#like. damn. can you imagine getting fucked up over a religion you learned while sitting in a folding chair

[vulpinesaint]

so glad i was raised catholic. i don't know what i would do with myself if i was raised protestant. try and appropriate catholic iconography and feel really bad about it probably.

[thekisforkeats]

So a European told me today “must be nice to have a culture.”

And I... kind of lost it.

Context: we’d been chatting for a while, and I’d already had to deal with a couple of moments of... white people being white. Being clueless and talking over people, not being outright racist but saying clueless shit. The first couple of times I explained what was wrong and moved on.

To try to lighten the mood, I shared a video of the Métis jig that’s been going around. It’s a really great dance, and the video has some context on it--specifically that the dance had been suppressed for a long time.

I was talking about the Métis people, and how they had created their own unique culture, which I personally find really fascinating and inspiring as a mixed indigenous/Native person. It’s a hopeful thing--even if they wound up losing a lot of that culture, and having to fight to get it back, there was a time where people could create new things without having to burn down the old.

(And I am not Métis, so if I am misrepresenting Métis culture and history here please feel free to correct me.)

But the key thing is that I mentioned being “cut off from everything.” Because I am. Because I cannot wholly embrace my European ancestry. Because I don’t know Kanien’kahe:ka or Choctaw. Because I am stuck between two worlds and sometimes it feels like a struggle to try to create anything new, any hopeful way forward.

And then they said “it must be nice to have a culture.”

This is a European. Living in Europe.

I lost it.

Any white person, and particularly any European, who thinks “I don’t have a culture”--don’t try to justify this stance. Stop and consider that you don’t feel you have a culture because your culture took over the world. Literally, Western European culture is everywhere.

And yes, I am lumping in all of Europe here, and no, I don’t care how different you all think you are, I was getting the same exact attitude from someone in France and someone in the UK. An attitude of “my specific experience is better than anyone else’s.” An attitude of “I don’t know about this so I will disparage it instead of politely asking questions.” An attitude of becoming defensive upon being called out. The same attitude I get from American white people. You’re not that different. You’re really not.

Culture is about food, and language, and art, and religion, and music.

I do not eat the food of my Native ancestors. I don’t even know what most of it was, and if I did, I couldn’t find it in a grocery store, and where I can it’s being marked up for white people to eat. (Wild rice, anyone?)

I do not know their languages, and I probably never will. There’s no Duolingo for Choctaw or Kanien’kahe:ka

If I use art or music of my ancestors I am derided and belittled or else white people come in to steal it and claim it as their own.

My ancestral religions were outlawed in the US until three years before I was born.

And before any European goes “well that’s the US, not me!” No. No. It’s you. It’s still you. The US just imported all the colonialist bullshit your ancestors put out there, and you’re still being isolationist and racist while the world is on fire.

The saddest part is, I don’t hate European culture as such. I am mixed! Many of my ancestors were from the UK or France or Austria! I love frybread, and I love soda bread, and I love strudel! I honor all of my ancestors, and the complex and difficult relationship I have with them. Some of my ancestors are the same people who did the colonizing and the genocide. I have to live with that. But many of them were good people living difficult lives, just like many of the people I know today.

I owe a great deal of my moral and ethical upbringing to my Oma, who was Austrian. She was 9 years old when the Nazis came--invited in, I will note, as she made sure we knew--and her family detested them, and she lost friends. She left as soon as she could. She taught me about her homeland, and she taught me about solidarity, and about the evils of sympathizers. She taught me about the Holocaust. She refused to let those horrible things go silent to her children and grandchildren. She did her best to teach us what she knew of my Opa’s culture, the few things he’d shared when their children were young, because she knew it was important. She was not perfect, but she tried.

White Europeans do not have to continue to be complicit in racism and colonialism and genocide. You can choose to do better.

The first thing to do? Shut up. Seriously. Stop talking. Sit down and listen. Maybe it’s hard, maybe you’ve come from an abusive background, maybe you’re neurodivergent. Maybe you’ve had to be quiet all your life already.

But I am all of those things, too, and I am a survivor of a very recent attempted genocide. Imagine how much time I have spent in my life being talked over. Being told to be quiet. To not make a scene.

Maybe you’re young, but I knew better than to say that sort of thing before I hit puberty. I had to, because to be a person of color--even a mixed one, even one with light enough skin to pass for white--is to be deeply aware of these things at all times.

Which is not to say I haven’t had my moments. I have. But dear gods am I aware of them.

And that’s the thing--the lack of awareness. The lack of consideration. The continual spouting of something clueless and hurtful and then “oh I didn’t know” as the response.

You should know. If you don’t, then go learn.

And for the love of all that is holy, if you read this in the tags and you’re some random person who didn’t already follow me, don’t come into my damn inbox looking for education, because I will kick your ass out so fast your head will spin. If you’re on the internet in 2021, there are so many resources about European colonization and white supremacy that you have no excuse not to at least try to learn things on your own.

The one lesson I will give? Stop talking. Start listening. I don’t need to hear your cutesy shit about how different France and England are from each other. You both did horrible awful fucked up things in the not-so-distant past. Stop talking about yourselves and start listening to the people affected.

[jalapeno-princess]

Clandestine Meetings and Stolen Stares

Physics Professor Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 9.9K (Damn it felt longer haha)

Genre: Angst, smut

Warnings: Rated 18+, unprotected sex, breast play, (nothing too explicit), cheating

Summary: It was your junior year in college and you couldn’t wait for it to be over with. You wanted nothing more than to graduate and get out of the hell hole that is college. All you really cared about was your education, your job, your friends and your family. However, that all changes the minute your eyes land on your indescribably handsome physics professor and what you thought was just a unreciprocated crush on the older man, turned in to more; so much more. (Sorry guys I don’t want to go too deep in the summary and give away the entire story so I’ll keep it at that)

A/N: Hey guys! Look at me claiming I won’t have time to write stories and throwing another one out there like nothing. This is apart of the song requests imagines and I do have quite a few of them so I will try get them out as soon as possible (I don’t want them to be too short or rushed so please be patient me and thank you again for your requests!) This was requested by one of my favorite followers @yup-indecisive-girl-cece​ thank you for all your love and support with my page and my stories! I hope you enjoy! (I wrote this in a few hours so there might be a few errors but eh whatever hahaha) Based on the song “Ilicit Affairs”. Honestly the album is a bop and I listened to it while writing this I actually plan on writing a few stories in the future about some of the songs off the album once I finish the requests. Happy reading!

“Y/n—earth to y/n. Hey! Is everything okay?” 

If you could describe the current state of your mind, a mess wasn’t even half of what was going on up there. There were many different thoughts going on in your head; unfortunately they were all negative. You wouldn’t have even known you were tearing up if your best friend Yugyeom didn’t wave his hand in front of your face to break you out of your trance. 

“Huh? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. It’s just—I’m just tired I guess. Finals are coming up and I’ve been pulling all-nighters almost every night so I’m pretty exhausted. But don’t worry about me. I’m okay.” 

As much as you hated lying to the older boy, especially because he told you about every single thing that went on in his life, there was no way you could tell him the real reason why you were so distracted; why you were on the verge of breaking down in tears. He would never understand nor did you think he would want to continue your friendship if he were to know exactly what was clouding your thoughts. 

Thankfully he didn’t continue to press for more questions and turned his focus back to the chocolate shake you purchased for him half an hour ago. If you were going to tell anyone what was causing you so much distress, you’d be in so much trouble and so would he. Feeling your phone vibrate against your lap made your breathe hitch because you knew exactly who it was. 

The only two people who have been reaching out to you these days other than your parents to see how college overseas was going, was the outspoken yet gentle and child-like boy sitting in front of you and your physics professor Mark Tuan. He was the reason why you’ve been so uptight; so tense these last few days and unlike most of your classmates, you weren’t even nervous about any of your finals because most of your worries were caused by him. 

When you signed up for Physics 345 with Professor Mark Tuan, you didn’t think anything of it. Since it was your junior year in college, all you were focused on was passing junior year with flying colors and concentrating on your last two semesters in college, working on your senior thesis and graduating on time. What you weren’t expecting, was getting in to an affair with said professor that would go on for longer than expected. 

Everything going on in your life up until the point of meeting Mark for the first time was going pretty well. You and your friends were enjoying what was left of being college students; going clubbing on the weekends, having some drinks at the bar when school was getting rough, attending parties thrown by some of the most popular students in school and just hanging out at each other’s places when you all had free time. 

You had a part time job at the library which you were extremely grateful for; you hardly had to do anything, it was always pretty quiet and you got to work on your assignments most of the time so it was a win-win situation. Although you missed your family every now and then, you had quite a bit on your plate to really feel homesick. Little did you know, that word would have a different meaning to it a few months later. Walking in to the auditorium, you weren’t surprised to see that you didn’t know anybody in your class. 

Your campus was huge and from what you knew, none of your friends had any plans on failing a class so they all laughed in your face when you recommended it to them. If only you took Youngjae’s advice and signed up for Religion 315 like he did, you wouldn’t be in the mess you were in right now. But then again, you wouldn’t have met the man who changed your outlook on both life and love completely. You wouldn’t have met the man who now owned your stupid, stupid heart. 

Since you were notorious for making it to class earlier than most students in order to get a good seat, you decided to play a few games on your phone before scrolling through social media. After getting bored on twitter, you pulled out one of your notebooks and started to prepare your notes when you heard heels clicking against the tiled floor. 

You were never a believer in love at first sight. It was so cliche. How could someone be in love with someone just by looking at them and not knowing anything about them? There was no way and yet, when you took a look at your new science professor, you could physically feel your soul leaving your body. He was handsome, there was no doubt about it. In fact, that was an understatement. 

He was gorgeous. You didn’t think young science professors existed let alone one that looked like he came straight out of vogue magazine. All your science teachers from high school had white hair, glasses and wore suspenders. This guy was wearing a red flannel over a plain black v-neck, torn skinny jeans and vans. There was no way he was your professor; but as soon as he placed his briefcase down on the desk and looked around the classroom with a stupidly handsome grin on his face, you knew you were fucked. 

“Hello class, I’m Mark Tuan your physics professor. Please call me Mark. I’m fine with professor, but no Mr.Tuan. It makes me feel old. A little bit about me, this is my second year teaching physics. I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in physics, went on and got my master’s in teaching and graduated with my doctorate two years ago now here I am. I’m one of those weirdos who love science, I love learning more and more about science each and every day. I’m thirty-one years old, I’ve been married for three amazing years and I have a one-year-old daughter named Ella. We also have a dog named Milo. In my free time, I like to play video games and watch the office. Well, that’s it about me. There’s about forty-five of you in here, so it would probably take the entire class if you guys were to introduce yourselves individually so instead I’ll have you get in to groups and you guys can just  talk amongst your peers.”

It was as if everything he said went through one ear and out the other. All you could pay attention to was his pretty pink lips and how soft they looked. You could also feel your heart flutter at the way he smiled when talking about his passion for science. However, hearing that he had a wife and a daughter brought a weird feeling to your chest but what did it matter? He was your science professor and this was only the first day you met him. You told yourself it was just his good looks that you were attracted to, but deep down you knew there was something else that got you thinking about him a little more than you should. 

As your classmates went around in a circle talking about what major they were studying, why they signed up for physics and what they want to learn in the class, your eyes began to wander around the room in search of your professor and you hated that you didn’t know why. You’ve seen and even been with a decent amount of good looking guys. Your ex-boyfriend was actually considered to be one of the best looking guys in your university, so you had a hard time understanding why you couldn’t take your eyes off of Mark. As soon as you found him, you felt as if your heart was about to jump from out of your chest when you realized he was already looking at you. 

You were sure if you were to look in a mirror, your face would be red from embarrassment. Was he watching you this entire time? Did he know you were practically ogling at him this entire time when you were supposed to be paying attention to your classmates? To both your delight and dismay, he sent you a flirtatious wink before making his way to your group. You felt like you were about to be sick. Feeling him stand behind you while placing his hands on the chair sent chills down your spine. 

Why was he so close? And why did you want him closer? When he was talking to other groups, he stood a few inches away from them but right now he was in your personal space and you couldn’t help the thought of wanting him even closer. 

“How are we doing here?” Your classmates hummed in content before they started going around and telling him their answers. “Okay, what about you? What’s your name, major, why you took this class and what you want to learn in this class.” 

He pulled his hands away from your chair and walked towards the other side of the room to give you eye contact and offer you his full attention. You didn’t know what was worse; him standing directly behind you giving off his intimidating aura, or him looking at you while you were for sure about to make a fool out of yourself. To prevent yourself from looking like an idiot even more than you probably already did, you brought your attention to your notebook and pretended as if you were reading off from your notes. 

“My name is y/n, I’m an English and communications double major with a minor in Spanish language. I—uh—I’m—shit I’m sorry what were the rest of the questions again?” 

He looked at you in curiosity before letting out a soft giggle. This man was thirty-one years old, how was he capable of such an adorable, high pitched laugh? And how could you butcher that entire thing? You only needed to answer three questions with two of them relating to one another. You were sure you made your attraction even more obvious if he couldn’t already tell by the way you were practically drooling over him. 

“What made you sign up for this class and what do you want to learn?” 

You softly bit your lip out of frustration and took in a deep breath before responding. Once class was over, you were going straight to the bar and getting drunk. This was only day one, you had five months with Mark as your professor and you fucked it up in less than half an hour. He was probably going to go home and laugh at your little breakdown. 

Although you had a feeling you weren’t the first to get flustered over him. If he’s been teaching for over two years, he had to have a few students that developed a crush on him. Surely you weren’t the only one. But that’s what it was and all it ever was going to be, a silly little crush. It was normal; Mark was handsome, he seemed very intelligent, very passionate about his field and was very energetic. He also seemed very child like and with the way he laughed at something you didn’t think was funny, you knew he was still a child at heart. 

“I enjoy science, I think it’s one of those intimidating subjects that people are afraid to take because they’re afraid of failing. I will admit I’m not the best in science and I’m sure I’ll probably be shit at physics, but I love learning and I’ll do my best in this class. Or at least try to. I want to learn more about motion, movement and the relative entities of energy and force.” 

The soft smile he gave you went straight to your chest; there was no way you’d be able to survive the rest of the semester if he were to continue looking at you like that. His wife was one lucky woman. What world war did she fight in her past life to land him as a husband? 

“I like that answer y/n. I look forward to working with you this semester. I’m sure you’ll learn a lot about force and energy in this class and if you don’t end up doing too well, I listed my office hours on the syllabus. Feel free to stop by if and when you need help—and I mean this to all of you. Don’t be shy to ask me for help, I would rather spend a few grueling hours teaching you about Newton’s law than to have you fail my class entirely. Okay, for the remainder of class, I’ll be going over the syllabus and luckily the school provides the required textbook so you can all save an extra $200. I expect you all to use that wisely.” 

There was a feeling in your gut telling you he meant more than what he was saying about his office hours, but then again you felt stupid for even thinking that. He was married for three years and he had a daughter. He was also ten years your senior and you didn’t think you were all that special for someone like Mark to look at you in that way. 

He was your science professor and that’s all he was ever going to be to you. You knew exactly what you were going to do with that extra $200 once you were finished with school. Once class was over, you hastily packed away your things before making a beeline towards the door. Right as you were about to walk out, you heard Mark softly whisper your name. 

“Have a nice rest of your day y/n, see you Thursday!” 

Yeah, you were definitely getting plastered tonight. You didn’t even get to take five steps out of the classroom when you felt an arm roughly thrown around your shoulder. 

“There‘s my favorite science nerd. How was the first day of hell huh? Only two semesters left.” You let out a hysterical chuckle; as much as you hated school and couldn’t wait to graduate, you weren’t quite ready to enter the real world just yet. However, feeling the effect that Mark had on you knowing that it was only the first day toyed with your mind a little bit. You kept telling yourself over and over that he was just being nice, but you didn’t hear him saying anything else to any of the other students. 

Was he just picking on you specifically because of your little breakdown in his class? Your chances of passing physics with a grade higher than a C were already  pretty slim, what more now that you had a Greek God as your professor? You were doomed. The first couple of weeks went by better than you had expected. Sure, there was some material that you had a hard time learning but you refused to schedule office hours with Mark. Being in a class with him surrounded by thirty other students was already extremely overwhelming, you didn’t even want to know what were to happen if you were alone with him. You’d probably have to drop off the face of the earth from embarrassing yourself tremendously. 

A month later, you found yourself between a rock and a hard place. Physics only became more and more tough as the days went by and you cursed Mark for giving you so many difficult assignments. It’s as if he was taunting you. You did what you could first before you even thought about signing up to meet with him. Going to see Mark during his office hours was your last resort. First you reached out to a couple of your classmates; asking for them to explain the material to you but nothing worked. 

They were all very kind in trying to help you, but you still couldn’t memorize nor understand the seven branches of physics. Then you went along with BamBam’s suggestion to go get tutored but just like your classmates, the tutor couldn’t even help you which is why you found yourself emailing Mark to schedule an appointment with him. His response made your eyes roll, but it also sent warmth to your heart and you hated yourself for not being able to learn it on your own from the few sources you had around you. On one of your days off, you made your way up to Mark’s office and gently knocked on the door; patiently waiting until he welcomed you in. 

“Come inside.” 

You hesitantly walked in and sat down on one of the chairs he had facing adjacent toward his desk. You began to look around the room and smiled to yourself at how much his office matched him as a person. It was simple, yet the few trinkets and bobble heads he had on the shelf made the room a little more lively. 

“Took you a while to meet with me. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your grades for a while now, so I’m glad you actually came in for help. Your test scores aren’t looking too good y/n.” 

You released a long sigh; disappointed with the news but not surprised. Why did you think you were capable of such a complicated subject? Even some of the smartest students on your campus had a hard time with physics and you wouldn’t consider yourself dumb, but then again you weren’t the brightest bulb in the bunch. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I should’ve came earlier. I just—I didn’t want to bother you. I tried asking for help from tutors and other students in the class but nothing worked, so here I am.” 

He gazed at you with an unidentifiable look on his face and it made you nervous. You didn’t know exactly what it could have meant and the curiosity was eating away at you. 

“You know y/n, I commend you on taking this class. I know you took it as an elective and I’m sorry it’s probably not what you expected it to be. I’ve been told I can go a little hard on students sometimes, but I’ve been trying to make the work a little more easier than it was last semester. I couldn’t help but take notice though, you do amazing when it comes to the homework. You ace the lessons like nothing, it’s just the quizzes and the exams you’re not doing too great with and it’s probably because you take it in class, with me in the room.” 

Your eyes widened at his last few words but he gave you no time to ask what was on your tongue as he got up from his chair and sat directly in front of you on his table. 

“Am I a distraction y/n? Don’t think I haven’t observed the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking. It’s actually cute by the way—sexier when you bite your lip though. I guess this is the time to admit that I do the exact same thing, although I’m more discreet about it than you are. I love knowing the effect I have on you; if only you knew the effect you have on me princess.” 

Were you dreaming? You had to be, there was no way this was actually going on right now. There was no way Mark confronted you about drooling over him in class only to tell you that he’s been doing the exact same thing. What was going on? Was he messing with you? He had to be. Mark Tuan couldn’t have feelings for you—he had a family. And you—you were just a junior in college. His student to be exact; he had to be pulling your leg. 

Yet the way he was looking at you, so seductively with a charismatic glint in his eye sent warmth to your core. The way he was looking at you as if he was a lion and you were his prey, ready to pounce on you did wonders to your body. You couldn’t describe the way Mark made you feel. The way he made you want to do better, the way you wanted to impress him and be someone he admired. The way you wanted to be the reason behind his contagious laughter and breathtaking smile. 

There weren’t enough words to describe what Mark made you feel and when you felt his fingers grip your chin and tilt it upwards so that the two of you made eye contact, you were putty in his hands. As wrong is this all was, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop. 

“What are you doing to me y/n? I have a family whom I love dearly, but I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve been on my mind every single day since the first day of school. I don’t know what is about you—well it’s obvious that you’re beautiful. Extremely beautiful y/n. But I’ve seen hundreds of beautiful women in my thirty-one years of living and I’ve never batted an eye at any of them. You were so flustered, so adorably clumsy on the first day but it was the eagerness, the enthusiasm you had in wanting to learn even if you may not be the best in science. You remind me a lot like myself when I was your age. You’re one of the most hard working and extremely intelligent students that I know. I—fuck. I’m aware that a few of my students have crushes on me in the last two years and I found it cute but that was it. They didn’t make me question the love I have for my wife and the status of my marriage the way you do. I really shouldn’t be saying things like this before knowing how you feel but I can’t help it. I like you y/n. I really like you and I know it’s wrong for so many reasons and please don’t feel like you have to reciprocate these feelings, please just don’t say anything.” 

Your mouth was dry and didn’t know how to respond to his entire confession. It was still taking you a while to process the entire thing. Not once in your life would you have ever pictured yourself in a situation like this. No, things like this only happened in movies. To both of your surprises, you found yourself smashing your mouth against his, silencing any doubts that he had about your feelings for him. His lips were soft and gentle against yours, but the grip he now had on your hips was rough and intoxicating. It was hard to believe that for the last month, you’ve been dreaming about how his pretty lips would feel against yours not knowing that here you would be a year later, lying flat on your back on top of his desk while he left multiple kisses along your neck and chest. 

“I—like you too—a lot—and if this is wrong—well fuck Mark I don’t want to be right.” 

It was true; you knew having an affair with your professor was taboo and you knew what you were doing was terribly wrong, but you were just going to have to deal with the consequences later. Now, you were going to show the beautiful man in front of you just how crazy he’s been driving you over the last month. He smiled against the inside of your thigh and made his way up to your soaking entrance, blowing some hot air against your core before flicking at your clit with his tongue. 

“Well, I’ll be your dirty little secret and you’ll be mine. Oh and by the way y/n, consider this a one on one lesson about energy, force, movement and motion. I’m going to drain you of all your energy, force my cock in to this pretty little pussy of yours, have you bounce on my dick like the professional cowgirl I’m sure you are and then I’ll bury myself balls deep inside of you while hitting it from the back. How does that sound?” 

The wanton moan that fell from your lips at the sound of his naughty words made the coil that was already building in your stomach tighten. The two of you spent the rest of the day exploring and learning each other’s bodies. You didn’t think that it was possible to explore the many different positions that the two of you dabbled in while being in such an enclosed space but you weren’t complaining. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to come in here again without reminiscing on the way Mark had your breasts pressed up against the window while he roughly drilled himself in to you doggy style.

Once the two of you both came down from your highs, he took a couple of tissues from his desk and wiped you down. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before he went searching for your clothes that he greedily ripped off of you and flew across the room in a haste to finally get inside of you. His breathless moans and grunts, murmured curses, kinky and naughty words and the multiple compliments that fell from his lips while you were loving up on each other were now etched in to the back of your mind. As you watched him pull up his jeans, you felt a pang of hurt hit your chest. 

What have you done? You just slept with your professor; a married man, it didn’t matter if he had feelings for you and that you reciprocated them, you shouldn’t have let your selfish desires and carnal urges take over. For all you knew, his poor wife who had no clue what just happened with you and her husband was sitting at home waiting for him to finish work, probably playing with their daughter and the image made you feel pathetic. You just allowed yourself to fool around with a little girl’s father. You could be the reason she grows up in a broken home because her mother found out about her father’s brief lapse of judgement. 

However, you didn’t feel as much as remorse as you did your feelings for Mark and if he was okay with having an affair with you, than who were you to disagree? Over the next six months, you and Mark snuck around to fool around with one another. If he wasn’t blowing your back out in his office, he was taking you up against the fridge in your apartment or having you ride him in the backseat of your car. After your first time together, he set some ground rules. You weren’t able to text him unless he texted you first in fear of his wife seeing your messages; which turned in to emails instead because it was easier to tell you of how much he missed having his face in between your pretty titties and how much he loves the feeling of you clenching around him. 

You also weren’t allow to mark him in any way which was a given, but that didn’t stop him from leaving a couple of love bites and hickeys around your body making it known that your bed was spoken for. He also didn’t want your affair to get in the way of your job or your studies, therefore he refused to meet up with you no matter how much he wanted to until you finished your work. You didn’t know how the two of you have been keeping this a secret for so long. You were no longer a student of his, but that didn’t stop you from attending his office hours. 

Unfortunately, you made the mistake of falling in love with him less than three months in to your secret little rendezvous but it was hard not to. Sure, most of your relationship was spent making love with one another, but there were times that you got to see the real Mark. There were days where you actually went to see him for some help on your assignments and he would always be so patient and understanding with you. He would also reward you with kisses every time you got an answer right and it made you want to try even harder. Sometimes when he would come over to your place, the two of you wouldn’t even have sex. 

You’d either cuddle and watch a movie together or bake something you saw on the food network. He was also pretty invested in the Xbox that you had and sometimes you’d find yourselves battling each other in halo or call of duty. It was in those moments, the moments where he asked you how your day was, where he held you in his arms for hours and comforted you when you found out your grandfather passed away, where he would buy you your favorite coffee drink and purchased things for you that reminded him of you. It was a mistake. How could you fall in love with someone who was on paper; unavailable?

Mark made you feel things that no one has ever felt before. He showed you things so beautiful that you could only see with him and he made you feel as if you were the most beautiful thing on this earth. When you were with him, you felt like everything was perfect. He made you extremely happy and you knew he felt the same way about you. But when you’d leave his office, or once he’d leave your apartment, you felt empty. 

There was a hole in your chest that he would leave every single time he’d have to go and return home; back to his family. To his wife, who wasn’t you. It would always cloud your mind; how could he continue to go home to her as if nothing was wrong. As if having an affair with one of your students and going back home to your wife was one of the most natural things to do? You didn’t mean to be so selfish and only think about your pain and your suffering, but you’d put yourself in her shoes every now and then. If it were you and you found out your husband were cheating on you, you’d be devastated. 

Over the weekend, you and Yugyeom were at the grocery store preparing for a movie night with a couple of friends to take your mind off of finals. The two of you were arguing on what type of chips to get when your eyes landed on a cute little baby sitting in the cart. She looked so familiar and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you have seen her before. It wasn’t until her mother turned the cart around that you knew she was Mark’s wife and that was her daughter. He had a picture of the three of them on his desk in the beginning of the semester and you couldn’t get over how pretty she was. 

She had long, silky hair, a petite frame and a gorgeous smile. The way she was looking at Mark in that photo was the same way you looked at him every day; with so much love and admiration. However, as your relationship continued, you were quick to notice that he took the photo from off of his desk and sometimes he even goes without his ring. It always made you curious as to why he did that, but you never had the courage to ask him. Seeing the two of them in person awoke something inside of you. 

Even if it was just a couple of seconds of seeing them, it felt as if a bucket of cold water was thrown on you and reality just slapped you in the face. For some reason, seeing them made you feel like you were about to throw up. You didn’t understand why you felt so bothered; you had no problem sneaking around with her husband for the last six months. But knowing she existed and actually seeing her were two different things. It made it all the more real that Mark was being unfaithful and that you were a home wrecker, slowly tearing their family apart. 

Only then did it occur to you that Mark wasn’t with them and you knew he was still probably sleeping because you tired him out in the back of your car the night before. You couldn’t allow this affair to continue; it was extremely stupid of you for letting it get this far and you were sure if you didn’t see the two of them that you would only get deeper and deeper in to a mess that you didn’t know how to get out of. That night, you found yourself at your previous fuck buddy Jinyoung’s house. You knew it was a big mistake, but you needed to know that there were other men out there who could please you. 

Other men that would find you attractive and love your body the way that Mark claimed to. Other men that would be able to take your mind off of the only man you’ve ever loved. You needed to know that you could move on from Mark; that he wasn’t the only man out there but as Jinyoung thrusted himself in to you and left wet, sloppy kisses in the crook of your neck, you knew that nobody could take Mark’s place. Nobody would ever be able to set fire to your bones and send your entire body in flames. Nobody could ever be nor replace Mark, and that’s what you were most afraid of. 

You weren’t surprised to see that Mark’s been trying to reach out to you for days. Ever since the day at the grocery store, you’ve been avoiding him. He’s sent you multiple emails over the weekend and thought that you were too busy with finals to get back to him so he understood. But when you didn’t meet up with him at his office that Monday and Tuesday, he knew something was up. You knew he was growing impatient and he must’ve known something was wrong. Mark never called you unless it was an emergency and even then, he would stick with emails and text messages. When you saw the two missed calls, you decided to finally give in and asked him if everything was okay. 

Come to my office in fifteen. We need to talk. 

You took in a deep breath and ignored the look of confusion on Yugyeom’s face before standing up and gathering your things. “One of my classmates are asking to meet up right now to study for the exam on Friday. If you’re not busy later, maybe we could go watch a movie or something. I’m sorry for leaving so sudden, but actually do some studying while I’m gone please? You have all the time after finals to focus on chocolate shakes Yugyeom. However, you won’t be able to afford to buy them anymore if you don’t graduate from college and get a decent paying job. I’ll see you later.” 

You slowly made your way out of the coffee shop to prevent yourself from looking suspicious, but once you left you quickly began making your way back to campus. Thankfully the coffee shop was only a couple of minutes away and it gave you enough to calm down your racing heart. You thought about what you were going to do the entire weekend. As painful and gut wrenching the idea of no longer having Mark in your life was, you just couldn’t keep doing this anymore. Sure, it was mainly because you hated being the cause of a broken home, but it was also because you could no longer be the other woman knowing you harbored feelings for him. 

She was his wife and you would forever be the whore that he only reached out to for sex. The closer you were to his building, the more you could feel the nerves building up all throughout your body. Surely he had to know you were staying away from him and not just focusing on your education in the moment. Even on the days where you were busy, you’d still contact him but you haven’t talked to him once the entire weekend. As soon as you made your way outside of his office, you took in a deep breath and gave yourself a couple of seconds to prepare your entire confrontative speech. 

To your dismay, as soon as you knocked on the door, it’s as if he was waiting right there; waiting for you to arrive because you couldn’t even finish knocking before he opened it. 

“Hi—“ the glare he gave you sent chills down your spine. He’s never looked so upset with you before. Was he really bothered with your silence? Why would he be though? You were just his play thing; you didn’t think not hearing from you would bother him in any way. He allowed you to walk in and closed the door; locking it just to be safe. There were a couple times where the two of you almost got caught because he forgot to do so. Luckily people always knocked before trying to open the door. 

You felt him before you saw him; he wrapped his arms around your lower waist and placed his chin on your shoulder. Many red flags were going off at the feeling of his embrace but you couldn’t pull away; this man took away your sanity. You put him before yourself so many times. You were afraid of the backlash that would come if you were to make it known that something was on your mind. 

This is your last time together y/n, make it worth the while. 

Feeling him leave soft kisses against your neck made you shiver. You began to think back to a few days ago when Jinyoung had you writhing underneath him. With Jinyoung, it felt so rushed and at the end, you felt so disgusted; so used. He didn’t even bring you to your orgasm. With Mark, your release was his number one priority. He wasn’t going to stop fucking you until you came and that’s what you were going to miss. Someone who genuinely seemed to care about you and your well being. Someone who made it his responsibility to make sure you were taken cared of. You were going to miss Mark, but you miss the person you were before stumbling in to bed with him. You were a young woman with morals; one who would frown upon cheaters, mistresses, adulterers. 

Time and time again, you told yourself you could never do that to someone but Mark Tuan broke down your walls entirely and got you to go against everything you ever believed in. Not anymore. Only for today, you were going to allow yourself to give in to him; to allow him to ravish in your body one more time. But once you were done, you were going to leave both his office and his life completely. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

His voice sounded melancholic; as if he was sad that you’ve been doing so and it made you feel even worse. Why did you feel like you were the one ruining everything? When two people have an affair, the two are at fault. It takes two people to cheat, so why do you feel as if this is all your fault? Especially because he was the one to initiate it all? Why did you allow him to take so much from you? So much of your time, love, patience, spirit? Only for him to reciprocate it in sex? Why did you allow this man, this stupidly beautiful man, to own your heart knowing there was no way you could ever own his? 

“I’ve been busy with finals—“

“Bullshit y/n. Now tell me the truth. Why have you been avoiding me huh? Ignoring all my attempts in contacting you—did I say or do something to hurt you?” 

Yes, you broke my fucking heart. You fucked my body and fucked over my mind. You touched me, filled me up entirely and left me empty every single fucking time only to go home to a woman who isn’t me. Who will never be me and I refuse to let you have the power to hurt me anymore. 

“No. You didn’t do anything I’m just—I’m the problem. Don’t worry about me okay?” 

He released a frustrated sigh before turning you around in order to get a better look at you. He cupped both of your cheeks in his hands and gazed down softly at you. His gaze pulled on your heartstrings and now you were worried that there was no way you’d be able to leave now. Mark had that effect on you. He could make the entire world go away and your attention would be solely directed on him. 

“How can I not worry about you? You’re all I ever worry about—all I ever think about. I’ve missed you so much y/n. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong okay? Just let me take care of you.” 

He missed you? No, he didn’t miss you, he missed the sex. He missed your body. He missed the way you did whatever he asked of you. There was no way in hell that he missed you, he didn’t know what he was saying. It was his dick talking for him; you knew how easily turned on he’d get from past experiences. You knew his words were a lie, so why were you now torn on what you should do once this was over? 

He brought his lips down to yours in what started off in an extremely passionate yet gentle kiss. However, it didn’t take long for the kiss to get heated. He gripped at the back of your thighs and wrapped your legs around his hips and roughly shoved you up against the wall. His lips were rough and hot against yours, nipping, sucking and tugging on your bottom lip while playfully squeezing your ass in the process. Your hands absentmindedly made their way in to his hair; it was a habit you had every time you both would make out. 

The soft grunts against your mouth made it aware that he enjoyed your little ministration, and you continued as the kiss only got deeper. Kissing Mark was what you thought you were going to miss the most; he told you on a few occasions how much he loved the feeling of your lips against his and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t trace your lips once he was gone just to reminisce on your love making session. 

“Need to—fuck you—now—right now.” 

You pulled away from his mouth and began leaving wet kisses along his jaw as he carried the two of you over to his desk. He laid you down gently on the table and brushed away some of your hair before stealing one more kiss. 

“You’re so beautiful y/n. Breathtaking.” 

He placed another kiss on your lips; more delicate and feather like this time. You didn’t know which of his kisses you preferred but with the way this one made your heart flutter, his gentler kiss was your new favorite. Countless men that had crushes on you, all of your exes and some one night stands would always tell you of how beautiful they thought you were, but nothing compared to hearing Mark tell you how beautiful you were. 

Although you never thought too much of yourself, Mark never failed to make you feel like a goddess verbally and physically. He brought his hands inside of your shirt and squeezed both your breasts, causing a soft moan to fall from your lips. 

“You like that? I know how much you love when I suck on these big titties of yours. Let daddy get inside of you and then I’ll show them some love.” Your shirt was thrown across the room with your shorts pulled off right after. 

“Fuck—I will never get enough of this view.” 

Watching him bite his lip while looking at you caused you to cross your legs in order to get any sort of friction against your throbbing core. How could someone who talked about such boring topics such as the earth’s mantle and the crevice of the moon be capable of such a naughty mouth? Just like you, he was now in just his underwear and you found yourself admiring his body in all it’s glory. Who knew a physics professor would be hiding such an impressive six pack under all his flannels and band tees? 

“Wanna see just how much I’ve missed you?” 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he took off his underwear and you swore you could come just by the sight of his thick and extremely hardened cock. The tip was red and you had a feeling it had to be painful. 

“I’m hard as a fucking rock y/n. I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time baby, but I’m gonna need your help in fixing this problem. You made daddy think you were ignoring him; now daddy’s gonna teach you a lesson.” 

He lined himself at your entrance and ran his cock along your soaking folds to lubricate himself before entering you. His hands made their way up to your chest and he shoved his palms inside of your bra, cupping and squeezing your mounds the same time he pushed himself inside of you. The two of you moan in unison; no matter how many times you’d make love, the stretch always drove the two of you insane. 

“Fuck—so tight—so wet—so, so good. Please—shit shit—tell me when I can move baby please—“ 

Another reason why you loved having sex with Mark was because he always put you first, every single time. He never failed to ask you how you were doing, if he could move, if he was hurting you, if the two of you could experiment in different positions. Although the two of you were commuting such a sinful act, he was always quite the gentlemen and it never failed to bring a smile on your face but they never lasted long. 

The second you nodded in agreement, he began roughly shoving his cock in and out of your cunt. His dick stretched out your tight walls deliciously. Each and every time he bottomed out, you let out a pleasurable sigh; his balls hit the back of your ass with every single thrust and you could feel his cock kiss your cervix whenever he’d return back in to your warm walls. He followed up his promise and continued fondling with your breasts and completely yanking your bra off so that it wasn’t in the way of him massaging your mounds. He flicked at your nipple and pinched the other before bringing your breast inside of his mouth completely. 

“M—Mark—mmm, fuck—your mouth—feels so good and your cock—f—fuck.” He giggled softly as he brought one of your nipples in between his teeth and nibbled softly. 

“What about my cock y/n? Tell me—my dirty little slut. Tell me how it feels? You love the feeling of my balls on your ass yeah? Love the way daddy’s long, thick cock feels going in and out of your slick walls, don’t you y/n? Because I do. Fuck—did you just get tighter—don’t do that y/n, you know what that does to me.” 

If only he knew the real meaning behind his words. If it were anyone else calling you their dirty little slut, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it but since it was Mark and technically yes, you were a dirty little slut, it made your stomach hurt. It wasn’t like you’d clench around him on purpose. It was just so much for you to take. The sound of skin on skin clapping and both your quiet moans filled the entire room making the atmosphere extremely sensual and erotic. He pulled away from your breasts and intertwined both your hands together while placing it on both sides of your head. 

His thrusts only got harder and faster as the minutes went by and you were sure with the pace he was going that you’d both reach your ends here pretty soon. Though most people considered missionary as the most boring sex position, it had to be one of your favorites. You loved watching Mark’s facial expressions as he drilled himself in and out of you. You loved watching the way his eyes would roll to the back of his head as the tip of his cock would graze your clit. You loved seeing his cocky smile every time he’d force you to beg for him to make you come. 

But something in the way he was looking at you right now was different. He never looked at you like this before and you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but he looked both fucked out yet soft with a hint of what you assumed was worry or curiosity. A small smile rose upon his face and he leaned down to steal a kiss from your lips. 

“You mean a lot to me y/n. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Fuck, baby please tell me you’re close, please. You always get me to cum so soon. Your pussy is just that good. Ah—shit—“ 

Feeling his warm, creamy liquid fill up your walls got you to release not too long afterwards and you sent him a soft, cheeky grin even though you knew the hell that was coming. He gave you a few minutes to come down from your high and put his clothes back on before cleaning you up and helping you put on your shirt. The pleasurable soreness between your thighs made your cheeks warm and you were sure your legs were probably jelly at the rate he pounded you in, but you wanted your last time together to be memorable. 

After Mark, you don’t think you’d want to be involved with anyone else for a while. Not when you experienced what you thought was the love of a lifetime. Once you were both finished making yourselves look more presentable, he ran his hands through your hair and pecked your nose. Since you knew of your next actions, you pulled his mouth down to yours and left a long, sloppy kiss on his lips. God, you were going to miss him. 

“Hey, y/n, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you too much did I?” 

You didn’t even realize a tear fell from your face until he wiped it up with his cheek. This felt like deja vu, Yugyeom did the same thing for you less than two hours ago but for the same reason. You knew he meant it as if he wanted to make sure he didn’t fuck you too hard, but you were in fact in pain. 

You did hurt me, but not in the ways that you think you did. 

“Should we take this back to your place now? I miss eating that pretty pussy of yours. Then we can order some take out tonight or something. I told my wife I wouldn’t be home until late because I knew there was a chance I’d be seeing you today, so we have a good amount of time together—“

The laugh of hysterics that came from the back of your mouth confused him. You couldn’t believe how he was acting so nonchalantly. He told his wife he was going to be late because he planned on sleeping around with another woman. How could he not feel wrong about that? 

“Mark—let’s stop this.” He looked at you as if you grew another head. 

“What are you taking about y/n? Stop what? I don’t understand where this is coming from. Baby—“

“Don’t call me baby! Are you forgetting that you have one? You’re married Mark! You have a wife and a daughter waiting for you at home while you’re out here kissing another woman. Spending time with another woman—fucking another woman! Giving yourself to another woman! Do you know how hard it’s been for me these last few months pretending like nothing was wrong? Fucking you and letting you fuck me knowing that you had a family waiting for your return? Do you know how many times I’ve cried over this situation? How many times I felt disgusted with myself because of this? You’re right Mark, I am a dirty little slut. I’m a whore—a mistress—A FUCKING HOMEWRECKER and I can’t let this go on anymore. I’m sorry.” 

He let out a scoff, but you could see in his eyes that he was now feeling remorse. Whether it was towards you or to his family, you will never know but it didn’t matter anymore. Your mind was made up and there was no way you and Mark could bounce back from this. Especially because your heart was at stake and you were now wearing it on your sleeve. 

“We’ve been fooling around for months y/n and it never seemed to bother you that I have a family. If it did, you would’ve never let it happen but you wanted me just as much as I wanted you. Still want you. Fuck—I meant what I said when I told you that there’s something different about you. You excite me y/n. You’re the only source of my happiness right now. You make me feel safe, you make me feel things not even my wife makes me feel. Please don’t give up on us—tell me what I can do to make it better. I’ll do anything.” 

Leave your wife. You hated that those three words were at the back of your tongue, but it was the selfish bitch inside of you, the one who loved Mark Tuan with every fiber of her being that didn’t care about anyone but herself that wanted him to give up his family life in order to be with her. But the realist in you knew that could never happen. There was no way he’d leave his two-year-old daughter and his wife of four years for a senior in college. He wouldn’t give up everything he’s worked so hard for to be with you. No one in their right mind would do that; especially not for sex. 

“Let me go Mark. It’s what’s best for both of us.”

“Speak for yourself y/n! I can’t lose you. Why only now? Why are you acting like this now? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

Your throat was sore from all the yelling and your chest felt dry. Your fists were tightening out of frustration and you were sure there were tears falling from your cheeks but you were too numb to feel anything. A part of you was ready to say fuck it and take him in your arms, but you couldn’t do that. You loved yourself too much to give in to him even if it’s all you wanted to do.

“Your daughter is beautiful. She’s a splitting image of you. Has your pretty brown eyes, light, curly brown hair and such a cute little smile. And your wife is gorgeous. I saw them at the grocery store the other day and seeing them, actually seeing them in the flesh rather than just pictures felt like a punch in the face. You have such a cute little family Mark. Why would you let it all go to waste for a college student you fuck on the regular?”

“Damnit y/n! When will you get it through your head? I don’t say it but I know you know you are more than just a fuck. This is way more than just sex between us and you know it! Fuck! I love you! I’m in love with you and I have been for a while now! That’s why I can’t lose you! You’re all that I want and could ever need in my life. There were so many times I came up with excuses to be home late so I could spend more time with you. You make me feel young, like a little child. All my worries and negative thoughts go away whenever I’m with you. You’re my favorite place y/n. My safe haven. You mean the entire world to me. I’ll do anything to get you to stay. Please—I’ll go insane without you.”

“I love you too Mark. More than I plan on admitting and that’s why I have to let you go.” 

His grip on your waist was tight and he pulled you against his chest in attempts to hide the tears that were falling down his cheeks from you but to no avail. You’ve only seen Mark cry twice in the last few months that you’ve known him for. Once while the two of you watched Christopher Robin and the other when your grandfather passed away. It was weird seeing him cry then, you didn’t think your tears hand any effect on him but it made you smile knowing they did. This time was much more different. It made you know that his words were sincere; that he really did love you and that he would go crazy without you. You’d probably go crazy without him too but it was what you had to do. 

“I’ll leave her. If that’s what it’ll take to make you stay, I’ll leave my wife so we could be together—“ 

You shook your head and gave him a sad smile. As amazing the thought of being with Mark sounded and knowing he was willing to leave his family to be with you made your heart flutter, you couldn’t let him do that. You wouldn’t be able to live knowing what you did. 

“Mark, please don’t. I can’t, okay? I love you, I really do and I probably always will. I’m sure I’ll regret doing this later on in life and I’ll miss you like hell—but it’s the right thing to do. What we had was amazing, but you and I both know we could never be together in the way that we want to.” 

You placed one more kiss on the corner of his mouth and you could feel him hesitating to reach out to grab you, but you knew Mark was aware that you were right. He could fight for you all he wanted, but he couldn’t fight your heart’s decisions. 

“Goodbye Mark. Take care of yourself.”

[butterbeeryuta]

chapter 2: shit colour schemes, bugs, and vegetables

This place looked nothing like hell. The moment we landed, we were placed in one luxurious apartment with a private pool and shit. How is this hell?

Purple-horn lady cleared her throat as she clasped her hands together. ‘Welcome to Hell 127. As you can see, you have a rather gorgeous apartment here, and is probably a very different image of what you thought hell was meant to look like. But that is only because humans are stupid. Keep yourselves warm and welcome, and ya’ll can call me later if you need any help, yeah?’. We all nodded at her, wanting her to leave as soon as possible. If it was not obvious enough, we wanted to have a magical vacation here in Hell 127. Imagine all the films I can watch forever, or even maybe paint forever— this is just simply amazing and irreplaceable. What she said made sense though. Maybe we are dumb because of what we perceive hell to be. From an early age, we learn that hell is a place for ‘bad people’ regardless of what your religion was. Of course, there was no possible way for living individuals to know how hell actually looks like, but damn are we brainwashed. In a matter of a second, the purple woman disappeared, and it was just us 13 embarrassed breathing-yet-not-breathing corpses.

‘Is it only me, or I really want to jump in that pool’ the girl with midnight blue hair asked. We all looked at her direction, not expecting the sudden voice to speak out. My eyes followed where she was looking, and I must say, the pool looked inviting. The clear water had pink and purple led lights shining on the edges; it was a whole disco party in a form of a pool. I love hell.

‘Didn’t you die from jumping in a pool and drowning for your Instagram feed?’ A rather deep female voice questioned.

BITCH YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT I—

The boy with caramel hair snorted at the girl’s comment, whereas Mark’s laugh filled all of our ears. I had this sudden urge to comfort the attacked girl, but I also wanted to high-five the other person for such bravery? Huh… no wonder I’m in hell. I’m just as mean as kpop stans on Twitter. Poor attacked pretty girl tightened her lips immediately, almost as if she was stopping herself from throwing an insult back. Or maybe she was just at loss of words. If it wasn’t obvious enough, I am absolutely terrible at reading people. And to think I wanted to be a psychologist. Considering we were technically going to live with each other for eternity, I had this sudden need to diffuse the tension, and being the natural leader I am since I was an art teacher for fuck’s sake—

‘Are you feeling ashamed that we all know how you died?’ A man with dark red hair asked.  My thoughts were immediately cut short when he began to speak… and now I want to choke him for interrupting me. Perhaps I have a temper problem. Perhaps. The girl nodded a ‘yes’ at him, which only made the man give her a small smile. He had a pretty smile, I’ll admit that. But that gives me more of a reason for wanting to kill him. Though, there is probably no use in doing so since we are all dead anyway and well, we’re all in hell.

‘Well, don’t feel bad. My name is Yuta, and we all had embarrassing deaths. There isn’t a need to feel ashamed or upset sweetheart—‘

‘Oh cut the crap Yuta, stop flirting with people. I’m Johnny by the way. If you think he’s a therapist or something, no he isn’t.’ A 6’0” man interrupted him, which only made the so-called Yuta glare at the tall guy.

‘Ya’ll know each other?’ I asked, which for some reason caused Mark to nudge me. I raised my left eyebrow at him, giving him a ‘what the fuck’ look, but I probably should have guessed it: the bitch actually died from embarrassment, of course he’d be nervous talking to anyone.

‘Uh, yeah. Yuta is a drug dealer, and I was his personal accountant. We died together from stupidly running away from the cops and ran straight into a wall and well… a wall killed us’ Johnny said, scratching the back of his head, clearly not proud of his death. If I thought Mark’s laughter couldn’t get louder and funnier, it just did. Naturally, everyone laughed along with him, including myself. And just like that, we all got inside, sat on the huge couch, and got to know each other’s names and how we pathetically left Mother Earth. The blue hair woman turned out to be an ‘influencer’ on Instagram based in Korea— Jung Wheein. She claimed that she already knew that influencer wasn’t an appropriate term since she just posts pictures of herself, but it gave her money nonetheless. The girl who exposed her death was Ryujin; she had short dark hair, which only added to her ‘mysteriousness’ if that made sense. She didn’t tell us her story though. All we know is that she was an international student in Germany. The man who was ‘laughing in joy’ while watching his own death was Moon Taeil. His death was probably the least embarrassing compared to all of us since it wasn’t his fault. He was riding a horse and fell off midway and well… you know the rest. The rest of the people were Rosé, Jaemin, Jungwoo, Yuna, Momo, and Donghyuck. I would like to tell you their stories, but I honestly stopped listening. This is completely irrelevant, but that Jungwoo kid has been making heart eyes to everyone and I do not know what to feel about it.

We all eventually decided to call it a day, and because hell is such a magnificent place, we all had our own rooms with our names beautifully written on the door in gold. The first floor was already beautiful itself; a huge L-shaped leather couch with a perfectly carved wooden centre table to give it that home-like touch. The kitchen was huge as well, which made Jaemin squeal in happiness because he apparently liked to cook a lot. The kitchen matched the modern theme in the living room. The greyish marble decorated the room with a touch of dark brown to further amplify the modern vibe. It was like those pictures you see in model houses. The second floor carried out the same aesthetic. The only difference was that there was one corridor with 13 doors all spread out; 6 rooms on the left, and 7 rooms on the right. This was probably the first thing I didn’t like in this paradise-hell. It’s just too narrow and crowded, but who am I to complain. After saying our good night’s to one another, I walked up to the door with my name displayed on it: ‘___________ _____________.’ Taking a deep breath, my cold hand turned the knob. 

Second biggest mistake of my life. Or afterlife per se.

What the fucking hell is this?

It was every art teacher’s nightmare. The colours of the room did not match at all, and the chosen textures of the fabrics and cloths made no sense. Who the fuck uses terrycloth, or towel cloth, as bedsheets? Who matches neon green with pale pink? And the paintings that were hanging on the room, they’re incomplete! The only good thing about this room was that I had my own poorly designed bathroom, but other than that, it made me want to go blind. Was everyone’s room like this? I left the room, not wanting to believe that I was assigned to that disastrous room. I knocked on Mark’s door to check since I technically tackled him in the plane. We have a relationship alright.  

Nothing.

I knocked again.

Nothing.

Before I could knocked on the third time, I heard a muffled sob through the door. Was he crying?

‘Mark? Can I come in?’ I softly asked, unsure if what I did was the right thing.

‘S-sure, it m-might be scary-y though s-so try not to get f-frightened’ the poor boy stuttered through his tears. Did he find the colour scheme of the bedroom to be that bad? Unsure of what to expect, I slowly opened the door and, it was nothing like my room. The room had a white and yellow colour scheme, with those glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the ceiling, resembling a child’s bedroom. Nothing was scary to be honest, until I saw what type of pictures were posted on the cream walls: bugs. Mark was scared of bugs. Mark was sitting on the floor with his knees tucked towards his chest, whereas his tear-stained face was hidden in his arms. As if he was my student, I crouched down next to him as I slowly rubbed his back.

‘Mark, they’re just pictures, they won’t harm you. But if it bothers you so much, should I take them down for you?’ I gently asked as I tried to calm him down. His teary doe eyes locked with mine, and he whispered a mumbled ‘yes’ through his croaked voice. I sighed in response, returning him a nod so he knows that I will take it off. Grabbing a picture by the corner I ripp— okay wow this glue is strong. Grabbing a picture by the corner with both of my hands, I harshly took it of— why isn’t it coming off? 

‘Uh Mark, it’s not coming off’ I said, trying my best to pull it out, but it just won’t budge.

‘SOMEONE SWITCH ROOMS WITH ME WHY ARE THERE VEGETABLES ALL OVER THE PLACE THIS IS NOT COOL!’ Donghyuck shouted, which was soon followed by a shut of his door.

What the fuck is happening? 

a/n: hehehehe i’m so ready to get to the main story in. bby mark is so precious omg protect him from this world 🥺as always, if you’d like to be added in the taglist, just let me know through asks <3

taglist: @ta3ilmoon​ @lelenoir​ @murasakillmepls​ @neolights​ @anothermessedupbitch​

back to masterlist?

[jeonggukkiepabo]

MIKROKOSMOS [PJM]

SUMMARY: There’s nothing that pisses Y/N off more than her own life. Her family is highly religious, wealthy and nothing she’d consider fun. Her surrounding is boring, but once the new guy, Park Jimin, decides to sit right next to her, Y/N enters a new world filled with romance & fun. Little did she know that this kind of fun had his shadow side to it.

WARNINGS: THIS FIC MIGHT CONSIDER TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR SOME OF YOU. IT CONSISTS OF RELIGIOUS TALK (not in a positive way), DRUG ABUSE, TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, MANIPULATIVE BEHAVIOR AND MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THAT! I DO NOT WANT TO ROMANTICIZE DRUG USE, BECAUSE IT IS NOT ROMANTIC, THERE’S NOTHING FUN ABOUT IT. PLEASE BE SAFE! other than that there’s a few smut scenes, an orgy and some homosexual scenes.

WORD COUNT: 24k 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: a big ass thank you goes out to my babe @namjooniebjonesuniverse​ for betaing this piece, i love you

PROLOGUE x YOU’LL NEVER WALK ALONE

“I don’t get it, Y/N! What did we do to you? How could you end up like that?” Your mother broke down in tears while looking down at your dirty, probably disgusting smelling self. 

“You’re the worst thing that could’ve happened to our family! Just because you decided to fall in love with this Jimin guy. The devil has sent him to test you, but you failed. You sinned just to receive a bit of pleasure instead of listening to our God!” 

Your mother was talking herself into a rage, her veins popping out of her neck as she continued yelling at you, but you didn’t even listen, ignoring your own mother like you already did the past couple of months.

God here, God there. That’s all your family was talking about ever since you were little. Talking about that weird guy that seems to live in the clouds, watching you living and judging whatever you were doing down there. But, how could you think about Jesus when your mind was full of other things? Like your next shot.

“Y/N, I can’t believe it! You’re not even listening to your own mother! I need to call the church so they can send pastor Jin to us, he needs to clean your mind! He needs to get those demons out of your thoughts.”

Suddenly, she starts praying, which is your opportunity to get out of here. You slowly walk back into your room, shivering as the cold floor touched your naked feet, closing the door and smirking at the beautiful man that was already laying in your dirty bed.

“Took you long enough, babe. Did your mother tell you I’m the devil’s son again? That I came straight from hell to ruin your life? Why don’t you listen to her, angel? Why won’t you leave me for your own sake?” His fingers trail over your lips, his actions already weakening you to the bones. Jimin chuckles, his still very muscular chest rising. His voice is full of sarcasm while his lips form the devilish grin that caused you to fall for him a long time ago. 

Meanwhile, he takes the old, rusty utensils from the nightstand and slowly pours the white powder on top of the spoon. As soon as you realized his actions, your mind goes crazy and your tiny, destroyed body begins to shake from the sudden pain you feel. Much to your irritation, Jimin takes his time preparing his own shot, holding the lighter under the spoon painfully slow. 

“For fuck’s sake, hurry!”, your raspy voice breaks, but you could bet that he understood what you were saying - he just didn’t bother to listen. “Jimin, I can’t wait any longer!” Your cold hands were starting to shake so badly that you already knew that you couldn’t even prepare your own shot if he wasn’t ready within the next few minutes. But you knew Jimin way too well by now - he wouldn’t help you, you as a couple were far past this point by now and he never wanted you to go down this path anyway. 

“If you’ve got enough time to prepare your shot that slowly, hand it over. Because I need it now, you know that once I’m on turkey, I won’t be able to do it myself. GIVE IT TO ME, NOW!” You try to rip the improvised belt out of his hand, but Jimin just pushes you away with his foot as he rams the needle into his veins. 

A few seconds later, his eyes are already closing while a soft smile appears on his lips.

“Fucking son of a bitch,” you mutter to yourself before pulling the needle out of his arm and preparing your own shot of happiness. You didn’t even bother to clean the needle; if you didn’t get ill from sharing by now, it would probably never happen. 

Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking while you tried to cook the substance on the dirty spoon - and it got even worse by the time you were trying to fill the needle. You nearly dropped everything while searching for a vein that was good enough, trying not to shoot into the scar tissues. After a few misplaced shots, you finally reached a vein that was good enough for your liking - and that’s when you shot the liquid into your system. Within seconds, you got beamed into a whole other universe while falling asleep on Jimin’s slowly rising chest.

01 x FIRST LOVE

Your life is boring. Not interesting at all. You’ve spent your entire childhood in this Christian boarding school ever since you were 6. Now that you were finally out of that, your parents decided to send you to a Christian college, and to be honest: it really fucking sucks. Besides your packed lessons (that your parents chose for you), you had to take religion classes every day and visit the college church every Sunday. 

“Y/N, c’mon, we’re about to be late to Biology!”

Yeah, well. Your classmates suck too. You’ve never, ever in your entire life, seen someone coming late to class, it’s always been you. Y/N Y/L/N. It could’ve been worse, you knew that. Because of this one weird guy in front of you… yeah, his name is Thaddeus. As in Thaddäus out of the twelve disciples, chosen by Jesus Christ.

After lunch - strictly vegetarian of course - and without any motivation left in you, you strolled down the hallway to the last class of today. You unbutton the first two buttons of your white blouse, leaving enough for the imagination, anything inappropriate was covered by the striped tie hanging wearily around your neck. Whoever thought that uniforms would do any good: thank you, this is a fucking cult.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you please place your feet back on the holy ground instead of the table? Or do you want to clean the classroom afterward?” You huff in annoyance, stamping your feet on the ground so the dirt falls off your Dr. Martens. The act of rebelliousness was overshadowed by the door swinging open rather loudly. You look up, staring at the stranger’s face. None of your classmates had the guts to come in late, but there were no rumors going around about a new student, and rumors spread fast around here. The guy that came in keeps a cold gaze towards your teacher. He looks just the slightest bit taller than you, with high heels you’d be the same height. He looks good, soft facial features but thick thighs and even a thicker ass, phenomenal. As if God had sent you a personal angel.

“My lovely students, this is Park Jimin. His parents moved here from Seoul, please don’t be rude to him and accept him in our class! I bet he’d be glad to get to know every single one of you. Park Jimin, why don’t you tell the class more about yourself?” 

Park Jimin, as the teacher just told them, didn't seem to be very affected by anything. He studies every single face, which gives you the opportunity to study his. A mop of bleached hair, narrowed eyebrows, and brown eyes that had the same annoyed look as yours did. His plump lips were pressed into a line, probably hiding a rude commentary to his introduction. 

“It’s Jimin. And I don’t see the point in introducing myself, wouldn’t want to make friends anyway.” His deep voice didn’t surprise you at all, while he begins walking towards the only empty chair – which of course led to be the one next to you. You fought for this place for about two years, you would never share it. Not with him, not with anyone. “I want to sit alone,” you spit. “And I don’t care.” 

“Alright, the seat next to Ms. Y/L/N is empty as you already saw. Now, tell us about your hobbies, your favorite book, don’t be shy!” Your teacher still tries to make him talk, but Jimin just huffs in annoyance. “No hobbies, I don’t read, just look at the pictures, and for that, I prefer the dirty ones, you know?” 

“Oh, okay, well… Anyways, we’re going to start with our next topic which will be DNA and genetics. I’ll show you a little short film and you have to take some notes so we can discuss it later on. Have fun with our little friend Geni!” 

With that, the teacher started some stupid clip of an alien called Geni that wants to teach genetics while being funny. Didn’t work out that well. 

“Hey, is she always like that? She seems to be a bit sick in the head.” Jimin’s voice drags you out of your thoughts, and you were surprised that he decided to talk to you. You shrug your shoulders while muttering a quick “dunno”, feeling his eyes burning on your body as he was obviously checking you out. You raised an eyebrow as you keep staring at him. “Is there something interesting to see? You should focus on Geni, our little friend, not my unbuttoned blouse.” With that, you continued studying his face, his jawline was very strong in contrast to his hollowed cheeks. His eyes seem to be tired because they’ve always been kind of closed while his gaze is starring somewhere else. 

Just in the moment, he was about to open his mouth, the teacher screams, “Well that was fun! Never been so amused while learning important facts! Ha, Geni is a genius. I hoped you wrote down anything important so we can discuss them in the next lesson. Have a nice night evening and I hope everyone will be there to cheer on our hockey team, they have their first official match today!” 

Soon, the classroom is empty, and everyone is inside their dorms. You changed into something comfier before sitting down on your desk as you start to paint with your new oil colors. 

“Wow, damn. This is sick! Looks like some kind of a trip. Do you draw often? I mean, of course you do, it looks so fucking good!” You got so terrified that you nearly fell out of your chair, then you realized it was Jimin standing right next to you, his eyes on the piece of paper in front of you.

“Ehm, hi Jimin? Nice to see you, I guess, but this is my room?” 

“Hi, cool room. I like your style, fits mine”, he points to your pair of sweats while opening and unbuttoning his shirt. Then he sits down on the bed which hasn’t had an owner. Yet. 

“Anyways, this college sucks. I mean, it really bloody sucks. Teachers and students. Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, but you know how it is. Everyone seems to be manipulated by God, it’s really scary. Well, I live here now, but I gotta go. See you later, alligator.” 

He was soon gone and you were more than confused. You are a girl, living in a dorm, not knowing there was any chance to have a boy as a roommate. Of course, sometimes boyfriend and girlfriend were able to share a room in a regular college, but most of the time, it was strictly separated. Shrugging the thought off, you prepared your stuff for a quick shower, still thinking about Park Jimin and the impact he’s going to have on your life. 

The next morning already starts with a surprise, it seems like Park Jimin hasn’t been in there the entire night. His suitcase and most of his clothes are still spread across his bed. This boy was such a mystery. 

Not even an hour later, you find yourself in the first class of the day, not listening to what the teacher said, drawing in your notebook once again. “Do you always draw that stuff? I mean, yesterday, today, literally all the time. Not that it bothers me, I really like it. But I wanna know what’s in your head", a deep voice says right next to your ears, causing you to jump the slightest bit. You were so pissed about Jimin’s sudden presence that you couldn’t even answer his question. 

“Oh c’mon, don’t act like you’re listening to that bullshit this nun is talking about. And since you’re a student here, you should be drawing churches or the holy ghost or I don’t even know. But for sure not that,” he points to the burning people you drew, burning in purgatory and your cheeks got instant red. 

“Where were you last night? When I woke up I found your suitcase on your bed, just like you left it yesterday. Listen, those professors are so fucking strict, I don’t want to lose this place, okay? And one of their simplest punishments is scrubbing the church floor – which I don’t want to do either because there will be 20 Jesus figures watching you. And..” 

“Y/L/N, Park! This lesson is more precious than your conversation, seems like I have to inform both of your parents. Detention, both of you!” Your disgustingly annoying teacher interrupts you roughly. 

After 4 more hours of maths and religion, you practically run into your room, Jimin right behind you. “Y/N, why aren’t you talking to me? Are you angry ‘cause of the detention? Listen, I’m kinda sorry, but it’ll be just two hours of sitting there, it could be worse. And why is the ugly rat calling our parents? Y/L/N are you even listening?” 

You feel Jimin's hand on your shoulder, but shrug it off. “Hm? Yeah, sure I am.” 

“You’re weird, but oh well. Are you hungry? Should we head out to Subway or McDonalds? We still have a bit of time left before detention starts and I’m starving.” 

You are looking up to him, confusion written all over your face. “Leaving? The only time you’re allowed to leave is between 3 and 7. Lunch is in the canteen, but the food is vegetarian.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen in shock. “Vegetarian? Seriously? Dude, this is torture! How are you even alive?” 

“Dunno. Never had meat, never wanted to, it’s dead animals. That’s disgusting. There are plants for a reason, y’know?” 

“Sick”, Jimin nods. “Hey, Y/N! Why can’t ants go to church? ‘Cause they’re insects. Insects! Understand?” he laughs so hard that he needed to sit down on his bed, holding his stomach. 

You, on the other hand, open the bible on your desk. “Haha, funny,” you mumble and begin to write down the daily phrases you needed to hand in the next day. 

“Have you ever drunk alcohol? Or smoked? Oh, you hesitated, you’re a literal virgin. In everything! We need to change that, but first: lunch!” You squirm, unsure about what to say; simply because he was right. But to you, this was normal. Sure, you've wished for a boyfriend and maybe even sex in the past, but you never felt like you were missing out on something.

He drags you by your tiny hands and almost runs into the dining hall. “What’s that smell?”, Jimin scrunches his nose, looking confused. 

“I don’t even know, it always smells like cabbage, but there’s never cabbage in the meals. You need to get the vegetable burger, but never the vegetable sausages. Everything with noodles or potatoes is fine, salad is okay but the soups are disgusting, got it? We can go to the city later on and find something better for you.” You both decided on getting the burger and while you directly dig into it, Jimin starts off by taking a bite of the fries, then scrunches his nose again and adds half a bottle of ketchup onto them. 

“I can show you around then, but there aren’t any cool stores to buy clothes, I usually order them once I’m home.” You managed to speak while chewing your last bite of burger. Jimin smiles.

“You’re pretty cool, angel. Never thought I could meet someone I’d like in here.” 

“Look at that, Y/N! They all look like puppets!” Jimin spins around to look around the city. “Seems like there’s only one store with one clothing line, that’s terrible.” Oh boy, he was so right. Each guy was wearing ripped skinny jeans with a Supreme BoGo-Sweater and Yeezys, while all of the girls were dressed in way too tight leggings and some kind of shirts and hoodies that exposed their belly buttons. But you just shrugged, looking down at your mom jeans and the way too big ‘YUNGBLUD’ shirt you wore underneath your leather jacket. You looked like one of those TikTok girls, but you couldn’t help it - you were an emo girl in middle school, some things never change. The only thing that changed was that you got some sort of style by now, not just wearing checkerboard pants and your favorite hoodie with black stars on it. 

“Told you, I usually order my stuff online.” Jimin looks at you, nodding. “You need something that makes you different, angel.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the nearest store with a holographic ‘Tattoo & Piercing Shop’-sign. 

“Uh, well, I do already have both, so no thanks. But if you want to get some…” You laughed, causing Jimin to smirk. 

“Where?” 

You just winked before pulling him into the shop. “You need to get your nose pierced, Jimin. I don’t care if you’ll get detention forever, but I bet it’d suit you,” you smile. 

“No-uh, I’m not getting anything before you either tell me what’s where on your body or you’re getting something else. I guess tongue would look great on you, but it hurts like a buttcheek on a stick”, he raises an eyebrow, thinking about the idea of a pierced nose and actually digging it. “You know what? Fuck it, I’m doing it.” 

Half an hour later you were already able to leave the studio, but Jimin was the only one that was freshly pierced. A black stud was now decorating his nose and you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Never thought I’d see you crying, Park.” 

He laughed, slightly punching your shoulder. “It didn’t hurt, but I guess my nose is just connected to my eyes, so…” 

“Yeah, of course, tell me whatever you want.” Jimin turned around, looking at you, smiling. “Hey, could we just make one last stop? I need to get something really important, doesn’t take too long.” You just nodded, why wouldn’t you? You have more than an hour left and the walk back to college wouldn’t take more than 20 minutes. “Sure.” 

You’ve been walking for another 15 minutes, until you got slightly confused, not knowing the area you’re in. “Jimin, where are we? What do you need to get here? We need to get home soon, y’know.” 

“Don’t piss yourself, little one, I’ll be quick.” You were about 5 meters away from a weird-looking guy, chewing gum and playing on his phone, but once he saw Jimin, he nods and they exchanged a strange handshake before heading in different directions. “That’s it?” you asked, not knowing what to think about this situation. 

Once you were at your dorm again, laying on your beds and listening to different kinds of music, Jimin stands up to get some see-through plastic bag out of the pockets of his denim jacket. You didn’t really get to see it, but watch his movements as he sat back down, opening the bag and pulling some kind of dried flower out of it. 

“Whoa, is that weed? Jimin, that’s illegal! You can’t do this, you’re going to die!”, You panicked, of course, you never came in contact with any kind of drug, not even alcohol. All you knew was that drugs destroy your body, you’ve seen ‘We Children of Bahnhof Zoo’ twice and who would ever want to take anything after watching this movie? Jimin ignored your comment, grinding the weed before rolling a blunt. “Wait, you’re not doing this in here! I don’t want to die with you! Besides that, it smells, you can’t keep that a secret”, you narrow your eyebrows, making him laugh and roll his eyes while lightning the dangerous stick before inhaling some of it. 

“Want some?”, he offers, but you shook your head hysterically, the smoke burning in your eyes. “Hm, guess I was wrong then,” Jimin mumbles most likely to himself. “Thought you were different than the others, but it seems like you’re just one of them. What a shame, I thought there could be more than that between us. But don’t worry, it’s not about you, it’s about the fucking system you were born in.” 

He stood up, going back onto his own bed, while you continue to stare at the wall. Just like the others, he said. He made fun of you. All you wanted was to be on the same level as him, wanted to be as cool as him. Different than the others here. God, you haven’t even held a normal cigarette, now he wants you to smoke a fucking blunt. Slowly, the risk of getting caught, doing something dangerous and the satisfied look on Jimin’s face caused you to change your mind. You couldn’t lay still, tingles running through your entire body, the smell of weed permanently in your nose, as you watched the soft clouds wander through the room. “For fuck’s sake, it can’t be that wrong, right? Give it to me.” 

It was completely different from what you thought it would be, you had always thought weed would loosen you up, sink into your brain cells to calm you down. The only thing you felt was a burning sensation in your lungs and throat, which lead you to coughing more than you ever did in your whole life. Groaning, you handed the blunt back to Jimin who had a knowing smirk on his lips. “Angel, you need to keep that in your lungs for a longer time, otherwise you won’t feel anything.” You nod, taking the glimstick back in between your fingers to take another hit. “Try to act as if you’d want to swallow the smoke before taking another hit”, Jimin tried to explain, switching back onto your bed to help you. 

Great, you thought, you were even too dumb to smoke a fucking blunt, but kept following his instructions. Swallowing the smoke, holding your breath, trying not to cough your soul out of her body. “Sick, isn’t it?”, Jimin asks, grinning widely. You, on the other hand, were kinda disappointed, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah, it’s so chill, dude,” you mumble and let yourself fall back onto the sheets. Minutes later, you were fast asleep. 

Part 02 x BOY MEETS EVIL

The entire class was staring at you once you walked into the room. The teachers were talking behind your backs when they saw both of you walking through the corridors. “Jimin, they’re staring,” you mumbled anxiously, turning quite shy. “Of course they are, angel. You look so pretty today,” Jimin complimented you – or your outfit. He made you wear a bra that pushed your tits to a maximum, having you open only the first button of your blouse and to complement your long legs in the tiny skirt, you wore Dr. Martens boots instead of your Converse. You grew nervous, not knowing what the teachers would tell you, but you felt good right next to Jimin. He always looked good without effort, you simply wanted to look good too. Smiling, you nodded, head feeling slightly heavier than usual. 

“Ms. Y/L/N, what on earth did you do? Wearing your uniform like this is against god’s law! Jesus will be so disappointed in you, my dear.” Your teacher sent a quick prayer to god before letting you sit down. 

“Do not judge, or you too will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you,” you muttered under your breath but made sure the nun would hear it while Jimin snorted, then laughed. You felt strong, almost at the same level Jimin was on. 

“Ms Y/L/N, you’re going to write the entire first book of Matthew, since you put such a shame on him. And pray to god, he sees all of us!”, the teacher almost screamed before returning to her lesson. “Shit, angel. You really battled this old slut. Religion against religion! That was so sick, we need to celebrate it later!”, Jimin showed you the tiny bag he held in his pants pockets. 

“Dude, not here, not now. We’re still in the classroom! And I need to write down this fucking book later on. The hoe wants to kill me, it’d usually take a week to finish that, I can’t do it in just one evening.” Groaning, you let your head fall on the table. “You go smoke, I’ll do my shit.” 

In your room, you directly started copying the text, smelling a familiar scent about 7 pages in. You sigh, but keep your eyes on the bible, your hand already hurting from holding the pen. Who even came across the idea of writing the bible? You laughed, believing more in Harry Potter than this shit of a fiction. 

“C’mon, stop this boring shit. Bible studies are over now, Jimin time starts now. If you don’t come laying down next to me, I’ll be sad.” Jimin pouts, making you laugh, which leads you to closing the books and walking towards his bed, letting him pull you right next to him. With that, you were smoking your second joint in as many days. 

You were currently repeating your freshly learned process of smoking until the room was completely filled with smoke. Your head was resting on Jimin’s lap, as you talked about conspiracy theories and religion. I mean, as far as a discussion between two stoned teenagers can go. It’s not serious at all because you couldn’t stop laughing the entire time while playing some 90s music in the background. 

“Uh, Jiminie, why are all these guys dressed up as monkeys?” you asked, staring at the screen in confusion. 

“Well, dunno. But this song is a bop, who doesn’t like the Bloodhound Gang? Oh, wait, play this! I loved it as a child!” he pointed to a different video, jumping off the bed excitedly. Seconds later, the intro of ‘Californication’ started, changing your vibe completely. You closed your eyes before screaming to the chorus while Jimin tried to beatbox the melody. Then, he pressed a quick peck onto your lips, before both of you broke out in laughter. ‘Barbie Girl’ started and you transformed into Barbie and Ken while dancing wildly to it. “Wait, I know another one!” Jimin pushes you back onto the bed before playing another song. 

All the people look at me like I’m a little girl, 

well do you ever think it’d be okay for me to step into this world? 

I know I may come off quiet, I may come off shy, but I feel like talking, dancing when I see this guy. 

All I know is that I’m happy when you’re dancing there. 

Jimin moves his body like it’s something he does on a daily basis, swinging his hips sinfully while his eyes were locked with yours. His lips move with the lyrics, playing with the hem of his shirt, letting it fall to the ground quickly and exposing his toned abs. His own hands were roaming his muscular chest, the music getting to it’s best. 

I’m a slave for you, I cannot hold it, I cannot control it, 

I’m a slave for you, I won’t deny it, I’m not trying to hide it. 

Baby, don’t you wanna dance up on me? 

He sits onto your lap, but all the laughter from a few moments ago was gone, this shit was dead serious and fucking hot. His hips move against yours, similar to a snake on the ground, while his lips keep singing the song into your ear. The song changes, but none of you care about ‘Toxic’ being played in the background, with this guy on your lap, you’d ignore everything going on around you. You were just a teen, your cunt screaming for attention. 

There’s no escape, I can’t wait, I need a hit, baby gimme it. You’re dangerous, I’m loving it. 

Too high, can’t come down, losing my head spinning ‘round and ‘round. Do you feel me now? 

You didn’t feel anything besides your juices forming a wet patch in your panties and your rising chest. Being stoned made you so loose that you didn’t give a single fuck and totally digging his show. Your hands roam his back onto his ass, while licking your lips and staring at Jimin’s toned chest one more time. Jimin, on the other hand, keeps on going with his show. 

With the taste of your lips I’m on a ride – you’re toxic, I’m slipping under. With the taste of your poison paradise – I’m addicted to you, don’t you know that you’re toxic? 

Then, you're sharing your first kiss with this edgy man, his stubble feeling rough against your soft skin, his lips are chapped and the exact opposite of yours. But the feeling of his dominant tongue entering your mouth and fighting with your own was so much better than you could have imagined. Jimin knows what he wants and that was you. He throws your smaller body back and climbs on top of you, his hands grabbing a fistful of your hair, while you swing one leg around his slim waist. Your teeth slam against each other’s but that was nothing that could tear you apart right now. His lips started to move down your neck, leaving some love bites and a wet trail on your collarbone, which made you groan out in unknown pleasure.

But suddenly, it felt like someone spilled cold water into your face, you were wide awake now. You snap back to reality and realize that Britney’s voice in the background was nothing more than embarrassing. “Uh, Jimin, sorry, but this is weird.” You shove him back onto his own bed, while accidentally touching his hard on. “Fuck, Y/N, what are you doing? Just let it happen, we’re both horny and goddamn high. Why do you want to end this right now?” 

But it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t know you were a virgin. And he couldn’t know that anything sexual wasn’t a part of your life until now - you were simply ashamed.

You went straight to bed without talking to Jimin, not even trying to solve your problem. You even woke up an hour before him and ran off into the classroom without him knowing. You were the first one there, which gave you more than enough time to think about yesterday. But Jimin never came to class, the seat next to you was empty again, but this time you didn't enjoy it. Everything was like before, when there was no weird but attractive boy in your life. The only thing that has been changed were your thoughts, running back to last night, back to his hands roaming your body and soon enough, you were squirming in your seat, groaning in frustration. You couldn’t help but start drawing Jimin, his messy hair, wide grin, and red, sad eyes. 

You knew it was right to end what happened, it was just the weed that made you kiss him. You shouldn’t have smoked in the first place; like your parents always told you. But you had to admit that the kiss turned you on, even thinking about it now made you wet again. 

“Y/L/N, I’m talking to you, don’t you listen?” the weak voice of your teacher drags you out of your daydream, while you were trying to find out what they were talking about. “I wanted to know which disorders of the synapsis exist?” 

“The synapsis can be damaged by, among other things, strokes or Lyme disease. But you can also lose synapses by age or health differences,” you roll your eyes, sinking back into your fantasies. 

After lunch, you went straight back into your room, where Jimin was comfortably lying on his back, surrounded by smoke. He, of course, had your entire attention while you placed your bag down and loosened the tie around your neck. He’s just laying there, eyes closed and listening to music, yet looking like a Greek god. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and you could finally concentrate on the tattoos around his chest, which was completely hairless. Your feet dragged you to his nightstand, where the rest of his joint was laying in an ashtray. Without looking at him, you took it and inhaled a few times before taking the ashtray to your desk, the joint still between your lips.  “You could’ve asked instead of stealing my weed, y’know? But I guess it’s how it is, you take what you want before realizing you don’t really need it, huh?”, his groggy voice caused you to shriek, yet send tingles through your entire body. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, if I knew you were awake, I wouldn’t have taken it. Well, I need to do my homework anyways.” 

“Mh, sure.” 

The THC starts to work its way into your brain so that you needed to repeat every other sentence before giving in and laying down onto your bed, listening to Kodaline with your headphones. 

Your gaze wanders automatically over to Jimin, listening to the lyrics and comparing them to your own life so far. He had changed you the past few days. You smoked weed. You made out with a guy. The thing is, you didn’t mind it at all. It was different than the world you were born into, different than the secret kisses you shared with some of your friends so far. You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice Jimin's gaze. Your heart cramps as you see his sad expression and the frown he is wearing. You didn’t want to see him suffering, wanted him to be happy. The music touches your insides, the bottom of your heart, and suddenly,  you were able to feel anything. Closing your eyes, you allow to let your mind sink deeper into the music and away from Jimin. 

“Y/N, don’t act like you’re sleeping now. I’m not that stupid, if you don’t want to talk, then leave it. But don’t ignore me.” You haven't noticed that Jimin was now sitting next to you, but you had so many questions to ask that you needed to talk to him. Sighing, you sat up and started to chew on your chapped bottom lip, biting onto the dead skin and pulling it off. You didn’t want to start talking, but also didn’t want to give him another reason to be mad. 

“’m sorry, Jiminie,” you mumbled, not daring to look up at him. He just looks down at you, confused but grinning. “We nearly fucked and all you’ve gotta say is that you’re sorry? You’re so brave, angel.” You roll your eyes in annoyance and stand up, walking to your desk, simply trying to get more distance in between you. Jimin just groans, holding your wrists and pulling you back into his chest. “No, Y/N. We really need to talk. Not even a junkie like me could forget about this”, he looks at you with his big brown eyes and you furrowed your eyebrows. What did he say? Junkie? All he does is smoke weed, just like most teens would. “Jimin..” He just shakes his head at you. 

“I’m talking. You sit down so I can start. You don’t really know how fucked up I am, angel. Why I landed here. Y’know, in the past, I drank a lot, but I always hated the aftermath. I thought weed would be the best option. Well, I got kicked out of high school ‘cause I was always stoned, never came to school and didn’t do anything. Well and because I fucked one of the teachers, but never mind that. I tried to experience everything, especially with my sexuality. I had lots of meetings with my clique where we all just fucked. Girls, boys, girls, girls, boys, boys. Name it, I had it. Y’know, sex with guys… It’s just so different and I preferred it over girls, but since I saw you, it seemed to change again.” 

“Anyways, my mom found out what I was doing, so she sent me into some kind of drug cleanse camp ‘because she wanted me to get off the weed. In the camp, I met this guy which had lots of pills and ‘cause we couldn’t smoke, we took those instead. We swallowed one trip after another and when I came home, I never stopped. Of course, I had to tell my friends about it and soon we started to take whatever pills.  One day, we didn’t get the effect we wanted to, so one of us brought cocaine and crack. I took coke too often, my nose never stopped bleeding and I had lots of problems breathing because it was completely crusty. I never dared take crack tho, I knew how the junkies looked like and I didn’t want to end up like them.” 

“When my best friend’s grandma came into the hospital ‘cause of cancer, she got lots of morphine and fentanyl plasters to help her pain. Well, he stole them. We were one step closer to our end. I took coke to party and fentanyl to calm down afterward. Namjoon, my best friend, he was almost like a brother, then brought H to us. He smoked it through a Dr. Pepper can, of course, we knew what he was doing. Just a few days later, I found him dead because some fucking idiot sold him dirty H. Ever since I stopped doing most drugs except for weed.” 

His gaze finally met yours and you could tell he was afraid to see your reaction. You couldn’t help but hug him, letting some of your tears break free and give him the warmth he had probably missed forever. But now you knew what you wanted, him, his life. To experience exactly what he had experienced. 

You haven’t said anything the past few minutes, so you had to clear your throat before starting to talk. “Jimin, I… I don’t know what to say or how to react. I mean, it’s great you didn’t do hard drugs, what happened to your friend... It would’ve broken anyone. You stayed strong, that’s what counts. I guess nothing bad can happen when you’re just smoking weed. Besides that, I’m with you now and you know, I’m sorry. I mean, I enjoyed this kissing situation, but it was one of my first times kissing a guy. I am not experienced. My parents always taught me it’s a sin to do anything like this before marriage. I really didn’t want to hurt you, I just didn’t know how to react, okay? Maybe we could just take things slow, yea?” You rubbed circles on his back, trying to calm both of you down. 

“Sure, angel, it’s your decision, I’m just glad you accept me the way I am. I just acted like this ‘cause I thought you’d like it too. I mean, you obviously did, but I guess next time I’ll ask before just attacking you, I’m not the devil, y’know?” Jimin chuckles and to you, it sounded like heaven. He doesn’t usually laugh, besides his usual cocky smirk, and it really made you happy to be the one that could cheer him up. “Am I even allowed to say the d-word in here?” 

“Dunno, but you’ve had sex with boys, you’ll end up in hell anyway. By the way, were you a top or bottom?”, you laughed, but still curious about the man in front of you and all the secrets he still had to share with you. 

“Ouch, angel, that hurt. Would you really consider me being a bottom? But it would be a shame to waste the half-smoked joint, would you please finish it with me, my lady?” How could anyone ever say no to this beautiful man? You shake your head, laughing before grabbing the glimstick between your lips. You decided to stay in bed the entire day, smoking and kissing here and there, being lost into each other and the stories both of you had to tell until you fell asleep curled into each other. 

The next weeks went by much quicker than anyone would’ve thought, exams came and went by, there weren’t lots of lessons Jimin and you spent clean, but your pocket money couldn’t buy you as much weed as you soon needed, which brought you to different kinds of medicine to keep you high enough. This way, you took antidepressants to get rid of your lows.

The time came where you were already taking pills for breakfast, just to ‘survive boring lessons’, to get through the morning before smoking your first joint for lunch. Jimin and you were never arguing, just laying in bed, making out and whispering sweet words to each other. You haven’t had sex yet, you just weren't ready for it and Jimin accepted it. He was just a generous boyfriend, taking care of his angel. You knew you loved him, but sometimes your mind wanders off to his past, high thoughts running through your head. 

Jimin kissing other guys, while you were alone in your room. 

Jimin fucking other girls, because you weren't ready for him. 

Jimin cumming into other guys and girls, because you couldn’t fulfill his needs. 

Of course, you knew you weren’t in a serious relationship so far, Jimin always said those don’t really exist between stoners, but you didn’t want other people to fuck the guy you were currently hooking up with. You were never the jealous type, but Jimin was supposed to be yours. In his opinion, he could do whatever he wants with other boys and girls, but as soon as you even dared to look at some boy in class, he would get angry and stop talking to you for the rest of the day, leaving you behind in your shared room. Especially those days where the meds weren’t enough to share, you were just angry at each other but would end up in bed, kissing and apologizing in between.

Those days, you liked to say that you were independent. Today, you can only laugh about this tragedy that was happening, because all you felt wasn’t real. You were just in love with the drugs he gave you. 

But what do people always say? You learn through experience. And sometimes you need to fall, face down on the ground to realize that.

Part 03 x EPIPHANY

“Yes, mum, I’m fine, but I really can’t come home these holidays. What? Oh, yeah, I need to learn so much, exams are coming up and I want to pass this year. No, I don’t miss any lessons, studying just became a bit harder. Yes, I’m learning a lot with Jimin, he’s really good at Maths and Physics, he can help me a lot. Yes, I’ll tell him, mum. Love you too.” 

You hated lying to your mother, but what else were you supposed to say? “Hi mum, I can’t come home ‘cause I’m kinda addicted to pills and you’d kick me out if you knew”? Nah, that wasn’t an option. So you decided to head wherever Jimin went, tagging along, spending some extra time with him.  

“I don’t like that, Jimin. I hate lying to her”, you roll your eyes at the black phone screen, then looking over to your so-called boyfriend. “You needed to, babe. Now c’mon, I’ll help you forget your mother”, Jimin pulls his angel onto his lap, kissing you just like he knew you like it. Once you started to have sex, you solved every little argument with a quick fuck. Not enough weed? Sex. One of you looked at a different guy/girl? Oral. You, not being able to go home because you were high all the time? Making out and fucking again. 

And you could finally understand what Jimin meant when he was saying that nothing compares to the feeling of feeling so close to someone, but you always thought that was just the side effect of all the drugs you took. You were currently lying under Jimin, feeling as his orgasm overcomes him, but not feeling anything yourself. Your thoughts were wandering to your family and friends at home and not seeing them for the next few months, missing them already. And well, thinking about that while being fucked is nothing that turns you on. Jimin rolls off of you, building another blunt, still out of breath. 

“But what if she gets why I’m not coming home? I’ve never just stayed here, always went home. She’s not that stupid, Minie. Shit, she’ll know. She’ll take me off college.” 

“Fuck, angel, shut up, will you? Here, take another hit, you know, everything gets better after that”, he hands you the already lit blunt, and damn, he was right. 

“Fuck, Hoseok, what’s up, dude?” Jimin runs up to the tall guy, pressing his lips on top of his. You were too high to care, too high to be angry, too high to feel anything. You just stare at Hoseok, his curly red hair, brown eyes and the slight stubble on his chin and cheeks. His eyes had lost their glow, his skin was red and oily. 

“Hobi, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Angel, this is Hobi, my best friend.” And his best friend was very attractive, not gonna lie. “Hey.” You weren't interested in small-talk, nibbling on the skin around your blue nail polish while staring into the woods. You had arrived at the train station a few minutes ago and Hobi was the one that was supposed to pick you up. Instead, they met at some random field, surrounded by trees and a little sea, not knowing why. You were tired, hungry and somehow not in the mood for anyone besides Jimin. “Y/N, isn’t there some nickname for you? Y’know, I’d love to call you something special. Like a street name, Y/N doesn’t fit your new self. Like…Diamond.” You roll your eyes, huffing. “Do I look like a stripper? Use my real name or don’t talk to me at all.” 

Hobi laughs. “Damn, baby girl is feisty. Mhh, I kinda like that. Baby Girl.” Now it was Jimin's turn to step him, growling. “Don’t. Call. Her. Babygirl. She’s mine.” The red-haired boy stepped aside, hands up in defense. “Okay, okay, J. Y/N is it, Y/N it stays. Let the little pumpkin live a little. PUMPKIN IT IS!” He held his hand out to high five the young couple, but neither of you made a move, instead, rolling your eyes in annoyance.  "You're too affectionate, Hobi." 

"He is, but you used to call me marshmallow, Jimin. Remember? That one sucked too", you smirked.

You walk a few steps away, throwing some pills into your mouth and swallowing them dry, exploring the bit of nature you were able to see. “Throw those away, Pumpkin. I’ve got something better, here you go”, Hobi stopped beside you, holding out his hand. You gave him the most bored glare you had to offer but open your hand as well. He handed you a little paper, Cheshire from Alice in Wonderland printed on it. “Put it on your tongue, have fun on your adventure, it’s a pleasure meeting you, Pumpkin.” Hobi winks at you, while you look over at your boyfriend who had a knowing grin plastered on his face. Shrugging your shoulders, you do as you were told and kept on walking deeper into the woods, wanting to spend your trip alone. 

You don't know what was on that paper, but you felt better than you ever did. Laying on a neon green field, the flowers were so colorful you couldn’t stare at them without squinting your eyes. The sky was super bright, the sun smiled at you so beautifully that you couldn’t help but smiling back at it. You didn’t want to stand up, but you wanted to explore the entire forest, maybe even talking to some deer and bunnies. Oh, and you wanted to be with Jimin so bad. Where was he? Probably with Hobi, which you can't deny, was wonderful. Yeah, you liked him.

“Fuck, angel. Why are you laying on these branches? We’ve been searching for you the entire day, and why the fuck are you smiling at me?” Jimin seemed to be angry, but you didn’t care. You wanted to dance, swing around, listen to music. You couldn’t do that in the woods, but still had the urge 

“Babe, can we go clubbing? I really, really want to dance, but there’s no music here. I want to drink alcohol. Whoop, you’ve turned me into such a bad girl, you should spank me for that.” You laughed while twirling around your boyfriend, dancing like you were the happiest person on earth, which causes Jimin to generously smile before narrowing his eyebrows. “I shouldn’t just spank you, I should handcuff you to the bed and torture you, angel. But not now. And we can’t go clubbing in the woods, c’mon, let’s get you out of here. Hobi, what did you give to her?” You got bored of their conversation, so you kept walking, not caring about what Hoseok actually gave you. 

A couple of hours later, you were sitting in some house full of Jimin's and Hobi's friends. Whatever Hobi gave you, you felt nothing of it anymore, the effect was completely gone, and you were on your daily low. You decided to sit outside, curling up in front of some creek and watching the water flowing, not caring about the party, just waiting for Jimin to look after you. 

“Yo, Pumpkin, why don’t you come inside? The last few lines are gone and I have the last bag of the good stuff saved. I’m sure you don’t wanna spend time with Jiminie-pabo when you’re sober, c’mon in.” Hoseok pats your shoulder before running back inside, your sad body following him. As soon as you were inside, you immediately see Jimin, his freshly dyed peachy mop of hair bent over the table, a rolled Dollar in his nose, snorting whatever is on the table. Raising your eyebrow, you remember him telling you he’d only do weed and pills, him snorting coke was nothing you wanted to see. You grew nervous, not knowing what he’d be like on this high, so you kept watching the situation before sitting down next to one of his handsome friends, ending up with another rolled Dollar in your hand. 

Seconds later, your nose burnt, but the feeling went away soon enough to be replaced by a sudden high. You felt like the queen of the clouds, not being able to sit still. “What are we even doing here? Let’s go celebrate our lives!” Dragging a happy looking Jimin with you, everyone went to a house party in the neighborhood where one line followed another, you didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to feel small again. 

“Jimin, I fucking love you. I’m so happy we came here.” You were dancing like a 70-year-old couple, holding each other tight, his head laying on top of yours. “Mh, love you too, angel. Want to feel ya, c’mon upstairs”, he mumbles into your ear while grabbing your hand and leading you into the first empty bedroom, closing the door. Of course you ended up fucking. You were on top of Jimin, riding him because he had no strength left to pound into you like usual, both of you coming to your highs before Jimin fell asleep underneath his angel. 

Suddenly, the walls started to move towards you, the room getting tinier. “Minie, can you see that? Minie? Jimin!” You panicked, probably the drugs, probably your paranoia, but Hoseok was soon next to your naked body. “Calm down, Pumpkin. Breathe. Jimin is just sleeping, let him be, don’t miss the party! C’mon!” He gave you another mouth full of pills which you swallowed without even asking. You then put the blanket over Jimin before getting dressed, suddenly feeling pumped again. Hobi was right, the party has just started, why not enjoy it then? 

So you left Jimin sleeping in this room, went downstairs and have been dancing ever since. You can’t even remember, with whom you danced, don’t even know their names. At first, you kept standing in the doorframe, watching the crowd but after what seemed like an eternity, some red-haired girl with lots of cute freckles came up to you, grabbing your hand and laid it onto her naked breasts. She was naked like most of them, her bright green eyes watching you carefully. You couldn’t stop staring at her beautiful body, her face and those bright pink lips. Neither of you used words, the only thing that the unknown girl did, was intertwining your hands and leading you into the group of people. 

Another girl went straight towards you, this time pale with brown locks, but still as beautiful as the other one. She kinda reminded you of how your religion teacher always described Eve. It felt like it was your destiny to go down on those girls, enjoying and praising the female body like the garden of Eden. The only problem you had, was which of those girls to kiss first, Eve or the fairy-like goddess? As if it took you too long, they took the situation in their hands and started to undress you first, while some other person took advantage of your lips. All you felt was stubble and rough hands, but you didn’t want to know more about this person. Getting lost in a wild tongue fight, saliva soon dribbling down your chin, your kiss came soon to an end. As you opened your eyes, the guy was nowhere to be seen. On the other hand, you didn’t know what he looked like, so you didn’t know whom to search. 

Your eyes scanned the crowded room, people getting off together, you're somewhat jealous about the open minded atmosphere. Your hands slowly trailed their way down your now naked stomach, two fingers lightly pressing down onto your clit, making you squirm and you can't help but let out a strangled moan. This situation was more than just a turn on, your pussy wet and drenched in Jimin's cum from before. 

Eve and the fairy pulled you out of your thoughts when you felt their lips roaming your naked body, which lead you into closing your eyes again, fully sinking into this moment. 

Plump lips sucking on your clit, tongues exploring your folds and fingertips brushing over your sensitive nipples send you to heaven. You grab Eve’s hair to hold her close to your drenched pussy, bucking your hips onto her needy tongue. The ginger girl came back with a bag full of pretty pictures printed on paper, putting one on her tongue before kissing you. You can felt it stick onto your tongue before ending the kiss and swallowing what was left in your mouth before smirking at her. 

Your kinky side set free, you quickly decided to push the fairy-like girl also on her knees and presses her face into your cunt as well. They played with each other’s tits, which caused you to come undone pretty quickly, releasing all over those pretty faces. Then, the two gorgeous women decided to lay down on the couch, eating each other out, fingering and playing with their wetness, before being overwhelmed by another orgasm. You felt like you took part in some kind of perverted porn while watching those girls lick of your wetness from each other’s faces. People around them clapped, whistled and soon you were the one on your knees, sucking different cocks and being cummed on. 

The point was, you couldn’t say you disliked it. You loved the feeling of being loved by so many people, loved being the one to give all the love you had in your body to all those people who made you feel those pretty things.

It was your first orgy - and Jimin wasn't even there to take part in it.

You didn’t really know what time it was when you woke up, neither did you know where you were. You just realized your naked body, shivering – surrounded by other naked ones. 

But what had woken you up was a loud scream. Someone was screaming Jimin's name. That’s when the memories hit you. Naked people, sweaty bodies. Pill after pill, line after line. Dicks in your mouth, pussies under your tongue. The women you thought were meant to be with you. Jimin’s name got louder in your ears, which lead you to stand up groggily. Looking around, you had to search your pile of clothes, but you couldn't find anything other than some extra-large shirt and your dirty panties. Cringing, you slid them on once you heard Hoseok also calling out for you. 

“Y/N, hurry the fuck up.” God, why was it your fault everyone was screaming Jimin's name? You didn’t do anything to him besides letting him sleep. Okay, maybe you kind of cheated on him, but he already said, there’s no real relationship between addicts. You just wished everyone would finally shut up, a big migraine starting to pound in your head.  

Hoseok wasn’t alone in Jimin's room, there were at least 7 other guys standing around him, but nobody dared to make a sound. “Fuck, I think he’s dead. We need to clean up and hurry to get out of here before the police come. Grab your stuff, Pumpkin. Why are you still standing here? Hurry!” Hoseok grabbed you by your arm, but you stepped back, looking at him with fear, your entire body shaking. Everyone around you started to run out, dressing themselves and pack their belongings, but you couldn’t move. 

What did Jimin do to you? Why did you ever leave school? It was his fault that you were in this situation and he couldn’t help you out of it because he chose to be knocked out. You kept looking at him for several minutes, Hobi was already downstairs again, when you decided to finally move. Jimin's porcelain skin was even paler, dark circles burnt into the skin under his eyes, but you could see an unsteady breath in his chest. You didn’t know what to do, neither what to feel, but right now, you didn’t feel a single amount of affection towards your so-called boyfriend. Everyone was gone by now, you were alone with a dying Jimin in front of you. Well, you – of course – could call an ambulance, but you would both get arrested as soon as Jimin woke up. You could also wait another few minutes, but Jimin could be dead by then. 

What did he really mean to you? Would you ever take the risk to go to jail just to save his life? 

Who had you become, that you had to choose whether to save a life or not? 

The past minutes you've been awake must be the longest you had been without any drugs for weeks. By now, you wouldn’t even need to take anything to change your mood, you simply didn’t feel anything. You were numb. It felt like everything was gone like Jimin never came into your life. You kept staring at him, it must have been several minutes by now, but you made your final decision. 

As you walked downstairs, you took a glance into every room, frowning and about to vomit the hell out of your body. It was literally yesterday when you thought this was your dream house filled with your best friends, now it was just a disgusting place with somebody dying upstairs that once meant the world to you. You quickly grabbed your phone, automatically scrolling to your mother’s name, but before you could press the green button, you heard someone whimper from above. 

Jimin was awake. 

All your previous thoughts were gone as soon as you heard his voice. You began to run like you've never run before, taking two steps at a time, but you didn’t go into the room just yet. You stood in front of the door, not quite sure what to do now. You could’ve been gone by now without him knowing, could’ve started a new life. 

But you decided to stay, to be there for him. 

Ready to fall for Jimin again, like you always did. Sighing, you walk straight into the smelly room. 

“Minie, you awake?” 

“Mh, yeah. I guess. Fuck, where’s everyone? My head kills me, I need some painkillers. Wait, did I fall asleep last night? During the party?” You nod your aching head slowly, still not really looking at him. “Yes. Happens, if you drink or smoke too much shit, Jimin. Well, I thought you were mostly clean, but I learned different last night. Wow, you’re so fucking cool, Minie. Why do you always have to lie to me? Why do I always have to find out things by myself? Jimin, fuck, answer me!” You run your fingers through your knotted hair, trying to detangle some of it. Jimin, on the other hand, seems to be in his coma-like state again, leaving you angrier than ever. 

“You know what? Fuck you, Jimin. Do whatever you want to do, but I’m going now. It was a mistake to be friends with you”, you let out a bitter laugh, “to even think I was in love with you. You’re dragging me down deeper and deeper every single day. Fuck, I even took part in an orgy last night! I’m heading back to school, maybe even to my parents. I’ll see you after the holidays if you’re not dead by then.” 

You thought your break out would open his eyes, let him realize how important this was to you, but he just looked at you, not answering. Shaking your head, you didn’t even say goodbye, just left the room, the house and lastly the city. Left Jimin. Left anything you had so far. 

Part 04 x I’M FINE

15 days and 6 hours have passed since you’ve last talked or seen each other. 

He didn’t call you, you didn’t write him. It’s almost like he never existed in your life. The bed next to yours was empty, your room just smells like your own cologne and you’ve had enough time to catch all missed school work. You even began running, standing up early and meditated every night. Your life went back to normal, boring and without any action in it. 

It was the 18th day, first day of school, when some guy with mint green hair that you’ve never seen before sits down next to you. In Jimin’s seat. “So,  I’ve heard there was something going on between Park and you? Anyways, I thought now that he was gone, you and me,” he points to the space between you, “could do something similar. I mean, you don’t have any friends since he’s been gone, nobody wants to be alone, right?” Well, I do, I’m fine on my own, was all you thought. You had died a thousand times without Jimin, but that’s over. You were over. 

“First of all, I don’t even know your name. And second, the thing between us was different, you wouldn’t understand. So, if you don’t mind”, you look back into your textbook, trying to keep up with whatever the teacher tries to explain. 

“Alright, well, I’m Yoongi, just in case you were wondering. Besides that, I have the same courses you do, you’d know if you paid attention,” he grins, showing off his perfectly white teeth. “And believe me, I know what it was like between you. High, swallowing pills and drunk off fake love. But you seem to be completely clean again, princess. So, why shouldn’t I grab the chance of going out with you? Believe me, Y/N. Try to get to know me.” 

His brown eyes almost beg you to agree, leaving you weak to the bones until you sigh in defeat. “Fine. What do you want to do and when?” 

To be honest, all you wanted to do is head back into the comfiness of your bed, crying over your restless mind and be left alone. But on the other hand, your mind is restless because of Jimin, maybe Yoongi could be a perfect opportunity to forget about him. “How about Saturday? We could go swimming or head to a nightclub? What do you think?” You nod, writing down your number and say your goodbye as the lesson ends before heading back into your room, letting your tired body fall backward onto the mattress. 

“Ouch”, you stand up again, wondering what hit your back, but scream in fear as somebody wraps their arms around your waist. You turn around quickly, eyes widening at what she saw there. Jimin was back. And he looked fucking miserable. 

His cheekbones were more prominent than ever, skin so pale like the wall behind him. His body stuck in too large clothes because he got so skinny. He was slim when you were together, but now he looked like a corpse. His eyes were kind of milky, they didn’t seem to see anything. But the smile he gave you was as bright as always. 

“Jimin? I mean… How? Why? What are you doing here?” You stutter, not quite sure whether to be happy or not. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but his breath smelled so rotten that you had to back up. “Hey, angel. I’m back.” He tried to kiss you, but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t fall for him again. 

“Sorry, fuck, I can’t.” You run out of your room, away from Jimin, away from your feelings. 

You knew he was too weak to follow you, too high to care, so you stopped running rather quickly, not knowing where to go. Minutes later, you were standing in front of Yoongi’s door, after asking too many people how to get there and what his room number was. 

Apparently, everyone knew Yoongi, though. So why didn’t you?

You were about to raise your hand to knock on the door when said man suddenly stood behind you. “Missed me already?” He smirked, watching you with curiosity written on his lips. 

“What can I say? I was bored and thought why not hang out right now?” For the first time, you took your time to really check him out. His hair was longer than Jimin’s, a mop of mint green waves on top of his head. He wasn’t a giant, but he had broad shoulders and some cheeky freckles on top of his nose. His smile was polite, loving and his eyes sparkled in this deep brown that causes your heart to miss a beat. 

“Sure, you wanna go out to the river? I can show you the prettiest waterfall ever. I’m going there every day to get away from the people here.” Yoongi already started walking, so you ran a few steps to be next to him, letting him lead you to this unknown place. You didn’t care where you were going, as long as Jimin wasn’t there. 

You were surprised by the beauty of this place, not knowing that anything like that was hidden here. The rushing of the waterfall was so calming, the green of the grass and those colorful flowers made you smile. 

“Wow, since when do you know it and why haven’t I seen this place before? It’s so…”, you begin searching for the right words, but shrug, not knowing what to say. 

“Overwhelming?”, he tried to help you out. You just nodded, a smile still plastered on your bare face. “I’m running every day, always the same route through the fields. I’ve I had known about this… Wow”, you turn around, breathing in the fresh air. 

“That’s how I found it. I didn’t want to run this basic route, so I ran over the fields, always turning directions until I found this. I’m glad you like it”, he places one hand on your shoulders, squeezing it gently.

“Can we walk through it? I want to know what’s behind the waterfall.” Yoongi nods, now smiling as well. 

“There’s a cave behind it, I always go in there to read. C’mon.” He holds his hand out, waiting for you to grab it, and pulls you through the water directly into the waterfall. Seconds later, you were completely soaked, but standing in a beautiful cave, surrounded by nothing but the smell of salt and water. Your eyes search for Yoongi’s, hugging him tightly while mumbling a quiet “Thank you”. His eyes wander down to your lips and you know he is about to kiss you, but to your surprise you don’t mind at all, tilting your head upwards.

Yoongi tasted exactly like you always imagined a kiss to taste. It wasn’t like in those teenage love novels, he didn’t taste like strawberries and vanilla - luckily. He tasted like the ocean, like salt and a hint of fresh air. He tasted like summer – and a tiny bit like mint. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible, forgetting about Jimin and all those memories you shared. 

You just know that Yoongi is a better man. 

You open your mouth, creating space for your tongues to dance against each other while your lower bodies meet, the electricity of that touch causing both of you to let out tiny moans. It was weird to kiss without being high, to actually feel something, but again, you didn’t feel like you need them with Yoongi.

You press your eyes even more shut, not trying to have Jimin’s face in your thoughts, but you failed. His smile, his eyes, and even his smell was now everything you could think of. Gasping, you jump back, looking at Yoongi in shock. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”, you look down to your feet, guilt washing over your drenched self. You were truly sorry. Sitting down on one of the wet rocks, you pop your head down into your palms, watching Yoongi carefully, cringing over your own behavior.

“You don’t have to be, Y/N. Is It because of Park I mean, you broke up only a few weeks ago and…”, you didn’t even let him finish, you had to splurt out what was on your mind. 

“Jimin is back. He was laying in my bed, but he didn’t look like Minie anymore. He was so skinny, not a tiny bit of muscles on his body. He looks like he’s rotting alive, he literally smells. Then he was about to kiss me, but I didn’t want to, so I just ran away. Straight into your arms. Wow, I’m such a mess”, you sighed while running your shaky hands through your hair, “I mean, what is he thinking of me now? I’m sure he’ll kill me with a heroin needle once I’m sleeping.” You tried to make a joke but neither of you wanted to laugh right now.  Jumping up, you started to walk around, being splashed by a few water drops here and there. “I need to see what he’s doing. Maybe he’s about to kill himself!” You were about to go through the waterfall, but Yoongi holds you back, rubbing your arms to calm your breathing. 

“Hey, Y/N, calm down. He won’t do anything. If he’d truly feel that bad, he wouldn’t be back at college, right? But tell me, why did you even break up?” Yoongi’s warm eyes watch you carefully while you sit down again, ready to tell him your entire story. 

Once you were back in your room, clothes still wet from the waterfall, you found Jimin still laying on your bed. This time, he had your drawing in his hands. “You’ve got talent, angel.“ 

You stayed quiet. Jimin kept looking at you, raising a brow once he saw your wet outfit. “Where have you been? Showering with your clothes on?” He checked the time. “For about 4 hours? I waited for you, angel. I’ve got some new stuff to try.” He waves another bag around, filled with lots and lots of tiny silver packages.

By now, you’ve watched enough movies, you knew what was inside of them. Ripping the bag out of his hands, you watched the contents carefully. “What did you turn into, Jimin? You've gotten worse in these last months”, shaking your head in disappointment, you grab some fresh clothes before heading off to take a shower. Just as you reach out to open the door, a loud knock on it makes you jump. Yoongi walks in without waiting for you to even answer. 

“Hey, Y/N. I thought you’d want to take a shower as well, I mean, there’s seaweed on your clothes”, his wide grin makes you smile before disdainfully looking over to Jimin. “Park, you’re back”, Yoongi simply says. Jimin just cheers his joint in Yoongi’s direction, then watching you carefully. “You’re hanging out with him? Well, we’ll see what you’re getting from that, angel”, he makes it sound like a threat, but you decided to stay strong, you had to stay strong. Shrugging your shoulders, you head out with Yoongi once again. 

You showered next to each other, you in your favorite bathing suit, Yoongi in some surf shorts. He had quite a few tattoos around his chest and arms, but nothing similar to Jimin’s. “What do they mean?” you point to the artwork on his chest. It was an ox skull, a snake winding through its empty eyes surrounded by different nature symbols. You felt almost naked next to his inked skin, but he just told you that not each and every tattoo has to have a meaning. “I’m getting one tomorrow”, you blurt out before quickly stepping out of the meanwhile cold shower. 

Jimin just stayed in your room, watching you leave, but not caring to stand up - you'd come back anyways. You always did. 

He was thinking about anything that has happened to him in the past three weeks. 

Part 05 x THE TRUTH UNTOLD

Jimin woke up with a bright migraine and dry mouth, looking around for his favorite girl. 

Calling her name, he tried to get up but failed. 

Damn.

 His angel stands in front of the door, her hair was messy and she had dark bags under her eyes. She was alone. “Jimin, you awake?” her voice was calm, but he knew she was nervous. “Mh, yeah. Fuck, my head is about to explode. Where’s everyone? Wait, did I fall asleep during the party? Fuck.” His hands automatically hold his hurting head, trying to reduce the pain. 

“Well, that comes from swallowing all those pills. I thought you were clean and stopped doing hard drugs? Why are you lying to me? Jimin, answer me!” 

Why did she know all of this? What happened after he fell asleep? He tried to catch her reaction, but Jimin already knew she was pissed as fuck. 

“You know what, Jimin? I’m leaving, do whatever you want. It was a mistake meeting you. You’re destroying me. I took part in an orgy last night! I’m heading back, see you after the  holidays, if you don’t die by then!” 

With that, he just watched her go. He let her go. Let her leave his broken life. He kept lying in this bed, not caring about the loneliness. He was just about to drift away, still too many drugs in his blood system to let him actually feel anything. 

He stayed in this house the next few days, surrounded by all those people that made him the person he was. His routine kept the same: waking up, taking a trip, sitting on the couch, drink coffee, taking a trip, smoking a joint, Ritalin, Speed, sex, robbing people on the street, then sleep. 

He even tried crack once, meaning he couldn’t say he disliked something he hadn’t tried. 

“Park, where’s your princess? The night I spent with her was so fucking good, damn, you’re so lucky”, Liv lolls around the couch, swiping some blood off of her nose. “What do you mean?”, Jimin scans her emaciated body that looked similar to his. 

There wasn’t time to eat, they had to spend their money on other things, medicaments got more expensive the longer you had to take them. 

“She licked my pussy so good, but I think I don’t have to tell you about her tongue skills”, her mascara-smudged eyes winked in Jimin’s direction, while she pops herself onto Hoseok’s lap. “Hoe”, he hadn��t had any other thing to say, but calling her a hoe wasn’t even an insult. She sells her body for Heroin on a daily basis. Groaning, he stands up and motions her to follow him. “C’mon.” She laughed, but still following him into the bedroom, letting him fuck her with all the angriness left in his body. 

He tries not to watch while Liv was heating up a spoon with a lighter. A toxic smell was tingling in Jimin’s nose which causes him to give in and stare at her movements. He watches over her shoulder as she ties a scarf around her arm and prepares her shot. Then, she finally injected the needle into the back of her hand, pulls some of her blood in it before shooting the entire load into her fragile body. 

Her pupils turn into pins in a matter of seconds, a silent smile was placed on her chapped lips while she leaned back against his chest. Jimin’s head was on top of hers while realizing how jealous he was about her high. 

“Share.” 

Liv couldn’t hold her laughter back. “You sure, Pabo? You don’t want that. Sure, it’s nice. It makes you feel so free and on top of the world, but not for too long. Besides that, you know Heroin will kill you”, she rolls her eyes, “I don’t even have any left. Keep on taking your trips, some coke or crack, but nothing more. You have a life left, Jimin. Take it.” She glances at the floor, trying to hold back the tears. “You’re not as broken as we are. Don’t you remember your fucking best friend, Jimin? What has happened to Namjoon? I can’t understand how you’re still on this stuff after reliving his death over and over again. Joonie wouldn’t want that, y’know? But as soon as your angel left you, you’re all over it again. Hello? You’re snorting coke like your life depends on it. Your nose bleeds worse than mine. And look at you”, she points to his exposed body, “No single muscle left on you. I could count your rips.” 

But Jimin didn’t listen at all, he just stares at the aluminum foil and the white residue on it. “Head back to college, head back to your lessons and head fucking back to Y/N!” 

Y/N. Angel. Princess. 

“Y/N can suck my ass, Liv. And don’t think you know anything about her, just because you’ve had one night together.” By now, he couldn’t even understand why he wanted to fuck Liv so bad. Without waiting for her reaction, he grabbed the foil, pushing her off him and snorts the last bit of Heroin crumbs that were on it. It suddenly felt like little electroshocks went through his body. Excitement, joy, happiness. Then darkness. He blacked out and once he woke up, Liv was nowhere to be seen. 

He was still naked, laying on the dirty mattress covered in bleach spots. The house was empty, his mind still not clear and his stomach rumbling. He quickly puts his shorts back on before running to the bathroom, vomiting until nothing but sour water came out of his mouth. Jimin sits down in front of the toilet, waiting to regain some energy to stand up, pack his bags, and to head back to the university. 

Once he arrived, he felt so misplaced not wearing his uniform. His eyes wander around, looking for Y/N, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, he saw Yoongi, some guy he once hooked up with. Yoongi’s eyes lit up once he saw Jimin, but he hurried back inside. Jimin followed him, but when he found him again, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Yoongi and Y/N, talking and smiling at each other. 

The blood in his veins froze to ice while he quickly grabbed some pills to pop into his mouth before looking back at his ex-girl- and boyfriend. Yoongi turns his head, watching Jimin with a smirk, before placing his hand on Y/N’s lower back, guiding her somewhere Jimin couldn’t see them anymore. Groaning, he heads back into their room, being overwhelmed by his angel’s smell, falling directly onto her bed into a deep slumber. 

PART 06 x LOVE IS NOT OVER

“Tell me, do you know Jimin? It seemed like you looked pretty intimate, but he’s never talked about you. He could never know you from here, because he spent all his time with me.” 

You move your feet around in the water so that they create tiny waves, while you watch Yoongi carefully. The little lake in front of the waterfall was actually big enough to take a swim in there, but the bright sun in combination with the beautiful green meadow was too tempting to not lay down and sunbathe for a while. “I don’t really know Jimin. I thought I would’ve known him”, he stops talking, swallows hardly while you wait for him to continue.  

“We’re both from the same rural area, I kind of grew up with him but we would never consider each other friends. I don’t know how to describe it; do you remember when your mum made you be friends with someone because she was friends with their mother? That’s what our relationship was like as kids. We spent time together while our mothers ate cake, but we’ve never had the same interests. But when we were somewhere in between 13 and 15, we told our parents we would have a sleepover, but of course we went to our first official house party. Little Yoongi’s first contact with alcohol – you can’t imagine how bad I felt the next day”, he smiled a little, which made you smile as well, but his didn’t last. 

“We were deadass drunk, but because none of the people there were actually 21, all we had was cheap beer and wine mixed with juice, let me tell you, that shit’s disgusting! Because we were so drunk, we couldn’t sleep at home, so we slept at this dude’s house. We couldn’t even close our eyes for a second without thinking we had to vomit all over the place, so we talked about serious stuff – as serious as two drunk kids could talk – and somehow, we came upon the sex-topic. Both of us haven’t had any experience, never had an actual kiss but we also didn’t want to go out unprepared. This evening ended with us practicing our kissing skills on each other, we kind of made out, had our first non-self-made orgasms.” 

“We kept on doing that the entire next year until we had real sex. I was in love, for sure, but he had this weird group of friends, I guess you know them by now. Those junkies that Jimin seems to be a part of again. Back in the days he just smoked weed, but our ‘relationship’ got distant, he did anything to get more and more to smoke, one day I just wasn’t important enough for him. I was in his way because I wanted him to stop, but he broke my heart.” Yoongi’s voice got shaky, his breathing unsteady. He stayed quiet for a few minutes to collect himself while you laid your head against his shoulder, showing him that you were there. “I couldn’t stand being around him anymore, so I came here to study and I thought I’d never see him again. Then I saw him arrive a few months ago, you can’t imagine how I felt, Y/N. I thought he’d make a move on me again or he followed me to this place, but he only had eyes for you”, his voice broke, he sounded sad and dismissive. You were shocked about his sudden mood swings, but he smiled at you. “I can’t blame him, you’re beautiful, Peach. Too perfect for Jimin to ever be enough for him”, his hand caressed your cheek, while your eyes met. Soon enough, your lips met, tongues dancing against each other and minds finally not thinking about Jimin. You fall back into the soft grass and don’t even realize how soon the sun is going under and the moon is shining bright in the night sky. 

Once you headed back into your room, exhausted and pretty tired, you were glad to see that Jimin was gone. His bed was messy, his duffel bag on top of it. Hesitantly, you stepped in front of it, trying to peek inside without touching it. Some of his shirts were hanging out of it, underwear and socks were just stuffed into the side pockets, this bag was a mess – Jimin wouldn’t even realize if you peeked inside of it. And if he did, what would he do about it? Determined, you kneeled down in front of it, slowly making your way through the bag to find any hints. Your hands met some bags of weed and some pills, but no Heroin or Coke, nothing. 

“May I help you, angel?" Jimin’s raspy voice caused you to jump so badly that you hit your toe on the bed. "Never thought you’d be like those girls, but now you’re even searching through my bag.” Whelping, you turned around and tried to look as innocent as possible. “Mine, I… Oh, whatever”, you were tired of explaining, tired of being worried and you were fucking angry. The rage was back and you were about to spew out everything you hated about him, but you decided to stay still, sit down in front of your desk, and try to ignore him. 

“Sure”, he sat down on his bed and looked at you. His eyes were tiny and red, he was high again. The sight of him made you almost tear up, so you quickly turned your head to look away. 

How could someone destroy himself without even realizing? 

“How’s things with Yoongi?” His voice sounded resigned and casual, why was he like this? He didn’t even notice how hurt you actually were. “Couldn’t be better, I’m happy”, you mumbled while grabbing a pencil and starting to draw. 

“I’m glad he’s at least a good fuck, couldn’t leave my girl unsatisfied, y’know. Oh and I almost forgot: he’s clean. Must be totally your type, clean nerdy guy, huh? Didn’t you tell me you hated all of those people when we first met? Now you’re one of them, angel.” Your finger cramped around the pencil, pressing it onto the paper, causing wild lines to appear on it, similar to your thoughts. 

“I remember it like it was yesterday when I fucked him. When he lost his virginity to me. Back in the days, I thought he was totally into girls”, he laughed his beautiful laugh, almost tempting you to give in, wouldn’t his words hurt you so much, “until I had my dick deep down his ass and he realized how nice of a fuck I am.” 

“Jimin, why-“ 

“Did you fuck already? Do you know what kind of sick games he likes to play in bed? Well, I would’ve never thought that of him, luckily we had enough trust into each other to try out anything. I hope same goes out to you, you tend to really easily trust people, I mean you even took part in an orgy, I mean… Wow. You shouldn’t have difficulties with him then”, he examines your appraising. 

You quickly grab your headphones, trying to get lost in your favorite Spotify-Playlist. A few moments passed in silence, just you and your music, while your drawing was about to be completed. 

You jumped out of your chair as your felt Jimin’s lips on your neck, his hands trembling your chest. An involuntarily growl left your throat, while your stomach began to tingle. “Fuck, Park”, you turned around to him, grabbing his by his throat and pressing him against the nearest wall. “What’s your fucking problem?” 

“Not having you, that it my problem. Losing you to Yoongi is killing me.” 

You snort, interrupting him. “Your fucking Heroin-addiction is what really kills you, you fucking bastard!” 

“And letting you leave, that’s my biggest problem. I will forever regret letting you go because I know I’ll never find someone that loves me like you did. Nobody that…” 

You interrupted him. This time to press your lips against his. Losing your grip on his throat to grab a fistful of hair, tugging him closer. Your other hand roams his bony chest underneath his shirt, making him breathe in sharply. 

“Fuck”, his words gave you goosebumps, but a clapping noise behind you causes you to step apart. Yoongi was standing right behind you. 

“Yoongi, I…” 

“It’s alright, Y/N. I know how good Jimin’s acting skills are, they got even better since I last met him.” Then your somehow-boyfriend’s fist bash against the-guy-you-still-kinda-love’s jaw – which left you kind of overwhelmed with the entire situation. 

You did what your instincts told you, you hadn’t had enough time to think through it, so you tried to catch Yoongi’s next fist – which of course hit you directly in the stomach. Coughing, your legs gave in and you sunk into the ground. “Fuck, Yoongi…”, your chest heavily rising, you glanced up at the dudes. Both pairs of eyes were watching you in fear, both prettier than the other. Even Jimin’s matte, stump eyes would never lose their beauty. The only difference between them was their expressions. 

Your current boyfriend seemed to be shocked, somehow even angry. 

The guy you still have feelings for watched you in admiration, full of respect and awe – something you haven’t seen in a long time. 

“What the fuck, Y/N? You’re defending him? This son of a bitch broke you, remember? You can be glad to be out of the thing you two had!” 

“Don’t listen to him, angel. You know we’re meant for each other. You love me as much as I love you, I can really stop doing drugs, I would do it for you. Cold Turkey, from now on.” 

“Oh, really? I feel like I’ve heard that before. And where are you now, hm? Eyes like pins, veins filled with poison. Do you really want Y/N to live that life? You’re destroying her just like you’re destroying yourself. If you really love her, you’ll leave her.” 

You were still laying on the ground, listening to every spoken word. Trying to process what was happening, watching each of their faces in fear. You waited for Jimin to answer, tears starting to form in your eyes. “Why don’t we leave the decision to our angel? It is her choice whom to love, if she really wants to love a fucked up junkie, you can’t change that. C’mere, angel.” Jimin pats his thigh, smiling at you lovingly, making your heart melt. 

“Y/N, you know what’s best for you. A world with a future in it, maybe smoking weed here and there, but not being addicted to all the toxic stuff”, now Yoongi’s hand was ready for you to grab – and you had to make a decision. You shook her head at both of them, grabbing your jacket instead and heading out of the room without choosing one of the guys – you had to think and you had to be alone for it. 

Once you came back, the room was empty as always. Sighing, you fell onto the bed, trying to find a comfy position and listen to the howling wind while drifting into a dreamless sleep. 

“Oh, fuck, angel, keep on going”, a raspy voice next to you opens your eyes but you soon realize it was Jimin, laying on his bed, eyes closed and lips parted. His chest was heavily rising while there was a prominent bulge visible in his shorts. “You look so fucking hot, kneeling in front of my cock, c’mon, take it”, his hand wanders down to his erection while you couldn’t help but watch. Was he really having a wet dream about you? It was pointless to ignore that you were soaking wet by now. Your last time having an actual orgasm was back when you were still together. It was just normal for you to be horny as fuck. 

As soon as Jimin’s hand was wrapped around his cock, you lightly caressed your folds, collecting all your juices and rubbing them over your clit. A quiet moan escaped your lips which made your press your free hand over your mouth. You were still watching him, copying his movements, panting louder than before. 

“Fuck, repeat that, angel. Fuck, yes.” Gasping, Jimin cums all over his own hand and his abs, while you couldn’t hold it back anymore and coming undone as well. You were still watching him, trying to catch your breath, but he was still asleep, even smiling a bit now. But you knew your night was over, so you stood up and decided to have a shower to really wake up and maybe get a free mind out of it. 

Even days later, you still couldn’t decide between Jimin and Yoongi, you even tried to avoid both of them. You saw Yoongi during your classes but didn’t respond to his longing glances. Jimin’s and your room kept quiet until midnight when Jimin decided to come home to sleep. Both were trying to catch your attention with loving gestures, you got flowers from Yoongi and each morning a lovely joint from Jimin. 

You knew you couldn’t avoid your decision much longer – neither to hurt your lovers nor hurt yourself. It strained your nerves to stand between two fronts. Sure, you liked Yoongi, he was nice and thoughtful, always listened to your problems and distracted you from Jimin, but he was kind of boring. Jimin on the other hand was the spirit that burnt your insides. You loved him and you knew that, but he was a dangerous person. But what was it you were looking for? Harmony and a daily routine or rather the charm of danger? Something that kept you alive but didn’t excite you or something that gave your life sense, but could end it decades earlier? 

You saw Jimin and Yoongi wherever you went, everyone in the smoker’s corner looked like Minie, your gym class was full of boys like Yoongi, wearing tight shirts that show off their biceps. But none of them were really like those two. And you were still lonely like you were before. But this time, you didn’t enjoy it at all. 

Days came and went by. Days where you wanted to be held, wanted affection but didn’t want to cheat on either of them. When you wanted to cuddle Yoongi, you would want to kiss Jimin. When you wanted to kiss Yoongi, you would want to make out with Jimin. When you wanted to make out with Yoongi, you wanted Jimin to fuck you. 

You compared your possibilities with them, a future would be easier with Yoongi, you could finish college and move in with him, marry him and have his children. You wouldn’t have this opportunity with Jimin, you didn’t even know if he’d be still alive after college. You wouldn’t be able to afford a house if he keeps taking drugs. 

Of course, you thought about making Jimin take part in a drug withdrawal. Cold Turkey. No medicine, just pure pain. He could do that for you. For your future. He promised you. He loved you. Yoongi wouldn’t take any risk for you, his life was perfect. He didn’t need anything to hold on to survive. Jimin did, in fact, need you. You were his anchor, his lifesaver. He needed you. And so you decided against Yoongi, for Jimin, for your future, for your love. 

Yoongi, 

I can’t talk to you face to face, that’s why I’m writing this letter for which you’re maybe going to hate me. But I’m promising you, I won’t let you suffer. I know, you might be right. I might regret my decision, but I had to make it. I think we both knew it from the beginning. All three of us knew. I’m sorry. It’s breaking my heart to tell you that I chose Minie. Can I even call it a decision if both ways break my heart? 

Yoongi, I’ve never had so much fun before, you made the last weeks such a pleasure for me. I think you brought up feelings I’ve never felt. Maybe even love. But nevertheless, Jimin needs me. I know you’ll find someone else quickly, you’re such an amazing person. Your future girl won’t destroy you like I would’ve, you’ll have the perfect future together which I may not even have. You’ll be happy, Yoongi. 

Don’t cry after me, don’t be sad, you’ve earned someone better. Don’t think I didn’t love you, somewhere deep

inside me is a spot just for you. But it’s too small to change anything. 

Do something with your life. For me. For yourself.   

You didn’t even give Yoongi the letter yourself. You were way too scared of him changing your mind. But after you knew he received it, he never talked to you again. You waited on top of her bed, drawing and listening to music until the door opened. You got quite anxious while Jimin walked into the room and let himself fall into his own bed, not giving you any attention. 

“Hey.” 

You didn’t know what else to say, but he didn’t mind to answer anyways. 

“How are you? Don’t you wanna come back to our classes?” Damn, what kind of bullshit were you actually talking about? “Okay, mom.” Stubborn and dismissive like always. “Call me mom once again and I won’t be able to hold myself back, baby”, you tried to loosen up the mood, but he didn’t even laugh. 

“Okay, sorry”, then he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving you alone and you were already close to giving him up again. 

One night, Jimin came back quite early and didn’t seem to be as high as he used to be. Without hesitating, you tried to take her chance, slipping under his blanket and hugged his body. “I chose you, you know that, right?“ He didn’t look at you, but didn’t remove your arms either. “Jimin, I told Yoongi that I love you. I want to be there for you, want to be your anchor.” Jimin just snorts. 

“Can you just shut up, Y/L/N? I’m so tired of your crying. I know you chose me, but you did because you felt guilty. Do you understand that I don’t need your help? God, just go to Yoongi and live the life you want, I don’t even have a future, I’m letting myself live for another year then I’m gonna die anyway.” You were about to say something, but he just shakes his head,

“Just let it be, angel. I’m fine, really.” 

Their door opened and you automatically skid, turning your head to the new arrival in the door frame. You thought it was Yoongi but you couldn’t remember that face at all. 

“Y/N, that’s Taehyung, but everyone calls him Tae. Hey, Babe”, he stands up and walks over to Tae, kissing him in front of you. 

You were either going to cry or to vomit, but smiled for them. “I’m glad you found someone and completed our relationship. Good luck you two”, you clap Jimin’s shoulder before heading out, leaving the campus and walking straight into some corner of the city you came to every single day a few weeks ago. You bought some of the pills you used to take and swallow a few of them on your way home. 

Your eyes were already closing as you come back into your room, so you just let yourself fall under your blankets without even taking your pants off. You didn’t care about them. But what you actually did care about were those noises coming from Jimin’s bed. You turn your head once again, just to see Jimin and Taehyung. Tae on top of him, his tattooed arms next to Jimin’s head, a thin layer of sweat on both of their foreheads. “Fuck, Jimin”, Taehyung moans. Jimin didn’t respond, his mouth hung open and his eyes were closed. They didn’t even realize they weren’t alone anymore. You, on the other hand, decided not to disturb them, swallowing two more pills before dozing off into a deep sleep. 

PART 07 x SO FAR AWAY

“Fuck, babe, keep on going”, muscular arms were wrapped around your waist while you move your hips in a steady rhythm. Deep growls and moans leave the mouth underneath yours, sweat dripping from your forehead on his chest while his nails were dragging lines across your body. 

Soon enough you collapsed on top of him while gasping for air. You laid your head on his muscular chest, long fingers were brushing through your hair. Moments later, you were under the shower to wash off the typical sex smell, just to head back to class, to sit next to Jimin, to ignore him and to keep on flirting with his affairs best friend. You really gave up on Jimin, were living your own life and share your bed with Jeongguk. He was currently winking in your direction while biting his lip to hide a smile. Laughing, you shake your head and flip him off, making Jimin groan in annoyance. 

“Jealous?”, you smile. “Dream on, I’ve got the hotter friend.” 

Even though you weren’t really a couple, Jeongguk and you spent most of your free time together. You couldn’t help it, once he opened his mouth you were lost in his accent. Jeongguk and Taehyung were from Busan, their moms sent them to this college because they had a similar past to Jimin's. Even if you weren't spending time with him, you were ongoing high. 

Jeongguk had the best connections to get the best drugs in here, Dope, Weed and even Shore. You were easily happy with trips and weed, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind Tae's stash of opiates. He changed, resembling a corpse more and more each day. Pale, skinny and no expression left in his eyes. You were slowly starting to regret breaking up with Yoongi for him because the only feeling you had left for Jimin was hate. 

Back in your room you saw Jimin and Taehyung with a rolled banknote in their hands and blood dripping noses. You just snort while sitting down at your desk to study, trying to get done with everything as fast as possible to get out of this hell, to move away from the person that destroyed you. Away from Park Jimin.

“C’mon, don’t act that dumb! It’s just maths, how can you not understand anything from that? I even understand that stoned!” Taehyung shakes his head while fanning the math book in front of your face. Jeongguk sits next to him and rolls his eyes. “Not everyone can be a math pro like you, brother. Be patient with my girl or I’m telling your mom that you’re on H again”, Jeongguk smiles at his friend whose face got directly softer.

 “Sorry, Kookie. Okay, again. What haven’t you understood so far, Y/N? Do you know how to get to the scalar product?” You nod while thinking about this awkward situation. Tae was trying to help you with your math problem, while his best friend was sitting next to you, sometimes stealing a kiss from you. Jeongguk made you ask Taehyung to tutor you, just to spend more time with him and to get to know him better. Even though you'd prefer Jeongguk teaching you, Taehyung wasn’t too bad. If he wouldn’t be with Jimin, you could maybe even like him.

“Good luck, Y/N. It’s gonna be the last exam, after that we’re getting wasted!” 

4 ½ hours later you were sitting at the lakeside, beer in your hands and smiles on your faces. “Fuck, we made it”, Jeongguk laughs while taking a deep sip. “Not yet, babe. Exams, yes. Results, no. But for now, that’s it, you’re right”, he kissed your cheek while emptying his bottle. “Thank you too, Tae. I thought I had to hate you ‘cause of Jimin, but you really helped me. If I didn’t have Jeongguk, I’d maybe hook up with you”, you laughed while checking him out. 

Taehyung smirks. “Don’t worry about Jimin, he doesn’t give a fuck about relationships. We’re just fucking, but I wouldn’t want to love him.” 

You raise your eyebrow, almost feeling like you had to defend Jimin. But right at that moment, he was weaving in your direction and letting himself fall next to Taehyung who rolls his eyes and smirks at you before pressing his lips onto Jimin's. 

“I can’t wait to finally be away from you! For fuck’s sake. I won’t need to share my fucking room with you disgusting bitch!” Wildly gesticulating, Jimin screams the wildest names at you. The reason for your argument was obvious: drugs. 

Jimin doesn’t smoke weed or swallows trip after trip anymore, but he’s snorting Coke like there’s no tomorrow – more and more gravitating to take Meth and Heroin. 

You came fresh out of the shower, a towel wrapped around your body, hair dripping onto the floor, when you saw Jimin sitting on his bed – with a Crack-pipe in his left hand, a lighter in his right. The window was opened as if he would want the toxic gases to leave the room. Unnecessary, of course. 

The entire room smelt like Jimin, his attacks of sweating and the drugs he took. Even the curtains smellled like weed. 

“Crack, are you fucking serious? You dumb idiot, you know how addicting that is?” In moments like that, you get all moral and sit down next to him. “Minie, please. Even if you hate me that much – you still mean the world to me. I love you and I can’t keep on watching you destroy yourself.” 

Jimin, on the other hand, gets angry all the time about this topic. “I mean something to you? I overheard you and Tae, that you would hook up with him if you haven’t had Jeon. The fuck? Just shut up, Y/N.”  

“I was drunk, that’s it. He tutored me – I would’ve never said something like that if I was sober. I mean, I’ve got Jeongguk – the hotter one. Besides that; why are you with Tae? Because you love him? Because you want to build a future with him? Boy, you’re into his drugs, that’s it. You won’t have a future, half a year from now at the latest you’ll be dead. The drug-cocktail you’re enjoying too much will eat you alive. Don’t you smell yourself? Don’t you look at yourself? How much weight have you lost since we broke up? 20 pounds? 40? You’re nothing but a skeleton that smells rotten. Your hair is matted, your cheeks hollowed. Can I be honest, Jimin? I’m glad it’s over. I’m glad we don’t talk anymore and that I didn’t fall down the rabbit hole. And I truly hope that we’re never going to see each other after that”, by now, you were in full rage mode, throwing the pipe out of his hand and screaming a “And I won’t come to your fucking funeral!” at him before grabbing your headphones to watch some Netflix in bed. You open another window to not breathe in his drug-fumes. 

About half an episode of The Vampire Diaries later, someone ripped the headphones out of your ears and she was thrown onto her back, Jimin laying on top of you, his eyes almost glowing from anger. “Do you really think you can talk to me like that? You were nothing to me besides a lapdog to have fun with. And even if I look that destroyed, that rotten, you still think I’m attractive. You would take every chance to fuck me again, just to bring back the ‘good old times’. Angel, you chose Jeon just because I found someone else”, his knee finds its way between your legs while you moan in protest, making Jimin smirk. “You’re missing the danger in your life, Jeon is a nobody, he can’t give you adrenaline, he can’t give you action or passion.” 

His stubbly chin strokes your neck, your hands automatically balling into fists, but you don't fight him. Don't tell him to stop. His rough hands find their way under your shirt, caressing your ribs and giving you goosebumps. Soon enough, the shirt was laying on the floor, followed by your leggings. Jimin's lips follow the softness of your stomach while you were still laying underneath him, turned on but scared at the same time. 

“Jimin, that’s doing nothing to me. I’m not turned on, I despise you”, you move and try to get away from him, but he was still stronger than you. 

One of his large hands finds your wrists and pins them above your head. The other one was stroking your cheeks, your neck, and your breasts, down to your thong before pulling it down. He grins, seeing your wetness trickling down in between your thighs, your smell making him go wild. Once he sticks out his tongue to teasingly lick soft stripes up your aching core, your self-control was gone. You grab his hair to shove him towards your cunt, drowning him in your juices and making him drink up whatever leaves your body. Jimin didn’t seem to care, his free hand was tight around his cock, rubbing and stroking himself while bringing you closer to an end.  Once you came, you pushed him off and put your clothes back on, not caring about him or his orgasm at all before leaving the room without looking back. 

You didn’t even care about what had happened, but you didn’t tell Jeongguk either. For being his lapdog, Jimin got turned on really quick once he had his tongue on your pussy. Stupid idiot. But the only thing you thought about was revenge – and you already knew how to get it. 

Jimin hasn’t been in your room the next couple days and you've had enough time to go through his belongings, lay down on his bed and smoke his weed – that he ‘didn’t smoke anymore’. There were about five bags filled with beautiful flowers in his nightstand and you didn’t hesitate to grind and smoke them in Jimin's pipe. It has to be the stuff that Jai had brought him. It didn’t take lots of drags to feel the calming sensation and the puffiness of your eyes. You laughed while letting yourself fall back on his bed and to cuddle his pillow, still smelling like Jimin. 

You began to think about everything, about your feelings for Jimin, for Jeongguk and you even thought about Yoongi a couple of times. Then you thought about why you hated Jimin so much. 

You had admired him for so long, you would’ve died for him if he had asked. 

But now? 

Anger, Fear, and Anxiety. The fear of him replacing you with drugs. Or the fear of him dying without any chance of saying goodbye. The fear of being alone even though you were the one to break up with him. But he didn’t seem to care, he was alright, maybe even better than when he was with you. But you know that neither of you could ever feel complete without the other one. 

You gave up so much for Jimin, but he never cared. Your grades got worse, you broke up with Yoongi and you were consistently lying to your parents about everything. 

But what did you get from it? 

You were still alone, Jimin was fucking Taehyung and you were worrying about his death every single day because you were still in love with him. And even if you couldn’t convince him to go to therapy, you’d want to spend his last time together with him. 

God damn, you know he loves you as well. Tears were running down your cheeks, droplets falling onto his pillow and you realize the down of the high has arrived. Desperate for more, you were searching through his drawer for something more, something that could lift you up again. Maybe to find something that would lift you up on the same level with Jimin. Then you’d be reunited again. It would be only you. Not even Taehyung could keep up with them.

You peer over to his pipe, still laying on the nightstand and the Ice that was still in his drawer. Somehow, you knew it was the only opportunity to get to him. 

Your hands were shaking as you opened the small bag and placing some of the clear crystals onto the pipe that you didn’t even bother to clean. Weed and Ice have to work together. You take a small drag before exhaling frantically, the fear somewhat still in your mind. 

“Don’t be a wimp”, you scold yourself before placing the pipe back between your lips and holding the flame of the lighter against the Ice. It felt like the fumes got right into your bloodstream and your head felt like a rollercoaster. You smirked, followed by a loud laughter before repeating the process once more. You feel the adrenalin and hope for Jimin to come back sooner, to get high with you, to love you, to admire you. 

You know that your relationship just got onto a whole new level and there wouldn’t be anything that could separate you from now on. 

Your love was devastating, you would die for each other. You were almost angry that Jimin wouldn’t want to share that amazing experience with you, so you inhale once more, trying to get the double amount of fun. Mischievously grinning, you put everything back onto its original place before opening the window and watching the birds outside. God damn, life was good. 

PART 08 x MAKE IT RIGHT

Jimin felt like he was captured in this room. 

He couldn’t live with his angel without feeling like someone ripped his heart apart. 

You think he wouldn’t be able to think straight; that his brain was destroyed by all the drugs he took. But Jimin knows better. Since he took all the drugs, he had a clear mind, no demons in his head that were trying to interrupt his thoughts. He didn’t believe you talking about him being the love of your life – he knows everyone hates him. 

You were clean, you did it. 

You broke free. And now you see him like every clean person sees junkies. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what he looked like. The thing is, he wasn’t hungry anymore and he didn’t want to waste time just to eat. He showered every single day, maybe even twice, but he was sweating pure venom, pure drug-smell coming straight from his pores. He smelt just like the other junkies. 

You thought Crystal would be the dead-end, but Jimin was way deep down the hole. He took Heroin, not smoking it but shooting it straight into his veins. IV. Death in a needle. 

There are plenty of human beings that consume Heroin their entire life without you being able to recognize that, Jimin thought he was one of them. He shot H for about 2 years now, he had days where he didn’t need any – when he was with his angel -, but most of the time, he shot once or twice a day. 

Of course, he lied to you. Sure, he could go for a Cold Turkey just to be with you, but to be honest: Who would quit Heroin as long as there’s good stuff out there and there’s enough money to buy it? 

He would never. 

Not even for you. 

Not for billions on his bank account. 

He didn’t want to fight you. He wants to keep on loving you, but he couldn’t fight for you. Maybe you could accept him that way, accept his drug use and his lies. 

One night, Jimin came home late again, he decided to apologize, trying to get you all soft for him again. But when he came through the door, his “Listen, princess” kept sticking in his throat. The smell of weed lingers in the air, mixed with something else. His angel was laying on his bed, smiling like an idiot, watching youTube-videos until you looked up at him. “Minie, babe!” You jump off the bed, but Jimin pushes you back. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please tell me you’re kidding me. First of all, you stole from me. Second, you’re taking my drugs. Third, WHY are you even doing that? I thought you were clean. Did you lie to me the entire time?” – Just like he lied to her, nice try, Jimin. 

“Why are you so angry, Minie? C’mon here and I’ll let you fuck me really good – I can even play with your ass like Tae did if you’re into that. I won’t judge you, you know that.” 

Jimin wanted to rip his hair out, but that wouldn’t change anything. His precious angel smoked Ice and wouldn’t quit doing that so soon. 

“Listen, angel, babe. Why did you take this away from me? You wanted me to stop taking drugs, but you’re lying here totally high? That’s not what we wanted, precious.” He holds your beautiful face in his large shaky hands, looking you straight into the eyes. But your eyes weren’t the same anymore, the color was dull, no shine in it and hooded.

 Jimin couldn’t find the girl he loved in there. 

"I came to say sorry. I’m not good for you, angel. It’s best for me to leave college and leave you behind me as well. Like you said, I maybe have a few months left before dying. Don’t waste your feelings on me.” 

He kisses your cheek ever so softly before standing up. “I’m sleeping somewhere else, getting my stuff tomorrow and then your life will be Junkie-free. I’m so fucking sorry, angel, believe me. It’s better for both of us to finally end this toxic relationship. You deserve a normal life without me. It probably will never be like it was before, but you can change yours. Please, promise me one thing: stop taking drugs, angel. You’ll find your dream guy, having a family and anything I couldn’t offer you. Fuck, I can’t apologize enough. I love you, okay? Even if I made you go through all of this, believe me. Nothing was harder than letting you go, even if it’s the hundredth time by now. This time I’m keeping my promise. Goodbye, angel.” 

He quickly runs out of the door without turning around, he knows you were crying. He knows you would be screaming after him, but you wouldn’t run after him. You were paralyzed and will realize what really happened by tomorrow. You will hate him, but that’s for the best. Hate. Disappointment. Anger. But Jimin knew he wasn’t as egoistic as you'd be thinking. You were his life, he’d kill for you. But he’d do the same for Heroin. 

Everything. 

Even selling his body. 

And now that he had no home left, he knew what would come next. Streetlife. Begging. Prostitution. 

PART 09 X YOUNG FOREVER

His words were stuck in your head while you watched him leave your shared – now only your – room. Nothing had changed, he still didn’t want you. But you can’t run after him, so you lay back instead and close your eyes without losing a single tear. Your thoughts were still obscure and your body paralyzed, you can’t even feel you loss but fall into a deep slumber. 

“Y/N, wake up! Where is he? What did you do to him?”, you wake up and open your eyes hectically just to see Taehyung in front of you. His hands were on your shoulders and he shook you the entire time. “Fuck, Tae, who are you talking about?”, you get rid of his grip to stretch your body while yawning. Why did he even have to wake you that early on a Saturday? “Hm, who could be away? Jimin, of course! You dumbass, he wasn’t at our usual spot, there was just this fucking note!” He throws some pretty rough looking yellow paper at you. 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’m leaving ‘cause it’s the best for Y/N. Take care of her. Please. I’ll see you when you’re dead – hopefully, later than me. J"

Stunned, you kept reading and reading Jimin's messy handwriting until the words were burnt into your eyes. “He’s gone?” Tears form in your eyes while your hands start to shake. “Tae, tell me he’s not gone!” Your voice gets louder, the paper falls down. 

“Tae, goddamn it, say something!“ But Taehyung remains quiet, balling his hands to fists while clenching his jawline. “It’s your fault you fucking slut. What did you do to him once again? Can’t you just stay out of his life? Who knows what he’s doing to himself now?!“ The veins on his neck are popping out as he began to yell, but his words didn’t hurt you. Your thoughts were filled with Jimin. He left you just like you left him a couple of times. It hurts. 

“What could he do to himself, he’s swallowing more pills, smokes more weed and Crack, what else?” You acted ice-cold, trying not to cry anymore. 

“Sure, I forgot we were talking about Jimin, the guy that never takes drugs that’s why his life is so perfect. Y/N, what are you even talking about? Jimin stopped taking pills months ago, he’s shooting Heroin for around 2 years now. Are you listening? Heroin. The stuff that killed thousands of people, you idiot. If he doesn’t want to live anymore, he might just shoot some more H than usual. The golden shot.” You listen to Taehyung, but you break out in a loud burst of laughter as soon as he stops talking. 

“Sure, Heroin. I know him, I know how much he hates it! He promised me he’ll never take it.” 

Taehyung snorts while sitting next to you, head in his hands. “Y/N, I know lots of addicts, there ain’t love or promises as soon as you’re down there. The only love they feel is for H. The thing that kills them. But you’re only in second place. Sorry, but if we don’t look after him as fast as possible, he’ll be gone. You were his only anchor that saved him from drowning. But you made him leave and he’ll never come back on his own.” 

Taehyung was right, Jimin was gone. And you? You were shocked, angry and… sad. Because even though he promised you he loved you, it was fake. He spent your entire relationship on one of the hardest drugs, were you that dumb to not realize anything? 

“Hey, we’ll find him, okay? Let me grab my stuff and we’ll head out to look for him”, Taehyung wraps one arm around you and you and pulls you against his chest. Soon enough both of you were breaking out into sobs - and you kept crying the entire time Taehyung went into his room to put on his jacket and some shoes.

You cried while looking through Jimin's belongings, he left anything in your room; weed, pills and those fine crystals. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them, fully concentrated on the Ice that was lying in front of you. Soon enough, not even 3 minutes later, you were high again, not shedding a single tear, not even knowing why you've been sad in the first place. Until Taehyung came into your room, shaking his head in disappointment and dragging you along their journey to find Jimin. 

The city was almost empty, nobody was walking around, and the clouds hung low in the sky, ready to let a storm out. ��I don’t know where else to look for him, Tae. I’m getting tired”, Your mood was on its lowest while you kicked empty bottles of beer around. 

Taehyung shrugs. “Last step: the train station. But when he’s really there, we won’t have a chance to get him back.” 

You didn’t know why a normal station could be that bad, you just follow him through the thick gates of the main station. You hide your nose under your shirt as soon as the smell of piss, trash and vomit hits your senses. You made your way through the floors without talking, the amount of trash and empty cans highly rising. 

“Tae, I don’t think he’s gonna be..”, but Taehyung interrupts you with a quick hand movement. 

There, between all of those homeless people was Jimin. 

His head resting against the wall, eyes half-closed. 

“C’mon”, Taehyung holds her arm while walking straight up to them. “Jimin, move your ass and stand up.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Fuck off!” 

“Fucking rich kids...” 

The crosstalk begins, but Jimin remains quiet. He looks at you, but he doesn’t make a move to stand up. His eyes were sad, but his countenance stays emotionless. 

“I told you, go away. Leave me alone”, he ignores Taehyung but looks at you. 

“Minie, please..”, your voice breaks. 

“Aww, Jimin, did you find yourself a girlfriend? Cute. What do you take, honey? Ready for a tin?” Some guy with a black Mohican holds up a coke can. 

“Jin, no.” 

Jimin tries to take the can away from him, but his strength was all gone. “I’m…” 

“We don’t need anything, thanks.” Once again, it was Taehyung who talked for both of you. “They’re clean, you don’t need to waste your stuff on them”, Jimin's voice was weak. 

“Cute. Didn’t know you were friends with that kind of people. C’mon, hun”, Jin holds the can in your direction and you take it, confusion displayed on your face. Not knowing what to do, you look at the tiny hole in it. Watching the smoke coming through that hole, Jin pressures you. 

“C’mon”, he holds his lighter under the can to heat up whatever was inside of it. You look over to Jimin while trying to keep your tears hidden before taking a hit. Taehyung pulls you against himself, Jimin jumps up, but it’s too late. Your body was exploding as if a firework was lit inside you. Each and every nerve was reacting to this substance before you collapse into Taehyung’s arms. Jimin screams in anger. “Y/N!” Then he falls onto his knees. “You’re so stupid, I told you hundreds of times, now you’re into it too.” 

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you woke up hours later, the burning need in your veins permanent. You must’ve fallen asleep, now laying here, your head in Jimin’s lap. You didn’t know the place you were at, it couldn’t be the train station, but everyone from there was here as well. Now all of those train station kids were sitting here - well, and you -  it looks like it was some kind of old factory, and once again the coke can was going around. You sit up, pressing a soft kiss to Jimin's lips before grabbing the can once again. Some girl with ripped leggings just laughs. 

“Look at her. When you want some of your stuff, you need to pay for it, alright? We just share for money.“ 

Jimin's calming hands on your back were gone and he pulls you up with him. “Listen to me, angel. I hope you know what you did? I can’t insult you or blame you for anything because it’s all my fault, but run as long as you can. Heroin is no fun. Look at those Junk Boys and -girls. We’re all fucked – you’re not. You may want to take it but you don’t need to yet. Please, angel”, he looks at you, pleading and ready to do whatever it takes him to stop you, but you just shake your head, throwing a 20 Dollar-Bill on the floor and take the hit that lets you experience your second real high. 

Then, you kiss Jimin once again. 

“We’re in this together, babe. I love you. And even if you die, then we’ll both die. But let’s enjoy the time before that“, with that, the entire group explodes in applause and laughter, but you didn’t even realize that because you were already fast asleep in Jimin's arms. 

PART 10 X BADBYE

“Is there really no money left? Damn it, I need a shot. Now. Jimin!” 

You kick Jimin, but he was still high, just got done with his shot while you were waiting for yours. Usually, he was the one that gave you the shot because you couldn’t do it on your own. 

“FUCK!” 

You take the remaining Heroin off the foil, snorting whatever was left on there to get at least a tiny high. Unluckily, it wasn’t enough. It was like always. Jimin got the money, Jimin got most of the Heroin. You were dependent on him, have to wait until he allows you to take some of his drugs. “

If you don’t wake up I have to go get my own stuff.” But your threat didn’t do anything. Jimin was still blacked out on the floor. You were annoyed as you put on some clothes, and left the place you were currently living in. You walk down the streets without any destination. 

You didn’t know where Jimin was buying the stuff, neither did you know how he paid for it. Yoongi, Taehyung, Jeongguk – neither of them wanted to stay in contact as soon as they knew what was going on. Everyone was okay with smoking weed, but nobody was fine with shooting H. 

You play around with the contacts on your phone before calling one number, the number you thought you’d never call again. It rings three times before a loving voice answered. 

“Y/N, my precious child! You didn’t talk to us for so long, how are you? Dad and I were so worried! College called and told us you were gone? What are you doing? Where are you? Who’s with you?” 

You shrug, laughing it off. “Hi, mom.“ 

That evening, you're coming home with empty pockets, but with two online-train tickets back home to visit your family. “Baby, we’re going home! My mom wants us to live with them, they have enough money and we don’t need to look for another flat! I can show you around my hometown!“ 

You were on fire, packing all your belongings while Jimin slowly wakes up. “Did you think about that, angel? Your mother will realize how fucked up we are. What are you going to tell her? Everyone knows what a Junkie looks like. It won’t work.” 

“I don’t care if you’re coming with me or not. I’m going. I don’t need to worry about money for Heroin while you’re out there doing whatever. I need as much as you do, it’s not enough for me to snort whatever’s left since I started shooting as well!” 

“I’m not doing whatever, I’m fucking prostituting myself! I can’t go away from my customers, okay?” He looks down at the floor, not daring to look at you. Did he really just say that he sells his body? That he’s fucking someone else just to earn money? 

“You’re a hooker? Are you serious? You’re cheating on me to earn money? Wow, Jimin. That’s how much I mean to you? You’re letting some strangers fuck your ass? That’s why you don’t want to fuck me anymore? I guess you’re having enough orgasms throughout the day, huh? Well, you know what? Fuck you, Park.” Once again, your heart shattered in thousands of pieces while you run away once more, leaving him alone once more. Crying once more. 

It must’ve been ages since you saw Jimin the last time. You weren't counting in days but in shots. 

Your mother didn’t seem to notice anything about your addiction, she just thinks you're going through a rough break up. Of course, you were thinking about him, every fucking day. But it was never a positive thought. 

You always thought about your life without him. Your fist swings against the wall once again, you tend to do that a lot. Some bloodstains were already on it, but you didn’t care. You got nervous again, pulling your drawer open just to realize that there’s nothing in it. Just a last tiny piece of foil, nothing more. 

“Mom, you there?” You scream and leave your room without even looking into the mirror. She wasn’t there, like always. Her bag was with her and her wallet as well. They hadn’t had any money left in their house – why would they? Your mom paid anything with her credit card. You ramble through the rooms, searching for anything you could sell, but there was literally nothing. 

Without any money in your pockets you walk through the train station, searching for any ‘friend’ that owes you Heroin. None of them had some and you got on turkey rather quickly. You were shaking, crying and sweating. 

Soon enough, you realized there was one last thing left. The thing that broke your relationship. The thing that was the most disgusting thing to do. The thing you thought you’d never do. 

You had never thought about selling your body just to destroy it. 

You had never thought about letting someone else besides Jimin fucking you just for money. 

You had never thought that you wouldn’t find it as bad as you probably should. 

It was a fast way to make money. And you needed it fast. 

It was the twelfth day in a row that you were standing here to earn some extra coins. You almost felt like a celebrity on the streets, you could decide who to fuck and who to leave. There are many people here, some around your age, some older and some stone old guys. It’s not like you needed to go on the streets every day, you had enough money by now that you could easily go out there every third day, but it was fun and games for you. You were in a flow, didn’t want to stop, just seeing the dollar signs in each customer. 

The amount of Heroin in your room was enormous, you couldn’t even shoot that much without falling into a coma-state but you collected it for bad times. But this day you were really glad you decided to come here, you wouldn’t know about him otherways. He was here. And he was suffering. 

You were just finishing up with your third customer that day when you saw him. His shaking body leaning against a wall, trying to look cool, but you knew how he really felt. He was suffering. You knew, if you'd ever see him like that, all your feelings would be there again. And here you were, trying to help him one again. 

He didn’t even look at you, but you knew he had to feel you coming. 

Once you were right in front of him, you were about to vomit just from his smell. But you couldn’t help it and hugged him. “Minie”, you mumbled against his skinny chest. Neither of you was moving. 

“Go away, Y/N.” But you couldn’t. 

“C’mon, Minie. I’ve got some.”  

You drag him with you, preparing your needle and cooking up some H for the both of you. “I don’t need your help, Y/N.” 

“I can see that.” 

You grab his arm and shoot the H directly into his veins, not allowing him to do it himself with those shaky hands. You took him home with you, explaining to your mother how sick he was and that he couldn’t go back into his own flat because he’s got a fever and needed someone to take care of him. 

“You’re such an angel, Y/N!” was all she said. 

It was the day, you used to call Day X. The day that changed everything. Your mother knew about your addiction by now, wanting to send you to therapy but you were over 18 – she couldn’t decide for you. Mother and daughter were heavily arguing in the living room while Jimin was in the middle of preparing his shot. You couldn’t stop thinking about the white powder, you were about to get on Turkey and easy to provoke by now. 

“Fuck off, mom.” You ran into your room, locking the door behind you and walking over to Jimin. 

“Hurry, Minie. Can’t wait anymore.” 

Of course, Jimin wasn’t able to help you once he shot the poison through his veins. “Fucking bastard” was all you mumbled before preparing everything yourself, before falling asleep in his lap. 

You didn’t know that you were going to be the only one waking up. 

Jimin shot way too much, you should’ve known. Sometimes you used to shoot so much that you were near to your limit, but survived it every time. It was the best feeling someone could reach, and you thought that was what Jimin needed back then. 

But he got colder and colder every minute. He didn’t wake up, not even through you shaking his body. 

That was the moment you realized his weird behavior. His lovely side the last few days, he was always cuddling and prepping you with kisses. He even bought you a ring.

You began to scream your soul out. You kissed his body and his cold lips. Tears were streaming down your face while you searched everything you needed and laid it down in front of you. The needle in one hand, Jimin's hand in the other. You laid down on his chest, cuddling into his pale body, trying to ignore the cold feeling. It was a routine by now, preparing everything for your last shot ever. 

You pull up the liquid into your needle, kissing Jimin one last time. It was the moment for your shot; the one that will bring you back to Jimin, into a peaceful world. 

As soon as the venom reached your veins and insides, you couldn’t help but smile while you intertwined your fingers and close your eyes forever in this painful life.

[fapangel]

WELCOME, NEW GUN OWNERS!

A Brief Intro To The Whole ‘Gun’ Thing Business Stuff

By Planefag

1. So You Bought A Coronavirus Gun and you’re honestly a bit scared of it. What now?

You already know the four rules of gun safety because 1. the guy at the store told you, 2. it was in the users manual, which you read, and above all 3. you’ve not a redneck going “yee-haw BANG-GATTY!” you’re a goddamn sane human being. In point of fact, this new gun kind of scares you a bit and you sometimes have second thoughts.

Congratulations! You’re already becoming a Responsible Gun Owner.

Y’see, what us gun nerds don’t tell you is that we practice gun safety to the point of obsessive paranoia. Guns don’t shoot people, people shoot people – including by accident. The gun doesn’t do jack diddly shit – YOU do. All that responsibility is on YOU. And if you’re sitting there eyeballing the damn thing like it’s a live snake, it means you respect and fear the power, which is the first step in fully accepting the responsibility of gun ownership. You didn’t buy that damn thing as a dick replacement or to kill tin cans in the backyard, you bought it to protect yourself and your family should the worst happen – i.e. you’re already taking responsibility for your and/or your family’s own safety.

Being a grown-ass responsible adult is what qualifies you to own a gun. That’s it. Everything else is just knowledge, and none if it means diddly squat without the attitude, and as a (likely) reluctant owner, you already have that.

Never forget this.

2. What Nobody Will Tell You About The Safety Culture Of Firearms

You are absolutely going to fuck up gun safety a lot and the entire system and culture of firearm safety is designed to deal with this.

It starts with the Four Rules themselves:

All guns are loaded at all times.

Never point the gun at anything you don’t want to destroy.

Keep your finger off the trigger unless you intend to fire.

Never shoot an unidentified target and always consider what’s behind it.

These rules are multiply redundant safeties. Just ONE of these rules can and will save your life. You, as an ordinary mortal human, cannot possibly be perfect all the time, even with well-ingrained safety habits, but with multiple safety habits, you don’t NEED to be. Once Upon A Time a friend brought over her husband’s new gun for us to see, and my whole family handled it and tried it out. I asked to try the trigger pull, and before I touched the trigger, I decided to check the chamber – and a live round popped out.

That’s when I realized that, despite all of us having failed to check the chamber, we had all: 

1. Never touched the trigger 2. Never walked in front of the muzzle 3. Never pointed it in an unsafe direction - only at the floor.

My whole family, my friend, and I all fucked up, and nobody was hurt because while you will occasionally forget one or even two rules of gun safety, it’s effectively impossible to forget all four.

This “multiple redundancy” extends to other gun owners, and it’s why gun nerds seem to be such tiresome pedantic pricks about precise terminology – it all starts with “trigger discipline;” i.e. pointing out when someone else has their finger on the trigger when they’re not about to shoot; in a movie, in pictures, in real life, in a TikTok video etc. Muzzle discipline (don’t point it at things you want to destroy) is a close second. This is how gun owners work together to reinforce each other’s safety habits until they are second nature. This is the root of much gun culture – for instance, “silencer” is a perfectly valid name for the round make-gun-more-quieter-can, but lots of people get uptight and insist they be called “suppressors” because they don’t actually literally silence a gun, and your hearing can still be damaged if you fire a louder/bigger gun with a “can” on it and omit hearing protection (“earpo.”) Safety is serious business and you can expect other gun owners to coach you in it.

This system is formally enforced at shooting ranges, where someone called the Range Officer walks around for the sole purpose of making sure every rule of gun safety is observed at all times. With so many people in such tight confines, perfect gun safety is required, which is beyond the ability of any mere mortal. The range officer’s job is to be your second brain, helping you observe gun safety. They will often show you tricks to help avoid common mistakes in gun handling – one RO showed me how to stand sideways to my bench, so that when I manipulated my pistol in both hands, I could hold it sideways (as one naturally wants to do, to inspect it,) while still keeping the muzzle downrange. It’s natural to feel embarrassed if an RO corrects your mistake in gun safety, but you shouldn’t be – RO’s see every knuckle-dragging moron on Earth and can easily tell someone who is trying to be safe from a simple moron who doesn’t give a damn. RO’s treasure earnest newbies, because its easy to teach knowledge and habit, but difficult if not impossible to instill responsibility.

A final note on safety involves storage. To be of any damn use, your gun must be loaded and ready in your home, but many people also need to secure it against children, dumb-ass visiting friends or in some neighborhoods, possible burglary. What you need is a quick-access safe, like this one linked here. Note how the keypad has grooves so your fingers can find it in the dark, and only has four buttons. These tools are expressly designed to keep your firearm readily accessible and also safe and secure. Avail yourself of these.

3. You Don’t Know Jack Shit About Guns And That Doesn’t Matter.

Everything you think you know about guns is probably complete fucking bullshit – but if you know how to point YOUR gun’s loud end at the bad guy and pull the trigger, that’ll do.

Many in my own tribe will rip me a new asshole for saying this, but its true nonetheless. A TON of what you think you know about guns is total bullshit propagated by Hollywood, and some of it’s dangerous because it could get you killed – for instance, if you think your new shotgun doesn’t need to be aimed because it’ll light up half the living room from five feet away like in video games.

But you don’t own every gun from movies or games, do you? You only own YOUR gun. That’s the only one you need to worry about learning right now. You’re probably stuck “sheltering in place” and all the shooting ranges are closed, but that means you have plenty of time to watch youtube videos, and damn are there a lot of good, informative youtube videos on firearm topics. Paul Harrell alone has tons of excellent, down to Earth videos on every topic you can imagine, and he often caters to fresh-faced newbies, such as this introduction to shotguns and what they do. Full30.com is “gun youtube” and has nothing but informative gun videos.

Watching these videos you’ll soon realize that what sounds like basic newbie information to you is being delivered in videos aimed at experienced gun owners – because we gun owners often don’t know shit, either. Even among gun owners ourselves, a great many myths and legends persist; the classic example being old-timers who think the springs in magazines will wear out if you keep them loaded too long (they don’t, any more than the suspension springs on your car do from just sitting in the garage.) These rumors persist because while their recommended techniques don’t help, they almost never hurt, either. Gun owners pursue these almost mythical rituals for the exact same reason they have such strong opinions (and sometimes bitter arguments) over trivial differences in firearm performance or utility – even though the differences are very minor, when you are fighting for your own priceless life, even slim advantages are worth having. Even though most gun owners keep a simple shotgun for home defense and spend most of their money on Fun Shooty Guns for the range and/or competitions, the entire community is, ultimately, rooted in traditions and lessons pertaining to actual practical use of firearms for community, family and self-defense.

Thus: when fellow gun-owners, in person or online, give your selection of firearm shit and recommended ten billion other accessories or methods to buy or use, do not be fooled into thinking your gun is useless or seriously sub-par; almost anything that you can put lead downrange with, where you want it, will do the job. At the same time, understand that this community has such strong opinions on often trivial differences because you’re preparing to defend your and your families lives, and with infinitely high stakes, no advantage is too trivial to consider.

Sights and slings and magazines and such are all well and good to have, but if you need to make a choice, remember that having the gun, and the skill and familiarity to use it is already 90% of the equation. Paul Harrell demonstrates this very very well in his video on using double-barreled shotguns for home defense, which he opens with the line “not everyone can afford thousand-dollar guns,” and “you don’t need the latest, greatest thing to get the job done.” Clint of Thunder Ranch – a man who has in fact shot people and been shot at – is also on-record as warning people that you can absolutely be killed by the oldest, silliest damn Oregon-Trail looking goddamn Elmer Fudd popgun if the wielder knows how to run it well. Look no further than the return of lever-action Old West guns for home defense.

4. The Right Of The People To Keep And Bear Arms Shall Not Be Infringed AND YOU ARE PEOPLE

YES, YOU, YOU LEFT-WING BERNIEBRO TRIPLE-COMMUNIST FROM SOVIET MORDOR. AND YOU, TRANS-QUEER-POC-NONBINARY OTHERKIN. YOU ARE PEOPLE.

IF YOU ARE PEOPLE, THIS IS YOUR CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHT. IT IS NOT CONTINGENT ON YOUR POLITICS, YOUR RELIGION, YOUR SEX, GENDER, OR PREFERENCE OF GAMING CONSOLE. YOU BOUGHT A GUN, NOT A POLITICAL PARADIGM SHIFT. IT CAME WITH A TRIGGER LOCK, NOT A PACKET OF KOOL-AID.

WE GUN OWNERS HAVE FOUGHT TIRELESSLY FOR GENERATIONS TO DEFEND THE RIGHT OF THE PEOPLE PRECISELY BECAUSE WE KNEW TIMES LIKE THESE WOULD INEVITABLY COME. AND NOW THAT THEY’RE HERE, BEING VINDICATED IS ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NO FUN AT ALL, BECAUSE WE’RE ALL IN THIS SHITSTORM TOGETHER.

5. Come Talk To Us – We Don’t Bite

Most gun owners collect guns because we can’t afford to collect cars or old tractors or whatever, and worse, we can’t race them against each other nearly as easily as we can go to an IDPA competition and blap steel pop-up targets. Firearms are exquisite works of engineering, and marksmanship is a science, an Olympic sport, and a true art that was respected as the domain of the experienced and wise even in Antiquity. Most of us were taught gun safety as a case-study in the responsibilities of adulthood, at our parents and grandparents knee, and we find real joy in introducing new people to the joy of firearms ownership and shooting sports.

Gun owners have been subject to non-stop, wall-to-wall abuse for decades due to our views on firearm rights – quite often to our faces, from family members. It makes us scornful and defensive – but it also primes us to welcome fellow supporters of self-defense rights with open arms as long-lost brothers. Hit us up on Twitter or BookFarce or whatever the hell you use. Ask your questions – yes, even the dumb ones. We asked the exact same ones ourselves when we were starting out. We’ll deny it till the sun burns out, but we did, and our guilty memories mock us still.

It often feels like the divides in America are too deep to ever be healed, and even in the midst of this crisis, where there should only be two sides – humanity vs. virus – the bitter recriminations continue. But it’s still the best chance we’ve had to see eye-to-eye with each other, and that new gun of yours, lying in its factory grease still in its factory hardcase, is proof positive of that.

You’re disgusted by this reality, aren’t you? That such ugly measures are necessary? That things have gotten this bad?

Good. So are we. Which is why we need you; you people who wish for a world where guns aren’t needed and people sleep with their doors unlocked at night. People who push forward, finding a way to advance. And this current disaster is why you need us; people who know how bad it can get, how easily the center can fold, who prepare for the worst.

We will need you again in the future. And that is why we are here for you now.

[alexaloraetheris]

Eve of Knowledge

So, I know I promised you guys a comic, but I’m slow af so here’s a bit of fanfiction about Eve. I tried my hand at writing from Eve’s perspective, and since I can’t read minds I have no idea how accurate this is, so take anything that’s not dialogue with a grain of salt.

There’s also quantum physics, and since I’m a biologist, take that with a handful of salt.

Her name was Eve.

Or at least, a variation of her Name that she’d been going by for so long, she wasn’t even certain what her True Name even was.

She’d given up on fake names a while back. There was no point.

The form she wore was plain, purposely so. Humans had this annoying habit of noticing beauty and being drawn to it. A vestigial instinct from when the gods roamed the world in their true skin. Their survival and prosperity was much more assured if they paid their lieges proper respect, after all. But then they decided not even the gods met their standards of Divinity, invented their own God, this time with a capital G, wrote their own stories, and forgot them.

Which suited Eve just fine. After centuries upon centuries of adoration, worship and even fear, anonymity was a welcome friend.

Unfortunately, anonymity was also the sort of friend that fled the party with an awkward excuse whenever another person was included in the conversation.

The person in question was the human girl currently sitting opposite from her at the tiny cafe table, sipping an abomination of liqueurs Eve wasn’t sure the staff were legally allowed to provide them with, and animatedly talking about forbidden Knowledge like she did it every day.

Unfortunately, she probably did. Scholars, in Eve’s experience, were usually like that, at least the ones that were true to the Science. Always pragmatically aware of their ignorance yet cheerfully ignoring human limitations in actually assuaging it. Those limitations were in place for a reason. Not even the gods themselves could bear The Sight and the Knowledge it offered for long, and humans didn’t even have the capacity to actually comprehend it.

That didn’t stop some of them from trying, though. Namely, Alexa.

“So, really,” continued the human in question, twirling a pencil around her fingers, “We can probably consider sentience itself an emergent property of this D-brane into our 3-brane! But imagine of it goes both ways! It would be… Hmm, imergent? Probably not. Anyway, if it went along the same yet opposing string, without changing any other property, divinity could be a direct outcome of sentience and the influence it exerts, and it goes all the way around in a circle through six dimensions! Well, it probably wouldn’t be a circle at that point, but I’m not sure what the extended property of a sphere would look like in the sixth dimension. Oh!”

She leaned precariously backwards on her chair and fumbled for the napkins from the opposite table, the ones on theirs already covered with simplified scribbles meant to represent their universe and its alternate counterparts intercepting at key extant points. It was pretty much a big circle with descendingly smaller circles stacked on top of it, interconnected with squiggly lines, surrounded by several variations of the same equation.

She’d given her an icy glare when Eve pointed out it mostly looked like an ice cream cone with too many scoops and cat hair.

Napkins stolen, to the chagrin of the couple sitting at the table, she started drawing matrix brackets. “Lets see~, if I take this 3D array and resize it to-”

“Alexa,” Eve interrupted her before she could start, “I’m not sure the cafe has enough napkins for you to elevate a sphere by three dimensions, not if you are keeping to realistic values. Maybe you should do that when you get home? On a computer?”

“Oh…”, Alexa had the grace to look embarrassed for all of three seconds before she gave her an impish smile. Then she just folded her napkins and stuffed them into a pocket of her backpack.

The couple next to them shot Eve a grateful look. Eve ignored them.

“Sorry, I got kinda carried away.” Alexa smiled at her, mind finally back in the reality the rest of her body resided in. “I just discussed all this with Haley the other day and thought you might be interested.”

Eve almost fidgeted in her seat. She wasn’t wrong, not entirely. Her theory was full of flaws, and she kept getting sidetracked by small details instead of focusing on the bigger picture, not to mention the knowledge she did have was riddled with dogmas that were so laughably incorrect Eve had to bite her cheek to stop from laughing in Alexa’s face, but the things she and her friend regularly discussed over coffee were… not wrong.

What humans were just starting to discover Eve had known her entire existence. Unfortunately, or probably fortunately, she had no way to voice that knowledge in a language humans could learn to speak. The gods had been alternately pitying and laughing at humans for being so biologically constrained that they couldn’t even realize, not only the depths of their ignorance, but also that they were ignorant at all. They had no way to interact with The Sight in a way that mattered. And the few humans throughout history that were born with the awareness of The Sight didn’t tend to fare well.

And then humans got done being pitied, and invented their own language for the Knowledge. They were the bumbling first sounds of babies, but they foretold the development of actual Words and actual Names.

The gods were still laughing at humans, but that laughter was getting more nervous with every year.

Eve was one of the few gods remaining who actually liked humans, if not actively interacting with them. The others mostly tolerated them, and only enjoyed them when they were bowing and scraping before them. Which didn’t bode well for them now that there were humans who were, in certain ways, actually more powerful than them, even if only in influence over other humans. And it certainly didn’t help that humans today tended to lock up anyone claiming to be a god into a mental institution.

At least they weren’t burning them anymore.

It also made Eve wonder if Alexa knew she wasn’t exactly human. Eve had taken great precautions to rid herself of any attributes that could give her away, but she had no way to fight relaxing forever. She slipped sometimes, casually mentioned things humans did not exactly find normal, or spoke of things humans didn’t even Know of.

And Alexa noticed. She had this annoying habit of forgetting important things and not paying attention when she really should, and yet noticing tiny inconsequential things absolutely nobody else even thought to notice.

Which would actually be great, if those things weren’t inconsequential to Eve.

‘Bloody humans’, Eve thought as sipped her own perfectly legal beer. ‘No matter how different, always annoying.’

Alexa was a staunch atheist, and she made it clear she though religion in general was just another excuse for prejudice when you ran out of physical traits to be prejudiced about. Her mistress was Science, and while Eve wanted to point out how hypocritical she was in dismissing faith in a higher being when she so dearly held her faith in laws of Physics and Chemistry, it also created a potential problem for Eve.

Because if Alexa was suddenly asking her about The Sight and Underworld in a way she probably thought was subtle, it meant she had already observed something, done her research, formed a hypothesis and reached the testing stage.

It meant Eve was already four stages behind.

Mind you, that conversation had happened around last Christmas. Alexa had gifted her two whole tubs of Drunk Tiramisu, made with generous amounts of alcohol Alexa either brewed herself or extracted from medical alcohol. Just the vapors were enough to get an average human drunk and it was amongst top ten of Eve’s favorite things in Existence, and Alexa had even brought a spoon.

Really, she really should have known it was a trap.

But she hadn’t, and she spilled far more than she would like. Enough that Alexa had picked up the tidbits, glued them together in a way she thought they should fit and filled in the blanks. And Eve had no way of knowing just how much of that was accurate or damaging, maybe even damning.

Getting into Alexa’s head was a horribly inconsistent exercise, so much that Eve eventually just gave up. But it seemed the human had either gotten what she was fishing for or had simply lost interest and moved onto something else, because other than the occasional question in passing she mostly dropped the subject.

Either way, Eve didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

‘Relieved,’ Eve decided, watching Alexa poke at a calculator she didn’t even need in a cafe and recalling that absolutely frightening weekend of hyperfixation when Alexa thought reading Flatland right after watching Gravity Falls was a good idea, ‘It’s definitely relief.’

“Not that his discussion wasn’t interesting but what does it have to do with your test?”

“Huh?” Alexa lifted her head in confusion, the pencil bobbing in her mouth, “Wha?”

“Your test tomorrow,” Eve lifted the Invertebrae textbook Alexa had given her, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure the Schrodinger equation isn’t going to be on it.”

Alexa was already pale almost to the point of being translucent in places, so the sight of her blood rushing from her face left a rather ghastly picture. Eve had to laugh at the panicked squeak that escaped her as she suddenly dove for her notes, almost tipping her chair in the process.

Well, whatever the human thought or suspected about her she didn’t treat her any different, so. Maybe Eve could live and learn to let it go.

After all, it was just Alexa. She wasn’t going to tell anyone even if she suspected anything.

I’m fucked aren’t I?

Even better, this was written as procrastination for the aforementioned test.

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Vlog #16 - Would You Rather

Moyo began the vlog in English, because he was better at it than anyone else in the group.

“What’s up, guys? Welcome back to another thrilling vlog from your favorite Broerrs.” The rest could be in Flemish.

Robbe, Jens, and Aaron burst into cheers in the background. Robbe winked at the camera, but not really, since Sander was the one trying to steady the tripod in front of the group. Something on its left side had broken last time they used it. Sander winked back.

“We’ve been reading your comments,” continued Moyo.

Jens made a face of disgust. “Honestly, sometimes I regret it.”

“We regret it a lot. Sometimes.”

Robbe knew exactly the comment they were referencing. Someone with a long, unpronounceable username decided that they wanted to be with Jens… biblically, if you will. Minus the religion. He felt scandalized to have read it. In the description of this new video, he’d include a politely worded plea to never type and send anything like that ever again.

“But we’re listening to the people, and you have spoken. We picked the next challenge. It’s time for WOULD—”

“—YOU—" said Robbe.

Jens finished the title. “—RATHER!”

Aaron sulked on the end of the couch. “What am I supposed to say?”

At this point, Moyo and Robbe would edit in a cut, some music, and a tiny little animated title to introduce the game. Sander already had a few ideas he told them he’d be willing to draw if they wanted. The cuts were the best part.

“Alright. We actually have a special guest with us today. Here, I’ll take the camera…”

Sander and Moyo traded places. Now Moyo sat behind the tripod to keep everything stable. Sander sat down in Moyo’s spot in the center of the couch. He looked even more like himself than usual—the Bowie shirt Noor bought him for Christmas, black jeans cuffed at the bottom, Docs, and a leather jacket to tie the ensemble together. Definitely more punk rock than anyone else in the frame. At Jens’s suggestion, he’d gotten his left ear pierced a week ago. The proper time had yet to elapse before he could change posts, so the same black stud with which the parlor pierced it remained in his ear.

Besides the factual part of his appearance, he made Robbe feel like his heart had jumped from a hundredth-floor window and began the freefall of a lifetime.

“This fine specimen…” Jens gestured to Sander with a dramatic flourish. He twirled a finger around a strand of Sander’s bleached hair. “… happens to be the boyfriend of our very own Robbe Ijzermans. He’ll be an honorary Broerrr, for this vlog.”

“Only this vlog?” asked Aaron.

“We’ll see how it goes.”

Sander waved at Moyo. “I’m Sander. I’m—”

The boys talked over each other, finishing the sentence for him.

“—blond.”

“—TAKEN.”

“—sexually active.”

“—a much beloved children’s movie character.”

“Oh, oh! I’ve got it. A distant relative of Queen Elizabeth.”

The edits with this portion of the video would be hilarious for sure.

“—an art student in university and Robbe���s boyfriend,” said Sander. “I’m honored to be here with the Broerrs today.”

It had been Moyo’s suggestion to add Sander to the vlogs. He’d approached Robbe after class and tried to bring up the subject naturally, citing something about how Sander hung out with them all the time anyway, and it would make sense to include him. Robbe knew it was another peace offering. Ever since he called Sander gross for liking both boys and girls, he’d been trying to make up for it over and over again.

The truth was, Robbe forgave him at the slightest sign of repentance. He wasn’t one to hold grudges. It did feel good, though, to know that Moyo truly regretted his past actions and made a conscious effort to avoid similar ones.

“We asked you guys to send us your burning would-you-rather questions, and you did not disappoint.” Jens shook a hat in front of the camera. “An impartial third party—”

“Jana!” yelled Aaron.

“—picked out the best ones and put them in this hat. Each of us is going to pick one out to read, and then everyone has to answer it. You’re not allowed to not answer. And yes, you have to explain your reasons.

“I’m going first. Question one.” Jens cleared his throat to begin. “Would you rather your shower always be freezing cold, or always be the perfect temperature with bad water pressure?” He barely needed any time to think. “Cold shower. It’s good for your skin.” He turned to the others around him. “What say you?”

Sander took Robbe’s hand and set it down on his knee, for no apparent reason, and it made Robbe blush. “I would say we’re the warm shower type.” He was right. Robbe took a cold shower approximately one time in his entire life, and it was when he had to wash the blood from his clothing after— no thanks. He liked the temperature scalding.

“Warm is the way,” Aaron agreed. “Water pressure makes no difference.”

“Disagree.” Even off-camera, Moyo needed his opinion heard. He balanced the tripod as best he could and ran to sit on the arm of the couch, his shoulder brushing with Robbe’s. “I’m with Jens. Cold water tightens your skin or something. Young skin. Fuck yeah.”

Sander laughed. Robbe would never get tired of hearing that laugh. “I’d rather be warm than have young skin. Comfort above appearance.”

This reply made Jens scoff. “You can afford to say that, because you’re beautiful.”

Another cut there, probably. Sander could animate a little picture of a shower or something. Damn, it was really going to pay off to have a boyfriend capable of high-level art techniques.

He decided he liked seeing Sander and the boys together like this. Two worlds he’d suffered to keep separate, now colliding. Instead of the death of the universe, though, all that happened as a result was good-natured banter. They looked comfortable with each other, no tension or withdrawal whatsoever.

Aaron drew from the hat next. “Would you rather speak every language but not understand them spoken to you, or understand every language spoken to you but not be able to speak them? Did I say that right?”

“Yeah,” said Jens. “It’s just badly worded.”

No one had a fast answer to this question. In the final edit, they’d need to cut out a good chunk of footage, because everyone argued over each other in a fashion so violent it couldn’t be understood. At one point, while trying to make the point that speaking and understanding could only exist in tandem and therefore the question was irrelevant, Jens noticed he was wearing the same earring as Sander. They halted the disagreement to talk about it. Two minutes of unusable content.

Robbe answered first. “Understand. I think it’d be cool to know if people were talking shit about me in the grocery store.”

“Speak,” said Moyo. “Because chicks think it’s hot.”

Jens went for logic over desire. “Understand, so I could go abroad and not look like an idiot when people talk to me.”

Aaron, clearly at a loss, just nodded. “Yeah, I think whatever Jens thinks.”

Sander took the question deeper than the others, which made Robbe proud and concerned at the same time. “Speak, because it doesn’t say that I wouldn’t be able to understand written messages. As long as I can speak it, it means that I can translate it in my head, which means I can ask people to write things down for me.” He thought for another second before continuing, “It wouldn’t work the same way with understanding, because you wouldn’t necessarily master the pronunciation just because you can listen to what other people are saying.”

A comprehensive answer. Aaron stared in awe. “Robbe, you’re dating a genius.”

“Yeah.” Robbe squeezed Sander’s hand in between them. He could feel his heart melting inside his chest. “Clearly I’m not smart enough for this linguistic master.”

“Je t’aime encore,” Sander whispered, quirking his eyebrow. He planted a kiss on Robbe’s lips.

This inspired Moyo to lean sideways and fall off the arm of the couch so that he landed across Robbe and Sander, his head in Sander’s lap. “Aw, ce qu'est un bon petit ami!” He broke into the largest smile Robbe had ever seen and gave Sander a fist bump. “I didn’t know you knew French!”

“Oh, well… yes.”

“We’re French buds now. Everyone else can go home. When we want to communicate in secret, we’re going to do it in French.”

“Gladly.”

“I’ve been telling the others to learn French and they haven’t listened—” 

Robbe didn’t fancy the idea of Sander hiding anything else from him via secret messages in other languages. Besides, this footage probably wasn’t any good for final production. “Okay, guys, shut up. My turn.” 

Moyo didn’t bother to mix the slips in the hat before passing it to Robbe. He picked the one on top. “Would you rather have no one attend your wedding, or no one attend your funeral?” There was an obvious answer to this question. Jana shouldn’t have picked this out of all the submissions they received, especially since Robbe swore he saw one about having oatmeal poured up your nose. “Funeral. It’s not my problem if I’m dead.”

Jens looked this way and that. “We’re probably all in agreement.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Actually,” said Sander, “I’d say wedding.”

Leave it to Sander to pick the unpopular answer. Robbe imagined the animation they’d put beside Sander’s head; a thumbs-down would convey the emotion pretty well. “Give your reasons, then.”

“No one showing up for your funeral means that no one cares that you’re dead.” He squeezed Robbe’s hand again. “I want people to miss me.”

“You’re a better person than all of us, then.”

 Moyo’s turn came next. He had yet to move from his position across Sander and Robbe. Robbe took this as the ultimate gesture of ‘I’m okay with your sexuality and your boyfriend, and I’m still comfortable with you.’ It made him happy enough to ignore the fact that his leg was in an awkward position and now he couldn’t fix it.

“Would you rather throw up every time you saw a bird, or burp after every kiss?” Moyo took a second to consider. “Well first of all…” He reached out to tilt the camera downwards, centering himself in the frame. It ruined everything Sander had done to keep the tripod level. “…birds aren’t real. They’re drones from the government to spy on people and, in the case of rebellion, kill them. From America.”

Jens nodded enthusiastically at this idea. “So before we answer it, does this question refer to government drone birds, or only the mythical real birds?”

“All birds,” said Sander. “Real or fake.”

“And are we counting flightless birds as birds?”

“Why would we not?”

Moyo stroked his chin in contemplation. “All birds... then the kiss one.”

“You don’t get kissed enough for that to be a problem,” Aaron reassured him. This earned a punch in the chest.

Sander and Robbe shared a look. “Throw up when I see a bird,” said Sander, confidently. “We make out too much for the other one.” When he met Robbe’s eyes, Robbe felt his vision tunnel until nothing but Sander remained in his sight line. He was too fucking in love for his own good. “Imagine if every time we kissed I had to stop and burp!”

“Nasty.”

They went around the group again, each choosing a question and answering it. The highlights were pretty obvious, even as they filmed it. All the earlier questions were gold compared to the later ones. Robbe wasn’t there to see Jana weed through the options, so he didn’t necessarily know that she had. For all he knew, she’d just picked the first thirty comments and threw them in the hat.

He passed the time by analyzing the way Sander reacted to different statements. He expected his boyfriend to be shy, or awkward, or even just a little guarded. Instead, Sander was an open book. He laughed with his full chest, made faces when the boys said things he didn’t like, went so far as to slap Jens on the shoulder when Jens mentioned prioritizing breakfast over his attendance. Like a member of the squad. 

Yes, these were two worlds. But what if they could be mixed into one? 

“Okay, Last question, last question.” Moyo held the hat out in front of Sander. “Sander’s going to read this one, so it better be good.” He shook the hat a couple times to mix things around, even though there was only one slip of paper left. Sander reached inside and grabbed the remainder.

He read it. “Would you rather not have sex with a goat but have everyone believe you did, or have sex with a goat but no one will ever find out?” He paused, mumbled through the words over again, and looked into the camera. “What kind of crack do you guys smoke?”

“Pick one,” Moyo ordered.

Jens leaned in close, so his face took up the entire lens. “This is how we determine if he’s worthy of our Robbe. What he answers right here.” He sat back in his chair. “There’s a correct answer, Sander, so choose carefully.”

Robbe imagined the final YouTube version would include an edited still of himself and Sander with a question mark dangling in between them. Some fire emojis, perhaps.

“How can there be a right answer?”

In lieu of a sophisticated reply, the other boys began to chant, “Choose, choose, choose choose.”

“Alright, alright.” He held up his hands to signal for a grand pause. “I’d rather not fuck the goat.”

The group dissolved into a chorus of laughter. Robbe was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to see whatever graphic Moyo selected in the final for this part. Actually, it might just be a goat emoji. He still wouldn’t want to see it in the context of this conversation.

“So you want everyone to think you fucked the goat?” Jens used his newscaster voice and offered an invisible microphone to Sander, who pushed his hand away.

“Well no, but if it’s that or actually fuck the goat—”

Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “I’d fuck the goat.”

“You would?”

“Yeah. It’d be a one-time thing. If I didn’t fuck the goat, I’d never be able to live down fucking the goat. So y’know, lose-lose.”

“No, but if you fuck the goat then you’ve fucked a goat.”

“It’s a no from me.” Jens held up his hands in surrender. “Let people think what they want.”

Moyo tilted his head back a little more so he could make eye contact with Jens. “Yeah, no from me too.” Robbe noticed that Moyo’s head must be digging into Sander’s thigh, but Sander seemed unbothered.

“Either way, you get the consequences of having fucked the goat.” Aaron tried to justify his previous statement. “It’s a matter of physical versus social. I think I can deal with the physical, but I know my image can’t handle the social.”

Sander blinked incredulously. “ You’d prefer bestiality over a rumor? What the fuck...”

“Please stop talking about fucking goats,” Robbe interjected. “I’m getting mental images.”

Sander tilted his head until it rested on Robbe’s shoulder. He looked up at his boyfriend with a tiny mischievous smile. “Do they turn you on?”

At this point, Jens decided that the vlog needed to be over. He hopped up from the couch and announced, “Well, this has been a great time. Don’t forget to like and subscribe to this channel to see more of us losers and—”

Robbe cut him off. “The only loser today is Amber, who may have just found out her boyfriend would fuck a goat.”

“Not in just any circumstance—” Aaron protested, but Moyo spoke louder than him.

“Peace out, dudes.”

He clicked the camera off. 

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, ALLI! You’ve been accepted for the role of SEVEN OF SWORDS with the faceclaim of CILLIAN MURPHY. Canis is certainly a fucking concept, whom I adore to no end. He’s got a tenacious and willful sort of attitude about him, the kind of incredulous charm and wit that lends itself to an air of villainy and danger, and I think that he fits into the Seven of Swords like one fits into a well-made boot or glove. In spite of remaining leashed like a dog, he’s got no small amount of fire in him, and I’m eager to see what (or who!) he sinks his teeth into during gameplay. You’ve brought me a real gift, dropped it on my doorstep, and I am grateful.

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

— APPLICATION

OOC

NAME:    alli PRONOUNS:    she / her AGE:    twenty - one TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL:    cst /  i  am  currently  on  summer  break  and  have  the  ability  to  be  really  active ,  but  sometimes  things  do  come  up !  i  definitely  have  plenty  of  time  to  be  on  the  dash  with  several  posts  within  activity  limit  and  when  my  muse  is  high  ( i’ll  be  honest  i’m  a  hoe  for  high  fantasy )  my  activity  is  also  super  up ! ANYTHING ELSE?:    what’s the mead sis…….. the wenches are squabbling …….

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON:    seven  of  swords NAME:   efferus  aubenet   /   “canis”  &  “the  dog”   efferus  -  of  latin  meaning ,  “wild ,  savage ,  cruel ,  barbarous” .  a  name  canis  has  long  since  abandoned ,  preferring  even  the  subtle  jab  of  “the  dog”  given  to  him  by  opponents  of  his  crew  and  the  highborn  that  look  down  on  him .  he  finds  it  just  about  as  cutting  as  a  bread knife .  no  one  except  those  closest  to  him  ( ie .  the  pack )  even  know  this  name  exists . canis  -  latin  for  “ dog ” ,  though also  the  scientific  genus  for  all  canines ,  including  wolves  and  coyotes .  meant  to  symbolize  canis  as   the  leader  of  his  pack  of  wild  dogs ,  and  a  sign  of  respect ,  a  nickname  earned  on  the  streets  and  not  given  to  him  in  tyrholm . the  dog  -  a  nickname  received  while  working  under  king  septimus ,  by  those  that  see  the  second  fangs  as  dirty ,  unruly ,  savages .  also  by  revolters  who  see canis  as  a  dog  blindly  following  the  orders  of  a  tyrannical  king.  in  any  case ,  he  still  prefers  this  to  efferus .  sometimes  he  even  barks  in  response . FACECLAIM:    cillian  murphy ,  michiel  huisman   ( he / him  pronouns ,  cis  male ) AGE:    thirty - nine  ,  born  on  the  twenty - seventh  day  of  the  twelfth  month

DETAILS:   i  always  find  myself  drawn  to  underdog  characters ,  muses  that  have  overcome  more  than  most  others  could  even  imagine  to  find  themselves  in  their  present  position .  i  believe  there  is  so  much  depth  to  backgrounds  like  canis’s .  no family  so  he  created  his  own ,  nothing  to  his  name  so  he  created  his  own  legacy .  a  moral  compass that  tries  it’s  best  to  always  point  north .  that  fails ,  because  the  muse  is  so  painfully  human .  the  irony  of  a  sellsword  who  wants  more  for  himself ?  incredible .  when  i  was  skimming  the  skeletons ,  it  was  his  that  startled  practically  writing  itself ,  this  street  urchin  turned  warrior  figure ,  so  i  spent  a  lot  of  time  picking  apart  the  biography  until  i  was  left  with  canis . i  did  a  bit  of  research  on  the  seventh  of  swords  tarot  card ,  but  let  me  tell  you  ..  i  was  so  pleasantly  surprised  and  intrigued  when  i  did .  on  one  hand ,  when  upright ,  seven  of  swords  means  scheming ,  resourcefulness ,  cunning ,  and  lies ,  all  traits  that  have  gotten  canis  to  where  he  is  today ,  however  negative ,  the  legacy  he’s  forged  for  himself  and  all  deeply  tied  to  his  work .  however ,  when  reversed ,  the  seven  of  swords  can  mean  confession ,  conscience ,  regret ,  and  maliciousness ,  which  i  think  lend  beautifully  to  this  character’s  private  struggles .  there  is  a  very  heavy  mix  of  negative  and  positive  attributes  leant  towards  seven  of  sword’s  core  character ,  someone  who  wants  to  do  right  by  themselves  at  great  cost .  when  interpreting  the  tarot  as  canis ,  i  was  drawn  to  the  maliciousness  and  the  regret  ( in  sometimes  equal  measure )  of  the  reversed  card .  i  believe  there  is  so  much  more  to  this  character  than  just  his  web  of  scheming  and  lies ,  that  canis’s  true  self  comes  from  somewhere  within ,  and  i’m  really  excited  to  explore  his  inner  conflicts.  this  man  has  so  many  issues  that  he’s  buried  and  i  think  the  possibility  of  him  becoming  a  part  of  the  revolution?  impeccable.  my  muse  for  this  skeleton ?  through  the  roof .

BACKGROUND  

I .  O’ ROMULUS  AND  REMUS ,  CASTOR  AND  POLLUX ,  WHAT  IS  ONE  WITHOUT  THE  OTHER ?   a  twin ,  you  were  told ,  though  it  feels  like  something  you  should  never  be  permitted  to  forget.  you’ve  never  felt  him there ,  not  like  a  phantom  limb  or  a  guiding  whisper.  just  a  story ,  when  you’re  feeling  ungrateful  for  your  lot  in  this  realm ,  that  there  is  only  one  where  there  once  was  two.  born  in  the  dead  of  winter  --  the  one  that  bit  at  the  napes  of  even  the  most  fur  cloaked  nobility  of  markholm ,  that  anyone  unlucky  enough  to  live  through  it  can  still  recall  as  “ceaseless”   --   and  childbirth  takes  your  mother  as  it  goes.  two  children ,  born  sickly ,  cold.  so  you  are  dubbed  efferus ,  a  savage  beast  who  can  claw  his  way  into  life ,  barely  holding  onto  breath ,  already  having  taken  a  life.   it  takes  a  village  to  raise  motherless  boys.  sometimes  it  takes  more  than  that.  your  brother  doesn’t  make  it  past  the  winter ,  but  you  keep  growing ,  getting  stronger  by  the  day ,  and  finally  spring  flowers  bloom  forth  from  hard  soil.  the  goat  farmer  next  door  tells  your  father  you  are  a  resilient  one ,  that  the  undying  smiled  upon  him.  another  miracle ,  that  your  life  could  be  a  blessing  and  not  a  curse.   as  long  as  you  knew  him ,  your  father  kept  steadfast  in  deep  religion ,  devout ,  praying  over  the  crops.  the  cattle.  the  harvest.  even  your  birth ,  a  story  he  recants  so  mystically  it’s  hard  to  imagine  you  were  there.  “we  all  bled  fer  you ,”  he  always  starts ,  like  it’s  your  fault ,  “my  son ,  my  son.  let  all  else  be  damned  fer  ‘im.”  two  lives  for  the  price  of  one ,  he  reminds  you ,  and  you’re  just  a  boy ,  but  you  still  find  it  all  absurd.  there’s  never  been a rhyme  or  reason  to  suffering.  “you  make  a  deal  with  the  undying  and  you  get  what  you  paid  fer.”  sometimes  it  seems  a  compliment.  others ..  you  aren’t  so  sure.   your  father  hath  no  mercy  for  the  weak  or  spineless ,  though  he  wasn’t  an  inherently  evil  man  either ,  at  least  not  in  the  figments  you  can  conjure  of  him.  you  plow  the  fields ,  with  hands  so  rough  with  calluses  you  can’t  feel  the  hilt  of  the  axe  you  use  to  cut  the  firewood.  you  milk  the  cows ,  so  gentle  with  great  beasts  you  start  to  forget  your  name.  you’re  skin  and  bone  and  beating  heart  ,  not  much  to  look  at ,  but  just  the  blessing  your  father  asked  for  all  the  same.  a  good  boy ,  in  that  you  were  capable  and  healthy  and  strong.  a  bad  seed ,  in  that  you  cared  for  little  and  didn’t  always  do  as  you  were  told.   it’s  your  tenth  winter  when  frostbitten  tendrils  take  first  your  farm ,  and  then  your  father.  you  make  a  deal  with  the  undying  and  you  get  what  you  paid  for ,  you  remember ,  and  it  almost  makes  you  laugh.  perhaps  it’s  not  so  funny  that  you  mourn  very  little  the  life  you  lost.  perhaps  still  it  is  a  testament  to  your  strength ,  a  boy  of  only  ten  who  shoulders  already  a  lifetime  of  death  and  decay.  who  makes  it  look  a  load  easy  to  bear.  who  are  you ,  efferus  aubenet?  and  who  will  you  become?

II .  A  MIRRORED  MIDAS  ,  IF  EVERYTHING  HE  HAD  TOUCHED  TURNED  TO  DEATH  AND  ROT .   a  street  urchin  with  no  farm ,  no  family ,  and  most  prominently  no  coin.  winters  slip  away  like  sand  through  an  hourglass ,  and  it’s  all  you  can  do  to  keep  track  of  the  time  that  folds  beneath  you.  one  year ,  and  you’re  frail  and  quiet  and  know  only  to  keep  to  yourself.  three  years  and  you’ve  developed  a  taste  for  fighting ,  scrappy  as  you  are.  it’s  just  a  game ,  in  the  beginning ,  one  the  other  coinless  children  keep  telling  you  you’re  too  good  at ,  “it’s  no  fun  fighting  a  hungry  dog.”  five  years  and  you’re  taller ,  more  meat  to  your  bones.  you’re  better  at  sneaking  things  out  of   the  market ,  extra  to  feed  your  friends.  you  learned  the  hard  way  what  happens  if  you  don’t  bring  back  enough ,  if  you  turn  a  blind  eye  to  people  who  call  out  your  name.  you  hear  it  when  you  dream ,  half  awake  in  chilled  darkness.   “i’m  so  hungry,  efferus.  i’m  so  hungry.”   you  start  going  by  canis.  it  makes  it  easier  to  sleep.   six ,  seven  years  and  you’re  so  good  at  fighting  that  your  pockets  start  to  feel  heavy.  cobbled  streets  whisper  canis  when  you  cross.  bruised  fists  and  a  bloody  conscience ,  not  all soldiers  make  it  out  of  battle  alive.  it  dawns  on  you ,  slowly  but  with  all  the  force  of  a  crack  of  lightning ,  why  the  others  like  to  call  you  dog.  maybe  it’s  because  you  were  born  from  death ,  or  because  you  know  loss  so  well  it  colors  your  eyelids  when  you  blink ,  but  it  seems  all  you’re  good  for.  you  discover  a  rage  within  you ,  one  which  you’re  sure  ( you  hope ,  foolish  as  it  is )  any  man  is  capable  of ,  if  pushed  too  far.  but  it’s  directionless ,  vile  in  the  way  it  sits  inside  your  chambered  heart.  there  is  nothing  more  universal  than  pain.  nothing  more  isolating  than  anger.  a  boy  with  a  taste  for  blood.  so  blind  to  the  way  you  snap ,  like  branch  under  boot ,  when  you  push  too  hard.  what  place  is  there  for  you  in  an  unforgiving  world ,  wracked  with  hardship?  at  whose  table  do  you  dine?   you  knew  love  once ,  it  felt  like  sharing  bread  and  blankets  and  tales  of  woe.  like  years  on  the  streets  relying  only  on  wit  and  steadfast  determination  to  survive.  like  knowing  a  person  fully ,  inside  and  out ,  as  you’d  always  known  yourself.  that  too  would  be  taken  from  you ,  like  everything  else.  for  the  price  of  just  a  single  coin ,  you  watched  your  love  take  their  last  breath ,  watched  the  thief  make  off  with  their  blood  money ,  felt  truly  and  terribly  powerless.  worse  than  losing  your  father  to  deep  winter  chill  you  lost  your  first  love  to  a  blade.  and  in  the  end ,  it  meant  nothing.     the  sons  of  argos  could  not  undo  what  you’d  done ,  what  had  been  done  to  you ,  but  maybe  you  could  give  back  tenfold.  it  starts  small ,  at  a  table  in  your  favorite  tavern ,  as  all  great  plots  tended  to  do.  an  invitation  to  join  a  company  you’d  heard  about  only  in  whispers.  you  saw  espace ,  penance  where  others  saw  a  home ,  but  that  would  always  be  enough  for  you.  it  was  intended  to  be  permanent ,  a  family  you  couldn’t  lose ,  under  a  friend  who  would  lay  down  their  life  for  the  men ,  women ,  and  children  under  their  protection.  a  life  of  adventure  to  call  your  own  and  you  didn’t  need  to  suffer  anymore.  you  had  but  one  skill ,  it  seemed ,  beyond  tending  to  the  herd  and  trimming  too  tall  crops ,  and  your  father  once  taught  you  that  skill  fed  fortune  ( though  the  money ,  you’d  find ,  would  come  later ) .  you  don’t  think  the  sons  is  quite  what  your  dearly  departed  had  in  mind ,  and  this  makes  your  smile  widen.  you’ve  always  found  humor  in  odd  places.     what  follows  is  a  career  far  short  of  extravagant ,  fighting  crime  like  a  bunch  of  vigilanties ,  tied  to  a  city  state  that  knows  little  of  its  own  streets.  you  hunger  for  travel ,  to  sink  your  teeth  into  shores  unseen ,  land  untended.  to  make  a  real  name  for  yourself  and  anyone  who  followed  suit.  “mind  your  place ,  mutt,”  you  hear  more  than  once ,  and  you  want  to  swat  the  others  away  like  flies  buzzing  in  swelling  ears.  but  there’s  something  sharp ,  too ,  like  a  cut  that  just  won’t  heal.  your  voice  is  too  loud  amongst  the  rest ,  your  name  --  the  name  you  paid  for  in  blood  --  nothing  next  to  strength’s.  the  captain  you  were  meant  to  worship  turned  to  dust  in  your  heavy  fist ,  the  family  you  forged  alongside  them  never  yours  to  call  your  own.  you  tell  yourself  they  betrayed  you ,  like  everything  else  in  this  life  they  gave  you  nothing  to  hold  onto  save  for  the  back  of  their  coattails ,  but  in  truth  you  were  never  meant  to  stay.  minding  your  place  felt  a  lot  like  digging  six  feet  down  to  lay  rest.   it’s  like  waking  from  a  dream ,  one  you  push  down  when  it  returns  to  you  in  the  night ,  leaving  the  sons  for  good.  four  winters  you  slept  under  their  tents ,  ate  at  their  table ,  and  still  you  feel  nothing  when  you  pack  what’s  yours  ( and  maybe  some  of  what  isn’t ,  but  who  would  dare  come  looking  for  it? )  and  go.  no  one  follows ,  no  one  even  pleads  your  case ,  and  when  you  see  them  playing  knights  on  the  docks  the  fire  in  you  swells.  it’s  all  rot  now.

III .  WHERE  WOULD  ICARUS  BE  NOW ,  IF  SOMEONE  WISE  HAD  CLIPPED  CURSED  WINGS?      iriebury  is  the  stank  of  unwashed  flesh ,  the  heat  of  southern  sun ,  something  to  conquer.  the  citizens  are  mean  and  the  crime  meaner.  it  makes  tyrholm  look  a  lot  like  playing  pretend ,  the  sons  seem  like  a  group  of  toy  soldiers.  to  survive  in  iriebury  you  need  your  bark ,  you  need  your  bite.  naturally , you  thrive.   it  takes  just  one  winter ,  one  warm  southern  winter ,  before  you  have  something  to  call  a  crew  of  your  very  own.  the  second  fangs ,  a  handful  of  beaten  down ,  nearly  finished  off  mutts  that  think  you  look  like  a  future.  you’ll  find  one  day ,  when  you’ve  turned  to  face  the  wrong  end  of  a  sword ,  these  dogs’  loyalty  knows  no  bounds.  and  maybe  you  do  have  a  family  after  all.  they  don’t  look  like  warriors  born  for  battle ,  but  they’re  sharp  on  every  edge  and  speak  of  you  like  you  hung  the  moon.  like  a  prophecy  spun  from  the  undying  herself.  the  queen  of  iriebury’s  no  different ,  when  you  flash  her  a  smile  and  run  a  sword  through  her  guard.  this  is  your  destiny.   with  work  and  full  bellies ,  the  second  fangs  grow ,  picking  up  more  men  and  women  the  rest  of  markholm  cast  aside ,  giving  them  all  purpose.  leadership  becomes  you ,  you’re  kind  in  places  other  captains  breathe  fire.  your  men  adore  you ,  and  maybe  this  is  why  it’s  easy  to  lose  yourself  a  bit.  you’ve  always  been  looking  for  him ,  that  voice  inside  of  you  that  has  guided  every  confident  step ,  and  you  really  start  to  believe  you’ve  found  him  at  the  end  of  a blade.     what  you  do  isn’t  pretty like  life  in  a  castle ,  it  isn’t  gentle  like  the  farm  or  humble  like  a  temple ,  but  it  suits  you.  you  find  company  at  the  bottom  of  a  bottle ,  family  inside  the  taverns  and  brothels ,  atop  dirty  cobblestone.  it  all  feels  a  lot  like  honor ,  like  duty.  you’re  known  for  your  loyalty  and  cunning  among  burdened  skill.  work  lends  to  virtue  or  some  mirrored  image  of  the  sort.  the  second  fangs  take  the  jobs  you  approve ,  not  the  ones  the  queen  hands  you ,  nails  stained  with  blood ,  and   who  knew  a  mercenary  crew  with  such  an  eye  for  morality?  bastards  that  comb  the  streets  but  speak  with  love  fresh  on  their  lips.  you’re  a  heathen  with  heart ,  of  that  not  even  the  fiercest  opponents  can  dispute.  maybe  there  is  a  place  in  this  world  for  nameless ,  coinless  men  with  a  hunger  for  something  more.  you  give  back  to  your  beloved  pack  what  they  give  to  you ;  everything ,  everything  and  then  some.  a  life  that  means  more  than  scraping  the  bottom  of  the  barrel.   you  can’t  carry  on  like  this  forever  and  survive ,  and  it’s  only  a  matter  of  time  before  real  gold  starts  knocking.  a  steady  job ,  you’re  promised.  a  lifetime  of  stability ,  peace.  you  know  more  of  the  king  of  tyrholm than  you  let  on ,  and  maybe  you  are  naive  to  trust  the  word  of  a  woman  who  did  not  raise  herself ,  but  when  you  look  at  your  company’s  worn  faces  and  tired  smiles ,  weathered  from  southern  strife ,  it’s  never  been   easier  to  bend  a  knee.     some  odd  winters ,  some  odd  springs ,  lived  with  modest  lavesty.  septimus  is  an  arse  of  a  man  that  whispers  corroded  bidding  into  your  graceless  ear.  no  one  but  the  second  fangs  knows  how  much  you  shake ,  when  the  job  is  done  and  you’re  safe  at  home.  how  much  weight  you  shoulder ,  for  yourself ,  for  your  men ,  for  the  lives  you’ve  taken.  the  lives  you  will  take.  your  crew  was  never  meant  to  become  a  rebellion.  the  glory  feels  lost ,  you’re  a  knight  without  chivalry ,  a  wolf  without  teeth.  you  hear  dog  more  than  your  own  name  and  you  bite  back  bile  when  you  look  in  a  mirror ,  but  still ,  you  think ,  you  would  do  it  all  over  again.     the  second  fangs  are  a  happy  crew ,  well  fed  and  housed  and  nothing  like  the  orphans  you  sheltered  so  many  moons  ago.  when  it  starts  to  feel  like  you  have  your  own  sons  of  argos  you  shelf  the  thought.  your  pack  looks  at  you ,  strong  and  fit  and  still  just  a  bit  withered ,  and  laugh  and  cheer.  “yer  getting  old,  canis,”  they  jest ,  when  you  stumble  into  bed.  “hunch - backed  from  all  that  gold  in  yer  pockets.”  you’ve  always  been  wiser  than  most  of  them ,  something  raw  in  your  heart  that  keeps  it  beating  steadfast.  better  you  than  them ,  you  know.  most  men  would  crack  at  what  you’d  seen.  what  you  know.     there’s  good  to  be  found ,  once  you  learn  how  to  look ,  like  the  devotion  of  judgement  ,  a  beauty  in  worship  that  reminds  you  of  all  your  father’s  useless  praying.  peaceful  in  all  it’s  absurdity.  there’s  friendship  in  odd  places ,  with  the  empress  you  serve.  you  find  it  hard  to  trust  in  tyrholm ,  unaccustomed  to  the  politics  of  a  ruling  class ,  the  society  that  never  once  smiled  down  on  a  farm  boy  and  his  widowed  father.  you  want  to  be  wise  and  cunning ,  still  sometimes  you  feel  inadequate  next  to  those  raised  in  education ,  but  the  queen  saw  your  potential  before  anyone  else  in  the  whole  retched  kingdom ,  and  that  has  to  mean  something.  there’s  the  fool ,  a  real  dog  you  sometimes  think ,  who  mirrors  your  old  captain  so  much  it  makes  your  skin  crawl.  they  aren’t  so  bad ,  but  it’s  hard  for  you  to  look  up  at  someone  who  serves  at  the  hand  of  the  king.  you  wonder  if  others  think  the  same  of  you.  fools ,  the  whole  lot  of  them.   you  know  what  the  queen  expects  of  you ,  your  word  is  your  livelihood ,  but  these  things  take  time.  for  now ,  you’re  comfortable ;  your  cup  is  full.  there’s  always  been  something  about  wars  to  come  that  feels  like  home ,  ragged  and  battle  scarred  thing  that  you  are.  and  besides ,  it’s  easier  to  put  out  a  fire  that  burns  inside  your  ribs  than  one  that  swallows  an  entire  kingdom ,  of  this  you  are  certain.

PLOT IDEAS

STRENGTH:   oh  boy  oh  man.  canis  can’t  hold  his  tongue  with  distaste  even  if  he  tried ,  and  he  definitely  doesn’t  try  with  them.  his  anger  often  gets  the  better  of  him  and  i  believe  he  would  try  to  confront  strength  every  chance  he  gets.  he  sees  this  skeleton  as  nothing  more  than  the  king’s  right  hand  ( literally  so  exciting  to  me  that  strength  is  also  a  revolter  and  i’m  sure  neither  of  them  know  they’re  destined  to  work  on  the  same  side  again?? )   and  i  think  he  reflects  a  lot  of  his  own  inadequacies  onto  this  skeleton ,  a  lot  of  his  failure.  with  such  a  tension  relationship  i’d  like  to  see  fights  break  out ..  maybe  even  between  their  own  respective  men  that  they’d  have  to  quell.  far  down  the  line  even  settling  their  differences  and  working  together  as  the  military  leaders  of  a  revolution  because  who  is  better  suited  for  the  job  than  them?  but  it  would  take  a  big  blow  to  canis’s  pride  to  share  such  a  job ,  to  ever  work  alongside  this  skeleton  instead  of  against  them  like  he  always  has.  so  all  around?  here  for  it  all. NINE OF WANDS:   canis  looks  at  them  and  sees  passion  he  once  was  sure  he  felt ,  the  sharp  thing  in  his  gut  that  once  spurred  him  to  forge  his  own  path  in  a  world  that  never  once  showed  him  kindness.  his  scars  are  internal ,  but  they  wear  their  scar  like  a  badge  of  honor ,  at  least  that’s  how  canis  sees  it.  he’d  love  to  not  have  to  kill  the  king  himself ,  even  if  he  would  never  admit  it.  it  means  a  safer  life  for  his  men ,  it  means  being  done  with  tyrholm  and  a  life  of  ease  and  travel ,  everything  he’s  always  wanted  and  never  seemed  to  be  able  to  grasp.  i  wonder  if  them  growing  closer  through  sparring  and  their  ability  to  provide  him  the  best  weapons  he’s  ever  seen  could  change  his  opinion  on  wanting  them  to  kill  the  king  in  a  fit  of  rage??  i  could  see  canis  wanted  to  strategize  with  them ,  in  the  end ,  once  he’s  done  poking  the  bear.  love  this  gift  of  a  connection  a  lot !!!! THE EMPRESS:   definite  ass  kissing  going  on  here.  canis  is  more  than  grateful  he  was  hired  by  her  and  not  the  king ,  though  i  do  think  he  might  resent  them  a  little  for  the  work  the  king  makes  his  company  do.  he  prefers  to  take  jobs  from  them ,  when  ordered ,  though  i  feel  their  relationship  at  this  point  goes  beyond  just  work  like  it  does  with  septimus.  he  trusts  them  and  it  does  help  him  to  sleep  at  night  thinking  he  could  be  serving  their  hand  and  not  septimus’s.  also  entirely  possibly  they  call  him  the  dog  but  with  them  it  doesn’t  feel  like  malice.  he  would  never  dare  disrespect  the  queen ,  especially  one  he  sees  goodness in ,  sees  his  entire  future  in.  would  be  really  interesting  if  canis  even  is  a  little  too  friendly  with  them ,  giving  them  a  hard  time  where  maybe  no  one  else  would  dare  to  do ,  an  annoying  prick  in  her  side  that  she  NEEDS  to  get  what  she  wants. THE HERMIT:   i  think  he  has  a  lot  of  respect  for  the  hermit.  in  ways  that  his  pride  keeps  him  from  seeing  his  similarities  with  strength ,  he  sees  so  much  of  who  he  once  was  in  them.  young ,  making  their  own  way ,  maybe  even  some  of  the  same  rage ,  though  canis  has  no  place  to  put  his  own.  i  feel  like  if  the  respect  was  mutual  they  could  have  a  friendly  relationship ,  canis  even  pushing  advice  onto  them  they  might  not  want  or  need.  if  a  revolution  came  he  would  back  them.  somewhere ,  he  probably  even  sees  them  as  something  of  a  good  king.  canis  doesn’t  trust  them  fully ,  but  he  could  drink  with  them ,  knows  the  second  fangs  would  treat  them  kindly  as  well. THE HIGH PRIESTESS:   canis  is  scared  of  little ,  but  he’s  scared  shitless  of  them.  he  avoids  them  at  all  costs ,  looks  the  other  way  when  they’re  brought  to  the  same  space.  he  doesn’t  talk  kindly  of  necromancers ,  though  maybe  there  is  some  envy  there  he  needs  to  address.  he’s  sure  this  doesn’t  go  unnoticed ,  not  with  all  their  years  of  wisdom.  i  think  it  could  be  really  interesting  though  if  one  of  his  closest  friends  is  killed  on  a  job  and  they  bring  them  back  as  he  watches ,  sees  this  power  first  hand ,  feels  even  a  debt  is  owed  though  none  of  the  fear  is  gone.  a  lot  of  possibilities ,  i  could  see  the  second  fangs  might  be  dying  a  lot  more  often  pretty  soon ... JUSTICE:   the  world  calls  canis  the  dog  because  they  see  him  as  filth ,  as  something  mangey  that  feeds  from  table  scraps  of  the  king ,  but  canis  sees  that  justice  is  the  real  dog.  and  he  pities  him  for  it.  there’s  little  glory  in  the  work  of  a  bodyguard ,  and  maybe  canis  wonders  how  justice  would  fair  in  his  own  company.  never  the  less ,  i  think  they  could  butt  heads  just  as  easily  as  they  could  share  a  pint.  maybe  they’ve  even  fought  in  some  of  the  same  battles ,  know  each  other  from  war  torn  lives  and  have  a  bond  because  of  this.  lots  of  potential  for  both  malice  and  comradery ,  no  matter  what  line  of  the  revolution  they  tread. THE LOVERS:   canis  sees  himself  and  more  in  them.  he  doesn’t  pity  easily ,  has  an  ability  to  find  the  strength  in  even  the  smallest  mouse ,  but  he  pities  the  lovers.  in  some  ways ,  i  think  he  wants  what  they  have ,  longs  for  something  as  fulfilling  as  love ,  and  doesn’t  want  to  see  this  squashed.  every  day  he  gets  closer  to  telling  them  of  the  war  to  come.  i  really  wonder  how  long  he  can  go  without  letting  anything  slip ,  especially  if  they  look  at  him  with  gentleness  or  show  him  great  kindness.  he  feels  they  need  to  prepare ,  like  he  is ,  for  a  future  of  destruction.   THE MOON:   okay okay ..  i  have  two  different  paths  that  i  think  might  be  interesting  with  this  skeleton  depending  on  what  gets  plotted  out.  BUT ..  i could imagine  canis  stumbles  into  their  office  after  being  badly  injured  on  the  job ,  probably  requesting  some  random  herb  because  it  HURTS  and  he’s  WEAK  and  he  needs  it  to  be  DONE  WITH.  one  path  would  lead  to  the  moon  healing  canis ,  and  once  he  discovers  this  ability  he  probably  begs  and  bribes  ( heavily.  the  man  is  too  wealthy  for  his  own  good  now ,  and  what  else  is  he  going  to  buy?  new  boots?  his  work  just  fine. )  them  to  start  visiting  the  second  fangs  around  the  city  to  heal  them  in  secret.  he’ll  do  anything  for  their  ensured  safety.  the  other  path  works  quite  the  same ,  only  with  no  healing ,  just  plants ,  and  he’d  be  very  dependent  on  this  muse  either  way  because  of  the  miracles  they’re  able  to  work  with  his  men.  really  really excited  for  the  possibilities  of  plots  with  this  skeleton. THE TOWER:   a  backstory  plot  for  these  muses  is  calling  my  name??  like  maybe  the  tower  and  canis  had  a  deal  where  the  second  fangs  would  assist  them  and  their  men  on  voyages  and  pillages  for  a  cut  of  the  treasure  when  all  was  said  and  done ,  back  when  the  second  fangs  were  fresher  and  poorer  and  in  desperate  need  of  work.  and  maybe  one  of  the  two  betrayed  the  other  on  one  of  these  trips ,  with  greed  for  treasure  or  something of the like?  things  could  be  tense  between  them  now ,  at  each  other’s  throats.  OR  there  could  have  never  been  a  betrayal  and  they’re  actually  quite  good  friends  who  know  a  little  too  much  about  each  other’s  pasts ,  and  canis  offers  the  tower  company  amongst  the  pack  knowing  he’s  lived  through  canis’s  own  worst  nightmare.  the  terrifying  ordeal  of  being  known.  canis  could  definitely  trust  them  more  than  he  should.  this  one  has  me  really  excited  i  won’t  lie.

CHARACTER DEATH:    canis  would  quite  literally  volunteer  for  this  so  that’s  a  big  yes  from me.

WRITING SAMPLE

THE SELF PARA:  the tent is warm and the burn of the lamplight casts shadows across familiar faces. the second fangs. his pack, he always calls them, like they’re puppies and not vicious mercenaries. canis is most comfortable here, at ease, his usually pin straight posture relaxed despite the job he knows lays ahead of them. it’s not one he’s entirely comfortable with, an uprising in a poor village. always messy, always felt a bit like putting down a weakened calf at the farm. so they drink, to forget the day that lies ahead, the uncountable days behind. the faces. faces. faces, that echo like screams.   he can’t recall who speaks first, but it was likely canis himself, always a little too bold when his body buzzed with liquid courage. “that’s not what i’m asking,” one of his men corrects with a nudge of canis’s shoulder, always aggressive with each other, a pack of wolves nipping at each other’s heels. “the death’s on your hands. but it’s meant to be a good one. worth while.” and the captain’s own eyes twinkle uncharacteristically, perhaps because his inner conscious knows what his mouth does not. that the answer lies waiting at the tip of his tongue, a snarling beast of a target.     “and how much coin are we gonna get fer it?” ajax jests, but canis can see the gold flashing in front of his face, even from across the table. canis barks out a laugh, and they all bang their goblets on the table.   “aye,” in unison. they know each other inside and out, they speak a language strange and foreign. a family with many moons in their pockets. how many knights can say that?   “no coin,” canis finally adds. “no glory. no private dance at the brothel,” eying ren, and there’s another chorus of easy laughter, more aye’s.   “one of the nobles,” lawren grunts, and at first there’s just ringing silence. a paranoia that winds it’s way through the small group. they trust each other with their lives but this .. it’s like blasphemy. it’s revolution uncurling within them, more than just a job, it’s a force awakening. lawren speaks again, gentler, louder. “undying knows they’re all pricks.” and it’s easy again, more aye’s, cups overflowing with wine and ale.   but in between the laughter, he feels the wrench in his gut, the rage that threatens to flare. an allegiance of blood and blind faith  --  it reminds him so much of religion that he squirms. maybe his answer lies in a job, with wicked tendrils wrapped around his neck like a leash. the dog. how wrong would it be to bite the hand that feeds you? “i’d cut off my ring fingers and swear to celibacy to be rid of the fuck all king already,” canis growls, his knuckles white where he grips tight on his cup. and it’s quiet again. when he speaks they listen, they all listen, even the highborn in the castle, like he’s a wave crashing on shore. commanding attention. demanding it.   “you’re spending too much time with the clerics,” ren groans, with a face like a fox, her hair hanging limply in her face. he can’t tell if she’s smiling or frowning, but they’re nodding in agreement. all of them.    “what good’s that sack of shit king, anyway?” lawren chimes in, and then it’s deafening chatter. all canis can do is listen, absorb the pain of his men, the frustration, see himself reflected in their woes. say what any outsider will about his crew, maybe they are all mutts. one mind, one body, one restless spirit. tired of being used, of being chained to a cause that tries to fill deep chasms in bleeding hearts with gold. what is the price of true freedom?   “maybe the end is closer than you think, canis,” a small voice that rises above the others. a girl, mary, raised in the pack, only nearing her seventeenth summer. and she’s a legacy of everything canis has created, the family he wove with bruised and boney fingers. “we haven’t lost a battle, yet.” and she’s right, of course she’s right, whip smart and flea bitten. if there is to be a revolution, aid of the pack would be an immense advantage. it isn’t arrogance with which his men speak. it’s truth.   he has to chew on the suggestion, sharp glass in his mouth with every bite, impossible to digest, but maybe with the backing of his crew .. canis has trouble seeing the future beyond a sack of coins and a full bottle of ale. he knows little of politics, even after all his withered years serving as something of a king himself. it’s overwhelming, and he thinks his whole arm shakes when he raises his goblet. “nasty fuckers,” but his teeth shine in the lamplight, like fangs. like canines. “trying to get your own captain killed.” but when they clink glasses, it feels like a deal has been made, like he owes this death to more than just the queen, like the undying herself is watching.

EXTRAS

VOICE :   canis  has  an  eclectic  sort  of  accent ,  a  combination  of  all  of  the  people  he  met  while  living  on  the  street ,  his  father ,  the  lands  he’s  traveled  and  settled  into  with  his  companies .  he  constantly  sticks  out  as  an  outsider ,  no  matter  where  he  is .  he  doesn’t  mind  this  sense  of  otherness  because  whenever  canis  goes ,  his  family  is  never  far . canis’s  mockblog  can  be  found  HERE his  pinterest  can  be  found  HERE   ( blood  tw )

[incarnateirony]

To the Nonnie that left a 5 parter in my inbox:

I am not going to post your nonsense.

I am not going to circulate your redefinitions, your new goalposts, your explicit deletion and argumentation against a far larger bulk of openly identified bisexual people, and your raging. I have already addressed these, and they boil down to “You’re literally destructive to the LGBT battle while you think you’re being progressive.”

I am not going to be part in circulation people’s own manufactured dialogues they put between their own ears anymore.

You are not promised platform. You are not promised my inbox. You are not promised any specific performance from LGBT creators within the demographic they are writing the text that would be representative in if you have paid *zilch* attention to their working conditions.

In fact, you literally don’t even get to fucking pretend you’re here about representation while *overtly denying the words, sociopolitical representation commentary, and working conditions of the LGBT creators you’re hot dogging right now*. Half the fucking fight is also behind the scenes GETTING LGBT CREATORS CREATING, even if at times they’re limited. 

Representation isn’t just on screen, diversity in writing crews behind scene is the fight, and if you pretend it isn’t just to gang bang LGBT creators for not performing how you want, without *ANY* fucking human consideration for why things are the way they are? *You, deep down, don’t give a shit about representation, or production team diversity, or LGBT creators -- you give a shit about getting exactly what you want exactly the way you want without even recognizing that may not be universal to LGBT people as proven by my notifs right now -- and largely with the reductionist point of wanting to win against trolls on the internet at which point YOU HAVE LEFT THE REPRESENTATION WHEELHOUSE (x); or if you do truly believe what some rando -- probably a woman, rather than the LGBT male POV -- said, you need to DRAMATICALLY RE-ALIGN AND CONSIDER YOUR POV*

“The whole idea of representation” that you have is close, but still a made up thing. It’s what perfect representation is. It’s not what the battle is. It’s never been what the battle is.

So just because you’ve dreamed up, say, a GA opposed to you, while the GA openly fucking talks about all this shit (right down to “marriage/dark point in the romance/divorce/breakup), on non-fansite major news publications, rather than fangirls that are scared of losing their website traffic in this fucking bog of bitterness, liars, extortionists and tinhats?

It doesn’t fucking matter.

Text is text is text. Queer text is queer text no matter how upset you get on if it was *visible* enough for you. That will continue to stay true. It will continue to be true when you make GA monsters in your head that don’t exist anywhere in reality. It will continue to stay true when you want to argue with a clout monkey that doesn’t even believe what they say. It’s going to be true. 

It’s fine to want more visible text. That IS the nature of the fight. The nature of the fight is NOT deleting low visibility text. And i’m going to ask you to PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS FUCKING HOLY, ACTUALLY EDUCATE YOURSELF ON LGBT MEDIA HISTORY AND THE REPRESENTATION BATTLE.

Not just a random link convenient to someone’s article that vague blogs the general history. Actually educate yourself if you’re going to get in this fight because HOLY SHIT the children that have tried have *MISERABLY FUCKED UP* and then quite unfortunately normalized that fucking up, that everybody thought it was the new brand of woke because of herd mind.

If you’ve internalized enough phobia from the abusive manipulations within this fandom that you’ve convinced yourself bisexual people are *SO DAMN INVISIBLE* that nobody gets what’s going on while the GA is all “SHIT MAN THEY GOT A DIVORCE T_T”, that’s a you thing.

I am not your therapist. I am not your mother. I can not *force* you to get in touch with what the GA, or the creatives, or anyone else has said on anything related to this content, because I’ve been blogging it all and here you are, clearly not reading any of it. I can not force you to stop erasing LGBT text you, personally, nonniemcnonface, don’t like the visibility of. BUT I CAN STRONGLY ENCOURAGE IT.

But nobody owes you anything. Not my inbox. Not the platform on my blog. Not *your, specific, preferred, very precise point of view*. When you are a middle aged LGBT cis man raised in the 80s in patriarchal environments, and/or hold a great deal of conversation explicitly with the demographic and its representation in question, and by that I mean not 1, 2, 3, or even just 10 LGBT men within a step of that demographic. Because that’s the story of the character being told. It’s not *your* story. It’s a story you may resonate with depending how close to it you are. But *that* is what representation is: creating a universal platform of diverse, queer stories until it is saturated into the media to such an extent you *will* eventually find someone that ticks all your demographic boxes when you turn on your TV (be that race, gender, sexuality, religion, disability, or whatever else.) Demanding everyone’s unilateral demands be met when they aren’t even in the intersectional demographic isn’t representation. It’s tokenization. It’s the exact same way we end up with stereotyped gays to try to fit everyone’s “visibility” wants. It’s why there IS such a problem with LGBT male and, most explicitly, bisexual male representation. You are making half of the problem unto yourselves.

Until then, you don’t get to talk over those people. No matter how many anons you send thinking it sounds *gr8* because you haven’t read the entire discussion, you just got *mad* at part of it and didn’t want to introspect. That? That’s a problem.

Let’s say you work at Subway and they say you can only put 6 olives on a footlong without charging extra. Your boss vaguely holds that up but doesn’t micro count your olives so sometimes you give them 7 or 8 because you feel bad, and you want to give as much as you can to the customers. But if corporate notices somehow you’re burning through a shit ton of olives, it doesn’t matter what your intent is. It doesn’t matter if your manager agrees. If corporate comes down and tells you to stop putting down extra olives, you have a choice to completely quit/be fired from making sandwiches for people or to comply. Or, at least, to wait long enough to squeak new extra olives in.

*WelComE tO thE coRporAte chAIN and AduLT reALitY* -- Bobo sitting here piling as many olives on as he can until magically suddenly stopping for a year at a time and then y’all are bitching because he didn’t put the whole assed olive tree on your sandwich. When you get up to the counter, and start throwing a goddamn shitfit, you are now Karen. Don’t be Karen.

And no, Karen demanding that if she can't have as many olives as she wants then nobody should get any olives and to stop putting down olives is not anywhere in touch with functional reality.

And UNTIL you learn to pay attention to what the LGBT cis male raised in the 80s middle aged author on crew says on *this specific topic*, who was writing on sociopolitical LGBT representation issues probably since you were in *diapers*, and the methodology and struggles therein? You don’t really get a say. Once you’re able to sociopolitically contend with what that very author postured about representation *16 years ago* and have an equally well addressed set of points, then you can at least hold debate with his ideas. Until then, this is “WHAT I WANT BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH”

Go away.

Like god fucking damn Bobo “I stand in front of ICE walls”, “fuck every candidate but Bernie sanders” Berens, highly progressive left wing sociopolitical queer author still fucking understood incrementalization 16 years ago can you all fucking CATCH UP?

He didn’t fucking like it, but he understood it. He addressed it as a necessary evil that has been formative in our process and progress and expansion in visibility. You don’t have to like it either, but just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean you can’t *understand* why it works like that. Just like “text that isn’t visible enough for you is still text”, “real world issues and methods you don’t like are still real even if you don’t like them.” Bobo got it. Your turn. Cuz he doesn’t have to like his working conditions. But he can work through them the best he can. And addressed this many moons before ever writing his first SPN episode that was the first recorded time a showrunner told them to lean into it being played like lovers. Yeah. That? That was Bobo’s episode. In fact, 99% of the shit y’all uwu about is Bobo’s. Steve. Collette. The mixtape. The breakup. Gosh golly gee it’s almost like he’s fighting his ass off to tell you a story in what incremental methods he’s allowed and you’re all just trying to fuck him for it. Hell even this episode in question, Jeremy’s, Jeremy went out of his way to thank Bobo for all his guidance and help.

We’ve made progress via incrementalization, and just because you can name a few other shows that have entirely different bankrolling, marketing, distributions, demographics, that HAvE gAy shIT doesn’t mean shit. You don’t think every product a store sells comes from the same production line in the same premises with the same materials and the same target audience when they sell a wide brand of merchandise, do you? I promise you Great Value macaroni is managed and distributed differently than LED light bulbs and bicycles. These are not the same products.

The presumptuous, self-serving, personalized and franky manufactured wants and demands cloaked in a representation suit while choosing to do active harm to what progress we have -- intentionally ignorant to the actual representation battle and imagining what it is, and is like, and is about -- literally talking over the long-standing voicebox of an LGBT creator making the content who has been ENGAGED. IN THIS FIGHT. SINCE MOST OF YALL. WERE IN KINDERGARTEN? It’s fucking gross. It’s manipulative. It’s abusive. Maybe you’ve been manipulated into not understanding that, and you really believe what you say, I really don’t fucking know. But I do know you need a HUGE crash course in HOW THIS ALL WORKS and WHAT THE TARGET POINTS AND METHODOLOGICAL TARGETS ARE.

There is no magic clap on clap off bullshit. That isn’t how. It works. If it worked like that, we wouldn’t HAVE a fucking fight. (Imagine thinking that critically. Please, I beg you.)

[eldritchsurveys]

887.

5k Survey XIV

651. Do you think that it would be a good idea if people served in the army, navy or air force for a while before they were allowed to vote? >> I don’t think it would be a good idea at all. In fact, I think that’s a terrible idea. Just utterly awful. Absolutely deplorable. Hate it. Next. 652. If you were required to do this to vote, would you? >> Of course not. I’d literally rather just leave the country, as insanely difficult as that is. 653. Do people often give you weird looks? >> I don’t know if people’s looks are meant to be perceived as “weird” or not. I’d prefer people not look at me at all, really. 654. Do you like Japanese cooking? >> I’ve greatly enjoyed what I’ve had of it. There are some things I still haven’t had a chance to try and really want to, like yakisoba and mentaiko. 655. Do you care for stray animals? >> No.

656. Which animated movies have you seen and what did you think of them: A Charlie Brown Christmas: I did not see this. A Garfield Halloween: Or this. The Secret of Nimh: Or this... The Last Unicorn: Okay, I haven’t seen any of them. Next. The original Lord of the Rings cartoons: 657. Are you ambidextrous (equally good at using both hands)? >> No. 658. Do you always say; “bless you” after someone sneezes, or do you hesitate? >> I usually don’t say anything, actually. I don’t understand why I should (”because everyone else does” doesn’t fly with me). 659. If you and your friends could go away for 2 days over Halloween weekend where would you go? >> New Orleans again, probably. It was so much fun last year. 660. Which of these animated movies have you seen and what did you think of them: Watership Down: As the Wind Blows: Grave of the Fireflies: Oh, I’ve seen this! I thought it was lovely. How the Grinch Stole Christmas: Spirited Away: I saw this a long time ago so I don’t remember it so well, but I do remember it being very imaginative. 661. Do you feel that society is male dominated, female dominated, or neutral? >> I don’t know, nor does it particularly concern me at this point. 662. What words offend you? >> Well, the N-word. 663. They’re just words. Can you get over it? >> I don’t see why I should. It’s literally a word meant to cause harm, I think that’s pretty significant. 664. Have you ever looked into different religions? >> Of course, that’s one of my favourite things to do. 665. Which ones have you looked into? >> Multiple forms of Christianity by default, since it’s everywhere anyway. Judaism of course, it’s my fave (particularly Reform, obviously). Buddhism, a bit of Hinduism, Wicca, Satanism, bit of Zoroastrianism, Hellenic Reconstructionism, peeked into the door of African Traditional Religion (strange I didn’t peek harder than that, I know, but feeling alienated from one’s own genetic history is a bitch), various others in passing. 666. What do you think of Satanism as a religion? >> I think it’s neat. 667. Do you like it better when your classes are taught sitting in rows or sitting in a circle? >> --- 668. Have you ever read your own tarot cards? >> Many times. 669. Which ones do you like better, the three old star wars movies or the 2 new ones? >> Damn, remember when there were only five Star Wars movies lmao... 670. If you scream in outer space does it make a sound? >> From what I understand, space is a vacuum, so whether the sound itself is created or not is one thing (that’s like the tree in the forest argument at that point), but you probably wouldn’t hear it as such. Don’t quote me, though, I might have misinterpreted what I learned. 671. If you saw The Queen of the Damned did you want to be a vampire/Goth afterwards? >> I mean, I was already a goth (and I think I was already in the vampyre scene) by the time I saw that movie. 672. If you saw SLC Punk did you want to be punk afterwards? >> No.  673. What is your favorite zombie movie? >> Shaun of the Dead was pretty good. I generally don’t like zombie movies. 674. Best kids birthday party: ceramics, chuck-e-cheese, roller rink, bowling, sleep over, movie theater >> --- 675. What were your parties like when you were a kid? >> ...Didn’t have any. 676. Best teen (about 15-16) birthday party: ceramics, chuck-e-cheese, roller rink, bowling, sleep over, movie theater, house party, catered in a hall, restaurant, family trip, concert >> --- 677. What are/were your 15-16 year old parties like? >> ... 678. Best 18th birthday party: ceramics, chuck-e-cheese, roller rink, bowling, sleep over, movie theater, house party, catered in a hall, restaurant, family trip, concert, club, pool hall, college party >> --- 679. If you are 18 what was your party like? >> I don’t even want to think about what turning eighteen was like, thanks. 680. Best 21st birthday party: ceramics, chuck-e-cheese, roller rink, bowling, sleep over, movie theater, house party, catered in a hall, restaurant, family trip, concert, club, pool hall, college party, bar, Atlantic city/Las Vegas trip >> --- 681. If you saw The Craft were you interested in wicca/paganism/magic afterwards? >> No, The Craft wouldn’t have put me on to that. Like, I see how it happened with so many other people, but like... I’m pretty sure that movie didn’t end well, from what little I remember, lmao. 682. What are your top 3 priorities? >> *shrug* 683. If you saw fight club did you want to get into a fistfight afterwards? >> I did see Fight Club, finally, but I wasn’t really interested in the physical violence aspect of it. The bit about Tyler Durden and the Narrator being the same person was way more interesting. 684. What is your favorite smell? >> --- 685. Give everything below a humor rating (1 = laugh your ass off, 2 = lol, 3 = smile, 4 = lame, 5 = not funny, 6 = offensive): People falling I’m not going to do this. Context and delivery are generally what makes things funny to me, no matter what it is, and that’s that. Rape jokes  Sarcastic comments  Blonde jokes  Dirty jokes God/religion jokes  Long-ass jokes  Death jokes  Pain/sickness jokes  Animals doing cute stuff  Bodily functions  Knock jokes  Ethnic jokes  Puns Ironic situations 685. If you saw Cruel Intentions did you want to have lots of meaningless sex afterwards? >> LOL fuck no. I adore that trashy ass movie, though. 686. Do you get at least three hugs per day? >> No thanks. 687. What should someone never say to you/call you if they want to remain on your good side? >> That’s a pretty long list, to be honest. 688. If you saw Trainspotting did you want to do drugs afterwards? >> I don’t think so. I really want to rewatch Trainspotting but I can’t find it on streaming anywhere. It’s so annoying. Maybe I’ll suck it up and rent it (and the sequel) at some point. 689. Do movies have a great influence on you? >> I mean, sure. I’ve seen a lot of movies, and a fair number of them have been emotionally or spiritually or cognitively affecting. 690. Do you have a favorite reality TV show? >> No. 691. Are there certain roles that people are pressured to play in society or can they basically do whatever they want? >> Yes. 692. How does the 2004 Dawn of the Dead remake compare to the original movie? >> I don’t know, I haven’t seen either one. 693. Have you ever held a magnifying glass over an insect to burn it? >> I never got to do that. I’m still curious about it, and I swear one day I’m going to try it, lmao. 694. Have you ever pulled the wings off a fly, butterfly or any other insect? >> No. 695. What would you think of a guy (if you’re into guys) or a girl (if you’re into girls) who wanted to take you to the park to feed the birds and look at the turtles and fish in the water on a date? >> I’m fine with going to the park, that sounds like a good time. I love parks. 696. Do you use public pools? >> No. 697. Do you use public bathrooms? >> Sometimes. I usually don’t have to, though. Unless I’m at a bar, lol. 698. Do you use public showers? >> Nooooooo. 699. How old will you be in 17 years? >> 50. 700. Would it effect you at all if you knew that a very large meteor was headed towards earth that would impact in 17 years? >> Of course it would affect me, because I do hope to live past 50. But, hey. Them’s the breaks.

[alleiradayne]

There’s Something Strange A Reader/Sam Winchester Series

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part III - The Inspiration

Summary: Sleep can’t shake her writer’s block, and so Y/N goes wandering for inspiration. Warnings/Tags: Even more fluffy flirting, kissing, sort of dirty thoughts Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 2,021 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me.

All was decidedly not well again.

Far from it, the moment Y/N had fallen asleep, everything had gone terribly wrong. Nightmare after nightmare kept any rest from her. Worse was waking up unable to recall any of those dreams. If only she has managed to hold on to one of them, her book would write itself.

Instead, she ate breakfast as she stared at the blank page in her notebook lying open on her desk. The longer she stared, the fewer coherent thoughts formed. And the longer she struggled against that impenetrable barrier, the more she returned to the single constant figure in her mind, with his long hair, broad shoulders, and killer smile.

Fuck.

The notebook snapped shut as she flicked the cover, then it thumped into the draw of the desk where she shoved it. A large bite consumed the last of her toast as she stood from her desk, strode to her door, and headed down the hallway.

If the mansion had managed to inspire her earlier, maybe it could do so again. The heavily furnished hallway to her right loomed strangely empty despite its copious décor. The end of her eastern wing of the house lay that way, so instead, she turned to her left and headed for the main staircase.

Something about the house had gripped her imagination upon arrival yesterday. That much had been evident the moment she had attempted to start her novel that afternoon. And while the people had interested her at dinner, only one of them continued to permeate the cloudy suffuse that comprised her rambling thoughts: Sam Winchester.

Instead of fighting her instincts, she submitted to her wandering mind and followed her feet. Through various hallways she traipsed, no clear path determined, and her thoughts trailed in tow. Off its leash, her subconscious found its way back to the events of the previous night. Dinner, while pleasant, had served up little besides food. Her educated guesses as to the pasts of the other guests had all been spot-on. Even Sam and Dean’s antiquer disguise had been a narrow miss. That had been their intent, after all.

But what had surprised her was Sam's warning on the heels of his apparent admiration. As she strolled through another gaudy corridor of the mansion, her fingers itched, suddenly eager to touch. Why the warning? With five other guests, how would any detective single out her fingerprints? And for what crime?

Y/N found herself on a sunny patio after several minutes of traipsing. Golden rays of warm sunlight angled across a wrought iron table painted white to match the pale stone upon which it stood. Myriad of planters and pots bearing lush autumnal flowers revealed the source of the previous night’s centerpiece at dinner. And in the far corner stood a tall sculpture of a robed woman bearing a pot from which water flowed.

Detectives. The worst kind, Sam had said. While he had initially seemed irritated by Dean's drunken admission, Sam had not evaded her when she had prodded further. Homicide then? Special Victims? Cold case?

A derisive snort echoed off the glass of the patio walls as Y/N turned on her heel and stomped from the room. How had he managed to distract her so? Sure, he was easy on the eyes. But a romance novelist she was not. Perish the thought, she had never entertained the idea of writing such a book. She wouldn't even know where to start.

Not that she knew where to start yet another paranormal thriller either.

As she traced her steps back through the mansion, a gnawing worry crawled up her spine and settled at the base of her head, fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. His warning, while subtle enough, set off all sorts of alarms. She could use that. It may not be a bad place to start. Foreboding warnings typically hooked readers. The curiosity to see how it all played out motivated the human mind like little else. The possibility of danger looming around every corner thrilled. But that road, that winding wandering path with its ominous tone and obfuscated truth demanded the reader’s attention.

If Sam's warning started the story, then what would end it? Don't touch anything. What if a protagonist did touch something? The final piece to their puzzle. It needed work. But at the very least, it was the start to and possibly the plot of a proper story.

A familiar baritone dragged her up from the depths of her thoughts, his curse permeating the fog. Y/N found herself outside of the library, two large dark oak doors framing the wide entrance. She leaned over the threshold with a careful look to either side, then entered when she found it empty but for copious books in a vast array of shelves.

She heard it again, another curse hissed under his breath. A part of her wondered what anger might look like on his too pretty face. Probably no less attractive. Maybe even more so. Something about that thought, about the library and finding him there, broke a fine sheen of sweat out across the back of her neck, and so when she rounded the last set of shelves baring the weight of old writing supplies to find Sam sitting at a table laden with books, she hesitated.

That single beat of uncertainty allowed Sam the time he needed to drag his eyes from his book and up her entire form, drinking her in from heeled feet to coiffed hair. That look, the wide-eyed gaze and gaping lips sucked the breath right from her lungs. Christ, how had anyone ever survived his stare? Or that squirm in his seat as he openly ogled her? How she had ever resisted the urge to shove his books aside, pin him to the table, and ride him until she passed out, she’d never know.

A thick swallow preceded his greeting. “Y/N,” he breathed. “Sleep well?”

Ruined. All her plans for the weekend had been ruined by that one little question. It was then that she gave up on writing about her beloved protagonist inheriting a haunted house. Darling Natalie would instead be meeting Sam Winchester in said house and together they would solve a mystery while they fell in love.

Romance novel stigma be damned.

“I ah… yeah, I did,” she stammered. “Slept alright. Do you… mind?” she asked as she pointed at the table.

Sam glanced at his books, then shut several as he gathered them up and placed them on the chair to his left. “Please,” he added as he motioned to the chair in front of him.

Measured steps bared her to the chair where she sat, her eyes never leaving his. “How’s your… research? Investigation? What are you doing?”

Either Sam played everything close to the chest, or his detective’s nature forced him to behave that way. He slid the open book in his hands to the side, just far enough where Y/N couldn’t make out the text. “Investigation. And it’s… slow. But we’re making progress.”

“Where’s Dean?”

He smirked at that. “I could give you his number if you’re interested.”

“Only if I get yours, too,” she retorted. “You know. In case I find anything.”

His chair slid closer with a rough pull at the seat as Sam leaned near her, one forearm propped on his thigh. “I thought you said you were writing a novel?”

As much as she wanted to bite back, Y/N held her tongue. “I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m not looking for things to write about.”

“Find anything interesting so far?” he asked with a coy smile.

“Maybe,” she said as she crossed her legs and dropped her heel to dangle from her toe. “Plenty of inspiration. All those fascinating people at dinner gave me plenty to work with.”

His eyes snapped to her bobbing foot, and before she could move, he pointed and asked, “Would you… do you wear heels all the time?”

Strangely attractive men in stranger mansions investigating murders and offering foot massages. That had to make it into the book somehow. She slipped her shoe from her toe and it thumped to the floor. Deft fingers enveloped her foot as Sam set it on his thigh and rolled his thumbs through the knots in her sole.

“I usually wear heels, yes,” she replied.

“That’s pretty rough on your feet,” he started, “compromises bone structure. Invites fractures.”

She laughed at that. “And women are the weaker sex.”

“Men that don’t wear heels are the weaker sex,” Sam stated. “I could never wear shoes like that. Not in my line of work.”

There. A crack in the foundation. “Have you chased many monsters, Sam?”

His thumbs faltered as his mouth gaped. “Who said I chase monsters?”

That had not been the reaction she expected. “You’re a detective, right? Cold cases? The guys they call when nobody else can figure it out?” She flexed her foot when he continued to stare. “Sam?”

He shook his head as though confused. “Uh yeah, sorry. But no, I haven't chased many…” he paused with an averted glance, “… many criminals. You sound like you know a bit about investigations. What sort of books do you write?”

She ignored his casual shift in topics. “Paranormal thrillers.”

His hands froze as all the color drained from his face. “What?”

“You know. Like haunted houses,” she started as she casually gestured. “Vengeful spirits, cursed objects, demons, angels, religion, the occult. All of it,” she rattled. “I’ve got nine books on the market and I started the tenth this morning. For the most part. I think I’ve got plenty of inspiration with this house and the guests to come up with some sort of plot.”

She had rattled on so intently that Y/N missed his gaping mouth and green complexion. He remained that way, still as stone and staring until she slipped her foot from his hands. “I… think I should leave you to your research.”

With her foot returned to her shoe, Y/N stood and turned for the door, but only took half a step before the warmth of Sam’s massive hand slipped into her palm. He hadn’t grabbed her, hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t even stood. When she turned over her shoulder, she found him seated and gazing up at her as if seeing her for the first time all over again.

“Help me?”

Her eyes snapped back to the table where she found his book shut. In the dark leather of the cover, gold inlay emblazoned the titled across the top in a curling script.

The Haunting of Hill Manor: A History.

“You’re not a detective.”

Sam shook his head but said nothing as her eyes flicked from the book to him and back.

“And this is Hill Manor.”

Sam nodded.

“And it’s haunted.”

He scowled as he glanced at the book. “The simplest answer is yes.”

Did he expect her to take him seriously? She smiled a crooked smirk as she asked, “So, does that make you Egon in this operation?”

His laughter burst from his lips in a rush of air as Sam clutched his stomach and stood. “Only if that makes Dean Dr. Venkmen.”

Y/N neared him, leaving little space between them. “He seems like the type,” she started. “But you don’t seem as… oblivious as Egon.”

“If you ask me to fix your computer, I'm gonna spend a little extra time under your desk,” he teased.

“I expected no less,” she said.

“But only if you agree to help me,” he added.

He wasn't joking. His tone, his intense hazel stare, his towering frame did all the dirty work his courtesies avoided. “It's all real, then? Ghosts, curses, dark magic?” she asked.

“That's just the tip of the iceberg,” Sam started. “I wouldn't ask for a civilian’s help if we weren't desperate, but if anyone finds this thing we're looking for before we do…”

Y/N considered herself an expert on expressions and emotions. Describing both required a deft hand and intimate knowledge of the human psyche. Though she had described the sorrow in another’s eyes time and time again, she had never seen such pain first-hand. Not quite like how Sam harbored guilt and despair. That look alone told her more than anything he might ever say to her; he had seen things he would never forget, had experienced traumas that had broken him over and over. Those eyes and their desperation said more than she ever could in any of her books.

“I'll help you, Sam,” she started. “If it means we have a chance to save these people, and I don't ever have to see that look on your face ever again, I'll help you for the rest of my life.”

A familiar, yet long-forgotten warmth blossomed deep in her center and spread like wildfire through her entire body as Sam hauled her into him and enveloped her in his massive arms. Her lips found his in her haste to soothe her own sorrow, and at first, he hesitated. But then the smooth heat of his hand cupped her jaw, fingers delving into her hair and Y/N melted into him as he returned her kiss.

“Hey!”

As though struck, Sam tore from her and leaped back a step. Y/N whipped about and found the source of their interruption at the corner of a bookshelf where Dean loomed out of the shadows. Heavy boots thumped across the hardwood floor as he strode up to them both, and then he growled, “Find anything yet?”

Sam regarded Y/N before stuttering his response. “I might have a lead… from this.” He grabbed the history text from the table and handed it to Dean.

When he took it from Sam, Dean glared at Y/N, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. When she returned his glare, she planted her feet and folded her arms across her chest. No, there would be no scaring her off. Not with that pitiful excuse for intimidation.

“Not a civilian?” he asked her.

She looked at her watch. “As of five minutes ago, no.”

“Great,” Dean spat as he flipped his hand at Sam. “What were you—”

“She writes paranormal thrillers,” he interrupted. “She might be able to help. We need all the help we can get.”

Dean looked from Sam to her, then back to Sam. “Does she—”

“Iron, salt, and cleansing rituals for your everyday spirits that are stuck in between,” she interjected. “Might need a little Latin to force out a vengeful spirit. That’s what you’re dealing with here, right? A haunted mansion?”

Dean opened the book to Sam’s marker and scanned the page. “Not really.”

Y/N shook her head as she asked, “What do you mean? The house is either haunted or it’s not.”

He shoved the book into her hands and pointed at an artist's portrait of a woman at a writing table holding a pen to a piece of parchment.

“It’s not haunted yet,” Dean started, “but if we don’t figure out what item that woman attached herself to before she shows up, someone else will find it, and everyone in this fucking house is gonna die.”

Y/N took the book from him and stared as Dean turned to walk away. Sam remained by her side as he shuffled a step closer and placed a gentle hand on the small of her back.

The portrait was that of a woman in her thirties sitting at an ornately carved writing desk. She held a distinctly detailed fountain pen in her right hand, and a line of her neat script curled along the top of the parchment.

But that mattered least of all. The writing desk at which the woman sat stood beside a window in an all too familiar room.

“Oh fuck.”

Dean’s boots thudded to a halt. As he turned around, Sam leaned over her shoulder for a closer look at the page as he asked, “What is it?”

She pointed at the window, its gleaming rays of sunshine angled across the desk, and spoke.

“That’s my room.”

If you want to be tagged for this series specifically, send me an ask or a DM! If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE MASTER LIST

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The Whole Thang:

@atc74  @hannahindie @bevans87  @meganwinchester1999  @plaided-ani-on-hiatus  @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm  @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs  @seenashwrite  @canadianspnhunter  @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27  @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride  @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons @karouwinchester

There’s Something Strange:

@peridottea91 @amanda-teaches

[maren-reads-books]

The Raven King by Nora Sakavic

With the Foxes having been hit with a major loss at the very beginning of the season, they have to learn how to cope with one less teammate while preparing for a perilous season. As they familiarize themselves with a less than ideal lineup they prepare themselves as best they can for their first ever game against the Edgar Allen Ravens. With pasts starting to come back to haunt the team they work their way though and try to push past it. As they work hard to succeed they grow closer than ever before and reveal things that never would have come to light if Neil wasn't on the team to stir things up and break boundaries. As they struggle and conquer together on the court and in their lives, the start to become a united front only for the events of the Christmas banquet finally force them apart. Will the team be able to survive or will they crumble under the pressure of their pasts?

--SPOILERS--

This review is a bit long so bear with me. I feel like this book is where the story finally starts to pick up and get interesting, more so later in the book but this book is definitely it. First off, i can't imagine the way the team is feeling after Seth’s death, they all have so many emotional problems (I’m looking at you Neil) that it must've been hard even if they weren't grieving. And I get it, Seth was an asshole and nobody really liked him but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't care about his death, I especially felt bad for Allison, she didn't deserve that. But I think in the long run (not to sound mean) Seth’s death helped bring the team closer together. And then in the midst of all this chaos, Andrew gets a call, the fateful call that will pretty much set up the entire book. It was great to learn more about the twins and their rivalry, but realizing that they’ve really only known each other for a couple of years was crazy, I can't imagine living most of your life not knowing someone was out there wearing your face. And yet they were both destined for crappy childhoods, like how much was fate messing with them huh? And then the decision to let Andrew be off his meds and play for an entire game comes along, that surprised me, but of course my crazy short blond son is willing to play along. And it works, but I'm sure Andrew felt horrible, but they won and that's what really matters, kind of. I know its not super important to the story but this part is important to me, they take Neil shopping. Finally! It seems crazy to me that he’s so resistant to people buying him anything, even something as simple as clothes, which is something that really needed to happen cause jorts? Really Neil? And the Andrew buys them matching phones?! So cute, also foreshadowing. Then the fated fall banquet arrives, where Neil starts to dig his grave deeper and deeper. First we find out that Dan used to be a stripper, but I’m so proud that she’s not ashamed fo what she did and isn’t going to let any stupid Raven get under her skin. And then we meet Jean, who of course goes on to list some of Neil’s other identities and therefore scare the shit out of him. I hated that Neil and subsequently Kevin found out that they knew who he was with all those people around, I can't imagine how that made him feel. And then after a little bit of antagonization from Riko, Neil snaps and gives his iconic, “You know, I get it” speech, like damn. One side of me is like ‘do you want to make things a little bit worse for yourself hunny?’ and the other side of me is like ‘yas go off on this abusive chauvinist asshole’ and then they tell Neil that really all along he wasn't running from his dad, he was running from Riko’s family and it's just like *boom* mic dropped. Again I can't imagine how truly afraid Neil was for his life at that very moment. His conversation about it with Kevin hit me hard, Neil’s been on the run for years, having someone know who he truly is must be the worst feeling ever, but he chooses to stay anyway, my boy has immense courage and probably a death wish but I'm so glad that that's what he chose. One thing I love the most about this book is the fact that Neil starts to form friendships, actual genuine bonds with real good people. It's crazy that he's never had real friends before but I’m glad that he's friends with these people, they're great in a messed up family dynamic kind of way. Learning the rest of the twins story from Nicky made me appalled, what kind of mother, let alone person could give up her kids change her mind but not have enough love or decenty in her heart to take both? Their story hurt my heart like you could not believe. And then Nicky implying that Andrew killed their mother(which he did but whatever) like damn, another mic drop. And then the topic completely changes form murder to ‘hey Nicky why are you gay?’ and Nicky’s answer is just hilariously on point for his character, the way he talks about Erik is just so adorable, I wish we got to see more of Erik in this series. But Nicky’s backstory is so sad! His parents are awful and I can't imagine what he went through before he truly started to love himself. Then their first game against the Ravens arrives. I was so nervous, I was literally sitting on the edge of my seat during this game. And even though they lost I was very proud of them, but I really just wanted to slit Riko’s throat. I hate him with all of my five foot one self. And then its Halloween and Neil (my magical boy) convinces the entire team to go out for drinks together, what an absolute miracle. But it's not all rainbows and sunshine, quite yet. Remember that call that Andrew got at the beginning of the book, well turns out the cop has come for a visit, how wonderful. But it's a very vague scene which again, is vital later in the book. But then we learn about Matt’s backstory. Like wow, lots of tragic backstories in this book amiraight? After Halloween Neil and Renee finally have in my opinion, a much needed heart to heart, or as close to it as two severely damaged people can get. And we get another backstory, wow, I think we're checking pretty much everyone off the list. Also I want to meet Kevin's girlfriend! I want to meet her now! Then another phone call that will set up the rest of this book. Nicky’s parents call to invite them over for Thanksgiving. What a mess, but Andrew, Kevin, Aaron, Nicky, and Neil all pile into the car and take a ride down to see the parents. But not before stopping by the Exy store to get Neil a new racket, which is also another crazy important detail. This book flows so nicely, even if the events that occur aren't nice, everything connects so seamlessly, it's perfect. And then we meet the parents, right off the bat I knew I would hate them and that they were only going to cause problems. Religion is okay, like Nicky says, it is an interpretation of faith, but people like Nicky's parents aren't willing to view it like that and that makes them dangerous, turns out I was right. Luring Andrew to Drake was cruel and horrifying. I hope they get sent away. The way Aaron defended his brother though, that kind of passion for someone you barely know is something that runs in the twins blood and that's the connection that will be vital to repairing their brotherhood. The way Neil tried to comfort Andrew, all that boy wants is to protect him. The description of Andrew being too high to even really process what had just happened to him, and the description of his laugh, it was enough to make me feel nauseous, it was such a descriptive and visceral scene. I don't agree with Aaron being arrested but whatever. But the fact that, after Andrew found out he was being sent away, he had enough trust in Neil to give Kevins care to him, like wow. That's such a big step in the right direction for their relationship. And I'm so gosh dang happy that Andrew is being taken off his meds, if they'd left him on them after what he went through I would have a serious problem. But Neil honey, your racket was used as a murder weapon and you want it back?! Like seriously? My boy needs some help, but he gets a new one so it's fine. Neil’s mission to fix Aaron and Andrew’s relationship? Such pure intentions for a boy with such a broken heart but it really shows how much he cares for these people, he has such a caring heart and has never deserved anything that he's gotten. The scene on page 269, yes I put the page number in there because it's important, when Neil asks the team if they are actually friends. Ugh, my heart did a little song and dance, I’m so happy that my broken boy has friends, and I’m glad that Aaron gets to keep Katelyn around, I like her, she's good for him. But the Christmas banquet arrives and doesn't bring any yuletide cheer with it. First things first, Riko admitted to being the cause of Seth's death, like wow didn't think that was going to happen but he's a cocky asshole so I really should have expected it. Second, he admits to setting up the thing with Drake and then tells Neil that he can have Andrew tortured/raped at his rehabilitation center if Neil doesn't cooperate. And so Neil sets off to Evermore for Christmas break, pretty much sealing his fate meanwhile the only one that knows is Kevin and Kevin can’t say a thing to stop him. I was literally screaming at my book by this point begging him not to go, but he's a stubborn little asshole. Okay, the fact that Riko put him in Kevin's place, was super symbolic of Riko’s insane personality. Then we find out that Kevin’s dad is Wymack? Like, uh, definitely didn't see that one coming, like never in a million years would I have expected that. I can't believe that they beat Neil to a pulp and then expected him to play? They're literally torturing this boy just to get him to play a sport, then Riko pulls out his knife and gets to work, and like Neil says Riko is “one seriously fucked up individual.” And then he’s home, honestly I think it works well that his time at Evermore wasn’t in the book, it makes it feel more real, I don't know how to describe it but it makes it feel like Neil tried to block everything out and then everything comes rushing back once he’s home. The fact that Wymack dropped everything to come and get him really goes to how how much he cares for these kids, they’re his family. Then coach offered to patch him up which was really nice of him but when Neil saw his tattoo and was literally ready to carve it of his face with a kitchen knife, you really get a peek into how much damage they truly did to him and how much he really cares for this team, that he's willing to put himself in danger just in order to stay with them. He's willing to fight his instincts to stay with his family, and that's what bravery looks like in my opinion. As I’ve said before and will say again, I love this series so much and would highly recommend it everyone.

-maren

[ofdianaes-blog]

DIANA  ARCHIBALD [ VIRGINIA GARDENER ] is a JUNIOR at Broadripple Academy. She is SEVENTEEN years old, from BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS and has been at Broadripple Academy for HALF A year.

hiya all ! i’m meredith, i’m 18 and i never learned how to fucking read i’m super excited to be here ! feel free to slide into my ims if you want to plot at all, i’m down for whatever and am super excited to get to plotting with you all, and i hope you love/hate my new baby, diana just as much as i do. i’ve included some stuff about her under the cut, as well as some plot ideas i’d like to see. y’all can also message me on discord if you want for easier plotting, i’m meredith#3445

okay, her bio is all the way at the end of this just in case it’s posted on the main by the time i post this and i don’t wanna make anyone suffer through it. if you haven’t seen it, just scroll on down and it should be there for you to learn all about my girl. now for wanted plots/plot ideas ( i’m like, zero percent limited to any of these ) 

BLACKMAIL OR SYMPATHY? THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER basically, this plot is someone knowing that diana is a big fat faker. maybe they went to middle school with her, or one of her many different personalities in high school before they both ended up at broadripple. with all the times she’s moved, as long as it was in state ... it might very well be a possibility she knows one person. maybe they read her diary, she keeps it under her mattress. maybe they just caught her mouthing the words to a billboard top 100 song and her cover is blown. who knows! we can sort all that out. this person can either hold this over diana’s head, or they’ll feel bad for her and attempt to show her the ropes of everything and keep her secret on the dl. the first is more fun for me, the second is more fun for diana. your pick. 

YOU’VE_GOT_A_FRIEND_IN_ME.mp3 someone that sees through that pretentious candy shell to the mediocre chocolate that’s beneath. i imagine most people have a low tolerance for when diana gets into one of her real cinema is dead, i was born in the wrong generation moods, but this is the person that sticks by her, reminds her she’s being obnoxious, and she can still listen to the smiths in 2019, no one is stopping her. did they meet in english class, sharing an illicit cigarette, bonding over how diana is always getting a coffee? it’s all up to you, but partners in not really crime is something i’d love to see for her. she gets lonely, y’all. 

RIVALS TO ENEMIES TO RIVALS (100k, F/?) i’m running out of creativity for these plot ideas, okay? anyone who dare insinuate (or outright say) diana is wrong about, ahem, anything, or has poor taste or whatever is bound to be at the receiving end of her wrath. and by wrath, i mean glares across the hallway and the angry writings in her journal. don’t call it a diary, even though it really is, she’ll get mad. if this person wants to share passive aggressive quips and feuds, then ooh boy, is diana the enemy for them. this can be someone who’s uninhibited by her desperation for the cool factor and is just themselves, or someone who thinks she isn’t cool enough. either one will make her skin crawl. 

FILM PROTEGE / HER YOUNG PADAWAN they don’t even necessarily have to be into the same shit she is, or film at all, though they could want her to teach them about shitty foreign films and 80s sadgirl music. if she sees anyone shy or meek or just not with big enough of a personality, she’ll ceaselessly volunteer to show them to the world of not knowing how to shut their damn mouth. god knows that’s the world she’s living in. while she isn’t necessarily a rebel (she always recycles and does her homework), she does partake in habits such as [ gasp ] swearing and the devil’s lettuce. whether this person is shy or just extraordinary strait-laced .... let diana ( holes voice ) fix that 

okay, now her bio is below this line. enjoy !

Though Diana Archibald is indisputably a firecracker, to say she came into the world with a bang would be a bold faced lie. She was born to the archetypical white picket fence, upper middle class family. She donned pink onesies and cooed alongside family pet golden retriever, a friendly, brown-eyed creature named Max — Diana would vomit at how the stereotypes seemed to stack so neatly. Tragedy and betrayal, however, can taint even the most normal of lives, and with her mother’s cancer diagnoses, her father was out the door before she could toddle. Hindered by the cost of medical bills, Elizabeth Archibald, Diana’s partial namesake, withered away into nothing. With her father unable to be located for child support or to take her in, who was once a perfect, porcelain blonde baby doll became red faced and tearful toddler — a ward of the state, sent on the pipeline from foster home to foster home.

Diana was raised on half rewound VHS tapes and scratchy, skipping DVDs that she was shoved in front of to keep her docile and occupied. Her obsession with stories didn’t stop there, as she stumbling through the minimal words in picture books turned into devouring novels with a wind up flashlight under the thick covers of her bunk bed. She saw herself in the pages of protagonists burned by tragic backstories, of boys and girls who rose from the ashes and became strong and willful and exactly who she wanted to be. She wanted nothing more than to satiate the hunger she felt to be like them: to be something. And so, the lies began: carefully crafted, always a new story wherever she went.

The first half of freshman year, she was a bubbly cheerleader in a tiny town on the Connecticut border, where she reeked of bubblegum and painted her nails bright pink in class, doodling the names of the cutest boys in school amongst her math notes. Second half, she was a band geek in Cambridge, with grades imbalanced to direct her towards the arts as she nervously learned to play the clarinet, swapping spit under the bleachers with pimple faced boys who played the drums and frizzy-braided girls in the brass section. The first half of sophomore year she lived in the suburbs of Boston, where she had heavy black eyeliner and a permanent scowl on her face, she recited poetry and wrote her own, deep and dark. She got a stick and poke on her ankle in her best friend’s garage, and shoplifted religiously. Once January hit and she was somewhere else, demanding she was referred to only by her last name. She wore flannel and beanies and refused to speak in class, passing a joint back and forth around in the basement of a senior who looked at her with leering eyes. The first half of her junior year, she was the perfect church girl, her hair always in neat braids and a smile on lightly glossed lips as she perfectly enunciated hymns and messages of peace be with you. A golden cross hung loosely around her neck, and she meticulously frosted cupcakes for the school bake sale and highlighted passages in her bible.

That’s how she supposes, she ended up at Broadripple. After she was shoved out of that town, that school, that family, her newfound love of religion was deemed of enough importance: Diana was a lovely candidate for the philanthropy of Broadripple Academy, and they would be so happy to have her attend. She was used to moving, but not into buildings with ivy covered walls and pleated skirts being added to her wardrobe. The sudden, abrupt change unlike any other had left her floundering for a new personality to latch onto, a new story to spin: until she came up with the best one yet. The perfect story was a story maker, pathological liar turned into filmmaker. Polaroid camera is always tucked into her backpack, and phone is always ready to film. She’s no longer a participant: she’s an observer. Her father was an important producer in Hollywood, she told everyone in her science class. Her mother was a retired soap opera star, but she was just as beautiful as she was in her haydey. No one cared enough to Google, and ambiguities and carefully placed anecdotes were her specialties — it worked. Now, she was the creative, wide eyed and quiet, journaling late into the night and always with a cup of coffee in hand, contraband cigarettes kept in her bottom dresser drawer. She reads classic literature and insists music sounds better on vinyl, carefully critiquing the film taste of her peers.

No matter how carefully crafted, aren’t all ruses bound to end?

and her personality section !

She’s black coffee and vinyl records, she’s the crunch of fall leaves under your shoes and absent sharpie doodles up and down your arm. She’s ballpoint pens and perfume that smells like vanilla, she’s the big glasses perched on her nose that she doesn’t really need, she’s cheeks carefully dusted with blush to make her look kissed by winter air. She’s cinnamon bubblegum and sitting cross legged in the grass, snapping photos of bunnies as they trot between trees.

DISHONEST: There’s an itch that can’t be scratched away, and it’s to tell another lie. One more won’t hurt. She tells herself, in fact, it might just help. She’s lived in Beverly Hills and Brooklyn, she tells them, twirling her hair nervously around her finger. She’s never even left the state.

ASTUTE: There’s no denying Diana is smart. One has to be, to stop themselves from getting tangled in a web of dishonesty. Math and science aren’t specialties of hers, but they still come easily, and her natural flair for artistry and the dramatics has made her an excellent writer and creative student. Good grades are easily achieved, and Diana easily takes notice of things other people try to hide.

SELF-IMPORTANT: Diana does everything better, she’s sure of it. After all, she’s had to put in the research into how exactly to do things right. This new personality of hers only amplifies the airs of betterness she seems to put on — though there’s no cracks shown in confidence, it certainly is a facade.

GREGARIOUS: Even in her quite states, it’s always been easy for Diana to make friends. She’s naturally empathetic, and has no issue molding herself to suit what the conversation needs. She’ll donate to charity or talk shit behind your back — whatever the conversation calls for. She’s a social butterfly that can never seem to settle on a hive, and that leaves most of her relationships at surface level.

[deadlines-in-life]

Deadlines.

Purpose, the things that make life worth living, or so I’ve heard. From youth I’ve listened to people pose the question, “What do you want to be?” I never have an answer. The question has become an incessant ear worm, tormenting me wherever I go. As children, our duties are limited to watching television or making friends to go on play dates with. After becoming a young adult the biggest problems in life are being popular or taking Stacy to prom. Once we’ve finally overcome the unpleasant hill that is puberty, you learn that nothing that mattered really matters. The perfect mental condition in which to dive headfirst into university, where you’re taught how to pretend to be an adult. Four to six years later, when you’ve reached the top of the food chain, you may find yourself at the bottom of the barrel once again. Sitting in a brightly lit cubicle doing a nine to five job you didn’t really want, but it lets me have warm showers and makes my parents proud. What is the purpose of choosing to struggle through this shitty process, money, recognition, maybe happiness? Happiness. That could just be the key to finding my purpose, otherwise how could my classmates, teachers, and parents prattle on for so long about it, it must mean something. What does it mean to be happy though? I was always told to do whatever makes me happy, but truth be told, I couldn’t care less. I’ve never been “happy” and life has been swell, twenty-eight years later I’m still alive, even without a purpose. Maybe happiness doesn’t exist, I mean it's just a word, a label for something that no one has been able to explain to me. What a worthless obsession, honestly it’s just something people use to justify their stupidity, like religion but worse. 

That's why I live my life around deadlines. It’s the only reliable thing that seems to make time move forward. The one thing that allows us to be in control of our own meaningless and mundane lives. No human can predict the future, but a person with a deadline can create a future. Ever since I can remember, I lived religiously for my deadlines. Dedicated to experiencing that momentary euphoria of completing a project on time. It is truly an inexplicable sensation. When time slows down to a snails crawl and you feel your issues wash away. I’ve tried explaining this to a few people, but no one ever gets it. They ask me, “is this really what you want in life”, or “are you truly satisfied with just this?” I wonder, where else you would seek satisfaction but from finishing a gruesome deadline. After you’ve poured your heart and soul into a project, after dozens of coffees and hours of fatigue, only to feel it dissipate in a single moment. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

https://www.16personalities.com/free-personality-test

https://www.myersbriggs.org/my-mbti-personality-type/take-the-mbti-instrument/home.htm?bhcp=1

The pursuit of happiness.

This is so stupid, happiness is plaguing my life again. I have a deadline tomorrow, but I just got off the phone with my co-worker and she told me my work doesn’t feel genuine. What in the world does she mean, it’s a goddamn news article, why does that need to feel genuine? Facts are facts, I just need to report them, who cares if some people are offended by reality, that would be illogical. I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow, she better not screw up my deadline.

Great, now I’m being sent sensitivity training by HR, all I did was call her a bitch when she called my writing miserable and obnoxious. She did that on purpose too, now they’re using her piece instead of mine. HR said I needed to lighten up and be happier. I’ll fucking show them happiness, my next story will be on the front page swear to god. 

That sensitivity training was a joke, all I had to do was spout some nonsense my teachers used to tell me. Is happiness that fickle and fake, I told the therapist some shit about aspirations and goals and now i’m “happy” and fit for work.

I can’t think straight, my legs are restless and I’ve written nothing since sitting in front of my laptop. Perhaps I need a change of environment, I’ll give the new cafe down the street a try. How ironic, of all things to assign me for this week's publication, it had to be “the pursuit of happiness.” Why am I so stuck though, I just have to do what I always do, make up some crap that panders to the audience. Where can I find inspiration?

My dog always seems so happy, I wonder what it is that can excite him so. Food, walks? Hmm, maybe I can write about exercise, or veganism. “A healthy lifestyle is what brings happiness, remember to walk at least ten kilometers a day and maintain a diverse diet!” Perfect. Why does it feel so lacking… 

Shit, my deadline is approaching but I don’t want to submit this piece.

*Why?*

I can’t miss out on two deadlines in a row, I need this job.

*How come?*

Just send it in damn it.

*What's the point?*

If I don’t, they’ll use something from that bitch again.

*Does it matter?*

Does any of this matter?

I couldn’t do it in the end, but I still don’t know why. Could it be the sensitivity training? No way, I learnt nothing over there. It's possible I may be sick, that would explain why I haven’t had an appetite for a while. Yet, it doesn’t feel like it, It felt like my writing was missing something. It's probably just because I’m tired, I’ll go visit the doctor tomorrow.

Two weeks notice.

Have you ever felt your whole world crash in an instant? Well, I came back from the doctors and it turns out I was sick, I’m terminally ill and was told I had two weeks to live. How did I never notice my health declining, but more importantly, what kind of deadline is given with only two weeks notice, it's unfair. What now?

The doctor told me there was nothing anyone could do, he told me to just try and make the most of these last two weeks, be happy. What would normal people do with this information. Party, take drugs, travel, maybe visit their family and friends. Do those things make people happy? That just sounds like a chore. I don’t really want to do anything, I don’t want to move. I think I’ll just go back to work. 

Is this how I pictured my final hours, it’s not like I imagined I’d have children and grandchildren around me in my final moments lying in a well lit a hospital room. The reaper will have to settle for this harshly lit office cubicle instead. I don’t feel frustrated or angry, so why does this feel again, so lacking. I feel discontent about something, what could it be. Fuck.

I was just told to pack up my things and leave, I’ve been fired. Apparently an anonymous complaint was filed which claimed inappropriate behaviour towards my co-workers, probably that bitch again. Screw it, what does it matter, I’ll be gone soon enough anyways.

The past week has been a blur, and it feels weird to be one week closer to death despite not feeling any pain. I can appreciate a painless death though, never did like pain. I cry too easily whenever I’m hurt, it’s quite embarrassing. I remember when I was younger, my mother would sing to me whenever I was hurt, and then the pain would disappear. It was a similar feeling to the stress of a deadline washing away after completion. Wait, why am I crying, have the pains finally set in?

I’ve come to really like this new coffee shop, It's quite fun to spend my days just sitting at the front of the shop where I can watch people go about their lives through this massive window. It’s made me realise how many sensations I will never feel though. Couples walking hand in hand, parents guiding their children along with their gelato from the store next door. I am familiar with the hustle and bustle of rush hour though. Watching people run late for work, or bumping into one another while focusing on their phones, and I see at least five people spill their coffee everyday.

Is this envy? I don’t know, but I’ve never felt such a strong desire to be one of those people rushing to work. I mean they have their whole lives ahead to experience things I never will, even the prostitute that comes out on the street corner at night has had sex and I haven’t.

Wait, I’m not ready, this isn’t what I wanted. There are still so many things I need to do before I go. Please, I haven’t even felt happiness yet. This deadline isn’t fair.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2582846/

[imjadebeom]

His Queen, Your Pleasure

Pairing: Jinyoung x Reader Genre: Smut (NSFW) Moodboard: by @hoodiejaebum <3

A/N: This smut is part of the @7ornevernet Smutty Valentines Project. Please keep an eye out for other great smuts (and some fluffy fluffs) from other members involved in this project!

You were young, rebellious. Always doing the opposite of what your parents wanted. It was your first year at college and you somehow ended up getting mixed up with some interesting classmates on campus. They normally kept to themselves which is why you tried to blend in with their clique. You thought you could keep a low profile with them and you were. Or so you thought. Everyone else on campus knew that this was not just a group of low-key college students but a cult.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time one on one with them, you guys just happened to have the same classes so you walked with them and sat with them. Out of everyone in the group, you started getting along with a girl who self-proclaimed herself as Darkness. The name was edgy but she seemed nice enough. You didn’t know much about her except that she was always reading this black leather-bound book with a faded script you could hardly read on the front of it.

Never once had you thought to ask her about it until one day, you found yourself unable to take your eyes off it. Your curiosity was overwhelming, you couldn’t even concentrate on what the professor was talking about. You were dismissed from class but as you were packing up your things, Darkness disappeared. You saw her already at the door so you shoved all your books into your bag and ran after her.

“Darkness!” you yelled. As she turned around, you finally stopped to take in gulps of air. Where was she going in such a hurry?

“Yes, Y/N? What is it?” she said, with a hint of attitude in her voice. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

“I just… I wanted to ask you about your book. You are always reading it so it must be interesting. I was wondering where I could pick up a copy or to see if I could borrow it sometime…” You uncomfortably averted your eyes. For some reason, you felt uncomfortable asking about the book and you didn’t want to admit your newfound curiosity.

“Look, Y/N. How about you come to my church tonight? It’s a religious script that I can’t let you borrow but if you come with me, we can learn more about it together.” she said softly, her voice definitely losing some of the mild annoyance it carried earlier.

Church? You were not a particularly religious individual. Your parents did want you to find a group to be a part of however you knew they wouldn’t approve of their look and general reputation but hey, a group is a group. Plus, knowing your parents would hate it made it even more appealing. You agreed to go with her so she wrote down an address and a time on a piece of notebook paper and you two went your separate ways. She also included a phone number. I guess this was to text her if you got lost on the way.

You head back to your door and toss your bag onto the floor. You head towards your bed, closing your eyes as you collapse onto it. College life was difficult. Difficult classes with difficult professors. Every day was the same. You felt excited to have something different. You didn’t know what to expect but knowing the way Darkness and her friends were, you knew this wouldn’t be any regular church. They could have been the types who screamed with their hands reaching up moaning and crying for a divine miracle. You shook your head and sighed. You seriously doubted it. That’s what you see from those fake churches on TV. You know the kind. The ones where they have a “paralyzed” man go up, the pastor shouts something and hits them with a holy book to run some demon out of their body and then suddenly they were healed. Next thing you know they are doing cartwheels and shit. How would a paralyzed man know how to do a cartwheel anyways? Why were you thinking so hard about this anyways?

Time flew by as you imagined the millions of scenarios you could encounter while at this alleged church. Before you knew it, it was 5:30 PM and you got up to change your clothes. What were you supposed to wear anyways? You decided to text Darkness and ask. In an unfamiliar place, the last thing you want to do is offend. You texted Darkness about the dress code and her answer truly shocked you.

“Something black. Preferably a little skimpy.”

Was she joking? What kind of church was this?

You shot her a text back asking if this was joke and Darkness answered with,

“Does my religion sound like a joke to you? Wear something black and skimpy. They will want you.” was all she texted back.

They? Who is they? The text sent a small shiver down your back. Something about this felt wrong, dangerous. That is exactly what you wanted and what your parents hated.

Clearing all negative thoughts from your mind you go to your closet and dig out some black, skin-tight jeans and a low cut strappy black top. You figured it was better than wearing a short skirt in the event Darkness was just fucking with you. You decided to top the outfit off with a leather jacket so you could close it if needed. You put on a pair of heels your mom referred to as “stripper heels” and started to head out. You stopped in front of the mirror and felt like your face looked a little plain. You had some makeup on already so you decided to tie together the look with some deep red lipstick. With only the piece of paper and your phone, you headed out towards the entrance of the campus.

You looked the location up on google maps and it was within walking distance. You stood before a rundown looking building. Darkness was waiting outside and the sun was going down for the day. You walk up to her and Darkness inspects your attire carefully.

“I don’t know what I expected but I guess this is fine. Come with me.” she murmurs, pulling her hood up and walking into the dark building. Looking closer, she was wearing a dark robe which was unusual. Even for her. You walked timidly, staying as close to Darkness as possible. You tried to walk quietly but those damn heels were clicking down the hallway. You could feel your face getting red. Thankfully, it was pitch black inside so no one would be able to tell anyway. Although, so far it was just you and Darkness. How did she know where she was going? You couldn’t see a thing.

The hair stood up on your neck, icy adrenaline was pumping through your veins. You had a bad feeling about this, but you couldn’t turn back now. Finally, you enter a large room with no chairs but pillows on the floor, blankets strung about. Candles were lit all around you casting a glow. There was red paint smeared on the floor weird shapes and languages you couldn't decipher. People with robes appeared from the dark surround you and Darkness.

Your heart was racing and you found yourself backing away. Darkness quickly grabs your hand and assures you it’s okay. She pulls over a pillow for you to sit on and chanting ensues. You have no idea what’s going on but you thought this had to be a joke. What were they? Satan worshippers? Soon, they all move to the symbols on the floor and start chanting. Darkness moves to you to explain what they’re doing.

“So, Y/N. What we are doing is reading scripts from the Book of the Occult. We are now trying to summon a master. Don’t be scared, nothing usually comes of it but we may need you.” she whispered to you. Your brain was clouded with fear and confusion between her words and the chants in the background.

“Why would you need me? Is that why you had me dressed this way?” you asked, panic washing over you.

Darkness didn’t answer but instead told you they typically got stoned after it didn't work and claim they saw something enlightening. All you could do was hope that this was the case tonight.

After chanting for an hour, one of the members walks away into a back room. Next thing you knew, some smoke was coming out of the vents. You panicked, thinking there was a fire but when you tried to get up, the dizziness and drowsiness hit you and you hit the ground with a thud. Popping in and out of consciousness, you still heard chanting as they moved your body. You couldn’t object, you couldn’t do anything. That’s when you blacked out.

You wake up, jolting forward. As you look around, the room was barely lit as candles were starting to go out. All the cultists were passed out around you. Your arm was wrapped with bloody gauze. Was that your blood? You stood up knowing you needed to get out of here as soon as possible. Trying desperately to not make a sound, you walk towards the doorway you entered from, it was dark and you ran smack into something. Was it a wall? No. It was a person, you tried to scream but his hand was on your mouth before it could come out.

He whispered in your ear, “Come on, Y/N. I know where we can go to be safe and alone.” his words dripped with honey. You had never heard a voice so sweet. You couldn’t explain why you followed some stranger who you couldn’t even see. It was like being under a spell. You knew it was wrong and yet, there was nowhere else you would rather be.

He grabs your hand and leads you into another room. It was the only room that had a door instead of an entryway and he quietly locks the door behind you. Candles ignited all around you and you had to close your eyes due to the brightness. When your eyes finally adjusted, you could see him. He had black hair, parted to the side, eyes that were intense, plush lips you wanted to kiss. You knew it was crazy but you had never been so sexually attracted to a man before. He comes close to you, caressing your face to bring your lips to his.

“Who are you?” you breathed, feeling his plush lips graze your own. He looked down at you and let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m Jinyoung. The incubus that was summoned, and you’re the woman who was promised to me,” he said grabbing you and bringing you closer. He lips were against yours, hands already exploring your body. He uses his strength to pick you up and take you over to the bed in the corner. It was quite a large bed, with soft sheets. Now that you think about it, when did a bed get here. You must have been too distracted by Jinyoung to notice the rest of the room.

His hands slid up your shirt to strip it off you, he quickly unhooked your bra and threw it onto the floor moving his lips and hands down your body. He bit and kissed all the way down your neck until he reaches your breasts causing your breathing to become erratic. His hands moved down unbuttoning your jeans. As his hands wandered downwards, he was gently biting your nipples, causing you to let out tiny moans here and there. You’ve never had a man do this to you. You didn’t know him but you knew you didn’t want it to stop.

His hands entered you pushing deep inside until you let out a moan, he kissed and bit all over until reaching your hips. He removed your jeans slowly, making you eagerly await his next move. Something quickly came over you. Your body was sending danger signals to every fiber of your being.

“Jinyoung! Stop!” you said, pushing him away from you and moving away. You wanted him and his eyes hungered for you but you knew this was wrong.

“Y/N, you’re mine now. Look at me,” he said, his voice demanding your attention. You looked deep into his eyes, you could see his face perfectly in this light. His eyes shown red, they were wild which made goosebumps appear on your arm. He slowly moved towards you, never breaking eye contact. His lips uttered sweet words, “Let me in Y/N. Just trust me. Give into what you want. I can pleasure you in ways you’ve never imagined possible.”

You were frozen in his gaze, you could feel your body relaxing and Jinyoung continued where he left off. He slid his fingers down your hips, stripping the lacy black material as he went. He propped your legs up so that he could get in between your thighs and mouth went to work. Every flick of his tongue, movement of this big plush lips sent energy through your body. He was right, no man could pleasure you this way. But he wasn’t a man, this was a demon. A demon summoned by the occult. An incubus.

His fingers were inside you as his tongue moved, flicking and sliding along the more sensitive parts of you. You couldn’t contain yourself, you tried to hold back but you bucked your hips as you reached one of the many orgasms you would have tonight. You heard him slide away from you but the pleasure never stopped. You couldn’t open your eyes, you wanted to feel every sensation with no distraction. You’ll never know what it was that continued the pleasure in Jinyoung’s absence for it must’ve been the power of a demon that could explain this. This was sinful and blasphemous but you didn’t care. You heard Jinyoung’s clothing fall to the floor and he was on top of you again.

“Turn around,” he demanded. You quickly did as he said and you felt him enter you.

“Ah… You’re so tight…” Jinyoung moaned. Hearing him be pleasured as well only turned you on more.

You kept clenching and letting go so that Jinyoung would moan. He may have been in control a second ago but now he was playing your game. You let a small smirk form on your lips which quickly vanished when Jinyoung spanked you. You let out a louder moan, which pleased Jinyoung.

“You think you can play with me, little girl? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Jinyoung said, his voice sounding rougher than before. You didn’t dare respond as Jinyoung bucked his hips and plunged deep inside of you.

“Fuck!” you yelled, and Jinyoung grabbed your hips as he went faster and harder than before.

Your breathing got faster and heavier as you were reaching your climax. You orgasmed again letting out a louder moan this time. This provoked a strong reaction in Jinyoung as he moved harder and faster trying to make you climax again. You could feel your body tiring. You were not used to this. Just as you started to falter and collapse, Jinyoung had you by your hair and pulled you up to receive him. You screamed as he took you off guard. He worked his hips into you, the slapping of skin onto skin filling the room.

Just as you could feel yourself reaching climax again, you tightened around him, wanting sweet release. The weirdest thing happened. He stopped. He pulled out and let you collapse onto the bed. You turned around and glared at him.

“What the fuck, Jinyoung?” you exclaimed, a hint of anger in your tone.

Jinyoung looks like he was hardly even breaking a sweat. Now that you were seeing his entire body before you, you were shocked. Scars covered his body. He was beautiful. He was dangerous. Jinyoung watched as your eyes took him in.

“Here’s the part where the mortal realizes she’s been fucked by a demon. Will you run? Scream bloody murder?” he said, sarcastically. His eyes inspected you carefully, waiting for your reaction.

Admittedly, you thought he was truly beautiful. To anyone else, the scars may have been grotesque and admittedly, he was very rough during sex. You could see how this may not be for everyone. An incubus nonetheless.

“I… I actually think you’re kind of… Beautiful,” you mumbled, feeling embarrassed admitting it aloud.

“Really? And what? Aren’t you fearing for your soul? All of you mortals’ value your souls more than anything else. Refusing pleasure for fear of what happens after death.” Jinyoung said, each word dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

“Actually, I’m not religious. I have no place to go when I pass. I don’t care about souls or what happens after death.” You said, spitting words back in his face. To be quite honest, you would spend every night with him if you could. You wouldn’t say it’s love. It was lust over all else. That was fine with you.

“You know, those worshippers summoned me and gave you as a sacrifice and you’re not angry? Do you not feel violated? I mean, you almost sound like you want me to stay.” Jinyoung rolled his eyes at his own ending statement but he was right. You did want him to stay. To stay with you. If the sex was like this all the time, you couldn’t see how you could complain.

“Jinyoung, I’m not in this for love. This was my fate. I brought myself here, they summoned you and here I am. Not much else I can do. We are in a contract bound by blood,” you said looking down at your bloody bandage. “My blood apparently,” you said, looking up at him.

“You know, Y/N. I like you. This could be the beginning of something good. Every night we are together will be a blasphemous act. You willingly agreeing to me coming to you every night means you will be damned more than I. Hell, you might even be damned and become a succubus yourself.” Jinyoung said, a threatening smile spreading across his face.

“Y/N, will you be my queen on this earth? Letting me take you and pleasure you every night?” Jinyoung asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes, Jinyoung,” you said, falling back onto the bed, body spread out before him. Jinyoung got on top of you kissing your neck and body all over.

“Your skin is so soft. So radiant. You will be a perfect queen. A perfect succubus. Men won’t be able to resist you. For now, though, you’re mine. No other man will pleasure you for as long as I occupy this earth.” Jinyoung breathed, each word tickling your skin.

And just like that, he vanished. You could see light peeking under the door. His figured disappeared but his voice still lingered like an echo.

“Morning has come so I must go for now, but I will find you tonight my queen.” his whispers, moving around your body and in an instant, all the candles went out.

You quickly moved to put your clothes back on and leave this demonic sanctuary. Even though his physical form was gone, you could still feel him close. You slipped out of the room and was greeted by Darkness. She looked at you with approval and said, “I knew you were the one.” and just like that, she disappeared before your very eyes.

You never did find out what she meant by that. Maybe she knew Jinyoung would be pleased with you. Maybe she knew you would be his queen on this earth. Who knows, but as if they fulfilled a lifelong quest, you never once saw her or the group of cultists in school again. It was if they had never existed.

Every night you performed Jinyoung’s summoning, and every night he worshiped you and fucked you senseless. Every night was dangerous but it felt right. You were his Queen and he was your Pleasure.