#she seems to think im like. way younger than i am and/or way more helpless than i am.

[vampirebiter]

after i get vaccinated i want to try again to get a job since my mom wont have any excuse to not let me anymore

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - The writing’s on the wall

Here we go, folks. Heavy time. Big one.

Tonight was just them, happy in the afterglow of laughter and far too much to drink. That calm quiet that falls with trusted company you can be at ease around. It was nice.

She'd assumed he felt the same way from the barely audible whistle of his breathing to her right. Figured that he was relaxing too, enjoying the dull heat of wine numbing his joints and their usual simmering pain. It was good, it felt right, until the peace was interrupted by the clink of his glass as he shifted, and the hoarse, strained whisper of -

" You're gonna leave one day, I know you will. I'll chase you away. You'll get sick of having to deal with me just l-like everyone does."

The groggy cloud behind her eyes dissipated instantly as his threat landed like ice-water, and she clumsily sat forward, wineglass dangling from her loose hand as she stared at him in confused disgust.

" What?... What are you talking about.”

“ Don't put that shit on me, Troy. Don't... don't even fucking dare try to drip feed that self hating poison into who I am. God, what is wrong with you? "

He didn't meet her eyes, still staring at the glass in his hands as he hunched in his seat, like he was about to crumble into himself. Looking somehow so much older and so much younger than she knew he was - like a child carrying the weight of the world. He mouthed something, then stopped. Started again, paused again. Reconsidering what he'd been about to say as his brows furrowed and lips tightened into a grimace.

Chasing what he wanted to express to her, grasping at it futilely, trying to find the right words and stumbling. Same self made snare as usual, tightening around his neck. The same trap he always set for himself, triggering as he stepped blindly towards it.

He sunk a little lower into himself as he wilted under her disgust, hair falling forward and blocking the shame burning across his face.

" I... I'm sorry, Sei. "

By @godkingsanointed​

???: She just drives me fuckin crazy man! She just- UGHH 

??: She's like fire. 

???: Yeah, a hot headed little- 

??: NO. Can keep you warm, safe, give light to see by. But if you don't treat it with respect, it you think that's all it's for, try to contain it, you'll be burned. 

???: I don't think that's all...  I-I respect her!!!! I can't believe you're taking her side in this!" 

??: No sides. Just something to think about. 

???: Ughhh, screw this! 

(Sounds of a door slamming shut)            

(A few moments of silence) 

??: I know...He's gunna burn her out. All of us.  

(Ding of a voice message being received) 

???: Thanks. For listening. 

??: Ha..we got him thinking. 

By @hieroglyphix​

S: Wh- Ven?! what the fuck are you- how the fuck did you get in here? 

V: Aw c'mon Sei, is that any way to treat a guest? I get that you're a bigshot s-saint and all but c'mon-- 

S: Last time I checked, people who break into other people's houses are considered burglars, not guests- and get your fuckin' feet off my desk!

V: Hey now, just cause I broke in doesn't mean I stole anything. Im more of a buddy, paying you an....impromptu visit! Yeah! 

S: ( sigh ) God, forget the semantics of it all, what the hell do you want? 

V: It ain't about what I want, I came here 'cause of what you want. 

S: ...Pardon? Oh God, tell me this isn't some kind of-

V: Waitwaitwait it ain't like that, S-Sei, you know i don't run that way anyhow. I came because you need a s-sign. 

S: ...A sign. 

V: Yeah, a sign. s-see, I know what you're planning on doing, I've seen it all laid out in the path ahead of us. But you're draggin' your feet too damn long, and it's only gonna get worse from here. so Sei, listen to me, I'm your sign. Get the fuck out of here, and don't look back for nothin'. 

( silence )

S: So, let me get this straight. You broke into my house, just to....tell me to leave?

V: Well when you put it like that it doesn't sound super great, but...yeah.

( silence ) 

S: Who else knows about this? 

V: Only me, and I ain't about to rat on you. I don't blame you for wanting out, things....well, between you me and the floorboards, things ain't gonna get any better around here. 

S: ( deep sigh ) Good God... 

V: Look doll, I ain't here to force you into a decision, and I won't judge you for not leaving. I'm just tellin' you which way the wind's blowing. One friend to another. 

S: Right. 

( uncomfortable silence )

V: Well, you think on what I said. I've gotta get home to my brother, it's spaghetti night. 

S: Try not to let anyone see you on your way out, the last thing i need is more brainless gossip out on my hangar. 

V: Heh. Not like they caught me on the way in, not exactly the sharpest tools out there. Anyway, nighty night Sei.

( the maglock doors hiss open )

S: And Ven? 

V: Yeah? 

S: ...Thanks. 

V: Don't mention it. 

[end echo log]

I’m just a bit shook up…” her voice cracks as she mutters. “He said some stupid shit tonight, bout how everyone leaves him and he knows it’s..” she sighs, letting her head drop to face the table with a weak shrug.

“Stupid as in.. it got to me. He ever say anything to you that’s just.. you know it’s off? I sometimes think it’s me..”

JK waited patiently, wanting to reach out and rest a hand on her shoulder but not quite knowing if that would overstep their tentative friendship as it formed.

“…that I’m going crazy and feeling things that aren’t real, overreacting…” she pauses, swiping her auburn hair back from her forehead, thumbing at her temple as she lets her eyes stare unfocused at the wall behind their shoulder.

JK grunts thoughtfully, then shakes their head a little, their mask tilting downwards as they rumble out a huff of air. “He’s… talking a lot more recently, yeah, bout things no one asked.”

They empty the bottle in a deep dreg, and lower it carefully to the table in front of them, spinning it slowly on its edge. “Like he’s replyin’ to a question that was never said, and he’s pissed about it. Gets snappy at nothin’. Gets angry at nothin’. I don’t say things, I just listen. He likes when you just listen, I think you know that too.”

She nods, watery eyes looking up at them through her thick eyelashes.

“It’s just, the thing’s he’s saying now, this last year?” JK glances to their side again, towards where Troy sleeps.

They turn back to Seifa and reach out then, touching a finger against her forearm as it rests against the table, happy to see she doesn’t flinch away even though she’s hurt too. Proud that though she’s struggling to hold back tears that swell along her lash-line, she’s still listening to them. Really listening, like what JK thinks matters.

“It’s the same kind of things axe-hands I knew in the clan would start to say before they’d go wrong. Harsh things to themselves, about themselves, about how others were seeing ‘em. I don’t like that kind of talk much either, I’ve seen where it goes. People start doing that and they aren’t themselves for much longer. Become the same thing they were worryin’ everyone already saw them as.”

They turn the bottle to its side, idly twirling it with their index finger, only the hollow grind of the glass on the table filling the silence.

“I’ve seen him goin’ the same way. Same way they did, and I don’t know how to stop it, I’m not good with..” they gesture at the bone-white mask still marked with that crumbling splash of old rust-red blood, pausing to collect their thoughts. “..Not good with talking the way it would help. Saw him hurt acolytes the last few months. He used to just grab, threaten…”.

Their leg bounces beneath the table, nerves firing haphazardly as they swallow down the frustration lodged between their teeth. “Now he grinds. Cracks their bones in that metal fist. Not enjoyin’ it, not laughin’, but doin’ it anyway. He smells like bitter antiseptic sometimes, and I think he’s takin’ things out on himself where he figures we won’t know, under the steel.”

“I don’t think he is well. Inside him. None of us are here, lady. We’re all broken a little, but we learn how to live with it. It’s that or die. He doesn’t know how to do it. We gotta…”

“… we gotta watch out for our brother”.

By @godkingsanointed

He'd dare let venom drip about Seifa around them, and Troy knew from the palpable atmosphere change that it wasn't going to be swept under the rug. He would have crumbled, he would have backtracked into sickening apologies, but after the grilling Tyreen had already given him? How helpless and powerless he already felt, child was the straw that broke him.

He span on his heels to face them, spinal implants flaring and eyes all cruel angles and rage. It only took one or two stalking steps for them to be at odds face to face, not that he was sure what he'd do when he got there.

"The fuck was that pal?" He seethed, letting jaw plates click and flicker. They didn't seem intimidated, too full of fury to even care.

"Ungrateful. Fucking. CHILD. She made you, made both of you. Without her, you'd be skag shit right now." They paused to look him up and down before continuing. "Instead of a shit eating skag."

His reaction was instant, flesh hand snapping forward to grab at the decorative chains around their neck he'd gifted them, pulling them close. "You fuckin-" he choked, mind clouded on what to do. He wanted to smash them to bits, he wanted to pull their fucking head off, but he had enough control yet to hesitate.

"If you wanna spar big man, let's go. You know the rules." They spat. They'd set out a few of them a couple of months back, not really thinking it would come to it, more so sharing a part of clan life so he felt included. Clan members could fight out frustrations, as long as it didn't go so far as to lose a body for raids or hunting. No using the prosthetic, no hitting Troys left side, no weapons. That was what they settled on, and now staring him down? They didn't like the idea of fighting him, of fighting any family. Never had. But if he refused to talk and instead was intent to act like this? They could find some satisfaction in landing a hit or two. 

Mention of that past conversation seemed to snap him out of it, hitting home just how far JK was willing to take this. They didn't care about title or siren status, as far as they where concerned this was a family matter. And as far gone as he was, Troy had no intention of full on brawling with family. He pushed them away as he let go, face burning in shame and frustration as he backed down. 

"Not worth my fucking time..." he mumbled, storming away and letting a metal fist impact a wall as he went,one final show of force.

They stayed put after he was gone, head tilted back and taking deep breaths as they steadied themself. Seifa...didn't need to know about this. She hardly needed defending and she'd scold them for almost coming to blows over a few nasty words but...They couldn't have just bitten their tongue either. 

Ven - "I mean boss, have you considered ever actually thinking about what you want?" 

Troy - "..." Troy - "...Everything. All the time. I want e-everything. Everything. Everything I see, all the time. The way you love Eli, and the way he smiles at you and it's real 'cause he knows how to love, I want that."

Troy - "...I want it, and how Sei puts her arms around all of you and never me but she looks at me and I feel s-something but I don’t know how to say it in words, I want that."

Troy - "...I want Jak-Knife and the way their mask a-and their face - both of them are beautiful and better than anything I can pretend I see in a mirror and I want everything all the time, Ven, and I don't even know if it's me that's actually wanting."

Ven - "Right..." Ven  - "...Ok bud, so first of all, I'm going to get us some drinks..."

By @godkingsanointed​

-- Uroboros log - M0noli7h / S0litar3 prsnl e-dev com msg log //Private Line - SAVED-  blame=GKT -- Machina: So Adalphus is where you’re saying is the best bet.  Aurum: Simple logic. Close enough to Pandora for you to still perform your role, far enough from.. well. What you need to be far from.  Machina: Feels apt somehow, ending up wasting away on some off-world base. Never did belong here, huh. Aurum: A feeling I understand better than I’d like. Regardless of our personal opinions you’ve been one of the few colleagues I’d describe as competent, A’Rosk. It’s a reassurance to know you aren’t abandoning your position.  Machina: Mutual on that, Sol. Staying on isn’t by choice though. I’m sure you know that too. You remember Fragor.  Aurum: I remember what was left of her absolutely ruining a pair of Ausler dress shoes, yes. You’re going to be hounded. You know that. Machina: I know that, I’m just praying it will be gently. The Crusaders are under Troy, and Troy..  Machina: I Machina: I trust Troy

Aurum: That’s your prerogative, regardless of how stupid. Machina: Thanks, you nasty shit. So you’ll manage the fund movements once I’m out, keep the flow going to the accounts I gave you? Aurum: Yes, yes. Not exactly work deserving of my touch, mind you. Junkers leave residue. I prefer to keep my hands clean, Seifa. I’m sure you appreciate that, considering this deal.  Machina: Ohhhh absolutely. You scratch my back, I’ll stab yours.  Aurum: Cute. I’ll manage your assets this side, and my little history with those slag shipments to Elpis will remain off your people’s raidar. Machina: That they will. Solomon, much as it pains me to say this, it has been a pleasure. Thank you. For.. for everything.  Aurum: Not needed, Seifa. It’s just good business. [end log]

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.V: Rise of the Primes

pairing(s):  Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre:  Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, blood and gore, very brief depiction of magical torture, mentions of child abuse and other traumatic experiences, etc. 

word count: 8,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Mark remembers a time when he was much younger, much, much more naive, and completely oblivious to his magical roots.  

And while he’s not usually one to look back into his past, nowadays, he can’t help but wonder about those clueless years where his sole care was passing dreaded calculus class and keeping his pot stash hidden from his mom. Sometimes Mark even misses those days—misses his mom.

Mark often wonders what would have happened if his mom wasn’t killed that night. He was only just beginning to learn the basics of witchcraft back then, barely able to keep his emotions in check without blasting a window to pieces. If his mom were still around, would he have done the stupid things he knew better than to do? Would he have sought for such ambitions he knew he could never achieve? Would he have been a better leader, witch, man…?

Yes. Mark knows that. He would be better. 

It’s been years since Mark tried to talk to his mother, having given up trying to summon her spirit when he received a personal message from her telling him to stop—to let her go. Even so, he wishes that he can just have one minute. One short minute to see her face, to look into her eyes, and to ask her the same question that has been haunting his mind since he found her body in a pool of her own blood in their home: 

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

As much as he plays the leader-card, and as much as he acts like he’s all-knowing—Mark has no clue what he’s doing. It’s as if he’s been inside a maze these past nine years, unable to find the right path that leads him to glory. Maybe if she was still here, holding his face in her wrinkled hands and speaking his name in her sweet voice, Mark would know what to do. He’d know how to get rid of the huntress and the witch without taking their lives. He’d know how to protect his people, and the rest of the town. 

He’d know how to be better—to do better. 

Mark shakes his mother’s face from his mind, attempting to focus on the passing scenery of the forest. He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel before reaching forward to turn his air conditioning on full blast, then adjusting his grip again.

It’s been months since he last traveled this way, yet all the sights are the same. The trees are the same trees. The shrubbery, the same shrubbery. Even the rocks haven’t changed save for a new crack or two. That thought actually spills anger through his veins. It’s as if the forest doesn’t realize something is missing—someone is missing.      

‘And it’s your fault.’ 

Mark shakes the intrusive thought away, peering at his companion through the corner of his eye. Jinyoung, like Mark, is merely staring at their surroundings, dark eyes flitting around in every direction. Before everything happened, Mark would have never predicted that one of the Primes would be riding in his passenger’s seat with no care in the world. To be honest, he’s still having a hard time believing him and Jinyoung are on decent terms at all. 

“My sisters and I used to play in these woods.” Mark is taken aback by the sudden, albeit casual comment from the vampire, nearly losing his footing on the gas pedal. He looks to the side once again, discovering Jinyoung’s gaze still fixated outside the window.

Mark clears his throat. “I… didn’t know you had siblings.” 

“It was a long, long time ago.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Besides, we weren’t close anyway.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

His question is answered with silence, and when he turns to the passenger, Jinyoung’s expression is blank, almost cold. Mark decides not to press and focuses back on the road. 

The cabin has not changed either, Mark notices as the structure comes into sight. A heaviness begins to settle within his chest as he parks in the gravel driveway, one that has his heart beating twice its normal speed and palms beginning to sweat. Trying not to dwell on it too much, Mark cuts out the engine and wipes his hands against his jeans. He’s prepared to exit the vehicle when a sudden realization enters his brain. 

Mark turns to Jinyoung and sighs, “I think it might be best for you to stay in the car.” 

“I was thinking the same thing.” Jinyoung agrees, granting the witch a rigid nod.

“Just don’t steal my truck, okay?” 

“This piece of junk?” Jinyoung chortles, “It’s practically falling apart.” 

“Don’t piss her off. She still has to get us home.” Mark finds his chest a little lighter as a result of their banter, something he would never admit aloud to the vampire. With a silent farewell, Mark shoves open his door and steps into the bright sunlight, cursing himself for forgetting his sunglasses back at the mausoleum. 

The log cabin casts a drowning shadow over Mark as he makes his way toward the figure waiting on the steps that lead up to a redwood porch. Overgrown vines and moss seem to inhabit every available spot of the cabin, winding around wooden supports and spilling down each roof tile. If it hadn’t been for the catch of the sunlight, Mark wouldn’t have been able to notice one of the grimey windows on the second floor had been cracked. 

“Long time no see, hyung.” Mark finds his chest tightening at the tired tone of the figure’s voice. 

He paints what he hopes to be a smile across his lips and nods. “It’s nice to see you, Gyeom.” 

Like the cabin, it has also been months since Mark has seen his younger friend. Yugyeom has always been a giant, towering over him and basically everyone else in town since he hit puberty, but if Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say the wolf had grown even more. His shoulders are broader, dark hair longer, hands calloused and slightly marred with the throes of hard work. He must still be working for the town’s lumber service. 

Yet another something that hasn’t changed. 

“How… How are things?” 

Yugyeom shrugs. “You know how it is out here. Not much excitement.” 

“Right.” The silence between them grows heavier and heavier with each passing second. Mark searches his brain for something to expel the awkwardness, but can’t seem to see past the guilt and suffocating self-loathing swirling through his gut. 

He thanks the universe when Yugyeom breaks the quiet himself. 

“I know you didn’t come just to check in, hyung.” His gut sinks at the younger’s painfully true observation. “What’s going on? And why can I smell a Prime in your passenger seat?” 

“I don’t if you’ve heard, but Nayeon was killed last week.” 

Yugyeom’s eyes soften. “I saw it on TV. I’m really sorry, hyung,” 

“The people who killed her—a witch and supernatural huntress—they’re after the rest of the coven.” Mark ignores Yugyeom’s sympathy, fiddling with a loose thread inside the pocket of his jeans. “Jinyoung has been helping us track them down. He’s gonna help us fight but…” 

“But you’re not sure if it will be enough.” 

“I know I have no right to show up here and ask for your help, Gyeom.” With a gulp, Mark dares to step closer to the small staircase. Even as far as scaling the first two steps to move closer to his younger companion. Mark shakes his head, “But—I’m desperate. My people are in danger and… and I don’t want anyone else to die.”  

Another moment of silence passes, save for the violent beating of Mark’s pulse. Yugyeom stares at Mark, his gaze a cross between pained and hopeful. Just when the latter feels like his lungs are going to explode, Yugyeom releases a helpless sigh and shakes his head. 

“I want to help you, hyung. I really do… but I can’t risk anyone in the pack. Especially against a hunter.” 

Mark’s heart drops to his stomach. 

Yugyeom sends him a sad expression. “I’m sorry. I really am.” 

“It’s okay. I get it.” Mark nods, taking a rather clumsy step backward off the porch steps. He manages to save himself from the embarrassment of collapsing into the gravel before offering Yugyeom a weak smile. “I… I would do the same thing. If it were my people.” 

“Hyung—” Yugyeom moves to follow Mark, descending a single stair just as the front door swings open. The embers of Mark’s self-loathing grow to flames at the sight of various familiar faces crowded in the doorway, and he wishes nothing more than to cast a spell that makes him completely disappear. 

“What’s going on?... Mark?” Chan emerges behind Yugyeom, his features a mixture of confusion and surprise. Another few bodies join the younger man, each set of eyes reopening a mess of old scars in Mark’s soul. 

“Mark-oppa!” He barely has time to prepare when a smaller figure dashes down the staircase and collides with his body. His arms catch the figure’s waist before her form falls to the ground, supporting her weight against his own form. 

He releases a heavy, yet silent breath. “Dahyun.” 

“Where the hell have you been!?” Dahyun pulls from the embrace with a fierce, yet playful spark within her dark eyes. “It’s been months, Mark! Months!” 

“I know… It’s just been kind of… weird lately.” 

“We’ve missed you… I’ve missed you.” 

He winces. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Mark recognizes the familiar gritty tone, turning his eyes from Dahyun to a seething Changbin. The animosity in his glare deepens Mark’s wounds. 

“Changbin. Don’t.” 

“He has no fucking right to be here.” Changbin ignores Chan’s warning, narrowing his eyes to poisonous slits. 

“Changbin! You asshole—”  

“It’s okay. I was… just leaving.” Mark interrupts Dahyun’s scold, peeling himself away from her arm like a bloodied bandage. He spares a glance and a nod to a pained Yugyeom, “Thanks, Gyeom. I’ll see you around, okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Dahyun reaches for Mark again. “But you just got here. You can’t just—”  

“Dubu…” Dahyun turns at Yugyeom’s call, watching the sad shake of his head with glittering eyes. “Let him go…” 

Mark’s heart practically cries out at the pure devastation written across the younger woman’s face as she helplessly drops her arms to her sides. He chooses not to linger on her expression, nor Chan’s, nor Yugyeom’s, and with a final nod of his head, makes a break back to his beat-up, rusted truck. 

In mere seconds, Mark is driving away from the cabin—driving away from the pain. It’s not until the cabin is completely gone from his rear-view mirror is he able to inhale a full breath without his lungs screaming out. 

“No one else is going to die.”  

Jinyoung hadn’t said anything at his frantic entrance, nor that he hadn’t paused to throw on his seatbelt. In fact, Mark had almost forgotten the vampire was in the vehicle at all. He turns to find Jinyoung staring out the window, just as before. And if he hadn’t spoken again, Mark would have thought he imagined the voice himself. 

Jinyoung turns, sending chills down Mark’s spine at the intensity of his gaze. 

“You have my word.” 

Mark can’t find it in himself to respond, stuck between unwanted memories and the nostalgia of uncured heartbreak. He instead swallows the bile at the back of his throat, carefully throws on his seatbelt, and turns up the radio. 

The music does nothing to drown out the cruel thoughts raging through his mind. 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The scenery outside the car window passes by in verdant blurs, settling a slight wave of nausea in your gut. Not desiring to vomit up the Chinese you ate beforehand, you turn your attention to the young driver instead, meeting her starry-eyed gaze in the rearview mirror. 

“How much longer?” 

“The estate is just up this hill, miss.” The driver assures. “It should be no more than a couple minutes.” 

You nod your thanks, peering out the window before remembering your sickness in the first place. With a silent sigh, you abandon the prospect of any sight at all and close your eyes, leaning into the comfort of the headrest. The slight pressure actually somewhat relieves the throb in the back of your brain. The headache that has been present ever since you stormed out on Mark and Jinyoung. 

It’s been almost three days since you learned the truth about Moon Dye Bay and all its supernatural offerings. You’d think by now you’d be able to process the fact that your best friend is a witch, and the charming man that saved you from likely death is a vampire—one of the oldest vampires in existence at that. But alas, you’re still having a hard time believing any of this is possible. Even with all the evidence, and proof, and general rules of logic. 

Then again, vampires and witches and werewolves and hunters and whatever other creatures aren’t exactly logical… considering they go against everything that is the basis of nature. 

Anywho, neither Mark nor Jinyoung has even tried to reach out since that afternoon. In fact, Mark hasn’t returned any of your calls or texts. Though you’re not exactly surprised as both he and Jinyoung made it very clear of your position on the sidelines. 

Too bad you’ve never been much of a player who likes to miss the action. 

“We’ve arrived, miss.” Your eyelids snap open at the sound of the driver’s lilted voice, jaw almost dropping at the sight that awaits. You shimmy forward, greedily taking in the expanse outside the car window as the driver maneuvers the vehicle up the cobblestone-paved driveway. 

If you had to use one word to describe The Project Estate, it would be massive. Completely fucking massive.  With a single glance, you can only imagine how many acres of land make up the entire lot. The mansion itself is bigger than any building you’ve set foot inside, resembling that of a miniature castle without the turrets, walls and moat. You’re pretty sure it’s at least four times the size of your apartment building. 

“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” The driver marvels, craning her own head over the steering wheel to take in the view. “The Project Brothers are crazy loaded to be able to afford anything like this… What do you think they do?” 

Rob banks with their vampire super strength? Steal artifacts and masterpieces with their vampire super speed? Accumulate millions and millions of dollars in wealth after being alive for centuries?  

You shrug. “They probably own real estate or something.” 

Once the driver stops in front of what you hope to be the front door, you quickly bid her farewell with a generous tip and exit out onto the stone pathway. The purr of the engine grows fainter and fainter as the vehicle turns back the way you came in, leaving you stranded in the shadow of the towering mansion. You can only hope Jinyoung is home. 

An old fashioned, golden door knocker rests on the door, fashioned into the shape of a growling lion. You ignore the goosebumps forming across the skin underneath your jacket and pick up the knocker. It’s heavy in your palm, striking the door with such powerful strikes, it must be impossible for anyone inside not to hear. 

You visited the cemetery earlier, prepared to convince Mark of your resourceful and beneficial addition to whatever little team he’s gathering, but you only found an empty mausoleum, and an even emptier feeling inside your gut. So you figured you would pay Park Jinyoung a visit at his personal place of residence instead—the same residence him and his brother have resided since 1770.  

Your mind races as you wait, thinking over the long speech you prepared to argue your competence and readiness. You don’t know how long it will take, but you do know that you are not leaving until Jinyoung accepts your help, or at the very least, acknowledges your newfound importance in the situation. 

The killers are your roommate’s friends after all. 

After what seems like minutes, but is probably only a couple seconds, the large, mahogany door swings open. Although, the face that appears in the doorway is not the one you were hoping to see.

A young woman appears behind the door, her babyish features practically exuding the forefronts of her age. She couldn’t be older than twenty, you find, at least, definitely not with a face like that. Her eyes are rather bleary when they meet your own, borderline crimson red. You wonder if she just woke up from a deep sleep after a long night of drinking… 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Jinyoung?” 

“Jinyoung is not home right now.” The woman’s voice is blank, monotone like your boss whenever he’s giving out a lecture. It deepens your concern. You’ve seen your fair share of hangovers between Jihyo and Sana’s party-animal habits, but never one that renders your body so… zombie-like. 

“Do you know where he went? Or maybe when he’ll be home?” 

The woman doesn’t blink. “No.”

“Okay, um…” You gnaw at your bottom lip, carefully thinking over the next plan of action. Due to the woman’s state, it’s pretty obvious you are not going to be able to get much out of her. Maybe you can try Youngjae’s cell, and eventually badger an answer out of him—

“What’s taking so long? Who’s at the door?” The woman steps aside to reveal a familiar face—one that sends gooseflesh budding across your skin.    

 Jaebeom’s eyes widen in surprise. “You…? What are you doing here…? ” His expression reminds you of your previous encounter outside the town hall, where he confirmed his and his brother’s vampiric nature. Beneath the surprise in his gaze, you can still make out what seems to be apprehension… almost fear. 

“Is Jinyoung here? I need to talk to him.” 

“He’s not here.” Jaebeom crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway. “He went on some field trip with that Tuan kid. I have no clue where they went.” 

“Well… do you at least know when he’ll be back?” 

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you need to see my brother anyway?” 

“I told you. I need to speak with him.” 

“Are you sure he even wants to talk to you?” 

The agitation spreading through your veins grows at Jaebeom’s obvious indifference. You swallow down the frustration before sparing a glance back toward the silent woman. She’s staring in your direction, but her eyes don’t seem to be looking at you. Instead, they seem to be looking through you.  

“Is she… okay?” You ask softly, earning another wave of surprise from the Prime. 

Jaebeom leans down to murmur something into the woman’s ear, before she turns on her heel and disappears back inside the house. It might have only been a trick of your mind, but hidden beneath the collar of her shirt may be a wound—a wound that looks strangely like a bite mark. 

Your stomach violently turns as you’re reminded of the other night. Jaebeom was going to feed on you, possibly kill you… but he didn’t. 

You murmur aloud before you can think, “Why?...” 

“What?” 

“Why did you stop?” Jaebeom’s face pales at your questions, indicating he knows exactly what you’re talking about. His throat visibly gulps before he uncrosses his arms and steadies himself back on his own feet. 

“So you know…”

“Know you almost killed me?... Yeah. Kind of hard to forget something like that.” 

Jaebeom shrugs. “You’d be surprised what people can forget under mind compulsion.”   

“Mind compulsion?” Your eyebrows furrow as your head tilts in curiosity. “Don't tell me vampires can control minds?” 

Jaebeom raises his eyebrows, his surrounding features contorting to a mixture of shock and amazement. His eyes shine, lingering over the planes of your face. As if you activated a switch, a sly smirk pulls across his lips. Perfectly complimenting the dangerous mischief swirling inside his dark brown irises. 

“So you know what I am then…” Jaebeom chuckles. You don’t like the way his eyes seem to deviously flicker in the sunlight. “Your witch boyfriend must have you on vervain. That explains why my compulsion didn’t work.” 

You ignore his mention of Mark. “Vervain? What’s that?” 

“An herb. It’s poisonous to vampires.” He explains so casually. “It dulls our abilities, makes humans immune to compulsion, and burns like a fucking bitch.” 

“How do you stand in the sun? Shouldn’t you erupt into flames or something?” 

Jaebeom’s smirk seems to widen. “You ask a lot of questions, little dove. That can get you in trouble.” 

“You won’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think that?” In a flash, Jaebeom is standing right in front of you, his hands threateningly cradling the sides of your head. His eyes bleed pure sadism and malice as he speaks, “I could break your sweet, fragile neck right here, and no one would even know…” 

Any other person would be scared to death. But you know better. 

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have in the alley.” You shake your head, reaching up to grab his wrists and tug his hands from your face. Prowess spills into your chest as his gaze grows surprised once again. 

You nod. “Now, since Jinyoung isn’t here and I really don’t want to pay another hundred dollars to haul my ass back to town, you’re gonna help me understand how this whole vampire thing works.” 

“I’m going to… what now?” 

“You heard me.” You step past Jaebeom and enter the mansion, following the same pathway the previous woman took. You’re barely able to hold back a gasp at the regal interior that greets your entrance. Swallowing your awe, you peer over your shoulder at a rather confused Im Jaebeom and hum delicately, “You don’t happen to drink coffee? Do you?” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I finished the boundary spell, Mark-hyung. No one can get step foot into the cemetery without us knowing.” Jinyoung watches Jisung step outside of his ritual circle, crafted from salt and the burning essence of various herbs. From across the way, Mark provides the younger witch a nod of encouragement before turning to face the Choi duo. 

“You stocked up on enough energy, Youngjae?” 

Youngjae disentangles his hand from Lia’s grasp, his skin ceasing the magical glow Jinyoung has seen many times in siphoners long before anyone in this particular coven was born. The witch hums, “Yes, hyung. I should have plenty to last.” 

“Don’t count on it.” Mark shakes his head, tossing another smoldering herb into the center of the salt boundary. “We have no idea what we’re up against. Everyone needs to keep on their toes, and stay together.”

“Have you… fought something like this before?...” It takes a whole moment of silence for Jinyoung to realize Jisung had directed the question at him. Peering at the youngest witch with his usual blank expression, Jinyoung inhales a deep breath, attempting to push away the whiplash of memories that rage through his head. 

Jinyoung answers, “I have faced many hunters and witches… but never as a pair.” 

“So you’ve fought dark witches?...” 

The inquiry surprises Jinyoung, but for what reason—he doesn’t know.   

“It is not the witches who are dark—it is the magic.” He finally sighs after a long period of silence. “Dark magic plagues the mind like a parasite, laying its eggs in the user’s morals and logicalities until it builds into an infestation, and completely takes over the witch’s sanity.”

Jisung’s face visibly pales. “Does it… kill the witch?” 

“In more ways than one.” Jinyoung catches Mark’s eyes. Inside them is an emotion he knows too well—guilt. 

“Don’t worry, Sung.” Lia sidles beside the youngest witch, weaving her fingers with his own to provide a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be fine… right, Mark?” 

Everyone’s eyes immediately trail to the head witch, and though he doubts anyone else could see, Jinyoung notices the aura of fear and apprehension oozing from Mark’s tense body. He can only imagine how Mark feels—terrified for the lives and wellbeing of the people he calls his family… Jinyoung hasn’t felt that pain in centuries, but it’s impossible to forget. 

Especially when it comes to those you love. 

With eyes of pure, determined fire, Mark nods.

“We do this for Nayeon.” He gathers the witches close, reaching across to take Lia and Jisung’s joint limbs in one hand while the other goes for Youngjae. Something inside Jinyoung’s chest seizes at the heartwarming sight… A memory of both him and Jaebeom suddenly rushes into his thoughts where their hands are tightly clasped between their bodies. Where they stand as brother’s united against the world. 

Where did those times go…? 

“—For Nayeon!” Jinyoung returns just in time to see the group disband from their minimal embrace. Lia and Jisung head back toward the mausoleum, probably to fetch more supplies for the battle just waiting over the horizon, while the remaining two witches approach Jinyoung. Each with a sullen expression along their features. 

Jinyoung clears his throat. “You’re certain they’ll attack tonight?” 

“It’s a new moon. Mina’s power will be it’s strongest.” Mark says, providing Jinyoung a grim frown. “Which is why all of us need to be careful. Like I said, we have no clue what to expect.” 

The corners of Jinyoung’s lips slightly turn. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually concerned for me.” 

Mark shakes his head, completely ignoring Jinyoung’s attempt at humor before shifting his focus to Youngjae. “Anything from Minho?” 

“No, hyung. But Jisung left him a message to tell him to stay far away from the cemetery tonight.” 

Mark releases a heavy breath and drags a hand down his face. “That douchebag is gonna get himself killed, goddamn it…” 

“They will be looking for the entire coven, not a lone witch.” Jinyoung assures, feeling the need to expel the head witch’s anxiety. “Minho will be safe. Wherever he is.” 

Mark meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “I hope you’re right.” 

“We should go over the plan of action again.” Abandoning the intensity of Mark’s stare, Jinyoung turns at Youngjae’s offer, discovering the siphoner to already be looking in his direction. 

There’s a subtle waver in Youngjae’s tone as he asks, “You remember what you have to do?” 

Jinyoung nods cooly. “Once you immobilize the witch, I go for the huntress.” 

“And you’re sure you can take her by yourself?” 

“I’ve encountered and destroyed dozens of supernatural hunters over the years.” Jinyoung replies to Youngjae, earning a silent, but visible eye roll from the other witch. He ignores Mark’s annoyance, nodding again at the younger siphoner. “I’m strong enough.” 

Jinyoung only hopes that will be true. 

“Good.” Youngjae turns to Mark. “Once Mina steps foot onto our grounds, the spell will immediately take effect… She’ll be in pain. Immense, torturous pain.” 

Jinyoung notices how Mark’s shoulders shiver at the description. 

He gulps. “This will work. It has to.” 

“It will.” Jinyoung offers again, placing a gentle hand against Mark’s elbow. The latter grows surprised for a moment, before a weak upturn of his lips signifies his gratitude. 

Jinyoung immediately pulls away from Mark as a loud shriek erupts through the graveyard. The first to wake out of the alarmed stupor is Mark, who immediately shifts on his heel and dashes for the entrance of the cemetery, where the noise had previously erupted. Youngjae runs after him, followed closely behind by Jinyoung. 

“Mark-hyung! Wait, don’t—” 

“There’s someone here! Get Lia and Jisung out here!” Jinyoung provides Youngjae a nod, assuring the witch to follow his leader’s demand. The siphoner makes a break for the mausoleum while Jinyoung scales the rest of the distance toward the head witch, who’s standing mere feet from the iron gate that acts as the only access point into Eclipse Cemetery—where a shadowy figure is helplessly squirming on the graveled-earth. 

Jinyoung grabs Mark’s wrist before he can lunge at the figure, frantically shaking his head. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?” 

“That son of a bitch murdered my friend—” Mark hisses, wrenching his limb away from Jinyoung’s grasp and pushing his body away with a hefty shove. “You don’t want to test the reliability of my self-control right now… so I suggest you back off and do your own damn job!”

“Wait for the others, at least!” Jinyoung urges, “Be smart about this, Mark! Trust me—!” 

“Don’t tell me what to fucking—” 

“Mark-hyung!” Surprise mirrors itself along both Jinyoung and Mark’s features. The head witch quickly leaves Jinyoung to kneel beside the figure hidden beneath the darkness of the moonless night. Jinyoung hurries to Mark’s side, his eyes widening to saucers at the familiar features he can barely make out in the obscurity. 

Mark gapes. “Minho…?” 

“Wh-What is—ha!.. Hap-happening?...” Minho manages to spill through gritted teeth with much struggle. Jinyoung recognizes the writhing and twitching of his limbs, as well as the wild nature of his gaze—Youngjae wasn’t lying about the pain. 

“Shit, Minho—” Mark hurriedly mutters a counter-incantation beneath his breath, pulling the younger witch to lean against his chest. Even with the spell lifted, Minho continues to spasm and moan at the phantom waves that send pain through his form. 

Mark shakes his head. “What in the actual hell are you doing here!?” 

“What… What the fuck are you talking about?” Minho gasps, clutching onto the sleeves of Mark’s shirt as another wave passes through his veins. “You… called me, asshole!” 

“What the fu—? I never called you! Jisung told you to stay home!” 

“I-I… talked to you earlier.” Minho inhales something close to a wheeze before lightly poking Mark’s chest. “You told me to… to come to the ‘maus’ at mid-midnight…”  

Jinyoung feels his blood run cold, but his tone is even colder: 

“They knew it was a trap…” 

Mark’s eyes are wild with desperation and fright as he meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “The others—” A loud, high-pitched wail cuts off Mark’s speech. Neither him nor Jinyoung waste any time and make a mad dash for the mausoleum, Jinyoung’s heart racing in his throat. The first thing he notices is the door of the structure—wide open and practically torn off its hinges. 

“Youngjae! Lia! Jisung!” Mark screams, sprinting inside the mausoleum with no hesitation. Jinyoung pauses in the doorway, watching as the head witch frantically surveys the place, only to find it completely empty save for himself. Tears are glistening in his eyes as he shakes his head, “Where the fuck are they!? Oh my fucking god—”  

“If the boundary spell caught Minho, then they could have gotten in anywhere!” Jinyoung steps aside just in time for Mark to race outside again. “We need to be careful! Especially if they have—!” 

“Mark-hyung!” Youngjae’s call carries through the nightly breeze, brewing even more uncontrolled fear in Jinyoung’s chest. 

“Youngjae!” Jinyoung can barely keep up with Mark’s frantic pace as he tears deeper into the graveyard, skipping over headstones and rounding tall statues with the skill of a professional athlete. He somehow manages to keep up. Just in arms reach of the head witch. 

“Youngjae!? Youngjae!?” Mark sobs, pausing to peer through the continuous hills of graves and monuments for the forgotten. “Jisung!? Lia!? Where are you!?” 

Through the very corner of his eye, Jinyoung notices a speck of movement emerge from behind a nearby tree. Time seems to slow as he focuses closer on that tree, immediately noticing a human-like shadow holding something between stoic hands—holding a loaded crossbow pointed directly at Mark. 

Using every bout of vampiric strength in his possession, Jinyoung sprints toward the head witch just as the bolt leaves the barrel of the crossbow. 

“Mark! Get down!” 

“Jinyoung—!?” 

Jinyoung can hear nothing but screams and the ringing of his own ears as he shields Mark’s body with his own. Somewhere deep inside, as the crossbow bolt pierces his flesh, he can hear something that fills his soul with immense warmth… 

It’s your voice—telling him to go to hell, as he immediately succumbs to a violent wave of darkness. 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“So you’re… a werewolf and a vampire?” Jaebeom watches your eyebrows raise to the heavens over the rim of his glass, swallowing the sweeter-than-sweet liquid before licking the remnants from his lips. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and had a cup of coffee, much less drank something that wasn’t straight from the vein. 

To be honest, he’d much rather be feeding from the blonde woman waiting in his bedroom. But something about being with you is too addicting to pass up… and that scares him. 

You shake your head. “Isn’t that like… ironic? Considering vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies?” 

An amused chuckle spills from his lips as you fumble with your own teacup, barely managing to save its matching saucer before it clatters to the floor. Your annoyed glare pulls more laughter out of him, and it takes a good portion of his self-control not to smile. 

After taking another sip of his coffee, Jaebeom shrugs. “I was born a werewolf, and it carried over when Jinyoung and I became vampires.” 

“How did that happen anyway?” You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs at the ankle with a tilt of your head. “I mean, did you and Jinyoung choose to become…what you are?” 

“Yes and no,” He hums. 

“So you chose to become monsters?” 

“You consider my brother and I monsters…?” 

Jaebeom doesn’t like the serious expression that pulls across your features. “I know you’ve killed a lot of people… and have done some pretty fucked up things.” 

“A millennium is a long time to be alive, little dove.” Your obvious distaste at the nickname fills his chest with comedic pleasure. He smirks, “You get a little bored after a while.” 

“Normal people read books when they’re bored, or find a new hobby.” 

“Killing isn’t a hobby then…?” 

Your response is a look of pure disgust. 

Jaebeom howls in laughter before inhaling the remainder of his coffee in one gulp. He heaves a sigh, peering out the large, stained-glass window. Partly to recollect his thoughts. Partly to allow the obvious tension to dissipate between his and your forms. 

Now inside his own head, Jaebeom wonders whether or not he should have said such a barbaric statement in the first place. If it were anyone else, Jaebeom would care less about protecting his image—but it’s you. And something inside him warns him to be careful around you… Very, very careful. 

“Jinyoung and I were children when we found each other.” Jaebeom sighs, feeling the weight of your surprised gaze on the side of his face. “After my own caregivers abandoned me, he convinced his parents to take me in… It wasn’t until I lived inside their home did I realize how cruel they were.” 

“Cruel…?” 

“Jinyoung was a bastard child.” He explains, “His mother had an affair with a village merchant. After his father found out, he murdered his wife’s lover and made Jinyoung’s life a living hell.” 

Jaebeom rises from his armchair and grabs his empty cup before heading for the liquor tray in front of the same window he was previously staring out. While pouring himself a drink, Jaebeom makes sure to raise his voice so you can still hear: 

“For years, I watched that asshole beat the shit out of Jinyoung while his mother and sisters sat back and didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He downs the brandy in one sweet gulp before selecting a stronger bottle of scotch. Not bothering with his cup, Jaebeom unscrews the cap and takes a long, drawn-out swig from the container. Fire erupts through his belly, sending the beginning of a pleasurable buzz through his veins. 

“One day I got fed up with it all, and when the fucker tried to lash Jinyoung for refusing to shoot a fawn, I took that belt right out of his hands, wrapped it around his neck, and squeezed and squeezed until the light left his eyes…” 

Through the corner of his eye, Jaebeom notices how your body grows tense at his confession. 

He whirls around to meet your gaze, pushing away the pestering emotions without so much as a blink before continuing, “We were banished by his family and the other villagers, but we didn’t care—we had each other, and we needed no one else.

“We encountered a witch one day, as we were walking through the forest.” Jaebeom says after another sip, “She told us she could give us a gift like no other: Eternal life. We only had to take part in a ritual, and death would never come for us.” 

You shake your head. “Why? Why would you want to live forever?” 

“If you were given the chance to be invincible against everything, even time, wouldn’t a small part of you be somewhat interested?” 

He allows you a moment to ponder his question. After maybe a minute or so, you release a silent huff and gesture for him to continue. 

“The witch tricked us though, and in trade for immortality, we were forced to sacrifice our humanity.” 

Your eyes widen. “So you didn’t… choose to become vampires?” 

“No.” Jaebeom sets down his bottle with one hand while carding his fingers through his hair with the other. “Anyway, Jinyoung and I spent decades learning how to manage our newfound abilities, and even longer on how to handle the lifestyle.” 

“If you and Jinyoung were the first—the Prime Two—did you create more vampires?” 

He chuckles with a sigh, “Yes. Though it was by accident how we found out.

“Fledgling vampires branched off from our bloodline are different. They’re not as fast, nor as strong, nor as powerful as us.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I can compel humans and other vampires, but vampires can only compel humans.” 

“Are fledglings immortal too?” 

“To some extent.” Crossing back across the room, Jaebeom lowers into the armchair beside your own. Now close enough to see the curious spark of wonder in your irises. “It is possible for a fledgling to live forever, but unlike Jinyoung and I, fledglings can be killed with a wooden stake through the heart.” 

“Nice to know that much is true.” Jaebeom relishes the borderline amused chuckle that leaves your lips, playing the odd elation off as the effects of the alcohol. “Is it also true that a bite from a vampire turns you into a vampire?” 

He snorts, “Let me guess… Got that from Twilight?

“Just answer the question.” 

“The only way to become a vampire is if you die with vampire blood in your system.” He hums, “After you die, you’ll wake up in transition, and will need to drink human blood to complete the transformation.” 

“And if you choose not to complete it?” 

“Then you die for real.” 

You shift at his answer, finding interest in the chipped edge of your cup. Jaebeom wonders whether he should change the topic of interest, but before he can think up some possible options, you steer the conversation yourself: 

“You never told me why.” 

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “What?” 

“Why you left me in that alleyway.” 

For the first time, Jaebeom feels vulnerable underneath the scrutiny of your eyes. He fidgets uncomfortably, and like you, searches the room for another object to hold his attention. However, whether it’s because of the whiskey, or something else, his gaze returns to and remains rooted on your own. 

What is it about you? The thought spirals through his thoughts like a 2-seater plane with broken wings. Maybe he should have listened to Jinyoung, and stayed away from you in the first place. Because whatever game you’re playing, whatever spell you have him under… it’s messing with his head.  

And he doesn’t like to be fucked around with. 

Finally, after what seems like hours, Jaebeom shakes his head. “I don’t kn—” 

A sudden crash emerges from the foyer, effectively interrupting his explanation. Jaebeom leaps from his seat and speeds in front of where you’re sitting, shielding your form from the entryway where the noise sounded. His protective stance vanishes, however, at the figure that appears in the doorway. 

Jaebeom tsks. “Oh. Look who finally decided to show up.” 

“Jinyoung…?” Jaebeom steps aside to allow you to step forward, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He moves to fetch himself another drink when your exclaim stops him, “Holy shit! What the hell happened to you!?” 

Upon taking care to really look at his brother, Jaebeom understands the reason for your concern. Jinyoung’s usual clean-cut and formal appearance is nonexistent. From head to toe, he’s covered in dirt, and his dark hair is far past disheveled. His clothes are badly torn and wrinkled, and practically soaked in fresh blood. Jaebeom quickly realizes the blood does belong to Jinyoung, noticing the large, thick bolt protruding from his chest. 

Jinyoung winces, “It’s a long story… but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit down first.” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The gleam of the awakening sun rising over the horizon sears Yugyeom’s eyes, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the entryway of the cemetery. No matter how much the newfound sunlight burns his eyes, he continues to watch the shadows of the night disperse in fear of the approaching morning. He knows pain all too well. 

“Gyeom?” 

Yugyeom greets Chan silently, with a curt nod. His stare remains frozen on the gate. 

Chan sidles up beside him until they are shoulder to shoulder. His own gaze glances at Yugyeom’s point of interest for a moment before he turns to look at his companion in the early morning glow. Through his peripheral vision, Yugyeom can spot Chan’s grim expression. 

 “How’s the coven?” Yugyeom asks after a long bout of silence.

Chan shrugs, “Minho, Jisung and Lia were all sleeping when I left. And Youngjae, he’s…” When his voice trails off, Yugyeom doesn’t urge Chan to finish his sentence. He knows exactly how Youngjae is right now. 

Terrified. 

“What should we do with the body?” 

Yugyeom barely blinks. “Probably best to burn it. Can’t leave anything up to chance.” 

Chan hums in agreement, seemingly ready to return to the mausoleum, but to Yugyeom’s surprise, Chan remains in place. Another long, tense round of silence carries between them, filling Yugyeom’s head with even more heart wrenching memories. After another mind-spiralling hurricane or two, Chan breaks the silence again:

“We made the right decision. If we got here any later, that huntress would have killed everyone.”  

Yugyeom shakes his head, “The huntress was working with a witch, and we only found the one… We should have gotten here sooner.” 

“Youngjae thinks the huntress was working alone tonight.” Chan says, lifting his palm to shield his eyes from the blinding sunrise. “There were no traces of unfamiliar magic… nor did we catch anyone else’s scent in the cemetery.” 

“Then where is the witch?” Yugyeom moves his attention away from the graveyard entrance, and with aching eyes, turns to meet his Alpha’s downcast gaze, “And more importantly, where the hell is Mark-hyung…?”  

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

You hold back a wince as Jaebeom literally tears the bolt from Jinyoung’s chest, earning a pained grunt from said victim. Dark blood splatters from the now open wound, painting across Jaebeom’s skin and adding even more stains to Jinyoung’s unsalvageable shirt. Disgust fills your gut as Jaebeom offers Jinyoung what seems to be a glass of blood—probably from that blonde woman you encountered at the door. 

Jinyoung shakes his head and pushes the drink away. “No. I’m alright.” 

“You would have healed by now if you were.” Jaebeom tries again, “Just take a sip.” 

“No.” 

“Suit yourself.” Your eyes widen in both surprise and revulsion, watching Jaebeom knock back the glass and down the blood in one large gulp. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you carefully approach the wounded vampire, holding forth a clean towel. 

Jinyoung takes the garment and sends a grateful smile in return. “Thank you, (Y/N).” 

You nod, “Sure.” 

Jinyoung presses the bunched fabric to his gaping wound, hissing through gritted teeth at the sudden pressure. You wonder whether or not you should grab the emergency Tylenol from your bag… Does pain medication even work on vampires? Aren’t they technically dead?

“We were ambushed at the cemetery.” Jinyoung explains, pulling you from your foolish thoughts. “After the huntress shot me, I must have hit my head and knocked myself out.”

“Sounds like a pretty unfortunate story.” 

Jinyoung chuckles at your joke before continuing, “When I came to, the wolf pack had killed her and Mark was gone.” 

Panic immediately spreads through your veins like flames to dry wood. “Mark? What do you mean he’s gone?” 

“I’m not sure. We searched the entire graveyard, but there was no sign of him.” 

You open your mouth to inquire further, but Jaebeom’s loud exhale cuts you off. Both you and Jinyoung turn to peer at the hybrid, finding him staring out the large window while drumming his fingertips against the red- and blue-stained glass. After a quiet moment filled with the rhythm of his fingers and Jinyoung’s marred breathing, Jaebeom peers over his shoulder—his eyes glaring daggers straight at his brother. 

Jinyoung shakes his head. “Hyung—” 

“I told you not to get involved with Tuan.” The dark, bitter tone that leaves Jaebeom’s lips sends a harsh shiver down your spine, more so since the comment included mention of your best friend.

“And I told you I’m taking care of it.” 

“Can you not just do what you’re fucking told just once? Just one goddamn time—?” 

To both your and Jaebeom’s surprise, Jinyoung suddenly leans forward in his seat and retches violently. You rush forward, splaying your hands across his back while asking about his condition. Your response is another retching noise, and in just the nick of time, you manage to step out of the way before Jinyoung vomits red across the carpet. 

“Fucking god, Jinyoung! What the hell is wrong with him!?” You call out to Jaebeom, squeezing Jinyoung’s shoulders as he heaves again. After another gag or two, you help Jinyoung to lean back into the armchair, wiping the bloody remnants from his lip with a towelette. Your knuckles brush the arch of his cheekbone—his skin is hot to the touch. 

“He’s burning up! What do we do!?” 

“It’s… werewolf venom.” Jinyoung gasps, weakly pulling your wrist away from his face.  

You shake your head, “W-Werewolf venom?” 

“A werewolf’s bite is deadly to vampires.” Jaebeom explains, barely batting an eyelash as Jinyoung lurches forward with another gag. 

“But he wasn’t bitten? How the hell—?” 

“The crossbow bolts must have been poisoned.” Your anxiety skyrockets, worriedly staring as Jinyoung begins to choke on his own blood. Jaebeom glances outside the window again, murmuring, “He won’t die… The effects will pass in a day or so.” 

“But can’t you heal him!?” You jump to your feet, narrowly avoiding a puddle of dark blood before dashing over to Jaebeom. Your fingers desperately latch onto the lapels of his leather jackets, tugging him down to meet your eyes. “You’re a hybrid, so your blood should technically flush the venom out of his system? Right?” 

Jaebeom’s lips twitch. “You’re smart, little dove. I’ll give you that.” 

“So you’ll heal him?” 

You wait in utter agony as the hybrid considers your request, staring blankly at the features of your face. You can only imagine how much you resemble a crazed, mad woman, but you can care less. Right now, your sole focus is on Jinyoung and ending whatever horrible fate awaits. Jaebeom wouldn’t let his best friend—the man he calls his brother—suffer in absolute anguish… 

Not when he killed Jinyoung’s own father to protect him. 

After a miserable moment of silence, Jaebeom releases a heavy exhale through his nose before meeting your gaze. The bubble of hope expands inside your chest when the hybrid offers a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush a stray hair from your forehead. You shiver as that same hand lightly grasps your chin, guiding your face closer until you can taste the alcohol on Jaebeom’s breath. 

All in a matter of seconds, that bubble of hope pops at Jaebeom’s curt answer: 

“No.” 

You watch in horror as Jaebeom releases your chin, turns on his heel, and leaves you by your lonesome with a wounded Jinyoung, and even more wounded soul.

[one-spidey-boii]

BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch six

read ch five here

masterlist

an; heyo everyone. online schooling is kicking my ass, my cat doesn’t like me anymore, and i keep sleeping until 3pm. no worries tho, cause yesterday i got some starbursts. let me know what you think of this chapter! hearing your feedback is super encouraging :)

**italics indicate flashback**

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), future smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 2.7k+

peter's pov

my blood runs cold as soon as the weight of edie's body falls into mine. her limbs are limp and heavy, making it awkward to keep her steady as i gather her in my arms. everything around me is buzzing. every noise is drowned out by the pounding in my ears, the drumming of my heart beat in my chest.

"oh- oh my god. edie." i rush out with a shaky breath as her eyes struggle to stay open, "look at me, please. please keep looking at me, okay? don't close your eyes." i plead.

she gazes up at me, more like through me, as her head lolls against my chest. i pull her into me and lift her off the ground. i try to control my breathing, knowing how i handle these next few minutes will mean more than anything i've ever done before.

edie's eyes wander around the hallway and i make my way to the medical room with bounding strides. she lets out an occasional whimper when i jostle her too much and my stomach drops every time.

when there, i flip the light switch on and take in the room around me. i've never needed to be here before, making me wish every wound i ever endured had landed me in here- just so i can take better care of the girl in my arms.

i move over to one of the two empty beds that resembles those you would find at a hospital and place her down softly. she stares up at the ceiling, her eyelids grow weaker and heavier as time passes. i bite my bottom lip and grab at my hair. i really don't know what i'm doing.

"my side, pete. 'm hurts." she whispers and rolls her head so that she's looking at me now.

i swallow my fear and put up a strong facade for her, "i know, e. just keep looking at me. can you do that?"

edie just barely nods her head and her eyes follow me as i gather the right supplies to address the source of the bleeding. my hands fumble around as i set everything on the cart next to her bed.

"e, im gonna have to take your suit off, okay? i have to get to your side to stop the bleeding." my voice can't help but shake as i mutter the words to her. she just stares back at me with misty eyes that hold no objections.

"m'kay, jus' press the button." edie instructs, her lips parting as her breaths become softer and weaker. with that, i search for the emblem on her wrist and press it lightly. her suit expands and hangs loosely around her frame. i hesitantly begin pulling it down her shoulders, letting out a sigh of relief when i see the dark purple bra covering her chest.

finally able to get a good look at her side, i try to hold back a gasp. along the length of her torso, a gash runs from just under her ribs on her back all the way to her hip bone in the front. no longer being compressed by the suit, the bleeding gushes faster.

i look over at the supplies i’ve gathered and realize none of it will be much help. this is so much worse than i originally thought. i finally move my eyes from the wound and scan the room once again. so many machines that i have no idea how to operate just stare back at me, taunting me as i stand here helpless.

a hand clasps around my own. edie stares up at me with pleading eyes, small whimpers leaving her lips. i hold back a sob as i squeeze her hand back and reach for my cell phone.

the phone rings three times before he picks up, i don't breath until then.

"hello?"

my words are caught in my throat. "uh, m-mr. stark, i need help. edie's hurt and she must have gotten stabbed or something and there's so much blood and i-i don't know what to do or—"

his voice cuts me off, remaining calm and stern, "are you putting pressure on the wound?"

i let go of edie's hand and grab the gauze from the cart, moving to follow orders. "y-yes, sir."

"peter, you need to go to the back right corner and in the first drawer is a device that looks like a pen. grab it and hold it over the wound. press the side button and let it do its thing." mr. stark explains everything to me slowly. i do as he says, grabbing the small device and removing the now bloodied gauze from edie's side.

as i click the side, a blue light emerges from the tip, analyzing the wound before a cluster of lasers move over the length of it. slowly but surely the horrific gash starts mending before my eyes. i grab edie's hand and squeeze. after a few seconds, i feel the gentle press of her fingers against mine.

"everything okay, kid? give me an update here." tony says into the phone i had put down to tend to my best friend.

"yes, mr. stark." i call out.

edie's eyes flutter to meet mine. they're glassy and wet, unshed tears sitting on the brim of her lower lids. i glance at the healing device, taking notice that it has turned off automatically after it finished its job. i shakily put it down and latch onto edie's hand with both of mine.

"hey. hey, there," i whisper to her. she smiles weakly and closes her eyes, finally letting a single tear slide down her flushed cheeks, "you're okay now, yeah? how do you feel?"

she just squeezes my hand one more time before her body releases all the tension it's holding and she falls unconscious.

"peter, what the hell happened?" i jump when mr. stark's voice sounds from the phone again. hesitantly, i move edie's hand to her side and cover her almost naked chest with the blanket draped at the foot of the bed.

i pick up the phone and take a deep breath before giving an answer.

"i-i don't know, sir."

-

edie's pov

i never realized how often i put myself in danger. when i go out into the city at night, the thought rarely crosses my mind. it was only when i was face to face with the possibility i wouldn't make it home that night, that's when i realized what wearing a suit really entails.

before i even open my eyes, i'm aware of how cold the air feels around me. it bites into my cheeks and the tip of my nose, making me wiggle it uncomfortably. i can tell i'm not alone too. i hear soft breathing come from a few feet away, the source is asleep from what i can tell. finally, i open my eyes.

my heart swells at the sight of peter sprawled out along the hospital bed next to mine. he lays on his stomach, one hand draping over the side of the bed as his other supports his head. i keep my eyes on his peaceful face- and suddenly i find myself fighting the urge to wrap my fingers around his and hold his hand. i lift my hand away from the side of the bed and i gasp at the pain that shoots from my ribs to my hip.

it's excruciating. my skin feels hot and the red flash of pain brings tears to my eyes. slowly, i move my hand to the blanket covering my torso and push it aside. i raise my head slowly to see a horrible looking scar stretched along my side. it's red and angry and makes me sick to my stomach. i fight to keep a sob from escaping my lips, but the sight of the wound makes it nearly impossible. i let out a whimper and the events of the night before replay in my head.

-

i stay close to the dark alleyways of the city. my lack of web-slinging and flying makes it difficult to remain discreet, but sticking to the alleyways where most of the crimes take place seems to work well for me. the streets become quiet after rush hour hits and the city is lacking its usual light atmosphere. i've been walking for a while and have yet to find anyone who needs help.

once one am rolls around, i stumble upon a younger couple arguing a few meters down the alley. the man is shouting and seems to tower over the girl. she's scared, that i can tell, but something about her seems tough and hard to crack. i hide behind the corner and bend down to wrap my fingers around the knife in my left boot, ready to make a move if necessary.

the man begins backing the girl up against the wall and making large gestures with his hands. he must've said something the girl didn't like because she takes her hand and brings it down across his face with a sharp crack. he stumble back, hand to his cheek. i tense when he looks back at the girl and growls at her like an animal.

as he raises his hand to hit her, i jump from around the building and sprint in their direction. i manage to grab hold of the man's fist before he brings it down to meet the girls' face. his head snaps in my direction and his attention is suddenly on me. i shoot a quick glance at the girl, pleading with my eyes for her to run.

"mind your business, lady." the man hisses through clenched teeth. i hold my ground, focusing on keeping his attention on me so the girl has a chance of getting away. "are you gonna say anything? or just stand there?" he continues. when i don't answer again, he lunges at me.

quickly dodging his attempt at an attack, i slash my knife along his forearm. he gasps and grabs at his now bleeding arm, holding it to his chest. i sneak one more glance at the girl and let out a sigh of relief to see she has fled the scene. the man makes another move and runs towards me. i grab his injured arm and spin him around to face the nearest wall. with all my strength, i push him against the bricks and hold him there while digging my fingers into his cut flesh.

"let's see how you like it, huh, tough guy?" i speak from behind him. he rests his forehead against the brick wall and begins to laugh. it’s a horrible sound. the noise is surprising and unsettling, but i do my best to remain present for the task at hand. i open my mouth to speak again, but all the comes out is a muffled yell as i feel something sharp tear into my side. my grip weakens and the man slides away as i crash forward into the wall.

it feels like someone has tried to sever my body into two pieces. the pain completely overtakes my senses and i no longer have any control. my glassy eyes move to see the man standing behind me, still clutching his arm. next to him is the girl from before, holding a gnarly looking hunting knife by her side. blood drips from the tip of it onto the concrete below. my blood.

the girl comes towards me and kneels next to me on the ground. i stare into her eyes with numb shock, so thrown off by her actions. she smiles at me. a wide, bright white smile that takes up half of her face. she grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me towards her.

"see what happens when you try to help people? maybe some people just don't need help from someone like you. go along, try getting back to your secret hideout with this, little girl." her words mean nothing as soon as she pushes me onto my back and delivers one heavy kick into my side, leaving me breathless as she and the man turn to walk away.

-

images keep flying through my head as i stare down at the scar. i can't look away. this thing is a part of me now and i can't bring myself to terms with it yet, not that i expect it to ever be easy. i slowly move back down until my head hits the pillow. i stretch one hand towards peter as the other one falls along the marred skin of my side. my fingers are just centimeters away from peters limp hand, i try to close the distance but fail as shots of fire emerge from my side.

hopeless and in pain, i finally let a wet sob leave my lips. i squeeze my eyes shut and let all the failure and defeat roll along with my tears. it's embarrassing. i take pride in myself for being a trained fighter both physically and mentally. yet, i had been so blindsided by the situation and it came back to get me, leaving me with a scar to remember it.

clammy fingers meet mine and squeeze tightly. i roll my head to the side and see peter kneeling next to the bed. his eyes are soft and tired. seeing his face makes me cry even harder with both relief and sadness. peter parker is here for me, holding my hand and rubbing the back of it with his thumb as i cry and cry and cry.

eventually, i have nothing left but empty sobs and quiet whimpers. peter has moved closer, his head resting atop of mine as he places soft kisses in my hair. it's intoxicating and warm and i want him to do it for hours on end, but i need to get myself together. as scared as i am right now, i know he is even more so.

"help me sit up, peter, please." i more demand than ask. he obliges and wraps one arm around my shoulders and the other continues to hold onto my hand. i bite my lip to hold in any sounds of protest as my body shutters and writhes against the unwanted movement.

"i need to call mr. stark and tell him what happened. you need to know too." i whisper.

"maybe you just need to rest a little while longer-" peter tries to say.

"no. just... please find my phone." i plead. with a hesitant nod, peter rummages around the floor and comes back up with my phone. he dials mr. stark's number and sets it on speaker.

as it rings, i look over at peter again. he’s sitting on the edge of the other bed, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. i take notice of the empty feeling in my hand. "peter, just listen as i tell mr. stark. i doubt i'll be able to tell it more than once."

the ringing stops and tony starks' voice booms through the speaker.

"edie? are you okay?"

i let out a breath of air i didn't know i was holding, "mr. stark. i-i'm okay." i say weaker than i want to.

"what the hell happened, wolfie?" he asks, almost in a whisper, his voice is laced with sadness and worry.

with that, i tell him. i explain every little detail as best i can. peter lets out a tiny gasp when i get to the part about being stabbed, which makes me glance in his direction. he won't meet my eyes.

mr. stark doesn't say a word until i'm finished.

"im sending happy over. no, yanno what? i'll come myself." my eyes widen at his words. i immediately want to protest, but he wouldn't have it.

"i'll be there in four hours." he says and ends the call. peter and i finally make eye contact. the tired look in his eyes is still there, now laced with sadness and something else. i can't let either of us be sad for much longer. that's not what i want at all.

conjuring up my best smile, i speak with a chipper voice that only cracks once, "well, parker, looks like the boss man is coming home. we better make this place look presentable."

|| taglist; @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @whycantileaveyou @lovewolfspirit

let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist. hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)fvgggggg

[youngmistressofchopchop]

I did it. Now I dont write, I draw so this is not gonna be so good. Its been through many revisions and I realized I spelt "Yuseke" as "Yueske the entire time so forgive me ill fix that next chapter. My Kuwabara x oc story:

It was finally cold again. Miyoko was overjoyed, she had never liked summer. Sure there was no school and she had more time with friends, but she couldn't stand the heat. She detested those sweaty nights, or how the bugs always bothered her, actually she didnt care for any part of summer.

Miyoko had dropped so many hints over the years and yet somehow, Kuwabara still had no clue. His air-headed-ness was cute, but it made things difficult for the shy girl Miyoko was. She just couldn't work up the nerve to say something, and when she did, something would always interrupt her. However, today she planned to change that! Miyoko got dressed up as cozy as she could, ready for what her and her friends had planned and with a gleam of excitement in her eyes, she headed out the door. 

 That was apart from going to see her crush, Kazuma Kuwabara's baseball games, he would play every summer. When they were younger, he played in an official team wearing his "Mötor Head" jersey and smoking every opposing team he played against. Miyoko never missed a single game! Every home run, every strike, and every fight that broke out because of a bad call, she was there. When they got older, she would be there to watch him play against his friends, still wearing that jersey. She was always supportive of him, she was madly in love with him, and had been for awhile.

"Urameshi!! Where do you think you're going?? I was talking to you!" Kuwabara's feet hit the sidewalk with force as he sprinted after Yueske, who had walked only a few feet, forcing Kuwabara to stop abruptly frantically trying to steady himself without falling. After regaining balance, Kuwabara grabed a fists full of his friend's jacket to pull him close aggressively. 

"D-Dont tell anyone! Or I'll break your mouth, so you cant tell anyone nothin' ever again!!" Kuwabara's face was as red as the setting sun. Unfazed, Yuseke stared at Kuwabara blankly for a short second before sighing and shrugging the big flustered fool off of him. 

"Listen man, I wont say anything. But this is getting really annoying. Ive told you before that you should just go through with it. Whats your problem with admitting to her anyways?" Yuseke looked to the helpless man and immediately regretted asking. Kuwabara looked off dramatically twords the orange and red sky. His shoulders slouched, slumping over, and fiddling with his hands. 

"I....Shes really pretty, ya know? And...Im well...ya know?" His voice trailed off, as if wanting reassurance he was being foolish. When there was no reply, Kuwabara peeked up with a quivering bottom lip. 

Yueske stood with his hands in his pocket saying nothing, only wearing a furrowed brow and tight lips. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. Causing Kuwabara to stand up straight and look at him even more embarrassed, and ready to punch him.

"I never thought I'd hear the great Kuwabara, warrior of love, admit to being ugly!!" Mocked Yueske. He bent over shaking his head and slapping his leg, resting his other elbow on his knee and laughing loudly. He straightened and wiped a fake tear from his eye. Kuwabara gasped in shock. 

"What?? Ugly??" Again Kuwabara grabbed at his friend, this time missing and falling. He quickly got up and held up a threatening fists. 

"Im not ugly!! Im just not a romantic type!!" He rubbed his fists on his chest. 

"I am a warrior of love, so I know how to treat a lady and how to talks to girls, I just....." He paused, his mouth moving like hes trying to remember how talking works. "She's different!!" He finaly blurted out. "She reads them girly romance books that Kurama likes!!" With a frustrated grunt, Kuwabara rubbed his neck nervously and spoke in a much more serious tone.

"Ive known her a real long time, and I cant tell her yet cuz I'm kinda worried she only thinks of me like how Shizuru thinks of me." Yueske picked up on the seriousness of the situation and scoffed trying to lighten things up again. 

"Well you are ugly, but I think she likes you anyway. Besides man, why asks me? You think I read them werid books?" Yueske pat Kuwabara awkwardly on the shoulder. 

"No way. I asked cuz you have a girlfriend!!" Kuwabara turned to look at Yueske who was moving his arm away. 

"So? Doesnt mean I know what im doing, just asks Keiko." The boys laugh, seeming to have calmed down a great deal. Before much more could be said, four familiar and approaching voices could be heard chatting playfully. 

"Oh dear, you didnt actually take me seriously did you, Miyoko?" Botan said in a teasing tone. 

"I did!! I'm gullible, you cant just tell me anything about spirit world.I will believe it!! Everytime!" The two girls laughed. 

"I've noticed," Interjected Kurama. "You have managed to retained alot of attributes from your childhood haven't you? I find that interesting." Kurama continud, wrapping an arm around Botan. 

"Alot of people say that...is that a bad thing? I'm not immature am I?" Miyoko felt nervous now. Maybe that was the why Kuwabara never seemed to return her feelings, perhaps she wasn't mature enough for a relationship.

Keiko quickly spouted, "No no! I don't think he meant it like that, I think it's cute!" Keiko put a reassuring arm around Miyoko and smiled a friendly smile. 

"Ofcourse! Its an admirable trait." Kurama said as Botan giggled. 

Botan wagged her finger and pointed it at Miyoko with a knowing smile "Im on to you! You shouldn't feel so insecure!" Botan pulled her arm back and used it to hug Kurama's arm. "Don't be so hard on yourself, I know you're simply nervous, so you're being extra critical of yourself, but you'll do fine!" Botan hummed encouragingly. "And, we all look fantastic!" Botan added as they all rounded the corner.

Keiko stopped dead in her tracks, and started tapping her foot. "Well, most of us are...Yueske! I thought I told you to dress up!!" Keiko pouted, walking over to her boyfriend's side. 

Yueske was the most casually dressed out of all of them. Just wearing his usual faded blue jeans, black converse shoes, plain yellow shirt and favorite green and yellow windbreaker jacket. He looked even more underdressed standing next to Keiko. She was wearing a lovely pale pink turtleneck, a plum purple suspender skirt reaching to her knees, long white socks, and loafers to match her skirt. Despite their contrasting attire, they somehow matched perfectly. 

Yueske wrapped his arm around Keiko's shoulder and smirked."Kuwabara isnt dressed up." He looked over to Kuwabara and nodded his way while jutting his thumb twords his friend. 

"What!! I am too!! This is the nicest thing I got!! Other than like...a tux or something!!" Kuwabara wore a blue Letterman jacket, a red sweater with dark blue jeans, and brown dress boots laced in black, he was indeed dressed up quite nicely. Miyoko blushed at the sight of his clothing, he cleaned up nicely as always. She couldn't help but smile at him, it was always a slight surprise to see him out of his school uniform. Kuwabara had a simular reaction to Miyoko's choice of clothing. She dawned a wine red A-line dress, knitted black leggins, and shin high beige lace up boots. She wasn't one to dress up like this, but she wanted to tonight, it was a special night after all. 

Trying to redirect the situation and prevent Yueske and Kuwabara from fighting, Botan chimed in. "Well, I never have to worry about Kurama when it comesto presentation! Unless ofcourse, he's overdressed and making me look a fool!" Kurama and Botan giggled to eachother looking the most put together, like they were the parents of the group. Tonight, everyone was going their part to help Miyoko's odds, evident by Botan, who was wearing something much different from her usual choice of clothing.

She modelled a white turtle neck dress, form fitting reaching just above her knees with a small slit on the right side, with sleeves that reached slightly past her palms, she wore her wedding ring, hoop earings, beige velvet tights, and blue slip on flats to top off the look. To match her, Kurama dressed just as nice. Wearing a white button up tucked neatly into his dark brown pants, red suspenders with red suede shoes laced in black, and a matching wool trench coat to top complete it all. Now everyone felt underdressed. 

"So what are we doing anyway?" Yueske asked scratching his cheek. Keiko shook her head "Are you serious? You've been waiting around this long, and you dont even know why??" Yueske simpled shrugged "I guess?" 

Botan sighed looking tired, Yueske was a handful for everyone. "Dont you remember, Yueske? I told you this morning! We're all having dinner!" 

Botan motioned to the brick building everyone was standing next to. "You've been standing right next to the restaurant! Where I told you we would be meeting up, seriously! You didn't connect the dots?" Botan tilted her head with a hopeless look. Yueske gritted his teeth and roughly pulled Keiko by her hip to his, talking through his teeth. "Whatever!!" He sighed and let go of Keiko fixed his hair flustered, he brought his fists down onto his palm talking loudly. "So now that we're all here, can we go?? Im starving and you guys took all damn evening to get here!"

Keiko lightly kicked his shoe pouting up at him. "Hush!! Its not our fault you dont listen, besides you didnt even try to dress nice! So I dont feel sorry for you." Yuseke quickly stepped aside and raised his voice a bit "Hey! Didnt ya hear me?? I didn't know what was going on!!" Keiko roughly poked her boyfriend's chest, "Again, not our problem! Listen and you wouldn't have to worry!!" 

Kurama was the first to put a stop to the bickering. He took a wide step twords the brick building and grabbed the glass doors handle, he opened the door and motioned for everyone fallow him inside.

So theres that. I'll write more soon. I hope its as fun to read as it was fun to write.

[everydayanth]

The Liam Neeson Thing...

Okay guys, this is gonna get complex and personal right quick. But it’s been bothering me and I’m working on posting more without thinking about it for two weeks until nobody cares anymore.

So here goes.

Context matters. Context is important and it can be complicated, but it freakin’ matters. 

In my opinion, Liam Neeson’s flaw was that he thought a rapist would be the kind of person to also attack him. 

Here’s the thing guys, if you’ve never heard someone you love confess to you that they have been irrevocably hurt by a person, you need to take a step back for a minute. 

That moment, talking about it, it’s extremely vulnerable, so this is a bit hard for me, but in a moment of chaos and torment, a person you love and care deeply for is breaking apart in front of you and there isn’t a damned thing you can do about it. There’s not a damn thing you can do but hold them and cry with them and hurt for them and try to help and figure out the right thing to say. 

And when they’re tucked safe in bed and you’re researching what you can do for them or laying awake thinking about what you could possibly say, the amount of guilt and hurt and anger hits you in the chest, it fills you so wholly that you just need to find a way to let it out. It’s a dangerous rage, it’s immature and unhealthy and so so so painful. 

We don’t talk about emotions in America. We just don’t. So of course we want to put this emotion into a context we discuss, and idea we understand. 

But it’s not an -ism, it’s an emotion. 

If you don’t think when my sister told me about our cousin assaulting her that I didn’t wander around my ghetto ass neighborhood waiting for some big white guy to try to hurt me, well, you’d be wrong. Our brain makes patterns, my cousin didn’t live in our city, but I knew he was a big white guy with a shitty pencil beard, my brain classified that as a pattern. Every time I talked to a big white guy, I had to check myself, yeah. But when my brain registered a human who looked like my cousin, my heart rate ran up and I would will them to attack me. I wanted to fight because I didn’t know what else to do with all that pain, all that helpless emotion. But I could wander around places where someone was bound to get hurt anyway and invite the fight to me. 

Neeson was wandering around areas inviting a fight. INVITING, not instigating. It is a common reaction of revenge and feeling hurt, and we’re shoving this idea into something familiar - outrage, racism, etc., anything so we don’t have to actually talk about emotions. 

He was looking for a “black bastard,” poor choice of words, I agree, but he was hoping that guy, the one who hurt his friend, would challenge him, and it would just happen to be the same guy and he could get his anger out. It’s not healthy, but if they man who hurt his friend had been white and he’d wandered around lower class white neighborhoods inviting a fight, would it have been racism? 

This had an opportunity to be a conversation about what the fuck you do around a friend who confesses they were raped and hurt to you. After all the #MeToo (or in the midst of it), how do you be a friend to your loved ones who feel ready to confess to you? What do you do to manage that amount of disgust you feel at the world, that rage and hate and hurt and horror that there’s not a single damn thing you can do? 

This could have been a conversation about grief and friendship and growth and complex emotions. But we made it about the race of a rapist instead. 

That’s how much we don’t want to talk about feelings. 

We would focus on a man talking for the first time about the anger of helplessness in the face of a friend’s pain and come out in outrage. 

Here’s the reality guys, racism is forming a series of patterns based on skin color that aren’t true. They can be based off stereotypes or influenced by false representation in sensational news. Racism is NOT fighting your brain’s reality in order to form a more balanced understanding of the world. I was assaulted by a bunch of black kids at a playground when I was 14, it was terrifying and it’s a long and complex story but the short of it is very simple: I lived in a black neighborhood and this was not my only experience with black kids. I went to school with middle class black kids and I hung out with other black kids, this was NOT my only experience, and therefore, my brain was capable of nixing the pattern before it was created. Black kids weren’t dangerous, those kids were just assholes. 

Racism is if Neeson went to those places and started fights. I can’t know whether he did or not, but it’s if he went around and accused every black man of being a rapist, in his head or otherwise. I didn’t have a lot of experience with big white guys, so it took me much longer not to feel nervous around them than it did to write off my brain’s pattern about the black kids. Emotions and how our brains work are important details for us to know, and it’s the real reason diversity matters, it keeps our patterns in context. Neeson coming out of the situation horrified at himself shows growth of emotion, the dismissal of the pattern, recognizing that it is false without acting on it, understanding the power of agency is an illusion because he would never find that particular man. 

Comparing this to the policing issues isn’t the same, because of their place in society, their home culture society, and the results of their opinions. A police officer has a responsibility to the public to understand their emotions and their racial biases, an actor is responsible for displaying emotion. We can’t hold these people to the same accountability, that would be ridiculous, for a police officer, emotions need to be stable and understood and should involve a LOT more psychology training. For an actor... they entertain us with their emotions. They need to be self aware and reflective in order to project our experiences in stories. We still expect race car drivers to follow the speed limits and we understand that doctors have to call in sick sometimes, the world isn’t fair and occupation doesn’t dismiss personal biases or professional demeanor, but context matters. A doctor calling in sick after handling small pox in a lab requires observation and questions, an actor talking about rage and looking for a fight when he was younger and confessing horror at that version of himself while promoting a film about revenge kind of seems like part of the job, of doing the job well.  

And it’s not racist because it was not instigated by the color of skin as perceived by an individual to be less or more - he was inviting a fight with a black man on the word of his friend. That was wrong, and so was me doing it with large white men (also because I am not that large of a white woman, so that wasn’t going to end well for me), but he even said in a follow up interview that they could have killed him. The interviewer says she thinks of the innocent black man that could have been killed and Neeson responds “Or he could have killed me.” BUT HE WASN’T INSTIGATING FIGHTS, he was INVITING them! He wasn’t looking for an innocent man, he was waiting for someone to try to hurt him so he could release the extreme emotions. These are different. These are SO different. 

This conversation can go back to what it could have been. Race of the rapist aside, what do you do when a person you love confides in you that they have been hurt and scared and they are breaking apart in front of you? How do you process your emotions and heartbreak? What can you do or say? How can you feel like you’re helping? Is that selfish? Why do we need to feel like we’re helping? How do you manage your own trauma so you don’t loop theirs in with yours? How do you self reflect so that you stop your brain forming false patterns when you’re filled with so much hurt and pain? How do you not become a villain of the world, hating everyone for always telling you you are helpless? How do you find control in yourself when you’re imploding and be responsible and mature with emotions? How do you talk about it in a society that wants to be angry? How do you not hate them for focusing on your reaction to a rapist rather than being angry with an individual for being an asshole and RAPING your friend?

How do we return to a conversation about emotions and how, unchecked, they can lead to pain and anger and rage, and eventually, if we don’t have a moment of clarity and rationality, if we are not balanced in the world, they can become biases that develop into ignorance and racism? How do we focus on context so that we don’t become arrogant and disconnected, classists by nature because we interact with such a small and similar world? How do we connect and talk about the human experience when society turns away from us in favor of what is familiar? How do we have a logical discussion about emotion when we can’t even talk about meaning and intent? How do we accuse someone of racism when, had the rapist been white, the conversation might have focused on the context of emotion and pain and hurt and the process of healing - it was the outraged audience that pointed at the race as important, as the meaningful factor, how do we look at that hypocrisy and not feel utterly defeated?

How do we scream at the world that we need help, we all need help, without crucifying ourselves? I have no idea, this post is terrifying and I have no idea what to expect. Maybe nothing would be good? To return to not a single note or like or comment, to be unheard and dismissed and navigated around might be good because I want to talk about this reality but it. Is. Terrifying. 

And maybe it’s all a projection. Maybe I’m the racist and I want to defend someone I relate to. But it feels more right that we as a society don’t talk about emotions, we lock them up like these secret things we’re terrified other people will discover. I’m working on vulnerability lately, and what better place to talk about all the shit that’s ever happened to me than the freakin’ internet! I’m just a person and from my experiences, I think I understand what Neeson meant. But that could equally be a self-aggrandizing reality that doesn’t exist. Perhaps he’s just a racist, a professional actor with a successful career who took this exact moment to reveal his true colors, what a sneaky man! 

But more probably, the logic says, he’s a professional actor with a successful career who took this moment to discuss the emotions he’s had to reflect on and relive for the past year or so in order to play a role in a film that he hopes will entertain and reflect something of the human experience. He more probably took the moment to discuss a human experience and we did not listen because it’s more popular not to listen or because we could not relate or because we just want to be angry and sometimes pulling weeds is so exhausting we raze the whole garden instead. We did not talk about the moment he was horrified with himself because we don’t want to talk about growth or greys, we want the world to stabilize so we can see the bad guys clearly. 

We really ought to know by now that there are no clear bad guys. 

And we know Neeson likes to play in those lines. What is good? What is bad? They aren’t a duality, they are a false dichotomy, created by whatever world you grew up in, whatever experiences you had, whatever your society or culture told you, whatever education you discovered, and whatever philosophy you’ve come to believe. But in a moment of vulnerable confession, in all that grey reality, your friend tells you about a bad guy and they become singularly bad. They don’t exist beyond that. And that’s what is horrifying. That you stop seeing humanity as grey and suddenly it becomes good or bad, that’s the scary part about revenge and inviting fights, it encourages a black-and-white view of the world that says the rapist is ONLY bad and your friend is ONLY good. 

A bit ironic that, in trying to talk about that tunnel-vision-rage, Neeson found himself the target of it.

It’s raw, that anger. It’s part of all the hurt that has happened to you and then you couldn’t even protect your friend or family. Why did you go through all that pain if you couldn’t grow enough to save them? That guilt is a liar, you didn’t hurt them, the asshole did, and you need that to be true or else you were also the cause of all your own pain as well. So you look for the assholes because then at least you could be useful, you could protect them from one asshole by taking the hit. We need to talk about that kind of hurt, about sacrificing the self for revenge because you can’t find worth anymore. We need to talk about existential nihilism that hides inside outrage because you can’t find meaning anymore. We need to talk about emotions and how to talk about them so we can be better friends, better people, so when we look for guidance on talking to friends about their hurt, we find advice on how to not be overwhelmed by rage and guilt and disgust and anger and violence. 

That’s the conversation we could have had. That’s the world we could have started to create. But outrage culture is racist and racism gets attention and we all just want to be heard because we don’t know how to talk about our emotions. Interesting how it keeps going around like that. 

[chimswae]

Chapter 12

Foreword:

Some stories are better left unsaid.I couldn’t change anything for the world, although the fame part of this industry is tough to handle.Do i have a life? Yes I have my fans.Do i have friends? Yes the members that I cherish. Do i have love? No I have to let go.Life always offers you a second chance. It’s called tomorrow. But do i have any tomorrow?

Pairing: Jimin x OC (Other characters: BTS, OCs, Lee Taehwan)

Genre: Idolau, Fluff, Romance

Word Count: 3,221

Author Note: I crosspost this story from my Asianfanfic account. Mind you, clicheness OVERLOADS

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Chapter 12:  People only get defensive at certain topics when they know they’re guilty

Minyeol was the first one to wake up that morning and he was over joy upon seeing Jimin beside him sleeping soundly. Poor Jimin barely had 4 hours sleep but he rouse around 9 nevertheless since the younger boy was hyper. Limited time to spend with Minyeol, so Jimin decided to stay indoor having father-son bonding time, helping Minyeol with his homework, feeding him lunch, and playing video games. He would do anything for Minyeol.

 “Are you happy Yeoul-ah?” Yeoul tore her eyes away from Jimin to face her mother.

 She hummed with a nod then a pleased smile crept over her face “I am… to see people that I love happy” as much as the elder woman disliked the idea of Jimin barging into Yeoul’s life again, she believed her grandson utmost happiness is everything.

 No one expected this to turn out this way. Maybe just maybe, fate works this way.

 “I want to make sure you are not hurting my dear. Jimin is a good guy, I don’t blame him 100% for not acknowledging Minyeol’s existence back then. Watching his effort to fix the mess that he made years ago, it matters the most now” Yeoul nodded.

Her mother patted her hand and shot an encouraging smile “Thank you omma. Both of us will take things slow this time so there wont be any mistake” Yeoul darted a glance at him and looked away quickly when he caught her staring with a playful wink.

 Jimin never failed to make her feeling this way, somewhat crazy and stupidly in love with a guy like him.

 “Will you be able to survive his world?” she inquired with a hint of concern.

 Could she handle Jimin’s world? She did doubt herself from time to time however it was her job to be familiar with his world, after all Jimin is her daddy’s son. That was the least thing she could do. It took her awhile to answer her mother afraid it might give wrong impression.

 But when she finally found one, Yeoul put on her confident facade “I am ready to learn. Time will help me to get used to it.. I am doing this for Minyeol, that poor boy suffered long enough due to a mistake made by adults like us” a small sigh escaped her lips.

 “You two seem vexed. Are you alright?” Jimin came up behind Yeoul, hugging her from behind while leaving a soft kiss on her cheeks.

 She nodded with a soft smile “We were just talking about us. I hope omma’s lecture this morning didn’t bleed your ears” chuckling softly, the elder woman gave her a warning glare.

 “No..Ahjumma really gave me a long talk, a good one. And, I have promised her I will take a good care of my family” he smiled gleefully that his eyes almost disappearing.

 “If you break my daughter’s heart again, this ahjumma will make sure you wont see sun anymore” she joked earning a big laugh from the couple. Yeoul is all she had, and adding to that, five years ago Minyeol came along and it completes their family. To witness her one and only daughter smiling this way made her believe Jimin is the one for her.

 Jimin threw his hand in air in defeat “I don’t play with fire”

 “Im worse than fire, Park Jimin” Yeoul shook her head bemused. Since when her mother and Jimin got too cozy with each other, they talked like a long lost friend.

 ------------------

“Congratulations Jimin I am so proud of you guys! I saw the news, actually I watched the show with Minyeol. You look mmmm dashing in that outfit”

 Jimin could imagine the blush on her cheeks “Thank you Yeoul-ah..Glad that I could charm you today. Where is my son?” he was grinning from ear to ear upon hearing Yeoul’s voice at the end of the line. Just a perfect way to celebrate their Billboard winning.

 She chuckled softly “Minyeol is sleeping, he woke up quite early to stream the award online. And you should see his unending whine demanding your face to appear on screen. He is proud of his appa” his heart danced in joy.

 “If he’s awake, tell him I will be back soon and I love him”

 “I will..Comeback soon, we miss you..I miss you..” she confessed.

 Jimin bit his lower lips trying to surpass himself from smiling like an idiot “I miss you more Yeoul.. I will be back soon and maybe we can go out for a real date, I promise” just then he heard Taehyung whistled at the corner. What a perfect time to ruin his moment with Yeoul.

 Taehyung put on his shirt and slipped beside Jimin swiftly, snatching the phone away from him “Na Yeoul! I miss you, and don’t worry about Jimin. He is not staring at girl’s chest even though the celebs here dressed provocatively, his eyes still saint.Kim Taehyung protects this mochi from evil forces” Jimin smacked his arm with a death glare.

 “DONT SAY WEIRD THING TAE! Don’t trust him Yeoul, he is high!” Jimin exclaimed.

 Yeoul was baffled “Wow, that is too much details Taehyung. Now you are making me think the possibilities” she stifled her laughter as she could hear Taehyung and Jimin bicker over the phone.  

 After so much struggle and unnecessary fight, Jimin got back his phone and kicked Taehyung off the bed causing him to land flat on the ground with a whimper “Park Jimin you wait. I will get you back for this” he gritted his teeth while rubbing his sore bottom.

 Jimin just rolled his eyes ignoring whiny Taehyung and quickly diverted his attention back to Yeoul “Jims.. go sleep, it is pretty late there right? You must be tired” her concerned voice soothed his tiredness.

 “I am alright, your voice heals everything” he cooed.

 Yeoul cringed at his corny remarks “Dont start Jim, just don’t. Go sleep I am serious. I bet you have more things to after this, you guys just won something grand. Have a good rest, you don’t want to upset your fans” she hushed him to hit the sack.

 His lips quirked into a slight pout “Fine, I will sleep. You too, don’t tire yourself. I will be back after Sydney tour, so see you soon alright?I love you” she felt her cheeks heated at those last phrase. She still could hear Jimin’s breath at the end of line, indicating he was waiting for her reply.

 Yeoul calmed her racing heart before she lost her sanity “Mmm.. I love you too..” she finally said it after five years. Jimin clutched onto his phone tight while pumping his fist in excitement, he didn’t expect to hear this from her. Was he dreaming?

 They finally hung up, after that shy confession. Truthfully, they felt like a high schooler again, confessing love to your first love. She smiled to herself thinking how lucky she was to have Jimin in his life.

 “Oh god now how am I going to face him” Yeoul buried face in her hand, turning into a ripe tomato.

 Jimin threw his tired boy on the bed with a foolish grin. He couldn’t get over her sweet voice whispering the three words ‘I love you..’ he subconsciously murmur earning a wary gaze from Jungkook and Taehyung.

 “What is wrong with him?” Taehyung whispered at the younger one. Jungkook just shrugged and continued to play games in his phone, but his lips was tugged into a small smile. He was sure the reason to Jimin’s stupid smile nowadays was due to Yeoul.

 -------------

 Approaching their neighborhood, Yeoul skipped happily hand in hand with her son after getting their ice cream. The weather was scorching hot so they decided to get something cold to cool off their body. Little did they know, their supposed to be private rendezvous was interrupted by the sight of a group of people gathering in front of her home. Wow, so much for a peaceful weekend.

 She ducked her head in confusion “What is with the commotion?” she mindlessly dragged Minyeol with her to approach the group. Yeoul tummy churned in fear, she thought something happen to her mother so she squished in between the group of people to get a better look.

 Yeoul noticed some of them dressed pretty decent, there were also cameras and microphones or whatever they usually used for live broadcast. She couldn’t keep track since she was in daze.

 She kept Minyeol close to her and frowned “What are you doing in front of someone else’s property?” everyone quiet down as their eyes staring at Yeoul and Minyeol with a glint of surprise.

 “This must be her”

 “She has a kid with her, according to the source she is supposed to have a son”

 “This girl is Jimin’s secret lover”

 She squished Minyeol’s closer, keeping him behind her as they heard their indistinct whisper ‘Okay now this freaks me out’ these eyes in front of here were like predators, she felt small and helpless for some reason. Yeoul backed away until her back hit the cold metal behind her “Omma…” Minyeol croaked in fear.

 Within a second cameras flashed from different angels and she heard voices asking her questions, it was too dizzying. She tried to make sense out of this but everything happened too fast ‘What is happening’ when things got heated and she was trembling to open the gate while holding onto Minyeol close to her.

 They kept on pushing her causing Yeoul to whimper a little in pain “Miss Na, is it true this kid is BTS’s Jimin son?” she cussed in her head when she finally grasped the real situation.

 So the world found out about her and Minyeol. How come?

 “Miss Na, we heard you’ve been secretly dating Park Jimin since your high school days?”

 “Is that mean you’re in inappropriate relationship with him since then?”

 “Here, Miss Na! Miss Na, so you are still young when you had your son, why are you keeping your pregnancy a secret?”

 “Park Jimin and you were caught spending time together frequently, does it mean you’re back together?”

 “Miss Na, what is your son’s name?”

Question after questions attacking her numb her body, mind and soul. She was not ready to answer any of the questions not when Minyeol’s safety was at stake here. They were so rash and inconsiderate giving them no space to move. She was worried that might suffocate the younger boy.

 A pair of strong arms were tugging her hand to face the camera, and she yelped in pain “Please.. let me go..” she tried to pull back but his strength was no joke. He apparently tried to get a closer shot of  her face, since Yeoul had been showing her back to them all the time. Tears cascaded down wetting her cheeks and her throat was itching to scream out loud.

 “WHAT THE HELL?” Taehwan rushed to the group of people who already had the poor girl cornered. For once, his height was giving him so much advantage as he easily squished between those idiot who pried answers from Yeoul.

 As soon as he saw the news broke, he dropped whatever he was doing and went straight to find Yeoul. Taehwan could sense something was not right, and his instinct was right all along.

 Taking off his jacket, he covered Yeoul’s head with it covering her face and he yelled “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? GO AWAY BEFORE I CALL THE COPS” he growled, pushing the gate open and quickly ushered both Minyeol and Yeoul inside. He made sure to lock the gate in case these crazy medias planned to barge in.

 They walked inside in daze and Yeoul crouched down to Minyeol’s level, pulling him into a hug “Are you okay baby?” Minyeol was sobbing in her shoulder. That kid must be afraid as hell.

 “Oh my god Yeoul what happen, what is with those people outside?” Her mother rushed to their side checking any injuries on their bodies. She heaved a relief sigh “Thank god you are in one piece” caressing the younger boy cheeks, she embraced him calming him down.

 Yeoul was trembling “They f-ound out.. about us..the medias” her mother gasped and soon she heard Yeoul bawled her eyes out not letting Minyeol’s hand. She was too scared to let go, she almost lost her son today. This was too much for her to process in one day.

 “Yeoul-ah..” Taehwan enveloped her into a tight hug. She clutched onto his chest as if her life was depending on it. How she wished Jimin was here to comfort her. She was not okay.

 ------------------

 Their plane landed few minutes ago and they were just about to go for a security check and was at halt when their Manager called them out to have an emergency meeting at the corner, or basically in the middle of the airport.

 “How important is this hyung that you cant wait until we get a proper room to discuss?” Jin blinked. They were all drained after a long haul journey, some looked grumpy but since it sounded important they decided to lend their ears, unwillingly.

 He sighed “Very important Seokjin. Just so you know there are medias and fans waiting for you guys in front” the phone call that he received from their company’s representative really shook him, and for that they had to tighten up the security to protect the boys.

 “Ain’t that normal since they are welcoming us back as usual after the tour. Except this time, we are back with billboard awards” Yoongi pulled down his mask, tilting his head confusedly.

 “Yeah, I expected the crowd might be huge this time because of the medias” Namjoon nodded in agreement.

 Gathering his sanity, the manager finally spoke up “That is one thing but we have bigger issues to face right now. Something came up” he eyed at Jimin’s way.

Jimin gave him bewildered look “What? Is this has something to do with me? Another dating scandal? What now? Red Velvet’s Seulgi again..” he grumbled in annoyance. Why couldn’t they leave him alone?

 “No..it is bigger than that.. holy sh-” Jungkook eyes shot open upon seeing the headline new from the big screen in front of them. Others followed where he was looking and they froze in their spot. What in the world was that?

 BREAKING NEWS: BTS’s JIMIN SECRET LOVER AND SON?

 The headline was pretty obvious where this led so they expected to see something pops in the screen like Yeoul’s face, and there was scared Yeoul who was struggling in the middle while trying to protect Minyeol.

 “WHAT THE HELL? WHEN WAS THIS?” he roared causing few passerby to steal curious glance at their group. The sight of Minyeol and Yeoul was too painful for him to watch, it somewhat angered him. How could they be so inhuman? He could see Yeoul’s tears as her face scrunched up in pain

 “Jimin.. we will talk about this later, the truth. But we have to be careful as we exit the arrival hall, expect medias to mob you Jimin. We have requested securities and cops just in case. So, no one is allowed to speak or take any presents from fans.There were angry fans and aggressive medias outside. Keep your head down and walk. You understand?” everyone nodded except Jimin.

 He was worried and furious, all he wanted to do was to take another flight to Busan and get Yeoul “Jimin lets go, we cant waste more time here. We have lots of things to do, come on” Namjoon hugged his shoulder dragging his stiff body.

 As the group moved towards the crowd, everyone turned their eyes and marched to the boys’ side. It was severe than they thought, medias were everywhere and they spotted countless number of fans. Amidst of the chaos, they heard fans chanted “It is okay” all over again in response to the scandal. Some had a huge placard with “Jimin we are with you” , “Forever your wings” and “We support BTS”.

 They were beyond grateful to see positive support knowing there will be crazy fans that might react badly to the scandal. The securities surrounded the group giving them a full protection until the boys were safely loaded inside the van.

 Jimin leaned against his seat, his expression was unreadable and rather dull. They were checking on each other making sure no one got hurt in the process and all eyes were on daze Jimin. Hoseok patted his hand with a concern look “ You okay?” Jimin’s shook his head with his eyes closed.

 Namjoon secretly tried to call Yeoul and to be honest, he was worried after witnessing the horrible footage earlier. He wanted to make sure she knew they were already in Korea and would keep her updated as soon as possible.

 “That was crazy. We are going to meet Bang Pd now” manager hyung announced.

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This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2019. All Rights Reserved

[alliesweetsong]

Peer Pressure Pt. 2

(Continued RP from Here)

“Remember that stress doesn't come from what's going on in your life. It comes from your thoughts about what's going on in your life.” -Andrew J. Bernstein (Warning long post, but worth it!) 

Alyssa lifts a hand and offers a wave at the Rendorei “Evenin Allie. ‘Ow you ‘olding up?” she asks in a curious manner.

There it was again. The question that could be answered truthfully or lied about. Her mind races for a brief instant as she thinks about how to go about answering the question. “Well enough I suppose, a bit worried if I’m being honest. But before that, I thought I should warn you Gareth should be coming to see you about the engagement rings.” she says warmly. Remembering she is a jeweler she had discussed this Gareth and thought it would be neat to get the rings made by a friend.

Alyssa lifts an eyebrow.  "Worried?  What about?"  The concerned look settles into an easy smile though.  "Thanks f'the warnin'.  I'll be ready t'do the work.  More than 'appy to for the two o'you."

Allie smiles warmly and nods. It was nice to know she could give the younger ward some piece of mind. The woman had been through a decent amount herself recently and wanted to help ease some of her own stress if she could. “"I need to talk to you about Raen. What can you tell me about her? Any friends outside of myself, you or Damien? She isn't answering her comm, i sent her a letter and no response from either way. She moved out of her room in a haste and she quit and the pig and whistle..I am concerned for her safety Nobody has seen her since Damien was taken."

Alyssa sighs softly at that, settling back against the stonework and crossing her arms averting her hazel eyed gaze downwards. "Really?  Fuck me I should've kept my 'ounds on 'er. I dropped everythin' once we found Damien. They tracked 'er as far as Raven 'ill.  Can't much count me as a friend in this, if I was I'd 'ave done more. M'not the kind of friend she needs.” 

Allie blinks in shock at the revelation that Alyssa knows someone that also knows Raen.  "Does this friend have a name? I am starting my own investigation, I can't rest until I know she’s okay Alyssa.”

Allie bites her lip and shakes her head inhaling through her nose. She disliked the fact that someone thought they were not good enough. "Oh dear don't say that, she needs all the friends she can get. Any information you can give me helps. did you ever see her with anybody else? I know she did some drugs."

Alyssa maintains her posture on the stonework, lightly shifting her weight she looks at the Rendorei slowly She and I 'ave a mutual friend. 'e 'asn't seen 'er either though.”

Allie blinks in shock at the revelation that Alyssa knows someone that also knows Raen.  "Does this friend have a name? I am starting my own investigation, I can't rest until I know she’s okay Alyssa.”

From there the two went back and forth, Allie pushing hard for  information and the Gilnean dancing around the question as delicately as humanly possible. Not getting the hint, Allie pushed and pushed. Her questions were deliberate if not a bit forced but also nearing desperation. There was a link, and she wanted to know who it was.

Alyssa thinks about it for a moment as a small twitch develops on the corner of her mouth "No."  She offers finally. "F'both your sakes. F'everyone's. You'll just 'ave t'trust me on that."

Allie lightly recoils her head blinking in both shock and horror. Why is she denying her the name? "Alyssa, you can come with me to meet him if that is what you want. Nothing will happen, I just have some questions, please. Raen is a friend of mine. I need to know she’s okay."

“I 'ear you, and I agree.  I want t'know she's okay too.  Not the person you need.” Alyssa replies looking at Allie in a matter-of-fact manner.

Allie felt her heart plummet and her blood boiling, she didn’t have time for games. The high elf could be hurt, she could be getting tortured as they spoke. The very thought caused the rendorei to become nauseous.

Alyssa studies the woman across from her, smile fading a bit. “I know this is important t'you, y'can think what you want of me. M'not givin' the name."

“Open the fel wielder up, her secrets will spill on the floor”

"Yes this is important to me!” Allie says starting to raise her voice, the frustration was clearly evident. “She is one of the only people I have to connect with from home. and she is a friend. I would do the same for you or Damien." She says before rubbing her forehead and exhaling softly "You of all people should understand what it is like to miss home." Allie regretted saying that last part almost instantly, that was a cheap shot at the younger ward and she knew it. But she really needed the Gilnean to understand how serious she was even if it meant getting a demon summoned on her.

Alyssa glares daggers at the void elf. That clearly was the wrong thing to say. "That's low.  My 'ome doesn't exist anymore.  And I 'aven't got your thousand or whatever years t'see it rebuilt or reclaimed." she scowls

Allie bites her lip and puts one hand on her head and the other on her hip letting out a sigh "I am sorry Alyssa..that was wrong of me" she says before shaking her head "I will not stop until she’s found. You are both my friends. I just want to help her I am scared Alyssa. I can't lose anybody else.” she says softly lowering her voice

Alyssa runs fingers through her red hair trying to calm herself as well "Look. I can't give you the name. There are so so many reasons I can't. M'sorry. You will find 'er though, chasin' a dead end lead isn't goin' to make that 'appen."

Allie looks down absolutley heartbroken, never before had she had the feeling of complete and utter helplessness. Biting her lip the void elf nods and shrugs "Thanks Alyssa. Ill uh, keep looking. Gareth should be here tomorrow or tonight I am not sure." she says walking forward to give the woman a hug

The Gilnean embraces Allie in return, frustrated and a bit upset. "M'a disappointin' friend Allie. Don't 'ang your 'opes on me. M'always 'ere t'talk, but m'secrets run too deep f'most to deal with."

Allie lets go of the hug and cups the red heads cheek with her right hand lightly caressing it with her thumb "I have secrets to darling." she says before looking around as if she was about to do something. Refocusing she nods "Ill uh, see if I can find anything." she says softly

Surprised by such a familiar gesture, Alyssa nods remaining still has she looks into the elf’s skye blue eyes. "Allie.  M'just not willin' t'pay the personal cost givin' you that information.  M'sorry again."

Allie backs up as something about the way Alyssa worded that seemed off. Slightly tilting her head to the side the Rendorei folds her arms across the chest. “Is someone threatening to hurt you?” she asks in a curious but very serious manner.

Alyssa bites her lip hard, hard enough in fact that a red blossom can be seen as she carefully considers the question being asked of her. After a long pauses she finally shakes her head “No. Not like that.”

“Then what Alyssa? I promised Damien i would watch over you. What is going on?” Allie replies looking at the Gilnean in a pleading manner.

The statement gets a raised eyebrow from the redheaded warlock. "Did you? Gods below but that brother o'mine is protective. It's delicate. This is a situation I need t'andle m'self. M'not in any danger at the moment though."

Allie looks around and slowly stats backing up towards the door “Come, lets talk.” she says making sure they both weren’t being watch. Something seemed off and she intended to find out.

Alyssa frowns briefly and follows. Although she looked ready to protest she doesn’t and instead lets out a sigh and keeps pace with the Ren’dorei

Sitting down Allie gets comfortable and the two level with each other, Each one telling a dark secret that nobody would know, or could ever know. There was too much in both of their lives for these to ever see the light of day. Of course they debated, and argued, talked and finally argued some more. Each one wanting the same thing but wanted to go about it in different ways. Finally Allie blurts out a question that she think she already knew the answer to, the thought of causing her heart to jump out of her chest. As she began to listen to Alyssa explain her plans the rendorei began pacing around warlock in a focused manner.

"Damien told me there was one man, and one woman. and the woman was shot and killed.." she says looking at the back of Alyssa's head "The day after I came home, He told me the man said if he comes back he would kill everybody”

“'e won't 'ave the chance.” came the almost immediate reply back from Alyssa

Allie growls at that beginning to lose her cool. "Damnit Alyssa, if you know who did this we can protect you, what if Raen is already dead!?"

Alyssa stares at the elf in a stubborn fashion this entire conversation was beginning to become pointless. “ 'e's mine.  I've already paid dearly, morally and emotionally t'get that.  When I 'ave my 'ands on 'im, y'can be certain 'e'll tell me where Raen is” she says in a defiant manner

Allie shakes her head and bites her lip as she moves to pick up her belongings. “I just hope its not too late for her Alyssa.” she says as she heads to the door “Shadows Raen, where are you?” she asks looking up at the ceiling in an exasperated manner. Letting out a sigh she looks over her shoulder at the Gilnean “The day you do it, I want to be there. Let me have atleast that.” she says softly clearly upset at this point.

Alyssa bites her lip once more and looks at Allie “I’ll think about it.” she says softly.

That wasn’t good enough. Allie wanted to say more, to threaten her and to exploit her. To treat her as she had been treated off and on for the last several months. But to do so would mean to betray the warlocks trust, and their friendship and to abandon her promise to be loyal. Nodding instead, Allie grabs the doorknob “Have a good night dear, hope we talk soon.” she says before slowly opening the door. Walking out she could fel the tears falling down her cheek as she slowly closes the door with a soft click. She needed to get somewhere and just cry. Gareth couldn’t see her like that. Serelia, nobody. She had once again, failed someone she looked at as a friend.

Letting her feet carry her over the bridge thoughts raced through her head as she wipes her eyes

“Hello Mrs. Gareth Lyons.” Came the familiar voice of Sikona.

Stopping Allie inhales through her noise and forces the brightest smile she could on her face. “Hello Miss Emberlight.”

To be Continued...

@alyssa-ward @dardillien-ward @earendelduskmourn for mentions @thetobaccoman for vague mentions and relevance @sikonaluvs at the end <3 

[chokememrstark]

Requiem Of Memories // Part 8

Ship: Samifer (Sam Winchester / Lucifer)

Words: 2007 (Chapter 8 / 15)

Fic Summary: While waiting for Lucifer to return, Sam has a chat with the demon that interrupted them and finds out who she actually is. He's shocked by the discovery, but he can't help but like her somehow.

angst, hurt & comfort, alternative universe, au!lucifer, mourning, depression, blood and gore, nightmares, loneliness

Note: I highly recommend to read Nightmares Become Reality before this, otherwise the premise of the story and the setting might not make much sense.

Sorry for the delay again, I’m really not reliable ._.

Tagging: @shebahda @sassysupernaturalsweetheart  @spnyoucantkeepmedown   @brieflymaximumprincess  @kajuned @archingangel @this-darkness-light @secretlydaydreaminglifeaway @humongouscandycoffee

If you want off the tag list or want to be added, just drop me an ask or IM!

Read on AO3!

Sam waited and waited, but Lucifer didn’t return. Hours passed and Sam didn't know what to do with himself. He was worried sick, constantly torn between wanting to scream and cry. What if something happened to Lucifer? What if he couldn’t fight off whatever had attacked his people? Or what if he was captured and tortured and Sam had no way of finding and saving him? He didn’t know this world, didn’t know the rules or where the other side was hiding and what they were planning… he was basically a helpless child at the moment.

The demon on the bed - a short, young woman with wavy black hair and almost invisible horns - was still unconscious and covered with blood and dirt, so eventually, just to pass some time, Sam went to the bathroom and got a bowl of water and a few cloths and towels. He had no idea if she would wake up and kill him because he dared to touch her or not, after all Lucifer’s demons were not very keen about his presence, but he couldn't worry about that too now.

As careful as possible, Sam cleaned the blood off her face, then her arms. He was sure that there was more blood underneath her clothes, but he wouldn’t undress her for sure, that would only make her angry. Instead, he got one of his hair brushes and got rid of the dried blood in her hair before washing the rest away with clear water. When he was done almost an hour had passed and he managed to get rid of almost all the blood and dirt. Sam doubted that it changed anything, but it didn’t hurt at least.

After putting everything away, including the bloody towels and cloths, Sam continued his pacing through the room that he interrupted before. He took books out of their shelves and put them back without looking into them, stood by the window and searched for any sign of a fight or Lucifer, even tidied up what didn’t need to be tidied up at all. He was restless, worried and nauseous, and there was just nothing he could do about it. It was making him mad. His head ran wild with horrible scenarios of what might be happening right now and he wished for nothing more than to be able to shut all his thoughts off for even a minute.

While he stared out of the window once more, Sam suddenly heard a groan behind him and spun around. It was the demon, she had woken up and was pressing a hand against her head now while sitting up. Immediately, the hunter rushed towards the bed and knelt down.

“Hey, you woke up! Thank god.”

“Yeah, as if He had anything to do with that,” the demon scoffed and began checking herself for injuries. Sam ignored her sarcasm.

“Lucifer healed you, but he’s still gone,” he said quickly. “I cleaned all the blood I could see away while you were out, I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure, whatever,” she said and gave him an estimating glare.

Sam realized that she would not share his worries or even care for them. For a moment he forgot that Lucifer’s demons didn’t like him, he was too worried for that. But her reaction made it clear that she couldn’t have cared less about him or anything he did.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you alone,” Sam sighed and pushed himself back up. “Lucifer said he’ll be back soon, he didn’t want you to be alone for now.”

“Typical,” the demon huffed and rolled her eyes. “Still thinks I’m incapable of handling things myself.”

“Well, you were pretty battered when you came here, so…”

“You would be too if dozens of angels attacked you out of the blue,” she hissed and glared at him again. “I still don’t know what the hell happened, they shouldn’t have been able to even be there…”

“Angels attacked you?” Sam asked surprised.

“What did you expect, demons? Of course they were angels. Little winged bastards and their pets.”

“I thought…” Sam stopped, biting his tongue. What did he think anyways? His first instinct would have been demons, but she was right. After all, the demons were attacked, so that was stupid.

“I hope he will manage,” the demon suddenly interrupted Sam’s thoughts with a very worried voice. “They seemed to be very organized and knew where to hit us for the most damage, that’s unusual.”

“How did you manage to get out of there?”

“I fought one of their beasts off and ran, what else? The others were still fighting but I had to get help. We can defend ourselves, but they were just so many.”

Sam was even more worried than before now. What the demon said sounded very dangerous indeed. He knew Lucifer was strong, at least he assumed he was, given that he was an archangel, but that didn’t ease his worries at all. And why were they even attacked in the first place? What was the reason behind this? Apparently these things didn’t happen more often, or the demon wouldn’t be surprised.

“Hey, Giant!”

Sam shook his head and looked back at the demon, totally taken aback by the sudden interruption, especially with such a nickname.

“How about you make yourself useful and bring me some water?”

“Excuse me?” Sam blinked surprised. “Am I your butler and didn’t get the memo?”

“Ugh, sorry,” she rolled her eyes over-dramatically. “Would you please get me a glass of water?”

Sam huffed to hide his confusion, but did her the favor. He got a glass of fresh water from his own stash and brought it over to the bed, waiting for her to finish it. Apparently demons got thirsty too, who would have guessed?

“Thank you,” she said when the glass was empty and put it on the nightstand. “Sorry for being so rude, I’m not in a good mood right now.”

“Forget it,” Sam waved his hand. “You’ve just been attacked after all. And you seem worried too.”

“Of course I’m worried,” she sighed. “We just rebuilt our safe zone in Detroit a few months ago, we didn’t expect another attack so soon.”

“Do things like that happen often?” Sam asked and pulled a chair closer to the bed to sit down. “That they attack you, I mean.”

“They do it quite often, but this safe zone was unknown to them,” she narrowed her eyes in concentration. “The last one they attacked wasn’t as safe, it was just an old factory building we used for storage purposes while building up the actual safe zone.”

“And you have no idea how they found it?” Sam asked and she shook her head.

“Not a clue. We were warded against angels, hunters and everything else, but they still found us. Maybe we have a rat somewhere in our ranks.”

“Damn, that would suck,” Sam hissed. If they actually had a rat, no place was safe and he knew that. “I hope Lucifer comes back soon…”

“Me too,” she sighed. “I hate when we have to call him to help us, that’s what we are there for after all. To defend our zones. Lucifer has bigger things to do.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Sam tried to assure her, sadly without much cogency. “I’ve never seen him so serious before…”

“He can get pretty intimidating when he’s serious,” the demon laughed and shook her head. “You shouldn’t anger him, just a small warning. It’s not fun when he’s angry.”

“Yeah, I figured that much,” Sam huffed. “I’m Sam, by the way. But you probably know that already.”

“Of course, everyone does,” the demon said and rolled her eyes. “You’re famous amongst demons already. You can call me Megan, or Meg for short, I don’t care.”

Sam thought his jaw would fall off by how fast it dropped. Meg? Did she just say Meg? That couldn’t be, she didn’t look like Meg at all!

“Are you having a stroke?” Meg asked, poking Sam’s shoulder with her finger.

“No… no, I’m fine...” Sam mumbled, totally baffled. He couldn’t believe this was actually Meg, but now that he looked at her a bit closer, he realized that it could be. Her vessel was different, but kind of similar to the Meg he knew, or not? The same hair, the same height apparently and, if he’d squint his eyes, even her face could be the same, just… a bit younger maybe. And with horns, even if they were rather small and less intimidating than the ones he had seen on other demons so far.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost of something,” Meg scoffed.

“That’s one way to put it.” Sam cleared his throat and tried to act normal again. “I’m just surprised. I… I knew a demon named Meg in my world too.”

“Right, Lucifer mentioned something about you coming from a parallel world. So it’s true?”

“Yeah, kind of. It’s a bit complicated,” Sam scratched his head awkwardly. “This world is very different from mine.”

“What is your world like?” Meg asked curious, to which Sam couldn’t suppress a jerk of his lips.

“It’s… greener. I don’t know, but I guess that’s the best way to describe it. The apocalypse didn’t end like this there, we managed to stop it just in time.” Sam was surprised he could talk about this so easily, but it just happened.

“You stopped it, really? So, your world wasn’t destroyed like ours?”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “It’s pretty normal, I guess. We still fight demons and monsters of course, but most humans don’t even know any of them exist.”

“I knew it, you’re a hunter!” Meg exclaimed, but not in a good way. “You have these eyes, this look that all hunters have.”

“We have a look?”

“Oh yes,” she huffed. “You all have it, it comes with the job. It makes our skins crawl and be on edge as soon as you are close.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sam marveled. He wondered if this was a thing only in this world or if the demons he had met had seen the same things in his eyes.

“You don’t look like you’re about to kill me though, why not?”

“Why should I kill you?” Sam asked surprised. “You’re a demon, sure, but I don’t wanna kill you. I don’t want to kill anyone anymore to be honest. I’m tired of it.”

“Could you have a chat with our hunters so they feel the same?” Meg asked, to which both of them had to laugh a little. “I mean, if you have time and all.”

“I’ll check my calendar,” Sam grinned and Meg chuckled again.

“I like you, Sam,” Meg suddenly said, startling the hunter for a moment. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate hunters, but you’re not that bad actually. A bit wimpy looking, but I guess that’s because you’re human.”

“Says the one that looks like a little girl,” Sam scoffed with a smile. “Excuse me, okay? I’m double your size, I could break you in half.”

“I would love to see you try, Giant.”

“Sorry, but I don’t hit girls.”

Sam had expected Meg to be much more resentful towards him, but she didn’t seem to be like the other demons he had seen here so far. He wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t just an act, but for a few moments he found it nice to not be faced with hate from those who followed Lucifer.

“Do you think he’ll come back soon?” Meg suddenly asked, the concern back in her voice. “I know he is strong and all, but there were so many of them this time.”

“He promised he’d be back, so he will,” Sam said confidently. He was worried out of his mind, but Lucifer had promised to come back and he believed in his promise.

“I hope you’re right,” Meg sighed. “If he doesn’t come back we are screwed.”

“He’ll be back, you’ll see. He’ll be back.”

[mitjo-deactivated]

5 Times Mitch Wanted To Kiss Jonas and One Time He Did

submitted by: @pasiiphaes

okay, so im relatively new to tumblr and submissions and whatnot, so sorry if this is formatted weirdly or anything!! i’ve been working on this randomly for the past week or two, and it’s finally done :P hopefully it’s enjoyed!!

—

I.

It had been raining, yet Jonas had insisted that yes, of course they needed to go out and catch that Gengar, whatever the fuck that was. After around 17 minutes (Mitch had counted each dreadful second, though the smile on Jonas’ face was worth every one.) They rushed into a dingy gas station, an uninterested, acne-infested teen sitting boredly at the counter. Mitch was sure that there had never been anything more soft and beautiful than the moment Jonas had shook his head gently, a few droplets of water flying off his hair. He shivered softly, so of course, Mitch did the only thing he could think of, quickly shrugging off his jacket and shoving it into Jo’s arms. “Go grab a fuckton of food, Spots. And warm up.” He said quickly, hoping the younger boy wouldn’t notice the angry warmth rising to Mitch’s face. And when Jonas smiled at him gratefully, Mitch figured that was the first time he might have actually kissed him.

II.

The second time they were at the cove. “Why do you even like that Carmen bitch?” Mitch had exclaimed loudly, and the soft yellow lights surrounding Jonas had quickly shifted to a much more aggressive red. “Don’t call her that… You don’t know her like I do.” “Spots, she’s just using ya! I dunno how you can’t see that! Are you fucking blind?” He’d spat back angrily, raising his hand in a wide gesture. Only when Jo flinched back, covering his face with his hands and letting out a barely audible whimper did Mitch realize. “Wait, no, Spots, I’m sorry! Fuck, fuck me in the fucking ass I’m sorry!” He said quickly, trying to soften his voice as he rushed over to Jonas and pulled him into his arms. “No, Spots, I was just mad, ya see? I’m sorry, Spots. I’m a fuckup, okay?” “I don’t think you’re a fuckup.” Jonas had replied intently, looking up for a split second before shifting his teary eyes downwards and burying his face in Mitch’s shoulder. He had never wanted to kiss him more, not even that time at the gas station, when he’d felt more helpless and head over heels than ever.

III. 

Technically they weren’t even together the third time. Jonas was with his respective “friends,” Mitch waiting for him against a wall around a hundred feet away. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Joey’s friends. They all hated him, but surely they were doing something right if Joey liked them. He’d never admit it, of course, but part of him was envious. It didn’t take him long to hear the nervous, venom-laced words dropping from Lewis’ mouth. “Dude, are you seriously going with him again? I still think he killed his mom. He could stab you too! And what about his dad?! People don’t go to jail for no reason, Jonas.” Of all the rumors made about him, none of them bothered Mitch more than ones about his mom. His beautiful, trashy, loving mom. Mitch couldn’t even stomach the thought of stabbing her, much less killing her. He was about ready to just roll his eyes and walk away when he heard his Joey retort a bit angrily. “He didn’t kill anyone! That’s just a rumor… You don’t know him the way that I do. I’m going now.” And when Jonas came rushing over to him, he’d done something he rarely did to anyone, unless it was a joke. He hugged Jonas tightly, ruffling his hair and chuckling. “Took ya long enough, Spots.” Jonas laughed softly, and Mitch was seriously thinking about kissing him. He grinned, leaning towards him, maybe to kiss his forehead or the top of his head or something when Jonas looked up. He quickly blew on Jo’s face so his hair would stick up, and the younger boy quickly recoiled and scrunched up his nose. “Aw, Mitch! Your breath is bad!” “Only for you, Spots.”

IIII.

Mitch figured the fourth time hurt him the most. He’d never hated anyone more than he hated Carmen and Neil when it happened. He’d been okay with Carmen, if not uncomfortably jealous, with only an average hatred for Neil. Of course, that had changed when Jonas ran up to him after school, bleary-eyed and smiling weakly at him. Mitch frowned, opening his arms as Jo went to hug him. “Hey, what’s wrong Spots?” Jonas frowned, and hell if Mitch didn’t know that look- whoever hurt him would fucking pay. “Oh, it’s- it’s nothing. Doesn’t matter.” Mitch raised an eyebrow, scowling at Neil as he made eye contact with the boy standing a bit aways. “Spots.” “Look, Mitch, it’s fine! I’m okay, I always am. Neil just shoved me around a little for talking to Carmen. It’s fine, I’m used to it.” That elicited an eyeroll on Mitch’s part, though he looked back to Neil after a moment. “What’d he say to you, Joey?” “What? No, don’t do anything… he just called me a fag and some other stuff, nothing new…” He watched, looking away pointedly as Jonas bit his lip, and he felt a hand on his arm. “Joey, I gotta go.” Mitch drawled for a moment, then quickly stormed over to Neil. He doesn’t remember much of anything, other than Jonas and Javi pulling him off of Neil, and some people recording. And Joey wiping down his lip, looking down as soft red and blue lights floated around them. “Mitch, I… I told you not to! You got suspended, in case you didn’t hear. For a week, I’ll add! Look, I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. I…” Mitch sighed, leaning in some as Joey’s fingers brushed against his lip. Inches- inches apart, and Mitch’s heart was racing faster than it had since he blew up a bounce house and someone called the cops. He instinctively jumped away when he heard the door open, and looked awkwardly at Sidney. “He needs to go, Dean said.” She said pointedly, crossing her arms. “He says he doesn’t want “criminal blood” staining the furniture.“ Mitch nodded as she walked out, then looked at Jonas with a smirk. "Thanks for cleaning me up, Spots. See ya.”

IIIII. 

The last time was Mitch’s personal favorite. They were, of all things, grocery shopping. It wasn’t much of an activity, but any time he could spend with Jonas, he’d take. Even if Jonas did happen to be scolding him. “Mitch, you can’t live off of frozen spaghetti meals! Those have no nutrients, at all! Jesus, no wonder you’re so skinny…” Mitch frowned- was he too skinny? Did Jonas find it unattractive? He wasn’t normally the type to worry about people’s opinions of his body (let him do the judging, thanks.) But this was Jo. His Spots. “Eh, they’re quick and easy! Just like-” “Mitch.” “Okay, okay. Sorry.” He smirked, watching as Jonas piled random food into the cart till it was about the same height as him. “That’s… This is so bad for you! You need to eat healthier! When was the last time you ate anything of substance?! What the heck, man? I-” He grabbed Jonas’ shoulders after a moment, giving him a stern look. “Joey. Shut up.” “You’re going to die if you keep living like this.” Jonas whispered back, and Mitch noticed him blushing at the little space between them at this point. “I’ll be fine.” He mumbled, and he could swear Jonas was leaning in too. He was so close- so, so close to resolving the tension that they had ignored for the past 6 months. He could feel Joey’s breath on his lips, and he could almost-. All of the groceries in the cart came tumbling down, like Mitch’s will to live when Jonas jumped back and let out a yelp. “Oh, uh… Must have put too much in the cart, you know me.” He muttered awkwardly, and Mitch raised an eyebrow though he didn’t comment on it. He let out a soft chuckle, helping Jonas pick up the fallen food and put it back in the cart. “Ya know I’ll probably just get McDonald’s right after we buy all this healthy food, right Spots?” “Yeah. I do.”

IIIIII.

“Mitch?” Jonas piped up, voice soft and hazy with something Mitch couldn’t quite understand. “Eh?” “What is this?” Jonas said softly, and Mitch looked up at Jonas’ phone for a minute, heart dropping. “Fuck, fuck, Joey, you weren’t s'posed to… Shit, no, I don’t fucking…” Words spilled quickly out of his mouth- how could he have been so careless? Jonas had, of all things, looked at his tumblr. Inbox flooded with asks about the younger boy, blog filled with him gushing over him and… Other things. “Fuck, Joey, you said you never wanted to look again! Why did you?” “I don’t-… I don’t know, Mitch, sometimes I worry, and I thought maybe you’d be venting on your tumblr or something!” Mitch bit his lip, running his hands through his hair. “Wait, Spots… You worry?” He questioned gently, glancing up for a moment. “Well, of course! I… You never eat enough, your mom isn’t around right now, you seem really panicked sometimes… I notice these things, Mitch! I notice a lot of these things! I- I notice every time you try to kiss me, and every time it gets interrupted! Other people notice, and I just wish you’d get it over with so I don’t have to notice anymore!” Mitch’s eyes widened, and he noted the mix of red and pink lights floating around them. Jonas was never able to control his lights very well when he got emotional. “Mitch.” He turned, looking questioningly at the younger boy. “Please… Please kiss me. Just get it over with.” And he did. He did, and he didn’t stop. He cradled Jonas’ face in his hands, pressing their lips together with the intensity of every time that it had been ruined. Mitch pulled back after a moment, leaning back and crossing his arms as a smirk grew on his face. “You’re a pretty good kisser, Spots.”

SOBS INTO MY ARMS OH MY GOD ANOTHER FIC

I ADORED THIS SO MUCH, IT WAS SO SWEET AND EVERYTHING ABOUT IT MADE MY HEART HURT. MITCH IS SO GONE FOR JOEY… AHH H HH.. ..I LOVE 5+1 FICS SO MUCH, MMY WEAKNESS!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!

[love-god-forever]

After My Son’s Sudden Heart Attack, Who Can Keep Him Alive?

By Zhongshi

Hovering Between Life and Death After a Medical Emergency

The evening of October 5, 2017, my youngest son Xunxun and his family came to my place for dinner, just like always, and afterward Xunxun went to the school to teach a class. A little after 8:00 p.m.

 my daughter-in-law called and said hastily, “Mom, Xunxun’s been taken to the hospital!” I was shocked, and rushed to ask: “He was totally fine when we had dinner just now. How could he suddenly be in the hospital?” Before I could finish she hurriedly hung up the phone.

I couldn’t help but feel panic rising in my heart. My son had just eaten more than a bowl of food and hadn’t mentioned feeling unwell—how could he suddenly be hospitalized? It occurred to me that he had had heart surgery before—could there be something wrong with his heart again? If it was a recurrence of his heart condition, that would really not be a good thing. I was burning with anxiety and wanted to go to the hospital to see him, but I didn’t even know which hospital he was in. What could I do? I thought and I thought, and then called my oldest son, plus my daughter and her husband—only then did I learn that they had already been to the hospital, but no one wanted to tell me about my son’s condition. The more I thought about it, the more anxious I became. Standing or sitting, I couldn’t get comfortable—I was at a loss. In my desperation, I thought of God and rushed to kneel down and pray: “Oh God! My son has been suddenly hospitalized and I’m so worried for his safety. I don’t know what Your will is, but I believe that You have allowed this to happen. I don’t know what I should do now. Please protect me and allow me to quiet my heart!” After praying, I thought of God’s words, “The fate of man is controlled by the hands of God. You are incapable of controlling yourself: Despite always rushing and busying about for himself, man remains incapable of controlling himself. If you could know your own prospects, if you could control your own fate, would you still be a creature?” That’s it! God is the Lord of creation and every single person’s fate is within His grasp. We are created beings; not only can we not control our own fates, but we particularly cannot control others’ fates. Since my worry and anxiety was useless and my son’s life or death was in God’s hands, all I could do was put him in God’s hands. When I thought of that my heart settled considerably.

Two hours later when my youngest son’s wife came back home with my daughter’s son to get some things, I asked them about my son’s condition. Tears welled up in her eyes and she said to me comfortingly: “It’s nothing. You stay here at home; we’re there for him in the hospital!” She then hurriedly grabbed some of my son’s clothing and personal items, getting ready to drive back. I thought to myself: What really is wrong with my son that they are keeping me in the dark? I insisted that they take me with them. On the way, my daughter-in-law received a call from my oldest son, who was at the hospital. All I could hear was her saying anxiously: “Hm? Why is his heart beating that fast?” A bit later she said with a worried look on her face: “What? There’s no heartbeat now?” From her words I could tell that my son’s condition was probably very serious. If his heart wasn’t beating, at any time couldn’t he…. I didn’t dare think any further, nor did I dare ask my daughter-in-law any more questions. My heart was tied in knots and I was thinking: “My son is still so young, and his son is just five years old. If something were to happen to him, how would we get by? Considering all of this was deeply upsetting. I fought to hold back my tears and prayed to God in my heart nonstop, asking Him to watch over me so I could stand firm in such a situation and not sin with my words. We arrived at the hospital soon after.

God’s Words Display His Mightiness, My Son Is Revived

When I got to my son’s bedside, I saw that he was unconscious, his face was pale, he had an oxygen tube in his nose, and ECG electrode clips on his hands and feet. There were several doctors and professors surrounding the ECG machine tensely watching its display. They would occasionally shake their heads and show a look of consternation. Two of the leaders from his school were also off to one side having a discussion in low tones, and I vaguely heard them say: “It was so scary when he collapsed, it looked like he wasn’t even breathing….” Seeing the look of helplessness on the doctors’ face was very disconcerting for me, and then when I looked at my son in the hospital bed, utterly unaware of anything, an indescribable wave of panic welled up in my heart. I was afraid that my son might be gone in the blink of an eye—wouldn’t I be a parent burying her child? The more I thought about it the more pain I felt, so I rushed to make a silent prayer to God: “Oh God! I don’t know whether my son is going to live or die—I’m really struggling. God! May You safeguard my heart, and no matter what happens, may You give me faith so that I can stand witness and not complain. I only wish for my son to be in Your hands, and to submit to Your arrangements.” During the prayer, I suddenly remembered that God said: “Of everything that occurs in the universe, there is nothing that I do not have the final say in. What exists that is not in My hands?” God’s words bolstered my faith. It’s true! God does have the final say over life and death, and my son was also in His hands. All of my worries stemmed from not believing in God’s rule. I generally talk about how I’m okay with whatever situation God may set up and that it’s all His benevolent will, but when I saw my son so ill, all I could think of was fretting over his condition. I hadn’t quieted myself before God to seek His will. When I realized this, I called out to God continually within my heart.

I thought of a hymn of God’s words, “While undergoing trials, it’s normal for people to be weak, or have negativity within them, or to lack clarity on God’s will or their path for practice. But in any case, you must have faith in God’s work, and not deny God, like Job. Although Job was weak and cursed the day of his own birth, he did not deny that all things in human life were bestowed by Jehovah, and that Jehovah is also the One to take it all away.”

Pondering God’s words, I thought of the great trials that Job went through in which his wealth and his children were all taken from him, but he never lost faith in God. He said, “Jehovah gave, and Jehovah has taken away; blessed be the name of Jehovah” (Job 1:21). This was his testimony. But there I was afraid of losing my son and incredibly hurt when the doctors still hadn’t come to a conclusion—I just saw that their expressions seemed off. How could that be faith in God? I realized I had to follow the example of Job and be able to have genuine faith in God. No matter what the outcome of my son’s condition, I could not grumble about it. Encouraged by God’s words, I felt that I had gained strength and faith. I called out to God, and then carefully sat down by my son’s side and gently called his name a few times. Seeing him finally have some response, very slowly opening his eyes and looking at me, my heart rejoiced and rushed to ask him, deeply concerned, “Are you feeling a bit better?” He nodded, sighed, and then weakly pointed at his chest and said: “It hurts … in my chest.” He then lost consciousness again.

A little while later I heard a doctor say with surprise: “Come look at this! His heart rate and blood pressure have normalized! Everything is normal!” The whole family crowded around—everyone was very happy. Seeing His mercy and protection, I gave thanks to God over and over again in my heart. It was God’s words that gave me true faith, allowing me to understand God’s mightiness and authority in ruling over everything. I said excitedly: “Man’s fate is determined by the heavens. This is truly thanks to God!” The doctor in charge added to that: “That’s right. God really is the One to thank. It’s fortunate that the patient got here in time after his myocardial infarction. If it had been half an hour later, the outcome would have been terrible. A little bit ago his heart completely stopped—I never imagined that he would miraculously come back to life. However, his condition is not stable. He has to stay in the hospital for monitoring.” My son was then transferred to the Intensive Care Unit; only his wife stayed behind to take care of him, while the rest of us went home.

The moment I walked in the door I rushed to kneel down and offer up a prayer of thanks to God. I was full of gratitude. At my most helpless time God was always by my side leading me and spurring me on with His words, giving me faith and something to lean on. I felt that God’s love really is so great.

His Condition Fluctuates and God Once Again Shows His Wondrous Deeds

A week later, the doctor in charge told us: “Testing has revealed a sarcoma on the patient’s heart that will require two surgeries. The first is to excise the sarcoma, and then we need to implant a pacemaker. You need to get 200,000 yuan together right away—if this is delayed, his life could be in danger.” I felt very tense hearing that my son was still in mortal danger. In my anxiety, I once again prayed to God: “Oh God! I believe that You rule over everything. At this moment there’s nothing I can do—I can only rely on You. I put my son entirely into Your hands, and I am willing to rely on my faith and experience Your work.” My oldest son and my younger son’s wife went all over the place raising money and before long, they had come up with the required amount. When my son was examined again in preparation for surgery, the doctor said that his condition was complex plus he was very weak; he would need to be very carefully nursed back to health and then transferred to a large specialist hospital for surgery. He wrote some prescriptions and then had my son discharged to recuperate at home.

After a period of care my son’s health had improved somewhat. The day he went to the specialist hospital, his wife came back and told me that they had scheduled surgery for the next day at 11:00 a.m. That evening, I offered up another prayer to God: “Oh God! My son is undergoing surgery tomorrow. It’s a very risky procedure, but please give me faith and courage. I believe that whether it’s a success or a failure, my son’s surgery is in Your hands. I believe that everything You do is good. Whatever the outcome tomorrow is, I am willing to submit and I will not complain. I am willing to stand witness and satisfy You” After praying I no longer felt worried or afraid; I had faith and strength to face my son’s surgery the following day.

The next day, my son was wheeled into the operating room right on time while we, his family, were all outside anxiously waiting. While waiting, I turned God’s words over and over in my mind, thinking of God’s love, and before I knew it two hours had gone by. A doctor suddenly said my son’s name, calling for us. Flustered, we all rushed over to him, and he said with emotion: “We’ve never seen anything like this. Today this really has been a wonder! In our pre-surgical examination we found that there was nothing at all wrong with the patient. We couldn’t believe it so we did another careful examination, and that also showed that everything is normal. After discussing it, we decided that there’s no need for surgery. He’ll be fine if he just goes back home and gets lots of rest.” Hearing this, we were all stunned for a moment—it took us ages to come to our senses. I just saw my daughter-in-law happily clapping her hands and saying: “That’s wonderful! From now on, not only will Xunxun not have to suffer, but it will save us 200,000 yuan!” At that moment I was the only one who clearly realized that this was God’s mightiness, this was God’s love. In my excitement, the words “Thanks be to God!” came out of my mouth. I didn’t know how to express what I felt—all I could do was thank God over and over in my heart: “Oh God! You have given me faith and strength time after time through Your words, giving me the ability to stand firm through this situation. Now my son’s condition has miraculously disappeared. Your love for us is so great!”

After going back home, I kneeled down before God to offer up a prayer of gratitude. Afterward, I saw this passage of God’s word, “Life can only come from God, which is to say, only God Himself possesses the substance of life, there is no way of life without God Himself, and so only God is the source of life, and the ever-flowing wellspring of living water of life. … Man’s life originates from God, the existence of the heaven is because of God, and the existence of the earth stems from the power of God’s life. No object possessed of vitality can transcend the sovereignty of God, and no thing with vigor can break away from the ambit of God’s authority. In this way, regardless of who they are, everyone must submit under the dominion of God, everyone must live under God’s command, and no one can escape from His control.” God’s words tell us with absolute clarity that He is the source of all life, that all things on heaven and earth—both animate and inanimate—are not exempt from His rule. Only God is the foundation of our lives as humans, and all things are changed and renewed under His control and His rule. This is a manifestation of God’s authority. I thought of how my son had pulled through crisis after crisis since falling ill, and how time after time the doctors’ conclusions had not panned out. Through adversity it was God’s words that had given me faith time after time giving me something to lean on, allowing me to overcome weakness again and again. When I had faith in God I saw His wondrous deeds—my bedridden son, at his last gasp, miraculously regained his health.

I truly experienced that God rules over and controls everything through this experience. If it hadn’t been for the guidance of His words as well as His grace and protection, no matter how much money we had or how skilled the doctors were, that could not have saved my son. I give thanks to God that, through my son’s illness, I gained understanding of God’s rule and understood that our future and fate are entirely within His hands. From now on I wish to put everything into cooperating with God and fulfilling the duty that a created being ought to in order to repay God’s love!

[vile-allure]

Dear Mother

I do not have too many memories from being a child. I am not sure if this is due to emotional suppression, a bad memory, or just not thinking hard enough. I do however have a few distinct memories of places and feelings. I remember feeling like the burden of your continued connection to my father when i was about 5ish years old and you lived in that apartment complex off of Miller Ave across from the lumber mill. I remember we did not get too see you too often, but that whenever we were over you were unhappy. You would complain about our father (the memories involve trevor and i). There is a picture of trevor and I in front of a Christmas Tree smiling like there was not a care in the world. But I can remember the emotions i felt. I was scared, scared that you felt so sad. I was also sad, because I didn’t like to see my mother so distraught. I was also confused because I was too little to really understand anything. Few positive memories continued between. There was a lot of time where i was left with Suki, who was paid to take care of me, and did so. But I remember being very young and having you tell me very vulgar things about Suki and my fathers relations. Things no parent should tell their kid. I remember going to Virginia for Christmas one year and having a lovely time. I also remember all the terrible christmases in Mill Valley that entailed fights and inevitable anger for someone feeling that no one was grateful. I would like to highlight the behaviors, as illustrated by direct quotes, that are unacceptable to me and have resulted in my augmented state of mental illness. 

I remember being bribed by both my parents. I was given money as a token of love. The only memories i really have with my mother were when we went shopping. Thus my mind made a correlation between mother-daughter time and shopping. It was not that I was using her for her money, but that it was the only activity we were familiar with. This goes on, and I am later ridiculed and yelled at. I was accused of being a selfish bitch and just using my mother for her money. Ex, on November 19 i recieved this in a text messaged, “Don't ever ask me to pay for hair that was way over $200″. This requires some context. Weeks before, my mother told me my roots were growing out and offered to pay for my highlights. I declined because i said I would rather have the money for more important things, she replied with hair being of high importance. This resulted in a few weeks later, me getting my hair color treated and cut. I was offered this service but then was yelled at for doing exactly that. The mixed messages there are not of high importance but it is a recent example of this pattern of giving money/objects then getting upset and using that as something to get mad over.  

After any sort of fight my mother and I had, we would normally just ignore each other for a few days and then things would resume their normal states. Sometimes after a really big fight, one of us would send an apology message such as this message sent on September 6 2017, “I love you. sorry im a bitch. I have been so frustrated and miserable not being able to walk. I have felt like nobody cared all going to burning man and leaving me helpless. I love you more than anything”. Even though this is an apology it is filled with excuses, but an apology is an apology and i will accept that. In all honesty, after certain behaviors this sort of apology is not enough. It is superficial and only scratches the surface of the issue. In order for real reconciliation, they must both acknowledge their wrongdoings, discuss the situation, and understand how it could be better solved in the future. This should result in a gradual change in behavior and an overall better understanding of the other person. However between my mother and I’s relationship, the “sorry” is short and sweet and we have just brushed off the dust and moved on, leaving much to fester and add up for later. 

The relationship between my mother and I is very complex. This is due to many factors. One of which being that I, the daughter, feel as if I am the only one willing to put up with my mother. In my opinion, she has pushed away everyone in her life, on accident or not. Her loneliness is often displayed in anger. With the recent experience of her foot breaking and the devastating disappearance/loss of her cats. I was told since a child that I have to love my parents because they are the only ones i have. I was told that no matter what, the children in the hood will always love their parents, this doesn’t matter how many beatings they had received. As well as many other children, no matter how they were treated, they were taught to respect and love their parents. This was drilled into me. I never thought it was an option for me to disconnect, even if it was for the good of my own mental health. In high school I had a very embarrassing experience of my mom showing up to cheer practice and pulling me aside and yelling at me right next to all the cheerleaders in my squad. She yelled at me, telling me it was my fault that dad was kicking her out of the house and that i had to do something about it. That it was my responsibility to fix it and if i didn't she would kill herself. I had so many witness but she to this day will not admit that she did that, and that it was wrong. On September 30 2017 my mother send me this message “hillary hates her mom and has told everyone everywhere she goes. You made me suffer and watched when I was alone”. This message, in my opinion, is directed towards the situation at which occurred after the cheerleading incident. My father was going to be out of town for a while and I was scared to be alone with my mother, thus my father helped me set up a plan. I ended up staying with Jessee Hinton’s family for the week. I did not tell them much of anything about my family. But rumors had spread due to her outbreak at practice, and the rumors had warped like in a game of telephone. I did not intentionally go out and tell the world that my mother was terrible. I confided in very few people the horrors of my home life. Yet my mother seemed to think I was an open book and expressed her behavior to everyone, this was probably out of embarrassment because she did not want people to know how she emotionally abused her child. 

Ever since I can remember, I have had thoughts of suicide. I have had thoughts of death, self-harm, thoughts of self-depricacy. I can remember back to being in around 6th grade and going to Park Schools new play structure and purposely swinging myself off the bars and falling on my back in hopes of hurting myself. I wanted to feel pain because I wanted to escape the pain in my head. Around this same time I witnessed my sister holding tissues to her wrist in the front seat in front of 7/11 on Miller Ave, crying hysterically and looking me in the eyes. I remember my mother repeatedly telling me she wanted to go home, go be with her mother, who had died long ago. She would tell me her intricate plans to kill herself. I remember she made an attempt when I was a freshman in high school in 2009. My sister had found her OD and she was put on a 51/50. I remember how ashamed, scared, disappointed, and betrayed I felt. This woman, my mother, always told me I was all she had and If i wasn’t around she would kill herself. This woman would say that she loved me so much and that i was her only child. But this same woman would also go on to say things such as the most recent incident on November 2 “ I only wish i could hang myself and have dad and trevor have the pleasure of seeing me”. As this is not a threat, there were many purposed threats that were sent in a way to manipulate my emotions, for whatever reason, I have no idea. I remember, it must’ve been when I was a junior in High School, she was very upset. As was i. I cannot recall the reason for this upset, but I was scared to be around her so i was downstairs in my room trying not to fuel the fire. She came bombarding into my room, gun in hand. She was belligerent, and not making any sense. She was very distraught and upset. She placed the gun next to her head and threatened to shoot, and then pointed that same gun at me saying I should go with her. Many other words were exchanged, but this resulted in me calling the police because I was scared for my own safety, as for hers. As the police arrived, the gun disappeared. The police searched the house and were not able to locate the gun, my mother somehow convinced them that I was on drugs, i begged them to let me pee in a cup to prove to them I was completely sober. I remember them flashing a flashlight in my eyes and saying my pupils were dilating strangely. This was due to my commencement of welbutrin which had weird effects on me, but they did not believe me. I was brought to the station in handcuffs, they wrote me up for falsely using the 911 system. They thought I was just on drugs and trying to get my mom in trouble or something of the sort. but no I was scared of this woman, I did not know what she would do. The way she lied to the cops was disgusting. She later told me it was just dads gun, and that it wasn't even functional. This experience still haunts me until this day. I have felt depressed for as long as I can remember, and having two female role models in my young life that demonstrated very unhealthy coping mechanisms really altered my perception of mental illness. I did not want to be like them. But i felt haunted. I was going mad. i don't know what it was. i would wake up crying, i would hide in closets to keep the thoughts from overpowering me. the thoughts that when I was younger, mistook for voices, but to be completely honest they might have been voices because boy were they strong and malignant. I ripped my arms apart in all directions with razors, trying to escape my internal pain. I did this because I saw my sister do it and thought it was ok. I overdosed on pills, I tried to hang a noose in my closet, I wanted to die so bad. And to this day, the thoughts still enter my head. I am not well. I have a long journey ahead of me before I reach my destination of happiness and gratitude for life. I however can not reach that if I am constantly being berated by the person who I thought was my best friend and mother. This message was sent on the 19th of November 2017 “You find a new way everyday to say bitch i hate you!”  This woman must not know what I go through. She must not understand how much I put up with. How much she has said to me, that has ripped me to my core. That has fueled my depression, that has been the tip of the iceberg for one of my suicidal episodes. She must not understand that I love her so much. And all i do is to please her. She must not understand that I try to be the angel she wants me to be, i try to be there for her. But i CANNOT read minds. I do not know what she wants. That has taunted me my whole life. Anger was thrown at me for not doing certain things, in which I had no idea I was supposed to do. How was i supposed to know I should stand up for mother in divorce court and say my older sister was lying about everything. I was a toddler! I did not even understand the situation! How can I be held responsible for something I honestly could not have done. How can this still be haunting me. How am i still living in the past, because every time she tells me I wasn’t there for her, i believe her. Because no matter how much i do, it is never enough. It never will be enough, and with what is going on in my head I can't live with it. 

On September 16 my mother sent me this, “i was thinking if we get left behind for NY why don't we like drive to Tahoe and just play around for thanksgiving?? Stay at a hotel etc.” I replied with excitement it sounded like a great idea. The plans developed and soon we had a hotel planned. My father agreed to pay for 2/3 of the hotel, but i assume he forgot. I sent him a few reminder texts but they were sandwiched between other questions so must have gotten lost in translation. Finally on the 19th of November, I called up my father and asked if he was still going to do that, he said he only agreed to pay 1/3, but then realized he might have misspoken and agreed to pay 2/3 even though he said he currently only had $1000 in his bank account. He wrote out a check for $500 and said he would leave it on his desk. Hours later i received angry messages from my mother consisting of this “ “i haven't been able to go to tahoe for 20 years while you and your buddies went nonstop and blew out BMW” and ““so you were going to spend 500 on yourself and not tell me. sounds about right”. This was because my father wrote the check out to me, to which I had no knowledge. This assumption that I was going to just cash the check and take the money and go to Tahoe was completely absurd. I was excited to go to Tahoe with my mother and our dogs. I was excited to help her have a good holiday for once, surrounded by good vibes and new memories. “you have to move dad’s care before you to to Tahoe bitch”.

I love my mother so much. But i also value and love myself. I need to accept the love that I deserve. I am 22 years old. I am becoming my own woman. I want to be strong an independent. I cannot have a mother emotionally abusing me. I cannot tolerate that. I do not deserve that. I have been there as much as I have emotionally been able to. I have never once been appreciated for it. When false accusations are thrown at me, I do not take them lightly. I would appreciate an apology from my mother. Not a half-hearted “sorry for being a shitty mother”. An apology acknowledging her wrongdoings and acknowledging that not all her children are “the devils children”. And to be honest none of them are. They just cannot tolerate the way she treats them. This is a two-way street, respect goes both ways, so I cannot say anything for anyone else. I am just saying that I have been disrespected for too long. My mother had pushed away everyone who has ever loved her. She has had the same patterns of behavior she has had with me, to different degrees with all those other people. And most of them have chosen to cut off contact. I have not done that, this is based on love, but also on pity. No one should have no one around to love them. But if said person makes it impossible to be loved, theres nothing anyone can do. If my mother wants to have me in her life. She needs to do some work on herself and realize she cannot treat people the way she has been. Trevor is not a retard and Drea is not the source of all the bad in your life. My mother needs to take some responsibility for the actions she has made in her life, and has to realize even though others might have had a role in it, she did as well, and she cannot blame it on anyone.

This goes to you mother. I love you with all my heart but you need to understand that you do not know it all. I am not a bitch who wants to take your money and run. I wanted to spend a good solid thanksgiving in your presence before we both get too old and distant. I want you to realize the white-picket fence life you have always dreamed of could've been yours and can still be yours if you still living in a pity act. I understand that you are suffering. I see it and I can feel it. I want to be there to help you get through it. I cannot do that if it compromises my mental health. I am not strong enough to take it. I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, my Mommy you'll be.