#Home gets my pity vote for this

[kairithemang0]

This is me yelling at you to listen to Home from the Notebook LISTEN TO IT I BEG YOU PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEEEEE

[frances-baby-houseman]

I would have bled out in the parking lot

Amber Nicole Thurman's death is on Trump's hands

Bess Kalb

Sep 17

In 2019, about six weeks after my first child was born, I found myself on the bathroom floor in a small, but nonetheless unsettling puddle of blood.

“Oh no,” I remember thinking. “I just did the laundry.”

I called out my husband’s name, but the sound caught in my throat. The pain I felt inhaling to get enough air out of my lungs to yell the two syllables in “Char-lie” jabbed my guts like a bicycle spoke to the abdomen.

So I was quiet, trying to keep breathing in a way that didn’t move anything inside me, and the pain pulsed a bit, then steadied, then dulled, then evaporated into whatever hell ether it came from.

Because there is no G-d (unless there is, in which case I abbreviated His name so as not to desecrate it, and also thank you, King of the Universe, for subscribing to this newsletter) this was the one time in my life I hadn’t brought my phone with me to the bathroom.

I decided to sort of slither-lumber to the door like a lame harbor seal, because I didn’t want to stand and loosen the spoke that had just stabbed me. I reached for the knob and let the door creak open.

The cat was there, looking at me right at eye level, keenly aware what was happening, and completely unmoved by it.

“You are dying,” he blinked, “Pity. Have a nice time.” He sashayed away.

Fortunately, our house in Los Angeles was small enough that from the bathroom door one could see everything. My husband was sitting on the couch with our infant, and I knocked on the open door to summon him. Within one one thousandth of a second, he set the baby on the (since-recalled) donut pillow and was holding my head.

I sat up. I breathed. No pain. I took a picture of the bloody mess on my husband’s phone, texted it to myself, he found my phone, then I texted the picture to my OBGYN.

Apologies for being graphic, but within the puddle there was something roughly the size and shape and color of a fig.

“Is this ok?” I said to my doctor, the bicycle spoke scraping lightly at my insides again from all the lumbering.

“Come in,” she replied.

Within two hours, I was in the waiting room of her office, accompanied by my terrified but SMILING mother, who was still, as is the Jewish custom, in town for “a few days or so” after the birth.

An ultrasound which felt like the finger of Satan himself revealed there was retained placenta in my uterus. If I hadn’t come in, there would have been more hemorrhaging, then sepsis, then whatever the cat foretold.

The next day, I was in surgery getting a Dilation and Curettage.

I went home, pumped the anesthesia milk, then fell asleep perfectly fine, my sweet newborn cooing merrily in the bassinet next to his alive mother.

Amber Nicole Thurman’s story was the same as mine, but it happened to her in Georgia in 2024, not California in 2019. She was a Black woman in a healthcare system that disproportionately kills Black women, especially postpartum. In 2021, the Black maternal mortality rate was nearly three times the rate it is for white women. Post-Roe, the toll is and will continue to be staggering.

Because post-Roe, the procedure that saved my life, the D&C, is something doctors cannot perform in states where matters of life and death have been left up to non-medical Christian-supremacist superstitions.

I know the pain Amber Thurman felt when that placenta dislodged and carved its tiny, treacherous hole in her uterine wall. I know the terror she felt when she saw the blood, and the rush of dread when she thought of what her child would do without her.

And when I vote in November for Kamala Harris and every progressive down-ballot candidate, I will do it because she can’t. And I will do it so that women in Georgia and Idaho and Texas and North Dakota and South Dakota and Utah, Arizona, Nebraska Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Florida, South Carolina, and West Virginia won’t have to meet the same completely preventable doom.

This election isn’t just about Amber Thurman. Every day of my lucky, breathing life is about Amber Thurman. Because the only thing that separates us, is one of us bled out under the right Supreme Court.

Let’s raise absolute federal hell about it.

-- From Bess Kalb's newsletter The Grudge Report. I pay for this substack -- though it's free-- and think this is a message worth sharing far beyond her newsletter.

[dollfaceksj]

I'm gonna cry if he's mean to her 😭 she would definitely deserve it, I just wouldn't like it though

:)

a/n: early cal update bc i won’t be able to post this weekend. 🫶🏽

can’t afford love | myg (m) #22

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

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WHAT DO YOU DO?

“I don’t want to be alone.” — 91,4%

GO HOME ALONE — 8,6%

382 votes

you chose:

“I don’t want to be alone.”

↓

“i don’t want to be alone.”

you say it without even glancing at him

scared of

rejection? disbelief? annoyance?

and in your peripherals you see yoongi typing away on his phone

doesn’t even glance your way

immersed in his phone

you awkwardly scratch at the back of your head

wondering why he’s straight up ignoring you

well

girl…

clearly you’ve forgotten about what the hell he confronted you with before leaving for the hospital

he has every right to just not be in the mood to even deal with you

so what if you don’t want to be alone?

he definitely didn’t want to be slapped in the face with that revelation from earlier but you still did it

“yoongi?” you say, quietly, hoping to grab his attention

but he simply keeps typing

doesn’t glance your way

you swallow your pride and reach for the door handle, opening up the car door

the sound of his belt unbuckling and snapping back in place takes you by surprise

you turn to look at him and he’s preparing to get out of the car as well

you decide not to comment on it as you get out and close the car door quietly

make your way home

with yoongi in your wake.

with your shoes kicked off by the door and your clothes messily thrown over your dresser, you slide into your pajamas

yoongi’s still on his phone, sitting on your bed

you know you deserve a cold shoulder but damn

you glance at him before getting into your bed, turning your back to him

you’re not sure he even wants to look at you

but then again, why did he decide to stay the night?

is it pity?

you suppose it is

cause if you’ve ever seen yoongi pissed off it was earlier today

“yoongi,” you say, trying to catch his attention yet again

this time he simply hums in response

you ask, “what are you doing?”

…

no response whatsoever

you frown at the wall

(since your back is turned to him)

“yoon–”

“give me a second, will you?”

oh

okay

he sounds a bit irritated

but that’s the least he should be

he has every right to scream your head off

and yet, all thats coming out of his mouth are words laced with annoyance

he’s been on his phone since you got out of the car

who is he talking to?

is he ignoring you or is he really just preoccupied?

but who could he be texting this late at night?

you can’t help but be curious

“who are you even talking to?”

and why are you ignoring me?

no, not why

you know why

and he has every right to be mad at you

“my boss, y/n. jesus.”

his boss?

why is he talking to his boss?

at this time of–

oh

oh.

is he

asking

for a day off tomorrow?

he took out his phone the moment you told him you didn’t want to be alone

has he been trying to get a day off? is that why his nose has been buried in his phone?

he finally locks his phone with a click and rises to his feet. “goodnight.”

you suppose he’s going to take the couch

“wait,” you call out, back still turned to him.

you hear him halt in his tracks, waiting for you to say whatever it is you need to tell him

“sleep here,” you pause. “with me.”

you almost choke as you try to get the words out

it makes you so nervous

will he think it’s a bad idea?

will he comply?

will he tell you that–

a few more moments until the bed besides you dips a bit deeper

okay

he’s in bed with you

back to yours

so close

yet soooo far

it feels like there’s a brick wall with a girth worth of 5 meters

he sighs quietly and rubs his eyes.

takes a deep breath before he says, “let’s talk.”

you’re quiet for a moment

simply staring at the wall

trying to steady your breathing

you begin, “what do you want to talk abo–”

“don’t piss me off.”

alright

you guess you deserved that one

you sigh quietly and turn onto your back to stare at the ceiling. “i’m sorry.”

he doesn’t respond

“i was selfish. what i did was selfish.”

again, no response

it’s quiet between you two

real quiet

until he finally speaks. “can i be shallow for a second?”

huh?

“oh,” you mumble. “go ahead.”

“you know,” he starts, “i married you not only because i liked you so much but because i thought you were the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

he continues, “well, in all honesty, i still do.” he doesn’t move, just continues to give you his cold back. “aside from having imagined to spend the rest of my life with you because i really believed it was going to happen, you, as a person, are everything i wanted and more.”

you continue to stare at the ceiling, feeling a tingle in your body that starts at your feet and slowly grows throughout the rest of your body.

“and not to be fucking gross but you turn me on so fucking much. was watching you eat my food last week and got so fucking hard just looking at you. you’re so elegant and sexy with everything you do. i look at you and feel so fucking lucky to have been part of your life.”

you clench your jaw in an attempt to block yourself from breaking out into a sob

“i can’t put it into words, y/n but, no matter what stage we’re at, i’m always gonna be so fucking attracted to you. stretchmarks and loose skin��i literally can’t bring myself to give a fuck. i don’t care what size you are or if if you’re bigger than you were at 18. isn’t that normal? you carried a baby for nearly a year. so what if you weigh more now? whatever. more to love.”

….

oh

oh.

okay.

and that’s

how you

start tearing up

your heart feels like its been shattered into a million pieces

and it’s yoongi who is holding the level 100 5 star sledgehammer weapon

but it’s also yoongi who has unlocked the ultra healing magic buff

“it must have been so hard for you.” he slowly turns onto his back too, allowing you to look at the side of his face. “i’m sorry for not taking all of it into consideration. in my defense, i’ve always thought you were perfect.”

you sniff quietly and bring your hand up to wipe your cheeks. you shake your head. “don’t apologize. please.”

it’s quiet again and he continues to stare at the ceiling in silence

“i just wish you would have been comfortable enough to tell me.”

and you wish that too

but it’s embarrassing

and humiliating to even think about, let alone trust someone else with it

he finally turns onto his side to face you. “i really do mean it when i say you’re the most beautiful woman,” he pauses, “until we have a daughter. then she’s gonna be the most beautiful cause she’ll look like me.”

a soft giggle escapes you as he jokes, welcoming it with open arms

you look up at him, eyes glued to the small smile on his lips

“i’m so sorry, yoongi.”

“i know you are. i am too.”

“are you mad?”

he thinks about his answer for a moment. “i was at first. thought i was gonna smash my car with my bare fists.” he nods. “but i don’t think it’d be right for me to be mad at you for struggling so much with something i failed to see. i guess i’m just..” he sighs. “upset about the whole thing. it could’ve been avoided.”

you sniff quietly. “how? how was i supposed to tell you i just wanted to enjoy more time with you when it was me that forced the divorce down your throat? it wouldn’t be fair, not to you.”

how are you supposed to tell the man you forcibly kicked out that you weren’t ready to let go of him?

he rubs his forehead. “why did we ever let it get that far?”

you stay quiet

sniff again

wipe your nose and wet cheeks

“because i was selfish and childish. i wanted you to chase me and convince me that i only belonged to you.” it feels good to finally speak honestly. “i suppose you were done playing those games.”

“why were you still playing those? i thought we could be adults so many years into our marriage.”

“because,” you start, “i was bored. i didn’t do anything. i was home constantly, i didn’t go out. i didn’t have shit to do. you were barely home,” you say shakily, trying to swallow down the sob that’s threatening to spill

“just wanted to feel something whenever you showed up but i was just…” you sniff again. “…so mad at you for leaving me lonely that instead of trying to fix things, i wanted to piss you off. make you mad. make you feel the way i felt.”

it’s quiet

you try to stop yourself from sobbing quietly but to no avail

“so long story short, you started shoving divorce papers down my throat in hopes i’d chase you and just say fuck you to my responsibility as your husband and jun’s father to make sure we had food on the table.”

well

you don’t even really respond to that

because isn’t that basically what happened?

yes, sure, you were bored

but yoongi’s feelings shouldn’t have been messed with

he doesn’t say much else

just turns his back to you again and says,

“let’s sleep.”

and you try.

even though it’s nearly impossible with that agitating knife that’s nestled in your heart.

to be continued

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— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

@pamzn @jknoah @ahgasegotarmy116 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @Teddytaee @pnkmyg @yoongallery @agustdswifey @purp13st4r @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @kookssecret @p34rluv @xumyboo @jojowantstocry @minjenna @codeinebelle @Futuristiclovedreamland @rirushu @taegicity @namgihours @ultminyoongi @swinterr @butterymin @partyparty-yah @bettybloop @secfir @coffeedepressionsoup @keroppitae @manuosorioh @whoa-jo @etaerealboyv @kaiparkerwifes @luvjiminandyoongi @luvbeomkai @petalsofink @paradiseyoongies @gaby-93 @MMFranklin @llallaaa @vickyyy97 @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @shabbamadapot @rrrapmonste-rr @jjeonjennie @yoongisducky @s3l3n0phil3 @itsmina29 @namjoonsbuspass @hoseokshobagi @laurenrodr @keshiadeija @acquiescence804 @swga-ficrecs @sato-hana02 @honsoolhour @gaby-93 @kimseokgen @Imene1609 @joonsmagicshop @yunki-yunki-yunki

[crystallizsch]

“Oh? *I* get to be in charge of our lovely Princes? Hehe. I graciously accept the challenge.”

[SR] Yuusha Tala -> GROOOOVY!! Glimmering Soirée (fan event by @starry-night-rose)

Groooovy!!: Hehe. If you want to dance with me, you’re gonna have to keep up with me first.

Set Home: Yeah, yeah… I know I’m just a glorified attendant and I don’t really have any say over the Princes... Look, just let me have this.

Home Idle 1: Helping Deuce act like a Prince has been really hilarious. But credit where credit is due, seeing him try his best is really charming.

Home Idle 2: Wow. Somehow Azul became less insufferable after being trained as a Prince. ….Wait. Nevermind. He’s still the same.

Home Idle 3: Kalim and Hornton seem to be a natural at this. I guess I should have expected that. It’s really nice to see them shine.

Home Idle - Login: Has anyone seen Grim? I swear I saw him lurking around here somewhere…

Home Idle - Groovy: I could go for "Belle of the Ball" if I really wanted to, especially since I'm the one who helped take care of everything after all. But alas, why would you vote for the magicless prefect..? Wait, unless.….

Home Tap 1: Where did I put that ghost camera? I was just holding it just a while ago… Huh? It’s around my neck? Well, that’s embarrassing. Oh stop laughing at me, will ya?

Home Tap 2: The others say I’m like a different person when I go into "manager" mode. …And they say it either like a compliment or an insult so I’m getting mixed messages.

Home Tap 3: Ugh. This cape is cool and all but people keep getting caught by it. So annoying.

Home Tap 4: Would I compete in being the Belle of the Ball if I wasn't taking care of the Princes? Depends. Would you vote for me? ~ ♡ …What do you mean you’ll give me a "pity" vote.

Home Tap 5: No, I’m not staring "longingly" at that band! …But hypothetically, do you think they’d let me play an instrument with them?

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh, wow. Crazy that they totally just left this violin here. Hmmm…..

notes:

i had fun with the voice lines aaah but it might have some changes when i’m done with the groovy (and i’ll properly put her in an actual card template)

also slight lore drop from one of the voice lines: yuusha has experience hosting formal parties pre-twst. basically she just locks in (a bit too heavily) when she has hosting duties.

(some of the voice lines also foreshadow the groovy 👀)

anyways i was just messing around a lot with the outfit design and the colors hgsdfjds

i tried my best making her purple color scheme agree with the limited color palette and i think it worked out??? idk idk--

also the cape was supposed to have patterns similar to the ceremonial robes so as to label her as someone from nrc.

i wanted to include a LOT more ruffles too but i had no patience for lining all of that 🤧

(bonus sketches/concepts below)

at first i based off her suit on hans frozen but then (because of pinterest giving me ideas) i realized i wanted a more fun outfit and so here i am-

(also help me i meant to have the voice lines to be just talking to anyone but it just hit me that it sounds like she’s talking to jamil 💀 girl they just can’t leave me alone they live in my head 24/7 rent-free)

[xo-hugs-n-kisses-ox]

Rumination

Ruminate

(v.) To think about something deeply

After Edward left her, Bella Swan fell apart. Desperate to try and save his eldest daughter, Charlie brings his youngest daughter to Forks to see if she can bring her sister out of her depression.

Now, y/n must try to help her sister find her way back to the light while also trying to navigate her Junior year of high school in the odd town of Forks.

---

Chapter Ten: Reconciliation

Now Playing: Atlantis by Seafret

Warning: mentions of alcohol, mentions of death, mentions of violence while drunk, mentions of messy divorce, mentions of gambling, mentions of severe depression, mentions of fighting, lmk if I missed anything please! Also, there’s nothing super explicit, just my interpretation of Paul’s backstory as he explains to reader

I was lounging on the couch watching crappy movies today. Paul and Seth had joined me as the others were either on patrol or helping Emily shop. I was laying on the couch, my head propped against the arm. Paul had lifted my feet when he walked over after switching patrols with Jared, and sat down before putting my legs back over his lap. Seth was sprawled out on the floor, his hair neatly pulled back from when I did his hair earlier.

After a while, Emily came back with the boys and her groceries and we started to put them away.

Midway through, Jacob bounded in with my sister in tow.

“Look at that,” Paul crooned, “Bella’s come back home! You get sick of the leeches yet, or did they get sick of you?”

I smacked him hard in the ribs as I pushed past him, standing with my arms crossed in front of my sister. She looked down at her shoes, and I waited in icy silence.

“Why don’t you come help us put away the rest of the groceries, Jacob?” Sam asked pointedly, “Give the Swan sisters some time to… catch up.”

He hastily followed direction, almost tripping over to the kitchen. I didn’t watch him go.

“Edward told me about Victoria and the treaty,” she blurted out, “Jacob said the same thing.”

I watched her in silence.

“Do you, um, know what they’re going to do about it?” She asked, glancing up to look me in the eyes.

“Paul told me.” I responded shortly, watching her expression. Unable to resist, I asked, “Did Edward tell you?”

She paused, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I said, waving her off, “Just that he seems so reluctant to tell you anything until it’s nearly too late. Or until he gets a nudge from someone else.”

“Jacob—” she started, cut off by a sharp laugh.

“Jake wasn’t the one to talk Edward into telling the truth,” Paul said, his voice filled with mocking pity. His arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. I watched my sister put it together, turning to me looking almost hurt.

“Why did you not tell me?” She asked, and I scoffed.

“Edward knew before I did, and yet he only told you when I threatened to do exactly that, Bella.” I responded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “He put you in this mess, and yet he’s still the one acting like you don’t have a right to know.”

She was silent before she switched the topic.

“It’s been a while since I was over here,” she said slowly, “How’s everyone doing?”

“Good.” I said flatly, “That’s the answer you’re looking for, right? Anything else would make you feel guilty because you wouldn’t pull your head out of Edward’s ass long enough to think about it.”

She glared at me for a moment, her hands clenched at her side. She took a deep breath, angrily telling me, “So, what, Y/n? Huh? You want me away from Edward, but you don’t want me here? Which is it, because you cant have both!”

“It doesn’t really matter what I want, does it?” I bite back, aware that everyone in the kitchen was listening closely. “You didn’t ask me when you decided to have a vote on what happens to your soul, did you?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but I barrel on, “You didn’t ask me how I felt when you started bringing that sparkly piece of shit—”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” She interrupted, and I just laughed.

“Oh course that’s what you care about!” I mocked, still laughing. I felt hollow, betrayed. All my simmering emotions from the last few months were coming to the surface, bubbling over finally.

“You’re only here because Edward’s on a hunting trip, Bella.” I spat, watching her expression shift to surprise, then guilt.

“Stay or go, Bella, I don’t care.” I sighed, “But make up your mind. None of us want to be strung along as a backup family for when your feelings get hurt by Edward and his coven of blood suckers.”

I turned, about to walk past Paul when he held his arm up, spinning me around to his chest and pushing me to the door.

“We’re gonna go to the beach.” He said, guiding me firmly to the door. I gave him an annoyed look, but he just pinched my side and kept me moving. When I tried to dig my heels in, he picked me up and carried me like it was nothing.

I suppose my weight was nothing to him, since he could pick up any of the others in their wolf forms. According to Quil, he was strong as a a regular person, and that strength was only amplified after the transformation.

He put me in my truck, pulling my keys from my purse and staring it up.

“Why are we going to the beach?” I asked him tonelessly, sort of grateful that he had made the decision. I had grown protective of everyone in the house, they were just as much my family as the people related to me through blood were. Bella choosing Edward and his family over not only me, but them as well after everything they did to help her when Edward left her for dead agitated me.

“I have a short temper,” he said, “I know when someone’s gonna blow. And you, Y/n Swan, needed to be out of there before you did.”

He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes, the side of his lip curling into a smirk, “And I don’t think you’re the type to take hostages.”

I huffed out a small laugh, leaning back in my seat to draw my knees up to my chest.

We got to the beach and sat in the can of the truck, watching the gulls. I was quiet; I didn’t feel like arguing with him and I was slightly afraid that that’s what would happen if I opened my mouth.

“I’m not good with emotions.” He said abruptly, staring at the water, “I don’t know how to express them, other than through anger.”

I was quiet as he took a breath to continue, “I�� It’s stupid to say, but Sam’s the only man I’ve ever looked up to as a father, even if he’s only a few years older than I am. I didn’t have an outstanding father like Jacob, or Embry, or Seth and Leah. He was always physically there, unlike Quil’s dad, but he was never mentally with me.”

I turned my head to look at him, resting it on my arms where they sat on my knees.

He continued, “My parents divorced when I was eight. It was messy. My mom took off for the other side of the country as soon as she could, and my dad moved in with my grandma here.”

I watched the side of his face, observing every minuscule expression he made. I watched the way his eyelashes brushed his cheeks when he closed his eyes to take a deep breath, watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“My dad was depressed. Mom was tired of carrying him around, so she left after falling in love with a coworker. He got so bad after she left us that he stopped going to work. He turned to drinking and gambling.” His voice was steady, but his hands were tensing and un-tensing as he spoke, messing with the hem of his shirt.

He continued, “He wasn’t a bad drunk, not really. He never hit me or Granny, just yelled a lot. He would break things sometimes, throw them around.”

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat. The AC made his hair flutter.

“He wasn’t the worst,” he said, “He wasn’t the best. I had to look up to older kids for what to do, and they were always fighting, so that’s what I did. Got into my first fight in sixth grade, Granny nearly beat my ass she was so mad. Made me wash dishes for a month.”

Again, he swallowed thickly. I watched the motion of it, my eyes trailing back to his. At this angle, they were almost jet black. The clouds moved, and they turned the color of coffee, shining and rich.

“Dad was always one extreme or the other,” he continued, “He was either a zombie, like Bella was, or he was drunk out of his mind yelling. He only got worse after Granny died.”

He was quiet for a long moment before adding, “She passed when I was fourteen. I had to get a job to try and pay the bills since Dad never worked. Granny owned her house and left it to us, but that was the extent of our luck. Sometimes we were without hot water or electricity. The school gave me lunches, and I scrounged up dinner from the place I worked at.”

“I changed when I was sixteen, two years ago, now.” He glanced at me, quickly looking away. “Sam and Jared are probably the only reasons I’m still here. Alive or in Forks, I can’t tell.”

He took another breath, “Emily and Sam kept telling me to just talk to you. I felt like every time I tried, I would end up saying something stupid and pissing you off more. Emily says I self sabotage. Sam says I’m emotionally constipated. I’m sure both are true.”

He trailed off, and I took this as a chance to speak.

I leaned over, putting my head on his shoulder.

“I know.” I said simply, watching the gulls play as I thought about what Emily had told me all those months ago. “I didn’t at first, but I do now. I know.”

He swallowed, and I felt him take a deep breath in. Slowly, he leaned his head against mine, and we sat in silence and watched the sun set over the waves.

I had the feeling that he still wasn’t telling me everything, but this was more than enough for now. I was content with this step into healing.

———

Ok guys another short-ish chapter and more info about Paul! I had googled his family life and didn’t really find much, but what I ended up going with was a theory I had seen. I think I’m going to have him go more in depth about it and probably also have reader lore drop about Charlie and Renee’s tumultuous relationship, too, and her worries for Bella bc of it (maybe that’ll lead to a convo w Edward, too)

Anyway!! Hope yall enjoyed and if yall have any requests lmk!!

Bye-bye!! ☺️

(Also the long weekend is over for me so I’m probs gonna slow down on posting and it’ll be like one post a day type thing and I might write them all over the weekend and schedule them to come out each day so I don’t forget but idk yet)

[doki-doki-imagines]

Should they teach you how to swim? feat. Bllk

Characters: Eita Otoya, Itoshi bros, Ryusei Shidou, Michael Kaiser

tw: suggestive in some hcs

Eita Otoya:

-You knew from minute one that he accepted to teach you just because he wanted to see the fauna of the local pool.

-But, BUT he may check you out too! Maybe he’ll feed your delusional mind.

-Anyway Eita tries for real, you both get inside the cold water, and tells you what to do.

-Too bad he is too worried looking at other people than your pitiful attempt to do something more than float.

-“Eita! You dumbass, what are you doing here?!” His head snaps towards the voice so fast you almost hear his neck snapping.

His sisters, all of them, are at the local pool. What a pain.

-“Let us teach you, there is no way this idiot can teach anything in his life”

-That’s how you ended up bonding with your crush’s sisters and learned how to actually swim, meanwhile, Eita sunbathed with glasses on so he could check out people without being caught; sneaky ninja.

-Rate the experience: 8/10. Actually, you didn’t spend that much time with Eita, but his sisters know a lot of juicy content that they spilled too easily. Knowing you had a chance with him helped your self-esteem, imagine how big it would have gotten if you knew Eita just checked you up for the entire afternoon, other people around him completely forgotten.

Sae and Rin Itoshi:

-Look, you didn’t want both of them to teach you. It just happened-

“I’ll go ask Rin if you don’t.”

“Mh? Yeah, go ask that loser, then.”

“Oh! Rin said that he’ll come!”

You could feel Sae’s hair standing up like quills, eyes wide like an owl.

“I’ll come too then. No way that lukewarm idiot of my brother can be of any help to you.”

-That’s how you find yourself in between the Itoshi bros, spending more time glaring at each other rather than teaching you anything.

-“Are you a donkey? This way they won’t even learn how to float.”

“You talk so much, but I didn’t hear you saying anything useful ‘till now shitty brother.”

-If the tension wasn’t so thick you would have already run home, but they are keeping you still in the water each gripping one of your arms.

-“C’mon (Y/n) tell Sae to fuck off, tell him I am the best teacher to you.”

“(Y/n) choose me and say goodbye to Rin, the heath must be doing something to his peanut brain, he needs to go home”

-Rate the experience: 0/0. Not only you still don’t know how to swim, but now you are the main key in this sibling quarrel. Plus you caught them more than once checking your ass.

Ryusei Shidou:

-His grin take 80% of his face when you told him you wanted to learn how to swim, canines shine and tongue poking out to lick his lips; you are so brave.

-He actually teaches you??? You are so surprised too.

-Not only you can float now, but even move your arms and legs around and twirl around like a fish; you feel so free!

-But nothing really comes for free with Ryusei.

-You may not have noticed it, but he looked at you while he taught you how to move your legs. Your hands gripping the pool, legs swaying up and down, ass up. Ryusei noticed them, droplets of water falling on your back and rolling down your spine ‘till they reach the bottom of your swimsuit, other simply hit your buttcheeks, shining under the sun; what would he do to be the chlorine water of the pool.

-Ryusei licks his lips like a hungry lion, his mind wanders, but his hands never touch you suspiciously, not even when you start to play together in the water.

-Rate the experience: 10/10. You know how to swim and had a lot of fun with him. The vote would be lower if you knew what was going on in his mind.

Michael Kaiser:

-“Excellent choice to ask me. I’ll be the best teacher ever, you should already know.” He smirks.

-He doesn’t know how to swim too. It’s all just an excuse to see you in a swimsuit. A good way to check him out too

-Michael will ask Ness to teach you both, he doesn’t see the midfielder as a threat.

-SO SO WRONG. Michael is fuming. It doesn’t matter how much time Ness spends teaching him how to swim, the bare minimum touch of the other boy's hands on your body makes Michael go crazy.

-“(Y/n) come with me”

“Is everything fine Michael?”

“Yes, just come.”

-Cut to you making out in the changing room. Ness doesn’t dare to move from his spot and keeps swimming in peace.

-Rate the experience: 10+/10. Look, you don’t even know how to float, but Michael’s tongue in your mouth, his hands so desperately gripping your hips make up for it.

[robthegoodfellow]

I'm Glad My Dad Died

mungrove | slightly expanded version of fic written for @strangerthingscharityzine | ao3

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy had a secret: he was glad his dad was dead. So glad that even when his mom sold their house in Ocean Beach and moved them to Hawkins, Indiana, uprooting him from his friends and the sea and everything Billy loved, he still wouldn’t go back to the way things were. Given the options—California, dad alive; or Indiana, dad dead—he’d pick the second every time.

He would, even though Hawkins was its own hell. Learned the hard way that among prepubescent country bumpkins, embroidered roses on your shirt and hair like Shirley Temple bought you a one-way ticket to Loserville.

It was the fall of 1979. Disco was dying and former flower children were gearing up to vote for Reagan. Kumbaya over, time to make America great again.

So, yeah—sixth grade sucked, but stuff at home was world’s better. They were living with Aunt Doris—because San Diego was too expensive, his mom said, and wouldn’t it be nice to get a fresh start?

Mom was really into the whole fresh start thing—which Billy suspected was fueled by guilt and determination to be the kind of mother she hadn’t been before. And… he appreciated that. He did.

But—he wished she would stop? Put down the pen, step away from the extracurricular sign-up sheets.

Because if the outfit put a target on his back, swim team aimed the bow, and band fired the arrow. 

You’ll miss the water, honey. And you love music! 

She wasn’t wrong. He did love those things—but not enough to willingly wear a Speedo in public or blunder through some Beethoven on the flute. Also in public.

Oh—why the flute? Because she’d fed him a steady diet of hippie tunes from the cradle and knew how much he dug Jethro Tull. Perfectly reasonable explanation—his peers would definitely understand.

Here lies Billy Hargrove, innocent victim of social homicide. 

The bullying was relentless, but Billy figured he could take it. No middle school bully could come close to the one he’d lived with all his life. 

You know, the one he was glad was dead.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Billy hadn’t wanted to attend the talent show, but Mom insisted it was important to support his friends. By which she meant her friends—women she’d been palling around with who had kids in said show.

Kids she’d been aggressively arranging playdates with like Billy was five. 

Patrick’s talent was making twenty free-throw shots in a row. Robin’s was singing “This Land is Your Land” in four different languages. His mom and Mrs. Buckley had laughed about keeping the less than patriotic lyrics, assuming the Spanish rendition would fly over people’s heads.

Billy felt bad even thinking it, but he did wonder if his mom pushing these particular friends at him was part of her fresh start campaign.

Pat was black. Robin was a girl. And his dad had a habit of muttering snide remarks about anyone who wasn’t a WASP packing a sizable stinger—who wasn’t a clone of Neil Hargrove, basically.

And look, Pat and Robin were—fine. But he knew and they knew that they were only hanging out because their moms wanted them to, which was awkward as hell. Made his palms sweat whenever they were together or whenever they said hi at school despite him being a fairy freak according to kids whose opinions mattered. 

They were nice, but it felt like pity. Embarrassing in a way that made him shrivel up inside.

So he wasn’t in the best mood, slumped in the auditorium between his mother and Doris, praying no one pelted him with shit from behind. Mom felt crappy enough about all those years with Neil—Billy didn’t need her kicking herself for scooping him out of the fire and into a frying pan.

Pat set a record—28 in a row—and Billy clapped. Robin sang her song wearing a daisy crown, and Billy clapped. Dully, he watched as stagehands set up the next act, hauling out a drum kit.

Gareth, this shrimpy sixth grader, sat at the drums. Then an eighth grader came out, followed by a couple kids in seventh, the former bearing an electric guitar, one of the latter a bass. The guitarist waved, leaned into the mic—skinny guy with a buzzcut, eyes big and dark as an alien. 

We are Corroded Coffin—paused as a contingent of the audience went nuts—and this song is called Paranoid.

In the next row, a kid whispered, excited: Think they’ll make Coleman pull the plug again?

Gareth banged his drumsticks, counting them off. 

The opening riffs were like nothing Billy had heard before—this grind of chords that rattled teeth, thrummed in the chest. He straightened, compelled forward, a fishing line hooked deep.

Buzzcut was bent over the strings so low that all you could see was the top of his head, a fuzzy cue ball. Then Gareth kicked in, and the front man wailed the first verse, this nasal staccato, sort of speak-singing.

Billy scrambled to decipher the rapidfire—caught bits of the first verses. Then the bridge begged for help, and the rest landed loud and clear.

I need someone to show me The things in life that I can't find I can't see the things that make       true happiness I must be blind

The words were meant for him—just for Billy. It’s me. The guitarist leapt, plunged into a driving solo. The song’s about me.

Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal

Helpless, Billy turned to his mom, who grinned, whispering they’re great, aren’t they? He could only nod, swinging back to the guitarist, riveted until the final blaring note.

For Christmas, Billy unwrapped the smallest package under the tree—a cassette. It was all he’d asked for: Black Sabbath’s greatest hits album.

Because that night of the talent show, he sold his soul for rock n’ roll.

More specifically, for heavy metal.

More secretly, for the boy with the big brown eyes.

Eddie, he’d found out at school the next day, gossip overheard at lunch. The boy was Eddie.

Eddie Munson.

And whenever Billy caught a glimpse of him, the rest of that year, he thrummed like an electric guitar.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Unfortunately, his passion for headbanging and powerchords did not meaningfully improve the remainder of middle school, and by the time he walked the stage at eighth grade graduation, Billy resolved to make a change—give himself a fresh start on his terms.

First, he mowed endless lawns and bought a new wardrobe: bootcut jeans with matching boots, which lent him some height and a certain swagger; button downs in dark colors worn open to his sternum and white tees like the crew from Outsiders; a bitchin’ leather jacket.

His hair had progressed from Shirley Temple to Farrah Fawcett, so he trotted to the barber for a Bon Jovi bi-level. Almost chickened out at the mall when he got his ear pierced, but loved the way the earring swung from his left lobe… though the right would’ve been more accurate. 

He quit band and swim. Thought maybe he’d try basketball instead, and enlisted Pat to help him practice.

They were actual buddies by then.

Lastly, he took up smoking. Marlboro Reds, because they were badass. Soldiered through the pack all summer, suppressing a gag on every pull till he was puffing like a chimney.

August before ninth grade, Pat’s brother let them tag along to a party at the quarry; if Billy got in good with upperclassmen, it could pave the way to social acceptance—maybe even… popularity?

Total pipe dream, but then… it worked.

That night was one for the record books: first time smoking dope, shot-gunning a beer… first time a girl went down on him.

First time he’d seen Eddie in two years. Wouldn’t even have recognized him, except the eyes hadn’t changed. Eddie was a junior and looked it: taller, wild dark hair to his shoulders, tattoos peeking from his sleeves. He made a brief appearance and vanished—there to sell some supply, not socialize.

Billy wished he’d stayed. Admitted then what he was most excited about for high school: the chance to see Eddie Munson again.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Ironically, the object of Billy’s obsession had suffered a fall from grace in the transition to the big leagues: swirling rumors swore he was a Satan-worshiping anarchist and a burnout to boot. A weirdo who played geeky games with his loser friends.

Except—unlike Billy, Eddie didn’t give a fuck. While Billy strutted around vaguely unsettled, ill at ease with his costume, this immersive performance for the foreseeable future, Eddie had unveiled his freak flag—reveled in it, let it fly.

Regret gnawed at him, grew in Billy’s gut—knew if he were a little braver, he could trash this cool kid stuff and… 

End of Eddie’s senior year, Billy was sick at heart. Knew he’d missed his shot.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

So imagine his confusion, surprise—his hidden euphoric delight—when Billy spotted that dark mop atop a wiry frame loping across the parking lot on the first day of eleventh grade.

Eddie should have graduated, but for whatever reason… hadn’t.

Thus, a new resolution: seize this chance. Be Eddie’s friend.

By second semester, Billy had worked his way up to casual chit chat and also, incidentally, was a raging pothead—so much so that his mother was worried, and she had spent the 60s stoned out of her gourd.

Let him experiment, Doris advised, winking at Billy over dinner. His grades are fine. What’s the harm?

The following evening, Doris showed him her special cookies stashed in the freezer, cautioning him to only ever take one bite and be patient. Billy asked if he could give one to his friend.

Top tier moment, right up there with Dad dying. Eddie’s eyes lit up all starry, demanded Billy come hang so they could make like Keebler—try the old elfin magic—and Billy was blessed to learn that Loaded Eddie = Handsy Eddie.

Blessed and cursed, because Eddie learned that Blazed Billy = Honest Billy. Tell me a secret, Eddie said, tickling. Tell me a secret.

Nothing happened. Eddie was just… affectionate. Bit of a snuggler. Who now knew he was the reason Billy was such a metalhead. 

And that Billy was glad—about his dad.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Eddie was held back again, and suddenly math and history were Billy’s favorite classes because Eddie sat next to him in the back row. Seemed to do decently with Billy there egging him on.

Thus, his final resolution: graduate with Eddie. Drag him across the finish line if necessary. Billy held study sessions he didn’t need at the library after school, invited Eddie to join—and Eddie did.

Eddie invited Billy to come see his band play at a local bar on Tuesdays—and Billy did.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said one weekend, when they were sharing a bowl, and Billy snorted, gazed into bloodshot eyes. Glad you got held back. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing this. Eddie smirked, soft. Getting high? Billy laughed. Hanging out.

Billy turned eighteen that March, and the Buckleys and McKinneys came over to celebrate, as usual. Unusual was the doorbell as they were about to eat, Eddie and Wayne trooping in, sorry for being late.

Robin picked up on something that night—cornered him in the bathroom. Are you and Eddie…? Billy went tight, and she rushed to reassure. It’s okay if you are. I am, too. So Billy breathed, calmed. I am. I dunno if he is. Robin arched her brow. From where I’m sitting, odds are good.

Billy spent weeks yanking hope by the roots.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

Come May, they walked in green cap and gown—hugged in the milling crowd, Eddie cackling wet in his ear, a clinging koala. Didn’t think I could do it.

Billy brought him along to Robin’s graduation party. In the backyard, her old childhood treehouse beckoned, and they heeded the call.

Tell me a secret, Eddie said, sitting back against mossy boards. They weren’t even high. He flicked Billy’s earring—set his heart swinging. That should be on the other side, Billy said, and stared until Eddie flushed red, understood. I got a secret, he said, and Billy didn’t dare to know but did. 

Eddie said it: I’ve wanted to kiss you all year.

A click as Billy swallowed, bone dry. Then do it.

And Eddie did.

.🌱.💀.🌱.

[smilesatdawnmain]

ETERNAL LMK AU (Part 4) (Interactive Story)

Had some close ties last part :3 But we have gone with "STAND YOUR GROUND AND FIGHT!"

Lets continue this tragic story, shall we~?

The rules are simple.: I will give the written passage, and then at the bottom there will be a vote on how the characters act next!

Story: Eternal

Ships: Shadowpeach

Angst: You betcha

Fluff: With enough choices, maybe we'll get there.

Macaque smacked their hands away from.

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you!” he shouted, adrenaline choking his words into a hoarse rasp. He tried to call upon his power, to manifest his staff from nothingness, but all that greeted him was a suffocating void where his shadow should have been. He never had a time in his life where he didn’t have his very essence beside him. More than just an ally in combat, it was a piece of himself. To no longer have it to draw from was bone chilling.

Still, he was not going to the Diyu. Not today, not anytime soon. With no other option, he rolled his hands into fists and held them up. He wasn’t completely defenseless without a weapon. He would fight in any means he needed to, teeth and claws included.

“Desperation doesn’t suit you, Liu’er,” the first figure replied, tilting their head with feigned pity. “You’re merely prolonging the inevitable. Denial only deepens the pit that cling to your soul.”

Macaque’s heart twisted painfully in his chest—if it still beat, he wondered. “You don’t understand! I have to—”

“Have to what?” the second figure interrupted, their voice smooth as silk yet laced with a chilling edge. “Have to stay connected to that which caused you so much pain? What are you, Liu’er? A martyr? A ghost bound by grief?”

“I’m not a ghost!” he yelled back, fury igniting within him against the encroaching cold and despair. He did not have to explain himself to these two. He did not have to make justification for his actions. His reasonings were his own. To be denied life simply because he wanted to bring his Mate home- it was unfair. It was nothing but an injustice! And he wanted to be sure his Mate knew that.

“No, I am not a martyr,” Macaque spat, trembling as the weight of his fragmented memories pressed down on him. “I’m a warrior. My fate is not up for anyone but myself to decide.”

The figures exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from mockery to something resembling interest. “Ah,” the first remarked, voice dripping with mock delight. Many had attempted and failed such similar feats. Too many tried to cheat or deny death, and all were quick to realize that there was no parting from it. Dragging another soul down by force was any typical Monday for them.

“Listen, fella,” one drawled, “I’d rather not play this game. You’ll fight us, we’ll overpower you, yada yada-but in the end, I'm afraid you’ll still lose.” The figure’s amusement made Macaque’s eyebrow twitch.

He squared his jaw and prepared himself for whatever they might conjure next. “You think you know my fate? You think you know me?” he retorted, a fierce gleam in his eyes.

The second figure, taller and clad in shadow that flickered like flames, took a step forward, a smirk playing on their lips. “Lets get this over with, hmm? It’ll be the talk of the Diyu when we bring you in. One of the four demon Stone Monkeys, the Six Eared Macaque, the mate of Sun Wukong. The man who avoids death like a plague- yet sent his own beloved there with his own two hands.”

Macaque’s skin prickled, his eyes widening in fury as he lunged.

His fingers clawed through the emptiness, aiming for the smirk that enflamed his rage further. The first figure merely sidestepped, maneuvering with a grace that belied their insidious nature. Mocking, teasing, then standing with utter stillness. Goading Macaque to even try to take a swing.

When Macaque did, his fist connected with the man’s jaw. Expecting the man to recoil, to react- his stomach dropped when the man only smirk. The attack hadn’t even jerked the man’s head back, as if Macaque's punch were a gentle breeze ruffling through his hair. “Is that all you have?” he taunted, rubbing the corner of his mouth with a deliberate slowness. “Such power wasted on a hallow spirit.”

With a flick of his wrist, the figure conjured a dark mist that wrapped around Macaque's limbs like serpents, constricting him, pinning him to the spot. The icy grasp snaked up to his neck, squeezing just enough to steal away his breath. Panic set in, and he thrashed against the bonds.

What power did a spirit have. Nothing without a form. Nothing without a body to command.

“No!” Macaque gasped, fighting against the shadows coiling tighter, each breath a battle. Desperation clawed at his chest like a wild animal seeking freedom, making him writhe. It couldn’t end like this—not here, not now. He needed to- he wanted- there was so much he hadn’t done. So much he hadn’t said.

As he twisted, his gaze caught Wukong. Only but a few steps away, legs crossed and back straight as he meditated. Unaware, uncaring- even if he could see him now, would he even help him? “I-!” he choked up. He was home. He didn't want to be taken from it. He didn't want to continue to be forced to leave his home due to the will of another.

He was scared. Terrified. Perhaps it was just a natural thing to fear death. To fear what you did not know. He feared the cold, the pain he might experience down there.

The isolation and the inevitable punishment they were bound to give him for attacking the Great Monk Tripitaka. He had accepted this fact at the time, so he supposed had no one but himself to blame but... but still...

And more than anything- Wukong.

Did he want to yell at Wukong? Stay with him? End things? Reconcile? He didn't know! But he at least wanted the time to figure it out!

So close. Right there... He was right there...

Previous

next;

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for getting an abortion even though I'm pro-life?

(tw age gaps, pregnancy, and anti-abortion sentiments)

I, 18F, have a nice family who I love dearly. But even with them around, I felt like I don't have enough warmth in my life. I'm not exactly good at keeping up relationships on my own since I have a habit of creating different personas based on the people I'm interacting with. So, I started doing compensated dating for cheap to form new relationships! 💓

It was my own decision that I had the right to make, so I'm most certainly not the victim of anything. At the same time, things naturally ended up falling apart - we couldn't keep up the relationship with all the lies we spun. And just when things were falling apart, I realized I was pregnant.

Obviously, I wasn't exactly eager for my family to find out that I was pregnant with a baby from sex work, especially since I'm still living at home with my parents, who don't know that I do compensated dating. And that was on top of all the chaos from our breakup! So, I decided to abort the baby instead. However, while I didn't feel guilty about getting the abortion (it was what I needed to do to find my warmth and I'd rather not linger on moral debates), I was still pro-life and considered my hypothetical baby's death to be a murder.

Apparently, that got me teleported into this prison with nine other murderers? At first, they seemed quite interesting, but soon enough, everything started revolving around morals and if I was "pitiable" enough. So I got tired of this place and want out.

So, anyways, can you all vote YTA so that these people will stop pitying my supposed "innocence?" Thanks! 💓

[jeon-s-sins]

Fighter - Three

Synopsis: YN, a young student in her final year of a master’s degree in international business, is forced to move. She is in a “bad” part of Seoul, without much income. Prostitution, drugs, and violence are commonplace, and the police think twice before setting foot in the area. Jungkook, a young student living alone in this cruel world, is forced to fight underground to earn money to pay for his rent and expensive studies. Unfortunately, the two young people meet in a very inconvenient situation and will see their lives change overnight.

Warning: Mention of alcohol, violence (fight), bad words, flirting that will make you sleep upright; the rest you will discover as you read, no spoilers. 😉

Word count: 12.8k

Chapter song: Unstoppable - NEFFEX

n/a: English is not my first language, so I may have missed some mistakes while proofreading. Happy New Year to all! May this year be full of joy and success. It took a long time, but it's finally here! I had a lot of fun writing this part, and I hope you enjoy it. Enjoy reading, and please don’t forget to vote, comment, and ask questions if there are any. 😁.

Translations, republications, and rewritings of my stories are not allowed. Failure to comply with this request will result in legal action.

©Jeon_s_Sins

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Hearing the garbage truck outside because of the windows' poor insulation, you estimated it was early morning, around 6:30. It's often around this time that they pass through your neighborhood.

Changing position in your bed, you toss and turn, trying to find a more comfortable position to immerse yourself in the world of dreams a little longer.

Since you hadn't found an internship, there was no point in getting up early. The deadline for finding and applying for an internship at your university was yesterday. It was too late to find anything; even the meaningless internships wouldn't serve.

Fortunately, you had the chance to try your luck the following school year. But this was your one and only chance. If you hadn't found anything by the start of the new school year, you'd be off to do it again. Since you'd passed your previous semester, you didn't have to attend classes; you only completed your six-month internship before writing and defending a thesis before finally graduating and bidding farewell to student life.

In the meantime, you had plenty of time to find something to do, so you wouldn't rush things and enjoy a little more time to make up for missed sleep.

Besides, you couldn't even remember how you got home. Still with your eyes closed, yet wide awake, your brain hadn't allowed you to sleep peacefully, projecting a few vague, disordered images.

You only knew that Jungkook had told Minjun he was taking you home... Jungkook...

You jumped up, sitting on the bed, finally awake and disoriented. Once you knew where you were, you concluded you weren't home.

You turned on the bedside lamp and noticed the room was tiny and dilapidated. The curtains blocked out the sun's rays, but given the time the alarm clock indicated, the sun hadn't risen yet, at least not entirely.

The walls were in a deplorable state. There were holes here and there, probably from bullet holes. Some of them had been shabbily plugged with plaster, but nobody had bothered to repaint over them, leaving big white marks on a disgusting salmon-orange wall.

An old wooden cross stood just above your head, and the bed's headboard was made of old bars.

There were two single beds in the room. Your bed was the one against the wall, just below the window, while barely a meter away from you was another identical bed, with only a pitiful little bedside table separating them.

The state of the other bed indicated that you hadn't spent the night alone. Jungkook had been keeping you company. But you didn't know that the poor man hadn't slept a wink all night and watched over you with his eyes glued to the bedroom door.

He knew what went on inside the walls of such buildings. Prostitution, kidnapping, and worse. But there was no way he would let a stranger into his home. Sure, he'd saved you on your first night in the neighborhood and offered to keep an eye on you for tonight, but deep down, he didn't know you.

He didn't doubt your innocence, but you never know. That's why he preferred to bring you to this hotel so that you couldn't say where he lived in case you got into trouble and were asked where he lived.

Jungkook was no fool. If you lived a life like he did, fighting underground for a few years, you'd have accumulated countless enemies, and almost certainly, unfortunately for you, some of them must have interacted with you.

Living in the neighborhood and frequenting the Den, you'll quickly learn that rumors travel faster than the blink of an eye. So it's for your own good to avoid each other.

Although you were not close, and Jungkook had no intention of becoming so, it was best to maintain a distance between you both. This protects you from further harm and ensures that he does not waste his time unnecessarily saving a stranger. He has more important matters to attend to than playing the hero.

Before ending whatever you guys had, he left the room quickly to buy you hangover medicine and haejangguk, a soup known for its effectiveness against hangovers. Haejangguk is a soup with Chinese cabbage, vegetables, and meat cooked in beef broth.

Having no table, he had left them on the bed he had occupied at night. As you approach the latter to take the contents left by Jungkook, you notice that he has left a note.

"Eat quickly. Come to your senses and get the hell out of here. Your car is parked in front of the entrance on your left. Stay out of trouble, princess. - JK. "

"Tsk." A simple good morning sufficed.

Barely awake, and you were already in a bad mood. Even when Jungkook wasn't around, he still managed to annoy you. On the other hand, you had to admit, it was nice of him to think of your hangover. He didn't have to.

Although you like to contradict and annoy him, you followed his instructions today. You do not even eat the haejangguk; instead, you take the hangover medicine, pack your things, and leave the hellish place. Opening the bedroom door, you stumble into a sinister, dark corridor.

"And they dare to call it a hotel. This is more like a place straight out of hell."

A few holes in the wall allowed the first thin rays of sunlight to enter. As you turn at the end of the corridor, you encounter a man lying on the floor, who appears to be heavily intoxicated. It is unclear whether he is breathing, and you wouldn't approach him to find out.

You quickly exited this gloomy place, taking the stairs despite the strong smell of urine and vomit. You passed through an empty reception area before leaving the key on the counter and skipping out.

As indicated in Jungkook's note, your car was parked near the entrance to this so-called hotel. Thank goodness you found it in one piece and in its original condition.

It was time to go home, shower, and enjoy the haejangguk.

The rest of the day had been dull. You tried your best to find something to do but soon ran out of options. It had been a few weeks since you'd watched the last game of AOT (Attack on Titans), and you'd finished it for good. It was the same for Naruto and Naruto Shippuden. You'd started Boruto but weren't too hooked after watching a few episodes. Maybe it was because you'd watched both Naruto series in succession. So you will let some time go by before picking it up again.

So, that afternoon, you opted for something different. You've been watching a Thai BL series. You even came to envy the characters. Sure, their stories had plenty of drama, but at least they weren't alone and had someone who shared their feelings.

In these moments, you realized just how alone you were in this world. No parents, no family, no friends, let alone a boyfriend. You even acknowledged that no one would notice if anything ever happened to you.

If at least you had a job or were still going to class, your absence would be noted, but you had neither. In your current situation, the only way your disappearance will be noted is by your landlord when you stop paying the rent, which would be too late.

"You lead a sorrowful life, my poor girl." Sighing, you look towards the wall clock and notice that the day is drawing to a close and sunset is just around the corner.

Grabbing your plaid, journal, phone, AirPods, and small portable photo printer, you headed for your fridge, grabbed a couple of cans of beer, and headed up to the rooftop to which only you had access.

With all the events that had taken place in your life over the last few days, you'd still found time to do up the roof, which from now on would be your safe place in this corrupt and hellish world.

You had bought artificial turf to cover the rough concrete floor. On the left-hand side, you had placed a small round garden table in case you wanted to eat quietly one day while admiring the view and take advantage of the sunny days to sunbathe a little. Moreover, the timing was perfect, as you had no neighbors. No one would notice if you felt like sunbathing in the nude, which was an idea to keep in your mind.

Continuing your property tour, you added plant pots and flowerpots here and there. Garden gnomes would keep you company on days like today when you came alone, which would be very often until proven otherwise.

There were a few comfortable bean bags where you could take delicious naps. You'd hung a few rows of garlands that could be recharged using solar panels. You'd hung a few more on the concrete railing.

You still had some things to buy, but for the moment, it was already better and more comfortable than before.

Although you'd invested in a table and some footstools, you decided to stand on the concrete balcony railing for now. You use a small bench already there the day you moved in to do this. You climb on it before finding yourself with both feet dangling in the air and looking off into the distance.

You had an incredible view. The sky was painted in a multitude of colors. Even though the sky was still blue when you looked overhead, the blue faded to violet in the distance, then pink, red, and finally orange. This orange color revived to become brighter, even golden, as the sun was setting. The clouds, too, took on a completely different color, blending in with those of the sky.

From where you stood, you had a view of the Namsan Tower. But unlike its usual size, it looked tiny to you.

At this very moment, to put you in an even more relaxed mood, you put on your Airpods and switch on your chillax playlist on Spotify before pulling out your phone and taking many photos.

Still enjoying the presence of the sun and its last majestic moments, you open your first can of beer and take a sip.

You take a deep breath before releasing it all.

"Now that's what I call living." You didn't understand how quiet moments like that scare some people.

Not that you judged them, because you're no one to judge others. But you didn't understand how people can't stand to be alone and have quiet moments. You didn't understand how people lived constantly surrounded by many people. A loner as you are, the little time you get to hang out with your classmates, your social battery runs out in a snap. Living like this, going out and partying every day, you'd end up losing your mind or shooting yourself between the eyes. But that was just your personal opinion. Everyone was free to live as they wished.

The music playing in your ears, matching the comfortable atmosphere, was interrupted by Siri's robotic voice.

"You have an incoming call from 'My Hero.' Would you like to take the call?" Who the hell is my hero? You had no idea you'd registered a contact under that name. Especially as you didn't have any friends, you got on well with only a few classmates, but not enough to call them that.

Curiosity killing the cat, you decide to take the call anyway.

"Hello?" Your voice sounded uncertain.

"Isn't it very cordial to take pictures of your neighbors without their knowledge?" An unfamiliar male voice sounded from the other end of the line. "What about other people's image rights and privacy rights?"

You were confused. What was your neighbor talking about?

"Excuse me, but I think you've got the wrong person." You were about to hang up when his voice rang out again.

"Ouch. You offend me, YN." The sound of your first name calls out to you. "It pains me to see you not recognize your savior's voice." There was sarcasm in his voice, a far cry from the sorrow he claimed to feel.

"My savior?" You twisted your brain in all directions but didn't recognize the person. The only person who could have that title was-

"Jung... Jungkook?"

"Bingo. Princess." The more he spoke, the more his voice sounded like Jungkook's. How did this moron get your number?

"How?"

"Face ID is great these days. You should be more careful when you sleep in the company of strangers."

"Don't worry, after that one, I learned my lesson. The question is, why?" This question had been burning your lips since you learned of his identity.

"As much as I don't want to, we'll see a lot of each other. So I thought, 'Why not?' "

"Bold of you to think I'd want to see you."

"Stop giving yourself such big shoes to fill, princess. We both know you're dying to see me again. In fact, to make it easier for you, I will give you a little present." You could tell from his voice that he was smirking.

"Oh, yeah? What?" You expected anything but what he was about to tell you.

"Look ahead." By pure automatism, you look in the direction of the ground, which makes Jungkook laugh.

"I said before you, not toward the ground, dummy." You're about to throw a good one in his face when your gaze fixes on a point across the street.

In the house opposite yours was a shirtless Jungkook perched at his window.

You'd already seen him shirtless on your first visit to the Den when he was fighting Bazooka. But his constant movements had made it hard for you to get a good look at him. But now that he was standing in front of you, motionless, you had all the time in the world to look at him and analyze him in depth.

He looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower. He had a small white towel around his neck, which he'd probably used to dry his hair. His pecs were well-rounded and prominent. Since his forearms were resting on the window railing, you couldn't see his abs very well, but you could see two small valleys announcing their start.

"Take a picture, it'll stay longer."

Out of your contemplation, your defensive mode is directly activated.

"Like I'd want to waste space on my phone's storage with a picture of you. Although, I could use it to scare the monsters out from under my bed."

"That's perfect, princess. That way, I'll be your hero once again."

You pretend to find his words hilarious. "In your dreams, Quasimodo."

"Are you aware that in the end, Quasimodo is considered a hero? So that little nickname coming from you sounds like a compliment." From your perch, you see Jungkook bring a hand to his heart as if your words had gone straight to it.

"It wasn't a compliment, you fool. You're insufferable." This makes him laugh and brings a smile to your face.

Although you pretended you couldn't stand him, you couldn't hide that he wasn't unpleasant to look at and that his company wasn't unpleasant either. Moreover, he seemed alright from the few times you'd been around him. He was a bit like you, a good person in a world of bullies, trying to survive as best as possible.

Besides, it reminds you that you hadn't had a chance to thank him for caring for you and saving you from a massive headache again.

"By the way, thanks for last night and this morning."

"Stop it, princess, you'll make me shed a tear." He teases you again.

Rolling your eyes, you reply. "No, forget what I said. I'll take it back. That'll teach me to be polite to a guy with an ego as big as his head."

His laugh was soft, childlike, though infectious, provoking yours in return. "But seriously." He says once he regains his seriousness. "Watch out. I won't be around all the time. Remember, some weirdos are lurking around."

"I told you yesterday, and I'm telling you again, I don't need to be taken care of. So you don't have to worry, Mr. Vigilante."

"Ha. Right," Jungkook figured you were too naive for this world. He didn't know your situation or even if you had a family, but he said you seemed to have been raised in the world of Care Bears. The few times he'd seen you, you'd been wrapped up in a mess, or almost certainly would have been if he hadn't intervened yesterday.

But he didn't know anything about you or your story. He didn't know that you were an orphan and that, for a time, you'd been living on the streets. Fighting tooth and nail for an expired milk carton before entering the orphanage. He also didn't know how many times you'd moved from family to family before finding the right one, only to have it savagely ripped away from you overnight.

But that was too topical for him to know. You doubted he'd ever find out.

"Anyway, thanks again." He doesn't respond verbally; you just see him nod. "Hey? You going to the Den tonight?"

Jungkook didn't understand the reason for your question but answered you anyway. "No. I only go there when I have fights."

If you only knew how much Jungkook hated this place and its atmosphere. He only goes there because the pay is attractive, which allows him to pay his rent and schooling, as well as what will enable him to make ends meet.

"Why do you ask?" You couldn't see, but Jungkook raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"No reason. Pure curiosity, that's all."

"YN, curiosity killed the cat. And a little friendly advice: you shouldn't go back there."

"Tsk, I didn't know we'd become friends." You retort.

"Us, friends? Ha. No, baby, you're the bane of my existence, a far cry from what I call being friends. It's just that I don't want to have to step in again to save your pretty little ass from the brink again. I've already had my fill."

"Don't worry, dear, you're the last person I'd ask for help in a jam." You could hardly believe it yourself, so Jungkook's following reaction was well and truly understandable.

"We'll see about that."

"Your lack of faith in me is hurtful." You tell him falsely offended.

"And justified. Remind me how we met?" Silence on your part had answered him. "That's what I say."

"Shut up, Quasimodo." For all answers, Jungkook sends you a floating kiss, which you pretend to dodge, almost falling backward.

Regaining your balance, you send an embarrassed smile toward your hero slash neighbor. In worry, Jungkook straightens; if looks could kill, you'd already be six feet under.

"YN, I swear you'll be the death of me."

To kill your discomfort, you retort, "Like that will keep me up at night. Sounds like a you problem, buddy."

For all answers, Jungkook shakes his head.

"That's not all, but I've got to go, princess. I remind you, I have a life."

You give him the thumbs-up and thank him again, but Jungkook says one last thing before you hang up. "Good night, neighbor. And try not to kill yourself coming down from your perch."

"I might come and haunt you." You hear him laugh. "Good night, Quasimodo." Then you hang up.

You watch as your new neighbor closes his windows and sinks into his home. On the other hand, you decide to stay outside a little longer, admiring the starry sky, while the music picks up where it left off.

It's crazy to say that some stars you're looking at now no longer exist. The sky is something that will always fascinate you. The days go by, and not for a single day will the sky resemble that of the day before or two or even three centuries ago. The same goes for the stars.

Many of today's stars are already dead. Some are so far away that their light takes billions of years to reach us. In the meantime, something may have happened to them, causing them to disappear from the universe.

That's why we say looking at the sky is like looking into the past.

It's also why you didn't understand people who bought stars. Sure, it may be romantic and incredible, but in the end, they're probably buying something that no longer exists.

But then again, you're not judging anyone or anything. Once again, you're just stating your opinion. Still, if someone were to tell you and prove that they'd bought you a star, you'd be touched by the gesture because, in the end, it's the gesture and the intention that counts.

Opening your second can of beer, you take a few sips before turning your attention to your phone and the little photo printer, long abandoned on the low wall beside you.

Like all other youngsters and children from your orphanage, you participated in a therapy session. And during one of them, the psychologist suggested that you take some time to write down everything that was going on in your head in a journal. This would allow you to clear your mind of all the toxins, doubts, and questions that poisoned your spirit to make way for serenity.

So, for years, you'd been playing the game. At first, you were a little lost, not knowing what to write down. Then, as time passed, you gave your imagination desires and needs free rein. You wrote about your experiences during the day. But also your doubts, your sorrows, the words of a song running through your head. Inspiring phrases that matched your life and state of mind at the time.

Tonight, you decided to put up the photo you'd taken of the sunset and, with it, your thoughts of the moment.

You thanked the heavens for having put Jungkook in your path, which at the moment was proving to be a beautiful encounter. Just like the magnificent sunset, he had brought a little color into your dull life, dulled by time and the deeds and accomplishments of recent times. And even if Jungkook's presence in your life is as fleeting as the time of a sunset, you'll always be grateful to him.

As night falls, you return to the shelter of your home. Leaning back on your bed, you gaze up at the ceiling of your room, asking yourself: "And now, what?"

You'll be out of school for a year with no source of income. If you wanted to continue living under this roof, you'd have to work your ass off to find something to pay the rent and make ends meet. You had no choice but to work and no longer rely on the government aid given to young students in times of hardship.

From now on, you have to rely on your own resources and manage to bring home the money and the food, like the big girl you are.

You spend about two hours looking for ads for odd jobs here and there on the Internet, but nothing comes up. At least, nothing exciting or close to home. Most ads come from the center of Seoul, only a few kilometers from where you live. Doing a thankless job, finishing very late at night, and having to take public transport for forty-five or even an hour's journey is demotivating.

But just as you were giving up hope of finding anything tonight, a flash from the night before comes back to mind.

Before you were entirely out of your mind, you remembered that Minjun had put up an ad saying they were looking for a bartender.

Admittedly, there were better kinds of jobs than this - you were bound to come across some insufferable drunkards and guys who would be quick to want to have you in their bed. Not to mention the harmful, violent, and damaging atmosphere for your little person, but on the other hand was that it wasn't really far from home, and you already knew Minjun.

You've got nothing to lose by trying. You can always break the contract if it becomes too much of a burden.

You didn't have Minjun's number and couldn't find the bar's contact details online. You had no choice but to go there and talk to him face-to-face.

It was still early, so the place was closed to the public. You hoped, by some miracle, that Minjun would already be there and that they'd agree to let you talk to him.

The two substantial black doors were closed, so you knocked forcefully on the door without wasting any more time and praying to heaven that you'd be heard. The place was vast, and you had to go down some stairs before you could access the main space, so you wouldn't typically make yourself heard by knocking.

A few moments later, having achieved nothing, you try again. You were about to knock a third time, but the door opened, almost hitting you in the face.

A man, no... a gorilla opens the door. He was most certainly two meters by two meters. You could even bet he was wider than your fridge. Dressed in black from head to toe, while he had an earpiece in his ear.

"Drop by later, we're closed." The man grunts and shuts the door in your face without even giving you time to express yourself. Except that, before he's had a chance to close it completely, you block it with your foot, just like you've seen people do in the movies. Except in the film, they don't show how much this shit hurts.

Swallowing a complaint, you try to negotiate with a gorilla. "I know, but please, I need to talk to Minjun. It's about the barmaid position." Scrutinizing you up and down, the man opens the door a little more, barely enough to let you in.

"Thank you."

He lets you pass him before locking the large doors and asking you to follow him. After descending the few steps separating you from the main area, you notice that everything has stayed the same as the previous day. The only difference was that all the lights were on, and you had a better view of the space.

"Minjun, there's someone here for you. It's about the bartender position." Announces the gorilla, immediately stepping aside to resume his activities, leaving you alone facing an empty bar. Empty until you hear the clink of glass bottles before a brunette head appears in your field of vision.

"Good evening-" Rising to his feet and looking in your direction, Minjun seemed surprised to see you standing before him.

"So, just like that, little one wants to play in the big leagues." He teases.

"Yeah, well, I'm not necessarily thrilled with the idea, but I'm really in need."

"Do you have any experience in the field?" Minjun rests his forearms on the counter, putting down what he is doing to give you his full attention.

"If you consider drinking everything you can get your hands on when you find out your ex is cheating on you, then yes."

"Tsk." He shakes his head, escaping a small laugh. "That's not exactly reassuring, little one. But you're lucky we're actually in need." This isn't very advantageous for him because whoever says no experience says training and lack of time to train you. But on the plus side, you're already there, and there are still three hours to go before the first customers show up. So he had some time to show you the basics, and he'd show you the rest as time went on and as you needed it.

"Join me behind the counter. I'll show you where things are and the most basic and common recipes. But before that, I'll show you the staff changing rooms where you can get rid of your stuff." He said once you'd joined him behind the bar counter.

You passed through a door linking the bar directly to the storeroom, which gave direct access to a corridor that only staff could use, leading to a checkroom and toilets. There was also another door on the left, providing access to the outside. "You can go through there when you start your shifts instead of through the front door, but also to smoke during your breaks or just to get some fresh air."

Having cleared away your belongings and returned to the bar, you give Minjun a hand. You restocked the drinks and other things you would need during the evening. You were also allowed to familiarize yourself more with where everything was placed.

Minjun also took the opportunity to explain a few recipes to you. "Don't worry if you can't remember them; just have some cheat sheet on the worktop." Indeed, some small laminated sheets were stuck on the worktop and on the counter's inner barrier, sheltered from the customers' view. "Cheater."

"What? Sometimes even the best have memory lapses." He pats you on the shoulder teasingly.

"Anyway, the most important thing is not to panic at the sight of the crowd. Do the orders one by one to avoid getting lost, and if you have any doubts, don't hesitate to come and ask me or Sohan, the other barman."

You nod and continue to prepare the drinks he asks you to practice. It wasn't all plain sailing. Tonight, you had to prove to him and the others that you were trustworthy and that you did indeed belong here. Besides, it was one less thing to worry about.

"When do I start?" You ask.

"Are you free tonight?" You nod, "Then tonight will be."

Oh. That fast? At least you won't have to wait long to have an answer. Mentally unprepared, you start to feel your hands becoming sweating.

"Be thankful tonight's fight was between amateurs and not Bullet Fists. Otherwise, it would have been hell for you."

Bullet Fists. Jungkook. Quasimodo.

You hadn't thought much about it, but working at the Den - if it became official in the days - meant you might see your beautiful neighbor more often than you'd imagined, which, in all honesty, wasn't unpleasant.

"Good." He says, clapping his hands and pulling you out of your thoughts. "Let's talk about the payment." Now you were starting to speak the same language.

"For tonight, if you can make it to the end and manage properly, you'll be paid 1 .291 .689₩" (€900 │ $991.30 │ £780.41).

"That much?" Shocked to earn so much for a few hours of work.

"Yeah, not counting tips from customers. And if you ever come to do business with us, you'll earn double. Don't forget, darling, that you're working in a place that's underground and where money flows freely."

No wonder, even in places like this, some people like you accept work without worrying about the risks.

"We've got half an hour before we open. Do you think that's enough time to get dolled up? I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for in the lost and found." He points to you.

"Did you guys find make-up?"

"You'll be shocked at how much we find once the customers leave."

Wasting no more time, you head off to the changing rooms and rummage through the lost and found. Everything: lipsticks, pencils, liner, mascara, perfume, clothes, and even shoes and telephones. It's in circumstances like this that you realize how absent-minded people can be when they're drunk. Worst of all, no one seems to have come to claim them.

It was barely ten o'clock on a Saturday morning when Jungkook's phone rang while he slept peacefully. The only sound in his house was his snoring, which clattered against his bedroom walls.

At first, Jungkook thought the unbearable noise from his phone was a dream, but when his subconscious awakened, trapping Jungkook in between the real world and the dream world, he realized it was his phone ringing.

He groped his mattress for his phone without even opening his eyes.

"What?" His morning voice was hoarse, low, and raspy. He knew very well who was on the line. That dog-bark ringing was registered to his "trainer," or the man who only called him when he had to fight for large sums of money.

"A little respect for your elders, you moron." Jungkook didn't care; he only wanted to go back to sleep. The night before, Jungkook stayed up until four to finish a job due first thing Monday.

This assignment was a group project, but Jungkook did it alone as usual, refusing to waste time socializing with his classmates.

"Get on with it." he barks again, becoming increasingly grumpy.

"All right, then. Tonight. The Den. Fight against Bazooka. See you at midnight. Is that short enough for Sleeping Beauty?" His trainer teased, knowing full well that this was playing on the younger man's nerves.

"Hmm." Jungkook grunts, rubbing his face against the mattress for lack of a pillow. "I've told you before that for this sort of thing, you can leave a message just fine."

"Yeah, and run the risk of you not reading it."

"Tsk. As if I'm going to miss an opportunity to kick this bastard's ass. Besides, it looks like last time's beating wasn't enough for him."

"Apparently not. Jung-Ho's trainer kept bombarding my phone with calls and messages to arrange a meeting between you."

"That guy must really be a masochist." Says Jungkook, referring to his opponent, fully awake now.

"Or maybe he's fallen for your charm." Jungkook rolls his eyes as his trainer laughs at the possible situation.

"It's possible. He's not the first and certainly won't be the last. Everyone falls for Bullet Fists' charm and charisma."

"Okay. That's my cue to cut this call short. You're fully awake, and your oversized ego has resurfaced."

"Oh, come on, coach, fess up. You've fallen for it too."

"Yeah, right. Well, come on, kid. Don't forget, midnight sharp." Then he hangs up.

It had been a week since Jungkook had set foot in the Den, and he wasn't unhappy about it. The farther away he was from this place, the better off he was.

Since the death of his parents a few years ago, when Jungkook was just eighteen, his life has been turned upside down.

This happened during the summer vacations when his parents were away on a romantic evening without Jungkook. On their way home, they were hit by a car belonging to a group of young people returning from a night out.

The news sent Jungkook into a frenzy, and he was only calmed when he made those responsible for his parents' death pay.

Before the death of his parents, Jungkook was what we consider a good boy. Polite, kind, helpful, and very shy. Especially towards girls. Today, Jungkook was a completely different man. Rude to some, no longer shy and charming. He was a massive hit with the ladies.

But deep down, he was still the sweet boy he once was; it's just that after all the shit life had thrown at him in the dark hours of his life, Jungkook found himself trapped in a darkness that refused to leave him.

It was pure chance that one night, he came across a man who later became his coach. It was this man who had introduced him to the life of an underground fighter he led today.

He had no ill intentions towards Jungkook. He wanted to help him, but he didn't have the means to do so, so he did it the only way he knew how. He had seen a glimmer of hope and life in Jungkook that he hadn't believed in for many years.

So the man welcomed him into the cubbyhole that was his apartment and taught him how to fight. Introducing him to street fighting was the only way he could help Jungkook make a decent sum of money fairly quickly.

In return, without realizing it, Jungkook brought a glimmer of life into the man who had taken him in. He let him know what it was like to be a father. For the man, Seokjin, life wasn't all rosy either, and Jungkook had given him a breath of fresh air.

The relationship between Jungkook and Seokjin was not just that of coach and fighter. It was that of a father and son but also of two brothers.

Seokjin sometimes regretted his decision to introduce his dark life to Jungkook. But as he looked back on Jungkook's living conditions when he first met him, he felt the poor boy could have fallen even further.

For the rest of the day, Jungkook prepared for his evening fight. With all the money he'd made from his fights, he'd been able to save up enough to buy some body-building equipment.

But while taking a break after having already trained for an hour and forty-five minutes without respite, he allowed himself a break to drink water and smoke.

Opening his windows, his gaze wandered in the direction of your home. Who would have thought that the distressed young woman he saved one evening would turn his thoughts upside down?

It had been a week since your last interaction, but it was still fresh in his mind.

It may have been wrong and out of place given the circumstances in which your paths crossed, but Jungkook still remembers the shape of your topless, perfect body.

The image of the valley of your breasts, though covered by your bra, haunted his memory. The curves of your body, right where it should be, the warmth of your body caressing his. Your scent still wafting through his car after he dropped you off at home.

Then, that famous night after his fight just a week ago when he'd realized you were his kind of girl. Sweet and naive, but also a strong woman with much fight.

The cat-and-mouse game you two played over the phone was like sweet music in his ears.

That night at the dingy hotel, Jungkook couldn't close his eyes all night, his gaze riveted on your silhouette, which he glimpsed thanks to the moonbeams seeping through the window. And although you found yourself in a nauseating place with a man you didn't really know, you slept so peacefully. As if you trusted him completely.

"Idiot." Yet a gentle, blissful smile that gave him a boyish air had taken possession of his soft lips.

Realizing how silly he looked, Jungkook shook his head to chase away these ideas that would get him nowhere. On the other hand, even though he hadn't heard from you since that famous time, he had noticed that you'd been going out at the same time for the past week and coming home at noon.

And here you are again.

Not that he was worried but curious. What could you be doing alone at such hours when you'd only just moved into a neighborhood like this?

"What are you meddling with, man? What she does or doesn't do is none of your business." And with that reprimand, he closes his windows to get ready.

"Hey, Little one. So, are you ready for the big night?" Minjun and Sohan were already behind the counter, preparing the necessities for tonight.

"What do you mean?" You shook off your belongings as the two men exchanged a look.

"You don't know who's fighting tonight?" You shake your head. "Bullet Fists versus Bazooka. So expect to get ripped off at the controls." Sohan was a tall man with blue hair and black eyes, although he opted for green lenses tonight. He also had muscles, and from what you'd seen during his last fight, Sohan seemed a little less muscular than Jungkook. He wore his hair up and back, which highlighted his face.

Like Minjun and you, he was dressed entirely in black. A slim black shirt with a few buttons undone and jeans pants adorned his legs, while his look was finished off with a pair of combat boots.

Minjun was dressed pretty much the same as Johan, the only difference being that he wore a tight T-shirt, revealing his muscles and pectorals. As for his black hair, it was in its usual form, with its fringe parted in the middle of his forehead. Giving him a bad-boy look.

Without planning it with your two colleagues, you'd opt for an all-black look tonight. Loose hair with a few curls, prominent make-up with smoky eyes, making your gaze bewitching. You wore a tight, sheer lace crop top. Accompanying your femme fatale look, you wore a high-waisted leather skirt with a slit up the right thigh. And while heeled boots would have been perfect, you couldn't forget that you would spend the rest of the evening standing behind the counter, so you left it out, opting for combat boots with clutches, which was very handy for putting your tips in.

"Awesome. I'm going to get my first rush. Not stressful at all." You give them a tense little smile.

"Don't worry." Minjun places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We'll do as usual. You take orders individually and ask us what you need."

The two men are pretty pleased with your work. They see that you're giving it your all and already have your bearings, although you haven't been here long.

"Don't worry about it. Don't think about it; everything's going to be fine."

"Now go and get ready because the first wave of customers is coming."

It had already been two hours since you'd arrived, and the crowd was still growing, but the good news was that you were keeping up just as well as your two colleagues. 

As you prepared the orders, you couldn't help glancing around the room in search of just one person. You kept wondering if he was already there? Was he too stressed? And would he stop by the bar for a drink before his fight? 

And yet, five fights had already taken place, and the sixth had just begun, with no sign of your neighbor. As the show's highlight, the Bullet Fists and Bazooka fight was decreed to be the last. It's all very strategic. The organizers know that their audience's two favorites are these two fighters - mainly Bullet Fists - so by making them fight last, they're sure to attract more customers and make a maximum profit from the beginning to the end of the evening.  

Meanwhile, you hoped to see Jungkook before he entered the cage, but your hopes were dashed as his fight drew nearer. Deciding not to dwell on the subject any longer, you return the drinks to one customer before moving on to another. 

"Good evening. What can I get you?" You change your look of disappointment to a broad business smile. 

When your gaze settles on the customer in question, you have a vague impression of having seen him somewhere before, but you are having trouble remembering where and when precisely. 

"I'd say the bombshell I'm looking at." Pfff. So, he falls into the category of annoying, redneck customer. But hey, you're not going to criticize and try to make him understand nicely that you won't go any further than serving his order. 

"Ha. That's going to be tricky, buddy." You were trying to say it with a teasing attitude. It's not like you were with Jungkook, but a little more distant, leaning more towards sarcasm than anything else. 

It's well known that barmen/barmaids are known to be flirts; it's part of the show if they feel like ending up with tips; after all, they have to make a living from their trade. 

"Nothing's really complicated when you really want it to be." You hold back from telling him that so he has his answer, but you hold back, not wanting to be rude and risk losing your job just a week in. 

"What can I put you down for?" Not wanting to waste more time in his company, you change the subject directly. Not to mention that the line is getting longer and longer, so you've got your work cut out for you. It's either he orders, or he bolts. 

"Pint of ruby, baby." Boy, did you hate it when someone as reluctant as him called you baby? 

It's crazy because you'd never talked to him about your life before, and yet he was already pissing you off. Some people like that don't do anything to us, but just seeing them or hearing their voices takes us out of our depths. It's something inexplicable, and yet you were ready to put your hand on the fact that you weren't the only one in the world to feel that way, and secretly, it reassured you. 

"Right away." Unfortunately for you, the draught beer tap was right in front of you, so you had no escape route, but on the bright side, you could quickly give him his order as soon as you'd finished serving it and hope he'd get out of the way as soon as possible too. 

Misfortune never comes alone. While the man already had his order in hand, he was still perched on the counter, clinging on as if his life depended on it. Worst of all, his gaze never left your side, and you hated the feeling of being spied on.

"I've never seen you around here. You must be new around here." Your only response was a vague glance in her direction as you continued to prepare another customer's order. 

"I would like to be a dead leaf in front of your door so that you can overwhelm me with your beauty every time you leave your house." Hang in there, YN; you'll be fine. Just don't roll your eyes at him. 

Sohan, who wasn't far from you, seemed to have heard the shit flirty floppy pickup lines the stranger was trying to throw at you because when your eyes met, he laughed.

Returning the order to the customer, you moved on to the next one. Fortunately, this time, you had to prepare a cocktail, and what you needed was laid out on the worktop behind you, giving you a little respite from the dolt guy starting to get on your nerves. 

You tried to drag out the process of preparing the cocktail as best you could, taking your time and making the pleasure of not hearing the sound of his voice last, but all good things must come to an end, and you had to turn around to give the customer his order back and cash it at the same time. 

As you waited for the customer to enter his credit card code on the EPT machine, the guy took the opportunity to pull another bullshit. 

"Your ass is so beautiful; it's a shame you have to sit on it." You'd like to know where he comes up with these ready-made moronic phrases. 

"Let me guess," you say, addressing the guy, "Last night you had trouble falling asleep, so you couldn't think of anything better than searching the internet for 'the top 50 worst pickup lines for hitting on a girl?" 

Sohan and Minjun were preparing their own orders without losing any of your interaction with the stranger and couldn't help but laugh at what you said, which had the knack of nipping the other guy in the bud for a while. 

Unfortunately for him, just as he was most certainly about to come out with some new bullshit, a slightly older guy interrupts him. 

"Jung-Ho, man, I've been looking for you for ten minutes. Hurry up; it's time to get ready for the fight." Without the annoying guy - Jung-Ho, from what you'd heard - even having time to retaliate, his buddy drags him by the arm away from the bar. 

Unaware that you were holding your breath, you let go of it suddenly, a sign of relief, while you gave a small smile to a customer who hadn't lost anything for some time. 

Some time had passed after Jung-Ho had been dragged off somewhere, and in the meantime, the previous fight had just ended. One of the fighters ended badly banged up by his opponent's blows. 

"YN, flee. Go take a five-minute break." Minjun takes the bottle of vodka from your hand.

"But there are still plenty of customers."

"Don't worry, the crowd is thinning out. We can handle it." Sohan takes you by the forearm and gently pushes you toward the back door. 

"All right." Crossing the storeroom and the back corridor leading to the checkroom, you enter the room before grabbing your pack of cigarettes and your lighter and using the door leading to the back exit for staff members only. 

And to think you never smoked before. It all started three years ago when your life became a mess, and you found yourself with your head underwater. Alone in the world, with no one to turn to or confide in while your life took such a rapid turn that you couldn't keep up. 

You were aware that this wasn't the best solution, but the temptation had been stronger, and you took up smoking. 

It's unfortunate to say, but smoking takes away all the pressure you build up over a day. Sometimes, you manage to go days without smoking, but these past few days, when you're faced with a heavy, tiring day, you sometimes smoke a few. Ironically, as a smoker, you hate the smell of cigarettes and, even worse, the smell of cold tobacco. That's why you invested in an electronic cigarette. Not only could you control the level of nicotine you consumed, but you could also have the possibility to change the taste, and even better, you didn't have the stench of cold tobacco.

You used it more at home because even though you had a roof terrace, you were sometimes too lazy to go out just to smoke even more when the evenings were cold. And that awful smell was out of the question.

But in the evening or at work, you'd allow yourself a few normal cigarettes. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, delighted to see so many of you here. The moment of the long-awaited evening is finally upon us. The fight we've all been waiting for is about to begin." 

That was your signal to go back inside. The fight you, too, had been waiting for was about to begin, and the boys could finally take their break in turn. 

"So, without further ado, give your champion a fervent cheer to encourage them." Back at the bar, you noticed no more customers surrounded the counter, all drawn like flies had taken their places around the cage. "I hope you've made your bets, and may luck be with you." 

Since there were no customers, Minjun and Sohan went off to take their break simultaneously. "Let's start immediately by calling the young stallion, the handsome one, the tall one I named Ba-Zoo-Ka." 

As last time, cheers and jeers are heard in the hall. When the named Bazooka enters the cage. Your drink in your mouth goes down the wrong hole when you swallow. 

Bazooka is none other than Jung-Ho, a.k.a. the super-boring guy with the stupid pickup lines. 

Showing off, he waves to the crowd and sends flying kisses in the direction of the ladies before stepping into a corner, wisely awaiting the arrival of his opponent. 

"Now, let's all cheer for your favorite, the charmer, the beast, the god. I named Bullet Fists." 

Once again, it was to the sound of NEFFEX that Jungkook decided to enter. But this time, he changed his sound, opting for Untoppable.

I'm unstoppable (yeah)

Do the impossible (that's right)

I'm irresponsible (oh)

Yet I'm phenomenal (oh)

I got an arsenal (oh, yeah)

I'm dropping bombs, you know (oh, yeah)

No, I'm not stopping, no (let's go)

Conquer the obstacle (yeah)

Jungkook usually chooses his songs according to his current state of mind. Tonight, he chose this song because he wanted his opponent to understand that he would do everything he could to win this fight and make his opponent bite the dust. Jungkook was unstoppable and had come tonight to conquer the obstacle and return home with the spoils.

To the top, here I go, think I'm chosen

To be the king of rock, think the people have spoken

I can hear the tic toc of the clock, I'm in motion

So, now I'm gonna pop, causing all this commotion, yeah

Entering the cage in his turn, just like his opponent, Jungkook makes the rounds, charming the women with smiles and winks.

Positioning himself on the opposite side of the cage from Jung-Ho, Jungkook discards his black-and-white silk bathrobe before baling it up and tossing it over the cage towards his coach, Seokjin.

When the ring girl finishes her turn, holding high the sign indicating the first round, she exits the cage, closing the door behind her. In no time at all, the ring gong sounds, signaling the start of the match.

The crowd holds its breath, and so do you, waiting for one of the two opponents to throw the first punch.

Impatient to make his opponent pay for the beating he had given him the previous time, Jung-Ho launched himself first, advancing toward Jungkook before trying to throw his fist in his face. However, Jungkook was beginning to know his opponent's habits, as he didn't play on the element of surprise, making him predictable for his opponent.

Sohan and Minjun return from their break, and you hand them their drink, which you had prepared in advance, knowing the two men's predilection after the week spent in their company.

Rounding the balcony, the three of you sit on the high stools while enjoying your drink and well-deserved rest after charcoaling like mad for over three hours without a break.

"So, what did we miss?" Sohan asks, his eyes still riveted on the battle ahead.

"Nothing. It just started." Sohan nods. "Did you know the pathetic guy was Jungkook's opponent tonight?" The two men look at each other, laughing.

"Yeah. He's a regular here."

"And Bullet Fists' number one opponent." Says each of your colleagues in turn. "Every week he's there, trying to get his revenge on the previous time, but every time the result comes back to be the same." Adds Minjun.

"Let me guess, defeat." You ask without really asking.

"Bull's-eye, young lady," Sohan replies as your conversation dies and you focus on the fight.

Jungkook does nothing but take Jung-Ho's blows, much to the frustration of his supporters. He parries them without a care, but some manage to hit him.

"What you're witnessing is typical Bullet Fists." Riveting your attention in Minjun's direction, you waited for him to elaborate. "The fans don't understand that Jungkook takes his opponent's blows not to waste their time but to analyze his opponent."

"You see," Minjun continues his explanation. "By cashing in Bazooka's blows, Bullet Fists analyzes his power and strong and weak points. From the strength of his blows to the stability of his body and fighting style. That way, once Jungkook has deciphered his opponent a little, he can strike at Jung-Ho's weak points, ensuring victory."

"Besides," Sohan continued, "it allows him one more thing."

"What?" You ask.

"It allows him to tire out his opponent faster."

"What do you mean?" It's super nice of them to explain the fight to you. It's nice to watch the proceedings before you, but it's better to watch and understand the tactics and techniques of the fight and the fighters.

"Take a good look at Jung-Ho; how does he seem? Focus on the movements of his breathing, the expression on his face, but above all on his current performance compared to what it was at the beginning of the engagement."

In turn, you analyze the fight, and some things have changed.

"His breathing seems to be getting faster and irregular. He seems irritated and annoyed while his blows are slower and less frequent than before."

"I'm proud of you, little one. Give me five." Minjun says to you.

"So, in conclusion...?" Sohan asks you.

"As a result, I feel that Jung-Ho is already tiring." You conclude.

"Right on the money. And get ready because, in the next round, Jungkook will make mincemeat of Jung-Ho. For a change."

Again, the three of you focus on the fight while sipping drinks.

When the three minutes are up, the gong rings again, indicating a one-minute break for the boxers.

A few people return to the bar to replenish their drinks before the next kick-off. Only a few people, just a handful, return to their seats once the gong has sounded again. You take the opportunity to refill your glass with your favorite drink and those of the boys before joining them on the high stool you occupied before.

As Sohan told you, Jungkook makes short work of his opponent without finishing him off. But this time, he's not only taking the blows, he's also delivering them, which revives the crowd with every impact, raising the excitement level.

Unlike the rest of the room, the bar was also lit, which was pitch black except for a few neon lights and the ring light. Not with a powerful light, but somewhat subdued, allowing you to work in good conditions. As Jungkook shifted position, his gaze wandered over the crowd. But against all odds, his gaze landed on the bar where, despite the poor lighting, Jungkook noticed three people sitting there.

It's true that, returning to the Den today, Jungkook had vaguely heard that they had recruited a new person for the bar and that, this time, it was a young woman. But he hadn't given it much thought. Now that he could see her in the dark, he couldn't suppress the feeling of familiarity.

So, dodging a last-second blow from his opponent. Jungkook looked back toward the bar, and with a bit of prodding to adapt his view to the necessary condition, he saw that the young woman in the company of the usual bartenders was none other than you. YN. The woman who, for a week, had been haunting his thoughts.

"What?" His contemplation is interrupted by a right hook from his opponent, which causes silence from the people in the room and jubilation from Jung-Ho.

Unable to retaliate, as the gong sounds again, indicating the end of the second round, Jungkook returns to his corner.

From where he stood, Jungkook had a perfect view of the bar. If his memories were correct, he told you not to return to the Den during your phone call. So what the hell were you doing here. He only hoped that you weren't the new barmaid the others discussed.

"Pighead." You were pretty true to yourself, just going through the motions when he'd told you otherwise.

During his whole minute's pause, Jungkook hadn't taken his eyes off you, which didn't go unnoticed by Jung-Ho. Had Jungkook had a case with this chick? That was the question on Jung-Ho's mind. Were you related to him? He didn't know that; all he knew was that you'd attracted the attention of his sworn enemy and that he intended to use it to his advantage.

The Ring Girl finishes her round after indicating the third round, leave, the gong sounds, and the third round begins where the previous one left off.

Jungkook throws Jung-Ho a straight punch right in the face. As the punch was thrown and Jungkook's fist made contact with his opponent's nose, he felt a crack coming from his opponent. He had just broken his nose. Confirmation followed as soon as Jung-Ho's nose bled.

The blow had knocked him back a few steps, and instinctively, Jung-Ho brought his hand to his bruised nose.

"I see you saw my chick at the bar. So don't try anything with her because she's mine." Jung-Ho was playing with fire and knew it very well; he knew full well that Jungkook would retaliate, but the game was worth the candle. He wanted to get him off his back, and he was going to succeed. He would try with words if he couldn't rattle his opponent with blows.

This was precisely why Jungkook didn't get involved with anyone, to avoid this situation. To prevent his opponents from finding his weak point(s) and turning them against him. Yet he hadn't been able to help himself tonight with you, and as feared, his opponent had caught on and was now making him pay for his imprudence.

On the other hand, Jungkook wasn't fooled; he knew what Jung-Ho was up to by using you against him. But if his aim was to piss him off, he must not have been very clever because Jungkook was going to let off steam. So, in both cases, Jung-Ho would come out as the loser and more humiliated than on previous occasions.

"Once I'm done with you, I'll take care of her. Take her back to my place and fuck her so hard, she'll forget her own name."

Jungkook knew reacting or feeling affected by these words was pointless, especially since he was nothing and no one to you. He was just a simple guy who was lucky enough to be around when you needed him and who helped you out a few times before you found out he was your neighbor. Your 'relationship' ended there.

Then why did he feel a lousy emotion surging inside him? Usually, when his opponents tried this childish tactic on him - Jung-Ho was not the first and certainly not the last to do so - they couldn't succeed. Usually, they'd try it with the few booty calls Jungkook had, thinking they were his girlfriend, but they'd just turn out to be chicks he'd slept with.

With you, however, it's not the same. The man feels possessiveness, no, rather a protective instinct towards you. An attraction that's still difficult for him to determine is whether it's because he wants to have you constantly with him or whether it's simply physical attraction. In either case, he wasn't going to try to figure out which one turned out to be his.

You didn't understand what was going on between the two men. All you could see, however, was that Jung-Ho was engaged in a monologue, and by Jungkook's facial expression, you'd be willing to bet it was getting on his nerves.

Although there had been no physical exertion on the fighters' part, Jungkook's breathing was jerky. His face was closed, eyebrows furrowed as he played with his tongue, caressing the inner corner of his cheek. His closed eyes made him vulnerable to his opponent, yet Jungkook didn't care. He was trying to channel his nerves and calm down before committing the irreparable.

Although, as an underground fighter, Jungkook avoided having a man's blood on his hands. For the stupidest, most inconsequential thing Jung-Ho could be, for Jungkook's psychological sake, he was trying not to kill him tonight.

But the more obscene things came out of Jung-Ho's foul mouth, the more difficult it became.

From your point of view, everything happened very quickly for the human eye and brain to properly assimilate and transmit what happened to the brain. The only thing you and the supporters knew was that one second, Jung-Ho, a.k.a Bazooka, was standing with a goofy grin, and the next, he was knocked to the ground.

The crowd went wild, and the referee entered the cage to start the countdown to ten. Inwardly and unconsciously, you prayed that Jung-Ho would stay down and that Jungkook would be the big winner.

At the end of the ten seconds, Bullet Fists is crowned the winner after knocking out his opponent.

Once all the evening's fights were over, people went home. It's been almost an hour since everything ended, and still no Jungkook in sight. So you get on with life and work with Minjun and Sohan, who can't stop talking about tonight's fights.

Meanwhile, you continued wiping glasses, Minjun washed and disinfected the counter and worktop, and Sohan cleaned and put away bottles.

"Hey man, what can I get you?" Sohan's voice snaps you out of your concentration, and you rivet your attention to the person he is addressing.

Finally, Jungkook showed up. You couldn't see his full clothes, but he wore a black hoodie. He was kindly seated on the counter's high stool.

"As usual, but give me a triple shot." With that, Sohan grabs the bottle of Whisky and, as requested, pours a triple shot before adding a large diamond-sized ice cube.

Although you try to make eye contact with Jungkook, he seems determined not to meet your gaze. Pretending to be focused on his glass and its contents before drinking it and asking for more.

Finish wiping up and putting away the last glass, you take the bottle of Whiskey from Sohan's hands.

"Don't worry, I'll manage." You dismiss him as he takes the opportunity to grab the mop and take care of the floor.

Meanwhile, you pour the bottle's contents into Jungkook's glass before handing it to him. Reaching for the glass, his fingers brush yours. It's undoubtedly a cliché to say it, but as you do so, a gentle warmth seizes you while an electric current runs through your body, causing goosebumps.

But as if burned by fire, Jungkook quickly moves his hand away from you and sips the drink. You didn't understand this distance on his part. You knew he was ignoring you, but the question was, why?

During your last exchange, everything had gone well, so you didn't understand his hostile behavior towards you. Ignoring all this, you tried an approach.

"Hey, Quasimodo, that was a hell of a fight. What did he say to you, Bazooka, to get you all worked up and send him to dreamland." You try to tease him to dispel the electricity between you.

There's nothing worse in this world than the silent treatment and being ignored by someone. Jungkook heard you all right. You had no doubt about that. You were alone in the room, Minjun having finished his duty while Sohan had gone to put the mop away in its place.

Instead of answering you, Jungkook empties his glass and stubbornly does not address you or even look at you; he gestures for you to serve him again.

"No." Two could play this stubborn game.

Surprised, Jungkook decided to look at you at last, one eyebrow raised as if to ask if you were serious, which you were. You close the bottle and put it back to show him you weren't joking.

Jungkook gives a little laugh, taken aback by your audacity. "All right."

He stands up, throws a bill on the counter, and heads for the exit without giving you another glance.

On the other hand, in total incomprehension, you let out a loud sigh.

"Trouble in paradise, sexy?" Startling you by not having seen him coming, you turn your head to come face to face with a rather severely banged-up Jung-Ho.

"Not in the least." You pretended to be busy so as not to have to interact with the individual. Luckily, you still had Jungkook's glass to wash.

"Can you pour me a drink?" Jung-Ho asks.

"Sorry, but the bar's closed, and I don't know if you realize it, but tonight was pretty hectic, and I just want to go home."

"All right, what do you say we go back to your place, and you buy me a drink?"

The audacity of this guy. What could you say to get him off your back once and for all? It was late at night, and your socializing battery was at minus a thousand, so you were planning to make it clear to him word for word that you weren't interested in him, but you didn't have the time to do it.

You were so absorbed in avoiding Jung-Ho that you hadn't noticed that Jungkook was still present, standing in the middle of the stairs. He had caught all of your interaction with his opponent.

He was determined to ignore you and head home for a hot shower to relax his tense muscles. He would also take the opportunity to treat his wounds before throwing himself on his bed, but once again, you eradicated his plans.

He couldn't ignore the obscene images playing in his head. Imagining everything, Jung-Ho told him he would do to you once the fight ended. He turned around and walked back down the steps towards the bar.

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook." He berates himself as he braves the distance between you.

"Get your stuff, we're going home." And lo and behold, once again, Jungkook holds out the stick to be beaten.

"Excuse me?" Stunned by his nerve. First, he ignores you for no good reason, and now he wants to take you home? What a joke.

"Grab your stuff, and let's get out of here." Minjun and Sohan return from wherever they are and stumble upon a scene they never thought they'd witness, especially from Jungkook.

In all the years the two men had worked in the Den and rubbed shoulders with Jungkook, they'd never seen him in such a state.

"Who's we? You, you mean."

Closing his eyes and sighing, Jungkook blurts, "YN, don't play smart with me. I'm exhausted and want to go home." He finally opens his eyes, and his gaze is dark. "Get your damn things, and let's go home."

"The lady doesn't want to go home with you, buddy. So fuck off." Swings Jung-Ho finds the situation amusing and throws more fuel on the fire.

"You shut up, you prick." Jungkook was ready to knock him out again, but Minjun intervened.

"Okay, guys, let's take it down a notch. The fight's over."

"Here." Sohan hands your jacket and bag before gently pushing you out from behind the bar.

"See you Tuesday," Minjun tells you as you walk past him.

"All right, I'm going home, but definitely not with you." You walk past a greatly annoyed Jungkook and pretend to ignore him as you put your leather jacket back on before adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

"I'm going to kill her," Jungkook mutters to himself before taking you by the hand and dragging you to the exit.

"What the fuck, man? I can walk on my own."

Suddenly, just as you'd reached level zero and were walking down the short corridor to the exit, Jungkook pushed you against the wall, trapping your body between the wall and his body.

"Don't play with my nerves, princess. I think I've had enough for tonight."

"Then leave me alone and go home." You shake off his hold and leave the building before starting to walk in the direction of your home.

"Don't be stubborn, YN, and let me take you home."

"How kind of you to come to my aid, my good man. But I can get home just fine on my own." His attitude and mood swings were beginning to make your head spin and play with your nerves.

"Goddammit, woman, get back here." Jungkook couldn't take it anymore. So he runs after you, grabs you in bride mode, being sure you can't get out of his grip, and walks towards his car the opposite way you'd gone.

Arriving at his vehicle, Jungkook unlocks it and opens the passenger-side door before sitting you in the front seat and buckling your seatbelt.

"I know how to buckle myself in. " You clap your hands to ward them off. Your eyes met no sooner than you felt electricity in the air again.

"Great." With that, Jungkook straightens up before slamming the door. He walks around to his car, climbs on the driver's side, puts the keys in the ignition, and starts the vehicle toward your respective homes.

All the way home, you sulked, refusing to speak to him as he had done to you. For his part, Jungkook was seeing red. He gripped the steering wheel angrily, driving like a madman while his knuckles were white.

He wasn't angry with you, even though you didn't listen when he told you to not set foot in the Den, and as usual, you didn't listen to him. No, he was pissed at himself for giving his opponent something to get at and, even worse, for succumbing and getting involved with you once again.

"Fuck." He punches the steering wheel as he accelerates again.

"You're fucking crazy. Slow down; I don't want to die." Once again, he ignored you, and the current speed exceeds 100 km/h.

"Jungkook." You could see that he was no longer present among you; his gaze seemed lost in the vague. You really were going to die tonight because of a fool.

Images of you and Jung-Ho replayed in his head, making him even more angry. But luckily, you had just entered your street. Stopping short in front of his house, Jungkook barely had time to save you from banging your head against the space just above the glove compartment.

"Sick bastard." And with that, you undo your seatbelt and get out of the car, not forgetting to slam the door.

That snapped him out of his delusion. "Shit." He gets out of the car just in time as you circle the car to cross the road and finally return to the comfort of home.

You had two days off, so you would enjoy forgetting this catastrophic evening. But your plans were postponed, as Jungkook managed to pin you against his car and wedge you between it and his muscular body.

"What's the matter with you?" You shouted in his face.

For crying out loud, Jungkook says nothing. Taking your cheeks between his calloused yet gentle hands, he seals your lips. He draws you into a kiss filled with passion and desire but also filled with frustration. His frustrations. Deepening your kiss by inserting his tongue into your mouth and pressing his body to yours, Jungkook takes you out of this world and into a whole new one.

You didn't know why you let that kiss go on. Indeed eager for Jungkook, too. Of their own accord, your hands pass under his sweatshirt, making direct contact with his skin and those iron abs he had. Your lips let themselves be led by his, engaged in a frenzied yet sensual dance, while your tongue was carried away by the rhythm. Your kiss was torrid initially, but Jungkook still built up the intensity.

Your body reacted well to his, fitting together perfectly despite your size difference, like chemical elements that, when stimulated, became incandescent with desire.

You let yourself be carried away by his hands that roamed your body, memorizing every curve. Your hands got lost in his hair, and out of pure reflex, you tugged gently on it, eliciting a grunt of pleasure from him. You both needed oxygen but feared that the reality would spoil everything if you paused to catch your breath. But Jungkook tried anyway and went for your neck.

He leaves his mark as he sucks on the sensitive skin of your neck, in the joint between your neck and shoulder. Running a hand over your back, you feel his broad hand move down to your butt before he takes one of them in his hand. A delicious moan escapes you, going straight into his ear and cock. With his hand still positioned on your butt, Jungkook greedily pulls you against him, pressing you even closer.

You resume your torrid kiss again, which causes you to lose all signs of strength in your legs, and you have to hold on to him to keep from collapsing to the floor. The streets were empty, and the brothel below your house was already closed, given the late hour. Only the moon and stars witnessed your moment.

Your moans mixed with Jungkook's grunts were a sweet melody in your ears. Tongue dancing together, teeth chattering, and his hands on you were the perfect mix to bring you to the gates of Nirvana. You felt that with Jungkook, you had unlocked all the keys to liberate yourself from your condition of suffering, illusion, and ignorance.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Jungkook is the one who ends your fiery exchange. Yet his body remains glued to yours as he gently rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed as he inhales your scent, imprinting it once and for all on his mind. Your scent was sweet and bewitching. Your breaths are jerky and violent.

Caressing your cheek with his thumb, Jungkook succumbed to his weakness one last time before ending your exchange.

"You're driving me crazy." His voice was low, weak, and hoarse. "What are you doing to me, princess." And with that, he broke the gentle contact of your bodies and looked at you one last time before heading off to his home, leaving you alone, still leaning against his car, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Next ⇢

n/a: I hope you enjoy this short story as much as I do. To ensure you don’t miss the progress of the chapters and their release, don’t forget to check out the Working on and Updates section. There, you’ll find updates on “Fighter” and other stories and “One Shot” that you’ll probably enjoy. Also, don’t forget to check out the Masterlist. You’ll probably find something for you among my other stories in progress and those to come.

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Taglist : @variety-is-the-joy-of-life ; @ttanniett

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[goodvibesandmemes]

MOVIE MEMES: “The Princess Bride” (1987) 🏰👸🏽🤺 ↳ Please feel free to tweak them etc.

Themes: swords, fighting, violence, magic, weapons, fantasy, war, medieval-like era, friendship, death, epic battles, blades

“Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” “I do not mean to pry, but you don't by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?” “Let me put it this way, have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates? Morons.” “Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line!” “There was a mighty duel.” “You’ve been mostly dead all day.” “Hear this now: I will always come for you.” “I just want you to feel you're doing well. I hate for people to die embarrassed.” “My way's not very sportsman-like.” “I have been in the revenge business so long, now that it's over, I don't know what to do with the rest of my life.” “You mean you'll put down your rock and I'll put down my sword, and we'll try and kill each other like civilized people?” “You mock my pain.” “When I was your age, television was called books.” “I'll explain and I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog-faced buffoon.” “You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you.” “Nonsense. You're only saying that because no one ever has.” “Anybody want a peanut?” “That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me.” “Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” “You be careful. People in masks cannot be trusted.” “Inconceivable!” “Get some rest. If you haven’t got your health, then you haven’t got anything.” “This is true love. You think this happens every day?” “[name], tear his arms off.” “I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase.” “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” “It's not that bad! Well, I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.” “Why won't my arms move?” “You're trying to kidnap what I've rightfully stolen.” “I always think that everything could be a trap, which is why I'm still alive.” “Rest well and dream of large women.” “Rodents of Unusual Size? I don't think they exist.” “I want my father back, you son of a bitch.” “You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.” “Your vote of confidence is overwhelming.” “It's not my fault being the biggest and the strongest. I don't even exercise.” “My name is [name]. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” “You can’t hurt me. [name] and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords.” “There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in the world. It would be a pity to damage yours.” “You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept.” “Beat it, or I'll call the Brute Squad.” “I killed you too quickly the last time. A mistake I don't mean to duplicate tonight.” “Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.” “Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” “Oh no, it's just that they're terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future.” “As you wish.” “We'll never succeed. We may as well die here.” “I can’t compete with you physically, and you’re no match for my brains.” “I've never worked for so little. Except once, and that was a very noble cause.” “I think you're bluffing.”

[716chr]

Chihiro Natsuyaki Novel - “Choose Me!”

Track 5 - Grand Finale

“Ah, the Grazie Comedy Festa is starting!”

Tao, my roommate at HAMA Tours' dorm, suddenly remembered and quickly turned on the TV. A high-definition holographic television appears on an empty wall.

I was propped up against a cushion next to Tao as I fiddled with my phone, but decided to get up and watch the show with him, “Tao, you really like comedy huh?”

Normally after dinner we would be finishing up our lessons, but since our next live show would be a bit bigger than our normal guerilla ones, our manager, Nayuki, had banned us from practicing after 9 o’clock. That’s why there was some spare time for us to watch TV.

When the comedy show started, I saw a familiar face among the commentators.

"Our guest today, Komu-kun, is a member of the popular idol group '13's'...”

When the MC introduced him, Tao reacted with a 'Geh!' and hastily reached for the remote. Knowing that he was aware of my past, he was likely just being considerate of me.

“It’s fine, Tao. I’m alright now, so let’s just watch it, okay?”

“R-Really?”

Tao looks at me sitting beside him worriedly.

When I replied that I was really fine, he said he understood and backed off.

This is one of the things I like about Tao.

The Komu-kun on TV looked much more polished and refined than the Komu-kun I knew. He was dressed in an outfit that was more befitting of an idol now, with perfectly styled hair.

But of course, he still had that genuine smile that everyone loves.

——I can still recall that day, that moment.

It was during the final audition, when they were announcing the 13th place winner who would take the last spot for the next-gen idol group.

1st to 12th had already been decided, and neither Komu-kun nor I had our names called yet.

"......We will now reveal the results.”

After the MC announced this, there was a long, drawn-out pause.

Komu-kun was the chosen one.

I wasn’t chosen.

Even now I still don’t know what was going on inside my heart at that time, that moment.

Komu-kun cries as he steps up onto the elevated stage. The other twelve chosen members embrace Komu-kun as they celebrate together.

.....Bathed in the dazzling lights pouring down on the stage, his figure shone like a star.

I could only gaze up at him along with the others that weren’t chosen.

Helplessly.

…..The curtains to “Chii’s” dream had been drawn.

That’s what I thought.

I don’t remember much from after that.

As I was heading back to the waiting room, I ran into the director who suggested I do a gyaru persona back then.

I bowed my head listlessly, and he commented, 'What a pity.'

I think I tried to smile.

It made a lot of bad memories for me, but I thought the production team had their own reasons.

I knew people didn’t like me, but I thought it was just part of the job.

But the instant he whispered in my ear, my smile vanished.

“You were actually the 13th. But Komu-kun has more charm, so the votes were tweaked a bit.”

The director then continued, “By the way, it was the producer who gave the order.”

He followed up with a laugh, leaving me baffled.

Was that a joke? Or was he being for real?

I ranked 14th, with a vote count that was just 200 votes behind Komu-kun’s.

My head was pounding, I felt sick to my stomach, and I felt like I was going to pass out.

I wonder how I even made it back home that day.

There were moments when I thought that expressing my anger and grievances might be able to flip my ranking around, but I knew it was probably useless.

After all, I don’t know if I was actually 13th place.

I was fed up with everything and shut myself in at home.

Mom was disappointed in my failure and berated me every time we saw each other. Before long I found myself unable to take a single step outside my room.

My whole life had crumbled apart.

I began to question whether there was any point in living anymore…..

But about a month later, when I checked social media for the first time in a while, I found lots of messages from people saying they missed me.

They said they wanted to see “Chii” dance again. I felt bad for suddenly disappearing for a month and worrying everyone, but it also made me happy to see how much they cared.

I've got to get back to work.

My sisters' school fees wouldn’t pay for themselves.

I knew I couldn’t just abandon them.

So I decided to start moving forward little by little and began my activities at Dazzle.

I thought I’d try living as “Chii” again.

Even though it felt like the remnants of a bygone life, at the moment, it was all I had.

All of my frustration, fear, pain, along with the burning desire to curse the world; I poured all of it into my dances.

I knew about all of “13’s” impressive accomplishments after my failed debut, but I tried not to look into them.

I got a DM from Komu-kun once, but I couldn't bring myself to reply. I didn't even read it in the first place. I was scared that if I opened that DM, I'd be consumed by jealousy and turn into a monster.

While I had plenty of haters, I also had people who supported me.

So... that's why, I had to survive. I had to keep on living.

To do that, I needed somebody, anybody to see my worth...

I think I’ve been desperate for that for a long time.

As I watched the comedy show with Tao, memories of the past flashed in my mind, coming and going one by one.

On the screen, Komu-kun was smiling from ear to ear and seemed to be genuinely enjoying the comedians' performances.

——Komu-pi must know I was arrested for fraud, right?

It was in the news, after all.

He might also know that I made my return as a prisoner idol, and that I was active in Ev3ns.

——Nah, there's no chance a member of the famous “13's” would know about a low-level idol like me.

Through the TV screen, Komu-kun spoke with that same honest smile he had back then.

“I'm from KOBE. Now that I’ve shown my parents my gratitude, I’m thinking of doing something for my hometown next.…..”

“…..This Komu-kun guy, I was his roommate during the audition show.”

“Eh, really?”

I muttered it offhandedly, but Tao seemed surprised. His nonchalant attitude made my complaints slip out.

“Komu-kun’s smile is pure and innocent like an angel’s, isn’t it? It’s nothing like my fake one, and it’s cute too.”

Ah.

Alarms were ringing in my head.

I told myself that I was over it, that I wouldn’t compare myself like that anymore.

But I still couldn’t help the self-deprecating words that spilled out. It was like an old bad habit that was ingrained in me.

My heart pounded, an uneasy feeling settling in. I was terrified of Tao’s reaction so I lowered my gaze.

But the answer I received was unexpectedly straightforward.

“Hmm, really? I don't really get it. I like your smile though.”

Hearing him say something like that so casually, I raise my head without realizing it.

Tao continues with a straight face.

“Isn't it up to personal preference? I've always liked your cat eyes more than those droopy ones.”

…….

Woah, Tao.

“Tao! You’re such a meanie!”

Before I knew it, I was punching Tao in the shoulder.

Tao let out a “Hah?” and looks at me with a confused expression from the sudden punch, but I think it's deserved.

“Man~…. It’s hard being in the same room as someone who's naturally gifted at attracting delulu simps”

“Delulu? Simps? What are you talking about…..?”

Tao usually looked a bit put off in these kinds of situations.

It’s hard to explain but….

….this side of him makes me feel at ease.

My sadness disappears, and this time I’m able to look at the TV again without comparing myself to Komu-kun’s smile.

Because I know there’s at least one person here who likes my smile.

I wonder if I can read Komu-pi’s DM now? It feels a bit late, but I was the one who got jealous and cut ties on my own after all; I want to try to face him again.

But my DMs were flooded with so many hate messages now that I might not be able to find it again.

“.…Y’know, my DMs from my dazzle days were always full of hate.”

“Oh, really? Why’re you bringing this up all of a sudden?”

Ignoring Tao, I continue talking.

“Since starting activities with Ev3ns, I've been getting some really nice messages. I can see the first few lines, so I read the ones that seem nice and positive.”

“Hmm, that’s good.”

“In the pile of such trashy DMs, y’know, there are occasionally some that shine like jewels.”

“Is that so?”

Tao listened with a “So what's your point?” look.

I thought it was funny and laughed a little.

Tao probably can’t picture it, but to me, those happy messages I get once in a while are like pretty flowers blooming in the mud.

Without a doubt, I’m covered in mud.

Ev3ns isn’t a star-studded idol group like 13’s. But flowers that bloom in mud are still beautiful in their own way.

I kind of like the me who can think that way now.

At least, much more than I did before.

The curtains to “Chii’s” dream might have been drawn, but the stage for Chihiro Natsuyaki’s dream is still set.

Someday, when I can shine even more brightly——

Will I be able to make all of “Chii’s” other dreams come true too?

……To give mom the affection she wants, to give Big Sis the peace of mind she needs, and to give my little sisters the future they deserve.

If I can do that, maybe someday I can meet my father too.

I think about it for a moment, not knowing if it’s a wish or a dream.

Next to me, Tao is laughing loudly at the comedy show.

As I laugh with him, I think about how I’ll dance my best again tomorrow.

The only thing I can do.

Be it on days of joy or days of sorrow.

Whether in cramped rooms or on wide streets, whether someone is watching or no one is looking.

It’s the gift that God has given to me,

I can dance.

And with that…. I finally decided that I had no choice but to live.

TL Notes:

In reference to the usage of the word “delulu” up there in regards to idol culture, with the original word Chihiro used being リア恋, in the context of "oshi-katsu" (activities supporting one's favorite idol or character), the terms リア恋 (riakoi - commonly used for women) and ガチ恋 (gachikoi - commonly used for men) are used to describe a state where the fan harbors unrealistic romantic feelings and want toward their bias, not just supporting them but also having the desire to date or marry them, often exceeding beyond the scope of being fans.

The target of these リアコ typically refers to idols, anime characters, or other unattainable figures from different worlds, thus it is not used for individuals who are realistically reachable as romantic partners.

リアコ is characterized by the following:

Imagining/wanting a romantic relationship with their bias.

Feeling distressed when seeing their bias with someone of the opposite sex.

On social media, some fans view those who support the same bias as their romantic rivals, leading to the term 同担拒否 (doutan kyohi), which means rejecting connections with those who have the same bias.

Sometimes ガチ恋 and リア恋 can be used in derogatory manner as well, depending on the context

On wikipedia, the definition for “delulu” is as follows: “Used as an adjective or a noun, it referred to individuals who harbored unrealistic hopes of meeting a celebrity of whom they were a fan, indicating a parasocial relationship characterized by delusional beliefs. The term was often also used by users in the context of joking about being deluded themselves.”

TLDR: “delulu” is the only fandom-based word that correctly captures the nuance carried in リア恋 and ガチ恋, with minor differences. Regardless on your stance on the word, as someone who suffers from psychotic depression, it is just an internet slang from a decade ago used in idol cultures, the recent definition and usage of the word has nothing to do with what it was created for.

Track 1 | Track 2 | Track 3 | Track 4 | Track 5

[katieaki]

My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for free on my Patreon and vote in the poll! There is a summary of the first part, here, and second part, here. They have everything you need to know about Lou, her requited-but-complicated love, the religious assassin who just beat the tar out of her, the worst person she's ever met, and the ill-advised journey she is on! It's the second update of part three. Were you hoping we got a glimpse into Lou's medium-traumatic childhood? Well, if so, I've got great news for you!

Read it for free on my patreon! Excerpt below the cut.

“You’re Handsome Eddie’s kid. Gods, you look just like him,” she’d said, turning Lou’s face up with her rough hand. “Didn’t think your daddy raised a horse thief.”

“You’re the damn horse thief,” Lou had spat.

“I bought him fair and square, little lady,” she had said, hauling Lou onto her bare feet and loosing her from the rope. “Come on, get on your feet, we’re going up there to tell your mama.” 

“No!” Lou had said. She’d grasped the lady’s hands in desperation. No one had been allowed to go to their house. No one had been allowed to know how bad a state her mother was in. No one had been allowed to know how they were living. “Please don’t tell her.”

“Well, would you rather we go tell your mama or I whip you right here?” she’d asked. Lou didn’t know then that she’d been trying to bluff her.

“Whip me,” Lou had said, almost eagerly. She would have taken much worse than a whipping. “But don’t tell my mama.”

She had obviously been surprised by Lou’s answer. But after a minute, she had said ‘alright’ and had Lou hold out her hands and whipped them with a switch eight times: one for each year of her life, only minus two because she was so small. A few thin lines of blood had bubbled to the surface but Lou’s anger had protected her from crying in front of this woman.

“Are you sorry?” she had asked.

“No,” Lou had said. “Sorry I got caught, maybe.”

“Well, tough guy, when your mama asks what that’s about, you tell her that’s what I do to horse thieves,” she had said, pointing at the welts on Lou’s palms. “The first time they get caught, mind you.”

“She ain’t gonna notice anyhow,” Lou had said. She had flexed her stiff and bloody palms with a wince. She wouldn’t have been able to go to the pantry now. The siblings there would have noticed for sure. 

When she had looked up at her again, the lady’s face had changed. Lou hadn’t understood exactly what that expression was then, but she did now. Pity, but the cold kind. She had let Lou walk all the way to the gate, her throbbing hands held in front of her, palm up. “You want out of there, kid?” she’d called.

Lou had looked over her shoulder at her.

“Come back when you can use them hands again. I’ll give you a job,” she’d said.

Despite everything, Lou had beamed at her. “Really?” she’d called back. “Okay! I’ll be back!”

“It’s not gonna be fun!” she had called as Lou took off back home at a run. “It’ll be hard work! And the pay’s shit!”

[askbensolo]

Sorry I haven’t posted much this week. It’s been a liiittle crazy. I gave both Armitage and Poe tours of the apartment this week (Armitage on Monday, Poe yesterday).

I thought I hated them when I was just messaging them. Oh, buddy, I had no idea.

Let’s start with Armitage. Listen: my mother raised me right. I tried to be nice, even though every previous interaction I’d had with him had proven that he was not. I opened the door and put on a smile and said, “Hey!” Bro looks past me and sees my holopad propped up on the dining table, where I’d been watching the livestream of the Senate hearing on arms control on Coruscant. Unfortunately, it was paused right on a close-up of my mom.

This dude cannot be normal. Imagine. You walk into a stranger’s home, see an image of a senator you’re maybe not so fond of, and go “Tch. Senator Organa… I’m convinced she was only voted in out of pity. Everyone loves the Alderaanian princess, but she’s really rather far from qualified.”

What.

I was so pissed I almost couldn’t talk. “What the—wh—why do you think she’s not qualified?! She has years of political experience, and she fought on the ground. She’s done so much volunteer and charity work, and she actually understands the issues she talks about on the floor, and—”

Armitage looked taken aback, but also like he was scrutinizing me. I shut my mouth.

“…What did you say your last name was?” he asked suspiciously, his tone clipped.

‘Cause, see, when I’m first meeting someone, I don’t usually tell them who I am am. I’m just Ben. I like being my own person. And then maybe after they pass the vibe check I can be like, “oh, yeah, I’m Ben Solo, but I’m also just a chill dude, please treat me normal haha.” But, yeah—that’s why Armitage didn’t know who I was.

You know when you’re talking to a stranger and you’re like, “Oh. No. We are not getting into this, because I’m never gonna see you again”? That was me in that moment. I was like, yeah, there’s no way I’m rooming with this snooty bag of tauntaun flatulence for a year.

“Quadinaros,” I said. It was the first name I thought of. I hoped Armitage didn’t know his podracers.

He looked like he wasn’t buying it.

“Well, what’s your last name?” I blurted in a stupid retort. Like a “your mom” kind of thing. Usually, that doesn’t work. Surprisingly, it caught him off guard.

“…Arkanis,” he replied, with less confidence than one would usually declare his own name with.

Whatever.

I showed him the apartment like I promised (and believe me, the comment about my mom was not the last rude thing he said while he was there), but in my head I knew I was picking Poe.

That is…until yesterday, when I had Poe over to tour.

I was actually genuinely excited to greet Poe at the door, because he was my ticket to not rooming with Armitage…but the smile melted right off my face when I beheld the sight before me.

This guy is. De-kriffing-ranged.

You know those, like, baby holders you buckle onto your chest? Well, get this. Homie was wearing one of those…but his BB droid was in it. And those models are hefty. They may be all round, and relatively small compared to your average R2 unit, but they’re still like…I don’t know, the height of your knee? And made of metal, obviously.

My jaw dropped at the sight of this absolute madman. I just stood there staring at him.

“So, uh.” Poe cleared his throat, as if he didn’t have forty pounds of droid buckled to his body. “Who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?”

I snapped out of it. “Sorry. Uh. Here. Come in.”

Once inside, he put his droid down on the floor, and I was reminded that choosing Poe meant also getting a pet, basically. “Weeeeoooooo!” said the BB unit, and started rolling all over the place.

Forty pounds of droid rolled over my foot. “Ow!”

“Sorry!” said Poe. “He’s just a little excitable. Aren’t ya, buddy?”

So I gave them the tour. And I really don’t have the energy to recount that endeavor, so here’s a list of some (just some) of Poe’s demands:

the droid’s charging dock needs to be in our bedroom near the window, even though the window is on my side of the bedroom

we need to put down rubber mats over the carpet so it’s easier for the droid to roll around

we need to ask management to install an accessibility ramp at the doorstep so the droid can roll in and out

it would be great if I could play with the droid when Poe’s not around, since the droid needs daily stimulation

After a while I kind of stopped listening. I thought to myself, Is this real life? Are astromechs not just flight navigation equipment? Is this would-be pilot who doesn’t even own a starship asking me to play with his droid like it’s his son?

I couldn’t have been more relieved to finally show Poe and his droid out the door. And then I ran into my room and flopped on my bed face-down and screamed into the mattress.

If only it wasn’t so late into the year. It’s impossible to find roommates right now. I’m lucky to have two options, as horrible as both options are.

I almost thought about moving back in with Mom and Dad. But…then I thought about my job, and Wednesday nights at the cantina with the guys, and quiet Sunday walks along the lake, and lazy Saturday museum-crawls with my ink pen and paper notebook…compared to how living at home just transforms me back into a sixteen-year-old, and I was like…no. No. I’m not leaving Naboo.

Anyway…so that’s my week. At least Fannie’s coming over tomorrow and I can temporarily forget next year’s gonna be hell.

[reallystellacadente]

I Really Don't Want to Die, and Why

I need to make something ENTIRELY clear: Donald Trump needs to be defeated BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY.

ANY. FUCKING. MEANS. NECESSARY.

The rest is below the cut because it's long and personal. The tl;dr, though is if you cannot abide me posting that you have to vote for the Democrat in this election, you should probably unfollow me. I'm not all that popular, so blocking is unnecessary but you do you.

That also includes his supporters on Capitol Hill, the incompetents on SCOTUS, and any and all of the Nationalist Christians (Nat C) fascists who support the Heritage Foundation and Project 2025 and any other manifestos they have excreted into the public domain.

For me, that means I have to vote for the Democratic nominee for president in 2024. To not vote, or to waste my vote on a useless third party candidate, is to hand a vote to Trump. Go back and check the facts of 2016: Jill Stein voters handed him Pennsylvania, Wisconsin and Michigan, where I live. Nonvoters who usually voted Democrat who stayed home because of the Email Lady also would have made a difference.

Fine. We fucked around and found out. Hundreds of thousands died. An insurrection happened literally in front of our eyes. And the figurehead behind it all has, to date, gotten away with everything.

Now the Beast is even worse. If Donald Trump gets elected, his policies will LITERALLY COST ME MY LIFE and that of my family. He will take away my healthcare (I am a recent cancer survivor), my pending disability (I cannot walk or stand for more than a few seconds and had to quit my job; this predates and is unrelated to my cancer), my EBT (haven't been able to work more than part-time for a while now, and I do like to eat food) and the pitiful partial Social Security we're living on while my disability is getting approved -- thanks to the GOP, a process that takes a minimum of 6-8 months. I will lose my income and my housing and everything.

I FUCKING DON'T LIKE THAT.

None of this -- ABSOLUTELY NONE OF THIS -- means I support the genocide in Palestine. I have been fighting this fight since the mid-80s and I can get the receipts if you want. I questioned why it was OK to roll tanks onto people who threw stones at them, only to get called a terrorist.

But now, when I am doing the best I can to fight the literal war here where I live, I'm called a white supremacist? Fuck you. I mean, the person sending me messages has been blocked and won't see this, but I'm getting that out into the universe nevertheless.

If you're old enough to navigate this website, you're old enough to curate your own experience here. Unfollow me if me saying "you need to vote for the Democrat" is bothersome. I will accept that it might even be triggering and that's OK, I certainly don't want to actually trigger someone's pain. But sending me threatening messages is bullshit and you know it.

I don't stan politicians and in social media spaces where my real identity is known, and I have stated this many times. Cult of personality sucks no matter who it's about. But all things considered, the Democratic platform/policies/whatever have always been closer to what I want in the place where I live. The GOP? Never in my lifetime.

It's hard for me to reconcile these things, but I know that if Trump wins, it will be even worse for Palestine. And he'll let Putin run rampant through Ukraine, too.

I'm sorry this is what it's come down to. I hope to live long enough to see something change. But we absolutely must defeat Donald Trump.

I want to live.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Meaning Behind The Results

Gai's Victory (What we wish had happened)

Words: 1,440

“Rival, I’m home!” Gai called out cheerfully, a bouquet of flower’s clutched in his left hand while he shoved his sandals off and swooped down to pick them up with his right hand. Setting them to the side, he smiled when he saw Kakashi’s sandals sitting in their spot.

Confirmation that his rival was in fact home.

Today had been longer than usual. Originally Gai had intended to spend his day training as usual, but when he’d caught wind of the chatter amongst the citizens of Konoha about an attractiveness poll he’d decided to check it out.

It had come as no surprise to him that Kakashi had made it into the semi-finals of this sudden poll. His rival was an attractive, kind, friendly man who had been catching people’s eyes since they were children.

What had surprised him, and proved to be a small confidence boost he hadn’t known he needed, was finding out that he had also made it into the semi-finals.

Even more importantly, his semi final’s match was against Kakashi.

Naturally, Gai had thrown himself right into the fray. He’d done everything he could to gain as many votes as possible before the poll ended and secure himself a victory that he was confident he deserved.

After all, who could look at him and not think that he was a handsome man? He was one of Konoha’s best looking men in history.

It didn’t matter that Kakashi was also a very handsome man. Gai wanted to win.

 Now, though, after a long day of promoting himself and some very disappointed results, all he wanted to do was cuddle up with his husband on the couch and sleep.

He’d never realized just how much work it was to run around trying to convince people to vote for him on a silly poll.

Dragging himself forward, he sniffed the air and grinned when he caught a whiff of his favorite red curry.

“Rival,” he stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and smiled when he saw Kakashi standing diligently in front of the stove mixing things together in a pan. “What’s the occasion?”

Turning his head, Kakashi offered Gai a cheerful smile. “does everything need an occasion?” he asked, though Gai couldn’t help but notice the cheerful note in his husband’s voice.

“No,” crossing his arms over his chest he leaned against the door frame and watched as Kakashi returned to his task. His eyes followed every movement Kakashi made, taking in every little detail of what he was doing. “Oh, I brought you flowers.”

Suddenly remembering the gift he’d picked up, Gai held them out in front of himself and watched as Kakashi turned his head to examine them.

“It’s not our anniversary.”

“No.”

“Or my birthday.”

“That’s next month,” waving the flowers, he snickered when Kakashi rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a reason to buy my very attractive husband flowers, do I?”

Kakashi’s left eyebrow raised toward the roof when the word ‘attractive’ fell from Gai’s mouth. “Is this about that silly competition?”

“Maybe…”

“Did you…” examining Gai’s face for a moment, he gasped. “You did! You got me a pity prize!”

“I didn’t.”

“My own husband, getting me a pity prize,” throwing his hand over his forehead dramatically, Kakashi sent bits of curry flying all over the room. The floor, counter, and even gai himself were suddenly decorated with delicious red curry.

“you’re being dramatic,” using his jumper sleeve to wipe some curry off his face, Gai sighed as he watched his husband lean against the counter for support. “Can’t I just do something nice for my husband?”

In an instant Kakashi dropped the act and straightened himself up. “You do nice things for me all the time,” he pointed out while grabbing the cloth off of the stove and turning to wipe down the counter. “And as much as I love the flowers, as I always do, I don’t need a pity prize.”

“I just thought-“

“What, that I’d be sad I lost a silly poll the villagers decided to have because they’re bored?” finishing with the clean-up, Kakashi threw the cloth onto his shoulder and turned to face Gai again. “Tell me, do you find me attractive?”

“Of course!” Gai assured him, fighting back the urge to consider such a question an insult to his devotion to his husband. “You’re the most handsome man in all of Konoha! No, the world! There is no one-“

A hand settled over his mouth, preventing him from speaking the rest of his praise for his husband’s beauty.

“that’s all I need,” Kakashi smiled, his eyes shinning as they stared deep into Gai’s. “I don’t care if anyone else finds me attractive. Their opinion doesn’t matter. The only person I need to look at me and think ‘I’d lay him out on the bed and make him scream my name’ is you.”

Gai’s eyes shot down to the floor and the back of his neck began to feel uncomfortably warm as he listened to his husbands’ words. As Kakashi’s hand lowered from his mouth, he attempted to speak, only to produce little more than a sad grunt.

“Dog got your tounge, Rival?” Kakashi winked and immediately started to laugh when Gai looked away from him. “Alright, sorry. Too much. But I’m serious, Gai. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me.”

“But-“

“No buts,” Kakashi insisted. “If the village thinks you’re the more attractive of the two of us, it just means they have good taste.”

“So, what?” crossing his arms over his chest, Gai huffed. “it’s ok for them to think I’m attractive, but not you?”

“It’s fun for me if they think you’re attractive.”

“How?”

“Well, are you going to suddenly decide that you don’t love me because other’s find you attractive?”

Another shot at his pride, this time deeper and a lot more painful. There was no holding back his feelings as he placed a hand over his heart and gasped in horror. “Never!”

“Exactly,” Kakashi grinned, acting as if he hadn’t just asked one of the most insulting questions known to man. “So I get to walk around Konoha knowing that other people want you, but it’s me who gets to have you.”

Lowering his hand slowly, Gai thought over Kakashi’s words.

“So, you’re…boasting?” he asked, intrigued by the thought of his rival doing a fist pump every time he spotted someone eying gai up.

“More like, enjoying my victory,” Kakashi corrected him. “but…a little bit of boasting, yes.”

“is that why you-“

“Yes,” Kakashi answered before he could even finish his question. “The butt slaps, the random kisses, grabbing your arm. I do all of it when I see someone eyeing you up. I slap your ass a little harder when I see them checking it out.”

Snorting, Gai lifted his arms and shoved his husbands shoulders. “you do not.”

“I do,” Kakashi insisted. “They can look, but that ass and all that’s attached to it is mine and they need to remember it.”

“Dork.”

“you’re dork.”

“you’re jealous.”

“If I was jealous, I wouldn’t even let them look.” Kakashi argued. “I’d glare at them like Asuma does whenever he catches someone checking out Kurenai.”

“So…” taking a step back, he lifted the flowers so that they were right in front of Kakashi’s face. “I should take these back?”

In an instant the flowers disappeared from his hand, and all he could do was throw his head back and laugh as Kakashi buried his nose into them and sniffed. Once he was finished enjoying the sweet scent, Kakashi lifted his head and smiled.

The sweet, soft smile that reached all the way into his eyes and always managed to make Gai feel weak in the knees.

“I think I’ll keep them,” he decided. “Pity prize or not, they are beautiful. Besides, I’m the only one in all Konoha that gets to say he gets flowers from the most attractive man in the village. It would be a mistake to turn down such a rare and wonderful gift.”

Gai snorted at that. “There are still the finals to go. I could lose.”

“mmm, no.”

Taking a step forward, Gai leaned in close and gently pressed his forehead against Kakashi’s. “You have that much trust in me?”

“Yes, and no,” Kakashi’s eyes crinkled at the edges. The most obvious sign of a smile Gai had ever seen on his husband’s face, and one of his favourite views in the entire world. “I just think anyone who would vote Obito over you clearly has bad taste and should not have their vote counted.”