm around me and grabbed a cig from the nightstand, lighting up and taking a puff. He placed it in-between my lips and let me inhale before speaking.

"I deserve much worse than what you did love, I'm sorry for lying." I exhaled the smoke from my lungs.

"It doesn't matter Freddie, I would've kept fucking you regardless." I said.

What? Don't judge, I already said our relationship was unhealthy.

"Let's just go to bed Freddie, I'm beat." He nodded and I snuggled closer into him, falling asleep almost instantly

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

I awoke late into the night, feeling the warmth of Freddie's arms around my legs, his face pushed into my pussy, licking away hungrily. I moaned, overjoyed with this late night wake up call. I went to put my hands in his hair and hold him in place, but my wrists were stopped by cold metal. Freddie kissed his way up my body and out from under the blankets, looking at me with a smirk.

"I couldn't just let you get away with all of that, love."

Fuck.

[dazed--xx]

Mr. & Mrs. Jeon (1)

MR & MRS SMITH screenplay written by Simon Kinberg/ Novelization by Cathy East Dubowski 

T/W: Assassinations, guns, suggested sexual content, crumbling marriage, anything else i did not mention

A/N: I DID NOT WRITE THIS THE AUTHORS ARE LISTED ABOVE. I was definitely watching Mr. & Mrs. Smith and just saw Jungkook as John so often i needed this version so bad but again i did not write this i changed the names but THATS ALL I DID and im not claiming to have written this again the authors are put up. 

FIRST SESSION, MR. AND MRS. JEON

I allow Mr. and Mrs. Jeon to settle into their seats. I smile at them over my glasses, then spend a few moments offering them coffee or tea (both decline), opening their file, selecting a pen from my pen holder\ polishing my glasses—a technique that allows my clients a chance to settle in and relax before I ask the first question.

MR. JEON: "Okay. First up, I want to say we don't really

NOTE: Mr. Jeon is already leaning forward, anxious to make

something clear.

need to be here—"

NOTE: Yes. A lot of people begin this way.

MRS. JEON (smiling): "Actually it's a funny story."

MR. JEON (chuckling): We were at a charity event, a church

auction slash barbecue—"

MRS. JEON: "—our friends the Coleman’s. They live next

door. Devout—"

MR. JEON: "Episcopalians."

MRS. JEON: "Presbyterians."

NOTE: Slight discrepancy. Nothing to worry about. Unless . . .

ah, yes. A little frown passes between them.

MR. JEON: "Anyway, the grand lot was—"

MRS. JEON: "—a mystery lot."

MR. JEON: "I'd sunk a few, wasn't driving—"

MRS. JEON: "A few?"

NOTE: Mrs. Jeon rolls eyes. Mr. Jeon responds with a hard look. A muscle twitches along his jaw. Obviously, his drinking is an issue. But he doesn't take the bait. Classic case of withholding his feelings. At least in front of strangers. My early guess is that this is a couple who never argue in public. Mr. Jeon continues as if he hasn't been interrupted.

MR. JEON: "So Jane starts bidding. She gets a tiny bit competitive ..."

NOTE: Mrs. Jeon's lips purse at this remark. Another issue between them?

MR. JEON: "Upshot is: We end up blowing eight hundred

bucks on the mystery lot."

MR. AND MRS. JEON (at once): "Four sessions with

Dr. Wexler."

NOTE: They both laugh. Politely. A little too loudly.

MR. JEON: "The Coleman’s have a great sense of humor."

NOTE: Another burst of laughter; which fades quickly. Now my senses are on alert. The couple hasn't come here on their own initiative. And yet they came.

I scratch out a note, giving them time, to make sure they've said their piece. Then I look up at them and smile. "But you didn't have to come."

NOTE: Complete silence.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon glance at each other; then quickly look Away. I say nothing, and wait patiently. Sometimes it's the best way to get someone to talk. A comfortable silence doesn't bother a person whose mind is at ease. But a pregnant pause seems to compel people who are nervous to completely spill their guts. It's a little technique I picked up from police dramas on TV. I wait.

MR. JEON: "Right—"

MRS. JEON: "Absolutely."

NOTE: They sit back in their chairs. A bit nervous. I can see

Mrs. Jeon thinking, though.

MRS. JEON: "But we have a theory . . ."

MR. JEON (startled): "We do?"

MRS. JEON (smiling): "The 'Oil Check.'"

MR. JEON: "Oh. Right."

Note: I have the distinct impression that this is the first time

Mr. Jeon has heard about this theory. But he's playing along.

MR. JEON: "See, we've been married five years—"

MRS. JEON: "Six."

MR. JEON: "—five, six years, and this is like a checkup for us. A chance to peek around the engine, maybe change the oil, replace a seal or two."

NOTE: How many years married seems to be an issue. Mr. Jeon seems really into the auto-mechanic analogy.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon smile at each other; then turn back to me. The perfect happy couple. They remind me of another perfect couple. Barbie and Ken. I begin to see where this might be heading. "Very well, then. Let's pop the hood. "Please answer the following questions as quickly and instinctively as possible."

MRS. JEON: "Sure."

MR. JEON (gesturing like a gunslinger): "From the hip."

ME: "On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you as a couple?"

MRS. JEON: "Eight."

MR. JEON: "Wait."

NOTE: Mrs. Jeon has spoken instantly. Mr. Jeon seems startled by her answer.

MR. JEON: "So, like ten being perfectly happy and one being . . . totally miserable?"

"Just answer instinctively."

MR. JEON: "Okay. Ready?"

MRS. JEON: "Ready."

MR. AND MRS. JEON (at once): "Eight."

NOTE: Interesting . . . not too hot, not too cold. Like porridge.

ME (next card): "On a scale of one to ten, how happy would

you say your partner is?"

MR. JEON: "Eight."

NOTE: This time it's Mr. Jeon who has the instant answer; Mrs. Jeon who hesitates.

MRS. JEON: "Um, are we allowed fractions?"

NOTE: Mr. Jeon seems taken aback by her answer and leans

over.

ME AND MR. JEON (at the same time): "It's what's instinctive."

MRS. JEON: "Okay, I'm all set. One, two, three . . ."

MR. AND MRS. JEON (at once): "Eight."

NOTE: Eight again. They look at me for approval, as if I am their teacher and they are answering questions at the blackboard. Very interesting . . . Eight is a very telling number. Safe cruising altitude. No drama—high or low. No passion one way or the other. Now that I've warmed them up, time for the Big One. I glance down at my card, my face impassive so as not to give away what's to come. The shock value usually provokes the truest response. "How often do you have sex?"

NOTE: I have to glance back up to make sure they are still there. They are, but they look like a picture postcard. Stunned. A little shell-shocked.

MRS. JEON (blushing): "I . . . don't understand the question."

NOTE: Yes, you do, Mrs. Jeon.

MR. JEON (squirming in chair): "Wait. Okay, I'm lost. Is this a one to ten thing?"

NOTE: Ah, Mr. Jeon. Quit stalling.

MRS. JEON: "Right. I mean, because if it is, does one equal 'not much' or is one like, 'nothing.' Because strictly speaking, zero should be nothing."

MR. JEON: "Exactly. Plus, if we don't know what one is, what's ten?"

MRS. JEON: "Right ... Is ten . . . you know. .

MR. JEON: "Constant . . . unrelenting. .

MRS. JEON: "Twenty-four/seven . . . without a break. For

anything."

MR. JEON: "Not even to eat."

MRS. JEON: "Like Sting."

MR. JEON: "Exactly."

NOTE: Mr. Jeon shakes head emphatically—he's found a well-known figure upon which to divert our attention—a tactic that can help alleviate his feelings of guilt or discomfort.

MR. JEON: "Look at Sting's Day job. Who else has sixty hours a week to put aside in the sack?"

NOTE: Okay, I think I'm ready to hazard a guess here. Based on my professional instincts and experience, / write down a number. My estimate of how often this young couple has had sex in the last month. Maybe the whole year.

"This is not a one-to-ten scenario. It's a straight question."

NOTE: I wait for them to settle down a little. It is, after all, an embarrassing question to answer in front of a stranger. Some people just say they can't remember. Sometimes people boast. Often, they flat-out lie. I wait for the Jeons to speak. And when no one does, I ask the question again. "How often do you have sex?"

NOTE: Still no answer.

"How about this week?"

MR. JEON (stalling again): "Including the weekend?"

"Sure."

NOTE: Mr. Jeon sinks back in his chair and stares at his hands. Mrs. Jeon seems to be studying the pattern in my office curtains. Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon. Can't even say the number out loud, can you. But then I guess they don't really have to. I retrace the number I've written down in my notes—a nice round even number. Zero. Then I check my calendar to see if I can get them back in early next week. I think we have a lot of work to do.

SECOND SESSION, MR. AND MRS. JEON

NOTE: Clients fail to show.

An hour later Mr. Jeon calls apologizing. Says he had to go out of town unexpectedly. Declines to reschedule. Says he has to check with his wife. Will call back later. Mr. Jeon calls the next day. Wonders if he can come in on Wednesday. By himself. Interesting . . .

SECOND SESSION, MR. JEON ALONE

Mr. Jeon, second session. Full transcript of our recorded conversation, with my notes added. Mr. Jeon sits down in my office. He apologizes for being late, even though he's not. The man looks tired. I check my notes: Mr. Jeon runs a construction company. International. Travels a lot. No kids. A busy Life. But his exhaustion doesn't seem physical. His eyes suggest that something else is wearing him down.

 I do my usual paper shuffling waiting for him to relax. I offer coffee, tea, etc. He says no thanks, then pulls out a silver hip flask. 

Flashing a crooked grin—the kind that knocks ladies off their feet—he asks, "Mind if I.. .?" I glance at the clock. It's barely noon and yet there's something about the gesture that seems perfectly natural for Mr. Jeon. "Like the song says, 'It's five o'clock somewhere " he jokes. I make a note. Jeon Jungkook is suaver than I remembered him being during his first visit. Then he struck me as a very nice, dependable, steady guy—like a husband in an insurance ad. This Mr. Jeon seems . . . well, different. 

There's a bit of James Bond—or maybe even Frank Sinatra—in him. He has that kind of Rat Pack flair. He casually takes a swig from his silver flask and that's when I notice that he's not wearing his wedding ring. I check my notes. He was definitely wearing it at the first session when his wife was present. That might seem like just a tiny thing. But it's something I routinely look for when married couples come in. 

A wedding ring is more than a symbol. Most people take it very seriously. I wonder if Mr. Jeon had a reason for not wearing his. There's an interesting story here, I'm sure. I turn on the tape and hope to find out: "tell me, Mr. Jeon. Why did you decide to come back

alone?"

MR. JEON (shrugs, looks away): "I'm not sure, really. I don't think we have a problem. I mean, I love my wife, love my house, love our life . . ."

NOTE: He doesn't complete the sentence. There's a big BUT hanging unsaid. But he can't seem to make himself say it. "But . . .?"

NOTE: Mr. Jeon's eyes take on a faraway look. He's obviously replaying painful scenes in his mind. Something is definitely troubling him. But it's clear that he doesn't know how to talk about it. Of course, this is not uncommon among my male patients. So, I take a step back and try a different approach. "Just relax, Mr. Jeon. We're here to talk, that's all. There are no right or wrong answers. "Tell me about your wife . . . What was it that first drew you to her?"

MR. JEON (smiling now): "She was mesmerizing . . . exciting . . . mysterious. .

NOTE: Good. He's opening up.

ME: "And now?"

NOTE: Mr. Jeon's face darkens, his eyes shutter.

MR. JEON: "No mystery."

NOTE: I wait patiently for him to say more. But he just looks at me and shrugs. Like "That's it." He fiddles with his flask, takes another slug of whatever he's drinking, then looks down at the floor resigned to his disappointment. I can see that he's going to have a hard time opening up. In fact, I'm convinced it'll take dynamite to get him to say more. I tap my pen on the desk, thinking. "Mr. Jeon, I'm going to give you a little homework."

NOTE: He gives me an "are you kidding?" look.

"Nothing to worry about, I assure you. I just want you to go home and write about your feelings."

NOTE: Mr. Jeon bursts out laughing, like I've just told some hilarious joke at the country club. Then he stops, looking embarrassed.

MR. JEON: "You're not serious, right? No? Oh, well. Look, Doc. I'm not much of a writer. I'm more of an action kind of guy. Construction, did I tell you? And well, I'm so busy at work—you wouldn't believe the shit going on with this project down in Atlanta ..."

"I understand, Mr. Jeon. But you don't need to worry. This is not a school assignment for your English teacher. It doesn't have to be fancy. It doesn't even have to be in complete sentences. It's just an exercise. An experiment, let's say. You don't have to show it to anyone."

MR. JEON: "Nobody?"

ME: "No one."

MR. JEON: "Not . . . you know . . . her?"

ME: "Mrs. Jeon? Oh, no, you don't have to show her. You don't even have to show me. Of course, you can show it to me if you want. But mostly I want you to feel free to write down whatever you want. To help you figure out exactly what it is that's troubling you. Sometimes we don't know what our story is until we tell it to ourselves."

NOTE: Mr. Jeon takes another hit from the flask. He seems to realize I might be counting. Quickly; he screws the top back on and tucks it into the pocket of his suit jacket.

MR. JEON (shrugging): "What the hell." Laughs like it's no big deal. "I mean, sure. I'll take a shot at it. Why not? You're the doc, right?"

ME: "Excellent."

MR. JEON: "But hey, no promises."

NOTE: Mr. Jeon jumps up to leave. Shakes my hand like we're buddies at a high school reunion. Starts to hustle out. Then stops. Turns around.

MR. JEON: "Uh, Doc?"

"Yes, Mr. Jeon?"

MR. JEON: "So, uh, like how do I begin?"

"Just begin at the beginning. Try to remember how you met your wife . . . Maybe try to remember why you first fell in love."

MR. JEON: "Yeah. Great. Gotcha!"

NOTE: Mr. Jeon bolts out the door like the school bell just

rang.

I jot down a note and shake my head. I wonder if I'll ever hear or see from Mr. Jeon again. I did, however; hear from Mrs. Jeon again. To review Jane's file notes,

NOTE: I nod, pleased. I can tell from her face . . . there are still a few embers smoldering among the ashes of this marriage.

"Very good. Begin with that. Oh, I do wish we could get Mr. Jeon to do this, too. Do you think it's a possibility—"

MRS. JEON (looks stricken): "Oh, no! I mean, I don't think he wants to come in anymore. I mean, well, you know how men are. He's not really into . . . things like this. And actually, well . . ."

ME: "Yes?"

MRS. JEON (soft laugh): "I haven't exactly mentioned to him—yet—that I was coming alone. I didn't want to worry him, you know. Or make him think I thought there was something really wrong. I just sort of wanted ... to keep it . . . private."

NOTE: Ah, yes. One of the little secrets . . . [It appears that Mr. Jeon has a few secrets, too. Unbeknownst to Mrs. Jeon, he called for a separate appointment as well.]

JANE

Okay. This feels kind of funny, writing all this down. But here goes.

Here’s how I met Jungkook. It was six years ago, and I was staying in the Americana Hotel, in Bogota, Colombia. I was there to aas-aos I was working on an assignment for my organization. The company I work for. Just something routine. The place was in total chaos. Politicians were being killed; soldiers raided the buildings on a regular basis, the policia ransacked rooms. Suddenly, one afternoon, the whole town went mad-people flooded the streets, yelling and screaming. I heard a voice shouting in Spanish,

 “Somebody shot the Barracuda!”

 The Barracuda-Sancho Varron. I knew the name well. A local politician who ran the province. Not a good guy. I had ... heard that he’d been assassinated. Dark storm clouds threatened overhead, mirroring the mood in the streets, and for both reasons, I decided it might be wise to head indoors. My hair was dark and my Spanish was excellent, but my clothes definitely screamed “La turiMa gringa.” Not the best day to stand out in a crowd. I shoved through the panicked crowd till I reached my hotel. With a glance over my shoulder, I ducked into the doorway. As my eyes adjusted to the cooler darkness of the lobby, I saw a man sitting at the bar. He was watching the turmoil outside as calmly as if he were watching a parade pass by. Black hair, golden tan. Lean but muscular, like a boxer. Stunning good looks. American business traveler, I guessed. Or maybe a tourist. He was using a dog-eared copy of Let 'A Go: South America as a coaster. It was the first time I ever laid eyes on Jungkook. And I thought at that moment that I would never be able to look away. A bellboy was telling him the news of the assassination.

 “Police are rounding up single tourists!” the young man warned in Spanish. I never did understand exactly why they did that. Maybe it was something they picked up from American movies. “Are you alone, sir?” he asked Jungkook. I saw him shrug yeah. Best news I’d heard all day. He must have felt my stare because he looked up at that moment. And it took my breath away. He had devastating brown eyes. Eyes a woman could get lost in. And since I’d completed the day’s assignment, I thought I might just like to get lost for a while. I took a step toward him. 

Just then the policia Capitan stormed into the bar and ruined the party, rounding up suspects and otherwise throwing his weight around. On the slightest whim, he could drag us off to jail, where we might never be seen or heard from again. My heart pounded as he noticed me. Gave me the once-over, made assumptions, glanced back at Jungkook.

 “You two are together?” the Capitan asked. Our eyes met. And ... that’s all it took, really.

 One look-a refuge in the middle of a murderous riot-and Jungkook and I were together. Jungkook took my arm as if he’d been waiting for me all afternoon. I gave him a flirtatious hug, then led him toward the stairs. The Capitan bought it, looked a little jealous, even, and moved on to terrify other innocent people. I squeezed Jungkook’s hand as we continued upstairs. Looks like we’d dodged another bullet.

JUNGKOOK

This is weird.

I’m not sure I can do this.

Okay. Here goes.

Here’s how I met Jane. It was five years ago, and I was in Bogota, Colombia, to aas-s Well, I was on an assignment. For my engineering company. I often travel in my work. I was sitting at the bar in the lobby of the Americana Hotel watching the world erupt into anarchy when a bellboy rushed up to me with news: “Somebody shot the Barracuda!” he shouted in Spanish. “Sancho Varron?” The boy nodded. No need to tell him it wasn’t news to me. “Police are rounding up single tourists,” the boy said, which again was not news. “Are you alone?” he asked. I was alone. I was always alone. It was the kind of life I led. Then the policia Capitan stormed in, no big fucking surprise, backed up by his pack of rats and scaring everybody with his weenie of a gun. The next thing I knew he was in my face, shouting something. But suddenly, even though I speak fluent Spanish, I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Because an absolute vision had just walked in the door, and for a moment, I was oblivious to everything else. Hair the color of melted chocolate. Gray eyes that could burn a hole in a man’s heart. Curves that looked hard and soft at the same time. I don’t know what the hell a woman like that was doing in a place like this. And I didn't care. I was just glad that out of all the gin joints in the world, she’d walked into mine. Her smile said she’d noticed me, too.

The policia Capitan shoved me, demanding my attention. “What?” I didn’t dare tear my eyes away from the vision, in case she tried to disappear. The Capitan followed my gaze. “You two are together?” he demanded. Without a word, I asked her. Are we? Without a word, she answered, Hell, yeah. At least, that was my fantasy translation. I nodded at the Capitan, who looked just the tiniest bit jealous as this goddess gave me a sexy hug and then pulled me toward the stairs. We continued our charade all the way up to her room, where I assumed the game would end. But a round of gunfire changed our minds. We ducked inside and slammed the door. Side by side, leaning against the door, our hearts drumming in our throats, we listened to the shouting, the gunfire, the pounding footsteps. Hoping we’d be among the lucky ones. I expected my date to scream, or faint, or at least burst into tears. Instead, she started giggling, like a little girl playing a thrilling game of hide-and-seek. Jesus! I rolled across her and held my hand over her mouth, inadvertently (yeah, right) pressing the rest of me against the rest of her in the process. Her eyes widened like I’d made a pass at her. And hell, maybe I had at that. Neither of us moved. I stared down into her clear gray eyes and thought at that moment that I would never be able to look away.

I could feel her heart pounding, I could smell the heat of the day on her skin. Who was she? What kind of woman faced danger and laughed? My kind of a woman. I knew how I wanted that evening to end. At sunset, when the day’s insanity had quieted down for the night, we escaped the sweltering hotel and ran into the streets. It had begun to rain by then, people were rushing everywhere. We dashed ahead of them with Spanish newspapers over our heads toward a place I knew down a back alley. “Varron ran this province for years,” I was explaining to her as we ducked beneath an awning. She nodded. “That’s three assassinations this week.” So. She kept up with things. “Four,” I said. “So, what brings you to Bogota?” “Business.” I waited, but she said nothing more. Maybe I should have asked, but hell. I didn't really care why she was there. Just that she was. “You?” she asked.

“Pleasure.” She seemed to like that answer. I led her into a basement dive bar, a little place that was popular with the locals. We’d be safe here. And it was a good place to get drunk without anybody remembering your name. The dance floor was mobbed with people trying to forget about the world outside; the salsa music was frantic, the dancing hot and furious, and sexy as hell. Not that I ever participated; but I did like to watch. As I led Jane toward a table in the corner, the danger we’d been in that day seemed to suddenly hit her. “I was right in the street,” she said. “I guess I was pretty lucky.” “Trust me,” I murmured as I sat and pulled her down beside me. “I’m the lucky one.” I snapped my fingers, and a bottle of tequila slid across our table out of nowhere, followed by all the fixings. That's what I liked about the place. The service. And the cheap booze. I poured out two shots and raised my glass for a toast. “To dodging bullets ..." I said.

She smiled and clinked her glass to mine. “To dodging bullets ...” My eyes never left hers as we licked the salt from our hands, sucked up the tequila, and bit down into juicy, tangy limes. It was the single sexiest drink I’d ever had in my life. Two more and Jane was dragging me onto the grinding, pulsing dance floor. I hollered at her that I didn’t dance. But when she threw her arms around me and began to move her hips, she quickly convinced me otherwise.

JANE

Jungkook said he didn’t dance. But that night I thought, if this is how he moves on instinct, he’d be downright dangerous with a few lessons. It was better than most of the sex I’d had. I always liked men who knew how to move. That night I learned the secret of salsa’s allure. It was a dance that said, “To hell with today, to hell with tomorrow-tonight we dance.” And so, we did, filling our minds with nothing but the moment. The only thing that finally tore us away from the dance floor was the dress code-clothes. We had to keep them on. And so, high on tequila, we escaped into the night and tumbled into a cab. There was plenty of room in the backseat, but somehow, I found myself curling up on Jungkook’s lap, where we continued to move to a salsa beat. When we reached the hotel, our dash up the stairs to my room was no longer a charade. Later, to escape the sweltering heat inside, we wrapped ourselves in our tangled sheets and climbed out onto the rooftop, where we sat and dangled our feet over the edge. The breeze was heaven on earth, and the clouds had given way to a riotous canopy of stars. We felt like angels, perched high above the earth on a lofty cloud.

Down below us, a small crowd had gathered on the street to watch an old black-and-white movie projected on a bullet scarred wall. One of my favorites-Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, twenty feet tall and dancing as if they were made for each other. And that’s how I felt as Jungkook pulled me into his arms. The next morning, I woke to sunlight streaming across my face. Delightfully sore from dancing and everything else, I stretched, joyfully aware of being alive. And happier than I'd been in a long time. Maybe ever. I rolled over and reached across the bed . . .And felt nothing but rumpled sheets. I sighed. A wonderful night or a beautiful dream? Either way, it was nice while it lasted. And either way, it had disappeared with the dawn. Ah, well. I was used to being alone. I was always alone. It was how I lived my life. By choice. But it had been nice to think otherwise for a night. I snuggled back down into my pillow, and tried to recover a wisp of my delicious dream when I heard a key in the lock. I sat up and pulled the covers around me. Had the policia returned? Then the door opened and there he was. Jungkook. As real and as glorious as he’d been in the night.

“Hiya, stranger,” I said. “Hiya back.” He moved toward the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. And

he came with gifts. A steaming cup of coffee and the morning paper. “I think room service fled,” he said. “So, I did what I could.” I took a sip of the coffee as he tossed the paper on the bed. “Mmm. Cafe con leche. It’s good.” “Better be,” Jungkook said. “I had to milk the goat myself.” I laughed. “A man who’d risk his life for a cup of coffee. You’ve gotta love that.” Jungkook looked startled, then crossed to the window and pulled back the curtains to stare out into the streets. The glass was shattered from the day before. Black smoke hung in the distance, darkening the sky. But all I saw was him. And it was a beautiful morning. With a sigh I opened up the newspaper, and gasped.

There, tucked in the fold, was a flower. A simple one. The kind of bastard wildflower that shoots up against all odds from the cracks in a battered sidewalk. It was the most beautiful flower I’d ever seen. “Anything in the paper?” Jungkook asked without turning around. “Nope,” I said with a smile, and slid the flower behind my ear. Then I picked up the paper again, trying hard not to adore this wonderful man.

Good things, I knew, were as ephemeral as a wildflower in your hair. The paper was filled with pictures of yesterday’s carnage. This place, it was no longer safe. With my work complete, I should have been gone by now. “You watched me sleep last night,” I said casually. “Did I?” he asked, feigning innocence. I snuggled back against the pillows and stretched my arms above my head. “What did you see?” “What did he see ... . ?” Jungkook turned and leaned against the windowsill, studying me as if I were some great painting he’d purchased at Sotheby’s and just unwrapped in his own home. I took the moment to study him as well, framed by the window’s morning glow. And I came to the conclusion that the man could give Michelangelo’s David an inferiority complex. “He saw himself flying home and wishing he’d known her middle name,” Jungkook said at last. “And her?” His answer surprised me. I was touched, and falling quickly under his spell. It was a lovely feeling, a part of me thought. And far too dangerous, countered another. Many words sprang to my lips. I was very good at games of the heart, so I knew to keep things light, flirtatious. “She saw herself walking through Chinatown,” I said, “and wondering how he felt about jazz.” A clever, sexy line, I decided. “And he,” Jungkook vollied, “thought that maybe there is something more sublime than the perfect putt on the eighteenth green on a sunny Sunday morning.” Be Mill, my heart, my grin answered, as I drew the covers up to my chin. “And she thought how much he’d love her lemon cake,” I said playfully.

Suddenly he was towering over me, and the playfulness in his voice was replaced by an intensity that took my breath away. “He suspected that last night would be the night by which all other nights were measured.” His eyes dared me to step out from behind the security of coy phrases. And so, in spite of being scared, I answered honestly. “And she agreed.”

Jungkook leaned down, his face inches from mine, his chocolate eyes guarded.

So. We were both afraid. And with that knowledge, a giddiness began to bubble up in my heart. “What happens next?” he whispered. “Everything,” I said. He growled like a starving tiger as we fell into each other’s arms, into a kiss that felt as if it would never end.

JUNGKOOK

“aaand step right up, ladies and gentlemen!”

Jane and I were strolling through the San Gennaro Street festival, one of New York City's oldest and biggest street fairs, held in Manhattan's Little Italy. Yeah, that's right. We'd traded streets-one filled with murder and mayhem for one overflowing with laughter, music, and celebration. We’d left Bogota and flown home. And, well, let's just say we'd stayed in touch. Very much in touch. No more bullets to dodge.

Instead, Jane and I dodged the crowds as we shared pink cotton candy and browsed the stalls offering food, crafts, games, and other things to spend money on. “Come on, little lady, don’t be afraid!” The ancient barker working the shooting gallery had no idea who he was talking to. I didn’t think my Jane was afraid of anything. It didn’t escape my notice that I was already thinking of her as mine. Jane slowed down and seemed attracted to the toy guns.

“Want to try your luck?” I suggested.

Her killer lips curled into a smile, considering.

“Why not?”

As I paid the man, Jane selected a gun. It looked a little awkward in her hands, but I resisted the urge to correct her hold. It was just for fun, after all. She aimed, fired; The gun had quite a kickback. Jane stumbled a little and missed. I urged her to try again. The next time she almost blinded the barker! Poor guy. I tried not to laugh as she shrugged and handed the gun to me. I took the weapon in my hands, testing the weight, rolled my neck to loosen up. Then took aim. What is it about carnivals, girls, and guns that just makes you want to show off? I fired-and bull’s-eyed the target. Jane gasped, and looked very impressed. I shrugged. “Beginner's luck, I guess.” Hell, I didn’t want to make her feel bad. So, I decided not to try so hard with my next shot. I had other reasons, too, for not wanting to show off in public just how good I was with a gun.

So, I took a few more shots, this time dipping down, missing a couple for good measure. All in all, not bad for your average Joe. Even trying to miss, I won a small stuffed bear. Proud of myself, I turned to walk away and offer the prize to my girl.

But Jane stopped me. “Urn, may I have another go?” Ah, I thought. Competitive, are we? I liked that in

a woman. This time she held the gun like a pro, raised it to her eye, and fired off five rounds in a row.

Blam! Blam! Blaml Blam! Blaml

I nearly dropped my bear.

Five shots. Five perfect bull’s-eyes.

“Beginner’s luck, I guess,” she said as she walked off with her prize: a life-size stuffed bear. I guess I must have looked stunned. With a laugh, she slipped the scarf from around her bear’s neck and whipped it around mine. She had me where she wanted me. She could have ended my life with a hard twist. But instead, she pulled me close and ended my life as I knew it . . . with a killer kiss. Goddamn. She was the girl of my dreams.

JANE

Okay, so now I was scared. It had been six weeks since Jungkook and I met in Bogota. Six weeks! And now he wanted to take me out someplace really special for dinner. Dress up, he said. So, you might ask, what was I scared of?

The six-weeks part.

I hadn’t been in a relationship that lasted longer than six weeks since I took piano lessons in second grade. And that only lasted for seven. Good things never lasted. And this thing between Jungkook and me? It was good. Very, very good. So of course, it had to end. And soon. Hell, for all I knew, this could be our last night together. So, I dressed up as if I had something to celebrate. Even though I might only be toasting adieu. We could have walked, but Jungkook suggested we take a taxi, since I was wearing heels. I secretly think taking cabs reminded him of our first night in Bogota. All too soon we arrived at the River Cafe. I suggested we drink tequila for old time’s sake, but Jungkook ordered champagne.

“Champagne is for celebrating,” he said. I smiled, blinking away the sudden moisture in my eyes. We drank champagne, we watched the river, but mostly we stared at each other. We’d ordered food, but it sat there between us, untouched. I was hungry, but only for him. I think there was music; I think people danced. But just as in Bogota, we seemed oblivious to everything, as if our lives were lived at the eye of a hurricane while the rest of the world stormed around us. I wondered wildly if there was some way to make this night last forever. Maybe we could lasso the moon and ride it forever through the stars, so the dream would never end. Not the kind of thoughts I usually entertained. But then, that’s what being with Jungkook did to me. That’s when Jungkook’s hand moved to his pocket. I thought it was for a pen, at first. Or a cigarette? But instead, he pulled out a small box. Light blue, the shade that Tiffany’s is known for.

I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. Jungkook didn’t say a word. He just opened the box. And then the whole world sparkled as he slid a ring on my left hand. Jungkook had given me the stars and a night that would last forever.

JUNGKOOK

“STOP!” my best friend and coworker Taehyung exclaimed. The next day I was working out in my regular

boxing gym with a trainer. I'd been telling Taehyung about Jane, and he did not like what he was hearing.

“You’re what” “I'm in love,” I said. Taehyung looked at me as if I’d taken too many blows to the head. “You've known her, what, six weeks?” But how could I explain to Taehyung? He changed women more often than he changed his socks. “This girl, Taehyung-she’s . . . wild. She’s strong, and she’s competitive. I don’t know how to describe it. I feel like. .

Pow! I slammed into the bag.

JANE

"You don’t think this is happening a little fast?”

I The next day I was climbing with my best friend and coworker Rose. I always found this sport to be a great way to work out, but today I found it especially exhilarating and had to struggle not to leave Rose far behind. But she wasn’t talking about my climbing speed. She was talking about my relationship with Jungkook

“You know me,” I said, glancing back down. “I don’t do anything rashly-watch your foothold.”

She did. “So, what does he do?” “Construction. He’s a big-league contractor.” “Great,” Rose said sarcastically. “So, he lays cement.” I laughed. “That’s not all.”

JUNGKOOK

She’s in computers,” I told Taehyung. “A server goes down in Wall Street, she’s in there anytime day or night. She’s like Batman for computers. Or something.”

JANE

“And the sex ... ?” Rose asked.

JUNGKOOK

ham! I let loose with a thundering punch, knocking my sparring partner off his feet. Taehyung whistled. “That good, huh?”

JANE

We had reached the top of the cliff, and the view was magnificent. I’d always been athletic—my job required me to stay in shape. But I had never felt more energetic. I suspected it had something to do with my workouts with Jungkook. But Rose was still a ways behind me, and still skeptical. Sex is sex, was her attitude. Why complicate it with things like relationships? “You don't worry that, you know, your work schedule might foul things up?” she asked.

“Use the crag on your left,” I suggested. And yes, I’d thought of that. There would be some ... complications, sometimes. But I was sure it was nothing I couldn’t work out. “He travels a lot, like me,” I explained. “So, it’s not a problem-” I pulled her up beside me. And ignored her worried frown.

JUNGKOOK

“-and, what, am I supposed to sacrifice any personal life I have for my job?” I asked Taehyung.

I kept working with my trainer. My endurance was better than ever. I smiled. You might think Jane and I would wear each other out. That’s how the old sports advice went. But instead, it was having just the opposite effect. I had more energy and drive than ever.

Jab, cross, duck . . . jab, cross, duck ... I felt like I could go on like this for hours.

But Taehyung was not convinced. To him sex was just something that kept breakfast, lunch, and dinner from being one continuous meal. “I give this six months, tops,” he said. “No way it lasts longer than that.”

“Taehyung,” I confessed. “I asked her to marry me.”

“What?!”

“I’m getting married.”

Whack! Taehyung was so startled by my news, he walked right into my trainer’s glove. He went down, hard. He was never going to forgive me for the news.

JANE

Jungkook and I got married in the city clerk’s office. We couldn’t wait any longer. Rose was my maid of honor, and Jungkook’s friend Taehyung stood up for him as best man.

They both looked mad as hell.

But we barely noticed. When Jungkook slipped the ring on my finger, our hands shook. It was the first time in my life anyone had promised me anything.

“-if any party should feel opposed to this union,” the clerk said, “let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” I saw Rose biting her tongue, and I made a face at her to stop.

I’d show her.

JUNGKOOK

I was afraid Taehyung would burst when the clerk said that bit about speaking now or forever holding your peace. It took everything he had to restrain himself. He still thought I was nuts. But I’d told him he could only stand up as my best man at the wedding if he promised not to say a word.

And I warned him I’d punch him out if he dared. So, we made it through the ceremony. My hands shook as I slipped the ring on Jane’s finger, but she just glowed. And then the clerk said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon.” Mr. and Mrs. Jeon. I liked the way that sounded.

And when he said, “You may kiss the bride,”

well . . .

We kissed until the couple waiting to go next complained.

JANE

The last assignment Dr. Wexler gave me wasn’t all that painful, so I’m ready to give this one a try, too. The good doctor wants me to write about my life now, so here goes ...

I am

We are doing

Jungkook is

Okay, this is harder than I thought. Maybe I’ll just write about last night. I was making dinner, like most nights. Ping! The timer chimed and I peeked inside the oven. Everything looked perfect. But, of course, it wasn’t. Six years is a long time.

Things change.

People change.

My perfect life ... isn’t really perfect. So I just keep trying to make it that way. The house, the yard, the food. I throw myself into everything with the same ambition and competitiveness that drives my work.

Like dinner. I can dance around this kitchen, chopping vegetables and tossing pans like I was Jackie Chan. I can plan, organize, and prepare a dinner for fifty that would put the White House to shame.

And I do it every night for two. Even after a long hard day at work, like last night. I cooked a savory meal, set the table, and chilled the wine so everything would be absolutely perfect. Even though it never was. But what else could I do? I had to keep trying. I heard a car in the driveway, and looked up as headlights splashed through the window. Why do I always tense up the moment Jungkook arrives? I wondered.

Remember who you are, I reminded myself. You’re Smart, you’re Strong. You can do anything. I snatched up my knife and twirled it over my fingers before slamming it into its block.

Yeah, anything but save my own marriage.

JUNGKOOK

Okay. It was hard enough writing about the past. About Bogota. That was one thing. But now Doc Wexler wants me to write about what’s going on today-in our marriage. I told him-he’s a guy, he should know-we don’t do this kind of stuff very easily.

“That’s the point,” he said. He thinks there’s a lot of stuff bothering me. Like shit deep down inside. Stuff that I avoid thinking about. Stuff I never deal with. And that sometimes the only way to address it is to get it all out in a journal.

“Hey, the punching bag usually works for me,” I joked.

Dr. Wexler didn't laugh.

So here I am.

Okay. I couldn’t figure out how to start. So I called Dr. Wexler to say that it wasn’t working but thanks anyway. I was about to hang up and forget the whole thing, but he stopped me. He’s a persistent bastard, you know. He just said, “Relax, Jungkook. Remember this is not homework.” Then he reminded me that there are no right or wrong answers here. He suggested that I start by writing about last night. “Just write down what you remember,” he said. “The rest will come.” I reluctantly said okay, I’d give it a whirl.

So here I go.

Last night.

I pulled into the driveway and eased the sedan into the garage.

For a moment I just sat there, listening to the engine hum as I got my act together. It had been a long day, and the world I’d been in was light-years away from the one waiting for me in that house. Five years was a long time.

Things changed.

People changed.

Or maybe . . . maybe everything just faded. Like a newspaper lying in the sun.

Might as well go in, I thought finally. Jane’s hearing rivals Superman’s, so I felt sure she knew I was home. If I sat here too long, she’d come flying out to see what was wrong. I unbuckled my seat belt and Damn! Where was my ring? I’d almost forgotten to put it back on. I searched my pockets and found it in my coat, then slipped it back on my left ring finger. I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror. Pay attention, man.

Hell, what was that? A smudge of red on my collar. Shit, that’d send Jane through the roof. I rubbed it, but no way was it coming out. So I managed to tuck my collar in a bit, hiding the stain. Then I hurried into the house. Once inside, I tossed my keys into a bowl in the foyer. Wondering, certainly not for the first time, why I felt so tense every time I walked in the front door.

Jane appeared out of nowhere. “Perfect timing,” she said with a smile. She looked at me expectantly. Oh, yeah. The butter. Thank God I didn’t forget. I'd never hear the end of it. With a flourish I pulled the carton from my coat pocket. “You ask for butter? I bring you butter.”

“Good day?” she asked as she took it. I shrugged. “Same old same old. You?” She mirrored my shrug. Hesitated. I leaned down to deliver the obligatory kiss. Bad move. I saw her frown as she pulled away. Which meant she obviously noticed the smell of alcohol on my breath.

“I stopped off for one with Taehyung,” I said casually. Jane nodded, not hiding her displeasure very well. And I’m sure I didn’t hide mine well, either. She was always on my case about the drinking. But now there was something more. She was staring at the butter like it was a two-headed snake. “This is salted,” she complained. She held up the carton so I could see it; yep, it said salted right there on the front. I blinked. “Does it come any other way?” “Un-salted,” she said. Adding under her breath, “Like I asked for.”

I groaned inwardly. Why did she keep giving me these ridiculous errands to do when she was never satisfied with how I did them? It was like an ice princess sending the poor beleaguered knight out on some quest that he could never fulfill. I tried to apologize, but she just waved it away. "It’s all right. I’ll just, uh, work around it.” Hey, if that’s your toughest lump of the day . . .

Fortunately, she tried to change the subject. “I got new curtains for the living room,” she said cheerfully.

“You did?”

“I did.”

She led me into the already perfectly decorated living room to show me the new green curtains that we didn’t need, draped over the sofa. They were huge; the color overwhelmed everything else in sight. "There was a tug-of-war over the material when I found it,” she said. "This tea sandwich of a man got his hands on it, too, but I won.”

“Of course you did.” She always does.

“I figured with the boldness of the solid, we should consider maybe finding a checkered cover for the couch,” she went on, “something not too busy, not a floral obviously, and definitely lighter than the curtains, which means we should get a darker Persian for the floor.” My eyes were glazing over, and I felt a headache coming on. So we were getting curtains that we didn’t need, which meant we would have to change the couch covers to match the curtains, and then the rug to match the new couch covers that we wouldn’t have had to buy if we didn’t get new curtains to begin with.

“Or here’s a thought,” I said. “We could just stick with the old curtains.” She looked up and frowned. Sure took her long enough to realize she was having a conversation with herself about something that irritated the hell out of me. “What? We talked about this. Don't you remember?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Because we decided to wait.” I sighed at the miserable look on her face. My happy little homecoming was over. Jane smoothed the already smoothed-out curtains.

“If you don’t like them, I can take them back-”

“I don't like them-”

“Well, get used to them"

The silence was staggering. How the hell had we gotten to this point again? All hope of a pleasant evening was gone, which was exactly where I wanted to be.

“I think I’ll go wate—”

“I should work on the-”

Mercifully, we allowed each other to escape. Outside, I turned on the hose and sprayed the flowers along the driveway. Not that they needed it. But I needed it. I liked the sound of water. It was soothing. Made me think of rivers, flowing away downstream. I spotted a basketball lying among the tulips. Was it my old one, or had some kid left it behind? Man, it had been ages since I shot hoops. On a whim, I scooped up the ball and took a shot at the basket mounted on the garage. Then I turned around, picked up the hose, and went back to watering.

Thirty feet behind me, I heard the ball sing through the hoop. I could sink a shot without even looking.

But this marriage ... it was getting harder and harder to even try.

JANE

He didn’t care about the curtains. He never even thought about the house. I’m not sure he cared about anything in the house. Including me. So why did he make such a fuss? Why did he have to ruin something that mattered so much to me? He never seemed to care that things were always the same. What was wrong with a little change now and then? Change is good. Sometimes I get so bored staring at the same things over and over, I think I’m going nuts. Sometimes, I think, if I didn’t have my job to escape to every day …

Forget about it, I told myself. Just fix the curtains. They’ll look great, he’ll see. It’ll be a nice change. I stood on a chair and snapped the panel over the rod. But the chair was too low. I still needed to reach higher to fully straighten out the fabric. So I stood with one foot on the arm of the chair, the other foot on the top corner, and then I stretched until the curtain hung just right. Thanks to my job and climbing workouts, I could balance like a mountain goat on the top of a pin.

Perfect.

But then I heard Jungkook come in. I jumped down instantly. He looked up from the mail just as I stepped off the chair, missing my skilled acrobatics by seconds. I smiled at him. “What do you think?” He looked at the curtains, then back at me. The best he could offer was a weak smile. We sleepwalked through the meal, as usual. Jungkook was polite as always, saying his lines, complimenting the food.

I could have been anybody, said anything, and none of it would have mattered. Sometimes I felt like a ghost. Invisible. Most nights I felt like jumping up and shouting, Look at me! I’m alive! Ask me Something. Yell at me. Anything but this! Sometimes I want to shout, Let me tell you what I really did today. You wouldn’t believe it!

Instead, I just pick up my knife and slice off another piece of meat.

JUNGKOOK

She makes such a big deal out of dinner every single night. I mean, I told her a long time ago, Jane, you don’t have to do this. I didn’t marry you just so you could cook for me. I mean, can’t we just have a frozen pizza or some microwave nachos sometimes?

But no. It has to be this perfect dinner every time, like something out of a magazine. I don’t know, maybe that’s what it was like in her house growing up. So that night we sat at opposite ends of our huge table in the dining room. Candles flickering and all. But everything I did seemed to irritate her.

I drank my wine and refilled the glass. That seemed to bug her. Guess she thought I was drinking too much again. Then I complimented her on the food. I mean, it looked beautiful-almost too beautiful to eat. And I asked her, “You do something new with it?”

“I added peas,” she said. “Ah. Peas,” I said. I scooped up a huge mouthful. “Mmm. It's good.” What’d I say? She looked like she was ready to blow. So I gave up and ate in silence for a while. And then I asked her to pass the salt.

Well, you wouldn’t think passing the salt would be such a big issue. But she stages these little battles of will, which she’s got to win at all cost. “Could you pass the salt, please?” I asked. For some reason, she looked annoyed. “It’s in the middle of the table.” I looked. And well, to tell you the truth, it looked like it was a little closer to her end of the table than mine. Not that it really mattered. But she was the one who made it into a contest. “Is that the middle?” I snapped.

“It’s between you and me,” she said. Damn. So I screeched back my chair, got up, walked to the middle of the table-her side of the middle-and grabbed the salt. You should have seen the smile of victory on her face.

Till I sat back down-and drowned her precious dinner in salt. Jane swallowed her smile. Let me tell you, I had a hard time swallowing my dinner, too, with all that salt.

But it was worth it. This time. I’d won.

I wasn’t sure what I’d won, exactly. But . . . I’d won.

JANE

later that night, after managing to avoid each other all evening in our large perfect home, we found ourselves in our bedroom. Bedtime usually comes when there’s no way to put it off any longer. Sometimes I go to sleep early while Jungkook stays up working in his office or the den. Or when he’s puttering around out back in his toolshed.

Sometimes I stay up late, finding little things to do in the kitchen. Or I watch an old black-and-white movie on TV. Sometimes I even fall asleep on the couch. Accidentally, of course. Jungkook usually leaves me there, and the next morning says he didn’t want to wake me. But some nights I think, if we could just go to bed together, and talk ... really talk … But we never do.

Tonight I was already in bed, reading a novel, when Jungkook came in, dressed in his pajamas, and slid in beside me. He busied himself with his alarm clock, his covers, his pillow. I laid my book down. A sign that I... could be interrupted. To talk. Or whatever. But of course, he didn’t look at me. He was rarely interested in interruptions anymore.

“Well,” he said to the foot of the bed. “I’m bushed.” I shut my heart against the rebuff. It got easier every time. “Me, too,” I said quickly. “Busy day tomorrow.” “Good night, sweetie,” Jungkook said. He paused a moment, and I waited hopefully. Then all he said was, “Love you.” I swallowed. “Love you, too,” I echoed. When did we drop the I? I wondered. When did I love you turn into the abbreviation Love you?

It really didn’t mean the same.

“How’re ya doing?”

“Have a nice day.”

“Love you.”

Meaningless expressions that people said without thinking. I sighed and turned off my bedside lamp. Jungkook turned off his. We settled down in the darkness. I closed my eyes and could almost believe I was all alone. Which, I sometimes thought, might just be easier than this.

JUNGKOOK

Well, you can imagine what it was like in the bedroom that night. Jane was already tucked in, reading. I waited as long as I could before hitting the sack, hoping maybe she’d fall asleep. But I was tired, dog tired, and finally I just couldn’t put it off any longer. I changed into my pajamas in the bathroom, then climbed into bed. She put down her book. Looked at me expectantly. But what the hell did she think, really? I mean, to be honest . . . there hadn’t been a whole lot going on in that room except sleeping for . . . well, for a long time. And after the evening we’d had . . .

“Well, I’m bushed,” I said, fussing with my covers. Trying to yawn. She just looked away. “Yeah, me, too. Busy day tomorrow . ” She sounded so hurt, I felt like a heel. But I didn’t know what in the hell I could do about it. I figured the best thing I could do was just go to sleep, and put us both out of our misery. “Good night, sweetie,” I said, forcing the affection. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she said. Automatically. Like she always does. She never says it first anymore. But if I say it first, she says it back.

“How are you?”

"Fine, and you?”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

It was a relief when we just turned out the lights. I mean, maybe I could have said something. Or touched her hand. Offered a small gesture that would have made a difference.

Maybe . . .

But I was tired. Tired of trying , too. I can’t make myself feel something I don’t. I mean, really, what did she expect?

JANE

few nights later Jungkook and I were doing the dishes together. A chore, a ritual. We didn’t talk. Jungkook scrubbed the plates under running water, and I put them in the dishwasher. That’s how we always did it. What if we just got totally crazy and switched places? I could scrape and rinse-and he could load?! I guess our marriage couldn’t stand the excitement. His mind was elsewhere, as usual. Thinking about something or someone else. Work, I guess. I could have whacked him over the head with one of the plates, I thought, and he still wouldn’t notice me.

Then, absentmindedly, he handed me a plate that was still caked with food. I mean, I told myself Jane, don’t make an issue out of it. Just put it in the dishwater. But really, why not do things right? I knew the plate would come out still dirty, and worse, caked with food baked on by the heat of the drying cycle. So I squeezed past him to lean over the sink and scraped the food into the garbage disposal.

Well, he didn’t say a word. Just made this face he makes. Pursed his lips, like some old sourpuss. You would have thought I’d insulted his tie. Luckily the phone rang.

My eyes shot to the phone on the wall. So did Jungkook’s. Line two was lit up. My line. “Office,” I said, and quickly snapped up the receiver. “Just be a sec.” I dashed out of the kitchen, and up the stairs. Leaving Jungkook to do whatever the hell he wanted to with the goddamn dishes.

JUNGKOOK

I watched Jane go. Ducking her head, covering up the receiver as she spoke into the phone. She sure got a lot of calls from the office. I stared at the dirty plate in my hands as I listened to her pounding up the stairs, to our bedroom. Where she couldn’t be heard.

I listened anyway.

The faucet dripped in the sink.

Nothing.

Then I took that dirty plate and stuck it straight into the goddamn dishwasher. Without scrubbing it clean first.

Just a tiny act of rebellion.

Hey, a guy had to do something every now and then to protect his manhood.

Suddenly I heard a strange scraping noise upstairs, over my head. Like furniture being dragged across the floor. Or a body. My eyes narrowed. Now what?

Not that I cared. But . . . maybe Jane needed some help. Casually, quietly, I stole up the stairs toward our bedroom. As I moved down the hallway, I could see our door was open a little. Just enough for me to peek inside. Jane, her back to me, had just slipped on her coat. Still talking quietly into the phone, I heard her say, “Mmm-hmm . . . uh-huh . . . Penthouse suite. Be there in forty-five.”

Penthouse suite, huh?

She hung up, and I took a step back. But the floor creaked, just the tiniest bit. She spun around and saw me, standing in the doorway. “Jesus, honey, you almost gave me a heart attack. ”Sorry,” I said with a casual shrug. “Just wanted to make sure everything was all right.” She rolled her eyes and swung her arm toward the phone. “Some clown just crashed a server at a law firm downtown, and ended the world as they know it.” Her movements seemed exaggerated, her voice a little too loud. She shrugged apologetically. “Gotta go to the city.” “We promised the Coleman’s,” I reminded her. She stiffened, and checked her watch. “I’ll be back by nine. In and out. Just a quickie,” she added. I kinda wished she hadn’t used that word.

She smiled. I smiled. A formality, really. I guess we were both half relieved to be free of each other's company for a few hours. I waited till I heard the front door slam, then traced her path down the stairs. I stood at the front window and watched her back out of the driveway. Not for the first time, I wondered where she was really going. What she’d be doing. Who she’d be doing it with. Maybe she wondered the same things when I went out.

When did we stop asking?

Hell, when did we stop really caring?

Her headlights hit me like a searchlight, then she was gone. A clock ticked on the mantel. Suddenly our perfect house seemed too big, too empty.

Lucky for me, I had a little errand to run myself. Half an hour later I was riding across the Queensboro Bridge with my hired chauffeur—a guy named Yousef. I couldn’t quite decide if Yousef was happy or pissed to be driving me and his cab into the city. Probably a little of both. Brother, I know the feeling. His driving sucked. I was still wearing my suit, but I loosened my tie. Easier for the booze to go down that way.

And boy, could I use a drink. Yousef’s cab was a little short on amenities-like a window that worked and a well-stocked limo bar. But no matter, since I always traveled with my own personal wet bar: a silver hip flask. Top-of-the-line Scotch. What else do you need to know? I pulled the flask from my pocket and twisted off the cap.

I held it out a moment as we bounced over something in the road, then found my eyes tracing the engraving. How long had it been since I’d actually read

those words?

To dodging bullets. Love, Jane.

Yeah. Here’s to you, too, babe.

I took a long drink. Yousef looked like he could use a shot himself as we pulled up in front of the address I’d given him. The street was dark, ominously quiet. Trash skittered like rats along the sidewalks. Or maybe it was just rats. I paid the cabbie, tipping him enough to go get so fucking drunk, he’d forget he ever saw me. As soon as I stepped out on the street, he tore off like the devil was after him, and I was alone.

I did a slow three-sixty, then headed down some dank stairs that led to a blacked-out door. I jabbed a buzzer, and after a moment, the door clicked open. I stepped inside and looked around. Jeez. Maybe Yousef had it right. This place was definitely the last stop before hell.

A bare bulb hung over the cash register, revealing some strung-out hookers barely hanging on to the bar. Darkness spared me from whatever else was going on in the stinking room. I sat down on a stool that seemed in danger of plunging through the rotting wood floor. Found my balance. Waited for the bartender to acknowledge me.

At last he glared at me like he’d just heard I’d screwed his mother. “Yeah?” “What kind of beer can I get?” I asked. “Guinness ...” I waited, but he didn’t say anything else. Guess that narrowed down the choices. “I’ll have a Red Label and soda,” I said instead. “Go stingy on the soda.” While he poured my drink I leaned on the bar and studied the decor. Now that my eyes had grown used to the darkness, I could see that the shadows cloaked various felonies in progress: drugs, gambling, cash being exchanged for lumpy bags. A few other things in the corners I didn’t want to think about. Beyond that, a partly drawn curtain led to a hallway and further secret hiding places.

The bartender slammed my drink on the bar. Maybe he thought I was looking a little too nosy. So I turned back around and stared down into my drink. It was black. Sure didn’t look like Red Label and soda. But the bartender’s look told me he didn’t take criticism well, so, what the hell-booze was booze-I sucked it down. Whoa! That would do the trick. “Hit me again, will ya?” I said, beginning to slur my words a little. He gave me a hard look, so I decided not to linger. “Where’s the Jungkook around here?” I complained, and he nodded toward the curtain in the rear. As soon as he served me my fresh drink-and I’m using the words served and fresh loosely here-I headed through the curtains and staggered down the hallway till I found two doors. One was marked: pisser. The other read: keep the fuck out.

High-class place, this joint. You gotta know this about me. All my life I’ve had major issues with “Keep Out” signs. Something about them piss me off. Just can’t ignore them. So I chose the one less traveled by, and stumbled through the door.

“What the fuck!” somebody shouted.

I'd barged in on a poker game. Very private. Very backroom. Three extremely untrustworthy-looking characters and one all-around badass motherfucker stared at me in disbelief.

“What is this shit?” somebody shouted.

“Sorry,” I slurred. “Was looking for the can.” I started to leave, then, swaying a little, turned back. “You guys playing poker?”

“Private game,” one guy said. “Get the fuck out.”

“You’ve got an empty chair,” I pointed out.

Another guy twisted in his seat and glared at me. “What part of ‘fuck the fuck off’ didn’t you under¬

stand?”

“You sure?” Swaying, I tried to get my hand in my pocket. “I got plenty of . . .” The big mother was on his feet with a semiautomatic pointed at my forehead before I could finish my sentence .

I froze. “Hey, It’s just my roll.” Slowly I pulled my hand from my pocket and showed him a thick wad of bills.

A few whispered words passed between them. Nothing I could catch, but I heard someone call the badass guy Curtis. I got the feeling he was top dog. I could see Curtis thinking: Shit-faced rich boy with a pocket full of dead presidents needing to make a deposit. Who could have a problem with that? Almost in. “I just thought, you got an empty chair-”

“That’s Lucky’s chair,” Curtis snapped. Just what I wanted to hear. “When is Lucky getting

here?”

He grunted. “Whenever Lucky wants to get here.”

“Well, let me play till he shows,” I said. “C’mon,

you know I got money.”

The guys at the table traded looks, looks they thought I couldn’t read: Why not have a little fun

while we wait for Lucky? Curtis kicked the empty chair out from the table. Smiling like a dope, I sank into Lucky’s chair.

JANE

switched vehicles in my usual discreet manner once I got into the city. “Another day, another dollar,” I muttered to myself as I hopped into the backseat of the Yellow Cab that would whisk me downtown to my assignment.

Midnight runs were nothing unusual in my line of work. And what I did for a living definitely paid better than minimum wage. God! If Jungkook only knew what I did when I escaped our suffocating life in the middle of the night.

What would he think?

Would he even care?

I shivered and gazed out at the city flying past. The crowds, the bright lights filling the night sky, always reminded me of a beach carnival someone took me to when I was little-someone whose face I can no longer quite remember. Soaring rides,

sideshow freaks-I squealed in delighted terror at it all, tethered to safety by a strong hand that swung me high in the air, but never let me go.

And then, one day, did.

Damn.

Focus, I told myself. You’ve got a job to do. I rolled down the window to let the fresh air whisk away old heartaches. I chose a building up ahead and began to count the floors, a little game I often played while riding taxis. First I estimated the number of floors, how many apartments on each floor, how many people in each apartment. Then I tried to calculate how many people might be living in the whole building.

How many people were at that very moment flushing the toilet? Eating Chinese takeout? Making love? How many ordinary people? How many secrets? At last the driver pulled over to the curb. I stared up through the window at my destination: the very elegant, the very tasteful, the very expensive Hudson Hotel. Booked solid, every night. Who were all these people? I wondered. And what in the world did they all do to earn enough money to stay here, instead of the Motel 6 off the New Jersey Turnpike?

Upstairs, on one of those golden floors, one of those lucky guests was waiting for me. Was perhaps even salivating with anticipation of my arrival. And it was my job to give him the night of his life. So to speak. And I knew exactly what he did to be able to afford the place. I overpaid the driver, whispered in his ear that he’d never seen me, then grabbed my doctor’s bag and stepped out, careful not to dirty my high-heeled black boots in the gutter. As I walked toward the hotel, my coat fell open, and the doorman nearly dropped to his knees.

Good. That was exactly the effect I was hoping my client would have to the all-black-leather outfit I’d chosen. Men were always easier to handle when they were on their knees. I moved like a panther through the hotel lobby, trying not to attract attention, but the men, always hunting, kept their sights trained on my carcass till I reached the elevator. Once inside, I caressed the long list of numbers, then pressed PENTHOUSE. Nothing but the best for this man. And that included me.

Even so, I was going to be a helluva lot more than he’d bargained for. I had been doing this for years, long before I met my husband. Even after we married, I continued my ... private career. I was experienced. Well trained. A true professional. And I prided myself on being the best woman in the business.

Ding! The elevator stopped at the top floor. The doors hissed open.

Showtime, I thought, and felt a rush-that surge of adrenaline that I always got just before I went to work. How many secretaries or computer programmers could say that? At the double doors to the penthouse suite, I was greeted by a bodyguard the size and shape of a Sub-Zero refrigerator. Deluxe model.

“You Carlotta?” he grunted. I just smiled and stepped inside. As he locked the door behind me, I quickly surveyed the room-doors, windows, floor plan. In the main living area, four more bodyguards-each one uglier than the next-huddled around the TV watching the Game Show Network.

I smiled. A couple of Einstein’s. Perfect. “What’s in the bag?” Sub-Zero demanded. I didn’t answer, but simply opened it for his inspection. One by one he pulled out my tools of the trade: A long wicked whip. A set of bondage cuffs. A cat-o’-nine-tails. The stuff didn’t even faze him. Guess his boss had done this kind of thing before. Sub stuffed the items back into the bag and shoved the bag into my arms. “We have a plane in an hour,” he warned.

I winked. “I’m the fastest gun in the West.” With a bored grunt, he motioned to a hallway off the living room, then turned back to the TV. The goons were trying to guess a clip from an old movie, and they didn’t have a clue. In more ways than one. But the movie was easy. Black-and-white, Cary Grant. Charming little flick about a dead body.

It was one of my favorites.

“Arsenic and Old Lace,” l tossed over my shoulder as I headed down the hall. They exclaimed various expletives when the game-show host confirmed that I was right. Guys like these never expected a woman to have a brain in her head. They thought we were only good for one thing. Their mistake. Lucky for me, though. It made my job that much easier when they underestimated me. And now it was time to do it. On full alert, I slipped into the bedroom and closed the door.

I was greeted by sounds of gargling and spitting: my host “freshening up” in the adjoining bathroom. Good. That gave me a few minutes to scope out my setup.

Huge bed with zebra-print linens. (Yuck.)

French windows that led to a generous rooftop balcony.

(Excellent.)

I set my bag on the bed and opened it, then paused. I could smell my client sneaking up behind me. I turned around and gave him my sexiest smile. The groan he let out was almost a bark. He reminded me of a German shepherd about to pounce on a plate of raw steak.

Marco Racin. A slick, sleazy Euro. Fifty-something. Tubby.

Tsk, Tsk, Marco. How you’ve let yourself go, I thought. But my face said, Come here, you sexy hunk! I’m paid for and I’m all yours. He slowly walked around me, licking his lips as he admired the merchandise. Unaffected, I stood and let him look, hoping he’d work himself into a state that would make him putty in my hands. After a few moments, I moved to the door and locked it. Then turned around.

He was pawing through the bag I’d left on the bed. “See anything you like?” I purred. With a snap of a clasp, my overcoat fell to the floor, revealing my evening wear: black dominatrix gear. “Much,” he slobbered. Then he swept me into his sweaty arms and whispered in my ear-something I’d just as soon not write down here.

“They still put you in jail for that, baby,” I murmured. “Not in my country,” he growled. Okay. He was ready. Time to make my move. I cracked my knuckles, shoved him down on the bed, and reached for the bag.

JUNGKOOK

“Shit!” I threw my cards on the table. My new buddy Mickey grinned and raked in the pot. “I was so close!” I whined. The rest of the guys just laughed and winked at one another, like I couldn’t see everything they did. Changing dealers didn’t help my game much, and the results were pretty much the same. “Damn!” I complained when my other new best friend, P.J., won the next hand. “That was . . . Damn!” My poker buddies had been reluctant to let me play at first. But it was amazing: The longer I played, the friendlier they got.

After three losing hands, I started to show signs of confusion and doubt, but they encouraged me to “keep trying.” What a couple of pals, eh? When Curtis upped the ante in the next game, I blurted out, “Call!” then “No-fold!” then “No! Call!” until P.J. reminded me I was playing out of turn. And then I lost again.

“Shit!” I cried, when P.J. bluffed me into folding three nines to beat me with a pair of deuces. “I had that!”

P.J. pulled his winnings-most of it my money-into his arms, then turned to me with a look of pity. “Homes, you got fourteen different tells,” he said. “Motherfucker, you are William Tell.” Mickey leaned back in his chair and sang the melody to the famous overture, and everybody laughed.

I was impressed; they’d obviously picked up quite a lot of culture from the classical-music sound tracks used in the cartoons they watched. Curtis’s turn to deal. By now I was so down, I was almost under the table—both from my card playing and my drinking. Did they see the panic in my eyes? I made a vague glance in Curtis’s direction.

“Don’t be stealing no look, Casper,” he warned. He shifted in his chair so I could see the gun tucked in his pants-the same semiautomatic I’d gotten up close and personal with earlier in the evening. I sighed loudly and stared at my cards. Stared at my chips-or lack of them. Stared at the empty spot on the scarred table where my wad of cash had been before I lost it all. I was worse than flat busted, I was in the hole, and needed a big win just to get out of the game alive.

I glanced at the door. Still no sign of Lucky. And I was running out of time.

With another heavy sigh, I reached into my coat pocket and slowly-reluctantly-pulled out my last hope. My special hip flask. I stared into its polished surface and saw one shit-faced son of a bitch staring back at me. As my poker buddies studied me, I slowly caressed the bottle as if it were a magic lamp. But alas, no genie appeared to save my ass.

I hugged it to my chest one last time, kissed it good-bye, then laid it reverently on the table. “It's solid silver,” I whispered.

P.J. grabbed it to confirm its value. He squinted at the inscription, his lips moving as he read. Then he guffawed and read it out loud in a girlish voice: “‘To dodging bullets. Love, Jane.’” Well, I thought they’d never stop laughing. Mickey was getting off making kissy sounds. But at last P.J. tossed it into the pot, keeping me in the game for one more hand. We were just hunkering down for the final skirmish when the door crashed open.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS”

a voice thundered like the wrath of God. The game screeched to a dead halt. A definite chill fell upon the room. It wasn’t hard to tell that the infamous Lucky had finally arrived. “Looks like you’re done, pal,” Mickey said, his voice low and urgent. “Thanks for the memories.” I raised my head, hard luck and disappointment written all over my face. Then I narrowed my eyes at the big man. He definitely beat the pants off Curtis in the “Badass Motherfucker” category. By far the most dangerous man in the room.

Or was he ... ?

I squinted, trying to hold his gaze. “You’re Lucky?” I drawled. “Yeah,” he grunted, expecting me to run like hell. But I didn’t. I just sat there, waiting. He stared at me, head cocked in curiosity. Maybe halfway impressed that I had the balls not to cower like a flower girl in his presence. “What is it, kid?”

he asked. “You looking for a job?”

I slowly shook my head. “You are the job.”

“Huh?” Lucky was obviously confused.

So I straightened up, stone-cold sober, to explain. But my mama always told me that actions speak louder than words. That's when I threw back my chair, stood up, and let my favorite move articulate my meaning:

1. Start with two loaded, silenced pistols.

2. Cross-draw from opposite pockets.

3. Remember what the bastard did to deserve this.

4. Pull triggers.

I fired both guns and blasted Lucky against the

wall . Guess they wouldn't be calling him “Lucky” anymore. My new poker buddies suddenly realized that they’d underestimated me-that maybe, just maybe, I was the most dangerous badass motherfucker in the room. Curtis groped for his semi, but gosh darn it. I’d just had to relieve him of it before the last hand had been dealt. Just in case. It was lying somewhere under my chair.

“Go big or go home, y’all!” I shouted, using a little poker lingo to wrap things up. Then I eliminated the other players from the game. Which reminded me-my cards were still on the table. I turned them over and tapped my hand. “Pair of threes.” Not a great hand. But in this case, I guess it would do, since I was the only player who hadn’t folded.

All good things must come to an end, so I reached toward the pot for my winnings. I didn't take back any of my money, though-it was just petty cash from my office, anyway. I took the only thing of value in the whole damn room: my silver flask.

Then left Curtis’s semi in its place, just in case he had any heirs. To avoid the party up front, I slipped out the rear exit into the back alley. The rats snickered in the shadows. But the moon peeked down at me in between the run-down buildings, reminding me that there were still things of beauty in the world, like stars in the sky.

I drew out my flask and caught some of the silver moonlight on its polished surface. Took a long comforting drink. Guess it had gotten me through another night of dodging bullets.

Then I spotted my ride home: a monster motorcycle gleaming in the shadows, with a license plate that said lucky.

Yeah, well, who was lucky now?

I jumped on, fired up the engine, and got the hell out of the neighborhood.

Just another night out with the boys.

JANE

“Have you been a bad boy, Marco? Have you?”

The bed shook as my client nodded like a wimpy little child.

What an idiot, I couldn’t help but think. Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey with a rubber ball in his mouth, the great, powerful, wealthy Marco Racin looked completely ridiculous.

And he was entirely under my control.

Scumbag. I didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up. I snapped my whip in front of his eyes. “You know what happens to bad boys, don’t you? They get punished. Is that what you want?” Marco whined like a baby. I fondled the whip. “You like the taste of leather?”

He nodded, almost wild with desire. I slid slowly onto the bed beside Marco, drawing out the torture. I felt him tremble with excitement and fear.

“Have you been having impure thoughts?” I whispered in his ear.

He nodded, yes, yes!

“Have you been abusing your body?”

He nodded, more frantically-yes, yes, yes

Time to take the game to the next level. I checked the exits, then smiled. What I said after that would come as a complete surprise to my date. But then again, didn’t the experts always say that a little surprise kept a relationship interesting?

“Have you violated international law, baby?” I demanded, my voice now velvet-encased steel. “Tell me you haven’t.” Marco’s eyes widened, and I saw a bead of sweat roll down his big fat nose. I cracked my whip, and delivered the bombshell. “Have you been selling big weapons to bad people?”

That’s when various parts of the great Marco Racin’s anatomy went as limp as overcooked spaghetti. He tried to yell for his bodyguards. But of course he couldn’t with that silly rubber ball stuffed in his mouth. I pulled his reddening face back, pressing my hands into his cheeks. Then, without warning, I gave his head an efficient twist. Marcos eyes bulged. The little ball popped out of his mouth and rolled across the floor. His days playing games with other people’s lives had finally come to an end.

As Marcos lifeless body slumped to the bed, I reached into my coat for my cell phone to check the time. It was already 8:30. “Damn. The Coleman’s.” Jungkook would kill me if I didn’t show.

Just then I heard a tentative knock on the door. One of Marco’s bodyguards, nervous about interrupting the fun and games. “Mr. Racin,” he called hesitantly through the crack in the door. “We have a plane in an hour, sir ... Sir?” As the pounding on the door increased, I decided I’d better slip away from this party fast, so I didn’t have to explain what had happened to my “host.”

I raced out onto the terrace, scanned the rooftop for guards saw none-then peered down over the railing. Some fifty floors below me, the city’s taxis swam like bright fish in a black river. I needed to catch one before Marco’s men made me the Catch of the Day.

But I’d come prepared. My black leather bag had been designed for bad days like this. Calmly I strode back to the doors to the hotel suite, hooked one end of my purse on a metal wall sconce, then turned to face the night sky.

Lovely view, I thought briefly, then ran toward the edge.

Should work.

Behind me, I heard Marco’s men finally burst into the room, firing their weapons.

Time to say adieu.

“Thanks for the nudge, boys,” I whispered, then took a flying leap over the railing.

To the stunned guards, it must have appeared as if I’d simply thrown myself off the roof like some kind of suicide assassin. But as I plunged toward the ground, the fabric of my bag unraveled into a super thin almost invisible black Kevlar cord, which I rode like a spider all the way to the ground below. Definitely the smartest bag I’d ever carried. When I neared street level, I let go and dropped to the sidewalk. A passing pedestrian stopped and gawked. Must be a tourist, I thought. A regular New Yorker would never have blinked. But I wasn’t worried. By the time this guy told friends, he’d have convinced himself he’d seen a movie being shot on location. Or at least I hoped so, because I sure didn’t have time to stop and explain.

With a smile, I snapped my overcoat closed and walked toward the front of the hotel as if I were just an ordinary house wife walking home from the corner market. Without breaking my stride, I approached the doorman just as a cab pulled up at the curb. I slid into the backseat, tipped the doorman with my warmest smile, and said,

“Thanks, sweetie.”

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he replied, and meant it. After a quick “mission accomplished” call to headquarters on my cell phone, I sat back and relaxed for the first time since I got the assignment.

God, I was dying to take a shower. With lots of hot water and soap to wash the slime of the world off my skin. It wouldn’t do much for the way I felt inside, though. I leaned my head against the glass and tried to look between the skyscrapers for some stars.

But the only stars you could find in this part of town were the ones driving by in limos. So I closed my eyes and conjured up my own.

They looked a lot like the ones I’d seen one night in Bogota.