#we should be running tobacco companies out of business

[thediktatortot]

I don't understand how people can actually smoke cigarettes for real.

[voidsentprinces]

Adult Drama is weird. Like...even though I work at a gas station and you expect some weirdness. But my first year working here, I got some backrow seats to some weird soap opera drama going down.

The gas station, I work at, had just been renovated and was going through a "soft opening". In that we were accepting customers, getting the store set up by installing mirrors. Getting in iced coffee and getting the stocking and all the random stuff like insurance, gas delivery, food delivery etc. situated.

To begin there was the main manager, the assistant manager, the day shift who wanted to become assistant manager but due to having to wait for the insurance to kick in couldn't because the assistant manager needed to have access to reliable transportation. And without the insurance kicking in yet, they couldn't yet afford subscription glasses to get a license to get a car to get assistant transportation. Which is why even though they were the logical choice to be the assistant manager, the dude who became the assistant manager was someone lets just say...underqualified to doing the job.

So, reiterate, the main manager (works 9am - 5pm), the one chosen to be the assistant manager so we could eventually grand open in March, the person working morning to afternoon who should of been the assistant manager, the morning barista (cooks food from 4:30am - 9am part time gig), the afternoon shift lady, and two graveyard shifts. Alone Monday through Thursday and then working together Friday through Sunday (9pm - 5:30am).

The situation that is important is the assistant manager thingie. Aforementioned but the guy doing the job was more than just half-assing it. Which is why the Manager was waiting for the 1st shift worker to get insurance to eventually replace the current assistant manager. That was...until, they accidentally sold tobacco to an undercover test shopper.

For those who do not know, three bodies: Mystery Shopper, Local Police, and Corporate will occasionally send someone underage to come into a store and attempt to buy tobacco to see if the staff are I.D.ing and denying sale of tobacco, alcohol and lottery for those underage (Tobacco and Alcohol are 21 years for purchase while lottery is 18) in accordance to law.

The company has a strict, one strike your out policy. Because California law can strip any company not following this law of tobacco, alcohol, and lottery sales certification. The person who was to become the assistant manager and take over for the guy who was like...barely doing the job at all. Failed a test shopper and was subsequently fired on the spot by corporate. Leaving main manager to have to function with this newly opened gas station with an assistant manager half-assing the job the entire way through.

Well, Void, I mean you cannot fault a guy for half-assing a job that pays shit in this economy. I mean sure fine yeah, but also like...its kind of difficult for a business to function if said assistant manager isn't ordering important things like...cleaning products, tampons, coffee for morning rush, and soda bibs correctly. So we end up with things that just do not sell? And also spent like...the beginning of their shift in the bathroom, two hours of their shift doing the wrong orders, and the rest of it getting high at the dumpster outside? Its also difficult for me to do my job of keeping the place functionally clean if we run out of cleaning products, gloves to protect me from some chemicals used to clean the pumps to keep grime, oil, and dirt from building up as well?

In any case, due to the previous person ideal to the role getting fired, he's now around for longer than necessary. Which leads to the adult drama ahead:

The barista and the assistant manager. I've told you about the assistant manager but now its time to bring in the barista. Who was a married woman with kids and also part of a JW branch. Because the assistant manager comes in at 4:30am - 1pm and the Barista kind of works as a cashier fill in after they're done stocking and cooking in the morning. The two work close together alone from 4:30am until the Barista leaves at the end of the part time shift at 9am.

She starts using this time to try and convert the assistant manager to the JW religion. But something gets crossed...and they start catching feelings for each other. The manager comes in at 9am to 5pm to work their shift and notices they none too subtly are starting to take their lunches and leave and return with one another. And then they start spending time off shift together.

I am...like...half sure adultry is frowned upon by the JW religion...as are birthdays...and any holiday but putting that aside. This woman is still very much married with near adult children and a husband.

Let me digress by saying, that eventually due to corporate's rules that two people dating cannot work together due to workplace bias. The barista discreetly quits. But the assistant manager STILL goes to his lunch really quickly and drives off in a hurry. And from time to time, the barista shows up to get gas during my graveyard shift. And the assistant manager is most definitely in the car with her.

This all comes to a weird head when the aforementioned husband, one day shows up at my work during the last hour of my shift TO TRY AND THROW DOWN WITH THE ASSISTANT MANAGER IN THE MOTHERFUCKING PARKING LOT.

Since we're in the market for a new barista, the main manager is coming in early morning. So that assistant manager is now the unofficial barista cooking in the morning. ALONG WITH. Me and the secondary graveyard and anyone else pulling up on a Monday morning to witness the spectacle.

Words at exchanged but no fists are thrown because...boy all the witnesses yeah? The husband eventually leaves and the assistant manager comes back in and is all like, "I just wanna live my life man." ...my dude you are helping a woman cheat on her husband and you're surprised the husband has decided to hunt your ass down? But you just wanna live your life and be left out of this drama you are participating in? AMAZING! PLEASE CONTINUE!

The drama does NOT stop there. Because...like...holy shit. We have a regular who comes in to buy cigarettes on a weekly to nightly basis. Now and this will become important in a second:

This man is, for lack of a better definition, the most baby boomer to ever baby boom. Think of a baby boomer man. Old? Putting on the weight? Balding? Chain smoking? Hates his wife? Very weird about his politics to a racist if not bigoted degree? This guy checks all the lists.

I bring him up because he is one of the lucky millions to be kicked out of a cushy office job meant to grant him stability and a nice comfy retirement during the seventeen recessions we had. And now works at a pizza place as a delivery driver.

You know who else works at that pizza place? The barista's daughter.

The barista's daughter is obviously caught in the middle of this clusterfucker of the assistant manager and the barista in a relationship despite the barista being married with kids. And she actually has turned to THIS MAN. AND ASKS WHY PEOPLE FALL OUT OF LOVE! This man is not qualified to give ANY ADVICE TO A YOUNG ADULT WORKING THEIR STARTER JOB AT A PIZZA DELIVERY PLACE ON WHY MARRIAGES FALL APART!

Anticlimatically, the Assistant Manager eventually leaves too because, lo and behold if you do a bad enough job at your...job. Corporate will start laying into you and eventually he leaves. Still occasionally shows up with the ex-barista to drive off somewhere together. Apparently, that entire family has now been ex-communicated from that JW branch due to what transpired. And everything gets quiet again.

So yeah that is...uhh...adult drama is fucking weird.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Podcasting "Qualia"

This week on my podcast, I read “Qualia,” my May, 2021 Locus Magazine column about quantitative bias, epidemiology, antitrust and drug policy. It’s a timely piece, given the six historic antitrust laws that passed the House Judiciary Committee last week:

https://doctorow.medium.com/moral-hazard-and-monopoly-42e30eb159a8

The pandemic delivered some hard lessons about quantitative bias — that’s when you pay attention to the parts of a problem that you can do math on, not because they’re the most important, but because you know how to do math.

The most obvious lesson comes from the failure of exposure notification apps, which were supposed to take the place of “shoe-leather” contact tracing, wherein a public health workers establish personal rapport with infected people to help identify others who might be at risk.

Contact tracing is a human process, built on trust: trust enough to talk about the intimate details of your life, trust enough to take advice on how to get tested and whether you should self-isolate.

That’s not what apps do.

Exposure notification apps measure whether a Bluetooth device you registered was close to another Bluetooth device for a “clinically significant” period of time.

That’s it.

They don’t measure qualitative aspects, like whether you were close to an infected person because you were in the same traffic jam in adjacent, sealed automobiles — or whether you were both at the Ft Lauderdale eyeball-licking championship.

And they certainly don’t create the personal rapport that’s needed to understand each person’s idiosyncratic health circumstances and complications — whether they need child care, or are at risk of losing their under-the-table jobs if they self-isolate.

We didn’t want to commit the resources to do contact tracing at scale, we didn’t know how to automate it — but we did know how to automate exposure notification, so we incinerated the qualitative elements and declared the dubious quantitative residue to be sufficient.

It’s the quant’s version of searching for your car keys under the lamp-post because it’s too dark where you dropped them.

It’s not just foolish, it’s also deceptive — quantizing qualitative elements is a subjective exercise that produces numbers that seem objective.

This is where antitrust law comes in. Prior to the neoliberal revolution of the Reagan years, antitrust concerned itself with “harmful dominance,” with regulators asking whether mergers and commercial practices were bad for the world.

Obviously, “bad for the world” is hard to measure. Regulators evaluated claims from all corners: both political scientists worried about the outsized lobbying power of large companies and workers worried about monopolies’ outsized power over wages and conditions got a say.

So did environmentalists, urban planners, and yes, economists, too.

The Chicago School — hard-right conservative economists with cult-like status among Reagan and big business simps — insisted that all this qualitative stuff had to go.

They argued that consideration of qualitative elements left too much up to judges, so two similar companies engaged in similar conduct might get different verdicts out of the antitrust system. This, they said, make a mockery of the notion of “equal treatment before the law.”

Instead, the Chicago Boys — led by Robert Bork, a Nixonite criminal and a sort of court sorcerer to Reagan — demanded that qualitative measures be left behind in favor of a purely quantitative analysis of whether a monopoly hurt “consumer welfare.”

The way you’d measure “consumer welfare” was by checking to see whether a monopoly was making prices go up — if not, the monopoly was deemed “efficient” and thus socially beneficial. Prices are numbers, numbers can be measured.

But that’s not how it worked in practice. When two companies wanted to merge, they could hire a Chicago fixer to construct a mathematical model that “proved” that they resulting megafirm would not raise prices.

No one could argue with this, because Chicago School consultants had a monopoly over building and interpreting these models — the same way court magicians laid exclusive claim to the ability to slaughter an animal and read the future in its guts.

And if the prices did go up? Well, the same Chicago model-makers would be paid to produce a new model to prove that the price-rises were not the result of monopoly, but rather, rising energy costs or higher wages or the moon being in Venus.

Even by their own lights, “consumer welfare” was a failure. Monopolies drive prices up. Amazon Prime is a tool to drive up prices in every store, not just Amazon:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/01/you-are-here/#prime-facie

Apple’s App Store monopoly drives up app prices:

https://www.engadget.com/2019-05-13-supreme-court-apple-app-store-price-fixing-lawsuit.html

Luxxotica bought every eyewear brand and every eyewear retailer and the world’s largest optical lens manufacturer and drove prices up 1000%:

https://www.latimes.com/business/lazarus/la-fi-lazarus-glasses-lenscrafters-luxottica-monopoly-20190305-story.html

The highly concentrated pharma industry raises prices every single year:

https://patientsforaffordabledrugs.org/2021/01/14/2021-price-hikes-pr/

What’s more, there’s a straight line from “consumer welfare” to price-fixing.

Think about publishing. A decade ago, the Big Six publishers were embroiled in a bid to force Amazon to raise ebook prices, which led to fines and settlements for harming “consumer welfare.”

Today, the Big Six publishers are the Big Four, because Random House, the largest publisher in the world, gobbled up Penguin and Simon & Schuster. When RH, S&S and Penguin were three companies, it was illegal for them to collude on pricing.

But after their mergers, the three former CEOs — now presidents of divisions within an unimaginably giant company — can meet in a board room and plan exactly the same price-fixing strategy, and that isn’t illegal under “consumer welfare” antitrust — it’s “efficient.”

The Chicago School’s “consumer welfare” was only ever a front for “shareholder welfare,” the ability of large firms to avoid “wasteful competition” and extract an ever-larger share of the take for shareholders at the expense of customers, workers and the public.

The entire business of “consumer welfare” is a fraud, starting with Robert Bork’s insistence that a close reading of the US’s four major antitrust laws will reveal that they were never intended to be used for any purpose *other* than consumer welfare protections.

This is manifestly untrue, a Qanon-grade conspiracy that is refuted by the plain language of the statutes, the statements of their sponsors, and the record of the Congressional debates leading to their passage.

Despite the wealth of evidence that US antitrust is not a “consumer welfare” project, neoliberals have insisted that their project was not “reforming” antitrust, but rather, “restoring” it to its original purpose.

It’s a Big Lie, and they know it. That’s why GOP Senators Mike Lee (UT) and Chuck Grassley (IA) introduced “The TEAM Act to Reform Antitrust Law” — a bill intended to neutralize the muscular new antitrust bills that just passed the House committee.

https://washingtonmonthly.com/2021/06/25/the-plan-to-water-down-antitrust-reform/

The bill does two things:

It takes antitrust authority away from the FTC, sidelining the incredible Lina Khan, a once-in-a-generation antitrust scholar who now runs the agency; and

It codifies “consumer welfare” as the basis for US antitrust law.

That second part is the tell: after 40 years of insisting that any rational reading of US antitrust proved that “consumer welfare” was obviously its sole purpose, they’re now introducing a law to *change* its purpose to “consumer welfare.”

Like the Stolen Election lie, they never truly believed this one. The pose of objectivity that quantizing antitrust allowed was never about creating a truly objective standard for competition policy — it was only ever about neutering competition policy.

The thing is, there is a way to integrate both the objective and subjective into policy-making — as was demonstrated by David Nutt’s 2008 leadership of the UK’s Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs, which established the policy framework for a wide range of drugs.

Nutt’s panel of experts rated drugs based on how harmful they were to their users, the users’ families, and wider society. This allowed him to sort drugs into three categories:

Drugs that were dangerous irrespective of your public health priorities;

Drugs that were safe irrespective of your public health priorities; and

Drugs whose safety changed based on whether you prioritized the safety of users, families or society.

Those priorities are a political choice, not an empirical finding. Nutt told Parliament that it was their job to establish those subjective priorities, and once they did, he could objectively tell them how to embody them in the rules for each drug.

This is a beautiful example of how the objective and subjective fit together in policy — and the tale of what happened next is a terrible example of how “consumer welfare” hurts us all.

You see, booze is one of the most concentrated industries in the world. The “consumer welfare” standard let booze companies buy one another until just a handful remain — globe-straddling collosii with ample resources to influence policy-makers.

Nutt, an empiricist, reported just as rigorously on the harms of booze — one of the most dangerous drugs in the world — as he did on other drugs. He was fired for refusing to retract his true statement that tobacco and alcohol were more dangerous than many banned drugs.

Thanks to “consumer welfare” antitrust, the alcohol industry is able to choose who its regulators are, and use their political influence — purchased with the excessive profits of a monopolist — to rid themselves of pesky officials who actually pursue objective policy.

You can read the column here:

https://locusmag.com/2021/05/cory-doctorow-qualia/

And here’s the podcast episode:

https://craphound.com/news/2021/06/28/qualia/

As well a direct link to the MP3 (hosting courtesy of the @InternetArchive; they’ll host your stuff for free, forever):

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_395/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_395_-_Qualia.mp3

And here’s a link to my podcast feed:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

Image: OpenStax Chemistry: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Figure_24_01_03.jpg

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.en

[closedafterdark]

Part Timer

Dreamcatcher Minji x Male Reader

6644 words

categories: smut, oral, creampie, employee minji

Read on AFF

Note: Brief mention of Dreamcatcher members from nsfwtwicecatcher’s stories.

Life works in mysterious ways.

Walking into a convenience store can be quite the stimulating experience.

The familiar tune of the doorbell being rung upon entering. The relieving rush of air conditioning. Thousands of plastic packages covered in bright colors ranging from simple descriptions of the item with cutesy cartoon animal characters to promotional shots of the model approving of the product.

It can be hard to navigate the refrigerated section of triangle kimbap with various fillings or the hundreds of bottles of tea in assorted flavors.

From wanting to expand lunch options, picking out the best snack for a quick break from life, or finally finding that specific ramen flavor that brought back fond memories, convenience stores have something for everyone.

Convenience stores were especially popular with the younger demographic. The affordability of the products meant a high school student's allowance or a college student's frugality can both stretch their money significantly. Most stores took advantage of this, often doing promotional deals such as buy one, get one or multiples of a product for a discounted amount.

"That'll be 9,000 won please" the cashier says after scanning two red Marlboro boxes.

You were patiently waiting your turn, a cup of ramen and banana milk in your arms.

Once the person in front of you pays for their cigarettes after complaining why the tobacco tax was so high, you place the items down next to the cash register.

"That'll be 2,000 won please"

Fumbling around your pockets, you realize you were out of money. You were completely broke after paying this month's rent and your friends wanting to celebrate one of your oldest friends getting promoted in their corporate job. You had enough money to pay with cash but remembered you had an app that contained store credits.

As you hand the cashier your phone, you look up. She wore a blue, orange and green tri-colored vest that replicated the colors outside the store. Her nametag was neatly placed on the left side, the GS-25 logo clearly visible. Underneath the vest was a white crewneck sweater with Mickey Mouse imprinted across. 

Her smile was very inviting, making you question how she was able to keep such a cheerful expression for long periods of time. Her makeup less face complimented her dark, chestnut hair that was playfully teased to give a slightly wavy look. You felt quite shabby seeing how beautiful she was even in such a simple outfit. You had thrown on a pair of joggers and wore the same Mickey Mouse shirt you wore to bed last night, the shirt creased from you tossing back and forth trying to fall asleep from the summer heat.

"Oh, you like Mickey too?" She says as she hands back your phone after scanning the QR code, getting your attention.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I have a lot of these kinda shirts at home"

"Really? So do I. Mickey's my favorite" she said, her warm smile washing away whatever embarrassed feelings you had previously.

"Kim Jiyoo" you said, reading the name tag on her vest.

"That's me" Jiyoo replies, her eyes shining brightly at the delight of her name being called. "My real name is actually Minji, but my family and friends have been calling me Jiyoo forever that I've gotten used to it"

"I see. Well thank you for the items, Miss Jiyoo Minji" you reply, smiling at her.

"Please, either Jiyoo or Minji is fine" she giggles. "I haven't seen your face before"

"Yeah, I just moved to the neighborhood yesterday" you explain. "Finally living on my own"

"Really? I'm so jealous. I still have to live at home with my parents and brother" Minji pouted, puffing her cheeks at you with a cute sad reaction.

"Hey, stay positive! I'm sure you'll be able to move out soon!"

"Really? You think so?"

"Ahem"

You and Minji turn around and see an extremely large line has formed behind you, almost reaching the entrance. This store was extremely popular, you're sure having a beautiful woman as the employee made it that way.

You apologize to the customers and bow.

"Thank you again, Minji" you say, quickly grabbing your things and beginning to leave.

"Wait, I didn't catch your name!" Minji yells, tilting her head to see where you were.

"I'll drop by again tomorrow!" You yell, briefly being seen again by the door before leaving. Minji wanted to talk more, but was pleased to know you would be returning the next day. She smiled brightly at the customers and quickly got them in and out of the store.

And drop by the next day you did. Everyday for the entire month in fact. Some nights were slower than others, which allowed you and Minji to really get to know each other. Most of the time you didn't really need to buy anything, but dropped by anyways because you looked forward to your daily conversations with her. Minji would complain to you about the rude customers she had to deal with or how her and a group of friends had aspirations to be famous one day.

"What are you guys calling yourselves again?" You asked, slurping up noodles Minji made for you both.

"Dreamcatcher! We want fans to dream of us" Minji replies with her mouth full of ramen.

"That's the stupidest name I've ever heard! I preferred the first one you gave. What was it called? Minx?" You laughed at her, probably not the smartest thing to do. Minji pouted and hit your shoulder before replying.

"Ugh gross! I guarantee you this is what'll happen if we were named Minx. We'll debut with a cute concept. Two years will go by with steady growth but still no traction. We disband and go our separate ways" Minji yells, pointing her chopsticks at you in anger. 

"So, tell me about these friends of yours" you ask, taking a rather large chug of water.

"Hmm, what's there to say? I'm the oldest out of all 7 of us. We all have day jobs so it's hard to find time to meet. Here's a photo of some of them" Minji replies as she scrolls through her phone, handing you it as you see three women: one towering over the other two as they smile brightly, posing in business like clothing.

"The giant's name is Kim Yoohyun. We call her the silver puppy. Kim Bora's the busty one you see there. That bitch really needs to cover her tits. Anyways, the small bean on the right is Lee Gahyun, an intern. Yoo and Bora have been with the company for several years now. Gahyun was about to be fired due to slacking on the job, but she and Bora managed to entice their coworker into letting her stay"

"Enticed how? And wow, Yoohyun has an ass on her" you say, scrolling through Minji's phone and finding a photo of her friend posing for the camera.

"Give me that!" Minji says, yanking her phone from you.

"Let's just say the girls have an... interesting relationship with Bora's coworker"

"Noona!"

The two of you see a younger man approach your table. He looked like a carbon copy of Minji, just taller. And a guy.

"Taehyun, what are you doing here?"

"Mom asked me to ask you for some money. “Oh, hey hyung”

Minji takes some money out of her wallet, but retracts it when Taehyun reaches for it.

"What is this for?"

"She wants to buy pastries from the baker that just opened up"

"Are you sure? Ah, mom has her own money. Why does she keep asking me for some”

"Yes" Taehyun replies, snatching the money from her hand before running. Thanks noona!"

"Ah, that kid. I already know he's gonna spend it at the pc bang. Sorry about my dumb brother. Like I was saying, Bora and her coworker are pretty much senior members at the company. All the responsibility for zero increase in pay. When it came to intern evaluations to see who was going to be cut, her coworker convinced Bora that Gahyun would be their intern after some… interesting evaluations”

"So they slept with him?"

"Yoo was the first one, being his personal secretary and all. She said he dropped a pen one day during a business call and when she went to pick it up under his desk, she saw what he was hiding under his slacks so she sucked him off. Bora’s encounter with him happened when they worked late one night and got caught in a storm, so they ended up getting a hotel room for the night. Even though he's had turns with Gahyun and Bora, I really think him and puppy will end up together. She already spends half of the week at his place anyways and goes on and on about how great in bed he is"

"Well, I now know about your friends that I've never met before's sex life quite clearly. Anyway, even though it’s bad, I like that option about you guys disbanding and going your separate ways. It means you and I will get to date" you tease.

"Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure I'll date you?"

"Oh come on, Minji. It's so obvious you're into me. You look like an adorable puppy waiting for me at the exact same time everyday"

"Psh. As if! I look forward to when my shift ends. You just help time pass faster" Minji puffs her cheeks and pouts. It was one of your favorite reactions from her. You pinch her cheek and she blushes in embarrassment from your briefly intimate interaction.

"Don't worry, I like you too"

Minji looks up at you, her eyes beaming with excitement.

"You do?"

"Of course I do. I don't come here everyday just because of the snacks. Although, I am looking at a snack right now" you wink at her.

You lean forward. Minji's eyes widen like a deer in headlights. Unsure of what was going to happen, she closes her eyes and puckers her lips in anticipation. Smirking, you decided to tease her.

"You really should brush your hair sometime. You look less cute than usual" you softly say, as your face is mere centimeters from hers.

She opens her eyes and sees how close you two are. Her surprised expression soon changes to embarrassment.

"Why did you pucker your lips? Think I was going to kiss you?"

Smack.

You catch Minji off guard by giving her a delicate kiss on the lips. She touches it right away, unsure of what just happened.

"Why don't I work here? You did say your family wants a part timer to help out. Plus, we'll get to see each other more. Dating in the workplace can be cute. Like the silver puppy and her boss. Wait, you’re eating again? Where does it all go?”

“Food isn’t the only thing I eat”

Your newfound confessions blossomed into a tender relationship. The honeymoon phase was always wholesome. You two wanted to be around each other, often staying up late on the phone or sending cute gifs. Minji was a lovable girlfriend, pouting whenever you teased her. 

There were cameras everywhere, so you two had to be discreet when it came to kissing. Minji showed you where the blind spots were, both of you using it to your advantage to sneak in quick pecks or longer smooches. As your relationship went on, both of you became more daring.

Your hand might as well have been super glued to Minji's butt from the amount of times you would smack it during your shifts. She in turn would reciprocate, slapping your butt or squeezing your crotch when she knew no customers were around. The first form of physical intimacy occurred when Minji called you into the employee area one day to help her get a box from a high shelf.

"Thank you for the help, baby. I didn't realize how high the extra cups were placed" Minji turns around and smiles at you.

You don't reply, instead choosing to pull her into your embrace. She looks up at you, anticipating what your next move would be.

"You make me happy, Kim Minji" you tell her running your hand through her long brown locks before pecking her lips. Minji takes initiative and puts her hand behind your head, pulling you in for another kiss. She starts off slow, nibbling at your lower lip. This elicits surprise from you. You've given each other pecks or simple kisses, but never fully made out. You had both just started dating and you didn't want to do anything to make Minji feel like you were going to take advantage of her.

Minji continues to take charge, inserting her tongue into your mouth. Your eyes eventually close, giving into the temptation. You both were supposed to be working, but here you both were, sucking on each other's faces in the employee room. Minji finally releases her mouth from yours when she began to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen. You were no better, beads of perspiration forming on your forehead as your chest heaves from oxygen finally flowing into your body.

Minji smiles at you, a seemingly innocent one. But her cheerful expression soon shows a certain twinkle in her eyes. You knew that expression all too well. It was the same one she made whenever she talked about her group member's escapades. Minji already wanted you both to take the next step and be intimate, but you kept declining. The truth was, Minji was your first ever girlfriend. You didn't want to disappoint her. Although she has squeezed your crotch several times, you allowed it since she respected your wishes and never overstepped the boundaries you set. Also, you would end up going home and releasing that sexual frustration with your hand anyways. But this time, you knew what was gonna happen.

"I know we agreed to not having sex yet, but there are ... other ways to be pleasured" Minji said, her words dripping with pure seduction as she got down on her knees.

"And it all starts by doing this"

"B-baby, we're at work. We c-can't do this"

"I need you" Minji murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "I want you" she had already unzipped your vest and removed your shirt. She gives your crotch a firm squeeze before reaching for the button on your jeans. As she unzips your pants, Minji shows you her beautiful eye smile. It melts your heart, you wonder how someone so sweet can be committing such sin.

Minji peppers your stomach with kisses, each leaving a thin string of saliva. Your boxers did a poor job at hiding what was underneath. Normally, your erections would go away after quickly. But today, you seemed to be consistently hard. It definitely didn't help that Minji would grope you every chance she could. And so, with a new toy to be played with seemingly in front of her, she grabs onto the elastic edge before swiftly pulling it down. Your agonizingly hard cock hits Minji's nostrils. She giggles, licking her lips at what is now presented in front of her.

"I'll make this quick babe. But not too quick. Don't want you bursting right away" she says, wrapping her delicate hand around your shaft. She could feel you pulsing in her grip, one that was loose enough that it left you wanting more. She begins with careful, sliding strokes, each one sending spikes of unrestrained pleasure throughout your body, increasing her tempo slightly at the end of each stroke, all while never breaking eye contact with you. The lewdness of it all, your girlfriend asserting herself as the dominant one in your relationship. She mixes things up by swirling her hand around your tip a few times, forming her fingers into a loose representation of a claw and captures your head, raking it a few times. You moan, continuing to run your fingers through her hair, hoping she would take the hint. Even though she coerced you into this situation, there was no turning back now. It has to happen.

“You’re so hard already” she moans, lubricating her lips once more with anticipation.

She doesn’t even give you time to breathe as she slowly opens her mouth, sinking her head as she draws closer and closer to you. She releases her grip on you, choosing to caress both of your hips for support until her lips finally connect with your head. The warm and soft flesh connecting with yours instantly makes you feel lost in their tight hold. Minji gets to work right away, her lips forming an air tight seal around you as they glide back and forth. Each suck is punctuated by the smack of skin on skin as she begins to take you entirely in her mouth. Your fingers that were previously running through her hair now grip the back of her head, pressing it each time. Minji goes deeper, putting her full effort into pleasuring you, her head bobbing back and forth rapidly. Occasional muffled gags are released as your shaft reaches the back of her throat. The little signs she showed of having a gag complex are soon proven to be temporary as once she has warmed up enough, Minji begins to be able to keep you inside her mouth for longer stretches. As her pace quickens, she teases you by showing a few tricks such as licking up and down your shaft, starting from the base until she reaches the tip, and taking both of your balls in her mouth at once.

“You’re close”

These were the first words either of you have said since Mini began, communicating like cavemen through grunts and body language. This was the first intimate experience for you both but it feels like Minji knows your own body better than you do. You wonder if she’s had practice before or if her group members told her about the signs that a man is about to orgasm. Compared to when you first started, your knees were getting weak from the pleasure. Your muscles were painfully tight from not wanting to burst right away. Minji releases your sack from her mouth, a popping sound that sounds like a symphony for your ears as she teased you by sucking each ball individually several times. She returns to using her hand, stroking you fast and hard. Minji lines up your seemingly ready to burst shaft with her tongue, using it as a runway for your fast approaching release. She looks up at you, her eyes practically pleading, begging for you to ejaculate in her mouth.

“Please, babe?” She pleads. “Please give me your come?”

Those were your activation words. It sends you over the edge and your release comes hard, weakening your knees even more that you thought you were gonna collapse. You grip onto Minji’s head for support as she takes you inside her mouth one final time. The thick white fluid escapes from you, gushing out at a high burst of speed. You felt the initial few hit the back of her throat. Once the initial rush of dopamine subsides, you loosen your hold on her, letting her know your orgasm is finished. Minji laps up the remaining few squirts, stroking you a few times to make sure that you’re completely empty. With one final kiss on your tip, she flashes her signature eye smile at you before standing up.

“Thanks for the afternoon snack, babe. Hope I didn’t make you see black or white”

You were sweating profusely, none of your previous orgasms had been that intense. Minji giggles, kissing you one final time before staring at the mirror and fixing her appearance to at least be somewhat presentable.

“I love you honey. Now let’s finish this shift shall we? I take it you’re ready for us to finally have sex. Make sure you’re ready for me tonight. I’ll make sure you scream” Minji blows you one last kiss before opening the door and greeting a customer who was ready to purchase food.

You were still feeling the aftereffects from Minji’s blowjob throughout your shift. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed like she didn’t even do it from how she was acting normally around customers. You were distracted, getting jumpy from customers asking you to scan their items or yelling at you for handing them the wrong carton of cigarettes. Once Minji locks up the store, she puts her keys away before interlocking her fingers with yours. The walk home was peaceful, no dogs barking and very few cars passing by. Minji was in a very cheerful mood, singing songs about flowers and summer love.

The two of you enter your apartment and Minji heads over to your room. She’s stayed over several times, and by doing so unofficially lives with you as many of her belongings and intimates are sprawled throughout your home. As you place the dinner order, Minji comes out, wearing a simple outfit that consists of pajama shorts that end ever so slightly below her bottom and a white crop top with Slytherin embroidered on it. An appropriate shirt to be wearing considering what she did to you at the store earlier. She removed her contacts and is now wearing giant circle lens glasses. After dinner, the two of you are sitting on the couch watching a rerun of some movie you forgot the name of. Minji was sitting on your lap, your right arm embracing her legs.

“Babe, we’re supposed to be watching the movie. Why is your dick poking my ass?”

You respond by sliding your hand down Minji’s crotch, not surprised at the lack of undergarments. You take two fingers and thrust them inside her core.

“Do you know how horny you made me today? It was all I could think about at work” you snarl, increasing the pace of your thrusts inside her.

“A-ah!” Minji’s juices lubricated your fingers, making the squelching sounds loud as you continued to finger her. “Faster, keep going”

You pull out your fingers just as Minji was about to climax, ruining her orgasm.

“Babe! What the fuck, I was about to come!”

“I just can’t do it. Babe, the reason why I’ve been prolonging sex was not to torture you” you sighed deeply. “It was cause I was embarrassed for you to find out I’m still a virgin”

“Is that what all this is about? Babe. You’re my boyfriend, I love you. I don’t care if you’re a virgin. It would be more meaningful because it’s you. I’m proud of you, that takes a lot of courage to say. But if we’re being honest… I am too”

“What?” You were so surprised, Minji seemed like an expert.

“I’ve pretty much done everything except penetration. Most guys just wanted to get in my pants without us getting to know one another. I compromised by telling them I’d give them head whenever they wanted. But with you, I’m okay with giving my first time to. I mean it”

Minji gives you another powerful kiss, reaffirming her love for you. You inserted your tongue this time, wanting to thank her for this morning.

“Looks like you kept your promise about being ready to go right now after my present for you this afternoon” your girlfriend says, speaking in a more husky tone. Minji began grinding on your lap. Moving her butt up and down, causing you to reach inside her shirt and grab her breasts, hungrily massaging them. It thrilled you knowing she was not wearing a bra, her nipples hard enough that they could pierce steel.

Minji guides you to the bedroom, turning around so that you’re facing each other. She begins her assault and kisses you, the two of you begin running your hands through each other’s body. Your clothes are instantly removed, being deemed unnecessary as both of your bodies increase in temperature: you almost tear off Minji’s shorts revealing her smooth, milky legs. She returns the favor by ripping the buttons off your shirt, her hands running through your chest and stomach with wanton vigor. She pulls your pajama pants down to your ankles as the two of you return to the fierce dance your mouths were participating in.

"Ah, babe. There's a bag near the nightstand. I got a little present for you"

You part yourself from Minji just enough to reach the pink colored bag on your nightstand. You take a peek inside and are greeted with a can of whipped cream. Under different circumstances, you would've wondered why there wasn't any ice cream. You hand them to Minji, smiling.

"Just thought you wanted a small snack before the main course" she said, shaking the can of whipped cream. She playfully applies two swirls on her breasts. They weren't the biggest breasts, but you loved them no matter what. But especially when they contained a sweet treat on them.

You instantly capture one, Minji's back arching in pleasure as the artificially sweetened substance fills your taste buds. It soon melts away revealing the real treat: chocolate syrup covered nipples. You make sure to not leave the other breast, devouring both mounds leaving only the syrup behind. Minji's moans echo throughout the bedroom, her skin's temperature being raised from the feeling of the cold whipped cream melting from your touch. You take the time to appreciate her naked body, giving her breasts as many kisses as you could.

You take the canister of whipped cream and without instruction, apply a generous amount on her clit.

"I've never done this before but it only seems right to repay you" you say, your voice trembling.

Warm colorless liquid was already beginning to slowly leak out of Minji. It seems like she was already aroused from having stuff eaten off her body. You dive in, lapping up the liquid from her center before gradually moving up, reaching the bright white prize. Minji is unable to control herself, her body squirming as she grips the back of your head and pushes you deeper. You move your hands up until they find her breasts, gently massaging them before pinching her nipples softly. The feeling you were giving her of eating her out along with playing her nipples was earth shattering. Obviously you were inexperienced, but with advice from Minji to form letters of the alphabet with your mouth, her initial giggles were soon replaced with moans, wanting you to not stop. You wanted her to orgasm, before diving into the main course.

The ever so slight musk scent was intoxicating. Minji chose to keep herself cleanly waxed, not a trace of hair in sight. You wanted to build her up, tease her for her agonizing blowjob earlier. But you show restraint, not giving in to your desires.

"Oh, fuck. Keep eating my pussy babe. Please"

You oblige, continuing your oral assault on her womanhood. You place your hands on her hips, causing them to involuntarily buck into your face. Your tongue darts in and out of her right hole. She wraps her thighs around your neck, forcing you to go deeper. It doesn't take very long until the muscles of her walls tighten, signaling her climax. Just as Minji is about to reach euphoria, you pull away for the second time tonight. Minji is rightfully pissed, her second orgasm of the night is ruined just as it was about to arrive.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" She angrily demands.

You choose to hold your throbbing cock in your hand. Minji sees this, her anger subsiding as she knows her erotic moans to your actions brought you back to life. Minji almost lost consciousness from the pleasure, trying to maintain focus as you both about to lose your virginities.

"B-be gentle, okay?" She whimpers.

You nod, giving her a reassuring kiss. You hold her left leg up, giving you a much easier access to the treasure that awaited you.

You make sure to prepare her for it, rubbing your tip against her lips several times. It was now or never. You guide your cock into her. She grimaces in pain as you finally enter her, her walls are extremely tight as inch by inch sinks inside. You're about three fourths of the way in as you give Minji another kiss to calm her down and hopefully relieve some of the initial pain. She wraps both of her arms around her neck, nodding at you to continue. At last, you fully enter Minji. Her walls are painfully tight, you weren't sure how you were able to fit.

Once you give her adequate time to get used to your cock, you start fucking. The first thrust causes her to whimper. She whines during the second one, but by the third thrust Minji's feelings of pain are replaced with pleasure. She loses all sense of self control, becoming a gasping, moaning mess as your hard cock increases in tempo and moves in and out of her. Both your breaths are heavy, you lock eyes with one another. You were both lost in the heat of passion. Her pussy is welcoming, extremely soft and complying to your rapid movements.

Before long, Minji has become fully accustomed to your dick, clawing at your back. Whispering in your ear to fuck her like you mean it. She's begging you for more, finding small bursts of energy to kiss you with what little oxygen is flowing through her body. Your bodies are extremely hot and sweaty at this point. You gently knead her soft, delicate mounds once again.

You were constantly out of breath yourself, your exhales devolving into monotone grunts. Minji's pussy continues to constrict your cock as the bed frame creaks from the two of you’s actions. You take note of your girlfriend's face: doe looking eyes, cheeks that were cute enough to pinch, luscious pink lips and the cutest nose you wanted to boop.

"Babe, why don't we try a different position? Yoo's always telling me about how good it feels to be fucked from behind"

Minji turns around and shakes her cute bottom at you. You spank it, the sound echoing throughout your room. You give each cheek four firm slaps before positioning yourself inside her once again.

"Oh, fuck. You feel even bigger than before"

Minji unconsciously tightens her vaginal muscles and you are provided with an utterly wonderful feeling.

“Holy fuck” you grunt. “Do it again baby” you beg as you thrust into her again.

She listens to you, clenching her muscles even harder. Minji is rewarded with cries of pleasure.

Your hand returns to her bottom, palming each tenderly before giving a loud spank. Minji decides to take control and impales herself onto your shaft, your bodies grinding against each other.

“A-ah, oh my god” Minji groans as her eyes roll to the back of her head. It seems you have found Minji’s sensitive spot. Having located it, control returns to you as you penetrate her cave and continue hitting her weakness. Minji’s stomach began getting heavier, she knew what was fast approaching. You could tell what it was from her body language. Minji tries desperately to grip onto your thighs, but it was no avail. You abuse her sensitive area as hard as you can, feeling her freshly manicured nails scratch your thighs, her body trembling in pleasure as the orgasm finally hits.

“Babe!” Your name escapes her lips in a hybrid scream/whisper repeatedly. You continue thrusting into her, albeit at a much slower pace due to how sensitive she was.

“You came so much, baby” you say, leaning forward to kiss her back.

“B-babe, stop. I wanna ride you now” she says, turning her head slightly. From her tone, it wasn’t a demand; but rather a request. Who were you to deny your girlfriend the pleasure she is seeking.

“Oh my godddd” Minji mutters as she impales herself onto your shaft. She doesn’t bother giving herself time to adjust to your size. Her mind is clouded at this point, only wanting pleasure and nothing else. You close your eyes, throwing your head back as her warm, velvety walls close tightly around you. Minji notices how much her pussy has an effect on you: your eyebrows furrow, you grit your teeth slightly, your Adam’s apple moving forward slightly as you gulp saliva.

Minji places her hands squarely on your chest, using them as support as she rocks her body back and forth. She could feel every ridge and pulsing vein rubbing against her walls. Now she realizes what Yoohyun meant when she said there is nothing that can replicate the feeling of having an actual dick inside you.

“Am I a slut babe?” Minji asks you. You were taken aback hearing her say such a thing about herself. “Because if it means I get fucked like this when we have sex, I want to be a slut. A whore who only wants your cock!”

Minji’s scream leaves her mouth suddenly as your dick hits her sensitive spot once more. It’s as if your mushroom headed looking tip has made it to her cervix. She grimaces slightly from the pain, but it makes her go crazy. Her toes curl in pleasure, digging themselves into the small crevice between your thighs and the bedsheets. With every downwards thrust into her body, Minji’s bottom is still tender from the spankings you gave her earlier.

Your hands roam her body and find their way up top. Minji’s legs were starting to give out, she lowers her body which allows you to capture her perky left nipple into your mouth. Using your tongue, you flick it. To add even more pleasure, you occasionally throw in a few soft bites. You cup each breast in your hand, squeezing them. To make things even worse for her already sensitive nipples, you blow cold air over them. Minji’s skin reacts, goosebumps littering her pale breasts. 

Minji orgasms again, her walls painfully constricting you as the sudden flood of her nectar drenches your shaft. She captures your lips, wanting you to be happy of the pleasure you were giving her. Her orgasm was strong, but not strong enough to push you out of her. As such, trails of her liquid begin to leak out and coat your balls.

Her breathing is erratic, the back to back orgasms she endured caused her chest to heave. You find her nipples once more, tasting them. “Mmm, babe” her body was still sensitive. She tried pulling you away from her embrace, but you don’t care. You continue on with your oral assault, alternating between each breast.

Minji is kissing you senseless, and you take the chance of her being momentarily distracted to push yourself inside her once again. “Oooh” she moaned in pleasure. Her back has returned to the bed. You grab her thighs, pushing each apart momentarily before wrapping them around your waist. Minji embraces you as you thrust, her bottom syncing with yours.

“Babe… please keep fucking me. Don’t stop. Please, please, please. Don’t… stop… ahhhh!” Minji moans while trying to catch her breath. She was desperate. Gone was the aggressive woman who teased you about you both not having done the deed yet. All Minji wanted now was to come, and to make you come as well.

The room sounds like a symphony of moans, wet flesh slapping against one another and the consummation of a relationship being taken to the next level. Minji wraps her arms around your neck, her breasts pressed up against your own chest. Despite being the one to initiate things, there was a slight tint of red on her face as she could hear the lewd sounds your lower bodies were making.

You continue to thrust inside Minji. You were tired, but you had held back from being intimate with a woman for far too long. You savored Minji’s body, her lovely moans following each of your thrusts. Her breasts jiggled up and down from your swift movement.

“I’m gonna come” she manages to squeak out. You were so focused on fucking her you temporarily lost the ability to speak, grunting in order to acknowledge her. “I can’t hold it… aaahhhh…” Minji trembles, her body squirms as she clenches her walls around your shaft. Her flesh filled cave spasm along with his continuous thrusts. 

“Aaahhh… yes, harder! Harder!”

You wanted to ask Minji where she wanted you to release. As you were about to do so, she lets out a loud scream. Your orgasm was fastly approaching.

“I’m coming baby!”

Minji’s thighs that were locked onto your waist pull you down. With one final powerful thrust, you reach the deepest part of her pussy. You emit a loud groan as your cock throbs erratically in her tight, velvety walls painting the inside with burning hot semen. You lose track of time in that moment, releasing sperm into her awaiting womb. It flows quickly and continuously, spreading all throughout her insides.

“Ohhhh my god” Minji’s body squirms in pleasure. Your orgasm triggers another one from her as well. With a quick kiss on her lips and one final thrust, you pull out, watching your bodies detach. Minji’s pussy is bright red, the poor victim of your sexual hunger. You watch as the slimy, white liquid oozes out of her. You hum in satisfaction, wiping off the sweat from your brows and caressing her face. As both of you struggle to catch your breaths, you lean down and give her a long, loving kiss.

Minji motions you to bring your cock near her mouth. Using the little strength she has left, she places a hand on your thigh as she is now face to face with your shaft. Your tip was bright red, glistening from the mixture of your love. She giggles as she sees her freshly released pussy juices and your sperm lathering your cock. She licks her lips with excitement before diving in. She wraps her left hand around your shaft, kissing the slit on your tip affectionately before putting it in her mouth. She makes eye contact with you, happy to see you clenching your teeth, trying to restrain yourself from grabbing her head and facefucking her.

Using the tips Yoohyun gave her, Minji swirls her tongue around your tip. She slowly draws a circle with her tongue around the slit. You groan in satisfaction, Minji couldn’t be happier at knowing she was pleasuring her boyfriend. Her pussy is tingling, slowly leaking out onto the bed sheets. Taking you in her mouth once more, she slips your cock in between her lips. Before going further into her mouth, her lips grip onto your shaft like a magnet. Once inside, Minji flattens her tongue below your tip. She sways it back and forth, left and right to tease you. She finds out she loves being in control just as much as she loves you taking control. Minji takes you all the way down her throat one last time before releasing her mouth’s hold on you with a loud pop. Her delicate hand cups your balls and with just enough grip, squeezes them. They were still heavy, even after how much you released. Minji knew they contained wonderful treats for her. The night was still young, and she was going to make sure she was going to empty you out. She takes her index finger and gently rakes your sack, you groan at the act being done to your sensitive area.

“Oh babe, I didn’t tell you. My parents ordered a bed for the breakroom at the store. We’re gonna have to break it in, you know? But before that… we have to change the sheets. And maybe continue this in the shower?”

[horrorslashergirl]

Could I request Chromeskull with a s/o who's much much much richer than him and they jokingly ask him if he could be their sugar baby

Chromeskull x Reader- Playing Therapy

A knock at the huge double doors of Jesse's home pulled him from his thoughts and he grinned, moving to open it with excitement, seeing your face plastered with a smile that turned into a grin as you saw the 6'7 tall man.

"Jesse!" you greeted him, pulling him into a hug, one of his hand coming to ruffle your hair, making you punch his shoulder lightly.

'It's good to see you, doll.' he signed.

"Likewise, Cromeans." you told him with a smirk.

He invited you inside, guiding you to the living room, where a bottle of whiskey and two glasses were along with a silver box of cigars. Jesse invited you for some drinks.

No, you two weren't together, but more like very good friends, always talking and going out for fun, joking and having a good time. You were a nice fresh of air, so sincere in all your words and actions. It was nice to spend time with someone who wasn't interested in his money or status.

Why would you? You were just like him, CEO of your own company, making your own money, not depending on a man to buy you nice things or go onto vacations.

You sat down on one of the black leather armchairs, making yourself as comfortable as possible.

'It's weird to see you dressed like that.' Jesse signed, motioning to your attire.

You looked down and chuckled. You were dressed in a pair of black jeans, one off-shoulder graphic t-shirt, and red converse.

"They are comfortable. All the elegant and put together clothes something can make you feel a little stuffy." you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

Jesse chuckled silently, pouring two glasses of scotch with some ice cubes, handing you one.

'You still look very good.' he signed flirtatiously with a smirk and you giggled in response.

'So, how's work?' Jesse changed the subject and you sighed tiredly.

"It's sucking the life out of me, but I love what I do. No pain, no gain." you answered, taking a sip of your drink, licking your lips.

Jesse chuckled and nodded. He could relate to being a workaholic, feeling you. He pulled out a cigar from the box, handing you one, making you grin, eagerly taking it. You both lighted them, taking deep drags of the tobacco.

"I really needed that." you said, resting the back of your head on the plush armchair.

"So, Jesse. How have you been? We haven't talked for a month." you said, looking at him curiously.

'Been busy with business trips. The last trip was a nightmare, couldn't get that girl off my shoulder.' he signed with an exasperated sigh.

You laughed at his response, remembering what a ladies-man he was, all the exciting hook-up stories he told you always made you laugh.

"Hey. I cannot blame her. You are a captivating work of art." you told him with a wink, making him smirk smugly at you.

He knew you were accurate, always were, words sincere and always made him feel funny. They weren't said because you would gain anything from him.

You were so different from the other woman or rather said piggies. You could go from a classy and elegant woman to looking like a teenager now dressed like that. Not sluty, no. You weren't the type to flaunt your body like you were some model. Maybe that's what made him attracted to you.

Yes, Jesse Cromeans was attracted to you, ever since that day when he partook into a business meeting and you came a little late, not exactly dressed business-like with a simple pair of jeans and plain white shirt.

Your mind spoke more than your looks, especially with your witty remarks that put arrogant and snobby people into place like they were struck by a lightning.

Back to now, as you took another sip of your drink, your brow furrowed and Jesse knew something was bothering you, and he had a pretty good idea as to why.

'Divorce going well?' he signed a little reluctantly.

You always assured him if he needed to sign something he just should. Honesty was a very big deal in any relationship for you, be it lovers or just plain friends.

A groan left your lips at his question.

"Yes, but the process is such a knife in the back. You try to get it out, but you cannot reach the handle to pull the blade out." you said, and Jesse smirked darkly at your dark sense of humor, so morbid sometimes.

Another plus of why he was head over heels enamored with you.

"At last, I won't have to deal with my mother-in-law." you added, stretching your arms above your head.

Jesse could relate to that sentence. When he was married, his mother-in-law was like a very nasty that you just cannot get off. That old leach was always sticking her nose in his business, always had something to say and remark.

He remembers all the times he wished to skin the old hag alive when she showed up unannounced, the times she dictated to Jesse how to do his job as a husband. That woman tried to look all sweet and shit, but he just wanted to murder her, make it look perhaps like an accident.

'I feel you, doll.' he signed to you with an assuring and pity smile.

You smiled back at Jesse, remembering when he told you what he went through, but you never once pitied him, more like supporting him, but never once made him feel any less.

"I know, but sometimes I just wanna get rid of her, make it look like an accident." your mind spoke to earlier.

Oh? Now, Jesse felt like he won the jackpot when the cruel words left your mouth.

"Sorry! I wasn't supposed to say that. I guess I am just irascible now. Haven't had a good night's sleep in a long time." you quickly said, your face morphing into one of shame.

Jesse waved his hand in a motion that told you not to worry about it.

'It's normal to feel like that. Get everything off your shoulder. It's good to talk about your thoughts and what's bothering your mind, darling.' he signed and you raised an eyebrow.

"Wanna play therapist with me now, Cromeans?" you joked with a chuckle in which he returned with a huff of silent laughter.

'That's something I love about you. You always speak your mind loud and clear.' he signed, and you blushed at his unspoken words. The word he used 'love' was making you feel a little more than chatting with a friend.

"Anyway...In a week or so I hope to finally have the divorce solved out, so I can have everything out of my hair. My ex-husband is going to be finally just a memory." you added, somehow more relaxed, sipping on your scotch.

'And back into the dating game?' Jesse signed curiously, wanting to test the waters.

"Most likely not. You know it, Jesse. People like us don't really have that good luck. Comes with the price of being the CEO of your own company. It's hard to maintain a relationship with people like us." you sighed, most afraid of being lonely than anything.

'Going to get a sugar boy?' he asked with a cheeky smirk and you almost choked on your drink, giggling.

"Why are you asking me that? Better yet, why don't I be your sugar baby?" you joked, laughing at your own question.

Jesse, on the other hand, didn't laugh, maybe because he was taking the jokingly question a little too seriously, he was actually considering it, but it was also pretty ironic because he didn't have anything you might need, considering you were pretty wealthy yourself.

'Do you want to?' Jesse signed, licking his lips.

You stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow at him.

"You know I am not the type, dumbass." you remarked, finishing your drink.

'You don't have to. We can always roleplay.' he signed, wiggling his eyebrows, making you smirk and roll your eyes.

"You are so despicable, Cromeans." you shot back.

'Why, thank you, doll. Your words always make my manly ego purr.' he shot back, again.

The rest of the evening, you talked, joked, spoke of old stories, to the point where the bottle of whiskey was finished and the living-room smelt of rich tobacco smoke.

At some point, you ended up on Jess's lap, enjoying the closeness, the liquor making you now a little bolder than you would be as sober. His brown eye looked down at you with intrigue, loving how you fit into his embrace, his fingers running through your hair.

'We should do this more often when we aren't busy with work.' he signed, making you smile and nod, your head rested on his chest, the smell of tobacco and expensive manly cologne invading your nose, making you be putty in his arms.

"Indeed. It's nice to have someone who enjoys spending time with you without a certain greedy reason." you admitted, making Jesse's heart beat faster.

'Maybe next time we can have dinner?' Jesse signed and you smirked up at him.

"Are you inviting me on a date, Cromeans?" you asked smugly and he smirked back at you, his scarred face inching closer to your own.

'Maybe?'

Your response was to move your lips closer to his, his brown eye blown wide, waiting for your lips to finally touch, only for your half-lidded eyes to close and you blacked out, breathing into his chest.

You fell asleep.

Jesse's chest rumbled with a chuckle, his lips touching the top of your head.

You sure were an interesting one.

[be-dazzled]

The Art of Falling

Chapter III CONSISTENCY IS KEY

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser, Gajeel Redfox Alternative Historical Universe Genre: Old World Vibes, Period Romance All Chapters: Click here | Taglist

Writer’s Corner: OKAY so I hid an Easter egg in there. Hint: Anime only, related to Juvia. Can you guys guess? Ahahaha. And, oh, I should put the writer’s corner after the story but oh well, let me know what you think of the couple I added in here. Also, I really hope Gray’s cousin is a character you will all like. I love her! Also, dayum period romance really don’t use everyday conversation english, do they? Show me some love. :*

Masterlist

The morning began with the entire Fullbuster household personally attending to the arrival of Lord Silver Fullbuster's beloved niece and her respectable husband. Gray abandoned his wish to come and pay the Locksers a visit to welcome his cousin, Ultear Vastia née Milkovich. She was travelling with her family: her husband Lyon and their daughter Ur, named after her deceased mother. The Vastia couple frequented the Fullbuster Manor, in the fall, when Mr. Vastia's business affairs lulled; they spend a week or so at the mansion, to keep Lady Mika some company. This fall, they arrived with a welcomed addition to their growing family, a six-month old little Ur whom the Lord and the Lady has taken quite the fondness of.

Lunch was spent exchanging stories of the great adventure that was raising little Ur, who the Lord and the Lady came to know, liked to slumber in the day and refused to allow her parents any sleep in the night. So, as soon as the little one awakened, Lord and Lady Fullbuster has taken it upon themselves to entertain the little eyes and insisted on keeping Ur company, while suggesting heavily to their son that it was a good time as any to practice. The young couple stayed behind at the drawing room, kept entertained by Grayden Fullbuster as he played a classical tune on the pianoforte.

Lyon joined his wife on the sofa and brought with him a bottle of fine wine from Lord Silver's cellar. He poured a generous serving in his wife's glass, knowing fully how Ultear missed her night caps.

"Would it be safe to do that?" Gray inquired without taking his eyes off the piano keys. As far as he was aware, drinking alcohol was discouraged upon mothers who breastfed.

"My doctor assured me one, occasional drink would not hurt." reasoned Ultear. "But enough about me. Why shan't we talk about you?" Yet the lady felt obliged to put her glass down after a long sip, then, returned to her husband's warm embrace. "I heard you are frequenting a certain household."

"And whom have you heard this information from?" As part of his noble upbringing, Gray had learned to play the piano as early as he could command his fingers. On the night's occasion, he chose "Air", a classic he had played far too many times, that his fingers knew where to land before he even thought of it.

"A man with a stature and fortune as yours? News travel fast, my dear cousin."

Gray allowed his company a small smile but paid them no more attention as the young pianist fell deeply into his song; only his mellow but pronounced melody filled the silence that befell the room, much to Mrs. Vastia's chagrin.

"Have you set your heart on a Lockser?"

"There are talks about the eldest Lockser's beauty. How it is comparable to that of Helen." Lyon chose that moment to put in a word into the conversation, associating with Miss Lockser the woman of Troy, whose beauty had launched a thousand ships. With Ultear's sharp eyes narrowed at him, Lyon quickly corrected himself before he invoked the ire of his wife. "But only because you, my beautiful wife, had already conceded to marriage."

Lyon bade his time, put on a forged smile turned troubled by the second, until his wife released his beseeching stare and Mr. Vastia could finally breathe relief. She placed a hand on his cheek and lovingly patted a hand on hit.

"I trained you well."

Gray dexterously quickened the tempo of his tune. Oblivious to the unabashed display of affection between the married man and woman, he closed his eyes, pictured the black and white keys clearly in his mind and swayed to the rhythm of his personal version of Air on G String.

"Gray, are you choosing to ignore me?"

"I know better not to."

"Very well. Now, do I have to wrestle the information out of you?"

A single note stretched on before Gray abruptly ended his tune and abandoned his playing. He sighed in defeat and accepted the fact that he was not going to finish the song. What great disrespect to the legendary J.S. Bach. He turned on his seat and addressed the couple holding each other closely on the daybed; the light from the fireplace danced on their feature. Although Lyon and Ultear were married for a year and had conceived a child of their own, Gray was still of the opinion that such display of affection should be shared only in the privacy of their home.

"I admit to the fact that I am seeking a maiden's hand in marriage."

Gray had said it in a tone so solemn that the couple wanted to laugh at its absurdity. In the end, however, seeing no humor in Gray's expression, the answer piqued the couple's interest, Ultear's more than her husband's, that she broke contact from him to devote her attention to her dearest cousin.

"And that maiden's name is?"

"Ms. Juvia Lockser."

The couple exchanged a bewildered look. Gray, however, had no single inkling on what possibly caused his visitors to respond in such a way. He had not any idea that in their little circle, as much as in every household in that town, there was only one Lockser daughter worth mentioning and it was not the name he had given them. But from the hundreds of questions running about in their heads, there was only one Ultear found worth inquiring.

"Is it true then that she left you beaten out in the cold?"

---

"I am flattered that my poor situation could offer you some amusement."

If Lyon Vastia was not a friend from the University and the husband of his beloved cousin, Gray ought to boot him out of Magnolia and back to where he came from. Gray was not one to abuse his power and influence but with how the married man had laughed at him from the Manor all the way to the Lockser House, there was no nerve left of him undisturbed.

"My apologies." The gentleman did not even pretend to try and stifle the chuckles erupting from him. "But this is the best news I've received since the birth of my child." Lyon fixed his coat around him, trying and failing to gather himself as they waited outside the Locksers' door. For he knew Gray was not one inclined to violence; yet, his was a story to be told for generations to come – of how the gentleman was knocked out cold by his future wife.

"Kindly keep your amusement to yourself. Do not embarrass me."

Gray knocked on the door once again, careful not to startle the inhabitants of the house but visibly irate at the older lad stood behind him. From the moment Juvia presented to him the challenge, as soon as the sun risen, Gray stood outside those retiring double doors, waiting for the invitation in. He had those doors slammed in his face twice, all by the hostile second daughter, before he could even pronounce his morning greeting. His father, however, had always reminded him that a man who was trying to win a maiden's heart must endure. Hence, at the moment, he awaited on the stoop, despite being deemed unwelcomed, until a more agreeable Lockser opens the door and invites them in.

Third time was the charm.

Alike the mornings of his every visit, the day began with a slam of the door followed by the reopening of it and a rather exuberant greeting by Mrs. Lockser, a creature much more affable than her second daughter, and her apologizing for said daughter's rudeness.

"I don't know who she takes after." She claimed. "I raised my children well."

By this time, however, Gray had taken it to be the regular course of his courtship.

Gray presented his companion, introducing Lyon as his cousin in law. The latter, same as with Gray, was a man of pedigree. Hence, the first few minutes of the social call were spent with pleasantries. As his cousin, Ultear had suggested, Gray came bearing gifts – the finest ribbons and richest tobacco.

Ultear had given him a good lecture on engagement. The first rule of which was to win the favor of the family, a stratagem her husband sworn by. In Gray's recollection, Lyon had only paid him attention to gain an introduction with Ultear Milkovich, who was then deemed the most beautiful and desirable maiden of all Fiore. Without Gray's aide, Lyon could not have married the lady of his dreams. The young tradesman then decided it was high time he returned the favor. With his wife's blessing, Lyon offered his finest commodities to serve as Gray's presents.

"The moment I heard my dear cousin, Gray, is vying for a woman's affection, my wife and I had decided to bring these all the way from my hometown."

With a merchant's smile plastered on his face, Lyon managed to win more favor, as if the fortune Gray was to inherit was not enough for Mrs. Lockser to worship the young lad.

"You shan't have burdened yourselves, my good gentlemen." said Mr. Lockser, but his wife's face lightened up as she inspected the gifts with astonished eyes.

"Look, my dear! These are hard to come by." Mrs. Lockser presented the case of expensive tobacco to her husband. "Oh and with these beautiful ribbons, my daughters will be envied by this town!" exclaimed she, prancing around her rather crowded parlour. Her happiness had afforded Gray a breath of relief, putting the young suitor at ease until Mrs. Lockser called out to Juvia from the staircase. "Juvia come down and see this!"

There was no response so Mrs. Lockser marched upstairs to take along the daughter herself.

Then came Eliana to step into her mother's absence and expressed her own gratitude towards Mr. Fullbuster. She had a smile that warmed up the room and it aided in Gray's growing self-consciousness. It was the moment that Juvia arrived at – Gray and Eliana sharing in comfortable silence. She then realized how understated the talks were around town, that Grayden Fullbuster and Eliana Lockser made a perfect couple. They were a match made in heaven, she could tell. Eliana's ethereal beauty could make up for what her family lacked in affluence and connections. Her grace and ladylike demeanor very much suited the position of a noble's wife. Gray had no business wooing the wrong sister and if he was to change his choice, she could not blame him, for Juvia was nothing but rude to the young master.

"What are you still doing standing there and having to make your guests wait?"

Juvia tore her contemplating gaze away from the couple she, and the rest of the community, had decided in their minds. Her mother walked past her, oblivious of the resolve Juvia had arrived at.

"What a rude child." Mrs. Lockser complained to herself, then, as if taking off some kind of invisible mask, changed her deportment into a rather overly familiar hostess.

It was then that Juvia caught Gray's eyes, staring up at her without breaking, as the young lady descended the stairs. He only averted his gaze when an unfamiliar lad, dressed in garb as fancy as that of Mr. Fullbuster's, tapped his shoulders and passed him the most beautiful flowers Juvia had ever seen. Her brows furrowed in confusion as Gray walked past her beautiful sister, who deserved the offering of beauty that could rival Miss Lockser's, and stepped forward to meet Juvia at the foot of the staircase. Her eyes had wandered, however, not to meet Gray's dark ones, but at the white Magnolias held in his hands being presented to her. Without meaning to do it, Juvia's own hands saved him the trouble and gathered the bouquet in their safety.

"You should not have." She said in a tone that was neither happy nor content, without removing her eyes from the lovely whites. "Flowers die when removed from their stems." Those words, however, left her lips with indignation. She raised her eyes from the poor flowers and directed them at the confused gentleman from whom they came from, repeating, "Flowers die when removed from their stems."

Gray was left wondering if what was deemed a polite gesture had offended the young lady whose affection he sought. This should not have surprised him; however, since in the beginning he knew, Juvia Lockser was different from the rest of the ladies of Magnolia. Instead of being meekly but happily receiving such beautiful products of nature, like any lady would, Juvia had given him the deadliest stare he had ever had to confront in his life.

"My apologies."

"Non-sense!" Mrs. Lockser interrupted, dispersing the unfriendly air around the two. "You shouldn't apologize for bringing such wonderful flowers, Mr. Fullbuster." She snatched the fresh bouquet in Juvia's hands and casted a reprimanding glance towards the recipient. "And my daughter should be more grateful." She let a moment of silence stretch on, excused herself to the kitchen and instructed her family to help the guests be more comfortable whilst she prepare some refreshments.

With Mrs. Lockser away, the role of host fell onto the lap of Mr. Julian Lockser.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Fullbuster. Mr. Vastia, is it?"

"Yes, sir." answered Lyon politely. He sat next to his friend and cousin-in-law, who obeyed Mr. Lockser diligently.

Foresight had encouraged the second Lockser daughter to excuse herself, for if she wanted to go on about her day, she must now leave before her father started a conversation. His talks often lasted more than necessary.

"Father, if you may please allow me," Juvia had already stood up from her station and motioned to the front door. "I would like to be excused."

Juvia had always been the odd one in the family. She always felt out of place standing next to her sisters but she loved them all the same. She was often the center of her mother's attention and reproach, when her focus was momentarily stolen away from the loveliest daughter, for deviating from social norms and expectations of a lady. Juvia was the kind that would rather come with her father and help in the fields or wander around the woods, something a woman of her age would never be caught dead doing. In all this, she found an ally in his father who would indulge Juvia in her antics, only if it shall drive her mother to the edge of sanity, which both Juvia and her father enjoyed immensely.

However, Mr. Lockser knew there was time for propriety. Furthermore, he was very much aware of the graveness of this visit. His fortune was not well enough to support more than one family.

"Let's entertain our guests, my darling. They have travelled far and early to see our humble abode."

Juvia glanced at the culprit of the visit indignantly. Her frown had placed the blame of disrupting her morning on none other than her self-proclaimed suitor, who met her frown with confusion. Because it was Mr. Lockser who asked, Juvia had no other choice but to return to her place on the sofa and be obligated to listen in boring dialogues or otherwise.

"And what is it that you do, Mr. Vastia?"

Mr. Lockser displayed great interest in Mr. Vastia's business and spent the rest of the morning discussing it, which Juvia had easily foreseen. There was no stopping her father once his interest was roused. Juvia had no other choice but to suffer through it in excruciating silence. Alas, when the conversation rounded into a retelling of Mr. Vastia's adventures in the sea, Juvia's sleepiness had ebbed away. Her ears perked as she listened with much gusto, pitching her own inquiries here and there. For only tales of danger and adventure could hold Juvia's full attention and appease her thirst for them.

"My apologies, good sir, but I have been speaking of myself since this morning. You might see me as a vain man." He meekly coughed a short laugh in an attempt to be perceived modest. "I may have forgotten the reason my cousin and I had come today." He glanced at the reason for their visit, whose amusement had dulled at the interruption. "If Ms. Juvia would allow this gentleman a private audience." Lyon tapped a hand on Gray's shoulder, surprising him momentarily, yet passing the message as clear as day.

"Y-yes," started Gray, "if you may allow sir, I would like to request a private dialogue with your daughter."

"Pardon my interjection, good sirs." It was Juvia who answered on her own behalf, not wanting to be left out of the conversation of which she was the subject of. "If Mr. Fullbuster desired so, should he not have asked for it a moment ago?"

In truth, Juvia did not like the sudden turn of the conversation. She much preferred sitting through every storm the brave tradesman had to grapple with, to return to shore and be reunited with his family, rather than be left alone with the insufferably silent, dull and reserved Mr. Fullbuster.

"He was taken aback by your presence, Miss Juvia. Kindly forgive my cousin."

Such manner of speaking was quite familiar with Juvia; although she had never been the subject of such lighthearted teasing, as no one ever dared speak to a shrew. Even so, without much experience, Juvia could hold her own conversation.

"Could Mr. Fullbuster not speak for himself that you must do it on his behalf?"

Juvia had hidden her intention to affront both gentlemen in a rather sweet but arch smile, something Lyon never expected from this contemptuous lady. The young women of Magnolia were raised to behave with reserved manner and endearing meekness. So it came as a surprise that a young woman such as Juvia had no trouble challenging him. Lyon was dumbfounded that he forgot how to speak for a moment, for there was only a number of people who had such effect on him, and failed to rise to her challenge.

There were many words to describe Mrs. Lockser and heaven-sent was positively not one of them. In that moment, however, when she walked back into the parlour with her pleasant smelling tea and sunny disposition, Lyon conceded to calling her that, a heaven sent, for she had saved him from the blindsided discomfiture.

---

Daylight had gone without Juvia ever having to get out of the house and see it. Her father and mother, but mostly the latter, held the young people hostage in the house. She wished the good gentlemen would take the intimation and excused themselves. The lack of sunlight made the young lady out of sorts and she would not have wanted to be the one to ask them to leave. If Mr. Vastia had not remembered the family waiting for him, the two lads would have joined the Locksers for dinner and Juvia would have lost her manners.

Fatigue had caught up with her when she retired for the night, which Juvia found odd as she had not any activities throughout the day. So, how come her body felt too weary and her muscles too cramp? She walked in to her sisters tucking themselves into their own beds and came to the conclusion that it was too late to search for answers. The second child headed to her own bed stationed between her sisters' and chanced upon the white Magnolias arranged beautifully in a budvase next to it. Much like how she reacted to first meeting them earlier, her hands reached out to them on their own.

"Beautiful, are they not?"

Eliana's voice surprised Juvia that her hand hanged in the air for a moment before she quickly withdrew it back to her side. The eldest crossed to her bed and settled on it as her fingers gently felt the delicate white petals of Juvia's bouquet; her appreciating eyes never left the beautiful display.

"Have you any idea what Magnolias symbolize? Nobility and dignity. Mother says they've been around for thousands of years." Eliana's soft eyes studied the beauty right before her, tossing her head at every angle, lost in the appreciation of the white Magnolias. "They best represent Mr. Fullbuster, do you agree?" She asked in a tone, however, that required no response and so, Juvia did not answer. Instead, the latter examined the sister before her.

Eliana had the gift of seeing only the best in people, of finding beauty in each thing. Juvia could say her sister was too innocent, too naïve but it was one thing she envied of her. Not her beauty, not her flawlessness, but her ability to only see the good.

"You may take them if you wish."

"Non-sense!" Eliana only withdrew her eyes away from the flowers to look at her sister with outrage. "These were offered to you. I was only admiring them." She stood from the bed and motioned towards her own, saying her goodnights to her younger sisters without ever glancing at them. Wendy was fast asleep in her own bunk while Juvia, once again, failed to answer. It seemed that her older sister was not expecting one as Eliana slipped under the covers and faced the opposite wall, away from her kin.

"You admire an illusion, my dear sister." Juvia then turned her eyes towards the white Magnolias, this time, without need but with restrained want of touching them. "For you see, flowers wither as quickly as the sand filters through one's hand."

Juvia never placed high hopes on whatever thing, because sooner than later, the Magnolias would wither and there would be nothing left of it but some proof of its once beautiful existence. Everything must come to an end and such was the fact of life. So, she fell asleep then wondering if how long Gray's misplaced affection would last for such a disagreeable woman as her.

---

"Trust me when I say this, my love," The first thing Lyon did once they arrived back at the mansion was to seek the comfort of his wife. He slipped onto her lap, rested his head on them and waited until Ultear finished the page she was reading and closed her book, "I have never felt so unwanted in my life."

"Don't be overdramatic," interjected Gray, "we made progress."

"Progress?" He turned to the gentleman who spoke while his wife combed her fingers through his silver hair. "The woman was hostile through and through!"

"Yes, because today she had finally talked to me."

"Ah, yes. To tell you in no limited terms how evil you were to pluck the flowers off their stems and offer the same to her."

"Small progress is still progress. Kindly, do not misunderstand Miss Juvia. She only expressed her worry of the flowers' well-being rather than their aesthetic purposes."

Lyon's brows met in the middle to his response and his eyes narrowed in observation. On the outset it appeared that Gray and Juvia was the last people to think when the words 'match made in heaven' came to mind. They were just too different, too opposite from one another, like mismatched pieces of a hundred-piece puzzle. To Lyon's surprise, however, Gray seemed to have a rather deep understanding of the young woman.

"Isn't the eldest a bit more pleasant and agreeable?"

"Perhaps." He answered with a tone that was both uninterested and dismissing, as Gray had found his journal and began writing on it.

"Then what are we doing pining after one who could care less about your existence?"

"I admit that Ms. Juvia Lockser isn't making this at all easy. But may I remind you that nothing of value often is."

There was a sudden silence cut only by Ultear's remarks.

"I could not believe my ears for a moment." A short chuckle tumbled out of Ultear's lips, clearly finding the exchange more amusing than her book or her husband's soft locks.

"I cannot understand where her loathing of you is coming from. Whatever have you done to earn her deep-rooted ire?"

Gray pondered for a moment, putting his pen down and debating whether to tell the couple his truth. As he wanted Juvia not to be unreasonably misunderstood, he opted to recount the night he and Juvia first met. His goal was realized and doubts of Juvia's upbringing were dispelled. He did not anticipate, however, that his beloved cousin and her husband would quickly jump on the young lady's side and abandoned his.

"If you have done the same to me, I would have castrated you right there and then," exclaimed Ultear, who was now seeing her cousin more of an evil than the angel she thought of him to be. "However, as she holds you no accountable, why do you afford this lady much consequence?"

"Why indeed."

Gray had not the answer himself but to find such reason, or any of it, was the cause of this journey.

"Well, I shall not keep you." He addressed the couple without satisfying their curiosity. "I must retire for the night. Tomorrow is a new day." said he, and kept his journal close to him as he went away.

Gray left his behavior to scrutiny of the couple in the room; both pairs of curious eyes followed his retreating back until he disappeared behind the archway.

"I pity our boy, my love. The young lady could not spare him even a bit of interest."

"Do you feel she cannot accept him?"

"Her hostility is something I have never seen even from our business competitors."

There was a stretch of silence, filled only by the mellow crackles from the fireplace. Lyon played with his wife's fingers intertwined with his and let the woman be alone with her thoughts. If Juvia Lockser genuinely harbored no interest towards her beloved cousin, then her aunt's misgivings were not too unfounded. Ultear ought to convince him to end his pertinacity and save his beloved cousin from the awful pain of rejection.

"We must retreat to our chambers then, my love. I will have to rise early to accompany our persistent boy."

Lyon slid off his wife's lap and gently pulled her beloved to her feet, after him. He held on to the warmth of their hands clasped together all the way to their assigned room.

"But I have to say, my love." Lyon led his wife through the corridors of the mansion. "Despite her contentiousness, I can find the charm in the young Juvia Lockser."

The confession had piqued the curiosity of his wife, who was coming down to the resolve of joining her aunt's cause and put a stop on the doomed courtship. Her interest was tickled and mind clouded. For what woman would willingly refuse the opportunity to amass a fortune even she would have envied.

"She is like you in some regard."

"And in what regard would that be?"

Juvia Lockser must have been foolish, very much unlike Ultear. She could not refuse if one day she was to inherit the Fullbuster manor.

"You both would give any gentleman a run for their fortune."

Her husband's smile was equally warm and teasing. For Ultear knew quite well and she could vividly remember, how much suffering she put her now husband through in their own engagement. So that night she deferred her plans on allying with her beloved aunt, no matter how unseemly that was. She wanted to meet the lady and form her own opinion of her. If what her husband said was any true, then Gray's courtship may not be as hopeless as she thought, after all.

tags: @greenapplegrass @shampooneko @trizfn @anaken101 @gruviaftw11 @juviasblog @heademptyonlygruvia @unvalley @jetblackrevival @lannyathewitch @groovyah​ @jujumanga​

[psychemeanscure]

PART 20 {After two consecutive parts with full Jang Taeyoung, yeah I do need a Sung Eunyoung indeed. Enjoy y’all}

That was the last thing she can remember before she went blackout. Approached by a couple of men after a newly ended meeting. She tried. Tossing her leader bag sling from own shoulder, running after their chase over her, pulling out the only pepper spray weapon she had. Yet, none of that paid way other than her being smelled by a chloroform in handkerchief, then history happened. They successfully taken her.

Regaining consciousness, she learned that her head was actually cloth with garbage bag. Peeking a possible person, she can see but failed as the bag was pure black for her to take chances. Hands tied tightly from behind, both ankles wrapped by metal ropes. Much the duct tape plastered on her lips isn’t helping, useless screaming as only muffled sound is heard. She gave up, as only heavy breaths left.

Until someone finally take it off the bag on her. Meeting the eyes of the person she expected it to be. ‘Veeros Alcaziar.’ Her raging mention in mind. It innocently looks at her surprised as if no idea as well. “It was you?” its disbelieving words even.

‘Cut the act, old hag’ a retort from her mind once again. She may can’t blurt it out yet her blazing glare says it so. “I never thought you’ll be the co-partner of that industrial company director who wasted my money. You see señorita, I invested a sum from that Xi industry knowing that it could profit my business carefully. They promised, I trusted them, and they just flee. I had no choice but to look for the other proprietor hoping to bring back mine. If only I knew you were the other person, I could have just settle to you properly. I’m sorry.”      

Sensing another of her muffling sound, the latter takes away the duct tape without care for she need to whimper in no time. “F*ck you.” Her convicting reply as the old Alcaziar only awed in snigger, revealing its true colors. Sighing as if disappointed on its own action. “Is my acting really that bad to notice easily?” it even snaps his own forehead as if remembering where he slips a word. “Ah! Right. Flee. Tsk, how can I say that when you just met him with your last meeting? What a bad actor I am.”

“Shut the crap out, Señor Alcaziar.”

Her cold stone response, as its evil grimace slowly showed up. “So you knew.” Does, the retaliating laugh resonate the illuminating room. The only hanged fluorescent bulb swaying from the ceiling makes it more irritating. “I thought I have to work too much threat with you but damn my dear Amilia--- oh scratch that, my little Sung Eunyoung-ie… You wholeheartedly offer yourself instead. So proud of you. So like your mother, just as wise as her.”

And it stilled her. For she admits she starts to get nervous by his presence. Given the mere mention of her mother, she knew a glimpse of Pandora’s box will reopen. “W-what do you mean?” her urging eccentricity. Responded by the clicking of its shoes, arms crossed with ascendency, fully welcoming her awaiting answer. “Hm. Alright, let us put it this way.”  Removing its usual cowboy hat he’s wearing by a near table, lighting up own tobacco while pulling out something on its shirt pocket, she acknowledged it. Strands of hair tailed neatly as she can only think of one person. ‘Eomma.’

She never expected the extent of obsession the geezer has, until today. Possessing a part from a deceased is too much considering years had passed already. Inhaling like he has been familiar for such a long time, he reminisces. “God, your mom’s smell lingers my senses over the years still. Such my favorite scent.” Its interleaved remark before turning back at her with the original answer she needed.  

“Have you ever wonder of your mom’s death was actually?”

Blowing the smoke of its tobacco close to her while she remained unwavering, he continued. “Cancer?” his questioning stance after proceeding with another as he shakes his head and takes her chin, up to level his gape.

“She was killed.”

Firm and self-assertive statement before letting go of its hold, opposite to how she’s already clenching her fist tightly from behind. Observant stares from the latter but just a stern look she does. Hot fire ready to explode into her, a little more and she won’t be surprised if she blasts out any time soon.

With a tilting of its head, the old Alcaziar continues. “Brave.” A compliment she did not bother. “You being jeopardize and all, I must say you applaud me with your calmness.” Him, leaning its face closely to her, “Now listen, my sweet little pea…” he speaks. And just like that, she spits him while it’s also too fast for his countered slap.  

It was a hard one. Hard enough to leave a reddened mark on her face. It hurts her, yes but she holds it in. Letting herself satisfy with her work instead. Her contoured saliva which successfully spread all over the latter’s face gives her pride for she thought it was her chance to fight back just to shiver by his touch after fiercely wiping its own face, cupping her face tracing every part of it like his own. 

“You only had me realize a while ago that you resemble so much of your mother that I keep stopping myself on hitting you, but just looking by your behavior right now you left me with no choice. The next time you will then I, your father won’t let it slide anymore.”

“You aren’t one to begin with, geezer!”

Dodging her cheeks from his hold, she retorted. “Father! Call me father!” as his domineering affirmation came after an irate throwing of its own tobacco. Eyes of obsession starts to ponder, jaws clenching with delusion. “Your mother died…  Isn’t because of the unexplainable rapid of her cancer but rather she stopped it on purpose.”

A series of sham speech begins to create. “All of it. Each reason, is always because of that Sung Chanhyung! The f*cking coño stole the love of my life from me! You understand that?”

“You have no right!” she countered.

“I met your mother first! And that alone, gives me a right. That crazy s*cker killed her!”

“No, it’s not for you are the crazy one who killed them!!!”

She can’t attain anymore. That with the mere mention of his father being accused, she exploded. Finally, as it’s too fast for another heavy slap to earn a cut on her lips this time. Yet, none of it matters for she’s occupied with one thought and only. As her brows furrows, connecting its illusive stories to reality. Half-truths or not, she can only sum up the emotions her parents felt back then. 

Threatened, deceived, betrayed. Just three things but left a large impact for their blissful family to fall apart. “Is that how the bastardo taught you?! That puto! Why am I surprised, even? He had brainwashed my wife what more with you.”

“She had never been yours!”

“She loved me! And that you should put in mind. We were in love until he came she became unwise, giving her all as sacrifice from that foolish man!”

“Wake up with your f*cking illusion now Señor Alcaziar!”

He’s insane! A very factual word that best describes the man in front of her. That’s for sure. How can she believe him even when she herself was the witness of the unconditional love her parents had for each other? She, who begged for the both of them to share their love story during bedtimes. She, who always wonder about how lovesick they are just by staring gazes. She maybe still a little kid then but for a young age she had once known what true love is. Her parents, was undeniably each other’s first love.      

“Eh. You, stubborn child. You’re being hard to persuade still, huh?” Hair being clutched by the senseless old man, she yelps. By its menacing impatience, she’s cornered. “You better kill me instead, Señor Alcaziar. You will never hear anything from me. Besides, I’m all that you need anyway. What stopping you?”

Her spoken counter finally. But yet until a deafening laughing mockery from the latter. “Oh! No, no, no. You can’t always be exact my kid. I guess I did, at first. I had only asked for you alone, but learning about you further I got to think twice after. Then at second, I thought. Why not a little gratification, right?”        

Seconds later, the once darkened room she’s in, becomes brighter. It relieved her somehow, little not knowing that it would fade away too fast as her eyes begins to go round in shock. She was frightened.

The sight of her foster parents, seen from the monitors of the LCD TV, tied up on a chair unconscious. And to the person whom she never expected to get harmed. Being kneeled helplessly across her, appearance being tormented from its usual dominancy.  A bleeding cut from the eyes streaming on its face, swollen lips that had break its original luscious form, but most specially… the part which worried her too much.

Its wounded stomach. 

“No…”

“No, no, no.”

‘This can’t be real.’ Her disbelieving pushing of her own thoughts as she shakes her head hoping that is was all a dream. But it’s not. Her shuddered eyes never left the figure in front of her. Twisting herself trying to get away from her own situation even if it means failing. “There you are, Mi niña.”

Not even the voice of the crazy Spaniard bothered her for all she could think of is him.

And like a sinking lioness, she bawled.

Into what just the hell happened?!

“Jang Taeyoung!”

[fics-not-tragedies]

Reckless Serenade [4]

It’s been 84 years... but a new chapter is up! It’s still @cyberpvnkss‘ request and I hope it was worth the wait 👀

Words: 1876; Warnings: angst & smut; Summary: After you spotted a picture of your father Santino tries to explain what kind of relationship they had and what kind of ‘business’ they got involved into.

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“You… you knew my father?” The words echoed in your brain and you gripped the edge of the table, afraid you’ll fall down in any moment. Your head was spinning, your heart was pounding and all you wanted now was some sort of explanation, the mood for steamy sex was long gone now.

When Santino remained silent you turned around and walked closer to him, almost shoving the picture into his face while pointing to your father, “You knew him?!”

He just sighed, his hand grabbing the picture frame and setting it aside on the bedside table, “Yes, bella, I knew your father” Santino spoke calmly, “we were… business partners, flew together on a various trips. He was one of my closest friends, the one from quite few I could trust, I was devastated when I heard that he died” he sucked in a sharp breath, his hands coming down to your arms, soft fingers squeezing them gently, “I couldn’t attend his funeral because of… let’s call it logistical issues.”

“Did you know I was his daughter when we started talking at your club?” You were shaking, your voice was too loud and it seemed like you couldn’t control it now, the words were coming out of your mouth without the presence of your consciousness.

“No, bella, I had no idea… The last time I saw you… you were just a little child. But now I see that this child grew into a beautiful woman.”

“You only saying that because I’m standing right in front of you fucking naked.”

“You’re not naked, yet. Bella your panties are still on your body and I wish they weren’t…” his hands slid down your arms and onto your sides, but you pushed them away and took few steps back looking up at his face with eyes full of tears.

His eyes are locked with yours and you become aware of how desperate he is in his tryings to play it all cool. Like the sight of you standing right in front of him hasn’t even bothered him.

But he’s not trying enough.

“I know how much you loved him and how much he loved you…” and you noticed the little crack in his voice when his gaze stumbled across your figure again, his hungry eyes trying to figure out what you’re thinking, “Every time we were out on a business trip he was talking about you… about his little principessa that he had to leave at home. You were his first thought in the morning and his last in the evening. He couldn’t shut up about you… I’m sorry for your loss, bella, I’ve lost many people in the past, yet I don’t know how it is to lose someone you truly loved.”

Those tiny wrinkles around his eyes when he squinted them not believing that the woman who he was kissing just few moments before was the child that crawled into his lap demanding sweets many years ago.

“Don’t you ever loved someone, Santino? Doesn’t your father loves you? You’re lucky, you still have him.”

“No…” he breathed, sitting on the edge of his bed, “My father loves me, because I’m his son, it’s not the same kind of love your father had for you… Honestly I-... cazzo… I wish my father was dead, I could finally run everything the way I want to, not the way ‘it should be’.  Rules are the enemy of the progress, bella. Your father was thinking the same, that way he got killed.”

“Wait… what? Everyone was saying that it was a road accident! What are you saying…” You took a deep breath still trembling, your chest became heavy, it felt like your whole body was about to collapse in few seconds.

“The closed coffin… hanno dovuto chiuderlo, your father was murdered bella, the bullet was still in his head when they buried him.”

“How do you know this? How do you know all of the details? We were told that he was in a car accident, a drunken driver pushed his car out of the lane and he hit a tree, that’s why he was dead, not because he was murdered! How can someone who works in a company that sells computer parts get murdered?”

“Your father told you we were in a IT industry? Stronzetto in gamba… we’re not selling computer parts, bella, that’s all I can tell you. I already said too much, I don’t want you to be in danger.”

“You’re putting me in danger when you’re not telling me everything…” Santino laughed at your words slowly standing up.

You look into his eyes only to see that they were watery and slightly red just like your own were.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t come here. I’m such an idiot. I really shouldn’t-...” he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours.

Stunned by his gesture you want to escape from his embrace at first. The warmth of his body, his hands on your back, smell of his cologne mixed with his sweat, how his lips taste like tobacco and old whisky, the way he kisses you like a long lost lover… all of those tiny bits blended together made you melt.

His arms wrapped around you as you stepped closer to him, pressed your body up tightly against his and kissed you determinedly, his hand cupping the side of your face to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

He’d ignited a spark in you now and you wanted more, letting your hand run down his chest, clutching his shirt to keep him close, biting down teasingly on his bottom lip, giggling when he let out a soft whimper, only pressed up closer to you, his lips parting and you slipped your tongue past them to move it slowly with his, it didn’t take much to for him to give up his dominance.

“The perfume you’re wearing…” he breathed against your mouth, “It was a gift from me… every time we flew to Italy, me and your father, I bought them for you… because bella, you only deserve the best in your life.”

His hand moved up your side slowly, palming your breast, groaning into the kiss when you tugged on his hair again, leaning your body up into the touch of his hand but he pressed up closer against you, the wall digging into your back and you whined softly when his hips began grinding into yours and you could feel the hardness restrained by his tight suit pants, pulsing too close to where that need had started forming between your legs.

You drew back from the kiss, panting and dragging his head back slightly with his hair twirled around your fingers, making him whimper as his eyes fluttered open and he looked back at you with something else in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, less was it confidence than need, lust…

“Mmm, do you like this?” You whispered, pushing your hips forward now to grind against him.

Santino nodded eagerly, pressing his forehead against yours and keeping you backed up against the bedroom wall while his hand was slipping beneath your dress, making you whimper when he nudged your legs apart, your knees growing weak instantly when he felt your wet folds through the fabric of your underwear, fingertips brushing up against the damp material and you pushed your hips forward again, trying to lean forward to capture his lips in a kiss but he held you just the way he wanted, forehead against forehead so he could watch your face as he pushed your underwear aside and you moaned loudly when his fingers came in direct contact with your skin, trying to buck into his touch again.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, and you wondered where the confidence had come from, how he’d switched from being so reserved, trying so hard to hold himself back, torturing himself to this, having snapped out of it and taking complete control of you now.

You gripped onto his shoulder, trying to steady yourself when his thumb came in contact with your clit, just brushing up once, just into the right spot that made you cry out, “P-Please…”

“Oh, bella... I know” he coaxed, feeling how your fingers were digging into his back, “I know you like that.”

“S-Santino...” You moaned feeling the heat consume your body, the waves of pleasure washing  all over your body. He slid his two fingers inside you and another moan escaped your lips.

“I like the way you moan my name, principessa…” he purred into your ear, curling his fingers inside you. Cursing loudly you gripped his wrist and started to fuck yourself on his long fingers. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, gently tugging at it, making him moan softly into your mouth, sending shivers up your spine and tingles down between your legs. Slipping your hands into the sleeves of his jacket you made him shrug it off, leaning closer to you as you began to unbutton his silky black vest.

“Those are gonna be dirty…” you mumbled against his lips when he dropped his vest down on the ground with his jacket.

“You’re dirty, bella” he chuckled, biting your bottom lip playfully, “Fucking yourself on my fingers like that… only naughty girls do it…”

“Fuck…” you whispered.

He chuckled with satisfaction, beginning to pick up a slow pace with his fingers while his kisses trailed down your neck, stopping here and there over the delicate your collarbone before he pushed your bra down to press soft kisses to your breasts, twirling one of your nipples between his fingers while his lips sucked lightly on the other, his fingers buried inside you all the while, making you a moaning mess underneath him, “Does this feel good?” He asked, lifting his head lightly to look up at you.  

You nodded eagerly, your eyes tightly shut as you threw your head back, “S-So good … fuck…” your hand flew to the back of his head, your fingers twirling his soft locks around them as your sucked in another breath, humming when his thumb pressed down on you, adding to the pleasure, “Don’t … don’t stop…” you whispered, lightly tugging on his hair.

“Forse volete qualcosa di più grande, bella… ho davvero voglia di scoparti…” Santino rasped into your ear, his mother tongue making your knees become even weaker and you were glad that his other arm was carefully wrapped around your middle, pushing your body against him.

“I have no fucking idea what you just said, but I’ll agree to anything if you keep talking to me in Italian” you mumbled, letting him guide you towards his large bed, before you both sank down onto the soft mattress.

“I’ve said that I really want to fuck you, bella… may I do it?” He asked politely, his fingers pumping faster in and out of you.

“Y-yes… p-please Santi… p-please fuck me” you purred.

“Who’s the kitten now?” He asked playfully removing his hand from between your thighs. You were about to protest when he moved down on the bed, his lips kissing down your belly, “Before I fuck you, bella, I have to make sure you’re bagnata a dovere.”

[connorspiracy]

Not The Kind of Snacc I Had In Mind || Connor & Luis

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @connorspiracy and @ontheluis  CONTENT: Recreational drug use, NSFW SUMMARY: Connor and Luis decide to meet up after chatting on a dating app and absolutely nothing goes wrong. 

Grindr dates were weird. Connor was far from opposed to a simple shag, but he usually felt like he was supposed to not be so blatant about it, to try and be a gentleman. Was it customary to clean the house before a Grindr hookup came over? He wasn’t sure, but he did what he could to make the place presentable; ran the roomba, made the bed that he was sure would be messed up again pretty soon, lit some Yankee Candles. He’d showered, changed his clothes, brushed his teeth, and was debating starting on a beer when the buzz of the doorbell stirred him from the couch, indicating his date’s arrival. Connor answered, giving the other man a smile in greeting. He’d had no clue this was wolfbane-dude when he’d proverbially swiped right, but seeing the young man in front of him, he put it together. Not that it mattered. He was still certainly curious, but seeing the profile pics come to life before his eyes gave him little desire to revisit that conversation anytime soon. “Hey, Luis, right? Come on in, I was just about to grab a drink if you want one?” 

The cold freshness of the Whye River single lingered in Luis’ nostrils even after the water had dried off his skin and hair. Bathing in the river outside his date’s upscale neighborhood might not exactly be classy, but the brutal pragmatism of Luis’ new life had weaned him off feeling embarrassed about trivial things. Piers’ place reminded Luis of the houses along Boca Chica, eliciting a sharp prick of unwanted remembrance amidst the more arduous thoughts in his head. 

Connor turned out to be just as gorgeous as his profile picture, and Luis had another pang of guilt for placing yet another innocent person in danger of being eaten just for the sake libido and company. But the less human part of Luis brain, the aspect of himself that was all primal instinct and cold pragmatism, didn’t see why that danger should get in the way of shelter, sex, and free food?

The corners of Luis' mouth drew up into a knowing smirk as he closed the door behind him, enjoying the randy tension in the coy game these types of meetups often started. “Sure.” Luis placed his backpack against the wall by the door. “Hey uh....are you the ghostuber dude by the way?” 

If it hadn't already been obvious from the risque Grindr conversation, then the grin tugging at the edges of Luis' lips confirmed to Connor that this lad was well up for it. He doubted it would take them too long to get down to business. "Right, we've got got beer, shots, cider, whatever you want, mate." He helped himself to a White Claw, handing Luis whatever he'd chosen. "Heh, Ghostuber dude," he chuckled. This was why he didn't send dick pics with his face in them. He didn't want it to end up on twitter or reddit once someone realised who he was. "Y'know what? I like that. Might nick it for my instagram bio.” He gave him a little grin. “I wanna ask what you do for work but I don’t even know how much you wanna talk and stuff. I never know how personal folks wanna get.”

“I mean there’s part of me that just wants to jump your bones,” Luis confessed as he leaned forward to accept a White Claw with a wink, the werewolf perhaps being a bit more literal then the words necessarily implied. But Luis didn’t necessarily want to give that primal part of more leeway over his life then it already had.

“But I don’t mind talking,” Luis admitted helping himself to a seat on one end of the couch. “I’m hiking cross country,” was a rather selective version of the truth. “So I’m just taking whatever work I can find along the way here y’know?”

In spite of being in media and in the public eye just enough to receive decently regular flirtation, Connor wasn't always the smoothest at this. He gave a kind chuckle, toasting their White Claws together. "That's very flattering, but yeah, we can talk. Come on." He gestured for Luis to follow him, heading onto the deck and lighting up the fire pit and sitting on the outdoor bench. "Figured this'd be a bit better than watching telly," he snickered. "So are you in White Crest for long then? Just passing through?" 

Luis had been an easygoing and social person before his life had become a runway train of carnage. Connor definitely had the sexy British angle for him, and a sinewy muscularity to go with the baby face, but perhaps was a bit blunt for coy games. Though Luis couldn’t (or didn’t want to) explain why, his sense of hearing and smell had sharpened to the point of being painful at times. He caught the fragrance of the soaps that Connor had used in the shower as his host passed by and listened to the steady background noise of his heartbeat. 

As they went out on the deck Luis looked out over the East End evening. The sun was sinking like a golden torch in the Whye River's horizon, staining the tufty lines of Stratocumulus clouds ablaze with bright magenta against the deeper blues and violets of the upper atmosphere. East End’s upscale houses and shops trailed off at the harbor where ships slept on a liquid mirror of the sky, seeming to bob up and down on cloudy stained glass. Boat masts and pier poles stood out stark like thin black columns against the prismatic sunset.  

But though Luis’ couldn’t see most of those colors anymore, the shadows of the sunset city strangely didn’t impede his sight at all. Luis glanced to smile playful at Connor, the fading light briefly reflecting off the tapetum lucidum blue in his eyes in a flare of electric blue. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Luis admitted as he leaned his elbows on the deck rail, breathing in the faint scents of fish and smoke on the chilly autumn air. “Got this gig at a fighting ring, doing Cutman work and whatnot for the fighters,” he mused. “Guess we’ll see how well that pays huh?”

"Bit of an amateur boxer or something, are you? That's pretty hot," Connor said with a smile. Most people's Grindr photos didn't leave that much to the imagination. There was usually at the very least a topless selfie in there, maybe a post-workout pic, complete with sweatpants bulge. Luis had a casually athletic build, more compact and slightly bulkier than Connor's slimmer frame. He imagined Luis being able to hold his own. "I... couldn't fight my way out of a paper bag. Have to talk my way out, hope they fall for the accent. This is all for show." He looked at Luis' bright blue eyes with a self-deprecating smile. 

"Well, this place is fuckin' weird, which is why I'm here, but it's not for everyone." In the back of his mind, he was still kind of suspect about the eating wolfsbane thing, but Connor left that alone. He actually wanted to get off with the bloke tonight, not scare him away by interrogating him. "Smoke?" he asked, pulling out a pack of tobacco and everything else he needed for a good joint. 

“Luis shook his head with an aimable wrinkle of the nose at the notion. Learning to fight hadn’t been something he’d willingly picked up or enjoyed, but it came naturally to the less human part of him, way too much so honestly. “A cutman is just the dude who makes sure the fighters don’t bleed out too much,” he explained, finding it wiser to not going into detail what sort of illicit fights would just hire some rando off the street who knew his way around an enswell. “I try not to get into fights if I can help it,” said the fellow whose rap sheet contained a bit too many charges of manslaughter for that claim to be entirely plausible. “You’re better off avoiding it honestly dude. Like...I dig some macho dom vibes much as the next guy, but that aggro life isn’t worth it,” confessed Luis, having woken up too often amongst grotesque carnage to glorify violence.

“It is weird,” Luis admitted with another look out at White Crest’s innocently picturesque panorama stretching out beyond them. “Guess that works for a ghostuber though?” Luis didn’t believe in spirits or magic, but a metaphysics argument wasn’t he wan’t to get up to with Connor tonight, so he just let that be. 

Then it turned out Connor knew the way to heart: weed. “Duuude, you must be into some weird shit if you’re buttering me up this much,” he teased with an assenting nod.

“Oh,” Connor said with a chuckle, feeling just a little bit stupid. “I guess that makes sense. It’s in the name.” Hearing that Luis avoided fights if he could help it only made Connor more attracted to him. He had no patience for that toxic masculinity bullshit. Knowing someone could defend themselves was one thing, being good at a sport was another, but seeking violence for violence’s made someone the type of person best avoided, even for a one night stand. “Yeah, couldn’t agree more. Save the macho dom vibes for the bedroom,” he teased, rolling them each a joint with a grin. 

“The views are fucking gorgeous too, I mean, look at this ocean.” He gestured to the sand and sea that spread out before them, glistening under the moon and stars. “And I never run out of stuff to film.” Even if sometimes, the thing he happened to film was someone being murdered in the woods. That’d be a mood killer, though. His grin only widened when Luos accepted his offer of some light recreational drug use. “What can I say? I like being a good host.” And once he handed Luis the rolled joint, he leaned in for a brief kiss, lips brushing against Luis’ and lingering for barely a moment before he sat back to light up, handing Luis the lighter too. 

The lighter’s flame was a momentary spark against the oceanic sunset as Luis breathed deep. Substances had come to be Luis’ escape from the train of violence his life had become, and the unwilling werewolf closed his eyes and breathed smoke into the night for a time, letting it soak into his blood and cloud out unwelcome thoughts. “Definitely gorgeous,” he affirmed, before turning away from the sea. 

Luis gently lowered himself down to straddle Connor’s lap. He looked down into Connor’s eyes for a moment with a questioning raise of tawny brows, silently asking if this was ok. “So what made you want to do youtubing stuff,” Luis asked with an unconvincingly innocent smirk as he ran both hands up the front of Connor’s shirt. Luis played it slow, his splayed fingers consciously tracing the lines of Connor’s body beneath the fabric, traveling up until he caressed the bare skin of the Brit’s neck. He leaned forward from his perch on Connor’s lap to meet his host’s lips in a long kiss, taking time to just savor the take and smell of him before parting with a breath chuckle. “So were you legit born in England,” he asked in a murmur, pulling down the front of Connor’s shirt slightly to press his lips to the firm skin of Connor’s pectorals. “Or are you actually some Cali-boy whose doing the Brit thing for sex appeal.” Luis continued to lay exploring kisses up the curves Connor’s upper chest and neck as he glanced up. “Won’t mind either way,” he assured with a grin. 

Connor closed his eyes for a moment as he inhaled the joint and blew out the smoke, watching it dissipate into the night. He took another sip of his beer, not expecting the next events that unfolded, but certainly appreciating them. His breath hitched in anticipation as he felt the warm weight of the other man's body on top of him. He lifted his hands to wander over Luis' upper legs and waist. "Started to video journal for myself," he answered, closing his eyes again and sighing as Luis' hands and lips caressed his skin. He curled his own fingers into Luis' sides, sliding them just beneath his shirt. "Ran out of space on my hard drive, started uploading them to YouTube," he snickered. "And the rest is history." 

Thankfully the neighbours' houses weren't right on top of them and there was a bit of space between the houses along the beach, so he didn't feel too self-conscious about the display they were putting on. At least for now. "I'm a born and raised South West London boy, darling," he whispered, playfully exaggerating his own accent. "What about you?" he asked, fingertips tracing tiny lines along Luis' abs. "Hispanic?" 

“Chicano,” Luis confirmed with a nod, closing his eyes for a moment and just letting Connor touch bring on a trembling flex of his abdomen that brought a hitch to his breathing. “South Texas chico my dude,” he elaborated in a teasing imitation of Conner’s phrasing, as if the Coastal Bend was somehow on the same cultural tier as an ancient city of eight point nine million. Luis shrugged off his white cotton shirt onto the deck, ignoring the chilled autumn air as it brought goosebumps along his bare skin. Luis’ shoulders and chest rose and fell with deepened breaths as drank in the scent of Connor and the taste of his lips with a hungry insistence.  

A voice in the part of Luis' brain warned that he needed restraint. He needed to not lose control here.

“So why ghosts,” Luis asked as he reluctantly parted from Connor. He kept running one hand affectionately though his date’s hair while leaning back to take another drag from the joint he’d left on the railing. “You could easily get internet-famous with other stuff,” he pointed with, exhaling smoke at one end of a smile that left the ‘other stuff’ ambiguous. 

Connor’s stomach tightened and he felt himself becoming more and more aroused, especially as Luis pulled off his shirt. His own was unbuttoned all the way down to the navel, so he unfastened the rest of it, letting it hang open to reveal his chest and stomach. For a moment, he thought they were going to shag right there on the decking, but thankfully (at least for the neighbour’s sake), Luis pulled away to take another drag, smoking from his position straddling Connor’s lap. “Right, you’re one to talk about sexy accents then. You can get anyone to drop their trousers by saying romantic shit in Spanish,” Connor teased, continuing his own beer and joint. 

“Why ghosts?” He repeated. It felt like he was about to open a can of worms, so he did his best to put the pushy, opinionated part of him aside, at least for the sake of getting his dick wet tonight. “Ah, well, suppose you’re either a believer or you’re not. Hard to believe in ghosts when you can’t see them. I just happen to be someone who can.” His fingers absentmindedly continued drawing shapes on Luis’ forearm as he spoke. 

The claim about his ability to make people drop drow with Spanish elicited a snorting laugh from Luis, who’d endured less complimentary claims about his background in the past. He pressed his lips to the skin about the hem of Connor’s pants, laying teasing kisses along the muscled v-shape below the Brit’s abdominals, toying with his tongue down the very edge of the curve before relenting. 

“Te voy a joder los sesos guey,” Luis promsied with a soft murmmer in Connor’s ear. 

Connor’s answer clearly brought Luis up short, confusion mixing with the more straightforward lust on his features. Luis wasn’t particularly good at it, but could pick up sometimes when people lied sometimes. The beat of their heart changed. Even though they were skin to skin Luis hadn’t heart any falter in Connor’s aroused pulse. Maybe Luis wasn’t really in any headspace beyond screwing this guy, but it sounded like he thought he was telling the truth.  

Luis sat up on Connor’s lap for a moment and looked at him with reflective blue eyes that grew brighter at the darkness deepened, lips in cast in a half frown of vexation and both hands lifted behind his head. 

“Shit, don’t even know what to fucking make of you Con,” Conner mumbled after a while, the frown broadening in a toothy smile. Luis stood up and reached down for Conner’s hand with a come-hither look that made clear Luis’ personal suggestion to resolve this quandary. 

“Oh, bloody hell,” Connor murmured under his breath, jeans tightening as he got hard when Luis kissed and licked along his pelvic bone. He’d had a few flings in town, and it hadn’t exactly been that long since his rendezvous with Nell, but there was something incredibly alluring about Luis, the way he took what he wanted, unapologetic and confident, just a little filthy, behind a blue-eyed cherubic face you could take home to your mum. “You’re the kind of lad I could take home to family dinner and give you a blowjob in the bathroom after,” he chuckled. 

Connor ran his fingers through Luis’ light brown hair, tugging it gently as his fist clenched with arousal. “I have no clue what you just said, but it was sexy as hell,” he snickered, practically pulling Luis back to his lips so he could kiss him more firmly, more deeply, more desperately. When their lips parted, his breath caught in his throat, and he twisted the joint out in the ashtray. “Why don’t we go inside and you can make whatever you want of me?” 

Luis let himself be led back to Connor’s bedroom, putting up coy resistance at times, pretending to look around the house with wide innocent eyes but wearing a cruelly teasing smirk. One hand in Connor’s and the other tracing the lined of the cool-colored walls, Luis let the adrenaline of anintipation buoy him up like a chemical tidal wave. For a little while he was just a normal guy horny out of his mind and climbing into a hot brit’s bed. 

There came a cracking sound from somewhere outside the room, like a piledriver being used as a nutcracker. 

Luis jerked up instinctively as it hit his lupine hearing like a gunshot, looking around. “Did you...”  But the sound had stopped or maybe hadn’t existed. Fuck it. “Nevermind,” he murmured, busying him with trying to make out with Connor and get unzip his pants at the same time. 

Connor headed inside, kicking off his shoes and leaving them deserted somewhere in the hall. He threw his shirt on top of the laundry basket, climbing on top of the bed with Luis. He heard nothing, ears not as keen as the werewolf, and let himself be in ignorant bliss for a while. They continued to kiss, leaving him with tousled hair and pants half-unfastened, blood rushing between his legs as they got hotter and heavier. “What?” he whispered against a jawline that could cut glass, but whatever Luis had heard, he’d quickly forgotten. 

He whispered compliments, sighs and groans against Luis’ skin, hands wandering his torso. Their bodies were warm against one another as Connor pressed into him, haphazardly reaching to unfasten his belt before he heard it, an obnoxious sound, miniature saw blades gnawing away beneath him. “What the..” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes and looking at Luis as if to question if he was losing his bloody mind. He rolled over, begrudgingly separating himself to look under the bed. “Oh, FUCK.” Connor scrambled back on the bed, scrambling for the closest object to throw on top of the creature. He was trying to get his rocks off, and there was a fucking demon rat under his bed. 

“Dude…please...” Luis moaned, breathing fast and craving release with all this built up tension. He tried to pull Connor back down to him, skin flush and burning with the raw need that turned every nerve into a livewire. 

But before either batter or pitcher could make the final run towards home base, one corner of the bed vanished in a cloud of sawdust. There was the sound of claws scaping up wood, and Luis choked on another flurry of dry sawdust in his mouth, dust clinging to the sweat on his skin 

Luis found himself face to face with an obese beaver-shrew the size of a dog at the ruined end of the bed, and wondered for a surreal second if he’d gone insane from sheer Blue-Balls. 

“What….holy shit….whu…”

Connor really, truly would have preferred to just stay in bed and take the rest of Luis’ clothes off, doing unspeakable things to one another for the next several hours before having another cigarette and maybe sneak in some cuddling. White Crest, however, had other plans. “Bro! What the fuck--” He scrambled to fasten his pants, willing his boner to go down, which thankfully wasn’t too difficult “You little bugger, I rent this house!” He didn’t know if it was dangerous or not, so he instinctively grabbed for Luis to pull him away, then scrambled for the nearest pair of flip flops. “We gotta go, dude. I have no idea what that thing is.” 

Why...how did this rat have horns? Even while gagging on sawdust and woodchips Luis could smell that this thing wasn’t a dog, rat, squirrel, shrew, or beaver. His rational mind recognized it was impossible that a person could smell that well, but his instincts just sorta knew on a gut level that this wasn’t any animal he’d ever seen before. There was a moment of confusion as his brain and gut disagreed on what was going on. But as usual when shit went down, guts won out. 

Luis let Connor pull him away and he rolled off the side of the bed not occupied by a giant woodchipper on legs. Stumbling into the shoes he’d shed at the bedroom door, he sprinted with Connor through the house and out the front door, the frigid outside air extinguishing the amorous fire in his skin. 

Great. This was just great. He’d found a nice, handsome, and incredibly seductive boy to take to bed, and now he had an infestation of God-Knows-What chewing on his furniture. Connor shook his head, more annoyed than panicked. “I’m so sorry. This is--not what I planned for tonight. I have to call an exterminator.” Or a hunter. “But… this was nice, before it got ruined. I’ll call you, okay?” And with that, he pulled out his phone. 

[msclaritea]

By Pam Martens and Russ Martens: July 17, 2020 ~

Donald Trump is the man that the libertarian billionaire Charles Koch reluctantly accepted to play Hank Rearden in the Oval Office. Rearden was the fictional character in Ayn Rand’s novel, Atlas Shrugged. The libertarian story line of the novel is that a federal government that grows too big with too many regulations is anathema to the corporate geniuses that should be running the country.

According to Nicholas Confessore, writing for the New York Times in January 2015, the Koch Brothers (Charles and David) and their billionaire minions that meet secretly twice a year at tony resorts to strategize on running the country, agreed to spend upwards of $900 million “to shape a presidential election that is already on track to be the most expensive in history.” This, writes Confessore, would allow the Koch machine to “operate at the same financial scale as the Democratic and Republican Parties.”

Once Trump was in the Oval Office, the Koch machine, known then as Freedom Partners, wasted no time in laying out its agenda for Trump to follow. In a document titled “Roadmap to Repeal: Removing Regulatory Barriers to Opportunity,” the Koch front group lists the laws and regulations it expects to be repealed in the first 100 days of his administration. And like a dutiful courtier, the Trump administration responded quickly. Repeal the Paris Climate Accord – done. Tax cuts for corporations and the wealthy – done. Gutting federal regulations and the Environmental Protection Agency – lots accomplished there.

Not only did Freedom Partners get its wish list checked off but its minions were invited into key jobs in the Trump administration to hasten the agenda. SourceWatch reported that as of April, 2018, 12 people who previously worked at Freedom Partners were working in the Trump administration.

One of those was Marc Short, previously President of Freedom Partners, who became Director of Legislative Affairs for Trump. Short is now Chief of Staff to Vice President Mike Pence.

Kellyanne Conway, the TV defender-in-chief for the Trump administration, previously consulted for Freedom Partners, according to the public watchdog, Public Citizen. Then there was that inexplicable hiring by Trump of 12 Jones Day lawyers on the very day of his inauguration on January 20, 2017. According to Public Citizen, two of the main hires from Jones Day, White House Counsel Don McGahn and Ann Donaldson, Chief of Staff to McGahn, both previously represented Freedom Partners.

The Koch brothers (David died on August 23, 2019) were majority owners of the private fossil fuels company, Koch Industries. Charles Koch remains its Chairman and CEO. In July of 2018, when we investigated Freedom Partners and the Koch’s massive voter data operation called i360 for the news site CounterPunch, we found this:

“All but one of Freedom Partners’ 9-member Board of Directors is a current or former Koch company employee. The Board Chair is the same Mark Holden that is the General Counsel of Koch Industries.”

A previous Koch-related corporate front group, Citizens for a Sound Economy (CSE), which split into Americans for Prosperity and FreedomWorks in 2004, was established in 1984 by David Koch and Richard Fink, who worked as an executive for Koch Industries from 1990 until his retirement in 2016. According to the in-depth research report, “To quarterback behind the scenes, third-party efforts’: the tobacco industry and the Tea Party,” Citizens for a Sound Economy “supported the agendas of the tobacco and other industries, including oil, chemical, pharmaceutical and telecommunications, and was funded by them.”

According to a recent report by Reuters, the Ayn Rand Institute (ARI) took up to $1 million from the Paycheck Protection Program. The nonprofit has been heavily funded by Koch foundation money for years as well as other corporate interests. According to ARI’s 2019 Annual Report, as a result of its shipping out free Ayn Rand books like Atlas Shrugged to high school and college students for years, it estimates “that more than 300,000 students now read Ayn Rand each year.”

In 2010 it was revealed that corporate money was contractually mandating the reading and teaching of Ayn Rand books at publicly funded universities. Gary H. Jones, an Associate Professor in the College of Business at Western Carolina University, wrote about the scandal in the July-August 2010 issue of Academe, the magazine of the American Association of University Professors. Jones wrote this:

“Recent donations from the charitable arm of BB&T, one of the nation’s largest banks, have raised the issue of external influence…At the center of the concerns about these donations is the requirement that objectivist Ayn Rand’s novels be taught in special courses extolling capitalism and self-interest…the BB&T gifts raise questions of both substance and procedure. Faculty members at several universities did not even know of the gifts or that BB&T’s donations had curricular implications until after the agreements were signed. At the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, for example, three years passed before faculty members learned that a million-dollar gift agreement establishing a new course contained language requiring both that Rand’s lengthy paean to laissez-faire capitalism, Atlas Shrugged, be assigned reading and that professors who teach that course ‘have a positive interest in and be well versed in Objectivism.’ ”

If Trump allowed the federal government to become the hero in saving the American people from the ravages of COVID-19, he would be undermining decades of Koch money infused into politics and the economics departments of colleges and universities across America to brainwash the public that big government is evil and only the corporations can save us.

So this is what Trump did: he refused to formally invoke the Defense Production Act but allowed all of the wonderful Hank Reardens in corporate America to voluntarily manufacture masks and ventilators.

Trump refused to issue a federal order for mask wearing because that is a federal regulation and he was put in the Oval Office to gut federal regulations, not impose more.

Even after a study by Victor Chernozhukov of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Hiroyuki Kasahara and Paul Schrimpf of the University of British Columbia’s Vancouver School of Economics found that 40,000 lives could have been saved in a two-month period if there had been a federal mandate for employees working in public-facing businesses to wear masks, and the policy had been strictly obeyed, Trump issued no federal order on masks.

In fact, until just recently, Trump undermined the public’s wearing of masks by repeatedly appearing in public, and at mass indoor rallies, without wearing a mask.

He did this because this is what Kochs’ money infused into right-wing groups like the Tea Party for decades necessitated that he do. Without those right-wing supporters, there would be no one showing up at his rallies or voting for him on November 3.

Until mainstream media accurately confronts the corporate demons that reside in Donald Trump’s head, the nation will continue sliding into the pandemic pit from hell.

[brokentoasterrr]

i try to never show vulnerability on this blog because i am simply Like That, but i wrote piece of creative writing (ish) about my best friend and i want to share it so here we go

tw for death, implied smoking and drinking and a bunch of other shit. read at your own risk, essentially.

He hates onions. Onions and mushrooms. Still, he eats the noodle stir-fry I make him, with onions and scallions. And the pasta Carbonara with chickpeas instead of bacon, because I'm vegetarian and I like to cook. He eats it despite the uneven pieces of onion speckled throughout creamy sauce that clings to the pasta.

He loves liquorice. I hate it. He buys a bar of liquorice with a caramel center, urges me to try it, so I do. And I like it. But I never eat it again.

He buys a chocolate bar. I'm terrified of germs so when he asks me if I want a bite, I shake my head. The next time he buys a chocolate bar, he lets me break away a piece myself before he does, so I can eat without the anxiety. 

I'm terrified of germs, I'm terrified of becoming ill. I use hand sanitizer until my hands dry out and the skin cracks, wash my hands until my cuticles break apart. He buys me a medium fry from McDonald's, and when I use my hand sanitizer, he doesn't even look at me twice. He stretches his hand out and asks for some. When I don't eat the piece of the fry that my fingers touched, when I put them on a napkin and ignore how anxious it makes me, both to eat and to waste, he nods towards them and says, "Can I eat that?" 

When my hands start to shake because I forgot to eat before I left the house, he drags me to the supermarket. He pays for a chocolate bar, says, "It's better than nothing."

He loves orange and chocolate ice cream. Buys a five litre tub and pays £5 to share with all of us. Ten people. He ends up eating most of it, because no one wanted more than a spoonful or two. I am supposed to go vegan, but I eat some anyway.

He walks around with a lizard made out of fabric and sand in his pocket. Says it's there to keep him company. There's a homeless man at McDonald's. He gives the man the sand filled lizard, and says, "Keep it. So you won't be alone anymore."

I'm angry with my mum. She's left me and my older brother alone again. There's no food in the house and I've eaten pasta with frozen peas and ketchup for three days in a row and I'm angry. I feel neglected and alone. He offers me cigarettes, and acts like a drain in which I can pour all of my problems. He says my feelings are valid, says that love doesn't cancel out the neglect. He puts on some music and makes me laugh.

He never says hello. He says, "Good morning." He never says goodbye. He says, "Good luck."

I'm homeless. Well, not quite. I live in the spare room in my grandma's house, young with no money other than the weekly allowance that I spend on cigarettes. He lets me stay at his house for five days, lets me roll cigarettes with loose tobacco because I can't afford another packet this week. He says, "Do you want to start a business? Two pounds per packet. You get a pound if you help me roll." It sounds borderline illegal, but it's just cigarettes, isn't it? I nod. 

He owns an ATV. It's started snowing but the air is still warm enough that it doesn't lay as a loose powder over the streets, but packs together. The perfect texture for sledding. He ties a sled to the back of his ATV, gives me a helmet. I sit on the sled, he drives. It's the best thing I've ever done in my entire life.

I'm struggling in school. He says that he'll hopefully get a job in another town. The town where I want to go to highschool. He says he'll get a flat, says that maybe we should move in together. One room each, I can cook and do the dishes, and he'll clean and do laundry. He helps me with my homework. He helps me see the end of studying, and gives me something to work towards. A home with my best friend, a school I'll enjoy.

My body doesn't feel like my own. My head says he and him, my body says otherwise. He's the same. My body feels wrong and I want to crawl out of my skin. He knows exactly how it feels. I haven't showered in a week. He tells me to try to shower with the lights off. I don't smell sweaty and my hair isn't greasy anymore.

He loves orange juice. If he could, he'd probably stop eating and only live of off orange juice. I buy him a litre for his birthday, and he grins and laughs. Empty cartons stands around his room, and his fridge is filled with it. I don't like orange juice, but I like apple juice. So I buy the same brand, different fruit. 

He likes to sew his own clothes. Scrap bits of fabric, floss and some free time, and he's patched up a pair of trousers that he decorates with more patches, writes on them, sticks chains and random items onto them. I've never seen anyone sew with floss before, but he does.

He loves dogs. Walks around with dog treats in his pocket in case he runs into a good boy or girl to love for a few moments. 

He loves punk. Listens to it loudly on a Bluetooth speaker and screams along. He dances. I dance and I scream with him and I don't care who watches. When we listen to our song, we stand face to face, jump forward and backwards and scream the lyrics in our faces until we can't breathe. I hear the intro and I slap my thighs in excitement, stand up immediately. "It's our song! Come on!"

I love to ride the bike. He does too. We ride our bikes all over town, listen to our music and feel the wind hit our faces. Mine is pink and purple. Because it's not mine, it's my sister's. His is red, rusty and old. It's his mother's. 

He wears his hair in a mohawk. It's either blue or black, standing straight up, tall and stiff. My hair is green but still boring. He helps me comb it up to liberty spikes. We wear patched trousers with loud chains and soda caps that hit against one another with the tell-tale metallic jangle. People stare and take photos when they think we can't see. We stand up taller, laugh louder.

He feels alone. He's sad, and angry, and alone. It's my turn to act like the drain. So he talks and talks, smokes cigarette after cigarette and I nod as he speaks. Smoke my own cigarette and says that he's valid. What he's feeling is valid.

I move into a group home. My ceiling lamp hangs too low and I'm only 5"4 yet I bump my head against it. He helps me hang it up properly. Jokes and talks about nothing and everything as he hoists it up until I don't bump my head against it anymore.

We make chocolate truffles. Butter and oats and sugar and cocoa powder. A Swedish thing. We cover them in more chocolate and they taste better than anything we've made before.

He hates Christmas. But he buys battery driven fairy lights and sticks them into his mohawk, down to his trousers. He walks around like a goddamn Christmas tree. Because he hates Christmas but other people love it and he wants to make them happy.

He's drunk. It's Christmas Eve and he's so drunk that he has to hold onto the wall to stand upright. I'm on the balcony and he's on the ground and he looks up at me. "I'm so happy," he tells me. "Kevin, I'm so happy. I always want to be like this." I tell him to go home, drink some water and to sleep it off. He goes.

It's New Year's Eve and I'm at my girlfriend's. We drink non-alcoholic wine and cider, kiss when the clock strikes twelve. We're both tired and we go to bed before one in the morning. He calls me, he says that we're going to start a band. Our friend's new partner has a studio and it's one town over but it's okay because we're moving there anyway. "I love you," he tells me. And I tell him, "I love you too."

Our friend texts me the next day. She asks if I had seen him, if I had heard from him. I tell her no. And I send him a text. I hope you're alive, I write, call me. He never does.

Instead it's our friend, the next day. I've just showered and I'm eating breakfast with my girlfriend and her dad. My phone rings. Our friend. My friend. "Axel's dead," she tells me. "They found him in the attic." I scream. I cry. I tell her no. No, he's not dead. It's not true. She's playing a stupid fucking prank with me, she's lying. But when she says that it's true the third time, I believe her. And I break down.

I cry in the car ride home. I make a promise to myself that I'm going to live for the both of us. For three hours, I cry. I listen to music and audiobooks and nothing works to stop the he's dead, he's dead, he's gone. And I cry some more.

I cry when I wake up the next morning because I don't want to wake up in a world without him. 

I stop eating. I stop drinking. I'm nauseous all the time and the ache in my stomach consumes me and I can't eat anything because I am terrified of throwing up.

I cry so much that after three days, I get skin rashes by my eyes from scrubbing my eyes too much. Crying hurts but not crying hurts more. Every breath I take rattles and shakes and I only leave my bedroom to smoke. The staff at the group home tells me to let some light in. I pull my duvet up to my nose.

Axel means shoulder in Swedish. Every time he met someone new, he said, "Hi, my name is Axel and I'm always by your side." He never said that to me. And he never said goodbye, he said "Good luck." 

I get a tattoo. It says good luck on my wrist in his hand writing. And he remains by my side.

[maxbradley]

Don’t Even

I can't stay here. I can't take any more of this imprisonment. I need to get out. Blindly I splash a glob of red ink onto the stretched canvas. Hot air escapes my quivering lips. I can barely breathe. I find myself searching for that box again… There's got to be something better tasting than this crap. I open a gilded window to let the thin trails slither out from my lit torch. Only when I can think clearly again I look back into the depths of my private studio. Well, actually, it's my bedroom. My dad's refused to set aside one of the countless rooms in the house for my only source of pleasure in this strange world. I take a deep token before coughing again; I keep on smoking to ease the mental tension, "I want to get out." This is only wishful thinking. I've always thought about running away, but then… I look at the stretched canvas again, running fingers across my mother's hair, deep red. I prop my hand's tips to the background and prod continuously and haphazardly to create blossoms on the leave's green. Wiping the ink away, cigarette still in my mouth, I take up a brush and dip it into oil paint, watching it create wild blue streaks around her, above her for the sky… A dove in her palm takes on a definitive look. I fight myself from changing her into an angel, wings and halo and everything. She needs to be alive.

With the color still drying I place the half finished work next to a raven, the yellow of its eyes staring me down. I try not to trip over a small stack of blank paper and pens on the floor, backing away to observe the rest. A myriad of senseless patterns and shapes and many hues overwhelms me. Yet, here in the isolation of my own little world, I'm home, away from Home. I can't just leave my art here! … I need more paint. "Master Bradley?" "Don't call me that, Yoli!" putting out the light against the window sill and striding across the hardwood floor to reach the door. I open it and poke my shagged hair out, "Something wrong?" It's a shame that my father would take this wonderful, exotic woman and reduce her to nothing more than a servant out of many in this estate. The afternoon sun glistened on dark mahogany braids and shone on her deep tan complexion. I barely paid attention to the direction of the corners of her bright red lips, "Bradley! You been smoking again??" She smelled the tobacco on me and within my room. No use trying to hide anything from her. Yolanda knows about life far more than I ever will. "Yes m'am." I about scoffed at my sad attempt at formality, "He doesn't care what I do." Her face nearly fell, "Don't say that, mi'jito." She places her sweaty palms to my face. I just realized I'm about her height now. "I'm sure he loves you very much. He just can't show it well." … You've got to be kidding me... I feign a smile. "Can you bring your dirty clothes to the laundry room for me?" She never buys it. Sometimes I wish she could. I need to work on my acting skills. ----- I force a part of my head through the iron gate and play "jail time" with my hands gripping the bars. You think I'm playing? Getting out is not as easy as asking, "Hey Dad—can you let me out? I wanna go somewhere." It's harder when you've developed the inability to make close friends that can bail you out. Whatever they spin about my dad, whatever wealth he might have—how famous he is among those big company names—I don't care. Not about what he has. Not what he is, either. I let go of the bars and whisk my way back to the mansion. My personal Alcatraz. What I wouldn't give to visit that place; we're all the way on the East Coast. New England. The place itself, where I live (unfortunately), is rather secluded. Walled in, whitewashed concrete slabs covered with ivy like an infestation. Nothing but trees with fallen leaves—a meadow practically—for a good 5 miles all around. It would be easy to follow the paved road to civilization… My dad would freak. He always wants me home, besides time away at school. His excuse? "I won't lose you like I lost your mother." I'm smiling now, peering up at the cotton clouds, shot with the brightest pink imaginable. It was almost nauseating, had it not been for the warm orange ribbons leaving their marks as well. Yeah; good plan, Dad. I don't want anything to do with you. A small breeze brushes my hair; it's in my eyes, "pfft!" … It's gotten chilly. I can't be back in there. Not now. I finally spot a foreign car parked next to our own on the opposite side of the gate… Not back there. ----- "Why are you here again?" That wasn't actually said; it was just thought out loud. A buxom woman settled in a seat a far ways next to me, I shuffling farther away. She let out a tiny pout before trying to get on my good side again, "Please, Bradley—let me get to know you this time;" I pull my hand away from hers, burning holes into her being with a leer— "You know me very well. I don't want you here!" This faceless lady flushed like the rest of them before distancing away, just in time for the host's entrance. "Is my son giving you any trouble??" I turn away from his stern face. "Not at all" she giggled. Makes me want to— Calloused, rough hands run through my hair. I can't tell whether he wants to harm me or comfort me, "Bradley. Pay your respects— One of the servants rolled in with the dinner cart and gave me a knowing look. I can't look my father in those soiled, mossy eyes. I bite my lip. "She's our guest." ". . . Yes, Sir." My appetite was long gone. My energies were spent on this lady. It was obvious she wanted to gain his intimate trust. "Business meeting" or not, she was a flirt. "Elaine" needs to get out of this house now, before she gets any ideas. Any attempts to reach me were answered by my cold shoulder. I'd only talk to her openly if he happened to be there at the table with us. I could see Elaine getting annoyed with me now. Finally; she should be going home … It was now a quarter past ten—long after our mundane meal. I've been spying on them ever since they left the dining room, after helping out wash some of the dishes (there was little else to do). What could my dad see in her? What chance could she have to be a replacement for— True to his word, they were talking about the adult world of business and nothing else, sharing their third glass of wine together. While wondering how he could ever control his drinking in front of his guests, it was time for this Elaine to leave. But not without a goodbye kiss. He returned it on the cheek before leading her out the door and into the yard; I stayed behind. To see what they might be doing now would be devastating. "Bradley?" Yoli startled me, "Why aren't you in bed?" "I don't have curfew." My baggy eyes weren't helping my cause. "Tomorrow's a school day, young man." ----- The light's still on in my room; I can't sleep. I felt a need to continue the painting of my mother. My angel. The reason why I exist! … There was no right to take her away so soon. If she had been there longer, "things could have gone differently." I had forgotten to check the time on my red digit analog clock. "Kid." My skin crawled when he opened the door. It was far too late to hide away my work, which my dad caught sight of. Clearing his throat, "She told me how rude you were being, Son." This was typical of most women. With their sweet deceitful wiles. It made me sick.

Alphonse Uppercrust is only a foot away from my perch on the stool. He strode past by me and felt around my open window, "What's this??" I continue dabbing the color back into Lillian's face. The gilded pane is shut just in time, "What are you doing?" "Painting." He grabs my collar to force eye contact—"No, kid." holding the discarded torch in front of my face, "Where'd the hell did you get this? At school?? On the street." My face is stone; I dare not say a word just yet... "Was it from one of them?" "You got a lot of nerve, Dad—bunching up your servants with criminals." He nearly threw me off the seat; I made it much easier on him and landed on my feet. He was right; a servant did sneak it to me, but only with a hefty bribe attached. We are filthy rich, after all. "You," he breathed, "have a lot of nerve to be talking back to me, Bradley Uppercrust. Don't forget where you came from, and don't forget who you're destined to become—I had to laugh at this new scrap of a monologue— "I came from Hell, and I'm destined to become another You? Not a chance—What now?? You're going to hit me again after 3 accident-free years?!" Dad was livid, hand raised and my back against the wall. The sight of my art to my left assured me that everything was going to be all right. I'm just glad he was still relatively sober for those moments. "… Son, I'm trying." No pity from me this time. "I really am." The hand goes down on my shoulder where he keeps a strong grip, "I'm not doing that anymore, the affairs. Don't worry. I've learned to control my fleeting emotions— Except when you're drunk—"Are you ever going to forgive me?" My neck still craned to see past his façade; I'm trying to see past the reddened eyes and the watering of his sockets—"No, Dad. Never." I wrench myself away from the wall and, out of personal rebellion, I fish out that box of independence, imagined freedom… 3 years of not hitting me when he's sober. That's a good record. I'm sure he felt bad after… I could see the dejectedness in his whole frame as I continued breathing in toxins, "What? You drink. I smoke. It's only fair." Immediately he resumed composure; weakness is not an option in this household if you want to survive for 16 years. "Know what, kid? I understand what you want now. You want to follow what the outside world has to offer. The common folk? I'll tell them to unlock the gate. You can get out of this house whenever you'd like. No restrictions. No curfew—I'll let you live your own life!" I've kicked off my shoes and sat in my bed, close to the backboard. My eyes and ears are open wide to this titillating information— "You've proven that you're so mature now. Let's all hope you make the best of it!!" The slamming of the door shocks the hallway. I'm puffing out rings and singing a little tune to celebrate a premature victory.

[by-grace-of-god2]

“I sometimes envy the zombies who believe that the only problem is an infection which causes a disease called covid-19. They get up in the morning, check in the mirror to make sure they haven’t died in the night, munch their chocolate flavoured bran flakes, choose a mask that goes best with their chosen outfit for the day and venture out into the world a little nervous but confident that their government is doing its best to protect them in these tricky times. As they go about their business they disinfect their hands at every possible opportunity, carefully obey the social distancing rules and wait impatiently for the vaccine. In a way I occasionally envy them their ignorance.

[...] 

I just smiled and said no thank you and explained that masks are entirely useless because viruses go straight through the material.

`I know,’ she said. `But wearing a mask gives people confidence.’

Does she think all their customers are half-witted 5-year-olds? The answer is obviously yes.

[...]

They say we must be prepared for a second wave.

A second wave of what? Did we actually have a first wave? Covid-19 killed less people than the flu. What sort of wave is that? More of a ripple really. How can there be a second wave without a first wave? 

[...]

Governments have lied about lockdowns, they have lied about the number of deaths, they have lied about the need for masks and they have lied about social distancing. Trying to dismantle the lies and find the kernel of truth is like playing three dimensional chess...

[...]  

Politicians and their advisors should be forced to wear logos on their suits to list their sponsors, allegiances and connections. They’d have so many advertising logos they would look like race car drivers. All BBC staff should have EU and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation logos on their clothing at all times. The Guardian too. Anyone with links to a drug company should be banned from any sort of public role. As I have shown in previous videos, the world’s drug companies are more dishonest and dishonourable than tobacco companies. We would be better off if the world were run by a cabal of Columbian drug barons than the pirate crew currently striving for global control. Telling lies is the new normal in our world.

~ Vernon Coleman,  Is This Fraud Ever Going to End?

[thebiasrekkers]

You Can’t Live Without Me - KNJ

Plot: Kim Namjoon has it all. Money, top pedigree, and a guaranteed future. But he lacks true affection in his life. He has no one to blame but himself because the one good thing he had, the one good woman he had, he tossed her aside. He tries to drown his regrets in alcohol. He tries to tell her one more time...

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: one-shot | break-up!au | angst | broken romance | exes

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Female OC (Mileena)

Warnings: Heavy alcohol use, language, class separation, angst, heartache, interracial/intercultural relationship, suggested drug use

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,782

AN: Not gonna lie, I had mixed feelings about this. I know I was all gung-ho about it in the beginning, but now I’m just hurt for a variety of reasons. My intent was to have this be a hot and steamy “we-can’t-be-together-but-screw-it-and-screw-you-while-we-get-naked-on-the-floor” story, but it didn’t turn out that way. I can’t complain. My goal is to hurt feelings. Mine included. All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Something. 

Anything. 

Preferably vodka. 

Oooh yes, vodka vodka vodka. 

That's what he desired at this moment. That was what he needed. Even a shot of gin would satiate his hunger and need for a drink. It was not like he could go back home and just order his pints and be done with it. The closest place to home was Seoul Tree, but Namjoon wasn't feeling that tonight.

Normally Namjoon would rely on his lovely tobacco infested cigarettes or the sweet taste of THC in his lungs and throat, but fortune was being a bitch and his last pack had been lost, having smoked his last joint that morning. Disappeared and vanished into thin air. Plus a bit of alcohol in his system was always a better fix. 

Fingers groped in his pocket, sighing in defeat and disappointment at not discovering a smoke he may have hidden from himself. Instead, he was rewarded with a stick of gum. 

Better than nothing.  

Tearing open the wrapper, he stuck the gum in his mouth and made his way into the bumping, noisy Club Fetish.

Namjoon found his way inside easily enough in the dark. Honestly, he could really find just about any club in the world with his eyes closed if necessary - he snuck in them often enough when he was younger. He'd ditch classes at his boarding school back in Ireland. It was a hell of a place; one of few sanctuaries to him - almost like detention. Wow, was that kind of screwed up for him to think such a thing?

He sighed and passed a few bucks off to the bouncer, allowing him entrance before he was soon greeted by the noise and smells of the club. Drugs were afoot, and whiskey flowed like water as the potent sweat of dancers and grinding club goers reached his nares. Bass from the speakers pulsed across his body. They were calling out to him.

He was a regular at this place for the past couple of days. It showed in the staff's actions of grasping his wrists and guiding him to the nearest booth, fervently asking him what it was he wished to eat. To drink. 

Asking for some side dishes for the time being, he looked at a familiar face and smiled. "Can you bring me some whiskey if you have any? Otherwise, just some vodka would work." 

The waitress, Libby, gave him a look of concern, worried that the side dishes may not be enough for him to handle the alcohol content of vodka and that he shouldn't be drinking during a work night. However, Namjoon quickly waved off the woman's worries. "Don't worry, Libby, I can handle at least that much. And if you're intent on making sure I get fed properly, just bring me some of that kickass fruit and we'll go from there, yeah? Please?"

After hesitating for another moment, Libby disappeared in the back for a moment before returning with a bottle and glass. The glass of the clear liquid was set before him. 

Finally. 

Tilting his head back, the glass was drained and the familiar buzz warmed his soul. Thank God, he thought, smiling and pressing the glass against his face; the cool surface doing wonders to his warm skin. That's all he needed. Well actually he would have appreciated some more.

Soon, dishes of food were prepared for him and he partook of them happily. Libby continued to refill his glass faithfully and to ease the woman's troubled mind, Namjoon made sure to eat something every time he took a drink. It wasn't until he was half bleary eyed and into his eighth shot that an unsettling thought crept into his mind. A worm of worry taunted how he might turn out to be like his uncle. A drunken, pot-addicted madman without a care for the world and overly aggressive with his flourishes - caring more about his appearances with his colleagues and peers than his own nephew. 

Well fuck him.

Namjoon had some tolerance to liquor as he often stole booze from his uncle just to escape the reality of living in that insanity; of dealing with the morbidity of having to acknowledge that his parents were dead and gone. Well, his father was still alive but he may as well have been dead as far as he was concerned. 

He moaned slightly at the pitiful thoughts. He was not here to think about that. For God's sake, he went to America to escape from everything. Except now it seemed to be haunting him.

Only one thing could make this better. Well, several one things. But weed and company would always be welcomed. 

Libby filled his glass again and as Namjoon chewed on a cracker, he sipped the shot of vodka down - umber eyes glossy and with a slightly hazel sheen - wet from the intoxication reflected in their depths. He stared down into the glass, lost in the swirls of liquid and neon lights dancing at the bottom of it.

He needed to learn to stop thinking. Thinking brought on these issues with family, with his ex and her new lover. She was sprouting thorns, the very same thorns he’d once taken the time to pluck away. 

Yes. He needed to cease all thoughts.

More. Alcohol.

The sound of the doorbell ripped through the silence of the apartment. Mileena jumped from her bed, wielding her pillow in both hands. Her hair and sleeping shirt were disheveled and anyone who looked at her would easily have pointed and laughed. 

Thankfully, no one was there.

The ringing continued, reverberating off the walls, and a series of heavy knocks followed suit. Dropping the pillow onto the bed, she trudged out of the bedroom and into the living room. Her eyes veered toward the clock on the wall, spying the time. It was an ungodly hour of the morning and she wasn’t having it. She didn’t care if it was an emergency either. Heads would roll.

Grasping the handle, she wrenched the door open violently. Mileena prepped her leg to shin-kick the person waking her up this early. It didn’t matter that it was her day off. She barely slept and every hour was precious to her.

On the other side was her ex, Namjoon. She pulled a disgusted face as he lazily rolled his neck to peer down at her. He reeked of booze. Her eyes roved over his appearance. He was dressed nicely, like he was out at the club or leaving a company dinner. His suit jacket hung off his shoulders and his tie was half pulled from his neck. Their gazes met and she sighed, folding her arms across her chest as he leaned heavily against her doorframe.

Life had a way of messing things up. It was no different now. They came from two different worlds. Namjoon was the nephew of some big-shot CEO. Mileena worked two jobs and attended night school. She was just starting down the road of obtaining her Masters when she met Namjoon; when he swept her unknowingly off her feet. 

Was he a bad boy? No. He was a hurt boy who had too much time and too much money on his hands. He walked a self-destructive path and Mileena almost fell into the volcano with him.

Being called into the Dean’s office about her attendance record was the wakeup call she needed.

“Hey, Millie,” he rasped, his voice thick with his lack of sobriety, “busy?”

“I hate that goddamn nickname.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I was busy sleeping. You know, that thing that normal people with regular jobs do?”

He chuckled; that low, rolling sound that held a baritone timbre that always made her heart flutter. It was the sound that he made whenever he was going in for the kill. When he was getting ready to open himself up to showcase a sliver of vulnerability. The side of himself that he rarely showed anyone.

But Mileena saw it. It was the reason she fell for him all those years ago in the first place. 

“What do you want, Joon?” 

“What do you think?” he asked, his hand moving out toward her; to touch her. 

She immediately took a step back, moving just out of his reach. His drunken grin fell from his face, replaced with a dour expression. Her eyes narrowed slightly. 

“You’re drunk,” she snapped, moving to shut the door in his face, “call a cab and go home. I don’t have time for this.”

The door rattled beneath her fingers at the sudden blow from Namjoon’s fist against it. She blinked away what little haze of sleep remained. Mileena slowly reached a hand up to run her fingers through her raven-colored hair, digging the pads into the back of her scalp. Releasing a slow exhale, she cast her stormy hues up at Namjoon.

“You need to leave.”

“Just hear me out, Mills.”

“Why should I?” She scoffed. “You smell like you swam in a vat of whiskey. There’s nothing you could possibly say that would convince me to take it seriously.”

“I can’t live without you.”

Mileena felt her jaw grow slack. She stared straight into his eyes, taking note of the surprise on his own face. Namjoon must have realized what he actually said at that moment - the internal conflict clearly showcasing itself across his visage. For a while, neither of them said anything as they lingered in her doorway entrance.

She waited for him to take it back. She expected him to. 

Instead, he looked back at her expectantly. A cold feeling slowly washed over her entire body, chilling her spine as it continued sinking down to the balls of her feet. Her vision swam with the onset of tears and Mileena roughly swiped at her cheeks to prevent them from falling. She saw Namjoon moving, his hand reaching out toward her face. This time, she side-stepped out of reach - her own hand angrily smacking his wrist away from her.

“Then why aren’t you dead yet?” Mileena snapped. “Why are you still breathing, Kim Namjoon?”

Her words hurt him. She knew it did. But the damaged part of her, the part that was hurt that Namjoon came to her again like this, couldn’t feel a shred of remorse for her callous words or her icy tone. She didn’t even care that she would probably regret it in the morning. 

All Mileena could focus on was damaging his spirit.

Namjoon bit his lower lip, his brows furrowing harshly. “That’s not fair,” he murmured, taking a step toward her. 

She took a step back.

“I think it’s very fair!”

She could feel her heart jack-hammering against her ribs, but Mileena refused to relent. She wouldn’t give him an inch. Because already, without having to be told, she knew he would go a mile. 

He moved faster than what should have been possible for someone who was drunk. In seconds, Namjoon was crowding her space and forcing her back into her apartment. Mileena watched him kick the door with his heel, slamming it shut behind him. She stumbled backwards, nearly losing her footing, but a sharp pain twisted around her wrist as Namjoon grabbed her before she could fall. Her body was pulled forward and she gasped when her chest crashed into his.

“Mileena!” he yelled.

“You never cared about me! About my life!” she screamed, trying to free her wrist from his hold as she pushed away from him. There was a sharp pop at her shoulder from the strain pulling at her arm. “Why should you, when your future is already guaranteed?!”

Namjoon blinked down at her. The angry expression he wore slowly began melting away. Mileena felt him loosen his grip on her wrist and she took advantage of the opportunity - yanking herself fully from him. 

They were five feet apart now. Mileena could barely hear her own breathing over the drumming of her heart. Angry tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She shouldn’t have been entertaining any of this. She should have just threatened to call the cops on him. Overwhelming feelings of desire and inadequacy always threatened to strangle her when they were around each other; when he was this close . 

Our lives can never meet in the middle, she thought sadly, feeling her lower lip tremble, and that’s why you ended things.

Gravity held her by the ankles, pulling the rest of her body down to the floor. She collapsed to her knees, her hands falling limply at her sides. All she could do was stare at the hardwood floor, consciously forcing herself not to look up at Namjoon. Mileena already knew. If she looked at him now, he’d see the truth behind her eyes. He’d catch the lie in her seemingly frigid words. It didn’t matter that she was dating someone else.

He would know that she still loved him.

“Please,” she managed to croak, the sound of her voice reflecting how tired she truly was, “just leave.”

There was silence at first. Then the subtle shuffling of feet before hearing her front door open and close - the hinges softly squeaking before the latch caught. Mileena quickly covered her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. 

The silence returned and she knew, for certain, that she was alone.

Namjoon barely felt the people he bumped into on the streets and he didn’t hear their protests. The world was a blur of lights and muffled sounds. But none of it mattered to him. Not one single bit. 

Because the world seemed almost colorless.

Traffic zoomed by and he felt his legs carrying him toward something more quiet and solitary. He needed to get away from all the lights. He needed quiet. He needed a place where he could think; a place where he could fill his head with nothing but thoughts of her.

Pain blossomed over his right knee as he ran into a park bench. He stumbled into the seat, his back popping from crashing into it. For a moment, his vision blurred and there was a soft ringing in his ears. The world swirled in a kaleidoscope of colors momentarily before correcting itself. 

Pressing a hand to his forehead, he shook his head as his palm slid down to cover his eyes. 

“I’m so fuckin’ stupid,” he muttered, pressing the pads of his fingers against his skin.  

It wasn’t like he didn’t know the reason they weren’t together anymore. Namjoon was a selfish prick who had home life issues that stemmed from neglect coupled with substitution methods in the form of “buying affection”. Classic, cookie cutter, spoiled rich kid. He played the misunderstood bad boy and the girls were drawn to him like a moth to the flame. Women filled his bed and faces changed as often as the cleaning staff changed the sheets.

Everything changed when he met Mileena. He wanted to change. He wanted to be better. He wanted to be better for himself because she made him see that there was a different way to do things. Throwing money didn’t gain influence. Behaving like an asshole didn’t achieve success or respect.

But Namjoon knew he was selfish. She wasn’t a dime a dozen. She was his unicorn. 

And just like in fairy tales, his touch tainted her. 

Days bled into weeks. Weeks into months. And then one year became two. The more he wanted her, the more selfish he became. The more he pushed, the more she pulled away. She was right. He didn’t care that Mileena was working and studying. He depended on her and demanded her attention way more than what was necessary. But she continued to give and give and give.

Until one day, she just couldn’t give anymore.

Namjoon collapsed under the pressure of his world. Its fake smiles, fake promises, and cold outer shell. Nothing was genuine, but that didn’t make it any less real. The truth was harsh and slashed at him from the inside out.

He heaved a heavy sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows onto his knees. With a heavy heart, he let everything settle over his body like a lead blanket. He’d fucked it all up and had no one to blame but himself. Because he wasn’t strong enough to truly fight for what he wanted. He was too scared to leave his privilege behind.

Mileena was right. He could live without her. He could still breathe without her. 

But that didn’t mean that he wanted to.

A bitter laugh pushed from Namjoon’s lips as he slowly shook his head.

At least she was free from the shackles of his bullshit.

[calenheniel]

Disappearing Act, a frozen fanfic | i.

Frozen | Hans, Elsa | Alternate Universe, Drama | G+

She wanted to disappear. He wanted a purpose. Together, they would pull off an impossible feat before the final curtain call.

Follow updates: #DisappearingActFrozen

Author’s Note: Based on a short prompt – “Circus A/U” – which I received many years ago. I thought it was absurd at the time, and yet… here we are. I took this unique opportunity to experiment with style and voice, and ended up with a Hans and Elsa who are quite a lot more self-aware and self-possessed than I ever expected them to be. Test driving on Tumblr before uploading to other websites, so constructive feedback is appreciated!

»»————-　❈　————-««

i.

“I hear you can make things disappear.”

His eyes traveled up from the cards in his hands, meeting hers, and stopped.

“Well ‘hello’ to you, too,” he replied, his brow rising. When she said nothing in response, he continued, shifting in his seat: “In a manner of speaking, yes.” With the movement, the hard straw beneath him prickled at his skin. “And I hear that you are a sorceress.”

The men seated in the poker circle around him chuckled, but her expression did not change.

“If you really can,” she said, “then meet me later by the stables—alone.”

He blinked, and in a moment she was gone, only a swirl of her blue cloak crossing his line of vision.

“Strange woman,” the man to his right grumbled.

“A witch, not a woman,” the one to his left corrected, and flicked a card in his hand. “She’s only lucky that this whole damn place is full of freaks like her.”

“Freaks like us, you mean,” retorted the man across from him. He glanced at the young man at the head of the circle. “So, Andersen? You going to take the Snow Queen up on her offer?” He revealed yellow, cracked teeth as he spit tobacco on the ground. “You should be careful, you know, getting involved with the likes of her. Nothing but bad luck.”

The young man snorted. “Don’t be jealous, old man. It’s not a good look on you.”

The man frowned. “You may be new here, boy, but we know you’ve heard the stories about her. Arrived here from nobody knows where, and found work with that ice magic, which no one has been able to figure out.” He paused, and added: “Who knows what else she’s hiding? The girl’s been as quiet as the grave since she got here.”

“Must have been pretty desperate to run to the circus,” the younger man replied, running a hand through his auburn hair with a sigh. “A strange place to be for such a pretty girl, though she’s done well for herself, it seems. Practically puts all the other acts out of business, including mine.”

“There are stranger things in this world than pretty girls in the circus,” the man next to him chimed in. “Perhaps she just likes you. Ladies are always fond of you magician types.”

“I’m not so sure about that, but I’ll meet her all the same,” the young man said, and revealed a flush hand to a chorus of groans. He smiled. “It’s useful to know the competition, after all.”

The older man across from him tossed his hand onto the makeshift wooden table with a snap of his teeth. “You’d better hope she doesn’t freeze your heart, then,” he mumbled, “though I don’t think it’d take much effort.”

The young man’s smile tightened, and he said nothing.

»» —— ««

He arrived at the stables shortly after the stroke of midnight, side-stepping horse manure, empty whiskey bottles, and juggling pins along the way. One horse released a soft grumble as he entered its domain, and he returned the noise with a tired eyeroll, patting its neck.

“Easy, Sitron. Go back to sleep.”

She stood by the far wall, hooded by her cloak. As he approached, she slid it off with gloved hands, revealing a mane of fine yellow hair that sparkled against the darkness, and a single, decorative fabric snowflake pinned against it.

“If I hadn’t been expecting to see you here,” he drawled, “I might have mistaken you for a shadow.”

Her blue eyes were cool. “I don’t think that’s true. You always see me.”

His cheeks reddened. “As do the others,” he deflected. “In fact, I’m surprised they’re not all here, spying in on us. Your reputation precedes you, after all.”

Her gaze stirred a little. “It’s the smell,” she said. “Not even the old men can bear it in here.”

He nodded, sniffing the air. “Yes, it is… distinctive, to be sure.” He ignored the look of annoyance he was sure Sitron had shot him. “But enough of that. What was it that you wanted to speak with me about? ‘Disappearing,’ if I remember correctly?”

Her face fell. “Yes. Disappearing.”

He waited, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. “I can’t stay here,” she said after a time, meeting his eyes. “But I have nowhere else to go.”

“You and everyone else in this place,” he replied. “I don’t think any of us really wanted to end up here. You just… do, for lack of talent or failing to accomplish anything else. So I’m not sure how I can help you, really.” His lips twitched. “I’m as much of a miserable screw-up as the rest of them.”

Her eyes flashed. “But you can do things that they can’t,” she said. “Like make things disappear.”

“Oh, yes, that,” he retorted. “If by ‘disappear’ you mean ‘briefly move someone or something from one location to the next using sleight of hand and distraction,’ then yes—I’m your man.” He raised his gloved hands to her. “Sorry to disappoint, but I can’t do much more for you than pedestrian parlor tricks.”

“I don’t believe that. And I don’t think you do, either.”

He frowned. “Don’t presume to know what I believe,” he snapped. “We hardly know each other.”

“But what if…”

His frown deepened. “‘What if’ what?”

Her hands twisted into knots in front of her cloak, and she bit her lip as her cheeks turned red. “What if we—what if we did try to know each other? Not just as ‘Elsa, the Snow Queen’ and ‘Hans, the Illusionist.’” she said. “Perhaps then, you would see what I see. We could… help each other, in a way.”

He scoffed. “I don’t need help from you, nor from anyone else in this godforsaken place. And besides,” he continued, “there’s nothing you can do for me. Nor I for you. I couldn’t teach someone how to make a bird disappear from their hands, much less a lonely girl from the circus.”

He drew close to her until they were mere inches apart and stared down at her small, freckled nose with a smirk. “Unless you’re looking for a certain kind of company. To be ‘known’ in a… particular way.”

She glared at him. “No, thank you.”

He stepped back, matching her expression. “Well, good. Because I wasn’t interested, anyway,” he replied, eyeing her up and down, “even if you’re prettier than the rest.”

She sighed. “I’d heard you were a difficult man to talk to, but… you’re even worse than I imagined.”

He leaned back against one of the wooden pillars of the stables, and crossed his arms. “A man has to live up to his reputation,” he rejoined. “It’s all he has, in the end.”

“Your ‘reputation’? In the circus? Please, Hans.”

The air around them grew colder, and he stood to attention, shivering. “A man protects what little he has left in this world,” he ground out.

The cold abated as she sighed for a second time. “I don’t know what compels you to act this way, but I don’t buy it.” Her eyes burned holes into him. “There’s more to you than this. There’s—” she paused. “You can help me. I know it.”

His cheeks pinked at the declaration, but his lips turned down. “Fine,” he replied. “If you’re so hellbent on this harebrained scheme of yours, then come and play cards with me sometime. Chat with me and the trapeze girls after the show. Hell, conjure some of your pretty little ice magic while you’re at it,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t care what you do—but don’t expect that I can help you with much more than opening a bottle of gin at the end of a long night. You’ll just end up disappointed, like all the rest.”

She smiled.

“We’ll see.”

»» —— ««

She found Hans the next evening backstage, basking in the attention of the trapeze performers and dancers, his arms draped around them as they sat and laughed and drank sour whiskey on a worn red sofa with gold fringe.

He spotted her immediately, and though he did not stir from his seat, his eyes were locked with hers. He ran a gloved hand across the bare shoulder of one of the trapezists with a smile, and she giggled, following his line of sight to its focus point.

She scowled when she reached it. “Ugh. What’s she doing here?”

The others caught sight of the intruder and likewise shot her cold, uninviting looks.

He grinned. “So nice of you to join us, Elsa. Please, won’t you sit?”

Another trapezist on his other arm frowned, hissing: “Hans, what are you doing? We don’t want her here.”

His grin widened. “And why not? Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Asta.”

The girl’s frown deepened. “I am not! It’s just that she’s… strange,” she ended on a whisper, though still loud enough for everyone to hear. “She has strange magic.”

“As do I, or so you all like to flatter me and tell me as much,” he reminded her, and she pouted. “Don’t be jealous, little dove.”

The first trapezist shoved his arm off her shoulder. “She leaves, or I leave.”

Elsa remained quiet during the conversation, her blue-gloved hands neatly placed together in front of her cloak. “I can leave,” she offered.

“Nonsense,” Hans snapped, and frowned at the other women. “Stop being ridiculous, all of you. Can’t you bear to share me, even for a minute?”

Asta shoved off his other arm, brushing off her skirt and standing from the sofa. “Not everything is about you, idiot.”

He sighed and put on a false look of penitence. “No, of course not. I’m wrong, you’re right, I’m an idiot, you’re brilliant. There—better now?”

A dancer sitting behind him stood with a huff, then glowered at Elsa. “He’s all yours, witch,” she spat, and gathered up her costume from the performance. “Not that that’s worth much.”

The trapezists and other women followed suit, staring daggers at Hans as they walked out of the tent, one by one, leaving him with his new guest. He blinked as the final woman’s pink, feathered tail shook behind her on the way out, and turned his gaze to Elsa.

“You really know how to clear out a room.”

A hint of a smile played on her lips as she unbuttoned her cloak and slung it over the back of a makeup chair before sitting down. She glanced at the mirror for a moment, and replied: “I like to think of it more as knowing how to make an entrance.” Her attention turned back to him. “But why did you send them away? You didn’t have to.”

Hans rolled his eyes. “I didn’t send anyone away—they left of their own free will. You saw that with your own two eyes.”

She crossed her arms. “They left because you were provoking them. On purpose.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, and suppressed a smirk. “They were just being jealous, as usual. If not of each other, then of you for stealing their crowds.” He wore a knowing look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Elsa shrugged. “I’ve noticed,” she acknowledged, “but it’s none of my concern.”

He snorted. “Of course not; yours are not the concerns of mere mortals, after all.”

She frowned, and then sighed, leaning back against the chair. “You’re making me regret coming here tonight.”

Hans smiled. “But wasn’t that the whole point of coming? To ‘know’ me, Elsa?”

“Yes, but…” she trailed off, and her frown grew. “You don’t make it easy.”

“Because that wouldn’t be any fun,” he returned, adding: “And since you’ve scared off my one reliable source of entertainment around here, I’ll have to make do with what’s left.”

She stared at him. “You won’t drive me away like them.”

“Because you’re ‘different,’ I suppose?” he retorted. “Because you can ‘see through’ me? Is that it?”

“Something like that,” she replied, her gaze falling to his hands slung over the top of the sofa. “I’m surprised you’re still wearing your gloves. Didn’t your act finish over an hour ago?”

“My act is never ‘finished,’” he answered, and gestured at her gloved hands in her lap. “Just like yours.”

She stiffened. “That’s not—” she paused, and breathed. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed, earning a glare from her. “We both have our reasons. And as a fellow magician,” he continued, “I wouldn’t ask you to share your secrets. Even if I desperately wanted to know them.”

Elsa’s brow rose. “Do you?”

Hans chortled. “No.”

She relaxed at this reply somewhat. “Even if you did, I… I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

He shot her a quizzical look at the remark, but then held his hands up in surrender. “Like I said—I don’t need to know,” he said. “Nor do I want to, particularly.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes still shut. “You’re not like the others, in that way.”

He shifted on the sofa to draw nearer to her, and it groaned in protest under him. His gaze was fixated on her soft features, and he rested his chin in his palm. “But you want to know me, and my secrets. Isn’t that right?”

Her eyes snapped open, catching him off-guard. “In a way, yes.”

He shook his head at her. “They were right, you know—you are a strange one.” He lay back on the sofa with a plop, his hands resting on his stomach. “So, now that you have me all to yourself, what is it exactly that you want to know?”

She glanced at his hands, and then met his stare.

“Everything.”

»» —— ««

“Everything?”

“Yes. Everything.”

“That’s a lot to know.”

“Not once you actually start telling me, as opposed to what you’re doing now.”

“Fair enough. Though I still don’t understand how any of this helps you to, you know—‘disappear,’ as you said.”

“You don’t have to understand. You just have to believe that it’s possible.”

“Like magic?”

“Yes. Like that.”

»» —— ««

He came to watch her act the next evening, and the evening after, and the evening after that.

He’d seen it before – the flurries dancing in the air, swirling into funnels, transforming into icicles and snowmen and miniature castles – but now he watched them with an avid attention for detail, committing each wave of her hand and hollow smile to his memory.

At the end of each performance, she found him in his dressing room, and they talked.

»» —— ««

“You have how many brothers?”

“Twelve. Two of every kind to fill a second ark: spiteful, apathetic, bitter, arrogant, jealous, cruel.”

“And you’re… what? ‘Not like them’?”

“Oh, I am very much like them. Which is exactly why I want nothing at all to do with them.”

“Is that why you came here?”

“… not exactly.”

“Then why did you?”

“For the same reason everyone else comes here. For the same reason you came here, probably.”

“And what do you think that is?”

“To start over.”

»» —— ««

Sometimes, the conversations lasted only an hour; other times, they stretched on and on until both had lost track of when they had started, and when they should end.

»» —— ««

“You seem too well-bred to have ended up in a place like this.”

“So do you.”

“I am—well, I was. I suppose I can’t lay claim to those old titles anymore, in my current line of work.”

“Do you regret that?”

“Do you?”

“I… I don’t have the luxury to feel that way. This is all I have left.”

“No family?”

“No.”

“Not even some distant, wealthy cousins in France? Even I’ve got a few of those.”

“Not that I know of. But even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. I can’t go back to that life, and I—I don’t want to, either.”

“Fancy parties and well-dressed lords and ladies isn’t your cup of tea, I take it?”

“More like I’m not their cup of tea.”

“Funny, that… I feel much the same way.”

“You do?”

“I always have.”

»» —— ««

Late in the fourth evening, he sat in the poker circle with a faraway expression, and laid his hand down to a raucous chorus of laughter.

“You’ve taken a shine to her,” one man said next to him.

“She’s bewitched him, more like,” said another.

“Bewitched him out of his money, that’s for sure!” guffawed a third man, and scooped up his earnings from the table. “You’re off your game, Andersen. That’s three nights in a row.”

The younger man looked up, only to shrug and stand from his seat, patting his wallet inside of his waistcoat. “Have to let you all win once in a while, lest you gentlemen start to think I’m cheating.”

“We already thought that, boy,” the oldest man snapped, prompting chuckles from the rest. “It’s like I told you—that girl is bad luck. And it’s showing.”

“Of course. It’s her that’s making me lose at poker,” Hans scoffed. He turned to leave, giving the men a brief gesture of goodbye over his shoulder. “Until next time.”

“Boy! Wait.”

He turned halfway around with a sigh. “What is it, Leif?”

The older man frowned, opening his mouth—and then closed it again, glancing back at the others before speaking in a quieter way. “Come with me.”

He led Hans back to the stagehands’ quarters, where two or three men were already in their beds, drunk and snoring away. Once they reached a small corner of the room where the hands usually socialized before bed, he sat down, gesturing for the young man to follow suit.

Hans did so with an uncertain expression, trying to contain his lips from curling at the smell of spilt wine, beer, and liquor. “So, Leif,” he asked, “what are we doing here?”

The older man took his pipe from his pocket and lit it, drawing a long breath before speaking again. “There’s something you should know about her,” he began, “something which I hope discourages you from associating with her further.”

“Well, when you say it like that,” Hans returned with a grin, “how can I refuse to listen?”

“I’m serious, boy,” Leif said. “You don’t understand what you’re getting yourself into, by hanging around that… that… “

“That what?” the younger man cut him off. “Girl? Witch? Sorceress? I hope you know how ridiculous you all sound when you talk about her.” He leaned back in the hard chair, taking an open bottle from a side table nearby and sniffing it. He made a face, but took a sip of it nevertheless. “I’ve been watching her act pretty closely the last few nights – well, even before then, actually – and yes, while I admit her magic is unusual and would probably be difficult to replicate, it’s certainly not real ice or snow she’s conjuring—”

“It is.”

Hans set the bottle down hard again on the table. “Don’t be absurd, old man.”

“I’m telling you, boy—it’s as real as the snow that falls from the skies and the ice that covers the rivers in winter,” Leif replied, gripping his pipe. “They’re one and the same.”

Hans shook his head. “That’s impossible. You know that.”

“I thought the same as you, once,” Leif said, sighing. “We all did. But you can only chalk up so many strange things happening in mysterious ways to chance for so long.”

Hans leaned forward, and his gaze narrowed.

“Like what?”