#beta editor can literally burn in fucking hell

[yaniidme]

hello, hello! so with the thought of the new chapter of infinite i wanted to go through and refresh all my intros with better formatting etc. here is yanin since she just had some changes that needed to be done anyways. not much has changed just a more structured and cohesive set up and a pretty graphic. you can find her profile, kprofile, pinterest and connections pages linked and bellow a more detailed and ?? information on her and her life.

 —— welcome to infinite entertainment! it's YANIN 'YANI' KOTIYUVA, who is the MAIN RAPPER of FLORA.i’ve heard whispers that the 25 year old is pretty ENDEARING but lowkey CAUTIOUS. also, doesn’t/don’t she/they remind you of NICHA YONTARARAK?

pre-debut

she was born to high school sweethearts sunan kotiyuva and maxine li in the village of biei japan september 27th, 1998,  her father at the time began as an french professor at university of tokyo and her mother was working as a bank teller.

her mother died in a robbery gone wrong right around the time she started working again after yanin's  birth, and sunan, devastated by his wife’s passing decided after a long time of court proceedings, it was time to move forward raising his daughter, and far away from the village their trauma had begun in. 

her father had been loving and doting her whole life, he encouraged her to do everything she wanted ( within reason ), taught her to be tough as nails and not afraid to get down and dirty while still teaching her empathy and compassion.

teaming up with his love for the outdoors he packed one and a half year old yumi up and began his journey traveling the world and teaching a myriad of languages. his goal was to see every country at least once (even if it was the airport or through on the bus or some sort of transportation) before he died, a goal he’d originally set with her mother that they’d begin when yumi started uni.

they started furthest west, the us, in erie and blouder, coloardo. he got a short term job teaching korean at university of colorado boulder. this is where yumi began the first portions of her life, she started talking learning english, korean and japanese simultaneously.

then it was on to paraiso and daisuke began teaching english at santa maria la antigua catholic school.

next was são caetano do sul , brazil where he taught english and spanish at university of sao paulo

it was here in sao paulo where yumi took quite the tumble down the side of a hill while hiking with her father. she’d gotten up with what they thought were only wounded pride and cuts and bruises even though she knocked into a few rocks on the way down. but after awhile the ringing in her ears never stopped and daisuke was concerned at his daughter’s complaints of the dimming of sound in her left ear. after a trip to the hospital it was notated that her woozy stance, v*mitting and headaches weren’t just from being shaken up from the fall but the result of a nasty concussion.

ct scans revealed that the fall resulted in damage to her inner ear which led to/would lead to sensorineural hearing loss. and sure enough she lost about 80% of her hearing in that ear after suffering from a wide range of hearing related issues (i.e. soft sounds suddenly becoming to quiet or loud/normally moderate sounds too loud)

after brazil he made his way to le cannet, france where he taught korean at skema. it was here she was fitted for her first hearing aid.

he went on to ship them across the pond to helsingor, denmark and taught english at the university of coppenhagen, then to nuremberg, germany where he taught spanish at university of munik. he took a small break for a few months and they settled in mariehamn, aland islands, finnland for some daddy/daughter time and then off they were off to ipoh, malaysia for a stint at universati malaya.

it was in malaysia where yanin actually fell in love with kpop as a whole. it was a friend of hers that was a big fan of a second gen group that dragged her to a concert. she, like many fans, fell for the atmosphere and the fast paced life style that the career asks for. off and on she’d google around for auditions just to humor herself, but for awhile she didn’t see herself as a non-korean, and hardly ‘feminine’ at best being in a group at all. but, that same friend dragged her to an audition to which she was picked up at vibe productions (2011).

it was at vibe  that she got most of her training, (see canon’s for how it affected her as an idol), even after years of practicing dances at home to counter the minor issue with her balance she still fell behind the other trainees in the dance department. vibe often told her she made up for it with her visuals and her voice but, even then as they pumped out girl group after girl group and soloist after soloist they still hadn’t picked yumi, and she trained for 2.5 years with them only to not debut she was frustrated but determined to be an idol even with her disability as her dad taught her if she wanted something the only option was to go all the way.

but following too many missed promises to debut AND being pulled from a line up with a close trainee friend, yanin terminated her contract with vibe, set on joining her father back on his journey around the world. it was during this time was stopped by a new star entertainment scout while out at coffee with some friends in japan.

yanin assumed that she’d spend time in the basement all over again at new star, but within a month or so was granted a spot in the debut line up for flora, while apprehensive at first given the groups concept idea, she decided (after a…heart to heart with their now leader) to stick through it even with the short 8-month training period with the other two members.

at debut

she was asked to switch her name to something with a little more ‘star power’ thus the pseudonym ‘yani noi’ and the mononym ‘yani’ was born. it was as if kotiyuva yanin, a boyish scruff muffin from that little japanese village was no more, and the ‘cute maknae of flora’ yani noi was now in her place.

she suffered a good bit of damage from the greater public at debut. a double edged sword some felt she was much too young and cute for a group of older girls, others thought she hardly fit the bill as an idol. she lacked media training and seemed to have a hard time keeping up with the girls. an often gripe about her is that she raps because she can hardly sing and dance, and they believed another new star trainee was booted for her to take their spot simply because she was prettier.

backlash with the false rumor only came down with a harder judgment when the official positions came out and yanin, the only foreign member, held the visual spot.

during career 

as the public got to know her she was given the “nation’s girlfriend” title in 2017 as they had grown to love her boyish charms ( think ryujin of itzy ) , attached themselves to her whimsical hippie vibe and played the cute maknae role well. while she won them over with that, they still had an issue with her having the visual position, and that is often a sense of contention within the think pieces on their group.

it wasn’t until flora that yanin began to come into her femininity. like a sibling watching her sisters grow up, yanin’s aesthetic seemed to first change into a blend of her “boyish” style and the style of her older members, before she fell into a beat of her own. this change in her is often sighted amongst fans.

silver’s absence in 2018 was very hard on her,  but in a weird way pushed her to work harder, there was a stark difference in how she performed and carried herself during the fancy era, versus before ( think shuhua in nxde ). fans think it’s her fave bc of it, but in reality she hates it (think nayeon and i’m gonna be a star).  after feeling  that absence and loss during the era before, and being forced to do a concept to which they had to pretend to be a big happy family while promoting while a member was missing, she felt completely empty because of it. since then she hasn’t truly recovered but the power and improvement she put into her performances to make up for how empty she felt, showed through during performances and onward.

known for her incline in skill but decline in stage presence post-queendom era. she often is ridiculed for performing with a straight face unless she’s essentially feeling the performance or having a really good day. there are a lot of think pieces online about what happened to her during that time.

there was an ‘incident’ following silvers return where yumi suffered her first ever break down. this resulted in her crudely chopping her hair off in her dorm room sparking a new, though unhealthy, coping mechanism. the company was not happy but she went on to promote in a nice short cut or extensions.

infinite tour

during the infinite tour not much changed, at least that’s what yanin thought.

she released two ‘solo’ projects, one a collab with bravehearts jinnie and the other her own solo song.

she chopped all her hair off again on vacation in hawaii with her members, and has since dyed it a dark color for the first time since fancy era. now it’s about shoulder length and cut in a wolf cut shag with choppy layers.

she’s fallen…in love? kind of she’s not sure

overall she feels as though returning to korea has become a cleansing experience for her and is trying to move forward differently in this next chapter of her career and life.

canons/personality tidbits & quirks

dad pretty much raised her like a boy but in a loving ,genderless way 

seems like the cute maknae but is actually super wise and a bit on the serious side but she loves a good laugh

literally showed up to the flora dorm her first day like this shag cut and all.

during her time in flora she fell in love with a member's brother who ended up passing, their relationship never really got off the ground but everyone seemingly knew they were destined for each other. his loss, and the absence of her leader during that time changed her drastically and effected her in many ways not only in her career but her regular every day life.

because of this she developed a relationship with her hair to express her moods. if things changed or she began to feel emotions to strongly, she often cut, bleached or dyed it herself much to the company and stylists dismay. following fancy era she was often blonde or light colored, using the bright and pastel hair as a way to become someone else while “yanin” suffered in her hurt.

pretty quiet and introverted but not to the extent that she’s closed off

she’s a libra (sun), pisces (moon) and taurus (rising)

very whimsical and go with the flow

loves to get down and dirty

the type to go lay out in the rain or be found hiding in a corner outside reading a book

‘dad’ of the dorm she fixes things and does a lot of the heavy lifting and often teased the other members saying bc they’re too old in reality she just likes tinkering

she also will be the first to hop out to change a tire, change the oil , help a hurt animal on the side of the road etc.

her guilty pleasure is cozy games on switch

likes sculpting and clay work bc they’re messy

tries to at least hike, rock climb, kayak, or surf in every country they visit

globally acclaimed tomboy and is loved by most of not all sapphic fans of the industry (very moonbyul, ryujin, chaeyoung etc)

sweet and whimsical, very cottage core in mindset with a boho y2k grunge edge. she’d root for the under dog, is down for vigilante justice and is loyal as fuck. but doesn’t like a lot of friends. she’s quiet and loves literature, language and travel, pretty on the serious side but loves to laugh. her child really comes through sometimes and she tends to like “childish” things (plushies, pastels, cozy games, etc). everything has a place even if her room is messy. and she’s feminine with an outdoorsy tomboy underneath (bc raised by dad)

find her with a book curled in a corner if she doesn’t want to be bothered

has a slight temper will scrap for flora

calico cat energy. ( iykyk )

moving around like she did made it really hard for her to make connections so she didn’t bother. her first friend was the kpop friend in japan that she went to the global audition with. and even when she became a trainee she only had one friend even in her long couple of years. it because of the short period of time it took her a good bit to warm up to flora.

the girls of flora pretty much got yumi to where she is today in terms of her femininity and fashion. for awhile she tried to be hyper feminine, growing her dark hair out etc etc, but after cutting it for a comeback she found herself desperately looking for a medium. cue her early 2000s grunge hippie/hobo aesthetic now.

knows asl, ksl, and jsl and often teaches fans on live as well for the fun of it.

has a brown poodle named klaus and a  white rat named mortimer and and black one named wednesday

had kaiso custom paint her long board that she brought on tour with her

quiet girl, but an adrenaline junkie

true crime enthusiast

would love to climb a famous mountain with her dad

her dad sends her a magnet, sticker or post card from whatever country he’s in and she always collects one thing ( often antiques ) from the countries they visited on tour

can be v reckless when comfortable

she likes idle skin ship so like absent minded touching while doing something else

iq of 164

has an online masters degree from colombia university double majoring in history and literature and art & archeology, got her bachelors at su in linguistics

former serial blonde rip her scalp she’s finally gone back

extensive plushie collection but gomez was the only one who made the trip back on tour

her dad is still traveling and he ships her something from every country he visits

super green, clean energy hug the earth girly, the only reason she isnt vegetarian is kbbq

queen of blurry selfies/photos and her instagram is chaotically aesthetic

loves her a mint vape and a redbull/energy drink (she gets “caught” with said vape every month by fans)

has matching, hand made friendship bracletes with her best friend, braveheart’s jinnie

has an unstable crush on kakashi hatake from naruto

she’s known to be a blunt idol and as stated before seems to lack media training. she often doesn’t care about ugly faces, her back to the camera, or not talking back when feeling wronged or disrespected in setting even if there’s cameras. now that she’s older she’s reigned that in more for the sake of the group and tends to be more dark, quiet and poised about her responses.

conspiracy theory queen and even makes up her own about the company, currently been riding the horse that they styling is on purpose to force her to present cuter/‘more feminine’ it’s dumb she knows but still

some times still gets messed up with her korean, and often when speaking struggles through the different words in the languages she knows, mixing them around, well known phrase, “i’m not sure what it is in ‘said language’” and continues to list it in various other languages.

"official" socials:

instagram: @yani_chan98

bubble: nanikashi98

youtube: yanin9898

unofficial socials

tik tok: suk98

instagram: kakashi69

twitter (mostly to stalk dahlias): @suk298402

overall yanin is a hippie with an edgy flair to her. she’s all peace and love, do what you want, be who you want to be, but sometimes chaos is a little more fun. her intelligence is a pro and a con she uses it to rationalize life so she has no need for emotion. everything has a reason, a deeper meaning behind it so no need to feel it just …be. it is her strength yet it’s crippling and with the addition of her inability to make connections, she uses it instead of tapping into her emotions. her hair is her mood ring, and until she can completely become her own it’ll constantly change, just like everything else…and she thinks she likes it that way.

updates post tour

yanin has been entertaining alternate pronouns (she/they)

she actually hates the idea of the reality show and would prefer to go back private following a year long world tour.

she’s working to finish her phd, she’ll be graduating this december and boy is she glad to be done. she’s hoping to maybe do some free tutoring in languages online or regular tutoring to fill in the void of being finished with school.

connections/wanted plots

because of the type of muse yanin is i think she’d flourish with more brainstormed, unique connection ideas or filling a spot for someone else! so if you have any wanted connections or wanted to brain storm some ideas i’d love that! pls just give this a like because i’m in love with her.

muse overviews and analysis

ʚɞ. character study #1 - 'tester of fate' ʚɞ. character study #2 - 'the stage' ʚɞ. the muse as zodiac signs ʚɞ. favorite stage outfits: twice / viviz ʚɞ. general task #1 ʚɞ. character study #3 - 'the idol': photoset 1 / 2 / 3 / analysis & viral moments ʚɞ. through the eras - ʚɞ. muse tag

*i'll add the links to her profiles once they're updated with her new info/new graphics!

[ofstormsandfire]

Baldur's Gate 3 characters as fanfic authors

(Disclaimer: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3. However, I have been on the receiving end of a lot of infodumping and have seen some of my qpp Cas's durge playthrough. Also, I'm doing this for shits and giggles.)

Astarion: He has a profile filled with the most epic of stories, all of which are marked 1/?. His writing is great! However, he has yet to finish a single fic and quite possibly never will. One of those authors where you can tell they've got Issues irl, but he's private enough in his notes that you can't really guess at what those issues actually are.

Gale: Credits his cat as his editor. Strangely, his stories seem to be very well-edited in spite of this. Jumps from fandom to fandom semi-frequently, but he almost always finishes what he starts before jumping into something new, and you can Tell that he's researched the hell out of every new fic he writes. (There is one fic that remains unfinished; while writing it, he vanished off the face of the internet for months and his readers genuinely thought he died. He has not acknowledged what happened with that fic since returning and is unlikely to do so.)

Halsin: His fics are as well-researched and thought out as Gale's, but specifically where nature is concerned. In the past, he's gotten into very big arguments involving ABO fanfic and how it's not even based on how actual wolf pack dynamics work, though he's been around long enough at this point to just block and move on. Also, characters who are shitty towards the environment tend to either mend their ways or not live to the end of the fic.

Jaheira: One of those writers who has been around basically forever. She posts once in a blue moon but whenever she does, everyone goes !!! about it; probably has a lot of user subscriptions on AO3. Probably volunteers with the OTW in her downtime. Has a certain fondness for fics where, just this once, everybody lives. Extremely private where her personal life is concerned, but she used to talk about a husband. (Longtime readers may note that she has never once been online during a certain month of the year, not even to respond to comments.)

Karlach: She keeps writing oneshots about this one specific comfort character of hers going on adventures and getting nice things. Unfortunately, being literally on fire makes her prone to making typos, but we love her anyway, typos and all. Her fics tend to be best described as... shall we say, heartwarming?

Lae'zel: Gets into literally all the fandom drama. She has written multiple fics specifically to piss other authors off and she'll do it again. Several of these were aimed at Shadowheart in particular during a short span of time, like we're talking slamming out a fic a day for like a week. Doesn't get commenting etiquette.

Minthara: Bad endings abound here. Unlike with Shadowheart (see below) she just kind of wants to watch the world burn and write the most fucked-up AUs she can think of. Goes into concerning levels of detail where things like torture are concerned.

Shadowheart: Writes all these hurt/no comfort angstfest fics. Has been straight up asked in the comments of her fics on multiple occasions if she's okay. (She eventually starts to write more hurt/comfort fics, and her audience breathes a collective sigh of relief.)

Wyll: Very cheerful, very responsive to comments, has a lot of variety in his works. Every single one of his fics is co-authored by this other account who he thanks for her(?) assistance in every story, despite the fact that she has never once said anything in the comments section and doesn't appear to have other social media. It is unclear what this other person's contribution is; Wyll has confirmed that she is neither an editor, a beta reader, or a writer herself.

[cher-writes]

Silver Screen / Silver Pole | Robert Sheehan x Reader (18+)

Summary: A night of celebration in a LA strip club takes an interesting and unexpected turn when a contrarian actor winds up offending the wrong stripper. But night is long and the possibilities are endless, where will it take them?

Word Count: 7.3k

CW: Mention of sexual harassment, Consensual slapping, NSFW smut

A/N: This one is surprisingly not bloody at all and the smut isn't wild either so like most everyone can read it. Although it's emotionally very heavy. So, get ready to feel some shit. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

Special thanks to @crisis-of-joy for being there for me the whole month I took to complete this emotionally taxing fic and also for being my kind beta reader & editor.

Burning on it’s way down, the third glass of whiskey finally gave her some life she desperately needed. Deafening music throbbed throughout her veins, drowning the club in the background. She wanted to drown with it too but she couldn’t, she was there to work and rent for the month was already due. The fourth glass was on the verge of meeting with her bitter mouth when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t drink so much, you’ll trip on the stage,” Coco practically shouted in her ear. Coco was the only friend she had in that goddamn place and It wasn’t a very rare occurrence that Coco had to drag her blackout drunk body out of the club. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she had a problem. Considering that she was already on her third strike of the month and the third drink of the night, Coco knew better than to let her get drunk this early.

 “I can’t stay here and be sober at the same time,” she shouted back at Coco, “especially after...nevermind,” but decided against talking about it and instead focused her energy on finishing the fourth glass, which was gone just as quickly as the words stopped coming out of her mouth.

 She could read the concern on Coco's face and sense the questions brewing behind it as Coco spoke up, “I want to know what the fuck is up with you but I have to go now, Caleb came home from school hours ago, it’s pretty late and I have to cook him dinner.”

“What happened to Larry? Can’t he take care of the kid? He’s fucking jobless anyway.”

“He got in a bad fight again. I can barely afford Caleb’s school fees and now the medical bills.”

“If only you had divorced him, you wouldn’t need to worry about it.”

“And if only you had been less violent towards customers, you wouldn’t be on the verge of getting fired. But, here we are.”

She furrowed her brows at this sudden sharp stab of truth by Coco and dealt with it the only way she knew how to, by ordering another drink. Coco crossed her arms letting out a deep sigh and said, “Look, I'm only trying to help you, (y/n). Sam wanted me to go up. You see that group seating in the fifth VIP booth? Up there. They are celebs and celebrating something so, ya know, good money. I said no cause, as I said I gotta go home, but I convinced him to let you go up there. It was hard given your recent less-than-favorable behavior, but I managed to.” Coco snatched the already empty glass from her hand and continued, “So stop drinking, go up there and get that money. And for the love of God, behave yourself or this might be your last night here.”

Giving her hand a quick but tight squeeze, Coco got up then soon after disappeared into the crowd. She thought to herself about how a last night there wouldn’t be so bad if she could afford it, and wanted another drink immediately to kill that thought, but Coco's words haunted her ears. She looked over her shoulder to see three men sitting in the booth, laughing.

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

Her head was in a violent swirl, vision blurry. She was way too drunk to be spinning around the pole, but she had an audience to entertain and had no one but herself to blame.

When you walked around your house wearin' my sky blue Lacoste, the song was thudding against her skull. Pulling herself together, she counted every second, waiting for the song to end. She could feel the eyes on her, sticking to every bit of her, just as invasive as it was the very first day yet, she couldn’t care less. She had to live through it if she wanted the money and she needed the money if she wanted to live. The room was dancing circles around her as the tips came flying in, she kept counting the seconds, sliding down the pole, and your knee socks.

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

She was swaying dangerously on her way down from the stage. If the song didn’t end when it did, she would have thrown up without a shadow of a doubt. At that point, she didn’t even know how or what she danced, only the awful sickness in her stomach let her know that it was more than she could take.

She needed to chat up the men, try and convince them to buy a champagne room before the next song came on, which she feared was way too soon for her liking. Nevertheless she tried to steady herself but the big glass platforms messed with her earnest efforts, nausea kicking her in the stomach once again, letting her know of her limits. 

She didn’t ever really look at the men who sat in front of her, leering at her, they all looked the same, smelt the same and talked the same. So she followed the same old routine, bending down just enough to give them a view up her tits. Pressing her arms closer, she slurred, “What are we celebrating, gentlemen?”

 She absolutely hated how she sounded pandering to men, two pitches higher. “My friend over here landed a role in a Spielberg film!” the middle one spoke up and pointed to the one sitting on the right side. The one in question grinned in response and repulsion licked the back of her neck at the sight of that. Yet she needed to please him, “That’s amazing! I’m sure I’ll be seeing your face on the billboards everyday now while driving,” she said and fantasized about having enough money to burn down all the billboards in LA and maybe LA with it too.

 “Hell yeah you will!” the one in the middle spoke up and broke her reverie so she pretended he was supporting her fantasy instead. “Oh please! Speak for yourself!” the one on the right perked up in his seat and continued, “He’s literally working with Fincher AND he got engaged!”. The one in the middle gave a revolting smirk at the very humble revelation of his accomplishment and it was enough to turn her stomach or maybe it was the alcohol, she couldn’t really decipher.

 “Oh really?” she looked at the man, tilted her head and said, “And you came to a stripclub to celebrate your engagement?”, her face deadpan. Notes of contempt stuck out like thorns from her voice, making her sound way more intense than she intended to.

 He tensed up visibly at her sudden razor-edged tone and, even though she didn't want to, she had to ease the situation. I can’t piss off these bastards again, she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. “Boys will be boys!” she said, not being able to think of something better that wasn’t inherently insulting, and laughed the most disgusting laugh of her life. If she could she would pour gasoline down her throat just for uttering those words.

 She couldn’t bear to linger at that conversation point anymore so she turned her attention to the man sitting on the far left. He looked distant and foreign, staring but not really looking at her. There was a peculiar absence behind his distinct green eyes, which she would even call beautiful under different circumstances. And that, something about that absence, made her want to zero in on him.

“And what about you? Did you win an Oscar or something?” mockery ringed clear in her voice, which brought his attention back to the presence. Startled slightly, he straightened his posture while saying, “No, not really... not yet at least,” he smiled sheepishly and continued, “I’m just here with them”.

“Come to think about it, I’ve never really seen you anywhere,” she said without thinking too much. In fact, she didn’t really pay enough attention to how he looked to recognize him even if she did. 

Something intense flashed his eyes for a brief second. She couldn’t quite put her fingers on what it was but she could feel the energy shift very quickly between them.

“Oh I’ve been in things but I’d be surprised if you did see any of them,” his voice now stripped of the delicacy it previously held. She could feel the air between them getting unusually heavy, his words penetrating through her skin a bit too effortlessly, a bit too swiftly that it was unsettling.   

“And why exactly would you be surprised?”

“You know...cause people like you don’t usually watch the kind of films I do.”

“What do you mean by ‘people like me?’”

“You know...people of your...stature,” he trailed off. Blood rushed the back of her neck as soon as the words hit her ears. She could feel her vision burning, a hot wave washed the crown of her skull, something unruly building at the base of her being. Clenching her jaw so as not to let it take over her, she said, “Stature huh? Fancy! I reckon from your accent that, wherever the hell you’re from, people get a kick out of looking down on others with such wispy language.”

 She could sense the same unruly substance dancing behind his chest, but he was far better at keeping it on a leash.

“I wasn’t looking down upon you. What I was merely getting at is that some people aren’t cut for apprehending particular types of films,” he sounded snarky but calm, the type of calm that’s tainted with scorn, which only sent ripples of rage down her ribs.

  “Oh so you think just because I’m a stripper by profession that I wouldn’t understand your low-budget dumb indie movies?” she was getting visibly worked up now. Traces of her seductive posture vanished long ago but there was a new hostile energy flowing through her stance.

“I didn’t say that -”

“No, of course you didn’t say that, you only meant that. You meant what you think and every one of you think that we aren’t people with brains and emotions. No, no, we’re just sacks of meat to ogle at in exchange of money, and then grope when you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“I think you're trying to put words in my mouth, this is -”

“God! you think you’re fucking better than me, don’t you? You contrarian little shit!” she could feel it in her bones. She knew what was coming. There were people behind, or maybe beside, her, trying to talk to her, probably. She could hear no one, not even the previously unbearable blaring music. She had tunnel vision and it was fixed on him. The air she breathed chafed her nose. Her nerves thumped as her heart leapt at irregular rapid intervals.

  “Excuse me! but i neve -” he said as his body went alert. Posture anticipating something violent, flight or fight.

  “You think you're better than me because I'm a stripper and you got enough money to buy me?” her voice was icy as she spoke, “You LA people are all the fucking same. You get a little money in your pockets and you think you own the world and anyone who isn’t jerking off to your pretentious bullshit isn’t worthy enough to deserve basic fucking decency. Huh is that it?” she quickly jumped on top of him, straddling him.

He was frozen under her as she leaned in and murmured, “Well then allow me to show you”, she pulled away, her left hand clutching his shoulder as right fist rose the air, “HOW FUCKING BETTER THAN ME YOU ARE!” then her fist crashed on the side of his mouth with all the force she could muster, releasing a knot built in her chest since she checked in with the manager in the evening. Hot, sweltering adrenaline was coursing through her veins.

 The impact resulted in him burying his face in his right shoulder so she grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to face her. His lips were starting to swell up so she decided to help it. His eyes went blank as her fist met his face once more.

 Involuntarily, her hand was raising in the air again when she felt a strong pull from behind. The security guard, twice her size, yanked her away from him. People gathered around them staring at her, the music stopped to her relief. The guard twisted her arms behind her back, enough to leave bruises that’ll sting for days to come. She couldn't move, her sight went hazy yet she felt this strange cool serenity soothe her tensed muscles. His friends were crowding him, probably consoling him. She could neither hear them nor make out their faces from her almost closed eyelids. She was pretty sure she was falling asleep in the guard’s painful hold until she heard a certain voice and the hair at the back of her neck stood up. 

“What the fuck! She’s at it AGAIN? Sir, I'm so sorry -” Sam, the manager’s voice pierced her ears as he rushed into the booth. As he was talking to them, commotion rose in the background. She could feel blind rage beating with every thump of her heart. If it wasn’t for the guard holding her in place, she would have skinned him alive by now. She was struggling to free herself when Sam turned to her and said, “You! That’s it!” pointing his left index at her. “I’ve had just about enough of your drunkass assaulting fine gentlemen. You’re fired. Get out right now! And be grateful we’re not reporting you to the police.”

Suddenly everything went quiet in her head. She smiled, nothing behind her gaze. Grinning ear to ear like a maniac, she said, “I’m fired? Aww what’s gonna happen to you now Sam?”. She cooed, ''Whose tits and ass are you gonna grab from now on? Stella? I wonder if she’ll compare to me though.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam almost hissed at her.

“Ohhh right! Of course, you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she said while still tussling with whatever little strength she had left to loosen herself from the guard’s excruciating grip. “You don’t know anything about how you sexually harassed me day after day, how your disgusting, slimy little hands grabbed my body against my will at every chance that you got. You knew how much I need the money from this job and you used that against me to keep me silent, threatening to fire me every time I made even a sound. But guess what fucker? I’m fired now! And I’m gonna tell everyone about HOW YOU TRIED TO -”

“Take her to the staff room!” Sam cut her off, “NOW!” And, as soon as the words left Sam's mouth, the guard put his palm over her mouth and started dragging her back. The hand over her mouth muffled her screams and she glanced at the man, now with swollen lips, looking at her with eyes filled with, what looked like, concern.

As she was getting dragged, she finally managed to sink her teeth into the guard’s palm resulting in him withdrawing his hand just enough to give her a small window of time to scream at Sam: “YOU MOTHERFUCKER I’LL BE BACK AND I’LL PEEL THE SKIN OFF OF YOUR SCALP FUCKING SON OF A BITCH I’LL -” Before she could finish, her voice got cut off again and she faded into the dimly lit passageway at the back of the floor.

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

The cherry of her fifth cigarette shone brightly in the shivering cold as the smoke drifted up in the air and sluggishly faded away. Mouth agape, her eyes meticulously followed the faint trails left after their disappearance. She wondered where they went, where she’ll go. If it wasn’t this late, and the water wasn’t so cold, maybe she could have gone for a swim in the ocean. If the water wasn’t so cold maybe she would have let it swallow her even. She was calculating the probable temperature of the hypothetical water she’d marry someday when the sound of slow approaching footsteps entered her field of perception. She would have preferred to ignore it but the, somehow already familiar, voice spoke up, “Hey erm...” and left her no choice but to look. And there he was, the foreign man with the swollen lip, looking culpable. There were distinct imprints of guilt in his voice as he continued, “I saw you across the parking lot…um I was actually just leaving with my friends,” he pointed at a black Mercedes parked at the far end of the lot. “They’re waiting in the car anyway so I decided -”

“So you decided now that she’s fired from being a stripper, she's probably a hooker! Lemme go ask the price she’s selling at,” her gestures and voice was comical, “you know, dude if you’ve got a kink of getting beaten up non-consensually then you’re really good at getting it cause I might just be up for round two.”

He stared at her for a good few seconds with a perplexed face, as if trying to process her stream of logic. When he started speaking, he sounded genuinely hurt, “No! Jesus Christ I came to apologize. Can you just not be defensive for one second? I’m not a monster ya know!”

His sincerity caught her off guard. She had about five thousand ways of dealing with assholes prepared and ready to go but an actually decent person? Now that was rocky territory for her.

“Well, uh, that’s a first. Go ahead I guess?” she shrugged her shoulders.

“I apologize for saying what I said back in the club. I shouldn’t have insinuated that you aren’t intelligent enough to understand my films just because of your choice of profession. It was really shitty of me to say that, and nothing can justify it either. And I feel like I caused you to be fired, that’s also weighing heavily on my soul and I don't know how to make it up to you. Just, I hope that you can forgive me and, again, I apologize, earnestly. Please tell me how I can make it up to you,” he said and looked at her with a rueful expression.

She was at a loss of words. It had been years since anyone apologized to her, let alone that sincerely. After a considerable amount of silence, she gathered her fragmented thoughts and spoke up, “Whoa, whoa man, chill. You didn’t murder my family or anything so calm down,” she held up her open palms, the cigarette almost at it’s end. “Apology accepted, okay? And don’t feel bad, I would have been fired sooner or later given my questionable behavior ever since I joined, so it’s not on your conscience. And I’m sorry too,” her index and middle finger holding the cigarette gestured at his lips, “for, um, punching you so let’s call it an even.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “yeah okay,” sounding clearly more relaxed than before.

“You know it’s a miracle how long it took for me to get fired,” she mused, “oh no it wasn’t a miracle it was sexual harassment, ah I see now. Wonder what Sam saw in me though that was worth not firing me for this long even though I pulled so much shit,” she took a long drag of her weary cigarette. “Maybe I've got a talent for getting harassed or something...who knows?”

His face tensed up again as he said, “That’s...not right,” eyes pooling with the same worried look as before.

“I was joking, chill. Humor is an excellent way to deal with most everything really, especially trauma.”

“I am sorry for what you had to go through, it’s gut-wrenching. Can’t you lodge a complaint to the police?”

“Going to the pigs? As a sex worker? Who just got fired for being drunk and punching a man in front of many eye witnesses? Now that was humor, you’re quite good at it actually.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Besides, that’s like one of the first things you gotta learn to put up with if you’re working in this business. As unfair and grim as it is, men, no actually, people don’t see sex workers as human beings and I’m just too obstinate to accept that simple fact, or maybe too much of a pussy, depending on where one’s priorities lie.”

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say.”

 It was just setting in for her how beautiful he actually was. His crestfallen face was graced by two stunning green eyes, lush unruly curls sticking to his forehead, sharp jawline kissed with a  scruffy goatee and the swollen lip throwing off the symmetry just right to make him look captivating, to say the least. In the chilly December ambience his face was a soothing sight to her eyes, his sweet voice kind to her drudging ears, his presence warm to her existence. And she wanted to hold onto the warmth, just for a bit longer.

   “You said you wanted to make it up to me, right?” she said as the cigarette fell on the ground then died out under the crushing embrace of her cruel heels.                         

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

“Well I'm Ro -” he said leaning against the passenger seat window, sitting half facing her.

“If you’re trying to say your name then don’t,” she cut him off quickly without averting her gaze from the road.

“Why?” he asked, staring at her intently yet without any emotion in particular.

“‘Cause it doesn’t matter. It’s better if we don’t know each other’s name. Names individualize people and that’s not necessary for tonight,” she answered nonchalantly as the neon lights of a passing by road sign illuminated her face and then faded into the past just as nonchalantly. 

“Okay.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but it didn’t bother her, it wasn’t tainted. There was this unusual tranquility in the atmosphere of the car, this obscure but consistent serene rhythm. She felt a bizarre comfort in his presence and she could drive like this forever, on a never-ending road spiraling towards heaven or winding down pandemonium or just dissolving into the ether, with him sitting lazily on the side.

    “Do you ever feel like that?” he spoke up absentmindedly, breaking into her almost fever dream.

“Huh?”

“The song, I feel like that often.”

She didn’t realize the radio was on, playing at quite a significant volume. She wondered if he had turned it on at some point and how long she was driving for without being present mentally.

This place will be the end of me. Take me out, LA. Take me out of LA, the voice from the radio filled the car to the brim.

 “I don’t feel like that, I know that. I know I'll die here, kinda intrinsically...do you hate this place?”

“No, not hate. I just feel like I don't fit in here. It’s the way of life, it’s quite significantly different to what I was used to. The people and the city, it all feels hollow sometimes and every now and then i catch myself yearning for what I left behind me.”

“I see. Beautiful people and their beautiful problems.”

    Silence fell in the car again. Except for the voice through the radio, Well this place is never what it seems.

 “You don’t have to make small talk, you know. I'm fine with silence,” she said, finally looking at him for a brief second.

“Oh I know,” he was looking right into her eyes, unruffled. “I wasn’t making small talk, I just wanted to talk to you. That’s all.”

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

The bleak fluorescent tube above buzzed in solidarity as the fatigued clock on the chipped convenience store wall dragged its hands and finally managed to tick at 2 am. The attendant was leaning on the counter, trying not to fall asleep when her voice echoed in the store: “$20 on pump 2.”

“I’ll pay”, he cut in, reaching for his wallet. “Okayyy...” she replied, narrowing her eyes at his benevolence and looked around the store which was significantly emptier that other nights. She closed her eyes for a second and the memories flashed behind her lids. She used to come here frequently, around this time, with someone when everything in her world was right, just right enough for her to not to seek out falling stars every night and wish for death over and over again. When she opened her eyes a shiny pack of Parliaments caught her gaze and she quickly gestured behind the counter, “Since you’re paying, can I get a pack of those also?”

“Sure”

“I remember surviving on those alone while writing my thesis papers,” she said wistfully, “good times.”

“You went to college?”

“University actually, but yeah.”

“Good lord.”

“But I had to drop out so I couldn’t complete my Master’s in Biochemistry.”

“Why?”

“Life.”

“I flunked out my first year of college so you did way more than I did in that regard.”

“Welp, look where that got me.”

“Don’t say that!”

“What?” she scoffed.

“Anything else?” the attendant interjected, visibly tired and clearly annoyed at their conversation.

She swiftly grabbed a lighter, “Can I get this too?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“That’ll be all,” she tossed the lighter towards the attendant and continued, “You’re clearly doing way better than me in life.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I meant that seriously. I’m the one who fucked up my life and that’s a fact. Say, how did you know what you wanted to do?”

“That’ll be $30”, the attendant interjected again.

“I don’t know. I started acting as a kid and it just seemed right. It’s all I've known really and I can't see myself as anything else,” he said as he passed the money to the attendant.

“I envy that.”

“I do sometimes ponder what I would have been if not an actor.”

“Wondering too much isn’t good,” she grabbed the goods and shoved them in her coat pocket, “It might make someone into me.”

She stopped right before the glass door, pulled the lighter out and flicked it on, “I’ll use it later,” she leaned in close to him with a frivolous smirk and whispered, “to burn this city down.”

He chuckled at her sudden gaiety, “I’d gladly assist.”

Pushing the door open, she continued as he followed behind her, “Did you see the way that dude rolled his eyes to you? He definitely thought you were with a blabbering hooker and to be honest, my make up probably didn’t help either. Oh well it's not like -” her voice slowly evaporated into the gloomy gas-station lights. 

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

“So beautiful,” he said with awe looking over the vast and apparently endless ocean which the full, eternal moon bathed with its silver glory.

She clutched at her coat sleeves as the chilly wind sent shivers down her body and said, “I know right? I’ve always found the sea to be peaceful during this time of the night.”

“It’s lovely, I’ve never been to this beach before.”

“It’s my favorite spot actually, I used to come here pretty often,” melancholia dripping from her voice. She paused for a little while as if going over a mental checklist and said, “let’s go sit down there,” and pointed towards a vague place in the distance. 

They walked down the beach for a bit side by side, knuckles occasionally brushing against each other’s, making them want to hold hands, feel the warmth of another being. But the hesitance of the yet to be known, the uncertainty of a nameless stranger clouded their minds and prevented them from reaching out.

She stopped, sat down and gestured to him to do the same by tapping the cold sand beside her. He sat a bit too far for her liking so she huddled up closer to him saying, “You blaze right?”

“Sure.”

“Cool,” she said, taking out a small bag from an inside pocket of her coat, “keep an eye out for me while I roll it.”

They sat in silence as she rolled a joint meticulously. The waves kept crashing on the shore as if fulfilling some ancient duty. Wind rustled through the empty beach. Sand glimmered sporadically under the warm light of the moon, creating a transcendental atmosphere.

He sighed and thought out loud, interrupting the intoxicating stillness of the night, “Where do we go from here?”

“Other than plotting the murder of Sam, I don’t know about me,” she replied without looking up from the task at hand, “Don’t really wanna think about it tonight. That’s why I took you along with me. I wanted someone to keep me distracted from my thoughts and I had no one to go to...then you came to apologize, like my knight in shining armor.”

He smiled wryly and said, “I see.”

“What about you? What are you gonna do about your not fitting in or what was it?”

“I don’t know either. I just miss my people. I’m not meant for here, I think.”

“So can’t you go back there? To your home I assume?”

“I can...”

“Then go. Why the fuck would you stick around if you had the option to go back?”

“Maybe.”

“Huh! I wish I had a home to go back to too.”

She could see him from the corner of her eyes, clenching his knees tight with his fingers at her words, bringing them closer to his chest. She looked up to see him staring at her with his big, beautiful, hurt-puppy eyes.

“Did that make you sad or something?” she asked, almost amused. 

“Yeah...yeah it did.”

His apparent empathy for a literal stranger who also punched him not so long ago struck her as odd and oddly enticing. He looked unreal to her in the strange moonlight, as if a remote but vivid memory. She felt as though if she reached out and touched him, he’d turn to dust and drift off with the wind. Those intense eyes and his fey beauty were getting too much for her to bear so she averted her gaze towards the ocean and said, “There’s no use for your or anyone’s sadness. You see, sadness changes nothing. Unless you can start a capital R revolution tomorrow, everything will be the same. It’ll be the same day with slight variations over and over again, things will repeat and go on and on and on until one day humanity just goes poof somehow and then the universe will go on as if we never even happened. There’s no significance of our lives, there’s no point in feeling sad about anything in this set up. One must always imagine Sisyphus happy.”

“That’s quite pessimistic, isn’t it?”

“Kinda absurdist actually, but It’s hard not to be pessimistic or defensive, when you have to lead a life like mine.”

“I understand.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, “Glamour Boy,’” she said, licking the rolling paper.

He put his hand over his chest and feigned being hurt which made her laugh; a clear, hearty laughter. The beach echoed with a faint sound of the laughter of two stray souls as he joined in.

The joint hanged from her lips, sensual and reckless like an erotic magazine model, burning bright as she took a long drawn-out drag.

“Say, do you think the water is cold?” she said, passing the joint to him.

He took in a drag, inhaling some of her used up smoke with it too, tasting her cheap but obscenely sweet fruity lip gloss at the filter tip, “Yeah...very much so”.

She huddled up even closer to feel the heat of his body as he passed the joint back to her. Taking in another drag, she leisurely put her head on his shoulder.

The sedating smoke sank into their lungs as the sand anchored them from floating off in the elating static of the enveloping darkness.

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

“Is this it?” she said, pulling up to a posh apartment complex, something she wouldn’t be able to afford even after paying off her debts. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied absently and unbuckled his seatbelt. 

She was looking ahead at the road, expecting him to get out of the car, but he sat in silence. She looked at him and saw him laid back on the seat as if being consumed by it, tracing the edge of the left air vent softly with his fingers. He sighed and said, still looking at his busy fingers: “I feel strange and fucking awful.”

“It happens sometimes after coming down a high.”

“It’ll be a pain in the arse going to bed feeling like this.”

“I know,” her eyes travelled down the flow of his posture, giving birth to an urge of some aboriginal origin in her loins, “but you don’t have to.” 

He turned his head towards her slowly, lethargy clear in his slow breathing pattern, “What do you mean?”

“Push your seat back.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He furrowed his brows, alarmed by her sudden gratuitous command. He looked at her; motionless as if not even breathing awaiting his compliance and her eyes glinted with expectancy. He pushed his seat back, as far as it could go then parted his lips to say something but before the words could get out, she virtually jumped on top then sat astride him.

 A deathly stillness engrossed the car as her previous bellicose energy returned to the atmosphere, only this time rather ardent in nature. His heart, instantaneously racing, almost audible to her. 

“You know,” she said taking off her top, “dopamine is a hormone and neurotransmitter that’s an important part of your brain’s reward system, and it can elevate your mood and make you feel really good.”

Eyes wide with surprise, he struggled to keep his gaze fixed on her face as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her fingertips snaked up and down his smooth chest as if caressing a sumptuous painting one is not allowed to touch. She felt his taut muscle tighten at her touch, veins kindled with a hot rush pulsing under. Burying her face in the hollow of his neck, she felt the heat of his body as she pressed her chest against his. His breathing picked up it’s pace even more at the contact with her flushed skin.

“Do you ever get lonely?” she spoke up letting her lips skim over his bare shoulder.

“Terribly,” his voice breathy as he placed his hands on her hips hesitantly, not possessively, but affectionately.

“I do too.”

“What do we do about it?”

“Maybe we don’t do anything.”

“Maybe.” he said resting his right cheek against her head, “or maybe we keep each other company.”

“But for how long?”

“However long we need to.”

A mirthless laugh rippled from her lips then through his skin. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, curious green mixed with an unfamiliar kind of sorrow, a sorrow too costly for her. “Lust and attraction shut off the prefrontal cortex of the brain, which includes rational behavior,” she said, knocking softly on his temple.

“Makes sense.”

Cupping his face, she stroked his swollen lips with her rough thumbs, making him wince in response. The purple bruise steadily forming on the side of his mouth marred his flawless complexion yet his allure only enhanced. Her thumb rubbed on the bruise with reckless abandon, his flinches testifying to that. Withdrawing her hands from his face, she left a light peck on the bruise and said, “Slap me.”

“What?”

“Slap me, come on, I'm giving you a chance to get back at me for earlier.”

“No!”

“Prude!”

“Hey! I just don’t want to hurt you, especially not as revenge or what not,” he sounded genuinely offended.

She leaned in, “But I want to get hurt, silly,” her lips ghosting over his as she whispered, “Endorphins are our body’s natural pain reducer and it so happens to increase when we engage in reward-producing activities, such as eating, working out, or having sex.” She pulled away and continued, “So hit me. Hard.” His adam’s apple bobbed up then down as he searched at her face, as if trying to find some sort of sign. His fingers dug in her hips, indicating the upcoming crude impact. Her palms laid flat against his chest as his left hand rose then crashed against her face. Her fingers curled in response as she gasped weakly, eyes shut closed but the tensity clear in the lines on her eyelids and forehead. 

“Ah... that was good,” she said as if talking to herself, caressing her cheek. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring with uncertain eyes, the doubt readable in the way he bit his lips. 

“Just like that, once more,” her firm voice ringed in the vehicle. His hand cruelly collided once again with her face, leaving her face warm and red. 

“Good boy,” she cooed as the sharp sting eddied on her cheek and then through her whole body, easing her off some unknown yet intrinsic discomfort. Her chest pounded in sync to his as she spoke up, “Do it for me once again, won’t you?”

Pressing his teeth even deeper into his lips, he struck her once again, with as much strength as he had. A white light flashed before her eyes, her ears ringed as she sat in silence for a bit. When her vision became clear, she held his face between her palms. Leaning closer, she rested her temple against his and murmured, “Such a good boy.”

Sweat dripped down as her nose grazed up the side of his neck, she could feel him growing hard through his pants. She buried her face in his curls and breathed in. He smelt sugary, sweet to the extent of almost making her nauseous. She whispered against his ear, “You’ve got a boner...it turned you on this much to hurt me?”

“It’s, um, n-not really that part it’s the -” he stammered in embarrassment.

 “Ugh men,” she cut him off and rolled her eyes playfully. “But since we’ve got a situation at hand, and you’ve been so good to me, I think you deserve some relief for yourself,” she said, tugging at his waistband. To which he responded eagerly, elevating his hips just enough so she could slip his pants off as much as possible. His head sank back into the headrest as her hands wrapped around his cock. Her hand gilded up and down his length as her other hand ran through his hair, pulling lightly. Resting his forehead on her shoulder, he quivered and moaned softly as she lovingly yet mercilessly worked on him. His breath hitched sharply as she stroked the tip of his cock with her thumb, making him groan and twitch under her touch. She was about to pick up the pace when he grabbed her wrist abruptly. “Wait!” he rasped, “I wanna...feel you.”

He panted, trying to catch his breath and said, “Let’s take this inside, there might be people around.”

“Why? Are you afraid of getting photographed with a hooker by the paparazzi, Mr. Actor?"

“No”, he answered, the same hurt as earlier could be heard in his voice, the type of hurt when one is misunderstood by someone they love, “I just - I just want it to be nice.”

“Let’s not make it too nice lest you fall in love with me,” she said sternly. “Besides, you should be more concerned about getting STDs. There should be some condoms in the glove box and also tissues for later.”

He brought his face closer to hers, looked at her lips and said, “You’ve got such a mean mouth, you know that?”

“And you like it?”

“Perhaps”, he replied then kissed her, deeply. Holding her face in his head, he bit her lips which made her moan in his mouth. After running out of breath she pulled away, still tasting his saliva on her tongue as he reached behind her and rifled through the glove compartment. Having found what he wanted, he turned on the radio then returned his focus to her; she was hiking up her dress and awkwardly slipping off her panties in the short space.

Heavy bass filled the car, I wanna be your vacuum cleaner breathing in your dust, as the sky started to light up with shades of azure and tangerine. Her tongue blended with his as she took his cock in her. Their bodies pressed and flushed against each other as a steady rhythm flowed through them. Her nails scratched his nape, as he kissed her neck, nibbling at her collarbone. Her head shot back as he thrust up into her, frantic and keen. His groans muffled in her chest, her moans melting into his hair as their hips clashed against one another.

Maybe I just wanna be yours.

I wanna be yours.

------------   

The sparkling rays of the breaking dawn illuminated his face as he cleaned himself off and got dressed. She marveled from the driver’s seat at the magnificence of the sight of him in afterglow. There was something in him, something innate, that made him stand out from anyone she ever came across. He was made for the screen, he was made to shine, and she wondered whether or not he’ll remember her afterwards. It was for the better if he didn’t, she thought to herself, as this was probably one of the lowest points in his life, while that night was most definitely one of the highlights of hers. The sheer dichotomy was glaring at her soul when he spoke up, bringing her attention back to the present, “I was wondering if you’d like to -”

“Look if you want my name or number, then that’s just not gonna happen,” she said with a sigh, “It’s the oxytocin flooding your brain. Increased levels of oxytocin facilitate attachment and bonding and shit so, like, don’t be fooled.”

“But it’s not that, I feel a connection between us...something I haven’t felt with anyone here before.”

He averted his eyes from her and looked out the window. His hand lingered on the door handle for a second before he stepped out of the car. Turning his back towards the car, he walked into the apartment complex, without saying anything further. Her foot pressed on the accelerator, as the car drove past the buildings. A Parliament washed out the leftover taste of him in her mouth as she rolled down the window to let the nauseously sweet scent dissipate into the cold morning air. 

“It is that. Believe me, I know. There is nothing between us. Whatever connection you feel is your hormones doing bullshit things.”

“You’re just evading me”

“I’m not. I do actually know. Okay, for instance you feel really tired and sleepy right now, right?”

“Yeah”

“That’s the parasympathetic nervous system down-regulating your body and a shit load of vasopressin coursing through you”

“But that could also be because we stayed up all night and got high and just had sex”

“Why don’t you understand? It’s all chemicals, everything! There is nothing called love and whatever the fuck people feel is just their chemicals doing somersaults. There is nothing between us, we don’t know each other. There can be nothing either, look at the circumstances. People like you shouldn’t have to do anything with people like me unless it requires a monetary transaction.”

“But i can help, with whatever you’re dealing with”, he said reaching to place his hand over hers, “we can help each other”

“and what exactly do you think i’m dealing with?, she asked, withdrawing her hand, eyes narrowed at him.

“I don’t know yet”

“Exactly. You don’t know anything. I’m not some sad little girl who went to college then got depressed but in a sexy way so maybe she did drugs or whatever and dropped out and now strips for fucking aesthetic reasons probably. No honey, I’m involved with shit that can drag you down faster than a meth withdrawal and my life is a living testimony of that, take my word for it. So, go get some rest. Sleep out your saviour complex and live out your promising life when you wake up.”