#i was like fuck no get out you weird creep you are uninvited from family brunch

[rise-my-angel]

You guys should see the family tree reference chart I have to keep track of the ancestors from the Readers Florent AND Baratheon heritage, to keep track of Robbs heritage through the Starks amd Tullys, and Jons heritage through the Starks and Targaryeans.

Google probably thinks I am some expert researcher in the field of generational bloodlines and incest considering how often I have to look up what relation a distant relative makes someone to you and what thats even called.

[ac3id]

“watch and learn,” | 18+

pairings: incel sakusa x fem!reader x ushijima

summary: sakusa gets tired of watching you take advantage of his friend, so he takes matters into his own hands to teach you a lesson. fortunately for him, ushijima feels the same

warnings: noncon, humiliation, voyeurism, anal, hate fucking. 

a/n: this was high-key inspired by @vermiliren​ ‘s sakusa and ushijima concepts,,, love you <3

wordcount.: 4k+

tagging: @minitaureland, @oikawoahh, @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa, @sunshine-fangs​ 

dm to be added/ removed!

Sakusa has a problem.

Well, Sakusa has many problems, but this one in particular manages to drive him crazy.

It makes his blood boil and his cock hard, it’s an irritating itch he just can’t scratch which makes him absolutely mad.

One could say such a problem must be nerve-wracking; something which keeps you up all night wondering how you can overcome it. Maybe it’s family, maybe it’s financial. It must be a big deal, right? But luckily for Sakusa, it’s just you.

His problem is you, his teammate’s girlfriend.

It’s weird. Technically, there should be no reason for him to think of his teammate’s girlfriend as anything but just as another girl but his heart tells him another story.

Whenever he thinks of you, he either imagines punching your beautiful face until it’s stained with wine red blood or shoving his cock down all of your holes which he hears you cry in agony. He imagines filling you up with his cum, clearing you of all your filth. There’s really no in-between, but sometimes he imagines doing it both...in the same order.

But hey! Sakusa is a good guy, he would never do such a thing! He respects women and most certainly he respects you. He obviously doesn’t think you’re a whore or anything for talking to a guy who isn’t your boyfriend, Ushijima. But gosh, even you notch it up a lot.

He rarely ever sees you, only when you arrive at bars uninvited with Ushijima or when you come down to the volleyball tournaments for Ushijima or when you wait for Ushijima while he practices in the stadium or….. When you go down to the grocery store where he just happens to be….multiple times.

Maybe you’re getting food for Ushijima, but he’s sure his teammate’s not going to eat half the junk you buy. Ushijima has a body to maintain, his health is very important to him. All of that fast food is not going to work him any favors.

Don’t you cook for him? You know, like a woman should?

You see, Sakusa is a little old fashioned. He likes tradition and sincerely pesters everyone to follow it. So it’s not a big surprise when he expects the same from you or any female in general. In the past, he’s been called an incel; a man who hates women was it? But that’s definitely not him. He loves them. Especially when they are naked on his computer screen, getting pinned down by a man two sizes bigger than themselves.

Sometimes he imagines you and Ushijma in their place and way more often, he imagines him with you over there instead.

So, see? He doesn’t women. He loves them! But… some women get on his nerves.

Some women like you.

He would never admit this, but Sakusa follows you around only because he does not trust you for Ushijima. Even when Ushi’s around, you flirt with other men while he’s sitting right next to you with his arms wrapped around your shoulder. It gets worse when he is away.

He can always hear you make suggestive comments to the cute cashier in the store while he lurks away. He’s disgusted. He can’t understand why Ushijima still chooses to stay with you.

He’s dating a whore, you don’t care about him- you’re just having your fun. You’ll leave him once it gets over, you don’t like him. But you still have him entranced, so madly in love with you. Sukasa think-no, he knows it’s only because you’re good in bed. There’s no other reason for him to keep you around for so long, being a slut you probably know how to make a man feel good.

Sakusa understands that but it still bothers him. Like a good friend he is, he decides to tell Ushijima about you. It starts in the locker room after practice. Both of them stand together changing out of their sports gear, it was a tiring day, and the two men were tired. He’s surprised when Ushijima starts the conversation, midday through changing his shirt, he starts.

“So, what do you think of her?” Sakusa knows who he is talking about, you had come into the stadium that day to watch Ushijima practice, and he had spent the better half of his time glaring daggers and staring at you. Sakusa says your name cluelessly, “Yes, her.” Ushijima replies.

Sakusa clicks his tongue, “I think-” “Cut the bullshit, you’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Ushijima turns to him, his eyes dark and fatal. A frown rests on his face with his fists balled as if to throw a punch. Sakusa panics, not understanding why such an accusation could fall over his head.

“No- I- that’s not true!” he clarifies but Ushijima looks unmoved, “Then why the fuck do you keep looking at her?” the murderous glint in his eyes doesn’t disappear as he just gets angrier. A newfound fear forms within Sakusa, he had always respected Ushijima as a player and a man, he sure as hell didn’t want to start a fight with the green-haired man. He spills everything he knows, everything he’s seen.

The night when he spotted you kissing Atsumu, the relentless flirting, everything. It’s brutal, it breaks Ushijima’s heart but a necessary evil. He watches Ushijima’s spirit break when his eyes turn blank. He stares motionlessly on the floor, thinking. Sakusa feels the rage return, he’s so mad at you- how could you do this to anyone? All of you are the same, all women are the same but….but you are the worst!

Sakusa waits for a moment before speaking, “You can’t let her get away with this,” he starts. Ushijima looks up at him, listening diligently to his plan. “You should take revenge, don’t let her get away with this.” Revenge?

Ushijima’s eyes lit up at the word, many thoughts came into his mind when Sakusa said it. Revenge? Should he also kiss any of your friends behind your back? Should he be cold towards you? The idea of making you realize just how much you hurt him by lettering you experience the pain excited him. He loved you, he did but sometimes drastic measures have to be taken. “What should I do?” he asked impatiently, he wanted to find a way to fix his deteriorating relationship.

Sakusa pauses, his mind racing back to the many porn clips he has fapped to before and settling on which the big boyfriend destroys his little girlfriend’s pussy for cheating on him. “I’ll send a video.”

Later that night Ushijima receives a link from Sakusa, titled ‘boyfriend punishes girlfriend for cheating.’

- 

“Wakatoshi?” you bask in confusion at the man standing next to your boyfriend at the front door. It was late at night and you were almost going to bed. Ushijima had texted you telling he’d be home late that night but you had managed to catch him just in time. You were not expecting his teammate to come along with him, though.

It was awkward, dressed only in some sleep shorts and Ushijima welcoming Sakusa in the house was weird. He never seemed to take his eyes off of you, you were genuinely creeped out. You let the two men talk in the living room while you headed to the kitchen to prepare them a little snack. They said they had already eaten but umm...hospitality? It was fine to both of them, they liked you better in the kitchen anyway.

“Have you tried a threesome before?” Sakusa asked, taking a seat. It was finally the day Ushijima was going to man up and teach you a lesson which you’d never forget. “No, I don’t like to share,” he replied. Sakusa nodded, “understandable.” they stood quiet for a second only for your humming to fill the room. Even though you were in the kitchen, your sweet melody still ringed till the other room. Ushijima threw Sakusa a knowing glance before he made his way to the kitchen to see you. Heading over next to you, he sized down your form.

Ushijima took a step forward, trapping you between the kitchen counter and his huge body. You bring your hands to his chest, keeping him at a distance from you and just feeling his warmth under your palms. You did this often, it wasn’t anything sexual. You just enjoyed feeling him under your fingertips.

“So, what’s his deal?” you ask, your voice low not to alert Sakusa sitting in the living room. It was late, very late. There was no reason for Ushijima to bring a friend over now, but if Sakusa needed a place to spend the night- that was a different story.

“He will go in sometime,” Ushijima answered back, his huge, warm palms caressing your cheeks. You lean into the touch as he looks down at you affectionately with pure innocent eyes until he can’t. The spell you have him under breaks and he remembers why Sakusa is here.

His thumb trails down to your lips, pushing against the soft and pillow-like features. You look at him in confusion, Surprised by his bold actions. Ushijima was a private person, seeing him act so suggestively while another man sat right in the next room shocked you...but you liked it.

You obediently open your mouth letting his digits enter your hot carven. A tingle of a dull, throbbing pull settles on your tongue as you frown. Looking up at Ushijima through your lashes, you watch him glare at you while he pinches your tongue between his two fingers.

You whine out, there was no lie that you like it rough but the unsettling expression on Ushijima's face frightened you.

“Do you remember the last time we went out for drinks with the team?” your eyes widened and your blood ran cold, you knew exactly what he was getting at. “Nod your fucking head, bitch.” his pinch grew tighter making you squeal harder and you hastily nodded. You heard footsteps ring as Sakusa appeared into the room. Turning your eyes to his immediately, asking him for assistance. You hope to see a reaction out of Sakusa, disgust at most- he’d tell you both to cut it out but Sakusa stood still with an unreadable expression. Was he not going to say anything?

Ushijima caught your attention back by pinching your tongue hard, once again. drool pooled in your mouth, slowly leaking past your lips. It was disgusting.

“That night, did you kiss Atsumu?”

He knew. This is why he was doing this, you could understand that, but why was Sakusa just watching?

Your gaze lowered to the floor and Ushijima let his fingers leave you, letting you talk. You kept your head down as you spoke. it was too heartbreaking, you knew you should have told Ushijima but for some reason you never did. you were sacred Ushijima would leave you.

“That night, Atsumu came onto me…. when you left me with him that day, he kissed me- I didn’t want him to..he just…” shaky breaths leave your lips as you recall the dreadful incident. Atsumu was drunk that night, he wasn’t thinking straight. He apologized to you sincerely the next day but the damage was done. you could still feel his uninvited touches roaming all over your body when he tried to grope you.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Ushijima turned to sakusa, the glare which was burning you now directed at him. Ushijima was furious at sakusa for accusing you but sakusa knew what he saw. he frowned at you, he remembers seeing you kissing the blonde back- you’re just lying now, trying to get out of this mess.

“She’s lying, I knew what I saw. don’t trust her,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Who do you think you are?”

You scream at him with angry, glassy eyes immediately turning to Ushijima and begging him to not believe the dark-haired man. Sakusa watches you with calculating eyes, revising his next move. He knows he’s not going to let you go so easily, there’s only one reason he’s here tonight. And that’s to put a whore in her place, he’s not leaving until he gets a taste of you.

He starts again, “don’t listen to her, Ushijima. listen to me, I have no reason to lie to you I’m your friend.” He chooses his words carefully to manipulate Ushijima into siding with him.

Ushijima stares at you for a second before grabbing your wrist harshly, “it’ll be okay,” he whispers your name, pulling you along with him. you scream at him, trying to pull your hand out of his grasp as he thrusts your forward.

“Toshi’ stop. seriously, no. stop,” you cry and beg but he shows no mercy. He pulls you into your shared bedroom, throwing you on your shared bed. Sakusa quietly follows, locking the door behind him as he enters. “What should I do now?” Ushijima turns to sakusa who stands next to the door, his eyes run towards you and he watches you cowering on the bed. You curl yourself up, pushing your knees to your chest and burying your head in between. You sit at the edge of the bed, far away from the two men quiring in fear and dread. Sakusa had thought you’d be putting up more of a fight but seems like you knew your place. Besides there was no way you’d manage to win against the two giants, they’d crush you even before you can try.

“Do you not remember the video?” Sakusa asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening a porn site. He clicks on the video he had forwarded to Ushijima, the video starts normally; a man talking to his supposed girlfriend but he skips the clip forward to the part he wants to see.

“You seriously want me to do that to her?” Ushijima asks, frowning at the screen. The porn actress is bent over the actor’s lap as he showers her bottom with powerful slaps. Blistering her ass and making her cry.

Sakusa nods. Ushijima looks bad at your quivering form before whispering, “like a child?”

Truth to be told, Sakusa knew Ushijima was a softie and that he cared about your feelings. That was the difference between him and the ace. He loved you and he loved you a little too much, you were the first thing swimming in his mind and it may be defined by some as romantic, Sakusa thought differently.

The thought disgusted him, caring so much about a mere woman; the man has to be crazy. Don’t get it wrong, Sakusa loves women so much he’s cornering you like this but he also firmly believes that women have duties. And by what he can see between you and Ushijima, you’re not fulfilling them at all and Ushijima is too much of a pussy to make you fix your mistakes.

He’s just helping his bro out. xx

Sakusa doesn’t answer him, instead, he looks at him with a fixed glare. Ushijima clicks his tongue, he didn’t want to hit his girlfriend like a child but he didn’t want to disrespect his friend either. He thinks for a moment before turning to you, making up his mind he chooses to spank you. A small smile of satisfaction crosses on Sakusa’s face as he watched Ushijima approach you.

His knee dips down on the bed as he moves forward to get you, “Toshi’ please, I will never, never talk to any guy ever again. You don’t need to do this.” you beg. Your eyes are glassy and your face is flushed from crying. You look up at your boyfriend with pleading eyes, hoping he’d listen to you. Ushijima stops in his tracks, hesitating to get you. He thinks about, maybe he should let you-

“Ushijima.”

Sakusa’s stern voice pulls him back to reality, he clicks his tongue and grabs you by your arm pulling you with him to the opposite edge of the bed. You keep crying and begging but Ushijima doesn’t bat an eye as he pulls you over his lap. He presses his hand against your back to keep you from running away while the other paws at your sleeping shorts.

“Stop screaming,” Sakusa commands, but you never listen to him. “Is this okay?” Ushijima flashes Sakusa a perfect view of your naked ass, your panties, and discarded on the floor. Sakusa walks over, standing in front of Ushijima, he leans in to grab a handful of your ass but Ushijima pushes his hand away. “No touching,” he commands.

As if they put salt on the wound, Ushijima moves along to fondle your ass. Playing with the soft flesh, squeezing them, spreading them all to his liking. A small smile grazes his face and for the first time, he realizes how much smaller you are compared to him. It makes him feel mighty, he loves the power he holds over you right now. The thoughts about what he can do to you flow straight to his cock. You feel his ever-growing bulge poke at your stomach under his pants.

Sakusa picks up your panties from the floor and right over in front of you, he grabs your face with his hands, squishing cheeks before shoving the panties into your mouth shutting you up once and for all. Ushijima throws him a glare but decides to ignore it eventually. His hands roam over your back one last time before he brings it up into the air and slams it down onto your round ass swiftly.

You cry out in pain, your bare ass stinging and burning. You hope for your boyfriend to calm down but he doesn’t give you a break, repeatedly hitting your ass with no sign of mercy. You cry and wither around, mumbling words that get muffled behind the gag making it impossible for any of them to understand.

Sakusa patiently watches the scene in front of him, you’re crying in pain while Ushijima spanks you. It’s kind of like the scenes he always fantasized about, the only difference being it’s him who’s raining down slaps on your naked ass instead of Ushijima.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“What?”

Sakusa wants to touch you, he wants to feel you under him. He’s not going to let himself watch you both doing it all night while he stands at the side with a raging boner and besides, Ushijima wasn’t hitting you hard enough. He pauses, looking up at Sakusa and you sigh in relief.

“You’re hitting her hard enough, at this rate she’ll never fear you,” he taunts and you frown. Your ass was already painfully red and swollen, you couldn't imagine how much longer you’d last.

In a flash, Ushijima pulled you on your feet, holding you by your arm. “You do it. I’m not enjoying this,” Sakusa’s eyes light up and he holds his urge to smile, he does not want to out himself.

“Watch and learn,”

He quietly walks over and changes roles, you squirm in his grip shaking your head no. You did not want to left under Sakusa’s touch at all, you had a feeling he hated you- which he did. He pulled you over his thighs where you could feeling his raging boner hit your stomach and just like Ushijima he started slapping your ass swiftly faster and much harder than your boyfriend.

They come without any warnings one after the other. You feel yourself tapping out now and then but a swift, harsh pull to your hair did just fine in waking you back into the nightmare. After Sakusa was done with abusing your ass, he started rubbing and playing with you. He squeezed your cheeks making you wince, spreading it open staring at your pulsing hole. His fingers even slipped down lower, dangerously close to your cunt.

“Sakusa,” Ushijima’s heavy voice cut through and Sakusa immediately lifted his hands off you. He pushed you down on the bed and removed the panties he had stuffed into your mouth. You coughed, your throat hoarse and your body exhausted.

Your bottom was numb, you could not feel a thing and your body was on fire. Ushijima called out to you, caressing your cheek. “Are you okay?” Ushijima felt bad. In all honesty, he did not want to hurt you but hearing the things Sakusa had said to him about you and what you did when he was not around made him feel like a small man, a man with no pride. It bothered him so he listens to Sakusa. He seemed to know what he was doing but now he sat filled with regrets.

Sakusa slapped Ushijima’s hand away from your face, “She’s fine. We aren’t done yet.”

Sakusa pulled you closer to him and ripped your shirt off your body, squeezing your tits and rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers. Ushijima dragged you back to him, at this point both the men were using you like a rag doll, literally. “I’m fucking her pussy.” he declared. You whined as he made you sit down on the bed but quickly switched positions so that you were straddling his thigh. You could see the dent in his jeans propped up, begging to be released. “What? Am I supposed to take her ass? That’s gross.” “You can use her mouth too,”

That was even grosser, Sakusa wanted to fuck your pussy. No doubt he’d love to ruin your ass and your mouth but today he wanted your pussy. He opened his mouth to speak but was immediately speechless when he saw Ushijima making out with you. He kisses you so passionately, your lips molding together, his tongue going down your throat. For a moment it felt like he wasn’t going to rape you here and now. Hell, maybe you are even enjoying this.

He scoffs, unbuckling his belt he walks behind you, settling for your ass. He feels like a third wheel, watching Ushijima kiss you so lovingly; licking your neck and biting down your tits making you moan.

He lifts you, spreading your cheeks, presenting your gaping hole to Sakusa. “You can go first,” he offers. Your start squirming around once again trying to free yourself from him. “Please, Wakatoshi no it will hurt. Please don’t-” “Shut up, bitch” Sakusa comes behind you, his hands closing around your petit neck. He squeezes around the soft flesh, effectively shutting you up. Out of desperation, you look up at Ushijima with watery eyes only to see him glaring at Sakusa. He slaps away Sakusa’s hand away from your neck, “Careful, she’s not yours’ bro.” his voice is filled with sarcasm. Sakusa scoffs moving back, “is she yours though? Sucking up to every guy ever who gives her an ounce of attention? Hate break it to you but your girl’s a whore, dude.” Sakusa returns. Sitting in the room with a hard-on, they glare at each other. Co-operating with Ushijima was harder than Sakusa thought and Ushijima much more possessive than he seemed.

The longer he stared with Sakusa with murderous intentions, the more fragile his grip on you became. Once you spotted it was weak enough, you broke out of it made for a run.

‘Fuck!” Ushijima screamed and chased after you with Sakusa following. You don’t get far, they catch you in the corridor. Ushijima pushes you against the wall, his hand coming up to grab your jaw making you look at him. ‘One fucking thing [y/n]. I told you it’ll be over fucking soon, didn’t I?” he slaps your face once. “It’s all your fault anyway. If it weren’t for you whoring out there like a fucking slut you wouldn’t be in this situation.” he slaps you twice, ouch. You plead guilty, promising him you’d never do it again but after repeated denials, you change your request. You choke back sobs as you try to calm your uneven breathing, “You can do anything you want to me but...just not him, please.” you turn to Sakusa shaking like a leaf. You didn’t want that man to be near you, nevertheless, touch you.

Ushijima thinks for a moment, turning to Sakusa. He thinks long and hard before answering, “It will be okay.” he says before pushing you against Sakusa. He didn’t want to give you up but you know what they say...Bros before Hos. Sakusa catches you roughly and pins you against his chest. He wraps his arm around your waist, letting the other pulls his pants down and pull his throbbing cock out of his briefs. It stands tall, not as thick as Ushijima but he’s big. With the red tip leaking with pre, he gives it a pump.

“Hold her legs,” he commands. Ushijima walks up to the two of you with his huge cock out and leaking, he wastes no time in grabbing one of your legs and pushing it up.

He lines his tip with your dry hole, “that’s enough foreplay, now,” he slowly truths inside, breaching past your cute cunt, splitting you into two. A burning pain flashes through you, slowly getting replaced by pleasure. Your tight cunt sucks up around his cock, salivating as he hits deeper and deeper. Sakusa gets tired of watching as he pushes his tips past your rim making you scream out. The intrusion is weird and unfamiliar, the deeper he goes the more evident it becomes. Sakusa decides to show you some mercy when he flicks down your little clit, pulsing with need. All of a sudden you start withering with pleasure, completely forgetting about the compromising position you are in.

“Fuck.” Ushijima mutters, your moans a melody to his ears. “Fuckin whore likes this,” Sakusa wanted you to shut up, your moans were turning him off. Sakusa felt he was close. Your walls hugging him snuggly, trying to milk him for all he’s worth but he doesn’t want to give up yet. There's an unspoken competition between the two men; whoever can last longer and his pride won’t let him loose. He holds himself together for a little longer, hoping for Ushijima to come before him.

“Don’t cum inside,” the green-haired man commands. He is close, his thrusts hit sloppy and uneven. He bits down on your neck as he shoots his thick, white load into your womb cumming with a loud grunt. Sakusa follows soon after, his length twitching he pulls it out of you. He jerks his cock over and cums all over your back.

He lets go of you, and you fall onto Ushijima, your boyfriend's strong arms wrapping around you to steady you up. “You should leave,” he suggests. He pulls his dick back into his pants and walks to the door, throwing a glance behind his shoulder; he sees Ushi stripping out his shirt and dressing you with him. He scoffs and turns around, feeling disgusted he can’t wait to go back to his own home and take a fucking shower. Even though he finally gets what he had wanted, he can’t help but feel unsatisfied. It would have been much better if it was just him and you minus the possessive freak, maybe….he can come again when Ushijima is not around….What’s the worst which could possibly happen?

[punkscowardschampions]

Jac & Amelia

Jac: what did you do that for Amelia: What? Jac: the presents Amelia: I had to go 🎁🛍 for my parents and it took like 10 minutes Jac: you went to three different shops, at least Amelia: yeah because what else was I going to do before they picked me back up Jac: study for your theory Jac: be one Amelia: 🥱 Jac: I ain't got you nothing Amelia: I don't want anything Jac: then that's a present in itself, I guess Amelia: yeah, you getting another from me by taking the out you were just given Jac: it was already 3-1 do you really have to add to your score Amelia: Always Jac: 🙄 Jac: were you invited then Amelia: to? Jac: Is' party Amelia: Yeah Amelia: but I don't know if it was by Is or her mum Amelia: or if we're talked enough that she'd really want me there Jac: yeah Jac: interesting choice, on her part Amelia: If I get there and her mum engineered it or it's obvious Is doesn't want me around I'll just give her the 🎁 and go Jac: you're going? Amelia: I have the 💌 I think I have to Jac: unlucky then Amelia: don't worry, I won't insist that you're my date Amelia: as a favour Jac: to her, so that's not another gift to me Amelia: it definitely is Amelia: you don't want to go Jac: wasn't invited Jac: but I do have somewhere better to be, which is unlucky for you Amelia: I'm not inviting you or mourning the loss of not having you with me Jac: well I was going to invite you to a party that wouldn't be sad as shit Jac: but if that's how you feel then alright Amelia: no you weren't Jac: Why would I say I was if I weren't, weirdo Jac: you know those really cool twins in 6th, Nat and Vee? Amelia: because I've already said I have to go to Is' and I don't really want to and you want to make me feel even worse Amelia: here's what I could've won Jac: Rude Jac: At Christmas, you have to tell the truth Jac: I thought you might wanna come and stare at them Jac: that's all Amelia: my parents literally lied to me about 🎅 for 8 years so no, you don't Amelia: and I don't know who you mean Jac: you can't lie about myths Jac: he could be real, they can't confirm nor deny Jac: anyway, yes you do Jac: Vee especially is pretty gay looking, she's Bi, I think Jac: [sends her these gals pictures] Amelia: if there's mistletoe I'll come Amelia: after I've been to Is' Jac: they throw really good parties, so I've been informed Jac: don't waste too much time then Amelia: okay Jac: I knew you'd like her Amelia: you sound like a really creepy mastermind in a lair Jac: I do live below ground now so Amelia: you can be mole, I'll be rat Jac: I suppose you've just been as insulting to yourself Amelia: 😂 Amelia: I'd have bought you that 📖 too but I know you've already read it Jac: It's good to have as many classics under your belt as possible Amelia: How did you know I'd like her? Jac: I've got eyes, don't need to be a huge gay Amelia: you just need to be hugely 🥴 Jac: Nah, I fucked their brother Amelia: I meant to 'like' anyone, I don't want or need to know that Jac: 🤷 Amelia: I'm serious Jac: Alright whatever Jac: and it's not true anyway, if it was I wouldn't be in this fucking mess would I Amelia: what mess? Amelia: you're going to need to be more specific Jac: ha ha Jac: if I only liked people when I was wasted, literally would not be here having this conversation Amelia: you're having this conversation because you can't bring yourself to say thanks for the gifts, Amelia Jac: If you expected a thank you, you wouldn't have given them to me Jac: if Sav was still here, this wouldn't be happening at all, is the point Amelia: we're dancing around it, that's okay, I'm a good dancer Jac: you aren't that good, humblebrag Amelia: at Christmas, you have to tell the truth, supposedly Jac: what, your ego is big but not big enough to deal? 😏 Amelia: giving me a compliment won't cause you to immediately wither and die, I'm sorry Jac: Precisely why I'd never bother, my dear Amelia: you've done enough anyway Jac: have I Amelia: I'll get loads at the parties Jac: cocky Amelia: I'm thinking they can't all be unwanted ones, naïve or optimistic if anything Jac: probably Jac: least you won't have to help Isabelle blow out her candles Amelia: if her mum made the cake they'll probably be lopsided and a 🔥 hazard Jac: true Jac: they usually tasted pretty good though Amelia: true Amelia: I'll stay for some Jac: don't offer to get me a party bag then Amelia: I'll just do it, whether you say you want one or not Jac: gift giving is your top love language, I get it Amelia: I just know you, that's all Jac: you know that I'm fat, is it Amelia: oh please Amelia: I'm not giving you a compliment that easily or obviously Jac: I'm probably not in the mood to work for it Amelia: 🤷 Jac: 🥱 Amelia: if you've got something better to do, go do it Jac: getting ready for the party, aren't I Jac: avoiding my family Amelia: right Jac: everything's always an ulterior motive with you Amelia: no it's not Jac: why can't we just have a conversation then Jac: we've done worse Amelia: because you're not in the mood evidently Jac: you're the one that's got fuck all to say Amelia: everything's always my fault with you Jac: I'm bored and you're doing nothing about it Amelia: that isn't my first priority Jac: then I'll find someone who's it is Amelia: okay Jac: 👏 Amelia: Sav's not here, remember Jac: don't bother coming to this party Jac: and if you show anyway, don't bother coming to find me Amelia: It wasn't about you, it's about the hosts Jac: I invited you, not them Amelia: and now you've uninvited me so same difference Jac: doesn't magically mean you're wanted Jac: I'm not gonna just turn up at Isabelle's house Amelia: I'm used to the feeling by now, so again, it's not going to bother me Jac: you're all being extra infuriating today Jac: jesus christ Amelia: yeah well Amelia: I don't know what to say to Is or to do Jac: you can't do anything Jac: but she's literally the most forgiving person to doormat degrees Jac: you'll barely have to say anything and she'll happy cry Amelia: Please come Jac: She won't wanna see me Amelia: re-read what you wrote before that Jac: it's different Jac: I'm not going to make her be my friend and forgive me, just because I know she would Jac: you didn't do anything wrong, really Amelia: I walked away, that's worse than anything you did Jac: it really isn't Jac: I'm too drunk now even if Jac: I'd only be a bitch by accident if not on purpose Amelia: at least wait for me then Amelia: we can go to the other party together Jac: Jesses got a show tonight Amelia: I know, I was invited to that too Amelia: everyone is Jac: not me Jac: I can't be here when they're leaving or everyone will try to force me and I'll die Jac: Jude is bad enough Amelia: Go to my 🏠 no ones there Jac: where are your parents Amelia: some dinner party thing Jac: alright Jac: thanks Amelia: I'll be back to get you after Is' Amelia: and my parents won't get back until we've left Jac: I can be gone before you, I just don't want to be here Jac: and Jude owes you her life so you can cash that in whenever you want Amelia: I don't want you to go without me or before me Jac: as long as it's for the right reasons Amelia: what are they? Jac: you know Jac: I'm just saying, if you're just saying that because you think I need to be on suicide watch or something too then I'll just have to hit you instead Amelia: I'm saying it because nobody shows up to cool parties early Jac: okay Jac: I'll wait Amelia: if you go through my 🎨 I'll be the one hitting you Jac: you shouldn't have said that Jac: but alright Jac: your parents are going to think I'm robbing you if they come back Jac: your mum better not get one of her famous migraines Amelia: I'm in danger of that if anyone is, don't worry Amelia: and it's clients of my dad's so she can't Amelia: he needs the 💸 Jac: take a nurofen and shut the fuck up 🐠 Jac: gotcha Amelia: 😂 Amelia: it's beyond unfair that she pretends to get them and I actually do Jac: it's because you're gay Jac: [that article 'cos it's true lmao] Amelia: oh my god Jac: actual proof of punishment from god or something else, you decide 🤔 Amelia: shhh Jac: oh, I'm sorry, is it your head Jac: I'll be quiet Amelia: no exorcist-ish apologies tonight will do fine Amelia: the dark room is being supplied Jac: at least you got one Jac: Jess is probably still waiting Amelia: he can hold his breath for a really long time 🏊🏼 Jac: helps with the singing Amelia: the show'll be online right? Amelia: I totally want to see it Jac: no doubt Jac: everything is Amelia: yeah, I figured Amelia: does that girl who's like obsessed with him still help him edit or did he finally pick up on her weirdness? Jac: I think she's still around Jac: I don't really ask Amelia: she's intense Jac: I hadn't really noticed but yeah Jac: I guess she is Amelia: maybe that's because I'm gay too Amelia: I could solve crimes Jac: no because it's only 'cos I was so into Sav that I don't know anything about it Amelia: that makes sense, I was so into you that I know too much about it Jac: that's not about me Jac: sounds like part-timer energy tbh Amelia: he's your brother Amelia: in your ⚪ Jac: if you say so Jac: maybe you're obsessed with him and you want rid of the competition Amelia: 🤢 Amelia: I'd more likely be obsessed with her and he's the competition so no because he's still living if not breathing while he holds his breath Jac: well I'm not even sure she exists now Jac: this is all some fantasy in your 🧠 Amelia: 👻 editor! Jac: ha 🤓 Amelia: 😎 Jac: yeah, I'll forward that to Vee, you'll be so in Amelia: you can't because I already wanna die Amelia: I'm so underdressed for this Amelia: everyone's 👗 Jac: what are you wearing, excuse the creep line Amelia: 😏 Amelia: but literally 👖 Jac: oh Amelia Jac: I've got more on to come sit at yours alone Amelia: it's because I'm gay, isn't it? 😕 Jac: yes but you always have been Jac: I doubt Is was expecting you to put on a party frock Amelia: she did say she liked my birthday one and that does haunt me Jac: well I think she was in a state of shock Jac: for good reason, as we all were Jac: myself not included, of course Amelia: 👧🏻 Amelia: thanks to my mum for everything Jac: cold ears for christmas Amelia: ear muffs gay or beanie gay? a fun quiz Jac: you want to be beanie but you're ear muffs Amelia: true Amelia: you're oversized scarf Jac: blanket but make it fashion Jac: duh Amelia: 🤗 Jac: Is is those massive felt hats everyone wears in Autumn Amelia: that's so accurate Jac: I know Jac: it's what I'm going to use my Psychology degree for Amelia: 😉 Amelia: what else is all that debt good for Jac: builds character Amelia: her 👗 is great though Amelia: I wouldn't but she won't be devastated that she did Jac: yeah? Amelia: Yeah Amelia: unlike me she doesn't seem to be having a really shit time Jac: has she talked to you? Amelia: not yet Jac: that's rude Amelia: Obviously she's said hi and thanked me for coming but I assumed that isn't what you meant Amelia: do you think I should leave? Jac: who's there Jac: is Kiersten with the braces Amelia: how did you guess? Jac: 'cos she's wanted to be mates with Is for ages but she thinks I'm stuck up Amelia: THAT'S rude Jac: she probably heard me and Savannah talking about her in Chemistry Jac: so she's got grounds Jac: who else, Gemma with the frizzy hair, Paige who told on you that time and got you your first detention... Amelia: Okay, before I tip this drink subtly over her, what did you say? Amelia: yeah and yeah Jac: it would've been Sav she overheard Jac: I'm quiet Amelia: and she's 📢👄 Amelia: sound probably really carries in Sligo Jac: I think she's got a boyfriend already Amelia: of course she will have Amelia: what else is she going to do at Catholic school when she isn't doing homework Jac: don't Amelia: I'm sorry Amelia: it's this, being here, I shouldn't have Jac: I don't think you can just leave though Jac: she probably doesn't want to talk talk like right now and ruin her party Jac: at least say you will, book in and a coffee in or something Amelia: it's not just that, it's too weird Amelia: there's like no place for me Jac: she's moved on hasn't she Amelia: yeah Jac: I shouldn't have made you walk away from her Amelia: you didn't Jac: I still feel like I did though Amelia: well whatever way you want to look at it, she's got new friends now Jac: so do you Jac: or could still Jac: Jess said everyone knows what your ex was like Amelia: he could've warned me Jac: I told him so Amelia: it doesn't matter, I don't have the energy Amelia: like you said, I should study more for my theory Jac: if it's any consolation, I am totally alone, and not just literally right now Amelia: you've got me, excuse you Jac: no, not friends, remember Amelia: ugh, fine Amelia: what are you doing though? Jac: I was about to ask if your parents were still as militant with their drink stash Jac: idk how they kept such a close eye on levels, crazy Amelia: they are but I'll be taking the risk and the punishment when I get there so feel free to start without me Amelia: as long as you don't get too drunk to go Jac: doubt they're so cool they need bouncers Amelia: I mean, I'll give you a 🐷y back or hold your hair but if you're 😪 there isn't much I can do Jac: 😇 Jac: me, you, you decide Amelia: me, clearly Jac: 🙄 Jac: braceface would HATE you Amelia: she can join in with Paige who's blatantly whispering about me Jac: she's the biggest goody-two-shoes Jac: she'd thrive in catholic school Amelia: She'll be plotting how to get me in trouble with Is' mum since school's out and there's no looming detention for me Amelia: I know how to make that really easy for her Jac: you'd think she was 7 not 17 Jac: what are you gonna do? Amelia: shut her up, the same way I always do Jac: don't, come here instead Amelia: but she's so annoying Jac: I know she is but I want you Jac: so come here before I change my mind Amelia: okay Jac: okay Jac: make sure you tell her you'll talk to her later Amelia: I did Amelia: 😇 Jac: good girl Amelia: I didn't get any 🎂 though Jac: I'd make you one Jac: but I might burn your house down so Jac: I have an idea though 💡 Amelia: what is it? Jac: hang on Amelia: no, I'll start 🏃 Jac: ta-da Amelia: 😳 Amelia: thanks for not telling me that's what you looked like when I was talking about being underdressed earlier Amelia: and for having that 💡 so I don't care anymore Jac: you always look perfect anyway, it doesn't matter what you wear Amelia: you do Jac: you too Jac: and you won't feel underdressed when you undress me Amelia: I look 😍 but I'm fine with it Amelia: as long as my parents don't get back before me Jac: I'm quiet, remember Jac: it's fine Amelia: it's not you I'm worried about Amelia: but I'm not that worried Jac: 😍 Jac: you're so adorable but also so hot Jac: it's rude Amelia: says you Amelia: you're the rudest person ever if that's the criteria Jac: oh no, Kiersten was right Amelia: she can have that one thing Jac: only if I can have you Amelia: there's no if Amelia: you have me Jac: good Jac: I need you, you know Amelia: I need you more, not because you love a competition, although if you do want to get competitive about it, that's cool too Jac: We can make it into a competition but what would I win? Amelia: 🤔 Jac: I can't think, I want to see you too badly Amelia: I get it, trust me Jac: You're the prettiest Amelia: no, I'm not Amelia: but I do love you the most Jac: don't be mean to yourself Jac: 😣 Amelia: sorry Jac: I can make you believe me, don't worry Amelia: I'm not worried about that either, I know you can Jac: you don't need to worry about anything Jac: not now Amelia: not now Amelia: I promise Jac: 😇 Amelia: 🥰 Jac: have you got a headache? Amelia: you don't need to worry either Amelia: not about me Jac: I just wanna know if I need to make that go away first before letting you touch me Amelia: I do have a headache but I would literally come back from the dead to see you so Jac: 🥰 Jac: still means I get to go first 😈 Amelia: 😇 if anything Jac: see what you think when we're waking up your neighbours Amelia: I'll be thinking the same thing because nothing's changing my mind about you but okay they'll probably think 😈👹👻👺 Jac: I've never heard you, properly Jac: either we have to be quiet or it's too loud to hear anything Amelia: but you know how hard I find trying to be quiet Jac: I wanna hear everything Amelia: you won't want me to 🤫🤐 once you have though Jac: yeah? Amelia: we'll have to find new places Jac: or I'll work out ways to make you louder at parties Amelia: okay Jac: only okay? Amelia: emphatically Amelia: like ! Amelia: like that's the best idea I've ever heard Jac: my nerdy baby Amelia: well now I don't want to correct it to 😎 Amelia: you win Jac: 😄 Jac: come here and be my prize Amelia: [will let you show up gal cos why not you've been running like a needy gay and it's not that far] Jac: [enjoy hens 'cos this is gonna be intense] Amelia: [the softness and love never lasts soz ladies] Amelia: [more importantly soz to these neighbours] Jac: [💔] Jac: [but love that lmao] Amelia: [thank god her parents aren't coming back yet because there is no being quiet if their lives depended on it now] Amelia: [I had an idea that while Jac is getting ready because even if she doesn't change her outfit she'll probably wanna fix her makeup etc whereas Amelia isn't wearing any she should start a new portrait, this time of them doing something intimate but not saucy lol because 1. that's gay 2. they're at her house so all her art stuff is right there 3. she can make it fit whatever vague af prompt she was given for holiday homework] Jac: [that's a good idea, I won't Katy Perry spoil it rudely, but just like, it better be vague enough that everyone in Art won't be 👀 lmao] Amelia: [don't worry gal we won't out you but actually those Katy Perry dramatics would be a good idea to remember if we ever want them to have a big row haha] Jac: [there is always time lmao, though for tonight I think it's easy enough to have the level of drama we want because like this all happens but then you're not allowed to be together at the party like you aren't even friends still so it's like the base level of getting along at a party vibes, which would obvs be upsetting every time, poor Amelia] Amelia: [agreed we'll keep it in our back pocket for later because tonight has enough going on, like literally every time you have moments like this and then she pushes you away after would be 💔] Jac: [let the fun commence] Amelia: [we all know she's kissing that girl under the mistletoe but is there anything else you want to happen] Jac: [I've got a picture to post in jealousy to that but nothing is gonna actually happen on her end, just pretending luvs, as for other party goings on, literally anything could, she's probably gonna blank their brother which will probably give Amelia that false hope] Amelia: [love that by which I mean hate that lol cos she's already got false hope from Jac inviting her to the party instead of just going on her own] Jac: [I know, the gag is it isn't really false hope but like it still is 'cos we aren't coming out at this party obvs lol, even if they can be more friendly 'cos it's not their year or their usual crowd] Amelia: [I like that because it's a less messy and more friendly vibe even though it means it'll hurt more the next party they go too that won't be like that/when shit hits the fan in like 2 days because of Savannah's love life] Jac: [just waiting for that confirmation hens, bit rude to ruin xmas but there we go] Amelia: [how dare you Savannah you know blocking someone means nothing because you have blatantly also stalked Jac to see what she's doing] Jac: [oh gals, i hope you think some boy is buying her channel] Amelia: [oh she do and that's one of many reasons we're getting with this boy now after hinting all month] Jac: [sorry to dis man but nah] Amelia: [he's not a sweetie like Ty we don't stan] Jac: [when you said one time that he reminded her of Jac LMAOOO] Amelia: [nobody is having a good 2 years is the point but I am DECEASED] Jac: [this is true, you're all going through it, that's the point] Amelia: [Sienna and Is are the only ones thriving] Jac: [god bless lol] Amelia: [can we say they go back to Amelia's after this party and then Jac has to sneak past her parents in the AM for the lols or is that too friendly, like the spare room does exist and I feel like she doesn't wanna go home after missing Jesse's gig] Jac: [yeah, I feel like tonight we would because the family drama is more than the amelia drama rn so we're not gonna turn down the spare room, it will be amusing and also, less funny, can worry the fam some more about where we are, ahh the joys] Amelia: [soz JJ soz everyone but I shall cackle because it's probably more like the afternoon when they wake up so Amelia's parents are just there living their vanilla life] Jac: [hope you don't use your spare room as a dressing room or something babes lollollol] Amelia: [they're just casually eating lunch while Jac tiptoes away] Jac: [oh god bless, at least you did have normal clothes to change into and you won't be in your hoe outfit to walk of shame] Amelia: [or have to borrow clothes off Amelia like this is awks but] Jac: [still a prepared bitch even at our lowest] Amelia: [virgo energy] Jac: [we can skip to them if you like, now we've got the energy of the night] Amelia: [fine by me boo] Jac: did your parents see me Jac: or hear Amelia: No, I captured all of their attention with that loud explanation of my 🎨 Jac: can put it on the fridge Jac: 👍 Amelia: not until it gets graded Jac: it's an As only appliance, gotcha Amelia: 😂 yeah that's why looks nothing like a gallery Jac: even imagining the sound of a 🎻 rn is making my head wanna burst open Amelia: if you're going to keep checking it, turn your phone brightness down Jac: why would I be Amelia: I'm such a great conversationalist Jac: so I hear Amelia: 😏 Jac: don't 😏 @ me Amelia: *😉 Jac: idiot Jac: how was she then Amelia: who? Jac: don't who at me either, you know who Amelia: okay but I don't know what you expect me to say Jac: then I don't need to check my phone, thanks for saving me Jac: and as I gave her to you, that makes us 2-4 Jac: I'll even the score later Amelia: you didn't give her to me, you gave yourself to me Amelia: and I gave her my number Jac: cute Amelia: why do you want to hear this? Jac: It's a while back to mine, even catching the bus Jac: got time to kill and nothing to kill it with Amelia: you should read the 📖 I gave you once the 🤯💊 kick in Jac: I doubt I'll have time with the bollocking I'll be getting once I finally get back Amelia: probably not Jac: looks like Jess' show is online though Jac: no one phantom'd him so there you go, there's your entertainment 'til she texts you Amelia: she might not Jac: yeah right Amelia: parties make everyone 😍🥰😘 Jac: she's definitely full time gay Jac: not gonna pretend she don't know you now Amelia: no, you were right the first time about her being bi Jac: same thing Amelia: it isn't Jac: when you're fucking her, it'll feel the same Amelia: it was just a 💋 Amelia: I don't even know if that'll happen again Jac: do you want it to Amelia: I don't know Amelia: why I do and why I don't are the same reason Jac: sounds confusing Amelia: Yeah Jac: couldn't be me Amelia: like I said, what do you expect me to say? Jac: nothing you haven't Amelia: you're not the only one 🤯 you know Jac: don't moan Jac: go outside Jac: fresh air helps Amelia: you're repeating advice my dad already gave Amelia: at least he's asking for 🛒🍌🥚🥕🍞🧀🍅 Jac: what the fuck is he making Amelia: that's not the full list Amelia: artistic licence if anything Jac: 🙄 Jac: not really A for effort Amelia: you're going to start marking me now, are you? Jac: maybe Amelia: okay Jac: it's cold Amelia: is that why you wanted me to go outside? Jac: to freeze to death or confirm that statement? Jac: neither seems worth it, so no Amelia: how far away are you? I don't have a blanket scarf but I can bring you something Jac: no Jac: you're right, Is' dress was quite nice Amelia: I'm right about you not needing to freeze to death too Jac: says you Amelia: it doesn't have to be like this Jac: like what, an Irish winter? Amelia: you're as stubborn as an Irish winter Jac: artsy Amelia: I'm supposed to be the dramatic one as well Jac: I'm not going to die of consumption on the bus home Jac: you're still the dramatic one, you can mope about how I won't accept help if you like Amelia: and you're getting the wrong kind of inspiration from the classics you've read Jac: have I spoiled the ending of this book? Jac: I'll pass it on, like Amelia: I'm not telling you the ending, read it Jac: you want me to write a book report so you can grade me too? Amelia: 😂 maybe Jac: 🤓 Amelia: ❌ Amelia: and it's not moping, it's caring Jac: no one asked you to either way Amelia: it's really cold Jac: the bus has heating, it's only gonna be a few minutes wait, then I can run back Amelia: I could wait with you Jac: why would you do that Jac: obviously not Amelia: because you're right about fresh air Amelia: and it might  🌨⛄️ Jac: then go to the park with all the other little kids Amelia: you want to know what kissing her was like, it was the opposite of this Jac: talking would get in the way of it Amelia: that's not what I mean and you know it's not Jac: I don't care what you meant Jac: I'm not threatened by Violet McLaughlin Amelia: it's not about her Jac: not for me it ain't Amelia: you make everything 10x harder than it needs to be Jac: if you can't cope Jac: then you don't need to worry about that, because we're not friends Amelia: for fuck's sake Jac: just go Jac: the supermarket is gonna be full of frantic people fighting over sprouts Amelia: if we're not friends there's literally no reason for me to make things that easy for you Amelia: so no Jac: we're not friends so I'll happily tell you to fuck off if you come anywhere near this bus stop Amelia: you either want me to 🛒 or you don't Jac: for god sake Jac: can your parents not take you Amelia: the whole point is he wants me to get out Jac: could he not come with so you don't go do some more reckless shit Jac: lazy parenting, tbh Amelia: he doesn't know about most of the reckless shit I do Jac: 🙄 case in point Jac: but don't worry, I won't call yours Amelia: it doesn't matter to me if you do Jac: I'm not interested enough to get you in trouble Amelia: unlike you I talk, it's no challenge for me to say whatever they need to hear Jac: you want an easy life Jac: I don't Amelia: I want a fucking life Jac: and the dramatics, right on cue Amelia: right Jac: you want a life, go do something about it Amelia: I already told you I'm not leaving Jac: we all will before you know it Jac: then we'll have no reason to stay in contact Amelia: we'll always have a reason Jac: How is it that Is has got it before you? Jac: she didn't need either of us at her party Amelia: I'm not Is, and guess what, I'm not Savannah either Jac: Yeah, you're not Amelia: they're gone and I'm not going anywhere, keep tipping your hourglass over and pretending like it'll be any different any time soon Jac: oh, fuck you Amelia: the bus stop is way too public for you Jac: you're not funny Amelia: it's not a laugh out loud kind of moment Jac: don't come here, get the next bus Amelia: I'm not going to, I've got 🎨 to finish Jac: Good Jac: because I would have to slap you even if it is a hate crime Amelia: you'd try Jac: I'm not fucking bragging, I wouldn't know what else to do Jac: I don't, these days Amelia: me either, I would still stop you though Jac: maybe Amelia: try it Jac: I'm not saying I want to either Jac: just leave me alone Amelia: no Jac: I'll leave you alone Amelia: that's never been what I want Jac: then it can be a threat Amelia: yeah, and it existed ages before you bothered to say it Amelia: it's all I think about already Jac: You knew what this was before it started Amelia: and? Amelia: I still know what it is Amelia: that doesn't mean it's okay Jac: then you should say no Amelia: You knew how I felt before this started Amelia: I can't Jac: and I'm committed to being a shit person Jac: I can handle that, if you can't then you have to address it Jac: I'm not doing it for you Amelia: I got that, you're not doing anything for me today Amelia: in the cold light of Jac: That's how it's been from the start Jac: it's not changing Amelia: it did change, last night was different Amelia: for a bit Jac: you just want that to be true Amelia: you just want to keep lying and gaslighting Amelia: I'm not stupid Jac: I was so drunk I can barely remember any of it Amelia: no you weren't because if you had been there would be nothing to remember Amelia: nothing would have happened Jac: you don't like being accused of things, neither do I Amelia: the predatory lesbian angle is tired, that's all Amelia: so am I Jac: I didn't wake you Jac: your parents dancing 'round the kitchen like this is a rom-com did Amelia: I know that Amelia: and you knew what my parents are like when you decided to sleep in the guest room Amelia: maybe 🧔👩🏻👧🏻 is their rom-com Jac: needs must Amelia: exactly Jac: I didn't say shit about your parents Amelia: we're not fighting about them Amelia: why would you? Jac: Then can you get to your point Jac: because this is tiring, and unnecessary, agreed Amelia: I've made them Amelia: points multiple Jac: Cool, bye then Amelia: 👋 Amelia: I've got no interest in dating Savannah Moore Jac: That's good, she's straight and gone Amelia: you sounded just like her Amelia: everything she said to you, repeated more or less word for word to me Jac: So? Jac: and you don't know what she said to me, you weren't there, you have no idea Amelia: so goodbye then Amelia: you told me, remember, that she said how beautiful you were etc Amelia: you're becoming an echo Jac: It isn't the same Amelia: she hurt you because everything she said didn't mean that she wanted to kiss you, be with you, any of the things you wanted Amelia: this is the same for me Amelia: you'll never kiss me how Violet did, you won't even take my fucking coat when it's about to snow Jac: it's different because she's fucking straight and you know I'm not Jac: but if that isn't enough for you then yeah Jac: bye Amelia: I know loads of things but how can it be enough when you spend have the time trying to make me doubt them Amelia: half* Jac: There's nothing I can or will do about that Amelia: you could be honest with me Jac: I have been, for fuck's sake Amelia: no, you lie to hurt me, that's literally the opposite Jac: No, I've told you loads of things, things I haven't told anyone else, and you admit that because you know them Jac: what you want, Amelia, is for me to come out and declare my love for you Jac: and I have never, ever, said I would do that Amelia: what I want, is you Amelia: not the person you're pretending to be to everyone else Jac: If I could be that person still, don't you think I would Jac: I'd do it for me, not you Jac: it's like I'm dead Jac: there isn't a switch where I can just bring that me back, she's gone Amelia: sometimes you are, so even if there's no switch, there has to be something Amelia: I'm not that crazy and you're not that dead Jac: well if you work it out, let me know Amelia: obviously Jac: It's not the same Jac: you can say it's fucked Jac: but you aren't being led on Amelia: okay Amelia: I'm sorry Jac: it's fine Amelia: it's not, I know you don't want to talk about her Jac: it's not how you think it was Jac: no one else would get it Amelia: it's between you and her Amelia: I don't have to get it Jac: yeah Amelia: has the 🚌 come yet? Jac: I'm going to town instead Jac: I'll buy a cheap coat, don't worry Jac: but work is open 'til Christmas eve, and they didn't expect me to work after term-time, but I'm gonna go offer Amelia: did the 🤯💊 really work that well? Jac: I think it was the cold more Jac: and I still don't wanna be there yet Jac: you know how big a thing Christmas is with my family, everyone will be coming over from wherever the fuck they reside, it's too much Amelia: yeah Amelia: at least your uni app will benefit Jac: and my pockets Jac: no presents really means I could save up Amelia: not if you spend all your money on coats Amelia: I'll bring you one, I'm serious Amelia: to work or wherever you are now Jac: likewise if you waste all your time on me, your 🎨 will never get finished Amelia: my 🎨 is technically a bigger waste of time Amelia: and when I go to uni I won't have any time for it anyway Jac: but still, a really good grade will help you get there, even if the subject isn't totally relevant Amelia: I'm already getting a good grade in that subject Amelia: are you out of excuses why I shouldn't help you now or what? Jac: Ugh Jac: you're so stubborn, it's rich you're trying to have a go at me for it Amelia: you're just annoyed that I'm giving you something else, but it's a borrow Amelia: I'm not 🤶🏻 Jac: maybe God can be a woman but Santa categorically is not Jac: what does his wife even do? Amelia: discipline the elves because he's a soft touch, obviously Amelia: are you still at the bus stop then? Jac: no, the bus came, but they're pretty regular, even from yours 🏡 Jac: assuming they'll have me for this shift...you can meet me whenever you get to this part of town, they're really good at giving breaks Amelia: I'm familiar with the bus schedule, my parents don't drive me EVERYWHERE, just a lot of places Amelia: okay then Jac: you're an only child, it'd be weird if you weren't a bit spoilt Amelia: it would mean I was an accident but I'm literally the opposite so Jac: n'awh Amelia: at least they cherish me Amelia: you literally do the opposite Jac: 😂 Jac: you aren't a miracle in general you know, only to them Amelia: rude Jac: sometimes you have to hear these harsh truths Amelia: ear muff gay remember Amelia: you'll have to sign it Jac: [video saying something offensive that Amelia should remember lol] Amelia: 😂 Jac: 😏 Amelia: Jess doesn't deserve all the free advertising he'll be getting on this bus ride but I'm not going back for my 🎧 Jac: You're so common Amelia: after what you just signed Amelia: hypocritical Jac: unless someone has their 👀s on your screen, I'm fine Amelia: or on you as you did it Amelia: which they probably did Jac: this bus is packed Jac: fucking Christmas Amelia: people look at you, it doesn't matter where or who else is around Jac: you make it sound like I'm something special Jac: people look at you too Amelia: it's not the same Amelia: people are usually looking at me because I'm doing something I'm not supposed to Jac: nah, it is Amelia: 😳🚏 Jac: you'd notice if you weren't so busy looking at me Amelia: if that's the criteria I don't want to notice Jac: such a line Amelia: No, you're SO nice to look at, is a line Jac: I know you're too much of a 🤓 to ever think you're smooth Amelia: I haven't got the misplaced confidence of a teenage boy, if that's what you mean Jac: you aren't your ex, yeah Amelia: I fucking hope not Jac: all the girls I've seen you go for Jac: have really dark hair Amelia: I guess Jac: and are ethnically ambiguous, but like, more noticably than I am Amelia: where are you going with this? Jac: it's just what I've noticed Jac: you have a type but it isn't me Amelia: or you are my type and they're not Jac: I knew you'd say that Amelia: because it's true Jac: saying I defy all types would be more of a line Jac: so I'll believe you Amelia: Do you want to get ☕ with me? Jac: I can't Jac: like, genuinely Jac: we got up late, now I'm here begging for work, I better actually do some Amelia: okay, I'll bring it to you Amelia: and there'll probably be loads of people from school everywhere anyway Jac: yeah Jac: loads of people in our year reckon they're trying the pubs Christmas eve Jac: as if half of them look serve-able Amelia: are you going to go? Jac: I don't think so Jac: it's just for the brag of getting in and getting served, they're especially militant this time of year Jac: easier ways to get drunk we use every other day of the year Amelia: true Amelia: but you do love a competition Amelia: and a brag Jac: if I wanted to get served that bad, I'd go to my granda's Jac: I dunno Jac: are you gonna go? Amelia: I doubt my mum will let me break tradition for that Jac: of course Amelia: though I should probably go see your great grandad before they notice how much of their drinks cabinet we raided Jac: 😬 Jac: can't exactly break my no present rule to buy them a bottle or two Amelia: that'd be offensive, you won't break it for me Jac: spoilt brat 😂 Amelia: we missed a really good show 🎸🎵 Jac: I can't believe you're listening to it out loud Amelia: of course you can Amelia: it's exactly the kind of thing I'd do Jac: I'd be so embarrassed Jac: I'd move Amelia: if you were here I'd be able to steal your 🎧 Amelia: you never forget anything Jac: it's not hard Amelia: I was rushing Jac: you just really wanted a ☕ right Amelia: why else Jac: indeed Amelia: I can't believe how hard creepy editor is going with some of these close ups Amelia: it's really ruining it for me Jac: disgusting Jac: I won't be tuning in Amelia: if only it was so easy for you to avoid him in person, right? Jac: it's pretty easy Jac: though unfortunately he keeps all his music crap downstairs so Amelia: have I ever mentioned how great it is being an only child? Jac: 😒 Jac: fuck off Amelia: 😂 Amelia: I'm going in the wrong direction to Jac: I punched the wrong sibling though Amelia: what? Jac: not close enough to clock the concealer 👎 job editor Amelia: you did that? Jac: yeah Amelia: what happened? Jac: he tried to stop me going out Amelia: why? Jac: 'cos he's an idiot Amelia: okay Jac: I didn't think he'd actually try to stop me Amelia: it doesn't seem like something he'd usually do Jac: everyone's stressed Jac: obviously Amelia: has he tried to stop you since? Jac: I think we've mutually done our best to ignore each other Jac: it was a while ago, actually Jac: after your birthday Jac: time is weird Amelia: Jac Amelia: that was ages ago Jac: not THAT long ago Jac: what's your point? Amelia: I don't know Amelia: I feel stressed now Jac: why, you didn't punch him Jac: or make me Amelia: 😕 Jac: Come on Jac: calm down Amelia: this bus doesn't have a calming atmosphere Jac: how many screaming kids Amelia: they're the majority Jac: ew Jac: I have too many cousins Amelia: me too and I don't have hardly any in comparison Jac: I'm dreading it Jac: xmas Amelia: I wish we could just skip it Jac: same Amelia: my parents think I'm oblivious to the fact they're planning to use their New Year's party to set me up with someone Jac: that's cute Jac: how have they even found another gay for you Amelia: they've found more than one, it'll be a speed dating event with my entire extended family in attendance Amelia: that's not cute Jac: no, it's not, it's weird Jac: but I was trying to be polite Amelia: you're nicer to my parents than you are to me Jac: you'd have a go at me if I weren't Amelia: 🤔 Jac: what are you 🤔 about Amelia: if I should have a go at you for acting like I have a go at you all the time Jac: go ahead and answer your own question Jac: then you'll have a go at me for making you have a go at me over whether or not you're always having a go at me Amelia: 😣 Jac: 😏 Amelia: am I? Jac: just now Jac: but I treat you like shit so if you weren't it'd be more damning Jac: not before Amelia: oh great Jac: what do you mean? Amelia: I mean what I just said, I'm thrilled to hear that Jac: 🤨 Jac: okay Amelia: Where do you want me to meet you? Jac: I'll come out Jac: you remember where it is, my work Amelia: Yeah Amelia: I only have a couple of stops left Jac: I thought you were getting me coffee Amelia: there's a place right near there, I remember that too Jac: fair enough Jac: carry on Amelia: I'm not THAT hopeless at geography Jac: your memory is decent, you can have that Amelia: thanks Jac: don't mention it Amelia: 🤫🤐 Jac: I'll pay you back, for the coffee Jac: can't afford any more gifts from you Amelia: feel free to put the money in my coat pocket when give it back Jac: good idea Amelia: maybe I'll find something else I had no idea was in there when I do the search Jac: knowing you Amelia: yeah, a miracle, we all know ✨ Amelia: next year I'll just get you one big 🎁 Amelia: then we can have ☕ together Jac: if you pull 🥖🐟 out of your pocket, that's gonna seem more disgusting than miraculous Jac: at least next year, we'll both be able to drive Jac: and this will all be that much closer to being over Amelia: I'll actually know what I'm doing with my gap year if buts and maybes, that'll be weirder Jac: will it be backpacking in Thailand or building orphanages in Africa Amelia: my parents would still prefer 🥖🐟 Amelia: so if they get their way it'll be neither and nothing Jac: if you're gonna do it you have to do it properly Jac: or it's just a waste of time Amelia: the entire point is to waste more time after 🎓 and before 🤓💻📝 Amelia: it's a stalling tactic Jac: 🙄 Amelia: 😏 Jac: you're gonna be 2 years older than half your class by the time you get there Amelia: so? Amelia: it's not a speed dating event either Jac: so they're all going to seem really immature Amelia: boys always are Amelia: I've coped with that all through school Jac: Uni is about not dealing with that Jac: having a fresh start Amelia: exactly, I'll be there to 🤓💻📝 Jac: yeah right Amelia: not much of a fresh start otherwise Jac: exactly, you aren't going to have a personality overhaul in a year or two Amelia: 😂 Amelia: I'm thrilled you don't think 💔 has changed me Jac: only for the worse, obviously Amelia: you sound like my mum now Amelia: she's texting me 'please don't act like this when your grandparents arrive tomorrow' Amelia: like what? 🤶🏻 okay Jac: ooh, no 🥛🍪 for you Amelia: 🥺 Jac: you'll be fine Jac: just don't ruin christmas by being gay Amelia: that was last year's drama Jac: precisely why you don't need to go for 2 Amelia: why I'd find a new way to ruin it if I was going to Jac: 👍 Amelia: it was Is who copied you, I'm fine with letting you do your own thing Jac: they'll be too busy to care Jac: and not talking isn't ruining anything Jac: enough loudmouths running about Amelia: if you leave it at that Jac: what else would I do, shit in the christmas pudding Amelia: punch one of your other family members Amelia: just an idea I pulled out of nowhere though Jac: only if they get in my way Jac: which they're unlikely to do now Amelia: Jude isn't Amelia: getting in your way is her number 1 skill Jac: and mine happens to be avoiding her Amelia: it's in the top 10, I don't think I'd put it first Jac: I've managed not to punch anyone since Jac: it's fine Amelia: you were threatening to hit me not long ago Amelia: but alright Jac: because you were threatening to get in my space Jac: everyone just needs to leave me alone when I tell them to Jac: it's not hard Amelia: it's my fault, that's really what you're going with? Jac: yes Jac: you were going to get in my face when I explicitly warned you not to Jac: I didn't just attack you, and I didn't just attack Jess Amelia: okay Jac: fuck's sake Jac: it's alright for you all to push me and ignore my boundaries Amelia: because I can't keep up with what your boundaries are Jac: no, you just think you can push through them Amelia: no, you keep moving close to me and then away Jac: and you only accept one of those Amelia: so do you Jac: whatever Jac: this is pointless Amelia: any time I try to do anything that looks remotely like moving on, you know exactly what you do, so don't pretend this is all me Jac: I weren't talking about that Amelia: no, you were talking about how much you want me to fuck off Amelia: come outside and I can Jac: [does] Amelia: [we giving her this coat and coffee like okay bye as if we didn't come all this way/have anywhere else to be, oh gal] Jac: [kissing her on the cheek like we would've done without thinking as friends but now it's a big deal, but then running like bye] Amelia: [we're all dying and running away nbd]

[charmandhex]

Memory in the Moment

When Craftsmen’s Corridor fell, much of Raven’s Roost was destroyed along with it. Three months earlier, when Magnus and Julia had gotten married, there had been an unexpected, uninvited, and unnoticed guest. Now, with memories recovered and Raven’s Roost rising once more, Lucretia has one more secret to tell Magnus.

Read on ao3 here.

Magnus is hard at work rebuilding Raven’s Roost when Lucretia arrives. He pauses in his work long enough to wave before returning, striking each nail home with three rhythmic strikes. Lucretia waits at the path near Magnus’s front door, holding a large, thin, wrapped rectangular package. Magnus might have a few ideas about what that is.

With the final nail embedded in the wood and the sweat wiped from his brow and ‘burns, Magnus heads back to his house, greeting Lucretia with a broad grin and an open door. Well, that, and fresh lemonade with some pastries from Lup. He is rustically hospitable after all, and Lucretia is family.

For all that though, she seems nervous, tense in a way Magnus doesn’t think he’s seen since before the Day. While his own glass has been refilled already, a testament to his hard work, Lucretia’s glass of lemonade is still full, with beads of condensation already formed on the exterior and dripping down the side to pool on the table. The resulting puddle is already starting to creep out toward the plate with the equally untouched baklava from Lup. Instead, Lucretia is drumming her fingers against the solid wooden table Magnus had of course built himself, and she’s looking out the window of Magnus’s comfortable house at the other houses and buildings slowly climbing skyward as Craftsmen’s Corridor once had. Lucretia pauses her discordant rhythm and finally raises the glass of lemonade, half melted ice cubes clinking together in the drink, to take a sip.

“All right. Spill it, Lucy,” Magnus declares, clapping his hands to his knees, leaning toward her.

Lucretia startles, almost inhaling her lemonade, and looks to him. “Spill... the lemonade?” She looks between him and the glass and raises one eyebrow. To be fair, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing he ever asked her to do.

“Lucy,” Magnus clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “I know that something’s up. And you know that I know that something’s up. And obviously I know that you know that I know that something’s up. So. What is up?”

Lucretia snorts, this time intentional. “Perceptive as always, Mags.”

“I have proficiency in that!”

“No, you don’t.” An affectionate smile crosses Lucretia’s face, and, not for the first time, Magnus wonders how she managed to conceal the truth, how she managed to seal off her own heart so completely that the truth of her love for her family had never broken through.

Perhaps it was knowing that it would not and could not be returned.

“No, I don’t,” Magnus admits. “But I could!” And Lucretia laughs and Magnus joins in, and the laughter fills the small kitchen, billowing out over the kitchen table, crashing into the still newly painted cabinets and counters. It overflows, passing through the two doorways into the house beyond and through the large open windows, spilling into the breeze passing over all of Raven’s Roost.

Eventually, Lucretia stops laughing and Magnus with her. She looks tense again, and her gaze falls on the carefully wrapped canvas she’d brought, which she’d just as carefully placed on the counter while Magnus had been pouring drinks and not-so-carefully carving out slices of baklava. Magnus looks over as well, curiosity welling. It’s a painting, of course it is, and one of Lucretia’s own no doubt. But why would she be worried about it?

Slowly, Lucretia rises and walks the few feet to the counter. And for once, rather than rushing in, Magnus waits. She stands between Magnus and painting and undoes the wrapping. Before she lifts it or turns, she exhales. “Just... know that this was meant to be yours far sooner.”

Lucretia fluidly turns, the painting already carefully in her grasp, and Magnus sees the full of what Lucretia has done.

It’s Magnus. But not just Magnus. Magnus, and Julia, and Steven, and other dear friends, lost to... lost to that day and to time and to grief. At the center of the painting is Magnus and Julia, painted in perfect detail, joyous and loving and emerging from under the cover of a gazebo that Magnus had built himself.

It’s a painting of Magnus and Julia’s wedding day.

Magnus can’t breathe. No, Magnus just isn’t breathing, spellbound, frozen in this moment as the couple in the painting is frozen in time, heedless of what lies ahead. Magnus should probably breathe, he realizes, and he takes a gasping breath, his lungs welcoming the return of fresh air, dancing inward through the window on the breezes of Raven’s Roost.

“Where did you... how did you... you were there?” Magnus asks, forcing out a single complete question from the rising tides of so many feelings.

“Yes. We both were. Of course I was there... I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

“But you... I didn’t know you. I didn’t remember.” Magnus’s mind is whirling, thinking back, trying to piece together the smallest of details, looking for an unfamiliar face with a loving smile in a haze of time-muddled smiling faces.

“But I did.” But no, Magnus can’t remember, can’t remember anyone with the same look on their face that Lucretia is wearing now. “So I was there.”

“Now hold on! You could have said hello!” He says, half indignant.

“And have you try to set me up with your father-in-law?” Lucretia asks dryly.

“Steven is great!”

“I know. I could say that, I could say you might have recognized Davenport or me later, but those are excuses. Saying hello, saying anything really... I think that would have been too much. I was selfish, and I stayed at a distance.”

“I don’t think that was selfish.” Magnus pauses, thinking. “How long have you had this?”

Magnus can see as tension creeps its way back into the set of Lucretia’s shoulders and jaw. “I started the next day. I wanted to make sure I remembered.”

“The next... the next day.” Years. Lucretia has had this scene, this day that Magnus has seen twice (once in life, once by his Relic), illustrated in as perfect detail as he can remember, the sands of the hourglass exactly as they had fallen.

“Magnus, I- I wanted to give it to you. A private, belated wedding present. As soon as I could. And I was going to. But then...” Lucretia trails off, biting her lip, struggling to see the story to its tragic end.

Naturally, Magnus knows where this story is going. After all, it’s his own. “But then everything, everyone was gone.” But then Julia was gone and much of Magnus with her.

“Yes. And then. Well, as you said, you didn’t remember. I couldn’t give it to you at the Bureau, not when it could raise so many questions. And after, after all of it... there was never going to be a good time. There was only soon.”

“I know.” Magnus stands, taking far more care in the action than he would normally. He approaches both Lucretia and painting, almost not seeing the former for the latter. Julia looks so happy. Happy and beautiful and full of life and love and hope for the life they had earned.

“I’m sorry, Magnus. I thought I put you in the best place, but... it all went wrong. You were in love. You had a family.”

“Am. And do.” Magnus corrects, abrupt but still gentle, looking up to Lucretia. Her expression is worried and wary. Nope. Magnus isn’t gonna have that. “And part of that is because you put me in the best place, Lucy. For all that happened... I don’t know that I would have ever found Julia, if what happened hadn’t happened, and... I lost Julia once. I can’t imagine not having had her in my life at all.” Magnus cautiously takes the painting from Lucretia and sets it back on the counter. “So, weird as it might sound, and I know, I know it might sound pretty fucking weird... thank you, Lucretia. And thank you for this.” And Magnus envelops Lucretia in a hug, as he’s done countless times before and still far too infrequently in recent years.

“You’re welcome, Magnus. For the painting.” There’s a shaky note to Lucretia’s voice that Magnus knows, one of tears rising.

“Uh-huh. You know, I notice you didn’t include a frame with it,” Magnus says, gently teasing, laughter in his own voice.

And Lucretia laughs as well, a watery laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “I guessed that a master carpenter such as yourself would have exacting standards for such a painting.”

“Well yeah! That’s my wife in that painting! And you painted it! There’s only one master carpenter good enough for the job!”

“Oh, I see. I think we could probably find some way to take it to Legato, yes,” Lucretia teases back.

“Now hold on! I meant me!”

“I know.” Lucretia steps back and so does Magnus. The pair turn to look at the painting. “I would have liked to meet her. Really meet her, you know.”

“Oh, you will. One day. ‘Cause I’m gonna see her again, and she’s gonna get to meet everyone. And I know she’ll like you too.”

“Thank you, Magnus.” And for once it’s Lucretia, not Magnus, rushing in. Into another hug.

Magnus hangs the painting in his house, in a place where he can see it, crying or smiling or perhaps both, each day. And, some decades later, when a loving couple welcomes Lucretia into a cottage on an island in an endless sea, she looks up to see that same painting hanging on the wall.

[kylorengarbagedump]

No Accounting for Taste (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: Where the eyes should be, there is a void bordered by rows of chrome lines, and the mouth is muzzled by a flat, carbon slate. It is as human as it is inhuman, an echo of something familiar, like the look of death on the face of a stranger.

Heart pounding, you speak, your voice creaking inside of your throat. “What the fuck is happening?”

The voice that responds crackles inside the mask, mutated and mechanical. “Something very unfortunate for you.”

Word Count: 7100 (oops)

Warnings: Literally everything. This is NSFL. Rape, verbal abuse, literal torture, graphic violence, death. This is a Red Room fic.

Characters: Kylo Ren x (Fat!)Reader A/N: Hello, and welcome to the actual Worst Thing I've Ever Written. I went through this for a few reasons--one, just to prove to myself that I could, two, out of spite, and three, to gift this work to my beautiful friend @daddyrenn / @rosalinaballerina. She has listened to and supported me for like, years now, which is crazy, and I realized I never wrote her anything to thank her. So, here ya go, cupcake. I love you so much, and I hope you enjoyed this.

I also hope that whoever else enjoys gross nasty shit like this enjoyed it. It was really cathartic for me to write, so, I'm happy to put it out there for anyone else. Love y'all so much! Thank you for all of your support all these years. <3

laetus_lacrimosa: when’s the show starting?

blueeyeswhited: are you new here? he’s always late

laetus_lacrimosa: it’s been 30 minutes already

xwaifusayorix: yup

laetus_lacrimosa: i’m paying how much for some dickhead who’s always late?

mg3453: hopefully not as much as the rest of us

kyloren has logged in.

kyloren: Five minutes. Bidding at .52 btc begins now.

kyloren: Any other complaints will be addressed by me. In person.

kyloren has logged out.

A droplet of water hits your forehead, and your eyes open. The lights are still on, but you are alone. 

The roof is leaking, and not just over your bed, but in several spots across the room. You’re not particularly surprised--you hadn’t paid a fortune for the hostel, but to wake up to cold rain was still not an expected consequence. Sighing, you sit up, wipe your head, and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Thankfully, your mattress is entombed in plastic.

Your brain spins. You’d wanted to sleep through the storm, but it doesn’t seem like that will be an option. And you’re not sure if you can manage sitting on your bed, alone, for the next however many hours. The last time you’d tried it, your legs ended up with a bunch of knife-slashes from the three-inch blade you keep in your backpack. The rest of your hostelmates have abandoned you, apparently, but there’s no surprise there. A knot in your throat grows thick. You can’t run away from your inferiority.

Planting your face in your hands, you draw in a deep breath, hoping the air will quell the burgeoning volcano in your chest. They left because you had said you wanted to sleep. That doesn’t mean you’re inherently uninvited from wherever they went. In fact, you could get up and meet them right now, if you wanted. And want you do.

You stand, shaking the jitters out of your fingers, and step through the sleeping quarters to the living area. Under the heavy rhythm of rain, you hear music, like a stereo blasting from inside a wave--and in its direction, flashing, rainbow lights. A party. A grin tugs at the corners of your lips. That didn’t sound like such a bad way to pass the time. Better than sitting in your room, alone. You snatch a hoodie from your bag and slip on your flip flops before darting through the storm, skipping over stone and sloshing in the tiny puddles already pooling in the grass. And after a few hops, you see it, beyond the curtains of rain: a tent, a safehouse by the shore.

By the time you reach it, your grin is erupting into a full smile, laughter eking out of you as you pull the hood off your head. You can’t remember the last time you’d run through the rain. And as the lights splash onto your face, you realize that you can’t remember the last time you’d danced, either. The music is spirited and electric, a classic reggaeton beat under lyrics in a language you don’t understand. Before you know it, you’re sliding further into the tent, looking for familiar faces, your hips rolling to the beat 

You spot a younger woman you’d shared a few light-hearted conversations with this afternoon--she looks totally trashed, but she’s definitely having a good time. Hopefully, being drunk allows her to be even more forgiving of your social awkwardness. But before you reach her, a hand on your shoulder halts you, and you yelp into the noise, whirling around to face the intruder.

“Evening,” he says, sounding as if he’d somehow whispered into your ear from feet away. “Thought you wouldn’t make it.”

“Hey, yeah, I did!” You search his face, brow furrowed. It’s a handsome face--hazel eyes, dark hair, full, pink lips--and it’s on top of a tall, muscular frame. But somehow, you don’t remember him. You’re more self-centered than you thought. “I’m so sorry, can you remind me who you are?”

A tight grin crosses his face, and your name rolls off of his tongue in mock-disappointment. “Really? I’m hurt.”

“Aw, no!” Frowning, you latch onto his forearm, trying to placate him. It’s thick and firm in your grip, and a shudder crawls up your spine. “I’m so sorry! I’ve just been… kind of off. Remind me, please!”

Smiling, he tugs you closer, and your cheeks grow hotter. “It’s Kylo.”

You nod. “Ohh, okay! Hi, Kyle!”

“No,” he says, “Ky-lo.”

“What?” Your face twists, and you turn your ear toward him. “Kylo?”

“Yes,” he replies, and his breath brushes your face. “You’ve got it.”

Hiding an idiotic giggle, you inch back. “This is kind of cool, huh?” What you can’t hide is how your gaze travels his body. All he has on are black jeans and a black t-shirt that clings to his thick chest and arms. Fuck, he’s built. “I mean, uh, the party.”

“The what?”

You cup your hands around your mouth, shouting over the music. “The party!”

“It is.”

Kylo stands there, staring, his eyes like voids, absorbing every flash of color in the tent. Under his gaze, your heart throbs, and in the back of your skull, the reptilian bit of your brain catches flame, screaming. But you can’t figure out what it’s telling you. Is it to run? Or to stay?

“Let’s dance,” he says, and barely waits for your nod before he curls one of his large, strong hands around yours and spins your back against his chest. Now you are on fire, your hips rocking with his, your face ready to melt when he leans his lips close to your ear. “Have you ever been to El Salvador before?”

“No!” Heat courses through you when you realize how loud you’ve been. The black-sand beaches of El Salvador weren’t your first choice for a runaway destination. But they happened to fit the three primary criteria: cheap, secluded, and U.S. dollar-friendly. Squeezing his hand, you tilt your head. “I mean, um, no.”

“Really? I come here all the time.”  Kylo tugs you closer. The air seems thicker, now. “It’s beautiful.”

“I think so too.” Your palm is slippery, and you adjust your grip again.

Kylo’s mouth scrapes the shell of your ear. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Silent, you nod.

He leads you through the rain back to the hostel, through the living area and into the sleep quarters. You wait by the doorway as he saunters over to his bag, his shirt sticking to the rippling muscles in his back. Holding a sigh, you chew your lip. Kylo reaches into his backpack and pulls out a wine bottle--it’s wrapped and corked, brand-new--and urges you over with a nod. Lizard-brain wailing, you oblige.

“Where are you from?” Kylo is peeling the foil from the bottleneck while he speaks.

You glance at your feet. “The States.”

“Mhm.” The foil floats to the floor. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“What?” Head snapping up, you meet his gaze. It’s empty. “No, no. Not at all. What?”

“I meant where in the States.” His fist is tight around the wine. “Given your accent, though--New Jersey?”

“Philadelphia.” Blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“Really,” he says. “Say w-a-t-e-r.”

Your lips twist into a mock-frown. “Wuder.”

Something twitches on his face. A grin, you think. “Right.” Kylo twists the cork, easing it free. “What does your family think of you traveling alone?”

“Oh.” Your thoughts tangle. For some reason, you want to lie. “They, uh, they’re okay with it.”

“Hm.” A pause, and he locks you in his stare again. “They don’t know, do they?”

“Um…”  A swift twist and tug, and the cork pops out. You flinch. “No,” you admit. “They don’t.”

Kylo shrugs. “No shame in that.” He sits on the bed, beckoning you with a nod. “Sit. Have a drink.”

You gnaw your lip again, looking at your backpack. You consider grabbing your knife, just in case. He’s incredibly fucking hot, and you’d love nothing more than to hop on what you are sure is his massive dick, but something about it seems wrong. But you aren’t sure if what you’re feeling is real discomfort, or your own fucked-up brain working to deny anything good might ever happen to you.

“I don’t know… Something seems weird about a strange drink from a strange man.”

Kylo smirks. “You saw me open it. And besides…” He pauses to take a long swig, the knot in his throat bobbing with each gulp, and then pulls off with a short gasp. You find yourself wanting to swallow, too. “I hope that’s satisfactory.”

Sweat beads at your nape. “Uh…” Shrugging, you shuffle over and sit next to him. He radiates heat. After the rain, that seems particularly inviting. “Sure. Why not.”

You wet your lips and tip the edge of the bottle into your mouth, the lukewarm liquid spilling out. It’s tart and dry with a lingering salty tang, and you wince as you swallow, smacking your tongue against your palate. You pause for a moment, waiting for the inevitable wooziness and unconsciousness to hit--but they don’t. Maybe he isn’t full of shit. Warmth ebbs through you, and you look over at him, holding out the wine.

“Weird taste. What is that?”

His eyes scan your figure. “You didn’t like it.”

“No, no,” you say, shaking your head. “That isn’t it. It’s just weird and salty. I’ve never had anything like that before.”

“Hm.” Kylo blinks, gaze flitting to the bottle, then back to you. He takes it from you and has another drink, imitating you by smacking his tongue. “That’s what it is.” He does it again. “You’re aerating it. Don’t do that.”

You raise a brow. “Really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes. “You’re fucking with me.”

He presents the bottle. “Try it.”

Pouting, you grab it, taking a long, slow drink, and pull off, fighting the urge to--how did it he put it?--aerate. But you still taste salt. Your brow furrows, and you look at him. The sirens in the back of your head are deafening, now, and you swallow, fingers starting to tremble. You glance at the wine, but the label is in Spanish.

“Um, hey, so… what… what is this? This wine?”

Kylo’s blank gaze meets yours. “Oh. Right. I forgot you asked.”

“Yeah. I did.” Your heart slams against your ribcage.

“It’s gammahydroxybutyrate.”

Shaking your head, you play it over in your head. “Gammahydro--what? What? Kylo--” You reach for him, but you miss. “What the fuck?”

He is flat. “Ecstasy.”

The next thing you remember is hitting the floor.

Darkness is torn from your face, and a matrix of light blinds you, pain leaking from you in gasps as your ears are swallowed by a shrieking whine. Groaning, you shift, attempting to jerk away from the brightness beyond your lids, but your arms stall, your body rocking into the chair. Wait--the chair? You kick, but your legs strain against the bonds around your calves. Wincing, you bow your head, waiting for the ringing in your skull to die before you even try to remember what the hell happened. Then, shade, interrupting the assault on your eyes, cooling your skin for a brief moment. A grunt escapes you; your lids flutter open. 

Light is a halo around shadow, the figure in front of you the shape of a man, if men are shaped how you remember. Your vision is water, the sound dull, like you’ve been plunged into a shallow tub. But as it clears, you make out details. He is tall, broad, muscled, wearing… black. A black tank top, black leather pants, black boots, all melting in the murky slime of your brain. The one detail you can’t discern is his face--because it is obscured by a mask. Where the eyes should be, there is a void bordered by rows of chrome lines, and the mouth is muzzled by a flat, carbon slate. It is as human as it is inhuman, an echo of something familiar, like the look of death on the face of a stranger.

Heart pounding, you speak, your voice creaking inside of your throat. “What the fuck is happening?”

The voice that responds crackles inside the mask, mutated and mechanical. “Something very unfortunate for you.”

“What? What are you talking about?” You want to shout, but every bit of effort you make to speak or move is tripled against the weight of your scrambling consciousness. “Let me go. Please. What the fuck is happening?”

He is silent. Your gaze darts around the room--the floor is dirt, the walls are blank, and there isn’t a single window that you can see. To your right, a large, flat screen displays text… lines of it, you think, discussing something. A chatroom. You see one of the names--kyloren--and your blood turns to ice.

El Salvador. The wine. Ecstasy.

Kylo.

Before you can speak, your gaze catches the lines on the screen moving, talking. And they’re talking about you.

laetus_lacrimosa: i love how fucking scared she looks

blueeyeswhited: it’s awesome. she has no idea what’s about to happen

gawinulim11490: what are the limits?

mg3453: are you serious?

xwaifusayorix: lol

Your stomach lurches, and Kylo moves, the light burning your vision again. You squint while your pupils adjust, and see that he’s walked to a terminal where a camera and laptop are arranged. The acid in your belly roars like a wave, eroding your esophagus and singeing the back of your throat, and your chin quivers, quakes resonating to your toes. Fighting your fear, you overcompensate, instead, and glare at the camera, hocking a thick wad of mucus and spitting it at your captor. It falls short, a glob in the dirt. Kylo doesn’t seem to even notice, but the chatroom has.

blueeyeswhited: she’s an animal

gawinulim11490: like every other female who doesn’t get her way. strip them of their privileges and they resort to this.

xwaifusayorix: lmao are you an incel

kyloren: Bidding begins at .29 btc. Open now for the next 30 seconds.

As he types this, the screen explodes with chatter. From what you can tell, there are five people in this room, watching you. Bidding on something. They spit out different numbers, trying to one-up each other in a value you don’t recognize. .88 btc, 1.46, 2.19. The integers climb and climb.

laetus_lacrimosa: 2.93 to strip her and cut her fucking nipples off.

xwaifusayorix: oh shit 

mg3453: yeah i withdraw, i wanna see that lol

Breath flies out of you, and you choke. “What? What the fuck? What the fuck is this? What the fuck?”

kyloren: Going once. Twice.

No other person speaks.

kyloren: 2.19 btc to watch. Beginning now.

Kylo clicks something, and the chatroom changes. One, two, three of the people who had been in the previous room appear in this one. Kylo appears to adjust the camera pointed at you and turns, pulling a knife from his belt.

You whip your head back and forth, straining at your bonds, toes digging into the dirt, hips twisting to rock the chair. “No, please, stop, what are you doing. Please stop. Kylo, or whatever your name is. Please don’t do this. Please--”

He doesn’t appear to respond, but grabs the back of the chair, stilling it while he slides the knife underneath your shirt. The metal is ice on your skin, and you shiver, whimpering as tears blur your vision. You can’t stop your chin from trembling, your heart from wanting to explode out of your chest. Kylo turns the blade to the ceiling and rips, standing to the side so the camera catches when your belly, chest, and breasts are uncovered. Noise wants to escape you, but it doesn’t--you can only whisper as the tip of the knife shreds the hem of your top.

“Please… please stop…”

If he is moved in any way by your display, his only reaction is to tear the fabric to the side, making sure the entirety of your torso is exposed for the three strangers watching you on camera. Snot slips out of your nose, and you whimper, a chill washing over you. Kylo stares at you--or at least, you think he is. The inability to identify any hint of humanity from his facade makes your blood run faster.

The pause is only brief, however. He grabs the chair again, and slips the tip of his knife underneath your shorts. You want to struggle, but the threat of a blade against your belly paralyzes your limbs. All you do is sob while slices open the front of your shorts, digging the knife into the fabric of your crotch until the mound of your pussy peeks out. You thank your stars that you’re fat enough that your belly sits on top of your thighs, but Kylo sighs.

“I forgot how fucking fat you were.”

Growling, he takes the knife and rips open the hems on your sides, tearing the fabric away so that your front is now completely naked to the camera. After that, he bends forward, working at the bonds at your feet, and for a moment, there is a tease of relief. The ropes--or zipties, or something, you can’t tell--come off, and your heart roars with adrenaline. You pitch forward, attempting to leap up, but the chair only squeaks, and Kylo’s head snaps toward you.

“Fuck you!” With a shriek, you try to drive a heel into his shoulder, but he snatches your ankle in a large, gloved hand, and before you even move your other leg, that one is seized, his strength so overpowering that you wilt in his grip, collapsing against the chair.

You realize that was his goal, now, all along, while he spreads your legs wider, revealing your cunt to the camera. Another sob wells up in your chest, and you wiggle in protest, feeling helpless as he rebinds you to the chair. Under his breath, you hear him laughing.

“There we go,” he murmurs. “It’s so much easier when you behave.”

“Fuck you.” Your breath shudders in your chest. “Please stop.”

Through your tears, you glance over at the chat--and immediately wish you hadn’t.

blueeyeswhited: christ she’s so fucking disgusting--her body is a fucking mess. has anyone ever actually fucked that? lmfao

mg3453: her tits are fucking embarrassing. she’s in her 20s and they’re already sagging to her pussy

gawinulim11490: are you kidding. her tits have looked like that since she was a teenager. her body is just fucked up.

laetus_lacrimosa: females actually do this to themselves

The terror and anguish inside of you boils, and you glance over at Kylo. You see nothing but a silhouette of darkness.

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” You’re spitting, now, snot and saliva soaring from your face. “You’re all sick pieces of shit! Fucking sick misogynistic pieces of shit!”

xwaifusayorix: LMFAO

blueeyeswhited: “misogynist” is she a fucking feminist LOL

gawinulim11490: yes she is, but she doesn’t know the first thing about it. she’s a fucking idiot.

You hate that person in particular. They seem to know you. They talk about you like they’re an expert. You glare at the camera.

“Fuck you, whoever you are. I swear to god, when I get out of here, you will fucking pay for this!”

xwaifusayorix: lol

mg3453: well it makes sense that she looks like that now if she’s a feminist

laetus_lacrimosa: cutting off her nipples will be an improvement

Out of the corner of your eye, Kylo moves toward you, and you snarl. “Fuck you. Don’t even come near me.”

“You have no choice in that matter.”

He tosses the knife, catching it by the handle, and grips the chair again. Heart in your throat, you cry out, thrashing against your bindings, muscles tensing and untensing as words and spit fly, unfiltered.

“Please! Please, fuck no! Don’t do this! Don’t fucking do this Kylo please fuck don’t do this! Please!”

Underneath the mask, you hear a low, quiet laugh. Kylo stands behind you, steadies the chair against his body, and grabs one of your tits, pulling the skin of your areola taut. Your breath is rapid, drool streaming out of your mouth as you scream again, begging him to spare you. He brings the knife to your flesh, and you thrash, trying to slam your head back into his hips, hoping to knock him off balance.

Grunting, he crushes your breast in his hand, making you squeak. “Might not be smart to struggle while I have a knife so close to your chest.”

Face crumpling, you release a shuddering whine, tensing as you watch the knife pierce your flesh.

Searing pain streaks through your nerves, echoing in your fingers and toes, and you screech, throwing your head back in broken sobs while cuts through the layers of skin. A warm fluid spills down your abdomen, pooling in the crevices of your thighs and dripping onto the floor. Your teeth pinch your lower lip, lids shut tight as he carves through you, jolts of hot pain hitting you with each millimeter of skin removed. You can’t decide if you want to go to sleep or wake up.

Your breast flops against your stomach as the last bit of your flesh is removed, and you hear him toss it onto the ground. The thought of opening your eyes makes your stomach turn, but you find yourself cracking open a lid.

Blood has painted you in crimson buckets, and the fleeting pace of your heart is only making it pump out faster. Gasping, you feel faint, and close your eyes again, focusing on your breath, hoping to slow your heart rate so you don’t bleed out. Your entire body is pulsating, and you are trembling--you don’t want to go into shock, either.

Kylo clutches your other breast, tweaking your nipple in his fingers. Another laugh rumbles under the mask, and he cuts into your skin once more. The pain is duller, this time, your adrenaline still spiked and your brain focused on keeping calm. Yet you feel like a fish, filleted live on television, strands of hanging skin snipped and ripped from you, and you are bathing in warm fluid pumping from your own heart. Your second breast drops, and you groan, dizzy. It’s a lot of blood, leaving you--you don’t even need to look.

“That’s an issue,” says Kylo. His voice sounds filtered through water.

You hear rustling, and then the flicking of something--a lighter--and your lids pop open. Dread sinks into your bones when you watch him wipe his knife on his pants and hold it over an open flame. Whinging, you shake your head, the tears coming again.

“No, no, no no no…” You heave, swallowing vomit. “Please, no, no, we can do a tourniquet or something, please, no no no…”

“You’d rather bleed out?” His voice is dull, even under the modulator. “Besides,” he says, spinning the knife over the lighter. “We need you awake for every part of this. Otherwise it isn’t any fun.”

Vomit threatens again, but you swallow, shuddering. “Fuck you.”

Kylo releases the lighter and moves forward. Before you can even protest, he presses the flat end of the blade against your wound, and you scream, tears streaming down your cheeks, shivers wracking your body as blinding pain whites your vision. A sob crawls out, and then another, and another, before you are heaving, drooling, and wailing in desperation. You try to breathe, but can’t, gasping and whining for air--and you finally vomit, hurling onto your chest, the rest bubbling out down your chin in an acidic burble.

“Stop. Stop, please,” you wheeze. “Please, just stop.” A rare breath fills your lungs, and you cough. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

The weight of his gaze heavy on your frame as he re-heats the knife over the flame. “Because someone paid someone to pay me.” He steps forward and cauterizes your other wound, and you screech again, agony wracking you as your skin sizzles and pops under the heat. The smell of burnt flesh permeates. You want to vomit again.

Finished, Kylo wipes the knife on his pants again and puts it back into the sheath on his belt. You are quaking with terror and pain, sweat has drenched your lower back and hair, and you are still trying to focus on your breath. Kylo clicks something at his terminal, the rest of the voyeurs are back in the chat.

blueeyeswhited: holy shit she looks fucked up

laetus_lacrimosa: dumb fat bitch lol

mg3453: this is exactly what all these commie cunts deserve

gawinulim11490: don’t compliment her by insinuating she knows anything about being a communist.

xwaifusayorix: lmao shit

Your head is spinning. Is that it? With the bidding done, are you just going to be tossed out like this? Maybe he won’t even let you go.

“Kylo, please…”

Then, he types.

kyloren: Bidding open again. Starting at 2.93 btc. Open now for the next 30 seconds.

mg3453: 2.93 to shut her up. rape her mouth and make her vomit again

blueeyeswhited: nice

gawinulim11490: he’ll rape her?

xwaifusayorix: lmao cuck

laetus_lacrimosa: he’ll do anything--he’s a monster

kyloren: Going once.

gawinulim11490: i’ll double it. 5.86 btc to rape every disgusting hole. choke her. make her lick cum off the floor. remind her how repulsive she is.

Your heart sinks into your gut. Your mouth is dry.

kyloren: Going once. Twice.

kyloren: 5.24 to watch. Beginning now.

The chatroom changes in the same way it had before, only now all five people who had been in the chat before slowly join. After the last person appears, Kylo turns, pulling the knife out from his belt once more. You can only swallow, staring at him with pleading, wet eyes, hoping that if you seem pathetic enough, he’ll let you go, or spare you, somehow, with any hint of kindness.

When he cuts you free of the chair, you kid yourself into thinking, for a moment, that he’s done just that. You swivel to try and look at him, to catch his intention, but find yourself horrified when you turn to see him pulling his cock out of his pants, guiding his hand up and down the hardening shaft.

Heat licks up your spine, and you babble something nonsensical before shaking your head, blinking away the tears.

“Bend over the chair.” His voice is even darker, more commanding, under the mask.

You don’t want to bend over the chair, but you are so weak and tired, the thought of what might happen if you don’t bend over the damn chair is even more terrifying. You try to move, but find yourself slipping on your own blood. Puke hits the back of your throat again, and you gag.

“Bend. Over. The chair.”

“I’m trying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry who?”

You pause, and stare up at him. Static has blanketed half your brain. I’m sorry…

A flash of black leather smacks you hard across the face, and you whimper, too exhausted to even grasp at yourself in shock. “You’re sorry who?” he asks, again.

Clenching your quivering chin, you look at the ground, the dirt spattered with your blood. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Much better,” he says. “Now move.”

“Yes, sir,” you mumble.

You sit up, and the parts of your shirt that hadn’t been shredded stick to your sweat. Your shorts, however, stay on the chair, matted a dark red. When you try to stand, wooziness slams you, and you stumble, grabbing onto the chair as your vision doubles, spinning out like a car wreck. Part of you wants to look at the chat screen--see what they are saying--but the other part turns with tiny steps until you are facing the side of the chair. Wincing, you lay yourself across it, ass in the air, knees off the ground. It’s hard to be still, as the seat is still slick with your blood.

“Let’s see if we can find your pussy in all of this mess.”

Leather gloves grip your ass, and you close your lids, wishing that you wouldn’t shiver as he pushed aside the hills of your flesh to find your cunt between your legs. You thought back to when you’d met him at the club--you would’ve happily had consensual sex with him, then.

“You really thought I wanted to fuck you?” he says, as if he’d read your mind. “Answer me.”

Your cheeks flush with fire. “Um… I, uh, guess I did…”

Thwack--your ass and hips jiggle with tremors of pain. He just fucking spanked you. “You what?”

Choking back, a sob, you say, “Yes, sir. I did.”

He laughs with an inhuman derision. “You’re fucking pathetic. I would never be desperate enough to fuck something like you.”

Kylo’s fingers dig into your hips, and the head of his cock pokes between your thighs--but before he can drive himself inside of you, you glide off the chair and collapse in a pile on the ground, and you retch while your burned tits scrape the dirt. Dust erupts in clouds, and you roll to avoid the pain, particles getting into your mouth, forcing a cough.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Fuck…”

Through your fit, you look up at Kylo, who is still stroking his cock--now fully erect. Your heart drops even further. It’s enormous.

“Get up, bitch.” Behind the mask, you know he’s smiling. “Get back on the chair.”

You push yourself up on buckling elbows, dragging yourself like a corpse back onto the chair. Shaking, you drape yourself across it, and Kylo once more grapples your hips. The warm, throbbing head of his dick slides across your legs, seeking out your cunt, aching to tear it open and make you scream. You bite your lip, grimacing in anticipation--but when he thrusts, you lose grip on the chair again and tumble back onto the ground, rolling onto your back while you stifle a whine.

“Stupid whore.” Kylo kicks you in the stomach with the toe of his boot, and you heave, curling into a ball. “Can’t even stay on a chair.” He sighs, his erection bobbing in need. “But you’re used to being fucked like an animal, aren’t you?”

“What--”

Kylo pounces, clutching a fistful of your hair as he whips you around, shoving your face straight into the dirt. You moan in pain, drool dripping in globs from your face, caking your mouth and cheeks in mud. Gloved hands pull your legs apart, and then a hard, thick cock is pushing at the folds of your dry cunt. Grunting, Kylo cranks your head back, his voice low in your ear.

“Not wet for me yet?” A smothered laugh. “That’ll change soon.”

Gasping for breath, you almost beg for him to stop--but then he rams into you, ripping through your walls, and you screech, bucking against him, arms flailing. He lays his entire weight on top of you, like a boulder pressing you to the ground, and curls his fingers in your hair before thrusting again. A throttled shout escapes you, and Kylo’s other hand wraps around your throat, strangling any other noise. All you can do is slobber as tears trickle along your jaw.

“Mm, fuck,” he hums into your ear. “I feel you getting wet. You like this, don’t you?”

A long, agonizing pull out, and then another excruciating drive in. Shame seeps out of your pores as you realize--he’s right. The base of his dick pulses when he seats himself inside of your pussy, and your body reacts, walls instinctively squeezing. He laughs, tugging you somehow closer, the cold muzzle of his mask settling in the crook of your neck.

“That’s right,” he says. “You feel like a whore.” He drags out, and slams back in. “You look like a fucking pig.”

Kylo finds his rhythm, punishing you with his dick as he growls into your ear, hand just tight enough around your throat to keep you conscious while you fight for lucidity through the pain. Your pussy is wet, now, a humiliating and automatic reaction to the painful fucking he’s forcing upon you. It’s only then that you can actually process it--he’s raping you. This is all actually happening. The realization is almost anesthetizing--you can’t feel your face anymore, anyway, you think it’s been numbed with tears--and any sound you make escapes as guttural, animalistic sobs.

“That’s right, little pig,” he says. “Squeal for me.”  Kylo releases your neck to smack the side of your face, and the sharp pain provokes something inside of you--you squeal, like a rutting, dirty farm animal, and when he returns to choke you, you squeal again, in shame. He snickers. “Good pig…”

The constant raking across the dirt has rubbed your body and pained nipples raw, making every movement above you torturous. Kylo pumps deep into your cunt, piercing your cervix over and over and over, his breath leaving in dark, mechanical huffs. You want him to cum so badly, just so this will be over. In angst, you groan, loud and long.

“It feels that good?” he asks. “You love taking cock, don’t you? You’ll take it wherever.”

Kylo pulls out, but before relief hits you, you feel the tip of his slickened cock pass over your asshole. Horrified, you groan again, but in his grip, under his weight--you are weary, helpless. You can only whine and screech in protest as he presses against you.

“You want it so badly. You’re fucking disgusting. But I knew that the second I realized you wanted to fuck me.” He huffs when he pushes the tip of his dick into your ass, and you grunt in pain. “You were so desperate. So lonely.” Another thrust, deeper, more unbearable. “And those cuts on your legs…” A hard, deep thrust this time, and you howl. “Do you think anyone actually wants to give you attention?” He pauses. Smacks you, and gasp. “Do you?”

Voice ragged, you reply, “N-no… No, sir…”

Kylo tugs you back and slams his hips against your ass, and you wail in agony as he splits it open. It feels hot and cold and empty and full all at once. You are dizzy with pain and exhaustion, overcome while he pounds you, fucking into you harder than before. His cock is hard and sharp, a nail trying to splinter you like a board.

“Go on, pig,” he growls. “Squeal for me like the filthy little swine you are.”

He slaps your cheek, and like a stupid, trained pig, you squeal--a horrible, wretched sob that scrapes its way out of your throat. Another moan leaves him, and he gives you two hard thrusts before pulling out of your ass, his dick like sandpaper against your sore flesh. You gag, and then yelp as he yanks you to your knees by your scalp. He is quick, smacking the side of your face to part, and then shoving his dirty cock straight into your mouth.

You retch, the taste revolting, but Kylo grips your skull in both his massive hands and fucks down into your throat, your hair his reins. There’s a visible urge to let his head fall back and cum, but he fights it, locking with your stare behind his mask. Water spills over your cheeks again, your eyes rolling as you fight your own urge to pass out. It is almost impossible to breathe with his thick dick constricting your airway, stretching your jaw, making you drool.

“Such a good little squealer… Almost made me cum.” His voice is uneven, now, his thrusting erratic. “This is all you’re good for, isn’t it? And you’re barely good for this.” He slaps you. “Stay awake, cunt.”

Gurgling against his erection, you nod to the best of your ability. Your compliance has you wanting to throw up, too, but there has been too much to fight--knowing it is almost over, you want him to hurry so you can leave and forget him forever. After a lot of therapy, probably.

“Fuck… fuck--”

Kylo’s hips pitch, and he groans, pulling out of your mouth and jerking his cock as it twitches in front of your face, holding your head still. A gasp, a groan, and he climaxes, jets of hot cum splashing your eyes and lips, mixing with spit and tears and dirt. Sighing, he squeezes the last drops of his release from his dick, wiping them on your face and shoving you back into the dirt. 

You hit the ground and shatter, the pent-up fear and adrenaline pouring out in broken, weeping breaths. Part of you wants to cover your face with your hands, but the other part is too disgusted to touch any reminder of his presence.

“Clean it up,” comes Kylo’s voice.

It is an echo in the chamber of your bawling. You can do nothing but wheeze, ache, and cry. There is nothing left in you to do an ounce more.

But Kylo is unsatisfied with this. “Clean it up.” His foot collides with your stomach on the final word, and you screech, crying harder.

You fold into a ball, trying to block him from your private break-down. The crying is uncontrollable, at this point, all you can do is ride the waves of anguish. Then you hear Kylo snarl.

Pain explodes in your skull when he stomps on it, jamming his heel into your temple, and he kicks you again, knocking the air from your lungs. “Clean it up, you filthy bitch.” 

Coughing, you try to nod, acknowledging his order, shivering while you pull yourself up from the floor. Every part of you aches, resonating with pain and the tremors of torment. Glancing at yourself, you are covered in blood, dirt, spit, vomit, and semen. You can’t bring yourself to view the chat screen. What have they been saying this entire time? You suppose it doesn’t matter. 

Swallowing what scraps are left of your pride, you wipe the caked semen off of your face, gathering it in dirty clumps and dragging them onto your tongue. The taste is acrid, bitter and salty and dry and sticky--and you heave trying to finish the first glob. Closing your lids, you persist, steeling your stomach as you clean your face of every last viscous drop of his semen. As you finish, you open your eyes, blurred tears clear, and see the chat. 

blueeyeswhited: holy fucking shit

mg3453: that was fucking incredible

laetus_lacrimosa: i knew she could take a big cock

gawinulim11490: what a fucking whore. she fucking loved it.

xwaifusayorix: like every other female, lol

laetus_lacrimosa: look at her cunt, it’s so fat and wet

blueeyeswhited: what kind of feminist loves being raped? lmao

gawinulim11490: she does. she’s a fucking joke. i told you that she’s not a real feminist. she’s a boring, joyless, leftist cuntbag.

mg3453: goddamn lol. are you sure you’re not an incel?

gawinulim11490: fuck off.

Their words don’t bite, as they did at first. You’re too fucking tired to care. Glancing over, you see that Kylo has already tucked himself away, and is making his way to the terminal. This had to have been the last part. Surely his plan is to sign off and let you go. Surely… 

kyloren: Bidding opens at 5.86 btc. You have 30 seconds.

Adrenaline again. “No.” You try to scramble toward him. “No, no!”

blueeyeswhited: cut her fingers off. 5.86 btc

kyloren: You’ll need more than that.

xwaifusayorix: 7.86 to cut off her toes

laetus_lacrimosa: 9.44 to cut her guts out

xwaifusayorix: oh fuck lol

You slump onto the ground. They’re not going to stop until you’re dead. Heart skipping out of your ribs, you claw to Kylo’s feet, curling your arms around them, scratching the leather like a hopeless cat.

“Kylo, please… please, don’t…”

kyloren: Going once.

“Please, Kylo, sir, please, please, please…”

kyloren: Going twice.

“Kylo… sir, don’t do this…”

gawinulim11490: 15.73 to cut the dumb bitch’s head off. spare the world of another fat leftist idiot.

Breath freezes in your lungs. No one else in the chat says a word.

kyloren: Going once.

kyloren: Twice.

He pauses, you think, for a second longer. You don’t dare speak.

kyloren: 11.79 to watch. Starting now.

The chat switches, and the only one who joins is the person who bid.

You hug Kylo’s legs, trying to hold him, pleading and pleading for him to release you. It is mostly gibberish, nonsense strung together with despair. God, you didn’t want this, you realize now, if you were let go you’d be better, you’d do better, you’d do whatever you needed so that you were never hated this badly again. On some end, you must deserve it, if someone is willing to pay money over and over to see you brought to this.

Beyond your sorrow, you feel Kylo moving, dragging you across the ground while he moves in front of the camera. Without a word, he gnarls his fingers in your hair, wrenching you to your knees, twisting your body so you kneel facing the camera. You are sniveling, and just as silent as him.

It’s not that you think, perhaps, you deserve to die. It’s that you realize that it is inevitable. It is, you hope, the same revelation that hits a cancer patient after a grim diagnosis, or the one that blinks into the mind of a driver during a head-on collision. The same revelation that perhaps only half of the population is lucky enough to have, before they collapse or bleed or pass in their sleep. And here you are, having it now--you are about to die at the hands of this monster. At least you’ll finally be free.

Kylo stands behind you, and you hear a hiss and metal squeak. To your left, a heavy thump. Fingers still tangled in your hair, he snaps your head up, and you see his face again. For a moment, you can’t understand why he’s done this--but you realize the camera must only see you.

His eyes are voids. Yet he looks just as pretty as you remember. You should’ve known that no one this attractive had good intentions for you.

Then the blade of his knife slices into your neck, and you sob--but the blood is hot, spurting in a river, and you feel his fingers tighten in your scalp, and then another tear in your flesh, and you choke on your blood, coughing and sputtering and twitching in pain, and everything is fuzzy, and numb, you can’t feel your fingers, or your body, or even feel your breath, and soon you know you aren’t breathing youaren’t seeingand everythingis blankandemptyandblack.

blueeyeswhited: oh fuck that’s a lot of blood

laetus_lacrimosa: not exactly a clean cut job

mg3453: look how upset she was lmao

gawinulim11490: she deserves it.

gawinulim11490 has logged off.

mg3453: shit. good show anyway.

xwaifusayorix: i still think that guy was an incel

laetus_lacrimosa: incels don’t have cash like that, idiot

xwaifusayorix: true.

xwaifusayorix has logged off.

laetus_lacrimosa has logged off.

blueeyeswhited has logged pff.

mg3453 has logged off.

Session has ended.

kyloren has logged off.

[jordyjensen]

Some shit that either might be going down or i’m mad. Either way i’m creeped and intrigued at the same time.

Since at least 2013 I’ve been experiencing visitations by an entity known as the hatman.(The hatman is an entity known to cause night terrors and sleep paralysis, To me he appears as a tall man in a cloak and a stetson style hat. 

He is blacker than anything it’s like looking at a black hole. he has no features that I can see, just darkness that light cannot seem to penetrate). Most of the visitations consisted of repeated nightmares of the same locations, but where the conversations would be different. It would I would either be in what to me felt like a run down hospital, or an underground carpark, hospital stairwell kind of setting. Or in a dismal academia type of setting. It always felt dreary and uninviting. Like I just had to find my way out of there. Aware somehow, in the back of my mind- that the hat man was watching and waiting to corner me. And when he did, He would talk. I would hear him/feel his words in my head and my bones, But he never physically spoke. I could understand him but it never makes sense and I can never remember what it is he actually said. Its weird. There is this overwhelming sense of dread. Like nothing I’ve ever felt or encountered. Then theres the sleep paralysis. 

 I ignored itto begin with, As I had- at that moment in time been going through some turmoil in my life (abusive partner, drug addiction)- But he didn’t stop when I left that relationship, and it didn’t stop during subsequent ones either, It didn’t stop when I stopped drug use. Infact- it intensified, and people around me were starting to experience things too. Especially those people who at first had told me ‘’it’s all in your head’’  and ‘’Don’t worry, it’s not real- it’s just the drugs’’. They started seeing it too, I would see it while I was awake sometimes. That was the worst because I couldn’t just put it down to tiredness or being a nightmare anymore.  However, For the last I’d say about 3 years- His ‘’visits’’ have lessened. and in their place is another one (Or even the same one, but this time choosing to appear differently- I have no idea if it’s the same entity or another one...all I know is they don’t seem to be around at the same time- hence the conclusion they might possibly be the same entity). Anyway-

The second entity I am about to tell you about now, began making appearances around 3 years ago, Like the first entity- it started with unpleasant reoccurring dreams.

In the very first appearance I can remember- It seemed very early morning, around dawn, the sky was grey- and I became aware of a tapping at the door, I answered the door to find nothing, So puzzled- I stepped out onto the top step. Our house is situated on a hill and overlooking fields and valleys. It is a really pretty view from the front of the house. Anyway, Standing in the drive at the bottom of the stairs is a man. He’s dirty, dishevelled and the easiest way to describe his appearance is wild, birdlike. Almost native american in the way he’s decoraed with feathers and whatnot, But he has feathers growing out of his flesh. In the dream I asked him something along the lines of who are you? can I help you with something? I don’t remember anything he said, but I do remember him suddenly grabbing a hold of me and  taking off into the sky, like literally jumping on the spot but instead of coming back down, continuing up into the sky, the speed and air made my eyes sting and water and my stomach was feeling like it was about to fall out of my arse. Then for some reason were standing on a pylon, just overlooking the scenery for miles.  I remember nothing of what we talked about. I do remember asking his name and he brushed it off but I felt strognly it was connected to the letter ‘’M’’.  of course I brushed this of as a bizzaro dream and in honesty, was just happy to have a less scary dream than the ones i was used to with the hat man!. 

Now this is where things get odd, I notice when I wake up there is a big crow making a right racket outside the bedroom window. and it’s windy as FUCK.  Pretty soon I begin to notice lots of odd things, crows and ravens turning up all the time whether it be on tv, in magazines, books,  In these dreams Nothing particularly awful seemed to happen, it was more a sense of uncertainty or worry, The best way to describe this feeling is to think of being in this scenario: You’re a very anxious person, very socially awkward and you don’t have many friends or family, the only person you really see or talk to is your spouse, you have agoraphobia as a result of the social anxiety so don’t go out much...However, You find yourself in a nice quaint little seaside town- granted it’s the middle of winter, pissing it down with rain and always near dark. You struggle up a long, steep hill to a run down hotel/bar- everyone in there seems to look at you as if they know you and all of them beckoning you to join them and drink with them, but you become aware of your spouses sudden absence, S/he has everything, the house-keys, the money ect ect, and quite frankly you are like a frightened child w/o them....You are trying desperately to think where they might have gotten to, you rush around hoping to see them or someone you recognise but everyone is in your way or trying to engage you in conversation. Imagine that kind of feeling.

Anyway in the dreams, There is often a backdrop of said seafront, stormy seas, rocks, There is a narrow walk way leading down at the side where the sea goes off into sort of a stream down a hill, Just off the main promenade/road where all the little tea rooms and gift shops are located.

The hotel is OLLLLLD and completely in need of refurbishment, it’s falling apart, dirty brown net curtains that were obviously once white or cream, The rooms have peeling wallpaper, ancient furniture, they look like they were decorated in the 60′s but never maintained. 

The streets are very narrow and the buildings are tall, old-fashioned English seaside style buildings (in the dreams, Not where I live-there is  no sea or sand around my gaff) Also- I haven’t mentioned this, as not sure if it’s important/relevant to the happenings since I’ve read other peoples similar accounts and they are living allll over the globe, but just in case it has any relevance I live in England, Yorkshire if you want to be  really precise)

In the first dreams, I would become aware of a crow or raven that would always be near by, it would always be crowing. In later dreams, it would be that I would feel compelled to open up one of the dirty, sash windows and there would be a crow perched directly on the opposite building on the window ledge, an it would always fly straight towards my window, sometimes I would hasten to close it before the bird can get in and it will peck and scratch at he glass all the while crowing it’s head off, In others i would be amused by the bird coming over and it would get inside the window, where it would fly around madly and fly at me (obviously this would always shit me the fuck up in the dream enough to actually wake me up in the real world)  

In Later dreams, he appears like the dishevelled man from the first dream, sitting down in chairs in what appears to be a crap little pub, the kind that you find in the arse end of nowhere (where its only usual customers are people similar in looks and personality to  Claude Greengrass off heartbeat and Shadrach off emmerdale) Its like he would be wanting me to join him but i’d always feel a sense of No man what the hell? You scare the living fuck out of me for no reason and then offer me a drink? No mate- think i’ll pass’’.  I would always immediatly wake up from these dreams, to find in reality, the big crow ever present outside, ever shouting away to himself day or night, rain,shine,snow or gale (though mostly gale i’ve noticed) (Over the last 3 years I’ve started to recognize and become familiar with this particular crows call and recognize it over other crows) It’s always super windy too, like gail force windy when that crow is about. Wether it be summer or winter. Midnight or lunchtime. 

Then by chance I heard mention of the valravn. And that then led me on to Malphas. I have the really strong pull towards the name Malphas. I think this could potentially be the (or at least one of) the entities I’m dealing with.

I don’t know why, I can’t think of a reason for it to be him as I’ve certainly not invoked any demons (at least not knowingly) Or even tried to. I’m not the sort of person who would have balls enough to go messing with things I don’t understand completely). 

I’ve today discovered other people who have had similar accounts of Malphas (and the hatman) and it is for these reasons I am somewhat open to the idea that these might not just be dreams. This shit might have actually gotten real. 

Recently Malphas has been pretty relentless, And the most recent dream was the most disturbing one yet. In this dream he appears, beckoning to me as usual, with a friendly ‘’It’s ok, i’m your friend’’ look. But getting closer I become aware he is surrounded by a massive group of crows/ravens all of them seemed to be attached to him at the waist by black cords that seemed to be made of a similar black matter that the hatman appears to be made of like a black,shadow like matter. The birds were flapping wildly to escape their bonds, screaming a hellish murder. all the while Malphas seemed to be loving every moment of it. I woke up again, to the crow outside screaming as per, with gale force winds rattling through the house. 

At this point i’m wondering what the deal is, what I’ve done to both anger this guy and cause him to relentlessly stalk my waking and sleeping lives.

Why did he even get involved in the first place? 

I might get answers in later days, or I might just get sicker until I die and my soul is claimed to an eternity of terror and torment. Who the fuck knows? Not fucking me!. 

[paranoiakrp]

         CITIZEN FILE RETRIEVED: MAE JINSOL ...

STATS

name / mae jinsol d.o.b. / 10.31.93 age / 25 pronouns / he/him job / layabout societies / monstrous › possession groups / n/a

TW: violence, blood, infidelity, possession

WHATS YOUR WEIRD?

that mae jinsol. there’s something off about him.

have you heard? it wasn’t a cat that scratched up the mae family’s nanny. it was that jinsol boy. it’s so strange. he’s only ten, isn’t he? what could’ve possessed him. something’s not right with him. have you seen the way he stares?

have you heard? they say some kid fell out of the second story window, but nobody was playing. jinsol pushed him. and he just stared and stared, until the teacher pulled him out of the room.

have you heard? they say jinsol set his own house on fire. he’s so fucked. seriously.

have you heard? have you heard? have you heard?

jinsol has. to match the echoing inside of his own head. blackouts and waking up in the middle of the forest. clothes too thin, bare feet numb, arms torn raw from bramble bushes. an ache in his head. dried blood underneath his nails. it’s like sleepwalking, but worse. childhood memories suppressed. washed over in too many pills and the forced concept of religion.

an urge for violence that creeps up his spin. a reckless abandon. a will to catapult himself out of his own body. lost memories. lost time. a shift in setting, a shift in personality. his body moving unbidden (or is it bidden? maybe he’d like it to, after all). electrical surges and rattling objects and jinsol can’t remember any of it happening. 

mae jinsol has always been off. it’s hard not to be when he’s gripped with possession. when he shares his body with terror, uninvited.

WHATS YOUR STORY?

there’s a box locked away in a safe. inconspicuous. it holds too many papers. the carboard’s bent. a disfigured crumple near the edges. the safe’s locked away in the mae family home. an illustrious looking building. as illustrious as any building can be in a offshoot suburban sort or town. but the family is an important one, connected to the mayor. or, the man of the mae household is. mae youngchul. known for his charismatic nature and ability to put out fires while simultaneously sweeping anything less-than-pretty underneath the rug. no bones left out in the open in the soot-scattered aftermath. long buried in a makeshift grave, a toppled tombstone of easily palatable lies.

layered away are bundles of papers, documents. letters with thick, waxy letterheads. contracts and secrets spilled on fading ink.secrets meant to be kept out of sight. secrets that can be built up to construct the twisted life of mae jinsol.

it starts with a birth certificate. the first lie of jinsol’s life.

born to mae youngchul and kim kyunghee. 

the painstakingly handwritten letters underneath that immediately betray the truth of the situation. secretive whisperings drawn out at the tip of a pen. hidden romance. fun and games, and then not. then she’s pregnant. an apology letter. she’s unimportant in the grand scheme of the town. religious, despite being a married man’s mistress. infidelity, a sin. until you repent, then it never seems to count anymore. jinsol never really understood that. but he’s yet to be born, so it doesn’t matter what his slow-forming opinions are.

i think i need to keep the baby. i don’t have any other options. we need to place him in god’s hands. with all my love,

and here, the name is smudged. lost to time. but her name isn’t relevant to jinsol’s story anyway. mother by birth and not much else. not that it was her fault. not that he even knew for the grand majority of his life.

but with elaborate lies comes elaborate stories. 

the deed to a house, worn and water stained near the corners, in a provence shoved even further out in the countries. bowed apple trees and the promise of pure air ushered in on the coast of an ocean. the papers confirming that a sale has been made for the same property ten months later. 

pregnancy checks and health documents for a woman who is, decidedly, not kim kyunghee. but that’s not the story. the story around town is that her health was declining. she needed better air. more room. and she was spirited off while waiting for the baby to come. there are rumors, of course. some that circle around the truth, or accusations of plastic surgery. 

jinsol’s birth mother is a footnote. the legacy she leaves behind are suspect love letters, and a receipt for a hefty deposit placed into her bank account the day before she left town. 

wonder what happened?

but that question fades with time, too.

jinsol’s life is built from lies.

the house is sold, kyunghee returns with a wailing baby. colicky and fitful. he is hers. they all swear up and down. 

after that there’s paperwork and tax forms for a stay-in-home nanny. because it’s presumably hard to face a child your husband had out of wedlock. jinsol is passed off, and jinsol is largely unwanted. a man who’s focused on a career, a marriage broken and held together with layers of tape. his eyes still wander. despite his circumstances, jinsol is their only child. 

as he grows, his personality doesn’t mellow. he’s fickle and small. sickly, with wide eyes that read peculiar and unsettling when he stares. he has a temper. there’s a few scattered pictures of jinsol as a child in the box. posing awkwardly near his mother’s elbow. a length of space between them. discomfort, something that looks unnatural in a picture with a four year old. 

his nanny raises him. proof is in the forms tied tied with fraying rubber bands. documentation of what they’d done on the day-to-day, or if something went wrong. notes between her and his parents. 

there’s a home video of his birthday party at the park. the tape is scuffed and jumps with static. his parents aren’t there, but his nanny is along with a few similarly aged family members. he looks to be around seven, eight. he’s sitting in the grass, pulling up tufted handfuls while the other children jump and scream. eventually, fingers and hands climb up tp his head, press against ears. an angry expression. and a heavy toy truck locked in his grip as he winds his arm up and brings it down on top of the child nearest to him. the camera shakes, tumbles, clicks off.

the payments to the nanny stop by the time jinsol’s ten. 

there’s also a letter from the doctor, and another receipt for a large sum of money directed into another account.

a detailed account of pain and suffering, costs for potential cosmetic surgeries in the future. slivered gouges left by tiny nails in a fit of fury along arms and face and throat. 

why did you do it, jinsol? 

but jinsol doesn’t know. he’d wanted to, at the time. there’s a build up sometimes. something that compels him. he can’t remember it now, exactly. the sensation as a child. how very easy it was to give in. to let that curiosity for the macabre take over. but jinsol doesn’t remember a lot from his childhood. like spilled paint across a canvas. colors bleeding into each other, until it’s nothing but a blurry mass, a dependency on others’ second hand accounts. 

the lies build.

another receipt. a signed, makeshift contract. a payout to the head of a school and another teacher detailing a nondisclosure agreement. it was all a big accident, don’t you know? how that boy fell out of the second story window.

jinsol wasn’t smiling down at him at all.

gossip is diluted overtime. but strangeness sticks. 

he plays by himself in their home. there are only a few scattered pictures to document his life during this time. his crumpled, forgotten drawings are tucked away too. faces with gaping holes for eyes. intensely scribbled out masses of color. jagged lines, and trees that bubble bright with fire underneath a twelve year-olds unlearned hand. 

his dad tried to occupy his time. keep him out of trouble in a disinterested second-hand sort of way. there were days spent with family he was being pawned off on. and he’d turn a blind eye toward the next girl his father wanted to chase, a slow-growing understanding of infidelity that’s hard to nail down entirely as a child.

he’d get a playdate if they had a kid, too. 

more receipts. a fistful, by now. failing report cards when he got into high school. slips from the principal. missed blocks of classes, and one time jinsol didn’t come home for a week. didn’t go to school either. that time’s lost to a void, but most people called him a stubborn runaway. 

but jinsol never had many friends. just a reputation, and enough money doled out to him that he could pretend like he might’ve whenever he got lonely enough for it.

it was his third year of high school when he pushed the limits too far. when his father snapped. 

there’s another deed, for another house. bundled with it is an insurance payout. a chunk of small-town political documents that have the edges burned off, dusted with soot. the other’s are missing.

their home engulfed in flames. jinsol’s hands smelled like gasoline.

he’d been smiling. his father saw it. 

more lies.

it was a gas fire. a miracle everyone got out alive.

ignore the burnt tips of jinsol’s fingers, and ignore the charred edges of his bangs.

to ensure that this goes according to plan, send him away.

there are stubs for a train ticket, one way. a hospital far enough off where nobody might run into him. if they did, it would ruin everything. after all, his father told the town they sent him away, off to america to study abroad. a blatant lie, but what’s one more too add to the pile?

not that they discovered anything but a seemingly deranged teen. they gave him scripts anyway. enough to zone him out. a detached sort of consciousness. his father wasn’t okay with that, the no definitive answers (who cared about the pills). not for the typical reasons, like jinsol’s well being. he was angry, a destruction of his property and apparent documents. the tipping point, a selfish reaction. so he kept him there, under the supervision of a long-care doctor. 

three and a half years later, and they said he was cleared to go home. that he was cured. or as close as he could be.

there’s a medical report confirming this. confirming his lack of outbursts, that his leaning toward violence has diminished. that he keeps to himself. that the medication must have made a difference. that his father should keep him on this continued regimen. 

so he’s sent back. but whatever unholy thing inside of him isn’t gone. pulled away and dormant, a lulled state under a medical cocktail. 

it is, perhaps, unsurprising that eventually, jinsol weans himself off of them. the pills. handfuls of them stashed away in boxes and loose floorboards. but the act of this, along with the consequences, take drawn out years to come to fruition. there’s still that excuse, that he studied abroad. his suspicious lack of english language skills don’t add up well with the story, but he’s an outlier of a person now. who cares to ask?

for a while, he’s cured. strange still, perhaps. an intense desire for attention, something undoubtedly born from being removed from his life and removed from his own self. growing up all but estranged from his own parents. he spirals. 

another receipt, paid off small town police for parties thrown too loudly. he tries to make up for lost time, an added urgency of recklessness. 

it continues on. 

he’s forced into the small college in town, if only for an excuse that he should be doing something. his grades are still terrible. he’s not sure what he wants to do with himself. what he cares about. everything’s confusing.

and then it builds when the blackouts start again.

the beginning of the year, and a new snow dusted the ground. the crackle of dead, frozen grass underfoot. jinsol can feel it, because he isn’t wearing shoes. it burns through the soles of his feet. an ache he can’t escape. body shivering, a bag of bones clacking together unruly. swollen knuckles and a bloody nose in the middle of a meadow. 

he doesn’t know how he got there. 

but he doesn’t tell. he doesn’t want his father to send him back there. he doesn’t want to lose his mind again. not in that way.

he wakes up again two months later in his own bathroom. there’s blood on his hands, underneath his nails. pools of it across the floor. he scrubs everything down with bleach until his skin’s raw. body trembling. nauseous, inescapably nauseous. he’s already dry heaved six times, but it refuses to leave him.

he won’t tell.

more lies.

jinsol isn’t sure who he is. a collection of lies stitched together. a being that isn’t whole. a paper-doll cutout of a man.

but selfishly, he continues on. he reaches out, an attempt to grasp at people. anchor them to him. a strangeness settles over him. his own paranoia. his own doubt. shapeless memories, a voice that sounds like his own rocketing around his skull. goading and vile. 

jinsol can’t run from what’s in his own mind. 

it’s a secret.

but his father always loved secrets. maybe he’d be proud of him.