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ghostgothgeek · 4 years ago

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Shallow.

Another for the Phic Phight 2021! 4,596 words. Rated T for mean girl shit.

FFN || AO3

Danny finds out why Paulina and Sam actually hate each other. Prompt by Ozone.

I had actually been planning on writing this before it was a Phic Phight prompt, and had even started writing it already! I refuse to believe that Sam would just hate a girl for no reason.

The "Danny and Sam meeting in detention in 7th grade" is a nod to Myaibou's The Lunch Club. I love that being the way the trio met. This author has a lot of other great fics too, I highly recommend!

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“So I’m thinking about organizing a rally against police violence. Would you guys want to join?” Sam asked her two friends at lunch. She was poking at her salad.

“Yeah! Something I’ll actually want to do!” Tucker exclaimed, forcing Sam to fist bump.

“Sweet. How about you Danny?”

“Yeah, I’m in,” Danny popped a fry into his mouth and grinned.

“Awesome! Okay so, I was thinking next weekend at the park. We can make flyers and posters and make an event on social media to get people interested. Would you mind doing that Tucker?” Sam pulled up her checklist on her phone.

“Huh? Yeah sure. Remind me later.”

“Danny, do you think we could maybe have a short appearance from Phantom? I feel like having a celebrity of sorts would really get people excited,” Sam continued. After no reply from Danny, she glanced up at her two friends, noticing they were distracted once again by Paulina. Sam rolled her eyes. “Danny?”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

Sam let out a sigh of frustration. “We could even reveal your secret, make a huge event out of it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I feel you,” Tucker replied.

“And then I can jump off the roof in a pink tutu…” Sam added.

“Sounds good,” Danny sighed and rested his head in his hand.

“Then I’ll mud wrestle my parents in a floral bikini.”

“Yeah that sucks,” Danny replied again.

Sam just groaned, “You guys aren’t even listening to me!”

Danny glanced at her. “Yeah we are! Something about a uh….poster? Environment thing?”

Tucker finally looked at her as well. “Did you say something about you wearing a bikini?”

“Argh! Stop staring at Paulina for two seconds please!” She drummed her fingernails on the table impatiently.

“Wait, Sam’s wearing a bikini? But it’s winter!” Danny replied to Tucker’s comment.

Sam let out a small scream and started packing her stuff up. “Ugh, forget it!”

Noticing Sam was about to leave, Danny put a hand on her shoulder to sit her back down. “No no no, don’t leave Sam! You have our attention.”

“Really? Because it seems to me you two were just making a puddle of drool that would still be less shallow than Paulina.” Sam glared at the girl in question, who was clinging to Dash and trying to get his attention as Kwan put forks up his nose to look like a walrus.

“Jeeze, lay off. What’s your problem with Paulina?” Tucker turned back towards his friends and sipped at his energy drink. It had been a long night capturing Technus.

“Yeah, you just hated her from day one. She didn’t do anything! She literally just moved here,” Danny added.

“No, she didn’t. You just never noticed her until other guys started to. And I have my reasons.” Sam stabbed at her salad harshly, as if she was making a Paulina voodoo doll out of her food.

“Well then, why? Why do you hate her?”

“I don’t just hate her. She hates me too. It’s a mutual hate,” Sam growled.

“Okay but why?” Tucker chimed in.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam said shortly.

“Well either tell us or stop complaining,” Tucker replied.

Danny made a grab for her fork and held it away from her. “Danny, give me my fork back.”

“No,” Danny said stubbornly. “We’re your best friends! You can tell us anything. And trust me, I’m desperate to hear your reasoning.”

Both boys stared her down. She would have stabbed both of them with her fork if she still had it. She was pissed. But then Danny’s stare down turned into his puppy dog eyes and pout, which she knew he knew would get her to cave. Damn him. She turned her focus to Tucker so she could keep her angry face, but he too started pouting. Sam hated when they ganged up on her like this. She could usually save face when Tucker pouted. Danny’s big sad questioning eyes almost always swayed her. She could get either of them to cave with a glare or, in very rare cases, her puppy dog eyes. It was so rare that it would immediately get her what she wanted. But when two of them ganged up on the remaining member of the trio, it was difficult to say no.

Sam let out a long groan. “Fine. If you can actually focus and not stare at the queen bee for two minutes, I’ll tell you.” As soon as that was out of her mouth, both boys stood up straight and focused all their attention on her, eager to finally hear why the two girls despised each other so much. “And we will never bring this up again. What I tell you doesn’t leave this table.” Both boys nodded unanimously. “Okay, remember those few years from 3rd grade to 6th grade when I went to a different school?” The boys nodded again. “Well, I never really told you guys why I was only there for a few years. You obviously know the part about my parents wanting to send me to a different school after that fiasco with the lunch box in 2nd grade, but they forced me to go to a private school. In 5th grade, Paulina moved to Amity Park from Florida. And...ugh, this is gross...We…” She trailed off and muttered something the boys didn’t catch.

“What?” Both boys pressed.

“We...used to be...friends,” Sam choked the words out.

Both Danny and Tucker’s eyes widened, eyebrows raised in complete surprise. They thought Paulina moved here in 9th grade, but of course if she went to the private school, they never would have seen her. They definitely didn’t hang out in the same places or with the same people. Hell, they forgot Sam existed until she went back to public school again in 7th grade with her goth look. Before that, they weren’t even friends with Sam, just classmates. Then all three of them had to spend a week in detention with each other, they became friends, and the rest is history. Sam’s break in private school was the reason they were still learning some things about her, like her playing video games and her family being wealthy. It was shocking that her and Paulina were friends once upon a time, because now the girls wouldn’t even talk to each other or acknowledge each other.

“What happened?” Tucker asked in dismay.

“Armageddon.”

“Class, please welcome our new student Paulina Sanchez. She moved here all the way from Florida!” Mrs. Wellington clapped her hands, motioning for her students to do the same. “Miss Sanchez, there is an empty seat behind Miss Manson. Miss Manson, please raise your hand.”

Sam Manson raised her hand as she studied the new girl. She seemed nice enough. She couldn’t tell if they had the same style or not because they had to wear uniforms, but she had a pretty butterfly clip in her long wavy hair. Paulina had some pink lipgloss on and already looked like she was….developing - even at 10 years old. She smiled at Sam and took her seat behind her.

Once the teacher started getting their math lesson started, Paulina whispered in Sam’s ear. “I love your bow, it’s so pretty!”

Sam smiled and glanced back at the new girl. “Thanks! I like your clip. Do you want to sit with me and my friends at lunch today?”

“Yes please! I don’t know anyone in this weird town.”

“I’m Samantha. Samantha Manson.” She stuck her hand out.

Paulina, with a perfect manicure, shook Sam’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

For the entirety of 5th grade, Sam and Paulina had become nearly inseparable. They played with Paulina’s large dollhouse when they got together after school, they skipped rope and chanted nursery rhymes at recess, and braided each other’s hair at lunch. There weren’t many kids at the private school, for it was very exclusive...and expensive.

That fact had been Pamela Manson’s primary reason for sending her daughter to that school. Public school was turning her sweet daughter into a barbarian. Fighting with boys at school? Well, considering the boy threw up in her lunch box, the fight was almost justified. Almost. The Mansons were disgusted that the teachers would allow that to happen. Samantha had only been in public school in the first place due to her grandmother’s persistence. Ida Manson insisted public school would be better for their little Sammykins. She would meet more people that way. Reluctantly, Pamela and Jeremy agreed. Although the Mansons were furious at first that their little girl had gotten in trouble, they were eventually delighted because they now had an excuse to send Samantha to a better and more dignified school.

Pamela Manson adored Paulina. She was glad her daughter had finally picked a proper friend. Samantha had been getting a little too close with those two boys who always riled her up. Folten or Fenton or something. Foley? She didn’t care to remember, her daughter wouldn’t be seeing them anymore. Paulina wore pretty pink dresses and was always groomed properly and well behaved. She had hoped Paulina would be a better influence on Sam after those boys. Plus, Pamela loved outings with the Sanchez family. She and Isabella had frequent mother-daughter outings with their girls.

Everything was perfect until 6th grade started. A few weeks into that first semester, all hell broke loose.

“Hey guys,” Sam sat down at her lunch table, joining Paulina and a few other girls she had become friends with.

“Hey Samantha!”

“Samantha, Kylie was just telling me how pretty my hair is!” Paulina bragged.

“It is lovely,” Sam commented, opening up her lunch box and discarding the meat products her mom had the butler slip in. Paulina had originally thought it was a little odd that Sam did that, but when her friend explained it was because she loved animals so much, Paulina agreed that they were too cute to eat but kept on with her own ways.

“I know!” Paulina chirped.

“Wow, Samantha. Your hair is really pretty too!” Kylie reached out a hand and started running her fingers through Sam’s almost hip-length black hair. “Oooh and it’s so soft!” A few other girls joined Kylie in playing with Sam’s hair.

“Thanks,” Sam laughed. She really didn’t care, but she found it amusing that her friends were so enthralled by her hair.

“What about mine?” Paulina pouted, upset the attention wasn’t on her anymore.

“Yours isn’t as soft, but it’s still nice!” One of the girls replied, still enamoured with Sam’s raven locks. “Is this your natural color?” Sam’s nod was followed up with coos of approval.

Paulina crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at the other girls. Sam was her best friend. She loved Sam. But Sam didn’t care about that kind of stuff. Paulina did! She was used to getting more attention from people. Paulina was the first in their grade to get a bra, she liked to flirt with boys, and she loved being pampered. When outside of school, Sam didn’t really dress up anymore. She would just wear dark t-shirts and shorts and put her hair up into a ponytail. She wouldn’t even let Paulina put flowers in her hair to make her more girly! Instead, Sam scolded her for killing a living thing and disrupting nature or something stupid like that.

After Sam and her family had taken a short visit to one of the industrial plants they owned, she hadn’t been the same. Sam had told Paulina that there was trash in all the pretty trees and flowers, and then Sam had done some research and found out that her parents’ friends’ companies tested on animals, polluted the environment, and had poor labor conditions. She was really upset about it and thought things were wrong, and Paulina would just politely agree with her. She liked that Sam loved the earth and stuff, but then it started to get really annoying.

Sam started reading these weird books after their class learned about Edgar Allan Poe. Stuff about magic and mythology and the occult. Even though Paulina and the other girls thought it was weird, Sam was still their friend. Kind of. Paulina was going to drop Sam until she had been invited to the Manson mansion and found out just how rich Sam’s family was. That kept Sam in good standing with Paulina. Despite the weird factor, Sam was still admired. Sam got better grades than Paulina. Sam got attention from boys because she would still play kickball in her jumper and didn’t mind getting dirty. Sam’s family had a bigger house than Paulina’s. Sam’s family had more money. Sam’s hair was softer, longer, prettier than Paulina’s.

As Paulina watched her friends doting on Sam, taking turns to play with Sam’s hair, she realized she was a little jealous. No matter how hard Paulina had flaunted herself and tried to show up Sam, she felt like Sam always won in the end. It was extra annoying because Sam was so nice. Everyone loved her. Everyone wanted to hang out with her. Sam was a lot of things Paulina tried so hard to be, and Sam had done everything so effortlessly. It wasn’t fair!

They were both very dominant girls, and Paulina realized there wasn’t enough room for the both of them. She needed to prove to everyone, to herself, that she was better and she was in charge of things. Filthy rich or not, Paulina began to ice Sam out and Sam didn’t even seem to notice! After trying and failing to persuade the other girls to drop Sam, she realized she would need to take more drastic measures. She could make people not like Sam anymore. She could make her hair prettier than Sam’s. Sure, it was petty and low, but petty and low is what teenagers are.

Paulina ignored the lesson and stared at the back of Sam’s hair. It was so shiny and looked so soft. Sam smiled as she felt Paulina pulling her long black hair onto her desk, blocking Paulina’s view of her textbook. Paulina pretended to play with Sam’s hair as she dug something out of her purse. After a few minutes, Paulina had shoved several sticks of gum in her mouth, chomping spitefully as she stared at Sam’s hair. Paulina silently spit the large wad of gum into her hand and she carefully placed it on top of Sam’s hair. Furiously but nonchalantly slamming her text book shut with Sam’s hair and the gum still in the middle of it. That should get the gum thoroughly stuck in her hair. Paulina grinned to herself as she tried opening the textbook again, the pages stuck to the hair and gum mess she had made.

When the class all stood up to go to lunch, Sam cried out as Paulina’s textbook yanked her head back. “What?” Sam tried to figure out what was going on, looking behind her.

“Oh my god!” A boy in the class yelled, which caught the attention of the rest of the class, causing them to start yelling as well. The teacher scrambled over to see what was wrong, trying to get Sam’s hair out of the textbook.

“Ow!” Sam yelled and glanced back at Paulina, who pretended to be shocked as she covered her mouth with her hands.

“Oh no Samantha! I’m so sorry, it was an accident!”

Tears welled up in Sam’s eyes as the situation got progressively worse. The teacher told all the kids to go to lunch as she worked on Sam’s hair in the classroom alone. It was no use. The teacher grabbed some scissors and began cutting as low as she could. “I’m so sorry sweetie.”

Sam sat there furiously, eyes full of tears. She knew Paulina had done that on purpose. Paulina had been meaner to her lately and they weren’t allowed to have gum in class! She reached back and felt her choppy hair that now landed a little past her shoulders. When the class had returned from lunch, they were all gasping and pointing at Sam’s hair.

Though the teacher had given Paulina a detention and made her pay a fine to replace the textbook, Sam didn’t feel that was a fair punishment. The teacher had sent Sam home and apologized profusely to Pamela Manson, who had called the school screaming and demanding the teacher be fired. Sam’s hair had to be cut even shorter to even it out; it now sat about an inch or so above her shoulders.

“Oh yeah, that’s pretty shitty,” Danny commented as Sam finished the story.

Tucker nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah that’s pretty low.”

Sam sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. She had kept it short so Paulina wouldn’t get the chance to mess with it again. “That’s not the end of the story.”

Tucker and Danny exchanged a look as she continued.

Sam had stopped going near Paulina after that, but she still hadn’t forgiven the girl. Her mom, though angry at Paulina, told Sam to just leave it alone. Like hell Sam was going to let her get away with this. At lunch the next day, she snuck an innocent little worm on Paulina’s lunch when she wasn’t looking. Paulina of course screamed and caused a commotion, easily pointing the finger at Sam. Teachers had no proof Sam did anything, so they just got Paulina a new lunch and told her to calm down.

Pranks and nasty incidents just escalated after that, until Paulina had done something so terrible it got Sam expelled.

Paulina had a crush on Ricky (ironically no relation to Lunch Box Ricky) and Ricky was chatting away happily with Sam about some comic book. Paulina was already over all the pranks: spiders in her purse, “accidentally” ruining her new shirt...Sam had been careful to not leave behind too much evidence so she never got in trouble. Paulina wasn’t as clever and had to serve a few detentions. And now, Sam was trying to steal her new boyfriend away from her! She knew she needed to not only win this war, but completely end it. And fast.

Sam had been called into the office the next day. Her parents were also called in to meet with the teacher, vice principal, and principal. Apparently, there were some naked pictures of Sam floating around the school, which was against their code of conduct. As much as Sam explained that wasn’t her and that Paulina was just trying to get back at her, her parents were threatening to send her to a boarding school and she would be suspended for the rest of the year. When Sam tried to confront Paulina about everything, Paulina admitted getting Ricky, who was in yearbook and owed her for letting him get to second base, to poorly photoshop some images together and make it seem like Sam had taken naked photos of herself. Though some kids backed Sam up and validated that Paulina had in fact done that on purpose, Sam ended up getting expelled for punching Paulina square in the face. Paulina said she wanted a nose job anyway. Plus, the stuck up bitch had stuck gum to the side of Sam’s head AGAIN, forcing Sam to shave half of her head.

More kids came forward about the feuding girls as Paulina continued to spread rumors about Sam being a freak and pretending to be rich when she wasn’t. Paulina was so shallow; she only cared about looks and popularity and money (and got the rest of the students at the school on board with being snobby and stuck up) - she showed no remorse for treating her former best friend, who kindly helped her gain her footing in Amity Park, the way she did.

The Mansons eventually learned the truth of what happened and cut off all ties with the Sanchez family after having a huge screaming fit over the phone. Though the school had apologized and said Sam could return to school, the damage had already been done and her parents never forgave the school. Sam and her grandmother had convinced her parents that she could go back to public school for 7th grade. Her parents had continued to force their daughter to go back to the way she was before all of this happened, but Sam just continued to pull away from them. She became spiteful and grim, and had a really hard time trusting anyone after that.

“And that’s why I never told you guys about my wealth and why you knew so little about me. I didn’t trust people anymore. It just seemed like people would only talk to me because they knew who my family was. I mean, we didn’t just get rich off of toothpicks. We have an empire.” Sam finished quietly. Then, she gave a small smile. “But I know now that I can trust you guys. We’ve been through so much in such a short amount of time. And honestly? I wouldn’t trade you guys for anything. I’d rather have two great friends than fifty so-called friends who only liked me for shallow reasons. Plus, after I decked Paulina, I was kind of blacklisted.” Her smile widened, pride beaming through.

“Wow. Sorry Sam, we didn’t know.” Danny rested a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

“I know.” Sam rested her hand on Danny’s, causing both teens to go a little pink in the face.

“Wait wait wait. So you’re telling me there’s nude photos of you somewhere?” Tucker leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together.

Sam rolled her eyes. “No, moron. They were photoshopped. I mean the skin tone didn’t even match, I don’t know how the school thought that was real. I think they were just so shocked anything like that could happen with 6th graders.”

Danny’s face turned more red at the thought of nude photos of Sam existing somewhere, fake or not. He was angry that someone would try to hurt Sam that way, but he was more embarrassed of himself because he was now picturing his best friend naked. His hand suddenly felt hot on her shoulder and he yanked it away quickly with Sam shooting him only a questioning look. He grumbled something under his breath and scooted his chair so his lap was more under the table. Now was not the time.

Tucker snorted. “Amateurs. I was better at photoshop when I was 5 years old.”

Sam laughed. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Anyway, I guess Paulina’s parents switched her to public school for 9th. I guess the private school didn’t have a cheer squad or something,” Sam shrugged. “When I saw Paulina show up here on the first day of school, I was honestly shocked and a little terrified. Before anything could get out, I cornered her and we swore to never acknowledge that we even knew each other and to stay away from each other. I tried giving her benefit of the doubt, hoping she changed, but then she set up and blew off Danny at the dance to make a jab at me-”

“What?!” Danny exclaimed. “That’s why she ditched me?!”

Sam ignored him and continued, “and I just realized she would never change. She was always going to be shallow and petty, but I would let her start fresh at Casper as long as she stayed far far away from me. I’m too exhausted to care anymore. But yeah, people stopped hanging out with me and started calling me a freak, especially when I became goth. That’s why I hate it when my parents try to push pink and girly on me, it reminds me of that time. It was pretty lonely and I was starting to get self-destructive, until you guys came along.” She smiled softly at them. “You guys saved my life.”

Both boys had their jaws dropped, completely unaware that there had been that huge of a backstabbing backstory that clearly affected Sam way more than she cared to admit.

“You were hurting yourself?” Danny’s voice sounded broken. Sam was so strong now. He never would have thought that she could have killed herself before he even got to meet her. He was suddenly very glad he started talking to her in detention back in 7th grade.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I kinda hate that I did that. I promise I’m better now. Between you guys and a lot of therapy, I feel better about myself than I ever have. It’s stupid,” she added, “because I really did find myself because of all she did to me, so in a way I should thank her…”

“Uh, no. I’m surprised you haven’t killed her yet. Especially after she tried stealing Dan-” Tucker shut his mouth after he received a swift kick to the shin. Apparently now was not the time to tease Sam about her crush on Danny.

“Yeah. You’re really so kind, Sam. You have a good heart. I know I would have handled that situation a lot worse than you did,” Danny disclosed.

“True. Our Sammy has a soft spot after all.” Tucker huffed as he received another kick for calling her by the nickname he knew she hated. Only Danny could get away with that one.

“Shhh. You’ll tarnish my reputation,” Sam said in amusement.

The bell rang and students in the cafeteria all stood at once, cleaning their tables and making their way towards their next class. When Paulina passed their table, Danny grimaced.

“I can’t look at her the same anymore,” Danny remarked.

Tucker nodded, “Same, dude.”

“Guys, please. This is all as much of a secret as Danny’s identity is, okay? I don’t want that drama coming back. I get revenge in my dreams. Just let her be, it’s not worth it.” Sam threw her spider backpack over her shoulder.

Tucker glanced at Danny before smirking. “Aww, Sam. Too good for this world. Too pure.”

Danny threw an arm around Sam’s shoulder as they walked to their next class. “Such a cinnamon roll.”

Sam groaned at the boys, “Stooooopppppp!” Tucker caught up to them and tried giving Sam a noogie, but his hand was slapped away swiftly. “No. None of that.” She pointed her finger sternly at him. Her head suddenly snapped towards Danny, who was smiling innocently despite the little tug he gave to her ponytail.

“Don’t worry, Tuck. Sam would never hurt us. She’s a softie inside, like a marshmallow.” Danny laughed as she shot him a look.

“I’m plotting both of your murders in my head, just so you know,” Sam grumbled.

Danny’s arm tightened around Sam protectively, pulling her a little closer as Elliot walked up to them.

“Hey Sam, I-” Elliot’s eyes widened as she pulled out a switchblade from her pocket and pointed it towards him. “Never mind!” He scurried away quickly, slipping in the process.

Danny stiffened and Tucker stared nervously at the knife. “Do you always carry that thing around?”

Sam smiled sickenly sweet, “Still soft?” Tucker shook his head. “That’s what I thought.” She closed the blade and shoved it back in her pocket, smiling because their teasing did cheer her up.

Danny gave her a soft squeeze before removing his arm as they entered the classroom. “Only the people who earned it get to know the real Sam, the one with the kind heart who’s also tough as nails. Right?”

Sam smiled back at Danny, “Exactly.”

#stephanie writes sometimes #danny phantom #fic #phic #phic phight 2021 #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #paulina sanchez #sorry I had to make Paulina really mean lol

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

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Falling for you( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Read Chapter 1 here

Read Chapter 2 here

Read Chapter 3 here

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other. Fair warning this has no plot. its just them being idiots .

Chapter warning : a little bit of plot just to keep things interesting yeah?

Chapter 4

The washroom on the seventeenth floor was the unofficial gossip hub and normally I would steer clear of that place but desperate times called for desperate measures. I was pretty sure I looked like I’d been dragged backwards through a hedgerow and I had to get it fixed before I got written up .

Willing myself not to openly flinch with every step, I tried to curb the trembling in my thighs, almost painfully sensitive to how wet and messy my lower half as. What the fuck had I been thinking.

When I entered the restroom, I moved to the huge ornate mirror in the center and took a nice long look at myself.

I felt my throat seize up in shock.

Good God.

I looked ten times worse than I felt. The hair in the back of my head was sticking up , four even gaps from where he’d gripped my hair too tight. Yelping, I pulled on the dozen hairpins holding my hair up in a messy bun, letting my hair fall around my shoulders. Panicking , I threaded my fingers through the strands, wincing when I touched my jaw. What the fuck...

I leaned closer, peering at the small abrasion near my chin. It was a bruise, shaped exactly like Jungkook’s thumb. And it was already turning into an ugly shade of puce.

Slightly hysterical because, Hoseok was so incredibly unbending when it came to office etiquette and I did not want to get fired, I flipped at the fancy taps, sticking my hand underneath the cold water and splashing it all over my face.

The door opened behind me and I flinched.

“Oh, hey Areum....” Three of my colleagues walked in . I recognized two of them , Jieun and Hana . The third one looked new.

“Hey...” I croaked out, trying hard not to look like I’d just been fucked to an inch of my life in a supply closet by the boss’ son.

Oh fuck, what the hell was I thinking?

The girls moved to the mirror , spreading out across the long counter and pulling out their compacts and lipsticks . I kept my head down, still trying to calm my pounding heart.

“So let me get this straight, he called you at eleven in the night yesterday and wanted to meet you ? At your apartment?” Hana was saying.

The new girl was blushing as red as a tomato.

“Yeah...he uh... he told me he was just returning from his training. He’s a boxer.” There’s a shy sort of admiration in her voice and I felt an odd sense of foreboding.

“Booty call.... He wanted to fuck you for sure.” Jieun said firmly. “ You’re a lucky bitch, Sana... ”

Sana.....

My fingers started trembling when I heard the familiar name. I tried to calm myself down but it was impossible . A red hot sort of rage began licking its way up my spine. It wasn’t new. I knew he fucked other people. We both did.

but I’d never stood within two feet of one of his conquests.

“ Yeah...but then he called me like an hour later and said he wasn’t coming around.” Her voice was tinged with disappointment and I felt a sick sort of satisfaction.

Jungkook had cancelled because of the pic I’d sent him.

“Maybe he thought he wanted more.... like you told me he asked you to come meet him at practice tomorrow right? To get coffee afterwards... ? Maybe he wants to do this properly....take you out on dates...get to know you....”

I couldn’t stay there a second longer.

“Ladies...” I bowed quickly and they offered me cheerful smiles. I all but ran out of the restroom, hating the sharp sting of tears somewhere near my lashes.

I stumbled to the back stairwell, which was mostly unused and usually deserted. Gripping the walls, I slid down to sit on the floor, drawing my knees up to bury my face in.

There was a reason I didn’t do public sex, I thought, shaking. Despite the way I mouthed off at Jungkook, sex with him always took a toll and I had always, always made sure I had space and time to recover from it. Gripping my thighs and trying to fight the urge to whine, I fumbled with my phone.

“Areum?”

“Can I have the day off?” I whispered, shaking a little.

“You alright?” Hoseok’s voice sounded genuinely worried and I hummed.

“ Got my period.” I said blankly.

“ Gotchu. I’ll fill up the form and get one of the interns to pack your stuff up. You need to get some meds or something? Need a ride home?”

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. This is why Hoseok was such a great HR manager. He genuinely cared.

“ I don’t need a ride. Or anything else.” I said quickly, “I’ll take a cab...”

There was a slight shuffling and then, an altogether familiar and unwelcome voice in the background went.

“Who’s that?”

Oh fuck. What the hell was he doing there?

“Areum...hang on, Jungkook’s here....he wants to talk to you...” Hoseok said quickly and before I could protest , I heard Jungkook’s low raspy exhale against my ears.

“Where are you?” He said shortly.

I considered protesting but remembered that Hoseok was still there.

“ The back stairwell... I... I’ll come there , I...”

“Stay right there. I’ll come get you.”

Before I could respond, he had hung up. I stayed on the floor, staring stright at the opposite wall. I forced myself not to think, trying to take deep breaths. The truth was I was exhausted. Physically and otherwise.

Letting my head fall back against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying not to think about what Id’ heard in the restroom. Was Jungkook interested in Sana? Meeting him at practice? Coffee?

That just screamed dating to me. I’d always assumed that Jungkook wasn’t into dating. That he just enjoyed quick fucks because that’s all he had ever offered me. So maybe, it wasn’t because Jungkook didn’t want to date. It was because Jungkook didn’t want to date me.

Which was fine. I didn’t want to date him either. I really didn’t .

“Hey....you okay?”

I had to inhale shakily, just to bring myself to look at him. I felt my heart ache something fierce because he was kneeling in front of me, strands of hair falling into doe back eyes. Eyes that fairly glistened with genuine concern. There was no infuriating smirk or haughty smile....instead his lips were parted in genuine concern, eyebrows furrowed in worry and one hand resting on my knee , fingers just so unfamiliarly gentle.

I stared at him for another second and smiled evenly.

“Guess I’m gonna be needing that wheelchair after all.” I quipped.

He stared at me for a second before his face split in a wide grin, a genuine bark of laughter spilling out of him. He looked so carefree and unabashed that I bit my lips, staring at him some more.

“Let’s get you home , yeah?”

I nodded, letting him grip my arm to help me up.

“It’s okay. I can walk... “ I said softly and he hummed, but still kept an arm around me and I noticed that he had my handbag slung on the other shoulder.

We reached the elevator and rode down in silence .

I followed him to the basement parking and he fumbled with the smart key to his car , pointing in the direction of the multitude of cars and I watched one of the flashy red ones blink.

“Let’s go to my place...., yeah?” He said casually and I groaned.

“Jungkook, I know this going to make your ego swell but I’m not joking when I say that I cannot physically take your dick at least for another couple of days.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to fuck you, God. I’m working on a project for the Art Fest down at the Museum and I’m staying home. You can rest there....” He said casually, moving to put his seat belt on. He fixed the mirrors by prodding a few buttons and I watched the tattoos on his arm flex as he gripped the steering wheel, one arm coming around the headrest of my seat so he could turn and back out of the lot carefully.

I frowned at the broad shoulders near my face. .

“Why would I rest there? I have a home....” I protested , watching him hold the door open for me.

“Because I know for a fact that , it being Monday, both your sister and your mother are supposed to be coming over today to cook and clean for you because you have no life skills, “ He grinned and I glared at him, “ . They’ll probably notice the limp and I just thought I’d spare you the humiliation.”

I didn’t respond because he was right. My mom and sister were home and it would be impossible to get any rest with them around. The fact that Jungkook somehow knew this made me feel jittery and nervous though.

“You have a fight this weekend?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He kept his eyes on the road, sparing me just one questioning glance.

“How’d you know?” He asked curiously and I bit my lips.

I’ve been following your boxing career for a three years.

“ Just heard someone say something at the office...” I said vaguely.

“You aren’t invited.” He said sharply and I gripped the seats, annoyed.

“I don’t want to be there anyway.” I snapped back.

He huffed.

“I’m serious about what I do Areum... I don’t want you interfering in that part of my life, alright? We’ve been through this before.”

I sneered at that.

“I know....isn’t that why you literally banned me from your gym. “

He didn’t reply and I stared at my hands.

He had invited that girl, though, my mind supplied helpfully.

He invited her not only to the gym, to watch him practice, but also for coffee afterwards...you know...to get to know her better....probably because she’s not the kind of girl who would spread her legs as easily as you do.....

I stared out of the window, remembering how pretty and put together Sana had looked. The dainty walk, the perfect make up and the long hair, styled perfectly.

I was beautiful too. Of course I was and I knew it.

Men like Jungkook didn’t go for unattractive women even if it was for a quick lay. But, there’s beauty and then there’s actual charm? I wasn’t charming in any sense of the word. But then, did I have to be charming and attractive and perfect to go see him fight?

Why?

What about the other people there? If literally anyone could go watch him fight, why wasn’t I allowed?

“I want to come watch you train....” I said impulsively, my anger getting the better of me.

Jungkook turned to give me a shocked stare.

“What? Why?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion and I shrugged.

“No reason.” I said shortly. I could physically feel his irritation build.

“Areum....” He began , voice holding a note of warning but I refused to back down.

“Literally anyone can visit your gym. You own the thing and you love offering discounts to everyone you meet...and yet somehow, I’m ‘ banned’. Why?” I demanded.

“Because I don’t want you there...That’s a good enough reason for me.” He snapped back and I clenched my fists harder.

“Well, sucks for you. I’m gonna be there. On the front row. Let me see what’s so great about Jeon Jungkook in the ring that drives women wild...” I scoffed.

He stared at me for a second and then chuckled.

“Ahh..... so you just wanna watch me get wet and sweaty.... ? Understandable.”

I sneered.

“You have been wet and sweaty on top of me enough times and trust me the novelty has long worn off.”

He groaned.

“It genuinely feels like anytime I try to be halfway decent human being to you, you repay me by being as annoying as you can....” He said thoughtfully and I couldn’t say anything to that.

i flinched when his hand reached out, moving to my knees and squeezing /lightly.

“What are you doing?” I frowned slapping at his fingers and he merely moved his hand higher up my thigh. I flinched when he squeezed again.

“The only time you’re remotely bearable is when I’m touching you....So I’m gonna keep my hand here...” He gave me a smug grin, eyes practically dancing with mirth and I grimaced.

“I’m still going to come. I want to.” I said firmly.

He didn’t argue further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to my surprise , I slept away the better part of the day, buried in Jungkook’s soft white sheets , head pillowed in the dozen fluffy throws he kept around. It was vaguely arousing that someone so intensely masculine like Jungkook preferred a comfortable , soft toned bedroom. The sheets smelled exactly like him, a fresh citrusy scent that managed to be soothing and sweet and yet somehow seductively warm as well.

I woke up to fingers in my hair, lightly stroking. The room was dim, a little bit of light from the streets spilling in through the gaps between the curtains.

“Areum.... It’s almost eight.... I’m gonna order us something for dinner... You wanna wake up now?”

His voice. Fuck.

I rolled over , groggy and disoriented. My eyes took in the splendor that was Jeon Jungkook, taking in the fact that he was only wearing grey sweatpants . I stared at the smooth expanse of his chest, feeling arousal bloom , slow and steady all over me.

“I wanna suck you off...” I croaked out before I could fully filter my own thoughts.

Jungkook chuckled a bit at that.

“I’m not gonna say no to that, but why don’t you take a shower and wake up fully.

I shook my head.

“ Let’s get messy first..... we can shower later...” I whined, still blinking and he groaned, slipping into the bed with me, under the covers, grabbing me by the waist and lifting me up till I was on him, my chin resting on his chest as I stared at his beautiful face.

What am I doing here? Where is this leading?

“I’ve never seen you like this. “ He commented mildly.

“Like what?”

“Sleepy and horny....Usually you‘re just angry and horny.”

I shook my head.

“I should go.” I said hesitantly.. Jungkook didn’t respond for a few seconds, merely staring at me with a blank look on his face. Then he gave me a slight squeeze around my waist and moved out from under me. .

“I can call you a cab...” He said simply, moving to get up off the bed again. I felt something jump in my throat . It was unlike him to acquiesce so fast, and it was unlike us to just.... hang out without mutual orgasms thrown in the mix and somehow that felt like a change I wasn’t ready for. A bit of panic flashed through and I reached out blindly when he stood up, grabbing his waist and yanking him closer.

I looked up at him, scooting to the edge of the bed and kneeling till I was right in front of him.

Eager to get things back to normal, I smiled and casually, pressed both my hands behind my back, looping my fingers together at the base of my spine.

“Get those handcuffs.”

Jungkook’s dick literally twitched in his pants and he swore.

“Fuck baby....” He grabbed my face roughly, crashing his lips over mine. I kissed back, almost desperate, trying to remember all the reasons why he annoyed me, why this was all we were to each other. A quick fuck, a quick lay, fuck buddies. that's what we were......

“Stay here. Stay right here...Don’t fucking move.” He pulled back and dove for his bed stand. I watched as he pulled out a silky black tie.

I grinned when he nearly fell, scrambling up on the bed and pushing up behind me. He grabbed the hem of my blouse, yanking it up over my head before grabbing my wrists together again , tying them swiftly behind me.

“Only you...” He whispered against the back of my neck. “ Only you can do this to me. Drive me wild with want just by fucking existing....”

And then he was lying down near me, grabbing my waist and jostling me around till I was straddling his waist. It took me a second to orient myself I managed to steady myself, staring down at him in surprise.

“ Seeing as you said you needed a break from my dick, how about you come sit on my face, today?” He smirked.

I tested the give on my hands, before carefully leaning down to him

“Sure you have the lung capacity for this , Jeon?” I whispered, lips brushing his as I spoke.

He responded by gripping my waist hard, easily lifting me up till i was straddling his shoulders.

“I’m ready to drown in that sweet sweet honeypot, baby...” He winked and it was such a ridiculously bad joke that the laughter got wrenched out of me.

And just like that , we were back to being us again. Or at least, that's what I convinced myself of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE : TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THOUGHT ....I WANTED THIS TO BE JUST PORN BUT APPARTENTLY I CANT WRITE ANYTHING WITHOUT ANGST FML.

Also requests open :)

#bts fanfics #bts smut #bts #jungkook #bts fics #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fics

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ravenousnightwind · 5 years ago

Text

My Story: Mental Illness (mondo long)

I’m going to share some things with you all that some of you may be aware of already. I’ve talked about it before, but I don’t know. I need some form of release. It’s really personal and probably going to be super long. So click below if you want to read it all. A lot of this doesn’t have much to do with paganism, but..it is part of the reason behind why I became a pagan. The sheer amount of self acceptance and reliance, along with other various things within norse paganism especially, has allowed me to be a better person. Just be aware that what you are about to read may be traumatic for some. This is my story, my thoughts, and opinions about mental health. In no way should it reflect everyone as this is simply my way of dealing with it.

I suffer from mental illness, social and general anxiety, and depression. From a very young age I was asked why I had problems with school, or why I didn’t want to play with other kids. Sometimes people tried to force me to do it. In fourth grade, my teacher hated me because I lied about things and stole some stuff. (I don’t feel good about that time.) It was when a lot of my troubles started, because I was literally carried to school by my parents and the principle. After asking me why I didn’t want to go to school, and me telling them I didn’t know, but feeling sad, they grabbed me, forced me to go. I sat on the bench that day. But for the rest of that whole year, the teacher treated me like shit and even threatened my mom for harassment when she called her at home just to tell her I took stuff. I was sent to therapy around this time to figure out why I felt the way I felt. They couldn’t figure it out, and my parents got frustrated with the faculty and the counselor I was seeing, so I didn’t go back. A lot of the emotions I felt went dormant for a while. The sheer amount of pain and fear I felt during that time...I can’t describe it.

Fast-forward it’s eighth grade one of the teachers I had literally put their hands on me and attempted to force me to play with other kids, in public, at a park. At one point, they even sent the other kids out of the room to deal with me and try to force me to get up from a desk, simply because I had my head down when I was supposed to be working (Even though I didn’t have any work to do.) I got so angry that I threw the desk at her, because she kept hitting me on the arm and poking and prodding me. Asking me WHY and screaming in my ear. I got sent home that day for the desk and she made up some stuff in the referral. The next few years again, it seemed like I didn’t have emotions and they got worse but also disappeared to some degree.

Fast-forward, it’s ninth or tenth grade. I was asked if I would hurt anyone in the school, because for some reason, the teachers were freaked out about me. They said, according to my mom “idk he just had a glaze over his eyes”. I told them that I would try to defend myself against anyone who tried to hurt me. So they left, then the principle came. He took me to his office and I sat there, then other people came, I went to the deans office. There was a security guard or some kind of cop there, he worked at the school. They all told me I had to get in the ambulance or they’d take me to the hospital in handcuffs. That’s when I was sent to the mental ward in the hospital for a while. My parents could of got me out of it, but they thought it was good for me. But none of the kids I met there seemed crazy or unusual. If anything, they seemed like normal people. Or normal in my perspective. Some of them were weird, but all and all it wasn’t an unpleasant experience, though I still wanted to go home.

For years I blamed them for a good part of my suffering. But it wasn’t like I didn’t have blame myself. I said things that prompted them to take action against me. Like seeing things, because I was into magic and the occult at this time in my life. They were thinking that I literally saw dragons flying around. I quickly learned that saying things like that would cause people to think that you were crazy and in need of psychological help. After a lot of that, I was in therapy for years. I was drugged with pills, anti-psychotics, anti-depressants, etc. Because they thought I was a danger to myself and others. Eventually my mom grew concerned because my mood really changed after that and I got really fat. She knew It was making me unhappy and took me off of them. Though the effects of what the drugs did to me still remain. The often unfeeling of anything. In fact, it is through this method of treatment that I felt suicidal. It’s still the very reason why I won’t take pills regarding anti-depressants or anxiety. It literally blocks my ability to feel and takes away joy, happiness, and sadness all at once. I didn’t want to live a life feeling nothing, it felt meaningless.

One day I was so upset, that I went to the counselors office hoping I could have a moment of reprieve. I was literally about to burst in tears for reasons I still don’t know. When I told them I didn’t know why I was upset, they said I had to leave and they couldn’t help me. That sent me over the edge, and I started crying more and the threatened to tell the dean. Well he came down there and at this point I was crying so hard that I couldn’t even see. He yelled and screamed at me telling me it was bullshit, then grabbed ahold of me. This sent me into a protective state of mind. He tried to put me in a headlock when I fought him. All he could do was slide me across the floor by pushing my palms against his because he couldn’t get me down. I was sent home that day too, with threats about going back to the psch-ward.

In my JR year of high school, I dropped out because there was this guy I shared lunch with. I bought lunch for him because I liked him, and well, it didn’t go well when he found out why I was doing it. He called me faggot in front of the entire cafeteria and told me: “get your gay ass up from this table!” I refused, and him and his friends got up. I stood up to a bully, for the first time in my life, even though I was afraid. Then it happened again in gym class, but this time I ignored his homophobic slurs of how I didn’t deserve to live and how no one wanted me around. I got angry, clinched my fist, and walked away. I wasn’t going to fall into that drama or make him see that I what he was saying was affecting me.

When Christmas break came, I had a debate with myself, if I was really going back to school or not. I decided it was my life, no one was going to control it for me or make my choices. My parents demanded that I go back, then I told them why it was never going to happen, and that there was nothing they could do to convince me otherwise. I resisted every attempt they put at me. They didn’t want to see me suffer in the end, so they said that if I didn’t go back, I had to continue my schooling through a home-school program.

So, we went back to the school and discussed it. Then, the counselor said the most...demeaning thing a person like that could say. “You won’t be able to do homeschooling, that’s to hard for you, then you’ll have to come back here and it will be all for nothing.” I had been in special education for the majority of my life you see, and working at a “normal” pace wasn’t possible. I learned at a very slow pace. But I did the work anyway, with difficulty. However, depression and other such things began to set in again. My grandma was a great help to me, actually kind of doing the work for me. She felt bad..because she saw the pain I was in and wanted to make sure that I was able to get my diploma. I did, but if I’m being honest, I was way more concerned with how I was feeling than a piece of paper.

My life after that point took a turn. I spent the majority of my time in my room, alone, wishing I had someone to share my pain with. I had no friends for most of my life. I never went anywhere or did anything. In a town of nothing like Decatur Illinois, there’s not much to do if anything. Most people you encounter do drugs or other stupid shit. It wasn’t worth getting in trouble with the law just to have friends, because that’s what most other kids did at my age. Most of my life and interactions with people were spent online. It wasn’t enough however, to keep the depression at bay.

I wanted to rid myself of this curse, this sadness. I couldn’t work out why I was so upset. I didn’t see reason, I didn’t understand it. From that young age, even as young as kindergarten I remember I just did not feel well. At every turn in my life, people hurt me, or said I just had to be a man, or suck it up, blow it off. Just ignore the pain! I couldn’t just ignore it, it was there, either consciously or unconsciously, and I was about to make one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

I started trying to figure out how to perform magic on myself, so that I would never have to feel sad again. People said just think good thoughts, I tried, I tried everything. People said happiness was a state of mind and all you had to do was think positive. None of it worked! I figured if people had this weird happiness then I had to have it too! So I used magic and the occult to push my feelings back. I literally removed them, without pills and medical treatment. I became nothing. Just like before, I became nothing and I did it to myself this time. I locked it all away in a bottle, or inside of myself in my mental chambers.

It was there that it developed its own personality and its own way of working through my problems. Often appearing in dreams or visions as a blue furred half transformed werewolf. I struggled with this for years and years, and even today, it’s hard not to struggle with it. Because the ill effects that it had upon me made me stop feeling feelings consciously. Instead, I would feel nothing, but I knew I was sad. I didn’t cry anymore but I was still traumatized by everything that happened to me. When sadness did come into my conscious mind, I couldn’t deal with it. I’d sit or lay there crying for hours or wishing I knew the reason for my pain, wishing I could get rid of it. All of this formed a sense of self hatred inside of me that is most likely still there.

Then one day, when I was reading and contemplating myself. I “heard a voice”, but inside my head, not through physical hearing. It told me “if you feel it, it will go away.” So I did, I tried to feel what I felt, I tried to face it. I tried for years...to release the wolf I had caged inside me. From ages 19 through 29 I struggled with this. Having phases on and off with it, only to discover I was still doing the things from before. Or thinking that I had reached the top and overcame the depression. I didn’t. It was still there and I didn’t know why!

A few years ago, I finally figured it out. In the beginning, I had this. That was always there. I was predisposed to these problems in the beginning and I was punished for it. People didn’t know how to handle me, I didn’t even know how to handle myself! So they tried, and I tried...to get rid of it. But you can’t get rid of what is already part of you. That sadness, it is part of who I am, even if I don’t want it to be. I didn’t have depression because of some kind of event. I had it because I was born with it! These other events just made it become inflamed and worse than what it was. Part of it is my fault, but part of it is also people just being shitty towards me. I know there was wrongs I had done, people I affected... I’m sorry! I’m sorry and I wish I could change it all now! But I can’t..I have to move forward and make better choices.

Except the way that things were, it didn’t change. I am much better at recognizing when I’m having a problem, but it all has affected me in a very extreme way now. I have severe social and general anxiety. I have depression, and there are days I can’t even get up or do normal chores. Everything is hard and there’s not very many enjoyable things. I can’t even play video games or read sometimes. That’s just how intense the emotion is. Take pills, that’s a no go because I don’t want to feel nothing.

So what do I do? How do I cope with it? I go in phases. Some days I listen to music to calm me, some days I play games, some days I read. Ultimately though, I deal with what I’m feeling no matter what. I don’t try to ignore it, I just use these things as tools to help me cope. Because while I’m reading or playing a game, I am also thinking about why I feel the way I feel. There are days however, where I can’t do anything at all. All I can do is sit there. Don’t even get me started on the abandonment issues I have because of all of this.

So then...what is the point of telling you all this? My point is, you can’t run away from yourself. As much as people love to say “it does get better” I’m sorry, but in my experience, it only gets better for a little while. It isn’t totally bad and horrible, but it doesn’t allow me to live a normal life sort to speak. I don’t go to work, I don’t hang out with people, because every time I am in a large crowd, I get really anxious, so it’s hard for me to walk out on the street or hang with some friends. Because anything in over exposure I have to deal with after I’m alone, by myself. You know after I hangout with people, I have to come home and be anxious for hours or days? I can’t deal with anything else in that time.

So what’s the point in living then? People have hope it will be better one day, how the fuck can I deal with going through phases of happiness and then sadness all the time? I have thanks I can feel anything at all. When I was on meds, or when I did magic on myself, I wished every day, just feel something, just feel sad, just feel happy. Because I was on the verge of killing myself, coming up with a plan. I wanted to die...and that was a horrible feeling. Especially when my parents found out I was planning to do something.

I give thanks I can experience this world and enjoy it, I give thanks that I can feel anything at all, because for so long....I couldn’t feel anything.. Feeling sad, depressed, or happy, is so good. I have a reason to live because I can feel, I can want things and desire things when I feel things. I can yearn for things! You don’t have any of that when you’re apathetic. So how do I deal with this emotion when it consumes me? I take it one day at a time, and each time I feel sad, I ask myself why I feel sad. Especially after my dad dying, I took a turn for the worse. I had to go through shit and relearn it to get back to where I was. After three years and now being 32, I finally feel like I have some form of control over myself again.

So, my advice to you and everyone dealing with mental illness is simply this:

Feel, and deal with your shit. Try to work out why you feel the way you do. If you can’t handle it, find someone you trust and talk to them about it if you can. Talk to me if you can’t find anyone. Do something productive or try to, when you feel down or upset. Ultimately though, try to deal with it in your own way. Just make sure you don’t totally ignore those feelings. In my experience, by doing that, I suffered a lot more by ignoring it than I did by feeling it. I also learned to understand why I felt the way I did and how everything contributes to those feelings.

I got lucky, because I found really nice and understanding people to talk to..and when you don’t have a support system, you can really want to hurt yourself or feel like life is meaningless even when you do feel shit. Try to find your own meaning in life, enjoy what you have first before wanting more. Try to appreciate this world and ask yourself if what you want is truly realistic or not. B

What ever happens, know you are not alone. We may all have different situations and ways of dealing with things, but know that there are others just like you who feel anxious or sad. This pain you feel is not just you, even if you feel like it’s going on forever. Know, someone else is suffering with you, me, and many others. Be Proud of Who You Are. No matter if you’re LGBT+ or not! Be who you are, not who others want you to be! Forge your own path in life! Love Yourself!

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winetae · 7 years ago

Text

⇾ tessellate 02

⇁ hoseok x female reader x jungkook

⇁ smut, slight angst || fuckboi!au

⇁ public sex, exhibitionist themes, angsty sex;

⇁ 10.1k

. . .

“ Triangles are my favorite shape Three points where two lines meet.” (tessellate)

Triangles are supposed to be the strongest and most stable of all geometric shapes. You wonder how true this statement is if applied to real life situations. The way you see it: triangles aren’t a reliable structure for relationships, especially if the parties you’re involved with find commitment to be a foreign concept.

↳ or : a fuckboy’s guide to polyamory

⇀ start | 01 | 02

Your life is a mess — figuratively and literally. Empty coffee cups fill up your wastebasket; messy notes are strewn across your desk. Your sheets are in desperate need of washing — not that you can bring yourself to care when you’ve been falling asleep at your desk for the last three days.

Sleep itself has become a foreign concept. Cup ramen and dry shampoo are now your trusted best friends. Although you do require ten different alarms on your phone to make sure you don’t miss class, your body miraculously manages to function properly enough for you to trudge through the week more or less unscathed.

The past week in question is a blur; one never-ending, miserable routine that starts and ends with schoolwork. When your days aren’t eaten away by your part-time job and classes, you spend the rest of your time cram studying in cafes or finishing off your semester project in one of the available art studios on campus. You’re too caught up with your mountain-high pile of workload to dwell on any relationship troubles, especially when finals are knocking at your door, ready to promptly drag you down to your grave.

"Rough night?"

One of the only classmates you’re acquainted with, Joo, slinks into the chair beside yours, her leather messenger bag dropping to the floor with an audible thud. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts under your nose, and your sleep-deprived eyes are immediately drawn to the venti-sized cup she nurses in her hands. Your stomach growls — a loud reminder that you’ve been living off nothing but shots of caffeine and instant noodles.

"Is it that obvious?" You cover the undersides of your eyes self-consciously with your sleeve-covered hands.

Has your concealer worn off already? The drugstore brand isn’t renowned for being long-lasting but it should, at the minimum, last longer than an hour… What the hell? You had been relying on the product to make you look somewhat human. You grown inwardly, already imagining how frightening you must look with your panda eyes and greasy hair haphazardly tied into a poorly put together bun. You make a mental note to stay away from the sight of your reflection only because you want to spare your eyes the pain.

Your clothes don’t help your case, either — the wrinkled hoodie that dwarfs your form makes you look like an unidentifiable blob who has been living in the same outfit for the past week...which, admittedly, wouldn’t be too far from the truth. You’re sure anyone who takes one glimpse in your direction would think you’ve given up on looking like a normal human being. Between the fight with Hoseok and finals looming over your head like a dark cloud, you’ve been neglecting to take care of yourself properly. And, in all honesty, you would rather sleep an extra fifteen minutes than get up to apply a layer of makeup.

"Don't worry, you don't look worse than anyone else here..." She gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder after noticing your gloomy expression.

A cursory glance around the room confirms Joo’s statement. Her words, however, fail to cheer you up. To know that you’re not worse off than the rest of your classmates is not the most comforting piece of information. A sea of red-rimmed eyes, sunken expressions and grayish complexions surrounds you; it’s a sight you would expect to see in post-apocalyptic movies, not in a 10 am painting class.

"I stayed up until four finishing the damned thing. Thank God for coffee, right?" ” Joo’s lips curl into a frown as she pulls out her essay from her overstuffed bag. She curses under her breath when she notices the front page is dogeared and runs a hand over it in an attempt to flatten it out.

"Yeah.... I haven't been able to sleep much. I wish Professor Park would give us some slack.”

"Him? Give us a break? Yeah, right. He gets off watching us suffer. Why else would he give us this much work before finals? Fuckin' sadist.” She leans forward to press down harder, face contorted in a frown. “He can't wait to see us breakdown from the stress alone." Finally, she kicks one of the legs of the chair in front of her and slumps in her seat, apparently having given up on fixing the crease that mars the cover of her assignment.

Right on cue, the door slides open, and she peeks though her fingers, probably expecting Park to storm in right then. Her tense shoulders relax when the last students shuffle in instead of Park. She waves one of her friends over to the vacant chair next to her, her expression perking up.

You don’t recognize her friend, but, then again, you’re disgustingly bad at remembering faces. If Joo hadn’t struck up a conversation with you several weeks ago, you probably wouldn’t remember her, either. Your eyes stay peeled on her approaching form, partly out of secret admiration; unlike the rest of the zombie lookalikes in the class, her skin glows and her hair is perfectly sleek and shiny (the shampoo-advertisement glossy perfection you see on TV, not the gross kind of oily).

"You lot look like you've gone to hell and back again." The tall girl says in lieu of greeting, turning up her nose at the sight of the two of you. The look that crosses her face suggests she’s accidentally planted her heeled boot smack dab in a pile of cow dung… It does wonders for your ego.

"That's 'cos we have.” Joo grumbles behind the rim of her cup of coffee. “Did you forget the 12 page essay due today?"

"I'm more surprised you remembered. You're so unorganized, it’s a wonder you get any assignments done on time. It stresses me out every time I see you write your homework down on your hand. You can’t keep living this way… It’s April and you still don’t own a fucking planner!”

"Yeah yeah, whatever, mom. I'm not the only one who looks like death. Why don't you scold ____, too?"

You freeze up as they both turn to look at you, feeling the weight of their stares sweep over you.

The look Tall Girl appraises you with makes you flatten the top of your hair in a half-assed attempt to look more presentable. You don’t need confirmation of your repulsiveness when you're already all too aware that your tangled and knotted tendrils look like an open invitation for birds to come make their nest atop your head.

"I overslept today, s'all, didn’t have time to brush my hair," you mumble intelligibly between your teeth. You tug the sleeves of your sweater further down so that your fists are covered in the soft fabric, silently wishing that the ground would choose this exact moment to swallow you whole.

"It's cool that you're so confident in your appearance. I think if I dated someone so handsome, I would worry a lot more,” she says, leaning forward on her elbows to get a good look at you. You’re running dangerously low on sleep and patience which is why the mention of Hoseok instantly puts you in a crappy mood.

"Not everyone is that superficial, Lin. Exams are next week. Only you would care enough to get a Brazilian blowout four days before exams start." Joo forces out a laugh, trying to dispel the silent tension that had inched its way into the conversation. “Lin is a bit of bitch, don’t take it personally.”

“We all have our faults,” she shrugs, unbothered. “I’m a superficial, materialistic bitch — the kind trophy wives aspire to be. But at least I’m upfront about it. Say what you want, but I’m not the worse of the batch… Some people don’t have any morals.”

“You have morals? I’m surprised that you have a soul,” Joo snickers, earning an eye roll.

“Some things just go against my principles. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing UGG boots, for example. Not even if you paid me to.” You can’t help but look down at her outfit — the sparkly pink ensemble looks straight out of the set of Scream Queens. “I only smoke weed on weekends and I don’t kiss boys who are taken.”

Mr. Park chooses that moment to enter the classroom, and you silently thank him for the save. You’re not sure what you could have replied to that, anyway. This is why you try not to interact with anyone, you think to yourself.

As the voice of your professor drones on, going over the study material for the nth time this week, your mind unwilling drifts back to Hoseok, prompted by Lin’s words.

It’s not like you’re actively thinking of him every second of every day. The God honest truth is that you’re trying your best not to let yourself be consumed by thoughts of him. For the most part, your method works well. You’ve got so much to juggle on your plate at the moment that your romantic woes are on the bottom of your growing list of concerns. Yet there are inevitable times when you’re forced to acknowledge the jumbled feelings you haven’t been able to sort out since the night you walked out on him.

Now being a prime example.

Lin’s words bring you back to last week’s fight, the incriminating messages found on his phone and his refusal to explain himself. You still have no clue what you should make of it. Your experience is limited; none of your past relationships have ever been this complicated or dramatic. The entire situation makes your heart clench with anxiety. Bubbling panic brews in the pit of your stomach when your thoughts linger on this subject too long.

Avoiding Hoseok will only postpone confrontation but you would rather battle one fight at a time. Finals are the most important. That’s what you tell yourself anyway, trying to justify your actions when you refuse to call him back after he leaves yet another voicemail.

Mina [10:21 am] you owe me lunch

Mina [10:21 am] it’s been a week

Oh, right… Mina had ordered you a cheese pizza last week when you refused to come out of your room. You had promised to pay her back, only to eventually forget.

You glance ahead, trying to type your reply back as surreptitiously as possible.

Mina [10:22 am] pls feed me today

Mina [10:22 am] i’m broke af rn. my paycheck doesn’t come until the end of the month

You [10: 24 am] okay, fine. meet up for coffee at 12?

Mina [10:24 am] yes!!! I love you <33

Mina [10:25 am] is now a good time to tell u I finished your apple pie this morning

You [10:25 am] !!!!!!

You [10:26 am] I fucking hate you

Mina [10:28 am] sorry :-( will do your laundry for a week

You type back the last message with more force than necessary, a frown marring your features.

A voice interrupts your internal monologue, “Miss ______.”

The call of your name makes your head snap up, your wide eyes meeting the stern gaze of your professor. Although you feel like a deer in headlights, you try to mask your dread with a look of innocence. Several students have turned around to glance at you, and your cherry cheeks burn under the scrutiny.

“Yes?” Your response comes out as a nervous squeak, the sound betraying you. As you clear your throat with a loud cough, the hand that grips your phone under the table trembles.

Park heaves a sigh, the sound echoing in the silence of the room. “Please come see me after class.” The expression etched on his face informs you that whatever discussion he wishes to have with you will most likely not bode well for your future.

“Yes, sir,” comes your meek reply.

Joo shoots you a sympathetic smile you weakly reciprocate.

It seems like your week from hell can get worse, you despair, holding back a groan. Stress eats away at you and you find it impossible to concentrate on the lesson when your thoughts cycle between Hoseok, your professor, and how your life just monumentally sucks.

When class is finally dismissed, your shoulders sag with the weight of your accumulated troubles. You plod on over to your teacher’s desk, your apprehension visible on your face.

“Your essay on George Seurat and Neo-Impressionism you handed in last week was, quite frankly, a disappointment,” is what he says once the last students have cleared out.

Your stomach drops and you think you’re about to feel sick. Being told you’re failing class is not on the list of words you want to hear, now or ever. Back in high school, your work was always highly praised with a stellar grade to prove it, but you feel like your luck is about to change.

“This isn’t the first month of college anymore. We’re almost at the end of the year, so I expect more from you. If you turn in something like that on the day of the final exam… Don’t expect a passing grade. I’m telling you this because I know that you’re capable of doing better.”

He hands you your paper, red scribbles smirching the entirety of the first page. You take it back gingerly, afraid to read through all of your teacher’s commentary. Clutching your paper to your chest like a shield, you brace yourself for further criticism.

“The factual content on the color theory is not false but your explanations are muddled and clumsy. If you follow the methodology we went over in class, you wouldn’t be having this problem. You seem distracted lately, and today was not an exception.” You respond to the pointed look he aims at you with a sheepish expression.

“You don’t have a lot of time left, so make sure to straighten out your priorities. You have to get yourself back in the game, _____. Don’t lose focus of the objective now! You don’t want to see me next year again, alright?” The small smile he gives you makes you nod automatically. You thank him and promise him that you’ll try harder.

Outside, Joo looks up from her phone when you finally come out of the classroom. Lin stands behind her, inspecting her nails with a bored look plastered on her face. “So, how did it go?”

“Oh...it went fine. He’s not as scary as he looks,” you force out a smile, feeling a little dead inside. There’s a head-splitting ringing in your ears that makes your vision spin — almost as if someone has just hammered you over the head. “He just wanted to go over the essay we turned in last week.”

“Cheer up,” she pats your shoulder awkwardly, your hand falling back to her side. “We’re going to work on our paintings this afternoon in Studio B. You should come too, if you’re not busy.”

“Yeah, okay.” The corners of your lips hurt, but you continue smiling.

Your body moves on autopilot for the rest of the day — your feet two lead weights you drag across the floor to your next class. The only thing you look forward to is your lunch date with Mina. You’re so down that you don’t mind spending an extra ten bucks on sweets because you’re in serious need of a pick-me-up.

The café you usually study in is packed; tables all around you are taken up by the MacBooks of students. You manage to find a seat in the very back, next to a lady in her seventies feeding her Chihuahua the crumbs of her cookie. There is not much elbow room, but Mina somehow manages to fit the tray of Danish pastries and her plate of Black Forest cake on the small table.

She doesn’t waste a second — her fork attacking the desserts like a woman possessed.

“You aren’t getting that?” she mouths around a bite of Spandauer.

Your phone buzzes four more times on the table, a selfie of Hoseok with his older sister's dog you’ve set as your lockscreen staring up at you.

'Two Missed Calls from Hoseok' your phone alerts you, making your roommate raise an inquisitive eyebrow in your direction.

You choose to ignore both the call and the look she aims at you, your face schooled in a mask of nonchalance. “Hm? It can wait. I’d rather spend my time with you.”

“How sweet,” she says, not without her suspicions. “It's fine, you can answer. It might be important, you never know... And please.” She rolls her eyes. "Don't say that when it’s never stopped you before.”

“Ha ha," you say drily, cursing how she's able to see right through you. "Is it so hard to believe it when I say I would rather talk to you? It's been a while since we've spent time together.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you would rather be sucking Hoseok’s meat stick. Not that I blame you… I’d suck that dry if I could. Not that I would since you’re dating him but y’know. I’m getting pretty desperate... I’m this close to letting Dandruff Dan take me on a date. Don’t look at me like that! You don’t know what it’s like, okay? My vagina hasn’t had any action in so long, it’s starting to feel dusty.”

Next to you, an old lady splutters into her coffee cup, shocked no doubt by the vulgarity of today’s youth. One look at the scandalized expression carved on her face and you don’t know whether to laugh or to feel embarrassed. A nervous, strangled giggle leaves your mouth before you can stop it, earning you another glare. You’re thankful at least Mina has the decency to mouth her apology while handing the elderly woman a stack of paper napkins.

“I’d love for her to have a chat with my gran,” Mina says under her breath after making sure the white-haired woman could no longer overhear your discussion. “She used to be a groupie and followed rock stars around from city to city. If you knew the stuff she did… Makes pornos look tame. Ah, I really miss her… She’d be so disappointed in me if she knew I haven’t had dick in over six months...”

She takes another bite of cake, looking thoughtful. "Are you sure Jimin isn't down to mingle?"

"Dunno..." You twirl your stripped straw around your smoothie, refusing to think about Jimin. Jimin makes you think of Hoseok, and Hoseok is a problem you can't bring yourself to solve. "Haven't seen him around much lately."

You've never interacted much before, but now that you're giving Hoseok the silent treatment, you're hell bent on avoiding any of his friends as well.

"What's going on? I can tell something's up. You've been biting your straw non-stop since we sat down and just look at your nails." You look down, finally taking notice of the tragic state of your nails, uneven with chips of fading blue nail polish still coloring your thumbs. "And it's not like you to blow off Hoseok twice in a row like that."

"Just, you know... Stupid stuff."

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you. You can tell me what's wrong, if you want. I'm not the best at giving advice, but I don't like seeing you like," she waves a hand around at your face, "this. You look like…”

“Death came knocking at your door this morning," she supplies with a grimace. "Jesus, when was the last time you took a shower? Seriously… What's bothering you so much? Is it Hoseok? Did you guys finally have a fight?"

"Finally? What is that supposed to mean?”

"Well, yeah. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

"Wait, what? You aren’t surprised?”

“Honestly?” Hesitation crosses her features as she mulls over her words. The beat of silence speaks volumes and gives you your answer before she finally speaks again. “Not really. What happened exactly?"

"I found some weird pictures on his phone. This girl he's been talking to sends him semi-nudes."

Mina shoots you an apologetic look. “I’ve always thought relationships built on sex don’t last long. Don’t take offense, okay? But all you two do is fuck. Any of your interactions involve getting each other off some way or another. I’m not saying that he should take you out to a fancy restaurant or anything, but... Do you guys even talk? What do you guys even do?”

“We do talk!” You’re quick to argue, used to defending yourself from accusations. “We text each other and we call each other when we can. Both of us are really busy right now, that’s why we haven’t been able to spend time with each other as much as I would’ve liked...”

“Okay...” She smiles, unconvinced. “And what do you guys talk about exactly?”

“Just, like...normal, mundane stuff. How our day went, what we’re having for dinner. But we’ve never argued before this...”

“So...superficial talk. You could have the same conversations with anyone else, am I right? And what do you even know about him? What’s his favorite color?”

“We don’t have to know everything about each other,” you argue. “We just started dating! You can’t expect us to know every single, little thing about each other. And, besides, I don’t know much about you, either, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t close. Knowing or not knowing his favorite color shouldn’t be a reason enough to be with him or not.”

“It was an example, gosh. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t see what’s changed between now and the time you guys were just casually fucking. Like, cool, he calls you his girlfriend now, but what does it matter if he’s off wetting his dick whenever you’re too busy to let him come by.”

“I don’t know about that. He did say that he didn’t get with her since he started dating me... I shouldn’t care about who he’s been with before that.”

“You actually believe that excuse?” Mina lets out an unattractive snort. Stabbing a fork into her slice of chocolate cake with more force than necessary, she scoops out a huge mouthful that she somehow manages to swallow in one bite. “Honey, he could at least try to sound a little more convincing. He got that straight from a 'How to be a fuckboy' manual.”

"Hoseok isn't like his friends," you insist, stubbornly.

"Sure, sure. Take off your rose covered lenses for a second and hear me out. Birds of a feather flock together. Even if he's not as bad as his fuckboy posse, he can't be squeaky clean either. He and his friends name themselves the Pussy Terminators... Not only is that cringe as fuck, it's also a quite telling."

"I think Hoseok mentioned Jimin was the one who came up with that..." you add as an afterthought.

"That's not the point here! The point is, those types of guys are good for a fuck, and that's it. I'm glad things were working well with Hoseok, but I also don't want you to get hurt. So talk it out, listen to what he has to say, but don't let him play you like the naive freshman he might think you are."

She takes one of your hands between her own, “Don’t let him step all over you, okay? I know you like him a lot, but I can see how stressed out and miserable you look.”

You chew on your bottom lip, mulling over her words in silence. While she does have a point, you want to give Hoseok the benefit of the doubt, even if you aren’t sure if he deserves it.

The dilemma that rages inside your heart but be readable on your face, for Mina squeezes your hand in comfort. “Go home, take a hot shower. You’ll feel a lot better, trust me.”

It turns out that Mina is right about at least one thing. The hot shower does wonders for the crick in your neck, and you feel like a different person now that your hair is clean and the thin layer of grime has been scrubbed off your body. A hot shower is not a miracle solution for all of your problems, but it’s one step in the right direction.

Feeling rejuvenated in clean clothes, you head on over to the art studio to advance on your semester paint project with a spring in your step. Painting always helps your clear your mind — once you get in the zone, no one and nothing can distract you.

The scaled down frame forces you to focus on the tiniest details, invisible to the untrained eye. With meticulous brush strokes, streaks of golden brown start to fill in the stenciled field. Every measured stroke is thought out and calculated; your hand is steady, your breath synced to each subtle movement of the paintbrush that glides across the smooth surface of the canvas.

Any of your previous worries are pushed to the back of your mind, out of sight. You don’t even notice when Joo and Lin eventually leave the studio, too immersed in the task at hand. The sun shifts in the sky, casting shadows that make it impossible to continue your work.

It's when you finally set down the tool in your hand that you begin to register your immediate surroundings. The hands of the clock hung up on the wall indicate how much time has slipped by and, distantly, you tell yourself that you should hurry on home if you want to catch the first few minutes of the TV show you've been into lately.

However, instead of heading back home, you stare blankly at your unfinished painting. Intense dislike twists your insides and you have to fight down a scowl.

The bright, warm hues of your painting are meant to reflect inner peace and happiness, but one glance tells you that the mix of colors look startlingly wrong. The blue of the sky is too icy, the golden field of wheat grim and inhospitable. You feel nothing when you stare at it, and that vacancy in your chest leaves you feeling bitter.

Nothing in your life seems to be working out right now.

You have no idea how to repair what’s been broken or where to even begin. Mina’s right, you think, you are miserable. Being with Hoseok had only been a temporary bliss, but it wasn’t a solution to all of your existing problems. While the rest of your life slowly spiraled out of control, you found refuge in his touch and his whispered words of reassurance.

A quiet knocking at the door breaks your concentration. Speak of the devil and he shall appear... Somehow, you know who it is before the door even opens. Call it intuition.

The thick wooden door slides open, and the face of the person you've been avoiding appears. Your heart stops, and, for a second, you think you’ve mistaken a dream for reality.

Hoseok is dressed in sweats and the university jersey, his hair pushed back beneath his snapback. Being familiar with his schedule, you suspect he’s come straight from practice. The dance studio he trains in is situated on the other side of campus, and judging by how sweat still clings to his brow, his face glowing with a sheen of perspiration, you surmise he must've rushed here right away.

No one makes a move. Time is suspended — seconds seem to stretch into minutes in front of your very eyes. Beneath this silence, there's a tension that lingers in the air, an awkwardness that was never present before.

"Hey." Hoseok has his hands buried deep in his pockets. He tries to sound casual, like nothing is out of the ordinary.

It only confirms everything you've been thinking about for the last few days. The two of you tend to ignore the problem in the hopes that it will fade and disappear by itself. Still — he's here now, isn't he? That has to mean something.

"Hi," you say back, but even to your own ears, the greeting sounds contrived. You wonder how long you’ll keep on dancing around the elephant in the room.

As much as you would rather not have this conversation, you know that you can’t keep running away from confrontation forever. This is why your relationship isn’t working in the first place; because the both of you have been turning a blind eye whenever any kind of problem arises.

Now that you've acknowledge that there's an issue, will you really keep on ignoring it? How can you possibly keep pretending that all is okay when you feel the weight of all that was left unsaid pressing down on your shoulders?

Hoseok must feel it, too.

“Can we talk about this now? Or are you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” you clarify with a sigh, setting down your palette.

To this he raises a brow, evidently not convinced, “Well, how else am I supposed to interpret all the missed calls and unanswered messages? Would you have even talked to me if I hadn’t come here and sought you out?” Although he’s trying to stay levelheaded about this and speak calmly, you can detect traces of frustration slowly seeping into his speech. "If Kook hadn't told me where to find you, I wouldn't even be having this conversation with you right now."

He leans his weight against the doorframe, his head tipping back as he lets out a frustrated exhale. The column of his neck is exposed to your stare, making it easy to spot the fading pink bruise you had left him near his chiseled jaw. "I don't blame you, if you are. But we should be talking this out, yeah? You never gave me the chance to explain the other night. Well— " He pauses, chewing his bottom lip as he measures his next words carefully. "That night, I didn't tell you everything so...I can understand why you would misunderstand. I don't know if I'm too late but I'd like to explain myself now."

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you I needed some space, but I needed time to think about...us.” A beat passes as you gather your thoughts. You’re thankful he doesn’t jump to conclusions right away and gives you the time to speak free of interruptions. "

“Did you work it out?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Good. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us — especially about this. Yuna? She means nothing to me. Not even — we never… I’ve never hooked up with anyone else since we started being together. I know I don’t have the perfect reputation, so I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but I’ve never cheated on you.”

“Hoseok, who is she?” The silent accusation is loud enough for him to flinch.

His tongue swipes over his dry lips. You expect him to give you a roundabout, vague answer that will only add fuel to the sparking fire.

After a moment of silent debate, he inhales deeply, choosing to stick to the truth. “We hooked up a few times over Christmas break before New Year’s. I thought we were on the same page, that those few times didn’t mean anything but good fun, and for a while Yuna didn’t do anything to make me think otherwise. Sometimes, one night stands think that they’re something more and it’ll complicate things, but Yuna was always chill."

Hoseok notices your expression and continues, "But ever since we started dating, I don’t know what’s gotten into her… No matter how many times I tell her I’m not interested, I can’t shake her off. There’s not much I can do but ignore her messages and leave her calls unanswered...”

“So…you’re telling me that she’s the one making passes at you? And that you can’t do anything but reject her over and over again…” Saying it out loud makes his explanation all the less believable.

“I know. I know it sounds like a weak ass argument. God, I’m sorry, you deserve better," he berates himself, the corners of his lips pulling into a frown. "I wish that I could tell her to fuck off for good.”

“Then why can’t you? Isn’t this harassment? You have to tell her to stop! This isn’t okay, and I’m not just saying this because I’m dating you, or because I’m jealous or want you to myself or—” You inhale deeply, catching your breath before you continue, "This isn’t okay, Hoseok. If a guy kept sending me dick pics even when I clearly told him I wasn’t interested—"

“I know," he cuts off your rambling with an exasperated sigh. "I know and I try to avoid her when I can, I do, but she’s in the fucking Mayday Showcase. If she was any other fuck, I would set her straight, but I don’t want to pick a fight right now. Our teamwork already sucks as it is… The showcase means too much; I can’t let myself screw it up.”

“You’re not the one screwing anything up. If this is true, she shouldn’t be acting this unprofessional in the first place.”

“Yeah, but it’s also my fault for not following the rules. We’re not supposed to fool around with anyone on our team for this exact reason. I should've known something like this would happen.”

“So what? You’re going to let her come onto you until the year is over? How in the world does that help your teamwork?” You cross your arms, lips pursed in displeasure.

“What else am I supposed to do? Jun even told me to deal with it on my own. ‘Keep your side fucks in line’ is what he said. Crude, but he has a point. It’s my fault, right? As the saying goes, I've made my bed so now I have to lie in it."

“Jun’s a dumbass…" Shaking your head, you don't know who you're more annoyed with — Jun for giving the world's shittiest advice or Hoseok for accepting his words without protest. "No wonder the teamwork is shit, when you have him as your captain. Maybe you should take it up with your dance instructor instead. Surely they’ll intervene, right?”

“So they can, what, pull Yuna from the showcase? And mess with the dance formations? We’ve been practicing this for months, it’s not something so easily changeable. If that happens, it’ll take more effort to adjust and rearrange the choreo. Dance comes first, it always has. It’s all I have, you know? It's all I’m good at. If I lose this chance, then there won’t be anything left for me to do.” He trails off, his eyes fixing a stain on the wall with feigned interest. He tries to mask his discomfort but you can see right through his act. It's not often Hoseok divulges his inner thoughts and insecurities; he probably feels embarrassed and regrets speaking too much.

A pause laden with tension follows, filling the empty void between the two of you, as you try to make sense of what he said. You're momentarily at a loss for words. Normally, you would provide gentle words of encouragement, but this time they get stuck in your throat. You still don't know whether or not to buy his explanation. It would be so easy to give him the benefit of the doubt and just go back to how things were in the past...

"Don’t get me wrong." The silence is finally broken with an awkward cough. "I don't care about Yuna; I don’t even consider her a friend. But I can deal with it. It’s a major pain in the ass, but I can deal with it."

You nod, not sure who he's trying to convince — you or himself. What is that even supposed to mean? Is he doing you a favor by letting this girl send him pictures of her in various states of undress? Mina’s words of warning ring through your head again, reminding you not to let him take you for a fool.

“I… I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have told me this earlier,” is what you say about a bout of silence. “Why did you have to hide this from me? Don’t you think this is just a little bit important?”

“I guess I… It sounds dumb, but I didn’t want to ruin things between us. Things are stressful as fuck right now, but when I’m with you, I forget about all that for a while. For the short amount of time I get to spend with you, things become easier to swallow. No deadlines, no practice, no drama. But I don’t want to make up some lame excuse. It was wrong, I know I should’ve told you right away and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“Alright.” The curt reply is all you can manage. Talking has only made you more frustrated. So you’re just a stress reliever to him? That’s what he’s getting at right… What are you supposed to make of that? Does he expect you to be grateful?

The residual anger hasn’t washed away yet, and you feel the traces linger.

“So, we good?"

"Are we?” You’re tired of brushing things under the rug. “I don't think we've ever been good... I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and talking to Mina helped me straighten my thoughts out.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst from the confines of your chest. You can feel the thrum of your pulse in your throat. Hands curling into fists at your side, you try to steel yourself.

“I...I thi— I think it's best if we break up."

“y/n…”

“What we have isn’t a relationship—”

“Is that what Mina said?” He scoffs, slightly mocking.

“It’s what everyone is saying!” You throw your hands up, your pent up anger exploding.

“And since when do they matter? They don’t know anything about us.” The exasperated look he shoots you only irritates you further.

“But are they wrong?”

“Okay, fine." He huffs, his brows pulling into a frown. He continues the next sentence in the same heated breath, "Maybe things aren’t ideal between us. Maybe we aren’t perfect together. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the poster child for any 21st century romance. But since when are relationships supposed to be a smooth sailing? Throw those ideals out the window. The stuff you read about in books doesn’t exist."

The look of frustration he pins you with roots you to the spot. You can't remember the last time he's gotten so worked up over something. Pushing himself off the wall, he stalks over to you, closing the distance in three long strides.

"But you know what’s real?" Hoseok doesn't wait for your answer, "I don’t need other people telling me how I should feel. I know what’s real.”

For the first time since you've met him, the words aimed at you are harsh and scathing. It feels like he’s digging an accusatory finger up against your chest even though he isn’t touching you at all.

“How you feel?" You can't keep the incredulity out of your tone. Scoffing, you cross your arms in the hopes that you won’t waver. You need to be strong, you remind yourself.

"Please don’t try to convince me to stay when you don’t even love me. Do you — Do you even like me?"

"Do I even—? That's not the issue. Of course I like you.” He looks horribly affronted by your underlying suggestion, the crease between his brows deepening. A wounded expression falls over his face then, and he suddenly avoids your gaze. “But I— You’re right... I don’t know if what I feel is love. But at least I can say that I’m trying. Are you really going to run away at the first sign of trouble? I don't know much, but I don't think that's how relationships work."

“You always claim that you’re not the ideal boyfriend, but I’m not perfect either… I’m selfish, and I want a lot more than I lead on.” Your cheeks burn scarlet as you toy with the hem of your sweater, trying to distract yourself from the embarrassment that comes with your admission. It’s the first time you’ve been so honest, and, honestly, it makes your stomach turn. “I’ve never liked someone like you, I’ve never… I’ve never liked someone as much as you, either. But I feel like I’m investing a lot of myself in a relationship that isn’t going to work out. And as much as I want to be with you, I’m scared that I’m going to end up with the short end of the stick.”

Hoseok repeats your name, one of his hands tentatively reaching up to cup your jaw. His eyes don’t leave yours, like he’s trying to silently communicate the feelings he’s unable to voice out. You fix the tall bridge of his nose instead, then his pink lips — anything but the chocolate brown of his eyes. You’re afraid you’ll end up projecting your own feelings...and the last thing you want is to interpret his look for something else. You don’t need the false hope.

“I’m really sorry,” he whispers, thumb stroking your chin, your lips. “You’ve always deserved better. If you’re selfish then what am I?”

When his lips meet yours, your eyes have already fluttered closed in anticipation. If you gasp into his mouth, he’s quick to swallow down the sound before it can reach his ears.

Your hands fist the collar of his shirt, pulling him down closer to match your height. Greedily, you drink him in. His mouth tastes like the familiar, sweet flavor of Wrigley’s juicy fruit gum and the bittersweet taste of finality. You realize then how much you have missed him — his touch, the scent of his cologne that clings to his clothes like fabric softener, the way his lips work against yours with the intent of pulling you apart from the very seams.

"Ah, fuck," he curses under his breath when you nip the underside of his jaw, your tongue soothing over the mark with kittenish licks. You reach to pull off your pink hoodie, discarding it somewhere on the floor. The thin tank top you have on underneath draws attention to your cleavage which Hoseok can’t resist venerating with his gaze.

The art studio isn't a private space. On the contrary, anyone is free to walk in unannounced just like Hoseok had moments ago. But like every single one of your risky encounters in the past, this knowledge only fuels your arousal. The desire that sparks within you whenever he's around always wins out.

One day, your kinks will surely get you arrested, you think self-deprecatingly. Arrested or kicked out of school. The thought barely forms in your mind before Hoseok tilts your head to deepen the kiss, wiping out your train of thought. His lips dull your senses — or rather they make him your sole focus. Whenever you’re with him, you don’t realize how severe your tunnel vision is. Lost in the moment, all you can do is concentrate on the way he gently cradles your jaw between his palms. Heat blooms inside of your chest with every swipe of his tongue against yours until you can’t remember anything but his name.

Hoseok seems to sense your urgency; he reciprocates your advances, his grip tightening around your waist as he backs you up against the window. Your back hits the cold surface with a thud. A throbbing heat spreads at once, your body reacting to his like it’s been conditioned to do so, but the pain doesn't have time to register, not when he presses himself against you and you find yourself sandwiched between the glass panel and his toned body.

He pulls back and levels you with a heated look, "You want it here?"

Your breaths mingle as he rests his forehead against yours while waiting for your verbal assent. With the way his arms cage you in his hold, you find it impossible to look away from the expression of lust that paints his face in bold streaks. It's like ripping off a Band-Aid, you think to yourself, convinced that it'll hurt less if you just fuck him out of your system for good. Hoseok interprets your silence for uncertainty so he adds quietly, "You can always say no. It's okay."

"I want this." Your answer spills from your swollen lips, too quickly for your liking, revealing your desire for the man in front of you. Having nothing left to hide, you decide to drop all prior pretences. "I always want you."

It's a truth you don't like to admit but can't bring yourself to deny. How can you pretend any differently? You've always been too honest about your intentions and your feelings, ignoring the warnings from your sister to never wear your heart on your sleeve. Although you understand the need to protect yourself from heartbreak and disappointment, you would rather experience that then live through a cycle of regrets and 'What If's'.

Hoseok's features soften at your admission, his thumbs hooking themselves in the loops of your jeans. Silently, he draws you closer still, your bodies perfectly intertwined, like two puzzle pieces slotting to make a match. Only a few layers of clothing separate you from him — you're so close you swear you can feel the drumming of his heart against your right breast.

From this close, you can't help but notice how the fire in his eyes is now smoldering rather than scorching. Sometimes the heat of his passion is so intense you feel like you'll combust into a mess of flames and smoke. If Hoseok is the sun, you are the fool who can't resist singeing her wings. But this way, it's bearable, you think to yourself, his darkened gaze making you slowly melt into a puddle instead.

"You're so good to me." His breath grazes your skin, his eyelashes fluttering as he stares you down. A thumb traces the curvature of your bottom lip like a sculptor admiring a finished masterpiece. "My good girl."

The words sear through you, no longer providing the comfort they used to. But the ache they leave in their wake is momentary, your mind refusing to dwell on the painful feeling.

Hoseok’s ministrations help distract you. Deft fingers inch under your shirt, caressing your supple flesh as gently as a bamboo brush sets ink to paper. The drag of his digits across the canvas of your skin is feather-light, almost hesitant, and you suspect this is Hoseok's way of making sure you truly want this as much as he does before going any further.

When you don't immediately back out or push him away, he pulls your top down far enough to expose your bra-clad chest, and cups your breasts over the last strip of fabric until you’re moaning against his mouth. The skimpy lace material leaves you vulnerable to his every ministratio — the soft squeezes of his hands on your mounds and the heel of his palm rubbing into you to provide delicious friction — and you can confidently affirm that no other man knows how to get you as riled up as he does. Hoseok is so familiar with your body that he could probably find each of your weak spots blindfolded. He uses this knowledge to his advantage, immediately honing his attention on your sensitive nipples, his thumb dragging over the lace covered buds until they're stiff and aching.

"A-ah, Hobi please..." Your tongue molds the words with familiarity, so used to begging for him.

"I know you enjoy that. Are you getting wet for me? Hmm, not yet?" He pinches you through the lace, the fabric chaffing your sore nipples. Your body jolts, breasts bouncing in his hands as he continues to play with your swollen buds. You have to swallow down your moan, unable to articulate the traitorous thoughts running through your mind. The longer this pleasurable torture continues, the more your body yearns for more. Still, you refuse to give in completely, wanting to test how long Hoseok could hold back.

Whenever you played this particular waiting game, victory had never been on your side. Not because Hoseok was unaffected — but because your desperation eventually became too much to tolerate.

But expressing your desire through lidded eyes is a challenge; Hoseok chooses that moment to trace the slope of your neck with his lips, his head now buried in the crook of your neck, hidden from you. You tug the hairs at the nape of his neck, trying to make eye contact again but he doesn’t let you steer him away from his goal.

Hoseok presses each kiss onto your skin slowly, with purpose, as if you had all the time in the world to indulge in each other.

Why is he acting like this right now? Your teeth catch your lip in their hold out of sheer frustration. Each delicate print of his lips on your body reminds you of what you can't have, and your heart aches, heavy in your chest. The soft material of his jersey crinkles under your grip as you try to keep yourself upright and composed. You hate it, the way he his tender touch sparks something inside of you, chipping away at your resolve.

Over his shoulder, the clock on the wall catches your attention, and your spine straightens as reality sinks in.

"Hoseok," you tug insistently at the collar of his shirt in your attempt to remind him you were both short on time.

"Mmm, be patient." His teeth nip your ear lobe to accentuate his command.

"But we don't have—"

"If you want me inside your cunt, I want you nice and wet for me. Wait a little longer, okay? Be good." His sickly sweet smile is a hoax; it tells you right away that he's taking the utmost delight in making you squirm in his hold. Upon noticing the glare you sport, the corner of his lips quirk into a smug smirk, confirming your suspicions.

Patience is not your strong suit. On normal days, Hoseok is usually kind enough to cut to the chase, but for some unexplainable reason, he seems to want to draw this out.

Slow sex is welcome on lazy Sunday mornings, under the cover of thin sheets, in the privacy of your room. It's not convenient nor desired when you are running late for afternoon lectures, and even less so when the place you're trying to get it on is an empty classroom anyone is free to walk into. Of all the locations for a quick romp, it had to be the fucking art studio…

You know that if you want him to fast-forward the maddening pace he's set you need to lead the game. Hoseok knows your body inside out — but the same could be said for you; you know what makes him tick, what gets him unbearably hot under the collar, which cards to use to get his heart pounding.

Jutting your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, you lower your voice into a sultry purr "B-but I'm dripping already." You almost tack on the word 'Daddy' for good measure, but you aren’t in the mood to play that game today. You don’t want him to be sweet or caring; you don’t want to trust him blindly anymore. All you want is to wash him out of your system as painlessly as possible.

If Hoseok doesn't react verbally to your confession, you don't let that deter you. The rigid muscles under your clutch tell you that you've hit your mark.

“It’s not the same without you,” you continue, lust making you shameless. “I need you.”

You’re scared to acknowledge how much truth there is to these words. Deep down, you know they’re spot on, but you refuse to acknowledge it. You don’t want to be dependent on him, not for your pleasure nor anything else.

Thankfully, Hoseok doesn’t let you linger on those thoughts for too long. He unbuttons your jeans and slides them down your legs, pulling your underwear along with the denim. Material barriers now gone, a breeze of cool air caresses your exposed skin.

“You’re right,” he smirks, thumbing over the incriminating wet patch on your panties. You can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed about it, too impatient to get it on. One of his hands reaches past the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls out his hardened member, the thickness making your mouth go dry with desire.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he orders as he picks you up by the meat of your thighs, the prints of his fingertips digging into your skin. You loop your arms around his neck like a lifeline; breath caught in your throat as he positions your hips over his erection.

“Oh fuck,” you groan, feeling the head stretch out your walls as he pushes himself in inch by inch. You’re lubricated enough so that it isn’t painful, but there’s no dismissing the way his girth slowly works you open. However, the uncomfortable sensation quickly melts away and leaves room for pleasure.

The week you haven’t been with him feels like a month, and your body is eager to make up for lost time.

“God,” he moans, brow creased, evidently as affected as you. His nostrils flare, muscles in his neck tensing, and he shudders when you clench around him without warning. Sweat drips down the side of his face, the tiny beads of perspiration making his skin glisten under the late afternoon sun. Your eyes drink this sight in, subconsciously trying to commit every minute detail of his face to memory.

His hands keep you pinned against the wall as he works his hips against yours in careful strokes. You can feel the delicious drag of his cock inside of you as he pushes in and out, your body adjusting to the gentle rocking. He buries his head in the hollow of your neck, mouthing at the spots he knows make your knees buckle.

"Always feels good with you." You almost miss the way he murmurs the praise against your shoulder blades. It's delivered so quietly, you can barely hear it over the hammering in your chest and the roaring in your ears, and you wonder if he means for it to reach you. The words aren’t said for an added kick or for show, you realize.

"I want it d-deeper."

He's already giving it to you so good; the fluidity of his movements, the way he angles his hips into yours and keeps your legs hoisted up around his middle — all of it a lethal combination intended to make you scream out his name. But desperation claws at you — you need more, need the pleasure to numb all other distracting thoughts. You want to overindulge until you’re so full from pleasure that you’ll never need to come back for seconds.

"Yeah? No one can give it to you like me. You love it when I fuck you out," he rasps, the sound rough around the edges. A whine leaves your parted lips when he lifts you back down onto unsteady feet. His hands slip down to your waist, keeping you stable as he turns you around so that your back faces him. “Turn around for me. That’s good, yeah—right against the window.”

Wobbling only slightly, you brace yourself against the windowpane, the position all too familiar. Except now, when you look down, you can see a swarm of students below, some walking to their next class, others sprawled across the freshly mowed lawn as they try to bathe in the last rays of afternoon sunshine. From the fourth floor window, you’re capable of distinguishing their faces if you squint, so you’re sure that if they happen to look up, they’ll be able to spot you, too. Even though the glass panel only exposes your face and the peak of your cleavage, you know any student who catches a glimpse at you whilst in the throes of passion won’t be duped into thinking otherwise.

Eyes blown to comically wide proportions, your pulse kick-starts at the thought of someone observing you from below. Your breaths come out in short pants, and you can physically feel shivers run down your spine. Hoseok’s hand is steady on your waist, grounding you.

“If you want to stop at any time, just tell me, okay?”

“Just go,” you gasp, breath fogging up the window.

Hoseok heeds your words of advice, not wasting any additional time as he lines up his slick shaft along your weeping entrance. When he pushes into you, your mouth parts to let out a high-pitched moan of pleasure. It’s only now that he’s stretching you out that you realize how much you’ve missed this, craved this.

With one hand groping your left breast and the other tight on your hip, he fucks up into you, his hips slamming into yours from behind. He quickly abandons the slow, languid pace from before, his thrusts now rough, fueled by the need to reach his end.

The lewd sounds that echo in the studio could alert anybody standing outside the door of what you’re doing. You wonder who is most likely to find out what you’re up to — a person walking by in the hallway or a student down below. With the way he’s fucking you, there’s no way of knowing.

It’s a miracle no one’s caught on yet. Not that you would have noticed them. Every piston of his hips makes your skin flush, perspiration making your shirt stick to your torso. His cock feels so good inside you — like it was meant for you — and you have a hard time controlling your facial expressions, your arousal evident with each mewl of pleasure to spill from your lips.

“Is it wrong that I want them to see?” Hoseok breathes into the shell of your eat, the hot air making you shiver. Your mind ruses to supply the image his words conjure up and you can’t stop yourself from clenching down on his hard cock. “I want them to know that I own this pussy. They’ll take one look at us and know they’d never compare.”

His words make you tip your head back and you’re weak to resist the way his tongue finds your own, fucking your mouth to match the steady rhythm of his hips. It doesn’t take long for you to fall apart on his twitching cock, not when he knows how to please you so well. Hoseok’s pace falters as he feels your walls try to milk his cock. He ruts into you, swiveling his hips as far as he can go, his fingers bruising against your skin. He chokes your name between grunts before emptying his seed inside of you in thick spurts.

When your beating hard slows down enough for it to be bearable, your fingers twitch against their position on the wall, yearning to reach down and keep Hoseok inside of you. He pulls out almost too soon for your liking, leaving you truly empty with only traces of semen running down your inner thighs.

It’s ironic...or maybe it’s fate, you think to yourself as you pull up your jeans, skin sticky with sweat and bodily fluids.

You and Hoseok have finally come full circle, it seems. You started your relationship with Hoseok with sex and you ended it the same way. A relationship built on sex isn’t meant to last long.

“I’ll see you around?” Hoseok says awkwardly. It’s strange seeing him at a loss. With you, he’s always taken the lead, so self-assured and experienced. The timid, unsure image of him in front of you makes you soften and grant him a small smile.

“Of course,” you humor, knowing the words are said for formality’s sake. Now that you aren’t dating or having sex, there’s no reason to bump into each other. Your classes aren’t on the same side of campus and you run with different circle of friends.

Hoseok opens his mouth to say more but ends up swallowing his thoughts and keeping them to himself. You know the feeling. No matter what you try to tell yourself, you know that it won’t be that easy to move on — for you or for him. It’s only a matter of time before both of you somehow find a way back to each other.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the figure leaning against the oak tree readjusts his cap, dark eyes never leaving the window where your figure was pressed up just moments ago.

#i accidentally queued this for jan 1st 11 pm OTL #sorry for the slight delay !!! happy new year's !!!!!!#hoseok scenario #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok smut #junghope #hoseok #jungkook #series #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

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cheollies · 7 years ago

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Boyfriend!Seungcheol

requested by anons: i combined three request because they were sort of similiar: a boyfriend au + very cuddles + clingy

He’s such a sweet boyfriend

Always taking care of you and making sure you’re okay even before checking out his own health

Also whines a lot

Can often be heard whining ‘baaaabe’ while lying down on a couch or bed with a pillow in his arms and a grin on his face when he sees you

Likes it when you sit between his legs, it makes him feel slightly dominant and gives him a comforting feeling to have you in his arms

Has a matching everything

Rings, bracelets, earrings, shirts, sweaters, shoes, pajamas, basically anything made for couples, he got them for the both of you

He just loves to show you off while making it known that you’re his

Probably got a shirt that said ‘Choi Seungcheol’s Girl’ on it but you refused to wear it because it would embarrass you in public

so now you wear the shirt only at home and honestly it’s so much better than he thought because it really does mark you as his

is the type of guy to have his arm around your neck instead of your waist, it’s easier for him to pull you to him and again it’s a comfort thing and his arm won’t get so tired trying to hang themselves on your waist

Finds it really cute when you wear his clothes, his favorite is when you wear his jackets.

too many times have you forgotten to bring a jacket that he then takes it upon himself to give you his own

But he doesn’t give it up until he’s finished screaming ‘I TOLD YOU TO BRING A JACKET! NOW YOU HAVE TO SUFFER’

only you don’t suffer because he loves you

but he just finds it so cuteee when you put your arms in the sleeves and then they turn into sweater paws because it’s so big on you, and then the ends of his jacket falls just slightly on the mid of your thigh so double cuteness because it’s long on you and covers your cute butt that he knows guys have been looking at

Friends with your mom and literally shit talks about you at brunch with your mom while you’re right there

‘my daughter looks so malnourished, you should be eating more’

Seuncheol with a head nod ‘i have been telling her that every day but she never listens to me’

Will text your mom every day

like your mom visits just so she can see Seungcheol

Already calls Seungcheol her son in law

Sometimes it feels like he’s dating your mom instead of you

Does this weird thing where he kisses your nose, sometimes you think he’s leaning down to kiss your lips and you’re so ready but then you just feel his lips press against your nose and it’s cute but at the same time ‘um your aim was way off’

A very cuddly boy

If you had to describe seungcheol in two words, it would be ‘cuddle buddy’

He’s a huge cuddler

Big spoon or little spoon? Heck he’ll be either one

But he likes the feeling of wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his as he buries his nose into your hair, smelling the sweet scent of your shampoo and conditioner

He likes to hold you close, asking about your day or telling you about his, sometimes ruining the moment with a very inappropriate question but his arms feel so safe and warm that you always fall asleep in it

But he also enjoys holding you when you’re facing him, because he can look down and there you are, staring right back with such lovely eyes,

And the feeling of your breath against his skin sends jolts down his body

but you did knee him in the crotch one time so he saves those types of cuddles for special occasions

Also clingy

To the point where he refuses to let you go

‘I need to use the bathroom Seuncheol!’

‘NO!’

He fell asleep during a movie once, and this was after he came back from practice and he promised that after the movie and cuddles, he would go wash up

But that promise fell apart because when you woke him up, he’s clinging to you, his arms constricting yours, his legs wrapped tightly around your waist while he’s whining about not wanting to leave

And when you try to leave yourself, he tightens his grip so he’s just basically sucking all the air out of you and it doesn’t help that he still smells of practice room sweat and so you’re screaming in his ear as he rolls off the couch and all around the floor

Dates include him wanting to do every cute thing with you

Petting zoos

Shopping

Amusement park

Festivals

He just wants to spend so much time with you while making the best memories he can

Has a little folder on his phone dedicated for you

Speaking of his phone

His background is a picture he took of you trying to down an ice cream and it’s so embarrassing for you but he thinks it’s a cute picture and refuses to take it down

also you’re his number 1 speed dial, everyone found that out when Seungcheol let a little kid play with his phone and the child speed dialed caller 1 and everyone assumed Jeonghan’s or Jihoon’s phone would bring but BAM, you answered the phone and Jeonghan is so salty the rest of the day

Texting Seungcheol is a mess

Most of his messages are him saying he misses you

You get those like 10 times a day

And other times, it’s him ranting about how disappointed he is that one of the members stuck a paper ball up Hansol’s nose while he was sleeping

Won you a thousand bears at the amusement parks and festivals

Went to the beach with you one time

one time

Didn’t like how some of the guys were looking at you in your bathing suit so he prefers to swim in the bathtub

He gets cold easily

so whenever he gives you his jacket, he starts shivering five minutes later and you’re trying to give back his jacket but he refuses even though he’s clinging to you and you’re forced to bring him into a coffee shop where you two warm up with coffee and kisses

is head over heels for you

Seungcheol seems like the type of person who when he falls for someone, he give them his all, it’s everything or nothing with him. He invest so much into his relationship because he believes loving someone means offering them everything. But really the only thing you could ever want from him, is simply his comfort.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL #seungcheol #svt #seventeen #seungcheol scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #scoups

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i-may-have-a-point · 8 years ago

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Review of 13x19 “What’s Inside?”

When I first watched the episode, my initial reaction was that it was so awful I didn’t need to write a review. But then I thought that maybe the fact that it was so awful was something I needed to write about. There is a lot to be said about the choices the show isn’t making, so this review really focuses on that.

I get the opening scene completely. As I said in my 13x18 review, this episode is about Maggie accepting her mother’s death, so opening with her visiting her mother's grave makes sense. Now I don’t think this story should have been the one driving the episode, but here we are anyway. As much as I expected a scene with Maggie at her mom’s grave, I was distracted during most of it. I had to watch it twice just to tell you what Mer and Amelia were saying to each other. And the thing that distracted me has been distracting me for a while – Mer’s clothes. For the most part, I think the wardrobe department is fantastic, especially with the women. Each woman has a specific style to their clothing outside of the hospital that reflects their personality well. Even in this scene, Amelia’s leather jacket is a great call back to her edgier Private Practice days. It was a great clothing choice. But it makes the poor clothing choice for Mer even more obvious. Mer’s style is slowing becoming, “Well it looks clean, so I guess I’ll wear it.” And that would maybe be understandable if she was sporting the tired mom look, but since her kids have been in the basement since season eleven, it’s strange. And on top of that this is the second episode of the last three where someone has called Mer hot, so they clearly want to send a message about her appearance to the audience. It’s all very strange.

Eliza, Arizona, and Riggs – For a character that was the catalyst for one of the only story lines the show chose to focus on this season, Minnick has been curiously absent from our screens. I have to think the show got the hint that the fans were not going to be told who to like and decided to pull back a bit. The audience screaming “No!” at Paleyfest when Arizona and Eliza were mentioned had to have grabbed their attention at least a little. Arizona says to Riggs, “It’s just that people are so full of opinions about Eliza…” and I don’t think that was completely about the characters. It feels like Arizona is justifying to the audience why it’s okay for her to be with Eliza. “I’m recently divorced.” (Recent? Define recent because people have had babies and completed cancer trials since your “recent” divorce. Is this another Grey’s timeline black hole?)

Owen and Amelia – Oh look, Owen’s Army friends are happily married and expecting a baby. Good. We haven’t dangled Owen’s dreams in his face in a couple of minutes. Let’s do that again.

April, Steph, Cross – I am so happy to see April back. April/Sarah really does bring a much needed light to the show. It’s not the same without her. I get that this story was supposed to bring the comedy to balance the seriousness of Maggie’s surgery, but it ended up stealing the show. These three do comedy so well. Too bad we won’t see it more often.

Mer and Alex – I just can’t. I need Alex to do something other than prop up Meredith. Even if they want to ignore Jolex, give him anything else to do but that. Please. And this Mer and Riggs will they/won’t they go on a date is not suspenseful. You had sex with him in your car in the parking lot at work, Mer. I think you can eat a meal with him. The audience isn’t feeling a build-up. If anything, we are losing interest and hoping Riggs runs in the other direction.

Bailey and Webber – I almost forgot they were in the episode. When Shonda said this season would focus on the originals I expected great storylines for Bailey and Webber. Instead we got the equivalent of them fighting over Bailey choosing a new friend to do her school project with. They deserved better, but that could be said for most of the characters, so I will just be happy with the fact that it seems the Minnick/Webber storyline may be over.

Cross, Steph, Deluca – Jo Adler (Cross) is such an untapped talent. I get serious early George vibes from him and I love it. So we probably won’t see him again until next season.“I have Obamacare. I have a year left, and I…” You know an episode is bad when I say out loud, “I want to see more of Cross.”

Owen, Jackson, Amelia, Mer – I love that Jackson is always eating. I would stress eat if I worked there, too. As frustrating as it is that we have no Japril scenes, we do get an April mention from Jackson, which I think is significant. This happened in 13x05 as well when she had her first day back to work. They had no scenes together, but he asked about her. So, at least she's on his mind? Sigh. And Jackson telling Mer it’s not normal she operated through a miscarriage was a great moment. Funny. Especially since Owen is the one she operated on, and he is sitting right there.

Mer, Amelia, Maggie – I like Maggie. I do. I mean, I generally like everyone, so I don’t know if that means much. But I’m not invested enough in her character to want to watch three episodes in row basically focusing on her. The show really, really wants me to be, but it hasn’t happened yet. Audience connection to characters has to be organic. It can’t be forced, and it’s just not there with Maggie for me.

Maggie operates – And she is absolutely fine. Sigh. I mean I definitely didn’t want anything bad to happen to the baby or mother, but this story was anti-climactic and so many other stories are just sitting, waiting to be told. If those stories are getting bumped for this one, at least make it amazing.

April, Steph, Deluca, and Cross – Sarah and Jerrika really have a great dynamic onscreen together. I mean Stephanie being Jackson’s rebound sort of cancelled any chance of friendship, but their scenes always catch my attention. I love anytime April is shown as a capable and in control surgeon, so her annoyance at Steph and Deluca was great. Again, these scenes were the best of the show for me.

Mer, Amelia, Maggie - The dance it out scene was inappropriate to me. Shonda puts scenes in like this or a few of them eating lunch together and then tweets, "Oh, it's just like old Grey's!" like that will make us forget this season has been a mess. And dancing it out was a thing reserved for cheating boyfriends or bad days at work, not dead mothers. Dead mothers deserve a scene where they act like adults who are capable of dealing with their emotions and have a conversation. But, of course, we don't get conversations.

Maggie and Jackson - So, I don't see why people are freaking out. I just don't. I've tried. I've watched and rewatched and squinted at my screen. I see nothing. I mean, yes, they have had more scenes together, but absolutely nothing in those scenes has hinted they would be romantic. If anything, Jackson literally called her family. I think what this really is about is the fact that we have had no resolution from Montana so it is easier to see this as a possible reason than to just admit that the continuity and writing have been way off this season. I really think that since JTS was filmed in November, the show wasn't sure where it was going in the line up (they have moved two centrics recently) and they just didn't film anything that would be out of order for Japril. And let's be real. The show knows what they have with Japril. Just look at the publicity and money that was spent on JTS. The other centrics have not gotten that kind of treatment. Jesse and Sarah filmed on location for days with another crew. That location had to be rented. They had to pay the Grey's crew and the other crew at the same time. And the press? I read at least ten articles about JTS from entertainment sites. Jesse and Sarah were sent to the TCAs to promote it. They did the SAG-AFTRA screening, which is a big deal for the Screen Actors Guild to do something like that. Jesse was sent to New York to promote the episode on like five shows. I can't think of any other time the show has spent the time and money on a single episode like they did for this one. They aren't going to throw that away. And those pics Debbie Allen posted hinting that their last scene of the season is a good one? That was intentional. They know that Japril is the biggest couple on the show right now. If they were to trade that to test a relationship between step-siblings, the audience would run. Sure there are about five people who would be fine with it (and I am deeply concerned for them...) but overall I think a large portion of their audience would be done. And that is not to say the show hinges on Japril. I'm not saying that. I just think that would be the tipping point where Grey's has obviously stopped caring about telling good stories and is only trying to be shocking. As an audience we can only take so much of being ignored.

Speaking of being ignored, my heart goes out to hardcore Jolex shippers. Their story, or lack of, has been one of the main reasons this season has been such a let down. 12x24 set the stage for a great Jolex story, and then nothing. And I get that Camilla is pregnant, and obviously her health and the baby's health are more important, but they could say something. Don't just ignore the fans. They set up this season to be a look into domestic violence and Jo's past, and then we get nothing. If it's about her pregnancy, just say "Camilla is focusing on her private life right now, so we are pushing the DV story to next season." Or something! It could be done without putting her business out there but still respecting the fans.

I am an optimist, so I still have hope that the last four episodes will bring back the Grey's we love. If you made it this far, thanks for reading. This was a long one.

#grey's anatomy #13x19 #japril #jolex

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forceyourway · 7 years ago

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Tree of Life Shadow Work Challenge

Day Three: “What aspect of my home life might I benefit from taking into consideration?”

(Using Loki’s tarot deck, “The Raven’s Prophecy Tarot”)

I’m loathe to take a picture of the entire tree again, because it’s a pain to assemble. I totally took one and then realized I set it up wrong and sigh. I might edit this with the tree picture later.

Six of Cups - I thought this was a weird card to be here, because it’s literally about considering your childhood. Like he’s just saying the question back at me, y’know? It might be that I need to acknowledge positive memories, because I’m so overwhelmed by negative ones. It might just be talking about evaluating my childhood self, and who I was then. There is a sort of implication of innocence? I think with this. Like, all of this stuff happened, and I was a child.

Home Life - Security, Belonging, Self-Worth

Reflect on what your home life was like growing up. Consider things like household income, inter-family relationship dynamics, overall lifestyle, etc. Was financial stability a source of stress? Was the relationship between your parents conflicted? Did you feel accepted by your family? Did you feel safe at home? Did you live a life in a suburban setting, in the boonies, in an orphanage?

Security My childhood was comfortable, financially-speaking. My dad has a very high-paying job. We moved out of our townhouse, and into a house-house when I was in 3rd-ish grade, and we rented out the townhouse. Every now and then, my dad would need to go there to fix something or what have you, as the owner, and my sister and I were always very excited to tag along. We wanted to go back and see where we grew up, and see if our old babysitter was available to play with, or go to the park. The park behind our house was pretty much always changing, so that was neat. One time, my sister and I were wandering around the Big Park. We heard they had a splash pad, but when we went there, the water was off, and we couldn’t figure out how to turn it on. Some other kids were there, older kids, probably 16+. About 5 of them, I think. We followed them through a path in the woods that led to a park we’d never been to before. Along the way, I picked up a big stick and was using it like a walking staff, as kids do. I kept trying to talk to the other kids, oblivious that they did not want to play with me, and they took offense to being followed around by an annoying white girl with a big stick. It came to a point where they were demanding I put the stick down, and I stood my ground, because wtf this is my stick, I found it, I’m keeping it. I didn’t understand the connotation. They beat the shit out of me. All of them. I remember hitting the ground hard, and pain. My sister ran. I was in middle school at the time, and she was even younger, but it stuck with me that she ran. When I told my dad what happened, he at first acted like he didn’t believe me, and then said he’d go investigate and tell the other kids off. That was a lie. I really thought he was gonna do it, and was really hurt when he didn’t. He ended up hardly acknowledging what happened to me at all. This is why I have abandonment issues. I grew up feeling like I couldn’t rely on my family to protect me when I needed it. Later, toward the end of middle school, I got into a fight with a girl at her sleepover party. She’d been pushing me around all night, and when she tried to pour body spray down my back, that was the last straw. I grabbed the closest thing and chucked it at her. I think I meant to grab my pillow - it was right there - but ended up grabbing a tiny (as in, could fit in your hand) wire earring-case or whatever. I remember being shocked when I saw what I did. It hit her in the head/face. She started screaming “You hurt me!” and started kicking me repeatedly in the stomach. Pain. Chaos. I couldn’t so much breathe. Her mother looked at me like I was dirt after that, because I must have deserved it. Her father wasn’t so sure, but I still needed to get out of their house immediately. My dad picked me up. He remembered what happened at the park, and said I must have deserved it. I didn’t tell him what happened. None of the girls stood up for me, either. They were kind of complicit, in that they let her - or joined in on - pushing me around the whole night, before the fight...

We grew up in a small town in a suburb-ish area. No crime to speak of. There were a couple of kids our age on the street, most notably two sisters who were me and my sister’s best friends. Their mother hated us and was very vocal about it with our parents, telling them we had “A Serious Problem.” All the damn time. She and her friend (another neighbor) kept calling me a Smartass. I...didn’t know what that meant. Ever oblivious and ever self-incriminating, I took it as a compliment and said thank you. That hardly helped matters. It took me a long time to realize that the girls pretty much didn’t give a shit about us; they played with us when it was convenient, but not when others were around. The younger one and my sister got physical a lot. They made fun of us all the time, and mostly it went over our heads. My mom was very irresponsible with money, eating out all the time, shopping all the time, etc. And frequently she was out of work; most of her jobs were as a temp, and there was a lot of in-between time. This was a huge point of tension with her and my dad, and eventually we ended up very deep in debt, though it hardly showed. My dad started gambling to compensate; sometimes he won big, but mostly it was just a huge money drain, and it became an addiction for him. When my mom finally left my dad for good, he got stuck with the debt, and essentially went bankrupt. He’s now living in my decrepit childhood home, eating ramen noodles, and god only knows how far behind he is on the bills. He’s still got that good job, but it’s not enough, and he's still gambling. My parents were always fighting, and my dad got so loud that I was always expecting something physical to go down. Always expecting I was gonna get hit. My mom got physical with me. My sister got physical with me. My dad got physical with me (after I provoked him). Home was not a safe place for me. I didn’t feel I could rely on my family. My mother was always late, very late, when picking me up from school, like I was an afterthought. They abandoned me when I needed them, and they sure as hell didn’t protect me. I used to pretend that maybe I wasn’t really their child, maybe I was secretly adopted. I’d convince myself that to help me get by. Unfortunately, I saw too much of them in me - and me in them - to keep acting as if they weren’t my “real” parents.

Belonging My parents really, really wanted me to be someone else. I hated shopping with my mom, because she was always trying to play dress up with me. Put stuff on me I didn’t like, because that’s how she wanted me to be. And she’d get aggressive if I refused to go with her, or told her I didn’t like the clothes. To this day, she thinks I’m still in some “goth” phase, despite constantly wearing varied and multicolored outfits around her for many years. A few years ago, when I was looking for a job, she told me she found an opening at whatever-store-or-other...which she immediately followed with “as if you could ever work there; you have no fashion sense!” I have excellent fashion sense, thank you. My dad actually forced me to go to a tanning booth when I was...14? 15? because I was pale and I had acne, and he was trying to “fix” it. I was super, super opposed to this, but he forced me into it, telling me I should be grateful and all that shit. I was supposed to get naked and lay in this freaky light machine. I remember being super uncomfortable, and I refused to strip all the way down. He was so, so angry with me. We didn’t go again.

To this day, my dad constantly remarks on what a weird kid I am. How it’s not “normal” that I don’t drink or smoke (or that I never have), and he started smoking when he was 12, or whatever, and used to steal beer all the time. It seemed like he wanted me to do all that stuff, because it was “part of growing up???” I am wondering now if this might be one of his weird as hell attempts at humor; the problem with that is, no one ever knows when he’s kidding...

Self-worth I suck at math. I have dyscalclia. I just don’t brain it right. My dad is obsessed with math. I went through workbook after workbook as a child, in some attempt to make me good at it. I hated them. I snuck calculators when calculators weren’t allowed. Never learned my times tables; to this day, he’ll throw a random multiplication question at me every now and then. I was forced to go to Math Camp, which I hated. I think I might have cried one day, on the way. Nothing helped. When I went to the second Catholic school, the one with the Hive Mentality, my math teacher did a thing where we had to do warm-up problems before we could do anything else. Everyone brought up their notebooks and she’d check them, and then they’d go on to the next thing. I spent the whole class going up. I had no idea what I was doing wrong, and she refused to help me. I was in tears by the end, just writing down random answers after going through every possible way I could have gotten it wrong.

I was really good at school, once I hit public school. Always on Honor Roll. In high school, I came close to having straight A’s a few times, but math always held me back. It was pretty solidly at a C. I had one geometry teacher who refused to help me - or anyone - when we were struggling. I think I got a D. First time ever. Of course, a huge deal was made about this. The next semester, I got a new geometry teacher, and instantly shot up to an A. He was very kind and helpful, and he used colored chalk so you could see the different elements of a problem. I had like a 103%, and was super, super proud that I shot from a D to an A, and I had straight A’s. My dad just said “We’ll see how long that lasts.” When my sister got straight A’s, he gave her $100, because she was the “dumb” one, and I was the “smart” one, and I should have had straight A’s all the time???

#Tree of Life Shadow Work Challenge #Tarot #Divination #Divination Challenges #@unmaskingthedivine #Abuse #Physical Abuse #Child Abuse #Bullying #Assault #Emotional Abuse #Mental Abuse #Psychological Abuse

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sammacduffy-blog · 6 years ago

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My Dad’s Notebooks

I recently came across my dad’s old journals. They do not resemble the notebooks talks about in his writings. I’ve found the notebooks and have secured them.

The reasons that I’m transcribing his journals is simple, he’s going missing. I need help finding him.

Anyways, here it goes:

Hello there. I’m not sure what you are expecting to find here. Hell, I’m not sure what I’ll be writing here. I already write so much in those damned notebooks. I use the word “damned” in a quite literal sense. You’ll under

Anyways, I wanted to leave something for my family. I’ve been going through a lot lately and figured that getting my thoughts out on normal paper would be a hell of a lot better than the alternative… I’m sorry, I must sound confusing. I hope that the further you read, the more it will make sense.

Where should I start? From the beginning? Sure, why not. Every story has a beginning.

I was raised a typical military brat. Spent time over in Europe and a multitude of states. My dad worked with the Air Force in Strategic Air Command. All I knew about his job what that is was classified. He once tried explaining it to me like this:

“Well, it’s like going to work every day and trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle. However, the picture is a solid color and other people keep adding more pieces or hiding them from you.”

I didn’t see him much. The only way in knew he was home was by the presence of his duffel bags. He had one packed for an out-of-country deployment and one for an in-country TDY. If both bags were by the door, I knew he was home.

Mom did her best to keep up with my brother and me. It didn’t help that she also worked a classified job, just on the DoD Civilian side of things. At least we were able to see her at nights and on weekends.

During the week days, my brother would go to day care and I would go to the base’s youth center. I was a little awkward and mostly kept to myself. I didn’t really fit any “normal” stereotype. After awhile, I got use to being alone. It got to the point that I started to worry my parents. I enjoyed being alone so much that it seemed normal to me. My parents said that I should have been spending time with kids on my own age and enjoying the very few family functions we had.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my family. I just didn’t want to be around them.

Before my lack of social skills became too much of a problem, my dad was medically discharged from the Air Force and we moved back to my parent’s hometown. The thought was that our family down there would be able to “instill the traditional southern hospitality” in me and I would become “normal.”

Given the type of people that frequent this website, I know that you’ll find that humorous. Just finish laughing and I’ll type ahead. Heaven knows that I’m not going anywhere.

So, to appease my parents and keep from being hackled to death by my family, I became “normal.” There was a trade off, however. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement between my parents and me. I would act “normal” out in public and around my extended family and then I was allowed my alone time when we were at our house.

After the second week of being in their hometown, my mom bought me a little back notebook. She thought that I should be able to at least get my thoughts out of my head and express myself in some form.

We settled into a routine of me going to school and having a social life with friends. My parents pretended that everything was fine and I would steal away into my room every sparing moment that I could and fill notebooks full of rants, short stories, and general thoughts.

I felt comfortable writing. Just something about the pen and paper. The ink and paper didn’t judge. My favorite combination was a classic, lined Molekine hard cover journal and a Parker Jotter pen. I wrote so much that a callus developed on the side of my middle finger. Each of my writing sessions would leave my hand cramped and aching, and I loved it.

I eventually graduated high school and didn’t follow the normal crowd to university. Instead, I chose to go into public service. I went to a community college and obtained my EMT-Basic certificate and license. I worked my way up to being a Paramedic and actually enjoyed my job.

I bet you’re scratching your head. Yeah, a little more information will help.

My dad was a fire medic for our hometown before he enlisted in the Air Force. Because he went into the National Guard and not active duty straight away, they made his civilian job his military job. When it was apparent that my parents couldn’t afford a family on a firefighter’s salary, dad when active duty and we were shipped to Europe. During his transition back to the states, he was moved to SAC.

The few conversations that I did have with him, he had always talked about enjoying the fire department and wishing that he had never left.

With that, I followed in my father’s foot steps. But, I didn’t stop at just being a paramedic. I obtained my flight medic certification and when through a Tactical Combat Casualty Care course. I spent time attached to my county’s Sheriff S.W.A.T. Team. I worked with an anti-human trafficking group. I became a Critical Stress Incident Debriefer. The certifications I earned goes on for days.

It’s no secret that we see some bad things in the field and the list of fucked-up shit that I’ve seen is long and extensive.

So, for your benefit, beloved reader, I will not go into detail. Those are my demons to deal with.

Every chance I get, I put another demon into one of my precious notebooks. My hand screams with pain every time I write. It’s almost as if I can feel the pain leaving my body through the ink of my pen. The gratification of seeing that ink forever trapped on those pages is indescribable.

I do my best to keep my notebooks from my family. The atrocities that fill those pages makes the devil smile with delight. Sometimes, I can even hear him whisper over my shoulder to let the demons out.

“Oh, how beautiful if would be…” he would start. “It’s very simple and you know it.” My hands would run over the covers of my notebooks, feeling each one of them begging to be let out. His whispers would grow sweeter and more enticing each time he spoke.

Then, I would see a reflection of myself. An evil grin playing on my lips. I would snap out of it and leave my office.

My office is not very big. I live in a four bed room house and it’s the smaller of the rooms. I installed a lock on the door to keep the curious temptations of my wife and kids in check. I bought a small second hand desk and shelves. Each shelf is filled with my precious notebooks. Their spines smile at me every time I walk in the room. At last count, I had two-thousand and fifty-seven notebooks.

I do what I feel like every dutiful father and husband should. I provide for my family. I make time for my girls and wife. But, when they are all in bed, I head to my office. My wife knows where I go. She knows that if I walk into my office with a bad attitude, I always come out feeling better.

I have a routine when I enter my office. I unlock the door, step inside, shut and lock my door, and stand there in the darkness for no more than ninety seconds. It becomes too unbearable if I stay in the dark any longer. After turning on the light, I make my way to my coffee maker and make a large cup of coffee. Once it has brewed and coffee in hand, I walk over to the book shelf that holds my empty notebooks and select one. It isn’t a random choice, while all of my notebooks look that same, each notebook is different. I run my fingers over the spines and pick the one that calls to me that day. I sit down at my desk and pull out my pen. I take a sip of coffee and start to write.

My writing isn’t elegant or beautiful. It’s harsh and heavy-handed. When I start, the pages of the notebook are slowly filled. The pages make a satisfyingly crackle when I turn to write on the next page. As each page passes, the writing becomes faster. There is not change to my handwriting, my writing just becomes faster and faster. There are no breaks and I don’t go back to read them. When I finally close my notebook and slide the elastic band over the cover, my hand is aching and he is whispering in my ear. You see, the coffee isn’t for me. I just make sure the taste is suitable for him. Once I am able to stand, I take my notebook over to the shelves of full notebooks and slide it into its proper place. There is no origination to my notebooks, each one just tells me where to place it.

I wipe out the used coffee mug, place it next to the coffee maker, and unlock my door. Just before I step out of the door, I hear him say, “See you tomorrow night.”

It wasn’t a normal routine. But, it was one that allowed for my family to live happily enough. There where times that I was not able to write in my notebooks and my family could tell. One time, I tried for about a week and was almost put on anti-depressants as a result. At that point, my wife encouraged me to write every night that I was at home. My parents, however, still thought that it was unhealthy. I wish they would have just left everything alone. Things would definitely be better if they had.

I remember that day very clearly. I had gotten off of shift that morning and had taken my girls to see their aunt. My dad was suppose to get off of work a little after noon and meet us at their house so we could all spend some time together before Aunt Pam left to go back home.

Mom asked me to call dad to make sure that he knew to come home instead of going to his doctor’s appointment. (We rescheduled it for the next week.) Dad said, “Ok.” And we went back to talking like nothing was wrong.

You can see where this is going.

Last trigger warning. It’s about to get graphic.

When I couldn’t get a hold of dad and he didn’t show up for dinner, I went to his office to check on him. My heart sank as I turned the corner and saw his truck sitting in the empty parking lot. He wouldn’t answer the door and very time I called, I could hear his phone ring.

I called 911 and gave them my spill. Luckily I knew the dispatcher and the responding fire department. We were able to use a halligan tool to open the side door and we made entry.

I was the first one to find him. He was lying in the floor of the bathroom with his belt around his neck. I’ve seen too many dead bodies to know. The ashen skin, the cyanosis around his lips, and swollen tongue, I knew he had passed. All I could do was stand there, knowing that there was absolutely nothing I could do. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. I felt the a pair of arms wrap around me and then I was being led out of the building by my colleagues.

I sat on the bumper of the rescue truck. My face buried in my hands. No matter how hard I not to let them, the tears escaped. There wasn’t a person on scene that I didn’t know. I was brought water, offered a consoling word or two, and hugged. After what seemed an eternity, I was able to compose myself long enough to talk with a deputy and answer his questions.

After a while the dark humor took over and it was as if I were just on another scene with my co-workers. Of course, I had to step away a time or two, just to compose myself and then walk back. It was during one of my walks back that I noticed it. A set of eyes just beyond the edge of light. It was far enough back into the shadows that I couldn’t quite make out the shape, but I knew exactly what it was. It was at that time that I felt a slight touch on my should and a whisper in my ear.

“He read one.” His voice jeered. “Oh, how beautiful it was.” I couldn’t see him, but I knew that he was smiling.”

“Now is not the time to be playing fucking games.” I said in a low tone. All fear from me had gone. Nothing but anger and hatred were guiding my words.

I felt his hand move from my shoulder, almost as a startle. It was then that I realized that this was the first time that I had actually spoken to him.

“No games.” He said. All evidence of him being startled was nonexistent. “I’m only speaking truth. Go look in his office chair.”

Without saying another word to him, I walked up to the deputy and asked to look at my dad’s office chair. The deputy walked with me into dad’s office and using a gloved hand, we pushed the chair back. There is was, sitting as he said it would be.

“Anything relevant?” The deputy asked.

“Not sure. You mind?” I asked, gesturing to the notebook. The deputy shook his head and I opened the notebook. It was completely empty.

His voice returned to my ear, “Your door is no longer locked.”

#horror #story #wiriting #writers #writers on tumblr #ghost #creepypasta #creepy

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valorousowl · 7 years ago

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So I'd said I'd complain here. Because I want to. But I also don't want to. Under the cut because sensitive shit.

My father died two weeks ago on Sunday. I've made about 3 posts about that. Last week we had some funerary services. Mom is having a month long wake for people to pay their respects to his ashes which will be mixed with hers following her death and then buried together, likely in the Military Cemetary in Pennsylvania where her brother is also buried.

I performed some of the services, reading

Psalms over his remains from his Lutheran service book at my mother's request. I also said prayers over his remains a few times and blessed a cross she's received as a bereavement gift.

Other than that we just spent a whole lot of time together, not enough, and talked a whole lot.

This is thw second funeral I've been at in 6 months. In may my Uncle Jack died and if home down briefly for that. An aunt had died cut In that time, Ngoc, but I wasn't close so I ended up not going/not invite to her funeral.

My sisters at that time, had been quite angry that id gone to his among other things, despite the fact he'd been like a second father to me and always looked out for me during high school.

To make things simple I'm gonna bullet what they did last time under their names.

Page

Bitched a lot about me choosing a nonblood relative over a blood relative

Had a whole homophobic* rant about it not being fair the family accepts my wife but not her girlfriendbeating, childabusing, alcoholic, lazy, boyfriend.

Ended up leaving me until way after the funeral ended because she was pissed at me. My other sister had to get us and take us to the after part.

Not great but not bad comparitively.

Hillary

Ended up showing up late to pick us up from the pick up location in Ithaca. I literally can't give her my address it's that bad.

I had to drive us down. She'd programmed her gps, two of them, to give conflicting turns so the other was no help when I got lost after Harrisburg.

Wanted to sleep at a rest stop parking lot only halfway through, this is the DAY OF the funeral.

Literally started screaming at me for getting lost and said "I drive like a man"

Told me she'd kill me for transitioning when I joked that I can't drive like a man when it's so expensive to transition**.

Repeated it, making sure I looked her in the eyes, in front of a witness, that she will kill*** me if I ever transition.

Tried to drop in unannounced at 6 am at the mother of the dead aunt to pay condolences. Even if I'd been invited that'd be supremely rude.

Immediately went to sleep when we arrived about an hour or two BEFORE the funeral.

Continued to hang all over me and call me ungrateful for not visiting for almost 4 years before this.

That was last time.

This time she did something worse, and what makes it even worse was the fact that it was our FATHER.

I know it shouldnt matter because family is family but she was there when he died and had tried to get ahold of me at work before it was too late. All of this made me think she was at least acting like a decent human being. I was wrong. I know people process grief differently and I'm no different, im still fluctuating between denial and anger and even mom is pushing it far from her mind so she doesn't have to face the reality of it. But there's certain things that are unforgivable.

Page in comparison was really kind, so anything she did out of frustration I'm skipping this time because she made an effort to be civil.

Hillary

Lent us her bedroom which was nice, except she was in there all the time. Like not to get stuff she needed she was just hanging out in there all the time. And I know you're thinking "It's her room, stop being an asshole!" Except it brings me to point two. She'd especially do it after picking fights, so that literally we didn't have anywhere to get away from her. She'd do this when I lived there too, except she'd do it in MY room, which had literally no way of locking her out as we shared one connecting door that only locked in her side. She does this for attention so she cannot be ignored.

We went out to her work, where she introduced me to Everyone as her daughter. There's about three problems there alone, but I had to be polite to her co-workers. She did so so she could basically just mooch off the free samples. Which they all commented on, pointedly.

Afterward she had me drive just to start an argument about politics, literally took me down several new roads I didn't know, and got mad when I wouldn't make the turns instinctively and made me make what were basically illegal turns. She made up for this by buying my therapy cat some things at Wal-Mart including a fidget spinner****. Then stayed in our room for three more hours.

The next morning she acted like nothing had changed and said we were going out to eat. We went to The Green Dragon which is a fancier Asian buffet with a variety of dishes. It was nice. Until she started discussing politics LOUDLY. It wasn't that kind of restaurant, it was mostly older people, like 80% 60-80 year olds on the early bird special, not somewhere you want to talk politics in rural Amish country Pennsylvania.

I told her three times, we aren't talking about that here and now.

She insisted she was talking to "My friend*****"

I told her neither of us wanted to talk to her about it so she dropped it for a while.

It wasn't long before she was back on her bullshit. She went on about infowars or some shit. (She doesn't like him, per se, but she's a "conservative in a gay hat" type) and how it was hilarious to see him get ripped apart over "Michael obama"

I tell her it's pronounced Michelle. She replied "no it's not! He's really a man, haven't you seen?" And extrapolated from there. I told her she can't call women she doesnt like men just because she doesn't like them or isn't attracted to them. (She does this)

At this point, she continues on about how Michelle is "a transgender or whatever", not really a woman, had a penis, and even without my biases, she still is SHOUTING THIS IN A PACKED RESTAURANT FULL OF OLD PEOPLE IN RED PA

I tell her to back off because she doesn't know anything about trans people and maybe she should just not talk about it because I'm not going to talk to her about it. To which of course she replies that she knows so much better because she knows lots of """"""real trans people"""""

She goes on about how they're disgusting, they smell bad, they're bad people, she outed her friend who I didn't know was trans and said that she (She managed proper pronouns for her at first then reverted to calling her a man) forced her to support her even though she was *insert insults* and even went so far as to call them... rather us, mentally ill freaks.****** She insists we wouldn't have high suicide rates of we didn't "pretend to be the other gender and accept what we really are!"

I'm done. I've had enough. I just get up and say "I'm going to the bathroom" and I literally walk away and lock myself in the family bathroom. While I'm gone she asks what my problem is and my wife tells her off, basically that she doesn't get to decide anyone else's journey for them, it costs 0.00 USD to respect people's identies and not be a fuck. To which Hillary says "don't tell me she's one too" which I'm not annoting because I've already made two notes on this. Rowan tells her "It's not my story to tell,"

"That tells me all I need to know." (Yeah no shit Sherlock you were told outright)

Rowan says she's gonna check on me, so Hiillary tells her "well, tell her her mother's dead. She doesn't have one anymore."#

So I'm having a breakdown in a public bathroom, on the phone with my mother, because she has humiliated me and outed me to a restaurant of strangers, and she still keeps us out with her for another hour past leaving the restaurant even when I said I wanted to go home.

She immediately tried to retract and say that first off, "[I] don't understand how hard it is and [I] don't understand the choice [I'm] making" I am not talking to her about this.

She insists she'll always support me. I want to go home.

Here's where she actually took I to Wal-Mart. Rowan has reminded me this is what the Wal-Mart trip was to make up for. On that note. She tried again to say she'd "always support me and I know it". I reminded her she told me last time she said she'd kill me over it. She denied it and I told her I still had logs to which she said "ugh, okay whatever!"

This all led to outing me to the REST of the family, which thank God they took better than her. They admitted they didn't understand and hoped I'd get lots of doctors who could help me transition safely with my health issues. Overall it was better than expected but I'm the second openly trans member of the family.

She continued to say that I hold grudges and I shouldn't be so sensitive among other things but that's really all I have the spoons for. This took three hours to write as is. So yeah, additional notes are below. This is why I will never live in PA again and never live near her again. All of this when we were supposed to be mourning our dead father.

*Its homophobic from perspective because I'm only out as a lesbian at this point.

**She is a (closet-bi) lesbian who has been told twice at this point that I'm trans. She's said I'm confused. I don't know what I am. She didn't give birth to a boy etc.

***This is about the third time in my life she's told me if it was up to her she'd have killed me. She said she wanted to abort me, she said if I'd been a boy (xy) she would have. She says if they wouldn't let her, she'd have smothered me coming out and as it stands as a "girl" (xx) she planned to orphan me if mom hadn't told her to being me home.

**** I don't even know. She insists cats love fidget spinners. Mine doesn't care.

***** I don't have to explain why this is fucked up. But I will. If you havent had this situation happen to you, regardless of sexuality and presentation, it means that person who is so important to you to be your significant other, does not measure up. Other than dehumanizing them it's just in general a shitty move. And when they dont even use your SOs name it's clear they're seen just as an accessory of you.

****** y'all remember I've already told her I'm trans? I have the Facebook logs from that convo still.

#I got sick of counting stars, so we're switching to hashes. I'm adopted. Hillary is my biological mother and we were both adopted by the same charitable lady. Her statement doesnt make a lick of sense, mother is at home. She constantly tries to insist she's my mother after all of the above and more I can't even go into here.

## If I knew all it's take was coming out as trans for hee to disown me, I would have much sooner. Soon than I did. She'll forget this in less than six months likely. Because I'm not important enough to expend memory on. I'm marginally okay with this.

#long post #personal #vent #transphobia and homophobia mentions #reasons why i hate my family #heres hoping the readmore works

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deadcatelog · 7 years ago

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chaha,, this is why i ended up crying on the sidewalk at 12am outside of a public event i’d brought a ticket for because i wanted....... i thought we both wanted to go........ she told me she was in the city then suddenly she says she realized she was actually in longisland and about 2hrs away from the city........ even when.

i thought were going to do something fun together again for once, since it’d been so long...... i sai d i wanted to go see it and she said she wanted to come and i told her where i was.. she has a car and i took the train which is a lot slower and; she never responded? we used to talk for hours.. then about an hour, or a little more than an hour away? maybe 2? from when the event was soupposed to start she told me she was hanging out in a lounge with some of her other friends. drinking and partying? i was nt mad she was enjoying herself but i was peevedshe didn’t even tell me she was back in the city.... even if that was the case that she ever wasn t omg... it wasso close to when the even was soupposed to start. there’s no cell service in the subway and my phone was abt to die. i texted her asking, i don’t remember? omething about the event.i think i told her i was an hr away from it and since we were both in different places and w diff. transportation situations... she took so long to respond... my phone was about to die.. im so fucking easy to fool lmao, i was curled up in the corner of a room after i finally walked in the event charging my phone for 2 hrs (the event was 3 hrs) waiting for anything... she always lets her phone die when shes out late at night. my phone was on 1% so i thought maybe hers was too so i stopped thinking about it and just sat at the bar and listened to the music. i think my last text to her was “are you coming?” i woke up in the middle of the day the next day and there was just still no response.. i should have expected this. she’s been so cold lately. she probably just realized what a fucking mess and a burden i was and that she didn’t have to do that once she saw how normal people acted towards each other. she probably didn’t want to deal with the stress......she was being nice about it and i was being an idiot. last time we hung out i pointed out that there was this function in manhattan while we were in queens after getting something to eat, we spent all day in queens until she led me into a dunking donut and sat down and we sat there for hours. she said she had to charge her phone. she had a portable charger. right before this she kept telling me how tired she was and how she wanted to go home and i protested but then i was like... ok thats fine ur tired lets go to ur car and i’ll see u off but she told me she’d parked really really far away.i didn’t mind, she was the last person whose company i enjoyed. i was so scared of the idea that she wanted nothing to do with me. we stayed in that fucking donut shop for hours. i was tired too so i got a double expresso so we could hang out like we’d sai we’d do.... like i’d traveled 2hrs for to do.... she didn’t even talk to me almost the entire time, she was jst staring at her phone. maybe complaining about how i wouldn’t take a hint. i don’t even know who those ppl r she never told me anything about them besides the fact that some of them were older than her and they went out drinking together often. she sounded like she really liked them. i didnt care that she had other friends whose company she enjoyed so much... it made me happy to see how well she was doing after hs. god im such a fool. i’m so fucking stupid im literally fucking retarded. she;d been acting weird and distant for months. i thought that was just what is was like watching your hs friends grow up when u two were in completel different situations but there were so many times where i’d toss all my plans to prepare to travel/hang out w her just to show up and suddenly she didn’t have the time bc she had something she had to do that ...just so happened to be starting like 10 minutes after i’d traveled all the way across manhattan to see her... im a fucking idiot. she probably decided she didn’t like me anymore a long time ago after nothaving to deal w me every day and was probably trying tolet me go easy by letting me chose not to make the same dumb decisions over and over but i was so desprate to hold onto her bc no one else talks to me. an y sane person wouldn’t have stood up for that... and some times i did say to her that what it wasn’t cool to call me over and say we should hang out only to tell me she’d have to bail for an interview or something she was scheduled for like a week b4 we met up or something. she never responded to those texts. i was so scared she would decide she was mad at me and done dealing with me so i never mentioned them again even though it fucking hurt. i felt like a toy being tugged around when she got bored but immediately threw away when something else, something more important than leisure of course, came up. i dont know how to make friends. looking back on it, were we even really best friends like i thought? we were only friends for a year, maybe that wasn’t enough? i enjoyed her comapny... and S’s comapny, and sometimes A’s company so much... especilly when we were all thogether even if it was just in class. maybe im just being inconsiderate and i cant see why so im jumping to conclusions bcfrom my point of view i’m?? everything hurts again. im always the fucking dummy, the crazy psycho weirdo that even the nicest ppl could see needed to be put down before it hurt anyone or them. even someone as blind as me can see it in their fucking eyes. they get wide, they back up a bit or hunch their shoulders and stop talking and my fucking dumbass just walks forward and keeps running my dumb mouth bc all i think of it is ‘oh! what happened? they wont be able to hear me from that far away i’ll walk closer and keep taling’ ad now im just afucking angry loser screaming like a fucking toddler on the floor about how unfair the world is when the truth is nobody deserves to fucking have to deal with me. mr g was right to fucking hate my entitled guts. ms garia was right to fucking hate my guts too while putting on a huge fake grinthat i just saw as proof that what i thought she was probably thinking of me was just my outlandish brain trying to make me feel like the entire world was fucking against me when in reality that wasn;t the case when in reality that was the case because they have a fucking reason to be. even though i wasbeginning to ate my uncle for basically cornering me all the time and listing off all the ways he thought i was stupid and disgusting and a pain to have around wasn’t he fucking right? it i it cant just i cant just run around being offended by everyone in the world and giving them the silent treatment-- even if i thought i was giving them space,how could they fucking know??

there probably isnt a person on this planet that would feel sympathy for my fucks. ed up situation because they suddenly have to deal with treating this entitled stupid bitch super delicately least she hurt them. i don’t even know what i do to hurt them, but i do it anyways. im 100% sure that its just by being me. my mother always fucking screamed at me since i was little how much of a curse i was on her. i can’t imagine my brother came out of nowhere with what he was thinking when he stomped upstairs and choke slammed me against my fucking bed and screamed in my face while he shook me and stepped on my laptop after i took my food back. he called me ungrateful. he yelled it to me straight in my ear as if to force it into my head. i don’t even remember being ungrateful?? he talked about brining home food he let me eatallthe time like white astle but i thought i’d always expressed my gratitute but maybe i didn’t?? i don’t remember. i always felt like id din.

there’s a fucking REASON why EVERYONE i meet thinks im a fucking liar and more than worthy of their distain and being put in my place whether it meant i’d get my feelings or my fucking face hurt. everyone wants me to apologize to my brother. and my mother. everyone thinks im being an unreasonable cunt. EVERYONE in my family has shown distain or disapointment in me. it doesnteven fucking matter that i was ableto get into one of the best schools in the country. now i just get even more people outright avoiding me or confronting me bout how much of a fucking disgrace they think i am. my fucking exsistance is always a major fucking burden on everyone around me. it just keeps happening again and againandn again and i keep trying to change but the cycle never stops. it doesnt matter how good of a persn i run into, after having to deal w me for a few weeks they’ll start pushing me out of the way if im walking too slow or step on my toes or avoid me and talk about me behind my back. i can imagine it.... i’ve always told myself i was wrong and oerthinking myself but it always turns out to be true and its always worse than i imagned they’re always way more pissed off at me for my bullshit and that hurts more than any ~over anxious thinking~ i could tell myself. they dont deserve to have to deal with a fucking demon like me but im fucking human too and it hurts so fuking bad. i an see how much they hate me or are pissed to have to put up with me. my uncle told me a few weeks ago that he wish i knew how much he wanted to fucking hurt me when he came back to his apartment and saw the mess i made... i swear to god i was letting the fucking meat defrost... it was 1am bu i was up the entire time; i was making burgers. there were two and the first one was fucking raw and frozen on the inside despite deforsting it in the microwave. he asked me over and over again when school was starting again. i wanted to cry at how obvious it was he wanted me fucking out. i thought i just had bad luck witht my mom but that made me realize it wasn’t fucking bad luck it was all my own fault. probably from the very beginning. i couldn’t help that i didn’t want towash the dishes then and did eveything i ould to get out of it with her. i couldn’t help that even though i did wash the dishes and cleaned up after myself that i let everything aroun d me get so bad before i did something about it. back then i just didnt want to do it and i thought it was unfair that i was always the one to clean the dishes all the time while tony only had to tae out th e trash once a week or so. every time she told me to get off my ass and wash the dishes it was so fucking full it made me mad that i was cleaning up after everyone else. and every time i pointed that out of course both of them were aginst me. she and he told me in their own ways they bot h thought it was only fair.

that fucking bitch. she wasn’t even anywhere close to fucking proud when i got into columbia. her voice was flat the entire time, i tried to get her excited so hard. i knew she cared about money, i told her how much money a school like this could help me make and it was basically fucking radio scilence. and i wasn’t even anywhere comfortable, i was at this place in brooklyn (fucking brooklyn, fuck brooklyn) for this other girl i’d just become friends with (that’s a lie, i dont become friends w ppl idk how she just picked me up like a dog off the dtreet. she told me she liked to do that with people once)and this new teacher that got so pissed at me when i wandered off like i wasn’t fucking 30 days off from being 18 years instead of 8 years old... my heart was singing. i’d finally gotten into my dream school and she didn’t care, and then she didn’t care either. they were both probably so fucking annoyed it hurt ind ifferent ways i didnt want to talk about it anymore. i wanted to hug everyone around me, for the first time in so long i felt like my world lit up in a billion colors and i could finally be happy iforever but it was like... no one felt the same way. i get a bigger reaction from strangers who can briefly relate to me off of some superficial shit all the time than i did. i’d lost that feeling after that. it went from winning the lottery to just another academic achievement that nobody but me and a few other poor souls that probably had to feel obligated to say something nice even gave a shit about. those types, i cant even imagine im an entire person to them. i’m just some symbol of like... society as a whole not being... fucking i dont know,? even this sounds fucking arragont and hell coming out my my mouth nowthat i type it out... lmao mr. g just gave me this fucking look after the announcement took place for the rest of the year. i wanted him to acknowledge that he was wrong about me so bad, haha, that he was wrong to hate me but of course why would being the first student in the history of our shitty fucking school to even get in shitting distance of an ivy league mean anything to him? he probably figured i got in bc i was black, and poor and using that + lies to trick the adoffiers to let me in. ms garcia too. she would hardly speak to me after that. her eyes seemed to burn whenever i met them. i... never thought that they were wrong, i couldn’t shake the enthusiasim i’d lost inside of me after the other day. i( can’t imagine they thought i was anything less than absolutely coddled and spoiled athome while my entire family stroked my ego and did my every bidding since it would probably explain why i acted the way i did in class and schooli guess. fuck i cant even remember more than half the shit i did in hs.)but wasn’t going to just so happen to speak about how great if feels to know that i was probably going to be set for life, for a great fanatastic life, when they were alwyas just barely keeping their mouths shut from calling me a a fucking retarded entitled cunt every time i opened my mouth and it pissed them off.

god no wonder they hated me. im losing my train of thought. i hate myself. i hate myself so much. i don’t even know wit when im hurting other ppl andyeti was always this self righteous bastard who claimed i only cared about others bc i did community service (that no one ever saw since i didn’t do it in school.... so it would be easy to just think that im just a lyingbitch trying to get attention and shit i dont deserve.... like w this admission offer lol)

everyone whose nice to me eventually learns it was a fucking mistake.i seethe way people look at me so clearly now, but still its neveruntil its too late i still dont fucking know what i do to piss everyone around me off all the time. everyone i figured was pretty smart around me always tended to avoid me or get angry at me for no reaosn i could explain. lmao. andr saw it too, she couldn’t stand being around me after a certainpoint. i dont have friends. ive never had friends like everyone else had friends. just fucking sympathizers (”why do you even speak to her?” just someone looking out for someone they loved when i did some dumb shit to them) i wish i had a knife so i could slit my throat right here. maybe then someone will read it and understand that i dont mean it but onestly would they?? am i getting anything less than i fucking deserve?? it doesnt matter if i don’t like it, i’m always brining fucking painful unnecessary bullshit into people’s lifes and make even the kindest people want to fucking rip my guts out for it. there’s a noose tied up to my closet right now but i please just please don’t want to suffer anymore.i dont want toknow what its like to be homeless, but idid this to myself. i’ve always fucking did this to myself. all my shit is password protected. i want to see myself as a martyr so bad but a martyr wouldn’t try and force someone to read this shit and try and make them feel bad for shit they barely had anything to do with that im just trying to drag them into bc i want to feel good about myself, and they only was i an accomplish that is by making other people feel bad?? hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

a few weeks ag i told myself i wouldn’t do it in my dorm because i didn’t want to make other people comfortable. i dont want anyone to come and see my body next to the fucking pigsty i always seem to create wherever i go. i dont want them to have to see my half naked body, but i didnt have any clean clothes. clothes... i jsut spent over 100 on some fucking jeans and a denim jaket bc i wanted it even though i can’t really afford it. me bac k on my bullshit again, of course.oh my god oh mygod. fucking hell god dammit. but isnt this nothing less than i desevre anyway? for making so many poor innocent people have to endure my fucking insane ly uncomfortable awkwardness and the natural hellfire that surrounds me and i was born with and burns everyone around me except for me. is it really so objectively terrible when they burn me back?? they don’t know that i dont have any idea what im doing. they dont know what goes on in my head. i learned to destroy my own feelingsand shut down my human reactions while i was livnngin that hell hole........the second hellhole i came from,theone here on earthnot the one ispwaned in lol.

i really dont even want to hink about the anger the peoplewhove trulygotten to know me will go through if i did die like this. everyone around them will be superifcially mourning and they wouldnt be able to say anything bad, haha~ about me because of the social pressure or w.e, they’dprobably feel terrible themselves because i know even thoughthey hate me and hurt me or want to hurt me or lie to me to hurt me or laugh ifthey make me flinch they’d probablyfeel bad about how glad they feel and should feel for having thishorriblehellcritter whipe herselfoff the face of the earth. and everyone elsewill think im pathetic, of course. so many people already know howpathetici am. theyll ust roll their eyes in annoyance and grumble how i did everything to deserve the shit i went through, and that it was pathetic how i canttake half the shiti dish out.then they;ll go on with their lives nd i’ll be dead and forgotten and the world can cheer silently that im finally gone.

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