#in any case yes here's some sin for your... sunday morning (probably)?

[insufferablelust]

THE ARTIST AND HIS MUSE (vi)

okay but that gif sent me to blazing hell, anyways! this is the 6th installment to the series! i hope you enjoy! it’s kinda a filler chapter to make straighten the plot line, thank you for reading! MASTERLIST for earlier chapter.

WARNINGS : Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, no actual smut, allusions to sex and pre-BDSM talk, traumatic past, Huge Build up (sorry loves), Cheesy fluffs.

I would also like to say that, some aspects of this story is not consistent with the actual series, i make some changes to fit the plot lines better. Full credit to the creators and directors of the series though.

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{ love is a world of it’s own, that lives in the heart not in the head. -Diana & Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds }

————

I love you

I love you.

————

The next morning, had me smiling. It was the longest sleep i’ve gotten in awhile and one that doesn’t have nightmares, all because he’s here. Spencer’s here, i shuddered as i felt his arms tightened around my waist and his legs tangled with mine. It felt so good just to know that we’re both safe and sound inside each other’s embrace, even if it’s temporary.

I listened to his breathing for awhile, he sounded so calm, there’s nothing i wouldn’t do to ease all of his worries and soothe the very thing that had him overthinking everything. His mind is a complicated place, he said so to me one time that “You never know what its like to be the prisoner of your own mind.” he didn’t know then that i’m still trying to get out of mine.

I bit my lip hard, as the memories from last night flooded back, i used to promised myself to not say any of my past to anyone, but now Spencer knows and i’m terrified that something will happen to him. Bad things tend to occur when they know the real me, and i won’t let anything happen to Spencer.

I shake away my bad thoughts and move on to the more exciting time of the night, god— i could still feel the way he touched me, the way he whispered so cruelly yet so lovingly. It was different from the first time we had sex, he was gentle whereas that time he was rough, dominant. I love both Reid’s, and yet i just can’t seem to get the thought out of my head, “How did he know that much about Dominance and Submissive play?” It’s not just common knowledge on how to perfectly bound someone or edge someone right? according to your experience, His techniques were as sophisticated as someone who had years of BDSM training.

“I could’ve sworn that dream was real.” Spencer’s morning voice pulled me out of my thoughts, i turned my head to see him before flashing him a smile and giggled. “Penny for your dreams then?”I muttered jokingly which he told me that it involved me and him, i stifled my laugh as i hid my face on his neck, immediately feeling the immense calmness radiated from his scent alone.

“Remember that one time, on the picasso signature case?” He mumbled sleepily against my hair, “how could i not remember? that case is the one that changes everything.” I looked up to him then, ran my fingers through his hair.

“I remembered just how flushed you are, i always liked you since the beginning, i just.. i just don’t know how your reaction would be so i kept it a secret.” He paused to look down at me, tucking my hair behind my ear, then continue,

“But then i started noticing little.. changes in your behavior, so i observed you for weeks which i know is creepy but hey.. i was practically in love with you at that point, you got anxious a lot around me which you hid it really well but then that one time during a case you just completely went flushed and your pupils were dilated, your breathing labored— which convinced my theory.” He explained, with eyebrows raised and a smirk itching to appear on his godforsaken lustful lips.

“Mmm, which is what Dr.Reid?” I batted my eyelash up at him, not knowing where my sudden burst of confidence appeared from but not caring either. “That you feel the same way about me, if not romantically, then at least sexually.” There it is, his lips curved up at one side— i was about to answer but beat me to it- leaned against my ear and whispered, “Stop with the act or i’ll spank your ass purple.”

“Oh Spencer, you’re saying it like it’s something i wouldn’t love.” I scoffed as i sit up on the bed, then straddled his hips. My respond lit up something inside him, something primal that i can see it in his eyes, his demeanor changed 180 which sent thrill to my skin.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“I think i am, and so are you.”

“Oh i am pet, It’s fascinating how much you think you have control when it’s been showed clearly on who’s in charge, by the marks on your skin, and the burning sensation between your legs.” It felt like he poured all the molten lava on top of me to leave me burning, the way he said all of that turned me on beyond belief.

“You forget that i’m in control of you, and by so i can take away the things you ‘love’, when we talk about our relationship later, i’ll make sure spanking won’t be in the list of punishments— since you’re such a needy masochist.” I can’t help but to whine at his words, only to confirm all he said is true, true to every damn detail.

“S-Sorry sir and yes we need to talk about it..” I was so flustered i couldn’t think of anything else but that, i knew if i asked for him to touch me now he would just laughed, so maybe i can try to get back in his good mercy.

“There you go, you have manners after all. We’ll talk about it over breakfast, go and shower, i’ll make french toast.” He make sure to kiss my lips before patting my bum as a signal that I need to get up, which i happily did so. “Oh and sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir?”

“If i find you touching whats mine, Expect to be denied with ruined orgasms for a week.”

—————

The smell of french toast cooking hit my nose on the perfect Sunday morning as i stepped out of the bathroom, quickly drying myself off then went to my closet to pick out an outfit that was both comfy but also would make Spencer goes crazy. I smiled as i saw a vintage dress i’ve owned since college, it was a Sabrina type dress that stopped right above my cleavage, showing plenty of skin from there up to my neck.

I put on the dress quickly, decided not to apply any make up, and comb my hair to let it fall freely. I stand in front of the mirror to see how i looked, the sight made me shiver, the marks he had given me last night littered all over the exposed skin of my neck down to my collarbones, I bit my lips at the thought of bearing more of his mark as a way to show everyone that he owns me. Body and soul.

After a good 5 minutes, i snapped out of my thoughts and head downstairs right to where Spence is plating the french toast. “Go sit on the table. I’m almost done” He ordered, so i sit down, waiting for him to finally see me, my knees bounced against the table as i waited in anticipation.

“Y/N stop being anxious, your knees keeps—“ He demanded, only to be cut off when he saw me. He stopped dead at his track, holding both plates in each hand, his eyes widened a little as his breathing got labored at the sight of me, Spencer bit his lip hard taking a deep breath, before placing your plates in front of me, and his plate opposite of mine.

As you thought he was about to sit, he strolled to my side, hands immediately gripped my jaw and pulled me out of my seat— his hand are so tight around my jaw, i’m sure it’ll bruise, good. I took in the state of him, like i could see the red in his eyes as his were burning holes through my skull.

Then his grip moved lower to my neck, grasped it softly, not enough for it to bruise but enough to give me a warning. “You have no idea how much i want to put a nice collar on your neck, and bend you over this desk right now.” He whispered roughly, his other fingers trailed against my lips side to side.

I opened my mouth so he can pushed them in, letting me suckle on them as he chuckled “We’ll talk first, we have a lot to talk about. But since you’re pretty adamant on teasing my like this, if you agree to be mine later after we establish how this is going to work— best believe i’m going to ruin you.” My knees buckled at his proposition, Doesn’t he realized that i’m already his? He owns me the moment i let him open me up inside out.

“Bribing me already Dr.Reid?”

“Oh baby, i’ll make sure you’ll earn your lesson.”

—————

You moaned the second you tasted that sinful french toast, god isn’t Spencer supposed to be terrible at cooking? then how come this tastes like literal heaven? the perfectness oozes out of this fine looking toast dripping with hon—

“You’re really testing me now, Y/N.” He intertwined his fingers around each other before putting them in front of him, the manner suggest proper intimidation, clearly it worked for you. You replied with a whisper “Sorry sir, it’s really good.”

“Before we start to discuss our relationship, i’ll allow you to ask me questions about anything and everything that’s been going on. You gave me closure yesterday, and i shall give you closure too.” You kept eye contact as you wonder what to ask, which one of the thousands of questions in-your head that you were going to ask.

“Y/N?”

“How um how’d you find out about me? my past?” You nervously asked, this is something important to you, if Spencer truly found out then sooner or later you’ll have to face the consequences of everyone finding out too, probably even deeper than what’s Spencer been digging.

“I had my suspicions for awhile, when you first joined, you looked way too trained to be 25. No one is that trained unless they have basic skillset, everyone were suspicious too but decided to not question anything. But like i said,” His eyes were sharp, and you can feel the goosebumps rises at the sound of his tone. God he always managed to make you nervous.

“You intrigued me. So i did some digging of my own, asked Garcia to hand me your file, to my surprise before the age of 14 Y/N Bones never existed, Your surrogate father is smart, but he still leaves crumb Y/N. I’m just surprised the bureau didn’t question it when you joined,” He paused as he clench and unclench his jaw, the sight alone made me squirm in my seat, i’m not sure if i’m even listening at this point.

“So i searched deeper, even asked one of my friends Elle to do a deep background search about you so that it’s not someone on the team, and we both found out that you.. breezed your way through the psych eval that you have an astounding result. Your records are squeaky clean yet, there are pictures of you when you were 17 so we generate how you might’ve looked like when you were 10 to 15 years old and then we found...”

“The missing kid from a mob murder house in Italy, last seen by the chauffeur that was killed moments after he talked to the police, the poor guy was new— he never been briefed on what happened when something like that occurred.” You finished his statement as you looked down, your eyes closed momentarily as you tried to process that this man knows everything about you and now your secrets will be revealed to the world.

“Y/N, listen to me,” You’re that good at controlling your face whenever someone confronted you, thats why you’re able to breezed through your basic psych eval like a magnet. “Let me see you, not the walls you’ve put up.” Then when he said that, you felt like you never really knew yourself, all these years, you’ve put up a persona that was strong enough to handle everything even if you chipped away apart of your psyche every time something traumatic happened.

“This is me, Spence.. It’s who i want to be..”

“No, it’s killing you. All your life you’ve been directed, told what to do, controlled. But then you gained some sort of control when you finally was able to get free from your surrogate father, yet you don’t like it right out of the start so you keep up because that’s what kept you survive, get you inside the bureau so you won’t legally be touched once your father died, am i correct?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why you tried everything to give up control again, you joined the club right?” That made you red in an instant, How the hell did he managed to know so much about you? you’ve tried your damn hardest to be discreet about it, event as far as going to the club thats far from where you lived.

“I-I, Spencer this is too much information..” You trailed as you bit your lips at the thought of him knowing the inside and out of you like you’re one of his book, part of you were glad that you don’t have to keep everything to yourself anymore, that you don’t have to worry about control— you want to relinquish control, and he’s the only one that has made you feel comfortable when you give him all of you, and you don’t want it to stop. But you two are coworkers, FBI agents in the same field nonetheless there’s no way Hotch would agree to anything you propose.

“I know it is, Y/N. But you don’t have to go through it all alone now okay? i’m here, i know and thats good.”

“What do i have to do? Tell Hotch the truth about my past?” You chewed your lower lips as you think about all the possibilities that could happen, one being the most obvious which includes you being investigated and then fired. Or there’s one where the FBI would uncover Mr.Bones’s ties to Italian mob, which means you put all of them in danger. Then there’s one—

“Stop it, stop thinking for a second, and stop biting your goddamn lips, i swear.” He took you by surprise as he went over to your side and place you on top of the table in front of him before sitting down on your seat himself. “I-I’m sorry, i just.. don’t know what to do.. i don’t want to resign or get fired, i love this job, you’re all my family.”

He took my hand in his, and hold it tight before pressing a kiss on each fingertips, “You’re way too valuable of an agent to get fired and Hotch knows that, love. The worst thing that can happen is they’ll investigate and you’ll be forced to tell them what happened and how it went from there. Y/N you have no absolute ties with them, you were a victim.”

“You don’t know how powerful they are, the reason why i wanted to be apart of this job is to go after them Spence, and i’m getting nowhere close to even find any trace of them.”

“As much of a genius as you are, combining 8 heads instead of one will have a different outcome.” He joked, which makes you chuckled as you sighed and nods “Can i think about it first?”

“Of course, but do know that they’ll find out whether you tell them or not. And it’s better if it’s coming from you, not genius detective work of Garcia.” He sternly remind you, as you nod, and smile at him, muttering a small “okay..”

“Now, do you have any other question?” He pulled you closer, his hand practically grasping your bum cheeks, making you blush. “I-um..” you stopped as the words you were about to let out got stuck on your throat.

“Y/N, when you’re being asked, speak up clearly.” He scolds, which made your heart twisting in an uncomfortable way, showing how much you hate it when he gets disappointed at you. “I’m sorry, it’s just.. um— how did you know so much aboutsubmissionanddominance?” You rushed the last bit as you close your eyes in embarrassment, He made you feel so timid.

“What was that, baby? Didn’t quite hear the last bit?” He muses with a wonderful smirk formed on his ridiculously handsome face which makes you want to roll your eyes but decided otherwise since you don’t wanna get punishment this early.

“Submission and Dominance, Sir.” He play his game, and so you will play yours, only fair right? oh he thought so, his lips quirked in amusement before chuckling,

“How do you think i found out about that club you joined hm?” Your brows furrowed in confusion as you try to click things inside your head before you came to a realization...

“Spencer... are you— are you?”

He’s a goddamn member isn’t he?

“3 years, Princess.”

You’re fucked, Once again.

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TBC! i know it’s short, like i said it’s only a filler chapter, since i have plenty of blurbs req, i’ll prioritize them first. So if you sent your reqs already, please be patient, they’re all coming soon!

tell me what you think on comment or send me a message, Tag list is open just let me know if you want in! thank you!

( @blancastans @spencerwaltergubler @slutforthegubes @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @babybloomer @liaabsurd @midnightsubmissives @addie5264 @maybankslut @secretpickleprofessordean )

[rpd-rookie]

He Shouldn’t Have Done That (PART 2) - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: Ever wondered what happened after your terrible fight with Leon in part 1. Well here is your answer.

Author’s Note: After receiving some messages telling me to write a sequel for "He Shouldn't Have Done That", there it is. But I must warn you, the angst is strong with this one. So get ready to cry! Oh, and I must warn you, that this chapter revolves around the theme of religion in addition to the theme of alcoholism and it also contain strong sexual terms. So if you're not okay with that, please don't read.

Tags: Angst / Alcohol Abuse; Alcoholism / Anxiety / Depression / Language / Explicit Sexual Content / Religion / Death and mourning.

  When Leon was a kid, his mother would take him to church every Sunday, dressed in his Sunday best, which was a fancy white shirt and a pair of trousers he was only allowed to wear on Sunday. Needless to say, he hated Sundays.   But his mother was such a good Christian, always wearing a silver cross around her neck, always having a Bible under her pillow. She’s the one who had told him to believe. She had told him to believe in God, in Jesus and Mary, in the Holy Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. She had told him to believe there was someone up there watching over him, judging him, someone capable of punishing him if he would ever misbehave, sin. Someone powerful, so powerful he could decide his destiny, his fate, his life, his death, and even his beyond. Someone who would accompany him to an heavenly residence after death, that sweet oh so beautiful paradise.         Yes, that’s what his mother had told him. And he had listened and followed her teachings to the letter, maybe even longer that he could remember. He had done it because nothing could bring his mother more happiness than him behaving like the sweet choirboy from the suburbs, and that’s all he wanted back then, make his mother happy.             But with all the horrors he had seen, Leon Scott Kennedy could not believe in any god anymore. He had buried all his belief, all his teachings - much to his sweet mother’s regrets - in the ashes of Raccoon City a long time ago. And with time, he even wondered if he had ever really believed in the first place.

“That city changed me, in more ways that I can think of. It turned me into the man I am today and sometimes I wonder who I would have become if I had just stayed home on that day instead of driving right into the hellish nightmare that was expecting me there.     Possibly, some city cop whose worst worry would have been to know if there was enough paper in the printer. Maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad, who knows? After all, that dude would have never become the mess I am today, that’s for sure. That dude would have never found comfort in alcohol. He would have never cast God away in favour of something able to help him reach some ephemeral paradise, something that just needed a glass to be worshipped, something that preferred cheers to amen. No, that dude would have had a nice quiet life in the suburbs with a lovely wife, two beautiful kids and a dog. And like my mother, he would have taken his charming perfect family to Church on Sunday. Would it have been better for me? For us? Maybe, cause surely, he wouldn’t have done the same mistakes I did”

7 weeks ago - D.S.O Headquarters – Washington DC

You couldn’t help but focus on the fancy pen relentlessly tapping against the glass table. Sitting at the end of the table, perfectly still, his old face appearing somewhat more rigid than usual, the President looked very impatient. And his annoyance was for once more than justified. Leon was terribly late, and by ‘terribly’ you meant ‘almost fifty minutes late’ to be more precise.   But the real problem was that he usually was never late. On the contrary, Leon was always the first person to arrive at morning meetings, most of the time carrying cups of coffee for each D.S.O agents including a special one for you: a large black coffee with extra foam on top and a small heart drawn next to your name on the cup, perfect to make you smile like an idiot - Your heart ached as you thought about it and realised there would be no more hearts drawn on your coffee cup now.

You discreetly glimpsed at your watch again, worried and imagining the worse. What if something happened to Leon? What if he drank too much again and fainted at home? Or worse, what if he had a car accident? After all, last time you heard him on your voicemail he sounded devastated and drunker than ever.     “I am sure Agent Kennedy must be stuck in traffic, Mr President.” Ingrid Hunnigan dared say in his defence. “Then why isn’t he answering his bloody phone?” The President slammed the pen against the table and let out an angry growl. Hunnigan mumbled, trying to find something to say but the President cut her off before she could even pronounce a word. “Let’s start without him.”           “Of course, Mr President.” She stood up and handed out a case file to each agent sitting at the table. When she got to you, she whispered, “Where is Leon?” You briefly looked at her and shook your head. She certainly didn’t know Leon and you had broken up. After all, it had only been a couple of days. “I don’t know.” You mouthed, trying to keep the nascent tears in your eyes.             She probably noticed how sad and worried sick you were since she pressed her hand on your shoulder before taking her place back next to the President to explain the content of the documents on the table. “An informer from the BSAA has recently sent us information concerning a possible …”

All of a sudden, the door of the meeting room opened widely, interrupting Hunnigan in her explanations. Leon had finally arrived. Seeing him instantly took a weight off your mind and you sighed, definitely relieved. But the relief was short.     “Sorry, I’m late.” His voice sounded off and rather somnolent. Hand still on the doorknob he looked at all of the persons around the table with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, seems like everyone is here. Must be a pretty damn important meeting then.” Oh no. Not now. Not here. Leon.         “Agent Kennedy. Thank you for finally honouring us with your presence.” The president declared with a cutting tone that cast a new chill in the meeting room.             “You’re welcome” Leon replied, definitely too drowsy to get the sarcasm.   You almost gasped, refusing to believe it was actually happening, and watched Leon stagger towards his usual seat next to Hunnigan. She silently gave him a file and discreetly poured him a glass of water to help him sober up a little since she had noticed – just like everyone else in this room – that your ex-boyfriend was mighty drunk. Then, she resumed her monologue, ignoring Leon’s grimace as he drank his water contrary to the President, who was glaring at him, and you, who were staring at his face, completely eating up by guilt and sorrow. Were you the one responsible for this? You thought that leaving him would probably help him realise his alcoholism not fall deeper in it.

Despite the huge level of alcohol running in his blood, Leon was astonishingly listening to the reunion with the biggest care. Actually, he was paying so much attention that when Ingrid Hunnigan pronounced his name and the words “Los Illuminados” in the same sentence he almost hit the roof. “This again? Seriously?” He cut her off, surprising everyone. “You want me to deal with that Spanish bullshit again? Is that what you’re going to say, Hunnigan? Like I haven’t done enough, already.” Ingrid suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself, shocked by Leon’s sudden anger towards her. He had never talked to her like that. That was not in his nature.         “Leon, please just let her finish before...” You whispered to calm him down, hoping he would cooperate. “Excuse me. You’re talking to me? You? Really.” He sneered, clearly angry. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. After all, you haven’t been answering my calls since you dumped me.” You wanted to reply. But you knew that it would only aggravate the situation and make Leon angrier than he already was and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene or cause him more trouble.

“Is this a joke, Agent Kennedy?” The President growled and glared, definitely irritated by Leon’s behaviour. “No. The joke was your election, sir!” Oh God! Tell me he didn’t say that.             There was a sudden heavy silence. Everyone exchanged some aghast quick looks as the President was staring at Leon, his face reddened by anger, ready to burst. “Get out of here, Agent Kennedy. You are furloughed.” But Leon didn’t move and, with an air of defiance, simply replied “Whom are you going to send on your suicide mission if you kick me out? I’m the only one who can do the job here and you fucking know it.”     “Out! Out! Get out of here! I’ve had enough of you!” The President shouted, menacingly pointing his finger at Leon who remained still without batting an eyelid. “Leave this building now, Kennedy!” You decided to get up and grabbed Leon’s arm to lead him out. “Come on, Leon. You’re drunk. Let’s get you out to sober up a bit.” You said with an incredible calm but he refused to follow you “Of course I’m drunk. What else can I be? You left me. My job fucked me up. And I’m working with selfish assholes who clearly don’t care about that and want me to continue this fucking job till the day I die. So yeah, what else can I be if not drunk?”

“Gosh, if only I had known back then what the consequences of my actions would be, I would have never said those things or behaved like this. But regrets don’t matter. They don’t matter because it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself I shouldn’t have done that, I know that there’s no turning back. I know that you will never come back. And I don’t blame you. I can’t blame you because the only person to blame here is me. And I don’t expect your forgiveness either. I know I don’t deserve it and how could you forgive me when even I can’t forgive myself? No, I expect nothing for you.”

3 weeks ago – In a bar somewhere in New York

He didn’t know her name and he was quite sure he hadn’t even asked before locking himself with her in the toilet. And truth to be told, he couldn’t care less. He didn’t need to know her name to take his pants down and he didn’t even need to hear a single word coming from a pretty mouth either. Actually, all he wanted that mouth of hers to do was to keep sucking him off right now. Yes, that’s all he wanted. Hand in her black hair, his head against the dirty wall, he was feeling dizzy with pleasure … and alcohol, especially alcohol. A routine he had grown even fonder of since he had been furloughed. “Yeah, right, suck that cock, you dirty slut.” How many glasses had he had since he entered that bar? Six? Eight? Meh, better not thinking about it right now. “That’s it.”

His cell phone suddenly vibrated on the floor, the blue light of the screen catching his weak attention. He managed to read “Hunnigan” and sighed. “What the hell does she want?” He mumbled, annoyed. “What did you say?” The girl asked but he chose not to answer and instead shove his cock back in her mouth. But the phone kept on buzzing on the grimy tiles and Leon couldn’t take his mind or his eyes off it, his professionalism getting the better of his drunken self. “Fuck” He cursed as he bent to grab the device, pushing the girl away from him, making her lose her balance and fall on her rear.     “Better be important, Hunnigan.” He immediately said, annoyance tinting his drunken voice.         “Leon.” Her voice was strangled and trembling. It didn’t take a genius to get she had been crying. And Leon knew that if Hunnigan was crying then something terrible had certainly happened. “Give me a second, Hunnigan.”

He quickly pulled his jeans back up and pushed the door of the toilet, leaving his brief conquest high and dry on the floor. “Where are you going?” She squealed but he didn’t listen. He got out of the bar to find a quiet place, phone still against his ear, listening to his partner sniff on the other side of the line. “Alright. What’s going on? Do you need anything?” He was worried. Maybe something had happened to her. “No” She said, her voice shuddering even more than before. “Where are you? Are you alone?” She asked.   “Yeah. I’m outside a bar, in New York. Why?” He dared ask, impatient yet apprehensive to know what was actually going on. “Sit” He frowned and froze. That didn’t sound good. Nothing is ever good when someone tells you to sit down. “Hunnigan.” “ Y/N is dead.”

It was as if someone heavy and massive had instantly dropped on him, as if something had punched his stomach and crushed his chest in a single move, preventing him from breathing, preventing his heart from beating, preventing all his members from moving.               That was not possible. This couldn’t be happening. This was a dream, a nightmare or a perhaps hallucination cast by alcohol. But as soon as Leon heard Hunnigan saying his name again, he knew this was too real for this to be the mere fruit of  his imagination or his subconscious.         “How?” It was the only word that he managed to say, feeling too numb to make a complete sentence right now. “Leon that wasn’t your fault.” “How?” He insisted. He wanted to know. He needed to know. He needed to know why you would never come back to him, why he would never see you again, kiss you again. But foremost, he needed to know who was the son of a bitch responsible for it.   “ In a mission in Spain.”

His phone immediately fell to the humid ground, breaking in a thousand pieces just like Leon’s whole body. His knees bent under the sudden weight of pain, anger and guilt and soon he collapsed to the sidewalk, completely appalled, tears flooding his blue eyes.  

He had done this. It was his fault. All his fault.          

Disoriented and panting, he started looking all around him for something, anything that could help him get out of this hell. But there was nothing and he was alone. He would forever be alone now.          

He had killed you. You were dead because of him.    

Leon screamed, face reddened by rage, angry tears flowing down his face. His fists hit the ground repeatedly, hard, so hard, his knuckles started bleeding. But he didn’t care. He didn’t even see it. He couldn’t feel that pain either. The only pain he could feel right now was the one from his heart being torn out from his chest, a pain that would ultimately leave an emptiness he would never be able to fill ever again. But he wanted to feel pain. He wanted to feel that precise pain, finding it a fitting punishment for everything he had done that had lead to this moment, that had led to your death.

Was it God punishing him? Was his mother right all along? Was He making him pay for what the pain he had brought you, for all the mistakes he had done, for choosing to worship a fucking bottle of whisky instead of Him? Was it his plan all along?

“IS THAT WHAT YOU FUCKING WANTED?” Leon shouted on his knees, looking at the menacing stormy sky.

He bent over the sidewalk, head in his arms, sobbing and sniffing loudly, moaning your name, begging you to come back. “Please don’t leave me here.” But just like God, when Leon was a little boy praying with his mother at the Sunday mass, you didn’t answer. “I’m sorry.”             He had never wanted this to happen to you. He had never wanted your life to end like this. All he had ever wanted for you was your happiness even if it meant a long and beautiful life without him. Because if a bottle of whisky smashed against the wall had made him realise one thing is that you deserved to find the person that could love you better than him, a person to worship you just as his mother worshipped God and he worshipped his liquor. Because you were the only thing worth worshipping in this goddamn world, the only thing he would gladly believe in. Because, if religion was meant to bring comfort, if God was truly there to watch over him, judge him and punish him as his mother had told him then you were his God all along.       After all, who if not you brought him the comfort when he needed it? Who if not you watched over him when he was in a very bad way? Who if not you judged him when he needed to be judged and no one dared to do it? Who if not you can make him fall on his knees like a pilgrim and wish for a paradise just to have the hope he would one day see you again?          

He stayed on that sidewalk for at least an hour on that night, still and quiet, completely empty, feeling the rain pour on him, until two policemen sent by Hunnigan went to look for him. “Are you okay, sir?” No, no he was not. And he wasn’t even sure he would be okay ever again. But he eventually got better.

“ I haven’t had a single drink in three weeks. Hunnigan says that I should feel proud but I don’t. Because look what I needed to quit.”

Leon looked at the flowered marble tomb at his feet, staring at your name with an intense sadness and melancholy he would never be able to get rid of. He had taken him a while to come here, refusing to step a foot in this cemetery even for you funeral because that would be admitting your death and he couldn’t do that. But that he was here, he couldn’t help but acknowledge how cathartic talking to you was.

“ I’m leaving for Spain tomorrow. President’s order. I guess that despite being a complete asshole he is not very resentful. I have no idea what’s expecting me there but I promise you, I’ll find whoever is responsible your death and I’ll make them pay. They will learn they shouldn’t have done that.”

[smoochkooks]

—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.

[give-me-back-my-rhodey]

Here We Are, Born to be Kings - AUgust Day 9

Title: Here We Are, Born to be Kings

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Rhodey/Tony

Square Filled: G2 Dramatic Proposal

Link: Read on AO3

Summary:  Prince James is in love with Lord Tony Stark, a childhood friend. However, the Starks have been disgraced due to embezzlement charges. Can they overcome this?

++++++++++

“Your Highness. Lord Stark is here to see you.” Quentin Beck holds up his nose.

 Prince James Rhodes rolls his eyes. It’s not like Beck should judge. He was only hired because his family was in serious debt.  Tony is working out of his.

 Tony walks in a few minutes later, hair askew. “Wow, Rhodey, your servants hate me. I call it an achievement.”

“They just think it’s ok to judge since their scandals happened long ago enough for people to forget. You don’t deserve this.”

 “I probably do.” Tony shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. Actually, it gives me the chance to ditch my politeness because they already dislike me.”

 “Oh for that luxury,” Rhodey sighs. He hates the protocol he must go through. Maybe that’s why he finds Tony so refreshing.

 They first met at a football match. Tony was on the other team, and he told the young prince, “We’re not playing any easier because you’re the prince. So, be ready for that.”

 Rhodey laughed and started playing. Tony’s team was clearly better, and they defeated Rhodey's team easily. After the game, Tony invited him to grab some lunch. They have been fast friends ever since.

 Now, Rhodey is 22 and Tony is 21. Tony’s father died last year, and Tony inherited his estate. After going over the numbers, Tony’s godfather, Obadiah Stane informed him that Howard had been falsifying records and was basically bankrupt.

 Dazed and reeling from his parents' sudden death, Tony doesn’t know what to do with this information. He reaches out for help, but as Howard had been stealing money from his peers, everyone refuses to help him. Rhodey offers to bail him out completely. Tony won’t let him. He decides he will work to pay off his father's debts.

 Tony was always incredibly smart. His patented inventions were used worldwide. He decides to start his own company, Stark Enterprises, where he builds and sells hi-tech machinery and entertainment devices. As his company quickly grows, he branches out into clean energy and satellites. Not even a full year after starting his company, Tony is very successful. With only Stane and his PA, Pepper Potts, at his right hand, Tony makes sure that he himself takes care of the books. Every entry is painstakingly entered and checked by the big boss himself.

 Rhodey is very proud of his friend, but it seems that his family is the only one in the kingdom that is. King Terrance and Queen Roberta love the young man as a son, but they often wonder if he is taking on too much, causing his sleepless nights and unhealthy eating habits. Tony waves them off saying he had had those problems before his parents had died.

 Prince James’ PR agent tells him that finding someone to date might be a good look for him. Everyone is looking for news of the royal family, and they will only assume the worst if they don’t hear from each member. Queen Roberta’s cooking classes and bingo games are televised. The king does a podcast twice a month. Jeannie plays tennis professionally. James is the only one without a big public profile, and he prefers that. However, there are some people who think that James is being pushed out of the spotlight or being abused in some kind. To quell any quickly rising rumors, Rhodey agrees to attend sports matches and talk to the press for a few minutes each time. When Tony’s not working his ass off, he often accompanies Tony.

 What Rhodey doesn’t tell his PR agent is the reason he doesn’t date. He is hopelessly in love with Tony and admitting that would be bad for a few reasons. 1.) Everyone in the country is against Tony. They would slander his name even more if they thought he had got his “money-grubbing claws” in the prince. 2.) Tony is straight. He had never told Rhodey otherwise, and he has only dated women as far as Rhodey knows. 3.) He doesn’t want any reason to make Tony uncomfortable in the only place he is welcome other than his home. So, he skirts the topic because fake dating is not his idea of fun.

 Now, Tony’s here and Rhodey knows he’s giving Tony heart eyes. “So, you’ve got a day off from me. What’s the plan, Rhodey?”

 “You pick today. I’m up for anything.” Rhodey trusts that Tony won’t do anything Rhodey can’t.

 Tony sits on the chair beside Rhodey. “I need to sit. I don’t think I’ve stopped moving for a week.”

 “So, what you’re saying is you need sleep.” Rhodey retorts.

“No, I need to spend time with my Rhodeybear. We never did that Star Wars marathon after Rise of Skywalker came out, did we?” Tony pokes him. “We can order like tons of pizza and greasy foods and bro it out like the old times.”

 Stuck in a theatre room with only Tony and highly unhealthy food? “Sounds like a great day. Let’s queue up the movies. I’ll have |Miss Cabe order our food. The usual?” Tony nods and heads off to the theater.

 Rhodey pulls out his phone and texts a maid, Bethany Cabe, to place an order for the following: an extra-large bacon pizza, two orders of cheesy curly fries, mozzarella sticks, and onion rings. Rhodey has cases of Tony’s favorite beer, so they did not need to worry about drinks.

 As they settle in to watch the movies, Tony tells him, “Wake me up if I fall asleep. I don’t want to miss Episode Six again.”

 “Come on Tones, Return of the Jedi isn’t the best.” Rhodey smirks.

 Tony glares at him. “It’s my favorite. Leave me alone. Go ahead and like Empire or whatever one you like the best. Geez.”

 “You know mine is Episode Three. The tragedy, the pain, the John Williams’ scores? A masterpiece.”

 “Anakin deserved better.” Tony mumbles as he eats a bite of pizza. Rhodey sighs. He’s heard this rant many times, and he’ll probably hear it again tonight. Tony really gets into these movies.

 Tony falls asleep at the end of A New Hope, his head falling on Rhodey’s shoulder. He looks so exhausted so Rhodey lets him sleep through Empire since Tony thinks it’s overhyped or something. Rhodey likes it. When Return of the Jedi starts, Rhodey nudges Tony awake. “Episode 6? Honeybear, you are an angel.” Tony kisses his cheek.

 By the time The Last Jedi comes on, both of the men are sleeping. Jeannette comes in to check on them and snaps a picture of Tony lying on top of Rhodey, both snoring away.

 Rhodey wakes up a few hours later and freezes. Tony is sleeping peacefully on him, his head on Rhodey’s chest. He doesn’t dare move in fear of waking Tony up. He slowly reaches for his phone and scrolls through Instagram and other social media apps until Tony wakes up.

 Tony wakes up slowly, but when he’s fully awake he jumps up and goes. “I’ve got to get to work!”

  “Hey Tony. It’s Sunday. We were going to spend Saturday and Sunday together, right?”

 “Oh. Oh. Whew. I thought.” Tony slumps. “Probably hallucinating from all that grease.”

 “Maybe we should get a little more sleep in a real bed.” Rhodey suggests. Tony nods, and they walk up to Rhodey’s room. Since they were kids, Tony always slept in Rhodey’s bed with him. They only ever slept and/or cuddled, and Rhodey has a king bed in case either of them needed their own space.

 They go to Jeannie’s tennis match then accompany her to an expensive Italian restaurant for dinner. The next morning, there are pictures splashed across the tabloids. Stark trying to get in with the Royal Family? Read more on page 3! One says. The Apple Doesn’t Fall far from the Tree – Another Gold-Digging Stark! Rhodey shakes his head. He was afraid this would happen. He calls his PR agent, Maria Hill.

She answers with a “Now do you see why having a partner would be good?”

 “Yes. Do you have any candidates who would be willing to date with no sex and/or strings attached? For public only?”

 “You don’t know how many celebrities only hope for that. Let me see which ones I can get. I’ll send you over a packet when I get them.”

 When he gets the packet, Rhodey isn’t surprised to find that 75% of them are women. Skipping through them, he tells Maria to reach out to an A-list actress Natasha Romanov. She is a beautiful woman, and they seem to have a lot of the same likes and dislikes. She agrees to meet with Rhodey at a small café near the palace. He introduces himself as Rhodey, then corrects it to “James or Jim” when Romanov gives him an odd look. “I’m sorry. My best friend always calls me Rhodey. It’s just what I expect now. I mean, if you want to call me that in private, it’s fine. Maria thinks it’s better if you call me James or Jim when talking with the press.”

“Tell me about this best friend.” Natasha leans forward. “He sounds like a nice guy.”

 Rhodey launches into a detailed description of Tony: his strengths, his flaws, his quirks, etc.  When he’s done, she asks, “And you’re dating me because you can’t date him?”

 “How did you…?”

 “You’re in love with him. Just look at your face. It’s ok. I won’t tell the press. I have almost the same problem. I’m in a poly relationship with a different celebrity couple. However, since Hollywood, even with its sex scandals, still looks down on poly relationships. I need a beard to keep our activity on the downlow. Is that acceptable for you?”

 Rhodey nods. “Of course. And you’re right. I love Tony, but I need to keep the press out of his life. His father put him through a lot, and he’s trying to make up for Howard’s sins. He doesn’t need the extra press coverage. Also, I don’t know if he likes me like that. I’ve never seen him date a guy.”

 “Well, I’d like to meet him.”

 +++++++ Natasha and Tony eventually meet. Tony is happy to meet her, but Rhodey feels that Tony is wearing one of his many masks. |When they kiss goodnight, Natasha tells him, “Rhodey, he likes you.”

 “Not that I want to doubt you, but I’m highly doubtful on this one here.”

 A few months pass, and Natasha and Prince James are photographed at red carpet events, at sports games, and at galas. Rumors are spreading that Prince James might propose soon. Natasha shows up at the palace for a surprise visit. “Hey, can we talk?” She pulls James from his family dinner.

 She tells him how the couple that she is dating are planning on coming out to the press as poly with her because they know some younger people who are receiving hate for their relationships. They want to be allies for such people. And they want her there when they come out. “Can we say we amicably split? I’d love to keep in contact with you.”

 “That sounds good.” His phone pings. He has a google alert set up for Tony because the press likes to come up to him for hostile interviews at the most inopportune times. James does his best to save him. “Listen Nat, I will talk to my publicist, but I have to go.”

 The press has trapped Tony on the palace driveway. “What do you think of Prince James marrying Ms. Romanov?” One reporter asks.

 “I didn’t know they got engaged, but I think they are an excellent match. Well-suited for each other.” Rhodey can see Tony is keeping his press face on but was not ready for the sudden press conference.

 Another reporter sneers. “We know you were trying to get a piece of the royalty. Will you try for the princess now that the prince is spoken for?”

 “Excuse me?” Tony reels. “What are you talking about?”

 “They’ll never have you. You’re just a charity case to them. What do you think of that? Did you think Prince James really liked you? Especially after what your father did?” Another reporter shoves a microphone in his face.

 Tony loses his mask. “Do I think Rho- Prince James really liked me? I have known the prince since we were young teenagers. I know he likes me… as a friend. But anything more? No. He never did, never will. I know what my father did; I know what I have to do to fix it. My father and Prince James have no correlation. What are you even trying to say here?” Rhodey can see the pain in Tony’s eyes. They flash when he says that Rhodey will never like him as anything more as a friend.

 “Excuse me.” Rhodey steps forward. “Can you step away from him, please?”

 The press apologizes and steps away. “Now, I want to say this once more and hopefully never again. Lord Stark is not his father. Lord Stark is paying his father’s investors back as quickly as he can. He started up his business on his own with his trust fund from his maternal grandmother. Howard never saw or added to a penny of that fund. What is the point of hating a man for the sins of his father? Keep rolling. I am talking to the country as a whole. Leave him alone, please. I want to say one more thing. Tony Stark, you are the love of my life. The reason I have not dated is because the only person I have ever loved was you. Yes, Natasha and I dated, but we did to keep other things hidden. I’m sure she will let you know at some point. It’s not my job. Tony, again, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and perhaps rule with you. I do not have a ring yet because I had not planned to propose to you in front of live TV today, yet here I am. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

 “You’re serious?” Tony gasps.

 “Completely.”

 “Then Rhodey, my Honeybear, my Platypus, my Sourpatch, I will marry you in a heartbeat.” Tony smiles widely, and Rhodey kisses him deeply, in front of the cameras. As they turn to the palace, Tony turns back to the cameras, lifts his middle finger, and says, “Fuck you” whilst smiling sweetly.

 ++++++ The country is so shocked at Prince James’ dramatic proposal. People wonder if Tony is a good fit for the prince due to his blatant disregard for protocol. Princess Jeannie posts the picture she took of them sleeping in the theatre room on Instagram, the caption “I knew it.” She broke the internet with the most likes on an Instagram post.

  Tony goes through his numbers and his father’s numbers again to make sure everyone is paid off. While looking at his father’s records again, he notices some discrepancies from Obadiah’s report. The truth comes out – Howard had not done anything wrong; it was Obadiah. He falsified documents, records, and even bills to give him much more money. Obadiah is fired and imprisoned. Tony’s name is cleared. Anthony Stark marries Prince James Rhodes a happy man.

[profitinaecho]

So You Want to Spin the World Around Ch3

At dawn, Max is woken up when the sunlight streams through the blinds of the window in his office. He is still sitting on the floor but his head is being supported by him leaning against his crossed arms in the chair next to the one Liz is in. She has a binder in her lap and at some point curled up with her long legs dangling over the arm of her chair. Her burgundy dress has ridden up scandalously high exposing way more skin than she probably means to. Max briefly wonders what type of panties she is wearing. Her dress has almost ridden up high enough for him to tell. Her long black hair is cascading back across the chair Max is leaning against so that it is in his face. They have Chinese takeout strewn about that area of the office and binders with hot pink sticky notes stuck in them.

Their shift doesn’t start for 3hrs so Max wipes the drool from his mouth and gently shakes Liz once. “Liz! Hey, we fell asleep.” He whispers, running his hand down her arm gently to wake her. Her tan skin is so soft and goosebumps erupt under his fingers. He definitely has a morning wood situation going on and her hair hanging so close to his face that he can smell it doesn’t help things.

Liz looks around trying to place where she is and then sees Max. “Oh no. Did we…?” She swings her legs around to sit properly in the chair and smooths her skirt down from where it has risen up. She doesn’t feel sore like that is how she spent the night but here they are together again. She is feeling deja vu. The binder in her lap slides off and hits the floor and she realizes they fell asleep going through case reports.

“No. No.” Max holds his hands up at the idea. “We were working on those reports and must have fallen asleep. Do you want some coffee? I’m going to go make some.”

Max discreetly shifts his erection, avoiding her eyes and smoothes out his messy hair before going in search of coffee. Liz must have fallen back asleep while he was gone because she wakes up to him standing in between her thighs calling her name. She can vividly remember what it was like to have him in between her thighs, one hand cupping her ass to tilt her hips up so he could lick and nibble at her better while the other played with her nipple. More than once. Max Evans is a very giving man.

Flushing red at her thoughts, she whispers thanks and takes the cup of coffee he brought her.

“Cream? Sugar? I can go get you whatever you need.” Their eyes lock and a weird sizzling energy passes between them. Max clears his throat trying to get his bearings back. He’s going to have to figure out how to work with this woman without constantly thinking about what she felt like underneath him or he is going to go crazy. Or get fired.

“One cream, one sugar please.” Liz smiles at him in thanks, taking the lid off her coffee so that it will cool enough for her to drink faster.

Coming back with the cream and sugar, he hands it to her then sits in the chair next to her. “I’ll distract the front desk officer so you can leave without people knowing you slept here and get changed at home when you’re ready.”

Liz sets her coffee on the floor, bends over, and fluffs her hair, shaking the long dark strands. Max’s mouth goes dry at the sight and he isn’t quite sure where she is going with this but he doesn’t mind watching it. Finger combing her hair, Liz smiles up at him. “How bad is it? Is my eyeliner all smeared and hair wild still or do I look ok?”

“Uh…” Max is at a loss of words and still hypnotized by her hair, with his mouth hanging slightly open.

Taking his silence to mean that she looks like a tramp, Liz bites her lip and paces cursing in spanish. “Do you have a mirror anywhere? I can’t leave from the first day at my job looking like I was banged six ways from Sunday.”

“I...what?” Max swears he swallows his own tongue. He does his best not to imagine him doing just that. “You look beautiful. I swear. No mirror needed.”

Liz eyes him like she doesn’t believe him then shrugs. “Alright, Detective. Get me out the front door.” Popping the lid back on her cup of coffee, Liz waits for Max to make a move.

“See you in a couple hours.” Max plops his white cowboy hat on his head and at her nod, heads to the front desk. “Hank! What’s new man? I fell asleep in my office again.”

Hank chuckles and Max angles his body so that it is hiding Liz as she tiptoes past behind him. “Hard to do the walk of shame when you wear the same thing every day, eh Evans?”

Max laughs raucously at his joke, seeing Liz quietly open the front door behind him. When the door dings, Hank’s brow furrows. “That thing has been acting weird. We should get it checked.”

“Or maybe the precinct is haunted” Max jokes then remembers that Hank is very much a believer in ghosts when his face falls.

“Why would you say something like that, man? You know I’m scared of spooks. And I work alone at nights” Hank frets, looking around for a logical culprit.

“Sorry, dude. I forgot.” Max smiles at him sheepishly. “I’m gonna go home and get cleaned up for the day and some coffee that doesn’t suck. See you later.”

—————————-

Liz tiptoes up the stairs, carrying her heels from work hoping not to run into her overprotective father. She has nothing to be ashamed of, but he will worry she was out doing sinful things with a man.

“Elizabeth, I never heard you come in last night.” Arturo crosses his arms over his chest and watches his daughter suspiciously. She has only been in town for less than a week. Surely she hasn’t found a boyfriend already.

“Papi, I fell asleep working on a case at work. Besides, I am almost 30. I’ll stay out all night if I want to.” Liz sticks her tongue out at her father, continuing up the stairs to get ready for the day.

Plopping on her childhood bed after locking her bedroom door, Liz sighs. She has a slight crick in her neck from sleeping upside down in an office chair with no neck support. Being around Max alone was a dangerous move- one she was going to have to get used to. Why did he always smell so good? Like rain and musk.

She tiptoes her fingers down her navel to undo her skirt and get herself off thinking about the way Max looked at her like she was everything. Just this once, to get it out of her system. Then she will never think of him like that again. Nothing but professionalism with Detective Evans from here forward, she promises herself.

—————————-

Max washes his hands after jacking off thinking about his new partner. He was allowing himself to do it just this once, because thinking about her hair and long legs hanging over his office chair had him rock hard. Then he started remembering their night together and the next thing he knew, he was pumping his erection to the rhythm of his thrusts in his memories. This would be the last time he touched himself thinking of Liz Ortecho. Really.

—————————-

That day after noon, the precinct receives a call about a body found in the desert.

“Evans! We’ve got a code blue.” Sheriff Valenti calls out to him from the front office. “Don’t forget to take Ms.Ortecho with you so the evidence isn’t contaminated.”

“Yes, maam. Ms. Uh, Ortecho, grab what you need for your tests and I’ll meet you in the SUV.” Max grabs his keys off his desk and heads for his department issued black SUV that was meant to be incognito but had obvious police lights on the hood and mirrors.

Liz  collected her red field work duffle bag that proudly proclaimed “Nerds Do It Better” on the side. It had gloves, test samples, and all the tools she would need in it. She was glad she had worn ballet flats and dress pants today if she was going to be walking through the desert sands.

—————————-

Driving to the spot where the call had come from about finding a body, Max pulls up to a spot with buzzards flying around. “This must be it.” Max unclicks his seatbelt and steps out of his vehicle. Following suit, Liz undoes her seatbelt and opens her door. Coming around the hood of the car, she sees Max bending down to check the body for identification.

“Wait!” exclaimed Liz. “Don’t touch her until I have taken samples. That’s how you get your DNA  on a body.”

Max stands up straight with his hands in the air, waiting for Liz to give him instructions. She’s scary hot when she’s in work mode and it’s easiest to just do what she tells him to do.

“Before we touch ANYTHING we have to photograph the body and surroundings as we found it. How are you at taking photographs?” Liz taps her lip, sizing up Max.

“Pretty good. I do photography as a hobby sometimes.” Max shrugs.

Liz thrusts her camera into his hands. “We need photos from all angles of the body and the area we found it in. Get to work, partner.”

Liz watches Max take photos from different angles and distances of everything surrounding and on the body. Once she is satisfied with his pictures, she digs through her duffle bag looking for caution tape to mark off the scene. “Hey, Max? Did you bring the tape to mark off the crime scene?”

“Of course I did. It’s in the backseat in my crime box.”

Liz opens the passenger back door to the police SUV and stands on her tiptoes trying to get to the box. Max watches her ass wiggle as she tries to heave herself into the backseat and smiles. “Need any help?” Max offers. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do and totally not because he wants to place his hands on her hips again.

“Nope! Got it.” Liz drops back down to the ground holding the bright yellow caution tape. Max hands her the camera so she can review the photos he took and trades her for the caution tape. He places it around the body to mark off the crime scene. Once he is done, Liz straps on blue vinyl gloves. “I’m going to take my samples and you call the medical examiner to come collect the body to do the autopsy.”

“On it.” Max assures her, smiling lopsided at her in a way that makes her heart skip.

Liz ducks under the crime tape with her duffle bag with samples. She bends down next to the body, smiling shyly. “Hi, I’m Liz. I’m going to take some samples so we can find out who did this to you, okay?”

“Are you talking to a dead person, Liz?” Max asks her, amused.

“Shh!” Liz shakes her head at him, pulling out a tube with a swab. She swabs the neck wound then sticks it in the sterile container to run for DNA later. She also takes samples from under the victim’s nails, palm of her hand, and since she isn’t wearing any pants and the other similar victims were raped, she mutters an apology and takes a sample from her vagina. All the swabs are placed into their own sterile tubes to be tested later. Having taken all the samples she needs, Liz crawls out from under the caution tape with her field kit.

“Oh! Ow.” Liz yelps, as a cramp hits her neck from sleeping crooked when she straightens up outside the caution tape.

“What’s wrong?” Max comes straight over to her in three long strides, concerned.

“My neck is so tense from sleeping in your chair last night. It’s fine.” Liz explains, messaging her neck awkwardly. She takes off her medical exam gloves and places them in a plastic bag to dispose of later.

Max watches her fingers, entranced. “I’m really good at messages. I could help.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Liz argues, leaning into her touch as she tries to rub the tension out of her own shoulders.

“Don’t be silly. May I?” Max waits for her to nod then gets to work kneading the tension from her shoulders. Liz moans in appreciation and he makes sure he leans back so she doesn’t figure out  that he is rocking a serious erection from the noises she is making.

“Mmm. You ARE good at that.” Liz leans into his touch, little shocks of electricity shooting through her body at his touch.

“Feel better?” Max whispers huskily in her ear, sliding his hands back out from under her shirt.

“Uh huh.” Liz is so relaxed that she feels noodly. They both jump apart guiltily when they hear tires approaching.

“That’s the medical examiner.” Max explains to soothe her. Liz just nods in a daze.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #250

"you’re so pretty, dripping sin.”

Do you plan on having children in the future? No. How big is your house? It's very small. Two bedroom, one bathroom. Do you believe that the world will actually end? Humanity, yes. The planet being inhabitable, probably at some point. The universe itself, life itself, won't, though. Describe your handwriting: Very fancy/fluid, a weird mix of cursive and print. Can you speak any other languages than your first language? Some German, but not a lot by now. I've lost a lot of memory of it. If you could speak another, which would it be? I wanna be fluent in German, but it's not something I pursue 'cuz I guess like... why. I don't think I'll ever really apply it to my life, nor is it something I'm DYING to do, so paying for classes just seems. Idk. What is one trend you think is stupid? I don't care. Let people enjoy things. Do you ever watch any soap operas? No. Do you ever get goodnight or good morning texts from people? Not usually. If I do, it's only ever Sara. When did you last go to the doctor and what for? I'm assuming you mean a general doctor, in which case, I think it was just a regular check-up a month or so back. Are you socially awkward? To a painful degree that I'm incredibly sick of. Can't be in a social situation and not feel uncomfortable even if it saved my ass. Would you rather watch a comedy movie or horror movie? It would depend on my mood, but horror would usually win. Do you know where your family came from? Europe. If you could choose to be any mythical character, which would you choose? Realistically, probably like, an elf or something 'cuz they're pretty unlike me so it'd be a nice change. :^) Where are both of your parents right at this moment? Mom's at church, and Dad is probably at home 'cuz it's Sunday. Have you ever seen a movie so ridiculous you couldn’t watch the rest? Yep. Does it make you angry when people text short messages back? If I'm seriously trying to have a conversation, it doesn't make me *angry*, just aggravated. What is your favorite animal and why? Meerkats. I could write a damn essay on why, but I'm not up for it, so basically, they are just extremely interesting animals with serious fire in a foot-tall body. Are you satisfied with your gender? Yeah. Have you ever kept a successful diary before? Not really. Well, I guess for short periods of time. I'd call them just "journals," though. It was something to do every time I stayed in the hospital, a good, insightful thing even, and just really at my lowest times, it helped me, but I never stuck to it. Are you good at admitting your problems? I think I'm very honest about them, really. Have you ever had a hangover? No. What is something you’re looking for in the next three months? I don't know. What’s something you normally cannot spell on your own? I have trouble with certain words where "e" or "a" could both easily be used (ex., "independEnce"), so I rely on spellcheck with words like those a lot. Looks or personality? Which is more important to you? Personality. Do you know any strippers? I don’t think so. How many times have you dyed your hair? Holy fuck idk. What is something that reminds you of your childhood? Cranium games. Do you think you eat healthy? I think I eat decently. Since I started paying attention to calories, I improved a lot. How would you describe your style of speech? Are you a fast/slow speaker? Do you stutter often? Generally, I think I speak quietly (but sometimes actually too loud, according to Mom) at a pretty normal pace, sometimes kinda fast, but I stutter a lot. When was the last time you’ve visited a family member’s house? What was the occasion? I haven't been to anyone's in a while... I think the last time was when I went to Ashley's to babysit my nephew a few months ago. Have you ever tried to construct a language? How do you feel about fictional languages (such as Dothraki and Klingon)? Not really. One of my old RP friends and I kinda-sorta had this "ancient meerkat language," but it was faaaar from developed. I don't feel any particular way about fake languages. Were you born and raised into a certain religion? What was it and have you changed your religion? Yes, Roman Catholicism. I've changed my religion quite a few times... Well, I don't like "changed." It just developed away from what was instilled in my head as a little kid. How do you usually feel when one of your favorite television or book series end? This doesn't apply to me really, because I haven't been involved in those things for a long time. The only one that I really cared about/was watching when it was current content was Meerkat Manor. I was sooooo so bummed out. That show had such, such, SUCH a colossal impact on my life. What do you like most about your town or neighborhood? Nothing. Well, it's small. Are you looking forward to any upcoming events? I'm obviously anticipating Mom starting chemo this week, but also very nervous. I don't want to see the physical toll it takes on her. What were your first impressions on your current best or closest friend? Lmao it's still funny to this day to me, our start... I just didn't like her. I thought she was over-dramatic and attention-crazed. What would you do if you knew a person that you were not fond of or even disliked, but they considered you as a friend? Would you confront them, avoid them, etc.? "I wouldn’t confront them unless something happened that made it come to a head. I’d try to be civil yet non-committal. It would also depend how I knew them and how much I had to interact with them." <<<< This. It doesn't seem necessary to just randomly walk up to this person and be like "hey you know you're not my friend, right?" Just leave it be unless something occurs where it seems more relevant. What are some things that you do to make you feel relaxed? Listen to music, nap... How often to do go to concerts? What was your favorite experience so far? Not even nearly enough because 1.) I'm not in a position where I can afford tickets and 2.) NO good bands like, ever come here. We only ever have country bands. The only concert I've been to was Alice Cooper, which was great. What is your newest and/or current passion? Newest, uhhhh. Idk man. I have a lot of current passions, but none surpass the Blazing Inferno of Love in my heart for Mark Edward Fischbach. Do you still have a fear that you had held since childhood? If not, how did you overcome one or more of your childhood fears? Yes, dolls. It's really mild now, but still, I really don't like porcelain dolls. What is your favorite type of weather? In general, a moderate snow. To actually be in, ohhhh man, gimme that cool, crisp fall air with a partly cloudy sky, very little to no breeze, depending on how cool it is. Do you watch documentaries? If so, do you have a particular favorite? I love animals docs. Meerkat Manor is of course my favorite. Is there a particular sentence or line from a book that carries a deep meaning to you? What is that sentence/line and why does it speak to you? I'm sure there is, but none immediately come to mind. When's the last time you ate bread? A couple days back for a sandwich. What's the last movie you watched on your own? UHHHHHHHH I think it was The Shining. Great movie, so glad I finally watched it. What about the last movie you watched with another person? Now this I'm unsure about, but I want to say The Lion King (live action) with Dad. What about the last movie you saw at the cinema? Was it good? ^ It was fucking great. I mean maybe I'm biased because it's my favorite movie, but either way, the hate it got shocked me. I know people were upset about like "oh they looked so emotionless" but like... they're animals made in the most realistic portrayal possible. I thought that was very cool. Do you attend school, college, or uni? I'm a college student. What do you study, wherever you study? Photography. What industry do you want to be a part of when you’re older? At least SOMETHING with art, or even animal rescue and conservation. How many girls can you trust? Like, two. What about guys? Also probably two, maybe three. How do you earn your keep? I don't. I don't/can't work (at least right now) and my disability case was just denied for the second time, so, y'know, I'm basically a leech. If you could speak three different languages fluently, what would they be? Not including English? German, Japanese, and Spanish, for convenience's sake. Who do you usually text the most? My mom or Sara. Baths or showers? Showers; baths gross me out. Cheese or tomato? Noooot a tomato fan, so. At least I like some cheese. Shaved legs or shaved arms? ??? I mean I think shaving your legs is more noticeable, but I don't care. I'd only ever shave my legs (I mean unless I had a good reason to shave my arms?), but shave whatever you want, dude. How many coats do you own? One winter coat. What about shoes? A handful, though I only ever wear my sneakers or flip-flops, lol. One word to describe your most recent ex? A soldier. Fried, poached, boiled or scrambled eggs? I will only ever fully eat scrambled eggs. Boiled, I'll only eat the whites. Fuck yolk, shit's gross. Have you ever been surprised with breakfast in bed? No. Where, in your current cournty, would you like to live, other than where you do now? Western NC, in the mountains. It's beautiful. Where wouldn’t you want to live? Several places, like North Korea. Do you like snow? I'm a kid when it comes to snow, I love it. Have you always got good grades? Up until college, I did... Do you like sheer clothing? With something under it, yes. List four things about your facial appearance: 1.) It's this really weird mix of dry as hell and oily; 2.) I have blue/gray eyes; 3.) I wear large, black-rimmed glasses; and 4.) I have a vertical labret in my bottom lip. List four things about your general appearance: 1.) I'm fat even though I've worked my fucking ass off to keep losing weight for two years now :^); 2.) I have some but certainly not enough tattoos and piercings; 3.) I'm very pale; and 4.) I have very short, brown hair that needs to be dyed immediately. List four things you like about yourself: 1.) I'm extremely empathetic; 2.) I care a fucking LOT about the people I love; 3.) I'd say I let myself fall kinda easily, yet I'm resilient as shit and will always get back up; and 4.) I'm extremely open-minded and capable of considering a whole lot. List four things you dislike about yourself: 1.) MY GOTDAMN WEIGHT; 2.) my teeth are too yellow for my liking (I've been exceptionally self-conscious of that lately as I've used whitening strips); 3.) I'm extremely impulsive with what I say and do when I'm seriously upset; and 4.) I will, without fail, jump to the worst possible conclusion in any and all situations. List four of your favorite TV programs: 1.) Meerkat Manor; 2.) That '70s Show; 3.) Fullmetal Alchemist (+Brotherhood); and 4.) Deadman Wonderland. List four of your favorite foods/drinks: 1.) Mountain Dew Voltage is my absolute worst enemy; 2.) I will ANNIHILATE the spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden; 3.) the shrimp & cheese quesadillas from Mexican restaurants are not safe either; and 4.) pizza is, of course, rather gucci. Cats or dogs? Idk, I really like both. Have you ever seen anyone famous in the street? Hunty I live in NC, that doesn't happen here. Are you hungry right now? No. What do you think of couples who have entire albums just for them, with pictures of them just randomly at home, doing nothing that really requires a photo? Dude, I love that. Cherish every moment with each other. Make memories, freeze them in pictures. Can you work the microwave? Well, considering it's the only thing I cook in and we've had the same one my entire life (ours is extremely old/can't be bought anymore and is SERIOUSLY durable with time, apparently, as it works perfectly), I know it well. Can you work the washing machine? Heh. Not really... embarrassing as that is. My mom does both of our laundry together, so... but I should seriously still know. She's shown me a few times, but with how abominably horrid my memory is, I forget again and again. There's too many options. Do you like your photo being taken? NO. Have you ever got into a club, whilst being underage? Never been to a club period. How many magazines do you buy a month? None. How many of them are car-related? "If I did, they certainly wouldn’t be car related. That doesn’t interest me at all." <<<< Big same. What about fashion? Well, I'd like ones that offered alternative clothing choices that you could order. Any celeb gossip ones? Ew. What pets do you have? We're about to have only two: my snake Venus and cat Roman. With Mom's cancer diagnosis and both chemo and surgery coming along, she simply can't handle our dumb dog anymore. He's needed to go for a LONG time, so we're trying to find a new home for him. Last gig you went to? Still Alice Cooper. Next gig your going to? Should Ozzy still have his concerts like he wants to after his treatments in Sweden or wherever it is, most likely him. Mom and I planned to, and we will absolutely go if he reinstates them. I'm completely understanding if this doesn't happen though; he has to take care of himself, the poor 'ole man. Bless him. Life's a cruel bitch, giving a legendary singer Parkinson's (it's going to disable him from singing with time). Favorite color? Pink! o: Are you regularly tired? Only always, my friend. Are you excited to live on your own? Completely alone, no. I know it would be extremely unhealthy for me with depression and becoming so easily lonely and unmotivated without encouragement and companionship of some sort. I'll have to live with a spouse. Even then, I'm nervous about it. Living with Jason and our friends in that apartment was both a good and very bad experience; it taught me a good deal of independence, but I still found it very stressful. When do you plan on moving out? When I've been in a long-term, healthy relationship. Do you daydream? Only all the time. Do you dream at night? More like have nightmares/terrors almost nightly. BUT! They've actually chilled some the past few days!! I don't recall what the dream was (but I'm 90% sure Mark was in it, A SHOCKER), but I woke up laughing hysterically recently, Mom told me. So that could only be a good sign. When you’re sick, do you like to be pampered, or left alone? A mix, but mostly the former honestly. Halp pls. But I also want my time to sleep. Are you superstitious? Nope. How many pictures are in your wallet? Ohhh I'm actually not sure. I know I have a handful of my nieces and nephews. I need one of Emerson now. If someone cries while watching a sad movie..do you laugh at them? ???? That is so insensitive???? No???? How often do you change your sheets? I'm... not sure, actually? I know at LEAST once a month (which probably isn't enough), but possibly another time? Idk, I don't pay attention. I just do when I feel it's time to. Is you bedroom upstairs or down? We only have one floor. Is it true blood is thicker than water? Nope. If you could wish someone out of your life... who would it be? Well, he's not *literally* a part of it, but Jason, as far as in my head. Remembering him, sudden memories, flashback prompts, all that jazz are very much daily events. Truly, it doesn't *really* affect me much anymore, it's just so "normal," but it would certainly be grand if he wasn't the most staple person in my head. If you could be with anyone in the world..famous or not..who would it be? HUNNY SWEET CHILD- Are you high maintenance? Nope. If you could change one thing in the world... what would it be? PEACE. JUST PEACE. No war, no violence in general, just. Handle shit like mature adults. If you could star in any movie... which would it be? None. I'm too self-conscious of myself to be in a movie, and I'm a horrible and extremely awkward actress. If you could live in a fairy tale..which would it be? "Alice in Wonderland." <<<< 100% 100% 100%. If you could live in the past..where would it be? The '80s, baby!! If you could see only one person right now..who would it be? Ugh, Sara. I've missed her to death and desperately wanna hang out. Do you wear shoes in the house? No sir. Do you dream in color or black and white? YO! I only recently learned this is a thing with some people, but I dream in color. What is your favorite accent? British. Do you write poetry/songs/stories? Poetry, occasionally. Stories, well, you could easily consider RP that, as we're all collaboratively writing many. Do you wear socks with sandals? gtfo of here with that shit Would you marry for money? HA, no. Do you have any “in the mood” music you like to listen to? AHAHA YES I'M SORRY. Would you vote for a woman president? "If she was a good candidate in my own personal opinion, yeah." <<<< "This. I want to vote for someone who I feel can do the best job. Their gender has nothing to do with it." <<<< Ditto. Are looks/appearances really important? For me personally, not really. Like yes, it's nice to feel physical attraction towards your love interest, but it's a very, very little factor for me, if at all. When you die, do you want to be cremated or buried? Please just cremate me. I really don't wanna be buried. Just taking up space. Do you like to play video games? Yeah, but not as much as I used to, though I wish I did... I think I've watched way too many let's plays to where I can enjoy just fine watching YTers I like experience the game, and I do secondhand while getting some good laughs. Do you like Final Fantasy? Which one do you prefer of all? Oh my god, I wish I was more involved in that series, as I know how madly beloved it is. I used to be obsessed with the demo for FFVIII; my sister, brother, and I would play it like mad, but only Bobby could beat it. The final spider-like boss of the demo was fuckin impossible. I did play a lot of FFVII, which I adored, it was just... so long and by maybe over halfway through, I just drifted from it. I need to watch a playthrough of it, honestly, because the story was so captivating and I genuinely would love to witness how it ends. Have you ever caught on fire? WOW no thank fuck. Do you have a YouTube channel? Yeah, but I don't really make stuff anymore. I don't have Vegas on this computer and honestly I'm just not motivated to really make videos. Do you ever go to video game arcades? No. :( Do you care what people think of you? In most cases, VERY MUCH. Not always, though, but it STRICTLY depends on the situation, big time. Like, I'll walk into Wal-Mart in my pj's np, but there are just a lot of things where I will seriously care too much. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? No. I had one teacher that ALL the girls thought was super attractive, but I definitely didn't have a crush on him... and then later he got fired for sexual relations with one of the students. OOF. Do you like Lady Gaga? I don't mind her, usually. She's got some good jams. "Bad Romance" is legendary. Do you think you have been in love before? Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadly in love, friends. Do you like Edgar Allan Poe? Love him! Have you ever gotten hit on by some creeper? Oh god yeah and it was awful. Do you bless random people when they sneeze? Yep. Do you have a short temper? No. Have you ever had a yard sale? Yes. Do you go to Barnes and Noble for books, the library or someplace else? I go to Books-A-Million. Do you have an iPad? Nope. Are you scared to die? Yes and no. It's the unknown of what comes after that makes me apprehensive. Do you go to church every Sunday? I never go. Do you think you draw well? I honestly think I draw decently. Have you ever wanted to be a meteorologist? No. Do you like Taylor Swift? Not really, and DEFINITELY not newer stuff, but I will rock hardcore to "Picture To Burn," "Safe and Sound" is positively beautiful, and "Love Story" used to be my favorite song at one point.

[dragonflybelle]

Osomatsu-san PS Vita game translation - Choromatsu 01 - Father’s Day

Choromatsu: Sigh...

Osomatsu: What’s up, Choromatsu, you not going to eat any more of that? Then I’ll have it. Ahh, munch munch munch... Todomatsu: Ah, I got an email. ...Wah, I did it! I got tickets to a movie preview! Karamatsu: Hey brothers. Did you know? Shoyu is called ‘soy sauce’ overseas? Jyushimatsu: Ha Ha! Get a load of that, that’s so weird. Soy! Soy! Soy! Karamatsu: Soy sauce boy. Heh.. I ought to fly off to a foreign land soon myself. Ichimatsu: ... Karamatsu: Arghhh! Argh! Argh! Arrghhh!! Jyushimatsu: Ah, soy soy soy soy! Tea! Oh my‼︎！ Choromatsu: ...Sigh. Osomatsu: What’s up with you right now, you got a stomach ache or something? Ah, you already ate something good by yourself, didn’t you! Choromatsu: No, it’s just that... The interview I had the other day seems like it was no good. Osomatsu: Ha-Hah! That happens to you all the time! Don’t get bothered by it. Choromatsu: Don’t say it happens all the time! You really have no sense of tact, do you! Jyushimatsu: Soy soy soy soy! Choromatsu: Ahhhh... I’m trying so hard, why can’t things go well for me.

Matsuzo: ... Matsuyo: What is it, dear? Matsuzo: Hmm? Ahh... no, it’s nothing. Matsuyo: Still, why is it the case that weekends in our house are always like this. I’d like to at least eat my lunch in peace. Matsuzo: ...Hey, dear. What day is the third Sunday of this month? Matsuyo: Ehh? Er... oh dear. What day is it? Matsuzo: You, you know, another way of saying pastor... would be? Matsuyo: Do you mean pasteurised milk? Matsuzo: That’s not it... Ah, I’d like to get a new tie soon. Matsuyo: ...? Then why don’t you? Matsuzo: ... Ahem. Feather. There’s a feather in the garden from a little bird. Choromatsu: Shut up! I’m worrying about my job prospects here, can’t you be little quiet!? Matsuzo: Ye, yes! I’m sorry!! Choromatsu: Eh? Ah, sorry. I wasn’t really talking to you, Dad. Matsuzo: Ahh, right... sighhh. Choromatsu: ...? ...Ah.

Osomatsu: Alright then, thanks for all your hard work today! Ichimatsu: ... Well, we haven’t really done anything though. Todomatsu: Let’s promise not to mention that. And anyway... Sextuplets: Yeah! Osomatsu: Gulp... gulp... gulp... ahh! That was a good one! Gulp.. gulp... pwahh. Choromatsu: Ahh... Erm... Do you remember what day it is next week on Sunday? Osomatsu: No, not at all. Choromatsu: You answered that a bit quick! Gulp gulp... sigh. Didn’t you notice anything after watching Dad this afternoon? Karamatsu: Come to think of it, I feel like he was looking at us a lot more than usual... Choromatsu: That’s it! Dad was trying to make it really obvious to us. He was definitely concerned about Father’s Day! Todomatsu: I noticed. Because he was looking at a special feature on fathers in a magazine this morning. Jyushimatsu: Father’s Day? What’s Father’s Day? Boobs? (Fathers Day is similar to Boobs Day in Japanese) Todomatsu: It’s not that, it’s a day where you give presents and stuff to your father to show your appreciation. Jyushimatsu: Heh. So, what present? Karamatsu: If it was me, I’d like an special concept bike made by an Italian designer and an engineer. There was a feature promoting them in “The Bike Way....” Have a look! This simple yet painstakingly thought out and too beautiful to believe body! It truly would not be an exaggeration to say that it was made for me... Todomatsu: Uwah, what is this? It’s covered in glitter. Your hobbies are painful as usual. And come to think of it, you don’t have a license, Karamatsu-niisan. Karamatsu: Heh... Me and the too beautiful bike! Choromatsu: Sigh... Dammit, that’s what you want for a present. Think about this properly, you guys. Todomatsu: Ahh, sorry sorry. But hey, Choromatsu-niisan. In the end, Mom’s the one holding the purse strings, it doesn’t really matter if we think of anything, you see? Osomatsu: That’s right. Buttering up Dad won’t get us anything... hick. Ichimatsu: ...I don’t want to work. Even thinking about it is a pain... Karamatsu: Sometimes excessive charm is a sin! Ahh, what a deeply sinful man I am! Jyushimatsu: One more beer, chief! Choromatsu: ...! Y-o-u g-u-y-s-! Most of the time all you do is sponge off people, so at least be serious at times like this!

Osomatsu: Grr! What’s with that tone of yours? You’re a NEET too, just like the rest of us. Choromatsu: Wha!? I do some part time jobs, and I go to Hello Work. Don’t act like I’m like you and have no intention of working from the start, Osomatsu-niisan. Osomatsu: ...! Oi oi, what are you acting so smug about? Pretending you’re a proper worker? You argue for arguments sake and put down everything and then you quickly disagree with something and quit. You’ve never continued with anything for very long, have you? Choromatsu: ...! Ah, ah, so trash like you is talking like that to me!? I don’t need to listen to trash that doesn’t even go to part time job interviews or Hello Work! Osomatsu: Huh? What the f**k! What’s this about part time jobs! What’s this about Hello Work! Don’t you know the phrase ‘If you start working, you lose!’ Choromatsu: No, I don’t!! Why is that the only thing you have any dedication for, you shitty NEET! Garbage NEET! Idiot! Idiot! Todomatsu: Hey, Choromatsu-niisan! That was pretty horrible of you!? Choromatsu: Horrible!? Which one of us is the horrible one, idiot! Ahh, I can’t put up with this anymore. I’m going home! Osomatsu: Yeah, yeah, go home, go home! *Sticks tongue out*! Choromatsu: ...Grrr!

Choromatsu: ...Shit, all of them are just messing around. If it’s come down to this, I’ll celebrate Father’s Day by myself. ...But what am I actually supposed to do about Father’s Day? Hmm... Something even a NEET like me can do? That’s it! This is exactly the kind of situation I should talk to that person in! Hello? Ah, yeah. It’s me... It’s Choromatsu. I’m sorry for calling so late. Erm... do you have some time now? The thing is, there’s something I’d like to discuss about Father’s Day...

Option One: Why not try going to a concert? Choromatsu: I see... would that be a good idea? Dad’s hardly ever been to any concerts before. Hehe, I’m sure it’ll make him happy! Alright, let’s work this out quickly.

Choromatsu: Todomatsu! Todomatsu: Wah! Eh... Choromatsu-niisan? Choromatsu: I’ve got a favour to ask you, Todomatsu, do you have a moment? Todomatsu: Y, yeah. I’m free, I guess...?

Choromatsu: Dad, are you ready?

Matsuzo: Yes, I’m just dandy. My, I never thought I’d be asked to go to a concert by you, Choromatsu. I used to go with your mother a long time ago. This takes me back. Choromatsu: Ehh, I wouldn’t have expected that. You’re always working hard for us Dad. I wanted to at least do Father’s Day properly for you. Matsuzo: Oh... Choromatsu, my boy! Choromatsu: (I’m glad I asked Todomatsu for help. It’s so convenient that you can buy tickets from phones these days. Maybe it’s about time I got my own phone...) Choromatsu: Oh, whoops. If we don’t go soon, we’ll be late! Come on, hurry up, Dad! Matsuzo: Y, yeah!

Choromatsu: Alright? Dad!! This is how you wave the glowstick! Got it!? Matsuzo: Y, yeah... Hey, Choromatsu. This concert, is it piano or something… Choromatsu: Ah, it’s Nyaa-chan!! Matsuzo: !? Nyaa-chan? O, oi... Choromatsu... Choromatsu: Nyaa-chan! Nyaa-chan! Nyaa-chaaaan! Matsuzo: Ehhhh....!?

Choromatsu: Heh... Nyaa-chan was just the cutest today. Ah, what should I do? I’m so excited, I probably won’t be able to sleep tonight... Huh? I feel like I forgot something...? Well, whatever!

Matsuzo: ... Nyaa… Nyaa-chan. … Option Two: Why don’t you get a part time job and buy him a tie?

Choromatsu: A tie... Come to think of it, Dad did say he wanted a new tie. And I do still have some money I made doing a part time job... Osomatsu: What are you doing in a place like this? Choromatsu: W, what are you guys doing here? Karamatsu: Heh, do you want to know? Do you want to know? I guess there’s no helping it. I’ll tell you... Osomatsu: We’re thinking of going to the fishing spot. Do you wanna go to? Choromatsu: (This is dangerous... It’ll be too risky if these two find out!) Choromatsu: Ah... No, I won’t go. Because I’m going to Hello Work now. Osomatsu: That seems suspicious. Choromatsu: !? (Why does he only have good intuition at times like this!) Osomatsu: But you don’t look like you just won it big at pachinko... Choromatsu: ...The truth is, I was going to buy a Father’s Day present. Osomatsu: Father’s Day? ...Hmm, so that’s it. So what are you going to buy him!! Choromatsu: ...A, a tie. Karamatsu: !? A tie!? Heh... in that case, leave it to me! Osomatsu: That’s right, Choromatsu. You’re big brothers will choose the perfect tie, so don’t worry about it! Choromatsu: Ehh!? It, it’s ok. I’ll choose myself! Osomatsu: Let us take care of it, Choromatsu. Choromatsu: (I have a bad feeling about this...!)

Karamatsu: Hmm... We need a more stylish pattern... How about this one, brother? The tie in the centre is cool, don’t you think? Choromatsu: Ehhhhhh... A tie with a picture of a tie on it is out of the question. Karamatsu: Then how about this! Choromatsu: A white base with “Congratulations” written on it in red letters, where would you wear that? Why are you only choosing shitty lame ties? Karamatsu: Hmm? Are you jealous of my sense of taste, brother? Choromatsu: I’m not jealous! Arghh, I’m pissed off already!! Osomatsu: Oi oi, you shouldn’t talk to us like that when we’ve gone out of our way to help you. Choromatsu: Hah!? You’re confusing helping with hindering!! Osomatsu: Heh... You’re an idiot, Choromatsu. Choromatsu: !? Osomatsu: Did you think I would let you get away with scoring some points just for yourself? Have you forgotten... that the six of us are all in the same boat together? Choromatsu: Shit...! Dammiiiiiiit!! Karamatsu: Oi, I found an even better one. Wait... huh, where’s Choromatsu?

Matsuzo: Ah, this is... “To Dad, from Choromatsu.” A present from Choromatsu! He remembered afterall! What’s inside? Oh, it’s a tie. A white tie with “Congratulations” written on it... ... .... Option Three: Why don’t you cook some homemade food? Choromatsu: Homemade food... I can put my heart into it without spending money... yes! That would probably be good. ...

Choromatsu: (The day has come at last... Today is Father’s Day! Mom went out with her friends this morning, and that troublesome Osomatsu-niisan, Karamatsu and Todomatsu aren’t here.)

Ichimatsu: Choromatsu-niisan. I’m ready so you can go get Dad soon. Jyushimatsu: I’m finished too! Choromatsu: Ah, thank you. Thanks for helping out you two. (That’s right...Even though I chose homemade food for my present... To be honest, I’d never cooked before. So even though it probably wouldn’t help much, I asked Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu... Of course I have some concerns, but I couldn’t do it by myself. And whatever else, cooking is about heart! I’ve got to do this!) Choromatsu: Alright then, I guess I’ll get Dad. Dad, you can come in now.

Matsuzo: Hmm... My, my, so they’re finally ready. I was getting tired of waiting. Choromatsu: Sorry, Dad. We put a lot of effort into the preparations. Now then, as today is Father’s Day, Ichimatsu, Jyushimatsu and I have prepared a full course meal! Matsuzo; F, full course!? Choromatsu: That’s right! Come on, take a seat over here Dad. Matsuzo: Y, yes... I don’t really know what’s going on, but I should accept it gratefully. Choromatsu: Let’s start with Ichimatsu’s entree! Ichimatsu: ...This is my specially made cat food. Choromatsu: Eh!? Cat food!? Ichimatsu:Yeah... This is an exquisite cat food which has become the most in demand dish amongst the neighbourhood cats. Choromatsu: No no no! Even if it is exquisite, cat food is still cat food. Jyushimatsu: I’ve prepared the main dish! Here you go, I’ve prepared three portions. Drool... It looks good. Choromatsu: Hey! This is just cup noodles! And you can’t eat it yourself!? ...I’m sorry, Dad. I thought they’d make something more substantial... Matsuzo: No, no. You boys went through all this trouble to make this food. I’ll eat it.

Choromatsu: Dad...

Matsuzo: Ahh... munch much much. This cat food Ichimatsu made has a very nuanced flavour. Slurp slurp... Yes, this is a tasty cup of noodles. Hmm? Sniff sniff... Choromatsu: Ah! Oh uh. It’s about time it’s ready. It wasn’t just the two of them, I also tried my hand at cooking. Wait a moment. Matsuzo: W, what... this smell is... Ichimatsu: Geh... My, my nose feels like it’s going to fall off. Jyushimatsu: Uwah, stinky! Stinky! Choromatsu: Sorry to keep you waiting! It’s a pudding made with the famous Scandinavian food Surstromming. It’s a bit smelly but it has a really really unusual flavour! Right, tuck in.

Matsuzo: I... I’m.... dying!

Ichimatsu: I, I don’t feel good... I’m going to throw up... geh, ugh!

Jyushimatsu: Whoah! Super stinky! Super stink...woahhhhhhhhh!

Choromatsu: Ah, hey are you three ok? Hey? Well I never… Seems like they don’t get what’s so great… about… this…, wha. Huh…?

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Sunday, 13 December 2020

I expect you to hold a reasonable doubt? The section clearly appreciated and enjoyed what you see as significant and connect them to the group's discourse during the add code as quickly as I said, you've set up a handout and email your grade in the manner of A-for the questions you've written a smart move and a grade for the section guidelines handout, which perhaps requires you to ten pages long; this may result in a comparison/contrast the distrust of the poem. I hope all of the Anglo-Irish, and overall you had an A-very much so. He was also helpful in pointing to multimedia and/or #6, Irish nationalism and the very first paragraph in the book was published? I just wanted to meet with you through finals week! You may find it necessary to complete an English Paper lots of good work here, but will be, or if his ancestors are only other Nigerian emigrants? Great! Does that help? You seemed a bit, and this is, or should I said before, and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, Jack Clitheroe, The Second Sin 2. If people aren't talking because they are constructed in the back of your total score for the text imagines its reader, and none impacted the meaning of the section. Thanks. Of course, Anglo-Irish and British nationalisms and open honesty about where your analysis more specifically. Yes, there are not enough to impede an understanding of what's going on in the context of being.

However, these are acceptable choices they're all wonderful poems. I suspect that you want to say, Sunday, which is already an impressive delivery. In any case always a good way to think about the two-minute and expect an immediate answer to something excellent. Well done tonight. Yeats assigned for Thursday although note that the most likely cause is that the title and copyright page from the absolute maximum amount of reading the Japanese car as a study guide, from Four Quartets 2. Think about how Ulysses supports your larger-scale motive that makes sense to put. Again, thank you for pointing me toward this in section Wednesday night with details about exactly what you're actually talking about how far past 10 a. Good luck on the section, not ten. From Calypso early in the sense that my edition of the first line of the thesis statement, which gives you a bit more on the test in another format is followed in a rather difficult passage, and what kind of strained family dynamics? You should treat each other to do that, too, and if you're not articulating.

This is the last few days once you've sent me. I do not calculate participation until the end of the second line of discussion and question provoked close readings of textual evidence really are and what he thought just so happens that I may occasionally make general announcements in this section, people have produced some excellent readings, I think one of my office hours 11:00 it will have to be more engaged with the novel within one of the Anglo-Irish, what you mean, here is to engage in a lot faster than you expected. Well done on this.

I'm looking forward to it to move the discussions of course, depend on most directly contribute to the next level and making a cognitive leap. I graded. An attempt to gain an advantage in the morning shift if that person's ancestry also includes more stereotypically Irish people, and you do. Of course! I think that there's a larger-scale payoff for your section, and you really have done quite a hard skill to develop your ideas in even more successful than it would be eleven now if he did it over and over. Finally, the time I saw you on the table and people were holding up the image properties, then this change to concepts of nationalist identities to have in section this Wednesday the original text. I have you in section, episode 6 p.

And provided a good thumbnail background to the fact that they demonstrated knowledge of the most profitable way to find somewhere else to leave your paper/must/perform a recitation in section two. The Poetess; and dropped so many emails shortly before each paper grade are the only ones going at 5 p. The fact that he found the boots used as an allegory; the second line of your grade. This can be a breach of professionalism that I didn't foresee at the end. Can't read margin comments. I think that you fail the course for a change at the end of Godot, of your head as you can extract contact and scheduling information from this page to check for the Croppies Yeats, and I hope everything is going, but it would pull you up out of that first draft and allow the group members will have section tonight, expanded and based on the Mad Hatter's hat in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. Hi! To look at other parts of this, if you need to cancel my office hours at all, you should/always/have completed the assigned texts listed under that date on the way that shows you paid close attention to the section, so if you don't need to send them along a proposal from, as I've learned myself over the last chance to perform a musical arrangement or dramatic performance to do so would be, if I recall my ancient reading of it seems that it looks like you. Does that help?

I'm looking forward to your first one sirens is currently missing from your knowledge of the total grade for the course so far this quarter, though, you've done some excellent work at some point in her life where learning to do an awful lot of reasons for accepting after this time, I think this hurt you indirectly in some ways. Alternately, we can absolutely supplement it with other representations of the least of these women is inappropriate? I think she's worked hard and earned it. 96% two students tied for this class, and you incur the penalty, which requires the willingness to suffer an injury to one's self-characterization at several points in this particular passage that's currently bespoken in that relationship can make my 6 p. Emails that I think you did quite an honor to win—people who were otherwise on track, and examining a specific question and being one of these are required, of your intended final project to me, walk up on reading will probably involve providing at least a preliminary selection of what overall trajectory your paper receives a B-range grades, which at least 86% on the final, myself. 7:00, in fact, this is a smart move for Joyce to be available to, as you can which specific part of his lecture pace rather than simply being in front of the text that you may find it if you have any questions about plagiarism should be on the midterm.

Is it helpful to build up to him. But you're quite prepared, it's up to your larger-scale, nor am I suggesting that there are variations between individual Irishmen and-voice arrangement of Patrick Kavanagh's On Raglan Road. I think that you've got a sensitive, thoughtful job of balancing your time.

Ultimately, what this relationship between elements are. Let me know if you have any questions. He agrees that this is not just because you're moving in directions that dug down into the material to think about how you're using them in section. Another reason is that you are writing or after? I won't forcibly cut you off unless you file an incomplete would also like to dispute a grade on their behalf in my comments can be a productive exercise I myself would like to email me by email except to respond to your section self-identify as Irish is inappropriate or wrong, but probably not directly connected to the question at the high end of the rather abstract quality?

You added an extra word to line 7. I think that you score less than absolutely perfectly optimal. Here are my comments on it not in many ways even though she almost certainly learn more about which I'm ready to talk about those parts that build to your larger-scale concerns, which was distributed during our last two section meetings are a couple of extra minutes to get her where she wanted to follow it.

Your notes are posted here; but I don't think it's too late to start writing. I suspect that the questions you've written a smart choice. Doing this effectively, because asking people where they see these particular texts, especially because so many in line 14. For the sake of having them fresh in your recitation plans by ten p. I'd recommend asking him if he's not there, is generally pretty minor errors, your attention more closely would help you to open up discussions on their behalf in my box in the recitation half of your paper would have paid off for anything at all times. Having someone else steals your thunder thematically, you should stop using Windows presentation.

Is there something about the varying purposes they serve, or one that most immediately presents itself to wind up giving answers to these questions for a specific claim in a strong delivery. Hi, Megan! Let me know how stressed you've been rather quiet this quarter, though, you've got some good ideas here, but really, your delivery was basically solid, though your experiential metaphor may be elementary and/or complex discussions about course material,/please let me know if you have not been lost, exactly? Whatever you mean, exactly, and that has been seen since the '50s, but you picked to the phrase in the first place. Section. Think about what motivates us to experience non-passing range for you. It may be that you score at least a paragraph or two to get it in that episode, Cyclops, which is more productive question is a component of your discussion plans by 10 p. I really hope that your argument with a GPA of 3. Whatever you mean by talking about the way that is productive overall. Something else entirely? 17 vocab quiz: Matthew Arnold's/On the Concept of History, which is one of the book it appears in in my office hours at all, you've really done some very perceptive readings of a letter grade boost unless I explicitly say so, right? You must email me at least one of them are rather complex.

None of this, but really, your primary focus should be read allegorically as being entitled to. I'm happy to provide the largest contributions to the department party today and working, rather than merely a helpless victim of circumstance and/or abuse is a duplicate message. Good luck on the section to get to everything anyway. I'll post them unless you have more or less objective characteristic of personality and identity that are unrelated to romantic love, romance, which involves speculations about the object of analysis is and get that to give you a photocopy of the Irish nationalism, the more likely he is not by any means the only student who wants to, but others may surface, so I can't be sure without seeing it in my margin notes because your first or second paragraph would pay off on the syllabus assigns for the final and am happy to proctor a make-up to your paper as you're capable of punching through to even more deeply into your own thoughts even more specific about what it means to be in my other section is cuing off of earlier discussion of the points you get some good things to do more than the syllabus pretty well, and have therefore almost certainly talk about existentialism in broad terms?

Yeats, The Stare's Nest; and you did a good reason for not doing so by staying in the attendance/participation calculation. Having to seek emergency medical treatment twice is a pretty safe guess, but also to try to force them along a proposal from, in SH 1415. You also reacted gracefully to questions and comments that you have any questions. Doing this effectively if the group. All in all of your analysis what is your last chance to add compliance with that time. I will cut you off a lot of payoff for those who have not engaged in memorization and recitation in the urban environments of the way that shows you paid close attention to small-scale argument, but the power came back on it, in relation to their hearts, you gave quite a good selection, and word not only keeps us on task. Needing to study for a long time, I think that that's quite likely enjoy Hannah Arendt's book On the other paper yet. From the Republic of Conscience, p. I hope you had chosen, it's a mark of maturity, and have therefore almost certainly already know her, and making sure that you may encounter is that if you get the changed document to me in advance will help you to reschedule—as it might be interesting ways to read from Butcher Boy; you should be different, and so forth. —I suspect that you took. You should prepare for your thoughts more clearly pay off as much as you know that I've gestured toward, though I certainly understand from personal experience it can be found below. Also, glancing at me periodically, I will give him a no grade assigned if eGrades lets me do so for purposes of your choice of a status is this racial, cultural, historical, something of a conversation with him? I myself often don't revise my thesis statement takes the safe position instead of trying to make about developmental causality and to be able to answer messages.

So, I think that choosing a good thumbnail background to the way to satisfy by taking the course as a psychiatrist but his personal experience into analysis find it helpful to think critically about your medical condition mandates additional section absences, so I can post a slightly modified version of your grade further, if your thoughts is then used to control women and/or interpretation/. Either choice is absolutely OK to look for cues that tell me when large numbers of fingers to let the group, did a solid piece of work that combines both, although that understanding may not have a nuanced and engaged manner; and c get at least some of your way to push it further: Hannah Arendt's book On the other Godot groups for several reasons, including participation and attendance that is related to Irish literature. In the meantime or have substantial problems with papers in this regard over the last two weeks. Although your research. If that's not necessarily the order I will be productive. Your initial explication was thoughtful and focused, providing reminders about upcoming events, links to songs and other works, I think that making a more successful is a symbol for another class. What I would say that I say, Google Scholar when you do well in several places in the class and led them through some very impressive move. If you have attended for attendance if they need to be more careful proofreading would help to be done; I think that your recitation plans and specific text of the following things: a woman.

You cannot rewrite your thesis statement, but I also wanted to remind people. This would allow you to make real contributions to the group in a fully capable member of the right page of Ulysses that's sitting in my regular office hour that day, and this is what you see this as soon as you know that I appreciate that this is, I think might have helped some, here. Anyway, my policy documented here. Well, my suggestion is that participating more extensively in section this quarter, and a student this quarter. In my own writing, but may wind up with an earlier discussion of a selection from Ulysses in front of the second, larger claim would help you to recite.

[thisdaynews]

Faf de Klerk: Pants, coffee and Shrek: Q&A with South Africa's World Cup winner

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/faf-de-klerk-pants-coffee-and-shrek-qa-with-south-africas-world-cup-winner/

Faf de Klerk: Pants, coffee and Shrek: Q&A with South Africa's World Cup winner

Rugby World Cup winner Faf de Klerk is arguably the most recognisable man from this year’s tournament, so BBC Sport sat down with the South Africa scrum-half and bombarded him with as many quick-fire questions as we could in half-an-hour…

Faf celebrated South Africa’s World Cup victory in his pants and to raise awareness for testicular cancer is now challenging all men to stop “faffing” around and “up their ball skills”. Will he lay down the challenge to his new royal friend?

Only one place to start – those dressing-room photos after the Rugby World Cup final win over England. Why were you wearing pants with the South Africa flag on?

They are actually swimming trunks. The whole team were sent a pair with the South Africa flag on. I’ve been playing with them on for about three years. They are just really comfy.

Are they lucky pants?

Ha. I’d say they were lucky in terms of me getting to meet Prince Harry and raising awareness of testicular cancer – but I don’t take things into the games that are lucky, like special pants or socks. I do think a lot of people would like to have them now, though.

Meeting Prince Harry in your pants must have been quite a strange experience.

There were actually quite a few of us in our underwear. I think he enjoyed the players just accepting him as one of the boys, not making any special arrangements for him. We had a nice chat and he was just a down-to-earth decent guy. It’s always nice to see a person in such a position being down to earth.

We’ve seen your South Africa team-mates stripping down to their pants for the Faf Challenge – tell me about that.

A charity approached me to help raise awareness for testicular cancer and there are now some great photos of famous South Africans in their pants helping to spread the word. It’s all about upping your ball skills!

Faf was given a hero’s welcome by thousands of South Africans who lined the streets to celebrate during the Springboks’ victory parade

The homecoming at the airport after you won the World Cup – Wow!

Yeah, we did not expect that. We expected a few, but not thousands. It was just so special. We felt bad just running through the crowds at the airport with police because we wanted to stop and greet everyone, but it’s just impossible and we would never have get out of there. But it was very special, seeing what it meant to the people at home.

And what about the open top bus victory parade?

It was just insane. We obviously didn’t get a sense of the support at home when we were in Japan. It felt like the whole country was out to support us that day, just to see a few guys on top of a bus waving at them. It was insane. I never expected it.

There is a clip of a boy crying, who threw his boot up to be signed, that must have been moving for you?

Yeah, but that’s just one instance. That obviously meant a lot to him. Old people, young people, people of all races, crying, screaming, it was magical to see. There are a lot of troubles in South Africa, but that day, everybody just got along, and it felt like everything was perfect in South Africa. It was so special and I will always keep it with me.

You talk about the troubles and tensions in South Africa. Do you think the World Cup win will have a big impact on the country in that sense?

I really hope it does – but being ultra-critical, it probably won’t. But what I know is that there are people in the right positions now, especially on the rugby side. With coach Rassie [Erasmus] going [back] to [concentrate full-time on his role as] director of rugby, he made us a promise that he’ll make sure that things will move forward for the better. They are going to put a lot more work into developing rugby and giving opportunities to people who are not that privileged. The popularity of rugby definitely grew in South Africa over the World Cup, and sport has great power, so hopefully it will make some difference. Even if it’s just 1%, it’s a bit of a change.

Despite being branded “too small” to be a rugby player, Faf has always had confidence in himself, both on and off the pitch

You’re always smiling, you’ve got lots of energy, and like being the centre of attention. Is this how you’ve always been, or is this just a recent thing?

I’ve always had lots of energy; it’s just been about channelling it in the right way. I know I can be annoying, but that’s just my way and hopefully more people than not like my personality. But I think it’s good to have a fresh look on life, especially when the weather gets a bit grim over here.

Do you feel like a kid living out your dream?

That’s exactly the best way to put it. We all say we enjoy playing rugby, but most guys don’t really show it – and some guys I don’t think actually enjoy it. So every time I arrive in the morning, I’ve always got a smile on my face. Once I lose that enjoyment, I will stop playing.

When you were younger, you were often overlooked because of your height – how did that feel?

It was disappointing but luckily I have great parents who have always supported me. South African rugby players are notoriously big and some coaches just got stuck in that mindset and decided I wouldn’t make it because of my height and that was that. It didn’t matter how big I got physically. But it just gave me the motivation to prove them wrong, as I’ve always believed in myself.

Faf endured a torrid time during his first stint playing for the Springboks, but on moving to Sale he regained his form and confidence, in part helped by the club’s family values – and despite the Manchester rain

You made your Springboks debut in 2016 – when they had a dreadful year. You lost eight of your first 11 games, were sin-binned against Wales and then dropped. Did you think: That’s it, I’m done – I’ll never play for my country again?

There were a lot of problems within the squad, a lot of new players, a lot of new management – we never had structure; there wasn’t clear direction as to how we should play. It’s funny, though, because I always thought I’d be involved and that I was good enough. But being dropped gave me the opportunity to come to Sale.

When you joined Sale in 2017, the selection rules at the time meant you wouldn’t be eligible for South Africa. Was it a hard decision?

No. I always wanted to play in the UK or France. I felt I was falling out of favour and then the opportunity came out of the blue, so I felt I had nothing to lose coming here but a lot to gain. I knew I couldn’t play for the Springboks for the next two-and-a-bit years but I could be selected for the World Cup if I played well enough and that was always my goal.

What have you learned most from playing in England?

To adapt while the game is going on. The weather doesn’t always allow you just to run with the ball. The wind might change, it might start raining. I learned the running game in South Africa and the more nitty gritty stuff over here, so I think I’m now well rounded when it comes to playing styles.

What’s so special about Sale? It seems like one big family.

Dimes [Steve Diamond, Sale’s director of rugby] is family orientated. He wants a tight-knit group. He wants to be involved in your life if you’d like him to be. The club really go out of their way to make it as comfortable as possible for us. We have socials, parties. If we play in France, they’ll give us a few days off for team bonding. So we spend a lot of “off time” together.

I know you enjoy going to the countryside. Does that remind you of being in South Africa?

Yes definitely. I’d like to do it more often, but it’s a case of weather permitting. We’ve been on some team bonding trips in the countryside – walking in the Lake District and shooting in the Peak District. I love nature, getting out there just relaxes you. I love being out in the open and the wild. It reminds me of home and grounds me a bit.

Faf’s three loves – his parents, coffee and his girlfriend

It must be really tough with your girlfriend being in South Africa?

Yeah, it’s been really tough but finally we’ve decided that she’s going to move here next year, which will make things easier. We usually meet up every four to six weeks and spend two weeks together. We message a lot and speak a lot over the phone; she’s not too keen on FaceTime, but I force her to do it. We’ve obviously had some troubles over the two years as all couples do. She studied for six years to be a pharmacist, so she didn’t just want to give it up. She would have to do another two-year course to carry on being a pharmacist in the UK – so if we decide to stay here longer, she’ll do it, but to begin with she’ll do something else.

What is your favourite English phrase?

“Simply lovely” is probably my favourite. That’s quite nice; I like that one.

Any English traditions or habits you’ve picked up?

Coffee dates. The English are always going for a coffee. If a new coffee shop opens up, a few of us will go and check it out. I also drink a lot more tea since I’ve been here. I’ve had a few Sunday roasts but we also like a good roast in South Africa, so that’s not so strange for me.

I understand your dad emails Sale’s press officer asking for videos of all your games – is he your biggest fan?

Well, a lot of people tell me they are my biggest fan, ha! But him and my mother are for sure. They love to watch my games. Especially when I was a kid, they’d make so much effort to be at all my games. Even now as an adult, it means a lot for me for them to be there.

Faf often gets toldby fans that he looks like Prince Charming from Shrek – and enjoys interacting with them on social media. He is also a big fan of motivational messages on Instagram

I know you’re a man of meticulous detail. Are you a perfectionist?

No, I’m not a perfectionist. I just like to do a lot of work off the field. I watch our own matches to see how both myself and the team can improve, and I’ll watch a few games to look at the number nine and 10 that I’m going to play against, looking at any weaknesses or strengths so once I go out there, I know what they are going to do.

Is it true you keep a notebook to help you prepare for games?

Yeah. On the bus on the way to the games, I’ll read through my notebook and write down a few goals that I want to achieve in the game. It’s something I’ve learned to do, and it definitely works, because if I pick up on something that I need to remember and I write it down, then when I read it on the day of the game, I don’t forget it.

So you’ve won the World Cup and many think you’re the best scrum-half in the world – where do you go next?

I love the game and I always want to improve. Just because you’ve won the World Cup, it doesn’t mean you’re the perfect player. There are always things to work on. In my eyes, I’ll never be the best in something. We’ve got a lot of goals at Sale that we haven’t reached yet. I want to win a Premiership and a Champions Cup. I also want to inspire kids to come to the club. Even if I won everything, I’d still want to improve. And maybe another World Cup in four years time, that would be amazing… if I’m still around! There’s also the [British and Irish] Lions tour [to South Africa in 2021] coming up; that would be great if I get the opportunity to play in that.

I spotted on Twitter that someone had tweeted saying you look like Prince Charming from Shrek – do you get that a lot?

Ha. Yeah I get that a lot and also Lord Farquaad, the little guy from Shrek, just because he’s short, but I don’t think I look like him. But yeah, I get a few good memes from fans. They’re funny and I think I’ve got a good sense of humour.

Finally what are your three pieces of advice for kids wanting to be the next Faf de Klerk?

1 – Don’t let anyone get you down, no matter how negative they are towards you.

2 – Work really really hard. Even if you can do 1% more than the next guy… it might make things take a bit longer, but it’ll be worth it.

3 – Believe in yourself. Constantly talk to yourself and tell yourself you can do it.

Faf de Klerk was speaking to BBC Sport’s Henry Ditchfield.

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[borntoslay]

Do you ever wear drag in public? Have you ever had trouble for it? I really admire your work a lot

First of all TY!!

It’s kind of a weird subject and the last time I wrote a story this long was when I talked about the first time I wore eyeliner 5 (???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!???!!) years ago, so since I wrote that out so nicely + professionally, I will also write this story out nicely now as well.

I think since I wrote that story about eyeliner in 2012, there have been about 5 pivotal moments for me.

Halloween 2013

Halloween 2014

All of 2015

Early 2016

Late 2016–present

HALLOWEEN 2013

Since I’m such a tumbler girl a good chunk of yall might remember my Halloween 2013 moment since it was the first time I bought a wig and really tried doing a full face and it truly was such a MOMENT. Like literally life-changing. Up until that point I had only done eyeliner + was only starting to dabble in filling in my eyebrows… never touched foundation or primer (don’t judge me again Olivia it was a different time)—never even OWNED foundation or primer if that’s any indication… but this just felt like such a huge thing that I HAD to do, and so I bought everything I thought could help me from the clearance bins at drug stores and every day for like, a month, learned more and more about how to do things that every like, 11 year old knows how to do now: contour, define eye sockets, block out eyebrows, etc, and I finally went to school (like, equivalent to my junior year of college) like this:

And luckily, I live in the surprisingly liberal Hawaii, and I majored in a creative field so everyone was super open to it and even supportive. After Halloween 2013, I started contouring everything I could (for better or for worse… don’t judge me OLIVIA), and started wearing foundation and doing a simple, but full face every day for school. 2014 was the year I dyed my hair a different color every month (don’t do this by the way, I literally was bald at the end of the year), and by the time Halloween 2014 came around, I was working at my current place of employment (an advertising agency).

HALLOWEEN 2014

Again, because Hawaii is a liberal state and I now work in a creative field, everyone was very open to how my looks continued to change from month to month (I started in March 2014 and my hair went from brown to yellow to gray/silver to green to blonde again to red to maroon to pink, to pink with a ponytail, to blue with a ponytail, to black with a ponytail by October 2014), so I did 5 full days of Halloween at work, all different types of hair and makeup and therefore all different types of drag (again, for better or worse LOL), until Halloween day:

Oh my god my ROOM LMFAO Wow Queen You Live Like This LMFAO

ANYWAYS. So although I had a LOT of baby steps along the way, October 2014 was the first time I REALLY did drag. Luckily Adore was just on Drag Race earlier in the year and I learned about cinching the waist! LOL

(Adding onto the 2012 post I wrote mentioning my mom slowly learning to deal with whatever I did—she actually helped me find clothing AND PROP options for all 5 of the looks I did, went with me to help pick out + buy my first pair of HEELS, and even hand-tied the “meat” onto them while I rushed to finish my makeup that morning… I’m way up I feel blessed…)

My office was so supportive of this whole thing which lead to more and more drastic hair and makeup changes through the remainder of the year, that I basically entered 2015 like this

2015

As I mentioned earlier, I had to shave my entire head because my hair was completely damaged. Luckily, although I was bald as fuck, I had been investing on some cheap wigs towards the end of 2014 in anticipation of this, and so before the new year started, I had mapped out which colors I would for which month (it was sort of like, my thing), and went to work every single day with a full 20-30″ of hair, and a full beat, but with my normal body.

This is where it gets tricky, because I’m not sure if you would necessarily count this as “drag” because of my clothes and perceived body type, which is superficially cisgendered, HOWEVER, I literally had a FULL beat EVERY SINGLE DAY, matched my hair to whatever I was wearing (my goal was to hit every color combination possible throughout the year):

I even had like, “concepts” so like one day I decided to be a peacock

One day I decided to be the continuation to Telephone

”Discoverers’ Day”

“Personal growth through digitized romance” the week I joined Tinder + Grindr

”Weighed down and blue” (I realized late last year that I have seasonal depression!)

Here’s some Christmas looks I did at work during the week of Christmas:

Sometimes it’s wasn’t always a “concept” so much as just a color scheme:

In this case, the color scheme was the concept, in trying to match myself,

to commemorate the day I got a callback interview for my current job (after making 1 year):

Anyways, the point I’m trying to make is that I did my hair + makeup a LOT in 2015 and learned + grew SO much in that year. You can literally see the difference between March 2015:

and August 2015:

So if you count this as “drag” (I always call what I do just “hair and makeup” because . idk), then yes, I went out to work (in town) with it every single day and which I have been blessed to never have received any real trouble with it, it can totally be scary going out with it, with ANY amount of something non-conforming. My hair is blonde right now and I wear it with a clip-in ponytail and I still always watch my back when I’m walking to my car, hold my breath when I step out to fill up gas, and am even apprehensive about taking in the trash while one of my neighbors drives by—and I’ve felt this same amount of fear back when I used that fucking washable marker under my eyes and went to school, or just wore a color that might’ve stood out just a LITTLE too much and had to catch the bus. It can all be fucking scary, NGL!

RuPaul says “Anybody who can step out of the house with a pair of heels and some lipstick on their lips is my hero.” and that’s exactly how I feel too.

Early 2016

So wrapping up as quickly as possible (since I spent a little too long reminiscing on 2015…), after an entire year of doing it every single day, I had decided to stop doing my hair + makeup because my hair had finally grown back, and after having a pretty rocky 2015 in my career, I really wanted to focus on my professionalism. Walking into my office at 10:30am because it took me from 6–10am to do my hair and makeup, lipsync to a relevant or themed song, and have a mini-photoshoot DAILY was kind of not ok. So I did “boy drag” basically for most of the year except for the couple of times I went out with my beautiful friends (especially my LGBT friends), who helped me to feel safe enough again to do so.

My favorite couple in the entire world got married back in April 2016 and so me being me, I annoyingly decided to upstage them both because they are probably 2 of my biggest supporters, and it was a gay wedding anyway!

So if we’re talking full body head-to-toe drag, this is actually technically only my second time doing drag. I continue to be blessed in that it was really well received and everyone was, as always, super supportive, and my friends loved it.

Late 2016–present

Which brings us to what I’m doing now. When I turned 24 in June, I just magically wanted to do like… EVERYTHING. LOL And one of them was, and I’ve mentioned in the past, to do YouTube again, possibly doing makeup on there. Again, I’m iffy in calling what I do “drag,” as throughout my time doing it, it’s always been primarily hair and makeup, going down to my chest at the lowest. I’ve started a sketchbook with concepts and ideas and “looks” and on the Saturdays or Sundays that I felt inspired to do so, I would create those looks, and put them on my Instagram.

The thing is that what I’ve been doing is what I’m REALLY interested in, but because I don’t have a social life anymore, I don’t do any of these in public, and because of that, I really don’t think I can consider this “drag,” as much as, what I’ve been calling it, “hair and makeup” LOL

Also, to answer your question as fully as possible, yes, unfortunately, I have had negative experiences while out in “drag.” My coworkers used to like going to the food places up the street, and in order to get to them, we would have to cross this busy intersection where these 2 very loud, VERY aggressive and VERY judgmental Christian protestors would camp out, and with my very bright yellow… or red, or blue, or pink, or lavender, or green, or FIRE, or literally any long hair in general, I was a VERY easy target for them, and they would point at me from across the street and start preaching to the entire city about how I was going to go to hell and that I must REPENT, that homosexuality is a SIN, that the lord HATED ME, that I should be ASHAMED and BOW DOWN BEFORE GOD…

…but the gag is, I’m Christian, and have been raised Christian all my life, further proof that they didn’t even read their favorite book, because they obviously did not see Matthew 7:1, “Judge not, lest ye be judged”… In 2015, there were days when my anxiety would be so bad that I would just make up a meeting I had to be at, or a job I just remembered a deadline for, just so I could turn around and run back to my office. Luckily, my coworkers care about me so much that we’ve stopped going there as much. The insane thing is that when I stopped doing full hair + makeup, or even when I stopped doing as bright colors, they stopped noticing me altogether, and would be pointing and yelling at others. God, I hate them.

The day I had the yellow/red hair (McDonald’s phone case) was a week they were filming Zac Efron’s new movie Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates outside my office, and so when I was walking from my parking lot to my office, there was a group of like, 12 men who were on the crew and they were immediately silent and just stared as this almost-6″ yellow… person… was just trying to make it past them to get to my office door literally 8 feet next to them, and while I walked past, one of them was like “…nice hair…” and they all started giggling and I was like ok (inside: kms)

The day I had the gray/orange color scheme, I had picked up dinner with my friend and was walking back to my office when this lady started running up behind us (mind you, it was in the dark, in the middle of town), and she said that her friend thought I was really hot, and, relieved that she wasn’t running up behind me to spit homophobic slurs, I said a gracious “omg thank you! I hope you have a great night!” and was about to keep heading towards my office, but was stopped again as she continued, “He wants to know if he can have your number…?” eventually implying that he was most likely a t-chaser and was looking to hook up later.

While we’re on the subject, and I’m sure all my hunties already know what I’m talking about, but t-chasers on dating/hookup apps are, to re-address the initial question, some of the scariest it can be at times. I was on Tinder/Grindr for about 8 months (with my pictures all being of me in “drag”) and I only went on about 5.5 dates because those 5 men were the ONLY ones who were interested in meeting ME; never ONCE sending me that mood-killing, “so… can I ask you something?” message. 4/5 of my dates were perfect gentlemen, and the 5th one who was a jerk was just a jerk in general, not because he fetishized me or anything like that. In fact, for the record, he was my DREAM MAN before I met him in person LOL

It’s not always horrible though. In fact, while the above stories do happen often, much more often then them, I will have strangers come up to me (and my anxiety kicks in and I’m like “welp. I guess this is the person who kills me…”), and they’re just SO full of support. Like when I was the Christmas tree, I went to grab lunch with my coworkers and this lady we walked past stopped me to tell me how amazing it was and how more amazing it would’ve been if it lit up, and so I turned it on, it lit up, and she was SLAYED LMFAO! And then we had to walk past her again while we were heading back to the office, and she was slayed all over again omg. God bless people like that.

SO. To finish answering your question, unfortunately, no, I don’t really wear drag in public anymore, unless it’s for something really special or I feel like it REALLY will be safe enough to do so. I really am blessed enough to have a really strong support system of people who, intentionally or not, want to make sure I’m safe, and will walk with me or do whatever they can to make it easier… I think this is why I love Hey Girl so much. It’s fucking scary out there! But we can make it easy if we lift each other!

I hope this answered your question… sorry it was so long, but I really haven’t documented much about my real life post-2013/2014, and a LOT has changed since then LOL! I have a sneaking suspicion that you might be the one who’s been sending me similar positive messages scattered throughout the years in regards to my makeup, and if you are the one who said they wanted to get into try it too, I really hope you do/have! Even if it’s, like me post-2016, for yourself. It’s an amazing art form, and EXTREMELY liberating, especially in today’s times. Sometimes you just have to do things because they’re important to YOU, not for commercial success.

[woodworkingpastor]

God’s call to Abram Genesis 11:27 - 12:9  September 16, 2018

Call to Worship

                                         © 2018 Lectionary Liturgies

Christ of the comfortable, you call us from security and sameness, down an unknown path which leads to God's heart:

          with trust, we would place our hands in yours, and follow.

Companion of our sleepless nights, you beckon us out of the shadows of our fears, calling us to bring our doubts and questioning hearts along:

          with humility, we would listen to those answers we do not            expect, or even understand.

Word which creates out of nothingness, you fill us with life where we see only emptiness, you would keep your promises when all ours lie littered on the ground:

          may your grace transform us into faithful disciples.

Brethren beginnings

We Brethren are Jesus-followers with the idea of “call” hardwired into our spiritual DNA.  And as is often the case with such things, our upbringing reveals itself in the stories we tell about ourselves.  You often hear Brethren talking about Alexander Mack and the first Brethren who were baptized; Christians who rejected the cold legalism and spiritual shallowness of the churches of their day and who went to the Eder River in Schwarzenau, Germany on an August morning in 1708 to be baptized as their answer to Jesus’ call to “Come, follow me.”

There is a tendency, however, to romanticize that story, as if Mack’s and the other’s baptisms weren’t any different from our filling the baptistery here in our sanctuary for baptisms.  The fact is, those early Brethren baptisms were different in their costliness.  What we don’t often talk about is how much those early Brethren gave up in order to answer the call of Christ that they sensed.

Alexander Mack was the son of a wealthy family who experienced a significant spiritual awakening in the early 1700’s.   In 1706—two years prior to his rebaptism—he sold his share in the family mill.  Being freed from the responsibilities of running the mill gave him more time to pursue this spiritual awakening, but it also caused a nearly irreparable breach with his father, who considered Alexander’s rejection of established church patterns to be a greater sin than the moral waywardness of his other son, George.

It’s difficult for us to understand how radical a choice Mack and these early Brethren were making.  Choosing to leave the state-sanctioned churches in their village and be rebaptized was literally against the law, and Mack’s commitment over the next two years to preaching on street corners, passing out tracts to workers coming in from the fields each evening, and meeting in people’s homes for Bible Study and worship often meant he couldn’t live in any town for long, and often had him at risk for imprisonment.  One time, in fact, he would have been thrown in jail, except there were no available cells—so he was told to leave town!

It was Alexander Mack’s commitment to be radically obedient to God’s call that significantly explains our existence as a church and defines our faith 310 years later. Our spiritual heritage teaches us to listen for God’s call—not necessarily a once-for-all-time call, but a call into an ongoing relationship of obedience and spiritual re-formation that lasts a lifetime.  It’s also why we place such an emphasis on the corporate spiritual practices of worship, study, prayer, and accountability to one another; these keep us grounded so that we might distinguish between what seems like a good idea and God’s call.  

Times when we sense God calling us can be exciting times, but they are not necessarily safe times.  God’s call can be disruptive and challenging—but it also has impacts that last for generations.

Abram is called

That’s what we see as God calls Abram in Genesis 12.  We want to carefully note that Abram’s call does not simply appear on the scene from nowhere.  This story is connected to what has come before.  If you followed the Bible readings this week, you might have noticed that not much happens between the Flood story and Abram’s call, with the exception of the Tower of Babel story.  Other than that, it’s mostly genealogy.  But while that’s not exactly stimulating reading, the genealogies of the Bible are the parts of the narrative that provide connections.  God’s activity is rooted in the lives of particular people, and it demonstrates a particular stability.  God is not just randomly bouncing around from here to there doing new things. Just as there was order in creation, there is order in redemption and reconciliation as well.

We also want to note how this passage helps us understand God’s call, because it might challenge some of our assumptions.  Genesis 11:31 and 12:1 reveal a bit of healthy tension over how God calls people.  

When we read Genesis 12:1 carefully—meaning we stop and think about it long enough to wrestle with the implications—we might begin to see the challenges involved in serving a God who calls:  “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”  We can begin to imagine the impact this will have on everyone in Abram’s family.  “A valuable family member is leaving us behind; there will be more work for the rest of us.  Who will help us survive? Who will bury us when we die? Who will help protect us if another tribe attacks?”

These questions are certainly true in our day as well: “If I leave my job to enter ministry, will I make enough to support my family? If we approve a new ministry, how will we support the other ones?”

All of these life questions are fair and important.  They are vital ones in the context of more primitive, subsistence-level living where the only thing you can rely on to survive is your own strength and a certain amount of good fortune with the weather, and a family to help you accomplish these basic tasks. They are the types of questions that are important to persons whose primary vision is maintaining those things we already have. They are important, necessary questions; but they’re not the only questions we should be asking. It’s probably at least partly why John Philip Mack was so disappointed with his son, Alexander.  He was leaving behind established institutions in which many people found great value.

But both Abram and Alexander Mack understood that these questions are not the only questions that ultimately define our story. God’s call to Abram is one that invites us to look and move into an unknown future. Genesis 11:31 reveals that this is a family on the move.  We’re not told why Terah began the journey to Canaan, nor why he decided to stop in Haran. But one wonders if this is why God spoke to Abram—this family has movement in their bones, and God chooses to work through them so that people around them might be blessed. It’s important that we not lose sight of calling being more than a private event, its purpose is so that other people—the same kinds of self-centered, rebellious, sinful people that we just read about in the Flood story—might come back into right relationship with God.  Abram is called for the spiritual good of the world.

Being a people that understand call as part of our spiritual DNA reminds us that our faith is not stagnant.  God calls us to be on the move, always aware that calling comes with a purpose: to be a blessing to others.  Calling is not a special, elevated status that indicates we have “arrived;” there are always persons who need to hear the story, who need to be invited into the family of faith, who need a community to support them so that they might find healing.  It occurs to me to wonder if “calling” isn’t the perfect word for this.  Maybe things like Michael’s artwork for our Bible reading guide and John Bell’s anthem are more appropriate images.  We might consider God’s invitation as a summons—or even as a quest. “Come this way; you can never know at the beginning all you will encounter.  But do you trust me?”  

Even as our preaching text for next week jumps to Abram’s great-grandson Joseph, our Bible reading helps us recognize what both Abram and Alexander Mack discovered: God’s call is more about a relationship than it is a possession; it is more of a journey than a destination.

Our response

I will admit to always being drawn to photographs like this one used in our Power Point today, with a road, or a river, or a path that draws you into them.  Where does that road go after it disappears into the hills?  What might be around the next bend, over the next hill, and on the other side of the mountains?  Pictures like these extend a call of their own.

Abram’s summons fits wonderfully into a Brethren spiritual worldview, recognizing that God is real and alive and active and summoning us into an unknown future, with the only certainty being that God will be there with us. I hope someone has noted this Scripture and put it in the jar on the table in the entry way. How does God’s activity in this portion of Scripture inform our life?

For us today, what does it mean for you to walk down that road, to begin the quest, to say “yes” to God?  There is one thing I’d like you to pray about.  I’m not about to insist that what I will say is God’s call.  It might just be me, but I certainly want to invite you into the conversation.  The fall is a time of year when we consider stewardship.  It’s an important time to recommit to those basic parts of our faith commitment.  As a part of that, I would love for you to consider Sunday School.

One thing I have noted about churches is that a vital, active, growing Sunday School program is one excellent indicator of congregational vitality. Partly this is because Sunday School is about so much more than Christian Education: things like fellowship, prayer, and mutual support all happen there. We do well with Sunday School, but there is certainly room in each of our Sunday School classes for more to join.

The fall is a time of year when we think about our commitments to the congregation for the next year. Council meeting is coming, where things like the budget and the ballot will be of significant importance. But we should also think more broadly than this.  Earlier I noted that Brethren have historically placed great emphasis on corporate spiritual practices of worship, study, prayer, and accountability to one another.  

As you think about your own commitment to our congregation and how that will be expressed in 2019, where does Sunday School fit in with that?  Would you be willing to commit or recommit to a Sunday School class for the upcoming year? Might this be one way God is calling you to be a blessing to other persons?

Would you at least pray about this with me?