#do not get me started of fraternities and sororities. the closest we have is like. the law society

[clueless1995]

american colleges are so scary to me. you guys have to share rooms??? on campus??? absolutely not i would’ve started killing too

[living-dead-parker]

Break Up With Your Boyfriend - M.J

Summary: Michelle makes a new ‘more than friend’ who she didn’t like over an hour ago. Yes, It’s lowkey based on Ariana’s song/video....loosely.

Warnings:cussing, asshole Peter Parker, spideychelle at the beginning, mentions of alcohol and smoking 

Word Count: 2.3k

"Peter, do we really have to go to this stupid party?" Michelle asks her boyfriend, who can be seen buzzing around the room, putting clothes on, only to change out of it and into a different outfit. He sighs, practically going crazy, trying to find something decent to wear. Sure, it's just a normal house party, but he wants to look and feel good.

"Yes, we can actually get to know some people, it would be nice to have more than just each other here," Peter says. His words hit Michelle differently than what she knows he intended. Suddenly, now she wants to go and get a drink. With a huff, Michelle gets up from her spot on Peter's bed, holding back the urge to smack the man behind the head. "You're not a violent person, Michelle," she tells herself quietly as she heads into the restroom.

After half an hour, the two are ready to go to the stupid party. Peter had been invited by someone in his English class and Michelle couldn't give one less of a shit about who it was or why they invited him. Initially, she didn't want to go. Especially because it was supposed to be a night in. But now that Peter has pissed Michelle off, she could use a drink or two. So Michelle loosely holds on to Peter's hand as the two walk out of their dormitory and head down a few blocks to where the fraternity and sorority houses are at. Michelle practically rolls her eyes as they arrive at one of the sorority's and enter the house.

Michelle continues to follow Peter when the two run into a girl with h/c hair. She 's in a red slip dress and black heels. Her makeup is well done and she has a wide grin on her lips. Her eyes immediately light up upon seeing Peter as she pulls him into a hug. Michelle couldn't help but feel two things. One, anger because her stupid boyfriend is really up on some other girl already and she's the reason he practically forced Michelle to go. Two, an odd sense of attraction towards the girl. She shouldn't want to be around the girl more if she's obviously all up on Michelle's boyfriend.

"Peter, you made it," she screams through the loud music. She has a cup in her left hand, patting Peter's back with her right. Michelle rolls her eyes as the girl pulls away and looks over at Michelle. Suddenly, it's not a big smile stuck on the girl's face, but instead, she's smirking. "And who is this?" she asks.

"I'm Michelle, Peter's girlfriend," Michelle responds, noticing the smirk falter on the girl's face.

"Y/N L/N, I'm the head sister here," she explains. Her voice is almost soothing to Michelle and she doesn't like it. Y/N pulls Michelle into a courteous hug. "I hope to see you around again," she says to Michelle. When the girl pulls away, she walks off towards another area of the room.

When Michelle turns around, she notices Peter heading off in some other direction. With a sigh, Michelle follows Peter into what seems like the kitchen. The house is enormous, which takes Michelle by surprise. However, when she looks up ahead, she sees Peter grabbing one single cup and pouring some liquid in it. She rolls her eyes but approaches nonetheless and does the same, pouring some Jack Daniels into a cup and filling the cup to the brim with coke.

"So is that why you were all giddy to come to this party? For Y/N?"

"Michelle, why do you always get mad at everything I do?" Peter asks. His tone is filled with all sorts of venom.

"Because you've been acting like a real asshole lately. Especially today, but all that stops when you practically latch yourself to that girl. We were supposed to be having a night in and just watch shitty sci-fi movies and eat shitty pizza," Michelle whines. Peter sighs, nodding as it hits him how much of an asshole he's been lately.

"I'm sorry, babe. I just feel like we don't have friends here. It's just you and me and while I like that, I want to get to know more people," Peter says. Michelle stares at him deadpan but nods nonetheless.

"Yeah, I get it, Peter. Just, go make some new friends or something," Michelle says. Peter smiles at Michelle, grabbing hold of the girl's hips and pulling her closer to him. He presses his lips to hers, but Michelle doesn't kiss back. Peter sighs instead, standing up and walking out of the kitchen. Michelle leans against the kitchen island and feels a tear slipping out. She knows it the begging of the inevitable end.

College was much harder than she thought. Sure Michelle knew college would be hard, but this is on another level. Peter is not making it easier. Its obvious college has changed Peter, changed his feelings now that he has more people to meet and eventually fall for. He's over Michelle, and that hurts Michelle. Michelle downs her drink, mixing herself another drink.

"Woah, slow it down babe, the party just started, experience it a little first," a familiar voice says as they walk into the kitchen. Michelle turns around and sees Y/N approaching her. Michelle rolls her eyes, feeling the anger bubble up inside of her already. What does the bitch want?

"Well, I'm pretty over this party," Michelle responds, her eyes beginning to gloss over again. Y/N notices the way her voice wavers, instantly feeling the need to comfort the girl. So she walks over to where Michelle is and sets her drink down next to Michelle's.

"What's wrong?" Y/N asks as she stands between Michelle's legs. Michelle shakes her head as she looks up and over to her right side.

Michelle shakes her head and moves to grab her drink, "I should go, I'm sorry. This is st-"

Y/N grabs Michelle's wrist and looks up at the taller girl with a certain worry in her eyes. Michelle can feel herself breaking, wanting to spill but trying so hard not to. "It's not stupid if it's making you upset. I know we don't know each other, but I'm here to listen. Do I need to kick someone's ass?"

Michelle giggles as she wipes away the tears. She feels stupid crying over some guy, but it's Peter for fuck's sake. Her boyfriend of two years, why wouldn't she cry. "I'm pretty sure Peter and I are gonna break up someday soon," Michelle begins, looking down at her shoes. She shrugs and looks at her hands instead. "And I feel stupid crying over some guy who obviously doesn't care about me anymore."

"Why would Peter wanna break up with you, though? You're gorgeous and you look like you can kick some ass if you really really have to," Y/N says, looking Michelle up and down.

"He talks about wanting to branch out and make more friends, which normally I wouldn't mind. We do need some more friends because we're the only people here who know each other. But he's so focused on impressing you and all the other girls and I know he doesn't like me anymore. He's been such an asshole lately, been so mean and I know that's not who he is, because he used to be this sweet kid. Hell, I used to make him nervous, and now he doesn't even bat an eye my way. And honestly, I'm tired of dealing with it, and I don't love him anymore. He made me fall out of love with him," Michelle rants through quiet sobs. The Peter she'd known has been long gone and it hurts her.

"Fuck him," Y/N says.

"I'm trying to get over him-"

"No, I mean he's an idiot. I only invited him because he was there. Literally, everybody is invited to these things, he's not special. You seem like a great girl, he doesn't deserve you. Especially if you're putting up with his bullshit."

"Thanks, I just don't want to let go of him because he's like the closest thing to home I have here a-"

"Baby, you gotta let go of him. Home will always be there as long as you got a phone or something. Home is where the heart is bullshit, ya know? You can make a fucking box a home if you really wanted. Peter is stupid and there are a whole bunch of cute nerds here more deserving of your love-"

Michelle was tired of listening, she knows what she needs to do, but she doesn't know how to. So in an attempt to get Y/N to shut up, Michelle leans down a little and presses her lips to Y/N's. Michelle's not sure why she felt that was the best course of action, and she can't entirely blame it on the alcohol since she's not a weak bitch and she's only had one drink, but it felt right. Only to be proven when Y/N's hands move to Michelle's waist and begin to kiss back just as intensely. Michelle rests her hands on the small of Y/N's back, pulling the other girl closer to her so that they're practically chest to chest, waist to waist.

The two girl kiss for what seems forever. The thumping of the music just next door matching the thumping of their racing hearts. When they pull away, Y/N rests her head on Michelle's forehead. As Michele stares into Y/N's e/c eyes it's when it suddenly dawns on Michelle what she did.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that! I'm still with Peter and-and-"

"I won't tell, he doesn't need to know," Y/N says. Her voice is hushed, arms still on Michelle's waist. Michelle shakes her head, suddenly nervous again. "Hey, hey you're okay. We'll go find him, end it, and then we can come back to this," Y/N says. Michelle nods, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

Y/N grabs Michelle's hand and leads the way outside where there's a group of guys and some girls all standing around, talking and smoking. Among them is Peter who is laughing at something one of the guys said. Michelle frowns as she sees some blue-haired girl standing next to Peter, a little too close. Michelle approaches Peter and tries to get his attention, but he ignores her. He tells her they can talk later, but not now. Y/N rolls her eyes and grabs hold of Michelle's arm as she approaches the two.

"I got it," Y/N tells Michelle. Y/N pulls Michelle into her side and leans closer to Peter to whisper to him. "Let's blow this party, come with us," Y/N whispers into Peter's ear, causing Peter to perk up. He nods eagerly as Y/N grabs his hand. She pulls the two behind her and inside the house and up into her bedroom.

"I'll be back, let me go get some things," Y/N says with a wink. She steps out of the room and Peter can't help but walk around the room and look at everything.

"Peter, we need to talk," Michelle says. Peter sighs and looks over at Michelle, his face holding some type of annoyed expression.

"About what?"

"It's over," Michelle says. Peter looks at Michelle with some look that asks if she's being serious. "You obviously don't love me anymore, you're obviously tired of me and you've been nothing but an asshole for the past month. I'm tired of putting up with you, and I know you're only keeping me around until you find someone new so you can throw me away. But I'm not that kind of girl. I'm not one to be used and thrown away because I'm not an object and I'm not up for some man's childish games. So, it's over. We're done," Michelle finishes.

Peter's looking down at his feet and Michelle feels a wave of relief wash over her. She looks over at you as you walk into the room, noticing the smirk on your face. Peter looks up and he seems upset.

"Peter, I hope you know you never had a chance with me or any of the sisters. And since I'm nice I won't tell anyone about how much of douche you are, because that's up to Michelle. Have fun," Y/N says as she walks over to Michelle and grabs her hand. Y/N leads them into her restroom and gives Michelle some tissues to wipe away her tears and messed up makeup, as well as offering her some makeup to touch up.

"Thank you, for that. It wasn't necessary," Michelle says as she begins to fix up her mascara.

"I know, but I help every girl in need I cross paths. Especially cute ones who kiss better than half the guys I've been with."

Michelle quietly looks up at Y/N with a cheesy smile. Her eyes hold a humorous gleam as Michelle shrugs. Y/N walks up behind Michelle and wraps her arms around the taller girl. Y/N rests her head on Michelle's back and presses a kiss to her shoulder.

"Anyways I can get you in my bed?" Y/N asks, making Michelle giggle. Michelle notices Y/N's loving gaze. Sure, it's only a friendly one, but it makes Michelle swoon. She just might be over Peter and ready for something new.

"Just keep looking at me like that and you might get me in your bed by the end of the night," Michelle jokes wholeheartedly.

Y/N looks at her phone, chuckling as she checks the time. "Well, good thing it's 11:55."

Michelle playfully smacks Y/N's arm and shakes her head. Y/N pulls away and grabs Michelle's hand and leads her out of the restroom, out of the bedroom, and down the stairs. They go into the living room, where the main part of the party is going on, and there are so many people dancing together. Y/N takes Michelle into the middle of the dance floor and wraps her arms around Michelle's shoulders and pulls her close to her.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Y/N sees Peter staring at the two girls from afar, so Y/N takes the chance and pulls Michelle into a heated kiss, only angering Peter more. Michelle follows Y/N's lead, dancing with and kissing the girl she disliked just a few hours ago.

Please leave feedback or requests! Also come send me asks and talk to me about anything!!

[mpxvalentina]

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms Part 1/?

“If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine - it’s lethal.”

Here stands Valentina Ruiz-Kim and this is the story of the time her life got turned upside down... and how she shouldn’t have dealt with it...

TW: Violence, Drug Use, Underage Drinking, Depression, Emotional Abuse, Degrading Language

It was a normal, summer afternoon in San Diego, California. Valentina had spent the morning at the beach with some friends from school and was excited to spend the rest of her afternoon shopping with her older sisters for an upcoming event that her parents were hosting at the country club not far from their home. Her hair was cut into a choppy, layered, ginger bob. Yet another experiment with dyes and sheers in her bathroom at three o’clock in the morning. Her mother was livid, it had been almost five years since Valentina had started experimenting with hair colors and styles and her mother continued to disapprove. Her mother treated it as if their reputation was chipped away at more and more every time Valentina emerged from her bathroom with a new set of locks on her head. Constantly nagging her to just wear a wig if she wanted blonde hair that badly, or to pin it up if she wanted it short - anything to keep her from ruining her precious raven black hair.

Her sisters could do no wrong in her mother’s eyes, all three of them were perfect angels compared to Val. Her grades were never good enough, she never spoke eloquently enough, she never stood tall enough, she never applied herself enough, she never worked hard enough. She was never enough. A black sheep herded in among beautiful, smart, talented sisters. Valentina was gorgeous, she knew that - she used it to her advantage often. Tricking naive upper-classmen into doing her homework for nothing more than a date or even just a kiss. She partied a lot. It was known all around their family’s social circles that if Val wasn’t invited to some uptight event she was definitely invited to all the fraternity and sorority parties. Often you could find her drunk or high, sitting on the lap of an older college boy, whispering in his ear promises she never intended to keep. She was wanted by all the sleazebags of their upper-class world but, she rarely ever gave in to their desires. Always simply using them for their money and status, despite having her own.

This type of social reputation only caused her mother more disappointment, her father paid no mind - always too busy running his company to even bother checking in on his daughters. Her sisters didn’t care, they knew the real Valentina, not the persona she put on around “friends” or at parties. They knew Val, the bubbly geek who could beat anyone’s ass at Mario Kart, the silly goofball that loved to ruin her bathroom at two o’clock in the morning changing her hair color, and the carefree, summer-loving surfer girl that would rather spend every hot summer day in the ocean rather than at another company event like the one coming up. She and her sisters found the perfect dresses for the evening’s boring and bland company event - the context of which she had none. However, Valentina had been looking for a good reason to get dressed up and what better way to spend a fabulous day than getting dressed up and flirting with her father’s junior partners. Besides, her father always had an open bar at these events - that was good enough for her and her sisters.

Her oldest sister was set to inherit the company so she took these events very seriously, unlike Val who was just ready to make the night less boring than it was most likely going to be. She was dressed in a fitted black dress that hit just below her knees, with one slit that went about mid-thigh, and if that wasn’t enough the strapless deep V neck showed off her perfectly tanned cleavage. Her hair and makeup were perfect as always, her skills honed at a young age she even did her sister’s hair and makeup for the event. Well, except for her oldest sister who thought the style of makeup and hair Valentina offered wasn’t “professional enough” in her opinion. As per usual, her mother gave her a disapproving look as she stepped into the lobby of the country club at her sister’s sides. Her mother wouldn’t make a scene about her choice of look for the evening but Valentina knew it was an inevitable argument later that night.

The night was as boring as she had expected it to be. The open bar, average looking younger partners, fine food, and subpar music did nothing to keep the hyperactive Valentina interested in the event. She and one of her other sisters stayed until the moment it was polite to leave and headed home, neither of them prepared for what else the night had in store for them...

Valentina and her sister who was closest to her in age were laughing and joking in the kitchen of their lavish home, out of their fancy clothes and makeup, wearing only t-shirts, shorts, and messy buns as they made snacks. It was nearly 1 o’clock in the morning when the rest of their family finally made it home and the girls were dancing around to music and having a great time fixing popcorn to add to their snack mix. The booming bass of their father’s voice snapped them out of their carefree reverie. “Paloma! Valentina!” Paloma immediately turned off their music and Val pulled the pot of popcorn off of the hot stove, sharing a frightened look with her sister before calling out; “We’re in the kitchen!”

Paloma was closest when their father bounded into the kitchen, his suit disheveled and a smile on his face. The joy on his face caused the girls to relax a bit, glad that they weren’t going to get told off for once. He enveloped the two youngest girls into a group hug and started laughing. “We got the partnership with the company in New York!” The two girls didn’t know much about the business world but, they did know their parents had been working towards finalizing this partnership for over a year and it was worthy of celebration. Valentina and Paloma squealed a little bit and hugged their father tight in celebration, pulling back to do a quick happy dance with him. He kissed both girls on the head and headed to their living room to get another glass of scotch before bed in celebration.

However, the girls did not get to stay happy for long as the two oldest daughters and their mother came in, obviously in a good mood but not nearly as happy to see the two younger girls as Diego was. Yebin - their mother - looked the two girls up and down and looked at the mess they’d been in the middle of making together in the kitchen and rolled her eyes. “Look at you two, you couldn’t even stay long enough for this important announcement! You just had to get back here and wreck the house as if you pay the bills huh?” Valentina did not react as she was used to her mother’s outbursts, Paloma, however, was one of the angels and was rarely scolded so she couldn’t help but flinch at the bite in Yebin’s tone. Gabriela the second oldest looked at the two of them sympathetically - she’d always tried to protect Valentina the most - Elena the oldest was looking at the two of them as if they’d just killed her puppy. 

Yebin left the room with a scoff after receiving no response to seemingly join her husband in the living room for a celebration drink. Valentina paid no mind and went back to happily finishing putting their snack together with Paloma at her side still visibly shaken up by what their mother had said. Gabriela was about to leave for her room before Elena finally spoke up after standing there with a disgusted look on her face. “I can’t believe the two of you had the audacity to leave before the big announcement. It was a very important moment for the company and you two slipped out before anyone could stop you to do what? Come home and act like 8-year-olds? Papa is too high on success to recognize how disrespectful that was, but tomorrow he’s gonna know and he’s going to be very disappointed in you two, just like Eomma and I are.” Paloma visibly stiffened at their sister’s harsh words, looking over at her meekly. Valentina didn’t even react, too used to this kind of attitude from their oldest sister who thought she knew everything about everything.

“Well, we’re not inheriting the company so…” Valentina mumbled under her breath as she began stirring the snack mix and rubbing a hand over Paloma’s back to comfort her - knowing that the older girl was not used to this kind of treatment. “Besides, we didn’t know there was going to be some important announcement because no one ever tells us anything, we’re just expected to show up, look pretty, eat, drink, talk, and then leave. You are the one that has to care about the company Elena, not us. As if anyone cared that I was gone anyway, I bet you all only noticed because Paloma came with me. If I’d left on my own no one would have even cared or noticed.” Finally, Valentina’s dark brown eyes looked over to find her oldest sister, arms crossed over her chest, face flush with anger, and her chest huffing and puffing as she boiled over.

“I’m not an idiot Elena, I may not be top of my class like you all were but, I know when I’m not wanted. Let’s go, Loma.” Her last sentence came out after a deep exhausted sigh as she picked up the bowl of snack mix and she took her closest sister’s hand. Elena wasn’t done with the youngest sister yet as she stepped forward and laid a hand on Valentina’s shoulder to force her to turn and face her again. At this point, Gabriela had stepped back into the kitchen and was about to step in as a mediator when Elena yanked the bowl from Val’s hand and slammed it to the ground - sending glazed ceramic shards, popcorn, chocolate candies, and pretzels all over the kitchen floor around them. Then Elena let out a yell, obviously hoping to get their parent’s attention. “Valentina! How childish of you! You don’t just throw things when someone upsets you!” Elena’s eyes were alight with dramatic tears and her voice held an air of authority she believed she held over the younger girl.

“What kind of drugs are you on, Elena? You threw that! You pulled it right from my hand and dropped it like a toddler throwing a tantrum!” Valentina had had it with her sister at this point, she was trying to remain passive to just get through the night but that was the last straw. Gabriela tried grabbing Elena by the arm and pulling her away but the older girl fought against her. Paloma also tried pulling Val away, she’d seen the youngest sister get into a few fights and knew she was not one to be messed with no matter how angry she or the other person was. Girls had lost earlobes, skin, and even hair when trying to tumble with the younger girl before, so Paloma was just trying to keep both her sisters from ripping each other’s throats out. 

Their parents had heard the commotion by this point and were quickly making their way into the large area, seeing the mess on the floor and the two practically feral girls being held by the two more emotionally stable sisters. However, Valentina managed to wiggle out of Paloma’s grip, immediately launching for the oldest sister. Out of her own fear, Gabriela released Elena and the girls collided. Valentina felt like she was burning red hot with rage, her skin felt like it should have been flushed red and smoke should be pouring from her ears. She had had it with her sister's bullshit, she was tired of her mother and she was tired of taking their harsh words and being blamed for things she didn’t do. The youngest girl went for it, her nails scratching at the older girl, hair was pulled from both parties, and there were a multitude of voices overlapping as parents and siblings tried to stop the fight.

After what felt like ages, the room froze - the smell of burnt hair and the sight of smoke stopping everyone in their tracks. Elena was finally yanked from Valentina’s grip, a clump of hair extension in the younger’s hand - lit aflame by the fire now encapsulating her arm, wrist, and hand. Her skin was flushed red, her eyes were burning hot with rage still as the fire began to lick up her arms and dance around her fingertips. The other five family members stood in shock as they looked at Valentina, all anger was gone as they stood frozen in fear of the girl before them. Paloma was the first to snap out of it and recognize the fear that had taken over Valentina as well. The youngest obviously had no idea what was happening just like they all did. She carefully got closer to her sister and tried to calm her, helping her take deep breaths and guiding her to the bathroom. Paloma got Valentina to stand under the cold water of the shower, fully clothed.

At first, the only thing that happened was steam, water hitting fire and burning away into steam. Eventually, Val stood there sobbing and soaked head to toe with ice-cold water but, she remained physically unaffected by the fire that was spread along her skin just moments before.

************

An hour or so later, Paloma and Valentina emerged from the bathroom, Valentina’s hair dripping wet as she was wrapped in a warm robe. Her skin was still warm to the touch, feverish and her naturally tanned skin flushed pink below the surface. Paloma carried the younger girls, wet and burned clothes as she carefully walked her to her room. In the time it took to get Val relatively close to normal the girls had not said a word to each other. Both of them are still very obviously shaken by all of the events of the evening, barely hiding the shake to their hands. Paloma led Valentina to Gabriela’s room, hoping the older but more composed sister would have some answers - only to find it empty and the voices of their siblings and parents still downstairs. The voices were muffled from the distance but, they recognized the angered voice of their father anywhere.

The girls shared a fearful look before turning to get dressed in Valentina’s room. With the younger girl now dressed in a pair of pajamas, her hair now partially dried by a towel, they made their way downstairs to join the rest of their family. With linked arms, the two younger sisters entered the living room of their family’s estate, fear evident in their body language and by the silence still settled over them. Upon entering the room, the already tense air felt like it was set alight again when burning, angry eyes landing on both of them. Although the gazes all quickly settled on Valentina. Anger came from her mother, father and eldest sister - the middle sisters gazing at her pitifully, confusion evident in their features. It was Diego who eventually broke the silence as he glared at both Valentina and Yebin.

“Now, can someone tell me what the fuck just happened to my baby girl in the kitchen?!” All of the women in the room couldn’t help but flinch at his tone of voice and the sheer volume of his frustration. Yebin removed her glare from Valentina finally to look at her husband. “Your baby girl? Now she’s your baby girl? She just tried to kill Elena and you’re being sweet to her?!” Diego clenched his jaw as Yebin walked over to the two younger girls and pulled Paloma away from Valentina, dragging her over and forcing her to sit down next to Elena on the couch - leaving Valentina to shake down to her bones, her hands wringing together and tears welling in her eyes. Diego watched his youngest daughter still obviously shaken and did what her mother failed to do and brought her into his arms, allowing her to burrow into his chest for comfort.

“Yebin how can you say that? She is just as scared as we are! What is wrong with you?!” The daughters couldn’t say anything as their parents very obviously had different feelings about what occurred that evening. Yebin threw her hands up in frustration before pointing to the terrified teenager being comforted by her father. “If you knew the truth you wouldn’t be so sweet to her! She almost killed your oldest daughter! All that did was confirm what I’ve thought for a while - I never should have had her. Because of her, this family is ruined! She’s a whore that wastes our hard-earned money on drugs and alcohol. If she was as good a child as her sisters this never would have happened and no one would ever have found out!”

Everyone in the room - besides Valentina who was still buried in her father’s arms - looked at Yebin in shock. Paloma was almost in tears, Gabriela was speechless, Elena looked like she was about to defend the youngest sister when Diego spoke up again. “How dare you talk about her like that? She is your child who obviously needs our help, Yebin!” The older man ran his hands through Valentina’s damp hair as she sobbed into his chest.

“That is the whole point Diego, she’s my daughter. Not ours. She is a mistake that I never should have made because now she’s ruined everything!” Yebin was screeching at the top of her voice now, her eyes fiery with rage. Diego’s voice was soft as he cradled Valentina in his arms - his beautiful baby girl, who was shaking as sobs wracked her body. “W-what? What do you mean, mi amor? Of course, she’s ours? Our miracle baby. Right?” He placed a kiss to the crown of Valentina’s head, his lips and chest feeling the warmth of his daughter’s feverish temperature. He knew she always ran hotter than the other girls, she always had - but this was different and he could feel it. Everyone in the room could see the gears spinning in his head as his wife looked at him expectantly.

Diego pulled away from Valentina, holding her by her biceps to look at her. Her eyes puffy and red from crying and her skin flushed, but she was still his baby. He didn’t want to believe the thoughts bouncing around his mind. His thinking process was interrupted by Yebin’s voice, clear and frustrated from across the living room. “You’re a smart man, Diego. You know she’s not yours.” An exasperated sigh left her lips as she ran a hand over her face. “We wanted one more child so badly, my love. All the tests told us it wasn’t my fault, but yours. You didn’t want to do anything about it, you were convinced it was my fault. So I did what I had to do. I prayed and prayed. Only it wasn’t God that answered me, but an ancient god of fire. He was the perfect man to father our last child and you never had to know. Until she ruined it, no one would have found out if she had just done as she was told. If she had just been like her sisters. Her half-sisters.”

************

The silence was palpable after Yebin’s reveal. All three older daughters were gawking at their parents, shock obvious across their features. Diego was tearing up and looked into Valentina’s face, he reached two hands up to cup her cheeks. His thumbs grazed her cheekbones as he wiped away fresh tears that rolled down her skin. It felt as though their perfect world had imploded around them. With just one monumental revelation, the once perfect and wealthy family was in shambles at their feet. Yebin was fuming as she watched the exchange between her youngest child and her husband. The rage that was still boiling under her skin could have sent steam out her ears. She wanted Diego to be mad, she needed him to be angry, needed him to hate what Valentina had done as much as she did. In her eyes, Valentina’s behavior had ruined the facade of their perfect household. Her recklessness exposed her mother’s infidelity and put the couple at odds with each other.

As Valentina looked up into the eyes of the man she called Papa, who in her mind would always be her father no matter what her mother said, she frantically searched for what he was thinking. She looked over his face and into his eyes, trying to decipher what the older man was feeling after all of this, as he still held her face in his hands. Suddenly it was like a sheet had been pulled from his eyes as Diego blankly stepped away from his family. He backed up about ten feet, his eyes sweeping across the room. Meeting eyes with his raging wife for a moment, then over his still terrified baby girl Valentina, finally ghosting across the dumbstruck and pitiful faces of his three oldest daughters. After what felt like years, Diego spoke up to them, the emotions coursing through him giving a heaviness to his words.

“Go to bed everyone. I will sleep in my office and do not disturb me.”

With that the older hispanic man showed his age and anger as he stomped off to the other side of their home, leaving the women frozen with shock and rage.

*************

That early morning, Valentina cried herself to sleep while sandwiched between Gabriela and Paloma. The two older sisters joined her soon after they heard her sobs fade into soft breaths and gentle snores. Sleep came to Yebin eventually, uncomfortable in the large, cold bed that she usually shared with her loving husband. Diego however, did not sleep at all. The first few hours after the explosion in their living room, he spent pacing and thinking in his office. Not long before everyone else awoke that late morning - early afternoon, he was frantically working on his computer. When he joined the very tense brunch in the kitchen, he looked as poorly as he felt. The women of the house ate in tense silence waiting for Diego to join them and when he did, soft gasps left all of them as they took in his disheveled state.

Diego did not sit at the table with them, he stood with a stack of papers in his hand at the end of the table. After a long moment of tense silence he looked to his wife and went to hand the papers to her. Yebin began to stammer as she took the papers from him in confusion but Diego spoke up faster. “Those are tickets to Seoul. There is also paperwork for an apartment lease that is signed. You and Valentina will leave tonight. I have set you up at our office in Gangnam, which is where you will be working and living until I have decided how this family will move forward.” As the words left his mouth it felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room, Valentina stared at the plate in front of her as the other women gawked at Diego.

Yebin was about to say something in her defense when Diego held up a hand to stop her. “I need you both out of my house for a while, Yebin. I can barely look at you right now and I think Valentina would be better off away from here for the time being. So, pack your bags your flight leaves at seven.” Like a ghost he silently fled the room. Valentina said nothing as she quickly stood from the table and ran upstairs to her bedroom. Where she proceeded to lay on her bed and cry for a few hours before her sisters came in and held her. Elena included. The oldest and the youngest had never seen eye to eye but she didn’t want her to be sent away. She still loved her despite their disagreements and Elena couldn’t help but feel guilty about the whole situation.

If she’d just ignored her anger towards the youngest instead of starting a fight maybe this secret never would have been revealed… but it had been and now the Ruiz-Kim women had to make do with the hand they had been dealt.

[randombtsprincessa]

Azure || 1

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You wished for new friends. That did not have to involve a crashed space ship in your back yard. 

Rough bass thrummed through the living room, small spaces left between tightly pressed up bodies allowing the music to reach your ears as I squeezed through the barely available spaces in search for my best friend.

It was a typical scenario.

The best friend was gone, leaving her friend unattended with a bright red solo cup in hand, and a scowl on her face as she contemplated going home or looking for her friend.

A sane person would have figured that she was indeed busy; probably sucking faces with some random dude in one of the frat house’s darkened corners that had been conveniently set up for this sole purpose.

Fortunately for Jisoo, I happened to be one of the generous ones.

I had been looking for her for the past fifteen minutes but even I had my limits.

I sighed, looking to my left at the door.

According to my traitorous friend, I was a born escapist which is why I chose the open spot closest to the door. I disagreed. I just didn’t want to push and touch sweaty drunk bodies to get some fresh air if needed…and judging from the suffocating smell of alcohol, too much cologne and sweat, I definitely needed fresh air.

This escapist had only attended the party because my best friends happened to be associated with the frat and because if there was one thing Miss Popular Jisoo enjoyed in our near to nothing small town, it was a good party.

The local university and its mere attempt to have fraternities and sororities in its campus had paid off. People had been coming in and out of the town more often and it wasn’t nearly as dead – even though I preferred it when it was quiet so you could at least hear yourself think.

I threw my hands up – figuratively – seeing as there was no room for that sort of movement, I moved my body towards the door, pulling out my phone.

Shooting a text to my absent friend’s phone as to where I was, I quickly let myself out, sighing peacefully in the dark porch.

I didn’t regret partying, no, but I still missed the silent whistle of wind passing through the winds in my bedroom, closed off and cut away from the rest of civilization.

While I loved my home, it made getting about a bitch and not all my friends were generous enough about coming near the woods to my house.

I need new friends.

Bringing the cup to chug down the remnants of the beer, I winced as the liquor corrected me in its too happy way.

I need different friends.

“Where is she?” I sighed, hands rubbing my face as Yoongi pointed towards the main couch.

It was difficult to make out anyone in the large seating crammed with too many bodies to handle but I managed to see Jisoo’s pretty face peeking out and gave Yoongi a thumbs up, making my way to pry her away.

Yoongi was the oldest in our group, and one of the members of the frat which is why I always had an invite ready. It was weird to say that Min Yoongi was in a frat because if anything he was the kid that loved his own company.

“Jisoo, we need to leave.” I begged for the thirtieth time, trying to pry a very drunk Jisoo off the couch from between a passed out dude and another who was just about to get knocked out too.

“But I’m having such a nice time! You didn’t even dance with me.” she pouted, her adorable face red and puffy.

I laughed, lugging her arm around my shoulder to pull her off the couch with the leverage.

“Sure, little miss happy, I missed out on a lot it seems. Now we have to go.”

“But,”

“Jisoo, I have to get you home, I have to get me home. I can’t afford to lose any more hours of sleep; I already look like a panda.”

She sighed as she finally rested her head against my shoulder, allowing me lead her through the masses of our peers, stopping briefly to bid the hose of the party goodnight.

Even as I tugged at her, she managed to raise her head.

“Hey Jin! Thanks for a great night!” she crooned at the hottest boy in town, Kim Seokjin, and proving me right about where she’d been while I was looking for her.

Seokjin turned his exquisite face to look once at me before nodding at Jisoo, face blank. I rolled my eyes. Jin was always more Jisoo’s friend than mine with good reason; the king and queen together.

Once I got her buckled in the passenger seat I got behind the wheel, waiting to see if any of the alcohol I’d had earlier was going to make reappearance. I’d watered myself enough to drive but I did have my best friend in the car.

Driving through the town roads to her house was easy, her mother very accommodating and sweet, even saying I could crash at theirs but I knew my parents would be concerned if I did that. With one final goodbye, I got back behind my wheel and started the long commute to my house.

The town I lived on was the perfect suburbia, with manicured lawns, trimmed trees and hedges, polo shirts and the weekly kitty parties which were more gossip than anything else.

This perfect little town was surrounded by the densest forest and wild terrain, leaving it with a slightly eerie atmosphere as soon as the clock hit eight pm and the temperature began to drop.

In through the nice bit of woods was my house, large and sprawling. It was my father’s ancestral house. He had moved in here with my mother from the big city when my grandfather had passes, leaving the huge estate to his descendant.

To any normal city girl, this would’ve been the ultimate horror. Me…I loved it.

I loved the sense of silence in it and even though it could get a little unsettling at night, it was mostly secure because no one ever ventured this far into the woods on account of the wildlife.

It was absolutely gorgeous.

Even the people seemed nice. I’d become friends with Jisoo the first week I’d been there. She was the It Girl, a walking dream – tall and statuesque and every Queen needed a companion.

Thankfully, Kim Jisoo wasn’t Regina George.

She was very kind, very sweet, funny and a genuinely decent person. Maybe growing up closed off from the real influence of the city had softened her…or maybe the older generation had something to do with it but I had no concerns.

Fog crawled around the land, dissipating and reforming as I drove through them.

“Yes, mom, I will be there in a few minutes, I’m just a few miles out. Yes, I’m fine. Jisoo is fine. Everything is fine. It’s not like I haven’t partied before.” I sighed, hanging up as my mother finished her worried tirade.

As I drew closer, a small flicker of light caught my attention, just in my periphery.

Turning my head, I slowed the car, watching the star burn brighter momentarily before returning to a normal pin prick size.

I frowned. Were stars supposed to do that? Maybe it was a cosmic phenomenon…? A falling star or some suck thing…? Only, I didn’t remember stars ever glowing bright like that.

Shrugging it off, I turned the winding pathway to the garage, parking my car right next to my dad’s, hopping out and heading inside to the warmth against the cold forest.

Even as I closed the door, I turned my head again towards the star. Was it me…or did it look bigger than it was?

“Y/N,” I heard my mother call and jumped, letting the net door close as I went into the kitchen to answer her, all thoughts of a burning star forgotten as I was faced with an even more complicated situation: my worried mother.

Later at night, in comfy pajamas and my teeth brushed, I glanced out the window at the woods once before closing the lights off for the night without noticing one strange thing:

The weird star thing was gone.

[bluekyun]

Genre: fluff, smut, angst & humour

Word Count: 15.390

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: excessive and unnecessary swearing, dom/sub undertones, light choking, praise kink

Summary: A typical night for you begins at the library in your favorite chair underneath the lamp in the corner, only to be picked up at 3am by your best friend, Jimin. Despite having slept over in his room several times before, this certain night in Sigma house leads to far more than you ever imagined. But what is to come of your friendship once you reveal those two little lines that will change your lives forever?

Collaboration Masterlist

Every night of the week, you find yourself cramped underneath the same small lamp in the farthest right corner of the library, one hand clasped around your Totoro pencil while the other is holding down the textbook as if it’s a prisoner of war. The pages, each outlined with your fingerprints, hold every bit of sweat and misery left within you, likely an entire bucket load considering that you are well into dead week. It’s not as if this wasn’t already a normal occurrence, in fact this has been your life since the beginning of the semester. But there is something special about dead week, the week before final exams during which not a soul is left alive – and not the good kind of special. The I-would-rather-shove-an-eggplant-up-my-ass type of special. And as much as you would like to skip out and drink all night like the rest of your sorority sisters, unfortunately, you can’t. For 25 years, Delta Zeta has held high academic integrity with the highest grade point average among all the sororities at the university. To go down as the president who ruined the streak would be… an unwelcomed experience. Besides, you’d like to think that you’re doing this for yourself and not anyone else. But the extra incentive at least keeps you in check.

 Staring down at the first paragraph, you realize that you have yet to turn the page. It’s been a half hour and yet nothing past the first two words has managed to stick. The number of times you have tried to stay on task throughout the night could rival the number of stars in the visible sky. Yet, you are still here, having made no progress whatsoever, solely staying with the last shred of hope you have left. In other words, you have finally reached the point of no return. Closing the book, you rub away the sleep in your eyes, leaving flashes of white in its wake. You can feel the pins and needles starting to form at the ball of your foot, crushed underneath the weight of your leg in an attempt at comfort. You are beyond exhausted, irritable and insatiably hungry.

 “I should have brought a snack…” Looking across the room, you stare longingly at the vending machines. These machines, which have fed you many times before, now seem nearly impossible to reach. They are in the opposite direction of the doors and you may only have energy for one. So which do you choose?

 As luck would have it, your body decides… neither. In fact, you might just spend the night at the library. It’s open 24 hours and you have claimed the comfiest chair that doesn’t contain a broken spring. The option is looking particularly lovely at this moment.

 “You’re not sleeping here. I can tell you that right now.” Looking up, you lock eyes with Jimin, your loving best friend who also happens to have a knack for showing up exactly when you need him. Glancing at the clock, you realize it’s 3am. Right on time.

 “I wasn’t thinking that.” Returning your attention to your things, you stuff your books and pencil case into the opening of your backpack, very casually rethinking your plans. Convincing Jimin to let you stay would be futile considering you’ve attempted many times before. He is one to do things conventionally, and sleeping over in the library is not on that list.

 “I know that face like I know my own. Do you know how many times I’ve had to drag you out of here at four in the morning because you never know when to quit? Thirty one. Yes, I counted. Now get up.”

 Lifting your eyes, you pout at him slightly before following orders. Before you even get a chance to move, he grabs your backpack from the floor and swings it over his free shoulder. His level of unfiltered kindness disturbs you sometimes.

 “Spending the night?” He asks gently, torn between glancing at you and the floor. Without a second thought, you slyly bite your lip, moving a misplaced strand of hair behind your ear in an attempt to look as though your brain was still functioning.

 “Yeah, I suppose.” Shrugging your shoulders, you walk past him, accidentally tripping and bumping the backpack in the process. He looks at you questionably before following you, deciding to let you be exactly as you are – a mess. Walking out the doors, you are met with the brisk winds of the fall night, causing you to shudder slightly as you curl within yourself. From the library, Sigma house is approximately a three minute power-walk, and with the weather continuously nipping at your bare legs, you hope to get there in two and a half.

 “You know, I still can’t believe you joined a fraternity. You are the least likely person on this campus to join one. I don’t understand.” Despite knowing the answer, you reignite the years-old conversation, hoping the light-hearted banter will at least help time pass.

 “I just wanted friends. You know this. And besides, your motives are so much more questionable than mine. You literally joined that sorority just to spite me.” He huffs, pulling the straps of both backpacks farther up on his shoulders.

 “I never said that. If you feel upset over something as small as that, then it’s on you. And for your information, I made the better choice between the two of us. I joined because of its high academic regard. That shit looks good on a resume you know. You on the other hand are in a frat full of fuckboys with notorious reputations for being partiers.”

 “The entire campus knows that’s a damn lie. The whole ‘we believe in academic excellence’ thing is just a ploy to cover your terrible drinking habits. Might as well call it wine club. And will you stop calling them fuckboys? For the last time, not all of them are like that.”

 “Yeah, just your bestie Hoseok right? I’m surprised you haven’t fucked him already considering how far up his ass you are.” Picking up speed, you push your legs to their limit in the direction of Sigma house. But the effort is short lived as Jimin catches up to you in only a few strides.

 “First of all, he doesn’t swing that way. Second of all, you’re so fucking short, how do you even make it to your classes on time?” From your periphery, you see the trails of a smirk adorning his face.

 Stopping in your tracks you look directly up at him, wanting nothing more than to smack the look off his face. Those full two inches really inflate his ego.

 “You just have longer legs okay. Stop coming at me just because you have a complex.”

 “You know you started this right. Your jealousy is really showing tonight.” Rolling your eyes, you push him backwards, running as quickly as possible toward Sigma. From where you are, the house is just within your grasp, and everyone here knows that Jimin doesn’t run for anyone. Checking over your shoulder, you see him give you a small wave, and for the first time that day, you feel as though you’ve accomplished something. Upon climbing those steps, you reach out for the door, the burning in your lungs finally catching up to you. Just as you are about grab the handle, the door quickly swings open and you walk straight into none other than the king himself: fucking Jung Hoseok. The sound of you hitting his solid body absolutely mortifies you, a little something more to tear you down.

 “Well look who it is. Welcome home brat.” Rolling your eyes, you try to suppress the annoyance, but when Jimin puts a hand on your shoulder, you have no choice but to present a cool smile in a wave of passiveness. Jimin is well aware of your feelings toward him, the utter fear you have that some of his hoeness will just rub off on your best friend. Hoseok is sweet underneath his odd bravado, but that doesn’t help quell the worries that constantly plague you at night. If Jimin were to ever start sleeping around, even just a little, you would probably have a mental breakdown.

 “Where you off to?” Jimin asks calmly, placing a little more pressure on your shoulder.

 “Out. Don’t wait up for me.” With a wink in your direction, the haughty dance major exits the large door of the fraternity. Neither you nor Jimin say a word in that moment, basking in the rare occurrence of seeing Hoseok alone. It’s not very often you get to see him without a girl hanging on his arm, and you might actually admit that it’s nice to see him so free. But just as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you quickly shove it aside, remembering every snarky comment he has ever made in your presence. With him far out of sight, you push yourself through the doorway, immediately heading toward the back of the house. Unlike the other boys, Jimin’s room is one of the few on the first level – a spot you often thank the stars that he has.

 Pulling your sweatshirt over your head, you fold it neatly and set it on the corner of Jimin’s desk, the same place it always is. One thing you both have in common is a tendency toward is keeping everything neat: a code never broken even when sleeping over in the other’s room. Jimin has tried many times to keep the entire fraternity house this way, trying to rub his obsessive tendencies onto them, but that only worked to some degree. And by some, you mean that they only ever do it when they know Jimin is particularly… shall we say, sensitive?

 But the reality of it is that they are all collectively a mess, and the house tends to reflect the state of its occupants. And if Jimin is to keep his space and the space surrounding his space in order, then his room definitely needed to be the one closest to the door. Less tragedy to walk through to get where he needed to be. And really, you couldn’t argue with his logic.

 Shuffling over to his bed, you pull back the large comforter and throw yourself in. Finding your space against the wall, you wait patiently for Jimin to return from the bathroom, the first place he tends to wander off to whenever he returns home from a long night. Your nighttime routine tends to shift dramatically depending on your state of being, but it has become something like a ritual for him. Something he must do in order to fall asleep. With as much as he puts himself through in order to make it through school, you are grateful that something so simple can at least provide a little comfort.

 As if on cue, the door opens slightly just enough for him to sneak through. The rest of the house is likely deep in slumber, other than Hoseok, and Jimin is always careful to not wake everyone up. Among the night owls in the house, which is realistically all of them, he is the one who stays up the latest, always finishing homework or studying until his brain nearly falls out. Even more reason why you both get along so well. At least you both share the same, self-destructive habits.

 With the door finally closed, he releases the breath he had been holding, but all it takes is one glance in your direction, and the look on his face changes from content to absolute horror.

 “You’re not gonna at least brush your teeth? You’re disgusting.” Throwing his clothes into the laundry basket, he plops into his chair in front of the computer.

 “You’re not going to bed?” You ask, the answer dawning upon you the moment the last syllable leaves your mouth.

 “Not until you brush your teeth. Don’t be a heathen.” Rolling your eyes, you shift further into your solitude against the wall. You are too damn tired to move an inch, and he’s crazy to think you would ever move from the comfort of his bed to do something so menial. With one eye shut, you observe him from afar – the way his eyes scan across the pages of the textbook, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the next page becoming far too natural.

 “You spend more time with your textbook than you do with me. I’m offended.” You huff slightly, the desire to spend time with your best friend being far too loud in your mind.

 “Sorry I can’t hear you over your bad breath.” Just as he finishes his sentence, that same, stupid smirk appears on his face, the one that no one can take seriously because it’s just so damn cute.

 “I promise I won’t breathe on you. You need to sleep, you’ve been studying for hours now. Give your brain a break.” It isn’t a lie that you care deeply for him in this way. You are always concerned for his well-being, and considering he pushes himself far more than you ever push yourself, you can only imagine how exhausted he must really be. But even you know that he will never listen – he is the most well behaved rebel you’ve ever known.

 “Says the one who would still be in the library if I hadn’t come to pick them up.” Pulling out the drawer from his desk, you watch as he digs underneath a pile of worn out pens. You can tell that he found what he was looking for by the way his face lights up almost immediately. But when you see the purple handle emerge from the mess, your adoration you had once felt for him turns into pure disbelief.

 In his hand he holds the bane of your existence – the sleepover toothbrush. Back when you both were freshman and you had first started sleeping over in his room, he had gifted you a toothbrush that would specifically be kept in his room for whenever you were over. At the time, it was a cute a gesture, one that meant you would be spending a lot of time there. But as time passed, you realized that the toothbrush was more for him than anything. A sure way to make sure that whenever you slept in his bed, your teeth would be clean.

 “I hate you. Don’t come near me.” Throwing the covers over your head, you scrunch yourself into a ball in the middle of the bed. The sound of the toothpaste cap landing on the desk resounds against the walls, penetrating the force field you imagined yourself to have.

 “Come here.” He says, voice barely above a whisper. His footsteps, as they near the bed, only match the sound of your heartbeat, and as you listen in closely, you swear you can hear the track to JAWS. But then they stop.

 For a moment you hear nothing, silence filling the room as if he had vanished into thin air. The only sound to be heard is the headboard hitting the wall from upstairs. Counting down the seconds in your head, you wait for his next move. But it never comes. No matter how many times you count down from ten, his hateful ass never makes an appearance. A part of you knows that this is how he plays and that this is how he wins, but the other part wants to believe that he really did vanish, and that you might get to sleep without having to actually brush your teeth. The truth is… he’s just waiting. Waiting for you to do something. Stick a hand out? He’ll grab you. Call for him? He’ll jump on you. Breathe? He will shove that toothbrush so far into your mouth that you’ll have to get it surgically removed. And just like him, you never really know which trick to pull until the moment it happens.

 As life would have it, it seems that today you are just too tired for his bullshit.

 “Fine!” You shout directly into the blanket, pulling it from your face while you surrender. And just as you expected, he’s simply standing at the foot of the bed with a knowing look on his face.

 “That’s a good girl.” The way he licks his lips while climbing onto the bed does something to you, a cherry atop the dessert that is him praising you.

 Neither of you say anything as he straddles your hips, his delicate fingers pressing against your cheek as he lines the toothbrush with your teeth. Considering this happens often, you would think you’d be used to this feeling, but much to your surprise, it elicits the same response every time. The utter disdain you feel for him and his unnecessary obsession with hygiene.

 “Say ‘ahhhhh’,” he says, his pearly whites and small crooked tooth showing in the lamp light.

 “Bite me.” With your final words out, you allow him to put the bristles to your teeth. As he gently moves the brush back and forth, you can’t help but think just how utterly weird and uncomfortable this whole situation is. You and Jimin are very close, that is something that can’t be argued, but sometimes his habits are on another level. You’ve even heard stories from Hoseok that there was a time when Jimin had tried to brush the teeth of the whole frat after one particular party, but the only success was brushing Jungkook’s teeth after he threw up in one of the flower pots. The poor bunny never knew what was coming.

 Regardless, you are certain it all comes from a genuine place. But it’s still weird as hell.

 Grabbing the brush from his hand, you roll over and force him off your hips. With one eye closed, you continue the job, watching him carefully as he looks at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

 “C-can you not look at me like that?” You stutter, the foam only distorting the sound of your voice.

 “Like what?” Looking away, he stares at the covered window, acting entirely incredulous to the situation at hand.

 “Like you love me or something.”

 “I do love you.”

 Choking on the suds, you jerk up in bed, collecting it all in the palm of your hand. Jimin immediately grabs a towel from one of the shelves, handing it to you while he watches in pure amusement. Spitting the rest into the towel, you realize the mess you have made, both of yourself and of the situation.

 “As a friend of course. Now go wash up.” Removing himself from the bed, he walks over to his desk. With eyes following his back, you watch as he returns to his precious textbook. As you pick yourself up from the bed and walk toward the door, his words echo relentlessly in your mind. He has said ‘I love you’ countless times throughout your friendship, but something about that moment, about the vulnerability of it all, made your heart skip a beat. Shaking it off, you open the door carefully and walk across the hall to the bathroom. You don’t bother to turn the light on, in no way prepared to stare at your haggard state of being. 

Even when you turn the faucet, you can already feel the chill, a small indication that the building will be out of hot water for a while. Using as little water as possible, you rinse out your mouth and splash a little on your face to rid yourself of the toothpaste look. For the moment, you feel clean and now extremely awake, both the cold and Jimin doing nothing to help you prepare for bed. But considering how tired you feel underneath it all, you only hope you will be able to fall asleep easily.

 Scooting out of the bathroom, you return to his room only to find the lamp off. Through the darkness, you can see his shape underneath the blankets, and of course, directly against the wall.

 “That’s my spot!” You whisper, gently scooting back to close the door behind you. He doesn’t say anything but instead shifts toward the edge of the bed as his invitation for you to reclaim what is rightfully yours. As best as you can, you tip toe across the carpet trying to avoid the squeaky floor boards. Even in the dark, you know this dance well – a little this way, a little that way, and you are in the clear. Climbing over him, you fall into the mattress, cuddling up against him for some warmth. He embraces you instinctually, wrapping his arms around your waist, his cheek resting delicately on your forehead. In close proximity, you smell the remnants of his cologne, the very one you had picked out for him when he had first asked you to help him fit in.

 Oh how you miss the days when things were so much simpler.

 In his need for comfort, he shifts his arm from underneath your body, his other hand temporarily landing on your ass. At first you thought nothing of it, but when he refused to move, you realized this was entirely intentional. This man was really feeling you up in the most casual way possible. As much as you wanted to tell him off, you couldn’t deny the fact that you enjoyed feeling him touch you, even in a way that was extremely intimate. He has jokingly grabbed your breasts or even smacked your ass in the past, but the feeling of this is different. And all you know is that you want more of it.

 Turning around, you leave your back facing him. You want to play dirty just as much as he does, a game of cat and mouse to see which of the two will win in the end. Even though you know exactly what will happen, you are determined to stretch it out as long as possible. You are as weak for him as much as he is weak for you. You are playing with fire, and you are only anticipating the burn.

 The feeling of his hot breath down the back of your neck sends chills down your spine, his body pressed against you only adding to the heat underneath the blanket. The firm grip of his hand against your hip as he holds you against him has your mind imagining every possible way in which it could be around your neck. Having never voiced your lust for him before, you have always kept yourself in check, but this night, unlike any other, you are falling victim to your own thoughts. Neither of you move an inch, afraid to disturb the other, but a part of you wishes that he would just take control – turn you around and take you as you are. Unfortunately, he seems to have other plans. From the way his breath picks up pace, you can tell he has no intention of falling asleep. His breath is ragged as if he is controlling every sense in his body. Something you already know you don’t want.

 Shifting slightly, you lean farther back against him, the bulge of his erection placed directly at your backside. The hitch in his throat upon contact left something to be desired, and biting the bullet, you move again, only this time with a little more intention. The soft moan that leaves his lips is barely audible, but the sound only sends electricity shooting through your core. He does nothing more but rather buries his face into the bed of your hair, slowly losing grip on the small bit of control he has left. When it comes to desire, neither of you are professionals at keeping it hidden for long, and that fact only becomes more apparent with every second that passes on the clock.

 Coming up for air, he pulls you a little tighter to him, and from what you can tell, he is painfully hard. The friction necessary to get him off is far more than what he is receiving, but begging for something, especially sex, was never his forte. If something were to ever happen between the two of you, it would be your call. But not even you want it to come so easily. Leaning in, you force your ass against him slowly, a small maneuver in hopes of making him vocal. When you hear nothing but a low grunt from behind you, you realize just how much work you’re going to need to put in. Which you don’t mind, of course, as long as by sunrise, he is between your legs.

 Reaching your hand around, you palm at the front of his shorts along his strained member. The breath he releases against your ear only eggs you on, your hand slowly moving across every inch of him – painfully slow. You continue you ministrations, a constant motion against his cock, adding a little pressure upon reaching his tip. His tense muscles start to tremble under your touch, and for a moment you can feel his urge to move. But he doesn’t. He lies there, receiving every bit of torture you’re giving like a champ. Unfortunately for him, you only plan to make it a lot worse.

 Removing your hand, you return to your original position against him. You neither move nor say a word, and from the way his body shifts uncomfortably, you can tell he’s missing your touch.

 “Don’t tease me like that…” The husky voice that leaves his mouth takes you by surprise, the utter desire dripping from his tone only sending another shockwave to your core. You wait patiently, hoping that he will say something more just so that you could get off to the sound of his voice, but when you realize he has no intention of satisfying your needs this way, you decide to finally face him. With a quick flip over your shoulder, you find yourself directly in front of his lips. His eyes remain closed, but he can sense every bit of you. The closeness between you has nearly become suffocating.

 Closing the distance, your lips find solace on his, the minimal contact already constricting your already stressed heart. Neither of you make a move, letting the kiss be exactly as it is – minimal. Leaning in farther, you press your entire body against him, pushing your lips harder against his. And just like a click, he parts his lips slightly, inviting you to kiss him with everything that you have. It starts out slowly, moving languidly and patiently at first, but as you get used to each other, you realize just how good this man tastes. Just the kiss alone is enough to send you over the moon, and it only excites you to explore the rest.

 The swipe of his tongue between your lips surprises you at first, not having expected him to initiate anything. Having wanted this for so long, you try to hold out on your desire to let him in, something he realizes shortly after as you continue to deny him access. Relentless, he places his free hand behind the nape of your neck, pulling you in while he tries harder to force his tongue inside. Within a matter of seconds, you give in, letting his tongue explore your own in a series of sloppy exchanges. His grip on you only tightens as he fights harder to enjoy every bit of you, and with him fully in control, you finally relax your body to fully enjoy the experience.

 With each passing second, your desire for each other intensifies, neither of you able to control yourselves as you press against each other in an act of utter need. The moment he breaks the kiss, you find yourself breathless, the feeling of air filling your lungs stinging slightly. Pushing you onto your back, he shifts himself above you so that he’s straddling your hips – a mirror image of how it had been only ten minutes prior. And yet, the air between you has entirely changed, from playfulness to unadulterated hunger. He hesitates for a moment, attempting to catch his breath, and from the sliver of light slipping through the curtains, you see the drop of sweat roll down the side of his neck. He really brings heated a whole new meaning.

 Holding down your arms, he leans down and nuzzles against you, leaving small, wet kisses in his wake from your jaw to the base of your neck. The sound of lips against your slick skin drives you mad, a sound so simple yet so fucking sexy. Using both hands, he pulls at the hem of your t-shirt, and in the small moment you are able to sit up, he already has the entire thing pulled over your head. In one swift motion, he gently pushes back your hair from your face, ending with the lightest of kisses of on your forehead. Palms against your shoulders, he pushes you back against the bed, returning to where he last left off. From your neck, he continues his kisses to your collarbones, the one place you had told him in secret that was your favorite. Sucking gently, he leaves wet trails along your chest, nipping slightly against your collarbones. The feeling is indescribable, the insatiable feeling of having his lips against your skin.

 Traveling downward, he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently as if it were barely there. With your toes beginning to curl at the sensation, you’re unsure how much longer you’ll be able to hold out. Taking the other in between his fingertips, he pinches it slightly, the dual feeling of him against your sensitive buds driving you mad. The growl that erupts from his throat as he pops off sends a shock straight to your core, wetness pooling at the base of your underwear. Without having done much of anything, he has you wrapped around his finger, exactly where he wants you.

 His hands, starting from your breasts, slide down the curves of your body, halting at the waistband of your sleep shorts as he hooks his fingers underneath. Taking his time, he watches as you shudder against the cool air. As he pulls them past your knees, he forces your legs apart, your entire womanhood lying openly in front of him. Having them removed, he tosses the clothing to the side, rubbing his hands against the inside of your thighs. Each time, he gets close to where you want him, where you need him, but each time, he only retreats to start all over again.

 “How about you stop teasing… you bitch…” Amidst strangled breaths, you try to provoke him, hoping that in the least, he will pity you.

 “Be a good girl and you’ll be rewarded, yeah? You’re doing so well, baby.” The words he speaks are nothing more than venom, inflicting damage to the deepest sense of yourself. You can’t help but moan at his words, one of the many things told in confidence that you never imagined would be put into practice.

 Taking your moan as an answer, he continues toward your core, the aching between your legs only increasing dramatically. When you feel the tip of his finger against your clit, you jerk forward instinctually. You want so much more and yet he’s feeding you at his own pace – he’s in charge and he will do anything to make sure you know it. You would be stupid to ever forget.

 Using one finger, he rubs along your clit, gradually changing to circular motions as he feels your leg muscles subtly tighten against him. Taking a deep breath, you try to calm your nerves, but nothing can be done to subdue the fire raging in the pit of your stomach. With the addition of another finger, you realize just how painful this whole ordeal is going to be.

 “You’re so wet for me baby. You’re being so good. Do you want more?” He asks in that silky voice of his, the lust not wasted on any syllable.

 Nodding your head, you realize that forming any words will likely be impossible for the rest of the night. You are so overrun with desire that really, you can’t even think straight. Luckily for you, he accepts the fervent nod at an answer, and within moments, two fingers are deep between your folds. It’s been so long since you’d last had sex that this feeling is almost foreign to you, but entirely welcome. He wastes no time moving his fingers, starting with a gentle rhythm that slowly pulls you to the edge. You try to breathe evenly to hold yourself together, but when his thumb begins to rub against your clit, you damn near choke on nothing. From he his position above you, he watches your form carefully, listening to every whimper that happens to leave the confines of your lips. He’s become intoxicated on you, and as he picks up speed, he realizes just how much he loves to hear you.

 “Do you like that baby?” Without giving you a chance to answer, he slams deeper inside of you, the sound of him against your wetness only fueling him.

 “… Y-yes…” The breath you release turns into an unfiltered moan, resulting in a grunt from him in response.

 You feel yourself reaching orgasm, the way his fingers skillfully work at you being something you’ve never experienced in all your years of sexual activity. And yet, for someone who you’ve never been intimate with, it’s as if this bastard had been hiding cheat codes from you.

 “Come for me.” He demanded, the sense of urgency to make you feel good overshadowing his own desire.

 “Not… w-without you.” You try your best to hold back, the immense feeling starting to wash over all other senses. It isn’t unreasonable in your own mind to want to come with him, despite how difficult the feat typically is. All you want is him, in his entirety, even if it means having to wait a little longer.

 Removing his fingers, he fumbles in the dark to remove his clothing. As you watch the movement of his figure, you take a moment to bring yourself down temporarily, mentally preparing yourself for what will transpire.

 After 3 years, you are having sex with your best friend. Not just your best friend, but your everything. There is a fear that you have, that if this were to ever happen, that you needed to be prepared for the worst case scenario. The possibility that the friendship you had built will crumble to nothing. You think you know him better than this, that you know yourself better than this, but it changes nothing. The very real possibility haunts you. But at the same time, this is something you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember.

 Returning to his position above you, he places his hands on either side of your head. At first neither of you do anything, staring at the darkness in front of you as you prepare for whatever is next. In that moment, there is a mutual, silent understanding between the two of you. That no matter what happens after this, nothing will be broken.

 Releasing his inhibition, he returns his fingers to your core, reigniting the fire that had been quelled within you. After a few swipes against your clit, he returns his hand to his cock, stroking gently to prepare himself. But in the dark, he quickly realizes how difficult it will be to figure out what he’s doing.

 “Do you think you could… uh…” Unable to finish his question, he waits for you to decipher his request. But before he had even spoke, you were already prepared to help him.

 Reaching out, you grab hold of his cock and guide him toward your entrance. With the tip angled correctly, you softly pat him on the shoulder as indication to continue. Moving forward, he feels your heat against his tip, taking his time to fill the space between your walls. The feeling of him inside you is something you knew you would never be prepared for, but one you highly regarded nonetheless. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stroke his hair lovingly, waiting patiently for him to make the first move. Taking the hint he begins to move slowly, both of you finding the feeling overwhelming. Finding his rhythm, he starts to move faster, hitting deeper within you with every thrust. His movements are fluid and consistent, something you would only expect coming from him. He wanted this to be perfect or at least as perfect as a first time with someone could be. And to you, he was doing exactly that.

 “Please come for me baby.” It becomes clear to you then that he stopped focusing on himself. The entirety of his focus was now solely on your pleasure, the desperation in his voice only a small indication of that. For him you would do anything, but you need a small something from him first.

 Grabbing one of his hands from off the bed, you place his fingers delicately around your neck.

 “I need a little more baby.” Without another word, he continues at his pace, his fingers gripping around your neck slightly. For the time being, you keep your hand against his, applying more pressure where need be until finding the perfect spot.

 Falling into the rhythm, you let the pleasure take over, the sensation of his fingers only adding to the euphoria. Slight constriction is your favorite, the pull of oxygen from your lungs coupled with the pleasure from below is indeed a dangerous mix for you. The pull toward orgasm becomes something you can’t ignore, and his rapid increase in pace does nothing more than push you over the edge. The sound of skin against skin as backdrop of your orgasm only adds to the mood, and not a moment after your own, Jimin comes as well. You feel every muscle tremble as he comes down from his release. From the way he nearly collapses on top of you, you can tell he is exhausted. And rightfully so.

 Turning his head, he places a kiss on your cheek only to lift himself off you immediately after. Shuffling over to the shelf, he grabs a few tissues before returning to your aid. Without a word, he focuses on cleaning you up, making sure not to miss a spot despite hitting your overly sensitive core. He can’t help but laugh at the way you squirm, and the sound only brings a smile to your face – at least the aftermath is more lighthearted than you would have expected.

 After cleaning himself, he crawls into bed next to you, pushing you toward the wall where he knew you’d like to be. Grabbing your arm, he pulls you against him, holding your waist tightly. Lying his head on the pillow, you watch the movement of his chest as his breathing evens out. Even from your position in the dark, you know he likely has a peaceful look adorning his features. His post-sex glow cannot be rivaled.

 “I love you… I love you so fucking much.” His words cause your heart to flutter, the weight of them missed in your current state of drowsiness. Closing your eyes, you nuzzle against his chest, the exhaustion from your sexual escapade finally catching up with you.

 “I love you too Chim. Nighty night.”

Rolling into the party, you feel the vibrations of the base coursing through your blood. Based on the choice of music, the subtle EDM and sexual undertones, you realize that the DJ for tonight is none other than Jungkook. The bunny’s taste is entirely predictable, the entirety of his being have been built on his relationship with the other Sigma brothers. It’s as if they raised him, watered him like a plant the moment he showed interest in joining. More than anything, they created a monster – a well-dressed, intelligent, and deviant monster. Who, as you’ve heard from many girls in your class, provides top tier sex. They really made sure that the campus was wrapped around his finger.

 In the corner of the room, you see his mop of hair, casually chatting with Taehyung while another girl feasts on him with her eyes from only a few feet away. Every time you walk in to a party of theirs, the scene is always the same. At least three girls for every one member, some of them biting the bait and some of them not, depending on the night. As of late though, the boys have been surprisingly tame. Even Hoseok has been behaving himself quite nicely as of late. All of which is extremely suspicious.

 But just like every other party, the house is packed to the brim. The notorious Sigma parties are ones that students hate to miss, others only insignificant in comparison. Providing top shelf alcohol and good jungle juice along with a solid playlist is one sure way to bring people in, and so far it has worked nicely. 

As you push through the crowds of sweaty bodies, you make your way to the kitchen, the red and blue cups lined across the counter adding perfectly to the aesthetic. Grabbing an empty one, you fill it most of the way with jungle juice. Just for the fun of it, you add an extra shot of vodka, a small little gift to yourself for making it through finals alive.

 Chugging half of it in one go, you immediately have to stop yourself from gagging. Tonight’s jungle juice was definitely provided by Taehyung, the only one left who has yet to find his signature recipe. In comparison to everyone else’s, his tend to be the worst. His artistry lies in the fact that he dumps a bunch of things in and hopes they taste good, and as with most things, it doesn’t always work. For him, it never has.

 Swallowing hard, you prepare yourself for another sip, but not even every ounce of your willpower is enough to get you to do it. Setting the failed drink on the counter, you instead grab the vodka bottle. Using a red cup this time, you fill it a quarter way, just enough to get you through the next twenty minutes. Once you take a sip, you let the burn down your throat pass before you decide that this will do for the night.

 With the song changed, you can hear more people shouting, singing along and dancing the night away. The various kinds of crowds that you often see here range in variety, but just as would expect, your sisters are in to join the fun as well.

 “Yo! Prez! You’re looking sexy tonight.” The angel of this university, miss Kimmy of Delta Zeta, appears before you with the brightest smile on her face.

 “I’m literally wearing jeans, but yeah babe, you’re looking fine as hell too.” You say with sincerity, a casual wink her direction sending her into a fit of giggles. The poor girl is plastered.

 “Awwww I love you, you’re so so pretty like really I don’t get it. The rest of us have to actually try just to be on your level. Gosh, you’re so pretty.” Closing her eyes, she sways slightly, basking in the drunkenness.

 “Hun, go sit on the couch and drink some water.” Snatching a water bottle from the case against the wall, you grab her arm and lead her into the direction of the living room. The sofa, filled with sex-crazed occupants, doesn’t seem to be an option, so instead you set her down in one of the recliner chairs. Before handing the bottle to her, you take off the cap, pressing it to her lips until she gets the hint.

 “Drink more than a sip, please. I don’t want to have to come back and take care of you later.” You have no doubts that you would come back and save her ass as you have many times before, but for this particular night, all you want is to have fun and not worry about taking care of the children that are your sorority sisters. This kind of duty comes with being a president, you suppose, but you also know they are grown ass adults. The last thing they need and the last thing you want is for you mother them.

 “Yes prez!” You watch patiently as she takes more sips, not daring to remove your gaze until at least half of it is gone. This is a routine thing for you, something everyone in the sorority knows – you will not leave until they drink the damn water. How you ended up being the mother of twenty-two children, you will never know, but at least you know how to keep them functioning.

 Once finished with her task, she smiles gently at you, handing you the bottle to screw on the cap. With it secured, you grab her hand and place it around the bottle, holding tightly as you prepare your next words.

 “I’ll be back to check on you, and when I do, I better see this bottle completely empty, understood?”

 “Yes prez.” Taking the bottle and holding it beside her, she stares at you lovingly, not forgetting to add her signature air kiss. Snatching it from the air, you hold it against your heart before turning around to face the crowd once again.

 Standing against the wall across from you, you see Jimin holding a red cup in his hand, smiling gently after having just watched your small interaction. Sauntering over, you take one more gulp from your drink before finally meeting him face to face.

 “That was cute. You’re such a good mom.” He says, his words dripping in unsophisticated sarcasm.

 “I know right. I deserve an award or something. These children are a hassle and mama just wants a break.” Finishing the rest of your cup, you stare longingly at the bottom. You have yet to feel anything hit you, and even though you know you should probably wait for the moment, you still crave a little something more.

 “Here, take a sip.” Looking at the cup he offered you, you can’t help but raise a brow at him. Whenever he offers you a drink of unknown origin, one that you hadn’t once seen him sip out of, you come to wonder just how awful the drink might be. For all you know, he made especially for you, just watch you suffer.

 “What is it though?” When you ask the question, his hand immediately falls against his chest with his mouth wide open in mock offense. But behind it, you see his eyes light up, a sure indication that something isn’t right.

 “You don’t trust me? I’m hurt.” Licking his lips and smiling, he waits for you to take a sip, and although you know better than to get yourself into this situation, you decide to do it anyway. And of course, it’s exactly what you would have expected.

 “Is this water? You ass.” With a grimace on your face, you shove the cup against him for him to take. He would be the one to pull this shit, to find his own way of taking care of you after you taking care of everyone else. It’s so like him that you almost hate yourself for falling for it.

 “I hate you.” Turning around, you start to walk away toward the mosh of people dancing, but not before he has your wrist secured in his grasp. Looking over your shoulder, you are surprised at what you see. The serious look on his face is unnerving.

 He says nothing more for a moment, thinking more before he speaks, and as you watch the wheels turn, you only becoming increasingly nervous.

 “Can we… go hang out in my room? I don’t want to be out here anymore.” For the first time in a long time, you are genuinely taken aback, words you never thought you’d hear coming from him. Parties were his lifeline, small bouts of freedom outside of his busy schedule for school. And yet, the one who seemed to enjoy parties the most, is now asking to hang out in his cramped room?

 “Are you feeling okay? Yeah we can go hang there.” Leaving your cup on a side table, you head toward Jimin’s room with him following right behind. Something to you feels off, and your motherly instincts return from the depths. Opening the door, you let him enter and with you both inside, you close it quickly, making sure to lock it so that no comes in.

 “Hey, what’s wrong?” Looking at him as he sits on the bed, you feel the distress radiating from his tensed muscles. As he drags out his answer, your heart nearly bursts from anxiety, the worry you feel overpowering the intoxication that is gradually starting to hit.

 “I’m horny.” Silence.

 “Excuse me?” At this point, you are really at a loss for words.

 “Dammit Jimin! I really thought something was wrong!” Throwing your hands atop your head, you spin around in circles trying to collect yourself. This bastard is really out here trying to mess with your sanity.

 “Something is wrong! I’m hard and I need you to fix it.” Rolling your eyes, you realize that rather than needing space, he was really only coming in here to get laid.

 “You’re such a romantic.” Scoffing, you pull from memory all the times in which Jimin had tried to win girls over with flowers, chocolates, cute little hand written letters, and yet here he is, doing the bare minimum just to get you to help him with his little ‘problem’.

 “Listen, I promise I’ll make it up to you later, but really, it’s starting to hurt and every time I look at you wearing one of my shirts, it only gets worse so please for the love of God just bend over so I can pleasure you too.” Looking down, you realize that the shirt you were wearing was indeed his own, the blue one with the white pocket that he had let you borrow last year. Ever since a few days ago, he’s become an open book about his needs, something he had only shared in rarity to you prior to doing the dirty. And apparently that experience for him opened up another door, one which he seemed to be taking advantage of pretty quickly.

 “Oh my God Jimin, really?” Looking at him with one last shred of hope that he’s lying, he only stares but with a deadpan expression, one that only told you he had never been more serious in his life.

 “This is really happening… I cannot believe this.” Pulling his chair away from the desk, you prop yourself up against it with your chest flat against the top. In no time at all, Jimin appears behind you, nearly ripping off his pants in the process. He really was something else.

 Reaching around you, he skillfully unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down your legs until they are nothing but a puddle on the floor. Reaching up, he pulls down your panties as well, grunting at the sight of your pink lace thong. The moment he taps your thigh, you step out of one of the legs, giving you more room to spread them open. And just like that, he returns to his position above you, kneading your ass with his hands. The small moans that escape his parted lips only add to the oddness of it all, the fact that you are lying there as a plaything for him in and of itself blowing your mind. As much as you would like to think that he could hold out and try to work you up to his point, you also know that he likely won’t have the patience to go through the whole process.

 The moment you feel his finger at your entrance, you shift uncomfortably, realizing just how unprepared you were for this entire ordeal.

 “Get lube. I don’t want to die like this.” You plead, the idea of him trying to force himself in like this only causing you to shudder.

 Opening the bottom drawer of his desk, you note the extensive collection of condoms and flavored lube he had acquired over the semester. And yet, you had never seen more than two girls leave his room.

 “Do you want cherry or peach? To be honest, I think they’re both pretty fitting but which do you like better?” With both of them in his hands, he scans between the two bottles as if it actually made a difference.

 “You’re not going to be sucking my ass, just pick one.” The tone of your voice was far harsher than you ever intended for it to be, but you were losing patience with him just as quickly as he was losing patience with himself.

 “Peach it is!” He says, throwing the other bottle back into the drawer. Opening the cap, he squeezes a small amount on his fingertips, gliding it across your heat. The cold feeling is something you will never get used to, each time feeling a little more unpleasant in comparison to the real deal. But the real deal is just not possible for today. After adding a small amount to his erection, he lines himself back up with you, one hand on your lower back with the other around the base of his cock. Pushing in gently, you feel your walls stretch around him, welcoming him in with such ease that it’s almost as if it was meant to be there. Almost.

 “You still okay?” He asks gently, now suddenly hyperaware of the discomfort you might be in.

 “Actually, I’m good. The alcohol is hitting. I like it. Keep going.” A small giggle escapes amid your commands, the dominant presence you once thought you had now entirely out the window. In reality, you were never one to be dominant, but acting like you were really solidified the submissive role for you.

 Taking your words with sincerity, he continues to move, his pace picking up quickly as he falls victim to his own pleasure. The angle from behind is something you are known to enjoy, a little tidbit you had shared a few months ago after playing drunken truth or dare. And it seems it was something he had never forgotten, using what he knows to the best of his ability. When he starts to becoming sloppy, you realize how close he is, and as an initiator of your own pleasure, you reach your hand between your folds, rubbing your clit vigorously in rhythm with his thrusts. The sudden electricity that shoots through you is more than enough the push you toward your orgasm, the intoxication finally hitting in succession with each movement. It doesn’t take long for Jimin to find his release, a fact you knew the moment you felt how hard he was. Even as he comes down from his high, he focuses his attention on you, removing your fingers only to replace them his own. The feeling of him touching you cannot be rivaled, and having him like this, for a surprise quickie in the middle of a party, only adds to the heat between your legs.

 “Come for me.” The way he whispers the command in your ear sends you over the edge, finally reaching the tip of your orgasm. For something done in spur of the moment, you find yourself coming harder than you thought you would, the little eccentricities only adding to the excitement.

 When you are finally able to catch your breath, he removes himself from behind you, grabbing a few tissues to clean himself up. After handing a few to you, you both try to pull yourselves together in hopes of rejoining the party. Just from outside the door, you hear the music get a little louder, likely the doing of an overly drunk Namjoon. Sometimes you feel that he loses his hearing after drinking, turning up the volume until his own ears bleed. Not literally, but one day you only expect it to happen.

 With yourself finally looking decent, at least in the eyes of Jimin, you flatten down the front of your shirt one last time.

 “You ready?” He asks, his soft smile returning to his sexed-out features.

 “I think so.” Walking forward, you wait for him to open the door, but when he continues to look at you, you realize he has some unfinished business. Grabbing both your arms, he pulls you into an embrace, and with one small peck on the top of your head, he releases you.

 “Let’s get fucked.”

The last party marked the end of fall semester, and with the new semester following suit, you find yourself falling into the same old routine. New classes, new schedule and yet the same amount of stress plagues you. On top of everything else, recruitment is coming up, and although you have Kimmy to organize the whole event and fulfill her role as the coordinator, you know that your role as president is vital to everything. You are a representation of the sorority itself, and in order to encourage and gain the trust of potential members, you must resort to returning to the pilgrim days: no parties, no sexual affairs, and absolutely no drinking. On some occasions, you have advised the active members to steer clear of fraternity members as a way of keeping the reputation clean, but even you have found yourself ignoring this role at times.

 Just how exactly had you expected yourself to stay away from Jimin?

 Ever since the night of the party, you had essentially spent every waking moment together. Without having to worry about assignments or exams, you both finally got to enjoy some time off. You both even took a trip to the coast for a few days to get away from hectic Greek Life. You wouldn’t say you had become addicted to each other, but really, it was essentially that. You found yourselves tangled between the sheets often, so often that even the members on both sides became aware of your little affair. Not because you were loud, in fact no one had ever heard a thing, but because neither of you could keep your hands off each other. Flirty touches, hands underneath the table, what his brothers called “The Look”. All of it became integrated into your friendship. Everything between the two of you took on a whole new meaning, but at the same time, you were afraid.

 You aren’t idiots when it comes to the dynamics of sexual relations considering you both are psychology majors who are well versed in the aspects of toxic relationships, but the thought that maybe you are spending too much time together often comes to you in your few moments of solitude. Time apart is vital to relationships, and lately you’ve had none of that. Wherever you are, he will be. And you aren’t the only one who sees it.

 “Don’t you think you need to… I don’t know, spend a few days away from him? April and I are going to spend the day at that amusement park a couple hours away. We talked about just getting a hotel for the night. Come with us? Please?” You can always rely on Kimmy to be honest with you when things are getting out of hand, and her suggestion of an all-girls trip sounded like perfection. It’s been so long since you’ve gone on a trip with an all female party, and some of your best memories are from those days. But having to tell Jimin that you were going to be leaving was something you weren’t looking forward to. Not that he would tell you to stay, but the fact that you had become so dependent on each other, you weren’t sure exactly how life would pan out having to leave him on campus.

He would be fine, as would you, but you couldn’t help be feel a little guilty. Like you were abandoning him in some way.

 Picking up your phone, you open the messages under ‘Chimin’.

 [ 8:16 am ] you: hey I'm gonna be gone for a day or two. the girls and i r going to that one amusement park place. be back tomorrow!

Sending the message, you feel butterflies starting to swarm the pit of your stomach. The reasons behind the nervousness, you aren’t entirely sure, but the look on your face was a dead giveaway.

 “Are you really that nervous to be away from him? Girl, that’s unhealthy. You definitely need this trip.” Patting you on the shoulder, she tries to get your attention, but you can’t help but focus on your phone as you watch as his name appear on the bright screen. Snatching it from the counter, you open it with the swipe of your finger.

 [ 8:17 am ] Chimin: sounds like fun! tell Kimmy to send me videos if you start puking on the tilt-a-whirl. gonna need that shit for later

 Locking the phone, you slam it back down onto the counter. As if she would ever do you dirty like that, who does this asshole think he is?

 “What? What he say? Did he say he’s happy you’re leaving? ‘Cause he damn should be.” Glaring at her, you don’t bother to answer her questions. Clearly neither of them are on your side today. In fact, it might just be best to leave everyone behind. With your nose in the air, you head up the stairs to your room, with only one thing in mind: packing the cutest outfits you owned. Maybe then you’ll be able to find better friends.

What was originally supposed to be a two our car ride easily turned into three hours. With the number of times April needed to use the bathroom, with Kimmy needing to stop at every cute little fruit stand on the way, you had only rolled into the parking lot around noon. With it being the weekend, the crowds were clumped every which way you looked, and the idea of having to wait in line for an hour simply for a three minute ride was starting to irk you.

 Taking a deep breath, you to try to remember the reason why you came, the enjoyment you’re supposed to be feeling. With just one foot out the door, you realize just what a mistake it was to come all the way out.

 “It’s fucking freezing.” You state, pulling your jacket closer to your body against the chilled wind.

 “What did you expect? It’s February, stupid. Now come on, let’s enjoy this while we still can.” Watching Kimmy running ahead with April reminds you so much of yourself, the person you were when you had first come to university. So naïve and full of spirit, you found the best in every experience. Only now, you have come to reality, the reality that not everything is peachy and not everything is okay. You’ve worked so hard the past few years, throwing yourself into walls just to live the life you thought you were supposed to have. But this trip, gifted to you by your sisters, was only a reminder – enjoy life while you’re living it.

 Shedding your inhibitions, you run after the them, screaming at the top of your lungs. From ahead of you, you can hear their laughter, and shortly after, they join you in a screaming match. In that moment, they become your rocks, the ones who will anchor you while being away from that hell hole. You are as grateful for them as they are for you, and the only way to celebrate was with cold ciders and roller coasters.

 Having bought your tickets online, you bypass the wait at the booth, grateful to have purchased the all-inclusive passes. You could ride every ride as many times as you wanted for the day, and all of you did exactly that. Much to your surprise, you even rode the tilt-a-whirl twice, and today marked the day that your childhood enemy had finally been defeated. You would no longer be defined as the girl who threw up on half the people on the ride, but as the one who conquered the beast. A little something you will gladly rub in Jimin’s face later on.

 Despite the cold, the feeling of being on a rollercoaster, feeling weightless and free, was something you sincerely missed. It had been years since you were last able to ride one, and it only made the idea of having to return to reality that much more unpleasant. Even as you cracked open a can of cider, you realized that coming on this trip was so desperately needed, and it seemed the other girls were enjoying themselves as well.

 “Happy you came?” Kimmy asks, already knowing exactly how you would answer.

 “This is the best day ever. Thanks bitch.” Winking at her, you watch as she covers her mouth in feign shock, a small act quickly followed by the outbreak of laughter.

 The rest of the day in the park follows this same pattern: ride, drink, laugh, repeat. By the end of the day, when the sun falls below the horizon by six o’clock, you find yourselves entering the doors of a small hotel nearby. The interior is nice and they have an indoor hot tub, something you definitely planned to take advantage of later.

 Reaching in your jacket pocket, you grab for your phone, but when that pocket comes up empty, you check the other. Empty. Patting your body, you try to find it, only to realize that it’s nowhere to be found.

 “Yo Kimmy, have you seen my phone?” Looking up at her, you hope to receive a quick answer, but when you don’t, panic starts to set in.

 “I haven’t seen it. I didn’t see it in the car either when I was grabbing our bags. Are you sure it’s not just inside your bag? Did you leave it at the park?”

 Looking back at all the possibilities, you realize that you have no idea when you’d last seen it. You hadn’t used it in the car, you didn’t take any pictures at the amusement park, which only means that it is either back on campus or stuffed inside your bag. As soon as April opens the door, you are the first to rush in, throwing your bag on the bed. Unzipping it, you dump the entirety of its contents, spreading everything out evenly. Unfortunately, it is not there.

 “Did your dumb ass leave it on the kitchen counter this morning?” Kimmy’s knowing expression shifted from shock to acceptance in less than a second. She was right. You never remembered to make a round through the kitchen before heading out the door.

 “Fuck me!” Throwing yourself onto the bed, you bury your face deep into one of the pillows.

 “Don’t be dramatic, it’s fine. At least we know where it is. And besides, your phone is the last thing you need right now.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, she starts pulling out a few things from her bag to get set up for the rest of the night, one of which she throws against your head. Looking beside you, you realize she had tossed over a tampon.

 “What’s this for?” You ask, bewildered at the sudden gift.

 “Aren’t you on your period? We’re always synched. I started a few days ago.” Sitting up quickly, you realize the implications of that statement. Never once have you missed a period, even during your most stressful months, and now that you think about it, you can’t even remember the last time you even needed a tampon.

 “What’s the date today?” In an act of desperation, you start searching your memory for the last time the red tide had come to visit you.

 “February 10th. Why?” 

For fuck’s sake.

 “Uh, nothing. Hey, I’m gonna go get some snacks from the mart down the street. Need anything?” Attempting to look natural, you shift your gaze between April and Kimmy. Neither of them say a word, more in shock than anything, and when they look at each other, they come to an agreement.

 “Nope, definitely don’t need anything.” Hearing the verdict, you quickly put on your shoes and sprint out the door. Having been placed on the first floor, you have no problem finding the exit, and before you even realize, you are sprinting down the street towards the small mart. When you enter, you try to catch your breath, quietly greeting the lady at the counter as you make your way through the aisles. At the very back, you find exactly what you’re looking for, and with that hidden underneath several bags of chips and a few drinks, you swiftly walk to the front to pay for everything.

 With everything sprawled out on the counter, you hope no one else decides to walk in at that moment. Even paying in this context with one older woman is enough to send your mind reeling. Picking up the pregnancy test, she scans it quickly before placing it into the bad, the knowing smile on her face as she reads you the total only intensifying the overwhelming anxiety. Handing her your card, you wait patiently for the transaction to transpire, and when she hands you back the card with your receipt, you only nod in thanks before running out the door. The way back to the hotel is less hurried, almost sluggish in comparison. You aren’t ready for this moment, and you never thought you would be any time soon, but as you had realized the moment you joined a sorority, nothing ever goes as planned.

 Facing the fronts doors of the hotel, the implications of what you are about to do becomes reality. You’re unsure how you feel about either answer, although, if you were to be honest, there is one outcome you would prefer over the other. Taking one final breath, you walk and head toward the hotel room. Your heart is already pounding against your chest and you have yet to do a thing. Entering the room, you receive looks from both Kimmy and April who shift their attention to the bag in your hand.

 “I bought you guys some stuff anyway, just in case.” With a smile on your face, you place the bag down on the bed. Grabbing a few clothes and toiletries from your bag, you walk toward the bathroom.

 “Gonna take a shower, be right out.” Neither of them say anything, leaving only you and silence once the bathroom door closes. Turning on the shower, you strip out of your clothes and throw them in a pile on the floor. Pulling the pregnancy test from your jacket pocket, you take it out from the box as carefully as possible.

 You’re not ready for this.

 Taking off the plastic cap, you stare down at the device with much discomfort. All you have to do is pee on it. But even that seems like an impossible task. Even as you sit on the toilet, you can’t seem to force yourself to pee. The immense pressure you’re feeling, the stress, the anxiety is too much for your body to handle. You can’t even relax. Taking one hand, you stick it into the shower to run it under some water. For a few seconds you do this, repeating several times until you finally feel it happen. With the stick underneath your stream, you close your eyes, hoping, praying, that by all means it comes out negative. After finishing, you don’t even bother to open your eyes, too afraid of the result that would show up moments later. But the longer you sit there, the worse you feel. Inhaling deeply, you pull the stick from underneath. The result stares you directly in the face.

 Two double lines.

 Throwing it against the floor, you bury your face in your hands. The laughter that erupts from deep within your chest surprises you, but is a welcomed feeling opposed to absolute tears. This whole situation is fucked, the dreams which you strove toward for so long crashing before your very eyes. In a few months, you’ll be a graduate, you’ll have your degree in preparation for the real world, but this small incident, this serendipitous meeting with fate, has drastically changed the course of your life.

 Only with those two little lines.

 Hearing the door creak open, you look to see both April and Kimmy staring inside. The expressions on their faces are priceless: pity. With your hands on your knees you try to look away, even as they make their way inside. Neither of them say a word at first, only Kimmy picking up the test and staring at it blankly.

 “What are you going to do? Are you going to tell him?” Shaking your head, you try to form your thoughts into words.

“I think… I’m going to wait. I don’t think I can tell him yet.”

The week following your return from the amusement park, you hadn’t seen much of Jimin at all. The last message you received from him asked if you were okay after not hearing from you, but after that, your phone was silent. You didn’t have the heart to face him or talk to him for that matter – there was too much on your mind. Being pregnant was the last thing you had expected to happen, your birth control clearly failing its purpose. In some ways you felt so guilty, thinking back on the alcohol, the medication, all the poor decisions you made regarding your body in the month you didn’t know. You are not to blame, there was no way for you to find out unless you checked,  but the overwhelming guilt did not let up. What if something happened to the baby? What if you end up miscarrying? What will become of you then?

 All these thoughts plague your mind constantly, several instances leaving you bedridden. You’ve skipped more classes this past week than you had all last term, and it was beginning to worry everyone in the sorority.

 “Y/N? It’s me, April. I brought you those small little cookies I know you like. Can I come in?” Her voice was so soft, you almost didn’t hear her over the sounds of your cries.

 “Y-yeah…” Trying to pull yourself together, you sniffle a few times before she is able to enter the room. The moment her eyes land on you, though, you can already see pity.

 “Where should I put them?” Trying to remain cheerful, she stands by the foot of your bed with a soft smile on her face.

 “On the desk is fine. Thanks, love.” Nodding her head, she places them atop one of your textbooks. One you haven’t opened in days. Looking back at you one last time, she does her best to show her support, but more than anything, all you see is sadness. Because of you, she feels sad. And that is a feeling that is far more painful than you could have ever imagined.

 As soon as she closes the door, you hide yourself underneath the covers. Your heart aches uncontrollably, a constant and consistent pain that never lets up even in your sleep. Your dreams are plagued with hospital beds and sterile sheets, your legs propped on a table with a bright light shining in your face. It all feels real, even when you know it’s not, but the constant reminder that everything is not actually a dream only pulls you deeper into darkness.

 Not even you know what you need in the moment, and it is clear that no one else does either. Anything anyone has tried has only failed miserably, as you had now become someone that people worried about. Instead of you taking care of them, they had to take of you and you hated it. You loathed every moment someone came into your room to offer a hug or a gift. You hadn’t lost anything and yet it felt as though you lost everything.

 From your position in your bed, you could hear screaming from downstairs. It sounded like Kimmy, shouting at someone to stop. Pulling the covers from your body, you quickly jump into action, ready to fight whoever dared to make her yell like that.

 The moment you open the door, you are immediately confronted by Jimin, the combination of furry and concern on his face only catching you off guard. From behind him, you see Kimmy with an apologetic look on her face, indicating that she really did everything in her power to stop him from barging in.

 Making his way inside, he closes the door behind him, locking it to make sure no one disrupts. You are terrified having to meet him like this, when neither of you are in the best shape to be discussing anything.

 “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He does his best to contain his anger, but the way he grits his teeth as he talks only disarms you.

 “Nothing’s been going on.” You state, retreating toward the foot of your bed.

 “You know, I’ve known you for so long that I can tell when you’re lying. I can tell when you’re hiding something from me. You don’t just disappear off the face of the Earth for no reason. Now talk. I’m done waiting.” Looking between him and the floor, you try to search through your options. A part of you knows that this needs to be talked about and talked about soon, but you also know that you haven’t nearly prepared yourself enough.

 “Stop with the bullshit, Y/N. Tell me now or I’m leaving and I’m not coming back. Make your choice.” The sternness in his voice scares you, a sound you haven’t heard in all the years you’ve known him.

 You have to say something.

 “I’m… I just… so… fuck.” Throwing your face into your hands, you try to pull yourself together. In your head, you try to form the words, the simple words of ‘I’m pregnant’, but those words are only a million times harder to say.

 “I’m what? Keep speaking.”

 “I... I’m pregnant.” The moment those words leave your lips, you feel a huge weight lifted from your shoulders. However, that moment is only short lived as you are now faced with an awe-stricken Jimin, a man in desperate need of an explanation that you would never be able to give.

All around you, the air becomes suffocating, neither of you saying a word. And in that moment, you watch him snap, reality of the situation finally dawning upon him.

 And for the first time in your life, you see Jimin angry. And not playfully, but genuinely enraged.

 “Are we not friends?” Nothing. You can’t say a word.

 “Do you hate me that much?” Nothing. Not a word can come from your mouth.

 “I can’t fucking believe you. So out of nowhere you decide to stop responding to me, banning me from entering Delta Zeta, all because you didn’t want to tell me you were pregnant with my child? Our child? Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking insane?”

 Holding back your tears, you try to keep yourself standing. Every part of you is ready to break down, fall apart at your very core until nothing of you is left. Under his scrutiny and the weight of his words, you can’t seem to hold yourself up. You know you deserve it. So you let it continue.

 “Are you just going to stand there and say nothing? What the actual fuck!” Pulling at his hair, he tries to collect himself, pacing across the room in an attempt to control his anger. An effort only made in vain.

Every time he looks at you, he’s torn between breaking and yelling. His eyes search desperately for an answer, a sign, that maybe this whole thing is a joke you’ve pulled just to get back at him. But even he knows this isn’t something to be joked about. It’s far too serious and real just to be a stupid prank.

 “I’m sorry… but I can’t right now. I’m too angry. I’m sorry.” Opening the door, he immediately rushes out, not bothering to close it behind him. In the blink of an eye, he is nowhere in sight and just like that, he disappears.

Sitting on the bed by yourself, you start to think if this is really the moment in which you lose your best friend. The moment in which three years is thrown down the drain over your stupid cowardice. If you could go back in time, would you have done it differently?

Honestly, you don’t think you could. This would always be the end result. And just like that, you lose everything you have ever cared about.

Even more than before, the anguish trapped within you manifests itself over several days. You have refused to leave your room aside from recruitment, and in your absence, the sorority has only fallen apart. No one in the house seems to speak, and not a sound is heard from anyone there. Wine nights had been disbanded shortly after you had returned from the amusement park, and it’s as if all life has been sucked out of the house. Not even Kimmy comes around as often anymore.

For much of this time, you have been kept in complete solitude. You aren’t sure if Kimmy had done this out of consideration for your feelings, or if it is really just that no one wants to be near you while you’re like this. Not that you would blame them, as you are a complete downer even to yourself. But even in this solitude, a few good things have come from it.

 Over the past few days, you have accomplished a bit of soul searching. Having come to accept the circumstances, you realized that you needed to fix the mess that you had made. You started first with yourself, relearning to love yourself the way you had originally, learning to process through the pent up sadness and anger that resulted from your poor choices. This was something that wasn’t easy, but as you wrote things down, training your brain to think positively and constructively, you realized that healing wasn’t going to happen instantly. It was to be acquired through small bouts of personal reflection, something that you had only read in books but never practiced.

By creating life itself, it solidified the fact that you had a lot to live for, and to waste it like this, holed up in your bedroom of the sorority house, was something you had never planned to fall victim to. For someone who always acted so strong, you realized how much you needed to grow, and a part of growing was accepting your shortcomings and allowing yourself to be human every once in a while. As much as you hated to admit it, your absence from everyone and everything only made you miss them more. Especially Jimin.

 He had made no attempt to see you after walking out, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. Had you been in his position, you would be just as upset as he is now. But at the end of the day, you need to put forth the effort he so graciously put forth for you. Which is exactly why you had asked to meet him in your room. You were finally ready to talk.

 The knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts, and when Jimin peaks his head around the corner, you can’t help but smile – a true, genuine smile. For him, he only smiles gently, clearly feeling awkward about the whole situation. It was something you had expected.

 Sitting at the edge of the bed, he waits patiently, instead choosing to stare at the floor. Considering this was your doing, you willingly take initiative to speak. You have a lot to say to him before he has the option of walking out the door, and with how much you need to get off your chest, it’s time you finally speak your mind.

 “Jimin… I mean this from the bottom of my heart when I say this. I’m sorry. I have no excuses for the choices that I made. I was terrified. I was confused. I sat there hoping that it was all a bad dream, but it wasn’t. I didn’t know how to cope but instead I threw away everything our friendship had been founded on in favor of my own selfish reasoning. I know I hurt you… and I’m sorry. I lost control. And I was really afraid I had lost you after seeing you walk out…” Before you could even finish, tears start to roll down your cheeks. “I became a mess. And I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I couldn’t rely on anyone because the whole thing was my own fault. I didn’t want people to pity me, but that was all that they did. And… I really… just want you back. Please, Jimin. I don’t think I can do this without you.” You do your best to hold yourself back, but when you notice tears brimming at his water lines, the flood gates fall open. He, above anything else, will always be your weakness.

 “It wasn’t entirely your fault, I’m just as much a part of this as you are. And no, no one ever pitied you. Never once did they think that. They were concerned for you… you went from shining brightly to the darkest anyone had ever seen you. Of course they would be worried. I asked Kimmy every day to keep me updated because I hated the thought of being away from you and not knowing how you were feeling. But I don’t know what I’ve ever done to actually make you think I would leave… please don’t think that. Even if I threatened it, I could never. Especially under these circumstances.” His last sentence is nothing more than a whisper, his voice constrained by his will not to cry.

 Taken aback by his response, you bite down on your bottom lip. It’s becoming so hard not to just sob and break down, calling it a day until you feel better later on, but this is the talk you both need to have. The clarity is necessary if you ever plan to mend the friendship that you nearly broke.

“So what should we do?” Afraid for the answer, you play with one of your sleeves. The loose string at the hem becomes your primary focus as a way to aid against your anxiety.

 “To be honest, I never planned on being a dad this early. Okay well I don’t really plan a lot of things. But I’m grateful that at least it’s with you. I don’t think I’d want it to be anyone else.”

 “You think?” You ask, raising a brow.

 “I know, okay, calm down. No need to get on my ass so soon.”

 Hearing his retort eases your mind slightly, knowing that even through tough times, you both can rely on humour as a means of communication.

 “Sorry. I mean neither of us expected this to happen… but it did. And I guess we really just need to accept it. I just hope you know… I never once thought of getting rid of it. I want the baby. And I want you. So… I think we should make it work.” Returning your eyes to Jimin, you watch as the brightness returns to his features.

 “And I know it’s going to be hard. But I think we can do it. I just don’t want this to ruin anything, alright? We can’t let this stop us from graduating either. I will run away with this child if you even dare think about flunking out. And once it’s born, I’ll kick your ass. Understood?” Nodding his head in agreement, he scoots toward you, pulling you against him as you both fall onto the sheets. The heaviness you felt in your chest lifts slightly, realizing that even against your greatest doubts, Jimin is able to bring peace to your mind.

 “I’ll finally get to take care of you entirely. I’m a little excited.” Hitting his shoulder, you try to squirm out of his grasp, but with the death grip around your waist, you realize you’re not going anywhere. He has his sights locked on you, and now that he has you, he won’t let go. Both physically and metaphorically, you suppose.

 “Gimme kisses.” Staring at his smallest pout, you can’t help but laugh. How someone can magically go from sad to funny to absolutely adorable is something beyond your own comprehension, but considering your major, you suppose someone like him is bound to exist somewhere.

 Leaning in, you leave traces of pecks on his nose and his cheeks, purposefully missing his lips to elicit a whimper. When you finally receive what you desire, his whimper being far too sexual for your own good, you fulfill his wishes to the fullest extent. After days of not being able to kiss him, you relish in the sweet moment of feeling his warmth.

It’s been four months since you and Jimin decided on moving forward, and with summer very well on its way, you both find yourselves spending more and more time around your closest friends. As the school year nears its end, both Beta Tau Sigma and Delta Zeta find themselves becoming one big family, tied by the very being cradled within your belly.

 Lounging in the sand has become a regular hobby for all of you, busy between games of beach volleyball and swimming in the water. Even during times of low activity, you all find random bets to wager on, all in fun of finding the best house on campus.

 “Alright everyone. Here are the rules: no double fisting, no foul play, no crossing the line and no spitting on the enemies. Last one standing gets free alcohol from the losers for a year. Understood?”

With all in agreement, you flash the checkered flag, watching as both sides run toward the middle to grab a water balloon. From your place on the side lines, you see the smiles appear on everyone’s faces, the laughter that comes with someone being pelted with three balloons at once. Even your girls are having the times of their lives, finally able to relax after maintaining their GPA all year. Everything is peaceful in your little world, and watching everyone around you enjoy themselves only makes your heart swell with adoration and affection.

 Even watching Jimin as he continues to trip in the sand is something you will never grow tired of. He is the father of your baby after all, so shouldn’t he automatically be considered the most adorable man on the planet? You’d like to think so, and you are certain he would only agree.

 The sound of your phone ringing suddenely distracts you from the game, the name popping up in the caller ID only giving you a mild heart attack.

 “Hi Y/N, this is Jessica calling from the office of James & Baird. Congratulations on passing the first round of internship applications. Would you like to schedule your interview?”

 Oh shit.

 And so it begins.

[iamkayds]

Wake Up, Black Maybe

“Tell me, black maybe Or really would you rather for me not to ask? You see, the time is running out And your man's been sad For ages and ages and ages Black maybe It's time for you to wake up” - Black Maybe by Syreeta Wright & Stevie Wonder

I know for sure that I am Black. But how Black am I?

Former Vice President Joe Biden posed that thought in a recent interview. He has since apologized, but the reason we keep talking about it is because apparently now in 2020, he is suggesting that our Blackness is tied to our vote?! Ironically... he says this in a country where voter suppression in Black communities is a really blatant thing, a country where Black people have been denied so many other basic human rights since being brought here to work as slaves. [To be fair, I’m posting the full video below of the infamous interview with Charlamagne Tha God (Breakfast Club) because Biden fervently defended his record and presented reasons why Black people should vote for him before his closing proclamation about Blackness.]

I experience the world as a B.L.A.C.K. woman, an amalgam of complexity. I stand at the meeting place of a lot of different cultural Black experiences that shape my entire existence.

In America, I am naturally perceived as an African-American. At work, I usually introduce myself to every new batch of students by saying I am from Baltimore, mentioning a little about myself, and listing the schools I attended. Someone in the group is usually quick to point out that I don’t sound like them. After I reconfirm where I’m from, a few students usually add, Well where do you live? Where did you grow up? To which I respond, I grew up over East but now I live over West by the Plaza (by their standards how someone from Baltimore might respond). But, there are always a few very inquisitive young people that follow their intuition, that get to the point I try to make them uncover: 

I am Black and from Baltimore - I’m from here, but not “from” here.

I am a foreigner and immigrant - a Caribbean person. When I return to my birthplace in Tobago, I am an emigrant residing in the States, essentially “Americanized”. There are so many folks back home who are surprised I have any semblance of an accent left because I’ve been in the States so long. Trinidad & Tobago is home to descendants of many different cultures, some of which are represented in my family. I started learning Black history and culture at home with my mother and also in school. A great portion of T&T’s citizens are Black; most of its leaders - past presidents & prime ministers - are Black; most of its professional workforce... you guessed it, Black. The people who created my principal instrument, the steelpan - the only acoustic instrument created in the 20th century... Black. So as a child, I saw myself at every turn. In my hometown, we celebrate the strength & resilience of our African ancestors through various festivals, music, food, art... for some Trinbagonians, our Africanness has & never will be a question.

I am Black and Caribbean... and from America, maybe?

When I went to college in Boston, there were few of us from Maryland and even fewer from Baltimore who would venture out to Raising Cane’s to see if their version of a chicken box and half & half would even match up. Initially, I lived off campus in Mattapan, which had a heavy Caribbean population, and I gravitated toward the familiar - steelband and Carnival. But when I commuted to campus, I would stay until midnight just to be in the midst of Black excellence. 

Through various experiences, so many of my new friends introduced me to other facets of American Blackness: real Southern charm, Cali swag, Philly bop... a few pledged in sororities and fraternities and we got to see them stroll. We were forming a consciousness of who we were together in this college rooted in the study of Black music. I found a home right away with Africana Studies because we would have discourse about the messages in Black music that would carry over from the classroom to the Mezz Table and to dorm lounges; it was my new college’s version of ALANA gatherings at my first college - a PWI located in the middle of Baltimore City. 

A healthy portion of the professors I chose to engage with during college were of African descent. I sought out experiences that would unify all students, but found my community with Black students. I made a friend who was sort of like me, but Sudanese and grew up in Egypt and DC... I wound up on the school radio station running a show called the AFRICAribbean Mix with a South African classmate... I joined my Caribbean peers in jam sessions and Carnival, sharing our culture with everyone else at school... I found myself studying and quietly rallying behind the ensembles that were ours, NeoSoul Ensemble became my refuge. I created my own Black experience in RedSox land, in Beantown.

My closest friends would host various meetings, shows, and open mics and try to connect with other Black students in the college town. But, anytime we’d rent a car to go to Allston and Cambridge, there would be a certain time of night the guys would ask the girls to switch to the driver seat because we’d be less likely to get pulled over coming across the bridge. I will never forget leaving the movie theatre in Boston Commons, and sitting at a restaurant just in time to watch the verdict being handed down for the murder of Trayvon Martin. We were in disbelief on the train ride home. Every injustice that happens in America strips away any layer of complexity in my self-identity. Now is the moment of truth:

They can’t see all the layers. In the eyes of the weapon’s holder, we are no longer defined by region, religion, profession, or any other identifier that separates us. We are all B.L.A.C.K.

Black maybe, it’s time for you to wake up.

[kulifefall2019]

Making Friends At Kutztown University

Prologue:

As Ray Velazquez was on his last few days of summer, he was starting to feel scared about making friends during his freshman year at Kutztown. From being one of the most popular guys in high school Ray was aware how different college was going to be. It’s scary to meet new people and adjust to a new lifestyle when first starting college. Thoughts start to race through his mind, will my roommate like me, what kind of friends am I going to make, what new people will I meet here? Although these thoughts are scary they feel like butterflies in his stomach. College is a place where students can find themselves and express what makes them who they are towards a new group of people. This post shares the different students’ experiences of making friends at Kutztown and the groups that incoming students can join that encourage making these new connections. In this post, we will discuss making friends at Kutztown in three acts. Act we will cover greek life and the bonds students make when rushing for a fraternity or sorority; Then in Act II we will transition to the musical side of Kutztown with different ensembles and the common interests students have other than music, and to wrap up; In Act III we’ll mention the commuter lifestyle, what it is like going to school from home, and the different ways that commuters make new friends at Kutztown. Kutztown becomes your home away from home. Read further and find out how welcoming students at Kutztown are to the new generation of incoming freshman.

(ACT 1 - GREEK LIFE) 

Trey Rubino

Most freshmen are fresh out of high school, happily holding their diplomas and eagerly waiting for their new lifestyle at college. Like every new beginning It’s scary. Questions swarmed through my head. “How am I going to make friends on campus?”  No one wants to  be THAT person. The one who orders a whole pizza pie everyday and spends every waking moment in their dorm room. Most upcoming freshmen at Kutztown University always go through the internal battle of wondering, “How do I make friends on a campus like Kutztown?” Everything and everyone is new and the potential is endless.

Greek life. That weird topic. No one really knows what greek life really is. It may be portrayed poorly through movies, but in all actuality it is a truly life changing experience. Greek life is one of the easiest ways to make a solid group of friends on campus, while benefiting your resume and academic success.  Joining a Greek Life organization is beneficial and truthfully one of the best things offered at Kutztown University.  After interviewing some of the current students, not many of them know the significance Greek Life can impact your future. Most of them believe it’s more about drinking and partying than anything, and with that said, they can’t be more wrong! 

The amount of groups in Greek Life has is endless. There’s groups for people who want to focus more time on their academics or on social ability.  

One thing Greek Life excels at is Brotherhood / Sisterhood. Brotherhood and Sisterhood  is a concept that everyone can respect. It builds solidarity and unity as a community. While rushing for what organization to join strong bonds and lifelong friendships will be made.  It’s good to feel and know that there’s so many people to rely on when needing help. Whether it be life advice, getting ready for an interview, or just help with homework and academics. Greek Life organization will help anyone through anything. There’s a reason why they are called Brothers and Sisters in Greek Life and that's why you aren’t just friends, you are family.  Ontop of having a second “family” away from home, mixing with other Greek Life organizations here at Kutztown helped me even more friends. 

Joining Greek Life is not what it is made out to be at all. It is a great way to meet new people, make new friends, and find yourself along the way. Having the countless resources through the organization, the variety of friendships and the ability to build up my resume It made my experience at Kutztown University so much better. I know how it feels coming to Kutztown not knowing anyone but now that got out of my comfort zone and expanded my horizon making friends is a daily occurence.

ACT 2 - Friends in Music 

(JoeyD.)

Kutztown University offers many music performance opportunities through the different instrumental and vocal ensembles regardless of your major. Currently, I am a sophomore at Kutztown, and just recently declared my major in Cinema, Television, and media. I am a member of the drumline in the Kutztown Marching Unit, and wrapping up my second season with the band. At first, I was nervous coming to college and making new friends, but after joining the drumline, all my worries were swept away with the welcoming environment and friendly atmosphere. As you read further, I will share our “family” motto and other members’ first experiences making friends through the band.

“We are a family, and families help each other, not hurt each other.” Dr. Daniel Neuenschwander is a music professor at Kutztown University and the director of the Kutztown University Marching Unit. The organization is available to all students attending Kutztown. Whether you’re going to school for business, education, liberal arts or visual arts, any student can join the marching unit no matter what major you are pursuing. Describing the band as a family is what makes this a welcoming organization, Dr. Neuenshwander strives for greatness out of his students which shows how great hard work can pay off with the number of graduate students he has taught from only working here for seven years. The Kutztown University Marching Unit is a great organization to be a part of with students of different majors and great staff, with some that are alumni of Kutztown and the organization.

Taking my first steps as an incoming freshman to Kutztown University was a life-changing experience. With the number of friendly students and hard-working professors, I couldn’t ask for more. The first semester of my freshman year was a crazy change, thinking about all the fears of college, joining the marching band cleared my head of those thoughts. 

I ventured out to other members of the band to see what their first experiences were like when they joined the marching band during their freshman year. Of the many people that I interviewed, many of their responses were very uplifting to listen to. One person I would like to point out is Jenna. Jenna is a member of the drumline, she is a freshman here at Kutztown, coming into Kutztown she declared a cinema, television, and media (CTM) major but recently switched over to music education. As a new student joining the marching band, I asked Jenna, what were her expectations before joining the organization. She was very optimistic about joining and couldn’t wait to meet the other marchers that soon created friendships throughout the season. 

I wondered what other students’ social lives were like when we aren’t playing music for three hours on a football field. A question that I asked Jenna was ‘do you find yourself still connected with these friends while outside of the band?’ As she was giving her answer, she was feeling very grateful, “Yes! With KUMU being the largest organization on campus I see people every day from KUMU even when we don’t have it… I have a lot of close friends and have even made friends from other people’s friends outside of the band.” As the marching band season of 2019 recently came to an end with the tragic loss of our D2 football team, Jenna can’t wait for the next season and meet new students joining the band. 

Whether you are pursuing a business major or a career in teaching, the Kutztown University Marching Unit opens up its arms to all students attending Kutztown. With the comradery that students cherish within the organization, that feeling is the encouragement the students need as they become successful individuals throughout their lives.

ACT 3: Commuters lifestyle

Sonae’ James

     As a freshman at Kutztown University, I fully understand the difficulty of making friends. It truly feels next to impossible to make friends as a commuter. It’s easier to say “I’m going to join clubs or sorority/fraternity,” than to actually get up and do it. Commuters usually schedule their classes early in the day because they are typically balancing college and a job. I am a commuter; I drive forty minutes to Kutztown and back every single day. My goal at the beginning of the school year was to join as many clubs until I realized that every club meeting began at 7pm or later. Working at four and trying to go to meetings at seven made joining clubs and making friends that much harder. 

  During the first two months at Kutztown I spent all of my free time in the Academic Forum. I ate chic fila and did my homework alone almost everyday in the same exact spot. Until I started to realize how little time I spent my day socializing. I was turning completed introverted. I received an commuters newsletter that explained how much commuter’s have access to but don’t know about. In the McFarland Student Union there’s a commuter’s lounge. It is open all day five days a week. I interviewed my friend, Kyle Roeder, a senior and also a commuter he went on to explain how the commuter’s lounge is like Breakfast Club. He said, “There may be ten different people sitting around the table, different majors, different races, but they’re all just talking. Talking about anything that crosses our minds and that to me feels like unity. That’s how I made friends.” He goes on to say how he’s graduating and leaving behind his best friends’ he made in the lounge. “The lounge gave me a feeling of belonging and that in itself is irreplaceable.” I’ve been going to lounge everyday since I found out about it. I’ve met some of my closest friends their. 

 Not only is there a commuter’s lounge there’s a monthly commuters lunch. Every Tuesday of the month there’s a free lunch for commuters to eat and meet other commuters. Although making friends as a commuter feels impossible there’s way that you can. If you’re willing to put yourself out there or even going to a commuter’s lunch makes it that much easier. Commuting is worthwhile, making friends may seem hard but it’s possible. If I can do it so can anyone else. Don’t be afraid to be you and worthwhile friendships will fall into place.

[azulblue9]

PRINCE'S BIGGEST FAN WAS A 93-YEAR-OLD CLEVELAND WOMAN & SHE HAD THE MEMORABILIA TO PROVE IT

By ANNIE ZALESKI

Editor's note: After this story was filed, Mary Boyer passed away at the age of 93.

Mary Boyer can remember the exact moment she became a Prince fan. It was July 1984 -- weeks after the release of his groundbreaking LP, Purple Rain -- and a friend invited her to see Prince's ambitious movie of the same name. Incredibly, Boyer was the only person her friend could find to tag along to the theater.

"As soon as [Prince] came on [the screen], my heart just went [makes whooshing noise], and I said, 'I know this guy. I just know him,'" recalls Boyer today. "By the end of the film, that was my guy."

Boyer was no teenager experiencing her first taste of idol worship. At the time she saw Purple Rain, she was 60 years old.

"I DIDN'T INTEND TO BE A COLLECTOR, BUT IF I WENT TO A STORE AND THERE WAS SOMETHING THERE WITH PRINCE, I JUST COULDN'T LEAVE IT."

Buying that movie ticket unwittingly changed her life, transforming her into one of Prince's biggest fans. Over the next few decades, the mother of seven saw the Purple One 25 times, in far-flung locales such as New York, Detroit, Chicago, Canada, and his home base of Minneapolis. In her sprawling house in Cleveland, Boyer even had a dedicated Prince room -- with walls painted purple, of course -- crammed full of memorabilia related to the icon. Photos, magazines, vinyl, posters, CDs, pins, laminates, promo swag -- you name it, chances are Boyer had it. At the peak of her collecting, she had 300 different posters, 100 different T-shirts, and more than 1,200 unique albums in every format.

"I didn't intend to be a collector, but if I went to a store and there was something there with Prince, I just couldn't leave it there," she says. "I bought it, and pretty soon, I had quite a bit of stuff." After her kids moved out, all of that "stuff" found a home in one of their old bedrooms.

"We painted it a light purple, and I just started filling it up." She laughs. "I loved everything I put in there. I was very, very happy with it."

Now 93, Boyer is sitting in the living room of her apartment on the outskirts of Downtown Lakewood. The space is cozy, filled with cherished art, knickknacks, and photos she's picked up over the years. Boyer is fond of collecting things besides Prince-related items -- miniatures, as well as Egyptian and Oriental art, are interests of hers -- although she's downsized her belongings considerably. In the spring, she moved from that giant old house into this current, more compact space.

Scattered here and there, however, are references to her devotion to Prince. A coffee mug featuring variations of his visage is within arm's reach, near a photo book filled with Prince photos. A glossy, soft-glow snap of late-era Prince stares up from behind glass on the top of a nearby desk; a business card from the long-closed, Minneapolis-based New Power Generation, the Prince-owned retail store, is also tucked away. In a nearby hallway is a media rack with several shelves of Prince bootleg DVDs, while in her bedroom is a panoramic photo of the Prince room at its most impressive, along with some of the meaningful tokens she kept -- including a cardboard Purple Rain die-cut stand-up and a healthy selection of framed photos of all sizes, spanning the artist's entire career.

"Take a look around you, at least you got friends"

Also visiting this steamy Friday afternoon in August is Dennis Roszkowski, a photographer and long-time Prince fan from Westland, Michigan, who often visits Boyer and helps out at a local library's events. The pair met in 1989 because of their shared Prince fandom -- an organized, meticulous person, he once cataloged Boyer's memorabilia so she knew what she had -- and remain close friends.

Boyer amassed her Prince collection by visiting local record stores, where she would sometimes find promo vinyl dumped by radio DJs, or by attending record conventions. Employees came to recognize her and her obsession, and would sometimes save special items for her, such as a life-sized cardboard stand-up of Prince circa the 1991 LP Diamonds and Pearls.

In the mid- to late-'90s, Boyer and Roszkowski would also attend regional Prince Fests -- more or less gatherings of diehards to celebrate the artist -- and sell duplicate albums, as well as trade for things she didn't have.

THEY SAW PRINCE FOUR TIMES IN 75 HOURS.

Along with others from the fan community, the pair also attended many Prince concerts and special events: the week-long Prince Celebration at his studio/compound Paisley Park in 2000, appearances at his one-time Minneapolis nightclub, Glam Slam. At one point in 1993, they even saw Prince four times in 75 hours.

Boyer often expressed her admiration for Prince in more direct ways. "She would send letters to Paisley Park for years, and she would send little gifts to Prince," Roszkowski says. "And she would enclose a checklist with a self-addressed stamped envelope [that] said, 'Did Prince see this?' and 'Did he like it?' and they would check off 'Yes, he liked it,' and send it back. She had this connection with them."

Boyer and Roszkowski say that one-time Prince manager Gilbert Davidson and half-brother Duane Nelson (who handled security) were aware of her fandom, and always treated her kindly and with respect when they crossed paths. Although Boyer once had the chance to get a behind-the-scenes tour of Paisley Park and attended shows there, she never actually met and had one-on-one time with Prince. The closest personal experience she had was at an April 1993 after-show at Chicago's Metro, when the artist pulled her up onstage during the first encore.

"He was doing his show, and all of a sudden, towards the end, he said, 'Turn the lights on,'" Boyer recalls. "He said, 'Whose grandma is that down there? We gotta get her up here and have her shake her doodle!' or something like that." Boyer laughs. "And then he sang this song 'Johnny' -- it's a little risqué, shall we say. And I know he did it to see if it would embarrass me a little. Then during the song, I was supposed to sing this 'oh-oh-oh-oh' [part], and I didn't do it very good.

"And he gives me that look," Boyer continues, referencing the sassy, quasi-exasperated glance for which Prince was known. "I hit him on his arm, and he had me do it again, and I did it. And he just laughed and then gave me a big, big hug. And I was so happy. I just wanted him to know that I really liked him. It wasn't that I had to be seeing him all the time. But you know how you want somebody to know that…"

They mean a lot to you?

"Yeah," she says. "That was a high moment in my life."

"I only want to see you in the Purple Rain"

Born in Fargo, North Dakota, Boyer and her family moved to Lakewood when she was a toddler. She grew up there and went to Lakewood High School, which is where she met her late husband, Jim. She was a member of a sorority; he was a member of a fraternity. One afternoon, the pair happened to see each other at a local ice cream store.

"I was in there talking to some guy, and Jim came in," Boyer recalls. "And the guy said to him, 'Do you have a date for the Friday night dance?' And he goes, 'No.' [The other guy] says, 'Why don't you take Mary? She's a lot of fun.' And he says, 'Do you want to go?' And I said, 'Yeah.' Because he was real cute."

Music entered her life after the couple started having children. Her second-oldest son, Wink -- who "was a hippie, shall we say," Boyer says -- introduced her to Jefferson Airplane's Surrealistic Pillow. That LP changed everything. From there, Boyer started embracing the then-new music of the day, such as Leon Russell and the Rolling Stones. She also started going to shows, among them, Neil Young, Crosby, Stills & Nash, Elton John, and David Bowie's first US concert. 

"I was the cool house," Boyer says with a laugh. "That's probably why it was easy for me to get into Prince. It wasn't like it was strange, because I was used to going to concerts. We did go to a lot of concerts, and my kids, of course, thought I was a 'cool' mother."

Jim was also 100% supportive of Mary's Prince fandom, which may have surprised some. "[People would say], 'How come it doesn't bother you?'" Boyer says. "[And he said] 'I'd rather have her doing that than sitting around crocheting something.' He liked the idea that I had young friends, because he didn't like to do a lot, except play golf. He didn't have to entertain me, because I was doing my own entertaining."

Incredibly, however, in recent years, Boyer has sold off and otherwise given away a large portion of her Prince memorabilia. Even stranger, "it didn't bother me at all," she says. In part that's because she's been preoccupied dealing with health issues, and uses oxygen as she gets around. ("I hate it," she says vehemently about that.) But Boyer also has the remarkable personality trait where she's able to switch gears and hobbies on a dime -- and never look back.

"I have this kind of a life where every 10 years, I changed," she explains. "Until I was in my, say, 40s, I was a mother, and never went anywhere. In my 40s, my husband and I started to go out square dancing. We did what they call challenge, so that you had to go to workshops and stuff. When I hit my 50s, I went to [local community college] Tri-C and took classes in astrology, and I became an astrologer. I was that for 10 years -- doing readings. And then I went to a Prince movie -- that changed that, and then I gradually stopped doing official astrology things.

"Every time I changed, I dropped the other thing almost completely," Boyer says. "That must be why when I was ready, getting tired of everything I had -- why I was able to do it."

"And no regrets," adds Roszkowski. "You brought your favorite things here."

"Life is just a party, and parties weren't meant to last"

In an odd coincidence, Roszkowski was helping Boyer move out of her house and into her apartment on the same day news broke that Prince had passed away. He recalls that his hands were shaking as he set up his laptop to read more about the news. "Mary looked at me and said, 'What's wrong?'" Roszkowski says. "And I said, 'Mary, Prince just died.' And I just remember her saying, 'I always thought that I would be in heaven before Prince.'" In the background, Boyer chuckles slightly.

The mood in the apartment turns reflective, as Roszkowski ruminates on the reactions he and Boyer received from people they had met because of his music. "The amazing thing about that day, is that all Prince fans that we know, we just started hearing from people we hadn't heard from in years," he says. "Every Prince fan can tell the same story: they know where they were when they heard, and how they were feeling. Everybody's phone just blew up -- people started calling, sending text messages. 'Oh my god, have you heard the news?' It was such a surreal moment.

"We relied on phone calls that we were getting from friends," he adds. "And consoling each other, and trying to figure out, 'Wow. What's the world like without Prince?' Because you just can't believe it.'"

Roszkowski's thoughts summarize the unique impact of music fandom: people bond over their love of a certain artist or band -- seeing shows together, chatting online, sharing stories, maybe swapping bootlegs -- and seamlessly translate this connection into real-life, deep friendships. The Prince fandom is especially dedicated, however. In fact, Roszkowski says it was "meant to be" that he and Boyer happened to be in the same city on the day of Prince's death, as it was symbolic of the treasured connections facilitated by his art and music.

"WHAT'S THE WORLD LIKE WITHOUT PRINCE?"

"His concerts were unlike anything you saw," Roszkowski says. "You'd go there, and there was just a whole mixture of people -- ages and races -- and everybody just got together and had a wonderful time. It seemed like the Prince world was a great melting pot of people. You wished the whole world could be together having a good time, and peaceful.

"That's not what the world's like, in many respects. It is if you look for it; you can find it. And we found it with Prince. There was a connection with him that brought us all together, and we always talked about, 'Wow. Look at what we did -- together.' Just my friendship with Mary, between the two of us, what we've done, is fantastic. I'm grateful for it every day."

Boyer quietly chimes in. "I have to say, I've had a very happy life," she says. "When I was being the mom in my 30s, I loved it; when I was square dancing, I loved it. When I was in astrology, I loved it. When I [was into] Prince, I loved it."

And Boyer has her own take as to why there is such an intangible (but enduring) bond between Prince fans. It's not complicated -- but it's a theory that's as playful and laconic as the Purple One himself. 

"We're all smart," she simply says, with a laugh. "As my daughter said, 'Mom, I’m glad you're smart enough to know [Prince] was a genius.'" 

Mary Boyer ~ R.I.P. 

Source:

https://www.thrillist.com/lifestyle/cleveland/mary-boyer-lakewood-prince-memorabilia-collection

[farsightedwriterofyathings-blog]

Heartbroken

Why is it that the one person who loves me most is also the most mentally disturbed? To the point of obsession. 

Seriously, I have all the luck. 

This man and I were in a relationship many many years ago.  He decided he wasn’t good enough for me and left. He never bothered to ask how I felt about it and he left me in pieces having to learn to open my heart and trust someone else.  Then for Thirty years, he carried my photo all over the freaking world. No contact.  Claiming all the while, I was the only one he would ever love.  PTSD, Social anxiety, hoarder, he contacts me and wants a life with me again? WTF? Say What?

So, I let him back into my heart - FOOLISH FOOLISH FOOLISH. I let myself believe his love is true but his mental state is somewhat scary.  One moment he loves me more than anything and the next - he doesn’t want anything to do with me because he has this completely warped memory of some stupid thing He claims I did in College some thirty years ago. Only the people in his memory were not there in real life nor the place he claims it happened didn’t exist.  But he goes to this Dark place - did I mention mentally disturbed - Bi polar I suspect with Depression.

I am not a time traveler. Even If I could go back in time and fix it - the Event Didn’t happen.

He brings up the fact that he proposed three times during these disturbed depressive moments.  Honestly, I only remember one proposal and it was not really a proposal it was a statement of fact, “I will marry you!”  That is not a freaken proposal. Not even close.  I do remember laughing and saying, No way. But it was not serious nor was there ever a ring offered.

Thirty years ago - I did love him with all my heart but he was reckless. He was in the Navy, he had wrecked on a motorcycle and then went out and purchased one. He was drinking. A lot.  He told me that when he got out of the Navy he planned to be a truck driver and go back to the tiny town in Missouri and live there.

I was a 4.0 engineering major, I wanted to fly for the Navy.  We met in the Navy. I did not want to be a housewife with a husband who was on the road all the time.  I imagined a life of scrapping to get by wearing a housecoat and having four or five snotty nosed kids all in diapers. It was not the kind of life I imagined for myself at the time and looking back still not the idyllic painting of a perfect future.

He decided one day he wanted nothing to do with me.  - Did I mention he claims to have passed out at some party he attended and someone put hickeys all over his neck?  He claims still he was passed out and has no recall of participating in that but the evidence was all over his neck and chest.  He came to see me the next day and I believed his explanation at the time.

He didn’t call or write, he cut me off completely.  Even when he shattered his ankle and was stationed 30 minutes from me - he never contacted me. Not for 30 Freaking years.  

He claims he loves me more than anyone. He claims his love is unconditional and he claimed he would wait for me forever.

So Monday, It starts with the accusations AGAIN of this memory he claims that I went to some hotel with some guy while he waited with my friend in the car for three hours thirty freaking years ago.  A) I loved him so much he was the only man I wanted.. B) He claims he was in a car with Leslie my beloved sorority sister - who was (love you Leslie but as you are no longer living) kind of slutty, so I would not have left any MAN I loved alone with her for any small amount of time let alone 3 hours. (He claims she offered herself to him) C) He claims this Man was, in fact, someone I didn’t date until 5 years after the time period. The Man I dated and married five years after we broke up.

Here is the most ironic part.  Now he doesn’t want to talk to me, see me, have any kind of contact for a year and then he still wants to marry me but I am supposed to wait an entire year before I contact him.

Clearly, he has taken the train to Crazy Town.

I do love him.  I will always love him....but I am not going to wait a year or a minute to spend my life with someone this destructive.

This thing he does is abusive.  It is a form of mental abuse and I won’t tolerate it. Why should I.  When he is happy and loving. He is so sorry for hurting me and then he snaps - flips a freaking switch and makes me apologize and explain for something that didn’t happen plus I never know when he is going to snap.  To date, he snapped in November, December, January and Now in March. I could only imagine if I did marry him and this happened and then what?

To make matters worse, I suspect he has some dementia issues.  We talk and he forgets conversations and will bring stuff up - stories he told me over and over. He told me that for the last 20 years or so he couldn’t sleep unless he drank himself silly at night and went through a bottle of alcohol each night.  I think his brain is pickled.  He said he stopped all of that when we started talking to each other but there have been many occasions when I spoke to him and he sounded inebriated but he claims it was Nyquil - which it could have been but he got really defensive about it.

He wants me to run off and live with him. When I went to see him once in Missouri, he would not let me into his home.  He said he was ashamed because it was full of trash.  He had not taken out the trash in ten years and left it all over his house.  When we face-timed, there were occasions where I could see the trash all over just piled up. Roaches on the walls behind him and on his headboard. When he came to visit - his truck was full of trash - and bugs.

I think what scares him most is that while he would like a life with me, he doesn’t want to leave his home and he will not let me live there until the trash is taken care of and it is livable but he cannot let anyone help him because he is embarrassed about it and ashamed yet he cannot bring himself to do it.  There is always some excuse - not feeling well, hip hurts and he cannot move.  

I understand he loves his family and doesn’t want to move. Even if they will never see the trash heap where he lives.

I cannot and will not let myself become a victim. He is like a drowning man and he will not use the life buoy I have tossed to him and if I jump in to save him he will kill me trying to save himself and more likely we will both drown.

I should be crying - I am upset but I also feel like I have dodged a bullet. after living through all these multiple manic episodes, I was prepared to just wait him out and wait for him to come crawling back and apologize.  Again, but his words this time were so very ugly and hurtful - I know he is lashing out because of the darkness surrounding him but deep down. He probably doesn’t really want this to work and probably doesn’t want me and this is him pushing me away for good.  I am not chasing him. I am not begging him, after the last time, I felt the need to guard my heart.  How many times can I beg to be forgiven regarding something I didn’t happen. 

The closest memory was this time I tried to get him into a fraternity party at Sigma Nu and I asked my classmate to let him into the party and he said no, so I left the party. It was ten minutes not three hours.  And Leslie was a Sigma Nu Little Sister so she would not have been in the car with him she would have come in with me to the party to help me ask.

And I will always love him.  I cannot help myself on that score.  He was my first love. We shared so much.  I am sending this blog that no one reads out into the universe because I have no one to tell and my heart is hurting once again but I want to remind myself that I do not deserve to be treated with such venom especially because I know in a few days he will be very sorry but I cannot let him back into my life. Now now, not in a few days, not in a week, not in a year not ever.

For safety I have blocked him from FB, and my phone and I am not sharing my location with him on google maps.  

[corncobwizard]

part 1 dreams

This is speack to text and I will be fixing it up, I have this dream last night  and i find it really interesting so  i might make a comic for it or write it.

It starts off with me in some school and I'm in a pink uniform because I was in some sorority idk, but i wasnt with them cuz they ditched me. I felt sad, alone and had to use the washroom, so I looked for the bathrooms but i couldn't find one but then i saw some  paniced looking people running up to me.

  When they got up to me they quickly said that there was some student killing other students, when we started to hear something being draged on the floor they told me to run so i did, i ran with them but the sound didn't get any further away but when it stopped we thought we were in the clear and hid. but then one of the students got hit with some thing and i just ran for it, I saw a stair way and ran down a few flights of stairs, it felt like it would go on forever i got tired and went out the first door I saw.

  I  was running down the hallway but then I found the girls bathroom  it was somewhat packed and everyone was either high or drunk for some reason?   I didn't care and Burst into a stall and just cried because i was so scared, when i calm down started to think what the hell is going on here, when I stood up a bunch of guys burst open the stall door and said sorry we need to change but before I can leave they close and locked the door and didn't even notice i was in here with them. There  were about seven guys squished up with me in the stall and they didn't even notice me but the weirdest part is what they started to chant?! black and white, black and white, black and white, over and over.     I don't know why but I just joined in and started to chant black and white, black and white with them but then suddenly my clothes and there's came off and now we were in our underwear (it's not what you think). But then I'm in some New clothes it was so weird i didn't care, I just Accepted it cuz at this point what are you going to do, I'm wearing like a white button-up shirt and black dress pants like the other 6 guys but one guy the 7th one is wearing all-black button up and dress pants and I guess that meant he was the leader of this group now.     I don't know what happened but I didn't mind I just followed along at that point and said sure and when the stall finally opened I remembered it was the girls washroom and by the way they were looking at us they would kill us were we stand, I just feel so embarrassed even tho i am a girl and just follow the guys out.

then they finally realized, that I was a girl and then they started to freak out cuz they totally forgot I was in the stall and changed with me half naked in to their uniforms with them. The guy dressed in black walked up to me and apologized and said his name is Toby. He was the only one to be chill about it and said "it was honestly the only restroom we could find after geting our uniforms and the place is so big at this point we took what we could get to change in, our fraternity its  quite big and we're only one part of it and well you do look great in our uniform and we don't really usually put girls in our fraternity but who cares, your one of us now!" He kissed both of my cheecks like some Italian guy, he really seemed like he didn't care.

After talking some more with him and the other guys and walking down the hallway we all saw two students were running and screaming that "he!" got there friend. One of the students fell and some guy with a hoodie wearing an open uniform jacket and navy dress pants lifted up he's bloody metal bat and beat that guy to death well the other one ran passed us, when he was done he looked up with a lust for death. but when we made eye contact he smiled and something new was in his eyes now. He started to run towards us and raise his metal bat.

I froze in fear but then one of the guys picks me up and Carries me i start freaking out when metal bat guy gets closer, then toby sees there's an open classroom so he yells that to everyone that and we all managed to make it in and lock the door. on the other side we can hear the guy get angry and start to beat the door down, I run over to the window and see that is low enough for us to all jump off safe enough. I tell everyone that and one by one we all jump off and run as fast as we can, until i hear him breack through the door, when i turn around i see him waving slowly and staring directly at me and see him mouth "i'll fine you!" well manically laughing.

30 minutes of walking and talking go by when we finally make it to the fraternity, as soon as those doors open all I can do is look for the closest couch and passed the fuck out.

But then I wake up.

(should I make  this in too a series? I have many idea for this)

[questionscantaskmom]

"Great things in my life”

My mom wrote this to me on September 28, 2016. The title is hers.

This story is an attempt to share with my adult sons and young grandchildren the amazing man that I loved and stayed married to for thirty years, even though we divorced and there was tremendous strife, anger and sadness at times while they were growing up.

I was lucky in love.  I suppose I had what every girl wanted, I was pretty, with great, thick, wavy hair, silky smooth skin and I was thin and incredibly shapely at a very young age.  I had no idea how many men and boys are attracted to and find it easy to fall in love based on a woman’s looks, but i do see it all the time now.  It turned out to be a great advantage because I became social which increased the opportunity to have more dates as well as girl and boy friends in school.  I learned what was important to me and it was honesty, respect and a fantastic sense of humor.  I loved to laugh.

I was born into a great family, healthy, happy, ambitious and secure destined to live the American Dream.  As I grew, it was clear I was the golden child sparkling with greatness, intelligence, beauty, love and adoration!

I had a fantastic grandma and grandpa to lead family rituals, holidays, celebrations and family values.  We lived in nice houses in Long Island with  good schools near a temple.  Mom was very organized when she knew daddy would drop us off at the beach if we were ready when he had to go to work in the morning.  We changed into bathing suits as soon as we woke up and waited by the car as they packed up the trunk.  Once settled on the beach you would see mommy in her chair under the umbrella, Mona was asleep in the square, wooden play pen that doubled as a crib at the beach.  Then there was an Army green wool blanket laid out for me and my sister to sit on to have our lunch.  There was a huge cooler that had food for breakfast, lunch and supper plus fruit for snacks.  When daddy picked us up at 6 or 7, we went home to take baths and right to bed.  It was a wonderful time in my life.

Even though daddy died very young it wasn’t before I learned about his love and respect for family, his generous heart and his pure goodness.

Mommy was not college educated or intellectual but she wanted the best for me.  She was proud to be a bookkeeper and be able to do well at her job and she showed great pride when I brought home good grades.  However it was Alan who taught me about tolerance, hatred, prejudice, McCarthysm and communism.

I always  dressed well with shoes and purse matching, with white gloves.  I was polite and appealing.  

I started listening to rock and roll in 1958 because my older sister was always playing records.  My favorite song was ‘Come  Go With Me’ by the Del Vikings.

One extraordinary memory was when Andrea snuck me into a rock and roll show at the Brooklyn Paramount which was a great thrill!

For my birthday, mom brought me into NYC to Radio City Music Hall to see “Please don’t eat the Daiseys” starring Doris Day And The Rockketts! and lunch at Tad’s Steak with baked potato and salad for $1.99!

After daddy died we had to sell the brand new split level house in Plainview with wallpaper and move to a junior 4 garden Apartment on 153rd Ave and 72nd St in Flushing, Queens.  There was a swamp behind the apartment and we caught tadpoles in jars.

My mom slept on a high rise in the living room, Mona and I slept in the master bedroom and Andrea had the mini dining room.  It sure didn’t compare to our previous homes.  What stuck in my head was that my divorced uncle Ali, my mom’s brother had to cosign the lease. There were a lot of things that irritated me in those days.  My mom really screwed up sending Andrea to Jamaica High School and that's when I started to grow very angry with my mom.  She was selfish, looking for a husband and leaving me in charge of Mona.  She never understood or even tried to understand Andrea.  It took years till I finally was able to forgive her.

I had  a girlfriend whose name was Joanie Costa and we went to see scary movies on Saturdays and once she took me to her church when she went for confession.  I didn’t like it at all.  It was dark and spooky!

We only stayed there in Queens for third, fourth and fifth grades and then my mom married a toad named Jack Kaplan and they moved us to a house in Valley Stream where I started 6th grade in Corona Avenue School.  Jack had two fat children, Andre and Jacqueline, ugh!

I started Memorial Junior High School and was in 7th grade.  I made friends easily and all was fine.  There were a group of boys that were apparently smarter than the rest of the boys in school and they called themselves the Mafia Judea and consisted of Eric Gottlieb, Gregg Solomam, Bruce Levine and a few others whose names I don’t remember.  At that age boys would call on the phone but didn’t  say much.  I remember going to the movies with Gregg, we loved to laugh and saw Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis films.  My friends joined the youth group at The Temple Gates of Zion and we had socials and while I was shy about dancing, my feet went wild to the music of Bobby Freeman, 1958, Let’s Dance and The Contours, Do You Love Me?   Because of my friendship with Diane Epstein we also went to the youth group at her temple where Eric Gottlieb’s parents were members too.

When I was 12 and 13 I was allowed to take the LIRR into the city with my girlfriend, Diane Epstein to see My Fair Lady and then go to lunch.

One of my fondest memories of junior high school was when I took it upon myself to write a bold, blunt and scathing letter to Mr. Fernandez about his unprofessional behavior in 7th grade Spanish as he verbally tortured Barbara Weiselman ruthlessly.  I’m not sure if I knew or even worried that the persecution would then be turned on me, but it didn’t make me cry.

Several of the teachers hit on me.  I was disillusioned. It wasn't long before I saw that will happen over and over throughout life.

Somewhere between 9th and 10th grade we pledged for sororities  and had socials with like fraternities.  I remember Jeff Gottfried, a football player, Alan Pollack and Larry Landis who really helped me get through algebra homework.  I remember having  lots of dates, going to parties almost every weekend.  I had one boyfriend who picked me up from school in a convertible and drove me into NYC to see a play.   I had fun in high school, I thought I was popular enough, I thought I knew everybody, and I thought they liked me for who I was, not what I looked like.  I know that I was pretty and thin, but I like what my friend Bobby Davis said, “she was a stunner”.

The summer of 1965, a very magical summer for me, I was sixteen and I came up to Suffern, a place I had never heard of, to be the mother’s helper to a family from Queens, to help with a two year old boy in a stroller and a 4 or 5 year old girl who went to Deerkill Day camp.

I was in Valley Stream Central High School, in a Jewish sorority that had events and socials with fraternities at Brooklyn and Queens Colleges.  Lucky for me, boys found me attractive and I had a lot of dates, dances and socials filling up the weekends on my calendar, and who wouldn’t mind the attention.  Sorry to say how clueless I was, I had no idea what effect I had on the male counselors at the pool when I appeared in my bikini.

Dating counselors started happening  and I  remember a counselor named Jim, Phil Rhodes but once I met Alan, I wasn’t interested in anyone else.

I got invited to movies and bowling with the senior girls and the senior boys and to this day I’m close with Diane Kirmer, her sister Maxine is one of my closest friends and Stephanie Gilbert.  Alfie was  the godfather to our sons and I loved Alfie, one of the finest men I have known.  He was so full of love, respect, with a warm and generous heart.

Alan was one of a kind, there was nobody like him, he had skills beyond most in sports, on the basketball court, tennis court, paddleball and softball field   There was no one like him in sports, humor, intensity and passion.  He was smart, environmentally conscious, politically connected, he marched in Washington, we spent time in bookstores as he obviously felt it was his responsibility to teach, he was always teaching.  He was romantic.  We were married for 30 years and are blessed with our fantastic sons, but he was tormented inside.

The summer of 1965 was a turning point in my life.  I was pleasantly hit on by many of the counselors at Deerkill Day Camp till I officially met Alan, after watching him watch me as I moved around the pool deck for what seemed like days.  One Friday night after the kids were asleep, I walked down past the pool and the casino to Black Birch, a couple of bungalows connected by a common bathroom for some of the counselors.  I was in one room chatting and hearing the first few lines of a song and then it stopped and a new record was put on so he could listen to the first few lines of the next  song.  How irritating, I thought so I move into the next room to observe him playing music to his delight.  He was pretty weird looking, wearing a mustard colored sweat pants and jacket, looks like he wasn’t crazy about haircuts or shaving and naturally I  had no problem registering my complaint about hearing just one line from each song.  That's how we met.

The next morning he invited me for breakfast and after that I did not want to date other boys ever again!  I was 16 and he was 25.  I was in love, not that I really knew what it means to be ‘in love’ but it’s all internal turmoil and smiles.

We were married for 30 years in spite of our differences.  After raising a family with all the friends and family watching, all our travels, celebrations, deaths, losses, pain and sickness, here I am, thriving and loving and feeling so lucky to be telling this glorious story.  Had I been diagnosed with cancer when I was 35, I would have been spitting bullets, furious, ready to kill to be struck down and not able to raise my boys and color my fantastic journey, but NO!  At 67, I am ready and feel grateful that  ALS is not like so many awful illnesses that cause pain, disfigurement, constant fear or horrible Altzheimers!  I’ve had a great life.  I married one phenomenal man whom I loved intensely and he loved me.  We had a great romance, when he went off for  spring break to Florida his senior year at CW Post College, I got a letter or a post card every single day, sometimes there were two or three words in the letter, but I loved it!  

We got married and had a very full life. We had friends, went to the theatre, movies and even nice restaurants which was big because he had very little interest in food. We went camping, to concerts, to ball games, the beach and travelled in New England, the mid-atlantic states and California.   We went cross country three summers, The first summer was 1971 with our eight month baby boy in a car bed in the back seat of our 1970, light blue VW bug.  The roof rack had the car bed carriage wheels plus a trunk full of diapers and baby food. ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK was beautiful and we loved it!

Altogether  with local travels and long distance travels we visited many of the magnificent national parks.

Acadia, dad loved the book, A Separate Peace by John Knowles and the character wanted to be the first thing the sun shined on in the morning.  Unfortunately, it was one of our first camping trips, it rained and not only did we fail to dig a trench, I was pregnant and touched the tent and we were soaked and ended up sleeping in the front seats of the tiny blue bug.

We camped in Arches with Tom & Jean, Sierra Arch National Wilderness, The canyons of the Sierra Anchas containing multiple large cliff dwellings--and some of the most rugged terrain in Arizona.The Badlands, Bryce Canyon, Canyonlands, Carlsbad Caverns, Death Valley, Everglades, Grand Canyon, Grand Teton, Great Sand Dunes, Great Smokey Mountains, Hot Springs, Mount Rainier, Petrified Forest, Redwood, Rocky Mountains, Saguaro, Sequoia, Shenandoah, Wind Cave, Yellowstone, Yosemite.  We spent time in Boston Garden, Cape Cod, most of the 50 United States.

Your dad was one amazing person with a magnetic personality!  There was nobody like him, he was an extremist, a passionate person who loved talent, education, sports, life and greatness.  He was always teaching and sharing what he read and loved, Paul Robeson, James Baldwin, Kahil Gibran, the Weavers, Woody Guthrie, Arlo Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Martin Luther King, Joan Baez, Marnie Nixon great athletes, Larry Bird, Oscar Robertson, Jerry West, Wilt Chamberlain, Bill Russell.  I learned tennis well and both college and NBA basketball. We went to track meets, tennis matches, marathons, we were outdoors people.

He was incredibly romantic, he loved the song “The Way you Look Tonight", he declared it “our” song and we danced to it whenever we heard it.  The best surprise was when we were together on a subway train and he pulled out a folded looseleaf page from his pocket and began to serenade me with "The Way you Look Tonight" in French!  Another song that he felt was “our” song was "You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul” by Rod Stewart which felt so personal about the way he felt about me.

I loved to laugh to the extent that when I met a person without a sense of humor, I felt walls instantly going up, isolating us.  I am a contagious laugher, once I start, there's was no end in sight.  Dad read MAD Magazine and there was a fairly heavy man dressed in white  like a chef with a sledge hammer raised over his shoulder and a 5  oz can of Contadina Tomato Paste on the table.   The red tomato paste splattered everywhere with the commercial saying, “how do they get those three great tomatoes into that itty biddy can!”  That photo got me cracking up for years.

Unfortunately there was an excess of yelling, and screaming, quite tumultuous years when you and your brother were teens and no matter how angry I was I really want you to know the best of him, because he was the best.  There was great dysfunction when Alan and his sisters were growing up and they learned to hide from the truth.  To this day they are worlds apart for a reality check.

[some---words]

False Accusations (essay)

I knew of the accusation before I ever stepped foot inside the house. Still, I doubted it without question. It was one girl against a house full of boys; of course I believed the boys.

Theirs was my favorite frat despite the strict no-party rule, or perhaps because of that. I’ve always had a fraught relationship with house parties, one that follows me to this day. As a straight-laced high school student with acute anxiety, parties were a minefield of missed social cues and danger at every turn. I can count on one hand the number of parties I attended back then, and they were all agonizing parades of panicked loneliness. It wasn’t until college that I learned to numb my neuroses with cheap liquor, turning the volume down on my inhibitions so I could learn to enjoy myself for once. They were the ones who taught me how.

Maybe she was more like me than I realized. Maybe she was exactly like me. I never even met her, so how would I know?

My college was something like 80% Greek, not uncommon considering it was a small town devoid of any other forms of entertainment aside from themed parties soaked in Natty Light. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not you belonged to a house, it was which house suited you best. There were the stereotypical houses, filled with perfect rich kids whose parents either didn’t know how much Adderall it took for their progeny to pass their classes, or they just didn't care. There were the “loser” houses, filled with boys with no game and girls that no one wanted to take home at the end of the night. This one was somewhere in the middle.

I started going there relatively early on my freshman year, because it was the closest to my dorm and my roommate had made a few friends there. The first night, I met the president of the frat and was immediately smitten by his warmth and effortless cool. I remember setting my new pea coat down on his bed and watching later as he chased down a girl who tried to steal it. When I got my radio show shortly thereafter, in the not exactly prime midnight to 3am slot, it felt kismet because the frat was two doors away. I’d stumble over to the booth with seconds to spare, head still buzzing with Jaeger bombs and shitty vodka, and the boys would filter in throughout bearing gifts and jokes and company. If I missed a party, I’d invariably hear from President Cool and his friends, leaving funny messages on my answering machine and pleading with me to show my face. When I left school at the end of the year, fed up with my directionless life in the midwest and itching to return to California, President Cool was the one who helped me move my couch to the curb. I’d never felt more like I belonged.

I was pretty then, but not confident enough to realize it, so I was glad when the brothers took me under their wing. They would check on me throughout the night, make sure I was comfortable and intervene if I looked like I needed it. They gave me my first drinks and didn’t laugh when I coughed from the burn. When Rush Week came and I didn’t get into the sorority next door, they offered to rush me as their first “sister” and build me my own wing on the ground floor. They really did feel like brothers to me--cool, handsome brothers who named drinks after me and made sure I had a warm coat and someone to walk me home at the end of the night.

I never gave much thought to the social probation. Technically, they were banned from partying altogether, which I soon found out stemmed from the discovery of a secret room in the basement filled with racist and anti-semitic graffiti. A part of me deep down was disgusted when I saw it for myself, that dank chamber that seemed to house the ghosts of so many untold horrors, but I trusted my brothers when they told me they had been caught unaware, that this stuff had been here long before them. I didn’t give it a second thought because it was them, and they had given me no reason not to trust them.

So when I heard again about the accusation, I gave it even less thought. “I know about her, she’s such a slut” was the common refrain, as if the whole school knew more about this one random girl than any subject they might be studying. I never even knew her name, but I took it for granted that she slept around. It was the only explanation that didn’t challenge my precious beliefs, so it was the only one I needed. When she came forward, insisting that she had been assaulted by multiple brothers of my beloved frat at the start of the semester, I dismissed it out of hand. Clearly she was lying. Clearly she had a score to settle. The narrative I painted for myself was simple: she must have slept with someone who rejected her the next morning, so she threw the whole house under the bus with false cries of “rape” in retaliation. What a monster, I thought, only of her.

Back then, I considered myself lucky. I assumed I had never been sexually assaulted, and it would take years to realize how wrong I was even then. It’s all too easy to blame the victim when the alternative is challenging the intricate web of excuses that society has thrust upon us. At 18, I still believed rape to be an abomination, a burst of violence in a dark alley, perpetrated by a monster straight out of a scary story. How could the boys I loved so much, the same boys who once pulled a handsy stranger off of me, be monsters? It was so much easier to blame her.

Because it’s always easier to blame the woman. Hell, I’d spent so much time blaming myself for my own sexual assaults at 15 that I wouldn’t even recognize them for what they were for nearly 20 more years. Women make good scapegoats: we’ve been othered for so long that our “mysterious” nature is the source of good-natured ribbing. Men aren’t expected to understand us, the implicit conceit being that they needn’t worry about respecting us, either. We’re taught as far back as elementary school that our bodies need policing, that we can’t dress or act a certain way because of its effect on boys. And that’s to say nothing of the rape culture that makes us culpable for our own victimhood. If I went out, even today, wearing a short skirt and intending to drink, any consequences would be no one’s fault but my own. Assaulted by a stranger? It was my own fault for going into his hotel room and expecting him to listen when I said no. Assaulted by a friend? It was my own fault for leading him on.

So of course we blamed her, this Jane Doe with the reputation that preceded even her name. She went to the party, she drank the cheap beer, she knew what she was getting into. The only explanation that made any sense to my 18-year-old brain was that she woke up the next morning, regretted her decisions, and convinced herself that she had been raped to absolve herself of responsibility. Only now do I realize that most women just aren’t wired to think that way; on the contrary, most of the women I know try to justify even the most horrific violations of their bodies by placing the blame squarely on themselves.

If she was telling the truth, which I’m increasingly certain she was, think of the courage it took for her to do so. So early in the school year, challenging the underdogs that everyone on campus loved. People were outraged when SAE lost their party license; there’s no way they would’ve taken a rape charge any lighter. She had to have realized, at least somewhere in the back of her mind, that she was entering a battlefield, and she did so anyway. She took on a popular fraternity and watched as her reputation was torn to shreds for the rest of the school year. As everyone, including countless girls with experiences not unlike her own, vilified her with all the rest. I remember hearing that she was leaving school after the first semester; I couldn’t be sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised. So what’s more likely, that a conniving slattern would target a group of innocent young men who just happened to also be under social probation already and risk her entire college career on the off chance that the false accusation would be the one that was believed, or that an innocent young girl got deeply hurt and found the courage to tell the truth?

Fifteen years later, I’ll probably never know the truth. But at least now I believe her.

[theshannoncollective]

A look back on 2017

2017.  What a year.

This year was one of the most tumultuous, glorious, nerve-wracking, and, in retrospect, educational, years thus far.  It started with another trip to D.C. for the March for Life, where I first spent some quality time with my future roommates.  (spoiler alert: they’re some of the most generous, kind, encouraging, outgoing, laid-back, humorous and loving people I have ever had the pleasure of doing life with) I experienced my first *official* bid day and met some of the spring ’17 PC that would soon become some of my closest sisters.  I spent endless hours with a gang of some of the most amazingly genuine people I have ever known and I’m unbelievably lucky to call this ragtag group of guys and gals my best friends.  I spent a few too many nights embracing my inner party sorority girl at several the bars here in my college town.  I fulfilled a dream I never knew I had by seeing Daniel Tosh’s stand up show when he stopped in Tallahassee.  Another sisterhood retreat in the books with a visit to Universal Parks in Orlando (butterbeer and cotton candy were thoroughly enjoyed through the day) I spent more time chatting and joking with sisters than studying in the study room of 517 W Park Ave.  I saw the house I only knew for a few short semesters but became a piece of myself, brick by brick, get demolished to prepare for a new era of Gamma Beta.  I drove out to the nearest beach with 13 friends and spent a morning watching the sun rise over the marshes.  I celebrated birthday after birthday of sisters and friends. My mom came up to see my home away from home during Mom’s weekend at Alpha Gam.  I spent the summer on the West Coast, spending some time in the smallest big city in the world, Reno NV, feeling the crisp mountain air of Lake Tahoe and the unexpectant windy, hip, city of San Francisco.  I took another cruise (this time with just cruise veteran, Linda Wilson) and spent a few days on the beach with some beers, talking about life with my mom.  A time I would soon take for granted.  I spent a week bonding and prepping for recruitment with my sisters, and realized that these women are my people.  They are the women I laugh with, cry with, rejoice with and just do life with.  I opened to a few women about the loss of my dad and was met with nothing but love and support from women who know my heart.  I recruited my very first fall pledge class and realized that all the early morning, late nights, faces full of makeup, spanx, heels, and coordinated outfits were forgotten when those women came running home to us, joy and hope brimming in their eyes. And I, along with all the other incredible women in my chapter, were so excited to see them blossom and grow in this chapter, just like we all have ourselves.  I moved into my very first apartment with 2 of my best friends and so far, I haven’t gotten tired of their company.  Our home is always full of friends, laughter, good food, Hart of Dixie binges, hugs, and a few competitive games of Cards Against Humanity. Within the Fall 17 PC, I found two women who I want to share my collegiate journey with.  My two littles are intelligent, driven, outgoing, kind, and compassionate women who love this chapter and I cannot wait to watch then grow here in Alpha Gamma Delta.  I watched a rough season for Seminole Football, and subsequently attended my fair share of tailgates.  Considering Halloween is extensively celebrated at FSU, I donned costumes ranging from Mike Wazowski to a devil.  My friends and I hosted a Halloween party and sang our hearts out to all the 2000s R&B classics.  I bonded with sisters at a wild Halloween party and let loose at Township when Linda came to town for Parents Weekend.  I made a few last-minute decisions and ended up at a couple country concerts.  I spent quite a few days, nights and early morning at the library and various coffee shops around town, cramming for all three of my finals.  (which were all scheduled on the same day, I might add) Ran off to the dreaded Gville to tailgate and get my Greek life fix at UF AND watched my Florida State Seminole beat the damn Gators for the 6th year in a row.  To close out the year, I went home and spent some quality time with the only man I’ll ever need, my Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Charlie.

2017 was also a year full of hard times, and learning from those hard times.  I still miss my dad every day, and I’ve been working on healing from that wound.  I worried a lot about my brother and my mom.   They have a rocky relationship that is just stressed by my brother’s emotional trauma surrounding my dad’s death and my mom’s hands-on parenting style.  He got in trouble at school, and it ate me up inside knowing that I wasn’t home to act as a sort of mediator and neutral party at home.  I’ve struggled with my faith, trying to grapple how to balance my “sorority girl” lifestyle with my “church girl” background and desire.  Greek life was suspended after the hazing-induced death of a fraternity pledge.  At first, I was shocked, sunned.  How could our President just rip something that means so much to so many people on this campus with just some words.  But then I took a step back.  This suspension was so necessary.  I was blind to the sort of campus culture that surrounded me.  A culture based on binge-drinking, drug use and loose morals.  And I realized that this is the wake-up call we needed.  It’s been hard, and we’re still not sure when the suspension will be lifted.  But we will prevail, and come out stronger, as a community, on the other side of this experience.  I applied and interviewed to be a recruitment counselor.  I wanted to impact this community and provide the support to women I didn’t realize I needed when I went through recruitment.  I ended up choosing an executive council position with my chapter, rather than going the recruitment counselor route as Vice President of Academic Excellence.  I’m looking forward to being a part of change made in my chapter.  I finished off my second fall semester at FSU by earning A’s and B’s and working to improve my gpa from when I failed MAC1105 my freshman year. I now hold at 3.0 and can’t wait to watch myself continue to work hard to improve.  

Overall, 2017 was a year of learning and as Kylie Jenner would say, “realizing things.”  I realized that I’m much stronger than I give myself credit for.  I realized that moving away for college gave me an opportunity to start over, to be whoever I wanted to, whoever I felt like.  I realized that its okay to admit defeat.  I realized that it’s okay to open up to people.  I realized that things aren’t always going to go as planned and you’ll be able to figure it out in the end, you always do.  I realized that it’s time to stop seeking approval from people.  I realized that I need to say “thank you” more instead of “sorry.”  I realized that its time for me to stand up for myself.  I realized that I truly can do anything I want, because life is short. Most importantly, I realized that I am not the person I used to b, and that’s okay.

Peace out 2017, thanks for everything.  2018, get ready, I’m diving in, head first.  

             -S

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