#bibi mafia au

[maracllea]

I’ve been waiting and anticipating, to be a bad bitch | BIBI | Vengeance 2022

[theharrowing]

Collateral 19: The only lifestyle I have ever known

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 18.6

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️ warnings: tickling, semi-public quickie, handsy creep makes mc spiral, playful possessiveness, feelings as messy as mc's panties are after letting 3 men cum inside her, threats from a fresh face, graphic violence and gore (gun fire, mc wields a gun and a knife, man's head go boom-splat, major character injury, panic attack & blind rage, mc's body count increases from 1 to 2, yoongi gets his scar.)

🗡️ note: these warnings are serious!!! heed them!!! take them seriously!!! on a lighter note, pretend everyone's hair is correct in the mood board ok lolol also yes that is Bibi, who is called Hyungseo in this chapter.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin! and shout out to @colormepurplex2 for putting some blood on our kitten's face for this mood board!! i appreciate you both!!! 💜

🗡️ posted on august 2023 | read on ao3

Waking up between Yoongi and Namjoon again is akin to waking from a dream only to find yourself in an even better dream. You roll onto your side toward Yoongi, who sleeps on his back, and you nuzzle into him, wrapping every limb around his body as tightly as you can. Yoongi grumbles and tenses before he relaxes, and then he turns onto his side and tangles his limbs in response, reaching a leg and arm past you to the sweating body on the other side. 

You used to hate it when partners would try to hold you in the morning, ripping you from blissful unconsciousness into the waking world with their stinky breath and sweaty skin. With a grumble and a shove, you would always break free and twist to your side, wrapped in your blanket alone.

But Yoongi and Namjoon are your home. Their heavy bodies and warm morning breath ease you into the day, wrapping you in a loving embrace that you hate to have to break free of. 

And just when you close your eyes and sigh into the feeling of Namjoon curling against your back, outlining the shape of your body perfectly with his, a phone ringtone blares, causing the three of you to groan and sign in tandem. 

"Fuck," Yoongi mutters, leaning to kiss you on the forehead before slowly dragging his limbs away from the tangle, muttering lowly as his shrill ringtone disturbs the peace. 

"Who the fuck is already calling you?" Namjoon complains against your shoulder, wrapping around you tighter as Yoongi's warmth disappears.

Yoongi's response is incomprehensible raspy nonsense, and then the sound ends just as he mutters, "Yes?"

After a pause, Yoongi grumbles, "Seokjin-ssi, I am offended that you thought I would forget. Of course, we will be there tomorrow evening. Alright, talk to you later."

The sound of the phone clattering against Yoongi's nightstand follows a sigh, and Yoongi rolls back into his rightful place, wedging your face against nude pecs while he reaches over you to give Namjoon's lifted face a kiss. 

The two of them groan, squeezing you between firm, increasingly hot bodies, and you begin to shove at Yoongi's shoulders, fighting for your life, grumbling, "You're suffocating me, you idiots!"

"You're just jealous Joonie got the first good morning kiss," Yoongi teases, backing up before bending down to plant his lips against yours. 

"No morning breath kisses!" you attempt to complain through lips pulled tightly together, shoving Yoongi away despite loving the soft press of his mouth against you. 

"Was Seokjin reminding you of the gala?" Namjoon asks just as Yoongi decides to begin tickling you, which has you screaming and pushing him away with flailing limbs. 

"He was," Yoongi grits as you manage to plant both hands firmly on his chest and shove hard enough to topple him momentarily back. He pounces once more, flinging his entire body over yours, and Namjoon manages to get your left hand held down, then reaches over you to pin down your right arm, filling your senses with his delightfully stinky musk. 

"You monsters!" you scream with your arms awkwardly pinned beside your head, uselessly flailing your legs while Yoongi sits and dances his fingertips over your ribs. "I'll kill you both!"

"Awe, our little wolf is threatening us with murder," Namjoon teases, "as if she has it in her to kill another man."

"Especially two as handsome as us," Yoongi adds, lightning up on tickling enough to make you open your eyes and watch him waggle his eyebrows. 

As soon as Yoongi's fingers touch down on your ribs once more, your eyes squeeze shut, and you squeal, "Your looks won't save you from my wrath if you don't release me!"

"Awe your wrath," Namjoon teases, and his hot, stinky breath wafts as he leans close. "How adorable."

"I watched you torture a man, I know how to do it, now," you grit through your teeth, swaying your body left to right hard, hoping to throw Yoongi off. "Maybe Taehyung will teach me how to use his katana."

"Graduating from dagger to katana," Yoongi drawls playfully. "How quaint."

Namjoon adds, "But our sweetheart has never seen me with a sword before," piquing your interest despite how you fight for your life. 

Each breath heaves from your lungs, pained laughter coming out in exhausted bursts against your will; if you could control your laughter to not give these jerks the satisfaction, you would. Nothing about the hellish feeling of being tickled is actually funny. 

In a burst of genius, you scream, "Sakura!"

Yoongi sighs and halts his fingers, and when you open your eyes, he tongues the inside of his mouth. 

"That was a dirty move but also a wise one," Yoongi mutters, clearly as amused as he is annoyed. "Nice work, darling."

"So, did you forget about Seokjin's event?" Namjoon asks as Yoongi leans forward, caging your head with his hands and smiling sweetly at you. You attempt to catch your breath, still panting from the onslaught. 

"I did," Yoongi responds, grinning. 

You roll your eyes and begin to laugh, and Namjoon releases your hands finally and wiggles back into a laying position beside you, laughing as well. "I want to sleep more," he grumbles as he throws a leg over your legs and snuggles up to your side, close enough to your armpit to make you jerk when he speaks because every tiny sensation still tickles. 

"More sleep sounds nice," Yoongi mutters, leaning close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then to your eyebrow, and to your temple, before laying back down. 

You begin to grumble that you would also love to sleep but that Yoongi has woken you up with all of his rambunctious behavior. But as limbs settle over and around you, and you become sandwiched once more between the two of them, heaviness claims your eyelids, and you begin to drift off. 

When you wake up again, it is from Namjoon peeling out of the tangle. You grumble and roll toward him, attempting to reach out and bring his warmth back to you. Yoongi wraps around your back, humming something unintelligible into the nape of your neck before his breathing evens out and he is back asleep. You close your eyes and allow yourself to drift once more, stirred only by the feeling of Yoongi peeling away. 

The sun is bright by the time you wake up for good, flooding into the room, causing you to squint as you stretch and yawn, slowly flailing your limbs in the large, empty bed. 

"Where is everyone going?" you grumble, peeking one eye open to find a tuft of dark, wavy hair sticking out from the closet. Yoongi's smile is almost as bright as the afternoon sun, tugging at your heart. 

He responds, "Work, darling," with a smirk, then disappears back into the closet.

"Ugh!" you complain, petulant. If Yoongi and Namjoon go to work, who will be around to hug and kiss and spoil you? "Work is stupid!"

"You should go to Paradise!" Yoongi calls from the closet. 

You should go to Paradise. It has been several nights since you last visited, and you miss Jimin and Hyejin. And, if you are being perfectly honest, you miss Jeongguk. Jeongguk will certainly give you plenty of attention to make up for what you are missing from the other two, but you worry just a little that desiring and receiving it from him may make you greedy. 

"You just want to shove me off onto Jeongguk," you whine, teasingly. 

Yoongi chuckles as he exits the closet, buttoning a black shirt that is tucked into black slacks. "Are you upset about that?"

With a pout, you sit up and whine, "I guess not," making Yoongi laugh so hard that he stomps one of his feet. Since coming home, there is a lightness to Yoongi that you are certain you have never seen before. He laughs so openly and with his whole body, sometimes flinging himself all the way to the floor, onto his knees. It is so nice; he truly seems happy. 

"Namjoon and I have a meeting today that may take several hours," Yoongi begins as he approaches, still smiling but no longer laughing. "Then I have to take one of our potential clients to dinner and for drinks. She is an old investor and was a good friend of my mother, and she has her sights on one of my hotels. After we schmooze and convince her to open her pocketbook, we will come by the club. Sound good?"

You hum and nod, considering what you might wear to Paradise while scooting toward the edge of the bed, wearing only one of Namjoon's oversized shirts. 

"What if Jeongguk seduces me?" you ask with a raise of your brow, biting back a smile when Yoongi gives you an incredulous little smirk of his own. 

He gets close, resting his hands on the edge of the bed, caging you in. Yoongi is musky and sweet, and you lean in close, holding firm eye contact and basking in his bouquet. 

"Do you want to fuck Jeongguk again?" he asks low and curious.

Goosebumps cover you, sending a thrill along your spine, and you bite your lip, batting your lashes while pretending to consider his proposition. 

"I don't know," you say, attempting to sound coy. "Maybe."

Yoongi hums, deep and slow, leaning close enough that his breath is warm on your face. "Well, then if he seduces you, you should let him have you." 

"You don't mind?" you ask softly, genuinely concerned about crossing some sort of line, should something happen while he is away. 

"As long as you are happy and communicate openly, I do not mind."

Unsure what to say, you hum in response. You want to kiss Yoongi until you are dizzy, but you worry about your breath being sour and keep your lips closed tight. Yoongi leans and kisses you on your temple, eyebrow, and cheek, then straightens out. 

"If you wanted to shoot me a text and let me know, I would not object," he says with a waggle of his brow, making you giggle. 

You lift a hand and gently shove at his shoulder, teasing, "You just want to picture me getting fucked, you pervert."

"Of course I do," Yoongi rasps, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before standing up straight. With a wink, he adds, "Don't be shy, pretty darling." 

The moment you step foot into Paradise, Jimin prances over with a warm smile and his arms open wide. He wears a satin black shirt tucked into black slacks, and his boots click-clack in a familiar song.  

As soon as he wraps his arms around your neck, he begins to jump, and you do your best to jump along with him, feeling stunned that he is this happy to see you. "I have a surprise," he sing-songs, drawing the word long and happily, and you do your best to reciprocate his hug before he pulls away. 

"You can't see it until your birthday, but I have been working hard on something," he continues, still hopping around now that you are no longer embracing. 

Although your approaching birthday has been in the back of your mind, this is the first time it has felt like a tangible event. You blurt out, "How did you know my birthday is coming up," feeling anxiety and excitement swell behind your ribs. 

"Oh, please," Jimin mutters, rolling his eyes. "Yoongi has not shut up about it for over a month. He has been very insistent that we throw you an extravagant party; why do you think renovations on this place happened so fucking fast?"

Stunned and so dreadfully in love, all you can do is stare at Jimin as the words sink. You cannot believe that Yoongi has been in cahoots with the guys for over a month, and he has not let it slip at all to you. This means that even before the trips to Paris and Hong Kong, he must have been beginning to plan something.  

"Renovations—" you mutter, mouth opening and closing until all you can say is, "Wait, what?"

"You silly little dove," Jimin teases, booping you on the nose with one of his manicured fingers. "You really have no idea what you have done to this man, do you?"

You knit your brow and slowly shake your head, and Jimin's smile widens. 

"Being with you has changed him. It's noticeable."

Stuck like a deer in headlights, you stand and stare at Jimin, attempting to process his words. Sure, Yoongi was a little gruff and not always the most friendly person to be around when you were first brought to the mansion—even in moments when he was being kind—but you had assumed he behaves that way any time new people are brought around. 

Jimin giggles, leans in, and plants a glossy kiss on your cheek. Then he walks away, clearly amused, and you continue to stare for another moment until a familiar floral musk breaks your spell, alerting you to the presence of a certain someone. 

Truth be told, you have been a bit nervous in anticipation of seeing Jeongguk again. Especially since Yoongi has given you the green light to play around with him—provided Taehyung has done the same. Rather than turn around and greet him, you take a fortifying breath and wait for him to make the first move; it never takes long for him to. 

"Dollface," his voice greets slow and deep and so close to your ear that you actually gasp despite already being aware of his proximity. "My, do you look ravishing this evening."

Warmth floods your cheeks; you dressed in a black mesh corset top tucked into fitted black slacks tonight specifically in the hope that Jeongguk would get an eyeful and want to bend you over Jimin's desk. The black material that covers your breasts is thin, and embroidered into the ribbed black mesh of the top are little black dragons that remind you of Namjoon's tattoo. It leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Tilting your head toward his voice, you mutter, "Thank you," surprising yourself by just how shy you suddenly feel.

"There's something I need to discuss with you," Jeongguk says. The feeling of two warm hands gently gripping your bare forearms causes you to let out a shaky exhale. "Come to one of the private rooms with me?"

The private dance rooms are all equipped with cameras, making your anxiety spike higher, but you nod and allow him to give you a gentle push through the club, to the hallway. The sound of his and your black leather boots clacking against the floor is surprisingly loud under the bass-heavy club beat, ricocheting through your mind while the music thrums just under your skin. 

Once the two of you enter the hallway, you turn your head, finally getting a glance of black satin almost entirely unbuttoned, tucked into black slacks. You attempt to sound innocent as you ask, "What is it you would like to discuss?" 

The chuckle that greets you in response is sardonic and inviting, and you continue to look ahead until Jeongguk places a hand on your arm and guides you through a door on the left. 

The room is rather small, with a round mirrored table and metal dancing poll taking up most of the space. Surrounding the table is a deep green velvet horseshoe couch with thick, rounded arms and backrest. You walk over to stand near the side of the couch and lean against it while the door closes and locks behind you. Instinctively, you glance up at the camera and stare, wondering if it is a coincidence that there is no little red light flashing; it must not be recording, after all. 

"Don't worry, doll," Jeongguk says with a grin as he approaches, "I shut that camera off."

"Is that so?" you ask with a slight tremble in your voice.

Jeongguk is stunning with his dark hair coiffed off his forehead. He has a light dusting of black powder around his eyes accentuating just how dangerous they are, and as your gaze travels down to the mess of silver chains draped around his neck, and lower, to the exposed valley of his chest, you do your best not to swoon. 

"Yoongi hyung sent me a very interesting text this evening," Jeongguk responds with a lift of his pierced eyebrow. 

You attempt to sound as if you have no idea what he might be talking about as you ask, "He did?"

Jeongguk hums and closes in slowly, causing your pulse to quicken gradually with each step he takes. "He did."

You swallow thickly, tilting your head. "And what did it say?"

The grin returns as Jeongguk slides a tattooed hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He thumbs around one-handed for a moment, then reads, "Our little darling has the green light to play around with you," He glances up and adds, "Discreetly, of course."

"Of course," you mutter softly. 

Jeongguk slides his phone back into his pocket. "How are you feeling today?" he asks, voice sweeter than you expect.

Unsure exactly what he might be asking, you fumble, saying, "G-good. I feel good."

Jeongguk lifts his hands and places them on your biceps, then slowly rubs down to your elbows and back up. "Not too sore?"

Ah, of course, that is what he is asking. You did feel the aftermath of him fucking your brains out when you woke up this morning, but it eased throughout the day. Although you are certain that if he slid his thick, pretty cock back inside, your walls would ache. The thought alone has you fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. 

"No," you respond, wetting your lips and watching as Jeongguk's eyes follow the movement. 

Jeongguk's hands slide down past your hands, then he hooks both index fingers into the waistband of your slacks and says, "We have to be quick, but I could be gentle with you, just in case."

He leans in and stops with his lips so close to yours that the slightly sweet whiskey-hinted scent of his breath joins his already enticing fragrance. You want to close the gap and claim his lips, but you wait, staring into his deep, round eyes. 

"I don't want you to be gentle," you whisper, gaze falling to his lips in time for them to curl into a smirk and close in. 

You moan as Jeongguk kisses you, wasting no time licking over the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. As you open your mouth and dance the tip of your tongue over his, Jeongguk hastily undoes the fly of your slacks, yanking your hips to rock against him as he figures out the clasp and pulls down the zipper. 

He shoves the garment to the floor, and as soon as you lift your right foot to free it from the pant leg, he takes your thigh and lifts it, spreading you wide to rake his clothed erection over you. The friction is just enough to make you whimper, and you angle your hips in an attempt to press yourself against him even more. 

"Matching mesh panties," Jeongguk groans as he reaches between your bodies and cups your cunt with his palm, squeezing and rubbing in firm, long movements. 

"Fuck," you whisper, feeling a burst of arousal quake down your spine. 

He leans close once more, lips against yours as he grits, "You drive me fucking crazy."

In a rush, you reach for Jeongguk's pants and begin to undo his button and fly, swallowing every hiss and groan as your knuckles graze his erection. And as much as those sweet sounds urge you to drop to your knees and swallow him deep into your throat just to hear a symphony of his pleasure, you need him to fuck you right now.

Jeongguk takes over and pushes his pants and briefs down, and you shift around to sit back on the wide, velvet arm of the couch, leaning on your elbows and spreading your thighs wide. The look on Jeongguk's face is one of desperation, and you bite your lip at the sight of his pretty cheeks blushing. Knowing you have this kind of an effect on the man who had absolutely nothing nice to say to you for the longest time has your ego inflating to great heights.

"You are so fucking sexy," Jeongguk groans as he pushes your panties aside with one hand while dipping two fingers into his mouth and reaching down to rub the pads of his fingertips over your clit and down to your entrance. You gasp in tandem as he circles your hole and presses broth fingers inside. "Always so fucking tight."

"Please," you whimper, feeling just as needy as he looks. "Please, Jeongguk."

Jeongguk nods and removes his fingers, then spreads your arousal onto his length as he pumps himself a few times, closing the gap between you. Without a word, Jeongguk sinks his cock in deep, giving you no time to adjust to the stretch as you bow your back with a moan and take every inch he has to offer. Your walls ache just slightly enough for the pleasure-pain to make you dizzy.

"Fuck, doll, that's it. You take this cock so well."

You mutter, "Holy shit," punch-drunk from how good he feels, letting your head loll back. 

"Eyes on me," Jeongguk instructs, and you lift your head and meet his gaze, watching his mouth fall agape, mirroring yours, while he pulls his hips back and slams them forward. 

Jeongguk spears you open so deliciously, you struggle to keep your head lifted and eyes open. And he wastes no time picking up a pace that has you moaning and crying his name. 

"Probably shouldn't be so loud," Jeongguk groans as he places the fingers that had been shoved inside your cunt moments ago in front of your lips. You open your mouth and accept his offering, sucking your taste from him as you attempt to stifle your moans. 

He fucks you hard and fast, and you squeeze around him, matching his rhythm and working yourself toward orgasm quickly. Eager to cum—knowing that there is no way this quick and dirty hookup will last too long—you reach your hand between your legs and begin to touch yourself. The velvet of the couch feels rough against the one elbow that anchors you, but the hint of pain adds to the overwhelming pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge. 

"That's it, cum on this cock," Jeongguk urges, sweat glistening over every inch of skin that you can see. 

The twirl of your fingertips matched with the unrelenting drive of Jeongguk's hips has you plummeting past the edge of sanity. And his words certainly help. All you can do is whimper and sob around his fingertips, and your eyes flicker closed before widening as pleasure trembles and quakes through each inch of you. 

"Want to fill you with my cum," Jeongguk groans, pressing his fingers against your tongue hard enough to make drool pool in the edges of your mouth. "Want you to walk around feeling me drip out of you. Want my hyungs to find your panties soiled and sticky. That sound good to you, dollface?"

Although you know you will come to regret this choice as soon as the afterglow fades, you do love the idea of Yoongi and Namjoon touching you and feeling Jeongguk's dried cum in your panties. It is filthy in the best possible way, and you yearn for it. 

You mutter, "Mmhmm," and attempt to nod your head while sucking greedily on Jeongguk's fingers. 

Jeongguk fucks impossibly harder, attempting to stifle his moans through grit teeth, sounding absolutely heavenly as his low voice lilts high and pretty. You should not feel so smitten by Jeongguk when he is balls deep and filling you with his cum, but he is absolutely stunning, and it is impossible to ignore. 

As his hips tremble and still, he drops his fingers from your lips and leans close, supporting your legs with both arms as he lays you back and kisses you deep and hungrily. The two of you moan and whimper, gnashing lips, teeth, and tongues as if your lives depend on this exchange. 

Jeongguk breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against yours, panting heavily. His skin is warm and glistening with sweat, and you lift your arms to wrap them around his shoulders. 

"This is dangerous," Jeongguk mutters, and you tilt your head ever so slightly, humming a curious, "Hmm?"

"How will I keep my hands off you now that I know how amazing you are?"

This soft, sweet side of Jeongguk still takes you by surprise, and you find yourself feeling shy once more as you mutter, "Shut up," at a loss for anything else to say. 

"I mean it," he says, pressing his lips to yours and moaning when you lean into the chaste kiss. "I don't want anything as serious as Namjoon has with the two of you…this is strictly physical. But you really are amazing, doll; you know that, right?"

"Stop," you respond, attempting to shove Jeongguk away. He remains firmly nestled inside you and crowding your personal space, and although you enjoy his presence, you are beginning to feel somewhat claustrophobic. 

You know that this is strictly physical—you wouldn't want it any other way. So why does him saying it aloud make your heart feel just a little too heavy? 

The fact is, you are only in a romantic relationship with Yoongi and Namjoon, and you know that you would not be able to handle it if you and Jeongguk became anything more than two friends who bicker and fuck. But in these moments when he is caring and sweet, there is a tiny part of you that thinks you would like a little more between the two of you. 

"Alright," Jeongguk says with a soft chuckle, standing straight and pulling his softened cock from inside you. "I have to get to work."

Jeongguk looks absolutely disheveled and fucked out with blush-reddened cheeks, covered in a sheen of sweat, and you cannot help but laugh as you imagine him returning to the club with a straight face, going about his business as if nothing has happened. You wonder if he cued Jimin in on the fact that he would not be on the floor for however long this little tryst lasted or if Jimin might be searching for the two of you at the moment. 

"Good luck with that," you tease, sitting up and immediately attempting to stand, doing your best not to allow any of Jeongguk's and your cum to drip onto the velvet couch. 

Jeongguk reaches out and lightly grabs your elbows, steadying you as you bend out of his grasp and begin shuffling your leg back into your slacks. With a series of small hops and wiggles, you are back in your clothing, and you clasp and zip the fly, then run your hands down the front of the tight mesh corset top. 

"What are you wearing to Seokjin's event?" Jeongguk asks, stepping close and using the pad of his thumb to wipe under your right eye, where you assume a little makeup has smudged. 

"I have no idea," you admit, imagining Yoongi will want to shop for something bespoke tomorrow morning. "I usually let the boss dress me. He seems to enjoy it."

"Gross," Jeongguk responds with a playful crinkle of his nose, muttering to add, "Please tell me you do not call him boss in bed."

You swat away Jeongguk's hand, which has hovered beside your cheek as you break out into laughter. Jeongguk pretends to be affronted, holding his hand close to his chest as if you have wounded him. Once the laughter dies, Jeongguk reaches both arms to drape over your shoulders, forcing you to step close. 

"Well tell the boss I request something with a nice long slit up the thigh for easy access. Maybe something that really hugs all your curves."

With a scoff, you search Jeongguk's face for a hint that he is joking, and although he is behaving playfully, he truly does seem serious. 

"So bossy. You forget who I am supposedly engaged to, hmm?" you tease, cocking your head to the side and batting your lashes. "Because it is not you, Jeon."

Jeongguk steps closer, forcing you to tilt your head to look at him. He leans until his lips are a hair's width away. 

"I'm aware of who you are pretending to be engaged to, dollface," he spits in a tone that could be mistaken for anger if you could not see the smile and glimmer in his eyes, even this close. "That does not mean I won't be pulling you into some secluded room to fuck you while your boyfriends have to stand idly by and wait for us to return."

"And why would you do that?" you ask, already knowing the answer. 

Jeongguk gently sucks and nibbles at your lower lip, causing you to gasp and whimper, then he pulls back with a smirk and says, "For fun."

You roll your eyes and shove Jeongguk back, causing him to lose balance just enough to stumble. Then he opens the door and mutters, "Ladies first," holding his hand out as your invitation to exit. 

The music playing in the club is loud and upbeat, and although it had been coming through the speakers of the private room, you had been too distracted to really notice it. As you make your way down the hallway, past the dancer's green rooms and Jimin's office, the bass reverberates through you in a rhythm that is intoxicating and overwhelming. You would love a drink right now.

Although you are sure it would not matter if you returned to the main room with Jeongguk, you decide to hang back a few paces and then veer off toward the ladies' room in the opposite direction of the bar, not looking back to check whether Jeongguk notices. And as soon as you step into the small brightly lit space and check your reflection, noticing small tell-tale signs that you definitely just had sex, you take in a deep breath. 

This whole situation with Jeongguk is fun, but there is a sense of trepidation that surrounds it, now that you have had a little time to let this entire situation settle. Both Yoongi and Namjoon have given you enthusiastic consent to fuck their best friend, yet you still fear that eventually, at some point, they might change their minds. And although you know that you would absolutely, without a doubt, agree to stop fucking Jeongguk if they asked you to, you already fear that emotionally, it could tear you apart. 

You definitely crave Jeongguk's attention. You appreciate how different it feels to be flirted with by him than it feels with Yoongi and Namjoon. You enjoy the thrill of knowing that all of it has to be done in secret when it is not done at someone's home—and Jeongguk has already proven to be the type to like secret, semi-public sex. Being claimed and used by him is thrilling in a way you have not experienced much before.

As you dry your hands and exit the restroom, you curse yourself for continuing to have the same train of thought stuck on repeat. You are far too sober to ignore the fact that already the thought of being something more than a fuck buddy for Jeongguk has begun invading your mind. Already you are asking yourself why you are so dead set on trying to talk yourself out of even humoring the idea. 

And it is not as if you can walk into the main room—or anywhere, for that matter—and fully ignore his presence, or try to block what just happened out. With each step you take, you can feel the mix of body fluids squelching just inside your cunt, threatening to drip out. Even if you tried to wipe yourself off, there would be no way to fully cleanse yourself of him. 

Perhaps it is not even him you would wish to cleanse yourself of; perhaps you are simply reconciling the idea that you are capable of becoming attached to people rather quickly, and you know just how fucking dangerous that can be. 

You make your way to the bar for one whiskey sour and then two. Hyejin is out sick for a few nights, meaning Jeongguk is busy. Jimin seems to know what the two of you were up to just based on the judgmental upturned-eyebrowed gaze that follows you whenever the two of you are even briefly within proximity of one another. 

By the third whiskey sour, two familiar men walk into the building. You spot Namjoon first, wearing his black shirt unbuttoned to the center of his chest. His short brown hair is styled off his forehead, and he wears a thin black choker around his neck. Rather than wearing his standard black slacks, he has black skinny jeans that almost appear shiny, outlining each curve of muscle in his thighs. 

And then Yoongi follows, and something in the air feels as if it shifts. Yoongi on a normal day is breathtaking—pretty in ways that make you stop what you are doing to watch him. But tonight, his hair is messy and wild, and he wears a shiny bomber jacket with hints of gold and burgundy that shimmer in the club lights. A leopard print scarf is tied around his neck, and he wears a black shirt with a low, rounded neck, tucked into very tight black jeans. 

Yoongi scans the room, eyes landing on you first, and you clench tightly to the cold, damp glass in your hand as he makes his way over slowly, like a beast on the prowl. Namjoon follows, dimples creasing his cheeks as his gaze rakes over your form. As they approach, you catch hints of black ink on Namjoon's honey skin peeking from his shirt, and notice both of them are wearing a dusting of black eyeshadow. 

"Darling," Yoongi greets with a smile, lifting his arms up, beckoning you to hug him. You shift to the side just enough to set your drink on the bar behind you and to your left, and then you step forward and allow Yoongi's arms to engulf you. With his lips pressed to your temple, Yoongi softly rasps, "You look absolutely stunning, tonight."

"Thanks," you mutter as your heart pounds, and you lift your hands to his hips. Yoongi's musk is more floral than usual, and you close your eyes and bury your nose against his neck and the scarf tied around it, then drag your lips over the soft, warm skin. 

When you finally take a step back, you rub your hands over the fabric of his jacket, which appears almost metallic, feeling rough tiny sequins lightly scratching against your palms. 

"I like your jacket," you say as your eyes move from the pretty, inviting material to Yoongi's even prettier, even more inviting face. 

"Then it's yours," he responds with a smirk, causing warmth to flood your cheeks. 

"I like it on you," you clarify with a lift of your brow, then you push at the material enough to lift it and have a peek at his bare shoulders, realizing that he has a tank top on, adding, "Although I suppose I would like it off of you, as well."

Namjoon approaches on the right and leans an elbow on Yoongi's shoulder. His gaze is dark and hungry—piercing, almost—and there is a bloodshot quality to his eyes that suggests he is either high or he has been drinking. 

"This jacket truly does look lovely on the floor," Namjoon says with a wink, turning in time to watch Yoongi roll his eyes and crack a smile that shows off his gums. Namjoon chuckles, and the sound is deep and pretty and makes your heart pound. 

You are curious about so many things, including what drove them to get so dressed up tonight, and how their meeting went with the possible hotel sale. But you open your mouth with the intention of finding one of those topics to ask about when Jeongguk steps into the peripheral and wraps an arm around your waist. 

"Hey, hyungs," he greets in a playful tone that gives you goosebumps. 

Yoongi and Namjoon nod to Jeongguk, but their gazes flit between the two of you, and to the hand that holds you just under the ribs. 

You expect one of them to tease you—it must be obvious that you fucked, or that you have become closer in some manner—and you are a bit surprised when Yoongi cocks his head toward Namjoon, eyes still on you, as he says, "Aren't the two of them gorgeous together?"

Namjoon hums and nods, and suddenly, you want to squirm away and create space between you and Jeongguk. You feel scrutinized in a way that is unfamiliar but that you liken to parents meeting a romantic partner for the first time. It is not Jeongguk's presence that embarrasses you, but the way they acknowledge his presence, making you feel like an insect trapped under a magnifying glass. 

Namjoon keeps his elbow on Yoongi's shoulder as he glances around the space, eyes slowly trailing around. "You, Jimin, and Hyejin are doing well, it seems."

"Business is booming," Jeongguk responds as his hand gently rubs small shapes against your side, fingertips playing lightly with the threading and ribbing of your corset top. "Jimin is the genius of the operation; Hyejin and I merely do what he tells us to."

"Well you seem to be doing it well," Yoongi says, holding his chin high with a proud glimmer in his eyes. 

The hand on your side tenses then relaxes, and you turn your gaze to Jeongguk, who looks at you with a shy smile, then turns back to Yoongi to mutter, "Thank you, hyung."

"You seem happier," Namjoon adds, dropping his arm to his side, then stepping in to play with Jeongguk's satin collar. "This style suits you, and your attitude has improved substantially."

"Hyung," Jeongguk whines, attempting to step away from Namjoon but hitting his elbow against the bar. 

This makes Yoongi chuckle, who teases with a playful, "Our little Ggukah is all grown up."

"Ugh," Jeongguk complains, dropping his hand from your side before walking away, making the three of you laugh. 

"He's so easy to rile up," Namjoon jokes, to which Yoongi says, "Too easy."

The three of you settle at the bar with drinks. You finish your third, and they slam a few shots to catch up. By the time you are setting down the fourth drink and excusing yourself to the restroom, both men are handsy and whining about letting you go.

"I have to pee," you complain, yanking your wrist from Namjoon's eager grip. 

"Fine," he groans with a pout and puppy dog eyes that have you scoffing and shaking your head. 

You are surprised by how much you stumble through the club on your way to the ladies' room. To be fair, you were more excited to dress up and get pretty this evening and barely touched any food before heading over here—something the three of you will need to remedy before heading home. The light of the bathroom is too bright, and you sit just a little too hard on the toilet, squeezing your eyes closed to try to focus them a little better when they open, causing the stall to be nothing but a tan and red blur. 

After washing up and checking your drunk but agreeable reflection, you make your way back through the club. But before you can reach the bar, a customer—some older man you have never seen before—grabs you by the bicep. 

"Are you available for a dance?" he slurs, filling your chest with anxious trepidation, which you attempt to swallow down while yanking your arm uselessly. "I see you here all the time, but you're never on stage."

"I don't work here," you respond through grit teeth, pulling your arm from his grasp and stumbling two steps backward.

The man frowns and opens his mouth to shout something slurred and incomprehensible, and in a blink, you are surrounded by Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin. 

"Do we have a problem?" Yoongi asks in a firm, direct tone that is as intimidating as it is sexy.

"Boss M-Min," the man stammers, eyes moving between Yoongi, you, and the others. "No, sir. S-sorry."

Jimin pipes up, "If I see you lay a hand on another woman in this club—employee or not—I will have you kicked to the curb," causing the older man to stand tall, suddenly appearing offended. But he does not respond with words; he merely nods his head and turns away, returning to his seat at a small round table facing one of the side stages.

"Sorry about him," Jimin says, stepping close and placing his hands on your shoulders. 

Only now, when you finally have a chance to breathe, are you aware of the panic that fills you, squeezing at your chest like thorny vines snaked between your ribs, threatening to make you collapse. 

"I need some fresh air," you mutter quietly as you turn out of Jimin's light hold toward the back exit and struggle to move your feet more than three steps. 

Namjoon wraps an arm around your waist and assists you with walking to the exit. "Does that happen often?" he asks low and sweet, voice as comforting as it is concerned. 

"No," you mutter, shaking your head. "Never."

Frankly, you are shocked that it has taken this long for a man to accost you—a thought nobody should reasonably have. But considering the atmosphere and your proximity to it, you have come to expect some of the customers to be a little sleazy. Sure, men have whistled, shouted, and made lewd gestures before, but nobody has ever grabbed onto you. 

Once the back door is open and the cool night air hits you in a somewhat uncomfortable burst, you tense up and curl into Namjoon's chest, having to somewhat waddle sideways as you fully step out and maneuver both bodies beside the door. You shiver, but a second and third body close in on you. 

"Want me to throw him out?" Jimin asks, burying the other side of your face against his chest. 

"No," you mumble.

"Alternatively," Namjoon suggests, "I could bring him out here and gut him like a fish. Paint the street with his blood and fill the night with his screams."

The tone in Namjoon's voice is so dead serious that it makes your stomach churn. "No thank you," you mumble, burying your face into his soft shirt and softer skin in an attempt to block out the mental image. 

At moments like this, you remember the men you love are part of a no ordinary civilian men. Has Namjoon gutted someone before? Does he enjoy the way it feels to pierce and slice flesh with a blade? Can he stomach the smell?

"I have to get back in there," Jimin states with a sigh, hugging the group of bodies tight and practically suffocating you in satin before backing out of the bunch. "If you change your mind about that guy, let us know."

Jimin steps back, and you hear the door open, followed by the loud burst of upbeat club music before it closes, muffling the noise to nothing more than bass reverberating through the walls. Yoongi wraps himself over your shoulders, chest pressed into your back, and you rest against Namjoon, closing your eyes to the gentle sound of the two of them kissing. 

"Jeongguk mentioned he left us a gift," Yoongi drawls after a quiet moment, and you gasp. 

You had somehow forgotten all about what transpired between you and Jeongguk earlier, but now that it is at the forefront of your mind, the damp cloth between your legs feels somewhat cold and uncomfortable. 

Before you can say anything, one of Yoongi's hands begins to travel down between the press of your and Namjoon's bodies, fingers grazing over the thin material covering your breast, making you shiver as your hard nipple is lightly touched. As his hand moves lower, you take a slow, fortifying breath and hold it, eager not to give yourself away too much. 

Just the gentle graze of Yoongi's fingertips passing over your waist and hip has your eyelids fluttering. And when he reaches between your legs, presses against your soiled slacks, and groans, you let out the breath in a shaky exhale, gripping onto Namjoon's shoulders, lest you collapse. 

"My, my," he groans, making Namjoon hum in question. "She's soaked, Joonie. Is this all you, darling? Or is it him, too?"

You huff an embarrassed sigh and attempt to relax your grip on Namjoon as you mutter, "It's him, too."

Namjoon reaches between your legs and touches eagerly—almost roughly. You whimper and take a dizzy step back; if it weren't for the tight proximity of bodies, you may have fallen into Yoongi. 

"Naughty, naughty," Namjoon teases, cupping his hand over both your clothed cunt and Yoongi's wandering fingers. "What do you think, hyung? We can't just let some runt stake claim on our pussy without having it for ourselves." 

Yoongi chuckles deep and sardonic, and you bite back a smile of your own. If it weren't for their eager touches and inviting tones, you would be laughing over the mental image of three dogs pissing on the same hydrant to claim dominance. Only, instead, they are your sexy boyfriends and their equally sexy best friend, and their little rivalry involves wanting to fill you with their cum. 

"I know a spot," you all but moan, looking up to find Namjoon staring at you hungrily. 

"Oh?" Yoongi asks playfully, pressing his fingertips against you in a slow circle. 

With a nod and a whimper, you say, "Just so ha-happens there are rooms in this very building, meant for that very thing."

Yoongi steps back, taking his warmth and hand away, and your skin feels almost shocked by how cold it is. 

"Lead the way," Yoongi suggests, and you fumble a couple steps back, still holding onto Namjoon's shoulders, before turning toward the door.  

As soon as you walk back into the building, the music is loud and overwhelming. You take Yoongi's hand and lead him to the hallway, making a pit stop at Jimin's office door, which is ajar just an inch. You knock, and hear his soft, "What is it?" then peek your head in. 

"Anyone in the executive suite?" you ask nervously, biting your lip. 

Jimin squints then grins and shakes his head. "It's all yours, dove. Have fun!" 

The sing-song manner of Jimin's tone makes your cheeks warm, and you mutter, "Thanks, Jimin," as you step back and return the door to its almost closed state. 

Namjoon takes your other hand and rubs his thumb over your knuckles, and it does very little to calm your pounding heart, but you are still a bit on edge, unsure of what to expect. Neither of them seems upset, but there is still that fear in the back of your mind that it could change. 

You know that you should give both men a little more credit; Yoongi and Namjoon have been nothing but open, curious, and honest with you about their desire to share and experiment. This threesome only exists because of their experience and eagerness to have this kind of relationship. So why do you worry so much?

Past the private dance rooms, the hallway takes a left turn. Changbin sits on a chair in a small enclave that is black from floor to ceiling and looks like a dead end. At your approach, he straightens out and stands, then bows. 

"Boss," he says, standing tall and strong and stepping aside to pull back a curtain to reveal a black door with a small keypad. "All rooms are empty, so you can take your pick."

"We plan to use the executive suite tonight," Yoongi says with a gentle squeeze of your hand. "Jimin has already been made aware."

"Of course," Changbin responds with a bow of his head. "Enjoy."

Everyone who has access to the lower level has their own eight-digit code for the keypad. This way, Jimin is able to track who goes where, and stragglers cannot simply find their way down there. Not that the door is ever left unmanned. 

You punch in 19931994 and listen for the mechanism to whine and click, then you press the door open with your palm. It is heavy, and the moment the three of you are through, it closes tightly behind you, though Yoongi reaches back to push against it anyway. 

The stairwell that snakes you down under the building is lit in fuchsia, and the music is slower and more sensual—some R&B track you cannot identify with a singer whose voice alternates between soft and breathy, and quick and raspy. As you reach the bottom of the stairs, a long fuchsia hallway greets you, and Namjoon releases your hand and walks ahead to the end of the space. When he reaches the door just a few paces before you, he turns and crosses his arms over his chest. 

With a stern voice and sterner expression, Namjoon says, "I want you to undress and position yourself exactly how Jeongguk had you, understand, baby?"

You respond, "Yes, daddy," without hesitation, and although Namjoon's eyes widen ever so slightly, his stern expression does not falter. 

Namjoon steps aside, and you enter your passcode on another keypad and walk into the dimly red-lit space, past the bed, to the white leather sofa. The arms of this sofa are not quite as wide as the ones on the green velvet couch, but they are wide enough.

Wordlessly, you strip your slacks off but keep the left leg still hooked in the fabric, then you sit on the sofa arm and rest back on your elbows. 

"Didn't bother to undress you," Yoongi practically snarls as he takes his place before you and undoes his belt buckle and fly. "Just a quick and dirty fuck, huh?"

"Yes, sir," you respond through a somewhat shattered breath. 

"I'm guessing no foreplay?" Namjoon asks, taking his place beside Yoongi with his arms once more crossed over his chest. 

"No, daddy."

Yoongi tsks and shakes his head. Namjoon chuckles. 

"Poor girl," Yoongi teases with a pout, sliding out of his pretty shimmery jacket, which Namjoon takes and places neatly aside, on the bed. "I was really looking forward to tasting you."

The thought of being denied Yoongi's tongue fills you to the brim with frustration, but you let your eyes rake over his toned, bare arms as a distraction. Yoongi is far more muscular than he appears under the long-sleeved shirts he wears, and even a glimpse of his bare skin drives you wild—has you thanking the fashion gods for tank tops. 

"He groped me over my panties," you inform Yoongi with an innocent smile. "Cupped his hand over me, rubbed and squeezed a little."

Yoongi steps forward and grabs your cunt firmly with his palm. "Like this?" he asks, and you gasp as your head lolls back, whimpering a soft, "Just like that."

"What else?" Namjoon asks. 

"He spread and lifted my legs," you mutter as Yoongi palms roughly at you, pressing moist mesh against eager nerves. "He held my right leg with his arm."

Yoongi removes his hand only long enough to lift and spread your legs, yanking slightly to get you into position. Although Jeongguk is a little taller, you line up with Yoongi just right, and you attempt to swivel your hips in search of friction, but Yoongi's palm returns. 

"He pushed his pants and briefs down, and pulled my panties aside," you continue. "Then he licked two fingers and touched me a little."

With a lift of his brow, Yoongi brings two fingers to his doll lips and wets them with his tongue. 

"He only touched my clit briefly, but he did finger me," you specify.

Namjoon wraps his arms around Yoongi's hips and finishes unzipping his pants, then he pushes them, along with his briefs, to the floor. The sight of Namjoon's arms around Yoongi, while Yoongi stands hard and leaking, makes you dizzy, and you lick your lips, watching Namjoon step back and pull his arms away, wishing Namjoon would continue to touch him—longing for the way Yoongi falls apart just for him. 

Yoongi reaches between your bodies and pulls your panties aside, then swirls over your clit once, twice, three times, building your arousal quickly, only to make it dissipate before his fingers dip inside, and you groan from the feeling. 

"Messy, messy cunt," Yoongi teases, lips parted as he plunges deep inside. "But still so fucking tight."

"Please fuck me, sir," you beg, absolutely needy for Yoongi's cock.

"Is that how you begged him?" Yoongi asks, pulling his fingers out and stroking his hard length. 

"Yes, sir," you admit, panting. 

"And did he fuck you, darling?"

"Yes, sir. He fucked me hard and deep."

Yoongi closes the minuscule gap between you and sinks his cock all the way in one fluid motion, pushing a moan from deep within your chest and lighting your body on fire. Yoongi feels thick and familiar in the most dizzying way, and you scrape your fingernails against the sides of the leather armrest in an attempt to hold on. 

"Did he kiss you?" Yoongi asks, leaning close and pulling his hips back, only to slam them forward. 

Some part of you wants to lie and say no, he did not kiss you, but you swallow thickly and admit, "Not during sex."

"After?" Yoongi asks with a smirk, pulling back and slamming forward once more. 

You sob through the word, "Yes!" and Yoongi's sharp smile grows bigger. 

"Did he do anything else?" Namjoon prompts, and you huff out a sigh, wishing Yoongi would set a pace and fuck you, already. 

"While he fucked me, I was being too loud, so he put his fingers in my mouth," you admit. 

Yoongi pulls back and slams forward again. "Being too loud, hmm?"

You whimper and nod, saying, "We weren't down here. We were in one of the private dance rooms."

"He couldn't even bring you down here to fuck you?" Namjoon teases, cocking his head. "Aren't there cameras in those rooms?"

Finally, Yoongi sets a pace and begins to fuck you, and as you attempt to say he turned that camera off, all you can do is moan a broken, "He t-turned," losing the rest of the sentence. 

Yoongi lifts his hand and slots his fingers between your lips before you can attempt to say another word, and you suck hard, doing your best to keep your eyes on him. The taste of your arousal on his fingers is different from the taste you left on Jeongguk's—a bit subdued but still just as heady. 

You whimper and babble uselessly around Yoongi, drool falling from the sides of your lips while you suck. Although this is meant to be just a quickie, Yoongi does not rush; he has nowhere else to go. By the time you lift your hand to touch your clit, you are already fast approaching orgasm.

"Did you touch yourself while Jeongguk fucked you?" Namjoon asks. 

You nod, and Yoongi removes his fingers for you to say, "We had to hurry, and I wanted to cum."

"Greedy girl," Namjoon teases with a wink and a smile, making you smile in return.

Your head bobs as Yoongi fucks you, and he says, "Well, then, touch yourself, darling," before returning his fingers to your lips. 

Just one pass over your clit has you crumbling, and you suck hard, squealing. Yoongi's pace quickens, and the hand on your hip grips bruisingly. 

"That's it, darling; cum for me."

As you clench around him, chasing your high, Yoongi's head rolls back, and he groans deep and pretty. The sight of his dark, messy hair and sweat-slicked neck is so inviting, you continue to clench just to push him over the edge as your high begins to crash. 

You reach for Yoongi's leopard print scarf to pull him close for a deep, hungry kiss—much like the one you shared with Jeongguk, only softer. Yoongi does not gnash and nip as if this is the last kiss you will ever share; Yoongi sucks gently and licks firmly, filling your mouth with his sweet, needy moans. 

It is not long before Yoongi's hips are trembling and stilling. And your grip on him is so tight that you feel him twitch and empty inside you. 

"Fuck, baby, your pussy is heaven," Yoongi groans against your lips. "Absolutely perfect."

Overcome with emotion, you continue to grip tightly to his scarf and lick into his mouth. Yoongi chuckles lightly and hums as you tease his lip, indulging you before pulling back and straightening out. 

"Did you kiss him like that after?" Yoongi asks, cheeks tinted with blush and hair messy. 

"No, sir," you admit, letting your head dip downward while keeping your eyes up and on him. 

The smile that graces his lips is pretty and loving, and he stares for a moment, catching his breath despite being the breathtaking one. 

Yoongi bends to pull up his pants and get himself situated, then steps back. You feel his release dripping from your cunt, and you almost begin to sit up when Namjoon approaches and begins to undo his belt.

"Think you can handle one more?" Namjoon asks with a grin that dimples his cheeks. 

"Don't think I have much of a choice," you respond with a bite to your lip, eager to feel him inside you.

Namjoon's smile falls, and his hands drop to his sides. "Of course you do," he says sadly, making your heart clench. 

"I know that," you insist, sitting up quickly, instinctively reaching your hands toward him. "I was just being cheeky; I know you would never do anything that I don't want."

Every feature on Namjoon's face is sweet and soft, and his lips tug into a smile once more. "Sorry," he mutters as he steps close and leans forward. "I get in my head sometimes."

You reach out and take Namjoon's shirt just as you held Yoongi's scarf, and Namjoon stumbles forward before bending closer. "You're sweet," you say as you slot your lips together and hum. Namjoon is pillow soft with hints of whiskey, and you sink into the feeling, eager to drown. 

Slowly, you pull from the kiss and say, "Fuck me, daddy," watching as his lips upturn. 

"So bossy," he teases as his hands reach for his slacks and begin working open the button and fly. 

"Please," you add, releasing Namjoon's shirt and leaning back on your elbows, spreading your thighs wide. "Make me forget what Jeonggukie did to me."

Namjoon practically snarls as he shoves his pants and briefs down, and he somewhat forcibly cups your wet, used pussy, sending a shiver of arousal through you.

You hardly have a chance to breathe with the way Namjoon kisses you—hot and rough and demanding. And although he follows the same formula Yoongi had, with very little instruction given, the pace and ferocity with which he fucks you has you momentarily forgetting even your own name. 

For Seokjin's event, Yoongi has bought you a simple black satin evening gown with a plunging v-line and spaghetti straps that cross over your exposed back. The back v-line dips dangerously low, and, much to Jeongguk's excitement, there is a high slit up the right thigh. 

You stand in Yoongi's closet, staring into the mirror along the far back wall while Jimin finishes getting all of your hair pinned up. Yoongi wraps various delicate silver necklaces around your neck in search of the perfect one while Namjoon and Jeongguk chatter lowly in the bedroom about something or other, and you swear you hear Taehyung's deep voice at some point, as well. 

Yoongi finally decides on a dainty silver chain with no charm for you to wear and begins to search the drawers in his closet's island for a matching piece for himself. Meanwhile, Jimin exits the closet, and Jeongguk steps in. 

"I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to give you your birthday gift early," Jeongguk says.

Surprised, you glance at him through the mirror before turning to regard him fully. Jeongguk is in his typical Paradise garb—in fact, all of the family men wear black satin and black slacks, with black and silver accessories. Jeongguk's hair is styled away from his forehead with a freshly short chop and sharp undercut. 

"After that guy touched you at Paradise, I thought you should have it," Jeongguk continues. "Especially since we'll be at the casino tonight; there's no telling what kind of seedy characters might be there."

Taehyung pops around the corner, holding onto a small, rectangular box, and Jeongguk nods for you to take it. You reach for it, and Taehyung says, "From both of us."

"Of course," you respond with a smile, feeling your heart burst as your fingertips rub over crushed velvet. You have a feeling there must be some kind of weapon inside, based on Jeongguk's hint—a knife, judging by the size of the container. 

As you open the box, Yoongi leans in close, and Namjoon takes a step into the space, glancing over Jeongguk's shoulder. 

"I, uh—"Jeongguk begins as you crack it open, and you halt your movement to look at him. "I hope it's not too insensitive, given…well…you'll see."

You hesitate a moment, then continue opening it, gasping at the sight of the gift. Nestled against what appears to be black lace is a switchblade. The handle is black lacquer with mother-of-pearl decorations of flowers and birds. It is gorgeous and dainty, and when you lift it, the weight is surprisingly heavy. The blade that springs out is thin and appears to be very sharp, and you twirl it in your fingers as your eyes well with tears. 

"This is beautiful," you say, finally looking at Jeongguk, then to Taehyung. "Thank you so much, you guys."

"It's sharp as fuck," Taehyung says with a grin. "And if you ever need it to be sharpened, just stop on by."

"There's a strap, too," Jeongguk adds somewhat shyly. "Hence why I thought…"

When he trails off, you giggle. Clearly, Jeongguk knows about your method of killing Seungri all those years ago, and it is a sweet thing for him to consider. 

"I love it," you say before he can spiral, and when his features turn soft and his smile brightens, warmth rises to your face. Somewhat sheepishly, you add, "And I like it a lot more than a gun." 

"Well," Namjoon urges from over Jeongguk's shoulder, stealing your attention. He winks as he says, "Try it on."

You set the box down on the island and pull out the bundle of lace, which happens to be a thigh garter. With a scoff, you turn to Jeongguk and teasingly ask, "Is this why you wanted me to have a thigh slit tonight?"

As everyone's attention turns to Jeongguk, he visibly balks, rolling his eyes. "I can have many reasons for wanting the things I want," he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You unfurl the thigh garter and step into it, attempting to ignore all the eyes that watch as you bend and hike it high up your leg. Once it is in position just under the top of the dress slit, you grab the knife and attempt to decide where on your leg it might be most secure. 

Taehyung steps in and asks, "May I?" holding his hands toward your thigh, and although you cannot begin to fathom what he is asking for, you are flustered enough to nod and say, "Yes."

"There is a little piece of elastic inside," Taehyung says as he squats and delicately begins to snake two fingers under the band and feel around. Thankfully, he finds it quickly at the front of your thigh, and he gently begins to rotate it until that part is resting on your outer leg. Holding his palm out, he says, "Knife."

You hand Taehyung the knife, and he slides it into the band, securing it in the elastic bit. As he stands, you reach down to feel it. It only takes a few adjustments of the band's height and position on your thigh before it is perfect. Granted, when you look in the mirror, the entire weapon is visible in this particular dress. 

"Stunning," Yoongi says in a tone that is dark and rich with desire. 

"I agree," Namjoon adds, and you glance up to smile at everyone through the mirror before turning your attention back to your reflection. 

"And a perfect accessory for tonight," Yoongi adds, making you look up at him. "That paired with the engagement ring will tell everyone loud and clear just how deadly our little darling is." 

Ah, yes. The engagement ring. 

You look down at your empty hand and mutter, "Right, I should go get the ring," before turning and waiting for the wall of men to part and let you pass. 

At the thought of the ring—and Yoongi's statement about you being deadly—your heart feels heavy. Anxiety fills you as you pad barefoot through Yoongi's room, past Jimin, who sits on the bed, scrolling through his phone, glancing up with a soft smile. 

In the mansion, there is a light clattering of voices. Members of the family security team are downstairs waiting to escort you to the event, and Yoongi’s cooking team is in the kitchen finishing something sweet and full of carbohydrates, the smell of which wafts throughout the large mansion. 

Time seems to slow as you walk to your room—a room you hardly visit anymore. The familiar and unfamiliar sights and sounds are as comforting as they are daunting, and all the connotations of being part of this gentle but looming chaos fills you with dread. 

Do you want to be deadly? The prospect feels heavy. 

And after Yoongi's heroin relapse and stint in rehab, you worry about the prospect of being more entrenched in this lifestyle than you already are. Getting further involved in this business can only put you more at risk. And if Yoongi plunges off the deep end over losing one of his men, what could become of him should something ever happen to you?

Sure, you are merely playing a role tonight—dressing in a way that sends a message, and wearing a ring that symbolizes something fake. But your position at Yoongi's side is anything but fake, and standing there publicly is a huge hazard to your safety. 

You heavy-blink and realize you are standing in your dark bedroom, staring toward the bed. Light filters in through the windows, but it is the faint and golden glow of a setting sun. A particularly loud laugh echoes through the mansion, snapping you fully out of your trance, and you gaze around for the ring box, which sits Tiffany-blue on your bedside table. 

With a sigh, you approach and grab the ring box, snapping it open and stopping to stare at the giant rock inside before pulling it out and listlessly tossing the open box onto your bed. The ring is heavy as you slide it onto your finger, and your heart clenches at the weight. There is a part of you that hopes one day for this weight to support something real. But can you really become a mafia wife?

Although you hear soft footsteps approach, your gaze lingers on your hand and the ring that adorns it. Yoongi's soft voice asking, "Darling?" causes tears to well in your eyes, and you take a deep, fortifying breath before turning to regard him. 

Yoongi is gorgeous, leaning against your door frame with his brows gently tugged into a concerned frown. As he studies your eyes, he stands straight and slowly steps forward. Both of your hands are clenched in front of your stomach, and he takes them in his, rubbing his thumbs against your palms until your grip loosens. 

"Care to tell me what you're thinking?"

A chuckle works its way from your tummy, and you gaze down sheepishly at your conjoined hands, then back at Yoongi's face. "I don't know where I would even begin," you admit, feeling the urge to cry and swallowing it down.

"You look a little overwhelmed," Yoongi says, and you scoff, nodding. 

"I think I am."

Yoongi licks his lips and hesitates before asking, "Does it have to do with the ring?"

You swallow thickly. "A little," you admit. 

Yoongi's grip on your hands tightens then releases, and he wraps you in a hug, pinning your arms to your sides. "Well, you do not have to tell me right now if you don't feel comfortable, but just know that I always value whatever is on your mind. Especially if it is stressing you out."

"I just…" you begin, closing your eyes and nuzzling your forehead against his neck, doing your best not to rub away any of the makeup on your eyes. 

With a sigh, you change your path, voice weak as you say, "I love you. And Namjoon. You're both amazing and you have been so good to me."

As you swallow thickly, feeling anxiety rise, Yoongi prompts you, saying, "But…"

"But this lifestyle terrifies me," you admit, voice trembling. "And this ring is so heavy and what it symbolizes is so huge, and I…I don't know, Yoongi. I don't know if I can handle all of this."

Yoongi says nothing, but he does sigh. His arms squeeze tighter, and the silence that drags causes you to ramble. 

"I know Namjoon said that the only way out of this lifestyle is death. And I can't…my heart aches imagining all the horrifying possibilities."

"Namjoon told you that," Yoongi mutters, sounding as disheartened as you feel. 

"He wasn't trying to scare me," you insist, lifting your arms to return Yoongi's hug and forcing his arms to slide up to your shoulders. "We were just discussing you, and us, and…all of this."

"It's true that there is a target on my back," Yoongi says, sighing, sounding more resolved than before. "But I am protected. I employ the strongest and smartest on this peninsula. I don't want you to worry about me, or Namjoon, or yourself."

"How could I not?" you practically sob, feeling tears rise and squeezing your eyes closed. 

"Shhh," Yoongi whispers, rubbing his hands on your back and taking a step out of the hug. "We should talk about this soon, but now isn't the time for worries like these, darling. Jimin will kill you if your makeup smears, and Seokjin will kill both of us if we arrive late."

The playful tone makes you laugh, and you sniffle, nodding your head and looking Yoongi in the eye, taking in his warm, almost sad expression. You know that Jimin would be nothing but sympathetic to your tears, and that Yoongi is only joking, but the image of Jimin's angry little snarl flashes in your mind anyway, making you laugh more. 

As if on cue, Namjoon arrives, looking over Yoongi's shoulder with a wide smile that falls into a concerned frown. "Everything okay?"

"As a matter of fact, everything is not okay," Yoongi says, turning to Namjoon with a faux glare that makes him widen his eyes with worry. "Why are you filling our darling's pretty little head with images of us dying."

Namjoon gasps, looks at you, and then back at Yoongi, asking, "When did I ever—"

"You told her the only way out of this lifestyle is death."

Recognition hits, and Namjoon sighs, stepping in and slinging an arm over Yoongi's shoulder, forcing him to turn and face you once more. Namjoon leans to the side, low enough to say softly into Yoongi's ear, "I told her that while you were in rehab and she was lamenting over how badly she wishes you could leave all of this behind."

When Yoongi blinks, his gaze hardens and then drops. "I can't just do that," he says with bitterness in his tone. 

"I know," you respond. "It was selfish of me to—"

"Loving someone is never selfish," Namjoon interrupts nicely, then he squeezes Yoongi's arm. "And you know damn well that she has every right to find what you do horrifying, Yoongi. Be gentle."

"I am gentle," Yoongi pouts, eyes still on the floor.

"Alright," Namjoon says, "Shall we? Seokjin will kill us if we're late."

Unable to hold back a smile, you nod and say, "Let's go."

"This conversation isn't over," Yoongi says in a tone that makes you nervous before softening as he says, "but I appreciate you telling me what is on your mind. And I don't mean to get defensive, this is just…well, it's the only lifestyle I have ever known."

To a certain extent, it is also the only one you have known. Only you were at the behest of powerful men and used as a plaything, and even a weapon, in lowly ranks, hoping for a way to escape to a better life. Sleeping in the bed of powerful men and standing at their side is something else, entirely. 

The casino is packed, and you already regret having to wear high heels on the carpeted floors, feeling each step sink slightly. Cigar smoke and the stench of an amalgamation of types of alcohol permeate the air, and the barrage of sounds from various betting machines blaring over shouting voices overwhelms. 

Yoongi leads you through the center of the casino, and you attempt to keep your head held high and your focus on nothing ahead of you, allowing all the flashing lights to bokeh into spots. When you finally blink everything back into focus, Seokjin is at the center of the room surrounded by a crowd of men. 

Try as you might, you have no idea what the hell this event is for. Each time you ask, you are met with a vague response and conclude that this must simply be a celebration of Seokjin and his beloved House of Cards. 

About an hour in, you are buzzed from whiskey and champagne and find yourself stumbling to the restroom near the bar. Although you are not quite intoxicated enough to be bumbling around, these heels are doing you no favors, and you find yourself griping about it under your breath. The stalls are all empty, and you sit longer than necessary on the toilet just to have a breather somewhere quiet and off your feet. 

When you exit the stall to wash your hands, a woman in a blood-red evening gown with her hair tied high on her head smiles at you through the mirror. You smile back, mostly just to be polite, and wash your hands before turning toward the exit. 

"Quite the rock you got there," the woman comments, making you stop in your tracks. Her voice has a sort of practiced shrillness to it, like she is only pretending to care. "What kind of man can afford a ring like that one?"

Unsure whether you are interested in having this conversation, you turn your head, smile softly, and respond, "A powerful one."

The woman hums and says, "I guess so."

You turn back toward the door and exit. 

As soon as you return to the bar, you notice that Yoongi and Namjoon are no longer there, but Jeongguk is, so you approach him. His eyes brighten instantly, and he downs his drink, then stands up straight and approaches, taking you by the elbow and spinning you in the opposite direction. 

"What are we—"

"Boss Min asked me to escort you to the second floor," Jeongguk responds a little too loud, and you bite back a smile. 

"Right," you respond, not buying his ruse. 

But he does lead you to the elevator, up to the second floor. Only everything is locked and dark, and there is no one around. 

"I can't take it anymore," Jeongguk mutters as he leads you into the banquet room—which he has the access code to—and through the long, vacant space, to the coat check closet where Yoongi first dropped the bomb that he was going to propose to you. "The dress, the knife…you are so fucking hot, dollface."

You say nothing as he closes the door behind you and then switches on the light. There is a low wooden countertop below a partial door, which is closed, and you kick out of your shoes and lean against it. If you are going to let Jeongguk fuck you, you need to do it in a position that is comfortable for both Yoongi and Namjoon to do the same. 

Jeongguk is on his phone, thumbing around while smiling, and you almost berate him for giving someone else your attention while you are standing here waiting for him. But then he turns off the screen and slides the device into his pocket with a devious grin.

"Let's see how far we get before my hyungs arrive," he mutters while sinking to his knees. 

You are drunk by the time you leave, used and satiated, feeling the squelch of cum between your legs. Jeongguk stares longingly at Taehyung from the passenger seat, but occasionally his gaze flits back to you, making your cheeks warm.

Yoongi sits to your right with Namjoon to your left, and although the vehicle is spacious, Taehyung had insisted on everyone strapping into a bulletproof vest, adding bulk to your bodies. Being that this event was widespread and it is likely that Ryujin's team could have caught wind, he rambled about being safe rather than sorry. Plus, there was mention of someone showing up to the event…some woman whose name you do not remember, who made everyone suspicious. 

Ahead of you is the vehicle containing Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin, as well as two members of the security team, one of whom resembles Changkyun, though you are unsure whether it really is him. They are leading the way to Paradise, where Jimin insists on having an after-party. 

As you drive through the city, a plume of dark smoke rises into the air, causing you to sit up and bend to better look out the windshield. "There's smoke ahead," you mutter, feeling worry in the pit of your stomach.

Just then, Yoongi's phone rings, shrieking and anxiety-inducing, and you sit back, staring ahead at the billowing smoke. 

"Yes?" Yoongi says as he answers, then says, "Jimin, speak slower."

"Is that Paradise?" Jeongguk asks as you get closer, and you feel panic rise. 

"She what?" Yoongi asks at the same time Taehyung says, "Looks like it's right across the street."

As the vehicle approaches, you realize that Paradise is not on fire, but the building directly across from it is. The building in question is part of a group of warehouses that, as far as you know, have recently been vacant.

"We're right behind you," Yoongi instructs. "Fire workers should be on their way, but we'll assess Paradise for any damages." 

The street is eerily empty as Taehyung pulls into the alleyway beside Paradise and shuts his lights off. Although this area is somewhat recently developing nightlife, slowly tearing down all the warehouses like the one currently in flames, there are still usually people littering the streets. Seeing nobody is concerning, even with Paradise closed for the night. 

"Strap up just in case," Yoongi instructs, and Jeongguk opens the large glove compartment and begins pulling out handguns. 

As everyone removes their seatbelts, Namjoon turns and gets onto his knees on the seat. He reaches back into the trunk, and you hear the sound of velcro parting. Then he hands you and Yoongi handguns, which you take with shaking hands. 

"Remember what you learned," Yoongi says as you stare at the weapon in your trembling palms, feeling its cold steel and familiar weight. "Take in a deep breath, line up your shot, and squeeze the trigger as you exhale."

At a loss for words, you nod, then swallow thickly. This is the absolute last thing you want to be holding in your hands tonight. Luckily, you switched your heels for ballet flats once you got to the vehicle, at least. 

Taehyung and Jeongguk exit the vehicle first while Yoongi and Namjoon stay put. You sit forward anticipating having to leave, and are a bit surprised when they do not. Through the rearview mirror, you watch as the two of them walk to the street with their guns tucked into the waistbands of their pants and glance around. Then Taehyung turns and waves for the rest of you to join him. 

"We should take the side door inside," you say, and Namjoon hums in response, though you are unsure what the nature of his hum is, exactly. 

Yoongi opens his door first, and Namjoon follows suit. "Go with Namjoon," Yoongi instructs, and you shift, then turn slightly to your left, waiting for Namjoon to exit.

Yoongi walks toward the street and Namjoon follows, but you hesitate. You do not want to be on an eerily silent street in the middle of the night while the building across from yours is billowing with smoke. This matter should be left to the fire department, and your family men should get the fuck home.

"Sweetheart," Namjoon softly calls, making you gasp, realizing the space between the two of you as you scurry ahead to catch up.

"I don't like this," you mutter, shoulders scrunched to your ears as you glance around the street. The sides of the bulletproof vest are rough and scratchy against your bare arms. "We should leave this to the professionals and go home."

"We are the professionals," Namjoon responds as you turn the corner and begin to walk toward the entrance of Paradise where Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin are all congregated. Jimin tenses as you approach, then sighs and relaxes when he sees that it is you. 

"Suited and strapped?" Seokjin teases, despite having a handgun tucked into his waistband. Hoseok has a fucking shotgun resting against his shoulder, and his smile is so blindingly bright that you struggle to reconcile the sight. Beside them, Changkyun and another man stand with what appear to be semi-automatic rifles in their hands.

"Safety first," Jeongguk slurs, clearly wasted despite how steadily he stands. 

"Any whispers?" Yoongi asks, and Seokjin blinks a few times then shrugs, saying, "None."

"Hmm," Yoongi taps his fingertips to his bottom lip, long fingers dancing as he speaks. "This is certainly a tactic to get our attention…but why? Where are they?"

You are not eager to find out who the message comes from or where they are, and you approach Double Seok and Jimin, sliding in close beside them. 

"Do we think this has anything to do with the sudden appearance of Hyungseo?" Taehyung asks. "There had been whispers of her helping in Busan."

Yoongi shrugs. "What could it mean? Unless she really is working for Ryujin, I can't imagine what her place in any of this would be. And why would she be setting one of Lady Choi's buildings on fire just to get our attention?"

"Why don't I take our dove inside?" Jimin suggests, and Yoongi turns his attention to you. 

You must look as terrified as you are, because Yoongi nods and says, "May as well. I don't need either of you getting hurt."

"Why don't we all get inside?" Jimin suggests. "We can assess the situation at a safe distance."

"Through what window?" Hoseok asks, and he is correct to do so; Paradise has no windows. 

"Stand in the fucking door, then," Jimin snaps, "I don't know."

From the distance, the siren of a fire truck screams, and you sigh with relief. The sound is piercing as it approaches, but it is a reprieve from the haunting silence and it fills you with hope

As soon as the truck pulls up, workers pile onto the street and begin to put out the fire, minding your group no business. It takes a while, and everyone watches as hoses hooked to hydrants do their work. 

Although it probably lasts around a half hour, you and everyone stand transfixed. Once everything is under control, the workers pack up and leave without a word to any of you, as if they were never here at all. 

Eerie silence returns and is met with the smell of burnt wood and plastic. You feel sick to your stomach staring at the corpse of the building before you, partially caved in while bits of a frame stand amongst the wreckage, scorched black. 

"What is the message?" Yoongi asks. 

"Shall we go inside and wait it out?" Namjoon asks. 

"I'll stay and stand watch," Hoseok says, dancing his fingertips over the handle of the shotgun. 

"Me too," Jeongguk slurs, and you feel the urge to insist that he does not. 

Jimin turns and pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and uses several to open the various locks. Then he opens the door wide, holding it for you to approach and step inside. Namjoon begins to follow suit, for which you are thankful, and he looks over his shoulder to say, "Yoongi. You should join us."

Yoongi takes two steps toward the building, and the sounds of heels loudly clacking against concrete can be heard, pulling everyone's attention. You look up to find the person approaching is the same lady who commented on your engagement ring at the casino restroom, and she is coming from beside the building to the right of the one that had just been on fire. 

The woman has changed from the blood-red evening gown to what appears to be an equally blood-red leather bikini top and denim mini skirt. Her hair is down, hanging to her breasts, and it looks wet, as if she were among the flames as they were being put out. 

"Now, now, gentlemen," the woman calls from across the street. "Retreating so soon?"

"Hyungseo," Yoongi calls, crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you doing here?"

The woman, who you surmise is called Hyungseo, walks across the street, swinging her arms loosely to her sides as if to a song that nobody can hear. As she gets closer, you can see that her makeup is smeared in black smudges, and there is a somewhat crazed look in her eyes. 

She pouts as she approaches Yoongi, fixing him with a curious stare. In her heels, she is nearly as tall as he is, but there is an intimidating aura to her otherwise lithe frame that makes her presence feel gigantic. 

"I come on behalf of my team, asking for a truce."

"Your team?" Yoongi scoffs, cocking his head. "What team?"

"Didn't you hear? Your pretty little ex has stepped down."

At this, Yoongi and all the other men straighten their posture. Yoongi is the first to respond, asking, "She what?"

Under his breath, Taehyung mutters, "So the whispers are true."

The smile that graces Hyungseo's lips is sharp and devious, and she glances around at all ten of you, then back to Yoongi. "You're outnumbered," she drawls in a teasing tone, elongating each syllable as she cocks her head slowly. 

"What kind of truce? What do we care if that building is burnt?" Yoongi asks. 

"That building," Hyungseo somewhat mumbles, rolling her head listlessly to the side to glance at it, "belongs to a very powerful woman who will no doubt have your head on a pike when she finds out you burnt it down."

"We didn't burn it down," Namjoon responds angrily.

Hyungseo shrugs. "Sure you did. And she is going to be very confused as to why you did, considering you so generously high-balled her for ownership of one of your less flashy hotels."

"Go on," Yoongi says with a sigh.

"You see," Hyungseo continues, "Lady Choi is very well-connected and has family in our organization. I wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to buy a hotel in Seoul in order to keep an eye on you guys. A keep-your-enemies-closer kind of situation, if you will."

"So she owns some shitty, vacant buildings, and you set fire to one of them to frame us?" Seokjin asks with a laugh in his tone. "You realize this building is covered with security cameras, and that your little ruse will be easily discredited."

Hyungseo shrugs and says, "We'll see about that."

Jimin already appears to be pulling the footage up on his phone, and you watch as his brows knit. "Boss," Jimin says nervously, "this man…he looks a lot like you from behind."

"Except I was at the casino all night," Yoongi responds, rolling his eyes.

"Hmm," Hyungseo responds, "are you sure about that? Because my team noticed there was about an hour and three minutes during which you were nowhere to be found. You and your right-hand man, in fact. And how strange that this fire happened to start around the exact same time. She smirks as she adds, "Where were you, Yoongi?"

Yoongi sighs. "I was fucking my fiancé."

"Your fake fiancé," Hyungseo corrects, causing Yoongi's shoulders to square once more. "And what about Namjoon? Was he also fucking her?"

"The nature of our relationship is none of your business," Yoongi responds, to which Hyungseo holds up a hand as if telling him to stop. 

"Don't worry, darling. Ryujin has told me all about the nature of your relationship. And the thirty-seven minutes during which your pretty little whore and Jeongguk went missing before you and Namjoon disappeared? Should I not question the nature of their relationship, too?"

Jeongguk pulls his gun and cocks the hammer, filling you with fear and dread. As he lifts it level with Hyungseo's head, you gasp and squeeze your eyes closed. 

"Down, boy," Hyungseo mutters listlessly, rolling her eyes. "No need to get so defensive."

"I think we've heard quite enough," Yoongi says, holding out a hand to Jeongguk and lowering it. Jeongguk follows the command and drops his arm down, pointing the barrel of his gun to the ground.

"So…" Hyungseo drawls, appearing bored. "Truce?"

"Fuck your truce," Yoongi responds sharply. "You're just trying to frame me, and I am not playing your games; we can arrange a meeting with Lady Choi and settle this like adults. She happily set the price she wanted for the hotel, but I can always ask her for less. And I can buy that burnt mess your team made if it assuages her worries. Regardless of the so-called family she has on your side, she and my mother were old friends; I'm not afraid of her or of you."

"Hmm, I'm afraid we can't do it that way," Hyungseo says as she scratches her head and begins to walk backward to the street. "Lady Choi may have had an allegiance with your family back in the day, but now your mommy and daddy are dead. She could give a fuck about the Min runt—her words, not mine."

Jeongguk lifts his gun again, and this time, a shot is fired from across the street, appearing to narrowly miss him as he ducks out of the way. You gasp, feeling terror take over so abruptly that your legs tremble and you nearly fall, gun gripped uselessly in your fist.

Everyone but Jimin reaches for the guns they have holstered just as another shot is fired and the men begin to scatter, taking cover. You run into Paradise, making way for Jimin, but he hesitates by the door, calling for Yoongi, who rounds the corner into the alley. 

Men charge from around the burnt building across the street, and although it is safe to say your men are outnumbered, if this really is everyone, they are not outnumbered by a lot. Still, fear quakes through you, and you nearly sink to the floor, holding the door cracked open.

"Jimin!" you whisper-shout until he finally snaps out of his daze and enters the building, closing the door tightly behind him. 

"What the fuck are they doing?" Jimin mutters, trembling fearfully. "Why didn't any of those idiots take cover inside?"

A fist pounds on the door, causing you to scream. From outside you hear, "It's Kyun. Let me in." 

Jimin holds his gun up with a shaking fist and cracks the door, then steps back, pulling it open wide. 

"You two retreat," Changkyun instructs. "I'll watch this door. Is there an alley door you can watch in case the men try to enter from there?"

"Yes," Jimin says, nodding his head somewhat maniacally with a distant look in his eye. "I can go to the back door."

Jimin turns and runs toward the back exit, and you stand in place, unsure whether you could will your legs to move if you wanted to. Despite calling it the back exit, it is along the nearby left wall, just past the main floor.

Gunfire is heard outside, along with shouting. You walk to the left wall and stand with your back against it, attempting to take deep breaths. Each exhale comes out in a sob as tears begin to pour. You cannot fathom anything happening to one of these men, and the prospect is horrifying. 

You wish they would have all come inside when you could take cover in a back room or even in a basement, but even you are not foolish enough to think any of those men would turn down the chance to kill their opponents instead.

Changkyun opens the door, and you watch with wide, horrified eyes as he rapidly fires bullets through the crack, then slams the door shut. Some shots from outside are much louder than others, making you flinch and jump with each sound. Gunfire rages on, causing tears to spill as your shoulders are held high and tense around your ears, making them ache. 

And then, suddenly, it is quiet. 

"Do not open this door for anyone," Changkyun instructs. "I am going to get the men back into their armored vehicles and return for you." 

"Okay," you mutter softly, nodding. 

"Lock it behind me and then get away from it, just in case. Everything is armored, but the walls are safest."

You nod some more, humming in understanding. Changkyun exits, and you shuffle over quickly to turn all five locks, then back away before turning toward the back exit. 

Each breath you take is loud in the large, empty building. You turn to locate Jimin, who should be standing near the back exit, and fear spikes when you do not see him. Had he gone outside? You feel a pull to go investigate but stand still, eyes wide and staring toward the closed door. 

And then, it flings open, and you watch as a man you have never seen before comes charging in, weapon drawn. You begin to back up but hit the wall, and he spots you, lifting his weapon. 

Panic pulsates through you, and you lift your gun far slower than you should to defend yourself. The man smirks and opens his mouth to speak when suddenly his head jerks to the left and explodes, sending blood and brain matter flying against the hardwood floor and a nearby round wooden table. You scream at the top of your lungs and fall against the wall, sliding to the floor as Hoseok steps in, shotgun still lifted. 

"We gotta get out of here!" Hoseok shouts, but try as you might, you cannot lift yourself from the floor, and you shake your head, feeling your body tremble so hard it makes your head ache.

"Sweetheart," Namjoon's voice calls. You search for him, but the edges of your vision are black, and all you are able to make out is a form of black that is vaguely human-shaped approaching in the dim room. "Come on. We gotta go."

Strong arms lift you, and you scream, struggling to comprehend anything but horrific fear. You are stood onto your feet and hugged tightly. Slowly, the scent of Namjoon's cologne comes to the forefront, but so does the brassy scent of blood, making your guts churn. 

With Namjoon's help, you begin to walk, and as you step past the man who has painted the floor red with his blood, you close your eyes tight. Cool night air hits you and snaps you harshly back to reality. You have to swallow down the urge to vomit, shivering violently in your scant evening gown, feeling sweat that has pooled beneath the thick vest start to cool.

"Jimin, just get into our trunk," you hear Yoongi insist, and you gasp happily at the sound of his voice. 

"Fine," Jimin sighs. "I don't want to walk back to our car, anyway."

Bodies litter the street, sidewalk, and alleyway of men dressed in black and holding guns. On the hands of those you can see is a tattoo of a black dagger, the tip of which is red, dripping with a single drop of blood. You wonder if they belong to a gang that marks all their participants in this manner. 

The trunk of the sedan is opened, and Jimin rounds the vehicle to get inside. Just then, Seokjin pulls up in his vehicle, and Hoseok runs over, jumping into the front seat. Jimin hesitates and must decide that, since his ride is here, he will just get in with them, because he closes the trunk and takes off running toward the vehicle. 

Jimin reaches the sidewalk and abruptly turns to the left, pulling his hands over his head and ducking. Hoseok shouts, "Fuck!" as he flings his car door open, but he is too slow. You hear a gun fire just as Jimin jerks and then crumbles, hitting the pavement. You are so filled with rage and fear that you begin to run toward Jimin. 

All you can hear is your own heart pounding in your ears as you turn the corner and find a man standing with his gun lifted. Hoseok and Seokjin stand from the open vehicle doors and raise their weapons, and you do the same. 

In a flash, every ounce of fear in your body transforms into anger, hate, and adrenaline. The world seems to screech to a halt as you pull the trigger in tandem with the other two and shoot. The man whose smoking gun points to you—to where Jimin stood—falls back, crashing to asphalt seconds after his brains splatter, and you advance, unconcerned about your surroundings. 

Voices shout around you, and you fire one more shot into the man’s head, which lurches uselessly from the ground and then crashes back with a squelch of blood and brain matter. And then another shot, walking until you are straddling his ribs with your ballet flats, firing again, turning his head into bone and sinew mush. Again and again, until click, click, click, your gun is out of bullets, and you scream bloody murder—enraged, as if one more bullet wound will undo the harm this battered corpse has caused. 

You raise your arm high in the air, intent to smash the butt of your gun into what is left of his face, but are stopped by a strong, immovable force. You hardly register the solid, warm arms that wrap around you, and as you are pulled from the man, you kick your legs and scream, furious with the world. Your heart continues to pound dizzying and loud, and you are certain that you would rip every last man to shreds with your bare hands if you could—god, if only you could. 

Incensed screams rip from your chest as you are dragged backward, feet hitting the asphalt, unable to keep up with the movement. The scent of flowers and springtime greets your nose in waves, bringing Namjoon’s calming voice into the forefront for only a moment, though you cannot, for the life of you, make out what he is saying; shouting and the overwhelming scent of blood takes over too strongly, tugging you between heaven and hell. 

In a surge of anger, you reach for the switchblade at your thigh, grip onto the handle, and pull it free. You know that the man is dead—there is nothing recognizable left of his face—but the urge to slice him open and tear out his insides is palpable and unforgiving. You will not be satisfied until his bleeding fucking heart is in your fist. 

Namjoon's grip on you loosens, and he shouts something incomprehensible as you attempt to lunge forward, only to be caught again in his grasp. You press the small lever on the side of the knife as hands reach for your weapon, and in a fit of panic and rage, you flail your arm, desperate to keep a tight hold of the knife and continue on to your battered target. 

And then, things blur and slow down. Your arm is yanked back, and as you rip it forward again, you feel the knife catch, but you are too caught up in the movement that you do not stop—all you can comprehend is blinding rage at the man whose brains are splattered on the ground. Screams and shouts are deafening, and although you can make out certain words—Yoongi…face…blood—nothing fully makes sense. 

The knife is ripped from your hand at the same time the arms around you release, and when you turn to scream at Namjoon for keeping you from attacking the man whose bullet stole something precious and sacred from you, you find Yoongi standing a foot away, hands up to his face, with blood seeping from between his fingers. 

"Sweetheart, don't—" Namjoon begins, blocking your view with his arms held out around your sides. But you are frantic, and you do not understand what has just happened; how the fuck is Yoongi injured?

Taehyung wraps an arm around Yoongi and spins him, ushering him away to a sedan, and you panic, desperate to go with him. Faintly, you think you see Jimin on some kind of stretcher with his neck and head braced, and you wonder where that came from. Did Taehyung have something like that handy? Can it actually fit in one of the vehicles? 

The fighting all around you was so chaotic that now, even as it seems to be over, your adrenaline is too high for anything to make clear and perfect sense; no sound registers and every light trails in a dizzying spell before your eyes. 

"Yoongi!" you scream, and Namjoon holds you tighter, keeping you from the one other person you need to be with the most. You scream, "Let go of me, fucking let go of me!" attempting to claw Namjoon's arms away from your middle as Yoongi is helped by Hoseok into the back of the same large black vehicle that Seokjin and Taehyung are lifting Jimin into the back of. 

Jeongguk steps in front of you, face stern and streaked with tears, and he firmly—roughly—grabs onto your shoulders, gritting his teeth as he holds you steady.

"You've done enough," he says sharply, piercing into your heart, and hot streaks pour down your face and cloud your vision as you fail to make sense of what the fuck is happening. 

"Yoongi—" you mutter, jaw clattering as your body trembles in the cool night air, shaking your head and getting onto your toes in an attempt to see over Jeongguk's shoulder. "What happened, where is he going? I need to go with him, please, I need to go with him!"

"You need to calm the fuck down and breathe," Jeongguk retaliates angrily.

"Jeongguk, what happened?" you ask, quaking with adrenaline and searching his face for answers. His anger is understandable, but you cannot figure out why it seems to be directed at you.

Behind him, Namjoon's face falls to his hands, and gripped tightly in his fist, pointing outward, is your open switchblade. 

"Namjoon," you whisper, finding your voice wrecked and unable to project. 

"Let's get you into this vehicle," Jeongguk sternly says, steering you toward Seokjin's sedan. 

"But they—" you begin, watching as Namjoon walks away and climbs into the very back of Taehyung's vehicle. The seats appear to be down, and Yoongi is sitting beside Jimin's stretcher with his head tilted upward, holding something over his face. 

"They have to receive medical attention," Jeongguk says. "And you need to go with Seokjin hyung."

Changkyun and the other man are in the back seat of Seokjin's vehicle, and Hoseok sits staring ahead as Jeongguk ushers you into the one empty seat, behind Hoseok. 

"You're—" you begin to ask, and Jeongguk interrupts, saying, "I'm going with them," before slamming your door shut and walking back to Taehyung's vehicle. 

You attempt to open the door, but the handle moves uselessly, keeping you trapped inside. 

"Seat belts!" Seokjin sing-songs with a hint of exhaustion in his tone. 

"What happened to Yoongi?" you ask, frantically watching Seokjin, who glances into the rearview mirror with a frown. 

"What do you remember about everything that just transpired?"

Searching your memory, you shake your head. It all happened so fast, and Yoongi was behind you, so there was no way to see how he was injured.

"After we sh-shot…" you stammer, unable to finish the sentence, "I pulled out my knife to stab…" you trail off once more and squeeze your eyes closed, realizing now how ridiculous it is that you wanted to continue attacking a man who was already dead. When you open your eyes, Seokjin is still frowning, eyes on you through the rearview mirror. "And then Namjoon took my knife away. So then…what happened to Yoongi?"

Seokjin continues to watch you for just a moment, then he sighs with a light shake of his head, turning his gaze from you to the road. And you want to demand answers, but when he puts the vehicle in drive, the words die on your tongue. You still do not understand, and you spiral, asking yourself the same questions over and over. How could Yoongi have gotten injured? What could have happened to him?

"Seems you got a little carried away and don't fully remember everything," Hoseok says from the passenger seat directly in front of you. "It happens, especially during emotionally intense situations like this. Let's get you home and prioritize the others getting taken care of, and then we will all touch base with what happened." 

"Wh-what do you mean by got a little carried away?" you ask, shaken.

Hoseok hums and responds simply, "The rage you seemed to experience, shooting the man repeatedly despite him already being dead and then attempting to turn the brunt of the weapon on him, followed by pulling out your knife…it was a very irrational but very typical drive to continue punishing the man for what he had done." There is a chuckle on his voice as he adds, "I remember my first blind rage."

"Me too," Seokjin responds calmly, eyes on the road.

The unnamed security guard hums mmhmm as Changkyun says, "Me too."

Your eyes well with tears as you attempt to recount everything, but you only remember it in fragments. Jimin crumpling to the ground, you running and lifting your gun, Namjoon lifting you kicking and screaming, and, finally, Yoongi bleeding. 

"I don't…fully remember…" you mutter, eyes unfocused on the black leather seat ahead of you. 

"Although we do not recommend charging into battle around a corner like that, you may have saved me," Hoseok says with a chipper tone. "My shotgun was empty, and I had been reaching into the glovebox for another gun, but you were quicker on your feet than I was with my hands."

"You only had one gun?" Seokjin asks, turning briefly to Hoseok before looking ahead at the road.

"I know," Hoseok responds with a laugh. "Uncharacteristic, huh? I came out with a glock on my thigh but gave it to Namjoon mid-fight when his clip ran out. Seems none of us were fully anticipating what was to come."

"For once, I had no insider news," Seokjin laments, and you think you hear a pout in his tone. "I miss having someone on the inside."

Although you are sure Seokjin means no offense, there is a very blasé manner in which he seems to be mentioning the death of Hyunjin that makes you stiffen—makes your stomach churn. 

Conversation dies down, and you close your eyes with your head tilted against the window. And suddenly, you are coming over the hill with the mansions in view. Yoongi's home has its lights out—save for the security lights outside—and there are no vehicles in the drive. You assume that everyone is at Taehyung's place, and the thought of going home to Yoongi's cold, empty bedroom is daunting. 

"Would you like to come with us for the time being?" Seokjin asks, and it takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. You glance up with a start. "I'm not sure how long the others will be, but we have a spare bed you can rest in."

"Or you can attempt to distract yourself with some television," Hoseok suggests.

You nod, unsure whether either of these options sound good, but eager to do anything but return home alone. "Alright," you mutter, swallowing down the overwhelming urge to cry.

"We'll make some hot cocoa and give you a change of clothing," Seokjin recommends, and you nod listlessly, heavy-blinking.

With a sigh, you stare out as Seokjin pulls into the very start of Yoongi's driveway and does a u-turn. Although you have never been to their home, you remember Namjoon telling you that it is on the opposite side as his, meaning their driveway would have been before Yoongi's. And, sure enough, when they pull into the driveway, past the loud metal gate, it is nearly a picture-perfect replica of Namjoon's home.

Hoseok is gentle as he guides you out of the sedan to his front door while Seokjin walks ahead and unlocks it. Although you are surprised by how gelatinous your bones seem to have become, Hoseok appears to have anticipated it, holding you steady around the waist. 

Their home décor is nothing like you would have imagined, and you wonder what Victorian-age vampire prince decorated. Everything is crushed velvet with hand-carved accents and gold leaf, similar to Yoongi's home but with more tones of blood red and emerald green. The wainscoted walls are littered with paintings and sconces, and everything is dark wood with upholstery in he same deep shades.

Hoseok runs up the stairs two at a time and quickly returns with a set of black pajamas—a button-down shirt and pants. You change in the downstairs bathroom, which is all gold and black marble, then return to the living room to the smell of hot chocolate and find Hoseok on the nearby chaise clicking through streaming services. 

It is not long before you curl up and fall asleep to the soft sounds of low chattering while some drama you have never heard of plays in the background. Twice you wake up screaming to the sight of watching a man's head explode before giving up on sleep and continuing to watch TV while the sun slowly begins to rise.

i'll keep it a secret 비밀로 할게

your corruption and sin 네 부정과 죄

reveal everything 전부 드러내

friendly reminder: there is no major character death tag!!!

only 3 chapters left 😬😬😬 how are we feeling??? everything is going to spiral to the end, and then there will be a sequel (i know i say this a lot but it seems i need to remind some!!! this is not the end the end, but we are building to an end.)

if you would like a laugh, while searching for an ot7 pic that includes yoongi with long hair, the only one i really found with everyone's hair almost correct (jk and sj aren't quite accurate) all i could find was this years festa pics:

imagine the collateral family men in pastels hehe.

also, yoongi wore this outfit to Paradise:

woof woof bark bark bark imagine him in this fit with his long hair and current muscle bulk.

anywayyyyyyyyy thank you so much for reading!!! comments and reblogs make the world go 'round!!! and likes are appreciated!!! stay hydrated, i love you!!!

tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they've gotten too big to contain as one!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[captain-joongz]

♤ nikko × she/her × 23y/o ('01) ×

◇ currently fighting for my life trying to find a job :'))

♡ multi-stan: EXO (Baekhyun), BTS (Yoongi, Hobi, Jin), ATEEZ (Hongjoong, Seonghwa, San), Stray Kids (Hyunjin, Felix), Seventeen (S.Coups, Dino, Woozi), TxT (Soobin), DPR Ian, Jackson Wang, Sunmi, Bibi, Oneus (Hwanwoong)

♧ also if you see my works on AO3, don't fret it's probably me! i started a writing acount there under the name captain_joongz and i've been working on reposting my fics there!

#fic reblog : all the fics I've reblogged onto here (mostly one shots)

#favourites : my favourite reads

#reading list: series : series I'm currently following

#to be read : fics for future reads

#updates : anything concerning the updates of my own fics

>> enjoy your stay <3

♧ MASTERLIST | LIBRARY

THIS IS A NSFW BLOG, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

◇ Abraxas (mafia boss!Yoongi x police officer!reader, crime, investigative, eventual smut, slight humour)

♡ Dragonheart (OT7 dragon!BTS x knightess!reader, dragon rider AU, high fantasy, angst, fluff, eventual smut, war and revolution) - new chapter!!!

♧ Penny for your ghosts (OT7 hybrid!BTS x hybrid!reader, hybrid au, ghost hunting au, supernatural au, fluff and humour, some angst, eventual smut) - new chapter!!!

♧ A little show (non-idol!Yoongi, uni au, smut)

♡ Deserve you (brother-in-law!Seonghwa, smut)

♡ Cinderella (Yoongi x f!reader x Hoseok, pure smut, club au, non-idol) - new release!!!

♤ Dragonheart, ch.2 - new release!!!

☆ Penny for your ghosts, ch.1 - new release!!!

♧ Abraxas, ch. 3.1

♡ Sharp teeth, sweet flesh (yandere!tiger spirit!Hongjoong, dark, smut)

☆ Mummy's little helpers (android!Seokjin x f!reader x android!Hoseok, pure smut)

Status updates and sneak peeks <3

[herzlak]

Tatort Wien: Azra

Er hat ihn gepuppit

Aber im Wiener Tatort geht's schon arg oft um die georgische Mafia

"dein" Ernstl?

"Wollen wir was konkret?" lol

Die hat ihr ganzes Leben drauf gewartet, diese Powerpoint über die georgische Mafia zeigen zu können

Wie hat denn a Überwachungskamera an Wasserschaden??

Wooo is eigentlich die Meret?

You already had her at Schnapsidee, Moritz

Oooh sie hat nen grauen Hoodie und Boots, sie wird mein Crush für diesen Abend :))

"Was bist du für eine Frau Frau?" :D

Vielleicht hat ja die Tochter den Typ getötet?

die zwei müssen sich diesmal übrigens wieder umarmen find ich

"Ich wüsste gern, was er tun muss, damit du ihn nicht mehr in Schutz nimmst?!" "Sterben."

THAT'S A LOVE DECLARATION RIGHT THERE

Express Lieferungen be like: a halbes Dutzend SEKler

Das Colouring! Das Setting! Ahhh

GNACKWATSCHN!

Verdient.

Zusammen Idioten sein >>>

Die Basis von ?!?!

AWWWWWWW

BABYGIRLS <3

Schönste Tatort Szene 2023 (gleich nach der Herzlak Umarmung to me)

KNALLT IHN AB

Oh-

Bibi!!!!!!!

Everyone needs a hug around here-

Ja hallo die braucht doch auch n Krankenwagen oder ned?

Babygirl you're so sexy when you're bloodied and beaten up

Ahaha Ernstl mit Brille sieht bissi naja aus gell

Die Ermittler haben ein Schließfach geöffnet, everyone

Die zwei sollten auch mal ein Geständnis ablegen, aber halt anders

"A ge Scheiße!" mood

Hat die Azra die jetzt verarscht oder was?

Ja klar meine Episodencrushes sind immer Mörder

Ufff :|

Hmm ja, jetzt nochmal Umarmung?

Nicht? Ok :/

[christian-dubuis-santini]

Pendant que les seides du Discours Capitaliste blablatent sur "l’extrême-droite", "l’extrême-gauche", le "complotisme" en confondant "la science" avec le marketing et les simulations informatiques avec la rigueur mathématique, une femme a quelque chose à nous dire.

Certains se souviennent peut-être de Christine Deviers-Joncour, qui fut la maîtresse de Roland Dumas, de longues années ministre des affaires étrangères de François Mitterrand. En son temps, elle sortit un livre de révélations intitulé «La putain de la République»…

Son nom a beaucoup circulé dans des histoires de corruption impliquant les plus hauts personnages de l'État.

Autant dire qu'elle a vu de ses yeux l'envers du décor, la face obscure du monde politique. Elle parle d’expérience.

Devant les horreurs du fascisme à prétexte sanitaire dont la clef de voûte est la vaccination imposée à tous, elle s’est décidée à reprendre la parole :

J’entendais leurs délires, loin d’imaginer qu’ils iraient jusqu’au bout de leur folie.

La fête a assez duré !

Je les ai vus, à l’époque, se goberger, s’empiffrer sur le dos de la bête. Je les ai vus, les yeux plus gros que le ventre, piller et se goinfrer.

Se donner des lettres de noblesse factices que leur position et leur pouvoir leur conféraient.

Je les ai vus bomber le torse et de leur petite hauteur, mépriser le peuple en donnant au château de Versailles des fêtes royales pour célébrer dignement l’arrivée au pouvoir du nouveau «monarque».

Les cortèges de voitures officielles comme autant de carrosses et les garden-parties de ces nouveaux parvenus bientôt emperruqués.

J’ai vu les épouses et leur marmaille jouant à Marie-Antoinette sans vergogne sous les lambris, dont le passe-temps se limitait à organiser des dîners fins entre amis et visiter le Mobilier national comme on va chez Ikea. Gratuit ici.

Surtout quand on omettait de restituer pièces d’art et meubles d’époque.

Je les ai vus et j'ai payé très cher pour avoir été témoin, n’étant pas du sérail …

J’ai vu les caisses noires des ministères exonérées d’impôts, les frais d’intendance éhontés enfler toute honte bue, chauffeurs et gardes du corps à vie et retraites cumulées replètes, retro-commissions sur des marchés d’état, des avions équipés comme des palaces volants, des jets sur le tarmac prêts à décoller au moindre caprice ou quand tsunamis, tremblements de terre et autres catastrophes permettaient d’appeler les hordes de photographes, après être passé en vitesse chez le coiffeur et le couturier branché, pour se faire immortaliser au pied d’un jet avec un sac de riz sur le dos.

J’ai vu des soutes en provenance d’Afrique garnies de billets de banque et des coffres de voitures transformés en caverne d’Ali Baba pour distribution d’argent à grande échelle, des contrats d’État passés aux mains des filous, des comptes bien cachés dans des pays aux lagons bleus, des guerres fomentées pour piller les richesses de ceux qui n’en verront jamais la couleur et verseront leur sang sans même savoir pourquoi.

Des enfants éventrés, des femmes violées, lapidées, torturées. J’ai vu un avion avec une croix rouge sur son flanc porter secours à des populations africaines affamées en leur tirant dessus, et j’ai même vu certains crocodiles bouffer de malheureux témoins encombrants et d’autres tomber des fenêtres, arrêts cardiaques et cancers fulgurants.

Toute cette honte, tous ces crimes pour encore plus de Pouvoir et Richesses.

Un monde aux mains de la Finance Internationale vorace, Bilderberg, Nouvel Ordre Mondial criminel, FMI, GAFAM etc, pour maintenir, verrouiller le système, protéger une élite et asservir les peuples en les abrutissant devant les écrans et en les dépravant en inversant les vraies valeurs !

Nous leur donnons une once de pouvoir et ils perdent tout sens commun.

Et plus on monte dans la hiérarchie, plus ils s’en donnent à cœur joie, perdent le sens des réalités et franchissent allègrement et sans états d’âme l’inacceptable.

Et au plus haut niveau de la pyramide ils n’ont plus rien d’humain. Ce sont des monstres.

C’est à croire que les deux grandes guerres, ne furent pour eux qu’un coup d’essai, Les millions de morts n’étaient qu’un premier test préparant l’extermination de toute l’humanité.!

Le pouvoir, aphrodisiaque suprême, les déshumaniserait-il à ce point ? Et le fric, moteur essentiel à toutes ces dérives...

Comment osent-ils se poser en donneurs de leçons, parler de probité, d’intégrité, de franchise, quand se multiplient leurs égarements et que les affaires de corruption et autres méfaits les éclaboussent ?

Comment peuvent-ils contraindre le peuple à se serrer la ceinture en période de crise quand eux-mêmes s’allouent des gratifications et salaires insolents sous les lambris confortables de la République ?

Alors que des milliards d’êtres humains souffrent de la faim, des épidémies, et qu’un enfant meurt toutes les minutes sur notre planète, il suffit que la Bourse s’enrhume pour qu’il soit possible de trouver en quelques heures les milliards de dollars et d’euros, jusqu’ici impossibles à débloquer pour soulager la souffrance de ceux qui meurent de faim !

Quand l’homme cesse d’être déterminé par son propre esprit qui est l’esprit de la vie, il se transforme en robot. Cet insupportable mépris pousse à la violence ceux qui n’ont pas ou plus d’espoir.

Dans notre pays des «Droits de l’Homme» il est devenu ordinaire de bafouer le principe d’égalité. La richesse, le luxe et l’apparence étalés sans vergogne sont devenus signes de réussite tandis que les plus faibles vivent leurs souffrances sans trop faire de bruit.

Pour payer cette dette, ce monstre de papier, illégitime et abracadabrantesque, numérique et ubuesque, il nous faudra tout vendre. Jusqu’à nos dents on or et notre peau pour faire des abat-jours dans le bureau d’un maître du monde avec vue sur le Rockefeller Center.

C’est pour quand la découpe façon abattoir ? Le couteau du boucher, c’est la dette, un bout pour Bibi, un bout pour la Finance, un bout pour la mafia, un bout pour les bling-bling accros aux putes de luxe et pour les pédophiles. Un bout pour les ventrus de l’industrie militaire, les labos pharmaceutiques et les Gafam, Pillage à grande échelle !

Et pourtant il suffirait d’un trait de plume, d’un clic sur le clavier pour l’effacer cette dette, sans que personne ne souffre.

Mais cette société serait-elle encore humaine ?

Depuis très et trop longtemps on a laissé les loups entrer dans la bergerie. Ils accroissent le chômage, vendent le pays en pièces détachées et initient des dettes impossibles à rembourser. Ils nous mentent, nous volent, nous musellent et maintenant tentent de nous supprimer à travers une fausse pandémie et des vaccins meurtriers !

Nous sommes devenus un immense peuple de moutons à tondre, tandis qu’un fameux agent d’influence suggère que les peuples doivent se contenter de regarder passer les milliards sans broncher, comme on voit passer les cigognes sans s’interroger sur leurs nids bâtis avec nos plumes.

Nos dirigeants et les médias complices seraient-ils réduits qu’à n’être que d’infâmes valets du capitalisme mondialisé et le laboratoire de l’asservissement du monde par la dictature financière conçue par des milliardaires fous, des illuminés ?

La démocratie n’existe plus depuis longtemps, et tout dépend maintenant du pouvoir de résistance et de révolte des peuples.

La mise en esclavage des populations est passée à la vitesse supérieure avec cette «plandémie covid» en créant la PEUR !

Et les grands argentiers de la planète et leurs marionnettes nous font clairement comprendre que seuls comptent leurs profits, que le bien-être des citoyens n’a aucune espèce d’importance.

Leurs "plandémies" et leurs vaccins mortifères finiront le sale boulot pour une dépopulation mondiale annoncée : Le projet ne date pas d’hier, croyez-moi !

Nous sommes tous sacrifiés sur l’autel des profits. Depuis ces dernières décennies tout fut mis en œuvre fissa pour nous anéantir.

Et la télévision et les médias aux ordres ont participé à cet abrutissement de masse qui nous a conduits à l’impuissance en nous lavant le cerveau.

Je veux pourtant rester optimiste. Nous sommes à un tournant majeur, un changement de civilisation.

Il est urgent que tous les citoyens se réveillent et reprennent en main leurs pays, leur souveraineté et éliminent cette vermine financière afin de réinjecter dans les caisses des états pour le bien collectif, les incroyables fortunes détournées par une poignée de mafiosi sans foi ni loi et dangereux.

Il faut bien prendre conscience que, quels que soient votre bord politique ou votre conception de la vie, si vous ne faites pas partie de leur élite, vous serez broyés.

Aussi, il faut s’unir en laissant de côté nos différences que les dirigeants actuels n’ont cessé d’amplifier afin de nous diviser pour mieux régner.

Il y a urgence car nous marchons vers l’abime !

Et si le monde devient chaotique, cela signifie aussi que ce qui a manqué, c'est la spiritualité individuelle.

Il n'y a pas de compromis avec les éléments extérieurs du monde en action et la conscience se révèle encore inactive face à ce monde chaotique.

Au contraire, la conscience peut se reconnecter en tout temps et en toute situation avec la spiritualité comme une ascension.

Restons positifs car le chant général des poitrines opprimées commence à se faire entendre.

Il est mondial ce chant ! Il est encore cacophonie, il va devenir symphonie. De tous ces pays qu’Ils enchaînent il y a ces voix partout qui se lèvent...

Là, il me revient en mémoire cette phrase de Brecht : «Lorsqu’un homme assiste sans broncher à une injustice, les étoiles déraillent»…

Alors, vite, protégeons les étoiles et tournons la page sur ces temps décomposés.

Levons-nous !

(Christine Deviers-Joncour

Via La Convergence universelle)

[m88n]

tag games 💘

tagged by @luvdsc thank you as usual lovie !!! 🥺💐

tag games 1 + 2 (handwriting)

LMAOO i rly went n sed yea my handwritings messy n wat about it

part 1

url + sideblogs

favourite quote(s)

works in progress

tagging

part 2

biases

bias wreckers

idols you’ve been shipped with

urls of your mutuals

tag game 3

tag game 3

tag game 3

rule: create yourself using this site!

😃👊🏻

tag game 4 (10 songs shuffled)

rule: put your music on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that come up, then tag 10 others to do the same.

honeysea - ivoris

nobody else - summer walker

cozy time love - redpestbeats

b.s. (feat. h.e.r.) - jhené aiko

my humps - black eyed peas

osaka (feat. zico) - elo

deep - summer walker

she don’t (feat. ty dolla $ign) - ella mai

p.y.t. (pretty young thing) - michael jackson

meditation - astrud gilberto

tag game 5 (top 13 songs)

rule: list 13 songs you’ve been listening to lately

good days - sza

restless - bibi

love affair - umi

baby powder - jenevieve

she don’t (feat. ty dolla $ign) - ella mai

34+35 remix (feat. doja cat, megan thee stallion) - ariana grande

first love - nct 127

lovesick girls - blackpink

monster - shawn mendes & justin bieber

eternal sunshine - jhené aiko

like i want you - giveon

try again (instrumental) - jaehyun & d.ear

knees - iu

other tag games

rule: answer with your five favourite AUs and themes, then send to your five favourite content creators

5 favorite au’s and themes:

bad boy!au

mafia!au

college!au

fwb

royalty!au

5 favorite content creators:

i have mentioned + explained this before but please if you don’t mind make your way to my fic recs

question: if we lived in a world where u had to do the career u were first interested in as a child what would u be doing?

i’d be a stewardess for a commercial airline! hahaha. i guess when i was super young my mom went on business trips really often, and she always took my sister + i with her. during those trips i suppose the idea of travelling, looking graceful and pretty on an airplane was amazing for such an impressionable young girl hahahaha (i mean . it does sound amazing still . but all jobs r much more than the surface lv stuff yk heh)

tagging @starsuh @neocitycafe @prettyjaems @d-nghy-ck​ 🌻🌻🌻

[atiny-piratequeen]

There seems to be a lot of people in your roleplay thing! What pairings do you have going on?

Okay. Whew. Ready? Keep in mind we're multis so the pairings are all over and shit.

Fairy Yong (which was based off of an nct fic i read that like,,,hasnt been updating so we just rp and expanded a whole verse of our own bUT-)

Johnny x Taeyong xDonghyuck

Kun x Ten (Married)

Lucas x Amira (oc)

Mark x Yuta

Doyoung x Jaehyun

Lay x Jungwoo

Hendery x YangYang x Chenle

HybridTeez!

Polyteez

Taehyung x Jimin

Hoseok (Wonho) x Taemin (early stages)

Den of Monstas (mx one)

Eventual ot7 (Minhyuk isnt there yet)

Seventeen (lowkey mafia??? But now slice of lifey)

Ot13

Werewolf Au chats (holy fuck get ready)

(Technically almost all of the pairings are pack poly bUT- *deep inhale)

Jeno/Jaemin/Hyungwon/Shotaro

Siyeon/Lisa

Yuta/Jiu

Johnny/Yoongi

Sicheng/Jin

Felix/Bang Chan

Mingyu/BamBam

Seungwoo/Matthew/Woozi(? Kinda? Woozi is crushing on Seungwoo)

Hendery/Mark (Lee)/YangYang

YangYang/Bang Chan (developing)

In Youngjae's pack there's;

Dami/Lucas

Bobby/Jooheon

Eunyoung (Cheetah)/Bobby

Taemin/Bibi/Lia

Youngjae/Lia

Eunyoung (Cheetah)/Jessi

Jackson/Joshua/Jiwoo

I miight?? Be missing one or two, but uh yeah :x

[tomorrowxforever]

Ye Old Rules and Guidelines

Hai bibi😊

So, when I started this blog, I never really put any restrictions on it. While I did have some things in mind, I never posted anything about them because I wasn’t expecting so many people to enjoy my writing. But I guess things happen and plans change so, without further ado, here are some rules and guidelines for requesting.

Disclaimer: If you request it could anywhere from hours to months for it to be posted, also keep in mind that if your request breaks any of my rules or I’m not inspired by it I may just delete it.

Also, I only write the reader as plus size/non specified. I just feel like there isn’t enough plus size representation in the fanfic world. And I feel that, as a chubbier woman myself, I may be able to write for a bigger reader better than, say, a skinny reader. This doesn’t mean that people with different body types cannot read my work. This just means that the reader isn’t gonna be ‘lifted with ease’ or tossed around like a rag doll in any way.

Rules

Ok to request/discuss

Smut for legal members ( Keep in mind that I don’t really write full on smut, and will most likely write headcannons or a short drabble. But if your request inspires me enough, who knows🤷 )

Angst ( See not ok list )

Fluff

AUs ( hybrid, non idol, mafia, etc )

TxT, NCT, Stray Kids, Ateez, and SHINee in general ( comebacks, bais’, really whatever )

Hard smut ( I’m ok with writing about certain hard kinks )

If you just wanna chat, go for it!

Talking about other groups is also welcome and encouraged (BTS, GOT7, Enhypen, ITZY, GWSN, Xdinary Heros, Twice, Gidle, New Jeans, Super M, Red Velvet, The Boyz and Dreamcatcher are the groups I stan but I’m down to talk about whoever)

Not ok to request/discuss

Anything sexual pertaining to any underaged idol ( NO smut, NOT included in hard hours )

No hard angst ( NO non-con or dub-con, NOTHING that has to do with self harm, major character death is acceptable )

No yandere ( As said above, mafia au is ok, but no kidnapping or stalking or threatening shit I just don’t like it/suck at writing it )

Nothing with bodily fluids ( cum and maybe spit are the exceptions )

Please no pregnancy ( post pregnancy, with a kid, is ok but for personal reasons I do not wish to write about being pregnant or giving birth )

So no breading or pregnancy kinks

I also don’t tend to take full smut by request

I have reasons for putting the things in the not ok list that I did, if you have any further questions or issues please message me so we can have a discussion😊

Guidelines

I write for the kpop groups Tomorrow x Together, NCT, SHINee, Stray Kids and Ateez.

I write ( favorites are bold )

Headcannons

Time stamps

Reactions

Drabbles

Text posts

I’m not really great at writing full length fics but if I’m inspired I just might.

I hope this makes things easier to request, have a fantastic day💖

[selfshippinglover]

Gimme the mafia au with whoever you like!!!!!!!!!

AAA tHANK YOU SOOOO MUCH ANON!!

Leader: Tadano

Second: ENIO

Bodyguard: Bibi/me

~ENIO is still an AI that is created by the boss himself! ENIO holds and tracks all plans, data, info, and anything else about the gang going-ons

~I, on the other hand, am Tadano’s persoanl guard. Despite the fact that he probably doesn’t really need one lol

~We end up becoming close overtime but I have some attraction right off the bat. How can someone so cool, calm, and collected be one of the scariest mafia guys on the block?

~.....oh.

~ Yeah, he’s calm but before you know what’s hit ya, you’re already dead on the ground

~we all wear suits which is awesooome!~

[brawlstars-aus]

Brawl Stars Superhero AU

In the sprawling city of Retropolis rests the Brawl District, a section of the city that contains the biggest concentration of heroes and villains in the area. Not only that, but it also has the greatest history of wars between heroes and villains alike, more than any other area in the country.

Though the rest of Retropolis is mostly normal, the Brawl District has also been the target of unmentionable chaos. Apartment buildings and alleyways flooded by plants, magical energy causing robots to go haywire, heroes being brought back from the dead... and all of this is being kept under control by merely one person: The Sheriff from Brawl HQ, fighting to keep order in place!

Though 4 different factions have formed within the city, the two most powerful have declared a silent war, and it’s up to the other two plus the outcasts to decide who they will side with to finish the conflict once and for all.

Who will come out victorious is up to you to decide.

Meet: Brawl HQ

Under the (rather uncreative) alias of “The Sheriff”, Colt Junker is the leader of Brawl HQ. After Pam Junker had stepped down from her position as lead, the HQ has been headed by The Sheriff with a sole goal of stopping crime and returning order to the city. More specifically, stop The Star’s Order, before control of the city is lost to necromancy and magic.

Being headed by engineering prodigy Jessie Junker, more formally known as Miss Gatling Phaser, all suits created are incredibly high-tech as if brought directly from a science fiction movie. They also have a numerous arsenal of melee weapons, guns, and specialized suits to be used by the HQ’s allies. If only Colt actually knew how to use all of them properly.

Brawl HQ is the oldest superhero faction in Retropolis that’s still standing today, first founded under the name “Scrapyard HQ” by Delilah Junker and her 15-year old granddaughter Pam Junker as a mechanic shop. The shop stayed for years, and after nearly a decade, Pam got together with her now ex-husband. With him, she had two kids, Colt and Jessie, until he started changing. He was no longer the kind, strong man that Pam had fallen in love with. So they separated.

Pam struggled while being a single mother. Her grandmother Delilah had passed away by that point, and she was just barely able to keep herself afloat with Scrapyard HQ. A new opportunity had been sparked, though. Her son Colt had begun a paid internship at the city’s police department, and her daughter had unveiled a secret project she had been working on for some time- a flexible superhero suit that “Colt could wear to his new job to stay safe!”

Upon the rise of new supervillains in the Brawl District, the city became unsafe. Scrapyard HQ had to be shut down due to a lack of activity, since the supervillains relied on magic. This was when Colt proposed that Scrapyard HQ become a place for heroes. With Jessie’s incredible engineering skill, Pam’s leadership and Colt’s sense of justice, they have teamed together to make Colt the first hero the Brawl District has had in 7 years when the last of the heroes moved out.

Colt now fights for a better town- a better city! But when everybody else outside of Brawl HQ is against him, who can he trust as an ally?

Allies: The Sheriff (Colt), Jetspring (Jessie), Overhaul (Pam)

Jetspring’s Androids: Barley, Rico(chet), Darryl, Carl Geologarithm (”Geo”)

Meet: The Star’s Order

May also be written “The Stars’ Order” or simply “Star’s Order”.

United under the art of magic, The Stars’ Order is a faction devoted to tarot cards and prophecies of the future. It has various members, but most reside under the co-rule of Omen and Graveheart, a tag-team duo of magic wielders who wish to bring heroes back to life to fight against the world of evil once again. Although Graveheart holds title as figurehead and acts as the leader for most of the group’s projects, Omen is the one that holds most of the team’s magical ability.

They weren’t well known, but that was intentional. They were both concerned for the world, in fear for it being lost to global warming, widespread pollution, and deforestation. And all of those tied down to one thing- humanity’s reliance of industrialization. In search of a cure, they found it within their own hands- they could reteach humanity the lost art of magic and the arcane. But they needed a key into society’s heart. What was something that humans wished for, and craved, more than anything? Caused by the greatest tragedy known to man? And how could they do this most effectively?

Easy. Their greatest tragedy was death, and their greatest wish was to bring the dead back to life. They could do this most effectively by literally bringing their superheroes back to life. Then, they could return to fight for peace. Then, they could save the world. Then, they could show humanity that magic wasn’t so bad.

Necromancy had already been in study before, and although was old, was not well developed. When a sort of magic does not exist, you research until you can invent it. And they reinvented necromancy.

After years of research and study, heroes that had perished and been mourned have returned once more. Sure, it required a bit of body-smuggling, not too hard for a mortician, and the fortune teller warned that there was a great percent chance of failure, but they had already fine-tuned the magic to the best of their ability. If they could get anything at all, then they would have been lucky anyway.

Thus, started the ritual. And it worked. Almost.

When they returned the hero Frank to the world, the magic had not worked as perfectly as they’d hoped, and he had returned disfigured into the shape of a hulking giant, mind degraded to that of an orc. But it was something, so they showed off their somewhat-success to the media. But the public grew angry. He didn’t give his consent to return to life as a monster! 

But they tried again anyway, because maybe, this time they could create something worthy of retribution.

They returned the once-loved late hero Poco to the world, and nearly succeeded, except for the fact that Poco had returned sans of memory or even flesh, being nothing more than a skeleton of a hero. This was when the public had enough, and The Star’s Order was finally forced into hiding due to media outrage and backlash.

Furthermore, Brawl HQ has decided to track them down in hopes to eventually reveal their identities and put them behind bars for their “injustice” towards these heroes. The Star’s Order is not going to sit back and simply fall, though.

The Star’s Order have finally decided to become the villains the public saw in them, and thus started Project: Villainize.

But some undead heroes don’t want to be villains.

...

With outfits based from magic, Omen and Graveheart’s outfits are morphable at will and their limitations solely rely on the user’s magic capacity. For all other allies, outfits hold no magical properties. (Except Gene, who is entirely made of magic, including outfit.)

Allies: Omen (Tara), Graveheart (Mortis)

"Allies”: Gene, Frank, Calavera Canticum (Poco)

Meet: The Sisterhood

Although being called “The Sisterhood”, some people are somehow still surprised that the leader, named “La Bandita”, is female. Named a ‘demi-hero’, La Bandita’s costume is just her casual clothes, and her only superpowers are her quick wit and incredible shotgun skills.

Once being simply an alias for Shelly, it has grown into the largest gang in the city, and has become powerful enough to reside in the Brawl District unscathed, even when none of its members hold any powers.

When it was smaller, The Sisterhood could have been regarded as a mafia. Stolen objects sold on the black market, holding hostages and ruining the lives of any who La Bandita saw as corrupt. Then she recruited the biker gang of her once-rival Bull, and helped the man start a restaurant of his own, to which he repaid through his unwavering loyalty.

Ever since, she has recruited her cousin El Primo, who said “it sounded like a fun club!” and Penny, who was knowledgeable in engineering and working with gunpowder. Occasionally, she’d be visited by her relative Rosa who needed help with a certain invasion of plants in her apartment, and sometimes in the middle of the night, would find a particular barrel-bodied robot requesting help on how to improve his shotgunning skills.

La Bandita has since stopped a large portion of the crime she commits, though has never gotten less dangerous. Simply put, she recognizes the power she has now, and has decided that it’ll be best if saved for any time she or anyone in the Sisterhood is ever crossed. For now, she doesn’t need the wealth found in crime. Rather, she has found wealth in the closely knit family that is The Sisterhood.

Although some members of The Sisterhood may use aliases to disguise their true names, a good portion do not.

Sisterhood: La Bandita (Shelly), Bulldozer (Bull), Bibi, Crow, El Primo, Penny

Meet: Alliance of the Eagles

The destruction of nature was a terrible thing. When the city was first initiated, the ancestral land was defiled with smoke and city lights. What was once a sea of grassland was turned to a wasteland of concrete. When Bo moved into the city, he wasn’t trying to get away from home. He was trying to bring home with him. And he recruited friends and family to help.

It was because of the Alliance of the Eagles that life began to grow again in the city. Ivy across the brick walls, clovers budding between sidewalk tiles, flowers bringing just the slightest glimmer of color in the labyrinth of desaturated desolation. It was all thanks to a faint, constant aura of magical energy from somewhere within the Brawl District that acted as a fertilizer and helped the plants grow. He didn’t think much of it at first.

It was when the returns started happening. Magical energy burst across the district like an undetectable shockwave, feeling like nothing more than a gust of wind, but its effects were drastic. The plants Bo had brought to transplant into the area begun to grow rapidly. Too rapidly. His apartment was taken over by weeds and vines, and the botanist downstairs had to have a rescue mission issued for her, as she was caged in by an entire horde of flora. Even then, the botanist didn’t make it out without a face half permanently covered in flowers, and two new living cactuses.

So Bo gave up plants. It was time to try out animals. Instead of a city-wide project that could end up in flooded alleyways like the previous project had, he tried something smaller. As the apartment building was overtaken by plants, obeying a little “no animals” policy suddenly seemed like a very minor offense. He encouraged those in the Alliance of Eagles to start hosting their favorite animal in their apartment, which to Nita’s question, “was allowed to be a bear”.

All was well, and all tenants were actually happier with their animal companions. Despite the creatures mostly being from the wild, they were “oddly” calm. He kept an eagle in his own room, and frequently visited Nita and Leon, who were keeping a bear and a “cool color-changing lizard” in their rooms respectively. He also saw his apartment neighbor Crowley Sharpe quite often, who unsurprisingly kept a crow, and they had many pleasing talks about birds.

Bo frequently believed in animal-related omens, but when his eagle had flown away that day, he was naive enough not to think of it as a sign. Then, merely a few hours later, the second wave hit. A graze of magic energy, and suddenly a young child horrified and screaming in agonizing terror, because his skin was beginning to change color in different places without an understanding why. His friend around the same age suddenly unable to speak in anything other than basic noises, but being able to imitate a bear perfectly. And his birdwatching neighbor, literally losing all of his humanity in favor of jet-black feathers, a beak, and fulfilling his name. Downstairs, ecstatic shouts of being able to “hear the plants speaking!”

Bo lead a team of environmental activists who fought for nature into becoming nature themselves. Whether a blessing or a curse, Bo now has more power than ever to bring Mother Nature back to the asphalt-cursed Retropolis- but first, perhaps he should seek out whoever caused the dyad of unfortunate events to occur. Maybe then he could earn back the respect of Leon and Crow, who had left the team in belief having become monsters. Until he does, he will have lost his humanity as much as they.

Allies: Eagle 1 (Bo), Barbearian (Nita), Lady of Flowers (Rosa), Spike

Ex-Allies: Colorcode (Leon), Crow

Meet: The Outcasts

The outcasts, the wildcards, the ticking time bombs... all of those refer to The Outcasts.

Although most outcasts have been given a home in The Sisterhood (which are almost outcasts in themselves), some outcasts are truly outcasts. Some may be dangerous (Viperella), some may just be annoying graffiti artists (Colorcode), and some could even be friendly (Sonic Boom), but either way, caution should be held when any faction approaches them. They may have biases, but those could change with the snap of a neck.

Outcasts: Colorcode (Leon), Viperella (Piper), Sonic Boom (Brock), DynaMIKE!

Heroes and villains according to faction. Some members may be more or less mixed, indicated by a dot. May be changed up in the future.

Find all my posts for this topic here!

This was a fun AU to write, and is also my first offciial AU! It’s a big bunch of ideas I’ve had stirring around for a while, all being able to be smashed into one giant alternate universe! (If I run out of ideas, I’ll change my name to brawl-stars-superhero-au. It’s not a high school AU though so I’m not changing just yet!)

Feel free to write for this AU, send in your asks about it, add your OCs, and put your own twists! <3

EDIT (6/23/19): Changed Jessie’s name from Gatling Phaser to Eludia Jetspring. (I’m indecisive.)

[etresouverain-blog]

Benjamin Fulford : Enfin ça bouge !

Dans sa publication de ce 23 décembre 2019, Benjamin Fulford nous livre son analyse de la situation géopolitique de notre monde. L'arrestation de 334 gangsters de la mafia de Ndrangheta basée en Calabre et les procédures engagées par la Cour Pénale Internationale (CPI) contre Israël signifient que le filet se resserre sur la mafia Khazariane.

Les rouages de la justice se meuvent lentement. Après cinq ans, la CPI engage enfin des poursuites contre les crimes de guerre des Israéliens en Palestine, ce qui pourrait conduire à des mandats d'arrêt pour cela et d'autres crimes de guerre en Syrie, étant donné qu'Israël soutient ISIS et vole le pétrole de Syrie et d'Irak, selon des sources du Pentagone. Les sources promettent que les forces spéciales Américaines vont bientôt pourchasser les criminels de guerre sionistes où qu'ils puissent essayer de se cacher sur cette planète.

Les arrestations en Italie, pendant ce temps, sont un coup direct porté à la faction Italo-Suisse qui a mené les attaques de massacres de Fukushima contre le Japon, selon les sources des renseignements militaires Japonais. Cela signifie que le régime criminel du ministre du Crime Shinzo Abe frauduleusement élu au Japon va enfin faire face à la justice, disent les sources. Nous aurons plus de détails sur ces deux développements ci-dessous, mais examinons d'abord d'autres grands mouvements qui se déroulent dans le monde.

Comme d'habitude, la plus grande histoire reste les négociations en cours sur la faillite du gouvernement corporatif des États-Unis. Le gouvernement corporatif des États-Unis continue d'exister en tirant le diable par la queue, semaine après semaine, mois après mois. La situation n'est pas viable et il faut la rétablir à un moment donné, affirment des sources des services de renseignements Britanniques. C'est pourquoi le président des États-Unis, Donald Trump, assistera au rassemblement annuel de l'élite mondiale à Davos, le 21 janvier prochain, pour tenter de négocier un financement afin de maintenir son régime au-delà de la date limite de paiement du 31 janvier, selon des sources de la famille royale européenne.

Rappelez-vous, au début de cette année Trump a séché Davos avant de céder et d'engager des sionistes néoconservateurs après une fermeture partielle du gouvernement pendant 35 jours. Voyons ce que cette fois-ci, l'élite de Davos essaie de forcer Trump à faire en échange de plus de dettes. Selon des sources de la famille royale européenne, les négociations concernant la faillite des Nations Unies sont liées à cette question. "L'ONU est une société privée constituée en Californie et détenue par la famille Rothschild via le Lucis Trust", disent les sources.

Les Rothschild font tout ce qui est en leur pouvoir pour que toute leur structure bancale ONU/États-Unis/FMI/Banque Mondiale/BRI continue à fonctionner avec une sorte de gigantesque cascade circulaire. L'assouplissement quantitatif du monopole des banques centrales privée appartenant aux Rothschild est un autre mot pour rachat, à vouloir soutenir artificiellement un marché effondré, expliquent les membres de la royauté Européenne. Un signe que cela n'est pas viable est le fait que les banques demandent aux particuliers des taux d'intérêt toujours plus élevés alors même que la FRB fournit aux banques de l'argent à un prix toujours plus bas.

Cependant, malgré les encouragements des médias de propagande sioniste, l'économie réelle se détériore, donc plus de ces prêts coûteux aux personnes réelles vont mal. C'est peut-être pour laquelle la filiale de la Banque Mondiale de Rothchild a mis en garde le 19 décembre contre "la pire crise de la dette en 50 ans". Pendant ce temps, leur corporation des États-Unis a été attrapée en train de mentir au sujet des réserves d'or, alors que leur fleuron, la Glencore Commodities Corporation, fait face à de multiples enquêtes criminelles et poursuites judiciaires.

En rapport avec tout cela, une fusillade au siège du FSB (ancien KGB) la semaine dernière a fait deux morts parmi les agents du FSB. Les nouvelles officielles de Russie affirment que l'attaque a été menée par un seul individu. Cependant, nos sources là-bas affirment que la cible réelle était Vladimir Poutine, et que l'attaque avait été menée par neuf militants du secteur droit de l'Ukraine.

Trois d'entre eux ont été tués, trois ont été emmenés en prison, et trois ont réussi à s'échapper. L'attaque a eu lieu alors que Poutine était dans les environs pour une célébration de la journée du FSB. C'est une guerre interne au FSB, ajoute la source. En d'autres termes, la faction sioniste Rothschild a essayé de tuer Poutine mais n'a pas réussi.

La question est maintenant de savoir si Trump se joindra à Poutine pour se rebeller contre ses maîtres Rothschild. Nos sources au Pentagone semblent penser que c'est exactement ce qu'il est en train de faire. Voici leur interprétation de ce que Trump prépare réellement : Après avoir souhaité un joyeux noël aux fonctionnaires fédéraux et aux militaires, M. Trump a peut-être donné le feu vert à la CPI en tant que cadeau de Hanoukka à Bibi [le premier ministre Israélien Benjamin Netanyahou, avec le secrétaire d'état américain Mike Pompeo prétendant défendre Israël pendant que les forces spéciales Américaines, travaillant avec la Russie, peuvent arrêter les criminels de guerre Israéliens où qu'ils soient, pour ajouter de la gravité à Nuremberg 2.0.

Il semble que l'ONU, l'UE, la Russie, la Chine, l'Inde, le Brésil, l'Allemagne, la France, le Royaume-Uni, le Japon, l'Iran, la Turquie et la communauté internationale soutiennent la CPI et le premier ministre du Liban soutenu par le Hezbollah, car Israël est impliqué dans le piège de pédophilie d'Epstein, le 11 septembre, le 3 novembre, MH370/MH17, et d'autres crimes de ces anti-goy : anti non juif, contre l'humanité. La condamnation à mort de l'ancien chef militaire Pakistanais Musharraf pour trahison est un avertissement sévère lancé aux Saoudiens, aux Israéliens, à la royauté, aux sionistes et à l'état profond sur la sévérité et du sérieux des tribunaux militaires.

Les arrestations de 334 mafiosi à Calabre font certainement partie de cette répression. Les personnes arrêtées sont des gens malveillants, donc on les détestait", a déclaré une source franc-maçonne de la P2. "Je les connais et ce sont des gens stupides et féroces", a-t-il dit. "Ceci n'était qu'un nettoyage contre un groupe, le pire groupe de la Ndrangheta. D'autres gangs calabrais sont au pouvoir maintenant", a-t-il poursuivi. Parmi les personnes arrêtées figuraient un chef de la police, un ancien député proche de l'ancien premier ministre Silvio Berlusconi, ainsi que des avocats et des comptables de Suisse et d'Italie du nord impliqués dans le vol en 2009, de 134 milliards de dollars d'obligations Japonaises, ajoutent des sources franc-maçonnes P2.

En outre, un représentant de la faction calabraise s'était vanté de l'implication de sa mafia à Fukushima immédiatement après cette attaque. C'est après Fukushima qu'Abe a été mis au pouvoir au Japon par fraude électorale. Peu de temps après son arrivée en fonction, Abe s'est présenté à Davos et a menacé la Chine d'une troisième guerre mondiale. Ce même Abe qui autrefois avait menacé la Chine, leur fait maintenant de la lèche, comme vous pouvez le voir dans les nouvelles japonaises au sujet de son prochain sommet avec le président Chinois Xi Jinping.

Cela est sans doute lié au fait que la corporation des États-Unis s'attend à ce que la Chine lui achète pour 200 milliards de dollars par an de "trucs" supplémentaires. Cela leur permettrait de repousser la faillite une fois de plus. Cependant, comme nous l'avons mentionné la semaine dernière, l'économie publique des États-Unis ne fabrique pas assez de «trucs» réels pour gagner 200 milliards de dollars de plus par année, à moins que des trucs secrets de programmes spatiaux ne soient lancés sur le marché. En tout cas, la noblesse blanche Italienne qui a nettoyé la Ndrangheta dit qu'elle ne permettra pas à Trump d'obtenir des fonds à Davos à moins qu'il ne vire son beau-fils Jared Kushner. Pour les gens de la P2, Kushner symbolise bien sûr la faction Chabad des sionistes. Kushner (Chabad) est le "mauvais visage du sionisme ; pour lui, nous ne sommes pas tous des frères, mais des esclaves", ajoutent-ils.

Nous notons également que les médias sionistes publient à nouveau "la Corée du Nord pourrait bientôt fabriquer un missile qui pourrait frapper les États-Unis". Ils disent ça depuis des décennies. Le fait est que les Nord-Coréens ont en effet cette capacité depuis les années 1990, depuis que le secrétaire Américain à la Défense, Donald Rumsfeld, la leur a donnée. Toute tentative des sionistes d'utiliser la Corée du nord comme bouc émissaire d'une autre attaque de type 9/11 ou 3/11 ne trompera personne. Les représailles pour une telle attaque se dirigeront vers la Suisse et Israël, non pas vers la Corée du Nord, avertissent les sources du Pentagone. Ce qui se passe vraiment, c'est que les puissances internationales remettent les sionistes dans leur cage.

La guerre contre le terrorisme, qui a été un véritable gâchis, a fait du monde un endroit où, pendant de nombreuses années, il n’était ni agréable ni confortable à vivre. L'incident du 11 septembre rend, encore aujourd'hui, beaucoup de gens malades. On souhaite que tout le système soit démantelé et remis en place correctement, a résumé une source du MI5. De nombreuses forces puissantes se battent actuellement pour s'assurer que 2020 sera l'année où le cauchemar du sionisme se terminera enfin et où la paix viendra pour tous les habitants de cette planète, humains ou autres. Version originale anglaise Read the full article

[public-new-yahoopartner-blog]

Secret défense : Catherine Deneuve mélée à l'assassinat de Kennedy ?

Ça s'est passé le 22 novembre 1963 à Dallas, au Texas. Ce jour-là, Jackie Kennedy portait un tailleur Chanel rose , assorti à son bibi. Assise aux côtés de son mari, le président JFK, dans une limousine décapotable, elle avait vécu l'horreur lorsqu'il avait pris plusieurs balles d'un tireur isolé, dans un immeuble, du nom de Lee Harvey Hoswald.Le mythe Kennedy fascine encoreUne version officielle mainte fois contestée qui continue de fasciner le grand public. On suspecte la mafia, le FBI, la CIA, les communistes... C'est bien pour cela que les 2891 documents déclassifiés de la CIA publiés cette semaine ont forcément attiré du monde. Et leurs découvertes soulèvent maintenant quelques nouvelles questions.Que vient faire Catherine Deneuve là dedans ?Le Parisien rapporte par exemple que le nom de Catherine Deneuve est cité dans un rapport écrit le 11 juillet 1969 par un certain Paul K. Chalemsky, ancien directeur de l'antenne de la CIA à Paris. Il assure que l'actrice française aurait versé de l'argent à un Américain, Larry Cox, "gérant une planque à Pantin pour les déserteurs et les activistes" contre la guerre au Vietnam."C'était il y a très longtemps"A l'époque, la star des "Demoiselles de Rochefort" fréquentait Simone de Beau­voir et Jean-Paul Sartre. Larry Cox nie pourtant avoir eu affaire à Catherine Deneuve. Interrogé par le quotidien, il assure : "J'étais sur scène avec Sartre lors d'une réunion publique anti-guerre, où il a parlé et m'a pris dans ses bras quand j'ai dét... Retrouvez cet article sur Public

Photos : Après la chirurgie esthétique, Catherine Zeta-Jones ne ressemble PLUS du tout à ça !

Secret Story 11 : Découvrez le secret et les photos sexy de Benjamin !

Photos : Caroline Receveur très décolletée à l'avant-première du monde secret des Emojis !

Victoria's Secret : Voici quel ange aura l'honneur de porter le Fantasy Bra cette année

Photos : Blake Lively, Mariah Carey, Orlando Bloom… focus sur ces stars qui se sont mariées en secret !

[asien2017]

Die ersten Tage auf Sri Lanka

Seit fast zwei Monaten laufen wir hier in Shorts und Flipflops rum. Aber das mal nur so am Rande-ich will euch hier nicht mit Details langweilen ;-) Von Bangkok sind wir über Kuala Lumpur nach Sri Lanka geflogen. Da wir spät abends angekommen sind haben wir eine Nacht in Negombo verbracht um von dort am nächsten Morgen mit dem Bus nach Kandy zu fahren. Noch im Flughafen habe ich an einem ATM Geld gezogen und anschließend eine Sim-Karte für mein Smartphone gekauft. Das geht in Asien schön unkompliziert und ist recht günstig. Für 100 Minuten Ortsgespräche sowie 4 GB Daten habe ich 8 Euro gezahlt. Zwar hat man in den Unterkünften überall Wlan aber unterwegs ist es sehr hilfreich mal eben etwas zu recherchieren und sich mit Googlemaps zu orientieren. Eigentlich wollte ich gleich nach unserer Ankunft am Flughafen über Uber einen Transfer zu unserer Unterkunft bestellen um der allgegenwärtigen Taximafia ein Schnippchen zu schlagen. Dann habe ich aber kurzfristig entschieden das Flughafengelände zu verlassen um dort ein Tuk-tuk zu nehmen. Das war über die Hälfte günstiger als ein Taxi der örtlichen Mafia. Die vierstündige Fahrt von Negombo nach Kandy am nächsten Morgen war mal wieder eine Grenzerfahrung und nichts für vorsichtige Gemüter. Wir hatten Glück dass wir früh genug an der Bushalte waren um einen Sitzplatz zu ergattern und unser Gepäck in den Kofferraum zu verstauen. Die später Hinzugekommenen durften 4 Stunden im Gang stehen - und das war eine echte Meisterleistung angesichts der Kamikazefahrweise des Busfahrers. Ob der nun auf Droge war oder sich in einem Egoshooterspiel wähnte - Bibi und ich haben den Trip trotz aller Bemühungen des Fahrers seine Gäste einzuschüchtern mit stoischer Gelassenheit hinter uns gebracht. Seit unseren Erlebnissen in Vietnam ist das alles Kinderkram; das geht einfach härter! Aber mit einer alten Klapperkiste und einem pubertierenden Weichei ist halt nicht mehr drin.

In Kandy, der zweitgrößten Stadt Sri Lankas, wurden wir von unserem Gastgeber Kenneth abgeholt. Er fuhr uns zu seinem Haus das etwas außerhalb in den Bergen liegt. Von dort aus hatten wir einen schönen Überblick über die Gegend und vor allem etwas frischere und kühlere Luft als in der heißen Stadt. Die Auswahl unserer Unterkunft war ein Glücksgriff. Zwar war die Unterkunft nichts besonderes aber Kenneth hat uns sehr viel über Land und Leute erzählen können und uns rumchauffiert. Wir haben eine Teefabrik besucht, haben den berühmten Zahntempel besichtigt und sind im königlichen botanischen Garten herumspaziert. An einem Tag ist er mit uns in den Norden nach Dambulla und Sigiriya gefahren wo wir die Höhlentempel besichtigt haben und den Löwenfelsen hochgeklettert sind. Der Aufstieg war sehr anstrengend und nichts für Leute mit Höhenangst. Oben angekommen bot sich ein herrlicher Ausblick der einen für Schweiß und Schmerz entschädigte. Heute ist unser letzter Tag in Kandy und wir haben unsere weitere Reise organisieren müssen. Morgen geht es mit Bus und Bahn nach Ella wo wir drei Tage verbringen werden. Die Bahnfahrt durch das Gebirge mit vielen Teeplantagen soll spektakulär und eine der schönsten Strecken überhaupt sein. Wir werden sehen und natürlich demnächst darüber berichten…

[equipedefranceinfo]

Petites histoires de tacles

  Le tacle est un geste d’amour, aurait un jour dit un certain Francis L. Et comme toute belle histoire romantique entre deux êtres, il y a un début et une fin à cette technique ancestrale qui consiste à se coucher pour, d’un geste auguste et maîtrisé, priver l’adversaire du contrôle du ballon. Un choix stratégique qui n'offre que quatre issues.

    Le tacle dans le vide

Le pire, l’humiliation suprême. La même que celle qui vous a assailli quand vous avez appris les heures militantes de papa au RPR ou quand la 103 n’a jamais voulu redémarrer et que vous avez fini le premier (et dernier) rencard avec Jennyfer à pied sous la flotte du cinoche jusqu’à chez elle. Bref, vous avez taclé. Trop lent, trop prévisible, mal coordonné, mal foutu… Voilà votre œuvre partie mourir au cimetière des bonnes intentions avec votre décision d’arrêter de fumer et de changer vos manuelles habitudes les premiers samedi du mois. Vous êtes le nez dans les pissenlits et, le temps de recentrer vos points cardinaux, vous voyez votre proie manquée tirer un amour de centre au cordeau, et le ballon de finir sur la tête de la fouine qui titille Marcel et Raymond, votre paire de centraux, depuis plus d’une heure. Lucarne, Gérard est battu malgré une belle détente – enfin à l’échelle du Gégé…

    L’insupportable buteur s’agite, court, se permet une allusion généalogique et sexuelle sur la charnière battue, et vient narguer ce qui reste de votre individu en entamant une parade nuptiale avec le poteau de corner deux mètres sous vos yeux. Oh, vous vous en foutez un peu, dans une demi-heure vous ne reverrez plus jamais son museau et son arrogance. Non, ce qui vous gène vraiment, c’est Lulu, entraîneur de son état, qui, depuis son banc de touche, a assisté atterré à votre tentative de meurtre sur Éole. Vous savez que les enfers éternels (comprenez le banc ET la place à côté de Gusse, celui qui ne se douche jamais) vous attendent. Vous vous relevez péniblement, faisant semblant de ne pas entendre Marcel chercher quelque métaphore pour vous exprimer son courroux. Épuisé, il arrêtera sa quête sémantique à "gros con", mais vous savez que vous aurez droit à la dictée de Pivot version grasse dans les vestiaires.

  Raymond, lui, se contentera d’un regard et d’un mutisme qui vous laisse finalement une chance de rédemption à la stricte condition de changer de club, d’identité et de sexe dans le quart d’heure à venir. Vous envisagez donc de laisser la 205 au garage et viendrez au stade en footing. Il doit avoir des ancêtres dans la mafia des Balkans pour avoir des yeux pareils, le garçon... Votre ailier lui, repasse devant vous pour rejoindre son camp, triomphant, et vous entendez bien distinctement leur meneur de jeu sortir un petit "on insiste à gauche" qui vous laissez augurer d’une fin de rencontre bien occupée. Derrière la main courante, Tonton Paul vous regarde, consterné.

    Le tacle dans le ballon

Le mouvement est beau, bien exécuté, la gonfle est en touche et l’ailier fort marri. Il a sauté pour éviter vos crampons, et ne daigne pas vous regarder. Lui comme vous savez qu’il va y revenir. Le gars qui reste debout après un tacle glissé de cette beauté, c’est frustrant, finalement. Il manque quelque chose. Vous n’avez pas marqué au fer rouge ce fichu roquet qui vous aboie dessus depuis le début, il va s’y recoller, réessayer, continuer sa danse du ventre. Marcel et Raymond, qui craignent les centres comme un bachelier l’oral de rattrapage, le savent aussi, et ils vous demandent de muscler un peu les débats. Marcel, d’un mime sobre, exige l’amputation de la cheville au prochain contact, quand les deux yeux de Raymond approuvent cette demande de sacrifice humain.

    Le "c’est bien garçon" que vous crie Lulu depuis son banc n’a finalement pas de valeur, et vous le savez… Il est branché sur coaching automatique et aurait demandé un demi au bar que l’intonation aurait été la même. Vous avez fait le job, mais pas assez pour le transcender. Quand à Gérard, contrôleur aérien dans le civil mais moins dans la surface, il vous demande de bien vouloir vous relever fissa afin de perturber la remise en touche. Le monde est rempli d’ingrats, mais le match continue et il faudra de nouveau faire le job sans attendre quoi que ce soit d’autre de la part des dix malotrus qui vous entourent. Chienne de vie. Tacler propre, c’est comme un fromage sans odeur: suspect, ou insipide. Vous vous mettez alors à rêver d’Angleterre ou d’Écosse, terres saintes où ce geste aurait été salué par des clameurs de kop débordants de bière, quand la grande tribune du stade d’ici somnole paisiblement en digérant son après Jacques Martin. Derrière la main courante, Tonton Paul vous regarde, distrait…

    Le tacle dans le ballon, joueur inclus, validé par l’arbitre

La perfection faite football. Le pied gauche qui sort le cuir du terrain, annonciateur de la suite: bien collé au sol, le reste du corps termine sa course dans un bel élan de solidarité avec la godasse et, une demi-seconde plus tard, déséquilibrera le suceur de ligne pour le faire finir dans la pancarte publicitaire de la quincaillerie Dugomoir et fils, sponsor à hauteur de 300 francs par mois ravi d’accueillir le fessier de l’opposant. Malgré les réclamations des Rouges, une simple touche est signalée. Cette reconnaissance du corps arbitral de la légalité de votre geste est un chèque en blanc pour le mois à venir. Gérard vous fait sa déclaration d’amour depuis ses cages, Marcel et Raymond se tourne vers Bibi, votre alter-ego de gauche, pour l’assassiner d’un "tu vois que même lui y arrive" qui vous laisse pantois, et Lulu est en transe sur son banc et vous crie balance un "c’est bon ça, encore" qui vous fait prendre conscience que vous avez mis la barre un peu haut.

    Cependant, tandis que le soigneur s’affaire à rétablir votre adversaire, qui n’a rien mais qui en rajoute quand même parce qu’on sait jamais, des fois que l’arbitre soit un peu émotif, vous jubilez. Quelle superbe sensation vous procure ce tacle… La bonne vitesse, suivie d’une flexion parfaite et d’une projection du pied qui allie esthétisme et puissance. L’herbe vous accueille avec la douceur d’un sourire d’hôtesse de l’air, et, légèrement humide, se transforme en un tapis roulant qui vous emmène droit au nirvana: le ballon puis la cheville. Les bras équilibrent le tout, la tête bien relevée pour vérifier la qualité d’exécution et l’air bruyamment expiré afin de signifier à votre cible que c’est le tout-puissant défenseur droit de Fouzy-sur-Latronche qui vient lui affirmer que non, ça ne passera pas dans son couloir. Vous êtes le Rubens du tacle, le Surya Bonali de la glisse sur herbe, vous êtes un défenseur, non vous êtes LE défenseur. Ce pauvre petit ailier a eu beau faire un triple lutz une fois au sol, rien n’y fait et le jury n’est pas dupe. Artistiquement, c’est irréprochable et techniquement, c’est parfait. Récompense ultime: vous récupérez même la touche, que vous faites dans la foulée à un Gégé qui vous regarde comme sa bouteille de Suze au Tchikiboum Nightclub. C’est dire s’il vous aime. Derrière la main courante, Tonton Paul vous regarde, satisfait.

    Le tacle dans le ballon, joueur inclus, sanctionné par l’arbitre mais validé par les pompiers

D’emblée, vous sentez que ça va mal tourner. Pas le ballon, non, mais le genou de l’autre, ça, oui. Une petite voix, similaire à celle du patron du stage de cet été, vous glisse d’un ton sec au fond de vous même: "en retard". L’autre imbécile, aussi, quelle idée d’aller si vite pile à cet instant... Vous voilà débordé, et vous sentez sur vos épaules fluettes le poids du regard du duo comique Marcel- Raymond tandis que la grosse gorge velue de Gégé vous envoie un "sèche-le" au fond des tympans. Alors forcément, vous, docile, bon camarade, coéquipier modèle sans jamais un mot plus haut que l’autre, vous montrez votre sens du devoir. Du fond de votre sac à solutions, rien ne sort, si ce n’est celle du tacle. Et, comme dit Gérard, vous le séchez. Net. Un bon vieux tacle par derrière, sans équilibre ni précaution. Une petite impulsion, et c’est parti.

  La dernière fois que vous aviez fermé les yeux alors que vous étiez en mouvement, c’est lors d’une leçon de conduite à l’auto-école. C’est le coup de frein rageur du moniteur qui avait permis d’épargner le platane. Là, pas de voiture à double commande, juste votre grand corps un peu couillon qui va aller inexorablement s’entremêler à celui, encore debout, d’un futur infirme. Quand vous osez enfin ouvrir une paupière, la première chose que vous voyez c’est un grand soleil rouge. Enfin, l’astre n’est pas rond mais rectangulaire et c’est l’arbitre qui vous le brandit sous le pif. Les sons vous parviennent un peu en vrac, et il faut faire un début de tri pour distinguer d’abord parmi les hurlements le "oh l’enculé" de Marcel. Alors attention, il ne faut pas se méprendre: dans sa bouche c’est un compliment certain, une médaille du travail, les palmes académiques de la grande école de la boucherie footballistique. Rien que là, vous savez qu’il y a du gras sur le jambon. Objectivement, ça pue.

    Lulu, vingt mètres plus loin, invoque le divin. Pour un mécréant de sa trempe, c’est un signe. Son "nom de Diou de bordel" sonne comme le tocsin dans la plaine à l’arrivée des Prussiens. En fond sonore, le gémissement de l’autre lapin de garenne que vous venez de plomber. C’est simple, vous avez tout emporté. La balle, le joueur et ses deux membres inférieurs, la pub pour la quincaillerie, et tonton Paul près de la main courante. Derrière vous, la trace de votre grande glissade vers les rives du Styx. Si on était sur la route, il y aurait les marques des pneus avec la maréchaussée en train de mesurer les distances pour les besoins de l’enquête, la traînée noire s’arrêtant à une silhouette dessinée à la craie au sol. Là, on constate deux grosses escalopes de terre et de gazon, l’herbe couchée et la godasse gauche du blessé. La chaussure droite est restée accrochée, elle. Une battante. Au milieu, un protège tibia qui se demande bien ce qu’il fout au milieu de ce Picasso. Le peintre, pas la bagnole. La chaussette, elle, garde les stigmates des amours contrariés entre vos crampons et le tissu, un trou béant témoignant de la violence du dépucelage.

   Autour de vous, la cohue règne. L’arbitre essaie de calmer tout le monde, Marcel et Raymond se sont mués en casques bleus, les Rouges vous entourent et vous couvrent de tout leur amour verbal. Seul leur petit milieu de terrain reste à l’écart, un sourire en coin parce que le salopard qui le fait cocu depuis si longtemps vient d’en prendre pour trois mois de plâtre et de béquilles. Vous offrez au passage à la victime, facteur de son état, de longues semaines de vacances et un poste au guichet, loin de son vélo. Et il n’a même pas un mot de remerciement. Vous osez enfin jeter un regard furtif aux conséquences de votre incontrôlable pulsion défensive, puisque c’est là le fond de votre plaidoirie à venir devant le tribunal de votre conscience. Vous n’avez pas fait médecine, certes, mais en voyant cette magnifique équerre tibia-pied, vous vous doutez qu’à l’hôpital les internes auront le droit à un QCM sur les tendons, les arrachements ligamenteux et les fractures. Pour le reste, le genou aurait tenu: ecchymose selon les forces de l’ordre, entorse selon la CGT. Le vétérinaire est formel: faut abattre.

  Vous voilà expulsé, créateur du plus beau puzzle humain de la Ligue pour ce week-end, héros pour les uns, bourreau pour d’autres, et flanqué d’une belle panoplie de sentiments à explorer pour ce dimanche. Vous attendrez la fin de la rencontre reclus dans le vestiaire, comme en garde à vue. Simplement, au lieu des parents, c’est Lulu qui va venir vous libérer. "On a gagné", lâche-t-il sobrement quand il rentre dans la pièce. Les autres suivent, sans un mot, ou alors avec quelques gestes, des mimiques, une main qui se secoue verticalement, une moue de répulsion… Vous tenteriez bien un "j’ai glissé, chef" façon Septième Compagnie, mais Jean Lefèvre n’a pas fait une belle carrière de footballeur. "Au moins on ne t’approchera plus quand tu vas rejouer, tu es peinard", lâche votre Raymond, capitaine et philosophe. Vous prendrez des nouvelles de la fracture de la malléole doublée d’une légère entorse du genou de votre adversaire, avant que les autorités arbitrales du district ne vous autorisent à renfiler le maillot au bout d’une demi-douzaine de matches de suspension. Les ailiers vous regarderont bizarrement, et vous vous souviendrez pourtant que le tacle est un geste d’amour. Et même bien fait, l’amour, parfois, c’est un peu sale...

  via http://ift.tt/2iCNBTY

[etresouverain-blog]

Benjamin Fulford : Enfin ça bouge !

Dans sa publication de ce 23 décembre 2019, Benjamin Fulford nous livre son analyse de la situation géopolitique de notre monde. L'arrestation de 334 gangsters de la mafia de Ndrangheta basée en Calabre et les procédures engagées par la Cour Pénale Internationale (CPI) contre Israël signifient que le filet se resserre sur la mafia Khazariane.

Les rouages de la justice se meuvent lentement. Après cinq ans, la CPI engage enfin des poursuites contre les crimes de guerre des Israéliens en Palestine, ce qui pourrait conduire à des mandats d'arrêt pour cela et d'autres crimes de guerre en Syrie, étant donné qu'Israël soutient ISIS et vole le pétrole de Syrie et d'Irak, selon des sources du Pentagone. Les sources promettent que les forces spéciales Américaines vont bientôt pourchasser les criminels de guerre sionistes où qu'ils puissent essayer de se cacher sur cette planète.

Les arrestations en Italie, pendant ce temps, sont un coup direct porté à la faction Italo-Suisse qui a mené les attaques de massacres de Fukushima contre le Japon, selon les sources des renseignements militaires Japonais. Cela signifie que le régime criminel du ministre du Crime Shinzo Abe frauduleusement élu au Japon va enfin faire face à la justice, disent les sources. Nous aurons plus de détails sur ces deux développements ci-dessous, mais examinons d'abord d'autres grands mouvements qui se déroulent dans le monde.

Comme d'habitude, la plus grande histoire reste les négociations en cours sur la faillite du gouvernement corporatif des États-Unis. Le gouvernement corporatif des États-Unis continue d'exister en tirant le diable par la queue, semaine après semaine, mois après mois. La situation n'est pas viable et il faut la rétablir à un moment donné, affirment des sources des services de renseignements Britanniques. C'est pourquoi le président des États-Unis, Donald Trump, assistera au rassemblement annuel de l'élite mondiale à Davos, le 21 janvier prochain, pour tenter de négocier un financement afin de maintenir son régime au-delà de la date limite de paiement du 31 janvier, selon des sources de la famille royale européenne.

Rappelez-vous, au début de cette année Trump a séché Davos avant de céder et d'engager des sionistes néoconservateurs après une fermeture partielle du gouvernement pendant 35 jours. Voyons ce que cette fois-ci, l'élite de Davos essaie de forcer Trump à faire en échange de plus de dettes. Selon des sources de la famille royale européenne, les négociations concernant la faillite des Nations Unies sont liées à cette question. "L'ONU est une société privée constituée en Californie et détenue par la famille Rothschild via le Lucis Trust", disent les sources.

Les Rothschild font tout ce qui est en leur pouvoir pour que toute leur structure bancale ONU/États-Unis/FMI/Banque Mondiale/BRI continue à fonctionner avec une sorte de gigantesque cascade circulaire. L'assouplissement quantitatif du monopole des banques centrales privée appartenant aux Rothschild est un autre mot pour rachat, à vouloir soutenir artificiellement un marché effondré, expliquent les membres de la royauté Européenne. Un signe que cela n'est pas viable est le fait que les banques demandent aux particuliers des taux d'intérêt toujours plus élevés alors même que la FRB fournit aux banques de l'argent à un prix toujours plus bas.

Cependant, malgré les encouragements des médias de propagande sioniste, l'économie réelle se détériore, donc plus de ces prêts coûteux aux personnes réelles vont mal. C'est peut-être pour laquelle la filiale de la Banque Mondiale de Rothchild a mis en garde le 19 décembre contre "la pire crise de la dette en 50 ans". Pendant ce temps, leur corporation des États-Unis a été attrapée en train de mentir au sujet des réserves d'or, alors que leur fleuron, la Glencore Commodities Corporation, fait face à de multiples enquêtes criminelles et poursuites judiciaires.

En rapport avec tout cela, une fusillade au siège du FSB (ancien KGB) la semaine dernière a fait deux morts parmi les agents du FSB. Les nouvelles officielles de Russie affirment que l'attaque a été menée par un seul individu. Cependant, nos sources là-bas affirment que la cible réelle était Vladimir Poutine, et que l'attaque avait été menée par neuf militants du secteur droit de l'Ukraine.

Trois d'entre eux ont été tués, trois ont été emmenés en prison, et trois ont réussi à s'échapper. L'attaque a eu lieu alors que Poutine était dans les environs pour une célébration de la journée du FSB. C'est une guerre interne au FSB, ajoute la source. En d'autres termes, la faction sioniste Rothschild a essayé de tuer Poutine mais n'a pas réussi.

La question est maintenant de savoir si Trump se joindra à Poutine pour se rebeller contre ses maîtres Rothschild. Nos sources au Pentagone semblent penser que c'est exactement ce qu'il est en train de faire. Voici leur interprétation de ce que Trump prépare réellement : Après avoir souhaité un joyeux noël aux fonctionnaires fédéraux et aux militaires, M. Trump a peut-être donné le feu vert à la CPI en tant que cadeau de Hanoukka à Bibi [le premier ministre Israélien Benjamin Netanyahou, avec le secrétaire d'état américain Mike Pompeo prétendant défendre Israël pendant que les forces spéciales Américaines, travaillant avec la Russie, peuvent arrêter les criminels de guerre Israéliens où qu'ils soient, pour ajouter de la gravité à Nuremberg 2.0.

Il semble que l'ONU, l'UE, la Russie, la Chine, l'Inde, le Brésil, l'Allemagne, la France, le Royaume-Uni, le Japon, l'Iran, la Turquie et la communauté internationale soutiennent la CPI et le premier ministre du Liban soutenu par le Hezbollah, car Israël est impliqué dans le piège de pédophilie d'Epstein, le 11 septembre, le 3 novembre, MH370/MH17, et d'autres crimes de ces anti-goy : anti non juif, contre l'humanité. La condamnation à mort de l'ancien chef militaire Pakistanais Musharraf pour trahison est un avertissement sévère lancé aux Saoudiens, aux Israéliens, à la royauté, aux sionistes et à l'état profond sur la sévérité et du sérieux des tribunaux militaires.

Les arrestations de 334 mafiosi à Calabre font certainement partie de cette répression. Les personnes arrêtées sont des gens malveillants, donc on les détestait", a déclaré une source franc-maçonne de la P2. "Je les connais et ce sont des gens stupides et féroces", a-t-il dit. "Ceci n'était qu'un nettoyage contre un groupe, le pire groupe de la Ndrangheta. D'autres gangs calabrais sont au pouvoir maintenant", a-t-il poursuivi. Parmi les personnes arrêtées figuraient un chef de la police, un ancien député proche de l'ancien premier ministre Silvio Berlusconi, ainsi que des avocats et des comptables de Suisse et d'Italie du nord impliqués dans le vol en 2009, de 134 milliards de dollars d'obligations Japonaises, ajoutent des sources franc-maçonnes P2.

En outre, un représentant de la faction calabraise s'était vanté de l'implication de sa mafia à Fukushima immédiatement après cette attaque. C'est après Fukushima qu'Abe a été mis au pouvoir au Japon par fraude électorale. Peu de temps après son arrivée en fonction, Abe s'est présenté à Davos et a menacé la Chine d'une troisième guerre mondiale. Ce même Abe qui autrefois avait menacé la Chine, leur fait maintenant de la lèche, comme vous pouvez le voir dans les nouvelles japonaises au sujet de son prochain sommet avec le président Chinois Xi Jinping.

Cela est sans doute lié au fait que la corporation des États-Unis s'attend à ce que la Chine lui achète pour 200 milliards de dollars par an de "trucs" supplémentaires. Cela leur permettrait de repousser la faillite une fois de plus. Cependant, comme nous l'avons mentionné la semaine dernière, l'économie publique des États-Unis ne fabrique pas assez de «trucs» réels pour gagner 200 milliards de dollars de plus par année, à moins que des trucs secrets de programmes spatiaux ne soient lancés sur le marché. En tout cas, la noblesse blanche Italienne qui a nettoyé la Ndrangheta dit qu'elle ne permettra pas à Trump d'obtenir des fonds à Davos à moins qu'il ne vire son beau-fils Jared Kushner. Pour les gens de la P2, Kushner symbolise bien sûr la faction Chabad des sionistes. Kushner (Chabad) est le "mauvais visage du sionisme ; pour lui, nous ne sommes pas tous des frères, mais des esclaves", ajoutent-ils.

Nous notons également que les médias sionistes publient à nouveau "la Corée du Nord pourrait bientôt fabriquer un missile qui pourrait frapper les États-Unis". Ils disent ça depuis des décennies. Le fait est que les Nord-Coréens ont en effet cette capacité depuis les années 1990, depuis que le secrétaire Américain à la Défense, Donald Rumsfeld, la leur a donnée. Toute tentative des sionistes d'utiliser la Corée du nord comme bouc émissaire d'une autre attaque de type 9/11 ou 3/11 ne trompera personne. Les représailles pour une telle attaque se dirigeront vers la Suisse et Israël, non pas vers la Corée du Nord, avertissent les sources du Pentagone. Ce qui se passe vraiment, c'est que les puissances internationales remettent les sionistes dans leur cage.

La guerre contre le terrorisme, qui a été un véritable gâchis, a fait du monde un endroit où, pendant de nombreuses années, il n’était ni agréable ni confortable à vivre. L'incident du 11 septembre rend, encore aujourd'hui, beaucoup de gens malades. On souhaite que tout le système soit démantelé et remis en place correctement, a résumé une source du MI5. De nombreuses forces puissantes se battent actuellement pour s'assurer que 2020 sera l'année où le cauchemar du sionisme se terminera enfin et où la paix viendra pour tous les habitants de cette planète, humains ou autres. Version originale anglaise Read the full article

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Benjamin Fulford : Enfin ça bouge !

Dans sa publication de ce 23 décembre 2019, Benjamin Fulford nous livre son analyse de la situation géopolitique de notre monde. L'arrestation de 334 gangsters de la mafia de Ndrangheta basée en Calabre et les procédures engagées par la Cour Pénale Internationale (CPI) contre Israël signifient que le filet se resserre sur la mafia Khazariane.

Les rouages de la justice se meuvent lentement. Après cinq ans, la CPI engage enfin des poursuites contre les crimes de guerre des Israéliens en Palestine, ce qui pourrait conduire à des mandats d'arrêt pour cela et d'autres crimes de guerre en Syrie, étant donné qu'Israël soutient ISIS et vole le pétrole de Syrie et d'Irak, selon des sources du Pentagone. Les sources promettent que les forces spéciales Américaines vont bientôt pourchasser les criminels de guerre sionistes où qu'ils puissent essayer de se cacher sur cette planète.

Les arrestations en Italie, pendant ce temps, sont un coup direct porté à la faction Italo-Suisse qui a mené les attaques de massacres de Fukushima contre le Japon, selon les sources des renseignements militaires Japonais. Cela signifie que le régime criminel du ministre du Crime Shinzo Abe frauduleusement élu au Japon va enfin faire face à la justice, disent les sources. Nous aurons plus de détails sur ces deux développements ci-dessous, mais examinons d'abord d'autres grands mouvements qui se déroulent dans le monde.

Comme d'habitude, la plus grande histoire reste les négociations en cours sur la faillite du gouvernement corporatif des États-Unis. Le gouvernement corporatif des États-Unis continue d'exister en tirant le diable par la queue, semaine après semaine, mois après mois. La situation n'est pas viable et il faut la rétablir à un moment donné, affirment des sources des services de renseignements Britanniques. C'est pourquoi le président des États-Unis, Donald Trump, assistera au rassemblement annuel de l'élite mondiale à Davos, le 21 janvier prochain, pour tenter de négocier un financement afin de maintenir son régime au-delà de la date limite de paiement du 31 janvier, selon des sources de la famille royale européenne.

Rappelez-vous, au début de cette année Trump a séché Davos avant de céder et d'engager des sionistes néoconservateurs après une fermeture partielle du gouvernement pendant 35 jours. Voyons ce que cette fois-ci, l'élite de Davos essaie de forcer Trump à faire en échange de plus de dettes. Selon des sources de la famille royale européenne, les négociations concernant la faillite des Nations Unies sont liées à cette question. "L'ONU est une société privée constituée en Californie et détenue par la famille Rothschild via le Lucis Trust", disent les sources.

Les Rothschild font tout ce qui est en leur pouvoir pour que toute leur structure bancale ONU/États-Unis/FMI/Banque Mondiale/BRI continue à fonctionner avec une sorte de gigantesque cascade circulaire. L'assouplissement quantitatif du monopole des banques centrales privée appartenant aux Rothschild est un autre mot pour rachat, à vouloir soutenir artificiellement un marché effondré, expliquent les membres de la royauté Européenne. Un signe que cela n'est pas viable est le fait que les banques demandent aux particuliers des taux d'intérêt toujours plus élevés alors même que la FRB fournit aux banques de l'argent à un prix toujours plus bas.

Cependant, malgré les encouragements des médias de propagande sioniste, l'économie réelle se détériore, donc plus de ces prêts coûteux aux personnes réelles vont mal. C'est peut-être pour laquelle la filiale de la Banque Mondiale de Rothchild a mis en garde le 19 décembre contre "la pire crise de la dette en 50 ans". Pendant ce temps, leur corporation des États-Unis a été attrapée en train de mentir au sujet des réserves d'or, alors que leur fleuron, la Glencore Commodities Corporation, fait face à de multiples enquêtes criminelles et poursuites judiciaires.

En rapport avec tout cela, une fusillade au siège du FSB (ancien KGB) la semaine dernière a fait deux morts parmi les agents du FSB. Les nouvelles officielles de Russie affirment que l'attaque a été menée par un seul individu. Cependant, nos sources là-bas affirment que la cible réelle était Vladimir Poutine, et que l'attaque avait été menée par neuf militants du secteur droit de l'Ukraine.

Trois d'entre eux ont été tués, trois ont été emmenés en prison, et trois ont réussi à s'échapper. L'attaque a eu lieu alors que Poutine était dans les environs pour une célébration de la journée du FSB. C'est une guerre interne au FSB, ajoute la source. En d'autres termes, la faction sioniste Rothschild a essayé de tuer Poutine mais n'a pas réussi.

La question est maintenant de savoir si Trump se joindra à Poutine pour se rebeller contre ses maîtres Rothschild. Nos sources au Pentagone semblent penser que c'est exactement ce qu'il est en train de faire. Voici leur interprétation de ce que Trump prépare réellement : Après avoir souhaité un joyeux noël aux fonctionnaires fédéraux et aux militaires, M. Trump a peut-être donné le feu vert à la CPI en tant que cadeau de Hanoukka à Bibi [le premier ministre Israélien Benjamin Netanyahou, avec le secrétaire d'état américain Mike Pompeo prétendant défendre Israël pendant que les forces spéciales Américaines, travaillant avec la Russie, peuvent arrêter les criminels de guerre Israéliens où qu'ils soient, pour ajouter de la gravité à Nuremberg 2.0.

Il semble que l'ONU, l'UE, la Russie, la Chine, l'Inde, le Brésil, l'Allemagne, la France, le Royaume-Uni, le Japon, l'Iran, la Turquie et la communauté internationale soutiennent la CPI et le premier ministre du Liban soutenu par le Hezbollah, car Israël est impliqué dans le piège de pédophilie d'Epstein, le 11 septembre, le 3 novembre, MH370/MH17, et d'autres crimes de ces anti-goy : anti non juif, contre l'humanité. La condamnation à mort de l'ancien chef militaire Pakistanais Musharraf pour trahison est un avertissement sévère lancé aux Saoudiens, aux Israéliens, à la royauté, aux sionistes et à l'état profond sur la sévérité et du sérieux des tribunaux militaires.

Les arrestations de 334 mafiosi à Calabre font certainement partie de cette répression. Les personnes arrêtées sont des gens malveillants, donc on les détestait", a déclaré une source franc-maçonne de la P2. "Je les connais et ce sont des gens stupides et féroces", a-t-il dit. "Ceci n'était qu'un nettoyage contre un groupe, le pire groupe de la Ndrangheta. D'autres gangs calabrais sont au pouvoir maintenant", a-t-il poursuivi. Parmi les personnes arrêtées figuraient un chef de la police, un ancien député proche de l'ancien premier ministre Silvio Berlusconi, ainsi que des avocats et des comptables de Suisse et d'Italie du nord impliqués dans le vol en 2009, de 134 milliards de dollars d'obligations Japonaises, ajoutent des sources franc-maçonnes P2.

En outre, un représentant de la faction calabraise s'était vanté de l'implication de sa mafia à Fukushima immédiatement après cette attaque. C'est après Fukushima qu'Abe a été mis au pouvoir au Japon par fraude électorale. Peu de temps après son arrivée en fonction, Abe s'est présenté à Davos et a menacé la Chine d'une troisième guerre mondiale. Ce même Abe qui autrefois avait menacé la Chine, leur fait maintenant de la lèche, comme vous pouvez le voir dans les nouvelles japonaises au sujet de son prochain sommet avec le président Chinois Xi Jinping.

Cela est sans doute lié au fait que la corporation des États-Unis s'attend à ce que la Chine lui achète pour 200 milliards de dollars par an de "trucs" supplémentaires. Cela leur permettrait de repousser la faillite une fois de plus. Cependant, comme nous l'avons mentionné la semaine dernière, l'économie publique des États-Unis ne fabrique pas assez de «trucs» réels pour gagner 200 milliards de dollars de plus par année, à moins que des trucs secrets de programmes spatiaux ne soient lancés sur le marché. En tout cas, la noblesse blanche Italienne qui a nettoyé la Ndrangheta dit qu'elle ne permettra pas à Trump d'obtenir des fonds à Davos à moins qu'il ne vire son beau-fils Jared Kushner. Pour les gens de la P2, Kushner symbolise bien sûr la faction Chabad des sionistes. Kushner (Chabad) est le "mauvais visage du sionisme ; pour lui, nous ne sommes pas tous des frères, mais des esclaves", ajoutent-ils.

Nous notons également que les médias sionistes publient à nouveau "la Corée du Nord pourrait bientôt fabriquer un missile qui pourrait frapper les États-Unis". Ils disent ça depuis des décennies. Le fait est que les Nord-Coréens ont en effet cette capacité depuis les années 1990, depuis que le secrétaire Américain �� la Défense, Donald Rumsfeld, la leur a donnée. Toute tentative des sionistes d'utiliser la Corée du nord comme bouc émissaire d'une autre attaque de type 9/11 ou 3/11 ne trompera personne. Les représailles pour une telle attaque se dirigeront vers la Suisse et Israël, non pas vers la Corée du Nord, avertissent les sources du Pentagone. Ce qui se passe vraiment, c'est que les puissances internationales remettent les sionistes dans leur cage.

La guerre contre le terrorisme, qui a été un véritable gâchis, a fait du monde un endroit où, pendant de nombreuses années, il n’était ni agréable ni confortable à vivre. L'incident du 11 septembre rend, encore aujourd'hui, beaucoup de gens malades. On souhaite que tout le système soit démantelé et remis en place correctement, a résumé une source du MI5. De nombreuses forces puissantes se battent actuellement pour s'assurer que 2020 sera l'année où le cauchemar du sionisme se terminera enfin et où la paix viendra pour tous les habitants de cette planète, humains ou autres. Version originale anglaise Read the full article