#why be unhappy alone when you can be unhappy with your insane coworkers?

[coldbasementruins]

They have the potential to be the most unhinged polyamory relationship but you didn't hear that from me.

[sierraraeck]

Happier

Spencer x Fem!Reader

Spencer x Luke

Masterlist

Summary: Things have been slowly declining in you and Spencer’s relationship. Going out to a bar alone one night, you figure out why.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This was inspired by the song “Happier” by Marshmellow and Bastille. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too.

In the cold light of day we’re a flame in the wind

Not the fire that we’ve begun

But we ran our course, we pretended we’re okay

‘Cause with all that has happened

I think that we both know the way that this story ends

You met Spencer at a bookstore. He was a regular, but it was the first time you actually interacted. He was carrying enough books to nearly block his vision, and when he no-so-gracefully plopped them down at the register in front of you, the whole pile came toppling down. You watched in amusement as he collected three of the books from the floor and placed them back down on the desk, now ready to check out.

“You know, we provide baskets at the front for this reason,” you smirked.

He barely glanced up at you, and shyly said, “Do you know how many germs are on those things?”

You laughed, “I’m not sure I’d like to know.”

He quickly raised his eyebrows at you. “I wish I didn’t.”

You checked out the rest of his books in silence, then wished him a good day on his way out.

The next week, he was back in, and grabbed the same outrageous amount of books, dropping them on his way to you.

“Back so soon?” you questioned, remembering who he was quite well.

“I needed some new reading material,” he shrugged. You cocked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“The last thirteen books weren’t enough?”

“I finished them,” he nonchalantly stated.

“You’re kidding.” He shook his head. “Jeez. Is the only thing you do read all day?”

“No,” he innocently responded, “I only need a few minutes to read each. I’m actually an FBI agent.”

You stared at him blankly. That was not what you expected. “Wait, what? You’re an FBI agent, and you can read hundreds of pages in only minutes?”

He nodded as if there was nothing impressive about either of those. You were still shocked and mumbled, “Okay, wow.”

The third time he came in, you noticed that he was waiting until your register was free, so that you specifically could check him out. You had a bit more small talk, this time about some of the books he’d read. The fourth time he came in, you left some disinfectant wipes by the baskets, knowing that he really should use one, and wanted the germaphobe in him to feel comfortable taking one. He looked over at you and you smiled at him while he wiped down one of the baskets to use. It was that time while you were checking him out that he asked you on a date. You, of course, said yes. You wanted to know more about this mysterious, handsome man that worked for the FBI and could read an insane amount of books in only a short period of time.

Things were great at the beginning. You got to know each other, and the more you found out about him, the more and more you liked him. The two of you started spending almost all of your free time together, and you were considering asking about moving in together.

That is, until he started pulling away.

You weren’t sure what had gone wrong. Things were great, and then it seemed like one day he went to work interested in you and came home distant. Like his mind was elsewhere. You tried to ask him about it, but he deflected every time. He used to never like going out with his team, but he slowly started spending more time with them, and less time with you. You hinted at wanting to meet his team, and hoped that he’d introduce you to them soon, but with every passing day you grew more doubtful.

You’d been anticipating a break up for a while now, but you just didn’t think it’d be you who did it.

Spencer was out with his team again. He’d only briefly talked about them, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was one of his team members that was holding his attention. Maybe that JJ or Emily person, you thought.

You were tired of being left home alone, and were feeling even more down than usual, so you decided to go out by yourself. If Spencer wasn’t going to have fun with you, you could have fun with you.

You pushed open the door to the bar on the corner of the street, but stopped in your tracks when you saw Spencer, and the group of people around him you quickly put together was his team. You scooted out of the entryway, and just stood there watching them. You felt sort of creepy doing it, but it might’ve been the only time you could see Spencer when he wasn’t around you. Maybe it would tell you something.

What you saw felt like a spear to the chest. Spencer was smiling. He was laughing. God, you missed hearing that laugh, seeing that smile. It’d been so long since he’d done either, and that’s when you realized the full weight of how unhappy Spencer must be with you.

Sure, he’d been pulling away, but the process was so gradual that seeing the stark contrast of him with his team versus him with you was blinding. It was like the universe was throwing it in your face just to mock you. It was painful.

The thing that really got you, though, was the way he was looking at one of his teammates. It wasn’t one of the pretty blondes, or either of the jaw-dropping brunettes, but it was the dashing man next to him. You’d seen those eyes before, the ones Spencer was giving him. He looked at you that way once, but not at all recently.

You felt ashamed for it, but your initial reaction was resentment. You hated the very attractive man with deep brown eyes and a little scruff that you’d never met. He was the reason that your Spencer was drifting from you.

But that’s the thing. He wasn’t ‘your’ Spencer. He was just a cute, shy, germaphobic guy that you met at a bookstore. And based on the way that he was looking at his teammate, you wondered if maybe Spencer hadn’t been ‘yours’ for a while now.

Unbeknownst to you, you’d started tearing up, and only noticed it when some of the people around you started giving you strange looks. You furiously wiped at your face, and took a few deep breaths. At that moment, you decided to leave, to calm yourself down for the rest of the night and confront him about it tomorrow.

You were nearly out the door when you heard that oh-so-familiar voice call out, “Hey, Y/N!” You turned to see Spencer slightly jogging towards you, “What are you doing here?”

You experienced forever in a moment, hundreds of thoughts swarming your mind in an instant: I’m here because he never wants to spend time with me anymore and I was going to drown my feelings in alcohol; It doesn’t matter why I’m here because now I know what’s been going on between us; I can’t stay with him; but I love him; maybe we can make it work; he’s clearly unhappy with me and I’ve known it for a long time; the way he looks at his coworker is the way I want him to look at me; can I ever make him look at me like that again; what did I do wrong; this is that man’s fault; this is Spencer’s fault; this is my fault; maybe I’m just not good enough for him; why am I not good enough for him; god I think I might cry again; no I need to pull myself together, that’d be embarrassing; I wish I was good enough so I could see him smile and hear him laugh like that again; that man made him smile like that and laugh like that, something I haven’t been able to do in a long time; he doesn’t love me; he loves him; I love him; I want him to be happy, he deserves to be happy; I deserve to be happy; I want him to be happier than he is with me; I want him to be as happy as he is with that man all the time; I want that happiness to be with me, but it’s not; I want him to be happier.

We shouldn’t do this anymore.

It’s not that you couldn’t do it anymore, you wanted nothing more than to keep fighting for the two of you, but you had the astonishing thought that you just shouldn’t. I wouldn’t be fair for you to keep Spencer from the man he truly wanted, and it wasn’t fair to yourself to continue in this relationship.

In the blink of an eye, you heard yourself speak the words you never thought you would, words you couldn’t even believe you were saying out loud, right now, to the man you just realized you loved. “I’m breaking up with you.” You felt tears rising to the surface, but you swallowed them down. This is for the best.

Spencer looked beyond shocked, like he surly hadn’t heard you correctly. “What? Why?”

You gave him a sad smile, “Spence, this is the first time I’ve seen you happy, like really truly happy. And you know what? It’s not with me.”

This just confused him further. “I don’t…” he trailed off.

You gestured toward the strong-jawed man who was trying, and failing, to not-so-subtly look your guys’ way. “It’s with him.”

Spencer followed your gaze, and offered a small, confused laugh. “Who, Luke? No, we’re just-”

“I swear to god, if you finish that sentence with ‘just friends’ I will slap you across the face,” you cut him off. Spencer gave you a slightly startled look, so you lowered your voice to a more calming one. “Look, you should be with him, okay? You actually want to spend time with him and you’re smiling which I feel like I haven’t seen you do in months.”

Spencer was shaking his head. “Y/N, I can try harder, we can-”

You held up your hand to stop him. “I don’t want you to have to try. No one should have to try that hard to keep this going. It should be easy, effortless, which is what you’re getting from someone else. So no, we can’t and more than that, I don’t want to.” You felt almost as surprised as Spencer looked from your words. They were true, from the depths of your soul you felt how true your words were, and couldn’t believe that you were finally admitting that.

Spencer’s voice was small when he asked, “Why?”

You heard the double meaning behind the question, and answered with the first thing that came to mind. “Because I love you.” You realized it was the first, last, and only time you’d get to say that. “And that’s why I want you to be happy, even if it isn’t with me.”

Spencer was about to respond when a high pitched voice, sounding slightly drunk and a little bit annoyed, yelled across the room, “Yeah, new guy!” You saw the tall man approaching the two of you, and it all kinda clicked into place. New guy. So when it felt like one day Spencer woke up loving me, and came home distracted, that wasn’t too far off. He went to work that day, which was probably the same day that ‘new guy’ started working with him. It all started slowly making sense in your head.

‘New guy,’ Luke, walked up to the two of you, standing shoulder to shoulder with Spencer, and cautiously started, “Hey, what’s going on here?”

Looking at the man before you, you hated to admit it, but your anger diminished a little, and your jealousy grew. He was a very attractive man, full, strong build, piercing eyes, gentle face, and about the same height as Spencer.

You gave Spencer a pointed look about the proximity in which they were standing, especially when the other man’s shoulder brushed up against his. Spencer wasn’t a touchy person, but he actually seemed to relax in the other man’s presence. That spoke volumes.

You knew this Luke guy was also a profiler, so he could probably sense the tension, granted anyone probably could’ve. He quickly looked at Spencer before directing his attention back to you. “Can we help you with something?”

You wanted to scoff, or laugh, or vomit. Maybe all three at the same time. Can we help you with something? Clearly Spencer had never told any of them about you, and you couldn’t help but smile, with just a hint of bitterness, at his immediate use of ‘we.’ As if you were a threat that he needed to help Spencer defuse. But you also smiled because you were right. Again, it didn’t take a profiler to spot the very different tension between the two of them.

You shook your head, looking more at Spencer than at the other man, “No, I don’t think so. Not anymore.” There was no malice in your voice, only sadness, with just a dash of exhaustion. Who knew that pretending like your relationship wasn’t sinking took so much effort?

Spencer gave Luke a tight smile, “Just give us a minute?”

He wearily nodded, but backed away from the two of you. You sighed, “Look, he seems like a good guy and clearly already loves you in some capacity, and you know what?” You half-joked, “If he does something stupid you give me his number and I’ll give him a call.”

This earned a small laugh from Spencer, which made you want to both smile and cry. Of course, it was only after you’d broken up that you could get him to laugh. You settled for a small smile, and an immediate awkwardness settled over the two of you.

You made the first move, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. With a comforting hand on his shoulder, you looked into his sad eyes, and whispered, “Bye, Spencer.”

Those were the last words you exchanged, and you walked out of that bar without another look back.

You were letting him go.

You were setting him free.

Then only for a minute

I want to change my mind

‘Cause this just don’t feel right to me

I wanna raise your spirits

I want to see you smile but

Know that means I’ll have to leave

So I’ll go

[jawnjendes]

tell me that i’m not crazy | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

masterlist | series playlist

It's a psychological fact that you have multiple versions of yourself that you present at different times. You are not the same person in everyone's eyes.

Being self-aware and moderately narcissistic, I detected a few of those selves. Girlfriend Me: Still reserved, but letting loose. Affectionate and supportive. Less bitchy than normal. Adored by Shawn Mendes for some reason. Extended Family Me: Quiet and moody. She wants to be anywhere but here. Constantly pestered to bring someone home. Customer Service Me: Professional, but shy. Blunt and efficient. Always smiling even though she wants to die. Finally, Crazy Me: Nervous and insecure. Bursting at the seams. Wanting to talk but fears being ridiculed and rejected.

You could understand why I didn't want to tell Shawn about Luca being my coworker. He didn't ask if I still saw Luca at all, because I had told him I cut the bastard off… on a personal level. Professionally, I saw Luca 3 times a week. We work at the same car dealership. That's how we met.

It was less stressful having to see Luca at work now that I wasn't hung up on him. As long as he called me a bitch and ridiculed me constantly, I was okay. As long as I had Shawn to be kind to me, everything was fine.

It was easy for me to sit behind a desk at the window of a tiny office. I worked with three other people in this office: Stacy, the business manager who never stayed past 2 o'clock. Then there was Jason, the salesman who was always stoned. Finally, there was Luca, the other salesman who got up in everyone's business. He and Jason were very good friends outside of work, and they sat at their respective desks at the back of the office when they weren't out in the showroom entertaining customers. I was stationed at the front, being the receptionist. It was easy keeping my back to everyone else.

Being at a car dealership, I had quite a few boring responsibilities. They were all easy, and done quickly. so the only thing I had to worry about was answering the phone every so often. Most of the time, I was catching up on coursework and pretending not to listen to Jason and Luca banter.

“Imagine having a car in the twentieth century,” Jason sarcastically droned on.

“Couldn't be me,” Luca finished.

Yes, 90% of their conversations went like that. You could say my sense of humor warped a little because of them. I mean, I still find offensive jokes to be far from funny, and that was the other ten percent. I lose my one brain cell just by sitting in this office.

The phone rang just after Jason and Luca started talking about women in a vulgar manner. I quickly got annoyed by the amount of testosterone increasing in the room, so I was glad to have a distraction. I picked up the receiver and said the usual professional greeting in the cheeriest tone I could muster.

“So that's your happy voice, eh?”

Just like that, I unclenched and dropped the fake tone. “Hey, you.”

“No, no,” Shawn said, “go back to the other voice. I'm a loyal, paying customer here!”

I giggled. “Maybe later. What's up?”

“Wanted to see if you're hungry. I can pick you up on your lunch break.”

“Yes, please. I need to get out of here for a bit. I'll be ready in about an hour.”

“Perfect, I'll see you then.”

We hung up, and my cheeks were burning. I didn't realize I was beaming until I turned in my seat.

Luca and Jason had walked up next to me, clearly interested in what I had been doing. Luca had a shit eating grin on his face.

“Who was that?” he asked in the most ten-year-old sounding voice.

“Don't worry about it,” I snapped.

“Someone's got a boyfriend!”

“But bro,” Jason piped up, “she doesn't like anybody.”

I chuckled. “True. But my guy likes me, so…”

“Who is he?” Luca asked, sitting in the chair next to me. “Since when did you get a mans?”

I gave him a pointed look. “Why do you care?”

“You're just not the relationship type, y’know?” Jason answered.

“D’you loooove him?” Luca teased.

I scoffed. “Oh, now you wanna talk about my feelings? You never did before!”

Luca’s grin faltered. His face flushed.

“What does that mean?” Jason asked.

“Nothing. She's kidding.”

Oh yeah. No one ever knew about mine and Luca's office fling. It took me a while to realize it was because he was embarrassed of me. I know, what the hell was I thinking, getting involved with someone like that?

~

A typical Friday night for me consisted of skincare and watching whatever TV show I was intensely fixated on. Whether or not Shawn joined me, it was my personal recharging time. My life has gotten so mundanely stressful that I looked forward to sitting on my dorm room couch alone.

Tonight was different. Shawn was going to sing at a bar downtown, and I promised him I would go. I managed to string along my roommate, Stella, so I wouldn't be sitting at a table by myself. She was the one who brought me to Shawn's show long before he and I started dating. Stella now takes full responsibility for getting my introverted ass into a relationship.

Shawn had to get to the bar early to set up, so I showed up with Stella on my arm. We grabbed a table near the back window, away from where the band was setting up. As soon as we were sitting down, I texted Shawn to let him know I had arrived.

“So he's gotten you outta the dorm,” Stella commented, “yet you still manage to place yourself in the corner of the room.”

I shrugged. “As long as he knows I'm here.”

Stella hummed and then flagged down a waiter. She ordered a cocktail, and I stuck with water.

“Are you ever gonna let loose again?” she asked me once the waiter had gone.

“As long as I'm on antidepressants, I'm always loose,” I told her. I was very cautious about mixing alcohol with whatever pills I was putting into my body. I hadn't had a drink in months.

“Does your mans know you take antidepressants?”

“He will.” Maybe. Probably… not.

Shawn performed a few minutes later. He was insanely good at working the crowd. Then again, there were some enthusiastic fangirls standing directly in front of the stage that got everyone else into it. Can't say I blame ‘em.

I was what you call a “metal head” and also a “nerd.” I was also a “supportive goth gf,” meaning I always listened to Shawn's music when he wasn't around. I told him I lived for the slow, sad songs, especially Mercy. Secretly, I fully bopped to all of his fun, upbeat songs. Even more secretly, it brought me immense joy to see Shawn sing his heart out on stage. I was his biggest fan, though I would never tell him that. It would just go straight to his ego.

The song I loved hearing the most was Mercy. It was the first of Shawn's songs I had ever heard. It resonated with me deeply a few months ago, just after I had left Luca. I got very choked up hearing Shawn sing it in that little coffee shop. Later, when Stella introduced me, he said he had seen my face in the crowd. He knew it hit home.

We are very happy now, I swear.

I can say with confidence that the past is behind me. Now, Mercy is my favorite song because of Shawn, not the guy that came before him. I never realized how unhappy I was until I wasn't anymore. Therapy, medication, and new people made their contributions.

~

“You look so happy when you're up there,” I told Shawn once we were back at his place.

He had been beaming since we left the bar. A couple of drinks may have had something to do with that. “I am happy. I get so giddy every time I get to sing. I wish I could do it all the time.”

We sat on the couch, basking in the silence. Shawn slung his arm around me, euphoria still radiating off his whole body. I looked up at him, and I couldn't help but hug him around his middle. I felt a bit mushy.

“Proud'a you,” I told him.

Once I was in that position, Shawn took full advantage and lied us back across the couch. I was somewhat awkwardly on top of him, so I shifted my legs so I was practically straddling him. Then, I lied my head on his chest.

“Did you have fun? I saw you all the way in the back,” Shawn said.

“Yeah, I had fun. I love that you kept Mercy in the set.”

“I know it’s your favorite.”

There were things I wanted to know about that particular song when I first heard it. Of course, I didn’t want to seem nosy or interested when I first met Shawn. But now we were out in the open, and it was getting easier to do things like talk normally.

“Who hurt you so bad you had to write a song?” I asked as I sat up, still on top of him.

Shawn was smiling up at me, very aware of the position we were in. However, he still answered my question. “Actually… Mercy was about a friend of mine. He went through that.”

That was brand new information. No, seriously. I actually had to get off of Shawn’s lap to process this. “You write other people’s stories?”

He sat up and made space for me to sit next to him again. “Sometimes. This one in particular was about my friend having a complicated relationship with a girl he works with.”

I chuckled. “I know that feeling all too well.” Then, as a joke, “That guy wouldn’t happen to work at a car dealership, would he?”

“He does, actually.”

My entire body shifted away from Shawn. Okay, this was getting weird. I work at a car dealership. I had a complicated relationship with a coworker. Not to mention, Shawn was quite popular and knew people all over the area, and he was a regular at my dealership. My favorite song was slipping through my fingers.

Shawn didn’t seem too concerned. “It’s probably a coincidence, babe.”

“What’s his name, then?” I had told him quite a bit about my past relationship, apart from the guy’s name. I had so many questions.

“Luca…”

I stared at my boyfriend in utter shock, while he had a look of disbelief on his face.

“No. No way. I wrote Mercy over a year ago. Plus, he was high when he was telling me about-”

“He’s always high!” I snapped. “The only time he isn’t is when his pen runs out of whatever-the-fuck!”

I couldn’t believe it. My current boyfriend knows my ex… flame. My ex flame talked about me to my current boyfriend, before he was my boyfriend. The song that came out of it was my favorite song. If that wasn’t the most fucked up fanfic scenario ever-

Oh god. What if they had seen each other when Shawn picked me up from the dealership? What would have happened? What kind of shit would Luca had given me? What would Shawn have said to him?

“When exactly did this happen?” I asked, mildly frantic. “How long have you known him? How long have you known about me?”

“I didn’t know it was you,” Shawn said. “He always called you ‘the girl from work,’ and some other things that upset me now that you’re my girlfriend. I met Luca in one of my classes last year. Sometimes we smoked together, but I never considered him an actual friend.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “If I had known you then, and if I knew what was really going on, I wouldn’t have…”

Here I thought Luca was far too embarrassed of me to even act like I exist. I had been under the impression that he never thought of me when we weren’t in the backseat of my car. I thought all of his friends were just as bad as he was… but he knows Shawn well enough to confide in him? Or rather, Luca told Shawn I gave him such a hard time that he had to beg for mercy?

“I know you spent a lot of time being pissed at him,” Shawn told me after a while, “but he really did have feelings for you.”

I let the words sink in for a minute. “That… That is the fattest fucking load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I never thought of Luca as that type of guy. He’s pretty reserved, but-”

“Still a grade A asshole. He was way different when it was me and him. Sometimes he was nice to me. Most times, he acted like I didn’t exist, and if he did, he called me a bitch or a whore or he made some rude comment about anything I was doing. He thought I was insane for trying to call him my boyfriend, but he would beg to get into my pants every few weeks. I was too emotional, too cringey, too goth, not sexy enough. I was never enough for him, so don’t tell me he ever had feelings because that’s not what I saw.”

Shawn had a sad look in his eyes. He nodded lightly.

“And worst of all, he ruined my favorite song by my favorite person.”

“I’ll write you a new one. A better one. You’ll never have to hear Mercy again.”

[reddogf13]

Between two Voids ch 9

Pennywise x Beverly

summery:  It has been 12 years since Beverly was last in Derry. now 26 years old and returning with her boyfriend she strives for a life of normalcy in the small town. Unaware that a certain stalking creature has awakened much earlier than expected. Looking for a challenge to cure its boredom ,in the now crumbling town, IT aims to uproot her life as much as possible. Yet, is that really such a bad thing given her dark situation hidden from all but the eyes of a world eater? 

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore

prev chap: Between two Voids ch 8

next chap: Between two Voids ch 10 _____________________________________

~ch:9 Fun & games~

She sighed angrily walking back to throw the order through the kitchen window. “take care of the 3 out front. Don't ask.” Not allowing the chefs a chance to ask what happened. Continuing to head toward the back into the staff bathroom. Sitting on the sink counter to calm down, alone.

“what happened to you?” she heard the clown's voice. Looking over to see him standing by the closed door with the requested container of soup.

“Victoria and her friends.” rubbing the clean half of her forehead. Shutting her eyes in dealing with her migraine. Hearing Pennywise approach close with a setting down of the soup.

He examined over her for any serious injuries. Stepping closer to push how far he could get. She told him to stay out of the bathroom while she was in it, but that was at the hotel. Here she didn't seem to care about his presence inside. Staring at the sweet food, tempted by it, covering her. Bringing himself close enough to Flick out his tongue over a spot on her face to clean of pie filling. Taking a collection of the food into his mouth as she flinched away.

“ucck! Keep your tongue to yourself!” Beverly pushed a hand to his face with disgust to force him away. Tensing her legs together after that excited feeling of being licked. Unintentionally bringing up more of an erotic scent toward him. Exciting him to push further for even more tastings.

Feeling rows of teeth take a nip at her wrist she returned the hand back to her chest. His jaws moved to be up against her neck when there was no longer a hand holding him back.

Her same hand shot up to grab a hold of his ruffled collar. As if she could pull him away if he decided to rip into her neck. Holding back a shiver when his tongue swirled out across her skin in lapping up the broken food.

More of it slithering out with the feel of it changing along the way. Smooth turning to rough to the start of the few bristles lining the sides she saw days ago. The bristles were dull, but flexible to help sweep up the filling in large amounts. Beverly pondered why exactly they were needed on a tongue.

“Quicker to lap up blood that way or to rip meat from between bones?” the thought passing her mind.

She leaned away, telling herself the reason was to get away from all the teeth grazing at her neck. In denial of the tongue bringing certain sensations to her core. There was no way she was feeling excited because of him. She was sick and that was the story she was sticking to.

His hands grabbed a hold of her shoulders, bringing her back closer to his mouth. Startling her by the sudden touch turning into her flinching from claws digging in. letting out a whimper from the sharp pain.

Scenting the hint of fear from her he retracted his claws. Pulling himself back from getting too far ahead. Licking more and more pie off her skin to swallow down without savoring a bite. He wanted to get the useless pie filling out of the way. tasting more of her under the mess. This was a rare chance of being allowed so close without her pushing him away. He was going to take it as long as he could, even when all the pie ran out.

Wrapping his tongue almost completely around her neck to get a taste of her. Not bothering much with the rest of the food coating her at that point. Enjoying her sweet delicate taste heightened by the arousal he was causing her.

“i-i have to get back to work.” she stuttered out, forcing a shiver down. His grip moving around to hug her against his chest followed by a low growl. Her body going still at being pressed up against him. Thoughts racing on this not being a good position. Her legs twisting over themselves to prevent him from getting any closer.

“you're not clean yet.” his voice sounding rough. Returning right back to tasting her. Swallowing a few more bits of pie to look like he was still working on cleaning her.

“E-either way, I h-have to work.” tone going higher as his tongue went over a particularly sensitive spot.

“this has to stop.” her mind blurted. Doing her best to ignore her bodies enjoyment of his handling. Feeling comfort against the warm soft fabric surrounding her in the hug. Eyes closing for a moment in holding herself back from fully leaning against him. A voice from the main dining room causing both to freeze.

“Babe, you here?!” it was Erik calling for her. Sounding unhappy, judging from his tone.

Pennywise let out an aggressive snarl through barred jagged teeth. Grip tightening on Beverly even more possessively at the presence of a intruding male. Beverly ignored the intimidating grip holding her, struggling to get free. If Erik was mad she didn't want to keep him waiting. However, Breaking from Pennywise's grip was a lot harder than she expected.

He held her back in the restraining hug. Covering her mouth just as she was to try yelling out a reply to Erik. Squirming in his tight grasp when she finally got out by elbowing the clowns ribs. Loosening his grip on her just enough to bolt away down the hall. Unable to grab her back now, he could only loom over the two in waiting for something to happen. Only appearing to Beverly in the situation as she talked with the male.

“what's that all over you?” Erik pointed to the last bits of pie remaining. The cleaned area being covered with a thin layer of glistening drool.

“oh, uh, pie. There was a accident and i-” interrupted by a tongue licking the back of her neck. “-iii had to cleeean it off.” her words unsteady. Subtly trying to push away the invisible clown purposely messing up the conversation.

“not surprising. I need money for the party, short on ordering the alcohol. Go ask your boss for our weeks pay early. Get you moved in before the party plans kick in to.” he told her.

“ … i can't-.” barely getting the second word out when Erik interrupted.

“why not?” his tone quieting her.

“she's mine for another day is why.” Pennywise hissed in thought.

“i … I don't want to move before the weeks over. It'll mess up work.”

“this place won't matter once you move. We have a whole shop going that puts the pharmacy here to shame. You won't have to work another day here babe.” tone turning overly friendly as he smiled at her.

“oh. … can I finish this week? Its only one more day.”

“you ask him like a child.” the clown behind her hissed.

“ why? Let's go home where you can do better things like laundry. That would be more helpful than earning pocket change here.” leaning over the counter. Beverly shrinking back ready to curl up for when a strike would hit.

“more money ... for drinks on the party day?” smiling lightly to calm him.

“i don't like you working. you'll have to move your stuff on your own tomorrow. Get the money to me by tomorrow morning or else I'll be pissed, come find you, and fix that shit memory of yours.” he threatened, taking his leave.

Beverly uncrumpled herself from the passive position. Thinking of what to do. “get everything together tonight, ask boss for weeks pay. See Erik, move in, get ready for the party.” listing her thoughts off in almost a numb automated way.

“you going to obey, little pet?” the clown asked.

“im helping. Some of it was my idea.” glaring up at him.

“riiight, I bet he's the next pope too.” tone heavy in sarcasm.

“im moving in with him tomorrow.” she spoke bluntly.

“what?! You can't! We still have a day together!” speaking out his growing anger.

“yes, and I'll still be able to see you. Technically together, nothing's broken.”

“technicallllly your sssuppose to do as I sayyy.” frustration leaking through.

“i don't even trust you'll keep the bargain anyway!”

Noticing the chefs staring through the service window she turned embarrassed. The chefs having watched her argue with the air for who knows how long.

“good thing this job will be over soon. Since my coworkers think I'm nuts now.” she thought, walking to get away to gain some privacy. Aiming to be someplace where nobody would see her talking to the invisible clown.

“maybe I am crazy. This whole Pennywise thing is some massive hallucination. Maybe the guys were being really nice to the insane girl randomly making up stories.” darkly joking in her thoughts.

For hours she heard Pennywise's grumbling over her moving tomorrow. Only pausing for the few hours before the work days end. Continuing later that night while Beverly packed away whatever she could. Feeling excited for tomorrow to be heading … home.

“home … it is home. … Why does that feel so weird to think of?” she pondered. “been in this hotel for too long is why. After I settle down in the apartment it will feel less weird.”

“you don't really want to leave.” the clown spoke. Being ignored by Beverly who was tired of hearing him whine all day. “Do you really want to rely on him for food? For protection? He can't even hold onto his money.”

“that's because a clown with nothing better to do has been harassing him. Something that better stop after I move in.” Beverly held her tone deathly serious.

“or else what? You'll protect him? Better ask permission first. Don't want him getting upset.” he scoffed. “do you think he would do something if I came after you? Or if anyone came after you? Would you need to beg for him to step in? Beg for him to even stay by your side?”

“no! He would step in if he knew what was going on!” Beverly spoke defensibly in place of Eriks absence. “hed be leaving with me if he knew what was really going on!”

“leaving with you, are you sure? He would run to save his own skin first, the little rat.” continuing to prod her on the subject. Working to pop the delusional bubble Beverly kept surrounding the subject of Erik.

“he wouldn't leave without me.” fidgeting with the zippers on her bag.

“he fled pretty quick on our first reunion. Left you to me, alone, running down my tunnels with barely the energy to stand. How long did it take you to get out? How did he greet you once past my door step?”

“and what about you! Acting like you're not in the wrong! He has to take care of me, find us a place to sleep, food to eat, all while on the streets with no help! Meanwhile, what did you do?! Stalk me all around town, hunted me through all those tunnels like a snake! Were you planning to play with your food at the end of it to?!” exploding on him. Furious at how he bad talked Erik at every chance he could. If he was going to drag down Erik, she was going to drag him down just as far.

“considered it, but I also considered talking. I wanted to know why you got stuck with that male. Why you came back to try living some miserable little life in a town that never cared.” expression turning serious. Lacking the anger Beverly expected of him to react with.

“ … I didn't get stuck with him. I chose him. Just like I chose to return here.” anger dying down at the lack of his.

“like you choose to be helpless? Pathetic like a deer in the road. There are animals dumber that still have a better sense of self preservation then you. You do know that injuries lead to death, yessss? They must be treated, do you know that?” tone speaking down to her like a child.

“if you're going to talk to me like that I won't listen to anything you say. Stop trying to be involved where you're not wanted.” shrugging him off to head for bed. Shoving her bag next to her sleeping spot. Not trusting it to be under the bed like usual if the clown was tempted to hide it.

The next morning Beverly woke up obviously later than usual. Investigating the lack of sound from her alarm had her discovering it fully crushed to pieces.

“good thing I don't need that anymore.” she thought. Feeling a little upset that Pennywise destroyed something of hers. On the other hand, Erik didn't like her working which made having an alarm useless for her. Continuing on like normal, Beverly went to take a shower. Keeping her travel bag close for safe keeping. Taking her medication with a new set of clothes on.

Beverly felt strange on this morning. Having not seen Pennywise appear yet to harass her. Mixed feelings of scared nerves fighting with excitement to be in her own apartment with Erik. Stepping out from the bathroom in fresh clothes she smoothed out repeatedly to look nice for Erik later.

“your really trying to look presentable for him?” the clown appeared with a grimace across his face. Oozing a large aura of disapproval for what she was doing today.

“yes, you taking me to work?” she asked flatly.

“no, you can walk.” spoken with the same tone as hers. She rolled her eyes at the expected answer. Putting on her bag to walk the distance there. Followed the whole way by him grumbling something barely hearable.

Beverly's lungs began to sting about the same time she reached the diner. Taking a deep breath of the warm air inside to recover from the pain.

“that's one thing going right. My cold didn't totally screw me with the pneumonia.” she thought. Preparing herself to now tell her boss she was quitting and wanted her paycheck of 1 week.

“why quit if moneys so important? Is it because he said so?” Pennywise asked to prod at her nerves.

“hes old fashioned. Doesn't want me working to death at a dead end job. He prefers doing the hard work to pay for everything.” whispering to avoid being seen again talking to herself.

“how old in “old fashioned”? I have quite a few century's experience. Pairs used to do everything together once upon a time. Tending the grain, gathering eggs, slitting the throats of pigs to tear the meat apart.” his talking going on being ignored. Beverly walking faster to the managers door with a worried knock before entering.

She went through the explanation to her manager that there was a “family emergency” that required her to quit. Asking for the pay by the end. Her manager wasn't happy, but couldn't really do much about it.

“oooh you had to lie? Why's that? Afraid to get in some trouble for something you shouldn't be doing?” the clown mocked by her side. Her unable to answer in the presence of her manager writing down the check, handing her the small pay. As soon as the check was in hand she rushed right out the diner. Heading straight to meet Erik.

“ words from god. You're making bad choices.”

“what god?” she asked bitterly.

“meee!” he sang out proudly.

“you? you're the furthest thing from god here! I'd be more likely to believe that a sandwich at the diner was god.” walking further ahead to gain space.

“do people see you talking to that too?” teasing with soft voice turning an agitated growl as Erik's apartment came into view. Standing right behind Beverly at the door. Watching her movements stiffen up at the knock on the door. Fear flowing off her to fill the air outside around them.

“he's not home.” lying through a barred smiled. Letting out a disappointed growl when Erik came to the door.

Erik smiled widely at seeing Beverly. Looking even happier at seeing the check in her hands.

“oh great, you brought the money. How much is it?”

“its 256.” speaking softly with a handing over of her check.

“that it? Did you try asking for more?” snatching the check with a disappointed look over. Any happiness he had disappearing at the measly number on the check.

“i could have gotten more if I worked longer.” Wincing back when Erik made his disapproval of her talk known.

“that all your shit? Or do you have to go back for more?” pointing at her backpack. Turning to head into the apartment without a word to invite Beverly in.

“no, this is it.” tone returning to its earlier softness. Standing on the doorstep, waiting, to be invited in. afraid if she just assumed and stepped inside, Erik would be greatly upset.

“good, set it inside back in my room. You can sort through it later after you get a bunch of stuff done.” pointing down the hallway toward his room. Beverly cautiously stepping into the home with steps being light as a feather to not make any noise.

“just fucking walk!” Pennywise snapped behind her. following her irritatingly slow steps further into the building. He was about ready to carry her to the room to save the hour it would take at their pace. Scaring her unintentionally into going still in the living room. She had forgotten he was still following her around. Taking in a breath to grab a careful side glance of Erik turned away. Walking again in a quicker pace before he could turn back.

Entering the bedroom by a quiet turn of the knob. Not even daring to make a noise from the door creaking shut. Setting her bag by the door like a fragile baby about to wake up screaming.

“back at this dump.” the clown insulted the place.

“your one to talk.” Beverly whispered, carefully stepping back out to talk with Erik. “you wanted me to do something?” quietly asking when approaching him.

“yeah, need you to clean this place. Flies are getting attracted to all the empty beer bottles. Then you can do laundry and make us something for lunch. I should be back by then to come pick it up.” pulling out a bag of weed from the underside of the lower sink cabinets. Shoving it into one of his jacket pockets.

“yes sir.” nodding in confirmation.

“cook, clean, do laundry all the wonders of being a maid.” the clown mocked.

“quiet.” Beverly mumbled out as a blurb. Making fully sure that Erik didn't hear it.

“steaks are in the freezer, you know how I like them.”spoken on his way to the door.

“I'll make sure they're ready.” remaining in her standing spot with her head lowered. Taking careful short glances toward him to avoid direct eye contact.

“I'll make sure they're ready.” the clown mocked her voice perfectly.

“stop it.” hissing her words to the side.

“i can do your friends laundry too.” the clown spoke clearly in Beverly tongue. She went wide eyed at what he said that actually caught Eriks attention back to her.

“great, they left a couple bags in the living room corner you can do.” Erik responded as he opened the door to leave.

“want me to be your babysitter, dumb ass?” the clown was having too much fun mimicking her. Joyfully messing with Erik all at the same time.

“shut up!” Beverly shouted a little too loudly.

“who are you telling to shut up?!” Erik slammed the door strong enough to shake things of a nearby shelf. “Do you think you own the place?!” His approach gearing up to throw a few blows while Beverly lowered herself into a flinch. Holding both arms over her head for protection in a shivering panic.

“uh.” she heard Erik let out in a much calmer tone. Beverly peaked out under her blocking arms. Noticing first that Eriks expression changed more toward fear. Staring at her from his spot not too far from the door. The next noticeable thing was Pennywise's arms held out at her sides. Leaning forward to keep his head above hers defensively. Jaws bared widely in a smile of sharp teeth daring Erik to try stepping closer.

“do what I asked.” Erik spoke out faster than normal with a hurried pace out the door.

Beverly uncurled from her defensive position. Looking from the door to the clown with a glare. Shoving him with bother her hands on his chest. Fighting back tears building up in her eyes.

“you're an asshole! What did you do?!” she demanded to know. “did he see you?!”

“don't get your knickers in a knot. All I did was give him a little warning, he still doesn't know shit.” he answered casually.

“you started it you asshole!”

“maybe you should be glad I didn't finish it. Hmm? … let it go.” grinning down at her. Voice in a tone of hidden warning.

“ … whatever … I got a list of chores to do.” voice already sounding tired. Entering the kitchen to grab a few trash bags. Throwing all the empty to half full bottles of stale beer into the bags. Ignoring all the mocking jabs of her being a maid from the clown. Throwing out bags of trash to then start on laundry. Slowly going through the bags and bags. Folding all of Erik clothes to put away neatly. For everybody else she just tossed back into the bags without care. Rushing to cook Eriks lunch before he could arrive.

“why do you have to ruin it like that? Leave some of the damn blood to keep it juicy!” the clown complained over the cooking steak in the pan. Watching it as somebody would a dead rat in a blender.

“humans don't like blood on our meat. We prefer it fully edible.” Beverly carefully plated it with a few sides. Trying to make it seem perfect. She made the mistake once before having it be too messy looking. She never make the mistake again. Setting the overly neat plate on the dining table with a beer sitting by.

“edible compared to what? A belt?” the clown reached to touch the meat on the plate. Hand slapped away by Beverly before he could.

“don't touch it!”

“didn't know you were so food aggressive too.” he joked.

“only on the stuff I make.” Fear spiking up as Eriks arrival drew closer.

“i can make it better.” the clown stared down at the plate.

“if you mess this up I swear!” glaring with tone low.

“but its soooo boring here. Why don't we go out? Your suppose to have glittery sunshine or air or something needing outside.”

“no, I have chores to do.” Standing by the table with folded arms as if she was a servant ready for their next order.

“like what?” challenging her word.

“clean sheets, windows, maybe vacuum.” voice spoken out softly.

“never thought id see the day someone makes up there own slave work.” he chuckled. “maybe I can help things be better.” raising a hand toward the food.

“NO!” screeching wide eyed at him about to touch the set plate.

“no I absolutely can. Like this over cooked belt you served. It just needs-” cheerfully speaking with confidence as his hand lowered closer.

“NO! Don't you dare touch anything!” holding her dagger eyed stare.

“or else what?” teasing his hand over the plated food. He pushed quite a few times, but never this far. He wanted to test what she would do. Curious how she would handle herself in an environment she was so set on keeping perfect.

Dodging her hand whipping out to slap him. Laughing at her soft attack barely feeling any air cross his face.

“too slow. He has you trained well. Cant let the little dog bite indoors.” taunting in pushing her further.

“i don't want to deal with a child.” the last of her patience running out. keeping her standing pose by the table.

“oooh, that hurt.” speaking in mocked sadness. Leaving Eriks plated food alone to walk down along the table. Beverly's posture relaxing for the moment. Tensing back up at the clown coming close around her side of the table. Shooting out an arm to stop his from grabbing Eriks plate. Pushing the clown back to get him as far from the plate as possible. Kicking him when he moved her away with a grip on one of her wrists. Grabbing onto his ruffled collar in holding him back from approaching the plate again.

With her getting more hands on he wanted to test more aggressively. Opening his jaws up at the arm holding onto his collar. Scaring her into letting go. Shoving her away, not enough to knock her off her feet, creating an issue for him when he turned away. Feeling her jump onto his back with arms wrapping around his neck to choke him back.

He hated that irritating sensation, wanting to break it quickly he twisted his spine much farther then normal. Grabbing a hold one of her legs to yank up. Disturbing her grip enough to break it with another yank forward. Having her drop onto the floor.

“you're rusty.” chuckling down at her. Her glaring up at him from the floor. Kicking her leg free from his hold to get up. Stumbling up into her earlier pose when Erik entered through the door.

“i made it the way you like.” smiling softly to Erik.

“you were suppose to put it in a bag.” he sighed. “I'll fucking do it.”going to a cupboard to yank out a large Ziploc bag. Tossing the entire plate into with without concern.

“all that plating to waste.” Pennywise commented on Beverly's perfect plate now mashed into one bag.

“sorry.” Hearing an angry huff from Erik on his way out the door. Slamming it loudly behind him.

“great, that went well. Can you make me lunch too?” the clown joked.

“shut up.”

“shut up.” mimicking her, voice and all.

“Stop.”

“Stop.” parroting her. She only let out a sigh after that. Heading to go do some other chore in the apartments.

“lets go outside. He got his lunch, he won't be back for a while.” speaking as he followed behind.

“no.” voice going back to its quiet tone.

“lets go.” ignoring her rejection. Grabbing her hand with a shifting of black to appear out in the woods. “there, not so bad.” Watching Beverly shut down in immediate panic.

“where are we?!” ducking low below the large brush line to hide.

“the forest.”

“where?!” she asked more urgently.

“by the quarry.” Beverly bolting off soon after he answered. “where are you going?” he shouted after her.

She run toward a large opening in the tree line. Finding the quarry cliff edge. Running around it to find a dirt road that would hopefully bring her to the main road. She had to rush back before Erik found out she left.

“shit, shit, shit.” she repeated with her running down the road. Lungs making it painful after the first minute. Then her stabbed side started to burn. Anxiety spiking as a police car pulled up next to her. Her running down a dirt road looking very suspicious in her mind. She slowed to a stop as the car did. The officer rolling down the window to speak.

“put a leash on your dog.” he told her.

“what?” she spoke confused.

“leash it.” he pointed behind her. She looked back seeing a large white wolf like dog standing 3 ft at the shoulder. Darker grey markings on its paws and circling the neck. Wagging its tail happily at watching her.

“that's not mine!” turning back toward the officer.

“it's been following you. Seems to know you like it's yours. Either leash it, or I give you a fine.” the officer warned.

“god dammit.” Beverly hissed under her breath. Looking around for something like a vine to use in place of a leash. The only thing on her that was remotely usable was her belt. Taking it off to make a loop big enough to fit around the dog's head with only 4 inches extra as a “leash”. Resisting the urge to tighten it into choking him. Looking to the officer for a sign of satisfaction.

“bring a leash next time.” the officer ended the conversation with a drive off. Beverly waited for the car to be far off into the distance for her to rush off again. Ditching the wolf she was sure she knew well.

“why are you running off so?” the wolf trotted behind her.

“because of you I have to reach the damn apartment.” running going more into a jog. Not taking long to reach town across the main bridge. Turning back toward the annoying creature that had been following her. Knowing shed have to pick the leash back up so no other cops would stop her.

“couldn't have been anything else. Like a moose so I wouldn't have to walk you.” Beverly complained.

“a moose look doesn't suit my dietary needs.” he answered smugly.

Beverly shook her head. Looking up at the sky to gather some sense of time. It was far past noon, meaning Erik would be heading home soon. Sickness settling at the bottom of her stomach. The apartment wasn't far now she just needed to rush a little longer.

“Maybe i could make up a cover by buying groceries.” Stomach sinking at her name being called.

“Beverly!” Erik shouted from the window of a large van. Her head whipped around to his direction, shrinking down fearfully. “what are you doing?” tone uncomfortably calm. A cold stare held on her. She didn't get the chance to answer when Lorna spoke up.

“aww, its a cute doggy.” she spoke excitedly. The wolf gleaming with pride at being praised, even if it was from a rat. Getting Victorias attention enough to push Lorna back for a look.

“pfft, that ragged mutt infested with ticks?” Victoria insulted.

“who got it for you?” Eriks tone bearing mistrust from what Beverly noticed. This felt more serious then normal, especially when he asked “who”.

“n-nobody. I got him.” answering him quietly.

“how'd you afford it?” asking barely after Beverly finished.

“he's a stray. He followed me.”

“why did you go out?” At this point she was sure he was looking for any excuse to pin on her.

“i finished everything-”

“did you?” Erik interrupted. She decided it was best to stay quiet at this point. Giving a light nod as her only answer. “get in the car.” he commanded.

“i can wal-”

“no, get in the van!” cold stare turning more enraged. “all you guys move over!” he said to everybody sitting in the back.

“no way, she'll have to sit in the back with Charles.” Victoria snickered from the window.

Beverly's heart skipped a beat. Fearfully stepping up to open the van door. Standing there ready to vomit at the sight of Charles smiling at her. She slowly got onto the seat, squished as far as she could at the seats end to avoid Charles. Receiving a bit of a gut punch as the wolf leapt into her lap as she closed the door.

“could you get your damn paw out of my gut and your elbow off my collar bone!” she groaned to the heavy creature sitting in her lap. Shoving the beast a little to sit more on her legs then on half her body. Sucking in a breath of air when he did move. Sitting this way was incredibly uncomfortable. The pain far outweighed the other cons, being Charles.

“uh, hes a really big one. Heeey puppy-” Charles spoke nervously around the large canine. Reaching out a shaky hand to pet pens snout. The large wolf bearing more of its teeth in a threatening growl at the hovering hand. Lunging for a snap at it, making a loud clack of teeth shutting on air. Beverly keeping pen held close as she gave a happy pat to the wolfs chest. Hiding a small smile behind all the fur at seeing Charles now trying to blend into the other door. Far away from the large canine with half bared teeth staring at him.

“what's his name?” Lorna asked. Earning a disappointed huff from Victoria.

“ … Pen ...” Beverly spoke after some quick thinking. Not knowing how long he would stick around like this she had to call him something.

“stupid.” Victoria commented.

“that things not coming into the apartment.” Erik started from the front passenger seat. Catching pens attention away from Charles for a split second.

Beverly nodded despite him unable to see her. Erik hated animals, especially dogs, maybe because they also hated him. She wasn't worried about leaving Pennywise outdoors. Right now she had to worry about if Charles would follow along into the apartment. Then there was Eriks paranoia of her cheating with someone.

“maybe the drive will calm him down a bit.” she thought.

Trey stopped the van outside their apartment. The engine not turning off meant at least trey was going to leave. Beverly swallowed down some hope that everybody else would leave as well.

“see you all at the party tomorrow. Get out of the car babe.” Erik spoke with an opening of his door. Beverly getting a wave of relief at everybody going. Slipping out from under pen after opening the door. The large beast following behind her.

“i gotta take care of pen for a second.” she spoke quietly to Erik.

“2 minutes to tie him to a tree.” Erik said, heading indoors. With trey driving off leaving her completely alone with Pen.

She removed her belt from around his neck. Seeing no reason for him to keep it.

“you named me, now you have to keep me. Those are the rules.” pen spoke.

“what? What rules where?” raising a brow at him as she slipped her belt back on.

“the rule that all the children say.”

“oh, that. That doesn't work that way.” giving a light chuckle at the simple logic. Kids always assumed if you brought something home with a name, it meant they could keep it.

“why not? They say it all works.”

“naming something to keep only works if your 5 and its a baby bird.” heading to the apartment. Sky darkening with the days end. “now go off. The days are up and this stuff has to stop.” tone stern, hiding other feelings underneath.

“it won't stop! I will continue courting! It will only stop when I say!” shouting from behind her. Seeing Beverly's head shake before disappearing into the building.

“... should the game end?” the question rose in his mind.

[lazilyfreshtheorist]

Is there an Existential Crisis in Modern Society for Men?

I noticed this readable article. I'll give it here in excerpts. If you want to read the whole text, go to this link: KnowledgeForMen blog: Ultimate Guide to Overcoming an Existential Crisis in Modern Society

The mass of men is in the throes of a profound Existential Crisis in Modern Society

Existential Crisis in Modern Society for men it’s not hard to see how this plays out: 17.3 million Americans suffer from depression according to dbsalliance.org Depression is the leading cause of disability worldwide Two-thirds of suicides caused by depression 40 million American adults suffer from anxiety according to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America 75% of Americans are unhappy at work, according to Mental Health America. Despite the unprecedented abundance, safety, and opportunity of the 21st century, we are slowly starting to realize that life, regardless of your socioeconomic status or privilege, is at times very hard. “What’s the point of all of this? What is the meaning of life? Who cares we’re all going to die anyway!”  This question leads to complicated and inescapable feelings and emotions. Our parents, the school system, and society did little to prepare us. These thoughts and emotions may make themselves independent. So they are uncontrollable and free them from their will. That can prevent them from mastering new challenges, trying new things, and achieving their big goals. They can lead you down a dark and twisted road of hedonic pleasure and apathy. If you are suffering from an Existential Crisis in Modern Society, there is hope. If you’re wondering how to find meaning in life, there is away. I can’t give you all of the answers or tell you how to live your life for everyone exactly is unique. Existential Crisis in Modern Society Solution: Pull back the layers of these problems one at a time and try out possible solutions. Learn to ask more practical questions. Then you can begin to overcome your existential fears. You can now live a great and joyful life where you can pick up the disturbing secrets of the human experience.

Existential Crisis in Modern Society for men definition: What is an Existential Crisis Anyways? 

In the psychological community, an Existential Crisis in Modern Society is “a moment when an individual questions if their life has meaning, purpose, or value.” To show you: an Existential Crisis in Modern Society is what happens when you suddenly wake up one day and realize this.

The most frustrating part of anExistential Crisis in Modern Society is that they can strike at any moment, without warning and reason. Depression and existential despair, though frequently experienced in unison, are not the same. You can be happier than you’ve ever yet still experience an unwavering spiritual malaise about your purpose and place in this world. The term existential crisis initially derives from the work of psychoanalyst and developmental theorist Erik Erikson, who referred to an existential crisis as an “identity crisis.” And that’s where things get interesting. In an existential crisis, you begin to realize that you might not be who or what you thought you were for the past few decades of your existence. That brings into question and challenges EVERYTHING you once thought to be true. But you do not have an existential crisis without reason...read more

The Causes of Existential Crisis in Modern Society and Depression 

The following sections might be hard to stomach and accept. But I encourage you to read this through to the end. It is equally uncomfortable to accept a grim medical prognosis, but necessary to find the right treatment. But it is also unpleasant to face the inevitable facts of human existence. We have to understand the root cause of our existential breakdown that we can learn how to deal with an existential crisis.

The Paradox of Abundance: Too Many Options, Too Little Time 

“Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom.” ~Kierkegaard, The Father of Existentialism The most significant source of our existential dread is, quite ironically, the abundance in which we find ourselves as a species in modern society. Never before has humankind been presented with so much opportunity and possibility. Through the power of the internet, you can learn any skill and monetize any hobby from the comfort of your own home. With all the knowledge of our world, you can have, do and be what you want. And this very freedom has become a massive problem for society. Regardless of our success in any given area, we can’t help but wonder, “What if…”  Everywhere we look, every person is faced with choices too plentiful and essential to count. No matter how long we think or how many times we ask “what if,” there seem to be no answers to our existential FOMO. Simply more questions.

The Decline of Community: Alone on a Rock Spinning Through a Void 

We no longer have tribes or communities with whom we gain intimate familiarity. Our relationships often relegated to meaningless exchanges on social media platforms and superficial conversations with coworkers we don’t like. More than ever before, despite technological advances, we are more disconnected from our fellow humans. We are trained, from a very young age, to fear and loathe our neighbors because of their differences instead of finding camaraderie, compassion, and community in our similarities.  But this wasn’t always the case. Once upon a time, we lived and died with our fellow tribe members. We lived together, hunted together, broke bread together, danced together, laughed together, and had little time to ponder the insanity of existence. Most adults report having fewer than one close friend, and many people claim that they have no one in their lives whom they could call in the event of an emergency. The coalescence of these factors has created a society in which existential depression and acute depression seem all but inevitable. When we have no one in our lives to whom we can turn In the era of media madness, we struggle to authentically connect with our fellow humans as the population scurries about in a frenzy, desperately attempting to hide behind an ego-fueled facade of perfection. Understanding this is the first step to getting over an existential crisis. Because if everyone knew the truth...read more   Media Madness: The Force Multiplier of Insanity  Rewind the clock less than 15 years, and you would find a world that seems completely disconnected from the one in which we now find ourselves. People mostly kept to themselves. Things like marriage, engagements, family vacations, the birth of a child, career successes, and generating wealth, for the most part, was kept private. Now come to present times. Privacy has become a distant memory. Through the advent of social media, we are given a small (and carefully manufactured) glimpse into the “realities” of the most intimate part of other people’s lives. Men showcase their latest professional successes in a never-ending highlight reel with few hardships along the way.

The Curse of Comfort: The Easy Life is No Life

“Life can be magnificent and overwhelming – that is the whole tragedy. Without beauty, love, or danger it would almost be easy to live.” ~Albert Camus And this is something humans have craved since the beginning of time. We don’t want a comfortable and banal existence where we clock in, clock out, watch TV, masturbate or have routine sex, and microwave a ready-made meal then repeat until we die. You were born into a particular culture and, as a result, had specific enemies and obstacles to overcome. Whether it was merely hunting an animal to eat that day, conquering a rival village, or merely bandying together to survive mother nature, we were born into the fight of our lives. Today, things are different in Existential Crisis in Modern Society!  

A poor person today had better access to healthcare, technology, and education than even the richest men in the world just 25 years ago. You may not have a mansion, but you have a roof over your head. You may not be eating filet mignon and fresh lobster for dinner, but you are not starving. And subsisting on food stamps, government programs, and the charity has now become commonplace for many (not that I advocate this). Think about it this way. If you look at the history of human existence, it’s clear that we derive meaning and purpose from conflict and discomfort. It’s why stories like Braveheart, Gladiator, and Rudy strike such a chord in man.

The Path Forward is Worth the Fight

The Path Forward is Worth the Fight “Freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.” ~Jean Paul Sartre Having an existential crisis is NORMAL.  Having an existential crisis is a GOOD THING.  Having an existential crisis is a sign of GROWTH. The fact that you are questioning your place in the world and asking how to find meaning in life doesn’t make you dumb, weak, or inferior. It makes you human–and a more intelligent and conscious human at that. But merely acknowledging your crisis is not the same as getting over an existential crisis. You must decide what you are going to do about it.  It’s the path of growth, adventure, and spiritual freedom.  The rest of this guide will detail the steps I took to eradicate my existential dread.

  The Keys to Overcoming Existential Anxiety NOW! 

Before detailing the exact steps you can take to overcome an existential crisis, you must first understand a few essential guidelines. First. Unlike depression or anxiety, an Existential Crisis in Modern Society is not contingent on any particular facet of your life, and the solutions are not fast and easy. You can be crushing it in every area of life but still feel a nagging discontent when you turn off at the end of the day, are alone, and go to sleep at night. There are no easy answers to the big questions of life. Therefore, it is essential to accept the existential challenges as they arise and to be ready to take them without knowing the exact solution. Next, you must understand that the solutions to existential anxiety and depression are not all action-based. With the other challenges in our life–like weight loss, earning more money, or ascending a chosen career ladder–the solutions are typically cut and dry. Do more of this. Do less of that. Start doing this. Stop doing that. In an existential crisis, there are no such clear actions. Most of the solutions I’m going to present are far more esoteric than they are practical. They are about adopting new beliefs and mindsets that take time to understand fully. Finally, realize that escaping the clutches of an existential crisis will not happen overnight.

Understand What Your Purpose Is 

“No one can construct for you the bridge upon which precisely you must cross the stream of life, no one but you yourself alone.” ~Frederick Nietzsche All too often, people assume that their purpose is something concrete. Something preordained and fixed. The birth is not an inevitable fate that you have to pursue. You can choose your purpose.  To break free from an existential breakdown, you must exercise this freedom and create meaning for yourself. And to allow that purpose to evolve as you evolve as a man. Do not wait for others to tell you how to live your life, choose the life you want to live, and pursue it with conviction.

  There are no easy answers to the big questions of life. Therefore, it is similar, in your life, your purpose today will be wildly different from your use five or ten years from now. And that’s normal and a part of life. What matters is that you pursue your authentic purpose! Just do things that make your life meaningful and create meaning in your eyes. Not in the eyes of society. You will only find it in pursuit of things that are meaningful to you and in alignment with your values. But to create this purpose for yourself, you must first embrace the pain of meaninglessness. You must face the Existential Crisis in Modern Society Demons to emerge victoriously.

How to Deal with An Existential Crisis in Modern Society: Stop Numbing the Pain and Embrace It 

One of the most significant pitfalls modern humans fall into is an addiction to sedation. And there is a reason our society has developed so many forms of escapism in the last several decades. Because people want to escape their lives, they want to stand out even for a brief moment from their meaningless life. To numb the pain that they feel so profoundly. But when you come down from the high... read more   BRING IT ON!  The pain that you feel from lacking a purpose or despising your life is the greatest gift that life can give you. It is life’s natural change agent — a guide to serve you. Not to help you escape from your life, but rather to not let life flee from you. To rid your life of an existential crisis, you must first rid your life of sedation with which so many men fall.

Avoiding an Existential Breakdown: Indecision Always Costs More in the End

The modern human has, at their fingertips, more opportunity and possibility than any human–even the richest of kings–had one hundred years ago. And this reality has led to a generation fueled plagued by indecisiveness. With so many options, we can never know when we are making the “right” decision. But the truth is... read more   Become a Creator, Not a Consumer “Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears.” ~Albert Camus There’s only one problem. The modern world does not encourage this creation-centric lifestyle. Instead, it pushes and peddles a materialistic agenda of consumption. From the moment we were born, we’ve inundated with ads telling us how we should look, what we should wear, where we should live, and how we should act, destroying our creativity. To keep by these social norms, we consume. We consume new homes, furniture, cars, designer clothes, overpriced jewelry, lavish vacations (that never feel relaxing), Netflix marathons, porn, and unhealthy foods.

The problem arises when one allows overconsumption to take over all of their time, energy, and stifle their ability to create. Nothing fuels depression and feelings of meaningless more than a life void of creative power. And if you want to know how to deal with an existential crisis, the best answer I can give you is to create more. Stop consuming. Start creating. And as a byproduct, you are stepping into your power and becoming the hero in your life. Creation fuels meaning. And the more you create, the more meaningful and enjoyable your life and the faster you can start getting over an existential crisis. Memento Mori  “If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life – and only then will I be free to become myself.” ~Martin Heidegger This final section is a dark yet enlightening topic, but one that I feel you are prepared to face. Take a deep breath. Relax. I’m with you right now. The final and most profound way to escape an existential breakdown is to contemplate and meditate on the inevitability of your death. You are going to die. Everyone you love is going to die. Everyone who pisses you off right now is going to die too. We all are. It’s merely the human condition.  

  If there are only two things we know for sure–we are alive right now, and one day we won’t be–we only have two choices. First, we can opt-out of existence and decide that our existential angst is a disease without a cure. Or, since we’re already on this spinning rock, we can choose to make the most of it. If the worst thing that can happen is already guaranteed to arrive… Then we have nothing to fear.  And when we truly embrace this fact, allowing it to penetrate us to the core, life becomes an exciting adventure. You are the hero of your life, and you can create whatever you want with it. It’s so beautiful this way. You are free to pursue your passions, to go for your dreams, to aim as high as you can without fear or shame. Make the most of your experience here. Live so vibrantly it puts you in tears of joy. Live so that the fear of death never enters your heart and accept that the only thing you have to fear truly is dying without ever having lived. My friend, don’t waste this opportunity Want to become the most reliable version of yourself? "This article originally appeared in the KnowledgeForMen blog."                 Read the full article

[writerinthedark123]

The Hurt And The Healing

They say that you eventually stop being sad, and start getting mad. That’s what everyone told me and not once did I ever believe them. At the moment I couldn't see past the crippling pain and sadness and everything felt dark.

But then something amazing happens. Time passes, you get distance, the fog begins to clear and clarity finds you once again. The good memories are still there but now they are met with the bad ones. The horrible ones, the one’s that your mind conveniently forgets and pushes aside. And something inside you ignites. You remember what it feels like to have a voice, and after that it becomes impossible to silence. 

So here it is:

I regret it all. I regret the trips. I regret the class pick ups. I regret the ice skating, study dates, and movies. I regret letting you ever make me feel badly about things that I should have never felt badly about. I regret taking you back after the morning that I walked in on you and (insert name that doesn't matter), and feeling that your tears were more important and significant than my own. I regret thinking that I could ever trust you or feel the same way about you after that. I regret the times that I wanted to end things with you but didn't because I was scared of being alone. I regret not listening to my friends, family, coworkers (who happen to be YOUR friends as well) when they told me I was making a big mistake and headed for inevitable heartbreak. I regret not listening to my mom when she told me that she didn't get a good feeling after meeting you the first time and that she saw me changing the second I met you. I regret the times that   I cared so much about you and let you become such a big part of my life that when things would go south (and they often did), I would feel the need to act irrationally and crazily. I regret ever letting the thought cross my mind that you would be the best I would ever do-that isn’t true. I regret any second spent feeling unhappy and nervous when I could've been happy all of that time. I regret every faked ____ and expensive piece of lingerie, trying to live up to the bikini clad models that covered your newsfeeds. I regret ever reaching the point where I felt so low and so worthless that I would even consider the thought of taking my own life because of how YOU made me feel. I regret standing by someone who does not treat people in a way that I can respect and for ever finding the cocky and arrogant way that you speak amusing in any shape or form. I regret letting you make me feel like I couldn't move on without you when YOU were the one who decided that YOU didn’t want me anymore. I regret allowing the double standards and lowering my own in order to keep you around. I regret putting you in front of God and putting you on a pedestal that you don’t deserve to be on. I regret feeding into your insecurities by apologizing when you would think that I was flirting with your friends and coworkers (WHAT?!) and having you annoyingly reject anytime that I paid you a compliment and would sarcastically tell me to shut up. If you don’t trust your own friends and roommates to do the right things, then doesn’t that reflect more on you then on me? I regret the countless nights that I would get on my knees in the middle of the night with shaky hands and swollen eyes, praying for the strength to get myself out of what I knew was toxic but couldn't let go of. I regret letting you ever make me feel like I was clueless or like I needed help to make wise decisions. I regret allowing myself to feel trapped. I regret accepting apologies from you that began with “I’m not too proud to admit” or “I humbly admit.” I regret letting how you view me and my actions become a barometer for my self worth. I regret letting you have any part of me once you ended things and cheapening myself just to have any part of you. I would’ve given you everything and done anything for you. You knew that. You took advantage of it. I regret allowing you to shape and influence my thoughts and beliefs. I regret excusing the bruises and covering them up to protect you. I regret allowing you to make ME feel ashamed and at fault for things that happened that I had no control over. I regret it all.

I regret all of the lost time and I regret letting it get to the point where I lost me.

I thought I was lost without you but with you, I was never more lost.

You’re arrogant. You're prideful. You're narcisistic. You’re manipulative. You’re controlling. You’re selfish. You make others feel small so that you can temporarily feel “big.” You don't deserve any of the second, third, fourth, and so on chances that I so easily handed to you. 

You’re the type of person who decides to pull the trigger on the one day that my dad is able to come to Athens. Who ends things on the day that I say goodbye to my dog of 14 years. Because what YOU want and what YOU feel are more important and more time sensitive than anything or anyone else...right? Wrong. 

Initially I felt that you ending things was God not caring about my heart but now I realize that He was protecting my heart by removing you from my life.

I wondered why I was always the one to lose it and do crazy things, why you always appeared calm and collected. Why I was the one losing sleep when you had no trouble at all. It’s so easy when you have all of the control. You always had control. And I blame myself for letting you. You decided when we dated. You decided when we didn’t. You decided when we went public. You decided when we saw each other. You decided when and if you replied. You decided if my behavior was up to your insane and jealous standards. You decided it all. You no longer get to decide things-not when it comes to me. The pathetic part if you probably don’t see where I’m coming from and you’re sitting there chuckling or fuming at how “bitchy” and “crazy” I sound. Who cares. Who cares what you think. WHO CARES.

I did love you. For that time. But I woke up this morning and realized that  don’t love you anymore. I gave you enough love and it wasn’t enough for you and that makes it not enough for me. 

I don’t miss you. I miss the part of you that my memory has glamorized and the part of you that I fought for, for so long. But he’s no longer there now and hasn’t been for a long time.

I’m done pretending that you’re someone that you’re not.

I’m glad you didn't answer my dad when he attempted to reach out to you (multiple times). He shouldn’t waste his breath on you and neither should I. You’re a coward. You cause destruction, you don’t look back at it, and then wonder why the people that you left in it are in the places that they’re in and question their sanity-the sanity that you stripped from them.

You knew all the games to play, you knew how to frame it so that every single thing looked the way that you wanted it to from the outside. You have your friends fooled, you have your family fooled, and for a while you had me fooled. You tried to make yourself look perfect in every way so that when things went down your secrets would be safe. Your friends see a girl who is always crying and always panicking. They see a girl who shows up unannounced and desperately begs to be taken back. What they don’t see is a years worth of what no one should have to tolerate and someone who was driven to feel that intense of a rock bottom. As I leave in shame you gloat about how you dodged a crazy one and use this as “proof” that you did the right thing. You’re strategic. You’re a master manipulator.

I loved you, I loved you more than anyone. I defended you and loved the parts of you that you hated, and encouraged you to do and be whoever it is and whatever it is that makes you feel happy. I was always (literally) waiting for you at every finish line, and encouraging and loving you along the way until you got there. There is good in you. But it’s buried by anger, insecurities, and all of the demons that you refuse to face that fight you every day. Instead of fighting them you would push them onto me, making me feel responsible for your inner struggles. That’s not love. 

You took the little girl who wanted to believe that everyone was good and could be trusted, the little girl who was independent and brave-and for a while, you silenced her. You made her feel stupid, you made her feel weak; you made her question her worth and her instincts. You did this because her true instincts and her true strength would have never let you get as close to her as you did. Not even close. 

I let myself feel what I’m feeling no matter how sucky and unbearable and I let myself fall down, get up, and every time no matter how hard the blow, I find myself on my feet again. I know my flaws and I fight to be better. You don’t. You deny who you truly are and mask it by smoking weed, having an arrogant attitude, and one day you will wake up and see yourself the way so many others do but don’t tell you. It made it impossible for me to respect myself while in a relationship with someone that no one in my life respected.

You probably think that this letter is for you. It is. But it’s not about you. This is about me telling you what I’ve been wanting to say for so long but never had the courage to say. This is about me saying goodbye and closing a chapter on my life so that I can move onto the next one, a better one.

I’m not sad. I’m not mad. I’m relieved.

Goodbye for good. We both get what we want, even if I couldn’t see it at first. You’re not worth the time and tears I’ve given you. 

                                            This is my truth.

                   And from here on out that is exactly what I’ll be living.

                                    Can you hear me now? 

[chibinekochan]

Chat Blanc

For day 4 of RFAauweek

Mystic messenger Host club

You look for a job since a while now. Your last interview went rather badly.

On the way back home you see a flyer on a light pole.

It is a job offer, you never heard the name of the club, but they seek a bartender.

You worked as one for a bit and you figure to give them a call.

Your call gets right away picked up.

“Chat Blanc, Kang Jaehee speaking. How can I help you ?”

The woman sounds polite but stressed.

“My name is [Name] and I just saw your job offer and I wanted to know if it's still available.”

You not have high hopes, since you found it sticking on a light pole, but you never know.

“Yeah the position is still available. Actually, if you are free could you come over right away ?”

Jaehee sounds relieved and you are more than ready to work. That they want to see you right away must be a good sign.

“Of course, should I just come to the address on the flyer ?”

You feel excited already.

“Yes, that would be good. Just come through the main entrance it should be open and then ask for Kang Jaehee.”

She sounds much less stressed now and you feel like you could hear her smiling.

“Thank you Ms. Kang I will be on my way.”

You almost bow on the street before realizing that she can't see you.

“Yes, see you soon.”

You look once more at the flyer and pinpoint the address with your smartphone.

Soon you reach the club.

The name ´Chat Blanc´  is painted on an old fascinated looking sign. There is a white cat all over the sign, rendering it almost impossible to read.

You wonder who made this sign this way, then you go to the door and nervously open it.

The club makes a nice impression, the setup seems a bit strange. With all those couches it looks more like a restaurant.

It looks more comfortable than anything but you don't really mind it.

You not see any staff members. Before you start looking around for someone, your eyes fall on the bar.

Since you seem alone right now you decide to check it quickly out.

It seems very well stacked. It is much better than the last bar you worked at. They even have a good assortment of wine. A bit strange for a club but maybe they also offer food, that would explain the couches at least.

You then spot a white Persian cat under the bar. Her blue eyes stare at you.

It really seems to be the wrong place for a cat. You bend down to her and try to lure her to you.

The Cat looks at you with curious eyes and when you offer her your hand she slowly comes towards you.

She meows at you and you slowly pat her head.

“Elizabeth the 3rd ; there you are you had me worried sick.”

You hear a male behind you and you jump up in surprise.

“And you who are you ?”

You get up and you bow down. “ I am so sorry. My name is [Name] and I have a job interview here with Ms. Kang. I just wanted to check the bar out and then I saw this cat and I thought it might be dangerous for her, so I tried to lure her out.”

The words spill out of you while you still face the ground. You really hope you not screwed up with this.

“I see in that case you are hired.”

He speaks in a very polite way.

You are so surprised that you look up and see the tall black haired man right in front of you.

His grey eyes seem to see right thru you.

“I am what ?”

“You are hired, unless you not want the job anymore.”

“Of course, I want the Job but shouldn't I talk with Ms. Kang first ?”

“Yeah she can handle the paperwork but I trust Elizabeth´s judgment. Since she likes you, you must be trustworthy.”

He speaks calmly and to him this really seems to be the absolute truth.

Still, his words seem strange to you.

“I am Han Jumin and I own the Chat Blanc by the way.”

Jumin clearly sees the confusion in your eyes and you are thankful for this information.

“I see, so you really hire me Mr. Han ?”

The Fact still not fully hit you yet.

“Yes, if you have time you can start today right after you signed the contract, of course.”

Jumin looks to his cat, and she walks to him. Jumin carefully picks her up and Elizabeth mews happy.

You think he is a strange guy, but he clearly loves his pet. So you think he can't be too bad.

“Yes of course. I can start right away.”

You smile happily, maybe this is a strange place but at least it's work.

“I like that attitude, Ms. Kang will give you your work hours and whatever you need. Let´s go to her, to finish this up.”

Jumin leads you to Jaehee´s office, he opens the door.

Jaehee looks up and seems surprised to see Jumin with you.

“I decided to hire [Name], make the contract. I have some other business to attend now.”

Jumin speaks calmly and Jaehee looks irritated to you.

“Can I ask the reason for this sudden decision ?”

Jaehee sounds annoyed and you not have a good feeling about this.

“Elizabeth trusts [Name] and that is more than enough reason for me. I shall be off now.”

Jaehee takes a heavy breath.

“I see. I hope we not regret this later...”

Jaehee looks with a stern face to you.

You swallow, this is not going good for you.

“I trust Elizabeth 100percent she never once was wrong. I hope you not disappoint her [Name].”

Jumin looks to you with a serious expression.

You ask yourself if he really just loves his cat a lot, or if he might be insane.

“I will try my best, Sir.” You decide to ignore the second option, and you really not want to lose the job you just got.

“I will see you later Ms. Kang.”

With this Jumin turns around and leaves.

Jaehee sighs again, you feel bad for her.

“Please sit down...” Jaehee gets some papers out of her drawer.

She puts a pile of paper in front of you.

“Could you fill this out ?”

“Yes, but if you are unhappy with me as new worker than I could leave...”

You really would hate to start your new job with this much tension.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. You were the only one that called in two Weeks anyways, so I would have hired you most likely anyways. It is not bad that Jumin likes you.”

Jaehee looks stern again, and she starts to look less tensed.

“What, two weeks that a long time I wounder why...”

The place really seems not bad at all and the payment is more than fair.

“That is probably because people don't want to work at a host club. Other than Mr. Han´s reputation among workers...”

Jaehee looks at you and you are surprised.

A host club, was that part of the Information on the flyer ? You were to excited and have to admit that you not read it fully threw.

You never thought that you would work at a host club you but now were you have the job it's better than nothing. You feel more worried by the other thing that Jaehee said.

“I had no idea... and what do you mean with reputation has Mr. Han done anything bad ?”

“Really you didn't know? I guess you not want to work here than either...”

Jaehee looks a bit disappointed.

“No, I will work here. It just surprised me.”

“Thank god, it would have been a pain to explain this to Mr. Han and about his reputation he is known to be quite a demon. Honestly, I think he is just extremely strict.”

Jaehee smiles lightly.

“I see that should be not a big issue. I am a hard worker.”

You smile to Jaehee.

“Okay, in that case I look forward to working with you. Could you fill these out now ?”

Jaehee points to the papers in front of you.

“Of course.”

You start to fill the papers out and once you are done you hand them back to Jaehee.

She reads them in a record speed.

“Everything sounds very good.” Jaehee gets some more papers out of her desk.

“This is the contract read it and sign it, please.”

You nod and start to read it through.

“It is a pretty standard contract, but there are two things that are very different from other places. The first thing is that we never reveal any private information about our hosts to anyone. This includes their real names and their addresses. The other thing is that we have a very strict no romances on the Job policy.”

Of course you expected the first thing, you would never even dreamed of telling anyone the address of a coworker.

You heard of a no love on the job contracts before, but this is the first time encountering one. You think for a moment.

“I have no plans to reveal any personal information to guests anyways and the last thing I want right now is a date.”

You smile confident and you can't image at all that this is going to be an issue.

“I am glad you say that. The safety of the staff is my top priority and romance at work never goes well.”

Jaehee nods firmly and you feel like she has been there before.

You sign the contract without a second thought.

Jaehee smiles when she takes the papers from you.

“Great, now I should introduce you to our staff. They should be here now.”

Jaehee looks at the time and you nod. You already wonder what kind of people your new coworkers will be.

Suddenly Jaehee´s phone rings. “Oh I need to take this, please go ahead [Name]. I will come in a bit.”

Jaehee smiles apologetic and you nod and leave her with the phone call.

You go back to the bar to see again what you have to serve later. They really have a great assortment of drinks here. You take one of the menu cards to check what cocktails they offer.

“Hey there lovely, I think you are a bit early but if you want we can talk as soon as we have opened.”

You are surprised and turn around. You see a tall man with white hair and red Eyes. He looks very good.

You feel a bit embarrassed by his sudden flirting.

“No I am not here for that at all.”

“Ah I see, you must be here for my autograph then.”

The man smiles at you and gets some paper out. You wonder if he is serious.

“No, I am not here for that either.”

“Really hm ...” He thinks shortly. “You must be here for V then, or maybe Vanderwood.... Yoosung, Luciel hmm no, no. Nobody wants to talk to those guys.... Wait don't tell me you are insane enough to want to talk with Jumin...”

“I have no idea who you are talking about and I am here to work.”

“Work ? Ahhhhh my bad you must be the new coworker than. Nice to meet you, I am Ryu Hyun but please call me Zen.”

Zen smiles at you and you can understand that he thought that you are a customer.

“My pleasure I am [Name] the new bartender.”

“A very pretty name. I can already see it will be fun to work with you.” Zen is smiling.

“It's a shame that you are coworker though, you are actually quite cute.” He winks at you and you don't even know how to react to that.

“Hitting on our guests before we even have open Zen ? Never taking a break from your act I see.”

You hear an amused sounding male voice from behind you.

“Come on, he is just nice.”

You turn around to see two young looking males.

“I am not hitting on a guest at all. This is our new Bartender [Name] and we were just talking.”

Zen looks serious to the two guys.

You look curios to them.

“Nice to meet you. I am Yoosung I work in the kitchen, but usually I just catsit...”

Yoosung introduces himself and smiles happily.

He looks too young to be a host so you are glad to hear that he works behind the scenes.

“I am Luciel the girl for everything.” Luciel smiles lightly.

“You mean guy for everything, and he is the janitor.”

Zen corrects him in an almost rude way. You wonder if his flirty way really was just an act, like Luciel said.

“Nice to meet you.” You smile politely.

“Likewise, I am sure we will get along. Right Luciel ?”

Yoosung looks to Luciel.

“Yeah sure, I will go to my work see ya later.”

Luciel smiles but he seems a bit cold.

“Yeah of course I look forward working with you.” You smile slightly and Luciel walks away.

“Don't mind him, he needs time to warm up to new people.”

Yoosung nods assuring.

You not really mind that he is a bit cold towards you, you know that some people need time.

“I am sure we will get along just fine.”

You smile to Yoosung.

“Quite lively today, is that the new worker Jumin told me about ?”

You not noticed that yet another guy came to the bar.

“Yeah I am [Name] and who are you ?”

You smile politely.

“My name is Kim Jihyun but call me V. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

V smiles very politely and you see why he was hired as a host.

Compared to the other people that work here, he seems to be the most normal one.

“Yes, I hope we can work well together.”

You smile back to V.

“I am sure we will you seem to be very nice.”

V is very friendly towards you.

“Stop flirting with the new worker V.”

Yoosung looks coldly to V.

“I was just friendly Yoosung. Please don't be offended.”

V looks apologetic to Yoosung.

“I will go now, before I get sick...”

Yoosung looks very different from before almost like he is frozen.

He turns around and leaves before even looking at you again.

“I am sorry this is my fault [Name]. Please don't hold it against him. He is a good kid.”

You are confused and wonder what happened between the two but you don't ask.

“It is okay V.”

You smile weakly.

“So this place has only 3 hosts ?”

You try to change the subject since now the mood is a bit gloomy now.

“Jumin works also as host. He looks into hiring more people of course, but he is very picky.”

V looks to you but his smile is gone.

“He is just a jerk if you ask me... and host ? Really all he does is scaring the customers away.”

Zen sounds unhappy with this.

“Jumin tries his best Zen, it is not always easy for him either.”

“Of course, you would defend him V, after all you are childhood friends.”

“That is true, but I know he is not made of stone, even when everybody seems to think that.”

“I guess we will never agree on this.”

Zen sighs slightly.

“I see you meet already. I show you where everything is now. Sorry for the wait time.”

Jaehee smiles to you and nods to the other two.

“Thank you Jaehee.” You smile to her.

“No problem, just follow me  [Name].”

“Yes I will see you later.”

You smile towards Zen and V and go after Jaehee.

“It is very lucky that you get to meet V today. He is rarely here these days. I am sure you are not immune to the charms of the hosts here either but don´t forget you can only look at them.”

Jaehee reminds you.

“Yeah of course, I know Jaehee.”

You lost a bit of your confidence after actually meeting them.

You still need to meet the last Host but you can already tell that this no love at work think going to be a challenge.

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Purple Haze

Some rhack omegaverse while i’m busy with bartending school LOLOL :)

My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here. This is also found on my ao3 here (if you wanna leave my ass some sweet comments ;D) and the second chapter will be posted there :)

–

Rhys was going absolutely insane with boredom. The omega was pacing the apartment he and Vaughn shared, trying to find something to occupy his mind.

The two had been working odd shifts lately in keeping with a recent acquisition of a pharmaceuticals company into the Hyperion brand. Their time off had not aligned for two weeks now, seeing each other only when going to or getting off of work with little time to socialize in between.

Rhys’ schedule the past week saw him hard at work until late evening reprogramming some hardware for the labs while Vaughn had the time off; a fact which Yvette had used to cajole the beta into taking her to a new club she had heard about. And one which, according to Yvette’s telling, was quite the place to be. She wouldn’t stop gushing about it, and Vaughn was making an effort not to brag at least, but Rhys was left feeling quite jealous he hadn’t been able to make it out with them.

And now today with some rare free time to spare, Vaughn was stuck at work, and Rhys was left to his own devices at home.

Bored. Unable to rest.

And if he was being honest with himself, a little lonely.

He slept better when his best bro was around, but aside from chance meetings when going to bed or leaving for work, their opposing schedules had left Rhys wanting for company more than the omega was willing to admit. Yvette’s schedule left little time for them to hang out as well, and while he had others in Hyperion he considered close acquaintances, they weren’t exactly of the same caliber as his friends.

Maybe if he was lucky and Vaughn got home early enough, him and Yvette would take Rhys to that new club. Yvette could surely be coerced at the prospect of drinks (if he was buying). And judging by the tempered smile on Vaughn’s face when she gushed about it, the beta would also be up for a return.

It made Rhys smile as he recalled Yvette’s enthusiasm that the three of them go back together as soon as possible, demanding the two escort her to bolster the experience.

“It’ll make me look good. A man on each arm,” she’d told them assuredly. “You should have seen the posturing going on in there, Rhys. If I wanna compete with the other alphas then I’m going to need to bring something new to the table.”

“If you’ve sunk to using us as props then you’re desperate indeed,” Rhys had told her with a wry smirk.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll just show them my abs and it’ll be game over, bro.” Vaughn had grinned and looked entirely too pleased with himself, the novelty of the club still running high, and they’d all had a good laugh.

That was at least a week prior, and Rhys kept on hearing things from coworkers raving about the place. It kept the idea fresh in his mind and antsy about his turn to go.

Boredom bluntly prodding him, he hoped he could convince his two friends on a night out, or at the very least a movie marathon.

The omega heard a noise and then the door to their apartment opened. Rhys jumped off the couch in excitement, and Vaughn shuffled tiredly in.

“Hey! Welcome home! How was your day?”

The beta regarded him with tired eyes and slumped posture. “I didn’t know just how many assets a pharmaceuticals company had.” He dropped his stuff next to the couch and face planted into the cushions where Rhys had been only moments before. “I’d rather burn it all to the ground than go back. Shoot me out the nearest airlock, bro.”

Rhys smirked and squeezed his way in next to Vaughn on the couch. “I know what you mean. I’m sick to death of all these numbers.” He patted the beta’s leg and gave a gentle shake. “Hey, how about we blow off some steam at that new club you guys went to the other night?” Vaughn gave a huff into the cushions. “I’ve been dying of boredom all day here. I need to get out.”

Vaughn turned his head towards the omega, brows furrowed. “Sorry bro, count me out.” Rhys frowned. “I have to be in tomorrow. About…” He checked his watch and made an annoyed sound. “…eleven hours from now?”

Rhys sat up straighter at that, slightly excited. “What? Why? Are we back on normal schedule?” While initially excited that their opposite hours might finally be at an end, Rhys was loathe to surrender his friend to the day shift. It meant no night out.

Vaughn gave a sobbing groan. “Handsome Jack wants the numbers by Monday morning. Something about stock prices and stockholders… I’m gonna be pulling down overtime just to make that happen.”

Rhys patted the beta consolingly, trying to soothe away some of his distress. “Hmph. Alphas think they can do whatever they want.”

Vaughn snorted into the couch. “Don’t let Yvette hear you say that.”

“Though this is Handsome Jack we’re talking about,” Rhys allowed, getting another snort from the beta in his lap. “He can do whatever he wants.”

“I don’t have the energy to hear about your fantasies tonight, bro.” Rhys huffed and resisted the urge to push Vaughn off the couch at that, instead giving the beta an affectionate smack at the teasing. Vaughn tiredly snickered, making himself more comfortable on the omega’s long legs. "Yvette is still at the office.”

“What?” Rhys squawked, looking down in shock.

“She has to vet a lot of new personnel that came with the acquisition. Not all of them are happy about the merger…” Vaughn griped. “She’s about ready to take a page out of Handsome Jack’s book and vent them all.”

“Wow…”

“I mean, it would be less paperwork.”

“Wow bro.” Rhys chuckled a bit. “You are definitely in need of a night out if you’re talking like that.”

Vaughn didn’t argue the point, sighing instead and counting the hours of sleep he might achieve if he went to sleep without showering. “The only thing I need is a vacation. And about five millions years of sleep.” Rhys chuckled and patted him. “You work tomorrow?”

“I go in late, but yeah. Guess tomorrow night wouldn’t be good either, huh?”

Vaughn turned to angle a smile his way. “Bro, go check it out. Try their little purple martini things. You can afford to be a little hungover tomorrow.”

"By myself?”

“Well, as my boss owns me for the foreseeable future, I don’t know when the three of us will have time off at the same time to get there. It might be old news by then.”

“Hmph… I’d rather go together.” Rhys gave an annoyed whine at the prospect of being one of the only people in his department who hadn’t yet been. “But it does seem really cool.”

“Oh it was cool, I’ll definitely give it that. And I want to go back just for those drinks, let alone the seriously attractive people.” Vaughn’s voice was wistful, even if he was exhausted. There was obviously no hope of getting him to go with Rhys, though. “It was see and be seen, man.”

"Alright then, I’m going!” The omega decided, voice confident.

“Dress cool, bro. Because people there are definitely cool.”

"Got it!” Rhys’ voice was excited with anticipation, though he and Vaughn stayed where they sat. “You gonna get off me?”

“Eventually.”

They both laughed, and Rhys changed his clothes, forgoing a shower, and had Vaughn help him tie a very real tie. The beta asked him to please go home with someone instead of bringing them here (which made Rhys snort at the teasing) and Vaughn wished him luck.

–

It was maybe on the early side for clubbing by the time Rhys got himself to the swanky building with golden tiling, but it was as packed as Vaughn had said. Every open of the purple doors gave way to the bass of music and a cacophony of voices; revelers having a good time. And it was still early by clubbing standards. He wondered how it might get as the night progressed.

He approached the burly bouncer, taller and wider than himself, who stopped him before he even got to the door.

“Can’t go in.”

Rhys’ spirits sunk. “What? Why not?”

The wall of a man squinted down at Rhys, and the omega shrank in on himself just a little. “You need a mask.”

He wondered if he’d heard right. “I… what?”

“Tonight’s theme. Mystery,” the bouncer explained with a huff. “You can’t go in without a mask.”

Vaughn and Yvette had said nothing of theme nights, and it made him anxious as hell, right at the door but unprepared. “I… I don’t have one.”

The bouncer rolled his eyes at Rhys. The omega almost considered throwing it in for the night and just coming back with his friends, but after all the big talk to Vaughn, he couldn’t just leave. A little dignified bribery maybe, or some undignified crying…

“We have masks you can rent for the night. It’s an extra ten on top of cover.” The huge man moved, and behind him was an array of masks that had been hidden by his imposing body.

There was a good variety of colors and sizes. Small, eyes-only masks to large, elaborate masks which covered everything but the mouth. And all were covered in either glitter and gemstones or feathers.

Yeah, he’d heard nothing like this from Vaughn or Yvette.

Rhys reluctantly parted with his money, choosing a slender, red mask with black highlights which he promptly put over his eyes, and the man opened the door to Hyperion’s newest playground.

It smelled heavily of fruity liquids and the pervasive scent of beer as the warm air from indoors quickly met him. Different colored lights– soft in intensity but brilliant in color- splashed upon the walls and over the masked faces of fellow patrons. The bass of the music he’d heard from outside now thrummed right through his body, the movement from those on the dance floor being watched with interest from those in booths or standing. And everywhere, the aggressive persistence of pheromones from the mix of endotypes in the room swirled invitingly in his nostrils. His heart rate sped up as he inhaled in awe.

Rhys wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into, but he definitely wasn’t unhappy about it, that was for damn sure.

After gawking a few moments he made a beeline for the bar, squeezing in and gaining the attention of the pretty bartender with purple hair and red lipstick. He quickly spat out his order while he had the attention with what was surely an awkward, excited smile on his face.

“Can I get a beer please?” Start out easy and familiar. He still had work tomorrow. Work up to the special drinks.

Other patrons tried to wrest him out of the way to place orders, and he couldn’t be happier when his drink appeared and he squeezed out of the throng to accidentally bump into someone behind him.

“Well hello beautiful.” Rhys turned at the voice, looking for said gorgeous person. He met eyes with a blond haired man in a similar red mask with an angular face who keep his attention on the omega. “I heard attractive people were at this club but wow you’re something else.”

Rhys looked to either side of himself, grasping his beer like a lifeline as it registered. “M-me?”

His uncertainty got a laugh out of the man, grinning toothily as he nodded. "You’re a first timer too, huh?”

Rhys was flustered. Yeah, okay, he couldn’t fully see the man’s face, but nice jaw and pretty brown eyes and a smile for him wasn’t something he’d expected right off the bat. Beta too– possibly alpha- though it was hard to scent. This club must be magic. “Is it that obvious?”

The man laughed and extended his hand. “I’m Rich.”

“Are you now?” Rhys teased, patting himself on the back as the man laughed at his statement.

“Rich as in Richard.”

“You don’t go by Dick?” Rhys smirked playfully as the other man grinned.

“I don’t usually have to buy it.”

It was Rhys’ turn to laugh, and he put his mechanical hand into the other man’s. “Rhys.”

The man gave pause as he shook Rhys’ hand, but then smiled. “I was going to stay in tonight, but now I’m glad I didn’t.”

“I could say the same.” Rhys counted his lucky stars Vaughn had convinced him to go out, smiling at the blond before him. “It’s kind of early to be out, right? I didn’t think it would be this happenin’, but I’m glad I didn’t leave later.” He took a long draught of his beer with a smile, soaking up the atmosphere and his luck.

“So I couldn’t help noticing that arm– Mach 10?”

Rhys swallowed as he looked at his cybernetic. “Um, yeah, actually. It is.”

“Thought as much.” The beta smiled, eyeing it, and Rhys hoped he hadn’t attracted someone who was weird about cybernetics or some creepy fetishist. He’d learned the hard way to avoid that. Ugh. “Do you work in cybernetics?”

Rhys took a bigger drink of his beer, knowing he was going to need it if this turned out to be what he thought it was. Why assume he worked in cybernetics just because of his arm? Yeah, it wasn’t exactly an everyday sight, but still. Dammit, why couldn’t someone nice flirt with him?

“Uh, no actually,” he dismissed. “I work in propaganda and security.”

“Hm, figured. I would have definitely noticed you on our floor,” he stated with a smile. “We’ve had a lot of new people in and out in the last few weeks to test some new products. Can’t say you wouldn’t be a welcome distraction.”

Rhys inwardly sighed in relief. Okay, one of the cybernetics team then. Okay, that made sense. Of course he’d be on that. Not a creep. Good, good. “Gotta let off steam after this merger, right?”

“You’re slammed too?”

Rhys smiled a bit in relief that was to be short lived. Apparently the pharmaceuticals merger left no department untouched. “At least this place opened at just the right time.” Rhys tried to change the subject away from work specifically, and moreover from his arm. “I can’t believe all the rumors were true. And how about this theme night? Right?”

The beta acknowledged that he hadn’t heard of theme nights being a thing, but steered conversation right back to Rhys’ arm. The omega would rather they drop the topic, but his frown was overlooked.

“You know right now we’ve got the Mach 13, and it’s a lot smoother and streamlined than the 10.”

“Yeah, I know about that,” Rhys replied succinctly.

“The technology has advanced so much since previous models. You can take it off, right?”

Rhys bristled at such an intimate question. For working in cybernetics, this beta was demonstrating a serious lack of tact. “Yeah when I need to. It has an external charger.” He removed his attention from the beta, scanning the room for escapes. Maybe down the rest of his beer and lose himself on the dance floor. Find someone else to flirt with. Someone not focused on his arm.

“That would make an upgrade really easy for you then. Top of the line new tech is where it’s at.” The beta smiled, taking up Rhys’ hand in his and dragging a finger along his forearm very precisely. “See right here? There’s a new integrated system, you could have full control of the lights and sound in here.”

Rhys took his arm back against his chest defensively, a frown on his masked face. So his arm wasn’t top of the line. So what. It was his. He knew everything about it top to bottom, personal tweaks and upgrades included, and preferred it to the newer, flashier models.

This beta, however, seemed hell-bent to educate him in a manner he probably thought was showcasing his brilliance on technology. Rhys didn’t know if it was a cybernetics-department thing, or a him-thing, but this was so below acceptable it wasn’t even funny. Rhys thought he was behaving like a pompous ass, and had enough of being polite.

“…I need to move this way now,” he said in what he thought was obviously dismissive, moving away from the man back towards the bar.

Apparently not.

"Oh alright.” The beta followed him, not taking the brush off for what it was, and not shutting up as Rhys tried his best to maneuver through a thick crowd. “So you see, in the long run, too, the Mach 13 is far superior because…”

Rhys came to a dead-end where the dance floor and private booths bottle-necked. No way he would get through here fast enough for his brand of escape. And this guy would not take a hint. He was being loud as hell too, to be heard over the music, and it was making Rhys incredibly self-conscious. Now would normally be the time one of his friends swooped in to save him, but no, he’d had to go out alone.

“I happen to work for sales you know, maybe I could get you one….”

Rhys rolled his eyes with a laugh of disbelief. Why had this man decided to monopolize his time? Other alphas and betas that spared a glance his way also roved over the beta in his space, and then dismissed him for being with the man.

His night was headed south with some over-zealous tech-geek intent on shaming his current cybernetics. Maybe he should just give up and go home. Come back some other time with Vaughn and Yvette. He didn’t want to leave, but this was ridiculous.

“I know some of the older models are directly mounted to the skeleton… makes it a bit… awkward, right? But it would be a piece of cake to get a Mach 13 on you, absolutely.”

Rhys couldn’t bristle any further than he currently was, about to tell the guy right where he could shove his Mach 13 when a smooth, self-assured voice came up behind him.

“Hey sugar. There was a big line at the bar. Were you waiting long?” A man in a purple mask slid an arm around Rhys’ waist and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. Strong alpha scent flooded his nostrils and nearly wiped his mind of his foul mood at the pleasing musk.

Rhys was too shocked to correct the stranger budged up against him, and knew he was flushing deeply as the beta before him was gaping, trying to form words. The man next to him smelled absolutely amazing though, the hand at his lower back making the hackles on the back of Rhys’ neck stand up.

This alpha was powerful; dangerous. There was no doubt in his mind, instincts screaming it at him. But Rhys remained glued to the spot, looking between the beta who couldn’t take no for an answer, and what was clearly an alpha that took no shit with his hand resting lazily upon Rhys’ hip.

The beta stuttered a few incoherent words before making a hasty retreat, probably realizing the danger the same as Rhys had, and the alpha snickered. A grin with teeth was aimed at the retreating man’s back, and Rhys felt relief melt through him even as his body was on alert.

The alpha removed his hand and turned his smirk on the omega, the white of his teeth stark against the purple and gemstones of the mask half-covering his face. “You looked like you needed an out there, cupcake.”

Rhys rubbed the hairs at the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, I really really did. Thanks for that. He, uh, wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Frikkin’ grade-A creeper material. Who even does that?” the alpha said with disgust in the direction the beta had retreated. He turned back on Rhys. “Got a name, sweet thing?”

“Uh, Rhys.”

“Well, Uh, Rhys,” the man teased, his mouth splitting to a truly attractive grin, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Rhys couldn’t believe how quickly his night just turned around. He hadn’t hoped on picking someone up tonight at all, and while the first had been a bust, this alpha seemed promising. He smelled fantastically gorgeous, even if he could see less of his face than the beta, and he’d scared off said creeper. And now this great-smelling alpha wanted to buy him a drink.

Vaughn would never believe him.

“Is that a no, cupcake?” The man was grinning again, and Rhys’ face was burning.

“Sorry, I, yes, please. That would be- That would be so great.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Oh anything is fine by me,” he said, trying to be accommodating to the alpha who’d already done him one favor tonight.

"Gin?” The man asked. Rhys pulled a face, and he laughed. “’Anything’ my ass. I’m trying to impress you here, pumpkin. What would you like? Really?”

Rhys’ eyes locked on a drink in someone’s hand, not knowing what it was, but that he definitely wanted to try it. “Well, I heard their little purple cocktails are something to be had.”

The man smirked but didn’t judge his choice. “Coming right up, kitten.”

Rhys still couldn’t believe his luck, oogling the alpha from behind as he quickly got the omega the club signature drink. Now there was an ass, and he was broad in the shoulders in a way that made Rhys’ loins tighten. What would it be like for an alpha that big to push him down into bed? To get that strong, powerful scent all over him? Those white teeth biting at his skin?

The man came back with Rhys’ drink in his hand and a flute of something bubbly in the other, and handed it to the omega fighting off impure thoughts. “What do you say we grab a table, Rhysie?”

Hearing his name run playfully off the alpha’s tongue made delight run up his spine, but he tried to play it cool. "It’s so crowded in here, you think we’ll find one?”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.”

The alpha must have had connections or something to secure them one of the only tables with a “reserved” sign sitting on it. It was a private table in the corner, with a good view of the dance floor but high booth walls where you could have a conversation without being overheard. He wondered just who the man under that mask was, and again thrilled at his turn of events.

Rhys didn’t know what kind of luck he had as he slid into the booth. Private tables were the very definition of expensive, and the alpha at his side was obviously at ease with the novelty of such luxury, spread out comfortably in the space. Vaughn would surely never believe him.

Maybe this was his reward for enduring the beta from earlier. As he happily sipped on his fruity purple cocktail, a waitress brought a bottle of extremely expensive champagne to the table that made Rhys’ eyes nearly bug out. The alpha sipped from his own flute, unconcerned with the bottle, his attention on Rhys.

“That a Mach 10?” the man asked of Rhys’ arm, and the omega slightly cringed as he was brought back to reality.

“Y…yeah.”

“Nice. Those things were hell to stabilize and the mount wasn’t a one-hundred percent survival rate. You’re tough stuff, kitten.” Rhys felt himself blush at that.

“I…I didn’t know that, actually.”

“The 10s are hardy as hell though. Don’t upgrade until the shells on the newer models are fixed. The 14s are pretty badass but those aren’t out to the public yet,” he whispered with a wink. “Was it optional, or…”

“Oh uh… Yeah, had the old one chopped off.”

The alpha whistled lowly. “You are my kind of badass, baby.”

Rhys smirked into his cocktail at that, the man at his side changing topics already and filling his cocktail glass with champagne when he’d finished it. A pleasant buzz went through him that complemented the alpha’s confident voice, the champagne crisp on his tongue and the man’s scent heady in his nostrils.

The alpha asked him about himself, his interests, if this was his first time at this club and if he’d been there for Badasses night, and if he had any other ink than the tattoo that peeked out of his shirt.

Rhys was cheeky, and showed the man a bit of skin for the top of his chest tattoo. The alpha whistled again and asked what his chances of seeing the whole thing was, his face close enough to Rhys’ ear that the omega could feel the warmth of his breath. The alpha smelled musky and powerful, enticing. If Rhys was leaning into him a bit closer than necessary, he’d blame it on the loud music and trying to hear, the blush on his face surely from alcohol.

The alpha had the same idea, a large, warm hand on the omega’s thigh and a nose pressed daringly into the side of his throat, scenting him. Rhys hoped he couldn’t scent that he was making him leak slick, everything about the stranger just melding with his wants on an atomic level.

He could blame it on the music and the lights and the booze and the atmosphere, but truthfully, the alpha’s scent was completely his undoing. It would be a lie to say otherwise.

“What do you say we take this elsewhere, kitten?”

Rhys gulped at the hand on his thigh, his cock at half mast for some time now flexing in agreement. The other man ran his tongue along the shell of Rhys’ ear and it got a gasped sigh of want.

“You can say no, you know.”

Yes yes yes, that’s what Rhys’ brain was saying, and holy crap he was curious as to what the alpha looked like under that mask. If he looked even half as good as his scent smelled, then Rhys knew he had a winner.

He was leaning into the alpha’s mouth pressed hot against the side of his throat, a hand over the one the man was squeezing his thigh with. He whined as that hand delved towards inner thigh, intent on moving where he really wanted it, when the alpha’s comm went off.

He paused to answer it, his expression going from lustful to dark in a moment, and Rhys’ heart sank with alarm.

“Fuck. Sorry kitten, this isn’t happening tonight.”

Rhys didn’t have too long to be disappointed as the alpha peeled off the champagne label and removed a pen from somewhere on his person, quickly scribbling on it before shoving it on the omega.

“Here’s my number. Use it. I’ll expect a call tomorrow. Catch you later, sweet thing.”

Rhys was left to the bottle of champagne and the entire booth as the man quickly disappeared into the crowd to leave the building. He was dumbfounded by the exchange, if not hopeful.

He was also trapped by the insistent bulge jutting from his pants, and knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere until he calmed down sufficiently. He laughed at himself as he sat there a while and finished off the bottle of champagne, wondering drunkenly just how far he might have let the stranger take things. Would he have let him jerk him off right here at this table? Probably. It was dark and private enough. And shit it had been a long time since he’s gotten laid.

Rhys laughed again as a waitress came by to remove empty glasses and napkins, and asked if there wasn’t anything she could get him on the table’s tab. Rhys smirked, but no, there was nothing she could give that he wanted at the moment.

He enjoyed watching the club become even more crowded with masked faces as he sat there in a pleasant drunken haze, deciding that maybe he had had enough fun for the evening. Time to call it a night, and look forward to a rendezvous with the stranger he’d met another time.

Rhys’ smile fell and his stomach dropped as he looked at the table.

The paper was gone. The number on the champagne label– he didn’t remember what it had been. Shit. The waitress had probably cleared the bit of trash away, when she’d came by. There was no getting it back, that was a fact. Dammit, he didn’t even ask the man’s name.

Rhys peeled himself out of the booth, leaving his mask and making his way for home, a bit distraught. That alpha had smelled like everything he’d ever want to sink his teeth into with a scent he could get drunk off.  And he hadn’t even gotten a name.

Maybe he could go back to the club in the hopes of seeing the alpha again. He did say he’d been there for, what was it? Badasses night? Maybe he liked themes.

Rhys hoped on that thought, rather than the likelihood that he’d never see the man again.

Oh how he wished he’d asked for his name.

— the other half (chapter 2) can be found on my ao3 here :)

[tigerheart450]

What’s Your Opinion?

Thank you for reading my reports, essays on serial killers so far. This time to understand other audiences I’m going to write a three part essay to three different audiences. The three I want to write to are the musicians, sports people, and surfer dude.

Does Music Help Us Understand People

On a serious note (see what I did there), I would like to talk a little on serial killers. I know why would we want to discuss this topic, well because if we want to understand the world around us, we must understand the people. Everyone and everything has a certain music to it which you can hear or understand if you aren’t paying attention. 

 We all have a certain music to us, where sometimes it’s playing a major key or in a minor key. It’s just that some people have more light than others and some are just all dark, it all depends on what piece you are playing. When we are first born we all have a perfect, bright music, all the instruments playing their part, everyone in sync but then life comes in and starts changing the music. Serial killers usually have had something that has happened to them to change their music to a very dark and scary song. Usually they have been abused physically and emotionally, some have even been tortured by their mothers. They are compelled or they have a feeling that they eventually can’t control to kill those that they should love (and strangers) because of a fear of rejection, just like how their mothers abandoned them in their early age. “Such fear of rejection may compel a fledgling serial killer to want to eliminate any objects of his affections. He may come to believe that by destroying the person he desires prior to entering into a relationship with them, he can eliminate the frightening possibility of being abandoned, humiliated or otherwise hurt by someone he loves, as he was in childhood.” This being said their music starts to become distorted and falling apart until eventually it becomes the most disturbing and gross music ever, their music starts to feel disconnected.

They have said that serial killers have a missing link in their head which stops them from being able to empathize and feel guilt for what they have done or they are missing a few instruments in their orchestra of the mind. This being said, not everyone who has been through trauma in their childhood becomes a serial killer but those who have become serial killers the trauma did seem to contribute to their need, compulsion to kill. You might ask well what about all the other kids who have gone through abuse and haven’t turned into serial killers or what “if 100 kids grow up in an abusive foster home, and one turns out to be a serial killer – what about the other 99?”  Ultimately you have to come to a conclusion that serial killers choose to act on their compulsion, it’s like an itch that won’t be satisfied until it is scratched. 

Serial killers are bad people who do bad things to people. They are like the music in a horror movie, where when you hear it you know something terrible is about to happen. Please be careful out there in the world, pay attention and listen, stay safe.

Bonn, Scott A. “Understanding What Drives Serial Killers.” Psychology Today, Sussex Publishers, 15 September 2019, https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/wicked-deeds/201909/understanding-what-drives-serial-killers

Conray, J Oliver. “What makes a serial killer?” The Guardian, 10 August 2018, https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/aug/10/what-makes-a-serial-killer

Goals of Not

How are serial killers like sports you might ask well because they are playing a game they can’t stop and don’t want to stop. This game being killing people and the main player usually being a white male. When your on the field with your team and when you spend that time working with your team they become your brothers or sisters. A bond is formed between players which can’t be broken and you become family. Do you know that feeling of trust and love. That feeling, serial killers don’t have. To understand this a little more I’ll share a few quotes from Ted Bundy "I didn't know what made people want to be friends. I didn't know what made people attractive to one another. I didn't know what underlay social interactions." Usually we as people try to build those relationships while they don’t. "I don't feel guilty for anything. I feel sorry for people who feel guilt." He and others, are psychopaths or as they put it “a callous, exploitive individual with blunted emotions, impulsive inclinations and an inability to feel guilt or remorse.” Actually they say that serial killers have a missing connection in their brains, it’s like in football, where if I were to throw you a pass that has a perfect spiral and is coming straight towards you but before it reaches your hands it falls just a little short, never reaches you. That's what happens in its brain. 

The disconnection in the brain seems to be between the amygdala and the ventromedial prefrontal cortex (vmPFC). I know super confusing, don’t worry I looked it up so you don’t have to. The amygdala is involved in the experiencing of emotion, survival instincts, and memory, it’s also responsible for making responses to avoid things that make you unhappy, worry, etc.  While the ventromedial prefrontal cortex is responsible for processing risk and fear. These two parts of the brain, which any normal human being would have to help avoid things that could harm them, yet serial killers don’t feel that fear, they are fearless. Would definitely not want someone like that on my team, a narcissistic jerk who believe that there is only I in team. Have you ever had someone like that? Who believes and acts like their are the best and is mean to everyone else. Those people are so annoying. 

What scares the crap out of me though is to realize  that there are these kind of people out there (sadistic and narcissistic), which are sometimes closer than you think, that kill without regret without fear of the consequences. What’s even scarier is that it could be a family member, friend, neighbor, or even a coworker and you wouldn’t even know it. That they have learned how to appear like a regular human being during the day but then be this monster at night. Like how I said in the beginning serial killers are usually white males who like to hunt their prey (usually young women). They do it for the thrill of the hunt and they take trophies from their prey, like how you would take antlers after killing a deer. I hope none of us ever meet a serial killer.

Brogaard, Berit. “The Making of a Serial Killer.” Psychology Today, Sussex Publishers, 7 December 2012

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-superhuman-mind/201212/the-making-serial-killer

Harrison, Marissa A., et al. “Sex Differences in Serial Killers.” Evolutionary Behavioral Sciences, vol. 13, no. 4, Oct. 2019, pp 295-310. EBSCOhost, doi: 10. 1037/ebs0000157.

Surf The Ocean of Darkness

Dude you won’t believe what I just found out, sharks are just like serial killers. I know it’s totally kook bro. These researchers or whatever said that “ sharks do not attack their prey at random, but stalk specific victims, lurking out of sight. The sharks hang back and observe from a not-too-close, not-too-far base, and hunt strategically. They prefer prey animals that are young and alone, then typically strike from below, and try to attack when no competing sharks are in their territory. Older sharks are stealthier and more successful than younger sharks, indicating that these oceanic predators, like their human counterparts, learn from experience and improve their hunting technique over time.” Apparently they are just super dangerous and attack without warning. Do you even know what a serial killer is? It this person or persons who killed three or more people over time, where they kill then cool off and then kill again, they are totally gnarly bro. These people are just crazy brah, can you believe that they just do it for the thrill of the hunt because they get bored easily, they just need to chill and calm down. If they are so bored they should just get amped about these waves and come to the beach. It’s way better than going out killin people. 

You know how the ocean gives us things such as shells and shark teeth, among other things? Yea well serial killers also pick up things like that except from them, they pick things up from their victims and I guess they call them souvenirs or trophies. These trophies can range from jewelry, clothing to the organs of a person or other body parts. Serial killers are so sick in the head that they sometimes drink their victims blood or eat parts of their body. The scary thing is that unlike sharks which when you see the fin you know what it is but a serial killer can seem just like you or I, a normal human being. He’s usually a white male in his 20s to 40s, a loner and to everyone else he seems intelligent and charming. Dude do you know anyone like that? I can’t think of anyone. That’s funny dude, just then I sounded like a news reporter.

“Not all psychopaths are serial killers, but all serial killers are psychopaths.” I found this quote and thought it was interesting. Did you know that apparently psychopaths and psychotics are different? Psychopaths know exactly what they are doing they are “... driven, focused, and can have little remorse in their quest for success—but they don’t kill (usually).” While psychotics have lost touch with reality. They are all just crazy up in the noggin. In court they can’t us psychopathy as an insanity plea because they are using their will (consciously choosing) to kill others. They are definitely not gnarly dude but plain crazy, not going to hang with them in the water later. Brah did you want to go surfing later? Sweet.

Miller, Laurence. “Serial Killers: I. Subtypes, Patterns, and Motives.” Aggression and Violent Behavior, vol. 19, no. 1, Jan. 2014, pp. 1–11. EBSCOhost, doi:10.1016/j.avb.2013.11.002

Nixon, Eli. “10 Chilling Glimpses Into The Minds And Lives Of Serial Killers.” List Verse, 30 August 2019, https://listverse.com/2015/07/23/10-chilling-glimpses-into-the-minds-and-lives-of-serial-killers/

[m-a-cpoetry]

Mad World

Sometimes bad things happen to good people. That’s what we say to keep ourselves sane, well mostly sane… hopefully sane. Crazy is a word that flies around more often than not. How do you know if you’re crazy? If I’m crazy, how would I know that I’m crazy? I couldn’t know… because I’d be crazy. Crazy’s a harsh word. I think I would prefer “mentally ill”, maybe “unstable”. That is, of course, if I was any of those things, which I’m not. I think some might take one look at me, with my cuts, bruises, matted hair, bloodshot eyes, ripped hospital dress, and think “Someone call the crazy police, she’s clearly just escaped from an institution”. Which, I guess, is technically true.

My story started off pretty normal, I suppose. I lived in New York City, which was my first mistake (just too darn expensive), and worked as a writer for a small newspaper company, my second mistake. I lived in an apartment that was too small and cost way too much. I barely had enough money to pay the water bill, let alone feed myself. But there’s something special about the first place you can really call your own home. The chipping paint on the wall, the creaky floorboards, the loud neighbors. It soon became endearing, charming little flaws. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with it. My job was… arduous, to say the least. It seemed as though it was a breeding ground for incompetence. All of the stupid in the world was gathered up here and distributed evenly between the higher-ups. But dreams are dreams, and I wanted to be a journalist in NYC, so I did what I had to do. On the very special day of November 27th, I was given an assignment that would change my life forever… and not in the good kind of way. My boss, Mr. James (the most sinfully boring man I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. I’m not even sure he had a brain), told me I was to write a piece on the North Shore Wellness Facility in some backwater hick town in Montana. I was to dig up dirt by “any means necessary” (punctuated by spittle flying from Mr. James’ mouth). Montana? Really? I accepted, of course. How could I not? Rent was due in less than a week and if I remember correctly, I had maybe $4. I really had no other choice. My airfare and hotel were to be taken care of. It was supposed to be a nice little relaxing trip. I get to stay in a nice hotel and do a little investigating. What could possibly go wrong?

Apparently, a lot could go wrong. Everything could go wrong. Everything did go wrong. The day I arrived in Montana was disastrous. Well, not disastrous. Looking back at it now, I realize how small my problems were. I have much bigger problems now. First, my plane was delayed. Something about the weather or the engine, truth be told I wasn’t paying attention. A big problem of mine, actually. I should pay more attention, maybe that could have helped. Anyways, my plane was delayed. I put up a big fuss about it too, in a very “let me speak to the manager soccer mom” type way. I explained in the rudest of tones to the airline lady that I was a big important writer (false) and I was having a very important meeting (not true) and my boss was going to have her head (just a blatant lie). She tried her best to get me onto another flight, but this was the only one. Eventually, I boarded and was on my way to Sweet Home Montana. I don’t remember the flight too much. I don’t remember who I was sitting next to. I don’t remember what the flight attendant looked like. However, I do remember someone giving out free drinks. I only had… 5? No, 10. At most, 15. Needless to say, I really wasn’t paying attention now. I arrived at my hotel at around 2:30 PM, only to find no reservation under my name. No reservation under the company’s name. In fact, no reservation made in the past 2 days. The entire hotel, except for the most expensive suite, was filled. I put up less of a fuss this time, truthfully there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t afford the most expensive suite, Mr. James wasn’t picking up, and wait, get this, I left my wallet on the plane. Not only did I not have enough money for the hotel room, now I had no money at all! And if that just doesn’t just butter your biscuit, the “wellness facility” I was investigating was a 7 mile walk away. Being the hardy woman I am, I hiked up my skirt and began my trek. I only complained maybe 1 thousand times. I’m sure God has a good sense of humor, but this next part was just cruel. When I was about 4 miles in, it began to rain. Rain! It was raining. For 3 miles I walked in that rain. When I finally arrived at my destination, I was drenched in cold water and shivering. My make up was streaming down my face and my hair was in disarray. Overall, I looked very well prepared for my meeting.

The building wasn’t quite extraordinary on the outside. It was a large brick building surrounded by a high chain link fence. The fence in particular was something I wish I had payed attention to. If I had taken the time, I would’ve notice the bits of hospital gown stuck in the barbed wire adorning the top, I would’ve notice the scratch marks along the chains, I would’ve noticed the many man-made holes that had to be repaired, I would’ve noticed. Maybe if I had noticed, things would be different, better. But I didn’t notice. Instead, I sauntered up the steps to that lovely brick hell-house and knocked on the door. And I knocked again. And a third time. Finally, the sound of deadbolts being unlocked filled my ears. A very unhappy looking middle aged nurse peaked her head out and grumbled something at me. It was probably a “Go away”. Wish I had. I explained that I had an appointment with the head of the facility, a Dr. Carson. The nurse gave an affirmative grumble and opened up the door up wide. I got a look into the long hallway before me. I saw the dingy yellow walls, I saw the old checkered floor, I saw the flickering fluorescent lights, I saw the rows and rows of steel doors. I saw all of this, but I wasn’t looking. I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t see the scratch marks leading down the hall, I didn’t see the suspicious looking red stain, I didn’t see. I didn’t even think, I just walked right in. I sealed my fate in less than 3 seconds. I changed my life forever in the blink of an eye.

My lovely little nurse companion led me down the hall with a gruff “Don’t touch anything!”. As we walked, inmates (I mean patients) glanced at us through the small, barred window on their doors. I couldn’t help but notice the emotion in their eyes. They reminded me much of the old dogs at the pound. They’re tired and sad. They’re beaten and broken. It’s almost as if they know their time is limited. The clock is running out. This might’ve been the first thing I truly took notice of, but it was too late to get myself out of this mess. I was led to Dr. Carson’s office. It was a quaint looking place, very orderly. Dr. Carson resembled this as well. She was an older looking woman. Her slightly graying hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She wore high collared, neutral colored clothing. Her thin lips were pulled into an almost too big smile. A type of smile that affects the entire face. It should’ve put me at peace, but a glance into her eyes told a different story. Her eyes were blank, void of life, void of cheer. I don’t know how someone could look so warm, yet so cold. She greeted me with a kind, over-enthusiastic voice. Talked about how happy she was to have me. How much I was going to learn. I was slightly confused, but whatever, she seemed nice. I was going to get a fat paycheck from this, so if I have to sit through weird small talk, I’ll do it. I just nodded along and let the woman talk. It wasn’t until I heard a “We’re so happy you’re going to be staying with us” that I started paying attention. When I questioned what in the world she might be talking about, she replied in a clear and calm voice.

“Well you’re our newest patient and we’re just so excited to have you!”

I was confused, obviously. I went on to tell her that I was actually a reporter. A mistake was made. I am not insane. She replied that I was obviously a reporter, hmm of course. She simply forgot. Her response made me squint my eyes. Why would she suddenly change her story?

It was on the tour of the facility that things went a little haywire. After showing me around, we stopped at a door. Me, thinking it was some sort of special door or something important she was trying to show me, waited for her to open it. She did open it and made a gesture for me to go in. Now, I have done many stupid things in my life, but this one was pretty bad. I knew this woman thought I was insane and now she’s ushering me into a cell, yes, definitely go on in. I walked into this dark dank hole, like a fool, and was subsequently locked in. Of course. Of course. It’s like in the movie when the character says “things couldn’t possibly get worse” and then they’re hit by a bus. I rushed to the door of my own personal prison and peaked through the small barred window. I watched Dr. Carson’s retreating form. As I yelled and begged for her to return and free me, she looked at me over her shoulder and smirked. They couldn’t really keep me in here, could they? They would never lock a sane person in here. And yet... they did. I’m locked in a cage. Would they even believe me if I told them I wasn’t crazy? Crazy people always say they're not crazy. It was then that I felt as though my life was ending. It was then that I realized things were not okay. It was then that I sat on the cold floor of my cell and cried. I cried for myself. I cried for my life that was ending. I cried for my future that was canceled. I cried for my crappy little apartment. I cried for my horrible coworkers. I even cried for terrible Mr. James.

I was locked in that cage for days, weeks, maybe months. I was lucky to get food during that time. I was even luckier if the food wasn’t terribly rotten. I spent my days staring at the door, waiting for it to open (it rarely did). The only times I was permitted to leave me cell was for a “shower” and outdoor time. They would forcibly strip us down and pile all the patients in one big shower room. We were then blasted with scalding hot water. Once a month, we were taken into the courtyard. I feel as though they only did this to break our spirits. During this time, we could see how trapped we were. We could see the gate surrounding the building. We could see the vast wilderness surrounding us. We could see how utterly alone we were, how no one was coming for us. Many attempted to escape over the fence, they never made it. The next month, those who tried to escape would not return for outdoor time. I’m not quite sure what happened to them, but sometimes in the night, screams could be heard. Heart-wrenching screams, screams of pure pain. I didn’t know what was happening to these people, but I couldn’t imagine it was pleasant. I lost track of night and day while I was in that hole. I lost track of time. I just waited, waited for someone to come and save me. No one came. No one came for months, years maybe. I’m not sure how much time I lost. The thought of escape was never in my head. I heard how they tortured those who tried. My last outdoor time is something that I will never forget. It started off normally, we were all herded out into the chilly morning air. It was winter, I suppose. I stood in the back, trying to stay close to the warm building. Suddenly, shouts erupted. A patient, a young looking man, was scaling the wall. Attached to his foot was an orderly (a fancy term for crazy police). The orderly was frantically pulling him back to the ground. The young man struggled valiantly. At moments, I thought he might escape. I hoped he might escape. But he was weak, we all were. He never had a chance, it wasn’t a fair fight. He was thrown to the ground. The orderly’s large foot connected with his rib cage. The sounds of bone breaking filled the courtyard. The hits continued to land. The orderly was on a rampage, he was possessed by anger. He just kept hitting, and hitting, and hitting, and hitting, even after the young man stopped struggling. He kept hitting until the young man stopped breathing. Blood was all around, it coated the ground in a thick red blanket. It covered the guard's hands and feet, it was splattered on his face. There are few words that describe the terror I felt at this moment. There are no words that can convey my dread. It was in that moment, after seeing someone brutally murdered, that I realized what my end looked like. No one was coming for me, if I try to escape I will be killed, if I don’t escape I’m going to die. I’m going to die. This is when my escape plot began. There were only two options here, death or freedom. If they’re going to kill me anyway, what do I have to lose?  I mean being tortured doesn’t sound fun, but I’m ignoring that.

My plan was well thought out, I suppose. I timed the orderly’s patrolling the halls, I found a way to get out of my cell, I consulted other patients during outdoor time, I tried my best. I did the best I could. My escape went well, until the end. That night I waited until the orderly’s had passed to sneak out of my cell. The latch that closes the slot at the bottom of my door was loose. A few swift kicks had it flying open. Through sheer force of will, I managed to push myself out of that small opening. This is where things got tricky. It had been a while since I saw the whole of the building, so I had to do some guessing. I had originally planned to run out the front door because it was the least guarded from the outside. The fence did not surround the front, so if I made it out that door, all I had to do was run. I made my way to the front door, where almost 7 orderlies stood. They immediately spotted me. I turned on my heel and booked it in the other direction. I ran frantically looking for any escape. I saw a door slightly opened and immediately ran towards it. It turned out to be a staircase and I started climbing. I ran up the stair as quickly as I could with orderlies right on my tail. I continued to run until I made it to the roof. I was cornered like a frightened animal and they stalked me like predators. I backed up until I hit the edge of the roof. I looked down. The fall would certainly kill me. It could be a quick death. Suddenly, an orderly made a grab at me. I jerked back on instinct. The heel of my foot slipped off the edge of the building. In an instant I was falling. The fall was quick, the feeling of weightlessness surrounded me. The wind whipped my hair, my clothes. And I hit the ground with a loud thud. In my last moments, I looked at what surrounded me, I had landed in the courtyard. The body of the young man sat near me. His flesh was rotten and slipping off his bones. Maggots ate away at what little was left. But his eyes. His eyes were still there. They were open and looking at me. His intense stare was focused on me. With a grunt, I hauled my broken body off the ground. I dragged myself over to him and collapsed by his side. I covered his eyes with my hand and put him to an eternal rest. I laid beside him and let sleep overtake me. As I drifted off, I realized, we were free.

-M.A.C.