#well you all will just have to deal with my ugly large text and suffer along with me

[knights-of-the-glittery-table]

I'm 3 sessions into only 6 sessions of bereavement counselling and if you could be graded on it I'd be failing.

My grief cannot be separated from my mental health, they were sewn together with ugly red stitches many years ago and to try and cleanly put the two into different piles would be a fool's errand.

I've been a wounded animal limping along with a trail of blood following my every step for nearly half of my years on this Earth and to try and concentrate on the loss of family suffered just opens a hundred other doors on things that need to be said, to be shared.

I lost my granddad at 14, grandma at 15, dad at 16 and mum at 20 and then have had 13 years of trauma on top of the familial losses and I know like in my session today and the two previous that I can't work through what I've been through and go through every day in six sessions.

It is in no way my feeling on the world at large because I can't bear to think that way but genuinely through personal experience I have been taught again and again that kindness is conditional. People will offer me help or say 'get in touch if you need to' or 'if you need anything just call or text' but it's only ever as long as it doesn't interfere with what they are up, if it's on a weekday within business hours or often something they just said to appease their own conscience when being faced with someone severely mentally ill and alone. (i.e. 'well I said they could ask me if they needed something so I am a good person')

I understand it but it doesn't make it any easier. Last week when I wasa very unwell I rang the GP just for some support and reassurance and they said 'If I felt worse to call back' and two days later I did call back only to have unfortunately called at midday on what was a half day for the surgery and the doctor had already left. The receptionist told me on the call if the GP had left I'd get a call the next day instead then five minutes after I rang off I got a text message to say the doctor had in fact left for the day but they'd call me on the already arranged appointment made when I first spoke to them which was unfortunately 5 days away. A long time to wait.

And that's how life is for me.

Every person from all these organisations, charities, volunteers and staff at the GP surgery that I have ever had a good relationship have all left at some point. Either they're changing jobs, their amount of time with me is at an end, funding runs out, I'm too ill for what their resources can do- I can't gain a meaningful attachment to a person because everyone in my life dies or leaves, either in an abrupt fashion or their help fizzles out to nothing.

It's demoralising and does nothing to help me feel as if I matter no matter how many times I hear the words from mental health crisis nurses on the phone or read the phrase on cute posters.

And this is the people who have shown a kindness and just as important, an understanding of what I've been through and mental illness as a whole even if they aren't medically qualified. It's unfortunate but the people who have let me down, been outright cruel, ignorant, unbelievably lacking in empathy or common sense half the time far outweigh the good. The amount of times I've been in tears from words coming from the mouths of supposed medical professionals including mental health fields, volunteers for mental health organisations and a lot of charities outside of that niche, family members, friends of my family, strangers like taxi drivers or workers at the DWP (department of works and pensions), it's baffling.

Five off the top of my head:

Woman whose job was literally to deal with patients with mental illness and be a go between the patient and the doctor (finding support for them also like charities and therapies) who when I had to inform her I didn't have any one local at all said 'Aw, well that's bad isn't it because when you're really suffering you want someone there, don't you?' - 13 years alone has taught me that reassurance and support are the most important thing for me and in those 13 years I've never had anyone there to physically be here so it was pretty much like shoving a knife into my flesh on top of it just being wildly insensitive and obvious. (This was this year, around May. The woman also got very defensive when I told her how her previous remarks including the above hurt me and said 'Well you come in here saying I hurt your feelings well you could be hurting mine by saying that to me')

Volunteer at a charity who was a befriender, I was cutting crosses into the bottom of brussel sprouts in her kitchen and she went to leave to go do something in another room and said to me in a jovial jokey tone 'Don't go using that knife on your wrists now!'

Head of pychiatrics at the hospital who blatantly talked over me as I was explaining what I was going through to say 'You're telling me what you can't do, tell me what you CAN do' then gave the advice of practice waiting at bus stops to help my agoraphobia.

Woman who was supposed to be a wellness coach that got fed up of my being full of grief as our sessions fell in the November/December period and actually ended our time together a good 4 or 5 sessions early and cited how she couldn't set goals for me or get stuck into the plan she'd created because she had had to go easy on me and just let me talk and do some self care things instead. This especially hurt as I thought we'd been getting along well.

My aunt who emails me and is the only one in the entire family who keeps in touch (as sporadically as it is) decided to tell me in a very long email a week before christmas two years ago that my mum had known she was going to die but told everyone not to tell me. All my mum ever did even when she was very poorly was worry about me and want to look after me, I feel no anger, confusion or any negative emotion towards her for that decision. What I do feel anger about is the fact my aunt never had to tell me this, it would not change a single thing or make my life better. What it did was alleviate her of the guilt of having kept that piece of info back for so many years. And of course there is no good time to tell someone that but 7 days before christmas? Bravo. Well done. Full points.

I have 13 years of constant interactions like these. I have no real positive interactions, no trust gained and kept. Nothing. I genuinely have no idea why or how I keep going, I just am.

It's just so wild that I watched the four people I was around the most decline dramatically, suffer indignity and be treated awfully and die in pain then immediately be catapulted into neglect, mistreatment and complete ignorance all while being polite and acting as if I'm doing fine because if you show one sliver of your illness people go silent and don't know what to do or fuck off entirely. You learn to flick a switch, I did it this morning at the end of the session.

Just delving into all this shit and then the guy said time was nearly up and I immediately quell my tears, straighten my tone and fall into a pleasing receptionist voice saying 'That's OK. Yes next week is fine, I hope you have a nice afternoon.' and he laughed clearly surprised and I said 'Sorry, I flipped the switch.' and he said 'I have to admit you're very professional with it.'

I mentioned to him how also most of the time I'd hope people who go through talking therapy of any kind, after tearing open all these wounds they have people there, loved ones be it friends or family to help them through it be it just being there, a hug or maybe taking them out for a walk or making them a meal.

I don't have that, after every session of general talking therapy and this bereavement counselling I am left entirely alone in my home, just me and the wounds I've torn open. Just sitting there with them bleeding freely again, no-one to help bandage me up and too deep to bury again quickly when it took a decade of festering and healing not quite right at all in ugly zig zag lines to at least get by and pretend for the sake of the outside world that I can be talked to and dealt with without suddenly bursting into tears or acting mentally ill and putting them off.

Feeling very jaded and despondent, I don't think anyone could be surprised by it.

It isn't the horrifying anxiety drowning where I NEED someone here, some reassurance (again, never had that in 13 years) but it's just the heavy weight of being through so much and doing 'everything correctly' with nothing to show for it.

November 11th was the day mum passed away, here at home in her bed in utter agony and high off morphine to try and manage the pain so entirely out of it and the day I was left alone in so many ways even though there were other people like nurses and a doctor in the room and my aunt out on the landing so it's the worst day of the year for me. It's even worse than December 25th.

Mum's birthday was a very rough one this year (8th Oct) and all I can do is hope November doesn't tear me to pieces like the 8th did because I promise you I don't know how much more surviving I have left in me before I lose it for good.

[starslung]

❝ Do you think a paring knife remove a human heart in under a minute? ❞ ( from illyana afdkjh )

BROOKLYN NINE NINE STARTERS !

   “guess it depends on how neat you want it to be.” he’s mostly used to the conversation topics illyana broaches with him, now, especially when they’re general ones like this. of course, if she’d asked him whether he thought a paring knife could remove his heart in under a minute, there’d be some trepidation, but they’re on level ground for now. sure, it’s spooky level ground, like a cemetery or whatever, but he can handle it. “i mean, are we talking for like, emergency transplant purposes or fuck this person and fuck them getting to have a beating heart purposes?”

[omgviolette12]

Helena’s Skin

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 4500+

Pairing: Original female character of color/Tom Hiddleston

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Angst, Horror

 I’ve also posted this on AO3

There’s pictures there, in case you want some bonus content.

Story Playlist, for optimal reading experience : Here

Phew..this plot bunny was running around for a HOT minute! I'm not sure what my obsession is with stories that deal with betrayal of some sort...but I think I'm just a slut for some angst. Also, I've been listening to a ton of silent hill soundtracks, which put me in the mood to write something depressing. And goodness is that game good. This story is largely inspired by it, with some of the dialogue, text, and locations from the original game interwoven with my story. I changed things up a lot to follow the flow of my narrative though.

-----

Tom dreamt of her again that night.

Pale, blue-tinted skin. Dark sunken eyes. Her stiff, swaying feet. He could even see the chipped red nail polish on her toes with clarity.

The cruel memory was always, without fail, in perfect detail.

Over the years though, he had slowly come to accept it. The pills never helped to stop the nightmares, and no amount of avoiding sleep was going to help his case anyway.

He liked to think of it as penance.

As always, he jumped up from the bed in cold sweat. And from the cross look on his girlfriend’s face, he must’ve woken her up on accident as well.

“I’m...I’m sorry Jen,” He turned a bit to rub at her naked shoulder, and hoped the action would coax her back to sleep, “ Just another one of those falling dreams..”

“Hmrrph..” She shrugged off his hand, and turned to face away from him. Thankfully, it didn’t take much for her eyes to close once again.

Tom sighed, and rubbed at his face tiredly. Whenever he had that dream...he could never fall back to sleep. It was as if all the emotions of that day were renewed, and it was hard to shake them off until morning.

His therapist suggested he acknowledge what he felt, during this time. The sorrow. The regret. The guilt. The gut-wrenching pain.

And if he were to be completely honest, it worked most days.

Often, he would find himself scribbling away at his personal journal at 3 am, nursing a cup of tea.

He wrote about how much he wished he could reverse time. The words he could have taken back, and the words he could have said instead. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, and that he regretted ever leaving her.

Helena. Her name was Helena, but he could never bring himself to write it out. Just referred to her vaguely with pronouns.

But tonight...he couldn’t even bring himself to write. The dream was especially vivid this time around, to a disturbing degree. He could even smell the stench.

What’s worse, that smell was just as he remembered it three years ago.

Tom resisted the urge to throw up at the thought of it, and stumbled out of bed to the bathroom. He turned on the sink, and splashed the coldest water he could onto his face.

That probably wasn’t the best thing to do, either. He could still see her, swaying in that dark room against his closed eyelids.

His eyes shot open immediately, and he found himself dry heaving into the sink.

“Fuck…” he cursed silently, as his eyes began to well with tears.

It was going to be another one of those nights, and the only thing he could do was suffer through the dark memories until morning.

Slowly, he made his way to the kitchen. There was little tea could do at this stage, but it was a welcomed distraction.

“You’re really leaving...aren’t you?”

Her voice was soft, softer than it usually was.

All the yelling and screaming must have destroyed every malice she could have mustered in her body.

Her dark brown eyes were downcast, red-rimmed with sorrow.

“Lena. No...Helena. I never wanted for any of this to happen.” Although Tom intended to sound a bit caring, the words left his mouth with harsh coldness.

“I love Jen too much. Too much to stay...I’m sorry. Please understand.”

His wife looked up at him then. Her chapped lips trembled immensely with bridled anger. And even though her long hair was rather unkempt, he could still see the glare she sent his way through her bangs.

“Five...f..five years Tom. You’re r-really going to...to throw it all away for that..for..for her?”

Tears spilled from her eyes as she stuttered in anguish, and she fisted the fabric of her dress painfully as she continued, “ I... I love you so much, Tommy. I never meant anything I said...I was sick and -“

“Stop with that!” Helena was startled, and she stared up at him with wide eyes. Throughout their argument, this was the first time he had yelled so loudly at her.

His eyes were narrowed, shoulders squared. He was the embodiment of hostility.

“Don’t say things that you don’t fucking mean.”

Tom didn’t wait for her to reply. He grabbed his jacket, and left the house with a slam to the door. He’d pick up his belongings later, after he cooled down.

Although Helena infuriated him, he could never forgive himself if he hurt her physically. A part of him still loved her, even if it was small.

They were married for five years after all. He couldn’t necessarily forget it all, no matter how much he wished it was possible.

Their marriage...it was a happy one, at first. He remembered the day when he met her, how stunned he was by her beauty and tenderness.

He loved how her brown eyes looked against the sunlight, and the lone dimple that revealed itself when she smiled. He loved her gentle voice, when she would tell him about her day. Everything. He loved everything about this woman. Down from the hair, right to the toes.

However… things took a sharp turn for the worst when she became ill.

The doctors were clueless about what it was. It attacked her body so quickly and suddenly, no one could do much to help her ailing health.

Slowly but surely, she began to lose her glow.

Her smiling face was replaced with an ugly snarl, her body became skin and bones, and her kind words transformed into insults that aimed to shred at his heart.

She pushed him away with every chance she could, when all he wanted was to be there for the woman he loved.

So, who could blame him for straying?

Jennifer was kind, new, and beautiful. Everything that Helena was, but now wasn’t.

It didn’t matter to him that she was good friends with his wife. Surely, Helena would rather it be Jen than some stranger.

But now, she wanted to take back all those words of hatred, and backtrack like a coward. She begged for him to stay, despite all the times she pushed him away.

Her insults drove away the guilt whenever he went to Jennifer for solace. But if she decided to just take it all back now… where did that leave him?

Tom stewed like that for hours, walking about the neighborhood before he decided to make his way back to the house. It was late morning when he left, but the skies were already starting to darken.

Time flies when you’re upset, it seemed.

He readied and steeled himself to face her again. He was going to pack the rest of his things, and then leave.

For good this time.

But he hated that his heart still ached at the thought of it, despite everything that she put him through.

Tom entered the house cautiously, and searched for any signs of his wife. When he left, she was still sitting on the living room couch. Hours had gone by, so he wasn’t sure why he still expected her to be there.

Worst case scenario, she was in their bedroom. With how erratic she’d been acting lately, it wouldn’t be a surprise if she tried to prevent him from leaving.

Best case scenario, she was asleep in there. Her illness made her extremely weak, which caused her to sleep more often than not.

Tom found himself in front of the door, hand frozen on the knob.

He was tired, tired from all the fighting. If possible, he wanted to ignore her as he quietly gathered his things together.

With these thoughts in mind, he opened the door -

To the sight of Helena’s feet hovering above the floor.

“Tom, Tom? Thomas!”

He jumped from the kitchen table, and knocked his knee on it in surprise.

He grimaced, and looked up at Jennifer who gave him a worried look.

“Why are you out here? You even fell asleep..”

Tom looked around his surroundings, disoriented. He fell asleep?

He remembered coming to the kitchen to make some tea for his nerves. But before he realized it…

“I’m not sure how that happened...I’m sorry Jen.”

“..It’s okay, Tom. Are you feeling okay..?” She placed her hand on his forehead, her voice tinged with concern, “ You can call out sick, you know? Talk to me,”

Tom stiffened. He contemplated many times, talking to Jennifer about his dreams. But...she had been badly affected by Helena’s death as well.

She was friends with her, after all. Jen felt just as much guilt and shame that he did.

But Jennifer refused to talk about it, about her. Her way of coping was to forget Helena ever existed for her own sanity.

They were both monsters, monsters who drove the one they cared about to her death. They truly deserved one another.

Tom only shook his head at her question, and attempted to reassure her with a weak smile, “I’m fine, honest. But I’ll call out today...I’ve been working too much at the office.”

Jennifer didn’t pursue the topic any further, and returned his smile. “ Thank gosh, you’ve been taking way too many hours. Just relax for once,”

He watched as she moved about the kitchen through tired eyes, to fix herself some coffee. “There’s some mail on the table, by the way. I picked them up before I came in here.”

Now that she mentioned it, there was a small pile of envelopes on the table. He looked at them all indifferently, and dismissed the majority of them as junk or bills.

“..I’ll sift through them. Make me a cup as well, would you?”

He dragged the pile in front of him, and wiped his eyes to take away some of the droopiness.

He cracked his neck, and massaged his shoulder with a hand as he began to look through the mail. Like he expected, there were some bills, some junk… and..

A beige, worn out envelope that was sealed with red wax.

But the look of the envelope wasn’t what caught his eyes. It was the name on it that caused Tom’s throat to go dry, and his sweat to grow cold.

From: Helena

There wasn’t a return address, just her name.

Was this some sort of sick joke?

Unless it was possible for a dead woman to send letters, then the likelihood that it was his Helena that sent it was extremely low.

Still though...his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Why did he feel so terrified?

First the nightmares, now this.

“Hey..everything okay?” Jen placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, and sat at the table, “You’ve been staring at that for a good minute now...is the bill that much?”

She took a sip of her own coffee, her voice lightly teasing.

“What? Oh, no, it’s nothing,” Tom quickly snapped out of it, and tossed the envelope aside as casually as he could, “Just some junk.”

Tom wasn’t sure what possessed him to take the envelope with him on his run.

Despite everything that told him to leave it closed, to leave it unread, he also felt the urgent need to keep it by his side.

He ran through a secluded park, with the envelope stuffed in his jacket pocket. If he was going to read it, he didn’t want Jennifer to know. Especially if it was actually from... her.

There was a drizzle earlier on, so the park benches were rather wet. However, he didn’t care as he plopped down to sit, and reached into his jacket pocket for the envelope.

A stray droplet of water from the overhanging tree fell on the envelope, as he sat and stared at it in silence.

Tom felt that he was probably overreacting. No, he most definitely was. There was no way on earth it was from his Helena. The same Helena who he still loved, to this very day. The same woman who took her own life that fateful evening.

He was only going to set himself for extreme disappointment if he hoped for that much.

Tom held his breath, and tore open the envelope without any regard for the wax seal.

And as he read its contents, the entire world came to a standstill.

In my restless dreams,

I see that town.

Silent Hill.

You promised me you'd take me

there again someday.

But you never did.

Well, I'm alone there now...

In our 'special place'...

Waiting for you...

Waiting for you to come to see me.

I know I’ve done some terrible things to you.

Something you’ll never forgive me for.

I wish I could change that, but I can’t.

I just...didn’t want you to see me like that anymore.

That ugly, repulsive me.

I was so angry all the time, and I

struck out at everyone I loved most.

Especially you, Tommy.

That's why I understand if you hate me, even now.

But I want you to know this.

I'll always love you.

And I want to see you, no matter how long it takes.

I’ll always be here…waiting.

With love,

Lena

He remembered her handwriting.  Her letters were always scribbled elegantly, but felt rushed at the same time. This was written by her. There was no doubt about it in his soul. He could even hear her gentle voice as he read it.

The emotions Tom currently felt was like a kaleidoscope. Confusion, hope. Sorrow, fear. And above all, excitement.

Excitement, at the small, unlikely chance that she was still alive.

Even if it didn’t make sense, even if it went against all reason. Even if he had been the one to pull her dead body from the ceiling himself.

If he had the chance to see her again...just once more…

He was going to take it.

-----

Tom vaguely remembered that town she spoke of, in the letter.

Silent hill.

They went there once, for their honeymoon. It was a foggy little town, ways out in the middle of nowhere. Although it was scarcely populated, it was beautiful.

Helena had a strange obsession with the town, and she begged him constantly to take her back. But he was the type to enjoy the hustle and bustle of people, and the town was far too quiet for his liking.

Quiet to the point of being unsettling.

So although she begged him practically every year, he would always dredge up some excuse as to why they couldn’t go.

But now here he was, on his way to that very town against all sense.

“This place...isn’t it a bit too creepy for a resort?” Jennifer’s voice broke the silence in the car, and reminded him that he was not alone. Her eyes were trained outside the window, with furrowed brows.

Tom ground his teeth in frustration. He couldn’t come up with a proper excuse, as to why he wanted to leave so suddenly without arousing suspicion.

So...he disguised the trip as a mini-vacation, for the both of them. It would have been extremely preferable if he came alone... but he’d figure something out, eventually.

“It’s supposed to be a quiet, peaceful getaway. We’ve been needing some of that for a while now,” Tom said, in a nonchalant tone. “Besides, it’s only for a day or two.”

“Eh...I guess,” Jennifer still sounded thoroughly unconvinced, as they passed by the dilapidated welcome sign of the town. “I just thought it’d be, I don’t know...well kept?”

“It’s a part of the charm.” Tom wasn’t sure if he wanted to convince her, or himself with that statement.

Jen had a point. It’s been years since he came to this place, but he remembered that there was a decent amount of people that lived here.

Although the area was indeed very quiet...it definitely wasn’t a ghost town like he was seeing.

They were well inside the town now, but they still had yet to see anyone. The oppressive fog didn’t help matters either. He glanced down at the map on his lap, just to make sure they were going in the right direction.

“Hey...do you think we should just turn around? It looks pretty abandoned,”

Jennifer worried at her lip, her expression uncertain.

“...Like I said. A part of the charm. We’ll see some people, eventually.”

He could feel her anxiety from the passenger seat, and it started to affect his own mood.

The only thing that kept him from turning the car around, was Helena. The prospect of possibly seeing her again was too great a temptation.

But the question is...where was she, exactly?

Helena mentioned something about a ‘special’ place in the letter. That she’d be waiting for him there. But there were just so many possibilities… because this whole town was their special place.

Did she mean the park, by the lake? They would spend hours sitting on the bench...just the two of them, staring at the water. In their own little world.

Could Helena truly be alive...waiting for him there? The man who betrayed her so cruelly?

“Tom...Tom!!”

At Jen's sudden screech, Tom hit the brakes immediately, which caused the car to lurch forward violently.

He looked at her, as his heart thrummed against his chest, “What, what is it!”

“There.. right there, there was... there was..!”

She looked absolutely terrified, as she stared outside of the passenger window.

“Jen, calm down! What did you see?”

She didn’t look at him at all, and continued to stare outside the window, “In the fog. I saw a lady..and she.. she looked like… she was just right there..!”

Tom couldn’t make sense of what she wanted to say at all. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and addressed her once again, “I know you’re paranoid, Jen. But please, just calm down. It was probably just a resident.”

He really wished he came here alone all the more.

Jennifer was really shaken up, for whatever reason. And she went silent for the rest of the ride. Though, he certainly wasn’t about to complain about that.

Eventually, they saw a large building in the distance, right alongside the lake they’d been driving by.

Lake View Hotel. The same hotel where he stayed with Helena, on their honeymoon.

“...We’re here.”

Tom parked right by the curb of the sidewalk, a reasonable distance from the building.

But...something wasn’t quite right.

When he first came here with Helena, he clearly remembered that the hotel was on the other side of the lake, and they had to cross it with a rowboat. It was surrounded by a body of water, after all. And it was only accessible by a boardwalk.

However, the building was on this side instead. Completely opposite from what he remembered.

He decided not to think too deeply about it, though. Years had passed, and things might’ve changed.

“Wait, we’re getting out here?!” Jennifer asked in disbelief, her voice raised. The area was run-down, foggy, and quite frankly, disgusting. Tom couldn’t even blame her for her discomfort.

“Yes, Jen. There’s nowhere else to park,” he said, and exited the car first. “Come on, before it starts to get dark.”

Jennifer left the car with extreme hesitancy, and crossed her arms to hug herself. “Tom...this...this is like a freaking ghost town! Are you sure we can’t just...go somewhere else?” She tried to reason with him...but it was like he was another person entirely when he replied.

“If that’s what you want to do, I won’t stop you. Take the car.” He answered curtly, and began to walk ahead of her.

“I...what? Wait, please, Tom!” She ran up to him, and grabbed his arm, “What do you mean take the car?! You know I can’t drive. And I can’t just leave you behind! This...this isn’t like you,” Jennifer attempted to turn him towards her, but he remained stiff.

“...Did you ever really know me, Jen?”

When he finally looked at her, Jennifer took a step back due to his scary expression. “Because I don’t think you do. Not like Lena did anyway.”

“Len...Helena? Why..what does she have to do with this?!”

Jen immediately went on the defensive, and matched his hostile energy.

“She has everything to do with this! You were her friend, and she was my wife. Yet you refuse to even talk about her-”

“She killed herself! She left us behind! Even before that, she treated you like shit! She broke your heart...and I was the one who picked up the fucking pieces!”

The argument had escalated extremely quickly. But Tom didn’t care.

“How..how fucking dar-”

Tom didn’t even get to finish his sentence. He had blinked his eyes for even less than a second.

And then she was gone.

Tom was stunned, and didn’t register what happened.

His mouth was left open as the sentence died on his lips.

“Huh..?”

He looked around disoriented, whiplashed, and confused.

What? How? Where..What?

These were the questions that ran rampant inside his mind, as he looked about frantically for the woman he was just fighting with.

Jennifer was just right there, in front of him. He even remembered her angered expression clearly. But he had barely blinked his eyes before she disappeared into thin air.

She didn’t even scream.

Tom’s bones were weak from fear and confusion. He felt nauseous.

“..Jen? Jennifer? Jennifer!” He began to walk ahead, almost running, and screamed into the fog.

He walked around the area, and yelled her name like that for what felt like hours. But what answered him back were the endless echoes beyond the mist.

“Where...where the hell..?” Tom was out of breath, his body wrought with fear and exhaustion. He brought his hands to his knees and hunched over.

He came here to find Helena. He just wanted to see his wife again, to talk to her one last time. Even if it were some sort of delusion he concocted to stay sane.

But now..even Jennifer was...

He tried not to think about that possibility. Jennifer had to be alright. She had somewhere in this godforsaken town.  

Tom looked up from his knees, and up at the large building ahead. Lakeview hotel.

He was going to start there.

Inside the hotel was a stark contrast to the rest of the town. While the outside was in a state of disrepair...the inside of the hotel remained untouched by time. In fact...it was just as he remembered.

The only difference was...the lights were almost dim to the point of darkness, and he needed to use his phone light for added visibility.

“Jennifer..? Are you in here?” Tom called out, as he walked the halls of the hotel. He passed the receptionist’s desk, and moved towards the elevator in the distance.

Despite the apparent lack of proper electricity, it still seemed to function perfectly.

According to the elevator, there were six floors in total.

And without hesitation, he immediately chose the third floor.

Jennifer could have been on the first two floors, for all he knew. He could have searched every room, every corner.

However..he and Helena stayed in room 312 for their honeymoon.

It was a beautiful room, he remembered. There were large windows, and the view of the lake was extraordinary.

As Tom felt the elevator move, and watched as the numbers slowly rose to three...he recalled a memory.

“Goodness...isn’t it beautiful, Tommy?”

Tom watched as his beloved sat by the window, her hand pressed against the glass.

“I’m so glad we came here...it’s peaceful.”

He laughed, and moved closer to sit next to his wife. He draped his arms around her shoulders, and pulled her closely to his chest.

“I think it’s a bit too peaceful, though. I’m not sure how you convinced me to come, but,”

Tom breathed in the scent of her hair, and closed his eyes. “I agree, it is beautiful. Hazy and mysterious, just like a dream. It reminds me of you.”

Her embarrassed laugh echoed throughout the room, and she nuzzled her head further into his neck. “Hehe...you’re such a charmer.”

She tightened her arms around his body. Her next words were whispered faintly, but he heard her clearly through the quiet of the room.

“But if this is a dream...I don’t ever want to wake up.”

Tom stood inside the room. By the large window, was a figure.

Her hair was a short, dusty blonde, and she wore a white floral dress.

The same dress that Helena wore that day on their honeymoon.

However...his wife was far from blonde.

The only blonde he knew was Jennifer.

“Jen..Jennifer? Is that you..?” She turned to look at him, instead of the window.

As soon as he saw her face, his suspicions were confirmed.

“Oh.. oh thank goodness,” Tom breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that his hunch was correct. He didn’t know why she suddenly appeared in this room, but was pleased that he found her this quickly.

“Jen, you were right. We..we shouldn’t stay here…”

Jennifer only looked at him with a confused expression, and approached him with an air of worry.

“Tommy, did something happen to you? Are you...confusing me with someone else?”

Tom looked at her like she was crazy. “What? Jen, what are you on about..? And why are you wearing that..”

Jennifer had never, not once, referred to him as ‘Tommy’ in the three years they had been together. That was Helena’s endearment, and no one else’s.

She giggled, the sound of it melodic and gentle. “Oh, Tommy...you were always so forgetful. Remember that time, when you got lost trying to find our room at this hotel? I almost had to call a search party!”

She laughed once again, this time unrestrained. He recognized that beautiful laughter.

“Aren’t…” Tom’s throat felt impossibly dry. “Aren’t you Jennifer?”

Jennifer went silent. Her smile deepened, and her eyes darkened from their previous shade of blue.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. I’m here for you, Tom.”

He didn’t move an inch as she approached him.

Slowly, she removed the straps of her dress.

He allowed her to take his hand, and she placed it on top of her naked chest.

Tom didn’t realize it, but his face was drenched with tears. He squeezed the softness of her flesh, and his nails dug to the point it drew blood.

It was warm. He held his blood-stained fingers up to his face.

Before him, stood a woman with dark brown eyes, that would reflect beautifully against the sun.

Before him, stood a woman with the gentlest voice.

Before him, stood a woman with long dark hair, that ended right below her shoulders.

Helena smiled a sickly sweet smile. She took his hand once again, and moved it to cup her face.

“...See? I’m real.”

[just-come-baek]

with friends like you, who needs enemies?

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader ft. mentions of Jimin and his girlfriend

Themes: smut | fluff | friends’ friends to friends to lovers!au | domestic!au | roommate!jimin |

Word count: 11.1k

Summary: Setting up my friend with my roommate is one thing, but walking on them banging on my fancy couch is just… plainly wrong. Not only have they profaned my comfy piece of furniture, but also they’ve neglected our friendship. Completely forgotten, Jungkook and I start to hang out together, but after some time things become a bit too comfortable…

Warnings: overuse of cringe-worthy euphemisms for sex, lots of complaining, unprotected sex and so on;

***

Me | 22:43 | don’t you want to hang out with Jimin???

Me | 22:43 | I need him out of the house

It was my first time texting Jungkook. It felt weird, but it needed to be done. Ever since Jimin and Jiwoo started dating, they were bumping their uglies in Jimin’s room, and I was done with hearing their lewd moans.

These damned thin walls.

Jeon | 22:45 | what did he do this time?

I read Jungkook’s reply, and with my bottom lip puckered, I wondered what I should type so he wouldn’t think I was exaggerating. I couldn’t straight out ask him to call Jimin over to his place because the sex noises coming out of my roommate’s bedroom were louder than my film on the maximum volume.

Me | 22:46 | he’s porking Jiwoo

Jeon | 22:46 | HE’S DOING WHAT???

Jeon | 22:47 | oh, nvm

Jeon | 22:47 | just googled it

Me | 22:48 | yeah, they’ve been screwing everyday this week

Me | 22:48 | can you cockblock him?

Me | 22:48 | just this once

Me | 22:49 | please???

Jeon | 22:49 | can’t do

Of course, he wouldn’t do it! What had I expected? Jimin and Jungkook are best friends with their bro-code and what not, while Jungkook and I are mere acquaintances with maybe five hellos exchanged through the entirety of it.

Jeon | 22:51 | sorry, I’m gaming with Tae

Me | 22:53 | of course you do

I was a little bit angry when I wrote it, but I understood him. It wasn’t his problem to deal with, and if he were struggling with a similar kind of issue, I wouldn’t help him either. I’m the one who had agreed to share a flat with Jimin, and regardless of how much I regret it now, I’m the one who suggested them to go on that fucking date.

It was my first attempt at matchmaking anybody, and since it backfired so terribly, I was sure, it was also my last attempt.

Jeon | 22:52 | you can crash on my couch if they bother you so much

That was unexpected; Jungkook was showing me kindness, and I had no idea how to react. We had never hung out alone, and he was offering me a place to sleep. Admittedly, if he had such an annoying roommate, I’d let him suffer.

Thankfully, he was a good guy.

Jeon | 22:53 | I’m going to game all night but I still think they’re louder

Me | 22:54 | seriously?

Me | 22:55 | no take backs

Jeon | 22:55 | you remember where I live, right?

Jimin had taken me once to a small party at Jungkook’s, and though I couldn’t remember the building number, I knew how it looked like and how to get there. It would probably take me fifteen minutes of walk to reach it.

Me | 22:56 | sure

Me | 22:56 | thank you!

Me | 22:56 | I owe you one 

***

Jungkook didn’t lie when he said he’d be quieter than Jimin and Jiwoo; when I entered his apartment, he just smiled and muttered make yourself at home, and with that, Jungkook was gone in his bedroom, gaming.

It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was weird – to be in his living room alone.

His flat was rather tidy and comfortable, and it was evident it belonged to a man. Lazily, I fished a book out of my bag; it was the second book of a shitty trilogy, and despite wanting to pull all my hair out whenever I flipped the page, I couldn’t stop reading it.

I started reading, but it was difficult without acceptable background noise. With my finger marking the page, I paused, stood up and marched toward Jungkook’s room. Having knocked, I pushed the doors slightly open, and asked, “Do you mind if I hang out here for a while? It’s still early, and I have a fucked-up sleeping schedule.”

Jungkook turned his head toward me and nodded. Smiling, I closed the doors behind me and lay down on his bed. He was sitting in his fancy gaming chair, and had an expensive-looking headset; it was evident he took his hobby very seriously.

“Are you having a girl over?” I heard, probably Taehyung, since he had mentioned his name earlier, say through Jungkook’s headphones since this boy apparently didn’t mind loud game sounds.

“It’s just Jimin’s roommate; Jimin and his girlfriend are shagging way too loud, so I let her stay at my place,” Jungkook explained, and I shrugged, returning to my book.

“She’s at your place? You should totally hook up with her,” Taehyung encouraged Jungkook, and I giggled, ignoring the indecent advice. We barely knew each other, and no matter how good Jungkook must be at sex, it wasn’t happening. Tempting – very tempting, but I wouldn’t let it happen. I didn’t need more drama at this point in my life.

“You better focus on the game or else I’m gonna let them kill you!” Jungkook yelled into the microphone, and Taehyung immediately stopped teasing him. Though I wasn’t sure, I presumed that Jungkook was a skilled player that no one fancied getting on his wrong side.

It was a calm night, yet a few annoyed groans still escaped his mouths whenever Jungkook’s team was losing. I wasn’t better at keeping my reactions at bay, especially when the lead character did something incredibly stupid, and I wished her boyfriend turned out to be a serial killer, obsessed with the idea to murder her.

“You know what? I’m done playing with you for tonight,” Jungkook barked when they lost another battle because of Taehyung. Angrily, he threw the headset on the desk, and running his fingers through his hair, he swiveled in his gaming chair, staring at me lying comfortably.

“It wasn’t your day, was it?” I asked though I was still focused on the book.

“It’s them,” Jungkook said, pointing at the computer behind him. “It wasn’t their day; I’m way too good to have bad episodes.” He explained, and I hummed, even though I didn’t care. No matter how Jungkook seemed to love gaming, it wasn’t my cup of tea, and I wasn’t going to pretend to enjoy it so he would like me. I was still polite enough to listen to whatever bothered him, though.

“Is it interesting?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head, mentioning the book in my hands.

“Oh God, no,” I sighed in relief as I slammed the novel close for dramatic purposes. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” I proposed, and Jungkook smiled casually.

“I’d drunk five energy drinks before you came here; I won’t fall asleep for at least two days, so a movie sounds pretty awesome.” Jungkook clarified, and I sat up, staring at him.

“Do you have anything in mind? I’m fine with whatever,” I said, smiling. As long as I hadn’t seen a film before, it should be alright.

“We can just look through my Netflix recommendations; there should be something interesting.” Jungkook proposed, and I nodded, following him to the living room. “Do you want anything to eat?” He asked politely, but before I answered him, he added, “I have only unhealthy snacks, though. I hope you don’t mind it.”

“There’s no such a thing like a healthy snack,” I remarked, sitting down on the couch, while Jungkook pranced to the kitchen to get us food. Within two minutes, he took a seat beside me and placed a large bag of chips and a six-pack of beer on the coffee table.

“So… how are the lovebirds?” Jungkook asked curiously, as he took a sip of the chilled beer.

“They’re good, maybe even too good for my liking,” I admitted honestly, looking at Jungkook who grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. “Jiwoo has her own flat; I have no idea why they keep hitting skins in Jimin’s room. I was the one who set them up! I swear they’re trying to spite me!” I ranted on, and Jungkook chuckled while looking for a catching movie title.

“They've probably forgotten you exist. Do you know how many times Jimin came over here ever since their first date?” Jungkook asked, and I shook my head. Yes, Jimin’s my friend, but no, he doesn’t relate everything he does – for which I’m very thankful. “Zero.”

“Oh, it is nice knowing I’m not the only one left out,” I muttered.

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Jungkook carried on, and I raised my head, looking at him, waiting for elaboration. “You finally can do whatever you want without getting disturbed. Spoil yourself before they start to cling to you again.”

In some odd way, he made sense. Jiwoo and Jimin were so busy rolling in the hay; I might as well use my free time to relax.

“I just might.”

***

The very next weekend, Jimin asked me if I minded him throwing a party at our apartment; it was their third week together, and they decided to celebrate it with their closest friends. What kind of anniversary even was that?

“As long as you’re the one tidying I don’t mind,” I snickered, trying to get something extra out of this situation. I was actually in a mood for a small gathering, but Jimin didn’t have to know that. “What do you say?”

“Ugh, fine,” Jimin gave in quickly, looking around the mess in the living room which was solely my creation. “What did I tell you about getting your shoes on the shoe-shelf? I’m not perfect, but you better put them there, or I’m gonna throw them away,” Jimin warned me, as he picked up my trainer and threw it across the room.

“I love you, too,” I cooed, smiling at Jimin who was cursing me under his breath. “Do you want me to cook anything?” I shouted before he disappeared into the confines of his room, dramatically slamming the doors.

Two hours later, he cooled down enough to hold a conversation with me, and although he said I didn’t have to cook anything, he gave me a long-ass shopping list. He didn’t want me around when he was cleaning up because he knew I’d make another mess, so sending me to the supermarket was the only reasonable option left.

“I told them to bring booze, so don’t but too much alcohol,” Jimin told me, as he handed me some cash which should cover most of the costs.

“Don’t worry, I’m really good at shopping,” I assured him before I put the money in my wallet. “Have I ever failed you?”

“Only today you’ve failed me like four times,” Jimin stated straightforwardly, and I wanted to jab him in the eye with a pencil for giving me that attitude. “And it’s barely noon!”

“Wow,” I said, sounding a tad bit overdramatic. “You did not say that!”

“I did yes,” Jimin retorted, and I refrained myself from harming him regardless of how much pleasure it would bring me. “And now get going, don’t hurry.”

***

Though I could invite my friends, no one could make it on such short notice. Well… except for Jiwoo, but she was too busy making out with Jimin to keep me company. I was still convinced I’d have a great time, though. I knew Jimin’s friends, and since he had better things to do than mingling with his guests, I took the role of the host on myself.

“Hi, what’s up?” I asked as soon as I approached Taehyung and Jungkook who were enthusiastically chatting with each other. Probably about that game which they had been playing the last time; I understood none of their jabber, so it must’ve been it.

“It’s cool, but I still don’t get it; they’ve been dating for three weeks. What kind of anniversary is that?” Jungkook whined, and I giggled, hearing my previous thoughts leave his mouth. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one wondering about it.

“My words exactly,” I exclaimed, interjecting him. “Do you know any drinking games? I think it’s about time we play one.”

“What about most likely?” Taehyung proposed, and I looked at him curiously. I had never played that game, and I didn’t know the rules, so he had to explain it to me. “It’s quite easy, and hopefully, we can get drunk really quickly.”

One person asks a ‘most likely’ question, and then all players point at whoever seems most likely to do so. The person, who gets the maximum number of fingers pointing at them, drinks. It sounded easy, and when Taehyung explained it to me, Jungkook looked for more players to make it even more interesting.

At first, we started with easy questions, but after a couple of rounds, everyone got a bit competitive, and it became quite dirty. I wasn’t surprised, it was bound to happen. We all were college students, after all.

“Who would be most likely to have a threesome with twins?” Hoseok asked, and without thinking, I counted to three and pointed at him. Pretty much like everyone else. Hoseok was a fuckboy, and I was sure he had tried it before at least once.

“You know the rules,” Namjoon mocked Hoseok when the latter tried to bullshit his way out of his punishment. “Bottoms up!”

“Ugh, I hate you guys,” he complained but emptied his bottle anyway.

“Who would be most likely to give a shitty head?” Yoongi inquired, being another one in the queue. It wasn’t as easy as the previous question, but I only got three seconds to make up my mind, so I panicked, randomly pointing my finger at Jungkook.

“What are you guys playing?” Jiwoo asked as she approached our group, Jimin being right beside her. They were sickeningly in love, but eventually, they remembered they had guests. “You don’t mind if we play, do you?”

Taehyung quickly explained the rules for the fourth time this evening, and when they were filled in, Jiwoo was the first one to play.

“Who would be most likely to have sex in a public place?” She voiced, and without even counting, I pointed at Jimin. Maybe I hadn’t walked on them knocking boots yet, but I had a feeling neither of them would be expressly turned down by the prospect of hooking up in such circumstances. They were unquestionably too sex-crazed to care.

The game continued for another thirty minutes; it was fun, but Hoseok grossed everyone out before they managed to discover all my dirty secrets.

“You seriously think I give the worst head?” Jungkook straightforwardly asked when he caught me alone in the kitchen when I was getting another bottle of beer.

“I wouldn’t put that much thought to it if I were you,” I stated casually, hoping he would dismiss that subject. “Don’t take it personally, my choice was completely random.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Jungkook declared, and I chuckled as the alcohol started kicking in. I was feeling lightheaded, and whatever Jungkook said made me beam at him.

“Shame, I was about to lash out at you for choosing me as the most likely get pregnant with a one-night stand. I mean… what the fuck, Jeon?” I asked dramatically, but after three seconds of looking into his eyes, I cracked.

“Well… you were the only single girl playing with us, who should I pick?” Jungkook spoke defensively, and I shook my head, laughing. “I didn’t have a choice, did I?”

“You did not,” I answered, as I sat on the kitchen counter. “There’s a bag of shredded cheese in the fridge, do you mind handing me some?”

“Should’ve thought about your snack before you put that cute butt on the counter,” Jungkook snickered, as he opened the refrigerator only to get a chilled bottle of beer, completely ignoring my humble request.

“So you’re gonna be a mean friend,” I wondered out loud, swinging my legs from side to side. “I should’ve seen it coming.” I sighed, hoping I could shoot lasers with my eyes because Jungkook was being a dick.

“What about some shots instead?”

***

Though it was weird, I didn’t particularly hate their odd anniversaries. However, when Jiwoo forgot about the horror marathon, I seriously thought I was going to pour acid on her face for ditching me like that. The tickets were pretty pricey, yet she dared to stand me up one hour before the screening.

What a selfish bitch!

How dare she pick Jimin over me?

At first, I weighed the pros and cons of going alone, but then I decided to find a replacement; it’s not like Jiwoo was my only friend…

Maybe I had plenty of friends, but none of them were available at such a short notice. A friend in need is a friend indeed… such bullshit! Apparently, I was surrounded by fakes.

Sighing, I scrolled through my contact list looking for someone who would like to tag along. And then my thumb hovered above Jungkook’s name. We hadn’t talked since that party, and although it was so out of the blue to ask him to go to the movies with me, he seemed to be my last resort. He hadn’t let me down the last time, and I didn’t expect him to do it now.

Me | 20:46 | are you busy tonight?

Me | 20:47 | Jiwoo stood me up again

Jeon | 20:51 | oh… she did?

Me | 20:51 | yeah

Me | 20:51 | there’s a horror marathon tonight, and she canceled on me

Me | 20:51 | and the tickets are nonrefundable!

Me | 20:52 | they’re going to meet his parents

Me | 20:53 | can you believe it?

Jeon | 20:54 | wow

Jeon | 20:54 | at this pace they’re gonna marry in two months

Me | 20:55 | I guess

Me | 20:55 | what about the cinema?

Me | 20:55 | do you wanna go???

Me | 20:56 | I can go alone but that’d be lame

Jeon | 20:57 | it’s tonight?

Jeon | 20:57 | I was gonna hit the gym, but I guess I can skip once

Me | 20:57 | thanks!!!

Me | 20:58 | you’re the best!!!

***

“Do you want anything?” Jungkook asked me when we walked beside the cinema bar; the popcorn smelled delicious, and if I hadn’t eaten a large supper at home, my mouth would definitely water. “You don’t want me to give you money for the ticket, so the least I can do is buy you some snacks,” Jungkook argued, but I dismissed him.

“No, you don’t have to,” I assured him, as we sat in a vacant sofa in the lobby. “Jiwoo paid for her ticket, and she said I could do anything with it, so I’m treating you. You’re the only one who could make it anyway.” I explained, and Jungkook sighed, not knowing how to convince me to agree to his proposition. “Besides, I owe you for the last time,” I remembered, and Jungkook almost growled in irritation.

“But seriously, it’s just a cup of coke and a bucket of popcorn. It’s not a big deal,” Jungkook carried on, and I just rolled my eyes.

“But it’s so overpriced,” I reasoned, and Jungkook ran his hand through his hair in frustration, not knowing how to win this argument. I had a point, and what was wrong with me treating him? I owed him, so I was just paying my debt with no attempt to hurt his ego whatsoever.

“Ok, fine, so I’ll go over there and buy something for myself,” Jungkook announced before he walked off to stand in a line. “And if you happen to try to steal some later, I’m gonna smack that hand,” he warned me shouting from over his spot in the queue, making a dozen of heads turn, suddenly curious about our small quarrel.

Smiling, I got off the sofa, joining Jungkook by his side. I knew I was right, but Jungkook was so adorably stubborn, and I just had to give in. And the crowd which was pressuring me wasn’t making it any easier.

“Which popcorn do you want?” Jungkook asked me when it was finally our turn to order. “Personally, I prefer regular one, but if you like caramel one, I can make an exception.”

“I prefer regular one, too,” I answered casually, not wanting to order longer than necessary; the first movie was about to start in five minutes, and around ten people were still in the queue behind us. “So hurry up, we’re gonna miss all the commercials!”

“Ugh, fine, and what do you want to drink?” Jungkook asked, and I quickly said coke. “It wasn’t that difficult now, was it?” He added mockingly, handing me the bucket of popcorn.

Quickly, we found our seats.

Well… one double seat. I should’ve known better not to let Jiwoo buy the tickets. Even though she had Jimin to cuddle with, she wouldn’t miss a chance to sneak her arm around mine. And while I was used to Jiwoo being clingy, with Jungkook sitting next to me, it felt awkward. Thank God, I hadn’t seen the projected movies yet, so I was going to focus on the screen, and not the handsome man beside me.

The lights went out, and the eerie music began to play; I was excited, and I hoped for the first horror movie to be exciting and spooky. It was okay; it didn’t frighten me at all, and I predicted the ending correctly, but at least I laughed when someone in the audience shrieked at one of the jump-scares. The second one was much worse, though. Somehow through it, I fell asleep, only to be stirred awake by Jungkook during the third movie when my head slid on his shoulder.

“Sorry…” I whispered, rubbing my eyes, trying not to fall asleep again.

“It’s okay, you didn’t miss anything anyway,” Jungkook added, and I smiled, wrapping myself in my jacket warmly before I dozed off again.

***

The next time I messaged Jungkook wasn’t because I was annoyed with the lovebirds’ shenanigans; I really liked his company and frankly wanted to hang out with him. He was the only one within my circle of friends who had time to meet up. Among my friends, he was the only one I could actually rely on these days.

Me | 18:43 | what are you up to?

Jungkook didn’t disappoint; two minutes later I saw three little dots as he typed his reply.

Jeon | 18:46 | I was just about to leave for the gym

Jeon | 18:46 | what happened?

Jeon | 18:47 | are they bothering you again?

Me | 18:48 | Nah

Me | 18:48 | I’m bored

Jeon | 18:49 | oh

Me | 18:50 | we could go together to the public gym...

Jeon | 18:51 | but they’re shit!

Jeon | 18:51 | and only old people exercise there!

Me | 18:52 | please???

Me | 18:52 | I’m really bored

Jeon | 18:53 | ughhhhh

Jeon | 18:54 | meet you there in 20

***

“You have to warm up first,” Jungkook announced when I was about to start my workout. “How about doing two laps around the park?” He proposed, and I rolled my eyes, thinking it wasn’t that great idea to join him on his training.

“Are you serious? It’s not a warm-up, you’re trying to kill me,” I whined, having no intention of running. “When I said I’d join you, I meant that I would laze around beside you when you work out, and not actually working out myself, you know…”

Jungkook tongued his cheek, glancing at me from head to toe. “If you’re going to laze around, you’ll never get rid of those spaghetti legs, you know…” he mocked, and I gritted my teeth, staring at him angrily.

“You did not say that,” I spoke slowly, and Jungkook just shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh, I did,” he replied, and if I didn’t hate running so much, I would sprint toward him and smack that smirk off his face. “A little bit of sport won’t do you any harm.”

“You could cut me some slack, it’s my first attempt of exercising in months,” I reasoned, hoping he would understand me. “Besides, I don’t want to be ripped like you,” I added, and then an idea popped into my mind. “How about you run those two laps and I’ll time you?”

“Or maybe we should bet?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“If you run one lap faster than I run two, you win, and I treat you to some ice-cream later,” Jungkook explained, and I tried my best not to smile mischievously. Sure, I hadn’t done sports in a while, but back in the day, I had been a rather fast runner. Maybe, I was a little out of shape right now, but I couldn’t be that bad to lose this bet.

“I’m not sure…” I trailed on dubiously.

“Come on, don’t be a chicken,” Jungkook egged on, and I gave in without further complaining. “I knew you wouldn’t back out of a challenge.”

“What can I say? I’m competitive, just like you.”

Having sealed the bet with a firm hand-shake, we established the finishing line. It was a long distance, but Jungkook had no chance running two laps faster than I did one. Perhaps, I’d lose one lung during the run, but it was the risk I was willing to take if that meant free ice-cream.

“Good luck,” Jungkook said, winking at me before he took off at his maximum speed. Shaking my head, I sprinted as fast as I could, even though I knew he wouldn’t outpace me.

My legs were hurting, my breath was shallow, and I could feel the blood taste in my mouth. I was definitely out of shape, but the finishing line was within now 100 meters, and Jungkook was still way behind me.

“Oh shit,” I looked over my shoulder and saw Jungkook who was running like his life depended on it. He didn’t seem to tire at all, so I sped, using the last bits of energy.

The second I ran through the finishing line, I almost collapsed on the ground as my legs felt like noodles which weren’t able to support my weight. Panting, I sat on the grass and leaned in, having my head between my knees as I gasped for air.

“Okay, you won this one,” Jungkook muttered, breathing heavily. “And I hope you’ve warmed up for the rest of the training.” He stretched his arm, helping me to stand up.

“I have enough of this training already,” I complained as I followed behind him.

“Fine, I won’t torture you today; let’s just get ice-cream.”

***

It has been almost two months since the first time I initiated contact with Jungkook in order to keep my mind off Jimin and Jiwoo’s antics. Ever since then, Jungkook and I became very tight, and at some point, I considered him a better friend that Jiwoo or Jimin have ever been. At least, he was flexible enough to meet up with me when I really needed someone. Out of all of my friends, Jungkook proved himself to be the only one I could always rely on.

Without any hesitation, I could call him my best friend.

Usually, it was me who initiated contact, but this time, it was Jungkook who reached out to me, asking me if I had any plans for tonight. I had three exams on Monday, but I still had two spare days to study, so I asked him what he had on mind.

Me | 17:41 | What are you planning?

Jeon | 17:42 | Nothing much… I’m just bored

Jeon | 17:42 | I thought about a movie marathon

Jeon | 17:42 | What do you say???

Jeon | 17:42 | I have snacks

Having hung out with me, Jungkook already knew what to say to pique my interest.

Me | 17:43 | Ok, I’m interested

Me | 17:43 | What are we watching tonight?

Jeon | 17:44 | I don’t know…

Jeon | 17:44 | maybe some action movies?

Me | 17:45 | sounds good

Me | 17:45 | I’ll be over at your place in 30

Jeon | 17:45 | OK, I’m waiting

Quickly, I put my phone away, quickly getting ready to leave. I took my books out of my purse and packed some clothes to sleep in, cosmetics for washing off my make-up before sleep and an extra bottle of plum wine in case we would run out of alcohol.

Within ten minutes, I was ready to leave. Quietly, I exited my room, and then, screamed in shock when Jimin scared the shit out of me. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked as I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to calm down my beating heart. What was he doing inside the house? What was he doing without Jiwoo? They were attached to the hip – ever since they started going out, I have never seen them separately. Did they have a fight? Did they break up? What the hell was going on?

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked me as he sat up. Staring at me, and then at my bag, he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out where I was headed. “So…” he waited for my answer, but I didn’t want to tell him about Jungkook, knowing he was going to tease me about it, and probably, even try to set me up with him. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind taking our friendship to another level, but if anything was going to stem from it, I wanted it to happen naturally, and not because friends in a relationship wanted me to be in a relationship, too. “Have you finally got yourself a boyfriend?”

I’d love to sneak out to see my boyfriend, but it wasn’t happening, so I only rolled my eyes at him. “What boyfriend? You know I’m not seeing anybody.” I answered honestly, and Jimin sighed, as he evidently wanted me to get laid. “But what is really weird; what are you doing here? Trouble in paradise?” I fired the question as I sat down beside him.

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Jimin quickly denied, and I nodded my head in acknowledgment, waiting for the explanation. Regardless of them forgetting about my existence, they were still my friends, and I cared about them. “Jiwoo’s mother has sent her to a dieting trip, and although I told them that she’s perfect and she doesn’t need to lose any more weight, they didn’t listen to me. She’s going to come back next week; until then, we can only text.”

“You will survive.”

“Of course, I’m going to survive, but I’d rather didn’t have to, you know,” Jimin trailed off, and then, I smiled, trying to disguise my disgusted reaction; they were so sickeningly in love, and I wanted to vomit whenever I witnessed the affection they were showering each other with. “So where are you going? Can I tag along? I need something to keep myself busy when Jiwoo can’t reply me.”

“Sorry, can’t do,” I quickly answered as I stood up and took my bag off the floor. “Lisa’s boyfriend of two years dumped her, and we’re going to console her. She likes you, but you’re too happy with Jiwoo to be any help to her.”

“Oh, I see,” Jimin said, a bit disappointed that he couldn’t accompany me. He understood that it wasn’t the best idea for him to go with me. Thankfully, he didn't inquire any further. “Tell her that this guy is a jerk. She deserves better, anyway.”

“Sure,” I answered, as I ran to the doors. In no time, I put my shoes on and threw my jacket over my shoulders. I told Jungkook that I'd see him in 30 minutes, and because of this chit-chat with Jimin, I was running a bit late.

***

“You’re late,” said Jungkook as soon as he opened the doors for me. I looked up, trying to apologize and explain that I was trying to blow Jimin off, but Jungkook just shrugged, smiling at me. “I’m just kidding. It’s no big deal. Come on in, I’m making cheese nachos.”

“Ooh… sounds tasty, I have never eaten cheese nachos,” I said, as I closed the doors behind me and took off my shoes.

“You can’t be serious! It’s impossible, everybody has eaten it at some point,” Jungkook spoke, very confused that I have never tasted it.

“There’s always a first time for everything,” I replied, as I followed behind him, sitting in a chair, inhaling the delicious smell of nachos. “So… what are we watching?”

“I don’t know; what about some Marvel movies?” Jungkook proposed, and I sighed, not convinced about his choice. He was a hardcore fan, so he was probably trying to force this hobby on me, too. Spiderman was kinda cute, but it wasn’t enough to convince me to start watching all of the movies from the superhero franchise.

“I don’t feel like it. Maybe some other time,” I trailed off, as I watched Jungkook prepare the nachos. It looked like a simple recipe, but I still appreciated the view in front of me and the effort he put into making it. Although it was actually inappropriate to have these kinds of thoughts about friends, I couldn’t help myself; Jungkook was a snack, but when he was bustling around the kitchen, he was just irresistible.

“OK, let’s go,” Jungkook spoke, pulling me out of my train of thought. Carefully, he carried the trey with nachos to the living room. “I’m actually fine with anything,” he said as he sat down on the couch, turning on his laptop.

It was difficult to pick anything. One of Jungkook’s friends, Namjoon, recommended him Friends to polish his English, and since I had seen the majority of episodes, I proposed to watch Criminal Minds. After what it felt like an hour, for the sake of the stiffing cheese, we decided to compromise – every two episodes of Friends, we were going to watch one of Criminal Minds, and since the duration was almost even, I complied.

 “It is fun hanging out with you like that,” Jungkook said during the third episode of Criminal Minds. Currently, Spencer Reid was in the frame, and I was grinning like an idiot while munching on the rest of nachos. “I mean it; even when you fan-girl over that guy way too hard,” he joked, and I looked at him sternly, not liking his tone.

“Excuse you, but Spencer is a genius. He’s every girl’s favorite,” I remarked, and once again smiled when Spencer said something smart. “Besides, I can lust after whoever I want. I didn’t say anything when you fanboyed over Iron Man the last time.”

“It’s different,” Jungkook argued, and I giggled at his strange behavior. Having paused the video, I put the trey on the table and turned to look at him. “Besides, I’m way cooler than him, anyone would confirm that.”

“Yeah, right,” I snorted, shaking my head in disbelief. What was going on with him? Was he feeling insecure when compared to Spencer? Well… Spencer is a character, and Jungkook’s a real person, and I like him much more. “But seriously, you’re both great.”

“But I’m way more handsome,” Jungkook stubbornly claimed, and I agreed with him, knowing there was no point in arguing. Although it was a little arrogant of him, he was correct. Jungkook had his own charm, and it made him ridiculously attractive. “I was right,” Jungkook admitted, and I rolled my eyes at him, “although I have never caught you drooling over me, I’ve always known you liked me.”

“That’s not what I said,” I fought back, but Jungkook just smiled sheepishly, ignoring whatever I could say to defend my situation.

“Yeah, but you didn’t deny it,” Jungkook admitted smugly, and I smacked his thigh, urging him to stop embarrassing me. I came to watch something, not to get teased.

“Well… in that case,” I started, as I smiled at him and looked straight into his beautiful dark eyes. “You must like me too since you’re so curious about my feelings,” I said, and Jungkook looked away, a bit startled by my bold words. “Am I right, Jeon?”

“Maybe.”

***

After our conversation, we continued the marathon until it was four o’clock in the morning. Despite that we basically confessed to each other, nothing exciting happened; we carried on our marathon as if we didn’t just have that talk.

Not that I minded, though. I had no idea why it was possible, but it didn’t feel awkward at all.

Not even when we woke up in the afternoon cuddled on the couch. We probably should’ve discussed this unusual confession, but none of us felt like it. Nothing has changed, and everything seemed fine, so why should we change something that’s good?

The thing that we silently agreed on was giving each other some space. We didn’t part ways with an awkward hug or anything, but we didn’t reach one another throughout the rest of the week. And then, during another week, either, but I didn’t put that much thought to it. I was a pretty hectic week for me, and I suspected Jungkook to deal with similar problems.

Next Thursday, having done the groceries, I was on my way back home. It was past 9 o’clock, and I was tired after many hours of work, and right now, I couldn’t wait to reach the apartment, bake the damn pizza I had been craving the entire week, and doze off during another TV series.

When in front of the doors of my apartment, I put the grocery bag on the floor, as I sought for the keys in my bottomless purse. Quickly, I inserted the key and opened the doors only to shriek in disgust when I saw the scene occurring in front of my eyes.

Jimin was nailing Jiwoo on my fucking couch!

How could they? On my couch! That’s despicable! On my couch!

It was Thursday; she wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow! Fine, she was back, but couldn’t they have enough decency to Wam Bam Thank You Ma’am in his bedroom, or at least, give me a heads-up that they were going to defile my couch?

“What the fuck?” I hollered, as I closed my eyes, took a step backward, and slammed the doors shut. I saw them for 2 seconds tops, but Jimin still managed to flash his fucking dong in front of my innocent eyes.

Instantly, I grabbed the groceries and walked out of the apartment complex. The moment the fresh air hit my face, I pulled out my phone and dialed Jungkook’s number. Right now, he was the only one I could turn to, even after what happened the last time I saw him.

“Are you busy right now?” I asked Jungkook, not even bothering to greet him.

“Oh, hi. I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” Jungkook mused, and I rolled my eyes. “I’m waiting for Tae; we’re having a Marvel marathon tonight. Why? What happened?”

“Oh,” I hummed, “I’ll tell you when I get to you,” I stated before I hung up, not waiting for his approval. I had caught them humping on my couch – I was pissed, and I needed to distract myself. Needless to say, hanging out with Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t seem that bad.

They were great, it actually seemed dope.

Within fifteen minutes, I reached Jungkook’s apartment.

Quickly, Jungkook swung the doors open, and then I blurted, “I came back home only to catch Jiwoo getting boned on my fucking couch!”

“What?” Jungkook asked in confusion, but he took a step to the side, letting me in.

“I think I am traumatized right now,” I said lifelessly, as I sat on his couch, dropping my groceries by my feet. “You know what? This couch was very expensive, and they just… profaned it,” I spoke, not caring if Jungkook was listening to me. I just had to get it out of my system. “How could they? On my couch!”

Jungkook sat beside me, as I stared blankly at nothing in particular.

“I came back home after doing shopping, and then I caught them fornicating on my cute couch. And I’m pretty sure I made eye-contact with Jimin’s dick. The worst two seconds of my life. Jungkook, do you have bleach?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jungkook reprimanded me, but I casually wrapped my arms around his neck, not even asking if he minded being my shoulder to cry on. Maybe I was being a bit overdramatic, but how was I going to face Jimin after seeing him in his birthday suit?

“Are you hungry?” I asked as soon as I pulled away, jumping on my feet. Usually, hard work kept me occupied, and right now, cooking seemed to be the only activity I could engage myself in. “I was going to bake pizza, I have all the needed ingredients,” I announced, picking up the grocery bag, moving toward his tiny kitchen.

“Do you need any help?” Jungkook offered, sitting by the kitchen island, watching me rummage around the kitchen.

“You can shred the cheese,” I told him, giving him one of the simplest tasks.

Jungkook turned on the radio, and we cooked in peace, talking about everything and nothing. He knew that I had to be kept busy, and he helped me. And I really appreciated it.

“When is Tae going to be here?” I inquired when I unpacked the groceries.

“Oh, he should’ve been here by now,” Jungkook said when he checked the time. “Wait a second,” he mused when he pulled out his phone. “That bitch ditched me!” Jungkook yelled, showing me their conversation in which Taehyung picked a hot Tinder date over Jungkook.

“What kind of friends do we have?” I asked rhetorically, but then I smiled at him. “Don’t be sad, though. If he’s not coming, it means there’s more food for us.” I said, reminding him that there’s always a blessing in disguise. “And my pizza is to die for!”

“Do you want a drink? I think we both need to get drunk,” Jungkook offered, and I nodded – he must’ve read my mind. If he didn’t want to hand me a bottle of bleach, then I’d have to resort to alcohol. “That fucker.”

Quickly, Jungkook poured us drinks, and although it was a bit too strong for my liking, I was going to drink it because the urge to erase Jimin’s dick from my memory was stronger than my common sense.

“So… is he big?” Jungkook asked me when he finished shredding the cheese. He was sitting on the opposite side of the table, supping his drink, staring at me knead the dough. Having sighed, I looked up at him, and flicked some flour on his face, hoping that he would shut his mouth. I wanted to erase that image, and talking about it wouldn’t make that picture to go away. “What? I wanna know.” Jungkook whined, and I shook my head, having no energy to comment on his statement.

Why do men need to know if they’re bigger or not? What does he need this validation for?

“Why don’t you focus on something useful… like turning on the oven, for example,” I said, and Jungkook listened to my command.

“So you’re not going to answer me, are you?” Jungkook asked me again as if he hoped I’d change my mind.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I have nothing to compare it with,” I started, as I spread the sauce over the dough. “If you really wanna know, just flash me your dick, and I’ll tell you who’s bigger,” I added boldly, and Jungkook choked on his second drink, as he did not expect me to ask him to do that.

“On the second thought, I don’t wanna know,” he said, returning to his previous spot. “A simple no would work, by the way.”

“I’m not so sure it would,” I said confidently, as I put all the toppings. Now, we just had to wait for the oven to heat. “So what do you want to do? I need to do something to keep myself busy, so I could forget what I saw. I’m literally down with everything.”

“Everything you say?” Jungkook repeated after me, cocking up his eyebrow, probably thinking of something naughty. If I was right, I couldn’t blame him for any indecent thoughts of me. I would be a hypocrite because I had been thinking about him every night when I had been trying to fall asleep. And then, he had often haunted my dreams, too.

“What? What are you thinking about?” I inquired, though I had already a few possible answers to my question. Jungkook’s embarrassed smile could only mean one thing.

“Oh, I don’t think you wanna find out, baby,” he answered cockily, and I looked into his eyes, as I didn’t expect to hear that kind of reply. My boldness had successfully shied him away, and he was trying to intimidate me in the same way.

“What a shame,” I muttered, as I turned around to put the pizza into the oven. “As I said, I’m down with anything. So, what? Should we continue our marathon from where we left it last week?” I proposed innocently, but Jungkook didn’t seem excited about that option.

“You know what? Screw this,” Jungkook said before he approached me, turned me around, and forced his lips against mine. The kiss was rushed and sloppy, but it conveyed our frustration and urgency, and to me, it was perfect.

Almost instantly, he pushed his tongue into my mouth, and I let out a moan. His hands were holding my face, while mine quickly found purchase on his firm butt and pulled him against me. Unsynchronized, our lips moved together, desperately making up for the lost time that we had spent not kissing each other.

“Jungkook,” I moaned his name, and as if being urged, he hoisted me up and sat me down on the kitchen counter. With his lips tightly pressed against mine, he spread my legs and quickly slipped between them.

Although Jungkook barely touched me, I felt the flame kindle within me. Jungkook’s hands wandered down my sides until they reached my hips where he dug his fingers in. I loved it when he was feeling my body.

When I wanted to moan his name again, Jungkook bit on my bottom lip, stopping it from rolling off my tongue. Right now, he only cared about one thing, and it was me reciprocating his passionate kiss.

“I wanted to do that for quite a long time,” Jungkook confessed, as he pulled away. His eyes were shut close; his forehead was pressed against mine, while his hands dragged me over to the edge of the counter so I could feel his hardening cock.

“Me, too,” I admitted, as I wrapped my legs around his waist. “I won’t tell you how many times thoughts of you fucking me kept me awake at night,” I added, and Jungkook chuckled before he captured my lips again, already missing them.

“I’m hoping you thought of me every night,” Jungkook whispered against my mouth before he began to suck on my bottom lip, playfully pulling it. “I couldn’t fall asleep before I jerked off to you,” Jungkook confessed, and I giggled, as I imagined his veiny hand moving up and down his erection, his hips thrusting against his grip, the little hisses which left his mouth before he moaned my name.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” I blurted out when Jungkook’s lips left my mouth, as he desperately wanted to mark my skin. Gently, Jungkook nipped my neck, as he wanted to imprint his feelings on my body. I didn’t mind hickeys, and I was sure that Jungkook wasn’t going to stop with one. No, he’s the type of a guy to mark me everywhere.

“Are you asking me out?” Jungkook inquired, and I purred when I felt his cold breath on the wet skin of my neck. “I should be the one doing that,” he concluded before he returned to his erotic ministrations; his teeth lightly scratched my skin, and his tongue licked the grazed area, and I probably enjoyed it more than I should. “Tomorrow, we’re going on a date.”

“You’re so hot when you’re so controlling,” I admitted honestly, and if Jungkook didn’t believe me, my wet panties could confirm that I indeed meant my words. “Which is strange because I hate being bossed around,” I added, and Jungkook grinned as he looked up, innocently pecking my lips.

“I wanna be inside of you already,” Jungkook whined, as he rubbed his erected cock against my sex, showing me how desperate he was to feel me. “I wanna feel how you squeeze around me; I wanna hear you scream my name when I make you come.”

“Jungkook, I…” and when I was about to tell him that I wanted him to take me on that kitchen counter, the oven started to ring, signalizing that the pizza was ready. As soon as we realized that the oven just cockblocked us, we began to laugh. “I think it’s a sign that we shouldn’t be doing that,” I said as I pushed him away and jumped off the counter, so I could take the pizza out of the oven before it would burn.

“I highly doubt that,” Jungkook answered as he sat down by the table, watching me bend over. “Your ass is amazing by the way,” he spoke in admiration, but I only rolled my eyes, even though I was flattered that he visually liked my butt.

“Thank you, but if you think that flattery with help you get into my pants, then you’re right,” I said playfully, as I put on mittens and placed the tin-ware on the stove. “But in your case, I think you could do all of the worst things to me, and I’d still let you fuck me, Jeon.”

“I’m honored to hear that you’re whipped for me,” Jungkook said casually, still observing my moves. “What kinky things would you let me do to you?”

“Probably all of them,” I said as I sat astride on his muscular thighs. “Wow, your muscles are no joke. Let me guess; you never skip the leg day, do you?” I asked him while playing with his hair as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I actually do sometimes, but usually it’s when you wanna hang out,” Jungkook admitted, as he grabbed my butt and pulled me closer, so his dick was pressed against my clothed entrance. I was feeling him through the fabric, and it felt absolutely erotic – if he would bury his cock inside of me, I’d probably squeeze around him immediately. “You’re the sole reason why I slack off sometimes.”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea I’m such a bad influence,” I whispered into his ear, rubbing my sex against his throbbing cock. “So… are you hungry? The pizza tastes the best when it’s right out of the oven,” I said, mentioning the food, but Jungkook ignored my proposition, as he was dead set on devouring me.

“It looks and smells delicious, but I fancy something else,” Jungkook stated, and I leaned forward to peck his swollen lips to shut him up. He didn’t want to eat me out, did he? I didn’t mind, I knew what his tongue could do, but more than anything, I was desperate to feel his cock fill me. “I’m so hard, baby,” Jungkook hissed, as he cupped his dick.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” I asked sounding unfittingly innocent what really threw him off for a while. Slowly, I slid off his thighs, waiting for him to stop me if he didn’t want to. Just as I expected, Jungkook didn’t protest, he only admired me when I got on my knees between his legs. “It’s my first time, so don’t expect a pro,” I warned him when I cupped his crotch through the material of his jeans. The moment my hand gently squeezed his erection, Jungkook let out a hushed moan of pleasure.

“That’s right, baby. Touch me,” Jungkook breathed out, and I obediently undid the button of his jeans and pulled the zipper down. Biting my lips, I grabbed the hem of his trousers and yanked them down to his calves.

Apparently, Jungkook’s a boxers kind of guy. His budge was impressive, and I couldn’t wait until I’d see what’s hidden under the material. Having licked my lips, I leaned forward to press my lips against his clothed erection. Jiwoo had told me a few months ago that guys liked a little bit of teasing, and it appears that, Jungkook likes it, too.

“You know how to tease me very well for someone who has never done it,” Jungkook nonchalantly commented, but I just shrugged. I wanted to taste him, and I didn’t want to engage in useless conversation with him.

“You will change your mind when I graze your dick with my teeth,” I said jokingly, but Jungkook panicked even if it was for about a second.

“I think I like you too much to get seriously mad at you,” Jungkook admitted, and I smiled shyly, hoping not to blush at his strange confession. With my eyes trained on his erection, I freed his cock out of the boxers, giving it a few delicate strokes. “Oh, your hands are so cold,” Jungkook hissed, kicking his head backward.

“Hints are very much appreciated,” I added, reminding him it was my first time stroking and blowing a man, so if he had any pointers for me, I’d gladly use them.

“You can squeeze your hand a bit tighter, I barely feel your touch, and it drives me insane,” Jungkook instructed me, and I followed his tips, making him bite his bottom lip, as he tried to remain cool. “You can spit on it, you know,” he added, but I ignored him this time, deciding to lick his cock from its base all up to its tip instead.

“Shit,” Jungkook cursed, shutting his eyes close. “Just put it in your mouth already,” Jungkook urged, and I wrapped my mouth around the tip of his cock just as he demanded. “Oh, yeah, just like that,” Jungkook panted out, enjoying the way I ran my tongue around the tip while simultaneously squeezing his balls.

“I’m so turned out right now,” I moaned, feeling excitement flare up inside of me. “I’m so wet for your thick cock,” I added before I once again put his cock into my mouth, this time taking more of him. His response was immediate; although he was trying to stay still because of my lack of experience, he couldn’t stop himself from buckling his hips up, desperate to fuck my throat.

“OK, that’s enough,” Jungkook whispered, as I probably did something wrong. Well…, if anything, it was his fault – he was thrusting into my mouth when I was evidently not prepared for it. “It’s my turn to take care of you; don’t you think?” He added as he offered me his hand to help me stand up.

“You want to eat me out?”

“Damn straight I do,” Jungkook answered quickly, as he jumped up to his feet in front of me and threw me over his shoulder. “You remember that drinking game we played? I’m gonna prove to you how mind-blowing head I give,” he added and spanked my butt playfully.

“If I knew that my choice would hurt your ego so much, I’d just point at Hoseok,” I answered, trying to refrain myself from giggling. The situation was ridiculous; Jungkook was trying to prove me wrong, although I had no doubts in his skills.

Quickly, Jungkook stepped out of his boxers, leaving them behind on the kitchen floor as he carried me to his bedroom.

“To be completely honest, I thought of eating you out ever since,” Jungkook admitted as he placed me on his bed carefully. “How you would moan my name, how you would arch your back and buckle into my face,” he continued, and I hid my face behind my hands too embarrassed to look at him. “Is it too much?”

Hesitantly, I lowered my hands to look at him; Jungkook was sitting on the other side of the bed, staring at me. He looked incredibly nervous, and I couldn’t believe it was me who made him stressed like that. It was just me; he didn’t have to worry about what I was thinking.

“What are you talking about? It’s nothing compared to what I was thinking,” I stated confidently, trying to ease the tension between us. “Maybe I wasn’t pining for you as long as you were for me, but my thoughts are way kinkier. You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me,” I explained, and with that, Jungkook surged forward, getting on top of me, kissing my breath away.

“You’re too great to be real,” he whispered when he pulled away for a second. Before I managed to reply, his lips returned to my mouth, while his hands started to once again roam around my body. Jungkook completely dominated the kiss, and I moaned into his mouth when he squeezed my breast and rubbed his erection against me.

“Just fuck me, Jeon. I don’t care if it’s your cock, tongue or fingers. I just have to feel you, please,” I urged me, as grinding my sex against him wasn’t the best sign of what I wanted him to do. Kissing him was beyond amazing, but my pussy was throbbing for his attention.

“I just love how needy you are,” Jungkook whispered as he kissed my neck, undoing my trousers, pushing his hand under the hem of my panties. “And your pussy is drenched,” he stated matter-of-factly, as he began to rub my juices across my clit.

“Yes,” I breathed out, pushing my hips upwards, wanting him to apply more force. “Oh my God, Jungkook, please, more,” I moaned, hoping that my desperate cries for pleasure would make him stop teasing me.

“Undress,” Jungkook ordered, and I quickly grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, while Jungkook yanked my jeans and panties down my legs, tossing them on the floor. “You look even better than I imagined,” Jungkook admitted before he leaned forward, placing delicate kisses on my stomach, down to my sex.

Firmly, his large hand held my hips in one place. With one last look at me, Jungkook dived in, shaking my world upside down with his tongue. All of his attention was focused on my clit, he massaged it, tugged it and swirled his tongue around it.

Though it was my first time when a guy went down on me, I could tell that Jungkook was amazing; I enjoyed it more than all of my past intimate endeavors. Unlike all the other men I had been with, Jungkook wasn’t only a taker. He gave so much from himself, while at the same time; he wasn’t trying to force me into returning the pleasure. He was perfect.

“You’re so hot,” Jungkook praised me before he started to fuck me with his tongue; it was so nice, I thought I could easily come on his mouth. “I could bet that I could make you come with my fingers,” he added smugly, as he inserted his middle finger inside my pussy.

“I’m not going to bet when I know I’m gonna lose,” I replied genuinely, as I had no intention to boost his ego even more. My desperate moans already stroked it a bit too much.

“Shame,” Jungkook spoke before he started to suck on my clit while curling his fingers inside of me, as he tried to make me come around his fingers.

“You’ve proven your point, Jeon. You’re amazing at giving head,” I said, as I gripped the sheets when Jungkook’s fingers found my sweet spot. “But I really want to come around your cock. Jungkook, please, I want to feel your cock inside of me.”

“Is it weird that it turns me on when you call me Jeon?” Jungkook asked as he pulled out, once again getting on top of me, placing his chin between my breasts.

“No, it’s not, Jeon,” I answered, watching his reaction when I called him by his surname. He didn’t lie, he evidently enjoyed it. “Is it weird that I want you to fill my pussy with cum and then make me come with your fingers with your cum inside of me?”

“A bit,” Jungkook admitted, and I giggled along with him. “But shit, now when you said it, I want to do that,” he added, and I smirked, glad that he didn’t find my fantasy too weird for him. “So… how do you want me to fuck your pussy?”

“I was wondering if I could ride your dick.”

“Baby, this seat is yours,” Jungkook said, as he lay beside me, letting me climb on top of him.

“Take off your shit, I wanna see these abs you’ve been working on,” I commanded, and Jungkook complied, showing off his beautiful muscles. Admiring the view in front of me, I reached behind my back to unhook my bra, releasing my breast.

“Do you like it?” He asked, but instead of answering him, I just grind my pussy against his throbbing cock. “You love it,” he concluded, tensing his muscles, so when I touched them, they were hard as rocks.

“I do, but I’d still like you if you weren’t ripped,” I admitted before I managed to bite my tongue. We had confessed to each other before, but it had never been that direct.

“And I’d still like you if you were just as ripped as I am,” Jungkook jested, and I rubbed him harder, excited to finally feel him inside of me. “Ride me.”

Slowly, I grabbed his cock and aligned it with my entrance, carefully sinking down onto it. He was thick, and despite being incredibly wet, I still was tight for his cock.

“Oh my God,” Jungkook moaned when my walls stretched around his length. “It feels so good,” he added, as he gently moved his hips, and I moaned, loving the feeling of him inside of me. It felt like heaven.”You’re so warm.”

At first, I rocked my hips slowly, but gradually I increased the pace. His cock was filling me so good, and whenever I sank down on it, I let a loud moan.

“Yes, baby,” Jungkook hissed, as he sat up. With his fingers digging into my flesh, he helped me reach the tempo which satisfied us both. “You’re so hot,” he added again, as he pressed his lips against my skin between my breasts. “You will make me come ridiculously fast,” Jungkook said, and I giggled in between desperate gasps for air.

My stamina was nonexistent when compared to Jungkook’s.

“Oh my God, yes!” I screamed when Jungkook hand rubbed my clit. “Fuck,” I panted, picking my pace, riding him using the last bits of my energy. My walls started to hiss around Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and judging by a multitude of hushed breaths which left his mouth, Jungkook was close too.

“Please, don’t stop,” Jungkook begged, as he began to thrust from underneath me. He was desperate to reach his orgasm, and I couldn’t wait to hear him shout my name when he’d release his load inside of me. “I’m coming, I’m coming, shit,” Jungkook loudly whined as he came, milking my walls with his sticky cum.

“Please, don’t stop!” I shouted as I continued to chase my release. “Fuck, Jungkook, I feel so good,” I said before the wave of pleasure surged through me, making me scream his name and arch my back. It was by far the best orgasm of my life.

“It was amazing,” Jungkook said as he kissed my temple, watching me descend slowly on the ground after the blissful peak. “You are amazing,” he added, but I only wrapped my arms around him, hiding my face in the crook of his neck.

“We have to keep doing that,” I commented, feeling incredibly euphoric. “I had no idea that sex could be this good,” I added while absentmindedly caressing his sweaty chest.

“I had no idea I’m this good,” Jungkook teased, and I lightly hit him. He was getting too smug for his own good. “So, you wanted another round, is that right?” Jungkook asked as he pulled out his cock, letting his jizz slowly leak out of my pussy. “It’s a lot of cum.”

“I know what I said, and I’m still turned on when I think about it, but now, I can only think about a hot shower,” I explained, even though I suspected Jungkook to be disappointed with me changing my mind so quickly. “Are you mad?”

“Are you kidding me?” Jungkook asked me as he propped on his elbow to be able to look at me properly. “I could never be mad at you.” He stated, pecking my forehead. “We’ll have a quick shower, and then, we’ll eat your pizza.”

“I like that plan.”

“I am not finished,” he said, making me curious about his plans. “Tomorrow, before our date I’m giving you two orgasms,” Jungkook proposed, and I eagerly nodded my head. “And another two orgasms after our date.”

“That’s crazy.”

“No, it would be crazy if I wanted to make you come during the date.”

“You’re crazy,” I corrected myself, trying my best not to giggle.

“Maybe a little bit.”

[inyournightmares97]

Unsolicited (1/3) (M)

Jackson Wang is a perfect gentleman and he thinks it’s extremely vital that you understand... that is not his penis. 

Warnings: Fluff. Crack? Adult topics, mentions of sexual harassment (but not too serious) and plenty of swearing. College!au. Please don’t ask when I’ll update. There are three parts and the next one will come when it’s ready. 

Word Count: 4.8k+

It was perhaps an unfortunate set of circumstances that led you to become acquainted with Jackson Wang’s penis long before you ever saw his face. There had been multiple opportunities for your life to take a different turn. Had any of those events occurred differently, you would never have learned who Jackson Wang was.

But the idea that we have any control over our lives is an illusion. Life is simply a set of circumstances thrust upon us.

Not too different from how Jackson Wang’s male organ was unceremoniously thrust in your face one bleak Tuesday afternoon.

You were tired and miserable after spending all night finishing your Economics paper and attending a full day of classes, but you still had to trudge over to the student government building to handle your appointments. It was one of the aforementioned unfortunate circumstances that led to you being elected into the student government body of your university. You had been appointed as student advisor to the Sexual Harassment Response Cell six months ago.

The Sexual Harassment Response Cell was a small student-run organization. It had been hastily approved by the university authorities after an ugly incident involving a professor assaulting a female student. The student body had been enraged and taken to the streets in a passionate protest. To prevent such incidents from recurring in the future, and in order to handle the bad press, the authorities set up the SHRC. The SHRC was a place where students could come to share their experiences of sexual harassment on campus and learn about the appropriate avenues for recourse.  The Cell’s responsibility was to provide victims with counselling, support, and if they wished to file a formal complaint with the university, then to make sure they had the right evidence and that their accusations weren’t unfounded.

How did you end up being a student advisor for the SHRC?

Well. You might have attended the protests last year and punched a guy in the face for saying something sexist about the matter. The sound of his nose cracking under your fist was extremely satisfying.

The ride to the police station in the cop car was not.

You made it out of jail in a few hours but the reputation stuck with you. You were now the chick who punched a dude at the protests and somehow you became a poster-girl for the cause. Bambam nominated you for the student government elections and Yugyeom published a picture of you punching the sexist guy in the front page of the monthly student newsletter. You won the election by an overwhelming majority.

If only you had known what you were signing up for.

--------------------------------

“You’re late. My appointment was at 3 pm,” the freshman girl waiting in your tiny counselling office informed you haughtily.

Her eyelashes were long and fake and didn’t match her hair color. You tried not to make a snap judgement; she was supposed to be a victim but the disgusted look she was giving you made that difficult to believe.

You glanced at the clock. It was two minutes past 3.

“Uh, I’m sorry. I had a class all the way on the other side of campus-”

“Whatever,” she cut you off. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You nodded and sat behind the desk with a forced smile. You were supposed to be patient and understanding with the victims because they were usually going through a hard time. You were also supposed to listen to them if they cried and help them find ways to deal with their trauma. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that the girl in front of you had suffered something.

“I see on the form you filled in that your name is Nari, and you’re a Fashion studies major?” you asked her kindly. “That sounds interesting. Are you having a good time here at university?”

Nari raised an eyebrow at you.

“Fuck all that. I don’t want to chat. I’m here to report cyber-harassment. This dude I met at a frat party two weeks ago managed to get hold of my number and he’s been harassing me through text messages ever since. He’s also a senior and he’s the founding member of the basketball team on campus … so there’s like a power parity-”

“Power disparity,” you mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever it’s called. Basically he could make life extremely difficult for me because he has a lot of power and stuff. I hear that makes it even worse because he’s abusing his position?  Are you writing all of this down?” she demanded suddenly.

You blinked. “Uh, I’ll make a note after our meeting. I’d rather focus on listening to you right now.”

“Anyway, he sent me a bunch of creepy messages threatening to rape me if I didn’t go out with him and he keeps trying to sext me. I have all the screenshots right here. Yesterday was the last straw because he just crossed all lines by sending me these. Want to see?” She thrust her cellphone at you and you could see screenshots of a text conversation.

“Uh….”

“Read them!”

You did. The screenshots were pretty bad; the guy talked about how he would go to any lengths to make the girl go on a date with him, and how badly he wanted to fuck her. The conversation went on in multiple screenshots. You had just reached the third screenshot when you saw it. A large, close-up image of a man’s penis.  

You flinched. “Oh god.”

The girl smiled at you smugly. “See? Exactly my reaction. Unsolicited dick pic. That counts as harassment, right?”

You returned the phone to her, not really wanting to look at the penis or come across more pictures of it. It was large, you thought, but you hadn’t seen enough penises outside of porn to make an informed judgement. Maybe the angle was just flattering.

“All of it counts as harassment,” you reassured her.

Nari looked relieved. “Okay, good. Because I want him off the basketball team and preferably suspended.”

“I understand that you’re angry and want justice but let’s take this step-by-step. If you want to file a formal complaint with the university against this guy, then it’s going to be a long process. University authorities will give him a hearing and you’ll have to present your evidence before them. I’ll be there to guide you through it all and support you but we also need to consider the chances he will manage to prove his innocence, and the amount of trauma that this whole process might put you through. I want you to consider the pros and cons of taking this step.”

Nari blinked. “They can’t just kick him off the team right away?” she demanded.

You stared at her in disbelief.

“No. No disciplinary action can be taken against anyone without giving them a fair trial.”

She groaned. “Unbelievable. Victims like me have to go through the harassment and then all this bullshit as well. How long will the whole process take once you file the complaint for me?”

“It could take a couple of weeks.”

Nari looked unimpressed. “This senior, Jackson Wang, is harassing me. I’m an innocent girl and I didn’t come all the way to university to have guys send me pictures of their ugly dicks, okay? I want him off the basketball team as soon as possible. What are you going to do about it?”

You felt tired.  

“Alright, look. I’m going to call this Jackson guy in and have a chat with him first so I can give him a heads-up about the accusations that he’s facing. Then I’d like you to come in again so I can share his response with you and I’ll help you file a complaint with the authorities if that’s what you still want to do in a couple of days. Does that sound good?”

“You can’t file it now?”

“I feel like it might be a good idea to wait a few days. Being too hasty about these things usually backfires. Let’s build a solid case first.”

Nari looked annoyed and then tucked her phone into her purse

“Fine. I’ll email you copies of the evidence and I’ll be waiting for you to call me in again.”

“Okay. Have a nice day!”

She rolled her eyes as she sauntered out of the room. “Whatever.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What is it with men and sending dick pics?” you wondered.

The cafeteria adjacent to the library was crowded and noisy on a Tuesday night. Bambam stuffed an enormous spoonful of rice into his mouth. He munched thoughtfully and swallowed before giving you a cheerful smile.

“It’s sexy. Who doesn’t like getting nudes?”

You frowned and poked at your noodles. You had thought that you were hungry but seeing the picture of Jackson Wang’s dick had ruined your appetite. The sausages on your plate were not helping the unpleasant image that kept flashing through your mind.

“Anyone who’s doing anything except masturbating?” you demanded as you used your chopsticks to transfer the sausages to Bambam’s plate. He bit into one while you continued your rant. “At no point during the day have I ever thought oh I’m horny I wish I had a picture of a dick to look at. Dicks are ugly.”

Bambam frowned mid-chew. “Hey. Can we be a little nicer to them? I happen to own one of those too and my boy enjoys the camera.”

You glared at him. “Please don’t tell me you send unsolicited dick pics to women.”

“Of course not. I only send them when the mood of the conversation is getting sexy and I’m sure that the girl is into it.  I have girls who text me saying ‘show me how turned on you are for me’ and that’s basically code for ‘send me a dick pic’. Sometimes girls actually ask for them, you know?”

“And a lot of the time they don’t.”

Bambam shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. There are always those guys.”

“But what’s the logic?” you demanded. “What is the thought process that goes into snapping a dick pic in the middle of the day and sending it to some poor girl who's going about her business? Do men think their dicks are that attractive? Are they assuming that the girl will get so uncontrollably turned on by the close-up shot of their penises that they’ll drop everything and run to desperately fuck them? What sort of weird male delusion is that?”

Bambam sighed. “I doubt it goes that far. I think these guys are just hoping for nudes in return. You know? Like I showed you mine now please show me yours?”

“Gross.”

“Men likes receiving nudes. They just assume girls feel the same way.”

You rolled your eyes. Maybe you shouldn't be letting Nari’s situation get to you. The image of Jackson Wang’s semi-erect penis was burned into your mind unpleasantly (and now a copy of it was even sitting in your email inbox) but you needed to be more professional about the situation. You had sent an email to Jackson Wang asking him to come into your office tomorrow and the man had sent a simple and short ‘Cool. Will be there.’ as a response. You weren’t sure how to handle the meeting but you figured that getting an idea of whether Jackson Wang would confess to the dick pic or would deny sending it, seemed like a good place to start.

Bambam had finished eating your sausages and you were relieved to see them gone. 

“So, did you make a decision about the new club you’re joining this semester?” he asked. The two of you had decided to join new clubs that would help you on your resumes in the long-term. “I think I’m going to try out for the basketball team. I figure since I’m tall I should go for the sport that gives me a natural advantage, right?”

“Are you sure you want to go for a sports club?” you asked disapprovingly.

Bambam frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you suck at almost all forms of physical activity. Just come with me to the environment club meeting on Friday, please?”

“Ew. No. Ask Yugyeom.”

“He won’t come unless you come,” you whined. Yugyeom and Bambam wanted to play sports but you were personally opposed to putting in so much physical effort. You already had enough difficult classes to deal with this semester. The Environment Club seemed much simpler. You could attend meetings once a week and maybe help design some awareness posters or join a clean-up drive. “Why can’t you just come with me to the meeting? I don’t want to go alone.”

Bambam pointed to himself. “This beautiful body was not made to pick up trash, babe.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Tell me if the club has a lot of hot chicks, though.”

“No, I’m not going to encourage your man-whoring ways, Bambam. Find a more normal hobby.”

Bambam rolled his eyes as he stole a piece of carrot from your tray. “You’re just miserable because you’re a virgin. And sitting at that stupid SHRC all day and listening to women talk about harassment is turning you into a man-hater. If you keep going down the path you’re on now then you’ll never get laid, trust me.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “If that’s how ugly male penises all look then maybe I don’t want one stuck in me.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bambam brightened up and suddenly pointed his chopsticks at you. “Have you considered that you might be… you know? Gay? Cause I know this chick who’s bi, okay, and she says that if I can find a lesbian we might be able to have a threesome-”

“-and now I have completely lost my appetite,” you snapped as you grabbed your tray. “Bye, Bambam.”

He simply waved as you tossed the contents of your tray in the garbage and left the cafeteria. You needed to head back to your dorm and get some sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day.

--------------------------

You hadn’t been prepared for Jackson Wang to be so handsome.

He was already waiting in your office when you arrived; you were surprised to see Jackson was punctual despite the short notice. He had dark brown hair that flopped into his bright eyes and a smile that was almost childlike. Jackson was staring at a poster put up on your office wall that described some basic self-defence tactics for women and he glanced at you when you entered.

“These posters always tell women to kick dudes in the groin!” Jackson pointed out to you brightly, pointing at a cartoon image of a woman kneeing her male attacker. You stared at the handsome man in front of you and blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, this is just my first time in the SHRC building. I never knew that Self-Defence 101 for women was to kick the guys’ balls,” Jackson admitted casually. He was gorgeous; your eyes lingered on the muscles along the length of his tanned arms when he held his hand out for you to shake. “Hi, I’m Jackson Wang. You emailed me asking me to meet you here?”

You cleared your throat and shook his hand. Jackson’s skin was soft and warm.  

“Yeah, I need to talk to you about a complaint I received yesterday. Please take a seat.”

“Can I just finish reading this poster first? I had no clue there were this many ways to knee a guy in the jewels. I feel like I should be aware of these things, you know?” Jackson joked.

You frowned. Did he think this was funny? You were not impressed. 

“Unless you’re planning on assaulting a woman, I see no reason why you need to read that poster.”

Jackson’s smile fell and his lower lip stuck out in a small pout as he slumped over to the seat across from your desk. He folded his arms across his chest in a childish fashion. “Hey. Sometimes men need to defend themselves too, you know. Or do you think that men can’t be victims of sexual violence?” he challenged.

You sighed and pressed your fingers to your temples. “I never said that. Unfortunately, you’re not here as a victim. I’ve asked to meet you because I received a complaint from a female student yesterday that she’s been the victim of cyber-harassment. She’s been receiving threatening text messages and unsolicited images of genitalia.”

Jackson’s dark eyes widened in concern and he leaned forward. “No way! What bastard has been doing that?”  

You stared at him.

“You. The complaint is against you, Jackson.”

Jackson stared blankly for a few seconds and you could almost see the gears whirring behind his big puppy-like eyes. He tilted his head slightly to the left.

“Me?” he asked, pointing at himself in a confused manner. You would have thought he was cute if you hadn’t been convinced that he was a sexual predator. “I sent threatening texts to a female student? No way. I rarely even text girls.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Likely story.”

Jackson seemed startled. His handsome smile fell off his face and he waved a hand in the air wildly. “Whoa, wait. Are you serious right now? Is there really somebody accusing me of harassment? Who?”

“I’m not at liberty to reveal the identity of victims who approach the SHRC for their own safety,” you explained calmly. “But she has shown me text messages as evidence and she also said that she intends to file a formal complaint with the university authorities. You would have to defend yourself before a Disciplinary Committee and you could be suspended.”

Jackson stared at you.

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m perfectly serious.”

“But I’ve never- I swear I’ve never sent any messages like that! This has got to be some kind of misunderstanding. What do the messages even say? Can I see them?” Jackson insisted. You bit your lip. Ideally you shouldn’t show him the pictures because it could help him identify Nari as the complainant. But something about Jackson’s brown eyes and horrified expression made you want to give him a chance to defend himself. You carefully opened your laptop and found the email Nari had sent you with the screenshots.

“I have the unsolicited dick pic you sent her right here.”

Jackson stared at you. “What? Let me see that!”

He turned the laptop to face him and there, on the screen, was the large picture of a penis that Nari had shown you. Jackson stared at it intently for a few moments and then turned to look at you in relief.

“Oh thank god. Dude, there’s a misunderstanding. That’s not even my dick,” he told you confidently.

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Jackson used the mouse to zoom into the picture and you winced as the penis now blew up the entire screen. “That is absolutely not my penis. I would know. I feel awful that this poor girl had to get this in her inbox but it is not mine.” Jackson leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve got the wrong guy. You should be looking for the owner of this penis.”

“The complainant named you. There’s only one Jackson Wang in this university.”

“Come on. You’ve got to be kidding me right now. That is literally some other dude’s dick, how can you just sit there and tell me that I’m going to get into trouble for it?” Jackson demanded. He slammed his hand on your desk and frowned. “That’s unfair!”

“I have no way to confirm whether or not this is your penis.”

Jackson’s hands slowly drifted towards his belt. “Well I could always…”

Your eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare take your pants off in this office.”

Jackson pouted and dropped his hands to his sides. “I wasn’t going to,” he whined. He reached for your laptop and zoomed out of the penis picture to look at the text message. “Wait, this is just a screenshot. Don’t you have the original message files? Because I’m positive that these messages couldn’t have come from my phone number. You can check my phone. I have no records of this stuff.”

You blinked. Jackson had a point. These were just screenshots. All they proved was that these messages had come from somebody that Nari had saved on her phone as “Jackson”; his real phone number was nowhere visible on screen.

“You think these messages came from somebody else?” you wondered.

Jackson nodded firmly. “I think this girl is being catfished.”

“Catfished?”

“Yeah! Someone is pretending to be me and trying to get nudes out of this girl,” Jackson insisted smugly. He leaned back and folded his arms across his broad chest. “It wouldn’t be the first time; I have a handsome face and an easier time with the ladies so a guy might have thought his chances were better if he pretended to be me.”

Oh god save me from these people.

“So this guy is pretending to be you but he’s sending her pictures of his own dick?” you questioned, unimpressed.

Jackson snapped his fingers as though he’d just had a brilliant idea. “You know what we need to do?”

“What?”

“We need to find the owner of this penis.”

You stared at him in disbelief. You couldn’t tell whether Jackson Wang was really a complete idiot or if he was playing you in order to make himself look innocent. You sighed and pressed your fingers to your temple in irritation.

“Or I could just call the complainant and ask her what phone number these texts and pictures came from?”

Jackson frowned and slumped back in his seat. “Doesn’t sound as fun, but okay.”

“How about we end this meeting here and I get in touch with you again after I’ve spoken to the complainant and floated the idea that maybe these pictures are coming from somebody other than you?” you asked. This was turning into a longer procedure than you’d expected but you did have the responsibility to make sure that Jackson wasn’t being framed or falsely accused.

Jackson nodded. “Sounds good to me. In the meantime, I’ll be on the lookout for the real owner of that penis. I spend a lot of time with other guys in locker rooms”

You winced. “Please don’t do that.”

Jackson stood up and he reached across the desk to shake your hand once more. You avoided his gaze and tried not to feel flustered by his warm and gentle grip. He stared at you for a moment and froze with his fingers wrapped around yours.

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Are you by any chance that girl who socked a dude in the face during the protests last year?” he asked bluntly. His lips twisted into a cheeky smile as his eyes scanned you eagerly. “Cause you look a lot like her and damn, that was insanely hot.”

You flushed. “I’ll get in touch with you if I need you, Jackson.”

Jackson grinned. “Sure. Pleasure meeting you.”

------------------------------------------------------

“I think I’m in love,” Bambam sighed happily.

You barely glanced at him, too busy staring at your laptop screen. Bambam was lying back on your couch with a stupid smile on his face while Yugyeom sat at his feet and dully flicked through the channels on your television. Both of them stank of sweat, having come straight to your apartment from their basketball trials.

“You literally just saw her, Bam,” Yugyeom pointed out dismissively.

“I know but she was just so….” Bambam trailed off and sat up eagerly to explain himself. “You know how some people just have this aura? Like this charisma? She had that, okay? It was just the way she walked and the way she dressed and her gaze…”

“It took her less than ten seconds to walk past us, you really analyzed all that in that short amount of time? You can’t even finish reading the powerpoint presentation in class before Professor Lee switches to the next slide.”

Bambam pouted. “Can’t a man fall in love in peace? Damn.”

“You don’t even know who she is.”

“I’ll just hang around the basketball court at the same time tomorrow and see if she passes by again! She was probably coming from the library. I’m sure she’ll do it again sometime. Right? Help me out here, would you?” Bambam demanded. He reached over to poke your shoulder and you frowned at him in irritation. It was certainly unusual for Bambam to say that he was in love with a woman but you had bigger things to worry about.

“If she goes to the library then she’s not your type, Bambam.”

Bambam pouted. “That’s unfair.”

“When’s the last time you read a book? And frantically flipping through textbooks the night before exams doesn’t count,” you snapped. When Bambam fell silent, you let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. This whole dick pic business is just getting to me. The dude claims that it’s not his penis. I called up Nari asking for the text logs but she says she took the screenshots and then deleted both the original messages and his number. It’s kind of suspicious… but maybe she just didn’t want to have them on her phone anymore? I don’t know what to believe.”

Yugyeom frowned. “He really just flat-out said it wasn’t his dick?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s either a guy who's telling the truth, or a guy with a lot of experience lying.”

You turned your laptop screen so that both Bambam and Yugyeom could see it. You’d found Jackson Wang’s Facebook profile. His cover picture was a group photo of him at the beach. He was wearing a pair of shorts that showed off his toned thighs and a significant bulge. Jackson’s mouth was twisted in a toothy, cheerful smile.

You pulled up the picture of the dick next to it.

“You guys tell me what you think. Does this dick look like it could belong to that guy?” you demanded.

Bambam leaned forward and squinted. “Holy shit. That’s Jackson Wang.”

“Yeah.”

“Your dick pic guy was Jackson Wang?” Bambam demanded, horrified. He shook his head quickly. “No way. That is not possible. Do you even know who Jackson Wang is? He’s like the coolest guy I’ve ever met. He charming and he’s funny and everybody in this university fucking loves him. Okay? Girls would kill to be with Jackson Wang. He doesn’t need to send dick pics. He probably gets dick pics, and nudes, and all sorts of stuff on the daily.”

You stared at Bambam. “Huh.”

“Besides, he’s a totally nice and humble guy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, but attractive people are never really humble. They just pretend to be.”

“Jackson is.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well he is,” Bambam replied firmly. He leaned back and frowned at the picture of the penis. “But on second thought that is one big penis so it might just be Jackson’s. He does have that big dick energy.”

You tilted your head at the screen. “You think this one is big? Yugyeom?”

Yugyeom nodded. “Pretty big, yeah. And you have to keep in mind that it’s only semi-erect.”

You sighed and closed both tabs before rubbing your hands over your eyes and letting out a groan. This was not how you had intended to spend your Wednesday night. You leaned back against the sofa.

“What am I even doing? How did my life come to the point where I need to stare at this random picture of a penis and figure out who it belongs to?” you whined miserably. “I’ve never even seen a guy’s dick in real life before.”

Bambam snickered. “Maybe you should ask Jackson to show you his. You know. So he can prove that it’s not the one in the picture?”

You glared at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t exactly go back to Nari and tell her; oh guess what, I looked at Jackson’s dick and it’s not the same one from your screenshots, what if she still wants to file a complaint? What if the matter goes to the university authorities and I have to take Jackson’s side? Am I supposed to look the Dean in the eye and go I’m sorry sir, I already checked out his penis and it’s not the same? Should I ask Jackson to drop his pants in front of the Dean too?”

Yugyeom snickered. “That could be the lead up to a pretty interesting porn movie.”

“No, there has to be some other way to solve this. Nari didn’t just come up with those text messages out of nowhere, there has to be some story behind this.”

Bambam snorted and turned away from you. “Okay, Nancy Drew. You go conduct your investigation. We’re gonna watch tv.”

You pouted. “You guys are useless.”

“I like being useless. It takes off the pressure to perform.”

“I doubt any performance of yours has lasted more than two minutes.”

Bambam stuck his tongue out at you irritably. “Well, guess what? You’ve never slept with me so you don’t get an opinion on my performance. Go ask Jackson Wang how long he lasts.”

You sighed.

[morgemuffel]

MALEC. ➰ INSECURITIES ARE HUMAN.

This story takes place between 3Bx14 & 3Bx15

I know Underhill has not been given a first name yet so I'll just name him Jack in my story. If the name gets revealed in season 3B, I will revise the text and replace the name. :) *(Part 1 of my series: our heart beats like one)

So enjoy reading & please remember English is not my mother tongue... :)

Sometimes I can't understand his reasoning, I can't understand him. Why can't I just understand his actions and be happy for him? He has regained his magic, well more likely he got a top-of-the-line dose of Lorenzo's and even that to a pretty lousy price. To the price tag of the loft. His home. My home. Nevertheless, I should be happy for him, but I just can't. Am I a bad boyfriend now?

Alec is lying on his bed at the New York Institute and has been staring at his white bare ceiling enormously fascinated for a quite bit of  time now. He never realized how uncomfortable his room was set up. The large room radiated more of a particularly than a cozy atmosphere. Everything looked rather cool. The antique furnitures were indiscriminately combined, the whole previous facility more functional than friendly and inviting. Not like if someone would really live here and feeling safe and secure while being there. Neither Alec's character was reflected nor did it somehow felt like his home. Home, that was the key word, Magnus' Loft was home, Magnus was his home. A part of Alec, just a tiny little egotistical part of Alec, had been looking forward to the loss of Magnus magic. He had felt an unintentional relief at the thought that he and Magnus now had a chance to get old together and the immortality issue would be out of the blue once and for all. But as soon as the thought had come so quickly it had evaporated again. He knew how much Magnus was suffering from the loss of his magic and it hurt him to see him like that. His magic connected him with everything around him and without it he felt like a stranger. In the body of a more than 400-year-old warlock without the electrifying feeling of his magic flowing through him like blood through his veins. So how could Alec begrudge him that feeling? Furthermore, it was not certain that the return of his magic had automatically resolved the mortality. But he was too afraid to ask him this question. This one question that burned like fire on his tongue. The fear that this little shameful part of him would gain the upper hand in a confrontation. He didn't want Magnus to know about that ugly part of him. And so he was back to the beginning of his thoughts, was he a bad boyfriend because of that?

All at once his cell phone rings and an unknown number showed up  on the display. Astonished, Alec answered the phone "Alexander Lightwood, head of the New York Institute, who am I talking to?" There was a moment of silence at the other end. Until the person cleared his throat. "Underhill here, well ahm... Jack." Alec felt a little stupid right now. Why did he have to answer so over-formally? Jack continued "I got your number from Isabel, After assuring her that I really only wanted to go out for a drink after work without any ulterior motives, she gave me your number." Ahm... yeah so, how about a beer? The first round is on me." "Alec tried to quickly sort the information inside his head: 1. OK then his cheeky sister Izzy just pulled out his private number 2. what makes her think that Underhill would actually go for someone like Alec? Alec blushed at the thought. Of course two gay men could also only be friends with each other and 3. Would Magnus see it that way too? What was he thinking, sure Magnus was not a jealous man. "Yeah, why not, Hunter's Moon at 8:00pm?" Jack laughed relieved. It almost seems like he wants to talk to Alec about something important. "Sounds great see you then." They said goodbye and Alec slips his phone a bit confused back into his pocket. He never really had friends apart from his brother Jace and his sister Izzy. Well there were still Clary and Simon. But Simon talked too much about irrelevant mundane stuff and Dustin Hoffman movies. Clary and him were just recently getting along maybe that would change in the future but right now it was more like a collegiate base. It would be nice to have someone who was just his friend, someone who knew what it was like to come out at the institute, someone he could talk to about shadowhunter-stuff and relationship issues and who'd actually understand him. Of course, Jace was his Parabatei and felt everything what Alec felt through their connection and tried to help him as best possible. But Jace, well... Jace, was still Jace at the end of the day and his advice, though well intentioned often not really helpful. With Magnus he could talk about all these things and he appreciated that. He had never opened so much to anyone but what bothered him now, had to do with Magnus and therefore he also dropped out as an option. So Alec was looking forward to hangout with Underhill, with Jack.

Magnus just left Hunter's Moon after his cheering-up-martini. He was feeling a little melancholic at the thought of his lost loft. But he was still convinced that it was worth it. At the end of the day it's just a thing and so he had the opportunity to look for a new home. That was always a lot of fun. He loves to have a look at new apartments and then set it up and decorate it again. He had the money and who knows, maybe he could even persuaded Alec to to paint the walls with him and pick out new furniture from catalogs? Maybe there was even a similar apartment in Brooklyn just waiting for him. And perhaps it was a sign? That the time to take the next step and move in with Alec has come. He had told Alec a few weeks earlier that it wasn't the time yet, that it's to soon.  They were together for about two months now but it felt like an eternity. He wanted to say yes that day when Alec stood there in Magnus' blue shirt when he looked at him expectantly, but he couldn't. He was too afraid and had never ventured this step with anyone before. With Alec he always discovered new needs, needs he never know that they were even there. What Magnus really wanted, no needed was waking up every morning beside his wonderful boyfriend, to lose himself in those beautiful hazel colored eyes, having breakfast with him, eating french toast on a balcony each and every morning, spend the day with him and wait for his return in the evening. For his return to their home. Home, Magnus smiled, yes he was ready for this new adventure.

Arriving at Hunter's Moon, Alec looked for the blond shadowhunter. He just missed Magnus who went out of the back door. Jack Underhill sat at the counter with a beer in his hand and waved to Alec. Alec sat down and ordered a beer as well. Magnus tried to familiarize him with the different drinks and wines but Alec was usually more confused at the end, that's why it was always up to Magnus to decide. He thought taking the same thing like Underhill would be the easiest. "Cool that you've  made it, Underhill started, I honestly asked you out for a reason ..." Alec frowned, and took a sip of his beer. Jack hesitated before he finally started. "I haven't been dating anybody for a long time now and..." Alec's thoughts were a wild mess now. "Oh by the angel, no I don't know how to deal with such a situation please don't say what I think you're about to say ..." Underhill took a deep breath and asked: Would you be my wingman tonight? Alec blushed, he wasn't expecting that. He has never been asked to be someone's wingman. Jace didn't need anyone because he was the master of flirting and now he's happy in a relationship with Clary anyway. What do you even do as a good wingman? Alec wasn't sure. Nevertheless, he agreed" "Okey, then and what did you have in mind?" he asked hesitantly. Underhill told him he just had to help him talk to a potential partner. "I don't know if I'm the right person for this job..."Alec said. Jack shook his head tentative. "Of course! if not you who else?" You got yourself the High Warlock of Brooklyn the Magnus Bane!" Alec grinned at the thought of Magnus. Although he wasn't the high warlock of Brooklyn anymore he sometimes couldn't believe it himself. Magnus wasn't only incredibly hot and sexy but also extremely funny intelligent and... oh, he shouldn't digress it wasn't about him now. But how should he help Underhill? Communication with other people apart from Magnus wasn't really his strength. Except he was drunk then he was according to Izzy *a babbling waterfall* "Well, let's try it, but I'll need two more beers first," Alec laughed.

Meanwhile Magnus opened a portal in the narrow alley behind the bar to get into the institute. Suddenly blood ran from his right nostril down to his lips. Surprised, he wiped his nose and tried to suppress the thought that wanted to spread in his head. Just don't think about it, then it is not true. He wipes his hand on the inside of his jacket and walked through the portal. Once there, he sets out to find Alec, he should be finished working by now. But he doesn't find him anywhere. As he passes the Armory, he sees Izzy and he decides to ask her about Alec."Isabelle, have you seen Alec? I wanted to surprise him with a dinner in Paris and talk about my... our... new living situation." Izzy looks at him sheepishly as she replies "Yes he is with Jack, I mean Underhill they went out for a drink." "Oh... Jack," Magnus says visibly surprised by this message. "Well then we'll have to delay this special occasion..."Izzy perky as always "don't worry about my brother, he only has eyes for you and I think tall, blonde and handsome is more like Clary's type." "Yes ... no no, I'm not jealous Isabel, do you know when he'll be back?" Izzy thought about it "naah, no idea tomorrow is his day off from that... I don't know. Magnus was undecided what to do next. He had hoped to spend the night with Alec in his apartment in Paris. Now he wasn't even sure if it's a good idea to open a portal again. Should he just wait in Alec's room? Yes, that was a good idea. "I'll just wait for him in his room," Magnus said. Izzy nodded and continued polishing her seraph blade. Magnus headed to the bedchambers of the institute until he reached Alec's room. He rubbed his hands happily when he got the idea to redesign the room. And so he was busy with his new project for the next few hours.

An hour later, the two men sat laughing, lolling and loot spying at the counter. So far, Alec had not found any of Underhills suggested men passable. Underhill: "How about the one over there at the pool table, the one in the white shirt?" "I mean he looks good... and I like the way he's stroking through his hair when he laughs... somehow cute." Alec: "Uh... really?" I'm not sure, he's a bit pale" he said with a shrug. Jack: "Well, not everybody can have a flawless tanned caramel-like body with perfectly defined muscles and silky smooth hair. Alec looked at him puzzled "you remember that you're talking about my boyfriend right? Underhill then a bit uncomfortable "Yeah sorry, but I mean Magnus is really good-looking even I can see that. Alec laughs and turns back to Mr. White-Shirt. He inspects him from top to bottom, but finds it difficult to find something about him that he would actually classify as attractive. Automatically, Magnus' Ideal Body appeared in his mind's eye and Alec started comparing the two men. He couldn't say if he would find the man attractive if Magnus wasn't his boyfriend. Hm... Okay the guy could play pool that was positive but otherwise? Alec: Well he's definitely not a Magnus, at the most a 6 out of 10 and he's good at playing pool, you like doing that too sooo...? Jack: "Haha, but I'm not looking for a second Magnus either..." he started but Alec interrupted him, "you wouldn't even find a second one he said in a played sulkily tone. Underhill "Maybe I should have thought this through." The two men burst out laughing again and so it goes back and forth for a while. As Alec's phone rings in his pocket. "Oh, speaking of which..., "heeeey baaabe... "he mumbles into the phone, smiling.

Magnus on the other side of the phone exhales slowly before answering in his casual tone. "Hello darling... I've heard you're out, uhm... with a friend and I wanted to ask you when you're about to be back..? I'm here at the institute, decorating your room a bit..." Magnus cursed inside that wasn't very subtle, he had told Isabel that he wasn't jealous and he meant it. Especially after so many centuries and several relationships, he had learned that, jealousy is just a feeling that comes from your own insecurity. And he knew that he could fully trust Alec but even Magnus was uncertain sometimes. Unsure he might be easy to replace? "Pssst... that's my boyfriend Magnus on the other end, could you all be quiet, thanks!" Alec rolled his eyes at the guests at Hunter's Moon and shaking his head as if it were the most logical thing that the entire bar has to be quiet when his boyfriend calls. Yes drunk Alec was here. Underhill could barely suppress his laugh as he tried to ignore the evil glares of the others. "Send your better half kind regards." Magnus heard Underhill whispering in the background. Alec returned to his conversation with Magnus. "Ahm... greetings, no a kind regards from Jack and I'll be on my way in about 15 minutes," Alec whispered lovingly into his phone. Magnus' heart on the other end began to throb wildly, oh he loved this Nephilim so much that it almost hurt and Underhill is a nice guy so get yourself together Bane. "See you then darling," Magnus replied and hung up.

After Alec has finished the call, the sentence which Underhill had told him a few weeks ago went through his head - Nephilim love once, fiercely - Yes, he couldn't look at other men without thinking about Magnus and his inner conflict made itself noticeable again. Now was the right time to ask Jack for advice. So he took all his courage together and just blurted out with it. "Hey... Can I ask you something serious about ahm... relationships...?" Alec asked. Underhill took a deep breath and stretched slowly. "Alright buddy go ahead." Alec started to tell him about his worries. He told him that he was hurt when he found out that Magnus had regained his magic today. Because he has the feeling that Magnus prefers to have his magic, be immortal and to outlive him. To forget him and one day simply replace him, instead of being mortal and spend like fifty years in the mundane way with Alec. He confessed to him that he thought the biggest hurdle in their relationship would be out of the world. Even though he wants Magnus to be happy at all costs, he doesn't know how to handle this feeling. "He could have died trying and did'n't even ask for my opinion you understand? And I dare not to ask him if he has now regained his magic and immortality, or only his magic and if I am unnecessarily maddening." Jack nodded slowly as he said "It's always best to start with yourself first." Let's talk about the immortality part..."

Alec was obviously feeling better after Underhill's speech and decided to get back reasonably sober with a lot of coffee and then confront Lorenzo at the handover in Magnus' loft. Nobody had the right to humiliate his Magnus like that and he would do anything, to make sure his boyfriend was happy again. The two men said goodbye and reassured each other to repeat this soon again. Alec walked towards Magnus' loft, the cool New York breeze blew in his face and he felt more sober after each block and more like himself again. He took the time to think about Jack's words. Alec had realized he was right about everything. He loves Magnus and he knew from the beginning that Magnus was immortal. He knew that one day he'd be old and that Magnus would probably just bee as young and alive as now. The new situation, whether temporary or not, doesn't change the fact that Magnus is a warlock. He was born as a warlock and his magic is a part of him as well as the immortality. Done.

The loft was unrecognizable. Alec went to the balcony and admired the view as he did so often before, as the door opened and Lorenzo entered. He had so much to say to him, wanted to yell at him, beat him but he tried to stay calm. Instead, he just asked quietly, "You really are despicable, aren't you? Lorenzo remained calm and replied only insolently, "Mr. Lightwood what a pleasant surprise. I didn't know you came with this apartment." And confessed that he just wanted to humiliate Magnus and put him in his place after all, he is now the high warlock of Brooklyn. Not Magnus. Mockingly, he added a condescending remark, "And the fact that he sent his little boyfriend to plead his case tells me I more than succeeded."Alec was seething with anger. Lorenzo forgot who he was talking to. Alec would teach him some manners. Lorenzo could play games with everyone else but not with Alec. No. "I'm the head of the New York Institute. Don't speak to me like that." For a moment he saw the fear in Lorenzo's eyes. Lorenzo said soothingly: "You're right." Perhaps this is getting unnecessarily heated." So Alec tried to negotiate with him offered to find him a better deal. But the warlock refused. He was only interested in referring Magnus to his place and playing out his new position of power. Alec had heard enough. You don't climb higher than you should otherwise you'll fall deeper than you'd like. And Lorenzo was getting too cocky. Alec lowered his voice as he spoke again "Enjoy this position while it lasts." The Clave doesn't take kindly to conniving, unethical Downworld... Leaders." He took a step towards Lorenzo and glared at him as he said: "You will slip up." And when you do, I'll be waiting there to take you down." With these last words he left the loft and thus a thoughtful and confused Lorenzo Rey.

Back at the institute Alec opened the door to his room when he realized, that he was probably still a little drunk, since he had obviously mistaken the room. He was just about to turn in between the door step when the shape on the bed moved and two cat eyes lit up in the dark and gazed at him. "Alec is it you?" Perplexed, Alec tried to spot the flaw in the room in the dim light. The furniture were the same but the walls had been painted in a cool shade of gray, black picture frames were mounted on the walls, with memories of travels he had made with Magnus. It looked like in an art gallery. A big plant was standing next to his desk and he slowly recognized the Scandinavian style that wafted through the room. "Maaa...gnuus, what have you done to my room...?" Alec laughed. He heard a giggle followed by a yawn."I was bored when I was waiting for you and well Nordic Interior Design is currently very trendy, you like it?" In that moment Alec knew he would never ask him. He didn't need to know the answer. The only truth he knew was that he loved this man with skin and hair. And that was all that matters. "I love it" Alec said. "And I love you, so will you finally join me my angel?" Magnus whispered. Alec liked it when Magnus addressed him with pet names, though not all of them were great, but most of them were actually really cute. He wasn't as original at them like his boyfriend and when he tried well... something strange came out of it. He has become friends with *Babe* it was not very originally but since he was the only one allowed to call Magnus like that it was enough. He undressed and slipped in something comfortable to sleep before he went to bed an snuggled up with Magnus. For a while they lay there quietly entwined until Alec asked into the darkness: "Magnus were you jealous of Underhill...? cause I wasn't sure but... " Magnus hesitated for a moment before he answered, maybe in an octave too high "Uhm nope, I have no reason to be." Alec laughed as he noticed the little lie and pressed Magnus even closer to him. He whispered in his ear: "We both know that there is no reason for jealousy but sometimes even I'm a bit jealous, I think that's normal." Magnus turned to look at Alec in surprise. His Alec jealous of whom? He could not imagine with the best of intentions who Alec even rudimentarily regarded as competition. "Please, who could you possibly be jealous of?" Magnus asked. Alec grinned into the darkness. "Good night babe."

[trinuviel]

Azor Ahai, The Prince that was Promised and the Red Sword of Heroes (part 4)

In my last post, I examined the legend of Lightbringer - the burning sword that Azor Ahai wielded against the dark. I also touched upon the how the legend relates to Daenerys and her dragons. This post will continue this subject but  I’ll also raise the issue of the reliability of prophecies as well as cast some doubt upon the issue on whether Azor Ahai reborn really is the promised hero. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3) 

THREE SWORDS, THREE DRAGONS

If the hatching of the three dragons represents the three swords forged by Azor Ahai, then what would represent their tempering? This is where we enter into the realm of speculation based on the show rather than the books. I would argue that the dragons will be tempered in battle. It is a common saying that soldiers tempered in battle as an expression testing their mettle. Dany’s dragons will be tested in battle and two of them will fall – and it will Viserion and Rhaegal, their growth and strength inhibited by their incarceration in the pit of the pyramid in Meereen. Just as the the growth of the Targaryen was slowed after they were confined to the Dragonpit in King’s Landing.

In the show, Viserion was felled by the Night King’s icy spear and it sunk into the icy waters of a lake. This could definitely be considered as a tempering by water, like the first sword that AA forged. However, we don’t know if this is a plot that is exclusive to the show or whether Dany will lose a dragon to the ice zombies in the books as well. There is another possibility for a tempering by water in the books. Victarion Greyjoy is on his way to Meereen with horn Dragonbinder, a Valyrian artifact that supposedly has the ability to control dragons. The Greyjoys are associated with water (the sea) and Victarion suborning one of Dany’s dragons can certainly be considered a failed tempering by water.

The second sword that AA forged was tempered in the blood of a lion and still it failed. If a second dragon is killed in battle (as an analogy to the tempering of the second sword), then it is very likely that it will involve a Lannister since the sigil of House Lannister is a lion. The show has already teased this when Jaime Lannister charged Drogon in s07ep4. 

I have written elsewhere that the imagery of this scene has several points of similarity with artistic depictions of St. George the Dragonslayer throughout the history of Western art since the Middle Ages. If Jaime is to kill a dragon, it will probably be Rhaegal since the dragon in the paintings of St. George the Dragon Slayer almost always is green (like Rhaegal).

That leaves Drogon, the largest and strongest of the dragons. Is Drogon really the Red Sword of Heroes? Is this monster really the weapon that will deliver the world from an icy apocalypse?

Make no mistake. The dragons are monsters! Even Daenerys realizes this in one of her rare moments of self-reflection:

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I. (ADwD, Daenerys II)

WHAT HAVE I UNLEASED UPON THE WORLD? This is such an interesting sentence, especially in the context of Daenerys as Azor Ahai come again. The dragons are dangerous, they are destructive on a massive scale and they may do more harm than good.

IS PROPHECY DESTINY?

In my previous post, I made an argument for Daenerys Targaryen as the fulfillment of the prophecy of Azor Ahai reborn. I feel fairly confident in identifying Dany as AA come again. Azor Ahai reborn is the Champion of R’hllor and Daenerys is connected to fire in an intimate and elemental way. Does this mean that Dany is the one who will save Westeros? In a traditional piece of fantasy fiction, she most certainly would be. When it comes to GRRM, I am less certain because he engages critically with the tropes that dominate fantasy as a genre:

The battle between Good and Evil is a theme of much of fantasy. But I think the battle between Good and Evil is fought largely within the individual human heart, by the decisions that we make. It’s not like evil dresses up in black clothing and you know, they’re really ugly. These are some of the things that Tolkien did; he made them work fabulously, but in the hands of his imitators, they become total clichés.

It is certainly a genuine, legitimate topic as the core of fantasy, but I think the battle between Good and Evil is waged within the individual human hearts. We all have good in us and we all have evil in us, and we may do a wonderful good act on Tuesday and a horrible, selfish, bad act on Wednesday, and to me, that’s the great human drama of fiction. I believe in gray characters, as I’ve said before. We all have good and evil in us and there are very few pure paragons and there are very few orcs. A villain is a hero of the other side, as someone said once, and I think there’s a great deal of truth to that, and that’s the interesting thing. In the case of war, that kind of situation, so I think some of that is definitely what I’m aiming at. – GRRM (x)

On the surface, Daenerys Targaryen is a character that conforms to many of the genre’s expectations when it comes to a hero and saviour. She’s royalty fallen on hard times. She has undergone a lot of hardship but she is ultimately rewarded with magical creatures and she quite likely is the subject of a prophecy about the salvation of the world.

However, GRRM quietly subverts the trope of the prophesied saviour. Daenerys wants to be good, she wants to be a saviour. She has empathy for the suffering of the downtrodden people she comes across in Essos. She wants to save them and she leads a war of conquest against the Masters of Slaver’s Bay in the name of freedom. However, Daenerys is a saviour who fails again and again, not because she faces overwhelming odds but because she ignorant and lacks patience. Her solution for the Lhazareen women she “saves” from rape by the Dothraki is to make them marry their rapists. The slaves she liberates in Meereen are forced to sell themselves back into slavery because she has no alternative to the slave economy she destroyed.

In the world that GRRM has created, Daenerys Targaryen being the reincarnation of Azor Ahai doesn’t necessarily mean that she will save the world. She’s not going to be a hero and saviour simply because a prophecy says so. If she’s going to save the world, then it will be because she chooses to do so! “The battle between Good and Evil is fought largely within the individual human heart.”

In the show Dany has come to a cross roads. She has to choose between her desire to be a saviour and her desire for the Iron Throne. She can be a saviour or a conqueror. She cannot be both – and she hasn’t made this choice yet. Her dragons are weapons and they can be used for either good or evil – against the ice zombies or against living breathing people.

She can choose to be either a saviour or the Queen of Ashes. 

My point is this: prophecy is not necessarily destiny! The hero has to choose to do the right thing – and that choice has to be difficult. It cannot be a foregone conclusion that the “hero” will make the right choice because it can be very difficult to abandon selfish desires.

There’s also another reason as to why we should be wary of the role Daenerys may play as Azor Ahai reborn. Prophecies are tricky. In fact, several warnings are issued regarding prophecies in the text itself:

“Prophecy is like a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head.” - Tyrion Lannister to Jorah Mormont (ADwD, Tyrion IX)

Gorghan of Old Ghis once wrote that a prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think how sweet, how fine, how good this is… and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams. That is the nature of prophecy, said Gorghan. Prophecy will bite your prick off every time.“ - Maester Marwyn to Samwell Tarly (AFoC, Samwell V)

These utterances are not just warnings to the characters within the story. They are also warnings to the reader. I find this notion of prophecy as a warning very interesting. The unreliability of prophecy goes beyond identifying who is the promised hero. It questions the very nature of prophecy itself – and I think that we should be very suspicious and wary of the prophecies that the priests of R’hllor espouses. This is a subject that I’ll examine in the next installment of this series.

[pocket-anon]

The Long Way Home (1/10)

OMG, it’s finally here!  I started this story in 2015, back when I was writing for pleasure with no intention of ever sharing any of my work publicly.  It fell to the wayside when I finally got around to joining the fandom and began writing fic formally, and it wasn’t until the opportunity to do the Captain Swan Big Bang came around that I remembered I had it and decided to try to flesh it out and turn it into a completed work.  7+ months later (after a LOT of consternation and whining and “Why did I ever agree to do this?”) it’s HERE.  And I’m SO relieved that it’s done, LOL.

Special thanks to my beta, @captainstudmuffin, and the amazing @lifeinahole27 for their help and patience with me, to @clockadile for lending her sword fighting experience, to @ladyciaramiggles for her feedback on early drafts, to @phiralovesloki for heading this year’s CSBB and fielding my questions, and to @kmomof4 for always being my cheerleader.  Thanks also to everyone who took my nerdy little survey on nautical terminology in fic (yes, that was for this project), and those of you that sent me words of support about it.

Lastly, deepest thanks to my wonderful CSBB artists, @waiting-for-autumn and @giraffes-ride-swordfishes for giving feedback on early drafts and providing some gorgeous artwork to accompany this fic!  Links to their illustrations of certain scenes (*) will be in the text - please be sure to go show them some love!

Thanks to you all for reading.  I hope you enjoy.  XOXO

Find it on AO3.  Nautical terms glossary here.

Summary:  After an unnaturally long life fraught with personal tragedy, Killian Jones has become known throughout the realms as the infamous Captain Hook, an opportunistic ne’er-do-well and one of the most formidable pirates to ride the waves.  When he crosses paths with a mysterious young woman with no memory of who she is or how she arrived there, he recognizes the chance to claim a monetary reward that will constitute his biggest score yet.  But a journey across the world to get her home leads to a series of adventures that reveal that her value lies in far more than gold and jewels.  A Captain Swan Anastasia AU - sort of.  (Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU.  Romance & Adventure.  Rated E.)

Warnings: Brief but graphic depictions of violence, peripheral character death, and smut.

“Captain! Captain!”  

The sound of pounding feet approaching the door to his quarters causes the gentleman in question to lift a heavy, dark eyebrow, even as his gaze remains on the leather-bound inventory log he’s hunched over with the ship’s quartermaster.  The Jolly Roger is preparing to pull into port at Vicarstown, and he always prefers to finalize the list of supplies they need to acquire at a stop prior to docking.  It would go better without interruption.

“Captain!”

He gives a long-suffering sigh and drops his head resignedly, his weight pressed forward on his right hand.  “Yes, Mr. Smee?” he drones.

Having been waiting for permission to enter, his slightly pudgy first mate flings the door open, the bearded man’s features twisted into an anxious grimace.  “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but a ship’s been spotted in port.”

He looks up sharply. “Who?”

Smee swallows and licks his lips nervously.  “Blackbeard.”

A muscle twitches in the Captain’s jaw as he considers this information.  It’s not welcome news, to be sure, but there are worse things. Prominent pirate crews like his and Blackbeard’s do not always do well in close quarters, but while their last encounter just under a year ago was tense, no one died.  There’s no outstanding beef between himself and the other captain (that he’s aware of), and frankly, the Jolly sorely needs this stop to resupply and to refill her coffers with the sale of their most recent spoils.

“Do we continue in, Captain?”

The Captain’s steely blue return stare is resolute, his expression bordering on a scowl as he straightens.  “The Jolly does not turn tail for anyone, Mr. Smee,” he snaps.  “Particularly not for that lout.  But inform the men to remain on guard, and assign extra hands to stay behind on watch. No strangers are to be allowed anywhere near the ship, understood?”

His confidence seems to reassure his first mate, who accepts the orders with a hasty bob of his head. “Yes, Captain.”  

As Smee pulls the door shut behind him, the Captain turns and retrieves a sharpening steel from the drawer of the small desk in the corner, running it in practiced strokes along the tip of the polished metal hook that sits where his left hand once was. He signals the wiry quartermaster to resume their discussion with a curt nod and hums acknowledgement now and then as the other man talks, even while his thoughts remain elsewhere.  A less experienced captain might view the presence of the other ship as an opportunity to poach her best crewmen or plunder her loot, but he knows there’s truly little to be gained by starting a feud with a loose cannon like Blackbeard.  The more prudent course is to simply remain alert and hope, for once, for an uneventful visit to port.  

*             *             *

Maggie, a plump woman with graying red hair, plasters on a smile as a large group of bawdy customers pours into her tavern – pirates, by the look of them.  Her suspicions are confirmed when their leader, a tall man with a curly black mane, matching beard, and a tricorn hat brings up the rear. Maggie winces inwardly at the sight of him.  She doesn’t turn paying customers away unless they get out of hand, but it’s nearly happened with Blackbeard and his crew on more than one occasion.  Pirates, on the whole, tend to be an unruly lot, but Blackbeard and the men he generally chooses to sail with are some of the worst of the bunch; it’s no feat to think of half a dozen other crews she’d rather have at her tables.  

Maggie urgently seeks out her newest serving girl in order to shoot her a look of warning.  She took the young blonde in only six weeks ago, and unless the poor thing is even unluckier than they already know her to be, it’s doubtful she has any experience dealing with Blackbeard or his crew. Not that the girl would recall such an encounter, having mysteriously appeared in the middle of their little port town with no knowledge of her own name, much less any other details of her life.  Dubbed “Swan” by one of the tavern regulars as much for her prickliness when harassed as for her enviable beauty, the girl’s entire past is one enormous blank to her, and it’s anyone’s guess why.

Their eyes meet across the tavern, and Maggie watches Swan survey the new crowd with appropriate apprehension before the girl nods back her understanding.  One thing that’s been fairly clear from the start is that Swan has good instincts that make her quick to read a situation and adept at dealing with aggressive drunks who want her services to include something other than bringing them food and libations.  Maggie prays those instincts serve her well tonight, because between Swan’s physical charms and Blackbeard’s reputation for causing trouble, things could get ugly very quickly.

*             *             *

It seems a small miracle when the first hour passes without too much fuss.  The pirates arrive famished and sober and more focused on addressing both those maladies than stirring up trouble.  Though most of them openly leer and make the usual assortment of lewd comments, no one does more than pat or pinch Swan’s ass, offenses that she does her best to ignore.  

Nevertheless, the tension grows as the hours creep by.  Some of the men depart after eating, no doubt heading for the brothels, but half a dozen remain behind, including their captain, a man with glittering dark eyes whose lingering gaze abrades her skin worse than the rest.  Perhaps it’s simply the obvious authority he wields over his men, but there’s something far more intimidating about him than the others, and she does her best to avoid eye contact and keep out of his reach.  Nevertheless, the rum continues to flow, his stare grows increasingly lustful, and by half past ten, she knows by the lascivious curve of his lip and the increasing harshness of his laugh that it’s only a matter of time before he does something one of them is going to regret.

The shoe finally drops a short while later.  He calls her over and invites her to share a drink with him.  She politely demurs, saying that she has other customers to tend to, but he jovially waves off her excuse and rises partway out of his seat, grabbing her skirts as she moves away and yanking her down on to the bench beside him.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you?” he rumbles gruffly, his kohl-lined eyes slightly glassy.  “There’s only one answer to an invitation from a pirate captain.”

Lips in a thin line, Swan fixes him with a scorching glare that causes some of the men behind him to look nervous.  To her utter frustration, the Captain himself seems unfazed as he continues to gaze up and down at her assets.  “Still pretty sure it’s some version of ‘no,’” she retorts, springing off the bench. She gasps when his fingers close around her wrist.  

For a drunken fool, he still has decent reflexes, and his coarse laugh is menacing as he rises to his feet, staggering only a little, and hauls her over none-to-gently.  One beefy hand clamps tightly around her narrow waist, pinning her shoulder to his chest, and he chuckles lecherously as he buries his face in her neck, his acrid breath surrounding her and the sensation of his tongue on her pulse point tempting her to scream.  “Come now, girl,” he growls in her ear.  “Let me show you a good time. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their pleasure with the legendary pirate Blackbeard.”

He moves to paw at her breast, and Swan lets out an angry snarl and tries to wrench out of his grasp.  Her free hand flails to his chest to push him away and lands on one of a trio of short knives the Captain wears girded to his torso.  With a grunt, she yanks it free, flips it to adjust her grip, and whips the blade up against his neck, nostrils flared and chest heaving.  “I’ll pass,” she hisses through her teeth.(*)

It takes Blackbeard’s rum-soaked brain a moment to catch up with this turn of events, but he stills and slowly pulls his face back from her golden curls, eyes rolling sideways to lock warily onto the blade pressed firmly to his skin.  

“Perhaps you’d best unhand the lady before she gives you a shave, Blackbeard.”

They both look up to see an amused-looking man walking toward them.  He’s rakishly handsome, young and tall with short dark hair, three days of scruff on his chin, and blue eyes.  Clad like a man with money, he wears black leather from head to toe, his long, heavy duster swaying gently as he walks, a heavy silver buckle, clasps, rings, and chains glinting in the firelight.  He holds his head high, his swagger and the hand poised casually at his belt helping to camouflage the threatening square of his shoulders and the deadly weapons on his person, and Swan realizes with a small start that the curved silver hook he appears to hold in his left hand is actually a replacement for the hand itself.  Whoever he is, Blackbeard’s men obviously recognize him and do not attempt to get in his way.  

The interloper stops a sword’s length from them and smirks.  “I’d hate to have to circulate the news that your throat was slit by a tavern girl using your own dagger.”

“Hook.”  Blackbeard sneers, though his eyes remains fixed largely on Swan and the blade.  He reluctantly releases his grip on her waist, exhaling when she pulls away and the steel leaves his skin.  “It’s dangerous to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, boy.”

Hook gives a dark chuckle. “Yes, you’ve demonstrated that quite nicely.”  

With Blackbeard’s attention now occupied elsewhere, Swan silently backs up, her heart drumming furiously against her ribs as she keeps the dagger held at the ready and makes a beeline for safety.

*             *             *

Out of the corner of his eye, Hook watches the barmaid slip away, quick as a shadow, to the far side of the tavern with Blackbeard’s weapon still in hand.  She finds refuge behind the counter in seconds, and he satisfies himself that she seems unhurt even as Maggie rushes to fuss over her.  

“The girl is lovely, but she seems like more trouble than she’s worth,” he remarks to Blackbeard. “Best let sirens be.”

His rival growls, swiping a hand across his neck resentfully and checking his fingers for blood.  “I get what I want, Hook.”

“If you want a knife in your belly rather than a roll in the sheets, I’d say she’s happy to give it to you,” he replies cheerfully, allowing himself an admiring glance toward the bar.  “But no sense risking your neck for something easily got elsewhere.”  He steps closer, arching an appraising eyebrow.  “Unless,” he drawls with a wicked grin, “you can’t afford more willing company?”

“Watch your tongue or lose it.” Blackbeard grunts testily and knocks back one last shot of rum before pointedly tossing a small bag of coins on the table.  “There’s never a day my coffers don’t put yours to shame.”  He barks at his remaining crewmen that the brothels await them and stomps toward the door and out into the night without so much as a look back, his men trailing in his stormy shadow.  

Thankfully, the girl is nowhere to be seen as they make their exit.  The palpable tension in the tavern eases and the din swells back to normal levels when the heavy oak door shuts behind the last of them.  Hook inhales deeply, chin tipped slightly upward, and snags Blackbeard's money before going to the bar to pay his greetings to the tavernkeep.

She meets him with grateful eyes and pushes a full bottle of rum in his direction.  “On the house, Captain.”

He favors her with a wide grin and tosses her the little satchel.  “Think nothing of it, love.  My evening will be much better without having to share space with that bloody fool.”

Maggie chuckles and goes back to draining a cask of ale into tankards.  She cocks her head sideways at him.  “You must be in a generous mood tonight to bother talking him into leaving.  I hear the two of you never hesitate to cross swords.”

He harrumphs.  “The bastard’s no challenge when he’s drunk. Plus I’d hate for you to have to wash blood from your walls when time’s better spent making food and ale.”  He pops the cork on the rum with his thumb and takes a healthy swig, humming appreciatively at the sear of quality liquor down his throat.  “With a little luck he’ll leave your new girl alone now,” he mutters.  

Maggie arches an eyebrow, a discerning glint in her eye.   “I’m sure Swan’ll be glad of it,” she replies coyly.

The corner of his mouth quirks upward at the odd moniker.  “Swan?”

“That’s what we call her. Poor dear appeared in Vicarstown over a month ago without any memories; just woke up in an alley with no idea how she got there.  Doesn’t even know her own name.”

He leans forward, frowning. “Really.  Injured?”

“Or cursed.”  Maggie shakes her red curls with a shrug.  “Nary a trace of what did this to her, but she’s good help, smart as a whip, and easy on the eyes, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, so I took her in.”  She sets another brimming tankard on a tray with five others and wipes her hands on her apron.  “Have a seat, Captain.  I’ll send her along with these presently, and we’ll see if she’ll indulge your curiosity.”  She winks.

Hook gives a courtly bow as he backs away with rum in hand.  “I do so enjoy your hospitality, Maggie.”

True to the older woman’s word, several minutes after sitting down with his men at the corner table he favors, Hook spies the girl’s golden head coming toward them.  To her credit, she no longer looks shaken by earlier events, managing a pleasant, professional smile.  It’s no mystery why Blackbeard wanted her; she’s easily the most enchanting creature he’s seen in months, if not years.  Lustrous blonde hair spills in loose, thick waves around her shoulders, firelight dances across graceful high cheekbones and a perfect nose, and long, dark lashes frame her big, mossy-green eyes.  She’s slender with curves in all the right places, and though not dressed as provocatively as many barmaids he’s met, she cuts quite the figure in her tight-laced russet bodice and dark blue petticoat, with more than one man at his table regarding her (and the swell of her breasts) with interest.  

She navigates her way toward them bearing her tray of drinks and sets it down on the table with a murmured greeting.  “Hello. Here you are.  Now, would you all like food, more drink, or both?”  She listens intently as the men begin ordering, intelligence obvious in those lovely eyes.  Then she turns her gaze fully upon him, her expression going solemn.  “I should thank you for earlier, Captain.”

Something about her sincerity causes him to feel almost shy, but he acknowledges her thanks with a tip of his head.  “Yes, well, I’ll have you know your quick thinking deprived me of a dashing rescue.”

His words cause her to smile – this time a real, gorgeous, self-satisfied smile that reaches her eyes and causes his throat to tighten.  She shrugs, lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks.  “Sorry.  The only one who saves me is me, I guess,” she says with a slight blush.

He chuckles.  “Tough lass.”  He holds out his hand.  “Captain Killian Jones.  They call me Hook.”

“They call me Swan,” she returns.  Her palm is soft as it slides into his rough one, but the handshake she gives him is confident and solid.  

He turns her hand over and presses a gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles before letting go, enjoying the way the color in her face deepens.  “So I hear.”

The next few hours are something of a blur to him as he spends it eating and drinking and playing dice, all the while trying his best to keep from openly staring at the Swan girl as she goes about her work.  She’s a delight to watch – graceful, observant, efficient, and savvy when it comes to handling the rougher clientele.  Her fierceness doesn’t end with her encounter with Blackbeard – a grin tugs at his lips each time she uses a baleful stare or a sharp quip to put a presumptuous man back in his place.  She’s fascinating, this woman – a bright jewel in a dingy setting – and so he passes the evening stealing glances and keeping one ear open for the sound of her voice.

It’s just after midnight when the tavern quiets, most of his men having gone off to the brothels or back to the Jolly to sleep off their well-fed, drunken stupor.  Even Maggie has retired upstairs to her apartments, leaving Swan behind to see to the stragglers, most of whom are dozing at the tables.

“Are you not joining your men, Captain?” she asks while gathering dirty dishes from a nearby table.

Hook looks up at her from the supply purchase list he’s reviewing and smiles.  “Why would I do that when the company here is so much more interesting?”

She rolls her eyes, but even in the firelight he can discern another subtle flush in her cheeks. “‘Interesting’ is hardly the right word. I don’t have any stories to tell.”

He hums noncomittally, seeing her modest comment for what it really is.  “Maggie mentioned that.  You’ve no memories at all?”

Swan appears only half-surprised that he’s been told of her situation.  There’s a split-second before she folds her lips ruefully and shakes her head.  “None.”  With an apologetic smile, she carries the plates back to the kitchen.

Hook stares into the fire crackling in the hearth, all of the nightmarish memories that occasionally still haunt his sleep – memories he’s spent decades trying to drown in cheap drink and loose women – coming to mind.  “What is that like?” he asks quietly when she returns, running a finger around the lip of his rum bottle absently.  “To not have any memories?”

She pauses and turns to survey him, and he gets the sensation that she sees deeper into him than he wants to let her.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked.  It feels as though he’s just showed his hand.  But his unease is replaced with elation when she sighs and sits down at his table.

“It’s very strange,” she answers, her face honest.  “Empty. I don’t know who I am or where I come from or how I got here, whether I have a family, what my life was like...” She gives a sardonic laugh.  “It’s unnerving.”

Her sad eyes make his heart twinge, and he studies her thoughtfully.  “Well that’s not true; we know some things about you, Swan.”

“Oh, so you’re a pirate and a fortune-teller?” She tosses him a dry look, a delicate eyebrow raised.  

Hook grins at her sarcasm and shakes his head.  “Just experienced.  I’ve traveled the realms for a long time.”  He reaches across the table and gestures at one of her hands.  “May I?”

She blinks, surprise giving way to dubiousness, and considers him for a long moment before finally acquiescing and gingerly setting one of her hands in his.  He tries to ignore the tingle that shimmers down his spine and the uptick in his heart rate that comes from her touch, pointing at her upturned palm with the tip of his hook.  “Look. You have a few calluses, but not enough to suggest a life of hard labor.  The color of your lovely skin in the heart of this summer suggests that either you came from a northern country or you spent most of your time out of the sun,” he continues, thinking aloud.  “The way you speak also rules out half a dozen lands I can think of.”  He smiles back up at her. “See how this works?”(*)

She’s leaning forward now, the skepticism in her eyes fading as she swallows and nods.  She glances at her hand in his and pulls away, clearing her throat and rubbing her palms together self-consciously with pink in her cheeks.  “That’s, uh, that’s actually pretty clever.”

Hook curls his empty fingers.  “Well, I didn’t get to be a pirate captain on my good looks alone, you know,” he quips, flashing a rapscallion’s grin for effect.

She laughs and chews on her lip in a way he finds endearing.  “Anything else?”

He shrugs.  “Well, I think it’s obvious that you’re not from anywhere near here, or someone would have recognized you by now.  No one could forget a face like yours, I assure you.” He winks, savoring her recurrent blush, and his finger taps the table as he continues to muse.  “Have you tried looking at maps?  Perhaps something might look familiar.”

Her eyes light at the suggestion.  “I hadn’t thought of that, but there are maps over at the bookshop.  I can make a trip there tomorrow afternoon.”

He scratches behind his ear. “You know, I also have a very large assortment of maps on my ship which will cover many more lands than what you’ll find at that shop,” he volunteers.  “Perhaps you’d like to come aboard?”  He lifts his eyebrows hopefully.

This earns him an incredulous sideways glance.

“For the maps, Swan,” he says, feigning innocence with a boyish grin.

“I’m sure.”  

His heart falls when she gets to her feet, but his disappointment is tempered by the way her eyes dance.

“I’ll try the shop first, thanks.  I think there’s one thing I can tell you about myself, Captain.”

He arcs an eyebrow.  “Oh?”

She hums knowingly.  “I don’t think I’m the kind of girl you’re hoping I am.”

He chuckles, letting her words sit between them for a moment before rising and pressing a handful of coins into her palm to cover his bill, marveling again at the softness of her skin.  “Perhaps,” he says softly, dipping his nose so it’s inches from hers, “you don’t know what kind of girl I’m hoping you are.”  He savors the nervous flutter of her long lashes and her failure to pull away this time, and he grins, stepping back and giving her a military-style bow.  “The Jolly Roger will be in port at least until Friday.  I hope to see you again soon, milady.”

Swan watches him retreat with wide eyes.  She licks her lips and swallows.  “Goodnight, Captain.”

“Goodnight, Swan.”

Thanks for reading!  Ready for the next chapter?  Click here!

[itsmejaquesz]

[English] A reflection on: “MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 'Interlude: Shadow' Comeback Trailer”

I can't get out of my mind the M/V scenes and the lyrics of this song. That's why you decide to write about. So many details, but some scenes really caught my attention. The scene where dollar signs are scrawled over cell phones is one of them. It's something I've been thinking and discussing a lot with my friends.

VIEWS / ADVERTISING / RECOGNITION / MONEY

How far can people go to get views? Is it worth forgetting that there is a person on the other side, and treating an artist as a commodity? BTS has a very solid career, they are and have remained one of the most famous groups in history. Even though they now have more infrastructure, more money, more contacts in the music industry, more followers, more outreach, more sponsors, and are older and more experienced, they still (perhaps more often) have to go through this kind of. situation:

Leaking or worse selling information about members' personal and / or routine lives. Tae recently commented on a vlive about how they have to opt for private flights because people found out about it and bought seats near theirs. There are also situations when they are on tour and have their hotel rooms raided and of course we can not forget the phone number and addresses that always end up in the hands of sasaengs. Sasaengs, I've really tried to understand, but it's impossible, there is simply nothing to justify this kind of behavior, there are also some fansites and paparazzi who stalk and invade privacy in order to get unique information and images that they later exchange for money.

There is also the media in general. How many interviews, awards and programs has BTS attended in recent years? Did they feel comfortable in all of them? Did most have a big impact on their career? The answer is probably no. Was the media really interested in the music, BTS career, producing interesting content or just the audience / attention they would attract? Probably the second option. Even though they are aware of this kind of situation they have participated because they are professionals and in my opinion very humble, they know the importance of marketing and they are serious about trying to get closer to ARMY and that is one of the ways.

And of course we have fake people and profiteers, we all deal with these toxic types in our daily lives, but now let's think about the BTS scale: big companies, other artists, the establishments they go to, people of the past, ordinary people who they meet them by chance and I really hope it doesn't happen with BTS, but often family members themselves want a piece of their fame. Under these conditions it is difficult to build healthy professional relationships, now imagine in personal life? How to trust, how to let people come to you?

“No one told me / How lonely it is up here”

“Now I know runnig away could be an option too” - I do not know if this is the correct translation of this sentence, but to me it has many meanings, He may be talking about rumors/gossip/haters, conflict with his shadow or his relationships with people.

And now comes my main goal with this text. Fakenews, monotonous interviews, haters and profiteers, as I said earlier they are professionals, adults and increasingly experienced, they know how to handle/behave in these situations and if they don't know they are fully supported by BigHit. The lyrics of BTS Cypher talk a lot about this subject.

Now I'm sorry to say, our Boy Scouts are not bulletproof, not when they are responsible themselves and ARMY.

We idolize them and want to be close to them so we consume a lot of BTS, the music, the albums, the M/Vs, the shows, the social networks, their routine, the clothing, the merchandising, the cosmetics, the hair color, what they drink and eat, the artists they listen to / appreciate…

How many times have you seen news that because a BTS member was wearing something, that item was out of stock shortly?

Well… you are a fan and have the right to express your love of the way that suits you, but you are really being a fan when:

*Support or ignore only one member? They are 7 that became 1, is the name of the next album inclusive, of course you may find one of them more attractive or identify more with the personality of a member, but say that a member should be expelled or pursue a solo career, with them stating how they can only be happy when they know that ALL members are happy?

And all those rankings and search results, even small, are participating ARMYs and I'm sure BTS just knows about the results, as happened recently with j-hope who was the only member left out of one of these popularity lists..

*Ships, they are seven and yes probably have more intimacy with one or the other member, but why bring things to the romantic/sexual side, even if someday, such a ship is real, it will be equally disrespectful to guess how it's their intimacy, how many times I've come across ship-related porn stuff on Twitter, Instagram, YouTube and even Weverse, even if it's just drawing or writing, they use these social networks and can see / read. If you're the type who can't help but think better of it, just leave it to your imagination, even though Tae himself said it's not safe there. Please let's see the ships from the perspective of friendship.

*The way they dress and show the body. You may have a shy or bolder personality, you may want to look sexier or cuter, you may like to show off your body or wear extremely large unmarked clothes, you may have sparkle and vibrant colors on all your clothes or wear only black from head to toe, you may want to show off your underwear or dress like your grandfather. At the airport, when traveling or visiting family and friends, the members dress as they please, they don't have to be as neat and tidy as they are in performance. Still, there are always comments saying that this or that is vulgar, disrespectful, should not wear, that is too thin or too fat, that gets ugly with glasses…

*Members dating. I already mentioned how difficult it is in their situation to develop any kind of relationship, they know it, and if even knowing it they like someone enough to want to take over, we can't be jealous or angry and certainly have no right to judge / belittle partner choices. This all goes back to the sense of ownership, and we are not BTS OWNERS.

*Speaking of choices, tattoos, hair size, smoking, taste in music, hobbies… It's part of who they are, their attempt to build a personality and assert themselves as an individual. Don't you get angry and offended yourself or even sad when someone questions something you do / did? Every time this is done to them, it makes them more afraid to show who they really are. As if Korean society alone was no longer enough pressure.

These kinds of thoughts that I mentioned above end up in the media, certainly not the majority of ARMY thinks, but we have to remember that our fandom is giant and is in the spotlight so even if it is 1% of ARMY, are already thousands of users giving views on this type of content and this has just arrived in BTS. And when it gets to them what do you think they feel? Do they think the fandom that is a source of support and inspiration is wrong or are they not good enough? Do you think it affects their Persona or their real self?

I'm sure everyone has felt in the serious and sad way they talk about some issues, we can see at a glance how much they suffer and worry about it (lately especially JK) and how rarely they express opposition to that kind of behavior.

Even with the entire #LOVEYOURSELF campaign and their maturing as people, this kind of situation still hurts.

Time to reflect:

We love, admire and are inspired by their work, but we DON'T KNOW them, and as sincere as they are in their songs and speeches, no matter how much of their routine BigHit gives us and how many shows we go to, we would never get to. be close as probably their best friend is.

They are probably still trying to figure out who they are themselves. I do not doubt that they are amazing and interesting people off the stage either.

Now if you met one of the members in a bar in Paris and had a chance to have a drink with him, would you try to have a nice and fun conversation or would you bother filming / taking pictures to prove that you had contact with him?

Would you scream their names incessantly and take hundreds of pictures while they are at the airport, at the mall, at the convenience store?

Do you think that filming their performance is the best way to share the feeling and message they want to convey to us at the shows?

Would you be one of the hands that pull their true self down and then raise your cell phone and film their Persona onstage?

As ARMY our mission is to provide a safe space for BTS to be able to express who they really are, whether they are still afraid or unwilling to do so, the least we can do is try to make their lives as artists more comfortable and happy. I really don't want to see again a sigh of frustration from Yoongi or JungKook apologizing for having fun.

I do not know that anyone will read and if read offends this text, it really is not my intention. This M / V was a slap in the face and made me want to write about it, because a lot of the things I described also keep tormenting me.

Just about everything I have described fits into the lives of other artists as well, and is for all fandoms to reflect on. What do you talk / comment about your idol, would you dare to talk / comment if he was your best friend?

Finally as the M/V has direct references to “O! RUL8,2?” Below are some wise words from our beloved leader:

Nothing lasts forever You only live once So live your life Not any other’s lives

…

Because at one point of someday everything you did Would be exactly what you will be

Sorry for any mistakes. My translation was done by Google

Thanks for reading until the end #LOVEYOUSELF #IPURPLEYOU @ZanquetJ

[valenshawke]

Me vs. My Boss - Part 89798427987

My relationship with my boss is interesting.

I spent so much time in school that I really never had a boss before, even when I was someone’s research assistant. With my mentor at undergrad, when I was his research assistant, I didn’t need to have a boss, I just worked hard because I totally appreciated the things he did for me. For those last two years in college and three years in Columbus, he fulfilled that father figure I hadn’t had since my dad died. And while we never really spoke about anything deeply personal (except my rejection letters for grad school), he did provide that professional/career/financial guidance I feel like my dad would have. It was his advice to me when I was on the job market (academic, public, and private sector) that I found the most reasonable. 

“Whoever makes the best offer to you first, go with it. You’d be suffering upwards for 5-7 more years if you commit now to being a part-timer working 3 campuses.” 

He was the only one that offered me any career advice after I defended my dissertation. Not even my advisor/dissertation chairperson could. But, admittedly, she and her husband (also on my committee) felt really bad about my situation when I graduated (in a more favorably market, I could have stayed 1-2 more years and gotten something). They also cop to not having done enough. But hey, I got a real job with benefits.They were ecstatic.

Which brings me to my actual factual boss. 

Hooboy.

When I got to my job, he was still only one of my two group leaders. Group leaders occupy a weird position of not being managers but having some managerial authority as delegated by their (and my) Deputy Director, who is my actual manager/boss. 

Nice guy. 

Nice guys don’t always make for good managers. In fact, they make for pretty rotten managers. 

In the boss/employee relationship, I don’t need to be friends with my manager. I really don’t give two shits. Can I be respectful? Yes. Can they be respectful? Yes. Can we be professional in dealing with problems? Yes. Is there a time to raise your voice in anger? Sure. 

The problem with my boss is he’s been acting like the good cop since he was promoted. Now. there were some shady office politics (nothing illegal but between the people) going on in my office in the two years before I got there that set the stage here.

His allies among the employees for my first year here were, me and the two guys that I sat next two. 

Those two guys left for jobs at HQ, which I understand.

This leaves me.

The next two years, become a harrowing experience.

He is not a good manager.

But on a personal level, I like him. He’s a guy you could go out and have a few drinks with, watch football, and have a good time.

As a manager...

I protected him twice. 

How? I warned him on something because of something he had to one of my coworkers. He worded things so poorly even though I know his intent was, “Don’t be belligerent,” which my coworker was by refusing an assignment. Because my coworker literally HAD no assignments. 

But he worded it in a way that could have been actionable. I literally told him to walk with me out of our building and I explained it to him. 

He and our director continued to handle it poorly. But fine, that coworker ends up leaving to another department and out of our hair. Goodbye forever. [Side note: This same coworker actually asked for my number before I left. I responded with, “Why, you want me to do your work at another agency?”

After saying that we were friends, I responded with, “You are literally the worst person I have ever dealt with and I never want to see or hear from you again.”

I was literally in my 30 minutes of the day before I went on vacation and to San Diego Comic Con. 

I stopped by my actual friend’s office and my soon-to-be former coworker was there, apparently crying not understanding why I hated them so. When I do 60% or more of your work, that’s why].

Which brings us to the last 10 months.

I can’t and won’t say much but I will say that part of how I operate at work is generally this: Keep your head down, don’t talk politics, don’t talk religion, and make no physical contact with people. That last part is unless I KNOW you really well or your someone I HAVE to shake hands with (big deal with at HQ), do not fucking touch me. 

But I see a lot of things and hear a lot, having a large headset makes people think I tune out when I’m listening. 

But you know what? The truth, as I saw it, made this thing I won’t say much about really a non-starter. But it’s still stressful.

I even literally try to console my boss who feels bad about us being called about it. 

Now, that said, in the summer of 2015, some family problems rear their ugly head the weekend before I am supposed to run my first training school at this agency. There are some serious questions as to whether or not I can teach that Monday.

He set it up where if I can’t be there, my backup (who had actually done this project last year and knew the stuff) could do it.

I managed to run the school. Not well mind you, I know my standards.

He had my back.

I appreciated that.

I have his.

Until you start JERKING ME AROUND AND ASKING ME TO GROVEL.

On Fridays, I have the privilege to work at home. I earned it and in  the two years I’ve been doing this, all the metrics show I actually do work and get more done at home cause I have almost no distractions. 

I also have situational times due to mitigating circumstances. Remember the eclipse? There was going to be a protest downtown that day, right in front of the building and the building managers wanted us out.

Today, they’re putting in a door in some office space behind my work area. Building contractors want no one there for safety reasons.

My director has already indicated I could telework that day. 

But communications breakdown. 

I ask my boss Tuesday, what the deal was going to be. 

He say he’d know tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes.

He knows I have to leave at 3 PM everyday since I maxed out on credit and they won’t give me comp.

I want an answer. 

I actually go to his office like 4 times that day (which is normal). 

He avoids that issue. 

He wants me to ask and beg.

I am literally not having it. 

2:45 comes and my group leader says he’s willing to ask. I tell him no and even point out he’s not in his office and hadn’t been for awhile. 

2:55, still hiding. Even our Account Tech thinks I’m teleworking and is shocked when I tell her I don’t have an answer.

At this point, I just flip my shit.

I put myself on the leave calendar under sick leave (cause I have 4 people at the office wondering about my mental health at this point because I had been on edge for a two weeks). And, honestly, I was sick of being at my office and seeing people. As my friend at work said, “Yeah, sounds like you need a vacation.”

Sick leave doesn’t require any approval. I can use it without approval whenever. I don’t like using it but it’s handy sometimes. 

3 PM, I leave not before telling my group leader to tell our boss to fuck off (”I cannot tell him to fuck off, Michael.”

“Just tell him I left pissed.”)

I come home. 

And, well, situation here makes my day WORSE.

On my way back I get a text from my boss asking if I’m okay cause now I’m on the calendar on Sick Leave.

So, I actually GO BACK to my office. But I’m off the clock. 

My group leader is rather shocked I’m back and I explain to him the thing at home. At this point, he just looks at me like, “Shit man, you’re hit at all sides today.”

I end up taking him, his wife (group leader on the other side of the office), and one of the account techs to dinner just to kill time before my work friend crashes dinner with us.

But that was about 1 hour of me being at the office before we go to dinner. My boss is still there.

I walk out of the my office (our layout is weird) to go the vending machine cause I need a soda and would use the can to fill up on water. My boss is walking over to my group leader’s office as I’m heading out to the hallway.

“Oh hey, I thought I heard your voice-”

I turn around

“YOU AND I DON’T NEED TO TALK TODAY!” And I give him that wide eyed smile like I really want to pick up the chair and fling it at him.

And I walk out to get my soda.

Now, I have to walk around the office a few times mostly to calm myself down and find someone to kill time with. I actually walk past my boss twice and he tries to say something but I ignore him.

So, we go to dinner. Have some BBQ chicken nachos and a couple of racks of ribs. My group leader is happy, it’s free beer.

Beer is disgusting.

Anyways, at dinner my group leader tells me that he actually stopped my boss from trying to talk to me because he didn’t want to get between us. I then tell him the incident where I almost got between my boss and another coworker cause I reasonably believed my coworker was gunna throw a punch at my boss.

Anyways, “Well, I was gunna tell him he could work from home tomorrow.” 

It’s almost 6 PM when that conversation took place. 

You wanted me to beg and grovel.

Nope.

Not today.

We don’t have enough work to let me work some comp? You guys can cover? Okay. Here’s two more days to my vacation.

[concussed-to-pieces]

As Usual

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Baron Corbin/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Business!Baron, what's not to love? Tagging our usual suspects of @tox-moxley and @oraclegazes, as well as the head of the Baron's Bitches Pack, @writergrrrl29 and but of course it would not be Thirst Party Saturday without our Steerforth, @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy!

Baron Corbin didn't like to think of himself as boring. Sure, he worked in an office, and yeah, he wasn't exactly at the head of the excitement parade, but boring? He and his girlfriend worked long days, wasn't much they could do when they got off of their respective shifts. Normally once Baron escaped his soul-sucking cubicle and fought through the traffic to get home he was more than ready to throw on some sweatpants, cuddle with his already-sleeping girl and conk the fuck out until six the next morning  when he had to wake up and do it all over again.

“Dude, face it. You're the most boring guy I know. Boring Corbin.” Jack snorted, leaning over Baron's cubicle. “You come here early, you work late because everyone else is slacking off...obviously you have no life if you're willing to devote that kind of time consistently to your job.”

“I don't recall asking, Swagger.” Corbin drawled, turning his chair around to give the tall blond a long-suffering look. “Speaking of me working while everyone else is slacking off, shouldn't you be making copies or something?”

“Fair enough.” Jack held up his hands in surrender. “Look I'm only thaying...saying something because I'm worried, alright? You're one of the few people I can actually joke with around here and you've been burning the candle at both ends for so long, man.” Baron grimaced. Jack, seeming to sense his weakness, carried on eagerly. “You don't take sick days, you don't take vacations. What the hell do you do for fun?”

“I definitely do take vacations, I took one last...” Baron paused, doing the mental math. “...two years ago.”

“Oh whoop-dee-do, the two days you took off for that concert. What, did you have fun and hate every second of it?” Jack needled, making Corbin laugh a little ruefully.

“Far from it, man. I could barely peel myself out of bed afterwards, even with the extra day off. Hell of a time in the pit, you know how it is.”

“So what's the deal, man? Take a day off. Call in thick. Fucking...sick.” Jack tended to speak slowly. When he got excited his lisp flared up more often, which seemed to frustrate him. “Take your girl on vacation. I'm sure she could use a break too. From what you've told me she's just as crazy as you are.”

“You're not wrong there.” The long hours she was spending in her own office came to mind and Corbin's brow furrowed. “I'll think about it, Swagger.”

Jack looked relieved, leaning over the cubicle to whack a large hand down on Baron's shoulder. “You're a good man, Charlie Brown.”

Baron snorted, waving him off and returning to his work. He couldn't seem to focus though, his thoughts drifting to his girlfriend. Today was her one day off a week. Hope she's doing something fun and not working from home again. Her boss was so hard on her. Baron knew he was lucky because he answered to a variety of individuals and he was up there on the authority ladder. His girlfriend's office was arranged a little differently where everyone only answered to one man, and he didn't seem the lenient sort.

I'll call her on my lunch break. Baron decided. Excitement flooded him, the feeling foreign. God, it had been a while since he'd relaxed. We're going to get away. A few days, a week. Something like that. Maybe go someplace new. Anything. I’m so tired of this, Baron realized. Working and working and working because I don’t think I have any other options. Well, not anymore! He shoved his chair back from his desk, got to his feet and headed for HR. A good starting point would be finding out how much leeway he had. Plus, it wasn’t like he couldn’t manage his workload for the day.

…

Baron was in a daze after finishing with Bayley in HR. Apparently he’d accrued over two months of vacation time, and since he’d never opted into the program of having them take eighty hours of it and put it into his check every New Years it had kind of just…sat there, not doing anything.

Miscommunication on his part, no doubt. Bayley’s sunshine-y attitude could be exhausting on a good day, so he tended to avoid HR like the plague and he usually deleted the emails without reading them. He wasn’t an “Ice Cream Social” or “Ugly Sweater Party” kind of guy. But the distress on Bayley’s face when she realized he was uninformed on their vacation time policy made him feel…just a little guilty. Maybe Baron would humor her more in the future. Once he’d recovered from the information overload of I have free time holy shit I have free time.

Corbin sat down heavily in his office chair, leafing through the packet Bayley had printed off for him. Yeah, he definitely needed to start paying attention to those emails. Most of this information was stuff he’d never seen before. Of course, he’d started working here back when Vickie was in charge of HR. Baron still couldn’t help his cringe whenever anyone said, “excuse me!” near him. He’d never been more eager to escape from an orientation in his life.

The excitement he’d felt before going to HR was multiplying. Baron could hardly believe this. Now all he would need to do is figure out when his girlfriend would be able to get time off as well. They could go camping, maybe see a concert! Or visit Florida, she loved warm places. What about an island? Bermuda? Hawaii? His mind ran rampant, ideas quickly filling his memo pad. How's that for boring, huh? If Baron was being honest he barely cared what they did, as long as he did it with her. She had been down for a while as much as she denied it, and Baron had been at his wit’s end for a solution. But here, here it was, staring him in the face. A vacation, a real one, with hotel rooms, phones turned off and shit like that. It was foolproof.

Instead of eating his lunch in his cubicle like he usually did, Baron picked up his bag and headed for the elevator. He’d call her on his lunch break and hopefully get a little input. Upon sliding his phone out of his pocket though, he was confused to see that he’d missed a call from her at some point. There were the usual texts from her in the morning, hey Beast, hope work is going okay. You left even earlier today, I hope everything is alright. Baron winced. Then came the funny ones, Sasha and I have decided we’re killing Enzo and dumping his body in the river. Oh whoops, I think that counts as premeditated. You won’t tell, right Beast?

She’d left a voicemail when she called, she never did that. It must be important. Corbin worriedly pressed the phone to his ear, hitting the elevator button for the street level.

“--miss you, Beast...” The message began in the middle of a sentence, a gasping plea following her usage of the teasing pet name she'd given him. Baron’s mouth went dry. There was a quiet whimper, rustling, a low, static buzz that settled in Baron’s bones like fucking liquid heat. He was pretty sure his face was neon. This was…

This was something new.

“God I wish you could touch me like this more.” Her voice was breathless, “Baron please, please, I need you-”

Baron had all but forgotten he was in an elevator, jumping when the doors rolled open. He hastily scrambled across the foyer and burst through the doors to the parking lot, phone still vised to his ear via his shoulder. He felt clumsy, like he was in a dream, loosening his tie as he walked to his car and unlocked it.

She wasn’t talking anymore, just softly moaning and it was way more arousing than it should have been to hear the quiet buzzing in the background. He knew exactly what she was fucking doing to herself. She was always so sensitive when it came to him touching her, squirming underneath his mouth or hands, and it had been a thousand times more intense when he'd used the wand on her. She'd come fucking screaming his name, her nails cutting into the skin on his shoulders and drawing blood. It had been one of the hottest things Baron had ever experienced, watching her lose control, coaxing multiple orgasms out of her with the toy and his body working in sync.

That was a distant (if incredibly pleasant) memory, though. They hadn’t had sex in almost a month, their schedules too chaotic and both of them exhausted when they were together. They slept in the same bed every night, sometimes they showered together in the morning. Slow, sleepy kisses in between yawns underneath the too-cool-to-be-comfortable shower spray, husky mumbles of “how’d you sleep?” over cups of coffee.

It was the little things that had kept them going even after the exciting newness of the relationship had worn off, Corbin was sure. She’d slip notes into his bag when she made their lunches (made your favorite, for my favorite Beast!) and he always made sure there was enough hazelnut coffee in the morning for her to fill her travel mug for work. On Baron’s one day off a week, if they needed it, he would go out and get groceries, do laundry. He was still abysmal at folding shirts so they wouldn’t wrinkle, but for her it seemed to be the thought that counted. On her one day off a week she would give the house a once-over, maybe change the sheets. Baron always felt the need to apologize for his shedding, although she said she liked his hair long because it was easier--

Baron shook himself. Shit, he’d almost started stroking his cock over his pants. Easy boy. This was a treat, definitely. One that he wasn’t going to waste on a fucking parking lot. Corbin took a deep breath to steady himself and then saved the message.

A couple more breaths, inhale, exhale.

Her call had been preceded by a text that was just a jumble of letters, like she’d laid on her phone. It had been accidental.

Baron didn’t know what the hell to do with that information. Should he delete the message? It wasn’t something she’d intended for him to hear. But it sounded amazing. He decided, after a few more deep breaths, that calling her back was the best course of action. If she brought it up…

Well, he’d burn that bridge when he got to it.

“Hi Beast! How’s work?” She seemed okay. Cars in the background. She was probably working in her little garden. Baron wanted to be suspicious, but the mental image of her with dirt smudged on her nose sparked that weird domestic part of him and he found himself relaxing.

“It’s pretty good, honestly. I um, I talked with HR, baby girl. I have a lot of vacation time saved up and I was just…well, I was wondering if you’d like to do something?” Corbin wasn’t sure why the hell he was having such a hard time being articulate. “You wanna’ go on a trip with me?”

“Really?!” She sounded thrilled. It lit a fire in Baron’s stomach and he only barely kept from fucking growling in satisfaction. “That’s--I mean yeah! Absolutely! Where do you think we should go? When?”

“I know you like the warm places. I was thinking maybe...Bermuda, something like that.” Baron paused. “I’m tired of not seeing you, or only getting to hold you when you’re asleep. I miss you, baby girl.” He didn't mean for it to sound so fucking mushy, what the hell was wrong with him?

“I was just thinking about you earlier. I worry about you. You work too hard, Baron.”

Baron barely kept from saying you’d better have been thinking about me earlier, biting his lip. “I know baby. I’m finally going to have some time off, though. This means you do as well. Pot, kettle.”

She laughed. “I was that obvious, huh? It’s been tough at work. I’ve needed this day off like you wouldn’t believe. Wow, a real vacation though! I can’t wait to get everything all planned. Are you excited?”

“You bet your ass. I love…spending time with you, baby girl.” Shit, shit. They’d been dating for over a year but they had yet to say the words that everyone put such gravity on. It was simpler that way. She’d moved in with him six months ago when he’d offered. That was like saying it without having to, right? He was just…leery of fucking everything up with his big mouth.

Even with all the time they spent apart she was the best part of his day. God forbid he say those words and have shit go sideways.

It was simpler that way. I'm already her Beast. It's enough.

She didn’t have to know that he loved her, didn’t have to know about all the times he said it quietly when she was asleep. It hurt less when he did that, breathed it into her hair while she curled up in his arms like she would be his forever. It's simpler that way, he told himself. Hurts less that way. God, he was too sentimental.

She’d gone quiet and Baron became nervous. “You okay, baby girl?” She knows, I’m so fucked.

“I’m thinking, Beast! Just…all the stuff we can do! Anything, everything!” She practically exploded, making him laugh in relief. “I’m so excited I could scream, I can’t wait until you get home tonight! I’m--I’m gonna’ stay up late so I can see you and we can plan stuff out!” She made a squealing noise and Baron grinned.

“Alright baby girl. What time do you need to work tomorrow? I’ll see if I can get out a bit earlier tonight.” Like maybe on fucking time at five, instead of at nine because everyone else is slacking off.

“Fuck what time I work tomorrow! You’re threatening me with a vacation!”

Baron was reminded all over again of why he was hopelessly, ridiculously in love.

…

Swagger of all people offered to finish his work for him so Baron could leave at four. “I’m just glad you listened to me, man.” Jack had said with his usual whack on the shoulder. “Go make her happy, tiger.”

Baron was home by five, the traffic a bit more manageable at this hour. She actually met him at his car, bounding to her feet from her spot in the dirt out front. Shortly after she'd moved in with him she had hesitantly asked about the bare 'problem' patch practically in the middle of the lawn. Baron had willingly handed it over. Shit, he scolded her for asking. “What’s mine is yours, baby girl.” There, she had started her little garden, which was jam-packed with a variety of flowers he couldn't remember the names of and bordered with hosta. He only remembered the hosta because she made a point to tell him it was the 'wolverine' variety. “It's the best there is at what it does, Beast.” She had said with a big goofy grin. Baron recalled rumpling her hair and affectionately referring to her as his 'fucking nerd'.

That naked area had been there since before he’d bought this house, a ‘fixer-upper special’. He had more important things to worry about than proper grass coverage, like the pipes that leaked in the basement or the faulty wiring in the kitchen. After a particularly exciting microwave experience, he’d taken to YouTube and managed to fix the wiring himself. He’d thought the smell of burnt plastic would never leave him, but a few bracing shots of whiskey had finally put it to rest.

He ended up calling a professional for the leaky pipes. No sense in flooding his basement on top of nearly electrocuting himself.

She poked her upper body through the window of his car before he could even cut the engine, wrapping her arms around his neck as best as she could. “Mm, hey baby girl.” Baron mumbled contentedly into her chest. It had been ages since he’d seen her awake, really awake. He had missed it more than he thought he would.

“I missed you.” She said, kissing his forehead and smiling down at him. “How did you get out so early? The sun's still up! I guess I have to rethink my suspicion that you're secretly a vampire instead of a prince in disguise, huh?”

“Swagger practically threw me out, said I needed to get the hell home.” Baron laughed, giving her a gentle push back so he could actually roll up the window and open the car door. “So let’s make some sandwiches for dinner, then I can sit on the steps while you do your plant thing.”

She nodded rapidly, moving in for another hug and then squeaking in surprise when Baron hefted her up in his arms. “H-Hey!”

“Shh, I haven’t carried you in ages.” Corbin nuzzled his nose against hers, making her giggle. “What’d you do today, baby girl? Anything fun?” Baron only just kept from snickering when she went bright red.

“Nope! I mean, just uh, picked up, gardening stuff. Boring stuff. You wouldn’t be interested.”

Boring? “Mm, I dunno’ about all that.” Baron couldn’t help the way his voice dropped lower. “You sure I wouldn’t be interested, baby girl?”

He’d listened to the full message she’d left on his ride home, slacking the fabric of his tie when he couldn’t take it strangling his throat anymore. God, the way that she sounded had him growling and tightening his grip on the steering wheel, more than eager to get back home. But just because she’d been in the mood earlier didn’t mean she was in the mood now. If anything, because of how sensitive she was she might not be able to handle him at this point.

So Baron waited, luxuriating in the way that she stammered and fluttered her hands over his shirt and suit coat while he shouldered open the front door. Felt like it had been forever since she’d touched him. “I’m hungry, baby girl.” He said quietly, interrupting her half-words.

“Baron I can’t make sandwiches unless-”

“Mm, not for food.” Today was just a growling kind of day, apparently. “I’ve missed you, baby girl. Do you have any idea what your little voicemail did to me for the rest of the day?”

“Voicemail?” She looked confused.

Baron was going to fucking die. He kissed her forehead and set her down on her feet, patting her ass as an afterthought. She yelped, swatting his arm. “Baby girl, baby girl.” Corbin cupped her jaw, thumbs stroking her soft skin. “You left me a surprise. A teasing, wonderful fucking surprise. I haven’t been able to focus for most of the day, all I could think about was you fucking yourself and begging for me.”

“Oh no, no I didn’t--” Her face heated beneath his hands. “I couldn’t have.”

“Check your call log, baby girl, because you definitely did.” Baron affirmed, grinning. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. Our schedules have just been so hectic…”

“I didn’t want to ask because I know you’ve been working hard.” Her voice was small. “I can take care of myself.”

Baron’s smile faded. “Baby girl, I don’t work harder than you. You have needs just like I do, and as your boyfriend it’s kind of part of my job to try and help take care of them. Because I--“ He paused. “I uh. I...you being happy means a lot to me.”

“I know that, you know? I think the guilt is just hardwired in. I really...a voicemail?” She covered her face with her hands when he nodded, groaning. “How embarrassing. Did I say something dumb? Oh God I bet I did, shit--”

“You kept begging for me to touch you.” Just thinking about her voice cracking with need was enough to get Corbin’s motor running all over again. “I’ve never heard you beg like that before, baby girl.”

She made another distressed noise, peeking out from between her fingers up at him. “I…”

Baron knew he was definitely treading on thin ice here, advancing on her and making her back up until she hit the kitchen counter. He trapped her with an arm on either side, resting his hands on the counter and knocking his forehead gently against her own. She refused to make eye contact, staring at his chest like she was trying to burn a hole through his dress shirt. “Baby girl I loved it. Please don't be embarrassed.” Corbin begged. “I'll delete the message, I just-” His hands clenched into fists. “Fuck, I need to know whether you want more. I need you to tell me whether you want more. Please.”

“I...” She looked like she was going to cry and Baron couldn't fucking handle that, wrapping her in a fierce hug and burying his face in her hair.

“I'm sorry, shit, I'm sorry, baby girl I-” Her fingers tugged at his phone in his pocket and Baron flinched back, startled. “Baby?”

“Let me hear the message.” It wasn't a suggestion.

Baron fought with the phone for a second, the thick rubber casing preventing him from easily getting it out of his pocket. He unlocked it and then handed it over wordlessly.

“Voicemail password.” She said after a second of holding the phone to her ear. Baron, once again, cursed himself for being so fucking incredibly sentimental. It killed him to admit it, even to her. He mumbled out the date that they had met and was greeted with a soft smile. Then, her eyes went wide and she quickly pulled the phone away from her ear. “Yeah okay, yikes. That's me alright.”

“Toldja'.” Baron said weakly.

“I jacked the thing up to high and it made me fucking spasm. I'm not as good with it as you are yet. Have to get the hang of it.” She said. Baron noticed her press her thighs together.

“Do you...” Corbin swallowed. “Do you want more? Was earlier not enough, baby girl?”

“I don't want to be greedy, Baron.” She huffed in reply.

Corbin had officially had enough, scooping her up and sitting her on the counter. “If you want more, you get more. Simple as that.” One large hand cupped her mound over her leggings and he felt the heat of her core even through the material. “Christ, baby girl.”

“So I...might not have come earlier.” She admitted after a few breathless seconds of Baron stroking her lightly through the fabric. “I tried, but I'm...I'm not as good as you yet and then I was just all numb but too sensitive to try anymore, so--”

“Baby girl.” Baron snarled, settling in between her legs. “That's not fucking acceptable. Do you hear me? Not. Fucking. Acceptable.” Her fingers dug into his hair, pulling out the elastic and tossing it aside. Baron's growl was inevitable when she started running her fingers through his long locks. He always felt more like an animal when he was framed by her thighs with her hands in his hair. Corbin peeled her leggings off, leaving them in a tangled mess around her ankles. She hadn't been kidding about not coming earlier, her panties were fucking soaked through. “Baby girl, Christ, these can't be comfortable.” Baron protested, easing them down her body.

She just whimpered, her grip tightening on his hair and dragging him back down. Her slick had coated her thighs and Baron took his time cleaning it off with his tongue, tender strokes that had her panting and wriggling underneath him while his facial hair tickled her skin.

Boring, huh? I'll show you boring.

He was flooded with satisfaction at her lively response, spreading her cunt open with his fingers. She'd said she was too sensitive to try more with the vibrator. The heat alone of Baron's mouth startled a full-body shiver out of her, the large man gently licking his way across trembling, too-hot skin. He knew he had to be careful but shit, the way she moved made him want to pin her hips to the counter and fucking devour her until she screamed. She always tasted so fucking good. Her pussy spasmed in little pulses underneath his mouth, her arousal coating his chin and facial hair where she bumped against him.

“Is that okay? Too much?” Baron finally asked, making her whine out when he paused his long, flat-tongued caresses.

“No, nonono don't stop Beast please--” She begged, fingers fucking twisting in his hair.

“Baby girl, fuck. Look at you, my little flower opening up for me. God I've fucking missed you.” In their most intimate of moments Baron would usually end up growling animalistic nonsense whether he wanted to or not, unfocused on holding the noises back while he worked her over. “Mine.” The sound she made when he circled his tongue around her clit was one that he hadn't heard in ages and Baron repeated the motion. He was unable to keep from smirking against her when she grabbed his hair and fucking yanked it, pulling him to the side that she preferred him on. “Yeah, put me where you need me baby girl, put me where you fucking need me.” Baron ordered. He loved it when she took control of her own release, loved it when she would manhandle him a bit.

“Baron, m' gonna' come, oh fuck, Baron I can't-” Her hips jerked up against his face and Corbin urged her even closer.

“That's right baby, that's right, come on my tongue, come on my fucking tongue.” He demanded, snarling it against her. “Soak my fucking face baby girl, fucking do it, do it, do it--” Something about his fever-pitch repetition always seemed to do it for her, his words no longer a command but softening to a chant of adoration as he felt her come. “That's right, that's right, Jesus fucking Christ baby girl, that's right.” Corbin crooned, her pelvis rocking lazily back and forth while he ghosted his tongue over her clit in barely-there flicks. “Better than the vibrator? Or could I use some work?” He asked after a few seconds, laughing breathlessly when she gave him an open-handed swat on his cheek. “Ow, yikes baby girl.”

“You're ridiculous. I'm not done with you yet.” She panted, taking a handful of his hair and wrapping it around her palm. “I need you in me.”

Baron grunted when she tried to pull him to a standing position with just his hair. “Easy, easy. You just came, don't you want to-”

“I have been waiting, Beast.” Her voice cracked. “Dealing with all kinds of shit at work, falling asleep before you even get home at night because of how done I am. I shower with you in the mornings and I miss you the whole day but by the time I get home it's all I can do just to unlock the door and-”

Baron fucking rumbled, feeling the noise in his chest as he nodded. “I know, baby girl. We're gonna' take a vacation. I promise. Just you...” He kissed her stomach. “...and me...” Another kiss. “...someplace warm and sunny.”

“P-Please--” There she was again, there was his sweet little flower. Legs falling open on either side of him, begging, welcoming him home.

The rush of affection that hit Baron at the sight threatened to overwhelm him, and-- “I fucking love you.” Baron blurted out before he could stop himself. He froze, feeling her grip on his hair slack off to nothing. No, no God dammit. Baron closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to rest on her stomach, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

Her hands cupped his jaw.

“M' sorry.” Corbin mumbled against her stomach, mentally bracing himself for the impact.

“Beast...”

“Fuck I'm sorry, I'm sorry, baby girl let me explain, I-” His words clipped off into a confused grunt as she held his mouth shut, one hand beneath his chin and the other on the top of his head as she forced him to look up at her.

Her face was deadly serious. It would have been comical at any other time, her body still shining with sweat and eyes half-lidded from coming. “Did you mean it?”

Baron shut his eyes again, wishing more than anything that he wasn't so fucking sentimental.

“Answer me, Beast.” She released his jaw.

“Yeah.” He muttered after a few shaky breaths. “I did. I meant it. I...I mean it every time I say it, baby girl.”

“Thought so.” She replied simply.

Baron blinked. Thought so?

“I hear you at night sometimes. You thought I didn't know?”

“Well, I-”

“Your voice is kind of deep, Baron. Tends to at least wake me up a little bit.”

“-I thought-”

“Mmhm, I'll bet you did. I bet you thought too much is what you did.” She'd hit the nail on the head there, Baron realized with regret. “You've been all wrapped up in worrying about this and work, haven't you?”

“...yeah.” He admitted quietly. “I didn't-I didn't want to ruin...look, I don't know, some people aren't comfortable with saying that kind of thing and just because I am doesn't mean that you are and--”

“Baron, Baron.” She tugged him up a little, smiling as she pressed her forehead to his own. “My big, strong Beast. Even if you didn't say it out loud, I heard it every time. I hear it when you try to fold my shirts, I hear it when you get my favorite food, I hear it when you hold me after a long day at work and just let me sleep against you instead of making me talk about it. You're the best thing in my life, Beast. I love you, too.”

She was saying it the whole time. Understanding dawned on the large man. Her garden. The little things she's done to the house. Her notes, her texts. “Baby girl, I'm...shit, I'm dumb.”

“Yeah, maybe a little.” Her smile was smug. “But you're very poetic about it. Very...'Dread Pirate Roberts' or 'As You Wish' about it. Makes it more manageable.” She slid his zipper down. “I think you were about to do something for me, yeah?”

“Oh Christ, definitely.” Baron pulled her off the counter and turned her around, her ass slotting into his hips damn near perfectly while he struggled out of his suit coat. “Fuck, hopefully you'll be able to handle this, you need to tell me if you're too sensitive, okay?” Her reply was a haughty look over her shoulder and a wiggle of her hips, making Corbin swear and abandon trying to get his shirt off. “Baby girl, I'm not gonna' hurt you so knock it off with the tough kid shit.”

“I know you're not going to hurt me. I just want you to hurry up. I've been waiting for a little while.”

“Yeah? Waiting for this?” Baron's slacks and boxers got caught around his thighs but he didn't fucking care, palming his shaft and feeling his cock twitch heavily in his hand when she sighed. “I've been waiting all day for you, baby girl, dying to fill you right the fuck up. That what you want?” He knew the answer already but still waited until she nodded rapidly before pressing the head of his cock into her slick entrance. “Yeah, that's what you want, that's what you've been fucking waiting for.”

She arched her back, taking every inch of him as she bent over the counter and whined his name helplessly. Baron felt her cunt clench down on him, the realization that she was already coming knocking the wind out of his lungs. He rested his forehead in the space between her shoulder blades and focused on his breathing for a second, not moving as she bucked on his cock.

“Easy, baby girl, easy.” Baron gasped, realizing after a second that she wasn't planning on slowing down. He quickly wrapped his arms around her stomach, hoisting her just high enough so that her feet couldn't touch the floor. She made a noise of protest that went straight to his cock and Baron groaned, sliding one arm up between her ribs and the hard counter before starting to fuck into her mercilessly. “This what you fucking need, huh? Me just fucking hammering you? Take it then, fucking take it, take it, take it-” He snarled in her ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You're going to come again, baby girl. You're going to come and then I'm going to fill you fucking deep, got it? Beg me for it. Beg me.”

She started chanting his name and pleading, hips rolling as best as she could with her feet fucking dangling in midair, sneakers bumping the cabinets with every move he made. This was what Baron lived for, being bigger and stronger and able to get her off even without her help, better than anyone else ever had.

Boring? Fuck you.

“I love you Baron, God I love you so much.” She choked out, “Missed you, Beast-”

“I missed you too baby girl. I just...” Baron gritted his teeth against the growl that built in his chest to no avail. She fucking quaked at the noise, leaning up and wrapping an arm around his neck. Her fingers desperately grabbed a handful of his hair at the nape of his neck, making Baron keen at the sharp shock of pain. “Baby girl I fuckin'...Christ, I love you, I love you so fuckin' much baby girl--” His words dissolved and he resorted to groaning loud while she came around him. He barely kept from snapping his teeth into the soft skin of her shoulder, shit he hadn't marked her in a fucking month.

“Do it, please, please Beast.” Shaky fingers forced his mouth down into the perfect spot where her neck and shoulder joined. He tongued the area, tasting the salt-sweet of her skin before he sank his teeth in. A claiming bite, not to punish but to remind, more lips and tongue than sharp canines. Her pulse slammed under the surface beneath his mouth, still racing from her orgasm and Corbin snarled, losing his battle with his own release and sheathing himself as deeply as he could before coming. The whole while she kept breathing praises and how much she'd missed him into the side of his neck and Baron wasn't sure if he would be able to keep himself under control, hips twitching much longer than usual.

Boring. Heh. He could tell his voice was shot to shit before he even spoke. “You okay?” He managed to say, swallowing hard. The growling always left him completely shredded.

She nodded, nuzzling her face into his neck and sighing softly. “Tired. I love you.”

Baron felt his stomach twist at her words, unable to keep the dumb smile off his face. “I love you too, baby girl.”

“Mm, carry me to bed. We're officially sick and calling in tomorrow. I'm not fucking done with you yet, Beast.” She said firmly after a minute, making Baron chuckle at how adamant she sounded.

“I think that's a great idea, baby girl. After all, we have a vacation to plan.”

“I forgot, oh my God!” She started squirming in his grip and Baron quickly set her on the floor, giving her hips a worried once-over with his fingers. No bruises from the counter, just a mark where his watch had dug into her skin.

“I'm sorry, I should have--”

“Baron. Did you hear me complaining?”

“Well no, but-”

“Then it obviously didn't bother me. Where did my bag go, where is...” Watching her scramble around the kitchen half-naked was oddly soothing. Baron dragged his pants up and leaned back on the counter, more than content to enjoy the show. She finally located her datebook, opening it and laying it flat on the table. She started pointing to different weeks, going on about how this might work and I'll need Sasha to cover this. Baron just let her talk, busying himself with tugging her hair to the side and kissing up her neck. “Beast, hey, you're supposed to-” Her protest died when his teeth grazed the shell of her ear.

“I know. Tomorrow, okay baby girl? Tonight, though, I think I need to taste you again. If you're...amenable, that is.” Baron smirked into her neck.

“You're really going to call in?”

“If you do, absolutely.”

Her reply was yanking her phone out of her bag and firing off a quick text. “Done.” Her mouth was eager, arms flinging around Baron's neck and fingers tangling his dark hair as they kissed. “Now take me to fucking bed, Beast.” She breathed in between kisses.

“Whatever you want, baby girl.” Baron whispered back.

[dreamernobody979]

No Going Back Now: Fighting White Supremacy as a Black Follower of Christ

The task and call on the table: Deconstructing Institutional Racism, Structural Racism and how it expresses itself in higher education. This includes how seemingly normal, neutral and unbiased rules, codes, guidelines and policies disproportionately disadvantage people of color on this campus. I guess I should specify that I’m talking about LBC. It would be easy for to go after society as a whole and examine how these principles play out in the general American higher education system. Seeing the different mechanisms of racially coded language, the erasure of blackness through curriculum that centers whiteness, non stop promotion of predominantly euro-centric heroes, teachers, musicians, poets, preachers, scientists, doctors, lawyers and other professionals in society that all work together to dehumanize black and brown humanity is hard enough. But seeing the evil of this system, trying to point it out to people with more power and influence than me and having them willfully deflect and kindly refuse not to see it is infuriating. I feel as if I see the smog of poisonous gas permeating the classrooms, soaking into the assigned reading in each class, staining the walls of chapel, distorting the features of the students, warping the text of the scriptures, slowly eating away at the skin of black and brown students and no one will listen or can even understand it. We are dying not just here but in society as a whole from the poison of white supremacy. 

It is frightening and if I wasn’t a Christian, if I didn’t believe Jesus that you were greater than any evil that is in this world, even the insidious and pervasive yet subtle evil of white supremacist ideology, I would give in to complete, utter and permanent fear and despair. It’s for that reason that James Baldwin, Toni Morrison and Malcolm X surprise me. I feel bad for saying that, I mean all of their books are on my reading list so I still don’t fully know where they found their hope but I’m gonna assume (which is usually a bad thing to do but I will this once) that they were not Christians. I am sure that Malcolm X wasn’t and for that, I cannot blame him. I wish that he could’ve known the true and living Christ behind the smoggy, subtle and idolatrous white Jesus that he certainly met in his lifetime. But anyway....I just wonder where their hope came from....how they continued to fight against this evil. I mean I know that this is largely an issue of social structures of injustice. Man made and insidious. But I also know that there’s a spiritual element to this evil too....there is no way that I as a follower of Christ and Your Word could think that such a pervasive, systemic and enduring evil as racism has no roots in the demonic realm. If not the man made structures than certainly the ideology of whiteness and white supremacy on which racism rests is evil beyond human ability to fight. 

Oh Heavenly Father....I am one woman. You ask me to stay here....it seems like if I stay here I will be giving up. I don’t know how to explain it to you or anyone else but I cannot knowingly stay in a place where no one is willing to confront the ugly reality in front of them. I would be wasting my effort, time and energy on people that are not ready to confront their complicity, their racism, their acquiescence to injustice. Staying would be like telling them “I agree with you” If I have no agency as a black woman to set my boundaries, declare what I need and reasonably hold people accountable for their actions, and I stay....Lord what kind of example does that set? That goes against everything you taught me over the past few years. It’s unhealthy, it’s dysfunctional to think that if I just martyr myself at the altar of their ignorance that they (read: white people) will eventually understand. Look I’m not saying I don’t want to follow your will and stay....ok I don’t wanna stay here but you’ve known that since last summer that’s nothing new. But let’s get one thing straight and this is something that’s been frustrating me for awhile: there seems to be a misunderstanding and spiritual minimization of the suffering and pain that people of color endure from racism and how we are expected to respond. I don’t know if this narrative of redemptive black suffering has come from the suffering of Christ or the collective suffering of black people throughout history in their relentless fight for dignity, equity and respect but there’s something in there that is subtle and dangerous. 

I am not against suffering for Christ’s sake but suffering persecution from other Christians. And then there’s this expectation that people who are being abused should just take it and endure it for the sake of unity, progress, peace and forgiveness. In this case i will speak of black women. There’s this narrative that black women exist for the sole purpose of being the pack mules for everyone’s suffering, the female messiahs of society’s burden and are just simply made to endure constant disrespect and shame without complaint. The narrative of “the strong black woman” impervious to pain and weakness, never gives up, is superwoman and has no need for breaks or protection. She capes for everyone, fights for everyone, never rests, always fights, and society seems very comfortable with this concept of black women enduring pain for others. The black community does this as well. I can’t speak on the collective behavior of everyone in the African diaspora but as an African American I see a strong resistance to admitting weakness, vulnerability and fear in the black community. There is this ideas that “No matter how bad things get, especially in the face of racism, we can’t get mad, we can’t leave, we can’t feel we have to get through it and rise above.” And the clear understanding of what success looks like seems to always be “Stay in the racist environment and be the champion and go in and change things, no matter the cost. Don’t think about your own needs as an individual, you are always representing the group, you have no right to your own health, boundaries nor do you have the right to say no. You must always be there for everyone else and never ask for anything for yourself. Self care is selfishness. And besides even if you left, everywhere you go you’ll encounter racism so you just gotta learn to deal with it” 

I think the resolution of black people to endure horrific cruelty and dehumanization both overtly and covertly throughout history is amazing. However I think we need to realize that although we are amazing we are not super humans nor do we always have to pretend to be. In embracing the stereotype of “limitless strength and endurance: i.e- strong black man/woman/etc, we in essence don’t allow ourselves to say no, that’s enough, stop, I’m wounded, I need/want, I’m not okay. In a society and a world that never allows us to have a break, I think it’s important as oppressed people to create spaces and pockets of humanity for ourselves which includes supporting each other when we are weak and not shaming each other or judging someone’s blackness because they choose to not fight. I think asserting our right to not engage with trying to fix racists/racism (which by the way is the job of white people) we are fighting a different kind of battle. We are reclaiming out three dimensional humanity. We are saying “I have the right to take care of myself, I am not the prop for every cause, I am human and I cannot always be strong, sane, “coherent” or “on”. And that’s ok. ....we are humans. 

It is ok to be soft, to be weak, to be vulnerable and fight for your right to say no. No, I do not owe anyone my time and energy, No it is not my job or responsibility to fix the racist environment on your campus that you created and refuse to acknowledge. No it is not my job to suffer, cry, email, scream and tear my 4C hair out every day trying to fix your school for now pay, 20,000 in debt and failing all my classes. I have the right to not share my experiences, emotional baggage and racial trauma and I don’t have to stay in an environment with people who refuse to see me. I don’t have to write proposals, meet with white RA’s, professors, staff and board members and splay open my pain for their curious perusal. It is perfectly right and reasonable for me to hold people in power responsible for doing their own labor to deconstruct the injustice system they are complicit in maintaining in thousands of ways.

 I think I am doing the best I can to set an example for other people of color and the example is this: You do not have to endure your education and you have every right to be here. You are a student the same as everyone else. Don’t ever let anyone use you as a token for their agenda at the expense of your dignity, voice and agency. They are lucky to have you not the other way around. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re demanding or aggressive for holding them accountable for their words and promises. And don’t EVER EVER EVER let anyone shame you for your response to racism or judge the extent of your racial trauma. Do what you need to do to heal and if that looks like leaving the environment then so be it. If anyone has a problem with you or questions your character for leaving, you tell them you have every right to leave a dysfunctional environment where the company was not delivering the product they advertised. And if they still wanna criticize you more than the discrimination that brought about your response, tell them to come to me. I’ve had it with the policing by both white people and people of color, of each other’s reactions and coping mechanisms in the face of institutionalized injustice (racism, sexism, able-ism,etc) Stop with the respectability politics and stop with the criticizing of the traumatized. It is healthy to acknowledge and deal with your pain before attempting to help others. The problem with the world is you have sick people helping sick people. Wanna humanize people of color? Let them know it’s ok to feel pain when they’ve been hurt, that they are intelligent and capable of properly perceiving discrimination and remind them that the systemic minimization of their humanity is not normal, natural or acceptable. Help them find their voice on their termsl. 

[cerebusfire17]

Disgrace and Validity

People--Soldiers--in the military disgust me anymore, and I’m not sure if it’s because I decided to get out, or if it was because I’ve lived in the civilian side of life for so long. 

I’ve seen so many comments saying how happy they are that the military is currently denying entry to trans people. It’s like “Hey, 2000′s called and they want their DADT comments back!” kinda deal. I was hearing this shit when I was in, even after DADT was lifted.

(Note: most of this is paraphrase, not literal text.) Someone will one day read this and tell me to get over it, or some other bullshit. I got over DADT when that was lifted, so I’ll probably get over this when this kind of shit stops, you know? is that fair? I’ll stop caring when it no longer exists. Until then, I’m probably not going to get over people getting treated like less than. It’s not as bad as the Slavs or Armenians, but still, it’s not cool in our society of today, is my main gripe. We just did this shit with gay people, and now we’re doing it to another group because????

                                                            Main shit I’ve seen/read/heard... So far. 

Some Soldiers say, “Good, the military has no time for feelings or this PC crap.”

Yeah, that was the argument they used when it came to Shell Shock, aka, PTSD.

Other soldiers have mentioned, “It’s a mental illness! The tax payers shouldn’t pay for their operations!”

Okay, first off, the military ISN’T going to pay for an operation. It doesn’t even pay for the ones authorized, and even when it does, you’re still given the majority of the bills. The military authorizes someone of the Trans life by having them evaluated, and the the process of treatment comes once it’s clarified that the person is indeed transgendered. After that, they have to evaluate whether or not the person will go through the transition period, with the option of operation SOLELY BASED ON THE POCKET OF THE PERSON GETTING THE OPERATION, not the military of the tax payers. It would be paid the say way as someone who developed mental issues overseas.

And let’s be clear: Not ALL trans people even have an operation. They get treatment yes, but not all of them change their gender via surgery. There are literally people who don’t know the first thing about this subject who only believe that being Trans means changing your genitalia, and that’s it. And they think they’ll look ugly for some reason? I’ve never understood that. Why would they purposely try to look like a dude if they’re trying to be a chick? That makes no sense to me.

Oh, you’re freaked out cause you found out this chick was a dude at one time? 

Okay? 

There are women who found out Ted Bundy was a murderer--the hard way. I think you’ll be okay, you whiny bitches. Go to Thailand, or Singapore and play the game “Who didn’t have a sex change?” Good luck to ya!  Fucking tools.

Also, if the excuse is mental illness, then almost everyone in the military should be thrown out.  If mental illness a problem, we have to fix that, don’t we? So, then I guess that tax payers shouldn’t pay for the soldiers to get treatment for their PTSD. It IS a mental illness, just like DG, right (God, anyone who refers to DG as a “mental illness” needs to stop watching Youtube. Fucking ridiculous and immature. You’re NOT A FUCKING DOCTOR, ffs)?

Then there are those that say, “They shouldn’t be allowed entry because it’s a ‘Pre-existing’ condition.”

So is breaking your arm at 8 and deciding to join 10 years later. So is pregnancy, apparently (Still don’t get that), but no! We shouldn’t allow people who allow others and themselves to “mutilate” their bodies join, that’s why amputees and bitches with fake tits are banned from the mili--

Oh, wait, they’re not.

Oh yes, and then there’s this quip: “The military doesn’t need people who can’t deal with everyday stress to get people killed overseas. They’d be nothing but a distraction!  These pansies probably can’t even handle gun fire!”

Yes, because the Transgendered are totally pansies compared to the big, strong, badass soldiers who are throwing a fit because someone wants to change their genitalia like bitches who get liposuction or lip implants, or breast implants.... Yes, the people who are transgendered are in no way prepared for stress, as the rest of the world berates them for being different and not adhering to the natural order preconceived in the minds of idiots who think they know everything.

It’s not like people who are Transgendered are sitting there judging others performance based on what’s between their legs instead of the merit of their work, like those soldiers i am referencing do. No, they’re not that weak.  I can’t help but think sometimes if I had stay in, would I be saying the same shit as these people or would I know better than to think that? Would this idea that genitalia and changing it, per say, really matter, considering women have been in combat for decades but we only got the authorization to join into it with our peers in mid-2000′s. You know, because they were worried about women, what was between our legs, rape, distracting the males, not being able to handle the gun fire--You know, the same shit they’re saying about Trans people.

How ironic...

It’s amazing how soldiers will sit there are talk about PC culture, “feelings”, and mental illness, treating all three subjects as what’s going to ruin the military, yet PC culture, “feelings” and mental illness were all attained because none of that existed in the military previously. 

I have the most indignant feeling that the soldiers who, whether active or out, suck the military’s dick seem to have forgotten that the military WILL abandon you in the end. If  you’re no longer useful, what use are you now? Do you not remember that there are vets that are homeless, that have no real method of food or drink, no shelters will take them, no job will give them a chance, largely ignored by everyone until someone mentions that Starbucks is hiring Muslims and all of a sudden, “THERE ARE HOMELESS VETS THAT NEED A JOB!” Those words come from people who ignored that Starbucks did the same with Veterans prior to this publicity stunt, but fuck it! Let’s use the Veterans as a method of emotional manipulation and control to make people feel bad for forgetting them for so long. Let’s get on Facebook and share this story, rather than find something to link you to that person.

Some of these soldiers I mention vaguely are the same type of people who believe that they are entitled to benefits because they served. Served? Sir and madam, this is duty. You signed a contract. Sure, you are entitled to those benefits, but don’t confuse what you earn with what you work for. Signing a contract means you have to work at the task/assignment for an amount of time to get and keep those benefits well after the work is done. Working at a regular civilian job is where you earn the benefits for as long as you have worked/will work there. A soldier can easily forget that difference.

These are the same ones who will say they don’t want to pay for others of less fortune’s health care. “Work for it,” they say, yet they do. Every month, every paycheck, no matter where the money comes from. Everything gets taxed, and the taxes get used somewhere. If only they would think of things from the perspective of the people they swore to defend. 

This is the reason we’re taught that Civilians are ranked at the highest.

Although, I have to also say, that the soldiers who are worried that a Trans person can’t handle a fire arm; Neither could you. All of us had to be (re)trained with our firearms because a military weapon fires differently than a civilian one. You know, “line up your sights”? Most civilians don’t need an extensive class on how to Zero their weapons, nor do they take a nail to readjust the sights DWN3, LFT6 just to move two squares down on the target. Nobody who joins the military can properly handle the rifles and weapons we use on the regular (Unless they’re a fanatic, but those tend to be quite rare. We had one, and I”m not sure if there’s another like him.)

To be worried someone can handle a weapon, when we’re all trained the exact same way, isn’t about worrying about if someone CAN handle a weapon, and I only say this because they used to say the same thing about us black folk. (To be fair, I’m not all over negro, but just enough for me to get away with saying nigga and I can cook.) The idea that someone’s training would fail them because they’re transgendered means that you want them to fail at it. It has nothing to do with how they’re trained, it’s who they are that pisses these soldiers off. 

If anything, these soldiers who produced and continue to spread this idea that it’s okay to tell someone they’re not worthy of dying with honor because, what? They take hormone pills and don’t have erections anymore? Because they decided that how they identify themselves is a vital part of their existence in this world, and they have to suffer the consequences by people who lack the self-awareness to even question it, or step in another person’s shoes? Because, despite all of the bullshit comments, the rude remarks of friends and family, the chances of discrimination and sucide is increased slightly by the mocking of ignorant people that surround them, they continue to be who they want to be? Because they decided that YOUR opinion of them is irrelevant and you can’t stand it?

Thank god, the soldiers who have never had anyone treat them like trash to the same extent as a transperson or a black person or even a woman (All whom they are experts on, they will tell you exactly why you are wrong and that you’re using make up information, when in reality they’ve never been to college or never grasped the concept and language of Academic theory.) on a regular basis to tell everyone how grateful they are (Feeling) that the military has decided to not allow anymore Transpeople entry into service (PC) and the chances of them getting genuine help is denied (Mental illness) because it would cause “supposedly” the tax payers to pay for it (Feeling).

Friendly reminder: Be more wary of your authority than your Battle. And stop using civilians as an excuse to justify your position. They said this shit back in 2000, They need to get the fuck over it. But then again, history repeats itself quite often, and everyone is playing the roles all over again. 

I wonder what will happen this iteration.

[memolitioncom]

New Post has been published on Memolition

New Post has been published on http://memolition.com/2017/01/17/beautiful-scar-covering-tattoos/

Beautiful Scar-Covering Tattoos

People get tattooed for various reasons. Many get them because they’re fashionable. Others get them as a reminder or something or somebody special. But some get them for the opposite reason, to cover up something they’d rather forget.

Some had surgery scars and dog bites they wanted to hide, while others decided to get tattoos to cover injuries inflicted by abusive partners or the painful results of bets gone wrong. They’ll make you think twice the next time you see somebody with a tattoo.

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A Bluebird Covering Scars From Multiple Surgeries

It’s covering a scar from a childhood dog bite.

When I was a kid, I was picked on multiple reasons; to me the worst of which was for simply being the big girl. I was 2 feet taller than everyone in my class and easily outweighed most kids my age. By the time I was a teenager I was neck deep in depression and taking it out on myself seemed like the only relief. Now that I’m older and much better equipped to deal with my mental health, I decided to cover up my years of self-harm scars. A lion was the first thing I thought of when I wanted something representing strength, plus we put in lotus and azalea blossoms in the mane for their symbolism of overcoming struggle. Instead of seeing a painful reminder of where I was, I get to look at this badass symbol of where I am 🙂

Nobody has ever brought up my scars for the years I’ve been doing it. My little brother is 8 and everyone knows I am his biggest role model. One day he asked me, “What happened?” and pointed to my wrist. I made up a story, but I didn’t want him finding out what it really was and thinking it was an okay thing to do because I’ve done it. I instantly made an appointment to get them covered up. I feel so much more proud of myself now than I ever have.

So let me start by saying my real spine has never looked and will never look like this. When I was 15 years old I was diagnosed with severe scoliosis — a 65-degree curve in my spine in the shape of an S. It was beyond correction with a brace and I was told that I would need surgery in order to live into adulthood. The surgery was incredibly invasive and involved straightening my spine and surgically planting two titanium rods on either side of my spine attached by 15 screws which were screwed directly into my vertebrae. The tattoo is from a medical textbook and spans 17” up my back, over my scar, which you can barely see. It is a symbol of my recovery and strength. My spine has never looked like that, nor will it ever look like that, it is simply the spine that I should’ve had.

Instead of hiding my scar, I decided to show it off. Last July I had scoliosis spinal reconstruction surgery, placing two titanium rods on either sides of my spine and fusing two-thirds of my spinal vertebrae into one large bone. This left me with a noticeable two-and-a-half-foot scar down the center of my back. I got the word ‘strength’ tattooed next to my scar. The ‘S’ is a tracing of my actual spine from an X-ray before my surgery. It took a lot of strength to recover from such a hard surgery and I want a constant reminder of that.

I got this tattoo to cover a scar from an abusive boyfriend. He broke my arm and I had a metal plate put in it. I still went back to him many times. That scar reminded me of how weak I was and I wanted something beautiful instead. My cousin whom I was really close to committed suicide a couple months ago and I wanted to honor him. He called me unicorn.

When I was 10 I fell off a motorcycle and shattered my femur. They put in an external fixator to hold everything together while it healed. It left four scars on my leg. On most people they fade, but I scar badly and they still look fresh so I made them pretty. The scars themselves didn’t hold the color but I’m happy with how they came out.This picture shows the scars toward the top of my leg near my hip. The scars near my knee are more spread out and each have their own matching heart.

At a point in my life (September 2015) I was suicidal, and I was sitting on my front porch just burning myself with a cigarette over and over. My mom sent me to a mental hospital which honestly didn’t help me. What helped me was coming back home. Once the scars healed, and I was okay, I decided to get a traditional rose to cover up my burns. I have to still go back and get a touch up on some parts where the scars are still slightly visible. It may not be the most beautiful tattoo, but it represents growth. I love my tattoo. It’s beautiful to me, and it’s the only tattoo my mother approves of because of its meaning.

I got cat scratch disease from a cat scratch and had to have the wound removed. Covered the scar with this.

After several years of dealing with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, suicide attempts and self harm, I got my tattoo of the Leo constellation, my zodiac sign, around my self harm scars along my thighs. There’s a quote that says, “stars are the scars of the universe,” so I view my body as the universe and my scars as the stars. The tattoo really helped me to reclaim by body and learn to love it, scars and all.

Blooming Peony Tattoo Covering Scars From Self-Harming

I got this one to cover up scars from self harm. I had a really bad one that stuck out and I felt like everyone could see it and was judging me. I got it on a Wednesday night after another friend died from an intentional overdose. I wanted to remember my friend and it goes with another tattoo of blackbirds I have from the Beatles song “Blackbird”. “Take these broken wings and learn to fly.” Today I am 3 years free of self harm!

After suffering from severe anxiety and depression which resulted in self-harm, I decided to get a willow tree tattoo over my scars. I chose the willow tree because it is a well-known symbol of adaptability due to its ability to not only survive, but also thrive in some of the most challenging conditions.

These forearm scars are (pretty obviously) from self-harm and they’re from almost 14 years ago. Been wanting to cover it with a tattoo for half my life, but I guess just recently developed the metaphorical balls to finally do it. So happy!

She was so embarrassed, she told me how much pain it brought her when people would question her about them or make comments, which is completely understandable. As I’ve said in the past no one should ever have to feel like a public museum for people to ridicule. The things these people have fought through is admirable and they deserve to know that. People will immediately label self-harm as an act of weakness. I think to crawl out of that abyss and still be here, in this life that honestly is already so brief, and to have changed your life around into a positive is commendable.

This tattoo covers up a very gruesome scar that I received when my appendix decided to blow up. Turns out it had been leaking toxins into my body for months; which was slowly killing me, and needed to be removed immediately or id be dead by morning. I was stuck in the hospital for a week since they had to basically give all my insides a good cleaning, which meant one ugly scar! I had to wait 3 years after the incident to get this tattoo and I’m so glad I did! Can’t even tell what happened to me.

I had a bone tumor in my knee removed when I was 10. This is my ribbon that looks like it’s lacing me up.

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