#maybe NOBODY remembers that one 5/5 stream except for me but it always left an impression on me

[calamitydaze]

there’s nothing wrong with doing content for the sake of content cause that’s their job and sometimes u gotta get a check but to me it’s very obvious when something is Just for content and it usually ends up hurting the very thing they’re creating…. does that make sense? like mr beast editing the way he does not because he likes it or it’s the best way to tell the story of the video, but because it keeps the most amount of people engaged for the longest amount of time. or that one feral boys stream towards the end of the jackbox era that happened only because people had been begging for 5/5, and they purposefully turned their dynamic up to 11 but it ended up just being really weird and tiring to watch them scream all the time because it wasn’t Organic, they were doing it only because people wanted it. and after that stream they took a break and didn’t push themselves to all be on stream together for a long time, and when they came back it was so much better! because they were doing what they wanted and weren’t artificially milking their friendships to get a stream out of it

[whenwordsmakesense]

Another first sentence + 5 sentence fic, "I hate it when you're being a martyr!!?"

Lol, next time just send me a sentence. I don't think I'll ever be doing "only" +5 sentences xD

Okay, okay, so this isn't from my *THE* time-travel fic, but the thing is... I just love the idea of a bamf!sterek that go back in time and don't tell anyone about the truth and then comes this CONFRONTATION and everyone else is confused/in awe.

Quick rundown of dynamics, just because: Alpha Talia Hale. Human/Alpha Mate Nathaniel Hale. Betas Peter Hale, Laura Hale, Cora Hale, Claudia Stilinski. Human Noah John Stilinski. Alpha Derek Hale (but he presents as a beta to everyone except Stiles). Human Stiles Stilinski (but he is actually a spark, the strongest there is).

Idk their ages, but you can imagine Stiles as a 15/16 year old teen (he's mentally older, of course, think like... hmm... let's say he came back in time at age 21. So he should be 30, mentally). That makes Derek 21/22 (mentally 36).

Okay, enough rambling, now let's get down to the fic!! I'll be writing this from Laura's POV. Also, tell me if I should post this one on AO3? Now it's on AO3!

The Moon's Come Out

"I hate it when you're being a martyr."

Stiles' voice is a soft whisper underneath the chaos of blood and death, but it's not quite enough to drown under. It's a resigned exhale of breath, a truth so absolute that it's no longer just a truth. It's a fact.

Laura Hale wonders when her baby brother aligned himself to such a fact. She wonders lots of things about her baby brother.

She remembers the day when it all changed. When Derek changed. It was subtle, but it was prominent.

She remembers when she'd helped Derek with his flirting skills. Paige, she remembers; the same Paige who had once held Derek's eyes had been rendered into nothing that day. No, not nothing—something else. Something deeper. Something like grief.

But why would Derek grieve someone living? It's a mystery, but more than that it's an act shared between Derek and Stiles—like they're barely tethered to the world, and every moment with anyone but each other is like a gift and a curse, all in one.

But this isn't the time to think about it, how it feels like she's lost Derek once.

It's time to save him.

"Mom," her voice is a barely there sound, but her mom, her Alpha, she's here.

And she's silently crying.

"Mom, we need to- need to help him,"

Her mom is nodding her head, and they're moving between the bloody bodies—hunters, who'd come to kill them, only to die by Stiles'... everything.

Laura feels she can save him.

"Stop." Stiles' voice is still a whisper, but it's an order. A command.

Her mom—Alpha Talia Hale—stops in her tracks, and Laura, with her injured leg has to stop with her.

Dad is shouting at Cora to stay back, and John is trying to free Claudia and Peter from their confines, and Laura can hear all that. But right now, her world boils to where Derek is. On the ground, only a few feet away but so, so far away, spitting blood out of his mouth as his healing tries to kick in where the bullets are lodged on his body.

Bullets. Because Derek had jumped in front of the hunters when they started shooting at Peter and Claudia. And they're all wolfsbane laced.

Laura opens her mouth to protest, to shout, but Stiles doesn't let her.

He's always stopped her from talking.

She hates Stiles.

He's taken Derek away from her. From the pack.

"I can deal with this, you don't have to worry,"

"You can't order me around." Laura's eyes flash at her Alpha's tone, and she bares her neck.

Stiles' jaw sets with a determined look. "Oh, yeah? You really think so, Talia?" Laura watches him as he speaks, words fast paced and laced with worry and fear and anger. It's an ensemble of emotions, but even Laura has to admit that there's always been something special about this kid. His hands work as he talks.

"I mean, maybe you do. You Hales always think you know the best, don't you? It's like you think nobody else has any brains but you. Well, except Peter. That fucker is just too clever for his own good and he knows it. But he at least knows not to underestimate others. That's more than I can say for you, Talia. Or Laura. You two are so similar, you know?"

Laura does. She does know. And she is proud of that fact. But Stiles says it like a curse, like being so similar to her own mother—her Alpha—is nothing short of the worst thing.

Laura wonders why. She wonders a lot when it comes to Stiles.

"Stiles," everyone stops at that voice, as if freezing in place would freeze time itself.

Laura has been tortured, she's seen more blood than she needs to today, and she'd cried herself hoarse when they'd started to torture her previously unconscious mom. And then she'd wanted to die when the hunters turned their guns toward Cora, Claudia and Peter. So much so that she'd barely noticed Derek somehow escaping from his own personal confinement, the shackles he was in, all of it covered in wolfsbane. Neither had she witnessed Stiles breaking the literal cage the humans of their pack had been put in. But the thing that truly, truly scares her isn't any of those things. No.

It's losing Derek. Her baby brother (he used to hate it when she called him that, but when he changed, that hate turned into a grieving sort of fondness, like this was something he'd missed), who feels more like an adult than she is, her Derek. She can't lose him. She just can't.

It would break her. It would break the pack. Derek has always been the heart of it, the sweet little kid who is adored by his sisters and trusted by his parents; the man who even Peter respects, and Claudia cherishes like her own son, and John who calls him a good man.

It's no surprise they all just stop when Derek speaks for the first time since he was shot. And oh, was it only minutes ago? It feels like hours.

"Finally coherent, huh?" Stiles asks Derek, like Derek speaking right now is no big deal. Like it's that easy to try and repel the poison of wolfsbane.

"Shut up," Derek coughs out, voice throaty and weak.

"Derek," someone calls out. It's choked with tears, and it's a female, and it's her voice. "Derek! Please don't die,"

Derek tries to move his head, but falls back on the ground with a thump. Stiles swats at him, and Laura only now notices that Stiles' hands are covered in blood, one anchored on Derek's chest while the other digs around one of the holes. There's a host of bullets lying on the other side; Stiles throws another bullet there.

Perhaps everyone notices the same thing just then, because everyone makes a noise, a wail of pain and disgust and fear, all of it mixed in one sound.

Her mom has lost all her fight in herself, and Laura deflates, too. Stiles seems to know what he's doing.

And he doesn't seem to care what he sounds like.

"No, shut up? Me? Shut up? I swear to the fucking moon, you asshole, if you die on me I'll follow you. I'll fucking follow you there, because nothing is left for me here, okay, and I know you know that. You know this. How could you even do this to me? I told you to wait for my signal! I never would have let them get hurt, Derek! No, no, shut up! You keep your words to yourself and you listen, you goddamn martyr, you listen.

You made me a promise. When we came back, you promised me we'd be together. Always. We'll fix things, then we'll live, and then we'll die. Together. But you-you broke that promise, Der. You did tha-that,"

Laura is missing something. They all are.

Stiles' voice is a steady stream, a flow broken only by the cracks in his voice and the anger in it. And then it's a whisper, the height of his voice toppled down by his sorrow.

Derek smiles softly, as if Stiles worrying himself to death about him is not a new thing. Like Derek almost dies on a constant basis, and this is a routine they have—Stiles worries, Stiles shouts, and then Derek smiles because he's still here. He isn't gone yet.

Laura watches as Derek puts his weight on his elbows, brings his face close to Stiles'. Nobody interrupts them, still frozen in time, still processing what they just went through. Stiles shuts his eyes.

"I am here. I am here, Stiles," Derek tells Stiles, and Stiles takes a shaky breath, and it hangs there, that breath—the worry, the anger, the pain, everything—between them, before Derek lunges forward and presses his lips against Stiles'.

There are a few sharp breaths, and a hysterical giggle from Claudia. "I told you," she says, and Laura thinks she's saying it to John.

Laura isn't exactly surprised. She's caught them kissing multiple times, and she's always wanted to tattle on them. And she would have, because this is wrong—Stiles is a teenager and Derek is an adult—but Stiles is clever and somehow always a few steps ahead of her. He knows all of her secrets, and she'd rather he didn't but that's not the life she has. No, the life she has is—

—clearer in hindsight. She thinks back on those kisses, shared in the early mornings or late nights, between whispered words that Laura couldn't make out and with a desperation that went beyond the desperation of wanting a good time.

And she looks now, looks at the way Stiles' breaths are shaky and labored, but his hands are steady, even as he brings flames appear out of nowhere and presses it against Derek's bullet wounds. She looks at the way Derek has his forehead pressed against Stiles', and how he moves his head to Stiles' neck at the precise moments that the fire touches his skin. Like he's done this before, knows how to keep his pain between him and Stiles. She looks at the way Stiles' other hand, still bloody, tangles in Derek's hair, comforts him, like he's the only comfort Derek needs in this world.

She looks at the way Derek's body heals, like even his body is used to being hurt like this.

"It all makes sense," Peter's voice brings her out of her thoughts, and she turns to look at him. He's vibrating with excitement. "The way they talk—the way they behave—it all makes sense!"

Laura doesn't want to know. She doesn't want to know how this much blood and death and crying and confusion could ever make sense.

But if knowing is the answer to ease the burden on Stiles' and Derek's shoulders, she'll take it. She will know.

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 12]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, sex toys, overstimulation, tiniest mentions of daddy!kink, a lil bit of a filler chapter!, this is the most btsvt chapter that it’ll ever get so i’m sorry if you dont like that!! 😭😭, a bit of a lighthearted chapter too tbh to ease everyone back into cherry bomb! 💕 I know its been like two fuckin weeks since the last update which is honestly insane to me! I almost couldnt remember where we even left off lmao kdjfhds 😩💕💕 Thank you for being so patient with me and waiting it out while we had two weeks of Monster Mash! Starting Monday, I’m gonna be going back to my normal posting schedule! 💕 have a great rest of the weekend, yall! 🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - ?

“Wait, seriously? You want to work here? But--but I thought you were from out of town?”

Jun’s eyes light up with excitement; fingertips crushing the resume you passed to him moments prior. “Um, well, there was a change of plans… and I’d really like to work somewhere where I have a friend! If you guys are still hiring, that is...” You reply back meekly.

It’d taken you all morning to write up a resume, blushing a little when you realize most of your income had been from camming. It’d also made you pause for a moment when you realized that it meant Jun would also know your real name too; as well as everyone who came through the diner and all of your coworkers.

“Yeah, of course! I, um, just give me a second to pass this to my manager, okay? I’ll be sure to put in a good word!” Jun shoots you a wink before he turns to leave.

You take the opportunity to sit down at a nearby booth, fishing for your phone to text Seungcheol.

‘I think I might be getting the job!!’

cheollie ✨: oh? Not that I doubted you, but is it confirmed already?

‘Mm… Jun is trying to put in a word for me! But I’m confident!’

cheollie ✨: thats my baby ;)

You hear someone call your name hesitantly, only to find Jun standing a few feet away looking at you sheepishly. “Um, sorry, your name’s on the resume so I figured…”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s fine!” You awkwardly giggle. “I figured writing ‘Cherry’ as my name wouldn’t be too smart when you need to cross-reference my ID if I get the job.” Jun laughs as he takes the seat across from you in the booth, papers in hand.

“Well, I convinced my manager to let me interview you. Told him that if we’d be workin’ together that I’d want to scope you out for myself! He bought it, can you believe it!?” Grinning, he sets your crumpled resume down next to a small stack of papers. “I don’t doubt you’d pull your weight around here but I do have to ask… Why here of all places? I thought your, uh, other job was enough? Or I guess I assumed...” You bite your lip, flip-flopping on whether or not you wanted to let him know exactly what happened that led to your sudden decision.

“Um… There were just some big life changes I had to make on the fly and I’ll be living around here now! I’m trying out some new things… I also figured if I worked with you, then you’d know my schedule the best too! And you seem like a really nice and cool guy.”

Jun nods, smiling back at you.

“You got that right!”

“You’re seriously going to start working there?” Jeongguk raises a brow, cables in hand as he sets up the extra PC in his streaming room. “And the guy working there knows you? That doesn’t bother you?”

Seungcheol laughs under his breath, “Yeah and he knows me now too. And knows I’d kick his ass if he tried anything.” You pout from your place in the expensive gaming chair; eyes focused on Jeongguk who shimmies under the desk to start plugging in the cables.

“Well, yeah he does know me, but he’s also one of my regulars and knows the schedules I’ll need, so I think we can trust him!” They both nod and Seungcheol is quick to cross the small room until he’s right behind you.

“He seems like a nice guy though, I don’t think we have to worry.”

Jeongguk slides out from underneath the desk, dusting off his pants as he stands. “And if he does end up being a weirdo, there’s always a place for you at the roller rink!”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, hands gripping onto the backrest of the chair.

“No.”

“Hey guys, welcome back to Golden Closet Gaming! I’m JK, your regular host! Today, we have a suuuper special guest! Why don’t you introduce yourself, pretty lady~”

You take a deep breath as you lean in close to the mic; somewhat nervous and a little out of your usual element. “Hi everyone~ I’m Cherry! Some of you may know me from, um, the other side of the streaming-sphere but I’m joining my friend today in hopes of boosting our channels together and having a ‘lil bit of fun!!”

Seungcheol sits at the side as he watches the two of you; a small smile painted on his lips at the way the two of you seem to fall into your characters easily despite the somewhat different platforms and influx of different viewers.

The sound of donations and comments pour in a lot quicker than Jeongguk, himself, is used to; eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he pauses to watch them flood the screen.

sleepy_wonu has donated $100

xcaliburDK has donated $100

sleepy_wonu: never thought i’d be donating here but here we are

xcaliburDK: i was always a silent watcher but u kno i had to donate for my favorite girl!

seokGENIE: i feel like i’m entitled to something for taking your shift so i wont be donating, sorry pretty girl

j__min: can’t believe this kid got a collab with you before i did :(

j__min has donated $200

dtsug__a: i dont normally watch streams either but im curious

Jeongguk laughs, still in disbelief as the donations continue to pour in from a combination of your viewers and his. He always made a decent amount from his viewers but he couldn’t deny the pull you had from your viewers as well. “Wow, um okay, my donations are adding up a lot quicker than they usually do. That’s… Hey, whaddya say to streaming with me regularly?” He jokes. 

A shy laugh bubbles up your throat; ears and cheeks burning hot at the idea. You had never collabed with any other streamer before and despite your initial hesitance and unsureness, you too, were shocked to find how well the two of you were doing without your usual content.

“Erm, I’m not very good at gaming though… I don’t think your viewers would like it very much...”

seokGENIE: thats ok jk sucks at gaming too, it wouldnt be too different

j__min: lmao fkjdhf

dtsug__a: does he get roasted often on this channel? If so i’ll be tuning in more often

dtsug__a has donated $100

dtsug__a: for your troubles, pretty gal

“On second thought, let’s let this be a special occasion, huh? Maybe collabs for the holiday, Cherry?” Jeongguk grumbles and Seungcheol has to bite his lip to keep in his laughs from his side of the small room. You start to feel more and more comfortable at the lighthearted atmosphere; tucking a stray hair behind your ear before you lean in towards the mic again.

“Ah! Speaking of, don’t forget to tune into my camshow tomorrow~! JK and I will be gaming on there as well but… with some added fun to match my channel~! 21 and over only~” You blink at the computer screen, still a little unused to the idea that you weren’t technically being filmed. Although, it was a nice change for once; not needing to be all done up for a show and simply just talking to your viewers and reading comments.

sleepy_wonu: is dom daddy gonna be on the show too?

“Dom daddy? Oh you mean Se---”

“Yes! Kind of!” You cut off, laughing nervously. Nobody knew Seungcheol’s name except for Jun and you were trying to keep as much of him private as possible, until he was ready. “In a sense, he’ll be there! You guys will just have to tune in to find out!”

Jeongguk laughs into his own mic, scooting in closer to his desk as he loads up the game.

“I think that’s enough chatting for now, huh? Let’s get started! Tonight we’ll be playing Phasmophobia! We’ll be playing something more lighthearted on Cherry’s channel, as she requested. So tonight we’ll be playing something I picked out. You ready, baby?”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes, quietly taking a sip of his water.

“Ready when you are!”

“I gotta say, sweetheart, for someone who doesn’t play video games too often, you’re not too bad.” Seungcheol comments, nodding his head in amazement as the three of you exit Jeongguk’s PC room. He’d had a hard time keeping in his laughs as he watched from the side and he had to admit, you were even cuter when you were outside of your usual element.

“I have to agree with hyung, but maybe it was also the adrenaline and screaming that kept you goin’.”

The two males share a laugh as you pout and plop down onto Jeongguk’s living room sofa. “Hey, how were the numbers for tonight, by the way?” You ask quietly.

“Honestly? I think we made almost triple of what my channel usually sees. I know I don’t really make a ton off of my streams since I don’t really do anything, like, crazy but shit… Even I’m shocked at how much we made.”

Seungcheol’s lip ease into a smirk; Jeongguk really had no idea how much the two of you had made off of a couple videos alone.

“We still have one more stream to do and then we can just pool up the money and split it down the middle!”  

Jeongguk nods, stretching as he sits himself down onto the other end of the sofa. “I’ll bring my spare PC stuff so we can set up a little early tomorrow, if that’s cool with you two? Maybe have some food before we get started too ‘cause god knows I’m gonna be starving.” You look to Seungcheol who nods and checks his phone for the time.

“Yeah, we need to set up the cameras and lighting a little differently too so we’ll probably start earlier. Just text me before you drive over so we know when to expect you.”

You yawn next to Jeongguk; adrenaline having worn off as the tiredness finally sets in. “It’s so weird, usually I’m only just starting my stream right around this time but I’m so exhausted now...” Seungcheol’s eyes from cute crescents as he smiles down at you, stepping closer as he goes in to smooth down your hair.

“You really were screaming a lot, to be fair. How about we head home and you can sleep in the car?”

“Okay~”

Seungcheol lets you sleep in on Saturday morning, watching as your chest rises and falls with soft breaths.

He takes a moment to think over the last few weeks of his life and he can’t help the disbelieving expression that crosses his features when he realizes just how much had changed over the course of just weeks.

When the two of you had met, he wasn’t expecting much. He expected the two of you to hang out for a few days before you went home and forgot he even existed outside of your camshows and the comments section. But now that so much had happened between the two of you, Seungcheol felt a deeper connection to you and felt the need to protect you even moreso than ever.

He sees you shift slightly, sleepy eyes blinking open as you peer up at him. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Mm… g’morning ‘cheol…”

You grimace sleepily at how hoarse your voice sounds, “Ew, I sound so… gross.”

Seungcheol moves to get out of bed, leaning in to kiss your forehead before he shuffles towards the bathroom. “I’m going to wash up but you can stay in bed if you like. I’ll make you some tea for your throat, okay? We have a long day ahead of us and I don’t think you wanna sound like that later tonight.”

Nodding sleepily, you lay back down as you yawn and let the sleep take over once again.

“Are you really sure ‘bout this?” Jeongguk takes a bite of his pizza as he watches Seungcheol pull the desk closer to the bed.

“What do you mean?” You ask; readjusting the light that was closest to the younger male. “Like, I dunno, I’ve never been on a cam show like this so… I mean do I have to do anything different?” You laugh lightly as you go in to pat Jeongguk on the shoulder.

“No, just be you. And we went over it already earlier, the only thing that’s different is going to be me! No weird tricks or anything, I promise.”

Seungcheol places another monitor on the tabletop, grunting as he goes. “Yeah, and in all honesty, I would hate to have to watch you get off, ‘Guk.”

“Oh shut up, hyung. You say that like I don’t know what you’re packin’ under those sweats. I think it’d only be fair! Just two bros getting to know each other.” Seungcheol pretends to gag just as you double over in laughter. “No, absolutely not, ‘Guk. And also, nobody told you to watch those videos!”

Jeongguk pauses, lips pressing into a firm line. “You right, you right…”

You leave to get changed just as Jeongguk starts to help Seungcheol set up the last few bits of equipment. He leans in close to the older male, eyes glancing around the space to make sure you were completely out of earshot. “Hey, hyung, honest question.”

“Sure.”

“Are you really okay with all this?” Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s features as he raises an eyebrow at the younger male. “What’s ‘this’ exactly, ‘Guk?”

“Y’know, her living here and you camming all of a sudden, among everything else really… And the question if you’re in love with her which, by the way, we still all know that you are.”

A blush coats Seungcheol’s skin, fingertips almost losing grip of the camera he was about to mount to the desktop. “Listen, yes, okay, I do… like her a lot. But she’s going through a lot right now too and I don’t want to freak her out either. There’s a lot of life changes we’re going through so I’m just going to ...wait.”

“You’re a good man, hyung.”

“Hi everyone!”

You wave to the camera, winking and blowing a kiss to the camera propped up between the two monitors on the table. “I know, this setup is a little wild and not my normal but this is part two of my collaboration with Golden Closet Gaming! Do you want to introduce yourself to those who missed our other stream?” You turn to Jeongguk who nods; this time a little nervous as he stares directly into the camera.

He’d said he was okay with being filmed since he wasn’t actually part of any sexual acts, but he still found himself a little camerashy now that the two of you were live.

Seungcheol sat directly behind the monitors and cameras; his phone open to your cam show to watch from a different angle.

“Ah, hello! I’m JK of Golden Closet Gaming! I’m a friend of Cherry’s and no we won’t be fuckin’.” Jeongguk ends with an innocent smile that has you holding back your laughter.

therealchan99: i dont think dom.cheol would like that very much anyway

universe_WZ has donated $100

universe_WZ: unless he’s into watching

dom.cheol: no

alphagyu97: oh shit hes back

angelhan: huh, so hes not there?

“Oh, he is! He’s behind the camera~” You gesture beyond the camera to where Seungcheol sits and he leans over to quickly wave upside down in front of the camera to prove his existence.

j__min: ah, of course~ we know your daddy would never let you play with anyone else~

j__min: he likes you too much ;)

emerald.tae: oh? also hi new watcher!!!

emerald.tae: ur videos were great!!

emerald.tae has donated $200

therealchan99: im gonna need to start fighting ppl for ur attention i swear

gentleman_josh95: implying u had it

chwenon: yooooooo lmao

“You guuuuys, be nice! Just for that, I’m gonna be sending you a special private pic, okay ‘therealchan99’? You guys pick on him too much!” You pout.

therealchan99: hahaahhAHhhahaHAAHAA FUCKIN LOSERS SUCK ON THAT

tangerine_kwan: bruh

chwenon: damn guess we should can it

You respond to a few more comments as Jeongguk sits by and watches the way you interact with your viewers. He also takes note that you had a donation minimum before you started actually doing anything on your channel and that you’d already hit it pretty quickly.

“Okay! I think we should start now, huh? Oh, I should explain what’s going on!” You giggle cutely, settling into your space on the bed. “So JK and I will be playing this stilt man game! We have to get our character to the finish line without falling or the level restarts! JK has to get to level 30 and I have to get to level 20 and whoever reaches their goal first, wins!”

“I have a higher level to reach ‘cause our skillsets are different and we all know I’d smoke her if we both had to reach the same level.” Jeongguk grins.

seokGENIE: sure

seokGENIE has donated $69

sleepy_wonu has donated $100

hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $100

“And the reason why ‘dom.cheol’ is behind the camera is because...” You pause, eyes twinkling with playfulness as you stare directly into the lens. “In order to get me to do my best, he’ll be controlling a special toy I’m wearing~ Hehe, if my character falls, he’ll raise the vibration setting each time as punishment and leave it on until I cum…”

“Which we are assuming will be a lot. Unfortunately, no medic on standby.” Jeongguk jokes. Seungcheol rolls his eyes as he laughs from behind the camera.

“We have a safeword, don’t we, sweetheart?” You nod in response, “Mmhmm!”

“Let’s get it!”

It takes all of four stages before your character falls for the first time.

Seungcheol turns the vibrating panties on and you immediately jolt as you try to keep your character upright on screen. “Oh, f-fuck!”

kitty_junjun: uh ohhhh it begins

artist8hao: i don’t think she’s gonna last.. babygirl is so sensitive, she’ll probably cum soon

xcaliburDK: i’m giving it until level 6 before she cums

emerald.tae: oh are we placing bets

“Noooo~ Don’t place bets on me, I’m weak!” You whine; already squirming as the vibrations attack your clit. Seungcheol grins from in front of you as Jeongguk laughs from your side, already on level 7 on his own screen.

You had to admit, it was a little weird for someone else to be in the room with you while Seungcheol basically used a toy on you, but the younger male seemed to not care about it at all. Although, he had already seen most of you and Seungcheol at this point.

Your fingertips are shaky on the keyboard and computer mouse; already fearing the way Seungcheol’s eyes almost become darker the longer you struggle.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Is the game too hard?”

“A-ah, n--no, it’s not that b-bad…” Squirming, you grind down a little harder onto the bed just as your character falls on screen and Seungcheol raises the setting to the second highest in the blink of an eye. “Ngh, fuh---fuck!”

“Uh oh~ Should I slow down to let you catch up?” Jeongguk teases.

“N-no, I can beat y-you!”

The donations and comments pour in as you struggle to keep your calm and get your character to the finish line; letting out a sigh of relief as you finally enter the fifth level. You let out a choked sob as you already feel your panties starting to stick to you like a second skin from how wet you were getting and Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle.

“You know, you’re technically allowed to cum whenever you want. It’ll just… slow you down, is all.” Grinning, he watches as you look beyond the camera towards him as you pout.

���But I--I wanna win!” You cry; palms clammy as you try to rush through the fifth stage, only for your character to fall almost immediately. “Nooo~”

Seungcheol clicks the vibrator to its highest setting and your body goes rigid as the vibrations wreck your body. You start to grind against the toy as you chase your orgasm and forget about the game almost completely. In a perfect world, Seungcheol would have his cock snug between your walls, but instead you clench around emptiness as you crave his cock.

artist8hao: ah shes already cumming lol

seokGENIE: on level 5? Fuck

universe_WZ: her cute lil cunt cant take it, poor babygirl

seokGENIE has donated $50

emerald.tae has donated $75

alphagyu97: cum baby, u kno u wanna

alphagyu97 has donated $75

A small choked whine is all you can manage before you do cum; eyes clamped shut and fingers wrapped tight around the computer mouse as the waves of pleasure crash down onto your body. Donations and comments flood the side of the screen from a combination of your viewers and Jeongguk’s as they watch your face contort in pleasure.

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re really falling behind~ JK is going through the stages so quickly while you’re sitting there cumming~” Seungcheol teases. He licks his lips, simultaneously wishing you were sitting on his cock while you played your game.

That’d have to be for another time, he thinks.

It takes a second for Seungcheol to turn the toy off and your body immediately slumps forward as you catch your breath. “Ngh, d-damn it…” You grimace when you re-adjust yourself and find your panties soaking wet.

“I’m already on level 17, babe. You gotta catch up!”

You can only groan in response, flexing your clammy fingers before you try to focus on your own screen again.

kitty_junjun: oho looks like our princess is focused now

tangerine_kwan: u got this baby

j__min: show ‘em who’s boss, babygirl

You tune out the sounds of the comments and donations as you manage to get yourself to level eight without falling, but level nine proves to be just a little too hard as your character falls and Seungcheol turns the vibrator back on to its lowest setting again.

“Be careful, baby. Wouldn’t want to fall behind again would you?”

Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing in his sweats as he watches you bite your lip. And for the first time all night, he wishes that Jeongguk would just win and go home so that he could have his own private time with you.

“I’m on level 22 already. D’you think she can even catch up?” Jeongguk teases. He spares you a side glance, taking in your form slumped closer to the table as you try to fight the vibrations.

Your body was already extremely sensitive from your first orgasm and you quickly losing your confidence as you struggled to keep your character upright. If you came even just one more time, there was no way that you’d be able to beat Jeongguk with how quickly he was going through the stages.

therealchan99: she’s cumming just as quickly as JK is getting thru the stages hfdsf

gentleman_josh95: shes so cute when she cums tho

angelhan has donated $50

angelhan: thats the real prize angel

“T-thank you…” You whimper out, fingertips twitching against the keyboard and mouse as you focus your attention to the game to the best of your ability. 

You manage to get to level ten with no more issues just as Jeongguk gets to level 25 and you let out an exasperated sigh as your character falls over again. “Uh oh~ I think I’m gonna win!” Jeongguk cheers; giddiness washing over him as he works to get to the end. 

“Nooo~ That’s n-not, ah, fair!” Whining, you grip the mouse tighter as Seungcheol raises the setting on the toy again, watching as you rub your thighs together at the feeling. 

hoshi_tiger_xx: sadly nothings fair in the gaming world babe

hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $50

dtsug__a has donated $50

dtsug__a: cute for thinkin so tho 

“I don’t th--think I can, hah, c-catch up...” You moan. Your character on screen falls over one more time and all you hear is Seungcheol’s small ‘tsk’ under his breath as he sets the vibrator to the highest setting and leaves it there. 

It doesn’t take long before the vibrations prove to be too much for you and you let go of the keyboard and computer mouse as your hands ball up into fists on top of the table. 

The pleasure washes over you in sharp pin pricks; small whines and whimpers falling from your lips as your eyes completely clamp shut. 

Jeongguk lets out a surprised noise at the way the donations and comments almost make the screen lag and for the first time, his character on screen falls over at his split second loss of focus. 

“Ah, fuh--fuck!” You start to squirm once the pleasure starts to bleed into overstimulation and Seungcheol is quick to respond, “You’re gonna cum one more time as punishment for giving up, sweetheart.” 

alphagyu97: ooo she's in troubleeee

gentleman_josh95: ahhh daddy still has to punish you after all 

seokGENIE: damn is this what this channels abt? this is hot 

artist8hao: babygirl always misbehaves

chwenon: she seems to like it too much 😏

dtsug__a: hooooo shit, thats hot 

“It’s n-not my f-fault, hah, JK is j-just good at g-gaming...” You mumble. 

Jeongguk manages to get to level 30 within the time you sit and grind against the toy; small noises of excitement falling from his lips as he cheers for himself!

“Aww, poor baby. Maybe you’ll focus a bit better next time, hmm?” 

You nod frantically as a small tear slips down your cheek and your lips part in a breathy moan. “God, I--I’m c--cumming!” 

Your body locks up, ears ringing as you cum one more time. Seungcheol wishes he could work you through it; hands massaging your skin as you take your pleasure or thrusting his cock into you as he chased his high with you. 

Instead he watches from across you as your body twitches as your face contorts in unadulterated bliss, licking his lips the entire time with images of what could’ve been dancing behind his eyelids. 

Jeongguk watches as the donations far surpass what the two of you made on his channel; brows disappearing into his poofy head of hair. “Wow, uh, y’all seem to really like it when she gets punished, huh?” He mutters under his breath. 

“Don’t you?” Seungcheol teases. 

“Truuuuue.” 

A garbled moan has both of their attention on you as you try to shy away from the toy still vibrating against your overly sensitive clit. “Ah, ‘m too sen--sensitive now...” You cry. 

Seungcheol turns the toy off completely as your chest heaves in deep breaths; pouting at the fact he wasn’t able to enter the camera frame to take care of you. 

Jeongguk grimaces slightly at the way your body sways in tiredness next to him, unsure of what to do next now that he’d won. 

“Haha, um, medic?” 

[awritingtree]

A Chance

Draco Malfoy x reader

Summary: Draco left Y/N heartbroken, absolutely crushed it. So what does she do when he shows up at her doorstep, five years past since the last time she saw him? Will she find it in her heart to forgive him?

@fic-writer-heaven‘s October Event writing challenge: Angst prompt 10. “One of the cruelest things you can do to another person is pretend to care more about them than you really do.” and fluff prompt 5. “You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.” The prompts have been bolded :) I had loads of fun writing this.

Words: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, a bit of fluff. Comment please if you think there are any other warnings to be added :)

A/N: DID SOMEONE SAY DRACO MALFOY? Hehe xD I was really going to debating on whether to have a sad or happy ending. But then I remembered my plans for another Draco fic and I thought that our boy deserved a bit of happiness :) I hope you like this xx

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You never thought you’d see him again. But yet here he was, standing on your front porch. He looked different, a bit older of course; it had been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts. His white blond hair was shorter than you remembered. He wore black jeans, and a black peacoat over a green Slytherin jumper. He had gained a bit of weight; no longer sickly thin and pale. His grey eyes seemed brighter, happier. You couldn’t deny that he had aged well. He looked handsome; he always did look handsome. Nobody could deny it, especially not you.

“H- hi,” he stuttered.

You stared at him, your e/c eyes not wavering from his form.

Draco cleared his throat, “Can we talk?” He paused before adding a “please.”

“You weren’t so willing to talk last time.”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“One of the cruelest things you can do to another person is to pretend to care more about them than you really do.”

Your mother had told you this at a young age. At the time you had disagreed. Surely it was better to have someone pretend to care rather than have no one at all? You never really understood how wrong you had been until this precise moment where you stood in front of the boy that broke your heart, balancing tears, willing them not to fall.

“We can work this out, Draco. Talk to me, please.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Y/N,” said Draco coldly.

“There has to be something I can do. I can fix it, whatever it is, please. Just give me a chance. I can’t lose you,” you begged. You sounded desperate but you didn’t care. You loved Draco; you have since you were in your 4th year.

“You don’t get it, do you? I don’t care about you.”

You shook your head in denial, “That’s not true.”

“I never cared about you,” Draco spoke as if explaining something to a child. “You were nothing but something to pass my time with, something to experience.”

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach at his words. That couldn’t be true. He had to be lying.

“You’re lying. I know you are. You have to be,” you pressed on, hoping to break him out of whatever- out of what? You didn’t know. But you knew Draco, this was not your Draco.

“Listen to me. I have never loved you, I never will. I pretended to because I was merely bored. Did you really think I’d love a filthy half-blood like you?” he sneered.

You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer; they fell, streaming down your face. It did nothing to falter Draco. His cold, empty eyes glared at you. That’s when you realized the Draco you knew and loved, who swore to hurt anyone who ever made you cry back in 5th year, was gone. Replaced by the cold monster staring down at you.

You took a deep breath and stepped away from the love of your life. You walked away from him, suppressing your sobs. You refused to show him how much he affected you.

That day you promised yourself that no one would ever have the opportunity to break your heart again, like Draco Malfoy did.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“I know,” Draco mumbled shamefully.

Draco raked his brain for a way to get you to listen to him. He didn’t know what to do or say that’d convince you to hear him out. “I can’t take back what I’ve done but please just give me a chance to explain, to set things straight. If after that you don’t want to talk to me or see me, I swear you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

You stared at the man in front of you. He looked desperate, probably as desperate as you had that unfortunate day when everything changed for you. Knowing you would somehow come to regret this, you sighed and moved aside, widening the entrance to invite him in.

Draco sighed in relief. He didn’t know what he would have done if you hadn’t agreed. He followed you down a hall. The walls were decorated with so many pictures; pictures of you alone, with your friends from back in Hogwarts and recently, pictures with and of your family. He noticed there were no pictures with anyone that looked like a partner which gave him a bit of hope.

You led him into the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil. Draco looked around smiling, this is exactly what he would’ve imagined your house and kitchen to look like. There were a few plants - no doubt some herbs - growing near the windowsill. Everything was organized in the wooden and glass cupboards, the white marble countertop spotless except for a few fruits in a basket. Handing him a cup of peppermint tea, you sat down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Taking a sip from your cup of lemon ginger tea, you watched him hang his coat on the back of the chair before taking a seat across from you. You continued to watch him for a while. When he asked you for a chance to explain, you expected there to be more, well, talking. But it seemed as though he was pretty content sitting there in your kitchen, drinking your tea in silence. You internally rolled your eyes, already frustrated.

Draco took a sip of his hot peppermint tea and sighed, pleased with the warmth that spread through his body. He knew you were waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t know where to begin. Every time he believed he’d found a way to start the conversation, his mind would chastise him.

“Well get to it, won’t you?” you said irritated, finally getting tired of waiting for him to say anything. Draco pursed his lips together and decided to just wing it.

“I didn’t know what else to do. The times were getting darker, my father was in Azkaban and with the pressure on me.  You were not safe around me; you were not safe around a Death Eater. I was scared; for you and for myself. If any of them found out about us,” he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to get rid of the horrid images his mind was coming up with. His hands gripping the cup of tea so tightly, he was surprised it didn’t shatter. “I don’t know what they would’ve done to you. I didn’t want to find out.”

“Did you ever think maybe I didn’t care what could’ve happened to me? I would’ve gone to all lengths for you, Draco.”

“I didn’t want you to,” he shook his head lightly. “I couldn’t let you sacrifice everything for me. I couldn’t be selfish, not when it had to do with you. I had to protect you in the only way I knew how. You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought. I love you, Y/N. I always have, I always will.”

Even though you hadn’t and don’t agree with what he’d done, you could understand where he was coming. He was doing what he thought was best for you.

“I love you too,” you replied quietly, flustered by his last words. Draco beamed; maybe there really was hope after all.

“I want to forgive you, Draco. I really do. But what you did, what you said,” you trailed off, taking a moment to gather yourself and your words.

“You hurt me, Draco. What you said, no matter the reason, I can’t just forget it because of an apology. I can’t do that to myself again. I won’t.” You felt proud of yourself for being able to resist him. Though, you knew that it wouldn’t be long before you gave in.

Draco moved forward, reached out and took your hand in both of his and brought it close to him.

“I know what I did was wrong. There were other ways to handle the situation, instead I acted like an arse. But please, Y/N,” he pleaded as he placed a small kiss on your knuckles. “Just give me a chance. I will spend however long it takes to make this right, to make us right. I will do whatever it takes, just tell me what I can do.”

You couldn’t lie, you were a bit shocked. You never thought you’d see the day that the Draco Malfoy would be in your house, in your kitchen, begging and pleading with you to give him another chance because he was wrong.

After that unfortunate day, you’d thrown yourself into work. Excelling at every subject, making head girl in your 7th year when you returned to Hogwarts after the war. You were a Y/H and you would be damned if you let anyone, least of all a boy, get in the way of your education and goals. You graduated top of the class, went out into the real world and built a good name for yourself. All the hard work had paid off; everyone believed you had the potential become one of the best healers the wizarding community had ever seen, once you completed your training.

You’d promised yourself that no one would have the opportunity to break your heart again. But as you gazed at the man in front of you. You felt your resolve break. The clear desperation and tears welling up in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings. You knew you’d break the promise made to yourself almost seven years ago, over and over again for the man in front of you.

Draco could see the hurt he’d caused you years ago swimming in your eyes. He made a promise to himself at that moment, he’d do whatever it took and however long it’d take for that hurt to go away. And maybe, hopefully, it’d be replaced by something else, something more if it all worked out in the end.

You sighed, hating yourself for giving in so easily.

“Alright. I will give you a chance to make this right, but you have to earn the forgiveness,” you said softly. “Don’t make me regret this, Draco. Show me you deserve to be forgiven.”

Draco nodded, a wide smile taking over his face. Even after all these years, it knocked the breath out of you. You’d always loved his smile; it had been one of your favourite things about him.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Draco said, placing butterfly kisses on your knuckles, overcome with a type of happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since he made you walk away that unfortunate day seven years ago. “I promise you won’t regret this.”

‘I really hope so,’ you thought.

Draco let go off your hand, sitting back down, thanking Merlin that you had such a forgiving heart. If it was him in your position, he wouldn’t’ve let you in the house. Honestly, he would’ve slammed the front door on your face. For a moment back there, he thought you were going to.

But you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. Because even after years, even after all that he put you through, somehow, you still loved him. You hated yourself for it. But one can’t help who they love; you can’t control who you fall in love with.

You both stared at each other, a new energy that wasn’t there before, when you opened the door today thinking it’d be Ron or Luna dropping by.

“Can I kiss you?” Draco whispered nervously. Was he overstepping? ‘Salazar, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should just be grateful that she’s giving me another chance,’ he thought, berating himself.

You hesitated for a bit. Did you want him to kiss you? Did you want to kiss him? ‘Of course, you do,’ you mentally scoffed at yourself.

You nodded timidly, looking down at the table. You heard the chair scrape against the floor as he stood up.

Draco made his way towards you, sweating with nerves. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself down. He leaned down on his knees beside you, lifting a shaky hand to the side of your face, bringing you to face him. He scanned your face, looking into your eyes, for any hesitation that would tell him he needed to back off. But he didn’t find any. He softly caressed your cheek with his thumb, gazing at you in awe. He thought you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

Draco slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against yours giving you a chance to pull back. When you didn’t, he pressed his lips against yours, relishing in the feeling that spread through his entire being. Your lips moved softly against his as your hands wrapped themselves around his neck, playing with the chain that lay under his jumper. Draco moved his other hand to the back of your neck winding up in your hair, pulling you closer to him. The kiss was gentle and tender, both of you savouring the feeling of the other in their arms after all these years.

You slowly pulled away when the need for oxygen became too great to ignore. But before you could put some distance between the two of you, Draco pulled you into a sudden hug. His arms wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your hair whilst your face buried itself into the crook of his neck.

Draco felt a small smile spread across your face against his skin.

‘Maybe it’ll all be okay,’ he thought.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @obsessedwithrandomthings

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep16: Rex and Weevil Do Not Understand “Rock Bottom”

Hey guys.

Hey.

So... kind of crazy out there, right?

Well, you know what they say. When life gives you lemons, you watch Netflix.

Anyway, Yugioh is racing down this canyon that should be going up alongside the 101 and through the middle of many cities. Don’t worry about it.

And then I found out the name of a card I haven’t seen yet and wow it’s a name.

I’m really glad that Rex Raptor, dinosaur enthusiast, has just no idea how to name dinosaurs and does so like a 6 year old child. Hornsaurus.

(read more under the cut)

So this episode is mostly about Rex and Weevil’s tragic backstory, and thankfully, it’s really not that tragic. We’ve had SO MANY bizarre and weird backstories under our belt, that to have a completely normal one is just...wild to me. They’re so freakin normal.

And on the way, our train just...

OK Train...anyway, I’ll do my best to show which scenes are flash back and which are not, but like bear with me because it flashes back like every other scene it feels like.

So Rex waxes long about that very short time in which he and Weevil were the best ever duelists in Japan (other than Kaiba, I guess, who they failed to mention in this flashback.)

(I used to have a very soft performance fleece sweater the exact same shade as Weevil’s jacket there, popped collar and everything, with piping outline. Don’t judge me, it was the 00′s, I’m just shocked that Weevil also shopped at Old Navy.)

(However I have no idea what’s going on with Rex’s three layers of clashing outfit styles that he has going on. A turtleneck under a thick button up jacket under an open fringe jacket is so much of a 90′s vibe.)

Up until now, bro has been PRETTY SURE every episode that Rex and Weevil are originally from America. I don’t know how I feel about being so right on the money about this one when the episode outright said that they’re from Japan. I don’t really want to out-Yugioh my brother, because at some point, I’ll accidentally let slip that in writing this blog I have accidentally gained all Yugioh knowledge, just like Noah did that one time when he was stuffed into that brain orb.

Just please don’t don’t ask me how this game works, I still have absolutely no idea.

Weevil and Rex had adoring fans in two-shaded polos exactly just like the type I used to wear in high school. But, their fans all left them the moment Weevil lost one single game against Yugi Muto.

Harsh. But granted, I feel like the people of Domino have rabbit memories and if you aren’t actively in the news every day because your blimp got abducted by sea pirates, then who the hell is EVER going to know who you are?

But youknow, Rex and Weevil are pretty sure that dodging getting murdered by Pegasus was actually their last shot at fame. It’s over forever. They’re done. Done until they beat either Joey or Yugi which...very specific, but, it would make you somewhat famous if you did that by simultaneously destroying the Caltrain.

And Weevil is like gunning for the King of Games title but...apparently no one in this episode wanted to mention to Weevil that the “King of Games” moniker actually went to Raphael?

That he needs to beat Raphael...not Yugi Muto?

Nobody?

Nobody feels like mentioning that neither Yami nor Yugi could possibly still be King of Games and that Weevil has no really good reason to be here? I mean it would save Weevil a lot of time. It would also save me a lot of time. We could just walk off this train and go back to what we were all doing before this happened, but nah, lets keep the lie going, because apparently Yami can’t bear to tell the truth, just like his host.

Waiiiit, isn’t Rebecca the King of Games because she beat Yugi in S1?

It’s the freakin Malfroy/Elder wand, it’ll be important in Ch 40 I’m sure of it. I’m sure they’re not going to just...forget...all of the people that beat Yugi before.

Man. Maybe that’s why Yugi is so hell bent on keeping tabs on Rebecca? Just to youknow...make sure she doesn’t tell anyone that she hella beat him that one time because otherwise Kaiba would have lost his freakin mind (again) that Yugi lost that title basically the same afternoon he came back from Pegasus’ island.

Also Rex and Weevil once charged for headshots and this makes them vile, terrible people for some reason.

Apparently this is a bad practice? I mean if you’re famous enough please charge for head shots, you need to make money between playing cards. Take it from this jaded artist, always sell out so you can save money for when you will absolutely get carpal tunnel.

Whatever. Back to Rex who is certain that he is not famous anymore because he lost to Joey.

S4 and still everyone is certain that Joey is bad at cards. Joey will just never be free from this.

It was beautiful anime food for like ten seconds until he did this. How dare. Literally though, how did he do that? Was that burger made out of potato chips?

Can we talk about what a freakin crime it is I can’t watch my Nick at Night retro shows on Netflix or Hulu? Like hell I’m going to get a third streaming service so I can watch and admire how bad “I Love Lucy” aged. I want to see how incredibly off-putting Fonzie is as an adult. But nah. Not even allowed. You can only watch Cheers.

Cheers. What am I? 65? Cheers wasn’t on Nick at Night. My Mom watched Cheers. Gross.

This show trying to convince me so hard that Rex and Weevils lowest point wasn’t when they were 5 seconds away from being set on fire and having their soul removed by Maxamillion Pegasus.

Like for reals, the lowest point for ANYONE (except for the Ishtars) on this show was when they were trapped on that island, without any camping supplies, surrounded by human skulls, Bakura pre-exorcism, and so many other duelists who were probably going to eat them had the tournament gone 24 more hours than it had.

The island that also had a basement that was entirely full of cultists who absolutely murdered a guy right in front of us.

Like when they finally got out of the island’s huge ass forest, their dinner included a soup filled with Pegasus’ eyes.

I would have gotten pissed on by like 70 stray dogs to get off that island, y’all.

So one of the best things about this blog is I don’t have to worry about the restraint of a.) looking professional b.) the fear of sharing my actual real deal opinion. Everywhere else I post, I can’t share anything. I’ve come to terms with this, and so I hide my hot takes deep, deep within this Yugioh blog and the only people who suspect my art rage are like...y’all in the corner of Tumblr who do not care about what I’m talking about.

++++++++++++THIS IS MY HUGE RANT ABOUT ART POLITICS AND ART BITTERNESS FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS. WE’RE QUARANTINING SO MUCH OVER HERE DUE TO THE VIRUS THAT I AM GOING A LITTLE BIT HOUSE CRAZY+++++++++++++++

But like MAN I need to mention something. Both Joey and Rex are completely off base. Both of them.

Like I’ll be real, because of the sudden extra time I have on my hands, I was originally ranting quite a bit about art culture and stuff and I will admit it was projecting somewhat onto a TV show that was written before the recession and the gig economy basically came and laid a huge dump across the creative industry.

However, I really, really, really don’t like it when people naively say “I’m successful because I did the research, I did the work, and then I got a following despite doing no marketing at all,” LIKE HELL YOU DID, DUDE. And there’s certain places I go where this is the mantra of a hell ton of ppl who don’t believe in luck, and I have to just suck it in because they succeeded at a young age. Because inversely, if anyone doesn’t succeed right away--clearly they don’t work hard enough, right?

I won’t dig into real world stuff because that’s...the real world and the real world is a bummer, but even in the universe of Yugioh there’s this crazy disparity in duelers that the people on the top refuse to acknowledge and the people on the bottom have absolutely no way to cope with so they become insanely bitter about it.

Mai has mentioned that despite all of her hard work and success--because she isn’t the top 4 duelists of Kaiba’s tourney--no one knows who she freakin is. The card industry is so toxic, that even KAIBA dropped out.

And even without Kaiba to compete against anymore, Mai still wasn’t able to get in there to fill that void. The void that also has Marik and Odion in it, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure Marik will never touch a card ever again and might be back to living underground or on a boat in the middle of no-where. And we don’t even need to mention Bakura, right? Bakura who should have also been here to fill the void of fame, but his face probably only comes out fuzzy on camera like people haunted by that girl from the Ring. So we’ll just ignore Bakura, that makes sense, I can accept that canon.

But really...it’s just Joey and Yugi at the top of the crop when there should have been room for at least 4.

So, it’s interesting that the Oricalchos in this situation is the “get me popular quick” drug that will somehow give Rex and Weevil what they need for automatic success because I see people desperately looking for this SO MUCH online. I have seen so many post “This is how I got 100000 followers in 100 days,” and it’s always the same story that isn’t so much about hard work, but more how to game a broken system until all other competitors are invisible. And then there’s the hidden factor about...luck...that really offends people although we all know that it exists.

But just remember I’m not allowed to have this opinion that luck...exists...So if anyone asks, I never said this.

And also...if Rex and Weevil had any support up until now from these kids who have been stuffing them in the trunk for over a dozen episodes, they wouldn’t have done any of this.

So talking as a jaded Millennial, I’m not gonna judge you if you take your Oricalchos, if you know what I mean. Everyone has their reasons, and no one’s too good not to ever do it, lets be real.

+++++++++++++++END OF THIS RANT, WOW, I WANT TO SAY THAT WHILE SLAPPING A WHOLE LOT OF PEOPLE IN A GENTLE MANNER+++++++++++++

So I realized something. This cliff face is sort of an iconic train, but it’s the wrong train.

This is the Amtrak in the middle of Nevada/Utah, pretty sure. I know that shade of orange. I’ve done the Nevada drive a lot.

And part of the reason I’m even sleuthing into this is because as an artist I like to see where art inspiration comes from. It doesn’t just come from a void--they clearly did research and I just want to find out...how it happened.

So anyway, like I said last time, the Amtrak is in charge of the Caltrain management, although the Caltrain is not part of Amtrak. And so you get similar paint jobs--it’s just that Amtrak has blue topped cars, and the Caltrain cars are typically red. Yugioh safely did red, white and blue, which both cars do, to an extent, being American trains.

It’s possible that they decided to look up scenic trains in California and were like “this one looks neat.” This one is also named the “California Zephyr” which makes it seem super Californian but in actuality it goes from Emeryville, California to Chicago. Only problem is that Emeryville is North of Oakland, and we’re supposed to be taking the train “to the airport” when the airports are in Oakland or San Mateo. This train doesn’t go to the airport. You just drove by the airport.

This train also doesn’t go to Florida. Chicago is North, way north. This train exists to be a slow, scenic train for old tourists who want to sleep in cramped spaces or jaded millennials writing their award winning novel. It has no other purpose.

So, it doesn’t at all match anything story wise...but it looks cool. They would never take this train if the world was going to end, and Rebecca wouldn’t know it exists, but, it looks cool.

But anyway, onward to the next episode. I’ll be kind of bunking in my home for a while since my entire area basically shut down, so maybe I’ll get the next updates done earlier than usual? Maybe even catch up on my backlog? hm. Possibilities.

And if you just got here, this is all the Yugioh recaps in chrono order.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

THURSDAY OCTOBER 8, one of the longest running television shows of our time begins airing the final episodes of it’s final season. Guys, Supernatural is 15. FIFTEEN. It can practically drive a car now. As one friend put it, “that show had a Quinceañera.” And if you don’t know how significant that is, think of the last show you know of that made it to season 10. Take your time, I’ll wait. 

Whoever I stole this birthday invite from, they are probably older than this show.

I started watching Supernatural in 2008. I was 19, I had just begun my journey towards Over-Worked, Under-Slept Millennial, and my best friend recommended it. I can’t really remember how the conversation went, but I’m sure at some point it was “It’s scary, and it’s got these two brothers, I’ll send you a link!” cuz we were trash and we were broke and Netflix...existed? Hulu existed, but not in the way that either of those sites work now, so we watched by...ahem...other means. It is probably why my first laptop stopped working after 3 semesters of college.

And damn, I was hooked. I don’t do scary movies and honestly, I was legit creeped out by a lot of these episodes, but it had two hot dudes who took down a monster every week and then (the real kicker) had a bigger, season-long mystery they were trying to solve. And occasionally, they got punched in their big dumb beautiful faces. If I had known what a kink was at the time, I would have said that someone was reading my dream diary. 

Over the next 12 years - Let me say that again for those of you in the back - TWELVE YEARS - I had an on-again-off-again relationship with the Winchesters. It was pretty hot and heavy in the beginning. I was jumping on the back of this 67 Chevy Impala 3 years in, so I had three seasons that I bought on DVD that I binged and was caught up with season 4 by the time the midseason started to air in late January of 2009. I was introducing all my friends to Supernatural, I made several people watch the entire first disc of season 1 with me, irregardless of whether they’d asked or not. Things started to cool down towards the end of season 4 as life started picking up and I know...I caught...the tail end of season 5? I think? I distinctly remember the final scene of the final episode, but honestly, I can’t remember how much of that season I actually watched.

At that point, I considered Supernatural to be a weird pseudoaddiction. I’d be clean for a while, years even, and then Netflix caught up with consumers and I could binge whole seasons in a weekend. It’d be, oh, I could just watch an episode. Just one episode. Maybe two. And then the weekend is gone in a blaze of classic rock and rock salt and I’m left with something like but not necessarily a hangover where my feelings live. I think I did this for seasons 6 through, like, 8? Eventually, Netflix stopped putting it at the top of my dashboard and it was easier to avoid. And I said to myself, well, when they finally get to the last season, THEN I’ll go on one last run, one last big score, and watch the whole series again in one go. 

But the seasons kept coming?? And they?? Didn’t stop?? Guys, I don’t know how many of you care about this but, Friends, one of the most popular sitcoms of all time that defined an entire generation had ten seasons. TEN. Supernatural is ending with fifteen! For an industry where most shows don’t make it past a pilot, let alone a season 1, this is INSANE. 

But now it’s ending. Even though a pandemic halted production just two episodes away from the finale, Supernatural is finally outta cassette tapes. The Wayward Sons may finally (??) be laying their wearied heads to rest (?? lol, I know).  

And frankly, 2020’s been a real sh*tshow so I thought “Why not?” 

And if I’m doing this and I’m not interacting with anyone on a human level, I might as well chronicle this epic dive into a time capsule of television because frankly, what the hell else am I doing? 

Cuz that’s what this is guys. 15 years in TV time is multiple lifespans. Shows are born, grow into something Emmy-worthy, and die in less time than Supernatural has been on the air. You know what else aired their pilot episode in 2005? The American version of The Office. You know when The Office ended? 2013. 

So let’s talk about pilots because that in and of itself may be a thing of the past not too far from now. 

Guys, I love pilots. I will probably say this a lot over the next, uhhhh...many months, but I love pilots and I love season ones, especially for a sci-fi and fantasy shows because that’s where your characters are at their most vulnerable, their most unsure. The writers and producers are really digging around, trying to figure out what the groundwork for this world is and there’s something so exciting about exploring it with them, as an audience. 

Pilot’s are great, pilots on spec are even better, and that’s a lot of what the Supernatural Pilot feels like. It’s got a real indie/guerilla-style horror movie vibe, like the crew scraped together just enough cash for that one special effect scene but had to skimp out on a lot of the other production stuff, and still managed to turn something around that is totally, 100% watchable and somehow more charming than if they’d had the budget to make something really polished? Go watch Night of the Living Dead (1968) and tell me that movie would have been better if they’d had a bigger budget. You could, but I won’t agree. 

Ok so a quick break down of technical terms. A television pilot is basically the first episode of a TV show. Well, that’s not exactly true. A pilot is kind of like making a sample or a blueprint of your show that you hand over to the television networks and say, here! This is what my TV show will look like. Will you pay me money to continue making it? And the networks (think ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX and The CW - remember, this is Network, not cable) will spend January through April of every year reviewing pilots and deciding if they want to pay you money to make more episodes. Well, every year except 2020. See: sh*tshow. Sometimes the network comes to you with an idea, or maybe, you’ve pitched your script/show to some executives and they buy in for that first pilot episode to see where things will go. Neither of these scenarios are a sure thing, and pilot season is always rife with will-they-won’t-they tension. In fact, if you’re working on the show, there’s a real possibility that pilot will get re-shot after studio notes, you’ll lose your job to someone the studio liked better, and then the show still may not get picked up. A pilot shot on spec is in even more of a limbo scenario because nobody asked for this! And just to follow through on Pilot Season - after the networks decide to buy your pilot, they then air the pilot at Upfronts (usually in May) where their many ad companies decide if they will pay money to air their ads during those shows. This is where we get things like prime time and key demographics - if you thought TV was all about the art, you are very wrong. TV, like most other industries, is still a business that’s about making money. 

Back to the Supernatural pilot. Now, from my research, series creator Eric Kripke had been working on the concept for 10 years. He was big into classic rock, big into urban legends and big into cowboys and all those things get married ever so neatly in this show. A lot of his initial ideas remain unchanged, at least for the first season - he wants two brothers, traveling across the country, facing off with America’s Spookiest Myths and legends. A lot of it did change. I honestly feel like I remember reading an early draft of the pilot where Sam and Dean are cowboys? But I’m also pretty sure I’m imaging that. What I’m not imagining is this ridiculous early draft where John’s been locked in an insane asylum, dies before the first episode starts, and Sam’s been living with an aunt and uncle his whole life and knows nothing. They still use something close enough to the La Llorona legend as the catalyst for the episode, but a lot of other things are changed. This is not the Sam and Dean we come to know and love. This is also a good example of when you SHOULD listen to notes, because this draft was rewritten after executive producer McG and his Wonderland Sound and Vision production company signed on, but before they actually shot the script. 

Now from what I’ve read, the WB picked the show up for (4) episodes initially, and ultimately picked it up for a full season of (22) episodes. This was, at the time, a pretty standard season and a pretty standard way to get it. They had a better deal than The Office, anyway, which only got picked up for (6) episodes in their first season, then got picked up four episodes at a time for season 2. 

Now let’s go over that paragraph one more time and talk about what a hecking DINOSAUR this show is - 

FIRST off - Supernatural premiered on THE WB. It PREDATES The CW!!

Man guys, you remember they had a frog as a mascot? Oof, that would not work today.

Secondly, it got 22 EPISODES. We’ll get into this some more when we talk about that evil bugs filler ep, but think about how many episodes were in the last show that you binged on Netflix? 8? Maybe 10?

Welcome to the exciting world of GRAPHS brought to you buy https://www.theringer.com/tv/2017/8/4/16094348/inefficiency-week-mourning-the-lost-long-tv-season

OH! And SPEAKING of Netflix and streaming services like them, they’re kind of killing pilot season AND upfronts. They pick up shows when they want to. They “air” them when they feel like. There are no ads because you pay for that content on a monthly basis and also they don’t even have commercial breaks. I am slowly seeing the passage of time in one (1) episode of television and I think I’ve aged 100 years. 

Here is just one of MANY articles about the death of Pilot Season 

Finally, and most importantly, this show got a better deal than The Office. And that show was an NBC primetime show. 

This show was nominated for 193 awards and won 50. And it ended when my nephew was still in kindergarten. He’s gonna be in high school next year. 

So what about this Supernatural Pilot? Was it any good? Honestly, I’m gonna say yeah. This is some very solid Hero’s Journey here. I think the only weird thing about it is that Sam is our Hero, our point of contact character that gets us into this world. And I only say that because I’ll be real up front and say that I’m a Dean girl through and through. I don’t hate Sam, but because we live in a world where we have to choose, it’s Dean 4Eva. 

From that early script draft, we learn the plan was for Sam to be in the dark and essentially be our audience stand in so that Dean can explain all the backstory. I think the decision to make John Winchester raise his kids as a weird fringe paramilitary outfit and establish Sam as the brother that tried to get away is a good one. It’s a very “Arrive Late” (or if you’re fancy, in media res,) sort of attitude and it works and you’ve already started building in the Atonement with the Father. There’s still some pretty excellent exposition dialogue, but what are ya gonna do. Sam, did you really need to explain to Dean that your collective father “raised you like warriors”? Or that you “kill everything we CAN find?” It’s fine. You’re beautiful and I love you. But also, he knows all that.

You have the Call to Adventure - Dean showing up and saying “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.” You have the refusal of the call (“He’ll sleep it off”). You have your supernatural aid (hah!) giving Sam a push out the door - that’s Dean. You have your famous line that I quoted along with the TV - Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days. 

The dead mom backstory seems pretty on the nose, but the “burned on the ceiling” concept was new and unique enough that I was intrigued to find out more. Listen, I’ve already admitted I don’t watch a lot of horror so if this has been done before, don’t @ me. 

La Llorona or Woman in White or Weeping Woman was a new trope to me at the time, so it too seemed fresh. I see that myth show up in a lot more Supernatural-type shows now, but in 2008, at 19, I was like, oh this is different. Not to mention - this definitely leaned in to the horror aspect. I know I’m a baby, but it aired at 9pm, which is the more adult side of Prime Time, so the WB thought it was too spooky for kids who had early bedtimes. So there. 

I HATE when they do this cuz it freaks me out EVERY TIME and THAT’S NOT EVEN HOW THESE MIRRORS WORK??? SHE’S NOT EVEN IN THE BACK SEAT IN THIS SHOT!

And then at the END, when Sam STILL refuses the call to adventure, you have the real Crossing of the Threshold - Jess is ALSO stuck on the ceiling, dead, and on fire. Spoiler alert, but they had to fridge her early to make the rest of the season work and so it shouldn’t be a big surprise. Sam’s all in and we get 21 more episodes of him and Dean and that car. 

Is it technically fridging if she’s lit on fire?

And let’s talk about Jess for a second cuz actress Adrianne Palicki is giving a LOT more in this performance than a fridged girlfriend should be required to. She’s likeable, she’s down to earth, she’s crushing it and and all this with only, like, two scenes of dialogue. I say this even though we meet her in a slutty nurse costume - COME on WB. 

WB what the hell is this wardrobe. What the HELL is THIS. 

In fact, all of the extras in this show are crushing it? Louis is instantly likeable and he disappears after his first scene, never to grace our TV’s again. And these extras in the town in Jericho, California - I kind of love them. As CW (or I guess, WB) as Jessica is, these extras look like they found them at the local highschool and I LOVE THEM FOR IT. They probably came to set already in makeup and wardrobe! They POSSIBLY brought their own jewelry! They’re weirdos and they are GREAT. I’m pretty sure this will NEVER happen again on this show because once the $$ came in, so did the more polished-looking one-off characters.

 Lookit these magnificent goth weirdos! And great news, both these actresses have very full, non-goth careers after this. 

Also, heckin’ Joseph Welch is just crushing it. This man has NOTHING CW about him and that’s maybe why I like him so much? Everything about the scene with him and Sam is pretty heartbreaking, from his rundown car graveyard to his rundown physique with his rundown accent to the fact that we never actually see his face. Seriously, really LOOK at this scene - WHAT is going on with this cinematography? Is this a reference to something? It’s SO bleached out and SO stark and WHAT is going on???

WHAT is this lighting? And also this guy was played by Steve Railsback was on X-Files!

You can’t talk about Supernatural without talking about the chemistry between Sam and Dean and that’s probably the real hook here? I mean a) very beautiful. I will probably talk about this a lot. Let’s call it what it is here, they’re beefcakes and they’re made for me and people like me. It is weird that this show is so macho but their primary audience was mostly there for the babes. And by babes I mean Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki. And b) they REALLY sell the whole brothers thing. They’re both from Austin, TX which feels like a weird coincidence. They were both already on WB shows before this one, also a weird coincidence. And they just click. They just do. It’s impressive, and occasionally creepy when we start to get into the Wincest of it all, but lets not talk about that.

Oh, and the MUSIC! The music just makes it. If you don’t believe me, watch the Netflix version of the first season and then find yourself a DVD version. See, TV shows need to acquire a license to play popular music during the show. Nowadays, the CW actually tags their songs in the episode so you can find and presumably buy it later, but they still have to pay royalties for using those pop songs. When Netflix acquired Supernatural, they did NOT acquire the licensing to use the classic rock songs from ACDC, Metallica, etc. and so you’re left with some pretty bland and generic production music that’s something like but not necessarily Back in Black. More like, Back in...Grey? This pun didn't work how I wanted it to. 

And the show just...doesn’t work? Like, who knew BACKINBLAAAAACK! Was so instrumental to whether I thought this was quality programming or not. Side note - it ruins my favorite piece of dialogue of maybe the entire series - 

Sam: I swear, man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection.

Dean: Why?

Sam: Well, for one, they're cassette tapes.

Do the young people even know what a cassette tape is? I AM the CRYPTKEEPER.

So yeah, you got a lot of ingredients to make something pretty great. Did we know then that it would launch a juggernaut of a television program that would still be on the air in the Year of Our Reckoning, 2020? I was a big fan of Firefly, so I was 99.99% sure this show was gonna get canceled at any second. In fact, I was thrilled, in 2008, to find there were two more seasons after the one I was currently watching. Of course, season 3 aired around the time of the great Writer’s Strike of ‘07, where nothing looked good and few programs survived, but we’ll get there. 

In a final, kind of spooky, almost premonition-type decision the WB actually decided to air this pilot episode a whole week early on Yahoo!. Yeah, you remember Yahoo!, right? The search engine that briefly tried to have its own original streaming content and then we all abandoned it in favor of the monster that is Google? Yeah. This episode premiered online. I haven’t done enough research, but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say this was probably one of the first ever TV shows to start on the internet? Weird to think that was a novel and innovative concept at one time. 

So this is it. This is the end of the era. Are we gonna get any more shows that last as long as this one did? Who knows. Are we as a culture gonna care at that point? I don’t know. Our TV habits have changed so much in the last few years that it’s hard to say how we’ll watch TV in the future. But credit where it’s due, boys. Nice huntin’. 

[todo-ho-ki]

If It’s Convenient for You, pt. 4

HOLY FUCK tumblr deleted the original. I shouldn’t have tried to add a tag on mobile huh?

Well anyway, here is part 4 AGAIN. 

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: BakugoXReader

Warnings: swearing, blood/mild violence

@chims-kookies I had to re-edit so I’m not sure if you’re still tagged OOPS

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3        Part 5   Part 6

When you awoke Saturday morning, the sky was clear and bright, rays of sunlight pouring into your room at the perfect angle. Finally a day off! Now you could relax and work on your audition piece. You felt light as a feather hopping out of bed, immediately grabbing headphones and twirling around. You expertly compiled a list of viable options before turning to look out the window.

"Holy shit." The clock on your desk read 7pm."Guess I should feed myself."

You dug around in your pile of neglected clothes, looking for anything that would constitute acceptable clothing.

The only things left in your pile were a turtleneck and...a short ass skirt.

Reluctanly, you donned the garb.

"Wow!" You exclaimed sarcastically.  "I've always wanted to look like I'm on Scooby-Doo!"

You were quite expertly paying homage to Velma. Except her sweater probably left a little more to the imagination than your thin fabric.

--

You drove aimlessly for a while. Now that there was no focus on anything in particular, the only thought consuming you was Bakguo standing at your register, domineering but calm.

A breath hitched in your throat for a moment and your tongue felt swollen, a clear memory of a sweet smell rolling off of him.  A little ironic, honestly, considering he was the saltiest bitch you'd ever met.

Calm down asshole. He's just a dude. A really, really, REALLY gorgeous dude. That you happen to keep seeing everywhere so you can't get his pretty face out of your stupid thoughts even though he's done literally nothing to earn your trust or respect because being a hero doesn't inherently mean he's worth his weight in gold-

Your internal monologue came to an abrupt end as you hit shuffle and let the music take over again. It was the only silence you were getting from that blonde-haired asshat.

It was really something you hated about yourself: your ability to not even know someone but suddenly be drowning in them. Every time you got an idea in your head, every time someone did something even remotely good in any way, you were jumping at the chance to fantasize.

What did they laugh at?  Could they be sweet? Funny? Loving? How soft is their hair? Their lips..? Any question you had you could daydream the answer to with no problem. And daydream you did.

The setting sun was kissing the horizon as you prattled down the highway. You were a good ways out in the countryside, so a commute gave you time to clear your head. But it wasn't clearing anything.

All you could imagine was him standing just a little closer, a smile aimed at you instead of a sneer, a hand sneaking around your waist.

Your car was parked.

You didn't really remember turning into a parking lot, glassy eyes looking up at the restaurant sign in front of you.

The glimmer of the "TAKOYAKI SUPREME" sign pulled you out of your daze, if only a little.

"I have gotta stop doing that before I crash and die. Well, maybe if I die I won't have to deal with this, you mused, a finger pressed to your chin. You continued to mutter to yourself, slinking into the restaurant and staring spacily at the menu.

"I literally don't even like takoyaki." Your arms crossed as you struggled to search for a menu item that didn't make you want to throw up.

You were also great at going with the flow, and just dealing with whatever unpleasant situation you found yourself in. Hope was running out as you reached the end of the menu, shrinking down a little.

But suddenly there was a tingle up your spine. And not in a good way. You didn't dare move now. All of the haze was gone and much like a few nights ago, adrenaline coursed. But this time, you really would've preferred to have Kirishima and Bakugo hiding somewhere behind you.

The door opened and a breeze blew in, carrying the sound of a slow, calculated voice.

"That's the one." It sounded like they were standing right next to you; goosebumps accompanied the chill over the atmosphere. It wasn't clear whether or not they were alluding to you, but your gut feeling said to be anywhere else.

They were both dressed in all black, tall and looming.

Did they follow you here? It's not like you would've noticed. You were too busy imagining a face that definitely wasn't going to walk you to your car now.

As long as I can get to my keys-fuck!

You felt around aimlessly in your pockets, the horror of realizing you locked them in the car taking hold.

Just walk out calmly. There's nothing saying they're here for you.

You tried to tell yourself that, but every hair on your body was standing up and your heart was racing. These guys were bad news.

The wind picked up as you stepped outside. No one followed. But your keys were locked in your car and there was no quick getaway now.

Shakily, you pulled on the door handle, hoping that maybe for once you left the door open.

Goddammit. My phone's in there too! How the fuck am I gonna get out of this one?

You looked longingly at the seat, never wishing you were a set of keys more than at this moment.

It's either pick the lock or break the window. And probably my hand.

Movement from the inside. One of the guys dressed in black was standing now. It could've just been a coincidence, but the sinking feeling wasn't going away. He walked towards the door.

Just fucking break it! Don't worry about the pain!

But you couldn't make your body move. You were frozen stiff as the door opened. Even if you wanted to turn around, you wouldn't have.

"Hey doll face. You need some help?" It almost sounded sincere and if you hadn't had a knack for sniffing out predators, it would've been convincing.

"No."

"Really? Cuz it looks like you're locked out of your car."

"I am." The only hope was that he couldn't see you shaking violently.

"A lady shouldn't be out here in this cold. You should go back inside." There was something in his tone that was unsettling. You could feel him leering at you greedily.

The fuck does he want? Not money. He would've just robbed me. There aren't a lot of other options besides kill me and kidnap me. But why me? Just keep your cool for now, Shouna. Breathe.

"I will be fine."

"You're shaking." You could feel him slowly walking closer. Closer. Way too close. He was way too close.

"I said I don't need any fucking help from you," you growled, finally finding the will to turn around. He jerked back a bit at the ferocity in your tone.

His hands are in his pockets. I don't like where this is going.

"Get. Away," you warned. The wind swirled up again, howling now.

His face went from feigned concern to intense confession. There was a malicious grin plastered across his face, almost inhuman.

"Fine. If you don't wanna play along, then I got no choice." He giggled as he pulled a knife out of his pocket.

You eyed the small knife carefully.

He can't kill me with that. He's trying to scare me with that thing. Calm down! You literally went to school for this exact kind of thing!

You knew, though, that there was a big difference between technical and practical application, and your hands didn't stop shaking. The cold was becoming unbearable, slashing at your face and legs. Your heart didn't stop beating a million miles a minute.

Your wide eyes met his nefarious ones as he spoke his next words, "come with me or die."

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, hands and knees shaking, eyes clouding with fear. There was nowhere for you to go, no place to run to. How had nobody noticed? Everyone inside was going about their lives like some girl wasn't about to get assaulted in a parking lot.

Keep it cool. If he was here to kill you he would've done it already.

You wished so badly to hear some whispering in the wind right about now. There wasn't a single hero in sight. There wasn't a single person in sight. Those guys were popping up everywhere you were for days and all of a sudden they were nowhere to be found?

"You won't kill me," you dared.

"Quit stalling!" His hand wrapped around your wrist tightly as he tried to pull you towards the knife. "I won't kill you, but I will hurt you."

You were twisting and kicking and doing anything to avoid feeling the knife driving into you, landing a well-placed kick below the belt.  It bought you enough time to get out of his grip and in your adrenaline-filled rush, you smashed your window out, ignoring the bright red streams down your arm and glass in your fingers.

You grabbed the key and tried to open the car door. But he pulled you by the shoulders instead.

"I don't think so!"

He braced his legs against yours and pulled your arms behind you, leaving one hand free to press the cold metal to your neck.

"Now listen to me, you have one chance to just go back inside and do what we say. Or you're gonna have to figure out how to look pretty covered in blood!" His whisper was intense in your ear, pushed through clenched teeth.

"Fuck you."

A small cut on your neck. A small pain but a lot of blood. You grunted in reaction to the metal, so cold it was hot. You were starting to get lightheaded.

"Don't make me ask again."

"You didn't ask the first time."

This time there was a deep, blinding pain as he plunged the knife into the side of your thigh. It seemed like your screams fell on deaf ears. The lightheaded feeling got worse as your vision became clouded around the edges.  

"I told you not to fuck around."

He pushed you into your car and you didn't even know bodies could bounce off of things like that. He left you stunned on the ground, mouth hung open in shock. You couldn't yell anymore, the adrenaline was taking over and you could hardly feel anything but a dull ache in your leg.

He picked you up and slung you over his shoulder.

"You stupid girl! Now you'll have to wait out here. You're covered in blood." There was nothing you could do as he walked into the alleyway with you.

"Wait here."

As if I have a choice, asshole.

He tossed you roughly to the ground. The cool air was the only thing keeping your stomach from turning as you leaned your head back against the cold metal gate.

I have my keys. If I can just get to my car before they come back, I can get out of here. But I can't get up. I'll pass out, at least.

You took a few gulps of air. "I have to get up," You groaned. "I have to get to my car."

You started crawling. You weren't really in any condition to drive, but there wasn't much choice. Crawling was proving to be too slow.

"Right," you muttered. "Right leg first." You pushed yourself up and put your right leg up, prepared to bear the weight. As you pushed up, the dark swirls began to make themselves known again. You reached hastily for the fence, nearly falling backward.

The knots in the fence grazed across your stab wound and it took everything you had to stifle the scream.

I have to get the adrenaline pumping again. I have to do something to numb the pain.

"Fuck," your breath was raggedy and erratic. "Shit. I have to go. Don't think. Don't think about it. Just do it. Just go!" You pushed off your right leg and upon landing on your left, the pain from the stab rang out against every muscle in your leg. But you weren't going to let it buckle. You were going to get out of here and let the adrenaline do the work.

It was almost a good plan. A sigh of relief burst from you as your car came into view again. But you turned your head to the door. Which was a mistake.

Your ankle twisted with the uneven surface of the asphalt, knocking you to the ground. You slid a good distance and rolled to a halt, literally just a few steps from the car.

Goddammit! Get up! Get UP!

You spent a moment yelling at yourself to move. The blood from your stab wound was pouring down your leg and your neck was pulsing.

I have to get out of here. I can't wait to see what they have planned for me. You kept having to push the thought of Bakugo showing up in the nick of time out of your head.

The door opened and the man from earlier walked up to you slowly, smirking. "You thought you were gonna run away huh? That's precious. Though I must commend how far you made it. Running on a bad leg is no fun." He kneeled down over you. "You're going to regret this,"he hissed.

All you could hear was your ragged breath hitching in your throat as he pulled out the knife again.

Fuck! What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Suddenly you heard a huge blast go off in close proximity. Your heart raced. You could only think of one reason you'd hear an explosion. The man looked in the direction of the blast and you looked up, having noticed a shadow looming on the roof.

Holy shit I've never hoped that an asshole was here more than I do now. Please for the love of god be Bakugo.

The moonlight was bright and it was easy for you to make out blonde hair and a smile filled with bloodlust cross the shadowy face above.

"Hmm,"you hummed gently, closing your eyes. "He's here." The relief washed over you.  There was no way this dude was a match for Bakugo.

"Oi, asshat."

The man turned suddenly. It was clear he recognized Bakugo too.

"I think it'd be best if you leave the girl alone."

[adonis-koo]

Three’s a crowd

| 5 |

Plot: (CEO AU) When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was suppose to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation…

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader/Jimin, Hoseok/Reader, Taehyung/Reader,

Genre: Smut, angst, drama, angst with a happy ending

Word count: 7.8k

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Tags: dirty talk, begging, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, daddy kink, spanking, blowjob, hand job, deepthroating, male receiving, female masturbation, major degradation kink, multiple orgasms, throat fucking, dom!jungkook, dom!jimin

Warning ⚠️ This fic touches on drug use, alcoholism and abuse. Please read with caution if any of these things are triggers for you 🖤

Curling against the warmth you snuggled with a sigh of contentment. For the first time in- well in never, you could only use one word to describe your blissfully comatose state. Safe.

Safe and warm, like nothing could touch you. Like nobody could hurt you anymore. Like you would never have to deal with the world on its own again. Finally listening to your consciousness you cracked your eyes open. Light streamed in from the window wall as you groaned lightly, shifting as you sighed, how did you...

Stiffening at the new sight in your vision made you realize you weren’t back in your room. No you were still in Jungkook’s room, he had been tightly spooning you before you had turned to face him. You didn’t shift away from him, but you didn’t dare get any closer as you observed him sleeping. His jaw wasn’t clenched like it usually was and his eyes were so soft looking while closed, his lips- that you very distinctly remembered being so soft had parted slightly. 

His hair was wild and messy which screamed sex hair that unsurprisingly looked really good on him. Jungkook suddenly coiled his arms tighter around you as he pulled you into a hug, burying his nose in your hair before sighing contently. Still heavily asleep. On any other occasion you would’ve left last night but you had never quite had your shit rocked like that before. And quite frankly you still weren’t sure if you’d be able to properly walk today either. 

Thus leaving you at his mercy and almost afraid. Would he just kick you out when he woke up, having conquered you and moving onto the next girl. Jimin’s expression from last night flashed in your mind as you frowned. Did he take her to his room since he couldn’t have you? Oh god what if he heard you?

“Mmm, hi.” Jungkook’s voice was gravelly and filled with sleep, but oddly sounded angelic at the same time as he greeted you with a sleepy expression. Those deep brown eyes glancing at yours as you quietly stared back before murmuring, “Hi.”

Your hair had begun to fall in front of your eyes, prompting him to reach out a lazy hand, brushing the strand away as his fingers gently combed through your hair, “Are you okay? I can get a little rough sometimes.”

Attempting to ignore the intimate gesture as you sputtered out a laugh while you gave a tired but relieved smile, “A little? Seriously? If that was a little than I don’t know what you consider really rough.”

“Oh, I held back quite a bit honestly,” Despite his words he wasn’t necessarily boastful about it, as he seemed more so in thought while continuing, “But most girls I’m with aren’t use to it rough so I like to take it slow,” suddenly pulling you closer he buried his face in the crook of you neck, letting his fingers find their way to your waist as he stroke it, “But you did so well I couldn’t help myself.” Jungkook admitted against your neck as he thumbed the skin of your hip delicately as if tracing fine china, “Anyways you didn’t really answer, are you okay?”

“Well as okay as I can be,” you curved an eyebrow, not sure how to process his touchiness, maybe he just really enjoyed skinship? While it was nice being showered in aftercare you also weren’t one for touching, Jungkook was no exception too that as you shifted slightly in his grip, was he always so cuddly? “I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to walk but I’ll survive.”

But at the end of the day when touch wasn’t encouraged by lust it was still difficult to get yourself to relax. It was something you didn’t do and weren’t use to being showered in, even the morning after, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you while I can.” He had rolled onto his back, his lower arm still under you lingering on your touch while the other had grabbed his phone. Suddenly sighing through his nose, “We should get showered up, families are having breakfast right now then I’m off to scout for new property for business.”

You furrowed your brows together as you turned to face him, “What would your dad want with that?”

“Oh it’s not for him. I do help run the hotel chain but I don’t necessarily work under him. Too restrictive and honestly, it’d drive me batshit. I mainly work in upper management of Kim corporations. Come on princess let’s get up.” Jungkook gestured you to sit up as he pulled the covers off, making you whine as you curled against yourself. A dull ache in your legs and with the new stream of light on your body you had hickies everywhere. You were gonna need a lot of concealer for this.

“Come on,” Jungkook said in a sing song voice making his way to your side of the bed, tugging on your waist before dragging you into his arms, “Alright let’s do this the hard way.”

You wiggled and squirmed in his arms as he carried you to the bathroom, “Just because you have to be somewhere doesn’t mean I do too!” You continued to object as he managed to turn the hot water in the shower on.

Rolling his eyes he huffed, though there was a note of amusement in his eyes as he replied, “And you don’t think it’s gonna look weird if I go and you don’t. I know my dad doesn’t really look like it but he catches onto stuff fast.”

Setting you down your legs instantly wobbled and your hips throbbed in pain, your intimates shot with dull pain as well as you stumbled slightly, Jungkook quickly keeping you steady against him as he went to work on your hair, “Well no offense but if I go I think that’s gonna make it all the more obvious.” You complained but didn’t pull away from his attentive fingers that massaged through your scalp. The gesture was unexpectedly domestic, Jungkook was certainly full of surprises, ones you weren’t sure if you were necessarily comfortable with. To be fair how could someone let him drill them and then say this was crossing the line?

“Only if you limp around.”

“Oh and who do you think made that happen?”

You scolded as he let out a laugh behind you, carefree and obviously not feeling guilty about it as he finished washing your hair. Letting you soak up the hot water as he presumably began working on his hair. You almost felt obliged to help but your legs stayed glued to their position, physical touch was never your strong suit anyways.

After getting out of the shower the pain in your legs had begun to fade and Jungkook had even got you some medicine to take, sighing as you went to trudge to your room, who would’ve known the black t shirt he wore to save you from so much embarrassment when you met would be the same one you’d wear back to your room.

Much to his whining as he wanted you to stay, you had rolled your eyes as you replied you’d be right back. Grabbing a new change of clothes and your pack of makeup as you came back. Phone in one hand and his towel in the other drying his damp hair as you went to the full length dresser mirror. Sitting down as you began to get to work on your neck.

The hickies were a deep purple splotched with a messy tone of pink and going nowhere anytime soon. You watched Jungkook peak at you in the mirror in curiosity as you called out, “Take a step back there bunny boy. Last time you got this close you ended up three fingers deep in me.”

“Funny you say that sense you were the one begging for it.” Your lips twisted into a pout as you whipped around glaring at him. Jungkook’s eyes crinkled with a shiteating grin on his face before pointing to your thighs, “Leave those.”

Squinting your eyes you rose them as you shook your head, “No, it’s hot and I’m wearing shorts today, that would just be embarrassing if not awkward to leave them.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to pout as his plump lips twisted frowning, obviously wanting you to having some sort of mark for showing except you didn’t do that. You’d rather die than do that. And it wasn’t him, it was just who you are as a person, “Besides if it matters that much to you I’m leaving the ones on my hips alone.”

You pressed the powder in place on your neck as you finished concealing the second on before moving to your thigh. Jungkook exaggeratedly sighed, flopping on the bed as he replied, “Not good enough, no one can see that.”

“That’s the point,” you replied dryly, “Didn’t you say it was better if Jimin didn’t know about what we did?” Come to think of it Jungkook did mention that last night, why would he say that if he wanted you to go out all marked up, “Also, wouldn't that make things real loud and clear to your dad?”

You watched him flop over on the bed as he huffed again not saying anything, looking like a broody child who had been told no. But when it came to logic and reason you had a point, and knowing you were right just amplified his brooding. Finishing you stood up before walking up, looking down at his sulking figure, “You know I’m right.”

“Shut up.”

His legs still on the ground, sprawled out and his arms over his head dramatically while laying down. He almost looked too cute for his own good but your mind was already in the gutter as you shrugged, “Well if it really means that much...” he suddenly popped up with parted lips and raised eyebrows at feeling you hovering over him hands on either side of his hips, “I can always make it up to you.”

Sighing he groaned, collapsing back on the bed as he closed his eyes, “We have to go in ten minutes.”

“Is that supposed to stop me?” You laughed letting your fingers trail down his hips making him stiffen slightly as they began to feather towards his thighs, “I mean unless you don’t want too. No harm done it’ll make eating ea-“

“Knees now.”

Watching the dent in his sweatpants begin to form as you laughed, a coy smirk on your lips as you sunk to your knees obediently. Letting your fingers trail his thighs palming over his length, feeling in twitch between the fabric as he stifled a moan, sighing with closed eyes before opening them, his eyes lidded and dark, hazy with the sudden lust as he commanded, “Go on babygirl, take it out, I know you wanna suck it.”

Curling your fingers around his sweatpants you managed to hook his boxers as well before sliding them down, his cock standing firm already aroused and ready for taking as you gently gripped the base pumping nice and slow as you took his tip.

Swirling and sucking it as you heard a string of small moans escape him, it was enough to get you rubbing your thighs together but you needed to stay focused. Ten minutes, you could do that.

Squeezing his base you pumped faster as you began to take him further in your mouth, which stretched in pain as you had briefly forgotten how big he was. Filling your entire mouth without room to spare he was already close to the back of your throat and you weren’t even half way down his length.

Feeling his fingers grip your hair as he began to force you to bob your head against his cock, “Mmm you’re such a good girl you know that? So willing to get on those pretty little knees to suck daddy’s cock.” As if your own arousal wasn’t enough you could hear painfully clear every word he spoke, “We have seven minutes so let daddy use your mouth, okay baby?”

You nodded, feeling your jaw began to ache and your eyes beginning to water as he stood up, quickly snapping his hips all the way down your throat making you gag as your nails dug down his hips.

The pain only motivated him to go rougher, as he roughly yanked your hair send a pain throbbing into your scalp as he continued to force his way down your small throat, your vision of him blurring from the watery eyes.

“You look so good taking my cock babygirl.” Jungkook praised quickening his pace, his voice strained and his grip on your hair tightened as his cock began to twitch again, “Keep gagging for daddy.”

It wasn’t hard to fill his request as he knocked in and out of your mouth roughly before feeling a hot string of release slip down your throat as he panted, running a hand through his hair as he let himself slip from your mouth, “Ah fuck you cant offer that when we have to go somewhere.” Jungkook groaned looking at his phone to check the time. Sitting back you wiped both your mouth and tears as you raised an eyebrow, looking awfully cocky for someone who had just got mouth fucked, “What did I do? We still have three minutes to spare.”

Extending a hand Jungkook helped you up, towering over you looking ready to take you against the wall despite not being able too, much to his frustration, “Yeah and it’s not enough time to take you over the dresser.” He huffed running a hand through his hair, “Later?” His expression softened slightly, as if suddenly unsure if you wanted that.

Shrugging you had went back to your pile of clothes, beginning to change, “If you’re still up for it, I’m not gonna say no to getting jack hammered.”

Jungkook had quickly pulled the shirt over his head, grabbing the white button up on the other side of the bed that had been abandoned, “I’m always up for it.” He smirked, eyes glued to your exposed body as you pulled the nice comfy dark plum panties up, “Nice ass by the way.”

Sighing you turned to face him, making that bunny grin appear as he finished buttoning his shirt, “What? I’m giving you a compliment. All I’m saying is you’d look better in a skirt.”

“Oh so you can try and get me off in front of everyone? No thank you.” You scoffed curving an eyebrow making his grin become more sheepish at his intentions suddenly being exposed. Making you realize that was exactly his plan as he gave you a wink, “And you think shorts would stop me?”

You puckered your lips together, squinting harshly as you crossed your arms, not saying anything despite your cheeks flaring with each passing moment, “Lets go, I’m starving.” You heard him bark out a laugh as you turned around resigned, unable to face him any longer at the idea of what he wanted to do. You wouldn’t have blew him had you known he was gonna try and repay the favor sooner than later.

“Your complexion looks so radiant Y/n! I knew this trip would be good for you,” Your mother chirped out smiling at you broadly as you glanced up from your plate, “You work yourself too much.”

Who was gonna tell her your complexion was post sex skin? Clearing your throat slightly as you gave an impish smile trying to force the vivid flashes from your mind, “It’s been nice, I won’t lie but I’m not gonna get carried away. You know I’ll be back at work soon.” You tsked as you leaned back in your seat, giving her a playful, but knowing look. Everyone seemed to resent the idea of you going back to work but it was work, what could you do? Even your mother sighed slightly, looking mildly saddened by your words making guilt gnaw in your stomach. This was her fairytale ending, not yours.

You weren’t interested in being whisked away into the high glamour and fast paced life of the rich. It sounded fun but was it really? Could it really beat pizza night and 3 am drunken shenanigans with your friends the rare moment you all had the night off. Could it really beat the electric neon light arcade room you loved visiting so much at dawn when you wanted nothing more then too sleep? Or the shitty bed and breakfast you stayed at when the weekends got too rough at your dads. There was so much more to life than wealth and power.

“Ah don’t worry about her Emi, she needs to make her own path in life. I quite admire that.” You couldn’t help but smile at Seung’s words as you shook your head, nodding towards him in agreement, at least someone seemed to understand, “Say you wouldn’t mind letting the girls keep us company today, would you Hwan?”

Hwan had those steel eyes that never seemed to melt, looking calculating before shrugging altogether though looking as if he wanted to say no. Did this guy ever cut loose? “Depends if the owners want the meeting to be private.” He glanced to Jungkook who had wedged himself between you and Jimin.

He had continuously fiddled with your thighs beneath the table, even now he stroked a long finger up the soft skin as you attempted to wrangle it beneath the white cloth, “Oh, he's quite the women lover, the more the merrier, you’ll be joining us, right Y/n?”

“Dunno,” you replied casually though your eyes looked ready to kill him as you grabbed his fingers beneath the table, squeezing them in a death grip as you gave a menacing grin, “Probably not, by the feel of it.”

No one else seemed to catch your innuendo or his slight wince, only for him to regain his cocky expression, leaning down slightly as the smirk coiled on his lips, “Feel of it huh?” You attempted to not jump in your seat at his fingers yanking from your grip to only squeeze the inside of your thigh harshly, “Come on, you’ll love it there,” You tried your best to not glare at him as his smirk widened, stroking the inside of your thigh higher and higher, “After all, you’re here to enjoy yourself, right?” This fucking brat.

Everyone seemed so oblivious to every double meaning of both of your words, Seung chimed in happily ignorant of your heated stares at each other, “Oh he’s right Y/n, it’s beautiful from what I’ve seen, you’ll love it there.”

Digging your nails into his hand caused him to jump back slightly, quickly crossing your legs tightly as you gave a sheepish smile, “Well I can’t refuse when you put it like that.”

Jungkook sat back triumphantly saying no more as breakfast continued on until you all eventually packed up to head out. You were positive Jimin didn’t know any better as to what you had been up too with his childhood friend but after feeling his tight grip curl around you waist, you had a distinct feeling he might’ve had some suspicions. Especially after the annoyed glance he gave Jungkook when he wedged himself in the seat between you both.

The trip to the business location was surprisingly painless, the entire trip was filled with chatter from both your mom and Jungkook’s mother, who you had quickly found out, despite her regal appearance she was incredibly soft spoken and sweet. Noting how Jungkook always seemed to have a soft expression when listening or speaking to her, only for it to harden when his father would join the conversation. They were definitely odd family dynamics but then again you remembered how bitter he seemed when talking about how controlling his dad was. You couldn’t necessarily relate, after all your dad was the exact opposite, he was utterly hands off your entire life unless he was provoked and even then that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

The estate was just as grand as everything else you had seen so far and even still it took your breath away, granted the more you looked at it, the more it sure did seem like some over glorified golf course, “Didn’t realize we were going to a mini golf course, I would’ve worn proper attire.” You snidely remarked to Jimin as you leaned close, you weren’t about to say that in front of everyone else but he seemed to always find your snarky comments amusing.

Jimin choked out a snicker as he shook his head, his black bangs waving as he glanced over at you in amusement, “Well the good news is it’s not. This is a getaway lounge. Loads to do once we get inside you’ll see.” Jimin handed you a flier as your eyes landed on the paper, opening it curiously only for your eyes to land on the prices. Who the hell could pay for this!?

“Getaway lounge? If you can afford something like this what do you people have to get away from?” You looked down in mild horror making him laugh again, obviously amused by your words.

Feeling an arm wrap around your shoulder loosely as Jimin shrugged, “Not necessarily a place to get away like it suggests. But sure does make a hell of a nice weekend off.”

“I’d say.” You scoffed out as you curved a brow, deciding to ignore his arm that had yet to remove itself from you. Finally getting out of the car you had put some distance between the both of you as you were guided inside the large building, “Anyways who’s spilling the bill for me if I’m gonna be doing stuff here?”

“Me of course, just call me daddy.” Jimin smirked down at you with a wink making your face curl inward sending him into a fit of laughter, it was so easy to tease you it was hard to resist the constant opening.

“Could you at least be honest and just say sugar daddy.” You groaned facepalming, your cheeks heating up despite you vehemently wanting nothing more than to brood in a corner, “Besides shouldn’t you be working a deal out or whatever with your-“ you weren’t sure what to call Jungkook and the others as you vaguely gestured over to them making Jimin give you an amused glance.

“Jungkook’s the broker here not me, I’m just here on visit. The owners a mutual friend of ours. My dad and Jeon are scouting for a new business contact which is why they’re here as well. Technically we’re all just observing the transaction.”

Suddenly coming along made a lot more sense as you nodded understandingly, before furrowing your brows as you tilted your head, “So shouldn’t you be...I don’t know? Observing?”

“I am from afar, it’s always more fun with company isn’t it?” Jimin leaned down slightly his lips tilting up as he curved an eyebrow, “Like you said, I’m practically your sugar daddy so my first responsibility is tending to you baby.”

You looked away from him, your face animatedly stoic despite the glow of your cheeks, “Don’t call me that.”

A deep laugh sounded from ahead making you glance up towards the noise, “Jimin that’s not very gentleman like of you.” You swallowed thickly closing your eyes, why the hell were there so many young rich guys? Not only that but this guy might as well have been carved out by god himself, his black hair was like silk and his cheekbones high set, eyes sultry and dark as he strode your way.

“Seokjin you’re one to talk huh.” Jimin replied snidely as he crossed his arms unimpressed, a hint of amusement in his eyes but his body appeared guarded. This must’ve been the owner of the property and the said mutual friend of him and Jungkook.

“Always,” Seokjin winked at him, obviously not taking him serious as he held out his hand to you, licking his lips as he introduced himself, “Kim Seokjin.”

Giving a sheepish smile you shook it as you fumbled out, “Uh- L/n Y/n, it’s nice to meet you! You...you didn’t hear all of that before- did you?” You backed up slightly feeling embarrassment washing over you after the look he gave you. He definitely had.

But Seokjin only gave a teasing smile as he stepped closer to you, making you attempt to practically hide behind Jimin, “I don’t judge. But I won’t lie- I’d make a much better sugar daddy if you’re ever in need.”

You had to turn away all together as he laughed, putting your hands in your face as you wanted to smash your head into the wall, seriously why was it always you? “Shit you’re right, she is cute to tease.”

“Seokjin she’s gonna file for sexual harassment if you keep it up.” A body suddenly stood in front of you, arms crossed and not looking as playful as his words should’ve been Jungkook gave a tense smile that didn’t meet his eyes, “Trust me, she would.”

“I’d probably lose if I tried.” You muttered under your breath as you fully turned to face them all again, glancing at Jungkook’s broad back. Always intervening now so it seemed, that probably wasn’t going to change for the rest of the week.

A bit odd though, you had a one night stand with him so his behavior was a bit possessive given the nature of your relationship. Or maybe he had just never been in a real relationship before or had an authentic friendship? It was difficult to tell. Peeping out from behind his back you’d definitely admit you felt safe from them behind him. And for that you’d give him credit, if he wanted Jungkook could easily come across as intimidating.

“For what? I was just throwing out a suggestion for her, she’s pretty cute- What? Don’t look at me like that Jungkook, not when-“ Seokjin had been cut off by the sound of the rest of your group noisily heading over, mainly the laughter coming from your and Jungkook’s mother. The conversation had seemingly been dropped at the sight of them as you had distanced yourself again from the three. You had all- thankfully- parted ways, Jimin just as he said kept you company granted you weren’t exactly alone sense you decided to stay with your mom and Soo Yun.

“I apologize we haven’t had a moment to speak Y/n,” You glanced up to the soft spoken voice of Soo Yun, she was so beautiful, it was obvious where Jungkook had inherited the majority of his good looks, his voice matched hers as well in angelic tone, “Jungkook’s been talking a great deal about you,” you furrowed your brows at her face suddenly twisting slightly, her eyes rather sad as she sighed, “Probably more than he should be. You’ll have to accept my apology on his behalf, he’s young and doesn’t really want to settle for his lot in life.”

Her words were odd, but ironically you vividly remembered the seamstress- Irene if you were correct, had said something along the same lines. What did everyone mean by that? You felt rather conflicted, Jungkook had warned you about Jimin but everyone who knew him, well it wasn’t necessarily a warning but it did make you wonder. You didn’t doubt those close to him for knowing how he must be. But the question was why? What was his problem? Pushing back thoughts of last night from your mind you gave a smile, “There’s no need to apologize! He’s a gentleman at heart, I feel like I should be the one apologizing honestly. I’m the only one who doesn’t seem to serve a purpose here.”

Soo Yun tsked at you, a warm smile etching on her thin lips, “I know you must feel like an outsider but please, don’t worry about it. I feel the same you know? I didn’t come from as low as your family but I definitely was never in this sort of class range.” She waved a hand as she mused her past, making you tilt your head in curiosity as she rambled on, “I’m incredibly lucky to have married Hwan but...” despite her words her smile was tense and didn’t meet her eyes, “To be honest money can’t buy happiness, it can buy a lot of things but not that. Even now I still feel out of place occasionally, that’s why I love your mother so much!” 

She finally chirped out giving a beaming smile that could challenge the sun in brightness, “She understands how I feel and in return I do for her as well. I’m quite blessed to have met her and you both! I’m looking forward to the future you know? I know you aren’t interested in pursuing this life- and I can’t blame you. But I hope to see you in the future.” Soo Yun had gave you such a sweet and genuine smile you were positive your entire heart was going to implode.

She suddenly looked vaguely embarrassed as she ruffled her hair, “Ah I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear an old cat ramble.”

Realizing Jungkook had inherited that trait from his mother in rambling, she had the same classic look on her face that made you smile endearingly, “No! Don’t apologize, it’s okay, it actually makes me feel a bit better. Everyone keeps trying to suck me into this but, I’m just happy where I am in life you know? I don’t live on a grand scale but I wouldn’t trade my life for any other.” You felt your shoulders relaxing at ease, Soo Yun had such a natural charm about her, it was hard not to smile with her, no wonder her and your mother got along so well.

“Then don’t let others push you into what they want,” Soo Yun gave you an encouraging nod, “Stay true to yourself and you’ll always find happiness.”

You gave a happy hum as silence setting in thinking about her words. You couldn’t help but wonder about her, she seemed so sweet and kind but so sad. Maybe melancholy was a better way to put it, as if she genuinely understood your situation, or at least to a degree. You’d heed her words though regardless because there was no way on this planet she could have any harmful intentions.

Eventually Jimin had finally budged enough to get you to part ways with the moms as you bid them farewell. He was currently taking you to the sauna room, one of his favorite places to go and clear his head apparently, “So you’re telling me you can just rent out a whole room?” You curved an eyebrow incredulously as Jimin nodded.

“Mhm what else would you do? That would be gross sharing a room with a stranger.” Jimin said it as if it was obvious, weaving his way through the halls as if it was a second home. You supposed if you lived your entire life loaded that was a genuine statement.

Licking your lips you finally gave an amused grin as you chuckled, his words sounded so absurd he really had no idea, did he? “Boy what would you do if I ever took you to a public sauna?”

Not that you had ever been to one yourself but it made you wanna go just for the reaction. Jimin rolled his eyes despite the smile placing on his lips Opening the door to the room he gestured you inside, “But you won’t, will you?”

Noticing this wasn’t the sauna room but a changing room as you shrugged, “I won’t, probably couldn’t afford even the public sauna but that’s a broke kids life. Might as well enjoy premium while I have the chance.” Walking behind the changing wall as you called out, “We’re not actually changing in the same room right?”

“We are.” Jimin confirmed and you could imagine the smirk on his lips as you sighed. Peeling your clothes off, you found the complementary white bikini hanging with a silky white robe. Pulling the thong like material up before strapping in the halter top. Wrapping the robe around yourself as you called out, “Does that mean we have to walk out looking like this?”

Walking out from your side you noticed Jimin was already changed, robe in hand but obviously not wearing it, trying to keep your eyes away from his toned abdominal as he curved an eyebrow amused, “Y/n the door to our room is right there, unless you’re into nudity...”

“Shut up.” You groaned facepalming as he laughed, leading the way to the door up ahead as before opening it. Hot steam wafting out instantly opening your pores as you breathed in deep, your skin automatically heating as you stepped in taking a seat.

Jimin shut the door as he shrugged, giving you a cheeky look as he replied, “So you do? Interesting I’ll keep that-“

“I don’t!” You snapped out flustered, sighing annoyed as you crossed your arms, “It’s the opposite really. The last thing I wanna do is walk around a huge building in a flimsy robe wearing a two piece underneath. Sweat has begun to build on your brow and your body temperature had jumped significantly.

“Two piece huh?” Jimin licked his lips, eyes narrowing slightly as if challenging as he asked, “Care to display for me?”

Crossing your legs you squeezed them slightly as you have a cautious look, “Nah, I'm good.” Wiping your face as you fanned yourself slightly, pulling your hair up into a bun as you felt tempted to go ahead and take the robe off due to the steam making it stick uncomfortably to your body.

Jimin sighed dramatically as if your concern for sleeping with him wasn’t that big of a deal. And you supposed it technically wasn’t but it still bugged you. He sat down next to you, legs opened naturally as he glanced at you, “Still on about the whole us being legally related huh.”

“It’s a valid reason!” You shouted throwing your hands up as you glanced at him raising your eyebrows, what was this guys deal? Did it really not bother him that he’d address you as family- at least in public? “That is an extremely valid reason.”

You suddenly pressed your back against the wall as Jimin lunged, kneeling down as he caged you between his arms as you swallows thickly, lips smirking as he replied, “Yeah but they’re not married yet.”

“Oh my god.” You sighed closing your eyes, you couldn’t tell if your body was hot from his words or the steam. Sweat trickling down your neck as his eyes festered on it, tsking as he leaned in close, “How long have you been hiding those from me hm? Getting busy without me?”

You felt confused for a minute before realizing the hickies you had covered this morning. Shit! The steam had definitely wiped the makeup clean leaving them exposed as you gave a cryptic though sheepish smile, “Lets just say for as busy as I am I can make time for myself on rare occasions.” It was a vague answer, one that would allude to you having gotten laid before you flew to Dubai.

Jimin shook his head, his hand slightly creeping up the inside of your leg making your body stir, “Oh yeah? Wanna tell me about it kitten?” You swallowed at the sudden pet name, what you should do is tell him to stop, that this was a bad idea and you should go. But out of morbid curiosity and arousal you stayed put, swallowing once more, “Well, it was good. Amazing actually, I came five times.” Your lips had twitched into a smirk.

“Five times huh?” Jimin mused, his hand massaging the inside of your thigh making core begin to throb in anticipation as he leaned in, “Wanna see if you can come six?”

This was your out, despite his predator like words it was also said as an ask for consent to go further. If you had any common sense- any decency you’d back out right now, “If you’re good enough.” Except at this point in your life, what wasn’t a mess? Might as well add one more thing on the list. Jimin’s lips coiled into a full smirk as he undid the tie of your robe. You quickly discarded it feeling temporary relief as your body was covered in a sheen of sweat but the heat of the steam had already overtook it once more.

Your mind was already hazy from it but Jimin’s hands on the inside of your thighs certainly helped, “Mmm kitten you’re already wet aren’t you? Look at you sitting there all excited,” You squirmed at feeling his hand abruptly grab against your crotch as if testing his words, wiggling as he slid it up your clothed slit, pressing lightly as the fabric glided back and forth with ease, “What a slut, already this wet and I’ve barely done a thing.” Jimin curved an eyebrow amusement written on his face as his hand continued to stroke your heat, fingers ghosting over your clothed clit occasionally though it never failed to make you bite your lip, “But you’re daddy’s little whore aren’t you?”

You nodded eagerly as you felt his fingers pull the bikini aside, letting his fingers coat themselves against your heat before roughly dragging against your clit making you moan out. Pinching the bud before hitting its sweet spot as you whimpered again Jimin’s gaze had turned merciless, “Tch What a greedy bitch, looking at you whining like a brat against me. Obviously he didn’t satisfy you enough. I’ve been waiting for this you know? That look on your face when I make you cum. Mm fuck and it looks good on you too.” 

He dragged his fingers down your slit pushing two fingers inside you, your tiny walls instantly clenching around him as you gasp before swallowing harshly, pumping his fingers agile as he leaned in, “Go on, beg for your orgasm you little slut, go on. I know you wanna cum on daddy’s fingers.”

Eagerly you sprung into action quickly bucking your hips as you rode his fingers complying, “Please let me cum daddy. I’m daddy’s little slut that wants to cum! Please daddy please!” You continued to beg feeling him add a third finger in approvingly as you whined, “Daddy oh god, I’m so close please let me cum!”

Jimin finally leaned in between your thighs as he replied, “Go on kitten come on daddy’s fingers. Such a good girl.” You almost screamed at feeling his tongue make its way onto your clit massaging the bud before giving it kitten licks. Clenching your walls around his fingers you moaned loudly, feeling the grip in your stomach build before quickly releasing as you whined, continuously bucking your hips into his fingers wanting more.

Fuck getting laid so much had made your body dust off its high libido, “Please let me cum again daddy! Please! I- I need too!” You whimpered out as Jimin chuckled, slowingly down his fingers to a rhythmic pump, “What a greedy whore, another orgasm already?” His mouth attached to your clit again sucking it harshly making you scream. Toes curling as your walls clenched against bucking yourself into him as you felt your second orgasm reach its peak. Jimin glanced up at you from between your legs pulling his fingers out as he darkly asked, “Did I say you could cum?”

Your legs shook and you realized what would come next as he sat down, pointing to his lap, “Over my lap. Now.” Shaking you had wiped the sweat from your face though it seemed futile as the steam wafted more, crawling over his lap you felt a large bulge on your stomach, “Ass up.”

Lifting up your butt you gave it a small wiggle only for a sting to throb against it as his hand smacked down harshly, jolting you whimpered again as he continued to spank you, “Touch yourself you filthy slut, sense you wanna cum that badly go on.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes as he spanked you again harsher than the last as you obediently let your hand crawl under you and under the bikini band. Letting your fingers toy with your clit as you sobbed out, feeling another harsh spank against your ass as you brushed your fingers over your overstimulated clit, “Keep rubbing you bitch.” He snapped out with another spank.

Whimpering you felt the pressure in your core build faster as your hands slid against the bud faster, feeling another sting against your ass as you bucked your hips, “Daddy- I’m- im going to cum- please let me!”

“Go on I know you’re a greedy whore, cum on daddy’s lap.” Jimin sneered out his hand harshly landing another blow on your ass, before grabbing your tied up hair and yanking it harshly. With his permission your legs had begun to shake and your moans heightened as you hit just the right spot on your clit to let the orgasm wave over you.

With one last smack he gave you a moment to recover, “Are you ready for daddy’s cock?”

“Y-yes.” You nodded slowly getting up from his lap, legs shaky but complying regardless. Jimin stood up, swooping down to pick you up by the ass. His body was just as hot as yours and the sweat against his body made his just as slippery pressing you against the wall as his lips went to your neck.

A loud ring suddenly jolted you both out of the steamy moment as you gaped slightly. Groaning Jimin slowly pulled from your neck, holding you propped against the wall in one hand as he shuffled the other one into the pocket of his swim bottoms, pulling his phone out as he asked somewhat annoyed, “Yeah? Right now?” He sighed though his nose sharply, “Doesn’t matter, we’ll be there.”

He hung up, glaring at his phone before putting it away, running a hand through his wet hair as he sighed, “Come on kitten, we’ll pick this up later.” He set you down as you steadied yourself against the wall. Glancing at him confused before finally asking, “What? Who was it?”

Jimin sighed exasperatedly as he replied, “My dad, everyone’s eating lunch right now. Apparently they were getting worried about us.”

Leaning against the wall you closed your eyes before muttering, “For good reason.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints from you.” Jimin grabbed your chin, leaning down slightly as he smirked, “Come on, let's go before they start looking for us.”

Nodding you went to grab your robe before making your way out of the room. Wobbling back to your changing station as you sighed, glancing down at all of the exposed hickies that had once been concealed. At least you were smart enough to bring a smaller makeup bag in your pursue. You worked deftly with your fingers as you didn’t pack any brushes but you did a good enough job for now. Running a hand through your hair as you sighed.

Maybe that was a sign from god you shouldn’t have said yes to him in the first place.

But shit, he was really good. You closed your eyes, face heating up again at all the degrading things he said, fuck it was still hot though. Sighing you shook your head, pulling out your phone to update your friends on your latest fuck up.

Putting it away you stood up before making your way to lunch with Jimin. Ironically after what had just happened you both seemed to converse as if nothing happened in the first place and you were grateful for that. Going out onto the terrace where everyone was laughing you gave an awkward smile as you waved, your mother grinning back as she waved you over, “Where were you? We were all getting worried!”

Taking a seat around the table facing the entrance you gave a small smile, “Oh, we just went to the sauna, nothing major. For my first time I’d say I can see why people go.” That was such a blatant lie but it rolled off your lips like it was the truth, you couldn’t even properly focus on the heat because of Jimin.

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying yourself!” Your mother shot back chipperly, genuinely happy to see you must’ve been enjoying yourself. And you definitely had, maybe a little too much.

Jungkook had been glancing at you appraisingly as if searching for any visible evidence for what you assumed was Jimin sleeping with you. You weren’t sure why though, he warned you not to get emotionally invested in Jimin right? Or was that just for sleeping with him? Would’ve been nice for him to at least clarify, “The sauna huh?” He echoed not looking incredibly impressed as he glanced at Jimin.

Who smugly shrugged, making you wanna wilt, if that wasn’t an unsaid ‘yeah I tapped that’ then you weren’t sure what was. Jungkook’s eyes were unreadable before he glanced back at you, “I’ll have to take you next then.”

You couldn’t look at either of them, an odd tension took over the table, for you at least as you felt two sets of eyes bore into you. Finally managing a tense awkward smile as you shrugged, “Yeah sure...” fumbling with your hands as you placed them in your lap. You were in for punishment big time. The bad news was that you weren’t sure from who.

The table was taken over by the leading conversation of the mothers thank god, Seokjin had sat at the table as well constantly chiming in making the women cackle and yourself included. Definitely a ladies man. Lunch was almost over when it happened.

The double doors of the terrace opened as a voice sounded, “Jungkook! I didn’t realize you were visiting.” You felt confused by her low tone, long legs striding in with a big grin but somehow it look menacing, her heels clicked on the ground beneath as everyone turned to face her. Quickly taking the empty seat next to him Jungkook’s eyes had widened before they suddenly darkened broody, “Jae you didn’t tell me you were telling here.” You felt confused for a minute at his tone, it was casual but in a way was guarded.

Jae- as she was called, laughed hooking her arms around his despite him not budging, “Sorry baby but my friends convinced me last minute-“ her eyes had somewhere along the lines of her sentence placed on you, as if sizing you up in one breath before she gave you the world's most intimidating smile, “Oh I’m sorry how rude of me to not introduce myself.”

You felt tense at her words, they were charismatic but also felt like they had a venomous undertone. Pulling your drink to your lips as you kept a poker face, she leaned forward slightly before a smirk curled on her face, “I’m Kang Jae, Jungkook’s fiancée.”

You spat out your drink coughing harshly as you raised your eyebrows, unsure if you actually heard her correct, “His what!?”

——

Note: and i oop- rip to mc lmao let the shit show commence 😌

Taglist: @sapphireprinces5 @jazzytfw @theslumberingcat @mrsfandomz 

(Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[yobaba30]

This.Is.Fucking>Brilliant.

On Sept. 1, with a Category 5 hurricane off the Atlantic coast, an angry wind was issuing from the direction of President Trump’s Twitter account. The apparent emergency: Debra Messing, the co-star of “Will & Grace,” had tweeted that “the public has a right to know” who is attending a Beverly Hills fund-raiser for Mr. Trump’s re-election.

“I have not forgotten that when it was announced that I was going to do The Apprentice, and when it then became a big hit, Helping NBC’s failed lineup greatly, @DebraMessing came up to me at an Upfront & profusely thanked me, even calling me ‘Sir,’ ” wrote the 45th president of the United States.

It was a classic Trumpian ragetweet: aggrieved over a minor slight, possibly prompted by a Fox News segment, unverifiable — he has a long history of questionable tales involving someone calling him “Sir” — and nostalgic for his primetime-TV heyday. (By Thursday he was lashing Ms. Messing again, as Hurricane Dorian was lashing the Carolinas.)

This sort of outburst, almost three years into his presidency, has kept people puzzling over who the “real” Mr. Trump is and how he actually thinks. Should we take him, to quote the famous precept of Trumpology, literally or seriously? Are his attacks impulsive tantrums or strategic distractions from his other woes? Is he playing 3-D chess or Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robots?

This is a futile effort. Try to understand Donald Trump as a person with psychology and strategy and motivation, and you will inevitably spiral into confusion and covfefe. The key is to remember that Donald Trump is not a person. He’s a TV character.

I mean, O.K., there is an actual person named Donald John Trump, with a human body and a childhood and formative experiences that theoretically a biographer or therapist might usefully delve into someday. (We can only speculate about the latter; Mr. Trump has boasted on Twitter of never having seen a psychiatrist, preferring the therapeutic effects of “hit[ting] ‘sleazebags’ back.”)

But that Donald Trump is of limited significance to America and the world. The “Donald Trump” who got elected president, who has strutted and fretted across the small screen since the 1980s, is a decades-long media performance. To understand him, you need to approach him less like a psychologist and more like a TV critic.

He was born in 1946, at the same time that American broadcast TV was being born. He grew up with it. His father, Fred, had one of the first color TV sets in Jamaica Estates. In “The Art of the Deal” Donald Trump recalls his mother, Mary Anne, spending a day in front of the tube, enraptured by the coronation of Queen Elizabeth in 1953. (“For Christ’s sake, Mary,” he remembers his father saying, “Enough is enough, turn it off. They’re all a bunch of con artists.”)

TV was his soul mate. It was like him. It was packed with the razzle-dazzle and action and violence that captivated him. He dreamed of going to Hollywood, then he shelved those dreams in favor of his father’s business and vowed, according to the book “TrumpNation” by Timothy O’Brien, to “put show business into real estate.”

As TV evolved from the homogeneous three-network mass medium of the mid-20th century to the polarized zillion-channel era of cable-news fisticuffs and reality shocker-tainment, he evolved with it. In the 1980s, he built a media profile as an insouciant, high-living apex predator. In 1990, he described his yacht and gilded buildings to Playboy as “Props for the show … The show is ‘Trump’ and it is sold-out performances everywhere.”

He syndicated that show to Oprah, Letterman, NBC, WrestleMania and Fox News. Everything he achieved, he achieved by using TV as a magnifying glass, to make himself appear bigger than he was.

He was able to do this because he thought like a TV camera. He knew what TV wanted, what stimulated its nerve endings. In his campaign rallies, he would tell The Washington Post, he knew just what to say “to keep the red light on”: that is, the light on a TV camera that showed that it was running, that you mattered. Bomb the [redacted] out of them! I’d like to punch him in the face! The red light radiated its approval. Cable news aired the rallies start to finish. For all practical purposes, he and the camera shared the same brain.

Even when he adopted social media, he used it like TV. First, he used it like a celebrity, to broadcast himself, his first tweet in 2009 promoting a “Late Show With David Letterman” appearance. Then he used it like an instigator, tweeting his birther conspiracies before he would talk about them on Fox News, road-testing his call for a border wall during the cable-news fueled Ebola and border panics of the 2014 midterms.

When he was a candidate, and especially when he was president, his tweets programmed TV and were amplified by it. On CNBC, a “BREAKING NEWS: TRUMP TWEET” graphic would spin out onscreen as soon as the words left his thumbs. He would watch Fox News, or Lou Dobbs, or CNN or “Morning Joe” or “Saturday Night Live” (“I don’t watch”), and get mad, and tweet. Then the tweets would become TV, and he would watch it, and tweet again.

If you want to understand what President Trump will do in any situation, then, it’s more helpful to ask: What would TV do? What does TV want?

It wants conflict. It wants excitement. If there is something that can blow up, it should blow up. It wants a fight. It wants more. It is always eating and never full.

Some presidential figure-outers, trying to understand the celebrity president through a template that they were already familiar with, have compared him with Ronald Reagan: a “master showman” cannily playing a “role.”

The comparison is understandable, but it’s wrong. Presidents Reagan and Trump were both entertainers who applied their acts to politics. But there’s a crucial difference between what “playing a character” means in the movies and what it means on reality TV.

Ronald Reagan was an actor. Actors need to believe deeply in the authenticity and interiority of people besides themselves — so deeply that they can subordinate their personalities to “people” who are merely lines on a script. Acting, Reagan told his biographer Lou Cannon, had taught him “to understand the feelings and motivations of others.”

Being a reality star, on the other hand, as Donald Trump was on “The Apprentice,” is also a kind of performance, but one that’s antithetical to movie acting. Playing a character on reality TV means being yourself, but bigger and louder.

Reality TV, writ broadly, goes back to Allen Funt’s “Candid Camera,” the PBS documentary “An American Family,” and MTV’s “The Real World.” But the first mass-market reality TV star was Richard Hatch, the winner of the first season of “Survivor” — produced by Mark Burnett, the eventual impresario of “The Apprentice”— in the summer of 2000.

Mr. Hatch won that first season in much the way that Mr. Trump would run his 2016 campaign. He realized that the only rules were that there were no rules. He lied and backstabbed and took advantage of loopholes, and he argued — with a telegenic brashness — that this made him smart. This was a crooked game in a crooked world, he argued to a final jury of players he’d betrayed and deceived. But, hey: At least he was open about it!

While shooting that first season, the show’s crew was rooting for Rudy Boesch, a 72-year-old former Navy SEAL and model of hard work and fair play. “The only outcome nobody wanted was Richard Hatch winning,” the host, Jeff Probst, would say later. It “would be a disaster.” After all, decades of TV cop shows had taught executives the iron rule that the viewers needed the good guy to win.

But they didn’t. “Survivor” was addictively entertaining, and audiences loved-to-hate the wryly devious Richard the way they did Tony Soprano and, before him, J.R. Ewing. More than 50 million people watched the first-season finale, and “Survivor” has been on the air nearly two decades.

From Richard Hatch, we got a steady stream of Real Housewives, Kardashians, nasty judges, dating-show contestants who “didn’t come here to make friends” and, of course, Donald Trump.

Reality TV has often gotten a raw deal from critics. (Full disclosure: I still watch “Survivor.”) Its audiences, often dismissed as dupes, are just as capable of watching with a critical eye as the fans of prestige cable dramas. But when you apply its mind-set — the law of the TV jungle — to public life, things get ugly.

In reality TV — at least competition reality shows like “The Apprentice” — you do not attempt to understand other people, except as obstacles or objects. To try to imagine what it is like to be a person other than yourself (what, in ordinary, off-camera life, we call “empathy”) is a liability. It’s a distraction that you have to tune out in order to project your fullest you.

Reality TV instead encourages “getting real.” On MTV’s progressive, diverse “Real World,” the phrase implied that people in the show were more authentic than characters on scripted TV — or even than real people in your own life, who were socially conditioned to “be polite.” But “getting real” would also resonate with a rising conservative notion: that political correctness kept people from saying what was really on their minds.

Being real is not the same thing as being honest. To be real is to be the most entertaining, provocative form of yourself. It is to say what you want, without caring whether your words are kind or responsible — or true — but only whether you want to say them. It is to foreground the parts of your personality (aggression, cockiness, prejudice) that will focus the red light on you, and unleash them like weapons.

Maybe the best definition of being real came from the former “Apprentice” contestant and White House aide Omarosa Manigault Newman in her memoir, “Unhinged.” Mr. Trump, she said, encouraged people in his entourage to “exaggerate the unique part of themselves.” When you’re being real, there is no difference between impulse and strategy, because the “strategy” is to do what feels good.

This is why it misses a key point to ask, as Vanity Fair recently did after Mr. Trump’s assault on Representative Elijah E. Cummings and the city of Baltimore in July, “Is the president a racist, or does he just play one on TV?” In reality TV, if you are a racist — and reality TV has had many racists, like Katie Hopkins, the far-right British “Apprentice” star the president frequently retweets — then you are a racist and you play one on TV.

So if you actually want a glimpse into the mind of Donald J. Trump, don’t look for a White House tell-all or some secret childhood heartbreak. Go to the streaming service Tubi, where his 14 seasons of “The Apprentice” recently became accessible to the public.

You can fast-forward past the team challenges and the stagey visits to Trump-branded properties. They’re useful in their own way, as a picture of how Mr. Burnett buttressed the future president’s Potemkin-zillionaire image. But the unadulterated, 200-proof Donald Trump is found in the boardroom segments, at the end of each episode, in which he “fires” one contestant.

In theory, the boardroom is where the best performers in the week’s challenges are rewarded and the screw-ups punished. In reality, the boardroom is a new game, the real game, a free-for-all in which contestants compete to throw one another under the bus and beg Mr. Trump for mercy.

There is no morality in the boardroom. There is no fair and unfair in the boardroom. There is only the individual, trying to impress Mr. Trump, to flatter Mr. Trump, to commune with his mind and anticipate his whims and fits of pique. Candidates are fired for giving up advantages (stupid), for being too nice to their adversaries (weak), for giving credit to their teammates, for interrupting him. The host’s decisions were often so mercurial, producers have said, that they would have to go back and edit the episodes to impose some appearance of logic on them.

What saves you in the boardroom? Fighting. Boardroom Trump loves to see people fight each other. He perks up at it like a cat hearing a can opener. He loves to watch people scrap for his favor (as they eventually would in his White House). He loves asking contestants to rat out their teammates and watching them squirm with conflict. The unity of the team gives way to disunity, which in the Trumpian worldview is the most productive state of being.

And America loved boardroom Trump — for a while. He delivered his catchphrase in TV cameos and slapped it on a reissue of his 1980s Monopoly knockoff Trump: The Game. (“I’m back and you’re fired!”) But after the first season, the ratings dropped; by season four they were nearly half what they were in season one.

He reacted to his declining numbers by ratcheting up what worked before: becoming a louder, more extreme, more abrasive version of himself. He gets more insulting in the boardroom — “You hang out with losers and you become a loser”— and executes double and quadruple firings.

It’s a pattern that we see as he advances toward his re-election campaign, with an eye not on the Nielsen ratings but on the polls: The only solution for any given problem was a Trumpier Trump.

Did it work for “The Apprentice”? Yes and no. His show hung on to a loyal base through 14 seasons, including the increasingly farcical celebrity version. But it never dominated its competition again, losing out, despite his denials, to the likes of the sitcom “Mike & Molly.”

Donald Trump’s “Apprentice” boardroom closed for business on Feb. 16, 2015, precisely four months before he announced his successful campaign for president. And also, it never closed. It expanded. It broke the fourth wall. We live inside it now.

Now, Mr. Trump re-creates the boardroom’s helter-skelter atmosphere every time he opens his mouth or his Twitter app. In place of the essentially dead White House press briefing, he walks out to the lawn in the morning and reporters gaggle around him like “Apprentice” contestants awaiting the day’s task. He rails and complains and establishes the plot points for that day’s episode: Greenland! Jews! “I am the chosen one!”

Then cable news spends morning to midnight happily masticating the fresh batch of outrages before memory-wiping itself to prepare for tomorrow’s episode. Maybe this sounds like a TV critic’s overextended metaphor, but it’s also the president’s: As The Times has reported, before taking office, he told aides to think of every day as “an episode in a television show in which he vanquishes rivals.”

Mr. Trump has been playing himself instinctually as a character since the 1980s; it’s allowed him to maintain a profile even through bankruptcies and humiliations. But it’s also why, on the rare occasions he’s had to publicly attempt a role contrary to his nature — calling for healing from a script after a mass shooting, for instance — he sounds as stagey and inauthentic as an unrehearsed amateur doing a sitcom cameo.

His character shorthand is “Donald Trump, Fighter Guy Who Wins.” Plop him in front of a camera with an infant orphaned in a mass murder, and he does not have it in his performer’s tool kit to do anything other than smile unnervingly and give a fat thumbs-up.

This is what was lost on commentators who kept hoping wanly that this State of the Union or that tragedy would be the moment he finally became “presidential.” It was lost on journalists who felt obligated to act as though every modulated speech from a teleprompter might, this time, be sincere.

The institution of the office is not changing Donald Trump, because he is already in the sway of another institution. He is governed not by the truisms of past politics but by the imperative of reality TV: never de-escalate and never turn the volume down.

This conveniently echoes the mantra he learned from his early mentor, Roy Cohn: Always attack and never apologize. He serves up one “most shocking episode ever” after another, mining uglier pieces of his core each time: progressing from profanity about Haiti and Africa in private to publicly telling four minority American congresswomen, only one of whom was born outside the United States, to “go back” to the countries they came from.

The taunting. The insults. The dog whistles. The dog bullhorns. The “Lock her up” and “Send her back.” All of it follows reality-TV rules. Every season has to top the last. Every fight is necessary, be it against Ilhan Omar or Debra Messing. Every twist must be more shocking, every conflict more vicious, lest the red light grow bored and wink off. The only difference: Now there’s no Mark Burnett to impose retroactive logic on the chaos, only press secretaries, pundits and Mike Pence.

To ask whether any of this is “instinct” or “strategy” is a parlor game. If you think like a TV camera — if thinking in those reflexive microbursts of adrenaline and testosterone has served you your whole life — then the instinct is the strategy.

And to ask who the “real” Donald Trump is, is to ignore the obvious. You already know who Donald Trump is. All the evidence you need is right there on your screen. He’s half-man, half-TV, with a camera for an eye that is constantly focused on itself. The red light is pulsing, 24/7, and it does not appear to have an off switch.

[xpouii]

JSE Day 5: Stories Untold

Day 5 of the JSE artists prompts 2019 (by @septic-bella​ )

               Chase woke up to a silent house, checking the time again to see if he’d fallen out of bed incredibly early. After a stop in the bathroom, he strolled into the kitchen and started coffee. The hangover was mild, almost all of them were, unless he outdid himself. It was the functioning part of his functioning alcoholism. Chase stood in front of the sink, squinting at the sunlight streaming in the window and scratching himself with a yawn. He turned around as Henrik stepped into the kitchen and his mouth snapped shut. Henrik smiled, and Chase shoved his hands in his pockets, “Schneep? Is that really you?”

               “Good morning, Chase,” Henrik said. “Hard night?”

               Chase laughed nervously, fixing his hat, “Yeah they usually are. It’s good to see you, man. When did you get back?”

               “Late last night, I’m afraid I kept the others up too late,” Henrik said.

               “Things could use some shaking up around here,” Chase said, “So, how was the vacation?”

               Henrik chuckled, “Not as good as the last one, but I suppose that’s to be expected. How has your health been? Your mental health?”

               Chase leaned against the counter, “I haven’t tried to off myself again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

               “It isn’t,” Henrik said. “If you’re depression is-“

               “I’m fine, Henrik,” Chase interrupted, then his expression softened. “I promise. I’ve got things under control.”

               Henrik wanted to say more, but he let it go, and Chase busied himself with the coffee. As Henrik poked around the fridge, Jackie and Marvin came down the hall, engrossed in conversation. Both fell silent when they saw Chase, and the tension was obvious. “Morning,” Marvin said, side-eyeing Jackie.

               “How’d you sleep, Chase?” Jackie asked, meeting Marvin’s gaze and shrugging.

               “Same as usual,” Chase said, glancing over his shoulder. “Morning.”

               Marvin excused himself subtly, ducking back down the hallway. If Chase noticed the tension, he didn’t let on, “Who wants breakfast?” Jackie offered.

               “I’m alright, thanks,” Chase said.

               Marvin came back with Jameson and they sat silently on the couch; Jackie exchanged looks with Henrik and the doctor nodded, “Chase? We were all wanting to sit down and talk. Now that we’re all up, what do you say?”

               “Sure thing,” Chase said. He poured his coffee and then turned around, stiffening slightly when he noticed all eyes on him. “Anything in particular?”

               Jackie moved to sit on the arm of the couch, next to Marvin, and Henrik took the spot beside Jameson, “Why don’t you sit down, Chase?”

               Chase walked reluctantly into the living room, setting his cup on the coffee table and folding his arms, “I’ll just stand. Been lying down all night, right?”

               “We’ve just been worried,” Jackie said, putting on his most diplomatic tone. “About you. You’ve been working yourself a little hard and, well, maybe you’ve been depending a little bit too much on the whisky.”

               “It’s a medical problem,” Henrik said. “It isn’t your fault. It’s a disease.”

               Chase stood dumbly in the middle of the living room, staring at them, “What?”  

               “We just want you to be healthy,” Jackie said. “We’ll do whatever you need, anything you ask.”

               “Except mind your own damn business,” Chase said. “Not one of you ever even offered to help me—to do the videos. None of you even can! Nobody complained about this while Schneep was gone, so now that we have somebody who can handle me I have to stop drinking? Fuck you, Jackie!”

               “Chase!” Marvin scolded. “We’re all worried about you! The only reason we waited is because we wanted to be a united front.”

               “United front? What is this, a war to you?” Chase ran his hands through his hair, knocking his hat to the floor. “I can’t do this. Ok? I can’t fucking do this.”

               He left the room before anyone else could speak, disappearing into his room and slamming the door. The others sat in a pregnant silence for a moment before Henrik sighed and stood up, grabbing Chase’s hat off of the floor, “I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.”

               Chase was in his room going through bottles when Henrik knocked and stepped inside. He growled in frustration and threw one of the empties against the wall, “Fuck!”

               Henrik cleared his throat, holding out Chase’s hat. “Let’s go see Jack.” 

               Chase looked at him, his mind working like a mess of rusted gears, but he nodded finally, walking over and taking his hat, “I’m out of booze anyway.”

               Henrik stared at the gray sky, having pulled over for the second time to let Chase throw up, “It’s only been eleven hours, you said?”

               “Yeah,” Chase grunted, spitting and wiping his mouth. “And twenty-three minutes.”

               “I can prescribe you something for-“

               “No,” Chase said, climbing back into the doctor’s car.

               Henrik sighed and got in, starting the car, “It isn’t easy to take care of people who won’t accept your advice.”

               Chase smiled, “I’ll take your advice, Schneep, just not your pills.”

               The hospital put them both on edge, and Henrik felt naked without his lab coat, but they had more important matters than his job to worry about. Henrik stopped at the nurse’s station to get all of Jack’s updated information, but Chase continued on without him. The room was dark, only a single lamp in the corner of the room was on, just enough for the nurses to do their job. Jack was paler than Chase remembered, and when he reached to take Jack’s hand, he noticed cloth restraints around his wrists. He frowned, “It probably won’t do any good to tell you to wake up, huh?”

               Henrik swept into the room with a chart, “How is he?”

               Chase smiled at the pleasantry; Henrik already knew far more than he did, “Did they mention they tied him down?”

               “He’s been having the occasional seizure,” Henrik said. “Not uncommon, but the first two times he pulled out his IV.”

               “Seizures? What does that mean? Is he getting better or getting worse?”

               “All of the tests are still coming out normal, normal brain stem, normal nervous reflexes, pupils normal, no posturing. His gag reflex is still intact. There is no medical reason for this coma.”

               “We all know the reason,” Chase muttered, gently moving Jack’s hair out of his face with a trembling hand. “So what’s with the seizures?”

               Henrik put down the chart and rubbed at his temples, “Chase, while I was on vacation, I saw Anti.”

               Chase looked up, “You saw him?”

               “He came after me, told me to come home,” Henrik said. “At least I think that’s what he meant. Then, when I got here, Jackie had bruises on his throat, fingerprint bruises.”

               “Christ,” Chase whispered. “He’s coming back.”

               “He never left,” Henrik said. “And running away from him was the stupidest thing I could have done. We need to stick together, not fall apart.”

               Chase nodded, but his vision was swimming, and he quickly excused himself to the bathroom; the muffled sound of his heaving made Henrik sigh, exasperated. He walked to the bathroom doorway, leaning against it, “I suppose you could always vomit on Anti. That would certainly make me second guess attacking you.”

               Chase glared over his shoulder, “Maybe we shouldn’t be joking about him. It sure pissed him off last time.”

               Henrik rolled his eyes, “Ja, nobody knows that more than I do. Get yourself together before we have to start running for our lives again. Take the verdammt pills, Chase.”

               “You know,” Chase said, flushing the toilet and moving to the small sink to rinse out his mouth, “You’re awful cute when you swear at me in German.”

               Henrik’s stern expression softened and he chuckled, “I’ll call the meds in to the pharmacy here, and you’re going to detox in my lab. I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

               Chase raised his hands in surrender, “It’s not like I have anything going on. Oh, except for a livestream next weekend.”

[romchomp]

That One Track from your favorite romance anime

So, I’m a whore for soundtracks. The amount of hours I’ve spent listening to various soundtracks is in the hundreds. Something I’ve noticed in discussions about good anime soundtracks is that romances are often left out, with the exception of Clannad and Your Lie in April. So here I am, ready to take the task nobody requested.

Before I start listing animes and their soundtracks I’d  like to first say that the thing about scores in anime, movies, video games, and even tv shows is that they usually have one track that’s easy to identify (ie. a theme song, a track that plays during a progression/training scene or a track that plays during the climax, etc.). Depending on the tone and atmosphere of the series, this track could be sad, fun, a mesh of the two, or something beyond those lines. Regardless it should affect how you feel and be memorable. So in this post, I’m talking about different romance anime and what I think is** that one track** from them.

**Because I’ve had troubles embedding the tracks into this post I’ll just leave a link to a playlist I made with all the tracks used on soundcloud and youtube**

1. Toradora- Lost My Pieces

There are a lot of tracks from Toradora that I adore, including Yuugure No Yakusoku and Ameiro Rondo. What makes Lost My Pieces work out, however, is the fact that it plays at the climax of the series and stands for a mental shift in the main character as well as a tonal shift in the series. What else is interesting is that this is the only time the track is ever played in Toradora. It really shows how effective it was, considering the track's popularity. When most people think of Toradora’s soundtrack they’ll think of Lost My Pieces. This is certainly** that one track** that will make you...feel things.

2. Clannad- Roaring Tides

This one is probably more arguable considering how many tracks in Clannad are severe tear jerkers. Personally, Roaring Tides has always been that one track in Clannad that would without a doubt fuck me up. There’s just something about that piano...and the...everything. It’s a very dramatic piece and man is it good at heightening the drama in Clannad. Of course, Nagisa and SnowFeild are very close seconds and I can’t forget to mention Town, Flow of Time, People; or Existence; or the goddamn ending Dango Daikazoku (why does this show hate us).

3. Fruits Basket (2001)- Secret

Fruits Basket has a generally wacky soundtrack that covers a variety of tones. However, if there is one track that could be associated with the darker moments in the anime, one that always played when one of the characters talked in depth about the zodiac curse, it’s Secret. This track is a little different from the ones in Toradora and Clannad though. This one’s purpose isn’t to make the viewer cry. I think the track only has that effect from a nostalgic standpoint; listening to the track on its own after the fact adds quite a bit of feeling to this one. Secret is more or less, meant to set the atmosphere. That, put together with how often the track was used, makes it one of the more memorable ones. I can't wait to add the reboot to this list.

4. Nana- Akai Ren

Nana’s soundtrack doesn’t get talked about that often even among its fans. I’m not talking about the vocal pieces that were played by Black Stones or Trapnest, but the background osts. The reason for this probably has to do with 1) the songs sung by Black Stones and Trapnest are on a separate CD than the background tracks and 2) there are a whopping 43 tracks on the CD of background tracks. Regardless, there are a number of tracks that stuck with me even after finishing the show and the best example of this would be Akai Ren, which made me cry EVERY SINGLE TIME it played. That piano still haunts me. What also haunts is the second ending, Starless Night. That one’s a close second.

5. Anohana- Secret Base

I’ve been avoiding using the openings and endings on this list, but I’ll make an exception for Secret Base considering it plays like a track in the background for emotional scenes on several occasions. I was considering using Last Train Home instead, but that track just...doesn’t hit the same way and isn't utilized nearly as often as Anohana's ed. Secret Base also has the advantage of not being played in its entirety until the most climatic and emotional part in the series (as if just a few seconds of the song wasn’t already enough).

6.  Your Lie in April- My Friend A Will Be My Accompanist

We all know the soundtrack for Your Lie in April is amazing. Whether it be the classical pieces performed by characters or the rest of the soundtrack that’s left for the background, but I think My Friend A is a particular track that’s memorable and easy to listen to on its own. It plays often throughout the show and because of that, I think it’s the most identifiable piece in the series. My Friend A is beautiful. It doesn’t even need the context of the show to make it an emotional listening experience. If anything this gives context to the show.

7. My Little Monster- Tetsukazu no Kanjou

Not as much of a tear jerker as it is just an adorable track that I often come back to. Maybe it’s a more of a track that elicits happy tears? My Little Monster’s soundtrack reminds me of Toradora’s in the sense that they both have fun scores that feature mostly quirky tracks with a few emotional ones sprinkled in. For this series,  it’s emotional one is Tetsukazu no Kanjou, which the show utilizes quite well. It often plays when the audience discovers something new about a character or see an emotional shift in them.

8. Snow White with the Red Hair- Reconciliation: The Beginning of Two People

The best word to describe Shirayuki’s soundtrack would be magical; it's a true fantasy romance score. I was hesitant to mention this soundtrack at all because at first I felt that while Reconciliation is a gorgeous piece, it’s not overwhelmingly emotional, but I’m listening to it right now and have realized that uhhh it’s very emotional and I don’t know what I was thinking. And looking back, this track in specific added a lot to scenes and did, in fact, bring up several emotions. While (maybe) not tear-jerking, the track would definitely have you gushing at how sweet and precious the main couple is.

9. Bloom Into You- Earnest Wish

You know, you hear a lot of piano in romance series. A lot of violin. A lot of flute. But  clarinet? That's not as common.  This track really makes you wish there was more luckily, a lot of the other pieces on Bloom Into You's soundtrack also have clarinet in them. Anyways, any moment Earnest Wish started playing...I knew shit was about to go down. There was usually some dramatic wind (oftentimes blowing Touka’s hair) when it started playing. Something new would be revealed about the character's backstory or their insecurities. Good piece. Very good piece.

10. Kanon- Winter Fireworks

Kanon has the misfortune of forever being compared to Clannad and living in its shadow. Something I think, however, that doesn’t deserve to be compared to Clannad would be Kanon’s soundtrack. Its score is unique and successfully conveys a winter essence. Winter Fireworks is the best example, but there are so many other amazing tracks. I just [making aggressive hand gestures] really love it.

11. Your Name- Sparkle

Your Name is really good at using its score to accelerate emotional scenes and generally flow with the mood of the film. Its best example of this would be Sparkle, which plays at the climax and man does it work. The pace of the track has the perfect amount of energy to go along with a beautiful running sequence that was emotional as all hell.

So far I have only talked about tear-jerker tracks, but romances are also completely capable of having a track memorable by how warm and happy it is.

12. Toradora (again)- Startup

Startup is probably the easiest to remember/call out but I think Happy Monday is a really close second that no one talks about. Startup is used similarly to Lost My Pieces, though more often. Where Lost My Pieces plays at an emotional climax, representing a progression in the characters, Startup always plays when one of the main characters is making a stride to better themselves or their situation (hence, progressing the story). It’s a great track and does its job well.

13. Kaichou wa Maid Sama- Main Theme

Man, I could dance to this track. I remember always feeling giddy when this track started playing. You knew things were about to get exciting. It’s the perfect amount of fun and cheesy for a hilarious and sweet shoujo such as Maid Sama.

14. Princess Jellyfish- Umi to Tsuki no Yume

While it’s hard to stream the entirety of Princess Jellyfish’s soundtrack for free, there are a few tracks that are easily accessible on youtube. Umi to Tsuki no Yume is one of them and lucky for me, it’s one of my favorite tracks as well as one that seemed to stick out to others as well. It’s very befitting of the show’s flamboyant yet down to earth atmosphere.

15. His and Her Circumstances- Peace Reigns in the Land

I love every track from Kare Kano but this one especially left a mark on me. There’s plenty of lovely piano pieces that you could you point to as that one track but I personally find the tracks with trumpet solos and soft drums to be the charming point in its score. Peace Reigns in the Land normally plays sometime during the beginning of episodes and really leaves you feeling like everything is gonna be okay. As for accessibility to the soundtrack, there are a few tracks you can find on Youtube and I managed to find the entirety of the soundtrack here on Soundcloud uploaded only five days ago (so who knows how long it'll be up).

16. Nisekoi- Meirou

Nisekoi’s production value was always too good for its own good and its soundtrack is no exception. I was torn between a number of tracks from Nisekoi to mention. Should I go with the sweet and warm Lost of Words that reminds me of summer? Or the fun and goofy Meirou I can still remember playing at the end of each episode years after watching? Or what if I go with the more bleak Nikuhaku to represent that one track that stuck out in the series? Well. It’s Meirou. Hate to be anticlimactic, but Meirou captures the tone and atmosphere of the series better than any other track in the series. It's sweet but in a ridiculous kind of way.

17. Honey and Clover- Be Careful of Being Tricked!

I absolutely adore Honey and Clover’s soundtrack. It has an interesting range of instruments that gives it a unique charm. Be Careful of Being Tricked is no exception with its use of bongos, the organ, and acoustic guitar along with humming... It’s a good time. Bon Bon Bereppa was another track I thought of using for this list. Both tracks scream "How did I get myself in this situation?". It was really hard to pick one over the other, to be honest. It came down to the organ.

18. Lovely Complex- Orchestra Na Risa

Generally, the score of Lovely Complex is goofy and a riot to listen to on its own. Orchestra Na Risa is one of the slower pieces, and a touching one at that. Somehow it manages to feel sweet and whimsical while still fitting in with all the other ridiculous tracks and antics in the show itself.

Honorable mentions??

Doukyuusei (the whole thing tbh)

From Up on Poppy Hill- Kokurikozaka kara (theme song)

Air TV- Natsukage

Yosuga no Sora- Kioku

Now there are plenty of romance anime I have yet to watch and I hope many of them will make me think to myself "Wow, this would've made a great addition to that blog post I made about romance anime with good soundtracks". There are certain anime I’m even prepared for. But for now, I’m just writing about what I already know [it’s not a lot].

Here is a playlist of the all the tracks I listed in this blog post and here's a playlist I made of all my favorite romance anime tracks that you can check out if you feel inclined.

[cleverbroadwayurl]

Nobody Needs to Know (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt 18)

Song: Nobody Needs to Know from The Last Five Years

Word Count: 5984

Need to Catch Up? PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10 PART 11 PART 12 PART 13 PART 14 PART 15 PART 16 PART 17 

Want More? PART 19

A/N: I did it! I’m not sure how, but I did it!! Yay!! Here’s Part 18, I hope everyone enjoys, I tried to add some cute moments! Let me know if you’re looking for the link to the Part 15 Supplement Can’t Help Falling in Love! 

Trigger Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of abuse, self depreciating, mentions of an abusive boyfriend, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED SOMETHING ASAP 

Taglist: @catatonic-kuragin @be-more-heidi-hansen @retrogarden @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @bluhimaweirdo @stargirl-murphy (happy late birthday btw!!) 

Jeremy gave a laugh for the first time that night before following Michael out through the doors they had before, high fiving and smiling all the way to the cruiser that had sat innocently outside the emergency room for hours. Yeah, things were going to be just fine.

Jeremy sat in the gazebo, the same one that he’d been watching not so long ago while he was waiting for you on top of a blanket, supplies in the back of his car for anything and everything—except what had actually happened. You’d asked him there this time, promising to show up when you could, telling him that sometimes your follow up appointments went longer than they were scheduled. As much as he wanted to be calmer than the last time, he discovered that he couldn’t. The fears were there, this time the reality of danger and the events had been encrypted into his daydreams. His hands were sweaty perpetually, almost like every time he attempted to get rid of the moisture, it would just come back with full force, seemingly worse than it had been the last time. He also can’t stop from fidgeting, fingers hitting the white painted wooden bench in the gazebo to playing with the loose thread on his jeans, to just plain running his hands across one another. Maybe that’s how he’d realized the sweat being worse than normal.

He decides it would be a good idea to shift his focus to other things in the park. It would distract him from being worried about you, every minute that you could be late could be another hurtful thing that’s happening; unable to be controlled and unable to keep you safe like he’d promised to do so long ago. Jeremy notices a man jogging amidst the trees, briskly keeping his heartrate up and Jeremy is sure he can see a Fitbit on the guy’s wrist, marking time, keeping up, noting every little thing that the jogger is doing. He shifts his eyes somewhere else, quickly noticing a golden retriever running with its owner and playing fetch. He smiles at the dog, relaxing a little bit as they jump and bark at their owner, almost begging to throw the ball again. And as much as he loved watching the dog; as much as it calmed him down, he made a note to point it out to you when you got there. Jeremy knows how much you’d love the dog, he can practically see eyes shining and your smile wide as you talk about how adorable they are.

He’s early; but that’s what Jeremy wanted. Follow up appointments aren’t fun, and he knows that you’d probably been told to rest, that a lot happened, and in order to heal properly, you’d need some time just napping, sitting, and laying around for a bit. Even if you hadn’t been told to rest and to take some time for yourself, Jeremy would be the biggest advocate for it. He’d played Night in the Woods, knowing that Mae can’t even eat solid food when she first gets home. Sure, this was fact and not fiction, but it was better to rest for a long time than to hurt yourself more because you thought you were okay. And there’s a tugging at Jeremy, knowing that if you’re late, he’d understand completely. The last time he’d been left in the park wasn’t your fault, as much as you wanted to put the blame on yourself. But it wasn’t, and if he was honest, the only thing Jeremy wanted was to keep you safe and happy. If you bailed last second because you were just too weak? He’d understand and just go home, maybe facetime you later if you really wanted to talk.

That, and it’s a nice day. The golden hour was just beginning, light blues and bright yellow sunrays now turning golden with each passing minute in the warm summer evening. Jeremy smiles to himself—you were definitely going to point out that it was the golden hour and how much you loved everything completely basked in the light of day, summer nights being almost as beautiful as the mornings when you wake up by yourself and enjoy a cup of coffee while waiting for the rest of the world to awaken. It’s peaceful, almost tranquil in the morning, and frankly, at the park. Maybe warmer, maybe more humid, but the idea was there, summer grills just beginning to be fired up in the distance around the suburban area. He wipes his hands on his jeans again.

Jeremy pulls out his phone, checking the time. It’s still 5 minutes before the range of times you said you’d be there, but he decides to look at the text you’d sent again. It was evidence, something that was real. This time you’d asked him to the park to talk and spend time with good company. Or at least, he assumed you liked him, given all the time you’d spent together. His eyes dance over the text, heating racing at the thought of spending more time with you before leaving for college.

You: Hey! I was released yesterday and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out? I want to make things up, but if you don’t, I totally understand!

His heart does a flip as he locks his phone; back into his dark wash jean pocket it goes. Jeremy had decided to wear the same outfit Brooke had recommended before; it was easy, the clothes were recently washed, and he didn’t have to ask for more help. There was also the added fact that Brooke probably knew you’d been hospitalized and might want details that Jeremy can barely keep a secret from any wondering questions. It was easier this way. Keeping this meeting as secretive as he could might keep you safe for longer than it would if anyone except Michael, his dad, and honestly probably Mrs. and Mrs. Mell knew it.

A breeze passes through and the leaves shake a little bit, sun streaming through each leaf and making it glow, the clapping washing through the area. Jeremy eyes the spot he’d been waiting at for a second. He can practically see the blanket, almost reliving the heartbreak and hurt of that night. He can remember the panic of figuring out, the minutes wasted at Michael’s house, Brooke walking her dogs with Chloe, the lie about the sweater—that damn sweater. Jeremy physically shakes his head of those thoughts, closing his eyes as he does so, refocusing on the white painted wooden gazebo bench. You’re totally fine. He never realized the gazebo had a light inside of it, but now that he was seated inside of the beautiful shelter, it made sense why this was such a popular date spot. Not that this was a date, it was just something you’d suggested.

But should he have brought something for you? You did just get out of the hospital after some pretty serious stuff. Maybe he should’ve gotten you flowers or a small stuffed animal that can fit in your bag; just a reminder that he cares and is there for you. Then again, if either of those things were found, that might be another reason for you getting injured at the hands of the inhuman monster you were dating.

Jeremy can hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and his head whips around to see you, giving him a smile. He notices your hand gripping the railing and immediately rushes up to help. Stepping down two of the stairs, he offers his arm to lean against for extra support. You gladly take it, smiling as a small “thank you” slips from your lips. The two of you get to the top, but Jeremy can’t fathom letting go as you step across to the bench that Jeremy had been sitting at. Another breeze, more clapping and sunshine. When the two of you reach the bench, Jeremy helps you sit down, flashes of grimaces come across your face, clearly still in pain from the events that happened before.

Once you’re seated, Jeremy follows suit, giving you some space so that if you need to adjust at any moment, you’re able to. It’s now that Jeremy is reminded of just how badly things had gotten. You had been in the hospital for a week and a half, but you still needed help doing basic actions, and probably had to recover from any movement. If it was from anything, it was probably the ribcage that really did you in. Jeremy had heard of really terrible abdominal surgeries, how patients can’t move properly for a while afterwards. Maybe that’s why he was so inclined to help you. Well, that, and what kind of deranged animal wouldn’t help someone who needed it? A person appeared in Jeremy’s mind, one that you knew too well, before he dismissed the thought and refocused on you.

It was now that Jeremy realized his sweater was in your hand, probably from the bag that now sat next to you. The sun kept shining as you began to speak, smiling at him with that sweet smile he’d seen several times before, and yet always seemed to forget how it made it him feel until it appeared on your face once again. “Hey, thanks for meeting me on such a weird notice. I wanted to meet up before we like get too busy because, you know, college and stuff.”

“No problem,” a blush creeps over Jeremy’s cheeks. He can feel the moisture accumulate against his hands again—he’s nervous. He shouldn’t be nervous around you anymore. He inhales, ready to say more, but you get there faster than he does.

“How are you?”

Blinking fast, Jeremy is taken aback by your question. He thought for sure that you wouldn’t ask about him. Wasn’t this meeting supposed to be about…he actually wasn’t sure anymore. But he was sure that he just wanted to see you again; maybe that’s why he’d said yes to meeting up at the same heinous spot. He somehow manages to stutter out a response to you, “O-Oh? I’m good. Yeah, uhh, how are you?”

You nod, eyes shifting to the floor before smiling at him once again. “I’m okay. Better now that I’m actually out of my house and doing something fun. Not just, you know, follow up doctor’s appointments and how I’m not supposed to do x or y or z until whenever.”

There’s a second that Jeremy can feel his entire face light up, turning redder than it had in weeks, perhaps since you’d agreed to go stargazing with him. You had just admitting to having fun with him. You wanted to see him, and Jeremy was just…so smitten by that fact. He can feel his heart flutter similar to a butterfly, almost hitting the edge of his ribcage so hard that he was sure it would make an escape. “I’m glad,” is all he can manage to get out, especially when you’re looking at him like he’s the entire world.

“Yeah, me too.” You smile wider before your eyes shift around, breaking away from your own gaze as you scan the gazebo. Your eyes finally land onto the flooring of the structure before you half mumble out a “Kinda sick of white walls right now.” A grimace comes across your face and remains for a few seconds, almost like those phrases alone could cause food poisoning in the next breath.

Jeremy pauses and remains observing you, just for a few seconds before it dawns upon him that you’re doing what he had been before—partially reliving that same fateful night, flashes from the white hospital walls and whatever else you’d seen. He isn’t sure what the interior of your boyfriend’s house looks like, but given that his house also has white walls, there has to be an element of that as well as the same hospital room you were so used to seeing. It’s what many would call a flashback, but he knows sometimes that doesn’t feel like the right term. He can practically see you crumbling, getting upset by your own attempt at a joke; knowing how damaging that is, knowing how painful it is that you just managed to hurt yourself while trying to be better, trying to forget. There’s a moment that he waits, debating on what to do, before making a bold choice and placing his hand onto the space between you to, having it rest onto the bench, palm towards the stars that would be appearing in a few hours. That way, it’s a choice, without you having to say something—usually normal bodily functions aren’t an option in these moments of needing help in the most eccentric way.

You look at his hand out of the corner of your eye, Jeremy’s gaze softening as he realizes you’re contemplating doing it. If there’s something he wants to be for you, it’s comfort, safety, the idea that he’s soft and would never, and he means ever, hurt his significant other intentionally. Fuck, he wouldn’t even do that to his friends. He doesn’t realize he’s beginning to zone out until Jeremy feels your hand slip into his open one, a contract of trust being enforced with every passing second that physical contact is made. He can see the etchings of the bruise that had been there before slipping out from behind your light long sleeves. You’re still staring at a specific point, unaware that every ounce of light around you now seems to point to you, as if you were the most important star in every galaxy, any galaxy. His mind shifts through the things that had been said to him by Michael when he got like this after the SQUIP, memories, choices, things haunting him as your mind flashes through everything. It’s now that he decides that Michael’s sayings might not work right now. So he shifted to the things Christine used to tell him; things she’d looked up because she cared and wanted to help so much. He can recall a specific phrase she’d said, one that rang in his head louder than anything else; the most important one that had ever been said. He quietly, almost a whisper, sent the phrase out, hoping it would help: “Hey, it’s over now. It’s okay.”

There’s a moment that you process the information before nodding and moving your head back to him, every quickly following. Your back is still practically cemented to the wall of the gazebo. Your hand squeezes his before you let go of it, finally letting Jeremy get a full view of your face when it’s just resting. He can see the outlines of the bruise and marks you had, your attempt at hiding them with makeup, but chose not to say anything. It was better for the both of you to leave the topic alone. He could feel himself tense, however, at the bruises that still littered your neck, the marks of struggle, of oxygen deprivation still there, almost glaring at him from the depths of that night. You softly whisper a “sorry” into the air, almost masked by the gentle breeze that keeps making its way through the area.

“It’s okay. I can’t imagine how hard this has been.” Jeremy wasn’t lying. He actually didn’t know about everything you were going through. He had an idea, but he obviously didn’t have all the information.

“Thanks.”

There’s another pause, and the air finally settles around you two, sunrays more golden than before, almost making the scene around you two angelic. It was like good was streaming through the gazebo and the park, even though almost everyone in the time zone had the same golden hour experience. But they didn’t matter right now. Their moment in the gold wasn’t as important as this one between you and Jeremy. It’s now that Jeremy notices that the dog and their owner is long gone, the jogger probably home for dinner. It’s just you two, spending time together in the secluded area.

A vibration rings out into the air, and you immediately look over, tension now shooting through every muscle, no matter the pain. It’s involuntary, a reaction, a reflex at this point. You picked up you phone; it must’ve just been resting on the bench, and read the message to yourself, not saying anything. Jeremy assumed that it was your mom or your best friend, despite the tension that was definitely something you’d been trained to do. Yeah, it was probably your parents asking about where you were, when you’d be home, or your best friend asking about when you’d be available so that you two could see each other before the ever-looming departure to college. You look you’re your shoulder, a flinch, before scanning the area around the gazebo, Ford’s Park never looking so graceful. There’s a pause, a rest, before you lock your phone, not typing out a reply and setting it back beside you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tempted to look around in the same manner you just did.

“Yeah, totally. Just uhh I have plans after this. My boyfriend wants to make things up to me. But you now, he said he wasn’t home so uhh I was just making sure he wasn’t around. I don’t want to put you in danger, especially when all you’ve done is be my friend when things got rough. You shouldn’t be punished for that.”

Jeremy freezes. The warmth that was once around him, and frankly in him from your presence, was gone. You just said boyfriend. Not ­ex-boyfriend. Meaning that you were still in a relationship with him, meaning you were still in danger, meaning that this meeting just got that much more crucial; you couldn’t be seen in public with him, or else who knows what would happen? It was just accusations last time, right? But if he saw this, what would that mean? And why hadn’t you left him in the safety of the hospital? Why hadn’t you—

Jeremy stops himself. He knows that’s victim blaming, how hurtful those thoughts are, how painful it is for someone you consider a friend to say that. Refocusing, he notices that the end of your sentence was about him being in danger. But what about you? His heart sunk. You put him above yourself; you don’t care about what happens to you, even while still injured and still needing help to walk a few feet and up any stairs. At this point, another beating, another session of abuse, could result in your death. Fuck, how long had it been since someone told you that you mattered? And not just because you were supposed to work as a therapist, parent, and partner to someone who didn’t deserve it? How long had it been since someone had shown you some kind of softness that didn’t come from the short sessions with him? Because to him, you deserved it constantly and consistently. You deserved to be happy in your skin, or with someone if you so chose to. Not whatever the fuck this dysfunctional thing was. You deserved—

“I know, Jeremy. I know it’s bad that we’re dating still. I want to break up with him, I just…don’t know how.”

Jeremy nods, still somewhat staring off into space before meeting your eyes. “That’s totally understandable.”

And it was. Things like this needed to be handled with care. His thoughts drifted off into how you could break up with him safely, but his mind kept getting blocked. He didn’t know a lot about this situation, he didn’t know a lot about your boyfriend. He just had the urge to keep you safe. Then again, what about your parents? Didn’t they know what happened? And your best friend? The ones who were there for you when you needed it?

“What’s up?” You interrupt his thoughts once more, Jeremy warping back into the tranquil park, still abandoned by everyone except you two. A minute of worry soars from you; and suddenly Jeremy knows how quiet he’s been. He knows what that must read to you. He takes a second to relax, telling himself that it probably wasn’t good to blame your friends and family. If anything, your best friend was probably in the same boat as Jeremy. It wasn’t fair to think these things about you or your lifestyle, especially that you’d just confessed that you wanted out. It’s not your fault, this whole time, nothing has been your fault, despite what you’ve been told. And that was another thing, your boyfriend probably lied to people, they probably thought you’d just fallen down the stairs or something that wasn’t his fault. A lie he could perpetually tell himself so that he could continue to live in a lie.

“I’m just thinking about this whole situation,” he finally responds.

“I know, I’m stupid for not doing it sooner and stuff, but fuck, Jeremy, you have to understand that it’s not always bad. Sometimes it looks like everything is going to go back to what it was when we first started dating. This, right now, is an upswing until I’m back to full health. You know, like full HP.”

Both of you chuckle at that last statement, ease seeping through the wide windows of the gazebo as the sun continues to set in the West. It’s easier to talk now, and Jeremy fully understands your coping mechanism—or at least to understand that jokes from you are to laughed at, encouraged, and that it was just you talking about feelings in that typical passive way. The chuckles break out into full-fledged laughter after a second, something about “unfortunately, this isn’t like Zelda, where I’m going to get extra hearts for beating a boss”. The laughter was the only thing to beat out the whispers of the breeze, making the gold not only coming from the sun, but from you as well. It dies down after a minute or two, and finally you settle back down. Jeremy now notices the flinch that comes with laughter now, and he quickly has an “Are you okay?” flying from his mouth.

“Yeah, Jeremy. I think some of my pain meds are wearing off, but I think this conversation is worth it. I haven’t laughed like that in like decades.”

There’s another second that Jeremy nods before he speaks up again, concern laced with his words. “I would offer advice, but I don’t know the entire situation as well as you do. Please be safe though, okay?”

“Jeremy, you don’t need to worry about me. You should focus on you for a bit. I mean, we’re going off to college soon.” Your eyes set into the distance, almost fixed on one specific branch of a tree just outside of the gazebo. It’s similar to the one he’d seen a few minutes ago, but less intense. It’s more a deep in thought stare, rather than a mental health endangering gaze. But still, Jeremy can sense something is off.

“You okay?”

It’s soft and quiet, but he can see your hands tensing and clenching together, jaw remaining stoic. “Hmm?” you recover after a few seconds, unclasping your hands. “Oh, uhh yeah. Just thinking too much.”

The air settles as Jeremy’s mind turns its gears; he’s definitely heard that before. It only takes a few seconds before it pinpoints the exact reference. “Did you get that from Kate Marsh? Life is Strange, episode 1?”

“Shit, Jeremy, maybe you know me too well.”

You two laugh again, and even though yours is a little strained, the moment is almost perfect. This is what that night a week and a half ago should’ve been. Soft blushes, laughing at jokes that only you two understand, light hearts, light minds, and absolutely no worries. The added element of the stars would’ve made this moment absolutely marvelous, but the golden light turning pink would do; it was absolutely better than nothing, playing video games in Michael’s basement while worrying about your well being as Michael kicked his ass at Mario Kart again. But this? Yeah, he wouldn’t trade this time, this moment, for anything in the world. The laughter doesn’t continue for much longer, dying down into nothingness. The sun continues to set, almost making you look radiant. Jeremy’s heart skips a beat before he continues the conversation.

“What were you thinking so hard about?”

You almost flinch at the question, your own thoughts, anything that was happening in your brain before. Wiping your hands on your pants, much like Jeremy does, you begin to fidget, words coming shakily and oddly out of your mouth. “I don’t know. Just like I’ve lost a lot of friends and I don’t want to lose you. I think you deserve some stress-free alone time.”

Jeremy’s heart sinks. He offers up his hand once again, in the same manner as before, knowing that holding hands is grounding and helpful to him; he’s sure it’s helpful to you. He can see the hurt, the things he’d seen before, both in himself and in you from the past few minutes, past few months, but this time there’s an element that isn’t there before. You were alone. You were isolated. And most importantly, you thought that you were a burden to everyone, including your friends. This is exactly what your boyfriend wanted. He wanted you to not have a lifeline so that this could go on for years. Just like the SQUIP had done to Jeremy with Michael and with his dad. But Jeremy considered himself pretty smart. He knew the tactics, and knew that no matter what, no matter how hard your boyfriend tried, Jeremy would still call himself your friend. He’d been in the same situation and was still grateful to Michael. This was his chance to return the favor. He saw himself in you, saw that you needed someone, and Jeremy was more than happy to be that someone.

Throughout the thoughts, Jeremy’s hand must’ve relaxed, it folding in like a dead spider in the middle of winter. And the only way he knew that was because you grabbed your hand in his, squeezing it tightly, almost awakening him from a daydream of essentially being your hero; the protagonist that maybe doesn’t get the love interest but helps them get out of their crappy situation. He can feel your eyes on him, waiting for him to say something, anything. The desperation slipped through your gaze and oozed into Jeremy’s life.

But he doesn’t really have anything to say. Instead, he meets the gaze, mustering up all of the softness in his heart—which, was a lot while hanging out with you, at any given moment. He can feel himself change with every millisecond that you two are observing each other, hands perfectly intertwined. He squeezes back, and see the corners of your mouth turn upwards, pink making it’s way into your cheeks like pink had made its way through the sky, the golden hour slowly fading away. The rest of the world fades away, everything except the gazebo untouchable, you two unable to be disturbed in this beautiful moment, soft breezes keeping the temperature at almost a near perfect.

You sigh, shoulders relaxing as you keep your eyes stuck on him, love—platonic or not—steeping in the twilight. You inhale a little bit before something leaves your lips, a truth that had been always an undertone finally becoming an overtone. “Shit, I need to leave him, huh?”

Jeremy just nods, his thumb gently gliding across your hand, forming patterns, circles, and calming figures.

“How am I gonna do that? I’m sorry for like, talking about it. It just hits me sometimes.” Your eyes had broken the moment by now, again staring unambitiously at the world around you.

“You know him better than I do, but if you need my help, I’m prepared to do anything to offer it.

You nod before smiling at Jeremy once again. This time, you use your other hand to prop yourself up, turning yourself towards him. He wordlessly offers his other hand to help you, but you wave it away, almost creating a secret language between the two of you, enjoying the silence, the little stress of the moment. Another minute passes, and there’s an urge that soars in Jeremy’s chest. He knows it’s a bad urge, it’s something that should be suppressed, but he can see the same thing in you. There’s a second, a confirmation, before both of you begin to lean in, your other hand working as a kickstand while Jeremy squeezes your hand, slowly almost pulling you into him, into comfort, into something you both seemed to want. You smile widely as he follows your actions, excitement bubbling up and out of him as chuckles leave both of your mouths. It’s almost awkward, but it isn’t. The laughter makes it better, ringing out the rush of leaning in to kiss someone you like spending time with, someone you’d do anything for, someone who makes your life better, someone who keeps you grounded in every small and large gesture. The laughter rings out and circles around you two, finally getting close enough where Jeremy is about to speak, about to make sure this is okay, that you’re as comfortable as he is, that you want this as much as he does. He can see your hand out of the corner of his eye, a constant reminder to be gentle; you’re still injured, maybe you’d need his help once you two finally get to the end goal of this urge. Inhale. He opens his mouth for a second, ready to ask that one necessary question—

When your phone vibrates instead. He continues to hold you hand as you check your phone, both of you already knowing who the text is from, both of you knowing that this meeting is officially probably over. You sigh and lock your phone, still no reply coming from you. There’s a second that you squeeze his hand extra hard before you say something maybe not so surprising to him. “I wish I could stay here forever.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

You stop for a second before looking back at Jeremy, “Do you think I could cancel, or would that be shitty of me?”

Jeremy contemplates the choices. Cancelling like this could be dangerous, no matter how good the upswing. As much as he wants to spend the night with you, holding you and keeping you safe for sure, making sure you’re getting rest, fluids, and following every doctor’s orders, you need to be there. For your safety. “As much as I want to stay here with you, maybe?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you give a sad smile before continuing, “So, I should go. I mean, I’m supposed to be there now, but I don’t know, I lose track of time talking to you, I guess.”

He nods, unsure of how exactly to respond to that, before you give a little smile at him, this one brighter, genuine, the one he craves even in the deepest sleep. You let go of his hand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over yourself carefully. Your hand grabs his blue sweater, and you give it to him, folded nicely. Jeremy can’t help but put it on, it smells like you, brings sweet reminders of all-too-good moments that you no less than deserved. You blush, and he returns it, wordlessly telling each other how important that one article of clothing is. Placing your hands beside yourself, you get ready to stand up and be on your way.

Making a bold choice, Jeremy decides to help you up, standing before you with his arms stretched out, blue sweater reaching his wrists perfectly, delicately. You grab his hands, and he acts as a stabilizer, tugging you up as well as out of the seat. There’s a moment of equilibrium before you almost crash into him. He moves his hands by instinct so they wrap around you, holding you up against him, giggles coming from both of you as the action is done. The both of you get stable after a second, the giggles fading as you two realize your faces are inches apart from one another.

Jeremy looks at you, making sure you’re okay; you’re not usually this quiet. What he sees etched into your features is a look he hasn’t seen before. It’s like your committing every aspect of this moment to memory, every curve of his face, the way he blushes (which he was sure he was doing), the way that the conversation went, every noise, every time the clapping leaves made themselves known, the depleting of the golden hour, every hue that is basked around you two, every little thing about every little moment—even the one that was fading away. At least, that’s what Jeremy can assume you’re doing; that’s what he’s doing. But this look is something new, newer light inside of you making itself known like in a Pre-Raphaelite painting, eyes looking directly at him rather than somewhere in the distance. The best word he could come up with to describe the way you’re looking at him was wonder. You’re looking at him in wonder, almost like he’s everything. But that was a lie. You were everything; feeling himself looking at you in the same manner.

He can feel you inhale, body still somewhat against his as he helps you stay afloat. Your lips barely part, a simple request making its way into reality. “Jeremy, can I kiss your cheek?”

“Uhh…what?” Jeremy asks, still processing everything, still encrypting everything into memory. He finally catches up, face flushing red, “Oh uhh yeah.”

You smile at him, and he can feel that smile imprint onto his face, soft lips set his whole body aflame, passion keeping his face completely red, your touch still lingering on his cheek. You pull away and readjust so you’re just holding both of his hands like you once had. You begin to walk towards the steps, hands slipping out so you can grab the railing and make your way away. You aren’t that far away, maybe a foot if he was generous with scaling, before he catches himself, mind reeling still from the simple gesture you’d given him. “Wait,” he starts, before his brain finally catches up. “Can I kiss your forehead?”

Smiling, you nod and give a little “Yeah, of course.” His face breaks out into a wide smile; stepping closer to you and making sure that both of you are stable before he presses his smile against your forehead, giving a soft kiss to it as he can practically hear your smile as he pulls away. Everything is still for a split second before reality hits both of you once again, twilight quickly turning into night.

“I have to go.” Jeremy can hear the sadness in your voice as you rearrange once again, this time to walk down the stairs. Your gaze returns to what it once was, eyes almost glass as you look into the distance.

You two descended the three steps, you leaning against Jeremy the entire time. The moment you two reach the bottom, your arm extends as you walk away, hand slipping away from his in an almost sinisterly slow way. The touch is gone, the moments deceased to memory, as you stepped off, away, and back to your car that must have parked in a spot close enough that you didn’t need help walking back. It probably wouldn’t look great either if he was helping you that much, knowing that you were already late and if someone reported to your boyfriend that you were in his arms that would be just as bad as cancelling on him last second.

He watches you walk away, off into the distance before realizing how creepy that probably is. Jeremy grabs his keys from his pocket, phone still situated where it had been before. He walks carefully back to his car, hoping, wishing, that this is the last date you’ll ever be on with your boyfriend. 

[courtlands]

running

It’s a warm night in New York City.

Not the kind of warm like an Autumn day—that kind of warmth makes you want to stay inside, wraps yourself up in a cozy blanket, stays up past midnight reading that same good book as everyone else. It’s the kind of warm that makes you wonder if snow really exists here. The kind of warm that makes you want to call it hot, but it’s not there yet. You see, New York can be like that sometimes, cold today and warm the next.

Just like life, maybe.

Unpredictable.

Sitting at a bench in Central Park, under the starlight is a girl.

It’s pretty here at night. Of course, New York City has its problem with light pollution, but here you can actually see the stars—well, all 5 of them anyway. It’s one of the few places in this entire city that offers some peace and quiet, even more so if it’s 4am on a Thursday when everybody’s fast asleep thinking about the fastest route to get to where they want to go in a couple of hours without having to fight the maddening crowd. So yeah, nobody comes to Central Park at this time of the day, especially not the New Yorkers. Nobody except her.

She walks along the path of the quiet park wherever the lamp shines.

The girl stops in her track after she takes a few steps more and closes her eyes, breathing in deep with her head up high, and letting her breath go as she hangs her head low. She doesn’t know what she’s doing in this park, or how she ends up in this city, for that matter.

She opens her eyes back up again, staring at the dimly lit pathway ahead and sighs before deciding to sit on a bench right next to her. As soon as she sits, she realizes how much her feet hurt. She hasn’t stopped walking since yesterday—or was it the day before? Has she slept? Eaten? When was the last time she felt a mattress against her weary body? All she knows now is that they hurt—her feet and everything else—and she just needs this bench to give her her life back.

After sitting there for a few moments, her phone buzzes in her jacket’s left pocket. She hasn’t looked at the device for so long she almost forgets it was there. She seems to forget everything nowadays.

4 Missed Calls.

Message: ‘Please.’

Message: ‘Can we talk?’

2 Missed Calls.

She closes the screen once more, let it and it’s 23% battery take a little break right alongside her before shoving it back in her right pocket this time.

It’s selfish, she knows. To be sitting here, ignoring the world while things are happening. Sooner or later problems will have to be faced and dealt with, but for now, she can hold them off pretends that it’s all okay.

But it’s not okay.

It’s not okay and she can’t hide forever.

Reality’s bound to catch up to everyone in their own time and maybe reality’s catching up to her now.

She sits still for another minute before deciding to bring her phone out of her jacket again. The screen is bright with missed calls and more texts than the last, she didn’t even notice it buzzing.

She slides her screen to unlock it and slowly open up her contact book.

A list of names burning her eyes as she scrolls through them to find the right one. She lets her hand hovers above it, not pressing, just staring and imagining what she would say if she clicks.

And then she does.

…beep…..beep……beep..…beep….beep…

Sorry, I must be busy at the moment, leave some words and I’ll call you back in a jiffy!

She breathes in deep.

“Hey, Dad.” She says, voice shaking. “Hey—”

She can’t do this. Everything inside her is screaming with pain and she just wants to lay down and cry, but she can’t. She has to do this.

“Sorry,” She starts again. “I don’t know why I keep doing this, it’s hurting me more than you could ever imagine.” She’s finally able to mutter the words out. “I thought if more time pass then I would—I would be fine, but it’s been 3 yea—” She stops, closing her eyes and let the words spill out of her mouth.

“It’s been 3 years since you died, Dad.” She whispers the last part, almost like she wants to hide the truth from herself than the rest of the world.

“I—I keep paying your bill, you know, because I need to hear your voice.” Her tears start to slip out. “Mom always tries to call during this week—and Christmas, too—but mostly this week. I haven’t talked to her since your funeral.” She breathes in and out, trying to collect herself. “She keeps sending m—me money, too, which just sucks.” She chuckles lightly. “And I use it, too, from time to time, mostly to pay your bill and my rent, but you know. I feel bad.” A pause. “I can’t see her, though. Because every time I see her face it’s like looking at you and I can’t think about you because then I remember what I did and what happened and I—” She speaks so fast her words start to mix together with her sobs, the tears continue streaming down. “I can’t forgive myself for that.”

She brings a hand to her face to wipe her eyes to look around at the world around her. The park is still empty and she wishes it isn’t. She wishes people would walk pass her and make her feel less alone in the world but she’s the only one here. The only one left alive.

“I don’t know how many more years I have to run to be free of the guilt. To be free of the memories.” Her head hangs low as she speaks softly, barely making a sound.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” She says, “I’m so, so sorry—”

Beep.

Your message has been recorded.

The voicemail cuts off before she could finish speaking.

She let her head sinks and her tears roll down for a couple more minute before she looks up again, wiping her tears. The sun starting to rise now and the city’s slowly waking up.

The girl brings her hands up to wipe her eyes, straightens herself up the best she can and walks away.

Braving herself for another day.

(january 20th, 2019. 02:27am)

[missrkl]

The Temple Chapter Six

Rachel was feeling apprehensive. She knew that sexual lust was forbidden in The Temple, especially if between those who belonged to different factions. What Rachel felt for Kai was beyond words that she could explain. Her sexual frustration was through the roof, despite being chaste because everybody in The Voiceless was also depressed and some were manic and none were into fulfilling lusts of the flesh. Rachel knew she was assigned to go and volunteer to help The Elitists by setting up the refreshments table prior to their arrival for rehearsals. As she was setting up the tea and milk and biscuits, in walked her kryptonite, Kai. Kai strode in with his pudgy self, if Windsock was muscular and strong, Kai was the opposite. Pudgy and soft. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t skinny either. He was perfect, for Rachel he was perfect. Rachel felt it every time he was near, kryptonite. He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, feelings she didn’t know what to do with. Her body was like an unexplored territory and he was like the hunter and her body responded to him every time. As Kai strode over to where she was at the table Rachel felt her heart thumping within herself and she was sure he could tell, or at least see the flush in her cheeks. Rachel tried her best to hide her face by hiding behind her hair, this was a strategy her mother had taught her. As a woman this was a privilege that few men could ever have, having a wall, a curtain of hair to hide your face behind. Kai came beside her and made tea and took one or two biscuits. He looked at her as if he could see right through her clothing. Rachel felt a stirring within her but she kept her game face on. The last thing she wanted was to be distracted by this nincampoop. Rachel didn’t know what to do, all she knew was that she had this sudden urge to fling her arms around him in a warm embrace, she could feel her arms and fingers tingling with this itch. Good thing Rachel wore a cardigan with pockets so she stuffed her hands in there. Kai’s eyes pored into hers and she felt naked, vulnerable, seen, as if she could hide nothing. Kai wasn’t afraid to look at her, why would he be afraid? It’s not like he expected her to show anything other than placid rather than fire because she was from The Voiceless. What did she expect? For him to finally see her for who she really was, a fire cracker with a fiery burning passionate fire that she never showed anyone except Ecclesiastes and the gang. A secret warrior in disguise. A prayer warrior, an influencer, a leader, a worshipper, loyal, loving and kind. How could he possibly see all that in one look? Kai had dark brown eyes and supreme rich white skin and a long elegant nose that made his face look grandiose. It was at this moment others began streaming in and as Kai glanced at the others to greet them, Rachel fled and went behind the platform. Forbidden love, forbidden lust, forbidden all. Kai, her kryptonite. Kryptonite to herself, kryptonite to The Temple laws and kryptonite to her spirit. Rachel could never tell Kai how she really felt, or what he made her feel. It was forbidden. How could she? As if he would ever take her seriously. Nobody ever took The Voiceless seriously. They weren’t known for their passions, but Rachel was truly passionate in more ways than one.

You see, like Matthew 7 days in Adon’s Holy Book, people who accuse others usually have a plank in their own eye compared to the splinter in their brothers eye. Rachel’s weakness was her hormones. Maybe it was a chemical imbalance or a spiritual imbalance, Rachel was a very passionate person and having been inexperienced in terms of intimacy made her all that more curious. As they say ‘curiosity kills the cat.’ Rachel knew the bible told her about Joseph, running from the potiphar’s wife who was trying to seduce him, but Rachel only fled from Kai because she couldn’t handle the sensations she was feeling. Complete opposite, yet Adon’s word remained true “for all have fallen short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).

As Rachel stood there behind the platform peeking at the Elitists and Kai Rachel had a flashback to Ecclesiastes and Matthew, Matthew was one of the other gang members. Matthew had told her ““Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults—unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭7:1-5‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Rachel felt that conviction hit her hard. Was she judging them as much as they were judging her? She was placing labels on them herself. Despite all the good she wanted to accomplish, also known as her Godly fiery intentions, her holy anger at biblical injustice and theological mishap, Rachel knew that inside she could still feel that burn of anger within her at the injustice she felt. Rachel knew she herself had to change first. Only God could remove the plank in her own eye for her to see more clearer than she could see now. Get a new prescription, change perspective, call it whatever you want. Rachel watched Kai for a few minutes and then remembered that she was allowed to sit and watch them. So Rachel walked back out there and nobody payed her attention, only Kai who watched her take a seat in the middle of the seating chairs where the audience would have been. Kai was leader here and it was good they had an audience, he was intending on asking Rachel how they sounded from where she sat. Rachel had a lot of issues with The Elitists. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt that was probably part of the problem, of the plank in her own eye. Secretly she hated them for the way they treated her, so maybe some of that anger was down to her wanting to get revenge to prove them wrong and to prove her right. That certainly wasn’t in Adon’s will. Rachel watched as the team began doing their vocal warm ups and then Kai addressing the team. How she loved to hear him speak. Then they began their worship rehearsal, music, tech and vocals. Rachel loved their talent, what they didn’t know was that she could sing too. The Voiceless were never seen as having talent of any kind, but Rachel had it, she just hid it because she wasn’t supposed to have it. Sometimes she questioned why Adon would bestow such a gift on her, vocal talent and piano talent. The only difference with their talent and hers was they used it more often and had more practice with it whereas Rachel did it occasionally. Rachel sighed. She wished she could wow Kai with her secret vocal talent but knowing him to be a perfectionist she probably couldn’t at that. Rachel was scared of him in that aspect because he was like Simon cowell, could be very hurtful with his words.

As rehearsals ended and the team had more socials and tea and coffee and biscuits, Rachel waited patiently for them to finish. She had to take down the refreshments table and by now she was sleepy as it was already night. Slowly they began leaving one by one, that only left Kai and her. She began taking down the table and Kai took one more biscuit as he neared her again, probably teasing her. He probably knew exactly how she felt. His eyes did seem to say ‘I know all about you.’ Rachel flushed again and then scattered off. She could see his eyes laughing at her, like he knew. He was such a tease. Rachel thought to herself “bye bye kryptonite..I’m sorry for throwing stones at you” and she meant it. She had to repent of her own judgmental ways. His presence always made her aware of her own moral failures and sinful behaviours. Another reason why he was her kryptonite.

[dreamweaversofficial]

symphonies of unfilled space

Itinerary:

Nothing.

Residual homework.

Text people.

Paint nails.

Shower (how many times per day is permissible?? Ask google)

3/25/30

Word choice is reevaluated after the ink has dried. The walls have been the same color since before I was born, and they aren’t likely to change. My little brother is taller than I am, and he calls me little sister, the bastard. Being active is all well and good when you’re allowed to go outside.

3/30, 2120

I guess this is like. My diary. Funny to think I wouldn’t have been caught dead with one of these a few years ago, but with so much time on my hands, I guess I can deal. I can’t think of anything to write, and I’ve been informed I sound terse over paper, so. It’s not like they’re wrong.

It’s not that time slows down, I guess, it’s that I’m more aware of it. I wake up early, and I do schoolwork for seven hours, and then I find some way to fill time until I go to sleep. Turns out you become well acquainted with the day when there’s nowhere but the same three places to go. I try to go on walks off the property. Every day I go a little bit further, but the same old houses line the street.

4/15, 2120

If this was a book, the readers would want to know the characters by now. I guess technically this is a notebook, which has ‘book’ in the name, so. There’s me. I guess. Wow, I say ‘I guess’ way more often than I’d thought. Maybe I should write this shit in pencil. But nobody else is going to read this. I don’t know.

For characters: there’s me, and only me. It’s my book.

4/28, 2120

I hate this stupid pandemic, but at least I can avoid my ex-girlfriend. That’s probably wrong of me, right? Like, avoiding an ex is a brightside? But the point is that nobody told me living through some world changing event (and I say that mockingly) was so fucking boring. I’m watching so much garbage television, I think I’m going to decompose.

Did you know humans have to be able to see nature or they’ll go crazy? I guess the succulent I’ve got on my desk is saving my humanity. Nobody seems to like when I point out that even fake ones will work, so I guess our brain is okay with imitation as long as appearances are kept up.

5/4, 2120

There’s this spot by my house - this crossing, I guess, where drivers can’t really see. An intersection! Fuck. Bikers used to travel by all the time, huge streams of them passing the windows, and then one of them died in a car accident up on Death Corner. At what point does someone cross from ‘brave’ to ‘foolhardy’? Maybe it shifts intangibility from person to person. Maybe people are just stupid. I guess it could be both.

I don’t know. I got reminded of this story I was writing in eighth grade, for no reason, which was - years ago. It never got finished.

That’s too passive.

I never finished it.

5/16, 2120

I had this really weird dream? I was in space, and I was supposed to be leading this group of kids. Alien kids? We were all students at this school or whatever, and we were out on a mission taking samples for something, and things started off fine. The planet was habitable and our host family was cool. And then two of my ‘subordinates’, like, start yelling at me? I think I was supposed to be a diplomat, which was why I was in charge, and also I was older, but then I punched at least one.

Somebody literally went missing at one point, which was when I decided ‘screw it’ and evidently chose to pull the plug on the mission, find him, and go back to school. Except one of the brats disagrees, and calls you a bitch(?), and then we get in a fight again. Right, that’s when the fight happened. Google can’t tell me what the hell that meant.

5/31, 2120

I miss people, but never with a passion. There’s the fierce swell of grief, then time washes over the beach of my emotions and smooths over the sand. Sometimes I think I could go anywhere without looking back. There’s this strange limbo between loving people and places, and the part of me that could handle it if I turned my back. Because there are a lot of people I'd die protecting, but heaven forbid if they turned their backs on me.

In quarantine, I can feel the sting of missing threaten to swamp me as it tugs at my bones and makes me restless.

6/11, 2120

I get migraines so often, they’re practically chronic. I get it from my mom, who got it from her mom, who got it from who knows where, and somehow the headache gene that’s plagued me since preschool skipped my brother entirely. Once coming home from school in tears cemented itself into A Thing That Happened, pain worked itself into a constant presence in my life. Like a homophobic family member that ruins things.

I just sprayed IcyHot spray into my eyes by accident. Fuck, this was supposed to go on my neck for the muscle tension headache. Fuck.

6/15, 2120

Isn’t it so ridiculous that we’re still protesting for people’s basic human rights? Jesus. Nobody is a ‘retard’ for knowing your rights aren’t different based on skin color. People shouldn’t have to worry when a family member isn’t home on time, or see people dead on the news, or get pulled over for no reason. This is supposed to be a newer generation.

Why are people trying to be like the old ones?

7/1, 2120

Sometimes you want to fall asleep, and sometimes you just want to be fucking unconcious. Sometimes you miss people before they’re even out of sight.

7/21, 2120

Today I got into one of my hyper-energetic fits. That basically means I have spastic thoughts and end up pacing without end for an hour or two. It’s like ADHD was blended into a smoothie, dripped over my head, and injected into my eyeballs over the span of an hour.

At any rate, it’s preferable to its sister feeling. That one is like rabid beasts have found a home under my skin - I want nothing to do with anyone or anything. It’s as if I have this tightly wound tangle of rage, coiling until it’s poisoned my surroundings, body, and thoughts. I don’t know.

I say that a lot, too.

8/8, 2120

I had a panic attack over some stupid math assingment, and the fact that my dad was out of the house, and a million other little things I didn’t know I was stressed about, I guess. I just. Got nauseous, and by the time my mom got home I’d wound up sitting on the floor of the bathroom, back pressed against the tub, and then you’re just. Talking.

As I talked, my breathing ramped up, and I remember thinking “this isn’t a panic attack, you’re thinking rationally, you just need more air,” except that then you were hyperventilating, and I don’t know what a panic attack feels like, but I could feel my heart’s sick thump in my chest like I never can in my wrist.

8/27, 2120

“I’m dying,” my grandfather says in lieu of greeting when he picks up the phone. When he says “I’m dying,” he doesn't mean tomorrow, or the day after, or even the following week.

When I say “You're always dying,” I mean that he’s been saying that for an eternity, and I want him to keep saying it for an eternity more.

He’s sad, sometimes, and quiet. My dad says he remembers him whip smart and funny, and I’ve learned to take his word as law. He’s sad, sometimes, but he never tries to take that sadness and foist it onto someone else. He’s quiet, sometimes, but that just means you have to listen harder for his jokes. Sometimes he’ll tell me a story I’ve heard before, but something about him makes you laugh like it’s the first time and not the seventieth.

I can see him as he is, and I can see him younger, as he sits in the same chair and makes it new each time.

9/3, 2120

I write differently with a marker than I do with a pen. One of my fine tipped, colorful markers, I use carefully. My handwriting becomes neater, more controlled, unsmudged. A good book can make you hollowed out and unfinished in the same way another can, but a little to the left. I think it’s so interesting how people can be made out of the same basic materials and yet be so different.

It’s been months of quarantine. Months since I stepped foot in a classroom, since I broke up with my girlfriend, since I had to ditch the world for a newer, stranger one. I remind myself I’ve got time. Shitloads of it. The nauseous feeling of empty time presses down on an otherwise weightless body.

But for now I think I’ll sit outside in the sun.

[ohgoddard]

Fist Of Fire: Omega. 1-1.

It’s everyday.

“Omega Man, save us!”

In every voice.

“OH CHRIST, STOP HIM!”

I hear it over and over again.

 “SNAP TO IT!” My eyes open up coming into a haze and slowly beginning to focus. Its been happening a lot more to me recently. I’ve been losing focus. I turn my head to see who is shouting at me and see Castle standing over me, his cape torn and his helmet nearly burnt off. Perhaps I got knocked out… somehow. Castle’s suit, a suit of medieval armor, shone brilliantly in the autumn lights. Brilliant orange, yellows, and reds. Such a shimmer. His face, though it is obscured by his visor, looks at mine with anger. I suppose it could be warranted, given that I did it again. Although, his face could just be very strained and not angry. I don’t know why, unless-

“ARE YA GOING TO KEEP LOOKIN’ AT ME OR ARE YA GOIN’ TA HELP?!”

His thick Texan accent pierces through my ears, giving my brain that much needed wake-up call. My vision stops being the blurry mess and the image becomes clear. Castle holds a large chunk of a fallen skyscraper from falling on top of me, hsi armor definitely seeing better days. Especially his cape, which he seems to have lost. I, very painfully might I add, hop from the crater I awoke in. Readying my body for an act of strength I place both hands on the debris he held aloft and push with my flight. Soon, the concrete amalgamation moves away from Castle, and I see him fall to one knee panting. I take the rubble into the air and toss it into the sky. It will hopefully land in some lake, farmland, asshole’s lawn. All that matters is that it isn’t on top of me anymore. 

I’ll let the association take care of the fines.

“Took you… took you long enough..” Castle says in very intermittent breaths as I descend from the sky. “Yeah, sorry about that. Tinkalos really put the works into that punch.” 

My voice comes out a bit rough, but it doesn’t surprise me. After all, the punch that sent me through six buildings and almost brought one down on me was aimed at my throat. As long as it masks my real voice. I take stock of myself, seeing that my uniform is still untorn. Although, uniform is a bit much. All I wear is a long sleeved balck t-shrit, gloves, jeans, and my trademark trojan helmet. With some modifications, of course. “Speaking of the ol coot, where is he?” Castle turned to look at me, and if knight helmets from the 14th century could shoot death beams, they’d definitely be gunning for me right now. “You’re welcome by the way. Not like I  can pick up and throw buildings miles away on a whim.”

I smirk. “Not with that attitude, old man!” Castle stood up, projecting himself to his fully mighty 5 foot 7 inches of height. “Your report to the association is not going to look pretty.” Before I could blow him off in a funny and sarcastic manner, my throat pain arrived. 

“YOU’RE FAR MORE RESILIENT THAN I EXPECTED, BOY!” A moment’s reaction is all I could muster before a spear of blue light shot by me. In it, I pushed Castle to the side and tanked the shot. Good christ it hurt, like injecting your blood stream with powerade. I turned to face my assailant, and it was the same asshole who threw me. Dressed in a scientist’s lab coat and with frizzy white hair and goggles to match, Tinkalos was hovering before me on his boots, and pointing a 1950’s style raygun down. And a very tacky money bag, dollar sign and all. “I’ve got you now, you upstart!” He fired again, but this time I was ready. I ducked out its way and shot myself right at him, center mass. He must have expected this, as he flew just out of reach at the last second. He cackled and shot again, this shot of his cutting into the building behind me. I began to rush him in the air, arms stretched to punch him into the next millennia, he held his out as if to stop me.

“AH AH! Do you really want to get me? Or do you want to save the apartment building I just set on fire? TICK TOCK, HERO!” He turned and shot off into the sky, trail of dollar bills behind him. I was about to pursue when I heard the voices again. “SAVE ME OMEGA MAN!” “SAVE MY FAMILY!” “PLEASE HELP ME!” “AHH I’M ON FIRE!” On and on and on.  As if I wasn’t going to help them unless they called my name. As if I have the memory of a goldfish, or a politician that made campaign promises. Such little opinion of me. Like they’re afraid of me.

“OMEGA! Help me get these people out! Tinkalos is small potatoes.” Castle holalred as he ran into the burning building, and I could hear him running up the stairs. I could rescue this whole building right now and still catch Tinkalos. But I won’t. All it does is stop the voices for just a minute. Just a minute of quiet for my ears. It doesn’t matter if I get the crazy scientist in the end. Some other hair-brained crook will create a gun that shoots pure cake-icing or something, and instead of solving world hunger will call himself Captain Cupcake and rob the 8th street bank. I gain nothing out of hunting down the scientist.

“OMEGA ARE YOU GOING TO HELP OR WHAT?!” Castle’s voice comes from below and I come back to reality once more. Getting lost in my thoughts mid-crisis is a bad habit. Should probably see a therapist about it. I shoot towards the building and in 5 minutes, or maybe less I’m not sure, everyone and their dog is out. Castle stands next to me, looking up at the burning apartment building and sighs. “If you keep this up, they’re gonna need to change the name of the 100s to the 10s.” Whatever. The city of Chicago has done nothing for me. All it did was kill my dad.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Kiara! You’re twenty minutes late! At this rate you’re giving me no choice but to fire you!”

“Yeah yeah, Sal. Where’s the next delivery?” I hop in my shitbox of a car and begin driving down to Rogers Street. I keep the radio off and the windows up. Silence is something I don’t get often. 

My clothes are simple, unassuming. I’ve got my hair up, but a few strands always get in my face. I let it hang. I’m used to a little annoyance. Every morning I wake up at 4:00 am and suit up to fight crime. At 8:00 am I go home, shower, and do the job that actually pays me at 9. I deliver pizza for the next 11 hours. And then finally for only three hours a night, I become Omega Man again. If I had my way, I’d be Omega Man for much shorter. 

“Pizza here.” The grungy apartment door opens before me, and an even grungier hand reaches out from darkness and throws a twenty at me and grabs the pizza in one gluttonous swoop. Before I could say anything, the door closed once more. I didn’t have to take this job, I could be living off a trust fund and reading a book in the west wing of a mansion along lake Erie. 

But they don’t want me. Because I’m not part of their family. And I don’t want anything from them. I want to do my own thing, on my own time. I owe nothing to nobody and nobody owes me anything. Well, except for one. 

At the stroke of 9pm, I punch my card and drive to where I sleep. I don’t call it home. Its just where I park my car and sleep. Except I don’t even sleep all that much anymore. Not since..

The voices don’t follow my schedule. They keep their own. I hear them all the time. When I knock on the door, I drown out for seconds the voices. When I sit in my car and roll up my windows, they become muffled. When I am alone in my apartment, they are unfettered in accessing my ears. My hands shakily scratch the keyhole with the key, as they do every night. Christ, I must look like a drunk to my neighbors as they walk by me. “Keep away from that black lady. Drunk, just like ‘em to be that.” I ignore them. They don’t matter. Only the voices do.

I rush into my home and close the door behind me, being careful not to slam it. I don’t want to be kicked out this early. I was hoping to keep this apartment for at least another month. Before I..

I undress, down to my underwear. I hate how vulnerable it makes me feel. I always dress in multiple layers. I never feel comfortable. I’m never in my own body. Sometimes I question if I'm trans, but I don't think that's the case. It's probably just good old imposter syndrome. Or maybe something else. I never have time to really research it. I walk over to my dresser, looking at the mirror frame above it for just a minute. It used to have a mirror. I think it broke during a move. Either that or I threw it away. I open the top drawer and take out my padded leggings and long sleeved shirt. When I put it on, my body becomes much bulkier and I looked like a large and toned buff man. A vast difference from the skinny girl I am usually. But I still feel an imposter. Ironic, for what comes next. I slip on my jeans and boots, and put on my long sleeved black shirt and gloves. Then, the helmet.

I hold it in my hands, looking at it. It looks like it should be in a museum. And it was, from what I hear. A large trojan war helmet. A black mesh is on the inside, a special material that lets me see ,breathe, and speak easily. As if it wasn’t there. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t here. Oh, can’t have those thoughts now. At Least for another month. I sit on my bed, a shitty one that folds from the wall. It carries a decent weight with it. Although, it provides no real protection for me. All that comes from what he gave me. Every time I look at it, the voices disappear for just a minute, just a little while, and I hear his voice. And I see my dad’s smile. I remember the last thing he said to me before he left me for good. “Kiara, one day you’ll wear this helmet. You’ll make me proud.” It’s the only reason I keep doing this.

I slip on the helmet and become who my father was. And who I am now. 

I am Omega Man, and like every night I let the voices overtake and guide me.