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smoochkooks · 5 years ago

Text

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed.

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

Park Jimin

Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.�� it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn’t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.

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kaz3313 · 6 years ago

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You can't push an unmovable object

Prompt today is Growth (or in this case the refusal to grow). I don't think it was supposed to be a sad prompt yet here we are (I swear I'll do something fluffy soon)

Tw: suicidal thoughts

(Ask to tag if I've forgotten something)

[[MORE]]

It's an odd thing waiting for the arrival of your friend- or perhaps he's a rival or even an ex lover but what did that matter anymore. You can't leave because then he could leave too (could he? He'd never tried and your unsure if he could even see the door to the outside he'd walked past it many times).

He may be trapped in a loop but you've certainly gotten the short end of the stick by being trapped outside of society. Sure the newspaper was always available but it was simply a glimpse into reality. You took it very seriously but you found recently all the articles blurred together into a mesh of similarity.

You swore you've read the same stories over and over again.

Sometimes to feel the blades of grass on your fingers or say hello to a fellow jogging past you'd dare to walk outside. Outside was pleasant as ever but you'd retreat back in after only a few moments. The worries of the loop being broken and your own fantasy world falling apart forces you to never leave for long.

Even in your own home you were never truly at peace, either. The shadows would make a mockery of you at night. Creeping up your wall while you lay in bed your blanket wrapped tightly around like it could be armour. They'd never reach you but you could feel the icy breath on your feet and the whispers in your ears.

"What have you done? Are you happy? Have things changed?" You only responded to the phantom voices once and if you could you would take it back (you would take many things back).

"I-Im different now. I'm just an old man just leave me in peace," You said and it laughs back.

"Different? How are you different? Sure you're weak and tired but your mind is still the same. Bitter, cold, and posionened. You'll never grow; you've already withered," The voice (voices?)was no doubt from your past but you can't pinpoint it. Sammy, Bertrum, Grant, any other person you've damned to hell? It could even be Susie or Lacie. Maybe it was everyone.

Maybe it was no one but you'll never know.You didn't dare speak to it again much less ask any questions.

The shadow phantom keeps you up at night while the more physical ones keep you on your toes in the morning. Those letters that you've kept read themselves over and over and over and sometimes you can even see the person saying them.

You shouldn't be able to be haunted by people you've never killed but as you used to say 'Nothing is impossible if you just dream' (more accurately a nightmare) All you did was use their souls and put them in turmoil;on this plane of existence they are alive and fine.

You give a sad pathetic laugh as you realize the phantoms words ring true; you would make the same mistakes if you were thrown in the situations again and you were physically well. Even with your knowledge of what comes after.

You spend most of the time in the kitchen brewing coffee, a sister (not biologically; as you never had a sister. Simply the neighbor lets you babysit her niece in exchange for much needed groceries) bringing you plenty of different types, and preparing oatmeal. You'd never liked either before but it helps you to keep busy while you wait for him. The thing about the kitchen though is that it is the most dangerous room to you;both physically and mentally.

You don't dare make anything too over the top as risky behavior is tempting. You have the right materials to make delicious food. Yet the knives threaten you with their sharp teeth and charm with their permanent solutions. The stove top burns with the hellfire you deserve (you reason with yourself that one day you will wait no longer and feel your punishment; no need to speed up the process).

If not for your fear of death you'd have little self preservation. As well as if you'd died then the loop would be no more and he would win. Pettiness had always kept you going and you've come to find out that would never change.

He wasn't allowed to win- traitors weren't allowed happy endings; neither are the ones who refuse to grow.

"You should've pushed harder old friend" You say but both of you know it's no good to push an unmovable object.

#bendy and the ink machine #the ink demonth #sucidal thoughts #batim #my writing #this reads very venty #joey drew #im so worried about posting this i hope its not too much

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noona-clock · 7 years ago

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Tattoo Artist: Park Chanyeol

Shop: LoeyInk

Location: The Arts District

Owner/Main Artist: Park Chanyeol

Specialty: Finger tattoos

You’d fallen in love with the library when you were very young, and you’d known since that very day you wanted to be a librarian.

Books just meant so much to you, and the fact you could get one or five from the library for free? (As long as you returned it on time, of course). There was nothing in the world you would rather do than work in a library.

Now, of course, libraries have evolved quite a bit since back in the day. They’re filled with modern technologies to which old-school librarians regularly turn their noses. And, to be honest, it’s not even an official rule that people have to be quiet while they’re in a library.

But that didn’t stop you from wanting a tattoo on your index finger of the word ‘shhhh.’ Because, I mean, come on. How perfectly fitting was that?!

The research you’d done, however, proved to be a bit... concerning. There were many articles advising against finger tattoos, saying they were very painful and faded easily.

But also in your research, you’d stumbled across a local artist who specialized in finger tattoos.

How perfect!

You’d made an appointment as soon as you could, and when the day approached you found you were more excited than nervous. You still prepared yourself for it to hurt, but seriously, the reviews for this artist - Park Chanyeol was his name - were extremely encouraging.

After hauling it down to the Arts District, arriving at the shop, and filling out the consent form, the receptionist led you back to a small but comfortable room.

A minute or two later, a very tall young man with the most positive aura entered the room, smiling brightly at you.

“Hey, I’m Chanyeol,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“That’s me,” you grinned as you shook his hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

He sat down next to you, already beginning to prepare his tools. “So, we’re doing ‘shhh’ in some typewriter font today, is that right?”

“Yep, that’s correct.”

You watched as Chanyeol unpackaged everything he would need before he got out a translucent piece of paper and a felt tip marker. He drew out the letters, making sure to get your approval before placing the template on the inside of your pointer finger.

“Any particular reason for it?” he asked as he loaded up the fine needle with ink.

“I’m a librarian, actually,” you explained, hoping he would get started soon. Your hand was already cramping up from holding it in this weird position so he could get the best angle for the tattoo.

“No way!” he laughed, his sunshine smile becoming even brighter. “That’s awesome! I don’t think I’ve ever met a librarian as cool as you.”

“Well, thank you,” you blushed. You had to admit, Chanyeol was incredibly attractive, and his personality was so magnetic. And you’d only known him for less than twenty minutes!

He did warn you of a slight burn before he touched the needle to your finger, but when he finally began tracing over the drawn on letters, you found it was more ticklish than anything.

“Seriously, the only librarians I remember growing up were those stodgy old ladies who hated skateboarders,” he chuckled as he curved over the ‘s.’

“There are still some of those around, trust me.”

“You’re just not one of ‘em.”

“I like to think so, so I’m glad to hear it from somebody else,” you admitted with a slight smirk.

“Where’s your library?” he asked as he began on the first ‘h.’

“About twenty minutes from here, down at the corner of Perimeter Center and Rockbridge Road.”

“Oh, yeah, I think I know where that is. How long have you been working there?”

“About five years. How long have you owned this studio?”

“About six. I guess we’re probably around the same age, then.”

Now, why would he bring that up? Was he possibly feeling the same magnetic attraction you were feeling? Because, honestly, you’d almost decided that was just your imagination. But maybe it wasn’t. “Probably...”

Not even five minutes later, and he was finished. He wiped off the excess ink and allowed you to finally move your hand, which you did with a relieved sigh.

“That really wasn’t bad at all,” you marveled, twisting your wrist so you could properly see the tattoo. “It looks so good!”

“I would love to be there to see the look on a kid’s face when you tell him to be quiet,” Chanyeol admitted as he began to clean up.

“Honestly, there aren’t that many loud hooligans. At least, none who come into the library.”

“Man, it’s been forever since I’ve even picked up a book...” He spared you a glance as he took his gloves off and threw them into a nearby trash bin. “Have any recommendations?”

You bit the inside of your cheek before making the split-decision to just go for it. What did you have to lose?

“Why don’t you stop by and found one for yourself?”

Tagging @takura-rin , @zhangjingyou , @daelicious-jongbulge , @sun-shinee-world , @peach-sm , @lumbs17, @katrina-noona to let them know this has been uploaded! This is the final installment of the tattoo series. Thank you all so much for following along with this fun series! I absolutely loved writing these!!

Other Artists: Song Mino, Im Jaebum, Lee Jungshin, Bang Yongguk

Master list // RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins

#exo #exo scenarios #exo imagines #exo au #exo fluff #chanyeol #park chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #chanyeol imagines #chanyeol au #chanyeol fluff #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #admin b

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moonguardsecrets · 7 years ago

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hi im berenal

So I'd like to preface by saying I don't really use this blog too much, I mostly read it every now and again but that's about it. I've been relatively quiet concerning this issue but frankly I don't think that's the right way to go about it anymore, so I'm just going to address some stuff.

I've always believed in being pretty transparent about my issues, especially beef with other people. So while this blog is all about being anonymous, I'm just going to put up my side of this whole thing.

1. Concerning my guild/our story. There's a post I've seen pop up a few times that we've accused Blizzard of copying our stuff for Drustvar. While there's some striking similarities between some of our stuff and Drustvar, we know that Blizzard doesn't care about some random guild on MG. It was a meme. Maybe it's cause sarcasm gets lost in text, idk, but we've never actually believed that our stuff was stolen. We've actually fully embraced the similarities and have been super looking forward to the Drust stuff cause it's a cool concept, but this idea that we've somehow been slighted by Blizzard/earnestly believe that there was a copy thing isn't true. It was a joke that I guess went over poorly outside of our guild. We still say it as a joke in our casual conversations, accusing a specific guild mate of being a blizzard spy whenever something funny happens. It's a little outlandish to me personally that it got taken seriously but hey I'm not going to point a finger around, I'm just clarifying that the Blades as a group doesn't actually think this.

As for my character, which I've seen people saying I try to roleplay Greymane, thanks I guess? Berenal as a character is meant to be insanely patriotic. If they ever turned Genn into a villain, Berenal would follow him, unless it was done so in a really weird way like old gods or something overtly obvious. The character is meant to echo Greymane's statements, but I've never tried to pass myself off as Genn IC or state I have absolute authority from him or whatever.

Our guild is centered around Gilneas foremost and we put a lot of our narrative in-house rather than post it up publicly because we don't believe in forcing an intrusive narrative. I know I've been accused of such personally when Flames of War was doing Ashenvale, though I'll address that a bit later.

2. Concerning the titles of ranks in the guild. Recently a post came out, which was deleted because it did include the name explicitly of our stuff, that was talking about a title given to one of my officers. The post included a mistranslation, saying it translated to queen. That's just blatantly not true. For some background, the position was a recent creation because our previous council system wasn't working too well for this branch so we downsized it to the main officer in charge of the branch of the guild.

Given that this is our pagan project, and they have their own language (which yes, we do proxy with Irish cause I'm not a linguist and I don't have the means or time to make my own language up), we used an amalgam of a few words to describe it. The title roughly translates to an arbitrator of law/leader of law. Not king, not queen. In fact it's not even a noble position either, it's an elected one that if Aleyina were to ever step down, it'd go to whoever was elected next. We use the title Grand Master, Spymaster, Rionasai, and a few others throughout the guild. They're all on the same level of 'power', and countless other guilds have similar structure. I'm not sure what drove the need to lie about that but I'd just like to clear that misconception up before I go into my next point.

3. Concerning the pagan project in my guild. My guild has had a pagan project in it for roughly 4-5 years. I put up the original article for it about almost a year after we started it. It's a story I personally started back in Mists of Pandaria and have cultivated alongside several others for years, it's something I only recently managed to hand off into other people's hands for running it because I couldn't focus on it, I have other narratives and stories that I tell in my guild, but here's the proof of how old this story is. (Note, at the time the Pagans were called "Wickers", which is actually where the whole drust meme even comes from on our side.)

https://i.imgur.com/7rgG9t5.png

I was fascinated with the bare minimal lore that Blizzard provided for the Old Ways and Harvest Witches/Wizards that I tried to expand on that by making a group of people based around the ideology of an expanded religion that roots its self from a common point in druidism.

What started originally as a side group grew into an entire branch of our guild and has since been something I've personally invested years worth of time growing and developing as a writing project alongside others. We've made a point of making nearly everything in this branch original content and it's at the point it's at after four to five years of growth and development alongside the main narrative of the guild. It's a project that I have personally cultivated with the help of others for years and has been personally invested into by the guild as a whole through nearly three expansions now.

On top of it, a while ago we were accused of having said our runes were celtic or something. That's not true. They're stylized elder futhark, we've never bothered to hide that. In fact, I've attached some images below.

https://i.imgur.com/q5MHveU.png

This is an image from Varian's grave in Stormwind. The runes are translatable elder futhark, and this is the closest representation to Common we have in the game.

https://i.imgur.com/C9jc7sG.png

This is an image from Haustvald in Stormheim. These runes too are Elder Futhark, though they've been slightly stylized and include some runes that are gibberish it's meant to represent Vrykul. The angle's a little bad but if you go there in game Elder Futhark is literally lining most of Stormheim. You can translate these as well, it's pretty nifty.

The premise of our written language for the project we have for runes has never been 'celtic', we just based it off whatever Blizzard ended up saying was 'humanity's language'. Our group takes some minor inspiration from norse and celtic themes, but the majority of it is original writing, and the runes themselves are based around the idea of having descended from vrykul runes; so we just kept to the format that Blizz themselves are using for humans in the game.

4. Concerning Flames of War. While this one has largely died down, I'd still like to address it. Flames of War is a team effort, something with over ten coordinators that all of us still actively communicate with one another fairly regularly. During this time I'd been claimed as a dictator, or that I was giving special attention to myself/my own. Flames of War has never been solely 'dictated' by my actions. Every major decision has been either voted on or come to consensus one way or another, including story decisions. Sure I'm the dude who made the server but I've forfeited any real 'power' that gives me in favor of a council system. Ergo, if you're mad at me for something that happened in Flames of War, I highly encourage you to re-assess the things that happened and either speak to myself or another coordinator. We're not in this for some weird power play or whatever, this is a video game in the end of the day and unlike some past 'moguls of the server', I'm earnestly just looking to make my virtual barbie doll be in some cool situations, not make him grand poobah of the alliance or whatever. I can speak on behalf of the rest of the team and say they feel the exact same way.

5. Concerning our adherence to lore. I know there's been some people who have accused my guild of breaking lore/saying I don't care about lore. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a giant lore fanatic and for whatever reason people use me like an almanac in a few servers for lore questions. I really honestly do try to keep the boundaries of my guild within reasonable lore parameters. Despite the rumors, no, my character doesn't have regular casual chats with Genn Greymane, no, our lands are not 'flawless with millions of gold and soldiers', no, we don't RP like we run Gilneas either. All we're trying to do is have fun with the game and tell a story of a rundown kingdom trying to get back on it's feet.

6. Concerning deleted secrets. Yes, I've requested secrets be deleted before because, honestly, ever since this nick-name stuff started it's stopped being remotely ambiguous. Sword of Genn isn't even remotely ambiguous. Neither is Knives of Greymane, that's just changing one word. The rules for the blog on the side state anything that can be considered trolling or abuse of anonymity is grounds for removal of secrets; so I've just used those rules since honestly, a lot of these are really weird accusations. Each time I've been willing/or have provided screenshots to prove the contrary. Not all secrets concerning my guild have been deleted; only the ones that break the rules. This segways into my final point.

As I said at the beginning of this huge post, I've always been a believer of transparency. If you have issue with me, or any of my guild mates, I'm honestly imploring people to contact me over Discord or in game. My tag is:

Berenal#0693 In game it's just Berenal, no weird letters. I'll be online in Boralus.

You don't need to contact me on your main account if you're afraid I'm going to 'out you' or whatever. Any conversation we have will be one on one between us. You can even delete it afterwards, I don't mind. So come to me on a throw-away discord account, let it out to my face, or maybe we can even hash out our differences. I'm more interested in getting this shit done with than trying to start a flame war, honestly. In the end of the day this is a game to me and mine, and we're all paying 15 bucks a month to have fun. I've cleared out my block list entirely, so there's nothing stopping people from contacting me.

I do hope folks reach out so we can hash our differences out and do our own thing, instead of whatever vendetta seems to have brewed up over play pretend for god knows what reason. I earnestly don't understand the point of the majority of these vitriolic posts; it just seems to subsist off the idea of throwing words around for what real reason? To upset people? I don't get it. I don't see what posting incessantly here about it does to fix anything.

If you've got issue with me or my guys come talk to me about it, my door's open.

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thinktosee · 5 years ago

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THE POLITICS AND PROFITS OF HAZE

The view from the north-east of singapore, Sep. 18, 2019. In the foreground, the grass has browned completely. In the background, the island of Ubin is no longer visible.

A. INTRODUCTION

The haze hanging over the triangular region encompassing Malaysia, singapore and Indonesia, has been especially bad this time. Public health and rights are no doubt under siege. This is a result of slash and burn agricultural or palm farming in Indonesia and Borneo, coupled with an especially prolonged dry spell or drought.

B. THE POLITICS of PALM

Firstly, the term “Transboundary haze” - what does this mean? Is nature supposed to recognize artificial boundaries? We shouldn’t either. Borders are dumb and fake. They are designed to keep us isolated or penned in silos, with overpriced and useless military establishments, to protect the elites or one percenters, from the masses. Observe what the tribes can do to the Arabian oil installations a few days ago with a few armed drones (1). The most sophisticated armed forces in the world couldn’t stop that! It’s reminiscent of the Gerald Butler movie, “Angel has Fallen” which depicts how multiple armed drones can make the most protected person in the world so vulnerable (2). It is also a lesson about the unsustainability of bloated military expenditures and their fake relationship to national security.

Back to the haze - the fact it encompasses the region is the real issue. Remove the borders and the problem will be dealt with effectively. For now, everyone is in a blame game – it’s political (3). Truly, there appears to be a glaring lack of commitment to our common heritage among the political leaders in the region. That’s what borders do. Every issue or tragedy is compartmentalized. The people divided and weak. The ruling elites wouldn’t have it any other way.

The sources of the haze problem are no doubt, slash-burn farming and prolonged dry weather. The first an economic, while the second a climatic issue. Both are human-made. A corporate palm oil lobby is reported to have denied direct responsibility in the first instance. Instead, they pointed the finger at the small farmers next door to their plantations, for slashing and burning (4). Is this silly PR stunt a demonstration of responsible leadership?

Image courtesy Google

Let’s be clear about something – the mega palm oil corporations are based in singapore, Malaysia and Indonesia. Here they are :

Image courtesy iuf.org

C. HIDING BEHIND THE SMALL FARMER

Image courtesy cartoonresource.com

Now let’s see, the small palm grower harvests his crop and then trucks same to his sophisticated processing plant where the palm seeds are crushed and processed into oil. Following that, he trucks the oil to the nearest seaport to load onto his multi-million dollar palm oil tankers for shipment to the consuming markets. Let’s try to understand this picture – the small grower does all these? How? He’s barely making ends meet with his small farm!

Image courtesy iuf.org

Like most things named “business,” the big guys have the wherewithal – by this I mean cheap financing, cheap labour, modern factories, logistics and supply chains, political connections, PR agents, negligible tax exposure (singapore, Labuan, etc.) and large plantations, to game or monopolize the business. The small farmer sells his produce for processing, which are very costly contraptions and are therefore owned by the corporations. These few big guys control the business from A to Z. The small farmer is at their mercy in terms of the price for their produce and hence, for their survival. The corporations and their political patrons are merciful of course – they let him and his family subsist, as slave labour in the plantation. Bullying as this has few equals.

D. WOOL OVER OUR EYES

Image courtesy Pinterest

Some of these corporations have “audited” sustainable practices (5). That is, they are officially certified to be environmentally-friendly. I used to work for a major petroleum company. I can testify to what their “audit for corporate and environmental risk management” is worth – zilch. That’s because many employees and contractors for a corporation are careerists. They are not paid or needed to think critically. Instead, they adhere robotically to the commercial imperatives of their corporate culture. Which reminds me of something the US Secretary of State in the 1970s, Dr. Henry Kissinger reportedly said about his staff – they may not be competent, but are loyal (6). That’s what “institutionalized meritocracy” is about folks. We only need to be loyal to be successful in our career. Seriously, unless we start to take things into our hands and work positively to eradicate the causes of the haze, nothing is going to change.

Here’s a story of irresponsible or, I should add, loyal leadership :

M/T Kirki, sans her bow. Image courtesy Amazon.com

Many years ago, a major maritime accident occurred off the pristine waters of Australia. It centered on an old rust bucket, named Kirki. The subsequent investigation by the Australian maritime transport authority (a very competent bunch of pros) discovered glaring omissions to safety by the oil company and the ship managers concerned (7,8). The same oil company also regrettably was involved in a tragic accident and oil spill in the US Gulf coast years later (9). The financial claims for this are stupendous, illustrating the massive affliction to life and the environment (10). Tragedies as these are avoidable if we had more professionals and less careerists in charge.

Political and corporate leadership built on old boys’ club, ethnicity, family, clan, religious or masonic network is NO LEADERSHIP. We the People should not look to them to solve our problems or to rule over us.

E. WHAT WE CAN DO

Image courtesy picpedia.org

Hold those responsible DIRECTLY accountable.

Years ago, I wrote to the governments of the region about tackling the haze. A simple solution was proposed – haul the corporate heads of the major palm companies before the world’s mass media and ask them collectively how they are going to solve the problem they have created! Here’s an excerpt :

“There is little benefit in a blame game………

Actively involve and hold accountable……the corporations having a direct or indirect stake in the blazing landholdings. By this, a simple call to the CEOs of the companies to step forward and give a blanket undertaking that they will do all within their power…..to reduce and ….eliminate the threat of haze-causing fires on their landholdings. The region’s public health demands this. This undertaking will be made public at a press conference called by ASEAN ministers and attended by the CEOs. The CEOs are to be held personally responsible for the fires not only within their landholdings, but also to those which their companies have a commercial arrangement – their supply chain. I am sure this complies with acceptable sustainable requirements.” (11)

Sadly, nothing was done then, and nothing again now. The reason I believe, remains the cozy and symbiotic relationship among the political, business and media elites in the region - a clubby bunch, as shown by this chart. Four ASEAN countries among the top 10.

Source : Forbes; IMF; The Economist (12)

Some years ago too, I wrote to the governments in the region about coordinating their efforts to deal with climate changes, especially the need to develop strategies and technologies for abating same. Again, nothing was done, as we can see from this current and intense dry spell, which has normalized in the last few years.

F. CONCLUSION

Image courtesy news.mongabay.com

The haze will go on recurring. It is an evironmental disaster. We will be wise to avoid blaming the small farmers. They have been victimized enough (13). Farming is their livelihood. Stick the blame where it truly belongs – irresponsible, avaricious and crony political, corporate and media leaders. Hold them accountable. It is our right.

In the Spirit of David Cornelius Singh

David’s father

Email : [email protected]

https://thinktosee.tumblr.com/

Sources/References

1. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/14/world/middleeast/saudi-arabia-refineries-drone-attack.html

2. https://angelhasfallen.movie/

3. https://www.reuters.com/article/us-southeastasia-haze/malaysian-pm-to-write-to-indonesias-leader-as-row-over-haze-flares-idUSKCN1VX0VE

4. https://www.todayonline.com/world/we-didnt-start-fire-say-malaysian-palm-oil-firms

5. https://www.greenpeace.org/international/press-release/18485/greenpeace-investigation-wilmar-brands-palm-oil-deforestation-indonesia/

6. Memorandum of Conversation, Washington, April 11, 1973, 294, U.S. State Dept. Archives

7. https://www.amsa.gov.au/marine-environment/incidents-and-exercises/kirki-21-july-1991

8. https://www.atsb.gov.au/publications/investigation_reports/1991/mair/mair33/

9. https://www.dw.com/en/the-legacy-of-deepwater-horizon-what-researchers-learned-about-oil-spills/a-37662810

10. https://www.reuters.com/article/us-bp-deepwaterhorizon/bp-deepwater-horizon-costs-balloon-to-65-billion-idUSKBN1F50NL

11. Letter to ASEAN ambassadors dated Sep 29, 2015 titled : “Lazy, Hazy days of Autumn.”

12. http://infographics.economist.com/2016/Cronyism_index/

13. https://news.mongabay.com/2018/04/indonesian-farmers-file-judicial-review-on-palm-oil-fund-as-big-companies-dominate-the-fund/

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smartchurchblog-blog · 5 years ago

Text

An Open Letter to the Teens in the Restored Church of God | Gresham Hill Management

I understand an open letter to any person for any kind of factor typically does not get to the intended audience. But an open letter is an attempt to draw attention to something that is so exceptionally incorrect that interest still requires to be drawn to the subject.

This is an open letter to the teenagers, AND grownups that are affiliated with the Restored Church of God under the leadership of David C Pack in Wadsworth, Ohio. I am writing in reaction to the complying with post and linked commands to teens As Well As grownups in RCG to refrain from blogging on the net or having an individual website, unless strickly for business, as now being prohibited by RCG, according to this write-up. The intro to the article is as adheres to. This is from the Ambassador Young People Publication, as written by Kevin D. Denee in behalf of the management of the Restored Church of God.

" Blog sites and God's Young people

The "blogosphere" enables individuals to share everyday journals, photos and also sound-- immediately. But should young adults and also others in the Church "share themselves" to the globe through blog sites?"

Clearly, from the introduction youngsters, the solution is going to be "NO, you ought to not be blogging." It's mosting likely to take some time to get there, with typical warnings concerning pedophiles as well as giving up individual information to the internet, which is wise, yet this is simply the introduction to the genuine factor. That point is summarized well near the end of the write-up and is the whole factor of all that preceded it, which I will certainly additionally talk about for your very own sakes.

Right here is the conclusion of the issue for teens, AND ALSO grownups, so lets be clear, the short article was not composed just for teenagers nevertheless and is a cautioning to GROWNUP church members to additionally stay clear of blogging and internet sites that are not approved by "the Church." "To teens and also others," is code for "everyone had much better be paying attention to me." Allow's go right to the verdict initially. I'll allow the writer of the short article speak for himself ...

" The Conclusion-- and also Service

So what have we found out? Remember that a blog company mentioned, with blog sites "there are no guidelines." This is certainly not real with God. He does have regulations and guidelines, yet not whatever is defined in the Bible. We need to take concepts as well as think about the total broad view.

Should teenagers as well as others in the Church reveal themselves to the world with blogs? As a result of the evident risks; the clear scriptural principles that use; the truth that it gives one a voice; that it is often still words; that teenagers commonly do not assume prior to they do; that it is acting out of boredom; and also it is full of appearances of wickedness-- blogging is just not to be performed in the Church. It needs to be clear that it is unnecessary as well as a matter of fact dangerous on lots of levels.

Church App

Let me highlight that nobody-- including grownups-- need to have a blog site or personal site (unless it is for reputable organisation functions).

When this policy, now being set up, was reviewed with Mr. Load and other Head office ministers, there was not a shadow of uncertainty in any person's mind that blogs are something youth need to not be carrying out in any kind of way.

As has been said before, Jesus Christ and also His Church have standards. Those who prefer fewer criteria should go to the splinters or to the globe.

When attempting to validate something, teenagers will certainly usually narrow in to certain areas, and also claim, "Well this particular thing isn't incorrect!" They will then utilize this as evidence that the bigger point is okay. Do not allow on your own to think this way. Think about all the components we have actually talked about.

Blog writing has come to be a socially accepted technique-- equally as are dating seriously too young, underage drinking and also basic misbehaving. Yet just because somebody else "jumps off the high cliff" does not mean you need to do the exact same.

Some concerns normally arise: "Can I have a picture gallery?" As an example, perhaps you checked out an unique country and also want to share your pictures with friends. This can be done, yet certain standards use. Certainly, there need to never ever be any kind of unacceptable photos (once more, take care of the appearance of evil); it must be private as well as password shielded, and just revealed to family and also closest close friends.

Is this short article stating that every blog site in the world is incorrect? No, naturally not! Once more, there are some professionals and specialists that utilize blogs to serve a proper function."

Kevin D. Denee. Restored Church of God.

The majority of you have checked out the whole short article or should. In the run up to the final mandate that you are not to have blog sites, or check out blog sites of others, or even have a website, as well as YOUR MOMS AND DADS, unless they remain in an expert service, you were advised that you are actually wrong to also want a voice to start with which you having a personal voice is vanity. Your priest has a personal voice all the time as well as subjects you to two as well as 4 hr sermons telling you that his voice is more important than your voice. Allow's consider the short article once more.

" But what does this involve blogs?

The Web-- and even more particularly blogs-- has made it possible for everybody to have a voice on any matter. Currently everyone's thoughts are "published" for all to see. Whether it is effective, as quickly as something is published the individual has a larger voice. It often makes the blog owner feel excellent or makes him feel as if his point of view counts-- when it is mostly brainless nonsense! ...

Ask yourself, "Do I tend to want to have a voice?"

... The level of shallowness as well as emotional immaturity this represents is unbelievable! In the grand system of points, why would certainly the world at large care?

People normally wish to make a mark in this world; they wish to make a distinction, and also numerous think blogs will certainly enable them to do this. Nevertheless, most blog sites, particularly by teenagers, serve as nothing more than public diaries. (Naturally, there is absolutely nothing inherently wrong with an individual journal, as long as it is maintained exclusive.) Although particular expert blogs can make a positive difference within some aspects of society, teen blog writing does not."

So there you have it. You're voice is invalid, worthless, shallow, makes no distinction, one that no one wishes to hear anyway as well as ultimately simply blather. Ask your Pastor if he had a voice when he was a teen as well as would certainly he agree to include you the exact same rights he did have as he sought what appeared to be reality for himself as a TEENAGER. The answer to the concern, "Do I tend to want to have a voice?" is not the like asking you, though it is framed in such a means, as "Do you tend to exist, rip off and steal?" The question is asked in such a way as to make you feel severely for claiming "yes" despite the fact that of course is the only answer there is for the majority of regular individuals. When your church or government obtain your voice, you have lost your flexibility as well as your mind.

You are being told that to have an individual voice, which indicates individual views, point of views and also the ability to observe what is taking place around you with a vital eye as well as thinking, is vanity. The article goes on to state ...

" There is a generation that are pure in their very own eyes, and also yet is not washed from their filthiness. There is a generation, O how soaring are their eyes! And also their eyelids are raised" (Prov. 30:12 -13).

If you upload ordinary details of your life, you are in effect saying that your life is essential which individuals need to review it. Also, whether or not you confess, having a blog with your name, your photo and also your viewpoints strokes the human vanity-- it raises you up. It basically markets the self! Several teenagers state, "Pay attention to me, globe, as well as what I need to say," when they need to be concentrated on transforming and also cleaning up their lives.

If you blog, are you sure you do not partly appreciate it due to the fact that your carnal nature is inclined towards vanity?"

The writer is making it seem like you say you are investigating porn yet, actually, he believes you like it.

Please recognize, that your church's web site, you know, one of the most stupendous, biggest and bestest overall world, according to your Pastor, is a pietistic blog of Mr. Load's name, image, point of views, concepts, analyses as well as sights also. Nobody man symbolizes fact, whatever you have actually been led to believe. If you doubt it, go see the amount of lectures he allows others to publish on the site or the number of the explanations of all the doctrines, ideas and also rules are left for others to compose as well as specify. So to blog site is to be vain for teens. That is a lie.

You are told that your words are still, you only blog due to the fact that you are burnt out which you aren't smart adequate to stay clear of the look of evil. Continuing ...

" Young people must hang around doing points that are efficient. Our goal in life is to come to be an extra reliable individual-- to get baptized right into the Church as well as develop holy, exemplary godly personality for the rest of one's life. However what does blogging ultimately accomplish? Absolutely nothing!

Some claim blogging is healing. If that holds true after that here is a traditional instance of somebody "therapeutically" revealing himself: "Im feeling depressing once again ... so many points I can't inform anybody and so numerous sensations I need to handle ... do not also attempt to ask me why, and begin telling me it will certainly help if I let it out. I know it will not help. Believe me, telling will make me more distressed than I currently am. yet just ur listening/reading my [expletive] messages suffices to make me really feel much better. many thanks ...".

Talking is restorative. It helps one clarify one's thoughts when no one else will listen. I did not speak up frequently adequate in WCG since I did not want to allow individuals down by getting discharged. I am sorry I did not speak up extra. I also thought what I was being told, which confirmed to be a lie as well. I deeply regret this absence as well as worry on my own part.

The factor we don't speak to genuine people in genuine time is since we view that they are not paying attention or will give us an extremely not practical an unhelpful solution to genuine troubles. Call are restorative. Letters are therapeutic. Talking face to face is therapeutic, and blog writing can additionally be restorative. And also of course, you have be smart concerning who you show to, however that's not the issue below. Most people aren't as dumb as this write-up makes them out to be. Learning that others feel and also believe as you do and that you are not "nuts" or "unusual" or "off base" all the time, is really therapeutic. It is a wiseman in this day and also age that has friends and excellent counselors. It's individuals who will not listen to any kind of voices yet the ones in their own heads that you need to be careful around.

Just so you comprehend, your Church as well as Pastor now prohibit you and also your grown-up moms and dads from blogging on the internet, having a blog of your very own or having a personal web site unless related to a service. You need to recognize that there are reasons behind these factors such a profane guideline is being instituted. While blogging, like telephone call or letter composing or smokes signals can have a drawback, there is more to this than fulfills the eye in your specific church. It is a way to manage the circulation of details, criticism as well as presenting sights that are counter to those approved by the Restored Church of God as well as it's leaders. The web is the bane of those that abuse or look for to manage and that includes our own federal government in this day and also age.

Quickly you will certainly listen to something from the pulpit as ridulous as "We regret to notify the members and also we do so with deep unhappiness, however Mr. and Mrs. so and also so, and also Johnny Teen has actually been disfellowshipped from the True Church for blogging and preserving an unapproved website for their own self-centered, egotistical as well as walking on thin ice factors, against Church policy. We hope that God will trigger them to repent of this digital wrong and for thinking that they can have a voice in this Church of God or the globe in general or that they might say anything that would certainly be or any remote rate of interest to any person." Outlawing you from blogging is no various from shedding your books.

Your church corresponds blogging with dating also young, minor alcohol consumption and also pre-, marriage sex. They inform you that even if others embark on a cliff, does not imply you should. Exactly how's that completely reasoning. If your close friends shoot themselves, I am sure they would also encourage you not to do the same. Advantage as they give this advice or, certainly, you would all up and jump like lemmings into the sea. This "just because others ..." point has been a tool of moms and dads for life and also will be yours also one day! It's what we say when can't consider just how to state it well.

The lower line is that you belong to a church that needs to manage your intake of good info along with what could be taken "negative" details. They likewise uncommitted what you assume and don't desire you expressing it to others. They do not want you talking about faith, Holy bible inerrancy, background, various other perspectives or truths that are more true than the ones you obtain fed each week in church. The sure don't want you reviewing the factors made in a previous lecture, despite the fact that lecture has commands for you to adhere to that effect your life majorly. Frankly, all churches fear the net due to the fact that information is frightening to those that would certainly have you think you are getting all you require from simply one real source. You are not.

No Person on this earth deserves to tell you what you can review, who you can talk with, what topics you can share directly if you pick or how you pick to offer or obtain that details. Our federal government is also attempting like mad to maintain the ordinary American from questioning a lot of points that have actually gone on in the last 5 years, as well as before. Your objectives for doing so are not as evil as this short article makes them out to be as well as you are not as silly as this write-up portrays the average teen these days. Whatever you do needs to be made with wisdom, care and discretion, yet you will not discover how to do this if you are prohibited from taking the class.

Religion and also federal government has been trying to manage the totally free circulation of info since time started. It's exactly how control, misconception and impression is kept. Individuals who make the policies concerning such things really usually refuse to abide by the very same rules for themselves. You will discover this as you mature.

No write-up in the history of RCG has actually ever been created ... yet, that is so chillling as this. I urge you to assume long and hard regarding its ramifications to your understanding and expanding in the actual truths that, think it or otherwise, are not the unique property of the one little church and Priest you have just happened to discover on your own in organization with. I additionally want you to presume various other factors for this being dictated to the teenagers, while grownups were also thrown right into the mix in a plain one line also. Absolutely nothing in any kind of Church, Federal Government or Organization is as one is converted on the surface ... ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

To blog or otherwise to blog site is YOUR selection. To have or not to have a website for any kind of factor, is YOUR option as well as the option of your ADULT parents. No church or male has the right to manage your access to the free circulation of close friends, details, viewpoints or perhaps bullshit. You'll never create a BS Meter is you aren't revealed to it. I personally assume you are more than you think. Also the adages state that it is no excellent point to have an entirely tidy barn, without cow pies on the flooring, as it might indicate you have no pets to look after on your wonderful farm. Remember, fish can't live in distilled water. It destroys their body immune systems as well as is an unreal atmosphere in which to thrive as a fish. Are you not better than a fish ... oh ye of little faith?

#Church App

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cyberdelusionphilosopher-blog · 7 years ago

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"Fort Worth Texas Cheap car insurance quotes zip 76112

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