#they do have tvs! but none of the captives know about the killing game so maybe they're not supposed to work

[justtogetthrough]

When Dr Gaul tells Snow she erased the 10th Hunger Games because it was a mistake to bring the students into it, all the ones who died make the Capitol look weak. But all those deaths will be for naught if the 10th games will have never existed after the fact, after so many children died. But not just the student-mentors’ deaths were for naught. The deaths of the 23 tributes (24?) too. Wasteful. None of those kids needed to die that year if it’s like the game never happened in the end. How tragic for their families. At least with the games replayed and on record, their lives continue to be known. All 24 tributes are just wiped off the face of history, starting the day after the games ended.

I wonder if Snow went home after that visit with Gaul and thought about this waste. He tells Katniss decades later he has no problem killing children, but he’s never wasteful. The subject of waste is material for a Gaul assignment if we’d had more glimpses of his internship with her. I feel like that was a “value” (for… death traps) he grew to give a lot of weight to. It shaped his moves. Kill, but not wastefully. And oh, 10th was such a waste. A waste of children AND a waste of feeling love, of connecting with someone, of hopes and dreams, of opening up to someone about private things, and letting him care about someone, feel enlivened by someone. All of that a waste.

What do you think happened from 11th onwards regarding mentors? It would have taken at least 50 games to get every district to have a victor to become mentor so did having mentors not roll out til 51? Did they have Capitol adults mentor victor-less districts, or even all the districts before then?

🏟️🔱🐍🐀🗡️⚰️

🌳🧊🏊🐦‍⬛🌷🎻

Also do you really think people in the Capitol just forgot about Lucy Gray by the next day? They loved her. That buzz wouldn’t die down unless the president threatens punishment on anyone who utters her name or something. The Capitol was captivated by her. Yeah you can make sure no one new sees her games or hears about her (sort of), but you can’t make her fans forget. Not without imminent threat at least.

Idk I forgot Snow became a gamemaker right away for the 11th and my mind is like a hamster wheel realizing how drastically the games will have changed starting immediately. Him coming home being like yeaaah not only are the games too depressing for people in the districts to watch, but they don’t have electricity or tv’s to watch them even if they wanted them to? And. In 10 years no one in the government and none of the stationed peacekeepers ever realized/reported the games had no reach in the districts and that this might be of interest to the Capitol.

But dutiful Snow gets sent out for only one month, with Dr Gaul having to know that he’d pursue this girl but that he would ruin it/have it blow up in his face and he’d definitely come back. And come back he does, with on the ground knowledge of what the games means to the districts (nothing) and why this is so (lack of engagement/interest). Did she ever ponder the risk that he’d choose his songbird instead? I mean she probably didn’t care if he got shot for deserting or treason or whatever so the risk was worth it to her, if he may come back with new ideas. And come back with ideas, he did. Horrible, insane ideas.

Does anyone else find it interesting Dr Gaul’s name sounds like “gall”. Because. The gall of that woman.

[danganronpa-ghost-au]

Chihiro, I think it does change stuff. You can talk to your friends through Alter Ego!

Chihiro: Well… I can already talk to everyone here, hut maybe I could talk to my father?C: Dad? Can you hear me? It’s Chihiro. I really hope you’re okay.C: If this gets to you-C: I love you!Taichi: Chihiro?

[five-rivers]

Loved Chapter 5

Sort of wanted to do something more elaborate with this, but it just wasn't happening. Meh.

.

“But you aren’t really real, are you?”

Tucker’s question killed the mood fast than a bullet. Danny and Sam stared at him from their side of the blanket nest.

“You want to rephrase that?” asked Sam, glaring, arms crossed.

“Uh,” said Tucker, sweat starting to form on his upper lip. “I mean, clearly you’re real, just… maybe not entirely physical? You, it’s,” he made a sort of twisting gesture with one of his hands. “People who aren’t from here can’t see you. They can’t even touch you. That sort of implies that you’re not on the same level of reality as them.” He shrugged. “You call the other place the Dream, right? Maybe you’re in, like, a kind of daydream or something.”

Danny twisted a corner of a blanket in his hands. “No,” he said.

“Danny,” started Tucker.

“No,” repeated Danny. “I can’t—” He noticed he was breathing heavily, his eyes unfocused enough that he could see—No. “Tucker, I don’t—I don’t think I even have free will anymore.” No matter how much he Loved Clockwork and craved Love in return, no matter how glad he was that the dark future would never come to pass, that grated at times. “I need—” He gulped air.

(Before, if he was this panicked, his heart would be thundering in his chest. Now, it was far too quiet.)

Sam put a hand on his back, steadying. Tucker reached out, too, but hesitated, unsure.

“I need to be real,” he said. He needed to still exist, still be human, at least in part. He couldn’t lose that, too. No matter what else he might gain.

“You are real,” said Tucker. “I’m sorry, I—” He cursed lightly under his breath, “—I wasn’t thinking. It’s just… Maybe something you should think about. Maybe—Maybe you aren’t coming completely out of… I don’t know. Wherever you go.”

“Maybe,” said Danny, struggling to get his breathing back under control. “Maybe. I just. Not right now.”

“Okay,” said Tucker. “Yeah. What were we talking about before?”

“Who cares?” asked Sam. “Let’s watch a movie.”

“That sounds good,” said Danny.

.

Danny woke up first the next morning, which was somewhat unusual. Sam was definitely a night-owl, but Tucker woke up fairly early. He stepped over them, feet silent on the floor. Almost as if they weren’t really there.

He shook his head. Not now.

He went to the bathroom and took care of things slowly, deliberately, as if to impress upon his body that he was human.

Sam and Tucker still weren’t awake when he came back. Also, when he thought about it, the rest of the house was eerily silent as well.

No… There was music. Was that coming from outside? He closed his eyes to listen better and caught himself drifting off while standing.

That was abnormal. He knelt and shook Sam and Tucker’s shoulders. They didn’t stir.

Someone was here. And they were here without Danny knowing. That was bad. That was really bad.

He went to his parents’ room. They were asleep, too.

There was a nonzero possibility that he was the only one awake. (Assuming he had ever been awake in the first place and not, as Tucker put it, daydreaming.)

He went out, following the music. Music suggested Ember, but this didn’t seem to be her style. She preferred motion, energy, vibrance. This was quieter, subtler.

Then again, none of the others made sense.

(At least, Danny liked to pretend they didn’t.)

The music wasn’t louder outside, but it was clearer. The scent of something sweet floated on the air. Something warm. Like honey.

Was something buzzing?

Danny shook his head again, forcing himself back into awareness. Maybe he should try and figure out what was going on from inside the Dream. It wasn’t possible to fall asleep there. At least, Danny never had.

(Assuming he wasn’t always partially in the Dream, like Tucker said.)

On the other hand, it often helped to observe what was going on in the real world, on the surface of things, before diving. As messy as fights could be in the real world, winning them in the Dream was harder.

He forged on, periodically pinching himself. He wasn’t the only one on the streets, but he was the only one on the streets that wasn’t passed out. It looked like there had been some car crashes.

That’s when he saw her.

She stood in the middle of an intersection, looking away from him. She was built like a centaur, except the lower part of her body more closely resembled a massive deer than a horse. An elk, perhaps. Both her deer-portion and her human-portion had night-black skin, studded with white stars. Antlers curved and branched above her curly hair. A crown of red flowers sat on her head. She wore no other clothes.

Danny did not notice any of this at first. No, what first jumped out at him was the unmistakable chain of Love binding him to her and vice versa.

He’d never met anyone like this, so—

She turned to face Danny. But she didn’t have a face. She had a mask. A well-made mask that had both eye-holes and a mouth with lips that seemed to curve. It was also covered with pulsing, swirling, hypnotic patterns. Black and white chased each other across the mask, not respecting the mask’s physical curves.

Danny could feel his mind start to go fuzzy. Felt the ground go soft under him as he sank into the Dream. A distant part of him wanted to look away, but the rest of him could only blink slowly, captivated.

“Come,” she said in a fascinating combination of an out-loud voice and a True Voice, tugging lightly on the chain that attached Danny to her.

Danny complied, trotting out into the intersection. When he was most of the way there, she turned away again.

“Follow,” she ordered.

Danny did, vaguely noting how rapidly the sidewalks and concrete buildings of Amity Park flowed into smoothly rolling hills covered in grass and flowers. The air grew heavier. Hotter. The perfume of the flowers combined with the buzzing of the bees and the gentle music served to make Danny even drowsier than before.

Still, he could hardly nod off in this situation, walking behind her, Love connecting them.

Sluggishly, belatedly, a name came to mind. “Nocturne,” he said. The name tasted like milk and honey, like chamomile tea, like sleep. She stopped and inclined her head slightly towards him. “You’re different from before.”

“We haven’t met,” she said. Then she turned more fully, the lips on her mask curving into a smile. “Has our parent been showing you Dreams of me? Perhaps I looked more like this.” She changed, her body warping before Danny’s eyes to become an impossibly tall man completely covered in starry black robes. Except, of course, for his mask and curved, ram-like horns. “This is as good a place as any, I suppose.”

Danny nodded, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, and looked around. Amity Park was nowhere in sight. The hills were a little lumpy, as if the grass and moss were growing over oddly shaped rocks.

“Let’s sit,” said Nocturn, lowering himself elegantly to the ground.

Danny followed, movements clumsy and blurred by sleep. He blinked, and found his hands occupied by a large mug. He looked up at Nocturne. Had he given this to Danny, or…?

Nocturne smiled. Danny looked away, not feeling like getting caught in the hypnotic swirls of his mask again. There was something off about those rocks under the grass. Something about their shape…

Then he saw it and inhaled sharply through his teeth.

Bodies. They were bodies. Still breathing, but…

He looked back at Nocturne. He’d known Nocturne was being too nice to him. He was new to being other, but not new to being a younger sibling. Older siblings only acted like this when they had set up everything in their favor. When they wanted something.

Even knowing this, he struggled to keep his eyes open. Could he fall asleep in the Dream?

“What are you doing to them?” he asked. “How do I wake them up.”

Nocturne hummed. “I have an idea. Play a game with me, sibling, and I’ll tell you.”

“What kind of game?”

“You ask me a question, and for every answer I give you, I get something from you.”

“Like, an answer from me,” said Danny, trying to clarify his position, “or something else?”

Nocturne’s smile showed teeth.

“If I play this game,” said Danny, “I have to be able to say when it ends.” He didn’t want to be dancing around conversational pitfalls every time he interacted with Nocturne, after all. They were siblings.

(And though Love was not trust, it was Love. And Love was undeniable.)

“Of course,” agreed Nocturne, easily.

“Alright, then,” said Danny. He adjusted his grip on the mug.

The grass was crawling. He blinked, hard, and shook his head, dislodging two bees that had landed on his ear.

“How do I wake them up?” he asked.

“You can’t,” said Nocturne.

Danny paused, waiting for Nocturne to take what he wanted.

“You have other questions.”

“Aren’t you going to take something from me, for the question?”

“Yes, I am.”

Danny pursed his lips, realizing he had just wasted a question.

“If I can’t wake them, who or what can?”

“I could. Or they could wake themselves.”

Danny mulled over what that could mean. He had no idea where to start with the second part, but the first…

“What would I have to do, to get you to wake them?”

“You—”

The chain around Danny’s neck went taut, pulling him through the fabric of the Dream at breakneck speeds. He was in Clockwork, his sibling behind him.

You must not bully your sibling, my dear. I have enough love for both of you. You do not need to be jealous.

Danny swayed. Now that so much of the tension between him and Nocturne was gone, he was no longer able to use it to support his wakefulness.

Drink your milk, little Love. You’ll be able to find your friends.

Danny nodded sleepily and tipped the mug back. He didn’t remember what happened after that.

.

“Hundreds of Amity Park citizens are still in comas as health officials race to find the cause of the mysterious event. Some say that gas leaks are to…”

Danny tuned out the TV and glared at his cereal. He knew he had fallen asleep in the Dream and had done something, but the memory was beyond him. Maybe whatever it had been was beyond an even partially human mind.

Or whatever kind of mind Danny had.

His fingers twitched. He was going to go down again later today, to see if Clockwork would help him find everyone else. If they could be found at all. He didn’t want to. He was angry. Angry that this had happened, that it was still happening. Amity Park was his, and Nocturne had no right to try and steal and break and—

The terrible part, was that even though he was angry, his general desire to reach out to Nocturne, to lean on their Love… That had not diminished.

He looked forward to seeing them again.

The news continued to talk about the coma victims.

[maple-writes]

WHG 14: Boat 1

tagging @ratracechronicler @concealeddarkness13 (Thanks for Nesri!) and @pen-of-roses

in which Cirrus does a lot of dancing

###

I hoped everyone recognized how much effort it took when I held my tongue about the honeymooners stealing half our accommodations. If it didn’t carry the risk of blowing our cover they might not have been so lucky. I couldn’t see either of them out on the main floor though, and I could only guess what they might have been using their new roomy lodgings for.

After a quick loop around the main dance floor, there didn’t seem to be anything immediately dangerous. Nothing we hadn’t expected anyway. Soldiers, peacekeepers, locked doors and watchful eyes, but most seemed here for the party and nothing more. Nice. I took a drink from one of the servers, not quite sure what it was but anything with a raspberry garnish had to be good. Though, maybe not as good as I expected. Whoever made this made it too sweet. Far too sweet.

Across the room a pair of women were watching me, whispered to each other. One of them pointed, probably trying to be subtle as she smiled to her friend as if trying to encourage her to do something.

I took another sip of the overly sweet berry drink before stetting it down. It didn’t take a genius to guess what they might have been talking about if Nesri’s judgment was to be trusted. That could probably work in my favor. They shushed each other when they noticed me coming, one giving the other a little shove.

I put on a smile and held out a hand. “Care to dance?”

She blushed a moment, even behind her makeup before taking my hand and letting me lead her to the floor. We joined the other dancers, and she struggled to hide a smile when I rested my hand on her waist to dance.

Now, how should I get her to talk? “So, how are you enjoying the party?”

At first she stammered, but even as we started to talk it quickly turned out she didn’t have any information that could be remotely useful. Neither she, nor her friend, or two other young men who asked to dance seemed to have noticed anything at all about the boat besides what they saw at that very moment. For the most part they didn’t seem to have any thoughts there could be anything misleading about the reason for the party, though none had a chance yet to meet the so-called lucky tributes.

I retreated back to the side. What a waste of time. Sure, the dancing had been fun, and the partners were lively, but hopefully the others were having better luck getting anything useful. I sighed and started towards some of the fruit laid out on one of the tables. Maybe the raspberry without the overly sweetened drink would be better.

I looked over the fruits, but an avox replacing a plate of cubed mango made me pause. It was her. It had to be, the same girl who’d been assigned to our floor before the games, the same one who’d dragged the water out on stage. Maybe she was the capitol’s. Whatever the reason, maybe this would be more of a break than flirty youths.

“Excuse me.” I stood across the table from her, looking down at her as she realized I was talking to her. “I need a fresh set of sheets in my room, now.” If she recognized me, she didn’t show it. If she didn’t then the disguise must have been working. She kept her eyes down as I told her the room number and she left with a nod.

As soon as she’d gone, I turned and took my time leaving the main room. She’d need a couple minutes to go and find the linens. That would buy me a minute or two.

The hall was near silent compared to the bustle of the main room, empty besides the evidence of the newlyweds in their room via a closed door and a do not disturb sign. I rolled my eyes as I slipped into our room and waited. Arms crossed I watched the lake out the little window, shimmering in the sun. Clouds lurked on the horizon though, far off for now but if the winds turned…

The door clicked and I turned as the avox stepped in. She froze wide-eyed when she saw me, clutching the folded sheets just a little tighter.

I sighed, letting my hands fall to my sides. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” I nodded. “Close the door, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She swallowed, but did as she was told, pulling the door closed with a gentle thud.

“I’m Cirrus, one of the tributes on the floor your were assigned to.” I paused as she blinked, seeming to at least recognize my voice. “Look, I can’t talk too long in case anyone gets suspicious, but a handful of other tributes and I escaped the arena together, and we intend on trying to free our friends held captive here.” I nodded at her. “One of them was the one forced to hurt you with magic. I don’t think she wanted to, I hope you know that.”

She nodded along, one hand tracing gingerly along where Lynne had cut her with the crystalized water up on stage.

“If you help us, I’ll try my hardest to make sure you get out with us.”

The girl’s head snapped up, hopeful for only a moment before her eyes narrowed. Her shoulders tensed and her jaw clenched.

This time though, she didn’t look away when I met her stare. “You probably know this place far better than nearly anyone else on board. You know the timetable, the events, everything you’d be expected to put on, don’t you?” I grinned. “When I was younger my mother would tell me a mistreated servant was dangerous. I didn’t hear her then, but now… Who better to poison a king than the one who pours his wine and serves his dinner? So to speak anyway.”

I held out my hands in a shrug. “Not that you have to kill the president, getting him out of the way is accounted for.” She listened intently as I filled her in on the plan. Even if she did decide to turn on us, it wasn’t like she was going to tell anyone, right? “Whatever you can do to win us the upper hand would be appreciated.”

She smiled, wide and eager with devious excitement glinting in her eye. She nodded, shoulders set and determined. I held out a hand, she shook it, and we went our separate ways. Hopefully she’d come through. She seemed in on it enough though.

#

I wasn’t back out on the main floor for long before Nesri found me. She pushed through the crowd until she stood in front of me, leaning in to whisper.

“I found and old friend, and he has invited us to meet the captain. He says they will help us out.” She smiled. “And he’s a horrible liar, so I trust him.”

The more help the better. I nodded. “Good.” Hopefully her friend would be useful and not as bad at this kind of stuff as he allegedly was at lying. I took a sip of my drink. Even this one was too sweet. “I might have talked one of the avoxes into helping us too.”

She grinned. “that’s wonderful! The more the merrier! Did you find any other info? I saw you snooping around the corridors early on.”

If only. “Not as much as I would like.” I sighed. “Nothing seems weird, and no one I talked to seemed to know anything besides trends.” Trends I’d never need to know ever again.

Nesri laughed. “I bed those trends were horrendous too.” Correct. She leaned forward, gripping my arm with a smile. “Well, I’ve gotta move on. I want to let everyone else know so we can meet his captain soon.”

She turned to leave, straight into a drunken woman in a costume bikini. “You two are the most adorable couple I’ve ever seen! You two simply must dance! It will be so aesthetically pleasing!”

What? I blinked. “Couple?” Was she talking to us?

The woman giggled, all too-white teeth and uncoordinated gesture. “No need to be shy about it! You have matching outfits and everything!” Damn it with the outfits. “I simply must insist you dance. It will be so entertaining!”

By now others had started to crowd around, swarming like bored bees to honey buzzing with their agreement and excitement. They didn’t look about to disperse anytime soon.

I swallowed, and turned to Nesri when I couldn’t find the words. “Nesri?” Please say something good. My head spun. What was I supposed to do?

But Nesri only smirked. “Well, you heard the woman.”

That wasn’t what I’d hope she’d say, but I guess, what other choice did we have? “Of course.” I bowed slightly and held out a hand, probably too formal but if it was a show they wanted then it was a show they’d get. “Shall we?”

She took my hand and we started dancing in front of the gathered crowd, bathed in their shallow oohs and aws. This close in a slow-song dance, whatever it was that Triel had done to Nesri’s face was nice. Makeup shimmered in spots of light like shining fish under clear waters. It was almost strange to see her all dressed up like some proper high-class lady after all the pestering she’d put me through all last week.

She leaned close, grinning up at me. “You’re still cute when you’re flustered.”

I rolled my eyes, grappling with what to say. My tongue still felt twisted under so many eyes watching us. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”

Nesri glanced at them, watching, chattering to each other. “I wouldn’t have wanted this to be our first dance, with Capitol idiots insisting on it, but—" She turned back to me, a smirk pulling at her face. “I couldn’t have asked for a more handsome partner.”

Again? I shrugged. “I mean, my mother did say I was vain.” Though she hadn’t meant it as a compliment. “Guess it paid off.” I grinned, raising my eyebrows before changing the subject. “At least none of them are probably going to throw food at us, unlike some people.”

She gasped, mocking insult. “I would never! I can’t imagine anyone would do something so horrendous.” She matched my grin, but something seemed to catch her eye. She peered over my shoulder and I could feel her stiffen under my hands. “Shit.” Nesri ducked her head down as if hiding behind me. “Churi is here.”

“What?” I twisted, glancing back at whatever it was that she’d seen. Standing in the crowd was that man from the TV demonstration. “Damn it, of course he’s here. Would he recognize you?”

She nodded. “He would recognize me. And he’s staring right at us. Shit.”

I lowered my voice and leaned closer, keeping our words between us. “I saw a door with a lock down the hall.” I paused, watching for her reaction. “Looked like a bathroom maybe, but it might work.”

Nesri peeked up over my shoulder again, eyes flickering as she searched until an insincere smile replaced her worry. “Nah. He’s gone. It’s fine. He’s the kind that won’t alert the peacekeeprs because he’s planning on a confrontation of his own, so if I avoid him, we’ll be fine.” She looks around again, eyes resting this time on our onlookers with a laugh. “I think they’re expecting a kiss at the end of this song.”

Huh? I baulked, but after a glance at the crowd, she might have been right. We had to have at least a quarter of the guest around now. “Better they remember a show than strange people sneaking around the ship, right?”

Nesri grinned and the song started to slow and fade. I hesitated a heartbeat. I’d never done this before, how was it supposed to go? Hopefully this would work. I dipped her down, holding her suspended with a arm across her back. She reached up and pulled me closer, hands running through my hair as our lips met. She was warm, and smelled like whatever fancy perfume Triel must have given her. It suited her, misty and fresh. I could feel my face flush, heat spreading across my cheeks. With the onlookers celebrating, this wasn’t how I’d imagined my first kiss would be, but at least I couldn’t complain about the partner.

The other guests started to go their own ways as soon as we pulled apart, already looking for the next interesting thing. I braced myself for Nesri to mock my blushing, but instead she looked serious.

“Please don’t tell anyone about Churi being here. I don’t want to make them more worried.” She swallowed. “He’s probably only here for me. So, I’m the only one who needs to worry.”

“Fine.” I held her a moment more before bringing her back up to her feet. “But that doesn’t stop me from worrying.” Already it started to gnaw at my stomach. The last time someone tried to convince me I didn’t have to worry about them, he nearly died. He’d thought no one could help him. “You said he isn’t physical but may I remind you Asher is trained as an exorcist? I wont tell him anything, but you’re not here alone Nesri.”

She smiled, but I couldn’t believe it was genuine. “The Shades aren’t really so much spirits as different species from us. I don’t know if he’d be able to help. But thanks.”

Before could think of something else to say, she gave me a quick hug and walked away. What would happen if he found her? What was I supposed to do? Last time someone tried to tell me to stay out of it, to not help, to not come for him and I did, he tried to kill me, but would it have ended better if I hadn’t found him? It could have been worse.

I sighed, turning and slipping through the crowd before I could draw too much attention. Maybe he wouldn’t even find her, wouldn’t end up causing problems before we got off this shop.

#

I hadn’t seen anyone for a while, but the others had to be nearby, right? There was only so many places they could be on an enclosed boat after all. I stood by one of the tables, craning my neck to see if I could see anyone, but so far no luck.

Something pressed into my hand. The avox girl passed by, a tray in her other hand and her eyes ahead like she hadn’t even noticed me. I curled my fingers around the scrap of folded paper and quietly slipped away back to the room where there’d hopefully not be as many curious eyes.

As soon as the door closed I unfolded the paper. Two sheets of paper that looked like they’d been torn out of the back of some kind of manual maybe, with writing and diagrams scrawled all over the empty spaces. Written in small writing, she’d crammed line after line detailing events schedules down to what meals would be served when and what they were. Diagrams of what looked like the ship’s layout, access codes, passengers of note, members of Snow’s security detail, Snow’s security plans…

My eyes rested on a single sentence written at the top of one of the pages.

My name is Amy.

I carefully refolded the papers and tucked it into one of my pockets, pushing it deep enough it’d be safe from falling out. Perfect

[aion-rsa]

The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It – Who is the Occultist?

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It spoilers.

Though the latest Conjuring movie, The Devil Made Me Do It, is named after the Arne Johnson murder case, whereby a young man claimed the crime he committed was caused by demonic possession, there’s an entirely new subplot that carries the body of the new film. 

After the supposedly possessed Arne Johnson is held in custody awaiting trial for the murder of his girlfriend’s landlord, paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga) are on a mission to discover how and why these possessions took place. While the Johnson case is based on real events, the reasons behind the possession, as posed within The Devil Made Me Do It, are completely fictional. 

No matter! This allows the filmmakers to introduce the shadowy figure of The Occultist (played by Eugenie Bondurant), as well as a second tragic possession and murder, and to bring back the cult of The Disciples of the Ram who we first heard of in Annabelle.

The mysterious Satanist’s backstory, plans, and intentions are alluded to but are never made crystal clear in the movie. So we’re breaking down what we know about the Occultist and her plans and also where you might have seen striking actor Eugenie Bondurant before.

Who is the Occultist?

We learn that her name is Isla (don’t worry if you blinked and missed this, it’s written in the photo album but no one ever calls her by that name). We know that she was born in 1932, that she was illegitimate (more of a thing in 1932), her mother died in childbirth, and that she was taken in by her biological father, a priest named Father Kastner.

We know that she was looked after in secret by Kastner and that he loved her very much, describing her childhood as happy, and talking about the joy that they shared. We also know that she was still living with Kastner up until at least the age of 20 in 1952 (according to the photo album), but that she left her father’s home at some point before The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It’s 1981 setting (when she would have been 49). Kastner is unaware that Isla was living in the tunnels underneath his property and practicing the occult from down there during the events of the film.

When did Isla get into the occult?

It is not clear, but we do know that Kastner was fascinated by Satanism and was instrumental in bringing down the cult called The Disciples of the Ram, a Manson Family-esque group who appear in Annabelle (set in 1967). We know that Kastner exposed the Disciples of the Ram between 10 and 12 years earlier, which would make that somewhere around 1969 – 1971. We also know that he had been studying this cult for nine years, placing his research period as basically most of the 1960s.

Kastner says Isla shared his fascination with the occult and acknowledges that her exposure to all of his research material and ancient ritualistic tomes was his fault. He keeps everything in a locked room in the house, much like the Warrens’ artifact room, rather than burning these infernal texts.

It’s likely she learned everything she knows about demon worship from these books. 

Was she part of the Disciples herself? It’s possible, yep, but we’d speculate not because you’d expect Kastner to have known about it had that been the case. Though her father’s research certainly inspired her. If the Disciples were disbanded at some point between 1969 and 1971, and her Dad had been studying them since about 1960, that would still give Isla a good 20 years to study all their texts and practices before carrying out her own series of rituals in and around 1981.

What’s her plan?

Lorraine finds the witches totem underneath the Glatzel’s house. It has been placed there deliberately, and Kastner is able to give her context regarding what it is – this totem is very similar to the ones used by the Disciples.

This isn’t, therefore, an incidence of David Glatzel accidentally summoning a demon – instead it’s a deliberate curse.

Kastner explains that the curse requires a blood sacrifice of murder and suicide from three souls – the child, the lover, and the man of God. David is the child, but in taking the demon from David, Arne becomes his surrogate. He’s committed the murder and is now trying to kill himself, under the influence of the demon. The lover is Jessica (Ingrid Bisu) who murdered Katie (Andrea Andrade) and plummeted to her own death (as an aside, DC Comics has released a comic book delving into Jessica and Katie’s back story called DC Comics Presents: The Conjuring: The Lover).  And the man of God is none other than Ed Warren. The Occultist has placed her third totem in a vase of flowers at the Warren house. 

When Ed ventures into the catacombs to save Lorraine, who is unable to defeat the Occultist or destroy her altar, he’s possessed and after the Occultist blows some sort of power in his eyes he is overtaken, wielding a mallet and seemingly trying to kill Lorraine. If Ed kills Lorraine and then himself the curse will be complete, the Occultist will be all powerful and the Conjuring Universe will become a massive bummer.  

Fortunately, love saves the day and Lorraine is able to break the spell bringing Ed back to her so he can destroy the altar and end the madness.

Unfortunately for Isla, our Occultist, the demon still demands a soul to take back to hell so if it’s not going to be Ed, it’ll have to be her instead. The Demon whips Isla off to hell and order is restored.

Though Isla’s chapter is closed, there is still plenty of scope for another movie spin-off to explore her backstory and that of the Disciples, and what led her towards this dark and brutal end. We’d watch.

Where have you seen Eugenie Bondurant before?

With her unusual and captivating looks you might recognise Bondurant from a few places. She had a successful modeling career in the U.S. and Europe, is a cabaret singer and has popped up in lots of TV shows including Star Trek: The Next Generation, Frasier and MacGuyer. Though you might not exactly recognise her as such, her breakout movie role was as Tigris in The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part II. She’s the former Hunger Games stylist who gets sacked by President Snow for looking too wacky, and later opens a store in the Capitol specialising in fur. Bondurant also pops up in PollyAnna Macintosh’s sequel to The Woman, Darlin’ and even has a small part in Fight Club.

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The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It is in cinemas now and on HBO Max in the U.S.

The post The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It – Who is the Occultist? appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2T4buI1

[rubykgrant]

Because I keep thinking about all the potential stories revolving around “the Ring” have-

OK, there are two main things that either bother me, or or I feel like are just wasted potential when it comes to the Ring, and the various sequels/spin-offs we’ve gotten (this is not getting into the original source material, whoch is a whole other conversation). First is the thing that bothers me; almost all, but not quite, versions of the Ring have the same basic set-up of characters discovering the tape, being haunted/cursed, doing research to find out about Samara, coming to the conclusion that they need to find her body and either destroy her remains/give her a proper burial, only to find out that none of that even mattered, they are still cursed, and they have to do the copy/tape/share thing if they don’t want to die. This bothers me because lots of horror movies do that... they create a fake-out where characters think they are going to free a suffering sould, and thus appease it, only to find that the sould is now free to do more harm. That always seems so out-of-the way... the spooky entity was ALREADY haunting people/killing them and what-not, they were basically unhindered. Why did they need to be set free? The answer is, they didn’t, but we all just wasted a lot of time (same problem with that Ouija movie, and all those Conjuring/Annabelle films). It also introduces a “mechanic” that is assumed to stop the evil force, but then it just doesn’t. Why have the characters gather garlic if it doesn’t work on the vampires? Granted, that CAN be a useful twist sometimes, but if it just turns out that there is nothing that can ever stop the curse/demon/ghost/whatever, why should we care? It just becomes a long trip to get to a “none of that even mattered” ending. If characters misunderstood the meaning of a clue, or did something wrong, or were legit tricked, OK. That’s fine. That also means they could FIX it and do it RIGHT. Something has to actually kill the vampires.

Now, the wasted potential; we’ve seen that the video tape that was imprinted with Samara’s curse has become something of an urban-legend within the world that the Ring stories take place. Some people figure out how to pass on the curse so they don’t die, and some even play a dangerous game where they see how long they can last within the week before showing the tape to somebody else. Here is what I find interesting... imagine somebody who, from the get-go, already knows about Samara and this tape. They’ve heard all about it, and they’ve known a few people who cut it a little too close to the time limit and didn’t make it. They didn’t want other people to die over this weird cursed-tape chain-letter game, so they started taking the tape copies from people before they handed it off to somebody who is either innocent and ignorant or in on the game (meaning they’ll just keep the chain going). This person watches the tapes themself, so the previous person doesn’t die, but nobody else has to deal with the responsibility of “make a copy or die”. They accidentally discover something interesting; for one thing, each tape copy is somehow different. It changes for each person who records it. For another, watching a new tape re-sets the week. They could watch one tape copy, wait 6 days, then watch a different one, and the 7 days start over. By doing this, this person is basically out-running the curse and keeping other people safe. However, they are also tormented constantly, and much like Samara herself... they almost never sleep 

The newest Ring movie ALMOST hit on what could p[otentiall end the curse, it NEARLY solved the problem, but then it missed. For one thing, Samara, as in the actual little girl, is not evil. She even mentioned “I’m sorry... but it won’t stop”. She had little to no control over her powers, and after she died, it all became an evil curse. She is just as held captive by it as the people who watch the tapes. So yes, Samara needs to be saved or freed somehow. Then there is the issue of the tapes. Even if the person manages to gather every single on together and destroy most of them, the original won’t let itself. The curse would imprint on some random blank tape or DVD or whatever, and then it starts all over again. So how do we fix this? First, the person goes back to the well. Samara’s body isn’t there anymore, but her soul is still trapped. Imagine them going into the well, but also into the ever repeating nightmare Samara is trapped in (similar to the Ring 2, but y’know... not). They find the frightening version of Samara there, drowned and decayed, but this is only the “face” the curse wears when it hurts people. This person pushes back the wet hair, and the deathly image also falls away. Underneath is a little girl, just Samara. So they embrace, and the person carries Samara out of the well. The curse can’t feed on her anymore. Previously, each time the cursed tape was copied and shared, the curse grew. Now that the original source of it is gone, there is a new option. If one single version of the tape was shared with multiple people all at once, it would be spread too thin. It wouldn’t be strong enough to actually harm anybody. This person edits all the footage together, and they have to hurry because their time is almost up and there are no new tapes to watch. They put the footage online, and boom; it goes viral. It gest spread EVERYWHERE. Basically anybody who could potentially ever see it does (maybe people who will never watch TV or videos online won’t but hey, they’re fine either way). The news does reports on it. It is used as stock footage in horror films. People use clips of it for Halloween videos. Then everybody gets over it, old news. Maybe it gave a few people nightmares... but it isn’t strong enough to kill anybody. The curse is over

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

M-O-M-O-T-A-I-S-A-L-I-V-E

What the hell were you thinking!? How could you undergo such a dangerous mission without permission from your superiors!?

...

...

And Makoto! How could you agree to go along with this!?

B-Byakuya...I won’t make excuses, but at least listen to what...

No. Don’t blame Makoto.

Shuichi?

As soon as I realized that the rest of my old classmates could still be out there, imprisoned in those pods, I jumped for a chance to save them. And I roped Maki, Himiko and even Miu in on it.

Makoto and Mukuro found out what I was planning, and tried to stop me...But I convinced them to come too...

Ultimately...This was my idea. None of them are to blame.

...Is that the truth?

The complete truth...

...

I’m sorry Ms Kirigiri...If you want to expel me from the foundation, go ahead...I just don’t want my friends to go down with me...

I’m not going to do that Shuichi. What you did was dangerous and reckless, and you do need to face the responsibility...

But I’m not going to let you go. You’re too important to me...

K-Kyoko!

Fine...In that case, as of this evening, I’m placing you under House Arrest for three days...!

I’ll leave your accomplices out of it though...

Yes sir...!

So...would someone care to explain to me what the hell all of this is about? I wasn’t expecting to find Saihara and his bunch when we invaded that base...

Why were you at that base Officer Kinjo?

I’d had my eye on it for some time. I’d gathered evidence to know something was going down there, something shifty that is, so I scheduled a search of the place...

I had no idea that human experimentation would be what I found though...

And on that note, who even are you? You seem to know the person behind all of this, so what’s this about?

Well...that’s...a long story...

So wait, you’re trying to tell me that you’re from another universe where there were 53 killing games and all of them were part of a live TV show that used real people in them?

Basically...

You really expect me to believe that?

No, but our story won’t change. We have researchers who’ve confirmed the facts.

Fine, let’s say I buy this for now...Onto the more important question...

This “Tsumugi Shirogane” person. Who exactly is she?

I believe you’ve mentioned that name before...

Yes...Tsumugi Shirogane was the secret mastermind behind the killing game Maki, Himiko, Miu, Tenko, Kirumi and myself were roped into. As for how much I can tell you about her...

There isn’t a lot, right?

Harukawa?

Sorry for interrupting, but I had something I needed to say.

Right...well, it’s like she said...

The Tsumugi we knew and who Tsumugi actually was are very different people...However, if what I’ve heard is true...

Then...she’s not too different from Junko Enoshima. Maybe not as ridiculously evil, but still.

She can also somehow disguise herself as any character from a killing game, so long as they’re a fictional person in our world...

That seems deadly if used right. Best we be on our guard...

Anyway...What did you need Maki?

*As if to answer, Maki puts something down on the table.

What is this?

I found it just before everyone cleared out the base. It’s a map of some sort, but it’s encrypted. There are numbers on the back.

Read them out.

You don’t give me orders...

The hell I don’t...!

Just...please, Maki.

Alright...

1(6) 1(9) 5(13) 9(7) 9(11) 12(10) 13(1) 13(3) 15(2) 15(4) 19(8) 20(5) 22(12)...

What does that mean? Is it some sort of code...?

...

How about it Kyoko?

This could be that Shirogane person trying to mess with us...?

No...There’s some sort of hidden message here...I think I can figure it out...

How?

See the numbers in brackets next to the numbers not in brackets? Start by changing their order...

Changing their order?

Yes...Instead of the numbers outside the brackets being on order, put the numbers in brackets in order, and then get rid of the one’s in brackets. What do you get?

...13, 15, 13, 15, 20, 1, 9, 19, 1, 12, 9, 22, 13...Right?

Exactly...

But that doesn’t make any more sense than before...!

...

Convert the letters into numbers...

Huh?

It’s weird to spell out a hidden message in just numbers. Maybe there’s a hidden word in there, we just need to spell it out...

Good eye Shuichi...

M...O...M...O...T...

A...I...S...A...L...

I...V...E

Momotaisalive? That doesn’t make any sense!

No, it doesn’t...but it isn’t one whole word...

Look closely...the last 5 letters are A, L, I, V and E...

Alive...? I see...if we go backwards and look at the letters until we spell words...I and S...Is...

Is Alive...But then the rest of the letters don’t spell anything...

!!!??

Sh-Shuichi? What’s wrong?

The last letters are M, O, M, O, T and A...

That spells...Momota...

!!!??

Momota? Is that even a word?

No...it’s a name. The name of someone who was in the killing game with Maki and I...

KAITO Momota!

Kaito...Momota...?

I remember now...you mentioned Momota Kaito before, right? The one who cooperated with your rival to end the killing game and failed?

Yes...him...I was close to him in particular, more than I was anyone else...

...

There’s some sort of location on this map too...Maybe...it’s where Tsumugi is hiding in wait...And maybe where your friends are...

Do you really think she would let us know where she is?

I think she wants Shuichi to come alone...To face her by himself...and she’s using his friend as a hostage...

Son of a...

I...I have to go save him!

Hold on a minute! Don’t forget you’re officially under house arrest now, right?!

B-But sir!

No! Buts! You’ve already caused enough trouble...

Argh!

I’m going instead then...

...?

Kaito...I can’t let him stay in captive if he’s alive. I won’t allow it!

But it’s likely to be a trap...

I don’t care. I’ll go alone if I need to...!

Put me under house arrest too if you must. It won’t change my mind!

...You really are stubborn...

In the very least...I can give you aid...

Huh?

It wouldn’t do me much good if you went and got yourself killed...So I’ll put together a team for you...

Th-Thank you...

I think it’s best that Himiko and I stay out of this one if that’s the case...Just...promise me you’ll both come back safely...?

We don’t even know if Kaito’s there or not...But we need to check, that’s for sure...

So...That’s the plan is it? In that case, I’ll take my troops and leave...

Please, don’t ever get in our way again...

Mr Kinjo, stop!

What?

...This may be a little out of the norm for me but...

Please...I ask the Kisaragi Foundations assistance on this mission.

Assistance? You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?

Why the opposition?

Well, this is your business, not mine...And like you said, you’re going there to save someone, right?

Don’t the police usually handle hostage missions?

Yes, but my priority right now is to bring Shirogane to justice. This isn’t worth my time.

What are your terms?

Hm?

I’ll bargain with you if that’s what it’ll take. You help us out with this mission, and I’ll be in your debt. You can request whatever is within my power...

...

Truly?

I promise...

...

You have machines, right? One’s that can bring back the dead? I want to use them...

What!?

N-No! That’s not possible! We can’t just GIVE you the machine!

I don’t WANT the machine! I want to use it, but not keep it!

Those are my terms. Resurrect some people, and I’ll agree to help.

...

Byakuya...I know how you feel about this, but I specifically stated I would do what he requested...

However, I’m going to limit your choices to only 2 people.

Two? Make it three and we’ve got a deal...

...Fine...Who do you want back? You’ll need to provide us with an item they used in order to do that though, right?

...Very well...

The first person I want revived is Teruya Otori. The Ultimate Merchant.

I see...Otori, who was forced to participate in two killing games, and ended up being killed in the Utsuroshima killing game by Mikado Sannoji, the mastermind...

That...can be arranged...Who else?

Setsuka Chiebukuro.

Who’s that?

Another person in the Utsuroshima killing game, who was killed. If I recall, she was once known as the Ultimate Billiards Player, before she was expelled when it was revealed she had a cheating mechanism in her right eye...

Yes, but when that happened, Setsuka began to work as a detective, and she was practically a partner for me.

The Kisaragi Foundation needs someone like her...

And the third...

The third person I want back...

is Mikako Kurokawa.

What would she have to offer you?

I’m doing this for a friend...not myself...

...Fine, we’ll see too it.

I’ll contact you tomorrow night. Sound good?

Yes, I can prepare by then. I’ll get a bunch of soldiers ready. You’d better uphold your end of this...

*Tsurugi leaves

I’m not sure that was the wisest decision but...

No...we don’t have a lot of options.

Harukawa. If you die or fail, then it’ll be the end of us.

Don’t disappoint me.

Yes sir.

Come on Shuichi. Let’s go...

Right...

[xthefandomequestrianx]

Psycho - Chapter 1

I have no idea where to post this but I want to get it out of my folder!

A/N: Yes, I am aware that this is not quite how things happened chronologically. For the sake of the fic, we’re going to pretend that Elle went to Allie and begged to be arrested pretty soon after Dewey’s execution. Kay? Kay. Also I’m not a huge Will fan so he’ll be meh in this. Sorry.

Trigger warnings: injuries, torture, abuse, Campbell is a jerk, swearing because they swear like every line, slight mention of rape

Ship(s): Allie and pretty much everyone (platonically), Allie x Harry, Allie & Grizz (as a brotp)

Chapter 1

Allie winced as she felt a large chunk of her thumb nail rip off, before the stinging sensation of air hitting an open wound filled her senses. She’d been trying to wear through the rope tightly binding her wrists behind her back, but obviously had no such luck.

The day had started out normal, as any other day. She skipped breakfast in favor of a quick check up on Harry, whom anyone had yet to manage to drag out of his depressive state. After her doling out her tough love, he did start working again, though very reluctantly and lacking any effort. Then she’d gone back home and talked extensively with Will and Gordy about the issues of water and electricity - namely, how they would check if they were in danger of running out. Then lunch, where she had a nice conversation with Helena that for once did not revolve around politics. She’d only slipped away for a second to use the bathroom when suddenly he was there, knocking her out with a crowbar and stuffing her in his car.

And that was the quickly-escalating, climactic story of how she’d wound up in Campbell Eliot’s basement.

She knew why she was here, of course. He wanted to force Elle back home, where he could continue to control and abuse her. How he figured he would accomplish this by kidnapping her was uncertain, but she knew his end goal.

“Hey there, princess,” he traipsed down the steps into the basement. “Enjoying your stay?”

She glared at him. “I’m not your house guest, Campbell. You kidnapped me. Get to the point.”

“Feisty. Strong,” he smirked. “Every bit the leader. Except for this time, you get to be my captive. How does it feel?”

“What do you want?” she restated, biting out the words. Perhaps she was being dumb, speaking to him in such a tone while he clearly held the upper hand in this scenario. God, she wished for the Guard to notice her absence. But she’d only been awake for about fifteen minutes, plus about half an hour of being unconscious, she’d guess. Unfortunately, the former West Ham football team didn’t have enough experience in detective work to solve that one in forty five minutes.

“I am asking the questions, here!” He growled. “Tell me, Allie. How. Does. It. Feel?”

She caught a glint of something under his jacket sleeve. Brass knuckles. Fuck.

“Cold,” she said simply. He’d taken most of her outerwear, leaving her in leggings and a t-shirt.

“Not the answer I was hoping for, but I’ll take it. Was that so hard?” His smirk widened - the sick bastard was clearly enjoying this.

She’d been told he was a psychopath, heard the things he had done to Elle, and seen him be an asshole on more occasions than she could count. But this was an entirely new side to him that she had yet to see. It truly scared her, rattled her insides. The word psychopath gained a whole new meaning. “What do you want?” she repeated. Her voice trembled, but she pretended not to notice. The hot tears threatening to fall also went ignored.

“Fair enough - you answer one of mine, and I’ll answer one of yours.” He stepped towards where she was sitting on the ground. “I was going to tell you, anyways. I want a lot of things from you, Allie Pressman. You’re a whiny little bitch who only gets to lead us because of your dead sister. You’ve taken so much from me.”

She couldn’t believe that he actually had the nerve to play the victim card. Here, while she was tied up in his basement.

He continued. “But for now - all that I want right now - is my girlfriend back. You better return her to me.”

She glared up at him, trying to appear strong. “Never,” she spat.

The brass knuckles flew at her before she could even blink, crashing into her cheek and causing her head to snap to the side. It took her a moment to reorient herself, and she felt a trail of blood trickling down her face.

“You will do as I say,” he warned in a deadly tone.

She nodded. If she were a fighter, she would deny him, taking what she got and always standing strong. However she was a survivor, and while someone else might say that they were one in the same, that was simply untrue. A fighter fought until the end, while a survivor didn’t come to an end. Some called it intelligence and some called it cowardice, but she was a survivor. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked. She needed to keep getting information out of him - it was her best shot.

“You see, I need to send a message. Campbell Eliot is not someone to be messed with. You have taken from me the girl I love, who I swore to protect, and that’s not going to fly. I’m not going to kill you, Allie. You’ll only wish you were dead.”

She didn’t have time to respond as he kicked her hard in the side. She screamed as she felt something crack.

He tutted. “I thought you would be stronger than that. I guess you’re really just soft behind your big, bad Guard.”

“Fuck you,” she said, though her voice lacked gusto.

“Fuck you, too.” He kicked her again, this time in the back. “Sit up.”

She remained on the ground.

He stomped on her leg. “I said sit up!”

Doing her best to ignore the pain she felt, she slid herself back into a sitting position against the wall.

“You all need to know just how wrong you were.” The fist bearing the brass knuckles crashed into her jaw. “All of you.” He drove them into her stomach, so far that his fist was probably an inch from the wall she was sitting against.

She spat blood, praying for it to be due to the hit to her jaw rather than something internal.

He laughed, like he found all of this extremely funny. “You’re fucking useless, Allie. Do something! Sam’s fucking pet bird had more fight than you!”

She didn’t answer.

“Make this more fun,” he demanded.

She stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes. What in the hell did he mean by that? She had a feeling that she wasn’t going to like it.

He groaned, as if she were causing him an inconvenience. “Jesus christ.” He roughly grabbed her forearm, hauling her to her feet and causing her to scream in pain. “You’ve got five seconds to run to that door at the top of the steps. If you make it, you can go. If you don’t, then we get to keep playing. How does that sound? Fair?”

She stared at him stonily. “Fuck. You. None of this is fair and you know it, even in your sick, psychotic brain.”

“Ready, set, go.” He released her arm, causing her to stumble forwards.

Luckily, she stayed on her feet. She didn’t want to play his stupid torture games. But if she had even a small chance of getting out… She ran.

“Four.”

She quickly found that her right leg didn’t work very well. She pushed herself on and from the amount of effort it took she felt like she should be running. She knew that it probably looked more like a drunken speed walk.

“Three.”

Halfway there, but she still had to tackle the stairs. She urged herself on.

“Two.”

Her heart pumped faster every time his voice echoed. The countdown was terrifying, as she raced to the door knowing what was to come if she didn’t make it.

“One.”

She was halfway up the stairs when he charged for her, grabbing her and throwing her back down them like a ragdoll.

Through her blurry vision, she longingly stared at the door. The tears flowed freely down her face now.

His form, towering over her, filled her vision. She tried to turn away, but he leant down over her, holding her face in his hand. His thumb wiped some of the blood off of her lip. His face got close to hers, far too close, and he whispered, “My plan doesn’t need for you to die, Allie. It just doesn’t depend on you being alive, either.”

Her breath hitched as she understood his meaning. He didn’t care if she survived this. In fact, he might just kill her for the fun of it. “They’ll hunt you down,” she whispered. “If you kill me.”

“Without you, the town would descend into chaos. They might come looking for me, but I have a backup plan. I thrive in chaos. Eventually, it would be me leading. But I’m not looking for that… just yet, at least. I. Just. Want. My. Girlfriend. Back.”

It took her foggy brain a few seconds longer than it should have to realize that he was undoing her pants.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Grizz says. “Fucking hell. How did we lose her? I thought at least one of us was supposed to be with her at all times!”

“We were,” Jason defended.

“Well she didn’t just vanish into thin air!” Grizz growled back.

Gordy groaned. “And no one has seen her?”

Luke shook his head, confirming. “Helena was with Allie last. She said that she had excused herself to the restroom and then never came back. After that, no one has seen her.”

“She should know better than to slip away without one of us,” Clark sighed, though he was more frustrated with themselves for not paying closer attention than with Allie for wanting to use the freaking bathroom by herself.

Gordy groaned. “This is bad. Why would she just disappear?”

Luke shrugged. “Helena said she was fine while they were talking. Even seemed happy.”

“What do we do?” Grizz asked, arms crossed.

They quieted. As they were only in the very beginning of forming a functioning government, they had neglected to come up with any sort of protocol for missing people. It had simply not been in their minds primarily due to the fact that no one had actually gone missing yet. Even back in West Ham, the old one, due to the upper class families residing there rarely had to deal with such matters.

“What do they do, like, on tv?” Clark suggested.

“They call the cops,” Grizz said.

“Dude,” Luke groaned. “We are the cops.”

Grizz nodded, realizing. “Well, fuck.”

“Will you stop saying that?” Jason said.

“Guys!” Clark said, sharply. “They usually have posters, bring in witnesses…”

Gordy’s eyes widened, a light bulb going off in his head. “A search party.”

The others nodded in approval.

“Okay,” Gordy breathed. “So we’ll assemble a search party and meet in the church. Okay?”

“Let’s go,” Luke agreed. They got to work.

Allie laid on the cold, hard basement floor. She wanted to think about how she would escape and get away from him. She wanted to think about running up the basement steps and sneaking through the house, successfully avoiding her captor and making it through the front door and then down the street before he went to check on her and noticed she was gone.

If she were the strong, smart leader she pretended to be then that’s exactly what she would be doing. If she were her sister.

But she wasn’t her sister. She wasn’t the brave leader guiding the town through their mysterious misfortunes. She was a young girl, doing her best to help people because she was told that it had to be her. So she lay still on the floor, pain filling her senses from inside out, the only thing she could feel. This was certainly a step up from when she broke her ankle as a kid, she thought humorlessly.

It must have been another twenty, thirty minutes before he came back down into the basement. She didn’t dread his return as much as she thought she should. Anything other than sitting alone with her pain and fear.

“Get up,” he ordered.

She whimpered in response. How did he expect her to do so, exactly? She’d inventoried the damage done to her body while she was alone. The pain in her side probably meant a broken rib or three, confirmed by the snap she’d heard when he kicked her. Her right ankle was broken, or at least sprained, and further down she registered pain in her toes. Her head still hurt, probably from the initial assault with the crowbar. Her face hurt, her stomach, and she could feel the bruises littered all over the rest of her body every time she breathed too hard.

“Get up!” he screamed. She winced for the blow, but it never came. Apparently he was satisfied with the injuries he had already caused her.

Against the protest coming from her body, she held her breath as she moved to a sitting position.

“Wow, Allie.” He smirked. “You look like shit.”

“Go to hell,” she inhaled sharply as her ribs moved.

He watched her struggle, and she disturbingly remembered the bird story Sam had shared from their childhood. She was the bird, and he was watching in amusement as her stubs where there used to be wings refused to fly her away. She hated playing the role in his twisted, sick game but was fearful of what he would do if she disobeyed.

She tried to stand, but was sent crashing back to the ground. “Up,” he demanded.

She tried again, this time with more success. But with a laugh and a kick to her left shin - the one bearing her weight - she was back on the ground. A sob rose in her throat.

“Get. Up!” He looked angry now, and she hurried to get back on her feet. It wasn’t working so well.

Impatient, he grabbed her arm and hoisted her up. He dragged her as she stumbled up the steps and out of the basement. He roughly caught her every time her body gave out and she nearly fell, shoving her back upright and continuing on. To her surprise, they exited the horrid house she hoped to never see again and he pulled her over to his car. The one he’d kidnapped her in.

“In,” he said. She did as she was told, with only a little reluctant assistance from him. He got in the driver's’ seat, starting the car.

“Wh-where are we going?” she asked.

He leaned across the center console, grinning. “To deliver my message, princess. You all have twenty four hours to return Elle to me, or I will come back. And I will kill you.”

The threat should have been terrifying, sending shivers down her spine. However the only thing she felt was relief. He was bringing her back home.

The search party met in the church, Gordy briefing everyone on the little bit that they knew. He looked around the room from where he stood in the front. Obviously, the Guard - Luke, Jason, Clark, and Grizz - were there in their matching jackets. Standing next to Luke was Helena, and behind her Kelly.

“Is that everyone coming?” Gordy asked.

“Everyone joining in the search,” Luke shrugged. “Everyone else knows that she’s missing and to keep an eye out.”

Gordy rolled his eyes. He knew that his hometown was filled with unmotivated, emotionally stunted slackers raised in the lap of luxury, however it had never been more apparent to him than it did in that moment. Maybe this New Ham thing was the universe’s way of giving them some much-needed character growth. It was certainly an idea he’d toyed with in the past, and he would’ve considered it longer if he actually believed in a higher power.

Another person slipped in the back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and looking out of place.

“Come to help?” Gordy asked. All heads turned to see who he was addressing.

Harry nodded. “Kelly told me she was missing.”

Will stood up from where he was sitting. “I don’t trust him,” he glared at Harry. “How do we know that he hasn’t done something to her?”

Harry put his hands up. “I haven’t done anything. Really - I’m here to help.”

Will still looked skeptical, but Kelly ended the issue by saying, “Look, Harry’s barely been pulling himself out of bed long enough to work his shifts. I don’t think he has it in him to plan a kidnapping or whatever this is. No offense, Harry.”

Harry shrugged, “Slight offense, but not undeserved.”

Gordy snapped his fingers, directing their attention back to the issue at hand. “Okay, so here’s the plan…”

The sound of an engine revving outside drowned out the rest of that sentence, effectively drawing their attention away from the meeting. The sound was soon accompanied by a blaring horn.

“What the-” Helena stood from her seat, walking quickly to the door to see what was going on. The others followed, Luke jogging ahead to be with her at the front.

In the church parking lot was the familiar black jeep belonging to Campbell. And in the passenger seat sat the very girl they were searching for.

“Allie!” Grizz yelled.

Before they could react, the passenger door was opened and Allie was roughly shoved out onto the street, Campbell speeding away like a madman (which was actually very in character for him).

The group all sprinted over to Allie, who still hadn’t gotten up.

[mobius-prime]

65. Special - Sonic Live!

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The Last Game Cartridge Hero

Writer/Pencils: Ken Penders Colors: Karl Bollers

*deep breath* …oh boy.

So this issue is kind of infamous for being, well, terrible. At least, this first story is. Even I, usually being willing to put up with a lot of crap from Penders, think this story is just a royal mess. You'll see what I mean in a second.

Anyway, the customary intro page of this issue makes some kind of allusion to Sonic being about to enter some strange other zone that's unlike anything he's ever experienced before. Indeed, the beginning shows Sonic rushing to try to rescue Sally, who's been captured by Robotnik, only to be blasted by energy bolts from behind - which, as we all know from when this exact thing happened to Robotnik in StH#21, just means he'll be catapulted into another reality instead of killed. Which reality is that, you ask?

Ha. Haaaaaa.

Oh yeah. That's right, folks. It's one of these. Kenders actually recruited both his real life son and niece to be photographed and placed into the story of the Sonic comics as actual characters. Luckily this only lasts for this one issue, and they weren't made recurring characters or something, but like, damn. These children are grown-ass adults right now. I wonder what they think of this? What they think of their father/uncle respectively? If they cringe looking back at this, or look back on fondly as a cool thing they got to experience as kids? Side note as well, as I've mentioned before Ken had never played a Sonic game while he worked on the comics, nor did he own a Sega console. That's why, when Steve "dies" in the game the screen simply appears to turn off, and, if you look closely, he's not holding a game controller, but rather holding a regular TV remote sideways. Oh, Ken. Why this? Why?

Well, anyway, Sonic finds himself floating in a strange void seemingly unable to move or see anything, until the faces of these kids start looming in his face and talk about seeing him in the TV as they try to turn on their game. Sonic, worried they're going to try to turn off the TV and I guess strand him in there for longer, somehow reaches out and pulls them in instead.

Great going, Sonic! Now these two kids who have no superpowers of their own are stuck in a dangerous war zone with you. Indeed, this goes as well as you might expect. He and the two kids are able to breach back into Sonic's home zone, where Robotnik has captured the rest of the Freedom Fighters and is planning to launch missiles into space to create… some kind of doomsday device? It's not really explained well beyond "killer satellites," but either way, Sonic doesn't like the idea of this, and so he starts beating up the swatbots in his way. This stops briefly when Robotnik decides to take his villainy to the next level and threaten to shoot the two random innocent kids just because they happen to be with Sonic.

Of course, the swatbots aren't as fast as Sonic, which begs the question of how they even managed to blast him at the beginning of this story in the first place, and he beats the rest of them up and escapes with the kids. He takes them to the control center to shut down the missile launch, which has begun its countdown due to Sonic accidentally knocking Robotnik down onto his launch remote. Great job, buddy!

They manage to shut down the missiles, but just as they do, Robotnik, Snively, Sonic, and the two kids are all pulled into a strange beam of light. Once Sonic and the kids get their bearings, Robotnik begins gloating, since apparently, during the split second between when he entered and when Sonic entered, he contacted a bunch of alternate universe copies of himself and got them to build him a big mech suit shaped like himself. Apparently, they're in yet another strange zone, and Robotnik realizes he can conquer the whole multiverse from here, not just his own version of Mobius. At least… I think that's what he's implying. Honestly, it's so unclear and all the dialogue so scattered, it's hard to even properly tell. Anyway, Robotnik throws Sonic and the kids in a prison cell with several other… humans?

While Robotnik suddenly finds himself threatened by the other versions of himself, not content to be used for slave labor, Sonic has a chat with these people. Apparently, this isn't just any old zone - it's the kids' home zone, AKA, Earth! Now, this definitely isn't our Earth. These guys claim to be the designers of the Sonic games, but for one, they're decidedly not Japanese, and two, there's no mention of Sega at all. Apparently, the concept art for Sonic the Hedgehog in this world was created when they received strange interdimensional transmissions showing images of him, and they decided to make a game out of it. Not only that, but now these video game designers slash scientists have apparently created a weird prototype device that was responsible for sucking Sonic and co. into this world through a strange dimensional link. Yyyyyeah. Go ahead and try to make any sense out of this crap.

Well, anyway, Sonic and the kids notice Robotnik and Snively about to be vaporized by the angry other-Robotniks, and decide to step in and save them from certain death, or maybe just another instance of zone-hopping. Come on Sonic, this is what, the third or fourth time you had an opportunity to let this guy die and have all your problems be solved? How many other people have died in this war because you refuse to let Robotnik be killed by his own hubris? Of course, the swatbots and other Robotniks don’t like this, and so to save themselves, Sonic and the kids need to shut down the prototype linking them to this world. Turns out the way they do this… is through Sonic game cheat codes!

The code recited by little Steve here is actually a real code, something I'm mildly surprised about given Ken's weird disdain for the Sonic video games. It's the level select code for the original Sonic the Hedgehog game on Genesis (non-Japanese version). If you've got a Genesis and a copy of the first game, try it yourself and see. In this world, however, it's apparently the shutdown code for the swatbots, and thus everyone is saved. The game designer scientist guys use the prototype's dimensional link to send Sonic, Robotnik and Snively back to their own zone, and Sonic has a happy reunion with his friends, who have been mysteriously freed from captivity in the meantime.

Oh, boy. Someone needs to tell Kenders that the Sonic games don't actually depict Sonic from the comics. These kids aren't gonna have any idea what the Sonic they were traveling with is up to, because all they'll be doing is playing as a different, more turquoise-colored Sonic, battling some weird dude called "Eggman" and collecting seven multicolored Chaos Emeralds to save a planet that definitely isn't called Mobius. Shame.

The Substitute Freedom Fighters

Writer: Rich Koslowski Pencils: Art Mawhinney Colors: Karl Bollers

So you may be wondering. How exactly did the Freedom Fighters even get captured in the first place, and how did they escape while Sonic and the others were stuck in the "real world"? This story is here to answer our questions! Apparently, while Sonic is just off derping around somewhere else, the others are watching Rotor create a new micro-cam that he can attach to his bandolier, working kind of like a body cam so they can review footage of battles after the fact and learn from them. Fortunately for them, some swatbots immediately show up to let them test out their new invention. Unfortunately for them, they get overwhelmed and dragged back to Robotnik.

Hey, look who it is! Larry Lynx has made his comeback, and he's noticed everyone's disappearance… as well as the ongoing live feed from Rotor's micro-cam. Realizing everyone is in danger, he rallies the first people he sees training - Cyril Eagle, and Sally's old recruits. They team up and fight their way into Robotropolis, Larry using his famous bad luck to make sure the swatbots lose every time, and they're able to eventually find the captured Freedom Fighters and liberate them. After finding Sonic as well, they head back to Knothole, where Sally forms the six of them into a new team, the Substitute Legion of Freedom Fighters, as a backup squad that can continue the fight against Robotnik if the Freedom Fighters are unable to.

This is cute, but it does bring up an interesting point. Clearly, the Freedom Fighters are not always able to win their battles, and it's dire enough that Sally's started forming backup teams. It's not said directly that it's in case the main team dies or is roboticized or something, but we know that's a very real possibility in this war. Makes you wonder how this war was even fought when they were all tiny kids, and if something like this has ever happened before…

Knuckles Quest 2

Writer: Kent Taylor Pencils/Colors: Pat Spaziante

Well, no need to worry about that. Knuckles is at it again! This time, he's found his way to a strange cottage in the forest, and is set upon by a bunch of vicious mythical creatures, most of which he names off and mentions hearing in fairy tales. It's interesting, because as far as I'm aware, none of these are real-life mythical creatures, which means we're getting a tiny bit of lore and worldbuilding regarding the kinds of mythical creatures Mobian children are told about in this world.

Anyway, Knuckles is totally confused about why he's fighting all these creatures that are supposed to not even exist, but eventually reasons that they indeed can't be real, and are magical projections. Once he announces this, they dissipate and he finds himself talking to an old fox wizard, who directs him to continue his search elsewhere. He then reveals that he used to serve the king in his youth, and that his name is…

…Merlin Prower? Any Sonic fan worth their salt knows that Tails' real name is Miles Prower and that "Tails" is just a nickname, indicating that this strange wizard may be somehow related to Tails. Hmm, wonder if we'll ever hear any more of him…?

[imagine-buckycap]

Babysitting- Bucky Barnes X Reader

Prompt: You and Bucky are tasked with babysitting Morgan and things go a bit awry.

Word Count: 1,593

Warnings: none (:

CAUTION: CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Hello everyone!! I know I have been gone a long time, but I am back and ready for action! And now especially since the spoiler ban for Endgame has been lifted, I have more prompts that I’m itching to write than ever. So of you guys have requests the box is always open, so go ahead and send those in, and I hope you guys are having a good week so far. XX

In the wake of Tony’s death Morgan was a constant. Someone who would always be around at meetings and other important events because her Mom refused to leave her with a sitter.she was always under the table or nicking pastries and sandwiches from the catering counter in the meeting room. But none of us minded, her mom wouldn’t leave her with a sitter. And this was for good reason, every time Pepper left Morgan for longer than 30 minutes she would inevitably scare the sitter off one way or another. Her most recent scheme; she stole some tech from Tony’s garage and ran around the forest with a repulsor on each hand, using old logs and the occasional boulder for target practice. She has also been known to employ Friday and use her to chase the sitter away….Ever since she had been regularly attending meetings, typically tasked with taking ‘diligent’ notes and making sure none of the breakfast pastries went to waste.

You had become accustomed to seeing her around, and she had become accustomed to using her plump cheeks and deep brown puppy dog eyes to win a spot on your lap at each meeting so she would be able to “listen better”, and the pastries her mom said she couldn’t have but you gave her anyway. It wasn’t long before Pepper picked up on this relationship and approached you one day after a particularly long meeting.

“Hey I know this is a lot to ask, and you can totally say no, there’s no pressure. But would you maybe watch Morgan tonight? I have a Gala to go to and they have a strict no kids policy, it’s a black tie event and I don’t have-

“Of course I will Pepper, it really wouldn’t be a problem,” you assured, looking down at Morgan who was busy reading a book about computer microchips, a stolen book from her Dad’s personal collection no doubt.

“That’s so great to hear, I will go down to the parking garage and grab her booster seat from the car, give me one sec and I’ll meet you on the street. Where did yo park?” Pepper asked.

“Oh you mean right now, yeah I- uh, I’m parked on the corner of Graham and Bellflower, by the coffee bistro,” you informed. Pepper nodded and let go of Morgan’s hand, causing the small child to look up from her book.

“You two are gonna hang out tonight together while Mommy attends a very important Gala, Ok?” Pepper cooed to Morgan. She nodded in agreement and smiled up at you, you smiled back.

Pepper handed you the booster seat and before you could even ask which way it was supposed to face, she was gone. You struggled with the seat for a solid 45 minutes, the small snide comments from Morgan were no help either. She finally caved and helped you install the damn thing, and you could tell your struggle slightly amused her. On the ride home she asked you about where you lived, you explained that you lived in a small apartment on the other side of town, and that you had a small chubby cat you affectionately named Gravy. She was very excited to meet Gravy.

Once you arrived home and unlocked the door Morgan made herself at home on the couch, right next to Gravy. She cooed at him and pulled his ears a little too hard, but he didn’t mind. As you were looking through the fridge for a suitable snack for Morgan, Bucky waltzed into the kitchen, clad in sweatpants and a tight t-shirt.

“You could at least look decent, Bucky, Tony Stark’s progeny is in our living room, and not gonna lie, she scares me,” you confessed. He looked at you from the counter, his face unamused.

“So that’s what all that squealing was,” he mused, crossing his arms over his chest, thinking.

“What?” you asked. He shrugged. “I’m gonna get that kid to like me if it’s the last thing I do. I mean we all know her Dad never did, so I’m gonna make her like me dammit,” he proclaimed. You found a string cheese and various fruit in the fridge, and some crackers in the pantry, while Bucky lamented his plan to you.

“Uh-huh, you go ahead and do that, babe,” you mused while you assembled the cheese and crackers onto a plate, hoping furiously that this child didn’t have any allergies.

“Do we have any juice?” you asked Bucky, who was busy looking around the corner and into the living room at the small child.

“I dunno,” he answered. He was obviously not paying any attention to you. Due to his lack of attention, you thought you’d mess with him a little bit.  “Oh and also, I’m cheating on you with Sam and I’m also pregnant with this unborn child,’ you mused.

“Holy shit, what?” he asked, whipping around from his post at the corner to look at you. You laughed and smacked his butt lightly on the way out of the kitchen.

You emerged into the living room to find Morgan and Gravy essentially having a staring contest.

“Morgan, are you hungry? I made you a snack,” you offered. She continued to stare at the cat. Bucky tried next. “Morgan, do you want something to eat? After all, you’ve had such a long day attending all those important meetings with your Mom.” At the sound of a new, male voice, she broke her gaze to look over at Bucky. Her eyes doubled in size as she took in the man standing by the TV. Silently, she got up off the couch and crept over to Bucky. Her face was determined and her eyebrows were furrowed deeply on her forehead, she was thinking. He stood motionless, looking down at the small girl approaching him. Neither of them spoke nor broke eye contact. Finally, when Morgan was no more than three steps away from Bucky, she spoke. “I know who you are,” she accused. Bucky sighed and tried to put his best foot forward.

“Do ya now?” he asked. She nodded and closed the gap between them, reaching out to stroke the back of his gleaming hand lightly, she couldn’t reach much higher up. She ran her hand up and down the ridges on his hand, still looking up at him.

“Yeah. You’re the guy who killed my Grandma and Grandpa.” Bucky Winced. “Daddy tells me that story every once in a while, but he says you’re not a bad guy, you were just made to do bad things. He told me it’s not your fault and you can’t help it. He also told me you’re better now. Is that true?” she asked, stepping back to look at him. He was quiet for a bit; probably trying to think of his response. I stepped in.

“Bucky is mostly better, he still sometimes feels bad, but he would never hurt you, or anyone else for that matter. He is working on it,” you explained. Morgan nodded and pulled lightly on Bucky’s hand.

“Can I touch the gold?” she asked. Bucky nodded and crouched down, bringing his bicep to her level. She stroked the smooth metal, completely captivated by the technology whirring quietly inside. Bucky was still silent, but his eyes were glossy. You could tell he was elated for two reasons. One, the girl liked, practically loved, him, and two, Tony had forgiven him, somewhat, for what he did all those years ago.

“Hey Morgan, do you wanna play a board game?” you asked after she was done grilling Bucky about his arm and everything about it.

“Yeah, sure” she agreed. You marched down the hall to the closet where you kept the games. After about five minutes of trying to decide which game Morgan would like best, you finally slid CandyLand and Monopoly out from the piles. You figured you would let her choose. You rounded the corner to the living room and the sight before your eyes nearly sent you into cardiac arrest.

“James Buchanan Barnes, why does Morgan have a knife?” you asked, not wanting to come any further into the living room.

“She felt unsafe,” was his simple answer. You were about to ask why a 6 year old would feel unsafe when Morgan turned to you, brandishing the knife with a perfect stance and forward thrust. So she wanted to learn how to knife fight from the most revered assassin in the entire world. This child was a handful, but you had to say she was resourceful

“Well now I feel unsafe,” you mumbled, taking a step back.

“Do you want a knife?” Bucky asked. You shook your head, stepping forward and grabbing the knife from Morgan.

“Since when is it a good idea to give a 6 year old a knife?” you asked.

“Nat held one for the first time when she was 4. I want the youth of today to have choices. If she wants to be a knife-wielding 8 year old, then so be it. Kids do weirder things,” he defended. You shook your head in defeat. So Bucky was not to be left alone on babysitting duty, noted.

MASTERLIST

[gyuten]

heavens will burn

— Genre: angst, fluff ; bodyguard!au

— Pairing: bodyguard!jungkook/celebrity!reader

— Words: 11.3 k

— Synopsis: The truth is that love is only easy for the very lucky few. Jeon Jungkook is in love with someone, and she him. Their love should have come easy, if only life hadn’t given him the biggest misfortune of all: a curse to never be able to touch others without harming them. To Jungkook, his love becomes nothing but sweet pain.

— A/N: if any of you recognize the plot of this fic, then congrats, you’ve figured out who I am :)

“I thought I told you to stay in the car.”

Her black cap does little to shadow her features, a refined glamour too familiar to the eyes of the public—be it from pages strewn on magazine stands, the statics of TV or gigantic billboards scattered across glinting skyscrapers. Her latest designer sunglasses isn’t subtle, neither are the diamonds circling her wrist, it glitters in the light of the coffee shop brighter than the cheap christmas ornaments strung on the corner. Jungkook sometimes wonders if he has the patience to continue this job—a job that entails protection, not babysitting. These stubborn moments of hers often makes him wonder why he agreed to be her bodyguard in the first place. Oh yes, it is purely due to the fact that he is in love with her that he is willing to withstand her every action—not that he’ll ever admit it, gosh no.

“But you’re warm.” She draws out her words in a whine.

Her fingers are drawing circles on his back, a motion that should make him shrink away, for its gentle and nonchalance is not something he is entitled to receive. He does not draw away, selfishly, he doesn’t want to. Over a year it has been since he attempted to draw boundaries between them: his defenses laid set, the perimeters to his shriveled heart strong as it always was, and the layers encasing him towed securely wherever he goes. She is either blind to all the warning signs he’s set up, or is the very naive feline in the phrase: curiosity killed the cat. Somehow, she wedges past the barbed wires surrounding him to settle in the most desolate part of him: his heart. Calling her stubborn would be an understatement. Nevertheless, she succeeded, her presence now a permanent figure that if taken away will undoubtedly leave an ugly tear of her shape. He hopes she doesn’t, for it’s too late for him to stop from falling for her.

“The car has a heater for a reason.” He quips, folding his arms over his chest in a useless act of defense.

Her lips form into an annoyed pout at the indifference he wears. Though she knows it will crumble down in no time, she doesn’t quite understand why Jungkook is always adamant on playing this game of cat and mouse with her. Why resist the inevitable? The answer, mostly, is because [Name] is still clueless to his special circumstance. Special being a too nice way to describe the curse he bears. The painful reality is that Jeon Jungkook is cursed with never being able to touch another person without decreasing their life span. The handmade rock tombstone of the deceased pets lining his home’s garden is proof of it. It’s not a surprise that the once soft spoken and warm hearted boy winds up as a stranger to his former self, lifeless and close to undead if anything else.

“You’re so mean...and I’m okay with that.” She giggles like there’s a joke he’s missing.

Jungkook feels his right eye twitch at how soft and accepting she is of him, another reason as to why he has grown fond of her—with fond being an understatement. No matter what he does to push her away, how cold or sharp his words struck her, she always comes back, too eagerly, too enthusiastic, too unguarded and trusting of him. He hoped her feelings for him will be nothing more than just a phase, for both their sake. But deep down he doesn’t want her to stop, doesn’t want the shower of affection he’s been deprived of to be taken away just like that. There’s a sense of confusion weighing him ever since he met her, he drifts in a limbo of uncertainty, between the lines of falling in love and refusing to.

“Hey, you’re not getting mad at me for invading your personal space anymore. I’d say, there seems to be progress in my attempts to woo you, am I right?” Her face pops into his peripheral vision from over his shoulder, treading on being too confident.

But she is right. Though he’ll never admit it. Jungkook shrugs her off when she digs her chin on his shoulder blades. There is an indentation she leaves whenever he lets her touch him, going deeper than breaking the surface of his skin it makes him crave for more, but he cannot allow himself to. It’s why he does his best to distance himself. A touch from him can be lethal. Nevermind a graze, a stroke, an embrace. That is the thought that keeps him awake at night, at least once, before he met her. But now, his sleepless nights are spent wondering if he will ever feel her touch, no one else’s, and if he will be forever content with being able to feel just her skin. Whenever his mind drifts to that particular direction, Jungkook’s rational side slaps a painful reminder. No, he cannot allow himself to crave the touch of others, or her, especially not her, especially now, now that he finds himself inevitably drawn to the overly affectionate woman whose laughter can warm his freezing nights.

“Hey, Jungkook. You’re spacing out again—”

The hand waving over his face comes too close and too suddenly, Jungkook instinctively jerks away to escape it from touching the tip of his red nose. His foot crunch on her leather boots by mistake, but she doesn’t whine or speak about it. Instead, she looks at her hand, perplexed that then turns to guilt.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She apologizes, averting her eyes to her shoes.

He hates that she can sound so beaten up and rejected over him. If only she can understand why he does things like this.

“No, no, you just startled me.” He tries to sound nonchalant, not at all freaked out like the way he reacted.

But the way she keeps pouting and now move away from him tells him he isn’t convincing. Jungkook sighs.

“[Name], come on, you know it’s not you. I just have issues with personal space.”

Jungkook hates pleading, but he finds himself doing it without being asked to if it concerns her. The corner of her lips lifts into a smile, a complete 360 from how sad she was just seconds ago—she was just acting, of course, that’s what she does for a living.

“Why though?” She asks, head tilting to let her hair fall over her shoulder like a soft curtain.

Jungkook turns back to the person in front of him in the queue and pretends as if he doesn’t hear her question. He turns a blind eye to her even as she bumps him from behind and whines his name exaggeratedly to get his attention. All that he cares for is that she’s not really mad at him, it’s just another round of trying to find the reason why he’s the way he is. One would think she’d have given up asking after so long. Well, that one would’ve been wrong. [Name] is nothing but persistent.

“It’s none of your business, [Name]. Now please stop, you’re going to cause a scene. And that would be a hassle for both of us.” Jungkook’s curt words cease her action, which honestly surprises him, though he doesn’t complain at her rare compliance.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.”

The shamelessness in the way she says it makes him turn back around to face her, wide eyed and pink cheeked. She raises her eyebrows when their eyes meet, the smug expression she wears challenging him to respond. Jungkook has no time for her silly games, however. They’ve already spent too much time in this coffee shop, and certainly they’re going to be late to their destination. Jungkook flicks her off with a gloved hand over her mouth and shoves her head back—gently, of course. He returns to face the front of the queue with a roll of his eyes, hearing her complain at him for the awful taste of his glove that she had accidentally tasted.

“Oi, that is no way to treat A-list celebrity [Name]!” She rebukes, brows furrowing into a threatening expression Jungkook isn’t impressed by.

“What? [Name]?”

“She’s here?”

“Oh my gosh there she is!”

“[Name]! I’m such a huge fan, please take a picture with me!”

Jungkook releases a long, long sigh and slams his head on his palms.

“Oops?”

“You have really big eyes and it freaks me out sometimes.”

“You have a really big mouth and it makes me want to shove my shoe in it, sometimes.” Jungkook throws out without as much as a blink.

She giggles, always entertained and amused at his hostility, knowing it’s nothing more than a ruse he has to keep up around her. Currently, his eyes are not on her, but on the magazine pages with her picture stamped on the cover. She smiles softly at how immersed on her spread he seems. No matter how much he denies it—how he’s just there to protect her, not watch her movies, buy magazines featuring her, or stalk her on social media—she knows that he does what he can to support her.

“If you do that, I might fire you.” She threatens, though it lacks any real meaning.

“You like me too much to fire me.” Jungkook confidently replies, a smug smirk tilting his lips.

She bites back her tongue, unable to deny it. They both know it's true, though neither has said it out loud before. Jungkook has a way of making her think often of their relationship despite acting like he could care less about it. To her, what they have could be considered more than just a normal bodyguard-celebrity relationship. To him, she isn’t sure.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

As he raises an eyebrow in response, [Name] finds herself enthralled in the effortless way that his features move, like a moth drawn to a flame, the words at the tip of her tongue dies as her mind starts to wander. He is comparable to the many actors she’s had the pleasure of working with: a set of stone cold gaze under undeniably gorgeous eyes, a smile that—while rare—is captivating in a soft and shy kind of brilliance, features sculpted into a vision of art, and a voice that entails all the good dreams she’s ever had. She’s being dramatic, yes, but it’s not as if none of it are true.

“You’re staring.” He points out.

Though so, his eyes have not left his magazine. But the way his adam’s apple bob and his fingers fidget as he pinches the corner of the page makes her wonder if he’s really been reading or just looking for a reason not to look at her.

“So? I’m not invading your space, though.” She reasons with a smile that’s so amused at how suddenly awkward he seems, reading in the corner of the room, pinned by her stare.

Jungkook’s shoulders are drawn back and stiff, his fingers crumple the pages before finally he lands his half-hearted glare on her.

“It’s still rude to stare.”

She edges herself closer to the end of the couch and twists her body to him. There’s a sudden low rumbling that cuts their gazes. Jungkook’s face immediately morphs to that of a disappointed frown, and [Name] replies to it with a half-hearted fake confusion.

“Did you skip out on breakfast again?” He raises a scrutinizing eyebrow.

[Name] thins her lips to stop herself from answering. Her next movements are swift, and Jungkook cannot avoid it as a rolled ball of her used sock comes hurtling at his chest. He only has time to react by pulling out his arms in front of him by the time the sock ball has landed on his lap. The expression he pulls out afterwards is one of disbelief as he glares at her.

“Did you just throw a sock ball at me?!” How juvenile, he thinks, and yet, it’s so her.

Before Jungkook can drag her to the nearest buffet table and chew her out for avoiding his question, [Name] has got running head start away from him with a giggle hanging by her lips.

“Hey!”

Jungkook clambers off the couch and chases her out of her dressing room, an expression of furrowed eyebrows and jutted bottom lip as he runs.  

“Come back here so I can feed you!” He yells, not minding the stares he receives as he whizz by.

The laughter she carries as she runs past him is what slows Jungkook’s pace down in the chase after her. Despite how often frustrated he feels due to her lack of concern for her well being, Jungkook can’t recall the last time he hears her laugh with such unguarded carefreeness. The very fact burdens his mind with melancholy. He understands that the life of a celebrity isn’t as glamorous as the media and television makes it seem, but before this job, he could never guess that the celebrity life is also this emotionally draining on someone. Perhaps that’s why she acts so childishly towards him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s the only thing keeping her together the way she is keeping him sane.

“Hey, Jungkook, you’re spacing out again,” She has stopped running and now stands before him on the other side of the room, hand on her hips and a pout on her lips, “You’re so not fun.” She playfully taunts, disappointed at the sudden halt in their chase.

Jungkook composes himself from his wandering thoughts, and with a clear of his throat beckons her closer. Recognizing the silent reprimanding in his eyes, [Name] trudges over in defeat, rebuking with a sulk she hopes is enough to force Jungkook into guilt. It isn’t. She stops when the tips of their shoes meet, their distance close enough for her to feel the tickle of his breath against her skin—the only touch he allows her to feel—this a deliberate action done to taut his nerves. For a reason unknown, Jungkook doesn’t push her away like he always does when she stands too close, this time he lets her.

His stone cold guise bares itself into the truth of his flawed and worn down complexion: the blotch of redness scattered across his cheek, the bruise like ringlets surrounding his eyes, the spider web like crack across his lips. There is a vulnerability in him she’s never been aware of at this close of a distance, bathing him in a light more humane than he ever was. Unlike the immaculate Jungkook who strives for perfection, the one before her is just a man struggling under the weight of life. Perfection is not the reason Jungkook appeals to her, it is the cracks and dents he harbors that draws her curious and thirsty for a sip of what he truly is.

The noise of their bustling shooting set is swallowed by the stone walls of the waiting room they stand on. Once they fall silent, so does the entire room. The way they are separated from the rest of the world gives off an intimacy to their silent stare off. Jungkook always avoids moments like this, fearful for what might happen if he is to be left alone with her. Despite all his attempts, here he is, stiff and pliant for her. Her gaze always hold an unadulterated compassion for him, soft and heart warming like the crackle of a fireplace. Yet when she is this close to him, there lies a severity bordering on dangerous, a heat threatening to burn that nearly leaves him breathless.

Jungkook swallows down the trembling of his limbs—his body’s immediate reaction whenever it senses her near. He wonders how he is still able to stand, to circulate air and still manage to function properly when she is so close, he can almost feel the warmth radiating off her skin. As much as the racing of his heart and rush of blood in his veins drives him to make this moment eternal, he knows he is not allowed to feel. Not her. Fear curls around him with a vice grip, whispering paranoias and nightmares that will sure to come if he surrenders to his desire of taking that one step closer and sealing their distance.

Do you really think she’ll let you be around her again when she finds out?

She doesn’t need you, you are but a stardust in her galaxy.

You ruin everything you touch.

You weren’t raised to love tender, you weren’t raised to love someone like her.

She is too kind, and you are too violent.

If you hurt her, it might kill you.

Bone-chilling coldness slices through his skin like a waterfall of ice, the pain slithers up his spine and shatters the hope harboring in his heart. He jolts away from her, all too aware of what he had done, and how wrong it was. [Name] frowns as he recoils, the pain scrunched in his expression wrenched her heart. It’s a dull ache she’s used to, for Jungkook always pulls away every time she holds her hand out to him, every time the are too close for his liking. A heavy sigh wrack his chest, hiding the choked way it rises and falls.

“Eat, [Name].” The words he said is not what he is truly pleading for.

Jungkook clears his throat, and he becomes stone cold again with the distance he forces upon them. He must’ve felt guilty, for he forces on a small smile, an assurance that does nothing to tame her disappointment. It’s infuriating how easily he can turn his head away as if nothing has happened. She knows for certain that he feels the way she does, if not love, then something toeing around its lines, an almost perhaps. She sees it in the way he hovers and lingers around her with a desperation he thought she can’t see. So, why does he keep resisting?

“You know, you can’t keep doing this shitty thing and then feel bad about it as if that makes it okay! You need to be better!” The anger bubbles up in her throat and spills over.

A sense of astonishment carves itself into his features with the hostility she has resorted to yelling at him with. He doesn’t blame her. She deserves to feel angry, to detest him, as all his actions are done unfairly without her knowledge of why. Maybe, he can drive her crazy enough through this and finally eradicate the love she has for him, make her hatred burn for him.

If you hurt her, you might kill yourself.

He curses life for landing him in such a complicated predicament. It seems, no matter what he does, he will hurt her either way.

“I’m sorry.” He says. The softened edges of his eyes pleads for her to believe that he truly is.

She hates herself for forgiving him all too easily. Whatever it is that Jungkook does, she knows it is only ever in her best interest. He would let himself bleed over before she can even spare a single drop of hers. It’s a raw protectiveness that goes far beyond that of someone paid to protect her. Another reason why she had been suspicious of him possibly reciprocating her feelings in the first place.

“If you care for me, you won’t further pry,” His hands sneaks itself into his pant pocket, it returns with a single chocolate bar which he graciously hand over to her, “If you care for me, you’d mind your own health better and eat.” She opens up her palm and accepts despite the bitterness rising up her throat.

“And do you, care for me?” She had to ask.

His face goes blank, a neutral slate that gives nothing of the thoughts lurking in his mind. Still, she waits for an answer, clutching at the chocolate bar tightly she can hear a small crack as it breaks. He licks his dry lips and pries it open, but a voice not of his pierces the silence in a demand for her to be back on set. How freaking convenient, she thinks. She clucked her tongue, annoyed at the interruption, but wills herself to turn away from him. Her heels clicks sharply as it hits the floor, she spares Jungkook a glance that carries her confusion for him, then leaves him to his own suffocating emotions as she leaves.

“Trust me, I wish I could stop.”

Lights flash like twinkling stars under her eyelids. Whenever she opens them the shine becomes unbearably blinding, forcing herself to hide from it. This cycle repeats endlessly, of a garish light then a warm glow, the sharp transition makes her brain muddled and fuzzy. It’s only one of the many uncomfortable situations a celebrity has to endure. She can’t complain much, this life has littered her in plentiful riches that many would die for.

The train of her jewel encrusted dress weighs down every step she makes, slowing her from reaching her car just yet. Under the well rehearsed smile, she scoots herself closer to the edge of the crimson carpet laid underneath her heels, the only joy she feels comes only from the relief of finally having this premiere night done and over with. And maybe, it also has something to do with being in a confined space with Jungkook. She lets her eyes flit over beyond the shadowed figures of the camera men and fans lining up behind the barrier, it’s not an action she can understand of why, but when she spots him pushing his way through the crowd she realizes just how much she has yearned for him throughout this tiring night. Her smile falls more naturally now.

The breeze changes swiftly from a bustling gust to a gentler drift when she enters her car, the noise of the crowd becomes drowned and distorted when the car door finally closes in on her. Relief and exhaustion seeps into her bones in heavy torrents, the perfect posture and smile she has been wearing along with the heavy dress slumps into the leather seat in a manner not quite lady like. Her eyelids are heavy, threatening to shut, but she doesn’t allow it, she has to wait for Jungkook.

His heavy breaths comes before he does and her body tenses like a live wire when she senses him. Jungkook’s weight falls on to the leather seat recklessly, and he slams the door shut without a second to waste. With both car doors shut, the vehicle startles forward past the sea of crowds, their muffled screaming and eager faces a blur to her barely opened eyes. His heavy breaths are louder in the confinements of the quiet car, louder than the hum of the engines that it’s beginning to get hard for her not to notice. She averts her eyes to him out of worry, watching the sweat dribble down his pale face and the hairs sticking to his forehead. Only Jungkook can wear exhaustion as well as a fine tailored suit.

The black gloves he wears is always taken off whenever a red carpet event ends. It’s his way of shedding away the exhaustion of the day, of letting himself breathe and settle. Most times, [Name] attempts to reach out and touch him, just a brush of skin, she wants so badly to understand why he never lets anyone but himself touch the expanse of his skin. Is it because he’s insecure over how rough and dry they are? It doesn’t seem like it, if anything, it’s currently glistening with a sheen of sweat from the heat the gloves gave. She doesn’t try anymore, respecting him and his space, even though she doesn’t understand of why.

“Your fans are savages.” His voice breaks through the night with a small dry laugh.

“It’s not my fault I’m gorgeous.” She shrugs, only half paying attention to his words.

He makes no attempt to deny, only sharing her a small smile. A small sense of pride wells in her chest. Jungkook thinks she’s pretty.

“You should shower once you get back, you stink of sweat.” He doesn’t, but she likes to witness him as he turns pink cheeked and shy.

Subtly, he ducks his head and sniffs himself to confirm her words. His nose scrunches as he does so, in an awfully adorable way she’s not sure he is even aware of, moreover the effect it does to her heart.

“Or you can just, you know, take off your coat.” She suggests.

Jungkook pauses, his narrowed eyes darting consciously at her underlying motive. For an actress, [Name]’s not putting much of a convincing grin for him. He doesn’t seem annoyed, having gotten used to her meddling into his business. The last time he’s shown an inkling of annoyance was when he had chased after her before they nearly kissed a few weeks ago. It’s odd, how easily they return to the flow of their relationship despite all the tension and anger that has surfaced before. It is only because it has become increasingly harder for Jungkook to ignore her, any kind of anger or resentment he has for himself that should have drawn him away from her always fades. Whether they will to or not they always keep coming back to one another, like birds migrating in a pattern that always leads them home.

“Nice try, [Name].” She pouts. Well, there’s never any harm in trying.

The night falls silent with the halt of their light conversation, both figures going idle on their respective side of the car. Shards of the moonlight and city lights scatters through the car’s window, illuminating [Name]’s features with a soft brilliance unlike the harsh glare of flashing cameras she was bathed in. Even with the distance between them Jungkook is always aware of her, of the even rise and fall of her breath and the crimson of her lips cracking ever so slightly as the night goes on. An internal radar exists in his system, whatever it is he is doing, somehow, someway, he always turns to her whenever she enters a room, as if he hasn’t had enough of watching her.

“You hungry?” He asks.

She turns away from the window and acknowledge him with a raised eyebrow. He always has time to worry for her, sometimes it annoys her, currently it is endearing.

“Are you kidding? Can’t get through more than a bite with this stupid corset on.” She groans, poking at her waist.

“Great. Namjoon, make a stop at the nearest convenience store.” He instructs to the driver.

“You brought my spare change, right?” Though he provides no verbal answer, she knows Jungkook is always prepared when it comes to her, despite it not being entirely in his job description.

Fortunately, the convenience store they found themselves in is empty, the only sign of it still opening being the fluorescent glow coming from within. It’s an odd sight, a sleek black limo parked in a run down store. More so when a famed celebrity is sitting on its curb, stripped from all her gold and glitter and into something more understated and plain. A warm cup noodle is within her hold, providing warmth in the cold breeze of 1 AM. Jungkook sits next to her, watching her silently feed herself with the elegance of a reckless child from the corner of his eyes. He smiles, relishing in the authenticity she is comfortable enough to show around him.

“You know, your face should be up on the silver screen.” She says out of the blue.

Jungkook shrugs, barely paying attention to her words and more so to the sparkling ruby red layering it, and how delectable it looks as it move. He realizes his heart is always at its most vulnerable when the sun has dipped beneath the horizon, it turns tender just as his exhaustion leaves him without the strength to uphold his defenses. Like this moment, where the urge to move closer and hold her becomes unbearable, Jungkook can feel his fingers twitch involuntarily.

“I’m not interested in any of that stuff.”

“Why not? You’ll make a better living than being a bodyguard anyways.”

An unspoken answer suffocates the air around them, bringing about a tense silence neither expects to fall into so quickly. Though he has never said it, they know that the main reason Jungkook sticks to this job is because of her, because he has found himself attached to her and is unwilling to let go. A clear of his throat interrupts the silence, and Jungkook takes a swig of his water to relieve himself.

“I just don’t think that type of lifestyle suits me. I mean, I’m tough on the outside, but to become a celebrity means I need to toughen up my inside, which is—”

“Really soft and fragile, I know.” She giggles like its not a secret to the world.

Jungkook smiles along with her. Somehow, he doesn’t mind that she knows of his true self, of the fragile boy longing to be cared for.

“Besides, I’m a very private guy myself. I wouldn’t like to have people intruding in my life all the time.” Jungkook bumps her shoulder with his water bottle at that last remark, teasing her with a smile that shows off his teeth.

“Right, you have a very strong need for personal space,” The sentence draws out into a wistful silence, one which makes Jungkook nervous when her smile fades, “Why is that?” She asks, turning her eyes to him with a long harbored sadness.

He frowns. Whether he likes it or not, their conversation always leads to this topic, as it is the foundation that builds their questionable relationship. He hates that her constant frowns and worries all stem from him: his inability to tell her the truth and his selfish need for her to stay in his life. In the silence that drags on, Jungkook can only stare at his hands, the only piece of skin that is currently visible to the eyes other than his face. In the years since he has discovered his curse, a burning hatred for the skin he wears exist in the deepest part of his soul, rendering him unable to look or touch his own skin for too long. Looking at the milky plane that shapes his fingers and the blue veins snaking underneath it brings about a sense of nausea that makes him want to vomit his dinner. He can’t understand why she’s so fixated on wanting to touch something so vile, so dangerous. If only the curse could have the same effect to him as it does to everyone else. Maybe then he could lessen her suffering.

“How bad can it be, really, Jungkook?” She wounds herself closer to him as she pries.

Jungkook shuts his eyes, as if willing his brain to remain unaware of how close she is to him. It’s the only thing keeping him from giving in to his desire and from hurting her. How cruel of life, to not rid of him of the heart that he wished should have died along when the curse happened. The intensity that comes with his love feasts at the wall he’s worked so hard to build, brick by brick it is torn apart, and brick by brick Jungkook tries to rebuild the damage that won’t stop, for her sake.

“It’s pretty bad, trust me.” He tries to lighten the tension by offering up a dry laugh.

��I have feelings for you.” She confesses.

Unexpectedly, it is said with a raw passion and unabashed truthfulness that tugs at his heart strings painfully. He swallows down his own confession and chokes out words he knows is not sufficient enough to respond to her, but has to be said to draw the line of boundaries she must not over step.

“I know.”

“And you have feelings for me too.” She says.

There is no denial, as much as he should deny it. He digs his nails into his own palms, leaving crescent moons that threatens to tear into his skin. He has half the mind to stop himself from drawing any blood for the sake of not worrying her. It hurts to not be able to look at her when he craves nothing but to see the softness of her features, it hurts to not be able to say the words for himself when he desperately wants to. This confession feels painful, though it should liberate his heart.

“Please, don’t do this.” He begs, a whisper so fragile and broken [Name] cannot recognize it as his voice.

She draws herself back, choking at the painful weight pressing down on her chest. It is always like this with him. After so many months, the sting continues to bite harder and harder every time it happens, leaving behind a suffering she can no longer bear. I’m sorry. Please. It’s always what comes out of him when she asks. She can’t understand, he leaves no room for her to. How long does he plan to drag this on? To leave her in the dark? She’s had enough of his avoidance, of the hurt he gives her. How dare he dig his way into her heart and irresponsibly abandon it whenever he wants to?

“No, I’m doing this.”

The ferocity that licks at her words pries his eyes open. She brings herself to her feet and sends a ferocious glare down at him, her shadows spill over his hunched figure with a sense that tows in a feeling inferiority within his heart.

“Are you trying to hurt me on purpose? Is that it? You could at least have the decency to distance yourself from me if I’m bothering you, but no, you just have to toy around with my feelings and continue to play this game of push and pull. Well, I’ve had it.”

He knows he must have struck a sensitive nerve within her to have her raise her voice at him like this. [Name] doesn’t raise her voice to anyone, especially not him. Guilt crawls its way up his throat, and he swallows, not knowing what else to do other than look down at his shoes and let her berate him. She deserves this much.

“You won’t understand.” Softly, he says.

“You don’t know that! You never gave me a chance or an explanation!” She argues hotly.

This predicament makes him fidget in his spot, anxious for what words may accidentally slip out of him in the midst of his rising emotions and the repercussions it may bring. Jungkook takes a breath and calms himself before facing her.

“This is not going to go the way you think, [Name].”

“With you? Nothing ever is.”

Jungkook is startled into silence, noting of the spite lacing her words. He just isn’t used to her being so straightforward with him in such a resentful manner. Though he knows he deserves it, the thought of her hating him on its own is enough to make him stand out of agitation.

“[Name]—“

“What? You’re sorry?” She draws her eyebrows down, perusing the array of conflicting emotions on his expression.

A dying ember is starting to spark back to life when he meets her eyes, confused and angry and hurt. Anger swells up in him, not for her, but for himself and what he’s too weak to do, what he has done.

“But I really am—“

“Well, your apologies means crap to me now. Not when you keep repeating this over and over.”

“Look, have I ever lied to you before? If I could tell you without getting you to hate me I would!”

“You don’t know for certain that I’d hate you! You kept assuming that I will as if anything could make me care you any less. What is it, did you kill a man or something? I won’t tell the police if—“

“No, no, please, just—“ The overwhelming thoughts running through his mind wound his head up like a tight knot, bringing about a tense pain at the back of his head that makes him wince, “I can’t lose you.”

“But you’re okay with lying to me forever?”

The defeat underlying her question makes him pause, the words at the tip of his tongue immediately ceasing. There has never been a time where [Name] doesn’t look beautiful to him, whatever state or expression she wears, Jungkook is always enthralled with her every feature. Now, witnessing the despair worrying the lines of her face feels painful, a feeling he never thought could occur when it’s her. The racing of his heart slows into a sluggish pace, worn down and weighted by the helplessness he feels.

“[Name]—” He calls for her, but can’t understand why, the name falls from his lips almost naturally as if it’s the only word he knows how to say.

Perhaps he is just desperate for her to understand, to accept that he’ll never be able to explain to her of the things she deserves to know though he knows it is unfair. Fear is a familiar taste for Jungkook, a manifestation of the curse he bears. But he finds there’s something else he fears more than what the curse can do, and that is losing her. His breathing stutters, as he feels himself losing his grip on her.

“Please, I—“ He hesitates in taking a step closer, because no matter how much he wants to tell her, he knows he’ll lose her once he does.

Desperation claws at his throat, and he tries to say something, anything to get her to stay with him. Though she is near, Jungkook feels as if she’s drifting farther and farther away when her eyes starts glistening with unshed tears, the warm gaze that he has come to love now looks at him as if he’s a stranger.

“That’s what you always say.” She sighs, not trying to hide her disappointment.

His body trembles like a fallen autumn leaf when she turns her back on him and starts walking away. No, no, no. There is no excuse for what he does next, once panic clings on to him his body goes into overdrive, and out of pure instinct he grabs on to her hand with a desperation evident in his strong grip. The panic and fear pumping in his veins clouds his mind, but all he knows is that he has to get her to stay, he needs her to. He’s never been more desperate for anything more in his life, if he has her, he knows that he will be content for life.

The cold of his touch sends a shock wave up her arm and down to her spine. At the sensation, [Name] whirls her head to him with a speed even she’s surprised of. She’s convinced that it is only her imagination, the pressure on her hand and the fingers curling over her skin, until she sees their hands connect. Somehow, [Name] can’t shake off the fact of how odd their hands look together, almost unnatural due to it never happening before.

It’s not as wonderful as she dreamed it would be, his touch is cold and palms calloused. Yet it’s exhilarating, getting to feel the rush of blood in his veins, the constant thrumming of his pulse and the shake of his every bones. For the first time, [Name] can feel the fibers making up his body and the essence that molds his soul. Jungkook feels, most of all, real.

The shock wears off once she hears how shaky her breathing has gone, the thundering of her heart becomes a deafening bass that rattles her eardrums hard enough for her to finally pay attention to. When she lands her eyes on him, she sees Jungkook’s face contorted in pain, as if her turning away from him had caused a physical kind of pain. [Name] has always known of his feelings for her. But she has never known it to go as deep as it did, to burn with such a raw passion that it could wound him greatly. There is relief and fear in her, of both their dangerously strong feelings for each other.

“Jungkook?”

The sound of his name snaps him awake out of the cloud of fear. His eyes go to hers before anything else, no longer angry or disappointed, its tenderness has returned, though tinged with an uncertainty he isn’t sure of what it means. Then his eyes lands on his hand, holding on to hers with an iron grip even he cannot recognize as his. The situation sinks in to him with a heavy dread, and Jungkook withdraws himself away from her as far as he can. The hand that had held hers tremble as he clutches it, out of rage for what he’s done but at the same time, a delight exist from finally getting a taste of her. He doesn’t allow the joy to happen for long, instead allowing fear and dread to envelope him.

I’ve touched her.

She’s going to die because of me.

I’ve hurt her, in a way that she can’t imagine.

“Jungkook? Jungkook, talk to me.” [Name]’s anger is now replaced with concern as she draws nearer to him.

Jungkook thrusts his hand up, but it withers back to his side in fear of touching her again. His vision blurs into splotches of broken street lights and her distorted face, he doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until a wet trail cascades down his cheeks. He’s far too afraid, far too angry at himself to focus on responding her. The only thing his mind is screaming at him is: you hurt her, you hurt her, you hurt her.

“Jungkook, hey, are you alright?” She asks, her hands hovering carefully over his deflating figure.

Jungkook staggers, feet turning into jelly under the weight of his anger. He hasn’t even notice of the powerful grip he has on his own hand, this time, he successfully draws blood from under his skin at the force he’s putting on it.

“You don’t understand, [Name]. I’m cursed! I can never touch anyone without drawing them further to their deaths. That’s why I don’t let anyone in, why I wore all those unnecessary garments, why I can’t have anyone touching me. Don’t you see? I really want to be with you, I do. But I can’t. I will hurt you, I know I will, and I can’t do that to you.” A rawness tearing from deep within him speaks out, manifesting the broken man for he truly is, crying and pleading before her.

At that moment, watching Jungkook rip himself apart fills her with the same pain she saw Jungkook with when she was leaving him. [Name] thought that she would finally be liberated from the burden on her shoulders when she receives her answer. She is wrong. There is no greater heartbreak than the answer she so desperately wanted to know. Right now, the weight in her heart is overflowing, as she feels it bleed with regret like a heavy torrent.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook—“

“I don’t deserve you, how could I let this happen?” He’s mumbling to himself, surrendering to his own madness underneath the silver moonlight.

[Name] hovers over him like a shadow, unable to touch him and unpleasantly forced to witness him breakdown. I made him like this. It’s my fault. Why can’t I just let it go? Why, why, why.

“You deserve more.” Her voice carries out into the night like a soft breeze, calling Jungkook back from his self induced nightmare.

With a sluggish pace that worries her, Jungkook lifts his head up and lands a pair of hesitant eyes on her. She frowns when she notes of the red rimming his swollen eyes and the starking paleness that weaves its way onto his complexion, a heartbreaking despair webs across his features like a parasite, depriving him from the beauty she’s come to love. This is all because of her, because she refuses to listen to him.

“We’re just one hell of a modern tragedy aren’t we?” He laughs, though it is coarse and without humor.

[Name] casts her eyes to the ground, fighting back the tears that threatens to spill from the unbearable ache in her heart.

That night, they leave the store and return to the car in silence. There is no second glances spared, even as Jungkook takes the vacant passenger seat by the driver instead of claiming the seat next to hers. Weary from the roller coaster of emotions, Jungkook slumps deep into the leather seat, hoping he can disappear from this night and from her for the rest of her life. It’s what’s best for her, especially after what he’s done.

Namjoon worries his bottom teeth at the unsettling tension that has suddenly encase the limo, but he says nothing, not when he catches the reflection of Jungkook’s face on the car’s window: the face of a man whose world has shattered before him.

The knowledge of the curse has anchored down the once halcyon days into one of uneasy distance and tense silence. Secret glances and hushed laughters becomes a distant memory that slips away from him like sand no matter how hard he tries to hold on. He’s never realized how quickly time ebbs with her constant company and demand for attention. Now that a wall has burrowed itself between them, the day seems never ending, and when it transitions to the inky darkness of night, it always ends in a fit of nightmares he’s not keen on recollecting.

Resisting her has been more difficult than he thought. It’s as he suspects, the second she wormed her way inside his heart, the absence of warmth it has stood by feeds off of her like a leech, and once she tears herself away, it is left starving for only her. Well, at least she seems to be faring of better than him. As long as she is happy, then he can live with this pain for the rest of his life, all for the chance to see her smile, even if not for him.

She’s found solace in her make-up artist and manager more often now, and he can’t lie to himself if he says he is not envious. He used to be her safe space, a place to confide in on the thoughts she’s never been able to say to anyone without risking judgement. It’s a privilege which he realizes he’s never truly appreciated before. Now he finds himself being the one to spare time to silently watch her—the only thing that has gotten him through his dark days—a habit he’s not even aware of having, only that it feels right.

There is something different in her smile nowadays, a certain restraint that cannot truly encompass the joy or amusement like she always had with him. He wish he can turn a blind eye to this. The last thing he needs is a reminder of how affected she had also been when his curse was revealed, of how good of an actress she is to be able to carry on through the day as if nothing has changed.

What he hates most about the situation between them are the nights of unbearable loneliness and regret spent fighting off the temptation to surrender to his dark thoughts. Sleep hasn’t been easy, and even then, he looks forward not to the dreams that wakes him with a painfully wrenched heart. Very much like tonight, where he finds himself curled on his couch, though his eyes are seemingly glued to the TV screen in focus, there is an impassiveness in his lack of movement and slow blinking.

The pitter patter of rain gently sings a song of heartbreak that reflects to his own state, and the shadows that has fallen upon the city provides the perfect gloom to wrap around his freezing heart. Though worn from sadness, he cannot cry, having dried his eyes off too much the night he confessed to her. All that is left is a hollowness aching to be filled.

A stuttered knock breaks through the cold night, interrupting the perfectly orchestrated beat of sorrow Jungkook nearly falls asleep to. He remains petrified, his mind leadened to a state of lacking any sort of motivation to go through the day. The knock repeats itself after a long moment, and Jungkook pries his eyes away from the TV, wondering silently who could be behind the oaken doors at an 11 PM on Saturday.

His steps are heavy with reluctance as he drags himself across the room. He half hoped whoever it is would go away and leave him to suffocate in his own self pity. A barely coherent what manage to escape him before his attention fixes onto the last person he thought would ever show up in his doorstep, her: dripping and heaving from the rain with the radiance of the golden sunshine that had been eclipsed from him. There shouldn’t be anything remotely attractive in the way she carries herself so recklessly like this. Yet he falls into a delighted silence, soaking in the unadulterated sight she presents so willingly to him. A sensation of lightness enters him, flushing away the lead coating his bones and the pressure on his chest, allowing him with an easiness to breathe.

The shock comes belatedly, after Jungkook’s mind process the reality that even in his most vivid of imagination he can never capture the details of the constellation of freckles dotting her skin so accurately, for she really is standing on his doorstep. He cannot hide the smile that blooms on his face. But the memory of that fateful night tugs at his mind, reeling him to cower behind his door with uncertainty.

“[Name]..” His voice is hoarse from its lack of use. There is no reason for him to speak if it’s not to her.

Her eyes watch him carefully, every curvature of his face: the prominent hollow under his cheekbones, the dip of his cupid’s bow and the familiar scar on his cheek she’s missed so terribly. There is a significant age that has caught on to him, despite it only having been less than a month since they fall into silence with each other. Is it perhaps the sorrow, or the hopelessness that weighs him most of all? She cannot determine, for even at its bleakest she feels her breath being taken away by the presence of him. She smiles, a soft curve of her lips that makes Jungkook’s heart lurch to reach out to her.

“Your face is a mess.” She says, after a long moment of silence.

Even when she is trapped in an emotionally draining mess, she still finds time to ridicule him. Like the smile that unknowingly appears whenever she is present, he laughs, an uncontrollable force that racks his chest with a joyful tingle. The ringing of his laughter infects her, bearing joy in the hearts that had been drowning in forlorn. As if all the emotional turmoil of the past weeks never existed, they fall back into their familiar pattern, of a liberation to truly be themselves that can mend each other’s broken hearts.

“Nice to see you’ve got your priority straight.” He jokes.

“Oh, I do, and it’s always you.” She confirms with a confidence that stuns him.

His teeth digs into the bottom of his lip, suppressing the shock from showing on his expression.

“Why are you here, [Name]? You’re cold and drenched! Please tell me you didn’t run all the way here in your pajamas.” His answer is only a sheepish smile.

A heavy sigh breaks out of him, though he is not sure whether it is out of disappointment or relief, perhaps both.

“Isn’t it obvious? When a girl runs through traffic lights and heavy rain to reach for your doorstep it means she loves you, you idiot.”

The word love has always been held back by both, they keep dancing around it as if it could burn them from the inside out. Though he knows that if either of them were to say it first, it would be her, always the more dauntless of the two. He just didn’t expect her to say it now, in the moment where their relationship is in the brink of collapsing, a vulnerable knot threatening to break. Jungkook inhales a shaky breath to steady himself, but the word that keeps ringing in his ear and the sound of his blood rushing makes it difficult for him to focus.

“[Name]..” He begins, hesitant.

“You’re cursed, I know.”

There is defiance in the upright stance in which she carries herself with, even though weighed down by her sopping attire and the stream of water dripping off of her hair, she is the cliff by the shore of the open ocean, steady and firm through the never ending waves. He doesn’t understand why she’s so sure, not when she seems to understand so little of the big picture.

“But you don’t understand—“

“No, you assume I don’t. Look, I get that you’ve been protecting me for a long while, you think I’m fragile and naive, and maybe it’s become a habit of yours to continue protecting me as if I know nothing of how unfair reality can be, but god damn it Jeon Jungkook for once in your life listen to what I have to say!”

He folds his lips shut, though he cannot hide the glimmer of intrigue and amusement shrouded in his silent smile.

“I know it’s just chemicals that makes me cling to you, but gosh making me fall in love with you is the greatest thing my body can ever give to me. You make your way into my veins, course right through my limbs, and dig right through my brain like a parasite, but Jungkook, it’s the most wonderful parasite I’ve ever had the honor of harboring. My life has always been an array of uncertainty and risks, a leaping stone that I could slip on. But you, you came to me, and I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. You are the ground that lays across the stream I’ve been crossing. There are cracks and blight on you, but you make me feel safe and real.” She says, with a clarity that terrifies him.

Jungkook wonders what he’s done to deserve this, this kind of selfish love that eats away at the soul and leaves you disoriented and broken like the cracked grounds after an earthquake. The damage and pain is addicting, a good kind of pain. And then he realizes that this love he has the honor of receiving is only due to his curse, the very mark that has tainted him and ostracize him from the rest of the world.

This love hurts, but it is a love that is specifically theirs. Not just his, he realizes. Because the pain and longing he thought he had experienced alone is wrong, all this time she too feels it. The words he can never articulate to describe the intensity of his emotions are robbed right out of his mouth and on to hers. She feels it too, the inevitable pull for each other that goes far beyond their limbs. Jungkook feels the warmth of his tears building behind his eyelids, a relief and weightlessness greater than that he’s ever received makes his heart soar in the confinements of his ribs.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, what you can make me do. Heck, I’ll let you drag me to hell if it means I get to hold your hand. Jeon Jungkook, if you think that a curse will keep me away from you then you really don’t know me at all.”

He’s not sure if it’s the rain or her own outburst of tears streaming down her face, but the urge to swipe his thumb over her damp skin becomes tenfold after the passionate confession. But he holds back, with the reminder that the curse still exists and can still very much harm her.

“I can never touch you, I can never hold your hand or kiss you. You’ll be sentenced to a very cold and lonely love with me.” He warns, a tinge of sorrow returning in the droop of his eyes.

[Name] laughs, airy and short, it can almost be mistaken as a cough. She shakes her head, letting droplets spill on to his cotton shirt.

“As long as it’s your love.” She assures.

This time he can’t fight back the onslaught of joy pricking at the back of his eyes, and he lets out a laugh of his own, just as airy, but filled with a happiness pure and bright, amidst attempting to mask the tears spilling on his cheeks.

“Gosh, you’re so stubborn,” He wipes at the tears, pressing on to his eyes until stars explode behind his eyelids, but when he opens them back she is still there, then he knows that this is truly not a dream, “Why me? Out of all the other celebrities and bodyguards and staff, why the heck pick the guy hardest to love?”

“The people who are hardest to love loves the hardest. And frankly, I’m not a pussy who will settle for anything less than a fucking thunderstorm.”

Jungkook chortles, choking in disbelief over how crude she can be at the most inappropriate of times. Though it is one of the quirks he finds himself growing fond over.

“I love it when you unnecessarily use vulgar words to get your point across.”

“What better way is there?”

Jungkook cannot respond. It is not rare of him to find himself speechless because of her. As if taking his breath away is not enough, she also knows how to take the words right out of his mouth. The moment simmers, and with it, Jungkook’s attention inadvertently travels to her, to the lips that shapes her silent laughter. He licks his own, wondering to himself if he’ll ever be able to have a taste of her the way he truly wants to. It’s human nature, to want more than what you already have. And now that he finally has her, he desperately wants to feel her. To convey the affection and wonder he holds for her with something that is a lot more permanent than words.

“I love you, and I really want to kiss you.” He admits, because it’s the least he can give her.

[Name] falls uncharacteristically silent. Her fingers fidget against each other with the force of an earthquake, its is enough to make her tangle them together in the pocket of her hoodie to stop them. The intensity that lies beneath his words burns her inside, boiling the blood in her veins and warming her skin with a force enough to make her forget about the chill from the rain. Jungkook wonders of the sudden shift in the self assured and confident woman before him, why now she appears so very small and timid unlike she ever is. Has his words impact her as great as what she always does to him?

“Mannered men usually invite the women in before jumping at them you know.” She says, turning the attention away from her.  

A pink flush floods his cheek, for he hasn’t even realized of how distracted he has been with her and her confession to have forgotten about the alarming situation she is in. Thoughtfully, he reprimands himself for not prioritizing her shivering form and what it might do to her health far earlier.

“O-Oh, shoot, you’re going to get sick!” He realizes a tad too late.

Jungkook ushers her in with haste, overcome with the over protective and doting side of him she always finds entertaining in witnessing. To think that the cold hearted man the world sees him as is tripping over his own feet in a clumsy attempt to warm her. How cute.

“But, hey, if you still want that kiss, I think I might have an idea.” She yells, craning her head in a look out for him who had disappeared past one of the doors.

Jungkook’s mop of brown hair pops out from one of the doorway, his scrunched expression a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity that draws similarity to that of an adorable child. He returns to her side with freshly laundered clothes and a towel.

“Here’s a fresh pair of change. They’re a bit tight on me, so I think it’ll fit on you. Um, shower, right, bathroom is on—“

She makes no move to accept it, instead opting to rummage past her hoodie for an item she’s hidden there. Jungkook’s train of thoughts halt, its course shifting down a path of perverse at her sudden action. He turns his eyes away, though he cannot control the rush of blood from showing on his cheeks. [Name] wants to laugh at the embarrassment he bears in this moment, though she can’t help but feel a certain kind of admiration for the manner he possess. Still, she can’t let this slip away without as much as an attempt to further humiliate him.

“Wow, do you seriously think I’m the type of shameless girl who undresses herself after confessing her love?” She asks with a tone bordering on a full on giggle.

“[Name], honestly—“

“Well, I mean, maybe for Chris Hemsworth, sure, but, as much as I love you, you’re nowhere close to him.”

Jungkook’s skin cools down once he’s gotten a grasp of the ambience in her joke. If his embarrassment for his thoughts had gone on longer, he would’ve missed the way she so casually slips in an I love you, as if the days they’ve spent hadn’t been spent avoiding the words. He almost chokes on his own breath, though fortunately has caught himself before she could hear him. Jungkook swivels his attention back to her, but it quickly falters when he catches sight of a questionable item that she must’ve pulled out from her hoodie. Of course, how in the hell could he ever think of the idea of her undressing herself so readily for him?

“What’s that?”

Wet fingers unravel itself around the item and allowing Jungkook to decipher the inscription written in the box, which only further confuses him.

“Plastic wrappers? For leftovers?”

[Name] isn’t deterred by his lack of understanding as she tears it open eagerly, a thin layer of it is unrolled and poised over his adorably clueless face.

“To think, it only took an agonizing weeks of silence and a spontaneous confession in the rain for you to admit you want to kiss me, huh?”

Jungkook is still very much confused.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking since the fight, you see—and maybe a lot of crying too.” She says, ducking her head down as she hesitantly adds the last sentence.

Something squeezed terribly hard at his heart, the thought of her: tear streaked, tender skin splotched in unpleasant shades of red and touched with inflammation from the force of such a heartbreaking outburst. All because of him.

“You can’t touch me because of the curse, but that only applies when your skin makes direct contact with mine. You can touch me through your gloves, and I can touch you through your clothes, so I thought—“

Something flickers in the enthusiasm she wears when Jungkook’s confusion refuses to fade. Rather than puzzled, perhaps she had misread him, and maybe he doesn’t feel as sincere about his words as she does. She frowns, lowering the plastic wrap back to her side.

“I can kiss you through that wrapper.” He finishes, after a beat of tense silence.

Clarity lights his features into one of happiness, capturing the essence of ocean waves breaking the sunset into rippling kaleidoscope she can never resist in looking. [Name] can feel herself falling in love with him all over again at this sight.

“Y-Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Silence always manage to embed its claws between them, though no longer does its talons make them bleed. Now, it has become a familiar part of their relationship. This time, the silence in the room contains a certain nervous energy that drives both to shyly turn away from each other’s gazes.

“I mean, if you’d like to try it—I guess—there’s no harm in it.” Jungkook stutters, feet shifting against the cold tiles.

“Do you?” She asks.

Another silence enters, though it carries a meaning that is enough to answer her question. Jungkook welcomes himself to her warmth with a certainty she can never predict, as if he had belonged there all along, he sneaks his way into her hold. She can barely process it, process him: arms taught around her waist with the desperate longing of belonging to a place that is permanent, he is so close, so comfortable in settling within her hold with an ease she can ever imagine him to have. The dampness in the room tastes sweet on the roof of her mouth, and the colors in the muted room bursts with an intensity that shouldn’t be possible in such a gloomy lighting. But it is because it’s him, it’s him holding on to her and him professing his love to her in a way that he fears the most.

Before she can return his embrace his grip has loosened, and both instinctively draw their heads back with the desire to soak in each other at such close distance. She maps the blemishes and each shade of color that exists on his face to save in her memory, a sight so rare she wishes she could continue seeing him like this forever.

“Kiss me.” He whispers.

Her fingers shake around the plastic wrapper, though she wills herself to bring it between them she can’t, the function of her limbs disconnected from her jumbled state of mind at the simple request. Another set of hand comes to her aid and Jungkook takes the plastic wrapper over their faces, her vision of him ripples at the appearance of the plastic sheen. Neither move immediately, too afraid of ruining this moment. The courage that usually flows in her cannot be found, she can only continue to cherish the sight of him so close to her. Then he moves, a sluggish confidence surging over him. His display of courage pushes her to mirror his movements, meeting him halfway from the other side of the plastic wrapper.

The tang of the plastic tastes synthetic to her tongue, but the fire under his lips sets her senses ablaze and her nerves to haywire, the awful taste of plastic becomes nothing but a miniscule stardust in the universe that explodes behind her eyelids. A chill tingles her spine, ice and fire clashes within her system and sends her body into overdrive from the overwhelming sensations. It is as if the world collectively breaths out a blissful sigh as they kiss, a sense of feeling whole she never thought she was missing fills in the cracks and dents in her heart.  

The chill of the rain greets her lips when he withdraws for air, though she can’t find any disappointment like she expected to feel, not when the memory of his warmth still lingers in her system. She blinks slowly, afraid that she cannot capture enough of his flushed face and starry eyed expression at this moment.

“That was..” He doesn’t finish, not knowing how exactly he can describe the sensations flooding him.

“Plastic-y.” She offers with a shrug.

Jungkook shuts his eyes, a low groan bubbling from within his throat. The air flows gentler at her answer, with a lighthearted feeling they both land in easy familiarity.

“So, um, I really don’t want to further ruin the moment—I mean I’ve always imagined it a bit different to be honest, though it is still amazing—but, well, someone needs to tell my manager that my bodyguard is my new boyfriend.”

Jungkook purses his lips, mind still leadened with the memory of the kiss to properly process her words quickly.

“Not it!”

“Not—darn it.”

If the wrath of her manager and the rest of the world is what he has to face for the opportunity to see her happy because of him, then he’ll let the heavens burn for their love.

[a7xlizardqueen]

Title: Your Knight in a Sweater Vest

Overall Rating: NC-17

Overall Warnings: Parental bullying, mentions of bulimia, nudity(?), drinking, partying, cursing, very slight mention of war and trauma, smut

Pairing: Reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: When you need help dealing with your rude and overbearing family, your best friend Steve Rogers comes to the rescue. Modern!AU - For  @barnesrogersvstheworld Writing Challenge Shot Through the Heart

Chapter: 1/10

Word Count: 1,638 words

Chapter Warnings: None

-X-X-X-

The bar was packed as you squeezed yourself through the crowd, searching for a group of familiar faces. It was Friday, which meant only one thing: meeting up with the guys at your favourite spot for beer and wings. Afterward you’d probably play pool and keep your eyes out for someone to hook up with.

“Yo, Y/N, over here!”

Sam is peering over the crowd, waving his hand in the air. He, Bucky, and Steve are already packed into a booth, a pitcher of Bud half empty.

“What, you guys start without me?” you ask, sliding on to the bench next to Steve.

“That’s what happens when you’re late,” Bucky scolds, sliding over a fresh glass.

“Dude, not even five minutes.”

“Five minutes is still late, Y/N.”

“I’ll remember that next time you’re late, James.”

“Now, now, children, settle down,” Steve smirks. "You're both late as often as the other."

You and Bucky smirk and he winks. Steve is always the peacekeeper between you two. Not that you don’t like each other, just the opposite, but you have kind of a love-hate relationship, as if you’re each other’s annoying sibling.

The waitress comes around, blonde girl with big tits. She smiles at all the guys, and ignores you. You’re used to it. Downside to being the only woman in a group of men. You order five-dozen wings, another pitcher, and a round of shots of Honey Jack.

“Kay, so, game at my place Sunday?” Sam asks.

“You got it, man,” Steve says and Bucky nods.

The shots come and before anything else is said you clink your glasses and shoot back the sweet, amber liquid.

“What ‘bout you, Y/N?”

You shake your head, “Sorry boys, no can do. Prior engagement.”

“Hot date?” Steve smirks.

“I wish,” you pause and take a large gulp of your beer to stall for a moment. The guys’ questioning faces don’t relent. “I’ve got a barbecue at my mother's house to go to.”

Their immediate reaction is to look concerned, quickly followed by angry.

“What the hell are you doing even talking to her?” Bucky’s brow furrows, “She treats you like shit.”

“She's my mother, Buck. Besides, it’s not so bad anymore.”

“I don’t believe you for one damn second, doll. You always make excuses for that family.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Sam, Steve, and Bucky are quiet, unhappy with you.

“There’s something more isn’t there?” Steve asks.

You nod and whisper, “He’s back.”

“Who’s back, Percy’s back?!” Bucky’s fist hits the table with a thud.

“You mean that asshole that had you starving yourself?” Sam asks.

“That asshole who had you working out so hard you passed out and had to be rushed to the hospital?”

“He doesn’t want to get back together, does he?” Steve asks.

You shake your head and call the waitress over for another round of shots, doubles this time.

“No, he just wants to show off his new girlfriend and tell me how much better she is then me. And how much more successful he is then me.”

“Want us to come beat his ass?” Sam offers.

The wings arrive and you all dig in. You laugh and shake your head.

“No, that would be a seriously unfair fight.”

Bucky laughs, “Dude still skinny as shit?”

“You know it.”

“Never skip leg day!” Sam yells.

The tension of the previous minutes has lifted and your plight is ignored for a while as you watch a random soccer game on the TV and continue to stuff yourselves with beer and wings and whiskey. After another round you head over to an empty pool table, you and Steve against Bucky and Sam. As Bucky and Sam rack up the balls Steve hands you a cue and says quietly.

“Seriously, Y/N, if you want some back up, I’m there.”

You sigh, of course he would offer. Steve was one of those seriously good guys that always tried to do the right thing.

“And how would you help?”

He shrugs, “I dunno. But I could at least stick up for you. Be there to let everyone know how great you’re doing with your life.”

“Really, Steve, I don’t need a cheerleader.”

Steve smirks, “Damn, now what am I gonna do with my pom poms?”

“Y/N, your break!”

-X-X-X-

Friday night ended rather uneventfully. You drank more. You played pool. Did a bit of dancing. Went home. No one got lucky that night.

Sunday rolled around. It was a hot day so shorts were a must. You still had a hard time showing off your legs, especially around your family, but if you tried to cover up with pants you’d regret it. Besides, Sam was always telling you to show off the body you’d worked so hard for. He’d kill you if you told him you hid it away. You paired it with a thin white button up, rolling up the sleeves to your elbows. You knew your outfit wasn’t nearly as fancy or feminine as your mother’s or your sister’s surely would be, but you’d mostly abandoned the need for their approval by now, anyway. Mostly.

The look of utter disappointment was exactly what you’d expected, followed by the obligatory scolding for your tardiness. The tardiness was completely intentional, of course, the less time you spent with them the better.

Your mother and sister were visions of perfect beauty. Hair shiny, bouncy, not a flyaway in sight; and they were both wearing long flowing maxi dresses. It made your $5 bargain store shorts and shirt seem frumpy.

Then there was the ex, Percy. He wasn’t typically good looking. His face held too much expression, almost goofy, his eyes and lips large on his narrow face and his dark hair was unruly, sticking up in every direction. He wasn’t particularly tall, and had a thin body with just enough muscle to counteract any fat. But he had a certain charisma in the way he carried himself and the way he spoke that captivated people. It had certainly captivated you once.

His girlfriend was beautiful. Like a movie star from the 1950’s. She dressed like one too. And she was so damn nice that it was hard not to like her. Even though you tried, very hard.

You milled around the barbecue mostly, sipping your beer and trying to avoid conversation. You don’t often get what you want, though.

“Long time no see, Y/N, how ya been?” Your stepdad’s work associate asks as you try to slip quietly by to get yourself another beer.

“I’m fine, Geoff, how are you?” You answer politely, looking down at your empty bottle.

“Oh, just fantastic. Did your stepdad tell you we made a killing this year? Yeah, Jan and I are gonna take a trip to Hawaii to celebrate.”

And thus began the extremely exciting and titillating conversation of the world of insurance. Somehow the man was able to talk about the most boring subject in the world for an entire half hour. You zoned out after about five minutes and only came to when he finally asked you a question.

“What is it that you do again?”

Great, the question. Everyone always asks that question. Normally you wouldn’t care, you enjoy telling people what you do for a living. Just not this crowd.

“I’m a woodworker.”

“Oh. So what does that mean, exactly?”

“I build things out of wood. Furniture, sculptures, you name it. Some of what I make is my own design, whenever I get inspiration; a lot is custom building stuff. I also do antique restoration. And I teach yoga and self-defence at my buddy’s gym.”

“How interesting. And is there a lot of money in the woodworking business?”

“Probably not as much as in the insurance business,” you shrug and back away, “if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been empty for far too long.”

All these people ever talk about is money. They base their ideas of success on how much money can be made, not how happy something can make you, or someone else. Your favourite thing in the world is seeing the amazed looks on a client’s face when you bring their ideas to fruition, sometimes better than they could have imagined. But conveying that feeling to these vultures was impossible.

“Good to see you again, Y/N,” his voice interrupts you before you can even take five steps and you once again look down at your empty beer and sigh; you’re gonna have to upgrade to whiskey.

“Wish I could say the same for you, Percy,” you turn and paste a fake smile onto your face.

You don’t know why, but he still makes your stomach tie into knots every time you look at him. He broke your heart, and you got over it. You did. There isn’t a bone in your body that wants to revisit the lack of a relationship you had with this man for one year. And yet when you look at him, especially with her on his arm, you think about how long it’s been since a man has touched you. You think about how long it’s been since a man looked at you with desire in his eyes. You look at him and your body yearns, and aches for what could have been.

“You’re breaking my heart, babe,” he feigns pain with a hand over his heart.

“Oh, if only I could.”

“No date again?”

“Well, I didn’t want to make you jealous.”

“How kind of you.”

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell me you had a guest coming?” Your mother rushes over.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of food and beverages, but really Y/N, it’s quite rude. Please tell me next time so I can be prepared.”

“Mother, what are you talking about?”

“Hey, honey, sorry I’m late.”

[triumphorce]

under umbras of bundles  of stars,

canopies of leaves & branches that shatter-scatter sky image held indirect

as a gleam in eyes

as conscious lay in fabricated gardens watching memories, & desires in dream form

from across highway covered by

blue-white, 

yellow,

& orange lights

sound of tires, mufflers, sirens, 

amidst a higher sense 

attuned to

muffled far cries muffled while crossing empty lands

filled with chilling wind howls, stealing hope, 

which

kickstarts the power on survival mode..

ups& downs 

drown the cries further,

that

war, warn, or cheer..

or just sing..

maybe

a hymn made by souls for souls under same umbra to set free to lead to wonder & beauty beyond the surface of senses directly to free to seek love loss between me and me

buried beneath  road of longest journey to reach

turn feet all around

all about a world I have no idea about

just mad ideas about Kept in journals i turn over

to all but from in front of views not yet exploited by value of which is, views are power,  & are the will in word- to-page transaction

self diminished to substantiate

entries from entrails, not shown to be conquered

win or lose is how I never saw things.

win or win, only optionss, only progress..

yet..,always over complicating;

marathon sprints from start to finish

as I choose, If i choose, to continue to choose to overlook slopes in existence, where hides I, in ruins, digging for recognition

contribute to a mind overloading with what I know I owe society, &me,

burden of see-through beast, I see illusions of future thru,mistaken as truth, play victim, get stressed or believe I'm down on luck ,in dumps of depression and slum of beliefs,

 in a slump with headphones on temple and music up, reminisce about the golden olden, me and broseph, SSB, PSO, kanto, johto, cartoon cartoons, many one saturday morning’s, plenty cinnamon toast, fruity pebbles, so many card games at Books-a-million

but when I open eyes from trance

I'm forever face to face with today is today

not then not later...

just

 changes who changed how I changed regret and anger to compensate for blaming everybody but me

now I stare afraid at dilemmas mass effect decisions

 daily in-and-out-terventions

to keep from falling back into resentment.. spite blinding shelves of subconscious-self- disappointed perpetuating judgment of others binding progression, tying tongue, boiling blood because old habits die hard and I continue fucking up, up raging rapids w/o a paddle,   almost 3 decades of failing infinite (according to projections) feel I missed and am missing out on so much, so much world, so many words coiled inside, waiting to explode,

all the time, just like everybody.. everything mind sets sights on turns to target issue     how unfortunate for aforementioned coordinates, for anyone close enough for me to put in poems' , important enough to torment conscious over, used to be everybody, used to be nobody, used to be just some people, now its just me and i dont know him

   attempts to speak, to learn again, to teach me about me       to learn to teach                     myself, to set example for ambition directed toward a better version, better verses, better reimbursement of time given tryna be an extrovert, free from bitter, free from bitch asses, set internal standards to never  get fucked with again, fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, i only fucks with a journal & question  everyone,  everything, every word, every whisper, shit ima tell my children every day, breakfast lunch dinner,  do your best and fuck the rest, get it, get lit off enlightenment, fuck rest, save roosting for death, dont look at me, looknat the sky, seize the day in everyway brain permits, dont reach for others' and if anyone tries to take yours, that means they dont fundamentally respect life, so always permeate passion, ignore distractions keeping you from creating, test limits, test intentions, challenge imperfections with wisdom, know that perfect is just cosmetics, but i remain quiet.. remain tied up being alone, wondering..           whether I'm right to do any god damn thing        'cause if I don't do it right..       was I right to think I could, wrong to think I understood

am i wrong not to try?

what of what's sacrificed ?

how do i keep count

how did I end up here       in standby...

standing squeamish & deer eyed in light of opportunities rising in horizon of night skies, to step in to obtain warmth, maintain from days before, to do something, do the one thing, but when will I be ready will eyes be ready to comprehend right or wrong

only me, here. only us, on planet.

only who's responsible? how is who is affected by, afflicted by? when is too late? when is just right, always too soon to tell and.. if I don't do it now, then why expect change..

why, why, why

'cause I expect anything at all

anger toward unmanned vehicles imminent to collide with mine

driven mad up eighty-five degree angled walls during rush hour, sun beaming heat into ride, where i travel on path, thru battlefield of past where fallen intentions decompose to ignorance and wisdom sprouts in the mean time.. I'm in between times, feelin down, down down down down by the way

a trail thru fears past dead ends, rotting trees, looks like fallout hit

a past I try an' forget..

but remember out of reluctance 

to accidentally revisit regret,

stand next to biggest fears,  see if facing them uproots soul

rolls ideas in head, non-stop

like trolls troll under bridges 

to which billy goat gruff temper charges like crono's katana on zenan crossing,

lodes of odes to oaths, lightning loaded, aimed at negative minded sapiens bioshocks via rhythm and syntax, cryo cascades of ideas, locked away in moleskine or computer files to put to rest the rest of an inside in arrest to judgment, in side quest of public playthrough, i feel im on public display, static complaining in front of pretty much strangers   modes of awareness to mental problems i exploit to people who might not think im crazy, who might like what i write, might like to write about the same thing, might see giants in those same nodes i stand near, i hear crisp crackles filling an awkward air as i stare at words on sheets that i might tear, might let collect dust, or share prolly might be quiet, only sound is poetic drafts that fill in under open windows, I open slowly, cool rush, goosebumps, awake aware always, even when mind is a crinkled, crumbled candy wrapper still just construct wrinkles in time via           hairs stand, ovation, and encores to

     helping to cross over doubts, screams of slander, stop it all, right now, shed truth in another light, fed through veins like pen's ink to go over and correct vision of pinheads vane turnin art, free thought to cash and competition, trade purpose blow for blow with obstacles in the name of the next step, over opponents, trade nervous for nerves robust to withstand standing up to stretch and spread chest to stand up for work where time invested is braided circulation    goin in circles,        time wasted pet peeve number 1

    a nowhere never felt before        but something seems familiar.. overlooked,   under yards, under pressure of bone leverage, give life a lift thru cracks of a collapsing effort stretched behind chest and ribs

a heart glows in

hot coal hues hearth warmth under carbon sheets

till blood boils till steam coils from pores to kill the cold along roads

sun or none

no light above, isn't lack of.. 

(look inside)

----

harsh heat of reality hot enough to feel cold

make me go ghost in dark times..

friction strong enough to spark moist..

continue until i sear nerves disembody fromm pain till im felt by meta-form of others

heartfelt arcs between soul and soul-mind 2 mind

light releases thru iris folds spectacle in spectacles----

spectrum wheel of emotions spins &spins to  understand self an urge that intensifies the more  i live life as well as I can Improve every day, no excuse, don't ignore the corners, get behind my ears,every nook and cranny in creative muse-um, uhm, duh, raised on books, nintendo, animation,& wishbone, outside, only myself as playdate, use every square inch as play-scape under every hair in head, a mind uses face and body as way to create 4 fourever& vice versa to escape who ever & know I can do whenever, wherever

wherever i go, a voice in mind goes

that keeps on talkin , keeps me talkin tellin me I've talk--, wrote enough hoped enough to last a lifetime, but that's not enough

and I still got a lifetime

to either solidify or fuck it up

gradually let go of 

to concentrate on life's finest moments i build to build form in appreciation, saying get up, enjoy the sun rays breaching clouds just before dawn; gett off yo butt and do what you know what you taught you to do when you were at multiple low points and you promised you, you'd never fall to end, even if you fall again, again, and again, never stall in the middle of  takeoff stop in middle of road, cant press play if you lost remote, might as well get up and do it, crawl, run or walk away when the times calls to brawl dark-inner energy only honorable mentions defend health during dishonorable discharge of nega, into rivers, into blue sky.. bordered by white clouds and linear silver

a safe place, work space, desk clerk sifting day to day thru file cabinets memories in memos in notebook; written relativity explaining how I see, what I think say what i want like im eight, glad i spent so much time with words and space-bars,   to escape judgment, hatred,

anxious surrounded by bad vibes

above an Earth, below expectations; over a self under surveillance by approval from inside, crazy dimensions, On the fence between people and myself I close eyes, ride waves of nostalgia once more..

see plenty light to traverse pathways, walk fer hours, walk like back in younger days, playin, runnin, completely captivated immersed in games played, tv, roller blades, monopoly, scary stories, trampolines

&10thousand songs later, 10million thoughts later, here I am doing what I made me to.

can't wait for the next chance

supplied energy through lines to hidden gracelands.

[mzyrimworld]

Duster Part 5 - Quadrum 4

At the end of the last quadrum (Fall), our colony of now 7 people and 6 animals were receiving distress calls, including one from the newest colonist’s ex-husband, which was quite the quandary...

And the distress calls don’t let up! It sounds like this man could be useful in a fight, but the colonists haven’t come across any mechanoids yet and we’ve heard they can be incredibly lethal. Will they risk it?

The base is still expanding, including a gaming room in a nearby mountain. They could use more storage space, but - if they do go out to rescue anybody - some of that food may disappear.

6th of Jugust: The colonists have decided to take a risk and go out to rescue somebody! Only Henry of our original three is going, together with the more aggressive animals, as well as Lisa and Beryl. Hopefully the travels will help to keep Beryl out of trouble as he struggles with his Wake-Up addiction.

The same evening, they have arrived at the easiest option - the outpost where Lucya’s ex-husband is being held! There’s only two people visible at the moment, but there could be more hiding inside...

A third did emerge, but it didn’t take Henry and the animals long to dispose of him! The other two are suffering badly...

And after a short skirmish the remaining two opponents are downed, but not dead. Fortunately there’s already a prison cell to hold them until they’re ready to leave. Lisa hasn’t taken too much damage, though it might be painful to travel again soon on that leg...

The worst off is the poor ibex ram, who has now had a hoof shattered to match his jaw, though it looks like it should still be able to travel on, if slowly...

And Jethro got a little battered, but nothing that ought to be permanent.

Perhaps most importantly, we have an eighth colonist! Insert a joke here about greedy criminals becoming politicians! Still, his high social skill could come in very handy for the colonists, and we hear he can be kind? I have to wonder if Lucya agreed to rescuing him...

One small issue though - Beryl’s not going to be the only addict in the colony now, as though the others won’t be sick of dealing with grumpy people suffering with withdrawal symptoms...

The next morning the rescuers have decided to take a chance and try to risk the man near the sleeping mechanoid. They brought plenty of food for travelling, they just have to hope they can sneak the man out without causing too much trouble...

Whilst they are journeying, back at the main base the colonists discovered that the female alpaca is pregnant! I don’t know how long alpaca pregnancies last, but hopefully ex-vet Henry will be around in time to oversee the delivery.

That evening our travelling colonists arrive at the distress call - and the man in question is alarmingly close to the sleeping mechanoid. Still, they haven’t come out here just to turn around again...

Vladimir, perhaps as the newest, is sent in (with Henry and Lisa poised to cover him) and he successfully recruits our nineth colonist! Vas is not a good-looking man, but he is skilled with all weapons, and building materials. Could be very useful, once he recovers...

None of his wounds are that bad, and he even has a bionic ear!

Though perhaps I should say if he recovers, and his injuries so far - despite their best efforts, that mechanoid looks rather awake to me...!

Oh no! A colonist has been killed! Lisa was doing well together with Henry, giving enough distraction to allow Vladimir and Vas to escape, but first a shot took off her arm and then, when she tried to retreat, a shot straight to the torso destroyed her heart!

No time to mourn yet, the mechanoid is still upright...

And it’s downed with no further deaths! Original colonist Henry is completely unharmed, and Beryl looks fine too.

Here we can see the damage done to the mechanoid - it was Lisa using the revolver, and I believe she was responsible for destroying the fluid reprocessor and possibly also the arm; she went down fighting.

The only other one to be injured is the ibex ram, but it only appears to be bruises; it’s had far worse injuries recently.

With both missions done, the travellers plan to head home in the morning, taking Lisa’s body with them for proper burial.

Back home, the other colonists are not having the best time either - a cold snap is killing off plants, and the muscle parasites are back, infecting Zeiph again but now Dead as well.

But, on the bright side, the female muffalo is pregnant now too.

And late that evening the travellers and prisoners arrive back, several of them still injured and needing to rest.

While the others were gone, the homebody colonists helpfully built a larger prison for just such an occasion. Perhaps it might tempt the captives to join the fold, like Lion before them.

Not that this young man seems especially skilled, but a spare pair of hands doesn’t hurt.

This woman is older, but hardly more skilled. Somebody needs to invest in schools on this planet!

There was a cargo pod drop of smokeleaf nearby, and I don’t think we can blame Lucya for greeting the news that her ex-husband would be living in their colony by promptly getting stoned* and going back to work.

*Please note that we do not condone drug use, and the words and actions of the colonists do not reflect our views as a company. Please consult your doctor if you or somebody you love are having trouble with drug use.

I should confirm that there have been no positive relationship developments so far, despite the number of colonists around now. There also haven’t been any fights, despite some people getting rebuffed. There must be drama sooner or later though...

Finally, Lisa’s body is interred respectfully in a decorated sarcophagus. Hopefully they will be able to avoid having to extend that room for more sarcophagi any time soon.

Can we get a Lisa montage? We’ll try a brief Lisa montage. Get some unlicensed sad music!

*Very unlicensed sad music*

What can be said of Lisa Hogan? She crashed from the sky into our colonists’ lives, slowly bleeding out from a wound in her shoulder.

She was the first to join the colony, having been rescued, despite sleeping on the half-dirt floor of a very basic room. She might have just left, but she stayed.

She wasn’t particularly skilled, but she helped out with the research when others were busy, and got involved in the fights when necessary.

Despite only seeming to be 39, she was born 2,284 years ago. The other colonists probably should have asked her about that. And how she stayed so optimistic when this was almost bound to happen. Plus how she fit all those dreadlocks under a cowboy hat. Now we’ll never know.

May she have her own joywire in the afterlife. And at least she got immortalised on TV rather than dying in obscurity.

Anyway, back to the living colonists, Lucya is not the only one lighting it up. Beryl seems to have decided that the best way to get through the withdrawal symptoms of one drug is to binge on another.

He’s not managing much of a binge, though, because between the two problems he winds up on the floor unable to move for several hours. Luckily somebody usually hauls him to a bed to sleep it off.

Until his bingeing coincides with an electrical fault the sets the building on fire!

Don’t get excited though: other colonists came running quickly to put the fire out and put Beryl to bed again. He should be the majority of the way through his Wake-Up withdrawal symptoms now, I’m sure the colonists are hoping it will soon be in the past.

Perhaps we shouldn’t complain though, without Beryl’s various breakdowns the rest of the season would have been very boring. Perhaps Vladimir will pick up the slack next season as his Psychite withdrawal kicks in too...

Final stats:

Henry: No change

Jethro: No change

Dead: Now with muscle parasites

Zeiph: Now with muscle parasites again

Ibex ram: Now has a shattered hoof as well as its jaw

Lisa: Lost arm, heart, life </3

Lion: No change

Beryl: Constantly on the verge of a breakdown

Female alpaca: Pregnant

Female muffalo: Pregnant

Male alpaca + muffalo: Fine

Lucya: Not thrilled to be around her ex-husband

Vladimir: Going into Psychite withdrawal and seeing ex-wife

Vas: That face ain’t improving, but at least he’s got good hearing?

Colony: Lost one colonist, gained two

[kates-sweet-escape]

The taste of coffee  [ A | MH ]

pairing: Minhyuk X Reader (Gender neutral)

genre: Angst

word count: 2.9k

summary: One morning Minhyuk wakes up to find his world being completely turned upside down by no other than you.

trigger warning: Mature themes! Violence! Abuse! Mentions of drugs, alcohol and sex.

cover: Made by me. Picture by Naver Dispatch.

song recommendation: Writing's on the wall - Sam Smith

“Lee Minhyuk, better known to the general public as the Blue House prince, is caught up in yet another scandal.” Minhyuk's fist clenched around the plastic bottle, causing the water to splash everywhere as he looked at the pretty face of the news anchor who was staring straight into the camera with a slight smile plastered on her face. Was she even aware that she was ruining his f*cking life right now? Or did she even care?

He would bet his life that she didn’t. She only saw her chance of making headlines, not caring about whose life she’d have to ruin in order to gain fame. Just like all those damn reporters that weren’t any better than cockroaches.

“After being scammed into investing money in a slush fund only three months ago, it seems like the son of South Korean president Lee Chunghee hasn’t learned his lesson.” Minhyuk’s heart sunk in his chest as he heard her mentioning his father's name. This time he wouldn’t only send him off into exile for making a mistake. He’d f*cking kill him. Or at least beat him half to death.

“We’ll take a look at the picture that has been leaked this morning after a short commercial break. Please be aware that this picture might be disturbing for some of our audience and that viewer discretion is advised. See you in five and remember to not change the channel. This has been Kim Guenhye for…”

The TV suddenly turned black and Minhyuk didn’t need to look over his shoulder to see who switched it off.

“You should stop watching that crap.” Jooheon’s voice was laced with understanding as he spoke in a soft tone, causing Minhyuk to tear up. Jooheon has always been the only one to really show him any empathy or kindness. “Everything is going to be alright. I bet your father will…”

“Kill me. He will kill me Jooheon. And you know it.” Minhyuk cleared his throat as he realized how weak and defeated he sounded “How long have you been my bodyguard, hm? Five years? Maybe even six?” Minhyuk looked at Jooheon who was watching him with a concerned look on his face. “You know what he’s capable of. Hell, he'd even sent me off to Busan just so he wouldn’t have to explain all the bruises on my face after beating me up for that slush fund b*llshit Kihyun got me into.” Minhyuk looked down at the water bottle in his hand. It was almost empty by now. “Have you looked for Y/N like I told you to?”

“Yes.” Jooheon sat down next to Minhyuk on the couch, avoiding his eyes as he looked at the TV that had finally fallen silent after they’d turned it on about two hours ago when this mess had started. “But Y/N is nowhere to be found. I think that maybe-”

“Don’t even think about saying those words.” Minhyuk could feel anger bubbling up inside of him as he realized what Jooheon was implying. “Y/N would never do that to me. Never.” He glanced towards the local newspaper that was lying on the coffee table while staring at the picture on the front page.

It was a picture of him, lying naked in bed on his stomach, hugging his pillow like he usually did. Even though his face was only half exposed, he was still clearly recognizable. His eyes were closed and the angle from which the picture was taken made him look a lot younger than he actually was. His shoulders and his back where on full display while his butt had been covered by a blanket even though he never slept under one in the hot and humid midsummer nights of Busan. There were some scratch marks on his back and some of his clothes were scattered on the floor right next to the bed, covering up the cheap carpet of the motel he’d called his home ever since his father had sent him away three months ago.

But that intimate half-naked picture of him sleeping in his bed wasn’t what the media was running wild about. It was what was on the nightstand that would ruin his life forever.

Beside his matte black mobile phone with his initials engraved in white there were two ripped open condom packages next to an almost empty glass of scotch. But drinking and having a sex life wasn’t a crime.

Having cocaine sitting on your bedside table was.

Or at least that’s what people would think it was if they’d see the three neatly scraped lines, the white powder clearly visible against the dark wood of the nightstand. And to top it all off, his black credit card was lying right next to them with a little bit of the powder still stuck to the edge.

Even though Minhyuk had never done drugs in his entire life.

Jooheon had tasted it and it had turned out to be nothing more than harmless baking powder, but the damage had already been done and even if he’d strongly deny it and even if the police would state that he didn’t commit a crime because he’d never been in the possession of drugs in the first place, nobody would believe him.

They’d all think that his powerful father bribed somebody to cover it all up. So his reputation was ruined either way.

Minhyuk kept looking at the pictures while he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

He knew that only you could have taken those pictures. He knew it because otherwise you’d be in those pictures with him, sleeping right next to him with your legs intertwined with his and your cheek resting on his shoulder.

That’s how the two of you had slept together in one bed ever since you’d started dating about two months ago.

He’d fallen head over heels for you when he’d first met you in this hell of a place. When he’d first arrived in Busan he’d been overwhelmed by it all. His cold bastard of a father had not only practically exiled him from Seoul but also frozen any of Minhyuk's assets, turning him from one of the richest twenty-somethings of the world to someone without even a penny to his name. The only things his father had allowed him to take had been a suitcase of clothes, his Bentley and Jooheon, who had been by his side for the past couple of years.

Upon arrival he had only been able to afford a room in a stingy back-alley motel that had tacky orange and red neon lights on the front and that smelled like a mixture of vomit, piss and the unique stench of broken dreams and failure. But the two of them hadn’t been able to afford anything else because his father had also cut down Jooheon’s wage by a significant amount as punishment for allowing Minhyuk to get involved with Kihyun in the first place.

They had been able to survive like this for two weeks with Jooheon getting a job as a barkeeper nearby to try and support the both of them while Minhyuk had been forced to basically be locked down in that damn motel room, unable to get himself a job because people would recognize him once he mentioned his name.

So when he’d left his motel room that Saturday morning he had been broke, hungry and absolutely angry because of the bleakness of it all.

And that’s when he had met you.

A few blocks away from his motel was a Starbucks which he purposely included in his everyday jogging route just so he could take a whiff at the smell of freshly ground coffee beans that was always lingering in the air.

He’d been so distracted by his grumbling stomach and the amazing smell that he hadn’t noticed the puppy that had been running around your feet as you were trying your best to cross the busy street with a huge cup of Starbucks coffee and the leash in hand. He had only realized his mistake as he’d jogged past you, causing the puppy to run wild in anticipation of Minhyuk wanting to play tag with him while you had cussed Minhyuk out loud enough for him to hear.

As the puppy ran off after him it ripped the leash out of your grip, setting itself free. The sudden jolt sent your cup of coffee flying, spilling its contents all over you, the street, the puppy and even partially on him.

Fortunately it had been a cup of iced americano so none of you had been severely burned. But your white shirt and especially the puppy's light fur had been covered in the dark brown liquid, leaving dark stains all over.

You’d given him hell for causing you so much trouble while the two of you had chased after the puppy trying to get a hold of it. It had proven to be rather difficult because the puppy had been so excited, thinking of it as a game and was barking happily while running away.

It had taken the two of you ages to finally get a hold of the leash the puppy dragged along but once you did, you swept the puppy up into your arms, scolding him with the softest and most caring voice while cuddling the little coffee drenched ball of fur.

Afterwards the two of you stood on the side of the road, out of breath and covered in sweat before looking at each other. There had been an intense and awkward silence between the two of you, but then you kicked your head back in a sudden outburst of the most honest laughter he’d ever heard.

And that was the moment when he’d fallen in love with you.

After that morning he’d been obsessed with you, jogging by that particular Starbucks multiple times a day in the hope of getting a glimpse of that beautiful smile you’d flashed him when you’d said goodbye to him that day.

And after a week of disappointment for every time you hadn’t been there, you had suddenly showed up in front of the Starbucks, with the puppy sitting at your feet and two coffees in hand.

You’d gone to the beach with him, talking to him while letting the puppy run around freely on the empty early morning shore.

You’d told him that you’d moved to Busan a little over two years ago and that you were an elementary school teacher for Korean and music. You’d told him all about Nunsongi, your beautiful white husky pup, with the most captivating dark blue eyes. You’d talked about your obsession with coffee and your passion for music and the fine arts.

And after the two of you had talked for hours you’d suddenly kissed him by the shore, making his heart race in his chest as he’d pulled you close. You’d tasted like the sun and a little bit of salt mixed with the bittersweet taste of coffee.

After that day the two of you had been practically inseparable, spending as much time with each other as you possibly could. While you were at work he’d taken care of Nunsongi before picking you up once school ended.

You’d shown him around Busan every chance you got, introducing him to the best seafood restaurants and amazing street food trucks while sharing your passion for the fine arts through trips to the museum or listening to busking performances or free open air concerts.

And after spending the whole day together, you’d often stayed over at Minhyuk's motel room, sneaking in Nunsongi through the backdoor.

You’d cuddled up in bed with him, kissing him every chance you got while the two of you had either talked for hours or just layed there in the dimly lit room, looking at each other without saying a word until both of you’d fallen asleep.

He’d let you in on all his deepest thoughts and secrets.

He’d let you look past the mask he wore for the general public.

He’d let himself get completely lost in you.

He’d trusted you.

He’d loved you.

And you’d lied to him. You’d even gone as far as screwing him over and betraying his trust in the worst way possible, exposing him to the media and dooming him to lead the life of a social outcast for the rest of his days.

Because no matter how much he wanted to trick himself into believing you’d nothing to do with this, the rational part of him knew that it could have only been you. You had been the one he’d trusted the most, letting his guard down around you completely. And you’d used that against him while shattering his heart into a million little pieces.

He had loved you. And you had used him.

Minhyuk was snapped back to reality as he heard the door to his motel room being pushed open with such force that it hit the wall with a loud bang.

“You worthless piece of sh*t.” The voice of his father was laced with anger and hatred as he made his way over to Minhyuk, a belt in hand as he took huge steps forward, closing the little space between the door and the couch in no time. “You’re mother should have taken her with you when she crashed her car into that damn tree!”

Jooheon leaped forwards in an effort to protect him but Hyunwoo and Hoseok, who were part of his fathers loyal squad of bodyguards, held him back effortlessly.

His father's eyes were transfixed on Minhyuk as he raised his fist that was tightly gripping the belt.

“I told you to keep a low profile.” The leather of his father’s belt left a numbing pain as it hit Minhyuk’s cheek and he could feel the skin burst open due to the sheer force of the impact. “I told you not to ever disgrace me like that again. Who do you think you are ruining my reputation like that.” The belt hit him again and he had to put in great effort to stay conscious because the pain was starting to make him feel dizzy. He could taste his own blood on his tongue as his father kept on hitting him relentlessly.

But he knew better than to dodge any of them.

If he wanted to survive this he’d have to take all of this silently without screaming out or complaining. So he kept his mouth shut, taking every hit and insult his father threw at him before he finally stopped when he was unable to raise his fist again.

Minhyuk was lying on the ground, barely able to stay awake as the excruciating pain took over every aspect of his mind and body, almost drowning out the pain he felt in his chest while thinking of you.

“Turn on the TV you useless piece of trash.” Minhyuk didn’t know who of the three other men he was talking to and he didn’t really care. All he could focus on was the pain he felt while he tried to steady his breath in order to hold back the tears that were welling up in this eyes.

“After the recent scandal of Lee Minhyuk the public is starting to doubt whether or not his father Lee Chunghee is suitable to be president if he can’t even keep his own son out of trouble.” Minhyuk started to despise the voice of that useless news anchor that he’d forever associate with the darkest day in his entire life. “His opponents are already getting ready to step up if President Lee ends up laying down his office. Next in line would be Lee’s strongest opponent…”

“That damn hyena.” His father grabbed a fist full of Minhyuk’s hair, forcing him to open his eyes and look at the TV. “Look what you’ve done you…”

His father's words were nothing but incoherent mumbling as Minhyuk's world suddenly turned blank while looking at the screen.

There you were, standing right next to the next presidential candidate, looking into the camera with a stern expression on your face. He immediately noticed that you were oddly pale. Your eyes were missing their usual spark and your lips were tightly pressed shut into a thin line. Your hands were curled up into fists while you were holding on to Nunsongi’s leash hard enough that he could see your knuckles turning white.

There you were. In Seoul. And if he could trust the writing on the screen, you weren’t only standing right next to the next presidential candidate. You were also standing right next to your father.

Looking just as miserable and heartbroken as he felt.

He wanted to laugh at the cruelty of this whole situation but he couldn’t. He could only look at you, wondering if you were okay while he himself was lying on the floor, hurting all over and bleeding like crazy.

Wasn’t the heart a funny little traitor.

Because after all you’d done to him he still wanted to see you again. Even after you’d f*cked up his life like this, betraying his trust in the worst way possible, he still desperately wanted to see you again. Hold you in his arms again. Fall asleep right next to you again. Kiss you again.

Because he loved you.

You and the bittersweet taste of coffee that had always lingered on your lips, making him helplessly addicted to you.

[mtvchallengeblogarchive]

The Battle of the Opposite Sexes... - Episode 9

Isn't saying "opposite sexes" redundant? Anyway, um, the point of the game is to NOT get naked and none of the girls that participated even ended up naked.   When the mission was first explained to us, it was hot as hell out, in the middle of the day and for some reason the crew wasn't ready.  The technology behind having your name light up just when you buzzed in just wasn't working.  So, we ended up playing the game that evening.  Now, during the day, the girls had spread out and everyone but the girls that played the game was complaining about how the shit was anti-God, how it was just terrible, blah blah blah.  In the bathroom, Emily was telling all the girls that we should boycott the game based on principle and religion.  At this point, I said, "Well, some people can't bungee jump off a building, but I wouldn't expect them to boycott a mission just because I couldn't do it."  Um, why do they have a Fantasy Points thing where you can get points about not doing a mission based on religious reasons, but they don't highlight that in the show?  The God theme was running rampant this mission and they don't even really show it. When the whole boycott was going on, I knew it was going to play out really stupidly on television (as boycotts do, see Puck's Insane Wedding).  God or no God, the point of the game is to keep your mother grabbing clothes on so if you don't know an answer, shut up.  Stay quiet and just stand there and collect your 16 points or whatever the lowest score would be just for standing there.  Furthermore, if God is your main concern, I don't know that MTV or this show, which encapsulates the shittiness of backstabbing, is the place for you to stand on the What Would Jesus Do? soapbox.  I mean, they just called all the girls of DZO bitches on just a commercial.  I saw adolescent boobs on a Mardi Gras special commercial.  And don't even get me started on how Christian Real World Las Vegas is.   Now, I have to point this out.  There have been two opportunities for Veronica to vote off Emily and she hasn't.  She voted off Jisela when she could've gone the Emily route and just made up something terrible about Emily in an effort to get her ousted.  When Anne said that big hole of negativity comment about Veronica in the "Next Week On" clip, I was like somebody please kill me.  I was just dumbfounded as to how much Anne hates Veronica.  I swear to you I never ever ever ever ever saw Veronica say a rude thing to the girl or to any other girl there.  MTV has shown you not one piece of footage of Veronica acting like a black hole of anything.  I just can't believe anybody, especially Anne who was totally a regular cool person to me while we were there, would just say that about somebody she doesn't even know on national television.   Simply put, that's just a malicious thing to say about someone, not just on TV, but also in real life, if you have absolutely no interaction, evidence or history with that person. And I say this as someone who is guilty of calling a female an asshole on TV! I could see if what Anne was saying is true, but it's just not. Maybe there is some weird twisted history between the duo, but I didn't see it there.  And if that seed was planted in Anne's head from just Emily, well, damn damn, Emily's just captivating.  She should start her own cult if she can move people in such a way.  Friendship loyalties do run deep, but I don't despise Jisela just because my dear friend Coral does.  Shit, I like Jisela. The actual game was a joke.  The boys got questions like, "Name all the Spice Girls" and the girls got, "Which Puerto Rican American singer slash javelin thrower was the first man to cross paths with Emperor Shaolin of the Bambataa Tribe?"  And then when the boys answered questions wrong, they still got points.  One question they got wrong which the judges let slide which was insano was: What is the ingredient in the inactive birth control pill? The answer is sugar.  The boys said placebo.  No, the pill itself is called the placebo.  The ingredient is sugar. Then, one of the boys said that Judy Blume wrote Ramona and got points. Beverly Cleary wrote Ramona and I buzzed in a million times and told the judges that the answer was wrong.  How do I know that Beverly Cleary wrote Ramona?  I loved and cherished all of Beverly Cleary's books as a little girl.  Remember when Ramona was a show on PBS?  I was just a happy little pea then. No bills, no worries, just PBS and a glass of Tang with a straw. That game was fun though.  I had a good time watching those boys have to get naked.  I can't believe they didn't actually show the competition. It was so funny.  "It was so funny" is the least intelligent sentence I've ever written.   I barely got a speaking part again. Yay! Oh, and if this show is brought to you by Truth, the tobacco companies are bad people, then why has MTV chosen to air Emily smoking a cigarette in every shot? I shouldn't write these reviews when I am in a bad mood.  I am in super grouch mode right now.  I must get thee to the medicine cabinet right now.  Advil, Calgon take it all away.  Um, kiss my white ass.  End quote.

Mar 04 2003