#it and try to analyze to myself why my brain personally found it silly and if that was intentional because That's Just How Writing IS

[mundanememorize]

okay i will rant for like two seconds my once a month rant but i have recently realized fucking psychology or i guess like modern/pop psychology especially is destroyingggg art. so bad.

like as writer/artist for like the past 2-3 years i’ve found myself being like oh i need to be able to perfectly articulate how my stories deal with mental health and then i get in this awful loop bc i’m not writing anymore im dissecting.

and on the audience part too it’s also awful. i love metas and analysis etc etc but it’s all turned into this strange phenomenon of like “proving a theory” and so many of these metas (im just going to use that for the catchall) focus on the same dissection.

just lately when it comes to art and discussion old or new academic or twitter rants i feel like i constantly see people asking “what is wrong with the artist to make them make this” instead of understanding the emotion or subject present in the piece and dissecting that as it relates to you. it has ti be clinical and hard fact and true to the creators intent.

i hate this approach so much and the way i see it effects my writing has made me crazy so i’m glad i’ve realized. i do not like to see abstract concepts put into a box im sure no one else does but being in like online art culture it’s so so so bad for that because no one can discuss anything online it has to be a debate. and then you’re debating art instead of analyzing and sharing experience.

this is all very vague and that’s kind of the point. what i’m talking about applies to anyone from like brain rotted edge lord anime girl artists to characters in mainstream/high production projects. there is no separation of art from artist on the basis of how does it make you feel it seems like it’s everyone’s wondering what’s going on in the artists head and trying to use their art as tools to figure it out. i think that has terrified me in creating and it’s made me feel like i have to make it present in my art in the first place so i have “nothing to hide” but why does an audience need to be in your psyche???

this is not me saying exploring mental health and illness and symptoms of it in art is a bad thing, it is exactly the opposite. it’s when it turns into everyone fighting about how xyz proves their headcanon correct and then no one else is allowed to interpret a character another way when the point of most art from the people i know and/or admire want the exact opposite. every character should be a mirror to a large variety of people and experiences. the same shade of green should excite one person and disgust the next. i am just so tired and appalled and over the like compartmentalization of art to enjoy it as a monolith go fuck yourself!!!!!

and i kind of got off topic with the subject of psychology present in art but looking at art with a psychological lense can be fun but that’s the lens you should already be using in the sense of connecting emotionally to pieces. i’m seeing yourself in the art right in front of you. most people (especially people who don’t create art often) go into art immediately trying to “figure it out” which i understand but how to you make it clear to everyone that they already understand, they just need to listen to what is there in front of them.

to look at art through a clinical lens is the death of art is maybe a more accurate way of talking about it. to look at art and try to dissect it, not for yourself, but to say “i know exactly what the artist was thinking” you’ll never be right. it’s fun to joke about in the basis of relation to the art but then that’s just you relating. that’s your experience and perception. you will never know the artists intent.

this is more specific and a little more silly but i feel like that^ over laps with people freaking out about character and “good/bad” representation. saying gay characters can only act this way. that characters with plurality can only be portrayed like this. that characters with a disability or neurodivergence or this or that can only say this list of things or else you’ve made a “harmful character”. of course there is harmful stereotyping but i would hope everyone able to publish and produce stuff knows what to do and not to do. i know that’s not realistic but i hope majority of writers don’t need a strict do and does list to write all of their stories!

i really mean this more in the way of making a strict view of how exactly to portray a certain character especially when it comes to marginalized identity and psychology then makes a new box that pisses people off. people did not like autistic people being portrayed as emotionless genius robots who parade as people and that’s normal because that is fucked up. but why now does every autistic character need to be almost a joke about being “too weird”. why also does a character need to be confirmed by the creator to be anything. it’s definitely nice but to me if a character portrays your experience without being confirmed anything, why not just enjoy the character in the way you perceive them. i’m also just a really big fan of ambiguity and surrealism in art so that’s how i prefer to take it but i don’t understand why every single aspect of art needs to be labeled for enjoyment. it’s killing it.

i kind of got off track with this but i hope it’s clear how i feel like psychology effects art in the ways of when you confine symptoms to one box and you put people into those boxes and those people love art and make art. then the perception of art will be affected and it’s hurting it badly. it is okay to be uncertain but i think psychology is hurting people and art badly in tandem

#there’s also the issue of black and white thibking and absolutes thta have taken over the modern day #from both political extremism to your internal morality but that’s like. this will turn into an actual ten paper essay #and to be transparent on this. this id a lot of stuff i’ve only recently realized and started to unpack because i’ve stopped being obsessed #with these labels. so i am just kind of speaking from my heart and my perception of what was making me kind of crazy #psychology like is helpful to people and that shouldn’t be taken away from them #but i also just kind of wish it could quietly exist and be helpful. #because like ten years ago it was a fucking like social death sentence to be in therapy #and now it’s all you can hear or see be misconstrued on the internet but it’s hurting people more because they get out in a box #<again two very extremist points. we can never seem to find a middle ground #and it’s not bad for people to know terms or symtpms of what they have or think they have because then they can find tools to help #but the way people dissect individuals and lump them together in ‘avoidant type’ style boxes #when people have an array of experience and trauma and hardship under their belt that’s so unique to them it’s so harmful to lump them #in with so many others with that same individual experience. why do we have to mush people together to understand people #why can’t we just meet a person and let them tell us how they are and feel and came to be #sorry this is like my one million thoughts from the past couple months so i’m like. literal essay it has to stop now because i want a #peach red bull

[roses-ruby]

Come home to me...Darling

Jimin x Female Reader (+ Jungkook & Mystery Member)

Ao3 Link

Part 2 of 2 (Part 1)

Genre: Cheating!AU, angst, smut (masturbation and fingering, both female), fluff

Warnings: Masturbation, Fingering, Infidelity, Cursing, Sad, Low self esteem, Mentions of a panic attack, Jimin’s a jerk :(

Word Count: 29,555

Summary: Jimin cheats and you try to make him stay. But whatever you do, it’s never enough.

Tag: @some-random-stranger-007​

A/N: it is finally out now I can go yeet myself into the lake of fire never to return. Can you believe i almost lost this? ahahahaha the level of clownery. Anyway I hate it, so let me know what you think of it. Thank you to @meuurtrierr​ it wouldn’t be possible without her. Edited but I know I missed some shit, also I skimped on the warnings cuz i dont remember what else skskssk do let me know babes mwah Enjoy!

Mondays are the worst.

It’s not enough that you needed to skim through the employee evaluation files in the next 2 hours, but a grueling headache had somehow found a way to attach itself into your brain. Even blinking was painful. You weren’t able to do anything but stare at your desk with little to no energy present in your build. There was a dull lull in the room, and you felt suffocated in your stuffy office. When one of the open file’s papers flutters in front of you is when you manage to snap out of dreamland. Peeking at the desk right outside your office, you let out a sigh of relief at finding the space empty. Finally, you could get up and do something about this headache as well as pour some caffeine into your body.

Usually Yura would gleefully grab it for you, but you felt awkward around her since that day and hadn’t asked anything of her since. It was a bit silly, you don’t know why you were avoiding her exactly. Most likely it was due to not trying out her therapist suggestion yet. But it wasn’t like she was forcing you and it also wasn’t that you didn’t want to go…you were just unsure. You were scared. An unfamiliar person, poking and prodding at you – at your life. Finding and pulling out all the faults in you like weed. Judging you. Your habit of overthinking had already made you fit irrational scenarios inside your head of your ‘sessions’ and how awful they would end up being.

This irrationality also embarrassed you and led you into avoiding Yura.

In a nimble pace, you quickly make your way into the center office filled with cubicles. From there you speedily step your way into the breakroom. Thankfully, it was also empty. It wasn’t like coming here wasn’t unusual for you – you had been in here before you were promoted, albeit just a bit. You weren’t the most extroverted person, and people seemed to always be creating some forms of conversation in here. Which scared you into staying in your cubicle until certain timestamps where you found it vacant. Sighing, you walk to the coffee maker in the corner of the room to find it barren, and you heave a groan as you gather your ingredients for coffee. You didn’t want to stay here in case of running into someone, but life was making everything harder for you as usual. Watching as the coffee hits the pot in the coffee maker, you think back to last night.  

Jimin never made it back home throughout that whole day. That had become a usual occurrence, but it really hit you hard this time because you were aching to sort things out after the clash you both faced. There was a restless ache in your stomach, which you’re sure was the cause in you turning sick today. Last night you had caught the exact moment Jimin figured out that you knew about him and her, his aura completely morphing into something between docile and tense. After he left, you couldn’t sleep for hours, tossing and turning and just waiting for him to come home. The scene kept replaying in your mind and you kept analyzing certain aspects, wishing you had said something better or acted in a compromising manner rather than driving him away. But then he never showed up and you were too afraid to call him back to you. If you went to voicemail yet again, you felt you would go insane.

Though you pondered where he was with exhausted efforts, a dreadful thought told you that you already knew, you just didn’t want to accept it. You hoped it wasn’t true. That he wouldn’t be with Tina – not after last night. Maybe…he was crashing at Jin’s place? …Wait, why didn’t you think of him sooner? Jin, his best friend since he moved to the city, would know where he is! Friends are considered confidantes, aren’t they? It wouldn’t hurt to inquire s few things from Jin, he was always a sweet man. But you didn’t want to force Jimin back to you or anything of the sort, you just wanted to know if he was ok. Hopefully he’ll realize how much you need him, hopefully he’ll come back home to you on his own accord. You were going to give him some time to think, then he’ll surely be back by that day, right?

Hopefully.

As you pour the coffee into your mug, the door creeks open and a citrusy cologne fills the air which pulls you out of your thoughts as you stiffen. Great. Carefully, you turn to see the culprit to be a tall man yawning loudly and stretching his arms while walking towards you. It alarms you that he’s moving straight at you without even realizing, but you don’t make an effort to move. Which ends up with him crashing into you slightly-

“Oh, whoa,” He says as his eyes fly open and he holds onto the small of your back with his warm hand, “Sorry about that, didn’t notice anyone was here!”

No kidding.

Now that he wasn’t scrunching up his expression, you could properly take in his appearance. He had such a soft and youthful face, big doe eyes that seemed to be lit with stars. Everything about him was so round, his nose, his cheeks, his small mouth. Jet black hair covered his forehead and compared to his boyish features, the muscles protruding from his white button up were anything but soft. You felt bad for his shirt, which was straining to hold itself together. There was a small scar on his left cheek, yet another mark amplifying his young features. He seemed to be observing you as well, his eyes a tad bit larger and his hand still on your back.

You clear your throat and straighten your back, looking away from him to the floor.

Breaking out of his daze he retracts his hand immediately, “Oh, sorry!”

That’s when he notices the mug in your hand, then turning to the coffee maker he beams,

“Hey, did you make a fresh brew? That’s awesome, Thanks!”

“It’s no problem.” You say in a small voice

At the moment you desired no conversation with anyone. It felt as if once the tiniest amount of sympathy is thrown in your direction, you become a puddle of pudding into the persons hand. Instead, what you really wanted to do was to stop feeling so weak. Stop relying on them to hold you together, because people leave. Jimin left. Left you to melt into the ground without looking back.  

Right now, you just wanted to be left alone.

But the boy in front of you did not seem to be good at detecting facial cues.  

“Umm…do you work here?” He asks you, and you give him a confused look, “I-I mean, I’ve never seen you around…but it must be because I just started here last week, I’m a new recruit.”

Yura mentioned something about that, but you never actually got a chance to look through the profiles since the Jimin fiasco.

“Is that it?” He asks again, “Are you a new recruit as well?”

“Um...” You wondered how to properly tell the boy that you were his boss. The reason he hasn’t seen you before is because you rarely come out of your office. Unless there’s a big meeting.

“Then you must’ve started today, huh?” He says, a smile on his face displaying his teeth…his bunny teeth. Adorable. “We’re in the same boat then! If you ever need anything, just let me know!”

The expression on him was so pleased, you didn’t have the heart to decline. Didn’t have the heart to walk away or disregard him. So, you just stood there as he introduced himself.

“My name’s Jungkook by the way.”

“_-___.” You respond shyly

“___,” He repeats to himself, scratching the back of his head, “That’s a beautiful name.” He gives you a look that has you blushing as you mumble out a ‘thank you.’  

It was so natural then.

You don’t know how it happened, but you were suddenly thrown into a conversation with your company’s most enthusiastic employee, Jeon Jungkook. At first, you were worried a bit by how young he looks, yet it turned out he was only two years younger than you – and he refused to believe you were older, the brat. He stood there explaining how things work around the office, telling you tall tales about some of the ‘haunted’ conference rooms and scary coworkers to which you were enthralled by, despite being here way longer than him. You found yourself giggling every time he exaggerated a story with his words or eyes.

“So ___, how do you like it here so far?”

“It’s nice,” You respond vaguely, taking another sip of your coffee, “How about you?”

“They really work you to the bone! But I like it, they’re fair with the salary and the donuts here are always so good.” Jungkook beams widely while reaching over to grab one of the chocolate glazed donuts off from the small white box next to the coffee maker.

“Heard the CEO’s batshit though” He says with a mouthful

At that you let out a snort – almost spilling some of your coffee from your mouth, which leads you into covering it with your hand and coughing. It was true, she was a little strange.

“Oops.” Jungkook responds with a mischievous glint in his eye. In return you squint your eyes at him in mock anger as you let out your last cough. He reaches over again and grabs another donut from the box. You wish he would stop doing that, his arm radiated a lot of heat and you were going crazy trying to ignore his scent. Pulling out a second donut, this one with pink frosting and dark red glaze decorated in a zig-zag pattern, he hands it out to you.

“Here,” He says with his bunny teeth displayed.

You give it a long stare before taking it, “Thank you.”

“It’s a peace offering.”

“I see.” You eye the sugary dough and the colorful star sprinkles sticking into the frosting, “Interesting choice.”

“It’s cause that one was pretty.” He pouts

“You gave me a donut because you found it pretty?” You raise an eyebrow at him

Scoffing at your tone, he leans into the countertop and fold his arms, displaying his biceps up in your face. Damn those arms. “And what about it.”

“Nothing,” you giggle, “Just that normal people would give pretty flowers or pretty letters and not…fried dough.”

Jungkook turns silent at that, turning his face toward the ceiling as if in thought. He was making an odd expression, one with his eyebrows drawn in and lips pulled straight, you wondered if this was normally how his face was while thinking. It was kind of funny. But also, very cute.

“You’re right.” He suddenly says

“Hmm?”

“I should get you flowers.”

“…And where would you find flowers in an industrial urban structure?”

To this he removes himself off the counter and turns to you, his height and muscles intimidated you a bit. He was definitely taller than Jimin. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe it is.” You say in a low voice, maintaining direct eye contact

“Alright then ___, we may be new here (you internally cringe as he says this) but I bet you I can find you some pretty flowers lurking about in this stale glass cube of a building.”

You laugh at how serious he got – the fiery glint in his eyes, and raise out a hand, “And I bet you won’t!”

Being here three years had taught you quite a lot about this location. The lower floors contained a computer enterprise, and the upper floors remained a basic accounting firm. Grass surrounding the building was patchy and dry thanks to the summer heat. Also, your CEO had a strict pollen allergy, so keeping things like vases to fill with freshly cut daisies in or around the residence was impossible. There was no way he would was going to find any flowers here. It was a bit sad how much you knew about this place, being the only other dwelling you hung out in other than your home. But on the bright side, you were totally gonna win this bet.

“What do I get if I win?” You question as he shakes your hand. Heat immediately shoots down your spine at his touch and you block yourself from shivering by clenching your teeth…he had a very firm grip.

“I’ll be your servant for a week.” He pipes making you raise your brows as you shape your mouth into an ‘o.’ “And what If I win?”

“Hmm…” You hadn’t thought of that because you didn’t think there was any way he could.

“How about if I win, I get your number?”

…

Huh?

Tilting your head, you scrunch your brows. “…Why would you want my number?”  

That confused you.

He gave you a wide eye stare. Did you really just say that? Perhaps you were playing hard to get? Yes…that must be it. No need to feel embarrassed. She didn’t reject you he thinks abashed. While you on the other hand were clueless to his fretful appearance.

“…Um.” Jungkook clears his throat looking down at his shoes. Wait…were Timblands allowed in the uniform? “Just cause.” He mumbles

You dwell on it for a second. You’ve never gave your number to a guy before. It can’t hurt, right? Besides he wasn’t going to win anyway.

“Well, alright.”

He grins at your approval, and you giggle in return. Was he the cutest man, or what?

“You know…you’re very pretty when you laugh.” He says abruptly and that makes you completely drop your mouth. His face flushes and that’s when you notice he still had your hand in his. The sudden awareness makes you pull it back at lightning speed. You try to speak again, but somehow the sound was knocked out of you and the room feels very, very, very, very warm for some reason.  

“I- I should prob-” You point over your shoulder, slowly backing away from the doe-eyed man. “I have work.”

“A-alright…” He scratches the back of his head again. A habit you suppose. “See you around.”

“Yes.” Was the last thing you said before practically sprinting out of the breakroom.

You don’t know how long you spent chatting with Jungkook, but you came back to your office on sore legs. Sitting down on the revolving chair, you spin around a bit feeling bizarrely giddy inside, headache completely forgotten and newly revitalized. As you remember his red cheeks you pull up your arms in front of you. Chills…you had chills. What. Was. That.

Even though your legs hurt from standing, you don’t regret it one bit.  

That was…strange. Never had you been one for conversations, especially not with the other sex. Your husband didn’t seem to like it when you were chatting with another man, so you never tried to. Yet Jungkook…why did you enjoy being around him so much?  

It felt like you were back in high school, talking with the class president you had a huge crush on. Or like the guy from 5th grade who gave you a band aid. And even when you first met Jimin. You’re not sure, but you do know this is the first time in years where you became so smitten with someone so quickly. Jungkook was like a breath of fresh air, you really liked him.

Wait, what?

As soon as you process the weight of your thoughts, you immediately sit up in your chair. No, you couldn’t just have thought of such, right?

You…you were a married woman! Holding up your hand, you stare at your wedding ring while guilt crawls up your spine. This wasn’t right, you shouldn’t be doing this your conscious spoke. Not when your married life was in shambles. Is this who you were? Though, when you really think about it, it wasn’t like you did anything, you were just talking. So why did you feel so bad? Bringing your hand to your chest, you hold onto your ring finger with your other hand and close your eyes. Jimin appears before you, a light smile on his handsome face.

Your heart clenches.

“-ght.”

Just then, you register someone’s voice outside your office, breaking you from your daze. You stiffen, recognizing the soft laughter of your beloved secretary. She must have returned from her lunch break.

These days you had begun to pay Yura special attention.  

It was due to her confession, knowing that she dealt with so much but still managed to be happy – genuinely happy – made you feel…curious. You wanted to understand how she did it, how she managed to deal with life in a better way. And then maybe, just maybe, you could do it too.

Yes, that should be a rational clarification of why you were creeping up to the entrance like a stalker. Calmly stepping up to the see-through door, you hide behind the solid wall to the right of it, peeping your head out to spot Yura. You honestly don’t know what you were wanting to accomplish, but you had been getting yourself involved in a lot of strange situations recently, so it was better not to question it.

She had her back facing you, thankfully, or this would have been even more embarrassing. You stretch your neck out as much as you could, feet planted firmly on the hidden side of the wall. Watching as she stood beyond her desk casually, her phone to her ear while she conversed gently with someone on the other line.

“I’ll pick up some Chinese tonight- no not that one I hate it!” She laughed. “Seriously babe we’ve had that four nights in a row now…okay, okay we had tempura for a whole month because of me I know that!”

It was easy to tell she was talking to her boyfriend. It was just general, everyday stuff but you couldn’t help but feel envious. Yura sounded so content, her boyfriend sounded like he loved her. That was all you’ve ever wanted. How come you’ve never had that?

A grimace falls upon your face. Just what were you doing trying to spy on your secretary? When did you become so pathetic? There was no secret, and if there was, she has told you of it already. The truth was, you were stubborn, unwilling to change from the old ways as if your conservatism has ever been of any help to you. With a silent sigh, you were about to walk back to your desk when you heard him tell her ‘I love you.’  

In return she giggled, “I know~ See you tonight!”

You stood there stagnant for a bit. After a moment, you smiled, although there was no sign of joy on your face. Really…you were really pathetic.

Once you were at your desk, you eye your bag on the side of your chair’s leg before you pick it up, digging through it until you find what you were searching for. The piece of paper with the number was still in the same state as when she first gave it to you. Albeit crumpled. wouldn’t it have been hard for her to gather up the courage to say something you, her boss, could wrongly take offense over? Which you almost did. You respect her courage, her dedication and determination. When she first joined, you thought she was like you.

You were wrong.

She was stronger than you had ever been.

And instead of dwelling in that bitter pool of jealously you’ve drowned in with so many other women, you respected her. You wanted to learn from her and Irene and any woman in your life that had fought their battles with determination. It was like you said before, you had been getting yourself into strange circumstances lately, so why not this too? Who was here to stop you? Who was here to feel pity for you?

All you wanted was to be happy once again. Just once more.  

You owed it to yourself

Tick…tock…tick…tock…

You sat at the edge of your red seat with your palms holding onto your knees. Uneasiness found a way to penetrate your bones and you sensed a thin layer of perspiration on your hairline as you watch the clock ticking down until your dreaded deadline.

There was a lady situated underneath the clock, an elder woman by maybe a decade. She had soft wrinkles around her eyes and forehead, a bun high on top her head and bright red lipstick on her thin lips. Clacking away at her key board, she would occasionally furrow her brows in concentration at something she was looking at on her computer screen or smile at you if you made eye contact. Didn’t do much to ease your nerves but it still felt nice. The lady reminded you of yourself, and you speculate if this is how people saw you when you were at work.

It had been a couple of days until you managed to call an appointment for a therapy session. The isolation ate away at you after Jimin had been missing for the third day. You desperately wanted to talk to someone about your problems, but Irene was out of town, your husband absent, and you were too shy to seek out Yoongi. Instead of pushing your complications onto others, you thought it was finally time to call in some professional effort. The lady on the phone had been really nice and you were able to set an appointment up fairly quickly. Now you were just sitting here, in the monotone lounge area waiting for the therapist to arrive.

There was quite a bit of research you did beforehand. Turns out, different therapists professionalize different problems. Cognitive therapist help deal with bad thoughts and unclutter daily habits. Family-oriented systems therapist dealt with family related issues. Personal issues are dealt by people who are experts in narrative, behavioral, or solution-oriented therapies. And psychodynamic therapists, like the one you were visiting, dealt with unconscious motivation.

Actually, many therapists deal with many different fields at once, some work in relationship therapy both romantic and platonic while others work only on you – if you choose to keep the people in your life out of your segments. Because of that, it was up to the person seeking out therapy to decide what’s right for them. For instance, if you are someone who always felt closer and comfortable with your dad, then maybe it’s best that you seek out a male therapist. You also had to be meticulous about their personalities.

During your search, you found a person who said their therapist always read their email during sessions on a blog forum. One even said their therapist ate rounds of cheese during theirs! It was extremely uncomfortable to read that. But now you knew there were many things to make sure of, therefore being prepared. Gender, expertise, field of education, professionalism, reviews, trust and even the vibe you get from certain therapists are all important factors in choosing a therapist.  

Researching yours, you found her specialty was in female psychology. Including relationships and intimacy. All reviews on her were positive and you were so glad to read through them. After rounds of self-motivation and days of procrastination, here you were.

It’s quite humorous actually, a month ago you never thought you’d be doing anything like this.  

You just weren’t ever capable, especially not with your level of anxiety. What could it be about the past few weeks that you’ve grown so courageous? Was it the meeting with the stranger on the roof, the discovery of a friend, or empathizing with someone you worked with? But what if it wasn’t a person? Perhaps it was the city’s rapid heart at 3 AM, the wild club and heavy beats or the mundane office life encouraging you to take a step forward. Maybe it the tragedy behind that rainy day you hate to recall and hitting rock bottom with such force. Opening the pandora box? As you struggle to find answers within yourself, you realize Jimin wasn’t the only one confused with your behavior.  

You don’t get to dwell on the past for too long as a door clicks open and lets a slight breeze pull you from your thoughts.  A slender young lady holding a clipboard appears; short brown hair, black kitten heels and thin rimmed glasses sitting on her nose. She looks in your direction and smiles, gesturing for you to come her way.

You get up nervously, wiping your sweaty palms on your pencil skirt. Straightening yourself out, you make your way towards her.

“Hi, you must be ___, correct? I’m Dr. Lin.” She raises her hand and you immediately grab it. Her voice was gentle and steady, you felt actually welcomed.

“Yes, nice to meet you, Doctor.”

“You too.” She smiles, “And please, call me Lin. This way please.”  

She leads you in with her arm on your back, making you effortlessly walk into the sanctuary of her office.  

Once you were inside the room, you gape at her place in awe. It was wide open, there was no way you’d feel suffocated in here as you originally thought. There were large windows, displaying the greenery located at the back of the building. She had two huge shelves filled with colorful books on both ends of her office. In front of the windows rested a large shaggy carpet with a glass coffee table on top. Behind the table were two grey sofa chairs that complimented the fuzzy blue carpeting. And a small desk on the right side next to an office chair where she probably did most of her work. As you hear the door shut behind you, you turn around to catch her eye and she smiles at you.

“Right this way.” She says, walking past you which leads you into following her. When she reaches a chair, she pauses, waiting for you to take a seat first.  

So, you do.

“Well.” She starts, grabbing the pen off her clipboard, “How are you today ___?”

“I-I’m alright.”

Lin raises the corner of her lips “Just alright?”

“Yes…I.” You don’t know what to say. Were you already doing something wrong?

“That’s good,” Lin smiles as she clicks her pen open and jots something down onto her clipboard. “That’s a beautiful ring by the way.”

“O-oh thank you.” You cover your finger with your hand as Lin slightly squints at your action, still writing something.

“So,” She takes a deep breath and put down her pen, “What brings you here today?” Looking back up at you, she beams.

“Um…I needed someone to talk to…”

“Do you not have someone in your life to talk to? Or is it that you don’t feel comfortable confiding in them?”

“Kind of both…I…don’t want to trouble anyone.”

“I see.” She writes something else down

“Now tell me ___...why’re you really here?”

Out of nervousness, you kept messing with your ring and you knew she could tell. So, to distract your hands you needed something else to clutch onto. There was a tall glass of water on the coffee table in front of you. Your doctor notices your staring right away to which she points, “Please, go ahead.”

At her approval you pick up the glass and bring it your lips. After drinking just a bit, you decide to hold it down on your lap. For a second, you just stare as the water softly vibrates inside the clear glass while Lin waits for you to speak up. Is there a right way to tell her? You struggle internally at voicing your problems.

“I-I’ve been married six years…and it’s…I’ve had a hard time.”

“Six years is quite long…most married couples have problems by then.” Lin says, “It’s normal. Going through difficulties ranging from various reasons either with money or fidelity – having ups and downs.”

You take a deep breath trying to keep your heartbeat steady. “I barely remember having an up…”

She stares at you, and you don’t look at her. Instead you stare at the small burgundy table on the side of your sofa. It separated your chair with hers.

“…Can you tell me a bit about your husband, ___? Why don’t start by telling me the last up you do remember?”

At that, you finally look up at her. Was there an up you remember? For a large portion of your life, you had thought that every single moment with Jimin was an up. But when it came down to it, that wasn’t the truth. Jimin spent tremendous amounts of time breaking his promises to you. You actually remember the last promise he kept…how innocent the display of your relationship was back then…

The morning was pure white.  

Or at least it felt like so in your cramped dorm room where you spent another day lying next to the only other body you desired. The craving was an ache on par with stories that are never finished or poems with no end. You wonder if this is how it would always be; you longing for him while being so close, as well as lingering on the edges of how long this would last, when he would get up and leave you. Then you can crave him for an eternity.  

Oh, how you dreaded that day. You couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t fathom it, you couldn’t even conjure up the courage to acknowledge it. But it was inevitable, wasn’t it? Out of the thousands who want him, the millions who would do anything for him – what could have made you so special?

“What are you staring at?” He asks, softly turning his sleepy eyes to you.

His gaze raises your heartbeat, you feel a blush crawl up your bare spine. He’s been quieter these days, always seeming like he was in a deep stupor. A covered silence behind his beautiful mind. Everything was domestic and wholesome, your mind felt relaxed.  

“I’m looking at my world…” You whisper, close to his ear as your lips brush against the outer lobe.  

For a moment he just stares before he lets out a breathy laugh. “Cheesy.”

You smile, head molding into his shouldering with ease. Sex with him was always like a gentle wave, slowly covering your whole body in its warmth. His body was warmer than your comforter and his skin more alluring than any sight offered to your eyes.

“Says you.”

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow up making you nod

“Remember when you took me to the arcade and kept trying to win me that fat round stuffed whale for 2 hours?”

“Pfft, and I never even won that, did I?” He scrunches his nose in mock anger

“Exactly.” You giggle

“Hmm…but do you remember you stood there and encouraged me on the whole time. Didn’t complain once.”

Of course, you remember that day. The heels you wore were so prickly, your feet were sore for a week. Still you didn’t want to discourage Jimin, who was trying so hard for you. Or maybe he was just to immersed in the game, but it didn’t matter. None of that mattered but the fact that Jimin was with you.

“You didn’t complain when my car broke down in the snow on that abandoned road. Nor when I insisted to go see Candyman instead of whatever romcom movie you had in mind… I’ve always love that about you.”

I love that about you.

“How can I ever complain when you’re having fun…I’m not the complaining type of girl anyway.”

“You’re right, you aren’t like the other girls.” Jimin turns to face you completely, a soft grin on your face, “Maybe that’s why I like you too much.”

“R-really?” You flush as he laughs. It was always so easy for him, wasn’t it? “Cheesy.”

“But you love it.” Jimin bites his lower lip and well, you couldn’t deny that. He leans in just then, catching your fleeting eyes before he tenderly connects your lips. You couldn’t deny him then either. Your mouths move in a languid fashion, tongues tasting the deepest corners slowly.

He tasted of honey. That sweet, addictive pleasure.

After a few seconds you both part, Jimin hums with a lazy smirk. Your stares battle infinity before he looks at the clock. “Shit…I should run, my boss needs me to come in early today.”

“Oh, okay.” You say, masking your dejection when he gets up to put his shirt on. Jimin always hated his bosses. Actually, he seemed to have a problem with any figure who displayed authority over him.

“…Jimin…” You call out to him and he looks at you over his shoulder. “You’ll come back tonight, right?”

“…Right.” He says with a smile.

“Promise?” Your voice is so quiet it disappears with the sounds he makes as he shuffles to get up. So you just watch as he gets ready, the yearning in your heart and mind stirring again as you glare a hole into his muscular back. And suddenly he turns, with that same smile on his face. The one that has entrapped your heart many times before.

“I promise.”

And that was the last promise he actually fulfilled.

“That sounds so sweet.” Lin pulls you out from your thoughts and you take notice of the gentle smile gracing your features.

“It was.”

“How long ago was this?” she questions

“…”

“___?”

“Si-…seven years ago”

She frowns, furrowing her eyebrows “And how long have the two of you been married again?”

“Six years.”

“Then what have the last six years been like for you?” She asks softly

“He’s fucking another girl.” You calmly state as the room goes silent. The only thing you could hear were the morning birds outside the window and your sullen breaths. Thinking about the last six years made you upset…you couldn’t do anything to change that. Your grip on the glass becomes tighter, and you notice you’ve left prints again. So, you quickly begin wiping them. “He’s been…fucking other girls.”

…

“…I see…why don’t you start from the beginning.”

And in a moment, you’re spilling it all. Every single tortuous detail from your spousal life. Jimin’s promises, his lies. Every time he shut you down or off. Whenever he created distance. Jessica. Mina. Tina. All of last month, as if it was a story written in a word document. Every single pain you felt. You were crying by the end of it. Both from the searing lump in your throat and from the dreadful feeling of betraying your husband by not keeping your marriage’s confidentiality.  

Why did you always feel so guilty?

You were sobbing into your palm as the doctor offers you a Kleenex. Wiping away at your tears, you take a glimpse at her expression. It had somewhat hardened in what you think is sympathy…but you couldn’t describe it well.

“Is there anyone you’ve spoken to about your husband’s infidelity other than Irene or Yoongi?”

“No.” You sniffle

“What about your mom?”

“I…I barely see her. Last time I t-talked to her was on the phone a year ago…on my birthday. And even if I d-did…I doubt I’d tell her.”

Lin takes a deep breath, “I see.” She commences to write something down once again on her clipboard. “Infidelity can be damaging in all sorts of way to an individual…especially to one’s self confidence.”

She looks at you “Do you feel that you have lost your sense of self-worth?”

“I wouldn’t know…I’m not sure I ever had any.”

This time, she takes off her glasses to hold in her fingers as she rests her knuckles under her jaw.

“While you’ve been here, I noticed you gave vague and short replies as if you didn’t want to talk in the first place when that’s exactly what you said you came to do. And you’re sitting at the edge of your seat.” She points at your hips and you immediately look down, “You’re trying to not leave a mark of your presence in the room, just like in the lobby…even the glass…you’ve marked off your prints around three times now?”

Were you really doing all of that? You felt embarrassed.

Her eyes immediately soften, and she speaks in a slower tone, “I just want you to tell me why you keep trying to make yourself as insignificant as possible. Why do you only become full of life at the mention of your husband?”

You wish you had an answer for her, but you don’t. Huh, how funny is it that this is the one time your perfectionism fails you. The one time you fail to provide an answer. Instead you opt to stare at the small table again. There were books on the table…one particular one stacked on top that caught your eye.

Her Body and Other Parties, the title read.

Lin notices where you were gazing off at.  

“…___...can I ask you something private? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

Well she knew so much already. How can yet another intimate fact hurt? So, you nod meekly.

“How is your sex life?”

“Huh?” You make eye contact immediately after processing what she just said

“Can you tell me the last time you made love with Jimin?”

“Uh…um… uh-we haven’t been, I mean I can’t…with him.”

“Why?”

“Because when I tried to…Tina appeared in my head and I just…”

“Alright.” She says, looking ahead as if in thought. “Then when was the last time you were able to?”  

You try to think, “Around 3 months ago.”

“Before Tina then. And you’ve been sexually active occasionally before that, yes?”

“Yes.”

“How was it then? Did he make you feel good?”

“Yes…I think?”

She gives you a certain look, “You think? What do you mean by that?”

“I mean it’s Jimin…everything feels good with Jimin.”

“Were you able to reach an orgasm with Jimin?”

Silence puddles the room.

“No.” You whisper in the smallest voice

“…___, can you tell me how long it has been since your husband gave you an orgasm?”

There’s a strumming inside you and you feel your insides pound. She said you didn’t have to answer right?

“Since…Jessica.” You murmur her name so low you don’t think she heard it. But the way she clicks her pen on tells you otherwise.

“…Can you tell me how many years it has been?”

“…”

“If you don’t want to answer it, that’s all right. We can talk about something else.”

“5 years.”

“…I see…and before that?”

“Before that…I always came before Jimin. It was surreal to have him above me…inside me. I felt so…loved.”

Lin glances out a window for a few seconds, seemingly in thought. Then she brings her attention back onto you. “Has Jimin ever noticed?

You snort at that, to which she raises a brow. Clearing your throat, you speak again.

“No, he hasn’t noticed. I fake them.”

“So, you let him have sex with you, never once felt satisfied and didn’t complain?”

You look down at your glass once again, “I…I didn’t want him to not touch me.”

Lin nods, waiting for you to continue.

“I wanted him to love me…to only look at me. Not being able to cum…is all my fault anyway. Something…must be wrong with me.” You wipe the tears loitering your sockets with your crumpled Kleenex.

“No. This isn’t your fault.” Lin states before she sighs, rubbing at her neck. “I’ve heard that before in a lot of my female patients. Yet it still manages to amaze me.”  

“___,” She addresses you with full attention, making you straighten your spine, “Recently, I have been reading books on female sexuality and happiness. One of them being this-” She picks up the book you were looking at “-‘Her Body and Other Parties’ by Carmen Maria Machado. And I have come to notice a pattern between a woman’s sensuality and her self-esteem.”

Lin pauses, putting the book back down and looking back at you to make sure you were keeping up with her, making you nod in return.

“If I may ask…have you, by chance, brought yourself to an orgasm in the past 5 years?”

“Huh?”  

“Have you ever masturbated?”

“Umm…no…”

“Maybe once when you were a teen? College, perhaps?”

“No.”

Like she had an epiphany she writes down something yet again on her clipboard.  

“Then that’s what I want you to do before our next session. Educate yourself on healthy masturbation.”

Your jaw drops open at her statement, a string of questions leaving your lips. What did she just say? There was no way you’d be capable of doing something like that! You almost died just thinking about-  

“___, I know it seems crazy, but masturbation is directly linked to a women’s mental health. It helps you gain confidence, release stress, produces endorphins and strengthens your immune system. We will be able to find out a lot about you, such as if you are interested in the idea of sex or not, either which is fine. It can also tell us if Jimin’s infidelity has been causing you subconscious psychological damage.”

Your mouth shuts as she lists her reasons.

“You have spent your life, giving yourself away. To your mom, to Jimin, to your work. You spent your life trying to become someone they’d love, that you forgot about who you are. There’s barely any of the real you left inside.” She points at your chest, “I need you to find out what you want, the things you like. The pleasures YOU seek.”

“I want you to learn about yourself. Learn how to properly care for yourself…how to love yourself.”

As her words register in your brain, you think back to a couple days ago. About how you sat with Irene, outside that small café. Not understanding that you genuinely liked cooking, just thought you did it to make your mom or Jimin happy. And about how good it felt, how amazing it was to realize there was a part of your personality not molded from the people who took advantage of you. It was…liberating.

“O…okay, but how do I…I mean my sessions with Jimin were all soft…I’ve never done anything myself before.”

“It’s up to you really…why don’t you start out by using a toy? You’ve missed out for a long while, so yes. I think a toy would help you.” She smiles at you and you want to stuff your face into the couch.

Could today get any stranger?

Suddenly a timer beeps causing Lin to look back at her desk.

“Oh, that’s all the time we have for now ___,” She says standing up, and you rush to stand with her, placing the glass back on the table. “I hope you can successfully complete this task I’ve assigned you, and I’ll meet you the same time next week, alright?”

She extends her hand, and you take it immediately “Umm, yes definitely.”

With the pleasantries out the way, you carefully make your way towards the door. Once you place your palm on the door handle, Lin calls out to you once again,

“Oh, and no thinking about Jimin while completing my assignment! This is about you and only you after all.”

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-”

“Irene, please stop laughing.” You groan into the receiver, pinching the bridge of your nose in embarrassment.

“Sorr-I just ahhahahah, no wait-” She wheezes over the other line. Taking a deep breath, she consoles herself. “Alright, so let me get this straight. I’m out of town for a week and you end up going to a therapist who tells you to jerk yourself off on the first session?”

“Ireeenneee,” You whine, “She’s a smart lady. She’s trying to help me.”

“Oh, she’s definitely trying to help you alright.” Irene snickers and you huff in frustration. Maybe you shouldn’t have called her to tell her about your Saturday night plans.

“Okay, okay, no more jokes. So, are you going to do it?”

“Yes…I mean I don’t know…I’m a bit nervous.”

“You haven’t came in 5 years. As a girl with a healthy libido, that would emotionally damage the hell out of me. Maybe the Doc’s onto something.” Irene states

“You think so?” This is what you wanted as usual. Reassurance.

“I don’t know to be honest…why don’t you try it out and tell me? You sure you bought the right item?”

You stare at the small unwrapped object in front of you. A bullet vibrator. All of that internet searching for a pink oval-shaped ball.

“I…think…” You gulp, becoming slightly intimidated

“Well I think you’re going to have an amazing night my princess.” Irene coos making you blush

“I-I-I am hanging up on you now!” You pout, flustered

“Wait, no I wa-”

With a huff you end the call, throwing your phone off to the side. Again, you were left doing nothing but staring at your toy. It just laid there, staring back at you. The atmosphere of your room felt oddly tense.

“Okay…be gentle.” You whisper to it. It doesn’t respond.

You pick it up carefully, taking off your robe and laying down against your mattress.

…Now what?

You were a grown woman; it was healthy to explore your sexuality. That’s what those internet articles and female magazines told you, all written in a perky tone to somehow connect with the modern working woman. Although you being you, you couldn’t help but point out their spelling mistakes.

That’s not the point, you huff, staring at your ceiling in frustration. What were you supposed to do right now? Your core was exposed to the air, the bullet vibrator stayed stiff in your left palm and you felt kind of ashamed in this position.

No thinking about Jimin, you recall Lin warning you. How were you supposed to do that? Who else would ever make you feel the way Jimin made you feel? Granted, he didn’t actually make you cum in the past few years, making love with him still felt good.

Or at least you think what you had with him felt good. At the times he made love with you, you desperately tried to convince yourself that it was different with you than with Jessica or Mina. That you were special to him and they were just side pieces. It…didn’t really work. Nevertheless, there wasn’t anyone who made you feel as bright as Jimin, no one you made you flustered and left you stuttering.

Well except maybe Irene and her smart mouth.

You giggle as you think of your friend. Before you begin to ponder on the subject a bit too long. Irene did have a pretty mouth. Her lips were always so cherry red and eyes foxy and seductive. It was always difficult to look at her straight in the face, but she made you sure you did no matter what. She was so assertive.

It was then, when you were dreaming about her intense ogling that your hips shifted slightly, your exposed core aching. H…How would Irene feel around your…your…

“Ah-” You moaned, your arm sliding down until your fingers made contact with your folds. Your eyes were closed so you could better picture her jet-black hair, the lax strands perfectly framing her small face. Your mouth was shaped as an O, as your fingers brushed through your folds, sliding them across the lax skin, before stretching them open, becoming wetter by the second.

“Nn-ahh.” You cry out softly as you rub around your clit. Your mind filling with a deep haze. This was so strange, you’ve never thought of women this way. But then again, you haven’t thought of anyone this way except for your husband.

“Nuh uh~” You hear the tender tone of a feminine voice echo, and you strain to look between your thighs to spot your smirking vixen of a best friend, “No thinking of him here.”

She coos before she tips her tongue out, her face dropping into your middle. Whimpering loudly, you arch your back off the bed as you feel her take you into her mouth, wet muscle playing around with your juices. She slid it up, down and across, pinch your nipple as she sucked on your nectar.

“oh my- I-Ire-” You hear her snicker, her laughter shooting straight through your spine. While still in a foggy daze, you squeeze the vibrator in your left palm, before pressing the small power button with your thumb. Your breathing was heavy, the device buzzing slightly in your hand as you brought it down.

For a moment you hesitated, the object’s frequency intimidating you. So, with a deep breath, you shut your lids, connecting the vibrator with your clit. Immediately a wave of pleasure washed over you, your eyes shot open as you groaned. It was as if Irene’s tongue was molded to the shape deep inside of you. Your body raised in temperature.  

Although only connected to one part, you could feel the toy course throughout every limb. It left you shivering as you clutched the bedsheet beside your hips with your wet digits. You could feel your thighs, drenched in your sweetness, the air around them cooler, softer. Irene’s tongue increased in speed, sending your mind spiraling.

“O-OH mm-” You don’t know why you were trying to hold back your voice, but you couldn’t help it for some reason.

“Don’t hold back.” You suddenly hear, and you break out of your bewilderment to find another person on top of you. Shadowing over you was straight black hair, lusting doe eyes and soft rabbit features passionately regarding you. “I want to hear you.” He whispers as his large arms enclose around your head.

Why was he here?

Did you somehow want him to be here? You didn’t know. All you did know was that there was a knot forming inside of you, coiling around your insides with a viper like grip as you continued to fall into his stare. It felt so good, so euphoric. The pleasure was addicting.

You felt like you were going crazy, fingers slowly linking to your cunt once again. Rubbing circles as the device vibrated through your bundle of nerves. This wasn’t right, you shouldn’t be thinking about him. But the heat from his body made you feel lightheaded, whimpers escaping you like crazy. It was so wrong, but you felt so good in the moment.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Jungkook murmurs, moving away your hair sticking to your face. In a second Jungkook took the device away from you, winking at you. Confused, you tilted your head at him on the pillow before your eyes suddenly rolled into the back of your head.

He amped the vibration, placing the toy halfway inside of you. Your hips moved off the bed, fingers leaking wet with your nectar as you played with your clit. You wanted him inside of you so bad. It’s not that you wanted to conceive this very image, the sane you would never ever do something like this but fuck you don’t know what the fuck was wrong with you in that moment. And you didn’t care.

You imagine Jungkook drilling inside you, his fat dick ripping through your insides as the bed shook with every thrust. That was all it took to push you over the edge. And soon you were cumming, screaming out his name.

“J-Jungkook, yes! Oh God!”  

A heavy wave of pleasure washes over you, stars obstructing your sight. Your mouth hung open as your pussy convulsed. Shuddering through the tremendous sensation, you fall back onto the mattress with a thump, and the toy helps you ride out your orgasm.

“Haah...haa...”

BzzzBzzz

The only noises that were left were of your excessive breathing and the strumming of the bullet vibrator. It felt like all your energy had suddenly left you, you forgot how powerful orgasms were until now. Soon finding it to be painful, you remove the toy from inside you, pressing the power button as you hold it up to your face. It was sticky wet, your juices smothered around the pink device like glaze.

Glazed donuts.  

Blushing, you throw it to the side, still trying to process everything that just occurred. Wow. That was…Irene…and then Jungkook. You jump around, squealing into your pillow. What just happened?! Why did you imagine those two out of everyone? How will you ever face them again?

Even after everything was done, you couldn’t help the way your body felt so thrilled and satisfied. For some reason, you felt like you were floating on cloud 9. It felt so out of place, you hadn’t felt this way with Jimin ever. Not even on your best days. Who knew something so taboo could turn you on so much?  

Fuck.

You turn so your back rested against the bed again, before slamming your hands onto your face. Were you going to have to explain all of this to your therapist? No way were you going to tell her who you jacked off to. As you were overthinking and worrying about your near future, you suddenly began to feel very drained and numb. You blinked lazily, the familiar weariness akin to sleep.  

It took you by surprise, you hadn’t been able to fall asleep without sleeping pills for a long time now. As you bring your arms back down to look at the ceiling, you’re faced with your empty bedroom one again. Jimin had always been gentle with you, hadn’t he? It was another reason you loved him as much as you did. When you both made love, it felt like he could never hurt you.

Reality kicks in and a longing surrounds you. It was inevitable, you were bound to remember him again. You couldn’t help but wish your husband was here with you to share your happiness.

You wish he was here with you to see your growth, to be proud of you. You wish he was here with you and you couldn’t help but feel that yearning for him like you’ve always felt. You really wish he could love you. Looks like you hadn’t exactly passed this task, since you weren’t supposed to think about Jimin but you didn’t care. More than anything, you wanted him home.

Old habits don’t just die after one success.

So, as the thought of your vacant house infected you, before you could dwell on the topic further. Before you took another pill, feeding your insides with your own poison. Become a moping drone, a sickened shell once again, you shut your eyes. Blocked out the evil world before you and relaxed every muscle, every scar in your brain. It was the only thing you could think of doing. Thankfully your spent energy agrees with you.

Before Jimin could take over you once more, without ever lifting a muscle.

You fell asleep, letting yourself feel drained and dreaming of the wedding and the bright shore.

It was inevitable.

Your eyes flutter open to a soft white room. The sunlight was peeking through the curtains, lighting up the canvas across your orbs. You wriggle your toes about, slowly seeping into full conscious.

Once you can make out the ceiling above you, you stretch your muscles before sitting up.

“Ji-”

Turning on your side, you place your palm down on the cotton sheets beside you. A palm you meant to place on a body that was meant to be on the bed. Beside you.

“Right.” You whisper, staring at the cold spring empty of life and bringing your hand back to your lap.

No one’s there.

Sighing, you swing your legs off the bed and onto the floor – the fluffy carpet molding into your feet. You push yourself up, the action causing the sheets to slither off your naked body and expose your nipples to the chill atmosphere. Again, you stretch your tendons, raising your arms above your head and lifting the bottom soles of your feet off the ground. Your back curves and your eyes clenched shut. It’s been a while since you had fell asleep without pills.

Blinking lazily at nothing in particular, you sluggishly turn your body to the direction of the bathroom. You begin to saunter across your room, reveling in the peaceful silence of a sunny Sunday. As you’re a few steps from the door, your gaze catches onto the full-length body mirror set just aside.

It makes you halt in your tracks. A moment passes by before you step closer to your reflection in fascination.

Have you always looked like this?

Is this the way your hair falls over you face? You think as you run your fingers through your soft locks – bringing forward a single strand to the front of your face to focus in on. Slowly your gaze falls back to the mirror and you tilt your head. Sliding your digits onto your face, the tips of your pointer and middle fingers caressing the peak of your nose, gradually underneath your jaw and upon your neck.

Is this how your body was shaped?

You take it all in. Captivated by the glowing expanse of your silky skin, the gentle rhythm of your chest, and the highs of your curves you ran a palm over. Shuddering as a strangely new sensation waltzes within you. The sun’s rays wrap around you like gold, highlighting every mole and freckle settled into your casing. Scars and marks from forgotten memories finding shelter under the spotlight. Every secret exposed in the flare of the replication. It felt like you had just stepped out of a decaying cocoon – stitched together by the molding twined fabric of your uncertainties.

And the you who emerged shone.

There were sparks of glitter all around you. Tiny angels spinning threads of new-found purity onto the secret corners of your soul.

A once caged bird, with virginal wings as large as her innocent heart. Who wears her crown fragile; while her refined mind heals from the battles with the toxicity in amour. Her beauty is an ode to the agile cosmic, lucky enough to hold her able within its seams. Your dimensions were your unique, the line between pleasure and hurt fitted across your stomach.

It was beautifully raw outside that rotten cocoon. You spread your arms out, relishing in the way your body weaves between space and time as your insides melt perfectly into the shape of your skin. Every bone, every ounce of lush, the fruits of your divine frame. The mountains and hills spread amongst your flesh – the caves and burrows layered one on top of the other.  It was all beautiful. Raw, real and radiant. Like a pallet with too many colors splattered amongst the wood, splashes from aches and pain and memories and gain.

Your pallet.

As the pearls of your pupils rake through your figure, they suddenly land on your unclothed core. You let out a shaky exhale, eyes glossing and lashes fluttering. Carefully you guide your hand to your lower region until your fingers make contact with your wet folds. A shiver runs through you, goosebumps poking through your soft pores. Awakening the images of last night; of the whimpers and aches. Of the satisfaction and the explosion of your confined stellar.

This was you. Your perfect frame, your flawless physique, your structured identity.

Was it the early morning air? The first good sleep in years? Or the sensual night before?

…Did it matter?

A smile graces your lips as you wrap your arms around yourself. The slick from your nether regions painted amongst your fingers staining the upper part of your left arm.

You were just happy to be awake.

_

“They’re pretty, right?”

He holds up the peonies clutched in his hand at you, tilting his head so you could see him just behind the stunning flowers. He was everything for you; your energy, your medicine, your happiness. You wanted to melt.

“Yes.” You reply, trying to sound happy; less depressed.

He frowns and it goes straight to your heart, “Sorry”

“For?” He asks, throwing the plant on the couch. Not making eye contact.

Suddenly you wanted to cry. You’re too sensitive to all of his emotions and he knows it. Uses it to his pleasure. It was amazing – how some words had so much power over you.

For being sad. For not living up to your expectations.

“I love them Jimin.” You smile, placing your hands on each side of his face and turning him to you. “I love you.”

And he’s happy. The sun is back on his face.

On the other hand, you feel like the unlit side of the moon. Especially when Jimin engulfs you in a smothering hug.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

From me or Jessica? You think. It had only been a week since the dire revelation and your insides were crumbling. He had sex with you time and time again, but you felt nothing. Something was wrong with you, but you didn’t want to tell him.

You wanted him to be happy. Even if you hated yourself.

As you fit into his arms, you stare at your reflection in the mirror on the back wall. How ugly…how unworthy. No wonder he cheated on you. No wonder he found someone better.

He loves you too, he says.

But you couldn’t help hate yourself.

Ok. What the hell was a T-front string?

You squint your eyes at the screen, rereading Irene’s text for the tenth time.  

Your heels were clacking the floor below you, as you speed walked through the mall with a small giftbag in hand. A while after your little intimate moment with yourself, you had called up your friend to speak to her about the rejuvenation you experienced in excitement. She was very happy for you, giggling through the receiver like a child. It made you smile.

Although, no matter how much she pestered you, you refused to spill the beans about who you ended up jerking off about. Irene was persistent, naming off every actor and model she knew. And you on the other hand had no idea who half of them were. Thankfully, she couldn’t get you to spill the beans. You dreaded her reaction if she ever did find out.

After warding off her interrogation and chatting about something mundane, she had suggested for you to go to the mall so she can help you find some useful ‘items’ for women since you had nothing else planned. Your interest was piqued, thinking it might be items such as the world’s most comfortable bra or scrunchies that never go missing. Yet as you parked your car in the lot, and tentatively made your way inside – you had given up all hope for your superpowered hair ties.

None of the items Irene had been texting you made any sense.  

‘Double D Balls Dildo. Make sure the balls are squishy!’    

‘Shower Sex Foothold. Very useful for shaving your legs. Other things as well I guess.’

???

In an array of confusion, you had gone up to a random employee to ask him what exactly Doc Johnson’s “The Fist” was. The paling look he gave you in return has you traumatized for life. Never again would you ask anyone to explain anything Irene tells you.

As she continued to text you severe objects to buy, you just shook your head while buying a little something of your own. Letting her think you were following what she said of course. You could just imagine the look on her face, the tiny snicker as she continues to lightheartedly play around with your innocence. There was a small jewelry shop you loved in this mall, one Jimin would bring you to after he got a promotion or when it was your birthday.

You bought a small bracelet for Irene from said shop; to thank her for her friendship and for listening to you mope about Jimin. Satisfied with your purchase, and only this purchase – you decided to head out of the place. Your legs were practically running out of the mall, trying to get back home. It’s actually been like this for the past few days.

Since he disappeared.

Every time you stepped out of your apartment, even for a few minutes, you would rush back at twice the speed. It was as if…you were hoping that once you step inside. Once you’re in the sanctuary of your house, he’d be there too. He’d turn around and you could run into his warm arms again. And he’d promise you – genuinely promise – he’ll never leave again. Ever. It was a fairytale reunion made for a dreamy girl. Ridiculous, but you still wished it to be true.

For some reason, you were especially eager to get home today. Even more than usual. When you made it to the first floor and could see the doors you came in from, your phone abruptly buzzed again. Huffing, you open the device, trying to see what nonsense Irene sent you this time.  

You were too busy checking your phone to see where you were going. Your legs were rushing a bit too much to notice the other pairs of legs walking in your direction.

“Whoa-”

“Oww-”

That’s when you ended up bumping into another body with a small thud. The phone in your hand crashing onto the ground, sliding away from your peripheral vision on the floor. Both of you wobbled around a bit but grabbed onto the others arms to seek balance. Once you stood sturdy, you immediately searched around for your missing phone with your head turning about in a frenzy. It didn’t take you long to spot it as it didn’t travel too far, ending up right next to the girl’s leg. In relief you sigh, bending down to pick it up to brush the specks of dust and surveille the damage. The girl on your arm doesn’t move an inch, like she was frozen in place.

After you’ve made sure it’s not broken and everything was working properly, you smiled. Looking up at the girl to apologize.

“Oh, I’m sorr-”

A gasp escapes your throat.

Your eyes instantly widen – in an eerily painful way as your jaw fails you. Your insides plummet with a chaotic mix of anger, confusion, and dread swirling through you – thundering up a storm that has you stagnant. The atmosphere takes a sudden drop in temperature and a chill runs down your spine at the cold air. Subconsciously, you take a step back. Away from the sight before you.

“H-hey ___, long time no see.”

In return, the girl stands there in as much discomfort and anxiousness as you. Shifting on her feet, she sends you an awkward smile. A smile you were used to seeing daily at one point in your life. A smile you grew to reluctantly dislike over the years. Your muscles start to constrict.

“Mina.” A whisper leaks from your lips.

Clink, clank.

You listen in to the busy atmosphere surrounding you while sitting still in your wooden seat. Waitresses passing by, the small chatter, the clinging and clanging of cups and forks. It was all more interesting to you than the predicament at hand right now. There was nothing to really focus in on, except the table in front of you and its stiff glass casing. Which you were eyeing with lasers shooting out of your orbs.

The tension in the air was thick.

And the girl sitting opposite to you was looking at you a bit too anxiously, failing to be subtle with her regard. You could tell she was playing with her fingers underneath the table, a habit you had noticed many times before. Almost four years ago.

“H..how have you been?” She starts, making you look up at her.

As soon as you acknowledge her, her face drops. Like she was afraid of your judgement. She clears her throat.  

“I-it’s nice to see you again…” She strains, “After all these years…you look great.”

There’s an awkward silence that goes by as you’re slow to register her words. It was as if your brain doesn’t want to recognize the situation you’re in – trying to run away from you rather than recall any more past memories.

“It’s been quite long.” You manage to make out, “I’ve been well.”

Why did you lie to her? Were you that afraid of her finding out the truth?

“T-that’s good.” Mina replies a bit too fast.

…

Another awkward silence engulfs your vicinity as you both proceed to poke holes through the table.

“All right, here you are!” A shout wakes you both, making your shoulders jump. “One glass of water and one small coffee, one cream and two sugars.”

A lady places down your coffee cup in front of you, and you exhale at the balmy steam warming up your otherwise cold face.

“Anything else?” She chirps with a small tray in hand

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Mina responds to which the lady nods and leaves with a smile

Mina watches you as you stir your coffee mindlessly. You could tell there was a lot running through her mind like you.  

She hasn’t changed much. Just a couple of alters you could spot. Like how her hair’s a bit longer now, reaching just above the conjecture between her neck and her shoulder and dyed a darker color. A few more piercings graced the left side of her ear now. There was also a small tattoo on her ring finger – some sort of symbol in a mix of purple and red. On the other hand, her style hadn’t changed at all. She still wore those oversized black hoodies and white sneakers. You hide a smile as her dark top almost drowns her.

Mina was as beautiful as you remember.

Suddenly, she huffs, picking up her water.  

Gulp, gulp, gulp

You gape at her with wide eyes as she drinks the whole glass in one go. She sets it down with a clang, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Then her orbs connect with yours, as she continues to stareat you with an unreadable expression. For a second, you catch her regarding the gift bag by your side.

“___, I-” She starts off strong, faced focused and seeming like she knows what she’s going to say.

But as her linger remains, she loses her grip – mouth slacking and concentrated expression failing.

“I…”

“What is it?” You say in a low yet clear tone of voice

“I…God! I don’t know how to say this!” She places her elbows on the table, burrowing her face into her palms. Her outburst turns a few heads to which you shift uncomfortably to.

“Are you alright?” You reach over and place a hand on her wrist, which has her removing her hand covering her face to stare at the place you were touching her. She spots your ring.

“Are you still with Jimin?” She whispers

“…yes.” You say, although it’s not exactly the truth.

You retract your hand and her eyes follow it till they land back on you.

“How is he?” Mina asks, even quieter than before

“He’s well.” You’re not sure how else to answer. Honestly, you didn’t even want to answer.

She scoffs, “Good for him.”

The hate in her tone catches you off guard, your eyebrows furrowing as you stare at the now frowning girl.

“…Wha-”

“Good for him. Park Jimin. Great. Wonderful. Of fucking course he’d be well, he’s the one and only Park Jimin. The nicest guy in the world. Light of everyone’s fucking life. Sweet, kind, charming Park Jimin. Let me go jump off a cliff.”

She spits each word with abhorrence laced in her tongue. Her eyes squint in anger and her fist clenches the ends of her long sleeves. You sit there, shocked and confused.

When she notices the expression on your face, she unwinds. Moving her arms off the table and sitting up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…I just…” Taking a deep breath, she closes here eyes to contemplate something. Before looking up at you once again, “I always wanted to apologize for what I did to you.”

…

A third silence passes you both. Your brain was now fully awake and taking in each and every word.

“There’s not a day I don’t think about it…what I did to you…the mistakes I’ve made.” Mina’s voice cracks halfway as her eyes become glossy. For some reason, your chest starts to ache. “I regretted it every single day ever since you left. And I always, always wanted to talk to you one last time. I-if that’s okay with you?”

She halts to study your reaction. You nod, urging her to continue.

“…It’s not a secret – what I did over the course of half a year. What I allowed to happen…” She sniffles, staring at the gift bag as a tear falls down her eye. “It’s just…you meet this guy, right? A polite, charming, extraordinarily handsome guy, and he’s great. And he’s married which is also great but-”

“He sees you, like…he actually sees you for you and he befriends you. And he doesn’t tell you to change unlike other guys. He doesn’t turn his nose up at your quirks and doesn’t hold animosity in his eyes. He tells you his secrets…or what you think are his secrets and he appreciates you.”

She takes a deep breath, her nose running and cheeks rosy. Taking a napkin from the table’s corner, she wipes the tears littering her face as your own eyes well up. So this was how Jimin was in her mind compared to yours. There were a lot of similarities and a lot of differences.

“And so,” Mina strains, “You fall for him. Even though it’s wrong and even though he’s m-married. Even though his wife is a wonderful person, y-you fall so, so hard. And when he kisses you while he’s a drunk, giggling, beautiful mess…you don’t stop him.”

You close your eyes as the first tears makes its way down your cheek. Even though there were a lot of differences, the feelings were the same.

“Y-you don’t stop after the first time. Nor after the second and then the third… and it just keeps going on and on and on. Until it’s too late to stop. Even though the guilt eats you alive. Even though you stop eating and stop sleeping and no one can see the bags under your eyes, when he smiles at you-”

Mina shows you a pained smile, “When he smiles at you, and his eyes crinkle and his nose buttons. You think it’s all – the pain, the secrets – it’s all worth it. Because you just feel so damn special for some reason. So, you throw yourself down the drain, become the woman you never wanted in a relationship that would never go anywhere. You lie until your teeth start rotting and hide until the shame stops consuming your heart.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand, trying to calm your senses by pursing your lips.

“Then one day…he tells you he doesn’t need you anymore. That you never meant anything to him and it’s over.” Mina’s stop crying now. She stares at the table once again, this time looking at her reflection in the glass. “And you don’t put up a fight, because you knew this was coming. It was inevitable. A real relationship can never be based on a lie. All you’re left with is the person you’ve become.”

“In the end…all you did was become a liar that hates herself. Someone who hurt a woman who’s been nothing but kind to her. Someone who shut everyone out till the one guy she’s wanted shuts her out… that’s the conclusion.”

You let out a shaky exhale, your body lagging and mind numbing. There’s yet another moment of silence as you process everything you’ve just heard. Your feelings…were just the same.

“I’m sorry.” Your eyes shoot up as Mina speaks up once again, “I’m sorry for what I did to you and for all the things I let happen.”

“I understand if you don’t forgive me. And I understand if you never want to see me again. I…just wanted to tell you that you were great. You were a great wife, and a great friend…a great cook haha...and a great person. You deserved better than all of this. You deserved better than all of us.”

“And...and I know how it feels…I…I dated someone after Jimin… and huh ironically-” Mina lets out a breathless laugh, “He cheated on me… and I know I deserve I-”

“No.” You interrupted her, “No one deserves that.”

Mina pauses as she stares at you, “It really hurts…it’s not just them loving someone else, but them breaking your trust and connection. Completely disregarding your feelings and disrespecting you. And something like that coming from someone you love – someone’s who’s supposed to love you…breaks you apart from the inside. And that’s why I now understand what kind of a person Park Jimin was. A manipulative, lying piece of shit who immediately uses people’s vulnerabilities for his own pleasures.”

…

“I hope one day you’re able to move on from what I’ve done but…I will always carry what I did to you. I’ll continue to fall into toxic relationships and continue to have trust and commitment issues for the rest of my life.”

You frown at the feeble girl in front of you. Was this what you wanted from her? From Jessica? Is this what you want for Tina? Would this satisfy your idea of karma?

“Thank you…for apologizing…for speaking your truth.” You began slowly, Mina’s inflamed face staring at you,  

“I always tried to understand why you did it. How you could do that to me when you’ve met me and knew me and…my head was just a mess for the longest time…but now…I just hope you’re able to move on from this as well…I don’t know if I can truly forgive you but I don’t want to hate you any longer. I spent so much energy trying to hate you and the other girls…I compared myself to you, I looked down on you…I ran away from you.  

“But what was it that you owed me at that my husband didn’t owe me a hundred times more?”

Trying to piece your thoughts together you sigh, “The you I conjured up in my mind was a lot more characterless and viler. But now it just seems like I was trying to blame anybody but Jimin for his own mistakes. That’s the whole idea behind homewrecker, huh? I blamed you, I blamed my mother, I blamed myself. I blamed every single person except Jimin. And I shouldn’t have. There was no one else at greater fault. Not even you… and I no longer want to do that. I no longer want to put the blame on others.”

Mina looks away once her eyes tear up again. Her body felt sore and her insides twisted painfully. There’s no greater pain than the guilt of a woman.

“In the end we were all trying to find our happiness…anyway we could. I guess…we just searched for it in the wrong places.”

The rest of the sudden meet up was spent in silence. This abrupt hush being the last one before you finished your drink and observed the traffic around you. It felt like you both had said what you wanted, like your chests were finally free of such a huge burden. What was left was a empty feeling, satisfying but still an end.

Soon, it was time for goodbyes.

And then there you were, driving home from the longest trip you’ve ever had at a mall. You sat there, steering your car on the road, thinking just one thing. All this time, you’ve remembered nothing but bad things about her. About Jessica. And now about Tina. But what was the point in accusing them?  

What type of satisfaction had you gained from hating other women?

Did it stop your husband from cheating? Did it dissolve his sins?

What sort of people were Jessica and Tina, apart from the characters your imagination had invented?  

There were new questions you needed answers to. And there was just one person who could help you answer them all.

Just one.

Jimin was in the balcony, drinking his night away again.

Tina wouldn’t shut up tonight, he didn’t want to deal with her. But right now, he didn’t have anyone he could trust as much as her so his feet were planted in her damn apartment. As he looks up at the bleary sky, his mind wanders back to you. What were you doing at the moment?

Tsk, he scolds himself then. Why did he always think about you in the end? What did you mean to him? NOTHING. You were a toy. A toy he ended up going overboard with almost 6...no 7 years ago from tomorrow.

A toy that was causing him problems...  

Jin had called this morning. “Why doesn’t your wife know where you are?”

It infuriated him; how dare he be questioned like this. And that bastard was one to talk, he was with Jimin playing wingman anytime Jimin needed a quick fuck. Telling him he knows men shouldn’t be tied down to one woman, that men were made to pump out their population into mankind. So why was everyone acting different now?

Why were you?

He kept you under his control for so long. How did you even find out about Tina?

Why was he?

Jimin couldn’t eat for the past few days. Nothing tasted like your cooking so he couldn’t swallow it down. His sleep was fucked up and he tried to wear himself out going to the gym or having sex with Tina or someone else but nothing worked. If anything, he just felt worse. He kept remembering the cologne you came in with that one night, just which bastard were you fucking?

His grip on the glass beer is so tight, he could hear it crack. No, you couldn’t have. Jimin was sure you wouldn’t even think about another man as long as you had him. Who would?

As his heart continues to ache and yearn without him knowing why, mind numb and limbs sore, his phone begins to ring.

Speak of the devil.

...

You studied the phone in your hand, as your thumb trembled while hovering over his name.  

Why was this so hard? You’ve been upfront with him for a while now. So, what is it about today – this moment particularly – where your insides would rather shut down than hear his voice?

As you once again back out from pressing his name on your phone screen, you huff, sitting up in frustration. It shouldn’t be this hard, it’s really not a big deal. So what if you had no idea where your husband was for the past week? So what if he had his own wife sent to voicemail so many times that she had become too traumatized to call him? And so what if the biggest day of your life was tomorrow and he was still MIA? All you had to do right now, was ask about his location. Drown the wild thoughts and insecurities in your head with confirmation from the love of your life.

He owes you that much.

So, with a loud sigh, you click on his name. Ready to face the truth.

Your gut drops when it rings. Falling deeper and deeper with the first ring.

Second ring.  

Third ring.  

Fou-

“Hello?”

Gasping at the voice, you immediately put your phone next to your ear.

“Y-yes hello?”

“…___.”

You wanted to cry. He actually picked up, he really answered. “J…Jimin.”

Your whole body shivered, as if it remembered Jimin existed. He wasn’t some fever dream you mind conjured up. There was so much you wanted to tell him, which spiked up the adrenaline in your system. Oh, how you longed to speak to him.

“I heard you called Jin…” Was his immediate response. After being away from home for so long, after leaving you in the dark. He was more concerned about you talking to someone about how he left you.

“Yeah…I-I did.”

“Why?” He sounded annoyed

“Because I didn’t know how else to reach you…”

“You shouldn’t have called Jin.” He spoke again, firmly.

Biting your bottom lip, you hold back your tears. Does he think it was easy for you? Doesn’t he realize how embarrassed you were? Can’t he understand that you wouldn’t have called him if he just picked up his phone? Jin’s seen you before, he’s made you laugh before, you know him. He’s a very charming person, it’s why he’s one of Jimin’s few coworkers that you genuinely liked. Also one of the first friends Jimin made when you moved into this city.  

It’s why you were terrified that when you make the call…his high opinion of you would change. That to him you’d look like a pathetic, desperate woman whose husband casted aside. You felt so much shame and if you truly, frantically didn’t need his help, you would have never asked.

Doesn’t he know that? Does he care about you at all?

“I…I’m sorry.” You whisper

He doesn’t respond. No, you didn’t want to blame him.

“Jimin…I’m so sorry for everything…I got ahead of myself. Please Jimin…”

Still, silence.

“Jimin…I don’t know where you are…I don’t know what you’re doing but I know that I love you. I love you and I miss you and I need you so much that it hurts.”

…

“Jimin…would you please…please come home to me? Please.”

“I don’t know, ___.” He responds tiredly, “I just don’t know who you are anymore.”

By now you should have known it was useless for you to hold back tears. “You stood in that altar with me, right? You took my hand and told me you wanted to stay by my side forever. You said forever didn’t you Jimin?”

Again, you shared radio silence and you close your eyes and imagine him. His beautiful self, his past innocence. What should you do to capture his attention?

“I met Mina yesterday.”

At that you hear his breath hitch.

“W-what…where?”

“At the city mall…she’s still as pretty, you know.” You let out a giggle

“You’re prettier.” He jokes. It was so out of place but he said it casually.

You laugh. You laugh and laugh and laugh until you start to sob. Breath heaving and lungs sore, you sob into the receiver. Your face was wet, and your nose was running, you were sure you have never looked more unattractive. Being close to him once again opened up the flood of your insecurities, made you feel hyper aware of your appearance. Shame and embarrassment enfold in you once more and you feel your throat close in on yourself.

Him just casually joking around reminds you of the old days. Where you might have been broken inside but Jimin was here to mend you outside. And that’s what you needed right now, for him to glue your shards back together again. A porcelain doll is always hollow inside anyway.  

“…_-___.”

You cry louder at the sound of his voice. Your Jimin…you loved him so much.

“J-Jimin-hic-…pleas-please -hic- some home…I’ll change Jimin, I-I’ll be better, so please.”

He listens to you cry and his chest aches like someone pulled his heart out. This was something he was never good at, dealing with someone’s feelings. That’s why he never let anyone get too close, even if they felt like they were. Everyone…but you. Fuck, he shakes his head. No, you meant nothing.

But he still wanted to console you.

“T…the anniversary dinner is tomorrow, right?” He starts, his voice uncertain, “I…I’ll come then.”

“You will?” You hiccup, your own tone unsure

“I will.” He says, and this time he sounded confident. “I will come back home ___, just wait for me…”

“Promise me…”  

What else could you wish for?  

“I promise.”  

How could a little more waiting hurt you?

Jimin shuts of the phone and sighs. It seems like you were back under him, which is a relief. He smiles then, his heart soaring at the thought of seeing you again. Just imagining the look on your face would be enough to keep him satisfied for a long time.

See? You love her. A voice interrupts. It came from deep inside his chest. Conscious, they call it. He hated it more than anything. The only person Jimin loved was himself and the only person he needed was himself.

He’s not like those pathetic people that lust after him immorally. There were no similarities between him and them, there never would be. His conscious seems to disagree though, telling him once again, how much he loves her, someone like her.

Growling at his brain, he smashes the bottle down onto the balcony’s pavement. The shards scatter, glimmering in the moonlight of the pale city. He could see himself in the reflection.

And for the first time, he didn’t like who stared back.

You were waiting.

On that time of year again.

June 17th, the most special day of your life.  

You still remember it quite well; the well-lit Azul sky, the light specks of sand, the calming roar of the clear waves. It was the most beautiful morning in the universe.  

Yet you were a wreck of nerves, sweaty palms and jittery teeth. Jimin’s dad placed a hand on your quivering shoulder, your eyes shooting the gentle senior as he smiles at you consolingly. You were never close to Jimin’s parents, nonetheless they were always tremendously kind to you. A part of you felt so undeserving of their love, but Jimin would remind you that you have earned everything good in the world. Jimin…you couldn’t believe in a few moments you were marrying the love of your life. How and when did your life take such a drastic turn for the better?

Snapping from your reverie, you shyly nod your head at your new father and place your hand under his outstretched arm. And soon it starts – the piano melody signaling the curtains withdrawal.

As the fabric was removed from your vision, the picture-esqu sight came into view in front of you, making you hold your breath and faintly tighten your grip on the elder man’s arm. The audience immediately turned their heads, a pleasant expression of awe plastered on their faces. White and pink carnations, complimenting your long lacey dress, decorated the virgin painted benches and their petals littered the bleached soft satin carpet.  

And in front of it all – the audience, the flowers, your mother – stood Jimin. You lost control of your senses when you saw him. He stood perfectly still, hands clasped together and slightly taller than usual with his heeled derby’s and straightened posture. His black suit was stitched without a visible flaw, even in this bright daylight. It elongated his limbs and made them seem sturdier – rather well put as he jut his chest out ever so softly. Your eyes couldn’t break away, even as you began advancing towards him. Jimin too, stared right at you unwaveringly, like he could see no one but you at the moment.  

His hair was gelled back and brush to the side, letting the sunlight highlight his ethereal features. When you reached the end of the carpet, Jimin’s father took a hold of your hand and handed it to Jimin. As soon as Jimin’s fingers touched your palm, a spark of fire traveled underneath your skin and your arm broke out in goosebumps. He led you up the three-step stairs, into the altar where the priest stood in front of you both.  

“You look gorgeous.” He whispers with a cheeky smile

You break out into a shy smile, some of the rashness in your nerves leaving you.

His eyes never leave yours as the priest starts speaking and you could feel your own eyes well up as you hear the quiet sobs of Jimin’s mother.

After the small sermon, it was time for that big question.

“Do you Park Jimin, take ___ to be your lawfully wedded wife? To cherish her in sickness and in health? And never leave her lonely?”

For a moment you thought you saw a pause in Jimin’s smile. That there was a sudden weakness flashing across his orbs. But it was over, very, very quickly.

“I do.” He states proudly, causing all the unease in your lungs to vanish.

As the priest repeats the question to you, you take a deep breath, ready to state your obvious answer.

Suddenly though, you catch the eyes you’ve been avoiding the whole time.

Your mother. Sitting in the front row.

Without a smile.

“Don’t do this to yourself.”

“Mom, please…I’m getting married in a few hours. Why is this the only thing you have to say to me?”

The older lady inhales, her nostrils flaring in exhaustion. “I’m saying this for your own good.”

“No! You’re saying this for your own sick pleasure!”

“How could you think that way about your own mother?”

“…because let’s face it mom…you’ve never cared about me…”

She went silent after that. 10 minutes of arguing and this was what made her silent.

“Alright.” She spit, bitterly. “But when he ends up leaving you, don’t come crying to me.”

…

“I never have.”

“Madam?”

You jump from your daydream.

“Pauillac?”

A well dressed, older waiter stands in front of your table. He held out a bottle of expensive looking wine.

“Oh, thank you.” You say, holding out your glass.

Fast forward to seven years, you set up a reservation at the most popular 5-star restaurant in your city. It’s something you’ve done every year for four years, a month ahead because of the place’s demand and limited seating options. Even though your nerves were eating at you, you kept yourself alive. Today is the day you’ll see Jimin again. He’ll be back home again.  

Your body was yearning for his touch again, you felt yourself getting hot and cold at times for no reason. But it was alright, you were happy.  

You’ve gotten your hair, makeup and nails done at a salon today, wanting to look beautiful for your husband. It was red in color and light weight, to not seem overbearing, and you wish Jimin would like it on you. Imagining him complimenting you had you unintentionally beaming. Anything and everything he’d say tonight was bound to have you convulsing inward, you were just so excited to see him again.  

Having arrived 15 minutes early, you mess with the napkins and cutlery, making sure everything was straight and preppy. Your nerves were on high making you fidget and glance at the door every few seconds. Jimin’s promise rang inside your head as assurance. There was a letter clutched in your hand. Since there were so many – way too many things you wanted to tell him, you decided to write a letter instead.

He’ll be here. I know him.

Time went by a bit too slowly, so you took some sips of your wine. What should you say first to him. Oh, you should thank him for keeping his promise. That would make him happy. Then you should apologize for that night, negotiate carefully to not scare him away. You’d tell him of the progress you made, about how you were learning to stand on your own two feet so you wouldn’t bother him again.

Whatever you did, you could not afford to make him feel upset again.

As you continued to carefully plan out your time with Jimin, a voice resounded in your head.

“You spent your life trying to become someone they’d love, that you forgot about who you are.”

…

You were doing it again. Of course, you didn’t want to apologize to him…but you were more concerned with what pleased him. Sighing, you took another sip of your wine.

Where was he? You were beginning to get angsty. Tapping your foot against the floor, you signaled the waiter for more wine. 20 minutes had passed. 30. 40. Soon you were bombarded with voices echoing your head.

Lin. Irene. Yoongi. Mina. Your mother.

Everything they said over the past month haunting your insides until you shook. Stop it, you wanted to yell. All you wanted was to be in your husband’s arms. You aren’t stupid for yearning for love. Jimin promised.

1 hour.

You had begun to stare at the people around you, dressed so lavishly. They all look so content. How lucky they were. There was a senior couple a couple of tables away from you, the lady feeding something sweet to her husband. It made you smile, and your heart hurt even more. Jimin, please come soon.

2 hours.

Where was he? People were starting to notice you could tell, their shaped became nothing but eyes that beheld you with animosity. Eyes poking you in places that left you sore. You wanted to jump into a cold river. Wash away the restrictive feeling around your throat. No, you aren’t stupid for trusting Jimin again.

With a deep breath, you press his number, holding it to your ear with pursed lips. He doesn’t pick up. But you dial it again. What if something happened to him, you worry. There was a similar feeling inside of you. The one you felt when you visited this office that night. Your heart and mind pleaded with him.

Please, Jimin.

“…Hello?” A groggy voice answers

You smile – you actually fucking smile for the tiniest millisecond. Before realizing that wasn’t his voice. No, that high-pitched feminine voice wasn’t his. Your whole face falls.

“Ms. ___?”

Tina.

“H-hello, Ms-” You overhear some shuffling before you hear him.

“Kitten, who is i-”

No longer concerned, you hang up. You were so stupid.

Your face twitches, mind still frozen before the tears fall like rain. It was raining outside too.  

In seconds, your makeup’s all ruined, and the collar of your dress is strangling you. With so many people in the vicinity, you try to stop your tears but it’s no use – you can feel a few stares burning a hole through your head. You don’t even care to acknowledge the waiter who cheerily walks up to you pushing a cart.

“Ma’am here’s your oh-”  

He stops dead in his tracks in front of you, who’s silently heaving into the air. He’s at loss of what to do as he gapes at your wrecked state, in his sweaty palms he weakly holds the handle of the cart. On that cart laid a large 2 layer lavishly decorated vanilla-swirl cake. Jimin’s favorite. With two words written at the top in pink strawberry icing.

‘Happy Anniversary’

You had no clue where you were headed.  

The hush of the car pushed you forward. Your grip on the handle was deathly, frigid arms barely holding it eerily still and not crashing into one of the pawn shops on the right out of pure fury.

After the tears came the rage. You were so, so angry. And you didn’t give one single fuck.

Fucking Jimin, perfect, lovable, charming Jimin. Fuck him.

How dare he?

How fucking dare he not show up? How fucking dare he embarrass you like that? He lied to you yet again. And you, like the pathetic woman you are, fell for it again. It was like a drug, the wrath and despair within your system. Traveling across every nerve and every stream. Feeling like tiny needles prickling you all at once. You were so fucking angry.

It kept replaying in your mind. Tina’s groggy voice, her confusion…her pity. You couldn’t control anything, not your breathing nor your anger. All you wanted to do was forget about it all. Before you did something you really regret. So, you sped to the only place that made you forget once before.

You push the breaks to a halt, your body lurching forward at the sudden stop. Turning, you look out the car window, breathing fire through your nose. The loud beating of the music silently shakes the whole road. Bright red neon lights flare into your vicinity, reflecting even the puddles of the long dead rain.

Cypher Road.

With a humorless smirk, you open the car door, stomping your way out of the vehicle. Wasting no time, you sprint into the entrance with a slight stumble in your step and are immediately greeted by dancing bodies. It wasn’t any different than that other day – if anything, busier. The noise was so loud you could stop yourself from thinking for once. You brush past the lively bodies without a care, yet there is a small warmth with each touch of flesh that has you inhaling repeatedly.

Trance.

There is a joy of being here. You hadn’t wiped the scars of mascara off your face, your hair was a mess from you pulling on it. And your dress felt even lighter than before as you stepped onto the dance floor. The atmosphere was blinding, and you had come here to be filled with its addictive ignorance. How sweet it is to not taste the bitter reality.  

It was slow at first. You weren’t in rhythm with anyone, but then again when had you ever been. Spanning your arms out, you brought them above your head as you twirled once, twice – a few times. Every second you unraveled yourself, closing your eyes as your heels glided along the dance floor and you shook and turned. Swung and twist.

You wanted to lose all your energy here. Everything had to melt away.

With every move you made, your mind became light headed, stars amongst your seams exploded and the fast pace of the universe seem to lull. So, softly, you fluttered your lids open.

The first thing you saw were the bright neon green lasers, traveling across the dance floor from the ceiling. Then you notice how the whole floor had slowed, the laughing, the screaming, the motioned limbs. Everyone around you had begun moving along your timeline, your pace – the slow dance with life for the very first time. Somehow the music had lost all it’s upbeat fervor and your ears echoed a blue ambiance in its place. You felt drunk even though you took mere ounces of liquor.

Numb, you were more numb thank drunk. Your movements were sluggish and your mind in a deep haze. This is what it feels like to be high on grief. While your eyes were roaming the dance floor, they landed on someone. There was a girl, around 10 feet away from you, who caught your attention, you’re not sure why. Nothing seemed unordinary about her – not her short dress, nor her pretty face. The club was full of that. She dances as lethargic as the figures around her. What you kept staring at was the necklace she wore, the pure silver being the only color you could see on her as the darkness of the club muted all other colors.

But the second a citrus scent fills the air around you, she is long forgotten. You turn back in front of you to see him.

He, who stood a good 5 feet ahead, taller than Jimin. He, who wore an expensive suit with a colorful scarf tied around his long neck. Dusky hair and sharp eyes, a slight tan and fixed stare. It was in that moment time come to a complete halt. Just you and him, even breathing and secret heartbeats. His face tilted to the side, a smirk present on his inviting lips. You blinked leisurely.

“Nice to see you again, baby.” He said in his deep, sexy voice

You recognized his voice.  

Who could forget it?

The stall door slammed open as your body was pushed inside. For the first few seconds your breath was knocked out of you, just to fit into his mouth once again.

“Mmm-ah-”

His mouth was hot, heavy and wet. The middle of your spine shivered, sending a cursing sensation all throughout your body as you held onto his arms. The warmth of his shoulders kept you giddy, your face tilting to allow his tongue in further. His grip on your hips was tight, his fingers dangerously lurking your ass. You blushed as you felt your chest pressed up against.

He bit your lip and you gasped, your fingers treading into his hair as you tilted your head back. His lips kiss down your jaw, onto your neck as you moan loudly. The air was immense, the four walls of the stall closing in on you and you didn’t care one bit. You wanted to be swallowed. After nipping the soft skin of your neck, he looks up, into your eyes.  

As you stare into the endless abyss by your own glossy orbs, you could swear there was no one more beautiful.

He smirks yet again, making you clench. His thigh parts your legs as his warm hand travels along your hip line before he grabs your dress. Pulling up the light fabric, you feel his hot fingers on your bare skin. You try to hold back your voice but fail miserably as you whimper, holding onto to him tightly. Softly, his hand caresses your thigh, tender and slow. You close your eyes, your brows knitting in what you think was frustration and you hear him chuckle.

God, that voice of his.

The air is knocked out of you as his fingers land on that sweet, sweet spot. Your eyes opening to find his intense stare.

“You’re so wet, fuck.” He huffs, fondling you over your panties

Unable to properly respond, you blush. Biting your lower lip before you begin to rub yourself on him. You’ve never done that before. Taken control of the situation that is.

“Shit.” He mutters, staring you down as you shamelessly stroke yourself against him. Your freedom didn’t last long as he snakes an arm around your back, your chest crashing into his and his long digits slam into your core.  

“Ah!” You grab onto his arms as he scissors your insides.

“Fuck, baby,” He grunts, his low voice making you tremble, “You haven’t been fucked properly for a long time now, have you?”

His dirty words cause you to clench, curses once again slipping out of his mouth, “I’m gonna change that tonight – shit. I’ll fuck you so good, fill your nice and pretty cunt with my cum.”

You couldn’t say anything, lips trembling and back arching as his elongated fingers fucked into you, reaching such a depth that had you weak in the knees. Thankfully his hold was tight.  

“You want that baby? You want to be stuffed with my dick? I bet I’d slip in so – fuck – so easily, I bet I’d cum right away, what do you think baby?”

“Nn- oh, yes-” It slipped out, as his pace became faster, harder and you wanted to thank whoever created him for his blessed fingers. They were much longer than Jimin.

…

Jimin?

…Jimin.

In an instant your eyes shot open, “N-no!”

The guy made out a ‘huh?’ Before you pushed him away with all your strength. His back collided with the right stall wall, as you used the left one to stand up properly.

You suddenly become all too aware of the ring encasing your finger on your trembling hands. The warm atmosphere now defeated by a scorching heat. Your eyes became cloudy as images of your husband flashed through your mind. The man you swore your soul to, the man who you came home to, his smile, his love. What the hell were you doing? You were married! Married! How could you-

“H-hey? Are you alright? Was it something I said?”

The man reaches out for you, causing you to jump.  

“No!” You shout again, your loud voice echoing the stalls. His eyes fill with worry and the guilt threatens to spill out your throat. Did he know you were married? How would he feel about that? What were you doing? WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!  

You were wheezing without any cause. The air in your lungs felt painful, throat sore and breaths ugly. Panic…you were having a panic attack. The walls were closing in and the light of the restroom gave you a pounding headache.

“I-I’m sorr-” You manage to choke out before running out of the stall, not even daring to look back.

You ran and ran and ran. Pushing away from the heavy bodies littering your way. Sobs of pain left you, but no one even cared to look. This wasn’t what you wanted from tonight – you wanted to forget Jimin, not become him. Yet you can never forget how you reacted to that stranger, how sensitive your body was to someone who wasn’t your husband. Tremendous shame and guilt travel up your neck like parasites. Your eyesight had become blurry, all the overwhelming lights meshed together, and you couldn’t even see anymore. All that was guiding you was the reminder to get out of this loud place.

And it was then that you bumped into someone.

“___? Hey, are you alright? ___?”

A frantic voice, and grip on your arms pulls you back to reality. For a moment you just heave as he shakes you softly, grip firm and protective. Slowly, your eyes begin to clear and breathing slows. There you see Yoongi and you, standing near the entrance hall of Cypher Road.

“Y-Yoon…gi?” You mutter, out of air

“Fuck, ___, what happened to you?” Yoongi shouts, his eyes widened in concern  

“You lied to me Yoongi…” You mutter

“…What?”

“You lied to me!” You cry, pulling him off of you, “You t-told me…” Your voice breaks, tears filling your eyes, “You said he did nothing but fool around with his friends…YOU LIED!!!”

The anger in your voice has him putting up his hands in concern. “W-what do you mean-”

“In there!” You scream, pointing at the dance floor, “In your precious club – is a girl with a necklace!”

“A…necklace?” Yoongi squints in confusion, his head turning back and forth between you and the dance floor.

“A fucking necklace!” You roar as he winces, “A necklace…similar to the one Jimin wore some time ago…”

“___, there are plenty of ways she could’ve gotten that necklace, maybe she-“

“No!” You interrupt him, shaking your head vigorously, “That’s what I say! Those are the excuses I make! ...But not this time. Not when I recognize that special custom-made J pendant on her neck…”

You began to cry, hot fat tears rolling down your cheeks as your throat starts to close in.

“I-I could…couldn’t even see her face…I don’t even know what s-she looks like…” Taking a deep breath, you bring your hand to your mouth in embarrassment, “Yet I know her…because she wore my husband’s necklace so proudly. Like she owned it…owned him.”

Yoongi stares at you, at loss at what to say. The people around you gave glances and strange looks time to time. But still…no one cares long enough to stay.

“___...just calm d-”

“NO!” You scream again, cringing at the strain in your voice. “I won’t! I won’t calm down! I have every right to be angry!”

“I know that!” Yoongi yells cautiously, “I understand that-”

“No you don’t– No one does! No one knows how it feels to be in my position, no one- Or else you wouldn’t have lied to me!”

“You think I had a choice? You think I wanted to purposely lie to the woman who was staring at the ground a thousand feet below her like her only way out?”

“Just-” You bring your hands up, a sudden wave of exhaustion pouring over you, “I’m so, so tired…I’m so tired of being lied to, Yoongi. Please…please leave me alone.”

“__-” Before he could say another word you were rushing down the hall, out of the building. He stared at the exit you left from a bit too long, the bright neon of the sign hurting his eyes. Everyone else danced on, carefree, around him. His husband always told him this job would be his wolfsbane.

And he was right as usual.

As he’s debating whether to chase after you, a call of his name interrupts his concentration.  

“Hy- fuck, Yoongi hyung!” The pale faced man turns around to see the youngest of his pack shoving through multiple bodies in disdain. The taller man rushes up to him, breathing heavily, with a worried gaze.

“Taehyung?” The older asks with concern laced in his tone. What the fuck was happening? “What’s the matter?”

“S-she was…do you know where the girl who was just with you went? She was right here! The one with the red dress…soft demeanor…?”

Yoongi straightened up as Taehyung described you,  

“How do you know ___?”  

You sat at the edge of your world in silence. The winds of tomorrow’s past blew past you, your hair in rhythm with the fast-paced clouds above. For the moment, you would have preferred silence, but that was not a sentiment the city shared with you. Cars, honking, muttered chatter, you could hear it all. Passing through your ears like an afterthought. Your feet dangled as you held your heels in your hand. What were you thinking of showing up to that anniversary dinner?

What ever made you think Jimin would stop disappointing you?

As you stared at the glass structures you sighed, you always ended up back at the same place. The same kind of city, the same rain, the same broken heart. Perhaps the universe really was trying to tell you something.

A quiet hum stained your body, Keeping you sane from your sadness. It was crazy really, how many questioned can be answered in a day. With a deep breath, you reach out to into the night, stretching your arm. Hand laid flat against the air for a few seconds before you clasped it shut – as if grabbing something. What were you desperately searching for in the night?  

Your husband? Your life? Your childhood?  

Your happiness.

“Thought I might find you here…”  

It was routine then, the sudden loud beating of your heart. Your widened eyes, your frozen physique. The shaky exhale.

…

“I…tried to find you downstairs…in the apartment…but you weren’t there…”

Jimin.

You can hear him walk towards you. And you could imagine it, hands in pocket, the wind blowing through his hair, his relaxed stance and clear eyes. It had been too long…so long, just a couple days felt like years. It felt like something grabbed onto your heart, so tight you couldn’t breathe. You were too scared to turn. To look him in the eye.  

But you did anyway.  

And you just knew the universe hated you. It was him. It was him. It was him. His ethereal face filled with a halo no one could replicate. He was God’s most beautiful creature. How spiteful your creator must have been.

It was him. You wanted to reach out to him.

He stared at you, reading your eyes as you read his. But you both had stopped understanding each other’s language a long time ago.  

You both waited for the other to speak. Yet for some reason, you wanted this silence to last forever.

“…How have yo-”

“Did you fuck her?” You ask, your voice immediately breaking. His face turned pale. “When I trusted you…and waited for you…”

He looked away, mouth shutting and eyes squinting.

You had dreamt of this scenario a thousand times, and in each one you never came off this strongly. So, what were you doing right now? Why did you feel so guilty?

“You fucked her…did it feel good? Are you happy now that you’ve emptied your dick?” There was so much fury in each of your words, but you enjoyed watching him squirm. You didn’t even know half these words were in your vocabulary. “How has she been for the past week? Why did you even come, JIMIN? I waited, and waited, and waited in the pain of the unknown. All while you got your dick wet…And I always do that Jimin…I’m so stupid, aren’t I?

He says nothing.

“Tell me I’m stupid!” You slam a palm on the ledge, “Because you really make me feel that way! And for what?”

The tears you hold back wrapped themselves around your neck, making you struggle to get your words out. You wanted him to feel as hurt as you did.

“What have I done Jimin? What did…I do to you?” Breathing was becoming hard, your lips quivering as you stared at the beautiful somber devil. “All I did was love you, so why? Why do you t-treat me like this?”

It must have been an illusion of either your river-filled eyes or the bleak night because for a second you thought you saw despair and guilt inside him.

“I broke myself apart to try and fit into your world. Became happy for you, always did what you wanted, never questioned you-fuck I would’ve even had children if it meant you would stay with me…”

“God, I’m so stupid!” You roar, grasping fistfuls of your hair and pulling at it, “Here I was trying to be better, here I was thinking that those three girls had something I didn’t but that wasn’t it at all! M-Mina didn’t have lipstick on that night. She couldn’t have marked your shirt…but someone else did! Isn’t that right Jimin?”

You turn back to him, eyes wide and head pounding. “I thought there were only three girls…but there are many, many more aren’t there? I thought Jessica was the first time, but it wasn’t was it?”

Jimin finally looks up at you, and you realize you never said anything about Jessica. He didn’t know you knew.

“You’d been cheating on me…since the beginning…haven’t you? Here I thought I must have done something wrong after marriage…but I’ve been your plaything throughout this whole affair, haven’t I?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You slowly lower your arms, face and body still in shock.

“I’m so stupid Jimin…I felt special for a while…I’m so stupid…aren’t I?”

His face twitches, but his thoughts remain a mystery. You watch quietly as he closes his eyes, a soft exhale leaving his lips. It was too painful to keep staring at him, at the man you once loved more than anything. So you looked back at the sky, pleading for a chance to redo every single event since before you met.

“Jimin…” You whisper, voice pleading. Your sanity was on the brink and you wanted to be pulled in before you fell over. “Tell me I’m not stupid.”  

“I’m letting you go, ___.”

You really hated yourself in that moment. Your name coming out of his mouth felt so good, you almost didn’t hear the first part.

Almost.

“I have to let you go.”

And the first tear falls. Sliding down your cheek easily before the next one leaks. You close your eyes, letting the pain wash away at you for the first time in a while. The fall was long, you could feel the emptiness surround you. For a second it felt like flying, unobstructed and liberated.

“…”

“This has gone…beyond my control…___. I didn’t know what I was thinking, I just...” He looks at you, but you kept yourself inside your head. Arms numb and brain empty. “…I acted on impulse…I thought I knew what I wanted…I thought it was…”

You

“You are right…I have been cheating on you for a long time now…I never loved you…I just kept this charade on for as long as I could. And I don’t know why because I don’t love you…I d..d-don’t.”

That’s what you needed to hear, right? Just like that? Everyone’s been telling you this is better for you, haven’t they? So why are all your words stuck in your throat.

“I’ll go back to T…my friend for now…I’ll be back to pack up my stuff in the next few weeks.”

And with that he gives you one last glance before he turns. That was it, that was his whole explanation. What exactly had you expected? Why the FUCK did you keep expecting? You wanted to call out to him, your heart jumping out of your chest and latching onto his turned back. But instead of uttering a single peep, you listen to his footsteps all the way back to the door.

You listen as he touches the door knob. You listen as he twists it and pulls the door open slightly. All you do is listen when you can feel him hesitate, turning around to look at you.

For the strangest reason you remember the day you met him. That bright day, the soft wind and cherry blossoms. His bright smile and angel eyes, your innocent mind and open heart. It replays in your memory like your life flashing before your eyes. The wind picks at your toes and your body itches, yearning for something you couldn’t comprehend.

So much has changed since. This isn’t the same day, the same wind. There are no cherry blossoms, or smiles or innocence. You both are different now.

This was your chance to call out to him. To jump off this ledge and into his arms. But you just sat there. Listened as he turned back and left. And it was just you and the wind once more. The door closing felt like the cover of a book closing, that this was the end.

And against the fast-paced wind that night, you accepted your defeated.

There were no books out today…

That much you could tell as you stared at the small desk between the couches, dozing off as the sunlight from the large window behind hit your face.

Much like you, she also stared. At the distance in your eyes, the iris dim and face unreadable. There were many things she wanted to ask, many holes she wanted to poke. But she remained as restrained as her profession taught. For she knew the signs of unapproachable person at first glance, having read them countless of times over.  

Yet she couldn’t have you stay quiet the whole time.

“Is everything alright?” Lin spoke meticulously  

You didn’t answer.

She sighed, studying you as she shifted. What could she do right now to make you talk? You’ve been so quiet these past 3 weeks, almost like you didn’t exist. Last week you never showed up, Lin couldn’t help overthinking and dial your emergency contact – Irene, who dragged you over here in frustration.  

You had told her about Jimin, lifelessly stating everything that happened as if facts about your life that hold no meaning to you. She knew how much pain you were in, but your reaction to despair was abnormal since crying was the body’s healing method. It’s a healthy way to process emotion. Then the next week you became silent, were a no-show last week and didn’t speak a word today either. Lin had consulted Irene, who said Jimin had been coming over, taking more and more of his stuff which helped the therapist understand a bit more.

You were mirroring your safe space, becoming as hollow as your apartment was.

“___, please you have to talk to me. Just for a bit, alright? I can help you.”

“Do you ever…” Her thoughts were interjected as you spoke up quietly. She was instantly all ears. “Do you ever…want to redo life? If you could start all over again, without any of your mistakes…would you?”

Lin stared at you for a while. Your expression did not change, you continued to glare a hole through her desk.

“Well…that’s a difficult question ___. Even though a part of me wants to erase the mistakes I might have made… I think it’s important to have the knowledge of those mistakes…why I made them…what I can learn from them…etcetera…”

“Well what mistakes did I make?” You say softly, looking at Lin in her pretty brown eyes. “What kind of mistakes have I made…that I still – to this day – have learned nothing from?”

You were trying to hide it, but she could see it as clear as day. The barrage of emotions you tried to conceal in your pupils. “Why am I getting constantly punished and learning nothing?”

“Why?” You plead, throwing a palm over your head and slouching down in your hair, “Why should I always be the person in pain? I’m so, so, so sad and I can’t change that even though I want to!”

“Trust me L-Lin, I want to change so desperately, I want to! I want to crawl out of my skin and find a new body because everything hurts but I can’t leave me…I can’t leave me, I c-can’t leave even though he can…I can’t leave even though she can… but I can’t, I CAN’T!

“..and you know what hurts the most?” You ask her, to which she does not respond. “What hurts is that he left me…like I was the one who did something wrong.”

“…He left me.”

It falls dead silent after your outburst. The only sound echoing the room was of your steady breathing.

“W…why do they get to walk away whenever they want after everything they’ve done?”

Lin breathes out tenderly, her eyes on the glass table and the reflection of the sun behind. In moments like this, she wishes she really had all the answers for her patients. She really does.

“By she…do you possibly mean-”

“My mother.” You mumble. “The one person in the world that was supposed to love me unconditionally…the one who threw me away like a discarded doll…”

Lin blinks slowly. “It can be very difficult to deal with the trauma and pain from a parent who abandons you…” After deliberating for a bit, she speaks up, “Tell me ___, why do you think you’ve given your all to every authority figure in your life?

You sit back up after a shaky exhale. Nothing comes to mind, except Jimin’s smile. Life was exhausting.

“Be…because…”

Lin nods, encouraging you to go on.

“I wanted them to love me.”

“And why did you think being perfect at everything, work, household chores, unconditional love, would get you their love.”

“B…because…I don’t know…”

“Hmm, can you tell me the first time you noticed someone’s reaction to you being ‘perfect.’ A child hood memory perhaps?”

After thinking about it for a while, you nod.

“...When I was…in the first grade…I got an A on my math exam. I was the only kid and…and the teacher called my mom to tell her I got an A. I didn’t want to bother her so I didn’t do it. And…my mother…she smiled at me for the first time that day.”

You could sense Lin’s soft smile.

“So I tried to get more As but I guess she got used to it. When Jimin…when I would blush or be openly smitten with him…there was a twinkle in his eye. One I could never get out of my head. And I tried…so hard.” You close your eyes, “So hard to keep that twinkle alive even when I was dying inside…but I guess…even he got used to it.”

Opening your eyes, you look at your therapist. “That’s why I did it. So they could love me.”

You become quiet, playing with your fingers as Lin stare at you. Her mind was in deep thought.  

“___,” Lin sighs after a while, “You know that I can’t tell you to not be upset… you have every right to feel whatever you feel because what they did to you caused you great pain…but I think it’s time you learned how to love yourself. And for that we need to address the root cause of your issues.”

“My mother?”

“Your mother.”

You nod, contemplating what she said. Learning to love yourself? That was a concept so foreign to you. Could it really help you understand yourself? What could you possibly gain from it, what was there to love about you? Right now, you just wanted to sleep forever. Forget you exist at all.

Existence is a pain itself.

Maybe you should confront the cause of your existence then.

“Trust me ___.” Lin speaks, catching your gaze, “You deserve better. You deserve to love yourself.”

Oh, you just cracked the puzzle.

She had aged.

Your mom, who was always so tall. To you, she stood over all the towering counters and tables and light switches. Compared to her, you were tiny. Someone who always had to look up at her, stretching your neck and straining your eyes. At her, who easily touched things you could only wish to reach.  

She looks so small now. Wrinkles skin deep, frown lines too permanent. She, who was once the tallest person in your naïve, 5-year-old eyes. Someone you thought would always look as young, as beautiful.  

As cold.

You watch her, face trained to be still. Her posture was demure, lips sat motionless and eyes downcast. She wore a light earthy dress, full sleeves and prim collar…which was so very her. It was strange to you, how at one moment you wanted her to look at you more than anything. To acknowledge you.

But today you were content in studying her with a passive gaze.

“How have you been?” She begins quietly. You stare at her, then glance at her fidgeting hands in her lap.

The atmosphere was dim, a bit too lull for a restaurant during lunch time. Maybe you were suppressing the chatter and clatter, to focus on her. Again, how fitting.

“…I’ve been well.” I have not. “How about you?”

“Good.” She replies softly, staring at her steaming tea in interest.

You sigh, your shoulders moving up and down along with your breath. What were you expecting? This is a person you hadn’t seen in 3 years. Why would she suddenly be interested in you? Why should you be in her?

At that moment, you hear small laughter reach your ear. You turn toward the appealing sound, not sure why you wanted to find its source. Yet once you took it in, you understood. It was a child. A mother, and her small child. The lady was not much older than you, wearing a blue-green dress as she fed her daughter dress in pink a small piece of the steak she ordered. They seemed happy, content in the small moment they shared, and you couldn’t help but smile at them.

What a fantasy they were living, you hope they knew how lucky they were. Everyone seems to be luckier than you. For a while you felt like a kid staring through the window of a candy shop. Tsk, how ridiculous.

“I…I’m glad you are well…”

You turn back to the fragile sound of that voice. “It…I was happy to get your call…and you suddenly asking to meet me. I felt nervous…I don’t know why.”

Surprise was well written on your face at her words. This was not what you were expecting.

“And I…” She coughs as if her voice was raspy. “How have you been? H-how’s Jimin? I hope he’s taking care of you.”

She smiles then. A slight, delicate smile as she looks you in the eyes. This is not what you were expecting. Not from the woman who’s only given you cold shoulders when you’ve asked for warm arms.  

All you could think about was how she was never home for your birthday and the one time she was, you overheard her call it just another rest day on the phone with her coworker. All you could remember was asking her if she would come to your recital and she never showed, so you just sat there after the choir concert watching all the other kid take pictures and receive flowers from their family. All you could call upon was the time she forgot to feed you for almost a week, which was what made you begin cooking.

And for some reason, unbeknownst to you, you utter the thorn pressing against your brain.

“Jimin left.”

Her smile takes a second to drop. The color of her face wearing off as her eyes widen. Jaw parting as she looks at you, like a worried, petrified mother. It almost made you laugh.

“W…What?”

Concern laced her tongue and you felt anger as a natural reaction. This wasn’t it – it wasn’t how you were expecting this to go. The person you remember, the person instilled into your core would have sighed in disappointment. Gave you a cold look and a wintery frown. Told you she warned you. Why was she suddenly acting this way?

“_-”

“H-he left mom.” You say, your voice choking up, “You were right, once again. He left me, just like you said. Aren’t you happy?”

You spit the question with venom, your eyes welling up.

“___.” She repeats in that same pitiful tone. It sparked more fury inside of you.

“Aren’t you happy?!” You ask a little louder, the neighboring tables giving you a glance. “I’ll be signing divorce papers soon. You were right all along!”

“N-no, no.” She shakes her head, seeming as distraught as you. Who was this person in your mother body? Wearing your mother’s face.

“What, why?” You sneer, “Have I done something to upset you again, like I don’t know ask for some fucking food?”

“___, no. Oh my God, no.” She was crying.  

It was getting hard to see as you shook in your seat. The weight of the world felt like it was on your shoulder. And as you stared at the weeping lady in front of you, you felt like a child again. A child who hid under the bed, crying because of the thunder. Desperately wanting her mother to come home. But she never came.

“I hate you.” Your tough voice broke, “I hated you so much…I never knew how much I hated you until I found Jimin…even if his love was fake at least he acted like he cared. Why couldn’t you just fucking act?”

She begins to tremble. Fuck.

“I know…how much dad hurt you, but why did you have to hurt me? I needed you. I needed you, mom. I spent every single day trying to live up to what I thought were your expectations, I thought I had to earn your love. I thought-” You take a moment, shutting your eyes and feeling the aching beat of your heart. “I thought if I was the perfect child- if I didn’t cause you trouble, if I was quiet and stayed out of trouble y-you would at least smile my way. And still you didn’t…all of my accomplishments, all of the things I so hard worked for vanished just like that…”

“Tell me…why did you…abandon me?” You look at her and for the first time something feels different, although your heart continues to constrict. She looks so small in her light earthy dress, straining her shoulders and shaking her head.

“I am so sorry ___. I am so, so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, ___. I am so sorry.”

“But more than you I hate myself.” You continue, ignoring the sear of pain on her face with every word. “I hate that I can never be perfect for anyone, I hate that I can’t have a normal conversation without second guessing everything. I can’t even ask someone for help without having a mild panic attack! Did you know that? I hate how I am so sad and weak all the fucking time. I hate me, I hate me.”

“___, please, please don’t say that. Please.”

“Why, huh? So you can pretend to have a normal daughter, if you want to pretend I even exist today-”

“NO!” She screams making you silent. You could hear the whispering of the tables around you, but you pay it no mind. They were the lucky ones, they wouldn’t understand. “So you don’t turn out like me.”

“…What?”

She exhales deeply, her face morphed into anguish, “I never wanted you to be like me, ___. Never. Y-your father made so many promises to me, told me he loved me so much. I was a shy, quiet conservative woman who fell into his trap. Then one day he just got up and left. A-and I was so stuck I didn’t know what to do! No one taught me how to raise a child, I had no guidance, no family and barely any money.”

You listen to her silently. The air was thick and her breathing rapid. For some reason you really wanted to dry her tears.

“A-And then you w-were born. B-but every time I looked at you…I remembered what your father did. I remembered that I never wanted a child. I remembered that because of you…I couldn’t go anywhere and do anything, and I was trapped in the same damned town for the rest of my miserable days. I was so lonely and ashamed…I couldn’t hate you though…I tried but you were so small and fragile I just couldn’t. Yet it was easy to pretend you didn’t exist. So, I did just that…to help me cope, I pretended you weren’t there. That I never met a man like your father and he never betrayed me…”

She looks at her hands, “But I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have have…but I realized it too late…when you already met Jimin…”  

You tense.

“Since the start…he reminded me of your father, and it terrified me. I was so scared for you, and I tried to get you not to marry him. But you hated me, and it was all my fault. You sought for the love I couldn’t give you so desperately, that it was easy for you to fall victim to someone who wanted to take advantage of you. I prayed for you…for your relationship every day, I wanted to be wrong so bad…I did ___.” She looks up at you with a frantic gaze. “I never wanted you to be like me, never ever. I did so many horrible things to you. I’m so sorry ___. I’m so sorry. I know you can never forgive me, and that will live with me for the rest of my days.”

Your mom looks back down. Her expression empty and tears still. It seems like she let out all she wanted to say and now she was a ghost. There was nothing in her…nothing. She reminded you of herself, which is why you said the next words.

“I can’t forgive you…” You speak softly and she winces. “The young me…can’t forgive you. The one who was subjected to your neglect. The innocent child striving for a mere ounce of love and affection. The part of me that you disregarded every day until even I questioned if I existed. I can’t.”

She physically deflated, as if agreeing with your sentiments.

“But-” You interrupt her acceptance, “The me now…the me growing and changing and evolving every single day. The me who’s learned to be happier…who’s learning how to find herself and converse with others…the me who has learned to heal…that me. I…can forgive you.”

And you watch her as she takes a moment. Looking up at you like a star just exploded.  

“I can forgive you, mom.”

The next moments were a blur. She seemed extremely please, beyond ecstatic and you felt for her. Especially when she cried like a baby, and you think she was the child now. You mother was the small one now, the one who needed your love. And you weren’t going to be someone who repeats her mistakes. Everything you said to her was true. You could forgive her now. It would take some time, but strangely you understood her.

If Jimin left you with a child, you would have the hardest time acknowledging it. All the pain you would feel could be unintentionally directed at it. You were so glad you weren’t in her shoes. They were bigger than you could imagine. As you breathe out, you feel it all leave you. The resentment you’ve held onto for years. The resentment that grew too heavy for you to carry.

It was lifted off your back and you could breathe again. There were traces of bitterness left, staining the deepest corners, but you will work on washing them out.

“I…know it’s too late…but I will try to be better ___.” She looks at you with her swollen eyes. It was as of you were staring at your reflection.  

“I think you already are.” You say with a smile, directed more to yourself.

You really were your mother’s daughter.

_

It was silence once again.

A screaming silence, that woke your inner most core as you step into the vacant apartment. You were so tired. The meeting with your mom ran longer than you thought and now you just wanted to drown into your bed. Taking off your coat, you hang it by the rack before changing into your slippers. Without a second thought, you bee line for your bed room ready to sleep today off.  

But you halt in your tracks as you notice something on the dining table a few feet from you. A stack of white papers. You look around you, as if searching for someone before you look back at the table once again. It had been a few weeks since that night. Jimin would come by when you weren’t around, take more of his stuff and leave. Half of you was wondering why he was taking his sweet time and torturing you…the other half was yearning for as much time with him as possible.

With a defeated sigh, you slowly make your way to the dining table. Every single inch of this space had so many memories attached to it. Each step felt like reliving it all again. Once you bump into a dining chair, you can read the letters as bold as day.  

Divorce papers.

Oh.

Jimin was working quicker than you thought. You expected his, but not this soon. It hit you then. That you didn’t realize how real of this was until this very moment, as you reread those big black letters in the stiffest font. This was real, it was happening.

Jimin was finally going to leave you.

That’s right, he gets to leave. While you were stuck washing out the resentment.

So, you let out a breathless laugh. One after the other until you were full on laughing at the situation. Oh my God, you tried so hard and for what? You tore yourself up and for who? There was nothing left of you, you gave it all away and what did that get you in return.

You were so crazy stupid, it was insane. You actually apologized when Jimin cheated on you. You forgave him multiple times. You starved yourself, you loathed yourself, you killed the young girl just wanting honest love and respect inside of you. And you cried until your eyes broke and you’re crying now.

You’re crying for the girl who once stood in that mirror, pinching every ounce of her skin till it bruised. Scourging herself for never being good enough. You’re crying for your lost dignity, handing it to someone with clumsy hands you thought were loyal. You’re crying at how you lost who you were, not only in the longest seven years of your life, but ever since you were born. You’re crying because that’s all you ever did for you.

How different life would have been if your mother had taught you how to love yourself? If her mother had taught her how to love herself? If the men in your lives didn’t continue to ravage you of all you could offer. It felt like some sort of curse.

Which is why you fell to the floor to let it all out. The tremendous pain and grief that built over the years, the horrible conditions of your body and mind. Every single pore had to leak, only then you would truly be free.

You’re crying because you wasted your life away. You’re crying because you treated yourself this way, when you didn’t deserve anything but love, trust, and honesty.

You’re crying because you learned too late of what – who you should have loved.

You were crying because your book wasn't written by you, but by somehow who couldn’t care less about you.

You are crying because of what is and what isn’t.

And trust me when I say, you’re crying for the last time.  

_

You woke up today and the ache was still there, that mind numbing helpless feeling of isolation.  

But instead of that horrible drilling pain to the brain, it was a small tremor in the back of your head. And for the most part, you could ignore it. Sauntering down the hall with your many files, you stop in front of the large wooden door and stare at the name plaque. The morning air felt fresh. Maybe that was why you took so many deep breaths. And another one, before knocking on the door.

“Come in.” You hear an easy-going voice and you open the heavy door carefully.

“Ah! ___, I was just about to call you! Great job at that meeting by the way, you really wowed the investors.”

Your boss sat relaxed at the front of the vast room, in the middle of her bulky brown desk like some sort of royal.

“Thank you.” You smile, stepping into her large office. The air was cooler in here and a shiver ran down your spine at the sudden chill that intruded your light purple blouse. Your skin erupted in small goosebumps, both from the temperature and the sights of your grinning boss.

Not that you didn’t want to see it, you were just so unsure of what to do when it would inevitably fade at the news you were about to share. It’s what you’ve been scarred of from your whole life, the thought of disappointing an authority figure. But seeing as how two-thirds of them disappointed you instead, you really could not care anymore at this point.

She watches you pace your way up to her desk, small inquisitiveness in her wide set eyes.

“Did you have something for me?” She asks, pointing to the files in your hand with her gaze.

“Oh, these-” You put down the big stack of gray folders in front of her, “This is just something you have to look over.”

“I see. And what about that?”

Your grip tightens around the envelope in your now empty hands. “T…This is…my resignation letter.”

Her stare shifts from the envelope to you, mouth parting to display her surprise.

“Resignation?”

Throughout your life you always thought your body was a strange one. The length of the reactions you felt had to be abnormal, you continuously believed it. Do others feel this cold when they are alone? Do others feel this upset at the sun for rising? Do they feel the deep ache of the tragic finale that was the last 7 years? You sure did. But you still got up, you still made it out of that wretched house that was too bare to bear, and you kept it moving. And to you, that’s what matters.

There was so much thinking you did last night, so many thoughts flew in and around your head. You wonder how others reflect back on their life. What regrets do they swallow, what makes them laugh the loudest? What parts do they cry the hardest and who do they miss?

You couldn’t tell, you’d only been you the past 7 years. It was useless to sonder. So you didn’t, instead you thought about who you were. On that cold floor of the house you cemented with your naïve heart, tears dried by the very air you hated, you thought about the past seven years.

And the past 4 months.

The rooftop, the club, the people in your life, the people not, the heart break, the longing. You had always been analytical, and it was safe to say you had found the answer you sought.

It was funny how the answer became so clear once you only thought about yourself, obscuring yourself from other’s needs for the very first time.  

“Yes.” You state undoubtedly, cold long forgotten. “I’m resigning.”

Another sigh as you leave the room. But this one was of relief. Although a bit upset at losing her best employee, she had taken the news surprisingly well. She even encouraged you when you told her what you were planning to do after this. Irene would be glad to hear that.

Although the pain was there, it didn’t have a hold on you anymore. You wouldn’t allow it to.

“There you are!” You hear, jumping in your spot as your palm was still on your boss’ door handle.

As you look up, a handsome young man with bunny-esque features jogs up to you. His left arm was behind his back, concealing something from your vision. All you could focus on was the strain it caused his muscles.

“I was looking for you,” He comes up close and you could hear his rapid breathing. His lavender scent gentle invades your space. You look at him curiously, watching the way his face falls as he realizes where you stood, “Hey, were you meeting the CEO? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

The fact that he seemed genuinely concerned made you laugh. “I’m not.”

He exhales a sigh of relief. “Thank God, didn’t want you getting fired for being in love with me.”

For the longest time you had been avoiding him. Ever since thinking of him in that way, you ran away from wherever you spotted him. Yet you had forgotten how easy-going he was. How effortlessly he made you laugh.

“Pfft, please.” You scrunch your nose, “You’re a goofball.”

He just stares at you, a wide smile present on his face. Tilting your head to the side, you squint at him.

“What’s the matter?”

“N-nothing, you just…seem different today…from last time I mean.”

“In a bad way?”  

“No!” He shouts flustered, “I-in g- a good way! You seem relaxed.”

You break out into a laugh. He really was the brightest employee. It was a shame you didn’t get to spend more time with him.  

“Thank you.” You say, as you watch him blush fondly. “I feel different. Relaxed, I guess.”

I’m no longer cold.

His gaze travels down, as if he had something he wanted to say. Your eyebrow quirks at him when you remember he still had his arm behind his back.

“What are you hiding?” You ask with a sneaky smirk.

He grins back at you, displaying his large teeth. Biting his bottom lip, he swings his arm out,  

“Tah-dah!”

There were suddenly a bundle of white roses in front of you, a gentle scent of freshness blew past you. You subconsciously took a long whiff, the pure layered petals creating a picture-esque image. Once your surprise passed, you were left doubtful.

A part of you had forgotten the bet.

“Roses?”

“Yup.” The man holding the bundle up to your face beamed

Scoffing, you place your hands on your hips. “Are you kidding? You expect me to believe you found roses around the building?

“But I did.” He pouts, and for a second you were ready to blindly believe him. Until you caught ahold of yourself. This lying brat!

“Where exactly did you find these beautifully healthy flowers, hmm? The backwall where even weeds don’t grow?”

“Yes, actually.” He states just as proudly, “I planted them.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “You did what?!”

He moves closer to you, you could feel his breath hitting you as his face was adjacent with yours. “I. Planted. Them.”

“T-that’s…Y-y-you ca-”

“Why not?” He asks with a mischievous glint in his eye, “The bet was to find flowers on the property, it doesn’t matter where they came from. And like you said, there’s some gorgeous land on the backwall.”

Your jaw drops slightly at his reasonings. You wanted to continue arguing but instead you just stood there watching him giggle in the most adorable way.

“You wanted pretty flowers, I got you pretty flowers.” He winks, handing you the roses. “Think of it as a one-month anniversary gift.”

Oh, right. He still thought you were new here.

His naivety makes you burst into laughter, the first genuinely happy expression you’ve made in months. It was mystery at first, but now you knew now why you liked him so much. The youthful nature, the sincerity he displayed was alluring. You didn’t have to be any front you had put up in the past in front of him, instead you were just another person. Someone normal for once.

“Thank you Jungkook.” You laugh as he proudly holds up his nose. Just as your eyes twinkle upon him, you recall upon something suddenly. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a small piece of paper, your number scribbled on it long ago. Honestly, you couldn’t help but like him.

“Here. You earned it.”

He looks at your hand extending the paper, as your other holds the roses close to your heart. His heart beat quickens at the sight, you were so graceful and effortlessly beautiful, he wanted to know you more and more. Jungkook knew when he first saw you, the traces of a secret battle all across your face. Although he didn’t want to pry, he couldn’t help but let his heart be captured by the silent beauty that shone from you as natural as daylight.

“Thank you.” He mutters, his ears turning red.

While you look at him staring at your digits in awe, you found him to be an absolutely enchanting man. And you wanted him to know that, so you step up to him, softly connecting your lips with his cheek. You could feel him freeze under you, and it made you feel enthralled. It was nice, being in control for once.

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

With that you sauntered down the hall, almost turning the corner before you hear his melodious tone stutter out to you. “T-this Saturday? It’s a date!”

Although surprised, you said nothing, just continuing to walk along the hallway. But you couldn’t help the grin that broke out on your face, thankfully obstructed from him, of course. You felt giddy all the way back to your office. Once you were there, you squealed in glee.

Through your small jumps and smiles, your phone rang, startling you. Already? You thought before checking the caller ID. In a flash your beam dropped, orbs beholding the name anxiously. How did he get your number? With a hasty sigh to calm you nerves, and an oddly guilty feeling, you decidedly answer the call.

“Hello…Yoongi?

Meanwhile, back at your boss’ hallway, a certain bunny boy hadn’t moved an inch. Argh, he felt so stupid. Why did he ask you out so fast? The plan was to first call you, maybe get to know you. But somehow, when you told him you’d see him around, it felt like a goodbye…the forever type. His gut told him he had to act quickly.

You didn’t even respond though…wow he felt dumb. Huffing, he rubs his face with his oversized hands. He didn’t blow it, did he? Should he call you tonight to make sure? Did you even want him to call? Well, obviously, you gave him your number!

As he was faced with a silent moral dilemma, he fails to register a young woman pacing up to him.

“Hello?”

He jumps with a small scream, which has the lady confused. She recognizes him though, he must’ve been one of the new recruits. Yes, the overly enthusiastic one.

“Umm, Mr. Jeon, right? You were just speaking to the supervisor, weren’t you? Can you give her this last gray file for me, please? I forgot to hand it to her.” With that the lady clacks away in a rush.

Jungkook stares at the file. She must have been talking about you. He smiles, thinking this gave him a valid reason to look for you again without seeming like a creep. This time, he’ll be more suave – more stress-free with his methods. This time, he’ll have his answer. The stretchy smile soon disappears, however, once the lady’s words fully register in his mind.

Did she just say supervisor?!

It was subtle really, blink once and you’d miss it.

Jimin softly shut the door behind him, looking into the dim living room he never quite got used to.

Did this place always feel so empty? He thought, staring at the walls with disinterest. He’s never had to be in here alone, he realizes. You were always here to warm the spaces between the loneliness.

But who was here to warm you?

It didn’t matter anymore – you didn’t matter anymore. You had changed, you weren’t the person Jimin agreed to marry. The you now weren’t someone he recognized. Time passes by too fast; he couldn’t keep up with it anymore. That’s why he wanted to end it with you as quickly as he could. Wasn’t it just yesterday he was confronted by you? Was it yesterday when he broke everything off?

He really couldn’t remember.

Oh, but his body sure did. His face grew thinner every day, arms losing the vitality his lithe limbs always presented. It was like his body realized you were leaving him and began a protest of its own. No one from college would recognize the Jimin he was now, the one who started to speak a little less. The one who stiffened his neck and sagged his shoulders. This wasn’t their Jimin.

As he stared off at the dining table, his mind recalls upon that rainy night. Where the distance between you started to grow like poisonous gas. It was the first time he felt the detachment from your side, since before you had always made yourself emotionally and physically available to him. Needless to say, he abhorred it, he hated what you had become. All without understanding the irony.

Jimin was someone who never understood his faults, too busy picking out the mistakes of others. Another thing he slighted in was confrontation, because he’s never been called out. Only when he looked in the mirror recently did he have the worst of days, lashing out at himself, at Tina at his friends and coworkers. Yes, he kept himself quite busy. Everyone was beginning to leave him, and he was getting desperate. Running his hands through his hair, he starts to trudge towards the bedroom. He was exhausted, shifting between work, leaving you and consoling Tina. His scandalous lover wanted to make a life with him, he just wanted to rest, maybe for a month or two. It’s alright though, he could just keep himself in her safety for a while before running off to whatever new toy he found next.  

Once he’s inside the bedroom, he freezes involuntarily. The sight of the familiar place had his heart yearning. It made him angry, that feeling of attachment he could possibly have connected to you. You were nothing to him and these days you were a headache to deal with. He gave seven years to you, you should’ve been grateful. Now he just missed the old you, the you who would follow him blindly. Jimin wasn’t made to be questioned.

So why did he feel like puking his guts out onto the floor? Why did it wound him to blink? Face it, the voice inside sneers at him. You love. Someone like her. You’re pathetic.

No, he doesn’t.

Yet he recalls upon another buried memoir. When he first started dating you, he slept with another girl in the same week. That’s what he did to all the girls he ‘dated,’ it turned him on to know people desired even if he was ‘taken.’ It was then as he held the other woman asleep in his arms, you texted him ‘goodnight’ and a bizarre feeling came over him. Guilt. He became so afraid, he ignored you for a week. Until he yearned to see you again. And why exactly should Jimin deny himself of anything he seeks? The same situation occurred a few more times, till it became a habit like alcohol. Although it may burn the next day, in that moment you enjoy the carnal pleasure for what it was. Pleasure.

He would never admit that other women never gave him the same sensation anymore, that you and the vanilla and wholesome sex meant everything to him at some point. Never, ever. Because he didn’t love you. The beating in his head couldn’t convince him otherwise.

In all honesty, he didn’t have an answer himself. Why did Jimin marry you? He didn’t love you…you just asked him about it once. Subtly hinting to marriage when asking him about what his thoughts on it were. Of course, you’d want commitment, every damn bitch wants commitment. And in that moment, he should have shut you down. Should have used his charms to make your place clear to you. Yet he didn’t have it in him to hurt you. Instead he proposed to you the next week, thinking that you’d vanish like the other girls when he made his intentions clear. But why? Why were you the only one different? It wasn’t like he loved you.

He didn’t.

Which is why it was easy for him break it off with you, wasn’t it? So easy, that he hadn’t slept or eaten in days.  

He was on the brink, his conscious just needed a little more push to take over.

Jimin wasn’t here for anything big today. Just searching for a custom J pendant he seemed to have lost a while back. Sadly, he didn’t know if it was you or not – he didn’t know where it was at all actually. Maybe he left it here, maybe he left it with another faceless girl he fucked senseless. As soon as he forces himself back to reality, he begins to look around. He was already late today, and you would be home soon…he didn’t want to run into you again.

Cluttering about, a bit staggered from his lack of forte, he steps up to the bedside drawer in one swift motion. He pulls open the drawer, running his fingers through all the items present inside. It was then that he stumbled upon a letter.

Marked with his name.

He couldn’t help but feel curious, drawn to your timid handwriting on the otherwise blank paper. Picking it up, he opens it to find hundreds of words scribbled together. Although the words were slightly messy, there were no mistakes he spotted, leading him to think you must have rewritten the letter a thousand times.

His breath was in his lungs, his feet glued to the floor. Something inside him wanted to put it back – leave it alone, his nauseous gut giving him another warning. But he began to read it anyway. Because why should Jimin be denied from anything he seeks?

Dear Jimin, the letter began and Jimin’s eyebrow twitched.

I’m not sure how to write this. I’ve rewrote it so many times already my wrist hurts. But I do want to tell you all of this, and as I am not the best at conversing my thoughts across, I would rather jot them all down. In hopes that my heart could reach you through them.

I’ve recently done a lot of stuff I never thought were possible for me. I made a friend, I learned a new interest, I took up therapy. There’s so much I want to talk about! But I’ll keep it short. Even through everything I did, I thought of you. Every corner I turned; ever route I took. Somehow, I felt you were on the other side, waiting for me.

No matter what anyone said, it didn’t mean anything to me. Just you, Jimin. And I realized, how much I need you. How I can’t lose you. I lost my mother Jimin, I lost her because I wasn’t perfect, and I know, to you I am not perfect.

But to me, you’re perfect Jimin. Which is why I don’t care what anyone says. I’m scared of coming home lost and cold, I’m scared of losing my home, which is you. I know I haven’t been great to you these past few days and the truth is I was hurt. I was alone and scared, but I should have known...I should have remembered who you are to me.

These past few years I am beyond grateful for. Thank you for spending your days growing old with me. I remember all the little stuff. Like that time, we went to the theater and you ordered too much popcorn and the aftertaste of the butter lasted in your mouth for a week. You always said me kissing you made the taste a bit more bearable. Or what about that time I got malaria and you stayed up for three days with me in the hospital? I have never seen you so scared.

That’s our love, Jimin. Those days mean so much to me, I wish you would remember them.

No person can get between us, Jimin. I won’t allow them. I want to apologize to you; I want to take everything I said back. I’ll be better, Jimin. I’ll remind you why you wanted to marry me.  

I’ll be perfect, Jimin.

So, please. Come home to me...darling.

Sincerely, your loving wife.

The door slammed open and shut, breaking him out of his concentration. Jimin was too immersed, he didn’t even notice how much time had passed. All he did know were of the tears that lingered his sockets. With an aching inhale, he practically ran out of the living room to catch you by the entrance. It was like magic then, you were a sight to behold. A most beautiful fairy.

You were in the middle of removing your heels before you noticed Jimin’s presence. It made you halt in your tracks, your hand still carrying your small pumps. He holds you inside his gaze with such intensity, it makes you gulp. What was he doing here? Had he always looked this sick?

…Was he crying?  

In moments he was upon you, his strong arms molding around your limbs as he exhales into your neck. You were as stiff as a board, confusion and angst swirling your mind.  

“J…Jimin, wha-”

“I love you, ___.”

…

What?

“I love you, I love you ___.” He repeats, moving off you to stare into your eyes. His orbs were bright, glazed but sparkly. All you could do was gape at him.

And in the midst of your shook state, you peak at the letter clasped in his hand.

He follows your gaze, holding up the paper to you.  

“Let me explain.” Jimin pleads, seeming sincere for the first time in…forever. “T-that night, our anniversary night, I wanted to come home to you. I really did. But Tina got into my head with and she...she manipulated me. Into thinking I don’t love my own wife! I was so confused, so instead I decided to listen to my carnal desires once again, push you out of my mind the only way I knew how.”

You were still trying to process everything. Why was he here again? “Wha...what?”

He looks sad just then, beyond exhausted like he was on the brink.

“I love you…___. Everyone’s leaving me these days, but you. You were always there for me.”

“…Jimin…”

“___, I…I have been in a lot of pain since I left. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I missed you so much. I never wanted to admit it, I always ran from it. And you were just…always so understanding…that I never looked back at my actions. Never thought what I was doing might hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

It hit you like a truck. Jimin apologized. This was the Jimin you saw that day after Mina. The vulnerable, broken boy.

“You’ve been coming on so strong…I couldn’t handle it. I thought I finally got the chance to break it off with you and be free…but I was wrong. I was wrong. I love you, ___. I don’t know since when but maybe I always had. And being away from you helped me understand that, the agony I felt. The yearning…I never want to leave home again. Your letter helped me understand! You make me a better person, ___.”

Jimin smiles, “So I’ll stay. I’m home ___. Thank you for bringing me home.”

Once again, he wraps you in his hug, ready to end the night with you in his arms. He finally feels free after so long, the spikes slowly removing themselves off his body. You were his energy, he realizes, you would help him get back on his feet. Finally, everything will be okay again, finally he can have you within his pincers once more. How he’s missed the delicious taste of eating you alive.

But as happy as he feels…he couldn’t help notice you weren’t responding.

Slowly, he unwinds from you, muddled. He takes a look at you, you who didn’t make any face. You who weren’t reacting to him the way he always knew you would.

Instead, you just glared.

It was his turn to be flustered, his turn to take a step back and process everything.

“___?”

“I…don’t love you, Jimin.”

Silence. As if you just dropped a bomb. His eyes widen, before squinting at you.

“W-what? Since when?” He almost sounds offended

“Since just now.”

“…What are you saying, ___.” He scoffs, taking your hand in his. You weren’t wearing your ring…again. “You love me.”

“I don’t.” You say more firmly, removing your hand from his. Jimin just stares at his now empty palm in surprise. “I don’t love you Jimin, and I’m not sorry about it.”

When he doesn’t retort, you sigh. “Jimin, did you know…a few days ago…I heard my secretary on the phone…she was talking to her boyfriend.” Looking down at how close your bodies were, you take a step away from him as courtesy, but you fail to regard the way his face grimaced at your distance. “He told her ‘I love you’ and do you know what she said?”

You look back up at him, and Jimin wonders if you were truly asking him for a second. “She told him ‘I know,’ just like that. Almost like she took it for granted, you know. But I didn’t think of it like that…instead I was jealous of her. Because in her mind, she doesn’t have any doubts that her boyfriend loves her. Which is why she’s able to respond so casually like that…he gives her so much love, that she never has to second guess her answer.”

Giving him a moment to register everything you said, you pause for a bit and smile.

“And Jimin…I have never felt that way with you.”

He winces.

“I have always doubted myself, second guessed your love and honesty. I always thought ‘there’s no way he could love me’ and there was nothing you did to convince me otherwise. But do you know Jimin? Do you know how many times you’ve said, ‘I know’ when I told you how much I love you?”

“_...” His voice dies

“That’s what I want, Jimin. I realize, it’s what I always wanted. That unconditional, blatant love. That’s what I deserve. I went through so much…yet I held onto you still. No matter what anyone said. And if anyone was looking at me right now, into my life, they would think I was crazy. But it was just that I couldn’t let you go. I couldn’t do it, I don’t know why. I just couldn’t…”

There was a glimmer of hope in his dark pupils.

“Even in that letter…I held back so much because I was afraid of surprising you. I could never be honest with myself. So that’s why…thank you for letting me go. For leaving me. Do you know how much I accomplished when you left me, how much I couldn’t accomplish in years? I had an actual orgasm, I left my job, I’m going to start a restaurant with my best friend, Jimin, I gave a guy my number.” His face went through many changes; anger, shock, hurt. But you continued on anyway. “All of that, just because you weren’t around poisoning me. Leaving me was the best thing you did for me, Jimin.”

He begins to tear down, tears fall in his eyes and he looks away. His jaw was clenches and his nostrils flared, telling you he was upset. But you didn’t feel satisfied, you didn’t feel happy that he was as hurt as you had been. You felt nothing for him. Maybe except pity.

Carefully, you step closer to him. Taking his face in your palm.  

“And I hope, Jimin, that leaving me helps you as well. That you stop chasing after meaningless convictions and you find whatever it is that can keep you grounded. You’ve hurt a lot of people Jimin, and for that you will suffer a lot as well. Me, all the girls and people you threw away after using. We never could help each other together, but we can help each other apart. It’s going to stab for a while, and you’ll feel as cold for a very long time. But then, I’ll pray for you to learn Jimin. I’ll try.”

And that was that, the ache lingering in your heart, was pushed all the way down to your stomach. It was still there, but not bothering you as much. Not controlling your destiny any longer. In your senses a melody played in the background; a constricted melancholic piano melody dedicated to love, to the happiness and woes.

This man you stared at, the man you once loved for seven whole years, who was he now? He couldn’t be blamed for everything, you had given him chances to hurt you again and again after all. More importantly, who were you? Definitely not the same woman you’d been when you first found out about Jessica. Not Mina. Not even the new one. You were changing, always evolving and you were proud of that.

You really were so thankful that Jimin had decided not to come home that night. That he continuously left you alone, to stand on your own. Because now your legs felt stronger than ever. There were a lot of people you were thankful for, a lot left to confront but this was your story. So good job you. Your love was first and foremost for yourself. Of course, you’ll continue therapy, you’ll work hard to open a new restaurant, you’ll try to give yourself the happiness you always deserved. Not every day would be great, some days you were going to struggle and there would be a lot of tears. But they’ll be your tears, your struggles, your joy, they won’t be based off of some other person’s mood.

This was only the end of Jimin’s chapter. Your real story will begin from today.

You were never going to convince yourself otherwise. Were never going to push down your feelings and act like they didn’t exist. That was the least Jimin had taught you.

It really was nice outside that rotten cocoon.

He was quiet for the first time in ages, and you honestly preferred silence from him. There were a lot of stupid things he said once he opened his mouth. Why should he become a better person from your pain? What kind of creator allows that?

After a moment of staring at his lost soul, you take a deep breath, exhaling softly. You couldn’t stay here too long, Yoongi had called you, getting your number off someone named Joy, asking you to come over to Cypher Road. He wanted to apologize for that night, as well as meet someone. If Jimin needed help, he should go search for it like an adult.

“Ok, umm…finish up whatever you were up to…I have to head out.” You say, turning around. Jimin doesn’t respond, but you couldn’t care less how he feels right now. “And I signed the divorce papers, they are on your shelf in the closet. Tell me when they are finalized, I’ll be free all week.”

You turn the door handle, pulling the door open halfway before remembering something and spinning back to him.  

“Not… Saturday though. I have a date.”

#bts #jimin #bts smut #bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts angst #Jimin angst #BTS fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook #taehyung #R:CHTMD

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Aight my dudes here’s chapter four of Oopsie Daisies have fun. Thanks again to @edward-or-ford for editing!

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies Chapter Four: Shadows

You’re all I want and I don’t know why. This new addiction is all I know, and it’s safe to say that I’ve lost control. - 2 in the Chest, 1 in the Head, New Years Day

Mabel knew a great many things. She knew how to fix rips in tights and leggings without making it noticeable (and if it was noticeable, it was fucking fabulous, okay?). She knew how to straighten and re-curl her hair in just the right way. She knew how to contour her makeup to change the way her facial structure appeared, and how to paint a mug while keeping it dishwasher safe.

Mabel was, of course, interested enough in those things to learn about them. What she was not interested in is how things work. It was far more important that they do work rather than how, as far as she was concerned. So whenever her Grunkles, dad, and Dipper got together to watch a marathon of How It’s Made on the Shack’s frankly ancient TV, both Mabel and her mom were bored out of their minds.

She was forced to learn plenty in school, thank you very much. It was winter break. She didn’t wanna learn on winter break. Gross. That’s the exact opposite of what winter break is for, and Mabel was of the opinion that doing otherwise is positively blasphemous, but under the careful tutelage of her mother, she’d long since stopped trying to understand the males of the species. Or rather, the males of her family specifically (she’d managed to obtain a vague grasp on the male minds outside of her family, or at least some of them, she thought. Perhaps the boys at her school were just easy to read, or maybe it was teenage boys in general. Not that they were strictly logical in her mind, of course; she just understood how their brains worked to some degree).

And so, an hour after they return to the Shack from the hike, Mabel found herself standing at the kitchen counter, carefully stacking the fifty-seventh (she hadn’t counted, of course, but it was indeed the fifty-seventh) mini marshmallow on top of its companions in her mug of hot chocolate while the beginnings of their silly show blared in the background.

She was humming an old BABBA song as she plucked another marshmallow from the bag, swaying her hips back and forth to the beat in her mind. She stopped when she heard the sound of footsteps, looking over her shoulder to see Dipper shuffling into the room on socked feet.

He was looking everywhere but her. Mabel found this unusual, but what was infinitely more odd was the way he walked over to her quietly, dropped a folded piece of paper at her feet, and then promptly moved to open the fridge as if nothing at all had occurred.

Dropping the marshmallow into her mug, she reached down to retrieve the paper.

“Uh… Dip, you dro-“

“What do you think I should have to drink?” Dipper cut in quickly, the words sloppy and thrown together without proper enunciation.

Mabel blinked. He didn’t want her to ask about it, that much was evident. A note for her, then, perhaps? A secret note?

“Well… I’m having hot chocolate, myself,” she suggested.

“With an obscene number of marshmallows, I see.”

Mabel gasped and put a hand to her chest. “Me? My dear brother, I am positively offended that you would even suggest such a thing!”

He grinned. “Maybe I’ll have some more cider.” He poured himself a glass and left the room before Mabel could think to ask about the paper again.

Glancing around to make sure nobody was coming, she turned back towards her mug, just so, if needed, she could shove the paper into her sweater pocket unnoticed and pretend she was still preparing her hot chocolate. She unfolded it carefully. Dipper didn’t write her handwritten notes. She was a bit excited (more than a bit, but she would never admit to such a thing). Sue her. His handwriting was messy, and she had some minor difficulties reading it, but she did manage to decipher it after a brief moment of staring at the page.

I need to talk to you in private. Once everyone’s gone to bed here, I’ll pick you up from Candy’s. I’ll text you if anything goes wrong.

In private? Mabel’s heart might very well have stopped. She’d never been alone with Dipper. This afternoon had been the closest she’d ever come to it. Even then, though, they hadn’t been actually, truly, genuinely, legitimately alone. Their parents had been right there. And then they’d been interrupted. Their parents were always there.

She was so nervous, so focused on the way her heart was pounding in her ears, that she completely forgot to put the marshmallows away.

—————

If Mabel could see how nervous Dipper was as he pulled on his jeans and shoes, she wouldn’t have believed it was in any way related to her. If it was somehow proven to her that it was related to her, however, she would have been thrilled beyond all measure.

But Mabel couldn’t see Dipper, as he was on the other end of a text message that read leaving now, and so she remained wholly unaware of the absolute terror he wasn’t bothering to keep from his facial expression, as there was none of the usual audience present.

With no one around to request an explanation, Dipper felt no need to keep his anxiety in check as he placed his shaking foot on the last stair of the Shack.

He was about to walk over to the coat rack by the front door when-

“Dipper,” rang out his father’s voice, the low tone sounding like a roar in the quiet of the house.

Dipper whirled around to face his dad, who was seated in an armchair hidden in the shadows of the living room. It was no wonder Dipper hadn’t noticed him before he spoke; he could’ve been a shadow himself.

Dipper was relieved it was too dark for Mr. Pines to see his expression clearly, the man’s face obscured by darkness. He instead concerned himself with his body language and voice. He hunched himself over as if he were barely awake and faked a yawn.

“Dad, you scared me.”

“What are you doing up this late?” Mr. Pines asked.

“Getting a glass of water. Woke up thirsty,” Dipper explained, careful to keep his voice tired-sounding.

“Mmm,” Mr. Pines nodded. “Kitchen’s that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction Dipper had been walking in, as if Dipper didn’t live there and was not fully aware of the Shack’s layout (note: Dipper was indeed fully aware of the Shack’s layout and could certainly navigate it half asleep).

“Huh?” Dipper said with false bleariness. “Oh, right.”

Shuffling into the kitchen, Dipper poured himself a glass of water and moved sluggishly back to the living room with it in hand.

“Goodnight, son.”

“Night, dad,” Dipper mumbled with more fake sleepiness.

If Mabel had seen it, she wouldn’t know what to feel. But she hadn’t seen it, because Dipper was on the other end of a dad’s awake, we’ll have to tomorrow text.

She also couldn’t see the expression he made when she replied, asking why he couldn’t just text it to her, and not to keep her in suspense, nor could Dipper see her inflamed face (and neck and ears, if we’re honest, but don’t share such observances with Mabel) or the way she was biting her lip nervously, perhaps he might not have been as nervous. Perhaps he might have even been hopeful.

But alas, neither twin had the other in their sight, and were therefore doomed to be eaten alive by their anxiety and respective insecurities.

If one knows anything about teenage girls (and perhaps even a fair percentage of women as well), one is fully cognizant of the rather unfortunate tendency many of them have to analyze, reanalyze, and overanalyze each individual word, action, and tone of voice that emerges from the object of their affection.

In Mabel’s case, she was seated on the cold tiles of Candy’s bathroom, back leaning against the locked door. It was late enough that Grenda and Candy were asleep, thankfully. Recently, Mabel had been taking forever to fall asleep. Which was strange, because she had never had any issues that could be anywhere near insomnia before. Thus, everyone else fell asleep before she did.

It wasn’t her fault. Honestly, it wasn’t! It was just that Dipper was so damn attractive and sweet and funny, and how could she sleep when she could only fight her thoughts of him while conscious? He plagued her dreams, so she couldn’t even escape him in sleep the way she used to be able to do. He had invaded her every thought, every moment, every breath. He was in her bloodstream. In her veins. She could not escape her yearning for him.

And so, as she sat on the bathroom floor staring at her phone, at Dipper’s last text of I need to tell you in person, she typed out a slow, resigned okay and leaned her head back against the door.

What was going on with him? He’d told her so many things over text before and it had never been an issue. Why was this different? Maybe he was only insisting on telling her in person because they were so close distance-wise, which wasn’t a regular occurance, of course, but maybe he’d have been perfectly fine with telling her whatever it was over text if she hadn’t been visiting Gravity Falls? Or maybe he’d want to FaceTime or Skype instead? Or maybe it was so very important he tell her in person that he’d actually been waiting since the last time they had seen each other?

But what could be so important? How was it so important he needed to tell her in person? Was it truly so different than every other thing he’d ever told her? Countless stories and anecdotes and complaints and late-night phone calls and existential discussions; how was this different?

No matter how much she thought and analyzed it (which, rest assured, was a great deal indeed), she kept coming back to one thing, one unthinkable, horrifying, terrifying, heart-wrenching, devastating scenario:

What if he’d found his soulmate?

What else would have been so important, made it so essential he told her in person? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

Dipper had never mentioned how he felt about the prospect of having a soulmate. He knew how she felt about hers, and having a soulmark, but he’d never shared his own feelings with her in return.

Which was fair, honestly, because soulmates and soulmarks were intensely personal things. She might as well have asked him to strip down and do some nude modeling for her (which, side note, that sounded positively heavenly. She never drew him or painted him where anybody could see; only in the secret sketchbook she kept in a locked drawer in her bedroom, and those drawings were primarily focused on his jawline and facial structure, although she had drawn his butt on more than a few occasions. And his arms. And his torso. What could she say? She looked at him a lot, studied the way he moved, and he inspired her to create. In any case, she’d absolutely love to see him naked, obviously, because who wouldn’t, but to draw him… get it together Mabel, you’re getting all worked up!), which… was not going to happen, tragically.

He’d never shared anything regarding his soulmate with her. That meant, of course, that he hadn’t found his yet, nor was he in the unusual soulmarked-but-not-knowing-with-whom situation that Mabel herself was in. As indicated by his insistence on telling her in person (which he had, of course, never insisted upon before, or even expressed a passing desire to tell her something in person rather than digitally), whatever it was must have been more important than anything he’d ever told her.

What was more important than him finding his soulmate? She couldn’t think of another possibility. Couldn’t even fathom it, no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately, she couldn’t really fathom the possibility that he might’ve found his soulmate, either, but that was primarily because she didn’t want to.

What would that be like, to watch him with his soulmate? Knowing Mabel’s luck, she’d never find out who hers was (she’d clearly been around him her whole life and had yet to find him, so what were the odds she’d figure it out later? Once she left school, she’d probably start experiencing withdrawal symptoms, which would be horrible, but she had long since accepted the likelihood of that), and since she saw Dipper regularly and talked to him all the time, it wasn’t likely she’d get over him.

Family gatherings could be a real bitch.

Which meant, of course, that Mabel was doomed to suffer withdrawal symptoms for the rest of her life while watching the man she loved, who just so happened to be her twin brother, find his soulmate, fall in love, get married, and have children. It was when she considered things like that that the idea of regularly consuming Smile Dip sounded fan-freaking-tastic. At least then she’d be too out of it to suffer.

Mabel wasn’t one for wallowing in self-pity and misery. She was a fairly positive person. Whenever she found herself moping or depressed, she could usually pull herself out of it. In that respect, she was tremendously lucky, as not everyone was capable of that.

But with this, loving Dipper (or rather, being in love with Dipper, which she very much was)... there was this sadness deep inside of her that she just couldn’t seem to shake. She could tuck it away in the back of her mind, pretend it wasn’t there. At least for awhile, anyway. But it never left. Not really. It was always there, in the box she’d locked it away in. Sometimes, though, the box broke open, and it would consume her, like shadows consuming light.

When she thought of Dipper with his soulmate, smiling at a nameless, faceless stranger, beaming at his wedding (knowing Dipper, he’d insist she be a bridesmaid. What agony that would be), holding a child that wasn’t Mabel’s, could never, ever be Mabel’s (Mabel would probably be the godmother, too), the shadows never failed to consume her.

She pulled her legs to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees, and let the tears fall.

#gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #Pinecest #Mabel pines #dipper pines #fanfiction #fanfic #looks like someone picked a whole bushel of oopsie daisies #my writing

[kylorenfanfic]

Long Away - chapter 12

Kylo Ren x Female Reader

masterlist

Words: 3.1k

> Taglist is open :D if you want to know when the next chapters come out, ask me to be add in the taglist.

A/N:  Hey guys! Warning on this chapter, a slight smut :) Sorry for taking a while to post, I didn’t get much feedback on the previous one, so I thought no one would mind when I post it :( I hope you guys enjoy it! Please, leave a comment, a like a reblog, so I can know that someone is reading!!! Please, those feedbacks make me want to keep writing! You are lovely <3 And if you want to know when they next chapter is out, just ask me to be in the taglist. Stay safe yall. Sorry about any grammar mistakes or typos. --

You and Kylo returned together to the First Order Cruiser. The troopers that were supposed to keep eyes on you weren’t punished because Kylo knew that they wouldn’t be able to do it – that was why he went by himself to see what you were up to. Lucky for you, you were already in the Temple so he never knew about your encounter in the bar with Poe.

           In the way back to the cruiser you and Kylo didn’t talk, but once or twice you noticed yourself looking at him – after the conversation in the Temple, you knew things had change, you just didn’t know how and how much.

           The minor ship entered the cruiser and troopers came outside to receive the Supreme Leader – you being right next to him. Both of you walked out together and entered the ship together, not a word mentioned. You weren’t behind him but by his side, and both of you looked neuter, not like something bad had happened – that surely caused an impression on the employees that saw the scene, because you looked as powerful and relevant as the Supreme Leader himself.

           You and Kylo took separate ways at some point and no words were said. You went on your way to your chambers.

           “I see that you and the Supreme Leader have become quite close” you heard a male voice from behind you. You turned around to see who were talking to you and you saw General Hux standing on the hall, looking at you.

           “I beg you a pardon?” you asked him trying to figure out what he was talking about.

           “Now I understand why he asked you to stay around” he said getting closer to you. “I thought it weird myself because why would the Supreme Leader ask for a filthy bounty hunter to stay around? We don’t need them often neither do we need them around.”

           “What are you trying to say, General?” you asked now a bit angrier in your tone, because you were coming to notice what he was implying.

           “You are far from not being attractive, Ms. Lacer.” He smiled in sarcasm “If I were the Supreme Leader and someone like you offered me help I would take it without a second thought. Lucky you I proved yourself loyal, huh? Now you have become too loyal.”

           You just stared at him with a blank expression. “Are you implying that I am romantically involved with Kylo Ren?”

           “Let’s be honest here, (Y/N). Why else would you be that close to him now? Of course your work in his private chambers must be ve…” he didn’t finish talking – you didn’t let him to.

           “I think you should apologize, General.” You cut his words, approaching him, he had his eyebrows up, analyzing you, with sarcasm. You raised your hand, discreetly and used the Force to make Hux kneel.

           “Oh, look, kneeling a good way to start!” you said jokily with a smirk on your face. Hux tried to stand up but he couldn’t because of the Force, he had anger in his face.

           “You bit-” he started and you summoned him to near you, dragging him by his knees, you approached your face to his.

           “You better show me some respect, Hux.” You said looking deep into his eyes. “Are you going to apologize now?” you moved away your face from next to his. He moved his mouth to say something and you started to choke him.

           “I’m sorry, are you trying to say something? I can’t hear you” he was trying to speak but couldn’t. You let him go and smirked.

           “I’m sorry” he let go with his first breath.

           “Good boy” you said turning around to keep your way. Behind you there was Kylo Ren, you weren’t sure how long he had been there. You just passed next to him and no words were said.

           You entered your room and took a deep breath – that had been long day. After a shower, you laid down on your bed, with the head full of thoughts. You started to recall the day, first going to Coruscant, escaping from the troopers, finding Poe, having your first kiss with him, almost being robbed, Poe figuring out about your secrets, the Jedi Temple, Kylo Ren, the whole conversation, and now Hux.

           You were trying to avoid the Temple conversation in your thoughts, it was too much for you to take – you took Kylo’s hands joining him in his journey for power, knowledge and a better future for the galaxy, or whatever he wants to do with it, because you actually wanted it, but what about the Resistance? You had made friends in there and you couldn’t just easily explain to them the whole thing. Actually, people would never accept the future being dictated by one person only, especially one that they judged to be “a spoiled brat”. You had to thing about it. Also, you still had conflict in your heart, it wasn’t easy to hate someone for so long and blame him for all your problems and suddenly just let it go – Kylo Ren was still the one who killed all those people, and Hylia. Still, you were also letting go of the past.

           Your thoughts came back to Poe – the kiss. You didn’t really had the time to think about it, not much at least, with all that had happened. The Hux accusation connected with this thought, you almost laughed at it but then you remembered that the thought of how it would be to kiss him did cross your mind; afterwards, he was an attractive man. You wondered if he had ever kissed someone, he once was padawan as well, did he get the chance to have any experiences after that?

           Those weren’t important thoughts, you shook your head and laid on your side. Slowly you fell the sleep coming, and in this night, your brain decided to bring out past memories in your dreams.

           Your hair was soaking wet and you were widely smiling. You and a friend, Sony, were coming back from the lake, you two decided to enjoy a bit of the free time to have some fun. Sony wasn’t much older than you, you both shared a room, that was the main reason why you and her were usually seen together.

           The two of you were laughing over something silly that had happened in the lake, it had been a good day – you were on your way to your dormitory so you could clean yourselves and get some food with other friends.

           Your hair was shorter than now, and it was darker because of it being wet.

           “I can’t believe you didn’t feel that coming,” Sony said while laughing of you.

           “Oh, I’m sorry if you are a cheater!” you teased her

           “Take it back!” she answered with a fake-offended face, still smiling. You had a small ball in your pocket and got it in your hands.

           “See that coming!” you threw the ball in her direction, playfully, she dodged the ball and it was going to hit someone behind her.

           “Watch out!” you yelled, but it wasn’t necessary: he had stopped the ball by using the Force and got it in the air with his hand. You and Sony saw that was Ben Solo and you felt like burring yourself into the ground so no one could look at you, because honestly you felt as a pathetic child, soaking wet and throwing balls in someone else. Ben was around the same age as you two, in the teen years, but he looked older and more mature, so everybody else was afraid of him.

           “Sorry” you said shyly while slowly walking in his direction to get the ball back. He stood his hand in your direction and you got the ball from his hand. He gave you a small smirk as a way to say ‘it’s ok’, you didn’t smile back because of the way you felt embarrassed. He left.

           “My stars.” Sony said now walking by your side, you two back on your way to your dormitory.

           “What?” you asked, with your thoughts into something else.

           “Didn’t you see that? He’s so weird.”

           “Who? Ben Solo?”

           “Yeah. He’s so snob, I bet he thinks he’s better than everyone else just because he’s a Skywalker.” You just shrugged in return, you weren’t really interested in thinking about it, he wasn’t of your concern. You went ahead and opened the door for your dormitory and the moment you stepped inside, you were somewhere else.

           It was the Ancient Jedi Temple in Dantooine. You spent so many time in there that you felt weird of not remembering about it in a while. You weren’t much older now in this memory, it was a little after you first arrived there.

           There was a bonfire in the middle of the hall, hopefully the old Masters wouldn’t be mad at you for trying to warm yourself up and also get some hot meal. The cold walls of the Temple weren’t really a welcoming place, but it was the best place you had found to hide yourself: no one would remember Dantooine, a distant planet in the Outer Rim. And you felt way more protected inside a Jedi Temple – at least that was the reason why you went to live in there, after a few years you just got used to the place and didn’t care anymore about the Jedi Order. It was especially nice at first because you had found some old holocroms that gave you random information about the Old Jedi Order, the one destroyed shortly before the rise of the Empire.

           You weren’t used yet with the loneliness, and many times in the last days the thought of killing yourself crossed your mind – but you wouldn’t do it, Hylia had sacrificed herself for you life, you couldn’t just throw it away. At first you wanted revenge, you felt anger and just wanted to find Ben Solo and kill him with your own hands. You remembered that anger wasn’t a good feeling for a jedi, you tried to let it go but it was hard. Eventually you did let it go, as you did let go all your hope and good thoughts about the Jedi Order. But at that moment, in the memory, you were full of anger towards the now called Kylo Ren.

           You were sitting on the floor, near the bonfire. You had shut yourself down to the Force but you still could feel it trying to mess with you, because you couldn’t control it well enough. A lonely tear fell on your check, you didn’t mind crying then.

           “You’re weak” you heard this voice talking to you. You suddenly stood up, got your lightsaber and turned it on. The blue light fulfilled the environment – thinking about it now, if you had to find your crystal now, the blue one probably wouldn’t be the one to find you, you had such a different personality now.

           “Who’s there?” you asked and you voice echoed in the Temple. Then you saw him, right in from of you there was Kylo Ren. You were mortified, how did he find you? You felt that your life was about to end and everything had happened for nothing.

           What really happened was that you got so scared but at the same time you ran into his direction with your saber and tried to kill him, but it was nothing but a image of your imagination. But now, in your dream that was mixed with your memories, it wasn’t what really happened.

           “It’s not really a bad place” he commented. You weren’t scared anymore, you felt calm – just like you felt in the Coruscant Temple when you saw him.

           “Try living in here for a few years” you replied and you noticed the jokily tone in your own voice. He laughed and you just felt enchanted by the sound of his laugh. You softly smiled.

           “Why are you smiling?” he asked getting closer to you.

           “Nothing… it’s just- I like your laugh. You should laugh more.”

           “What are you talking about? I’m always laughing.” He smiled, now very close to you.

           “No… you’re always serious and barely talks.”

           “Whoever it’s this version of me that you’re talking about, it’s not really me. I am always smiling, especially when I see you.” You weren’t expecting those words from him, and by his next question you probably made a funny weird face.

           “What?” he laughed.

           “Why are you saying that to me?”

           “(Y/N)… You can be so silly sometimes.” And saying that his lips approached yours softly.

           You opened your lips, unexpectedly accepting his kiss, and once his tongue met yours, he deepened the kiss. One of his hands went to your neck and other to your hip, while your hands found themselves making a mess in his hair – he didn’t seem to bother. You pulled a bit of his hair and you heard a small groan leaving his lips during the kiss, that only made you grave more for him.

           His hand that was on your hip now was grabbing one of your breasts and you didn’t mind at all, because in this whole situation it felt totally natural. It fits.

           You don’t know how but at some point the two of you walked to closer to the wall, and you felt the cold wall behind you while Kylo was pressing your body against the wall with his own body. The kisses were getting deeper, faster – hunger. You felt something hardening down in his pants, you also felt yourself needy. You never knew how it was like to be touched by someone, you never really thought about it much – it wasn’t something that should occupy a jedi’s mind. You weren’t a jedi any longer now.

           Kylo’s hand travelled cross your whole body while he was giving you wet kisses on your neck, a small noise came outside of your mouth, probably some short of groan and you could hear Kylo giggle, you just giggled as well, too busy concentrating on the feeling of his hands now touching your naked skin under your clothes. You wanted to feel the volume down in his pants, so one of your hands traveled to feel it while the other was still caressing his hair.

           “You have no idea… how crazy you… make me feel” Kylo said between kisses on your neck. You felt butterflies in your stomach, something that you had never felt before. His hand slipped to inside your panties, you spread your legs a little open so he could reach the core, your body still pressed against the wall. His cold hand touching your warm core made you shiver, the sensation was great and got amazing when he first touched your clit – he started circle movements and you never felt such a thing. You let out a moan while kissing him and you just wanted more. The movements got faster, they were precise to make you feel pleasure, his finger slip inside, and the sensation was…

           You never got the chance to know the rest of the dream, or how it was the feeling because you woke up. You opened your eyes and took a deep breath, the alarm was ringing, you felt humid between your legs – it was an odd feeling. You felt sleepy and weird, why did you have such a dream? Especially with Kylo Ren.

           You had never think about sexual things, not like this, you never had the need to, afterwards you were learning to be a jedi – but things were different now, for the first time ever you were free. How that kind of thing works anyway?

           You dressed up for your day and left the room, you were going to get breakfast in the cafeteria when you heard a droid voice behind you.

           “Mistress! Mistress!” it called. You turned around to see if you were the one they were talking to. “Are you not having breakfast?”

           “I am on my way to have it” you explained confused. Another droid behind the one talking to you was caring a silver tray with food on it.

           “It was send to you, mistress. Also, it is required for you to move to bigger chambers.” You were confused with the situation – apparently, now you were being treat as a member of the First Order, not like an ordinary employee. It was good on a side, because you would have better food and a better place to sleep – not that your current place was bad, but a bigger one wouldn’t be bad. You nodded yes to the droid and entered your room, it place the tray on the table and left the room leaving you alone to eat, you would miss the troopers company, you thought to yourself.

           What now? Would you be Ren’s pet now on? You couldn’t avoid this feeling. You agreed with his thoughts and ideas, but you still were on your own path, you still wanted to be independent. While eating and thinking you got your datapad and sent a note to Kylo Ren: “Don’t treat me like a pet, just because we’re friends now I don’t need special treatment.” You wondered if you weren’t being ungrateful.

           “Feel free to eat the terrible food and sleep in a small room if you want to.” A note in your datapad arrived, sent by Kylo himself. You dropped the datapad on your bed, a bit frustrated, he wasn’t wrong.

           You laid down on your bed, frustrated and a bit angry with yourself. You still wanted to help the resistance, they were your friends afterwards, but they wouldn’t understand that you wanted to help the galaxy. They wouldn’t tolerate repression but maybe it would be necessary. You shook your head… that was still wrong, all lives matter, and people have the right to agree and disagree. Maybe you could convince Kylo to give up on the political power – he said he didn’t care much about it anyway – and at the same time, help the Resistance to destroy the First Order. Maybe Kylo could indeed be your friend, and when all of this is done both of you could try to bring the balance back in the Force, avoid another totalitarian uprising and search the knowledge of both sides of the Force.

           It was a plan. You just hoped it would work. The notepad got a notification and a hologram of General Hux showed up.

           “Your presence is required in the Major Room. Immediately.” Well, certainly it couldn’t be a good thing. -- 

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[laceymorganwrites]

Death dance

Word Count: 1,638

Characters: Eustass Kidd

Song: Death Dance - Palaye Royale

Warnings: so much swearing, mentions of abuse and mental Problems

I never thought I'd be so mean, never thought I'd be alone at nineteen

Kidd never meant to end up like the asshole he was. But after everything he´s been through, who could blame him? That´s what he told himself in hopes to cheer himself up, yet he knew that wasn´t true. Everything bad that had happened throughout his life, he had brought upon himself. All he ever did was push his luck and people away. Ever since he was a child… all he ever did was hurt and disappoint others. But all these thoughts are in my head again, head again

He didn´t want to think about any of that, not right now, not ever. Confronting his feelings, if there were even any left at this point, wouldn´t help. Well, actually it would help him very much if only Kidd had the courage to look that deep into his heart and mind. But he didn´t have the courage, he was a coward, always has been. And all these thoughts are running through my brain and out the door

Maybe this was finally the time to stop running away and face his fears, face his past and face himself and all the gruesome things he´s done. He was no saint, never tried to be. But fuck, he never tried to be that much of an angry, impulsive asshole either. He ran away enough, goddamn he left his mother all alone just to go out at sea… and for what? To make fake friends, to trust people only for them to use that trust and abuse it. Rather be dumb than sane, rather be numb than in pain

He was so sick and tired of everything. Sick of this world, the government especially, those bastards controlling everything and getting their way every damn time. Kidd knew that there people out there trying to stop them, people who shared his thoughts, and yet he felt as if nothing was accomplished. He hated that he knew how the world worked, with his knowledge he sometimes wished he didn´t know anything at all. And then there were the other pirates. Strawhat really got on his nerves, with his stupid alliances… he thought that teenager had a bit more of a rational brain, but it seemed that he really was as naive as the newspaper made him out to be. Kidd knew better than to trust others, other pirates like him in particular. After the whole thing with Apoo he wasn´t sure if he could ever trust another person again. He´d rather be a paranoid bastard he was now than to ever let himself and his crew get hurt like that again. But you can't see all the things I'm going through Rather be dumb than sane, I'd rather be numb than in pain But you can't see all the shit I'm going through

To others Kidd was a manchild throwing a tantrum every minute of the day, but they didn´t know what he´s been through, what he saw. They didn´t know about his shitty childhood, well he didn´t really have one to begin with, but that´s part of what made it shitty. They didn´t know how he suffered under his first and only captain, the abuse he had to face and that he could never forget the faces of his crew mates that just watched and did nothing. To hell with all of them. They didn´t know the betrayal he experienced, that he had to watch his best friend get exposed to his greatest insecurity. Of course they judged him, people always did that when they didn´t go through the same shit. No no no, no no no, I hide my pain inside No no no, no no no, I bleed to feel alive Oh woah, oh woah, I am dead inside No no no, makes it hard to survive No you can't find my reasons, no you can't find my pain

People always wondered why he was the way he was, they tried to analyze him, help him, fix him. Fuck them. He didn´t need any of that, deserved any of that. It was like a sick fucking joke. Just take someone without an arm for example, ah yes, the greatest fucking comparison he could think of, dumb fuck. Whatever. So their arm´s gone, it ain´t coming back, there´s no fixing it. It´s the same with some people, some people are too far gone already, so why waste your energy on them? We all got lost in Jesus, but he can't take away my pain

Okay, maybe Kidd wanted someone to waste their energy on him. Yes, he wanted it really fucking bad. He needed it, the affirmation that yeah, it wasn´t that unlikely to save him. That he was a good person after all. He wanted nothing more than that. I'm looking for something more

And what did he get? Fucking groupies who told him they loved him and that he meant so much to them and oh how his music saved them. Bullshit. They were drunk and wanted to fuck some semi famous person, they didn´t care about any of his shit, they didn´t care that he cried his heart out while writing the lyrics he sung in his fucking ugly voice. They didn´t care that he couldn´t rest, couldn´t sleep until the riff was complete, that he fucking hated himself and everyone who disagreed with him on that point. He just wanted to punch something or someone constantly. The last time he checked, fucking rage wasn´t handsome. So take me away, from out the door

Yeah, he liked the music. It helped him cope with everything, with things he didn´t want to think about but he forced himself to anyway because he liked to suffer. He liked making himself suffer, liked it when people called him an asshole, because yes, they were so right. Kidd needed this. He needed to feel like shit to function. Was that so wrong? He couldn´t be the only one. If he was that would be just sad. It´d make him the most miserable bastard on this earth. No, I'm looking for you outside to say No no no, no no no, I hide my pain inside No no no, no no no, I bleed to feel alive Oh woah, woah, I am dead inside No no, yeah No, I can't take it, all of these memories

It was the worst at night when he sobered up and remembered all the fucked up shit his brain worked so hard to suppress. It was like a big fuck you to his face. And yes, he did crave that too. The cold sweat he´d find himself in the middle of the night because of the nightmares. The faces of those who abused him, laughing at him, he swore he could hear them even now. Hell, he could feel them and he hated every single second of it. But fuck, did he need it. He deserved it. He wasn´t better than any of them, no matter how much he wished he was. I can't fake it, I'm trying but I am dying

Kidd didn´t remember ever having a mental breakdown, he hated that word, found it silly. Like it was some sort of game, a goal to be reached. It sucked so much. The word was for people who couldn´t deal with their emotions. He could, he knew he had them and in the instance he did, he did his best to bury them as deep as possible. That was how this worked, wasn´t it? I just want to, oh just be myself I have tried to, but now I am someone else

Kidd asked himself many times when the exact moment was that he failed so much at being a decent human being. He was hardly human these days. No matter how much he tried to think about it, he couldn´t pinpoint it. It was more like the mass of moments and their amount led to the disaster of a chaotic mess he was now. No no, no no no, so please be kind No no, no no, I'm losing my mind No no, no no, I'm really not fine Oh... I'm really not fine

Did Eustass Kidd deserve forgiveness and kindness? The answer to that question depended on his daily mood, sometimes he felt so much like shit that he wanted to believe in the lie so so badly. But on other days the question was just laughable, of course he didn´t. He was a dirty pirate for fuck´s sake. We live in an age where sex and horrors are gods We live in an age where all of our bodies are flawed We live in an age where sex and horrors are gods We live in an age, we live in an age We live in an age where sex and horrors are gods We live in an age where all of our bodies are flawed We live in an age where all of our bodies are flawed, are flawed, no

The fucking after a show didn´t have meaning, nor did the one night stands or people looking at him with those eyes, already undressing him in their minds. He didn´t mind it, he didn´t mind the attention he got in the moment. Kidd liked feeling wanted, he wanted nothing more than that. Only that he mistook want for love. And rationally he knew he was too ugly to love, hell he was even too ugly to fuck, people were just too drunk to notice that. No, I can't take it, all of these memories I can't fake it, I'm trying but I am dying I just want to, oh just be myself I have tried to, but now I am someone else

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece oneshot #one piece kid #one piece kidd #one piece songfic #songfic #songfic sunday #eustass kid #eustass kidd #op #op imagine #op oneshot #op songfic #op kid #op kidd

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Episode 38 Review: Of Zombies and Men

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 | 3 }

{ Full Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

Damn, Jacques is hot in that scene! There. I just had to say that before starting this review.

Hello and welcome again to my Garden of Evil, which I have once again been neglecting. Long story short: the past month has been both terrifying (for what should be obvious reasons) and very, very busy, and I’ve been spending more of my free time offline than usual focusing on things like starting vegetables for my real-life garden. I don’t foresee things getting better for at least another month, so most likely either I won’t be very active or my muse will be more active than ever. If the latter, it may mean more reviews or it may mean more silliness like the Desmond Hall personality quiz from earlier this week. We shall see.

But, for right now, shall we jump into our exploration of Episode 38?

Wait! Quito didn’t leave the chandelier hanging on the table before!

The table (post-séance) from Episode 36, for comparison.

Another night has passed on Maljardin (as indicated by Jean Paul Desmond's change in clothing) and now someone has hung the chandelier on the side of the broken séance table where it wasn't in either of the previous two episodes. "Keeping this here as a souvenir, Jean Paul?" the Reverend Matthew Dawson, who is still wearing the same outfit as two episodes ago, asks.

"No, Reverend," Jean Paul corrects him, but forgets to tell him who put the chandelier back on the table and why. Instead, he tells him that there will be another séance.

Matt accuses him of playing with their lives and he responds with what sounds like a veiled threat: "Come now, Reverend, this is no game. Surely, superstitions and fears are not going to blacken your learned convictions. All of our days are numbered." Yes, Jean Paul's in pissy passive-aggressive mode and he will remain there for most of the next three weeks. This is one of the reasons why I prefer Jacques Eloi des Mondes. He may be THE DEVIL and he certainly has his own nasty, passive-aggressive side, but he doesn't go around glowering like his descendant and he takes himself less seriously. His death threats are also way funnier than Jean Paul’s. On top of that, he has that stunning cape that he once wore to the main island, which I miss horribly. I can’t see Jean Paul moping around on Maljardin while wearing that gorgeous number, which is a pity because it looked so good on him.

Just noticed while re-watching the episode that Matt has a pompadour now. I'm going to go ahead and guess the reason based on evidence from Episode 7: he's trying to level with the groovy swingers and keep up with what's happenin', but he's too square to realize the hairstyle he's adopted in his efforts to be happenin' is ten years out of date. (I’m sure I used at least two of these outdated slang terms incorrectly. Forgive me.)

Jean Paul lying to cover up Jacques’ attempted murder. Also, a pretty shot of Fox-C’s eyes!

To no viewers’ surprise, Jean Paul is planning on holding another séance, and another, and another, until he finally establishes contact with his late wife Erica. This angers Matt, who has been a loose cannon since Episode 35 and is due to fire again soon. “You forget the medium said death points only to me!” the lovesick, grieving billionaire shouts and storms away before Matt gets another chance to air his grievances against him.

We next see him in the crypt, telling Quito to have the table and the chandelier repaired ASAP. And then he gets a moment alone with Erica’s cryonics capsule and he says this interesting, cryptic aside:

Is he only saying that because of Jacques’ frequent possessions, or does he have another reason to mistrust himself? Lines like this one make me think that maybe Dan’s suspicions are correct and he did murder Erica.

Matt grows bored waiting for Jean Paul to return, so he visits Alison in the lab. Wearing a stylish blue labcoat, she is reading through Dr. Menkin’s notes on her sister Erica and confides in Matt about her despair that she has found so few of them.

Alison and Matt in the lab.

Their conversation in this scene is quite interesting. First, she reveals that Dr. Menkin has been researching cellular reconstruction and that, using his notes (especially the missing parts), it might actually be possible to bring Erica back to life. This means that there’s a chance that it was reasonable from an in-universe scientific standpoint--if still somewhat ethically questionable--for Jean Paul to freeze Erica.

Second, she denies Matt’s accusation that Jean Paul is treating them like chattel, replying, "What you forget is his love for Erica, his need for her is what drives him, not purposeful harm to others." Has she developed Stockholm Syndrome towards Jacques/Jean Paul during her time on the island? This line makes me wonder.

Their conversation drifts to Vangie’s accident, which reminds Alison to check on her! They find Vangie in the Great Hall, walking down the stairs in her Conjure Woman robes, her arms stretched out before her in standard zombie fashion. Because she isn’t watching where she’s going and is just staring blankly, Alison guides her down the stairs and onto the couch to prevent any further injuries. At the end of the scene, Quito comes to check on her and lets out a silent scream before covering his face: most likely as a subtle cue to new audience members that the silent servant in the earlier scene in the crypt is, like Vangie, a zombie.

Alison guiding Vangie to the couch.

But can we really compare Vangie’s state to Quito’s? In book canon, Quito was one of Jacques’ slaves, whom he killed and then had resurrected to punish Raxl for disobedience. The show canon never states how Quito became a zombie, but we do know that he is undead based on his lack of a pulse in Episode 33 and Jean Paul’s reference to “a soulless corpse” in Episode 16. Vangie, in contrast, is still alive, but behaves like a zombie (allegedly) because of a brain injury caused by the crashing chandelier. Oddly enough, her body language and behavior are more in line with a stereotypical Hollywood zombie than Quito, which makes me wonder how the hell she was able to put her Conjure Woman robes back on while in a cataleptic trance. (I bet it’s just another continuity error, like the chandelier hanging off the side of the table.)

There’s a brief scene here where Matt opens one of the cabinet drawers in the lab and pulls out one of Alison’s scalpels. I don’t understand why she doesn’t keep that drawer locked on such a dangerous island.

In his and Raxl’s bedroom, Quito mixes Vangie a potion using herbs from the island to attempt to bring her out of her catatonic state. He tastes the potion and nods as though to say, "Yes, it tastes right.” Even so, it doesn't appear to have any effect on him after he tastes it, which is strange. I don’t know how to interpret this scene. It could mean anything from “the antidote only works on living people” to “the antidote only works on people who were turned into zombies the way Vangie was (and Quito was not)” to “Quito drank this same potion years ago, and that’s why he can move around, think, and feel and isn’t stuck in a catatonic state like Vangie.”

The ambiguity makes this yet another unexplained plot point in a show overflowing with them, thanks to the change in writers and producer. I want to give Robert Costello and the team of writers who wrapped up Maljardin the benefit of the doubt and say that perhaps they ignored this plot hole because Ian Martin’s notes were partially missing like Dr. Menkin’s, but most of the evidence suggests that they consciously chose to go in a different direction than the one that Martin originally intended. We know that, from Episode 30 onward, executive meddling forced him to change and rearrange events in his episodes. There is that one line from Episode 54 that reminds me of what I believe were his original intended revelations about Erica, but I suspect that I’m over-analyzing a line for which Cornelius Crane probably intended a different, less unusual interpretation than mine.

Anyway, while Quito is downstairs, Jean Paul and Jacques have this amusing exchange:

Jean Paul: "You were the disrupting influence at that séance." Jacques: "I? Do I resemble a part of the chandelier that came crashing down?"

I think you can guess where this leads. Jacques possesses him, and this time the resulting scene is the most deliciously evil one we’ve seen yet of his character:

Just after possession, zombie Vangie identifies Jacques as Lucifer, and he confirms this. Since the first episode, we have heard Raxl say repeatedly that Jacques Eloi des Mondes was THE DEVIL, but at last we have confirmation that Ian Martin’s Jacques is, even after the beginning of executive meddling.

“Devil he is. Devil he will remain till I can exorcise and destroy him,” she adds, still in a trance and still with her eyes fixed forward.

“But aren’t you finding him too powerful for all of us?” Jacques replies.

“In the end, it is we who will be too strong for him.”

“But you are already losing all the battles.” Jacques smirks and leans closer to Vangie, as my heart--and the hearts of half the original audience--skips a beat. “Look at you now, Vangie. Look at you now, able to talk only with me because, like Quito, you are living in his...half-world.” (Does this mean that Quito can speak to him, too, when they are alone and Jacques allows it?) “Who put you there?”

“Fear not. He cannot kill me. My death is ordained.”

“He hasn’t killed you,” Jacques grins. “Who knows? Maybe in your present state, you will be able to reach Erica.”

“I didn’t want to reach her for myself, but for you, Jean Paul.” (Why does she identify him as Jean Paul now, when she called him Lucifer a minute ago? Jacques hasn’t de-possessed Jean Paul yet.)

Quietly, Alison and Matt enter undetected, as she continues. “The demon Jacques Eloi des Mondes, his evil was at the table. It was his alien presence that destroyed the séance.”

She lies back down on the couch, Jacques yells her name and grabs her, and Alison breaks her silence. “Jean Paul!” she shouts, rushing over to Vangie. “Leave her be!” Jacques demands that she bring her out of the trance, but Alison says that she doesn’t know how. He shoots down her suggestion that she take her to the mainland for treatment.

“It’s mystifying to hear her talk as though you were that man, an ancestor three hundred years dead,” Matt comments, pointing to Jacques’ portrait.

“The islanders are very superstitious with strange fancies,” Jacques gaslights him. “You’re not joining that group, are you, Reverend?”

“I may join them, too,” says Alison.

“Perhaps you all need therapy, or some other kind of treatment,” Jacques says as the camera zooms into his face. He starts off with a fairly neutral Jean Paul expression--he’s been getting better at imitating his descendant--but then widens his eyes in that way only Jacques does. It's not quite Bissits Face™, but it is a very Jacques expression nonetheless.

After the commercial break, Matt asks for some clarification as to what he meant by treatment. “Relief of tension, as at a séance,” he responds with a smile.

Another argument about séances is about to erupt when Quito walks up holding a cup of his herbal remedy. Jacques identifies this as “a pinch of hope, a dash of witchcraft, a hint of prayer, as harmless as Quito himself is.” Surprisingly, despite knowing that this will take Vangie out of her trance, he lets Alison serve it to her.

When Vangie recovers, she, too, insists--also surprisingly--that they have another séance. “It’s Jean Paul Desmond himself who risks all,” she tells Matt when he accuses her of endangering the guests’ lives. Alison has Matt take her upstairs to rest while she heads to the lab to grab a tranquilizer.

Meanwhile, in the lab...

A secret door behind the cabinet opens and Jacques comes out, carrying more of Dr. Menkin’s notes. When he hears Alison���s footsteps, he shuts the door (but not all the way--oops!) and leaves them on the table. After a brief conversation about Vangie, he leaves through the lab’s main entrance and Alison flips excitedly through the newly discovered notes.

My favorite shot of Alison from this scene.

The Lost Episode summary for this episode from The Newport Daily News mentions the secret door--indicating that it appeared in the original script for the episode--but also that Vangie knows about it and that Jacques will leave her alone during the second séance if she keeps it secret. Another version of the summary from the Minneapolis Star (November 5, 1969) says that the hidden door leads to “a secret passageway,” begging the question of where Jacques has hidden the notes. It must be somewhere between the Great Hall and the lab, but where?

You know, I’m surprised that, for all Raxl and Quito’s searching for the conjure doll and the silver pin and Alison, Dan, and Matt’s searching for the missing cyanide, they haven’t found more of the château’s secret rooms and passages. It’s just as inexplicable as how Jacques still doesn’t know the location of the Temple of the Serpent after three hundred years, hours of spying on people in the crypt, and that failed investigation of it with Holly last episode--and the Temple’s entrance isn’t even well-hidden! On a show set on an absurdly cold tropical island with anachronistic period costumes, 20-year-olds who look 30 but get turned away from the bar without being carded, white Incas, a white voodoo priest and priestesses, and a man with an IQ of 187 knowingly placing a glass table beneath a loose chandelier--and that’s only listing what we’ve seen so far--this stretches my willing suspension of disbelief more than anything else.

Right at the end of the episode, we learn from Jacques that Jean Paul’s will to resist him has become stronger, making possession of him more difficult:

Does Jean Paul’s stronger will explain all the headache faces?

Coming up next: A piece of the Conjure Man’s message reminds Raxl of Jacques’ pirate ship, which gives us the perfect opportunity to explore Jacques’ former career.

{<- Previous: Episode 37   ||   Next: Episode 39 ->}

#strange paradise #ian martin #maljardin arc #week 8 #episode 38 #review #analysis #continuity errors #genuinely scary episodes #hot as hell (best of jacques) #lost episode summaries #1960s slang #oh erica #the seance table #unexplained plot point #zombies

[just-some-gt-trash]

14.-Survive

The prompt list was made by @hiddendreamer67

This is the third part of 3.-Bribe and 6.-Early

AN: Me should be writing cute and fluffy stuff on Valentine’s day, but you know what, we don’t do that here

TW: Blood, wound, implied death.

Logan closed the door of his house behind him ”Patton I'm back”

His boyfriend walked out of the kitchen ”Did you find him? Does anyone know anything?”

He sighed and shook his head ”Nothing, I just hope he's okay, I wouldn't forgive myself i something happened to him“

”Hun, it's not your fault, I'm sure he's fine, Thomas is a very smart guy, he'll come back sooner or later” said Patton, reassuring his boyfriend as he rubbed his arm ”Why don't you relax and I'll store the groceries”

Logan nodded and handed his bags to Patton, heading to his room after receiving a kiss on the cheek.

Patton took the bags to the kitchen, just for one of them to break, the hole it already had opened wider and the fruit was falling out of it, Patton groaned ”I knew this was going to happen...”

He left the broken bag in the floor before anything else fell from it, and the other bag in the table, he kneeled and started to pick up the fruit from the floor, when something caught his attention, a small figure laying on the floor between the fruits, unconscious.

Patton left what he had on his hands on the table and got closer to the creature, noticing how human it looked, no, it was an actual person, but small, he scooped it up and brought it close to his face, noticing the familiarity of its face, it was Thomas’s face.

Shocked, the only thing he could do was run to Logan’s room “Lo!” he screamed, opening the door with his free hand.

Logan looked up from his book and got out of his bed “What happened? Is everything okay?” “Don’t freak out, but I found Thomas”

“What?! R-really? Where is him?”

Patton showed his open palm to Logan, including who was on it, he looked down and carefully scooped his brother up from his boyfriend’s hands “H-How is this?..” he noticed his hand was wet and looked at Patton’s, it was stained red in the same spot where Thomas’s head was “H-He’s bleeding… bring the first aids kit quick, we have to stop the bleeding before it gets worse.

Patton nodded and got out of the room, Logan hurried into the bathroom and laid his small brother near the sink upside down, he used a wet tissue to clean the wound and a dry one to apply pressure to it.

“I got it” his boyfriend walked into the bathroom and opened the first aids kit, handing Logan what he asked for.

After Thomas’s wound was treated, Patton made a small bed out of a blanket and some small pieces of fabric, Logan left Thomas on it, he grabbed a chair and sat next to him, refusing to leave until he woke up, trying to analyze the situation, but the only way he was going to get answers was straight from his brother’s mouth.

 Thomas struggled to open his eyes, his head hurt as well as some other parts of his body, he sat on the bed he was in and rubbed his forehead, wait bed? The last thing he remembered was getting inside of Logan’s grocery bag to get to his house quicker and then falling asleep “You’re awake” he heard.

He turned to see the source of the voice, fearing the familiarity of it “L-Logan?” his brother’s gigantic face was right next to him, Thomas gulped, looking at humans at this size from the floor was one thing, but actually having on starring directly at him this close was another, and he didn’t like the feeling at all.

“It’s me, it’s okay, you’re fine” Logan’s eyes started to fill with tears “Oh god you’re really fine, I was so worried” he said lifting his glasses and wiping his tears off.

Thomas got out of the bed and walked closer to Logan “I’m fine, I’m sorry I got you this worried, I didn’t mean to get in this situation…”

“Speaking of which” Logan put his glasses on again “Would you mind to explain what happened?”

Thomas was about to when a someone interrupted him “Is he awake?” Asked Patton from the doorframe, he had a tray with food on his hands, he walked to where they were and left the food in the table where Thomas was “We were so worried about you kiddo” “I’m sorry Pat… I kind of walked past the flowers line…”he said looking down.

“What?” asked Patton “You know there are faes trapped there, they’re dangerous how did you escape?”

Logan looked at his boyfriend “While I have never believed those stories, I do not find another explanation to your current state”

Thomas looked up at them “I didn’t believe either, but I actually didn’t escape” he grabbed the chain of the necklace, being careful not to touch the pendant.

Patton’s eyes got wide “You made a deal with one… oh god tell me that they don’t know your name”

“He doesn’t, I have to give him something before tomorrow night if I want to be normal sized again”

“What did you promised him Thomas?” asked Logan.

The shrunken human took a deep breath “He wants your promise locket”

Logan looked down at his chest and got a pendant from under his shirt, Patton gave it to him when they were in high school instead of a promise ring, sealing their pact to get married one day, while Logan had first thought it was something silly, it had become something important for him “I remember it’s story, I never told it to you right?”

Thomas was confused, he had heard the story hundreds of times “Patton gave it to you t-“

“Not that story” interrupted Patton “My grandma was captured by a fae when she was young, my grandpa used the lock to beat them and save her, my grandma gave it to my dad and he gave it to my mom, who gave it to me, I guess it has some sort of magic and that’s what the fae wants”

“I know it means a lot for both of you, that’s why I didn’t want you to know I was like this… I wanted to take it when you both were asleep”

Logan looked at his brother and rubbed his cheek with his finger “Thomas, you are more important than any object, significant or not, getting rid of it it’s hard, but if I have to do it to get you back, I’m willing to”

“And our love isn’t tied to the locket, it was just a small detail, we’ll still be together even when it’s gone”

“And never doubt that I would do the necessary, in order for my little brother (pun not intended) to survive”

To be continued...

Taglist

@snekky-boi

@agentblackkat

@brain-deadx0

#sanders sides gt #february prompt list #infinitesimal!sides #shrunken!thomas #human!logan #human!patton #character!thomas #human!thomas #ts thomas #ts logan #ts patton #thomas sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #tw blood #tw wound #tw implied death #Sanders sides #Giant/tiny #g/t #giant tiny #gt #my writing

[icewindandboringhorror]

Another set of responding to asks lol.. As usual I have them numbered and will also write out the ask in the text, especially since the screencaps are all blurry and taken at various times/compiled together badly and probably hard to read ghghhggh..... answers under the read more ~ 

-------------------------

1. "Hi I don't mean to bother you at all, but I was wondering where you get your rocking horse shoes? (I think thats what they're called) I've been looking everywhere and I can't seem to find any :(( "

I don’t entirely remember, since I got them like 6 or 7 years ago.. I think maybe at some point that place ‘bodyline’ or something had some cheap ones? But I don’t see them on the site anymore, they were like $50 or $60. Now when I google it I can only find these insane like $600 ones from vivian westwood or whoever, or ones that are platform shoes but not necessarily the same type. Maybe you could find some on aliexpress or ebay or something? Usually you have to use weirdly specific search terms and look for a while, but you can often find stuff like that on those sites. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help!!! 

2. "I've been sick for over a month and my doctor tested me - everything came back fine. After some discussion it appears that my ptsd symptoms came back and the stress on my body is making me fatigued, sick and dizzy. I don't want to say that this could be similar to you situation, but if you have a therapist or someone to talk to about any stresses/your sickness, it might help relieve the pressure a bit. Good luck, I'm so sorry you feel so unwell"

Thank you for sharing! Yeah, I think stress definitely plays a part in why I feel sick so often. Currently I’m not still having the same problem I was having a few months ago when you sent this, so that’s good at least!! 

3. “Hi! Do you plan to ever have more sculptures for sale? Or would you do commissions? I haven't seen any in a while but wanted to buy one! :-O”

I have plenty that I want to sell, I guess it’s just hard for me to get set up. Since so much of the reason I procrastinate selling stuff is because I hate the stress of deciding on a price, I’ve thought for a while now that maybe I can just auction them (so I just set a base price, but people bid whatever they feel is fair and I don’t have to decide myself). But I’m just not sure of a good way to do that.. Ebay has auctions, but I don’t want random strangers buying them, I’d rather stick to just the pool of people who follow my art blog and are already familiar with my sculptures or etc. I could do them on here ?? (like, ‘reply to this post to bid, bids close 8am EST, whoever said the highest number sends the money through paypal and then I send the sculpture’ sort of thing???)   But I’m not sure if it’s legal to sell stuff through tumblr, or if there could be any other problems with doing it so ‘unofficially’ like that.. I don’t know, I have a vague idea, I’m just having trouble deciding the best way to set up something! I do want to sell some soon though, if I live through the pandemic and anything ever goes back to normal, of course (I wouldn’t want to be having to leave the house to ship stuff in the mail right now). 

As for commissions, I have actually done sculpture commissions for friends a few times, so I feel confident-ish that I’d be able to do something like that, but I also wouldn’t want to get overwhelmed since it takes a lot of work. Custom sculptures may also be more expensive, and again.. I always feel guilty and strange about pricing. I’ve thought about doing very limited sculpture commissions though (like, maybe just one at a time, first come first serve or something..?). If it seems like there’s actual interest in that sort of thing, I could definitely consider doing it in the future! 

4. " *picks up that smol blue kid and throws them across the room* "

ghgh .. the smallness is an advantage... they could just skitter back down your arm like a tiny squirrel the second you tried to pick them up.. Ythrili survival strategy is to be too small to catch in the first place 

(also forgive every sketch in this post, my screen that you can draw on broke, so I’m either drawing stuff in ms paint with a mouse, or drawing stuff on paper and coloring it in firealpaca also with a mouse ghghh.. not going to look Good)

5. "it sounds like you feel pressure to only post good content on the internet, and so you end up psyching yourself out of posting at all. Am I on the right track? "

Not necessarily, like I mentioned in the tags I think it’s more just that everything is complicated by my brain. I can’t just do something effortlessly. Whether it’s for an audience or not, I get caught up on every little detail and adding so much complexity to everything that all tasks take me longer than they take other people lol. I think I just tend to take everything very seriously?? 

Like for example, I’m often accused of ‘turning things into a discussion’ when someone was just intending to make an off-handed remark, because if someone is bringing up a topic to discuss, I end up engaging with it 100% and putting full effort into it, and it’s hard for me to be ‘’casual’’ about pretty much anything (so if someone was like ‘My day yesterday was a bit weird’ I wouldn’t be able to just respond ‘aw man, that sucks’, I would just be like ‘Weird how? what happened? what made it weird? Are you okay now? Are things still weird? Have you found a solution?’ etc. etc.). I was also bad at essays/open answer questions in school (despite usually being great at the class otherwise), because no matter how hard I tried to filter my speech and cut things out, I was always far too long-winded  and would get almost too engaged with the topic and lose the clear cut thought organization and focus that you’re supposed to have I guess. Even like, playing video games or something that’s supposed to be relaxing, I can’t just ‘jump into them’ and do whatever, usually any game I play (large ones at least, small 25 minute  point and click adventure games don’t count of course), I have 7 - 10 pages of notes, do hours of research, look up most of the main spoilers, plan out and organize exactly how I’m going to play it and this and that, etc. lol... 

So, that personality trait carries over into posting things online as well, I can’t just type something out quickly and hit ‘post’ without a second thought. Social media is hard for me because you’re supposed to use it casually, but I spend a long time re-reading drafted posts, thinking about them, etc. etc., and end up never actually getting around to posting anything. It’s not that I’m perfectionist about it and want it to be ‘good’ or appear a certain way, it’s just that my mind becomes preoccupied with things I guess.  I’m a natural information gatherer, part of my natural way of processing things is to learn everything possible before acting, and I want to make sure I’ve fully thought about everything always, and know as much as I can (so I wouldn’t want to publicly say something without giving it a lot of consideration first, or post a picture without really thinking about if I want to post it, what my reasons behind posting it are (like if I’m posting something just for a validation of a certain aspect of myself VS. genuinely because I like it, etc.), if a few months from now I’ll still like that I posted it, etc. lol.. even with like silly cat photos or something, I have to analyze it and be like ‘hmm.. will I still stand by this picture in 4 months? why am I posting it publicly vs, just keeping it privately to myself on my computer? what’s important about it?’ etc. etc. ghgjhgjh.. like.. shut up lol.)

ANYWAY, yeah, I don’t know if it’s about wanting online content to be “good”, as much as it’s just like... I take everything way too seriously and am detail-oriented, contemplative, and analytical to a fault, which means it just takes me 10x longer to do basic ‘’simple’’ things that it would for other people. Though I can still be quite quick-thinking and decisive (I don’t often waver back and forth between things too long), it’s usually because I have years of thinking about the same exact things behind me, so I already am very clear on my opinions on stuff, to a point. But when it’s new things I’m less familiar with (like playing a new game, or posting regularly online), I’m still in a phase where I guess I have to give it a lot of thought. I just process things in a different way than other people I guess? Or have some inherent inability to be brief/concise/careless? If you’ve ever read any of my worldbuilding posts (where I usually start off wanting to explain one thing but then have to derail into 400 other misc. details and explanations and it ends up being a novel), then maybe it’s more evident what I mean, where it’s just like... my natural manner of speaking is Too Much.. I guess? Even this answer is winding and rambly, and I feel like other people could have answered this ask in only a few sentences lol.. 

 If any of that makes sense? I don’t know how to describe how I am lol.. I just know it's hard to me to use social media in this ~~casual effortless~~ way most people seem to, since my brain is just inherently incapable of anything ‘’casual’’ or ‘’effortless’’ lol..  T u T ;; 

6. " Hi! I hope this isn't weird to say, I'm designing a race for my DND campaign and some of the aesthetics are a little bit inspired by some of your costumes and makeup designs. You're awesome and your art is awesome so thanks : ) "

Thanks so much, I appreciate it! It’s always cool to hear I can inspire people~ 

(I usually don’t include many compliments in these ask compilation posts, but I always try to include a few, just to let people know that even if I don’t respond to all of them I do see them, and appreciate it!) 

7.  ???

I ended up cropping out this ask and not answering because some of the content was questionable (the reason WHY/how they wanted to make the character) in a way that I didn’t feel like getting into a long thing about, but part of it was relevant to making OCs in my world, so I will just make a quick comment:

I do state that this is a closed world, so I don’t want anyone making OCs of my species or etc. at least not at this point. Once my game is finished (if ever lol), or I write a few books or something, then I feel it would be understandable if people like, made up a background story for their player character and thus maybe could have some form of OC in my world and etc.. So I may be more relaxed on this in the future as I create content that people naturally would want to engage with , but for now, I’m still a very tiny creator with a closed world and it just doesn’t feel the same as like.. making an oc based on some thing in a big TV series or something. My worldbuliding and etc. is still very personal to me. Unless we’re directly collaborating on things (like mentioned here (link) a bit), or you’re a personal friend of mine who’s gotten involved in the world with my own guidance (meaning I could tell you lore things you’d need to know to make it accurate, etc.), then I don’t feel it’s appropriate for strangers to do at this point. 

Especially since I don’t even have enough world info out for people to be able to reference (most species have half-complete guides, I’ve only ever talked about like, one continent, etc.). There are so many necessary details which I have only in my head and have never typed out, so again, idk, it’d just be weird. I’m not okay with it until I have a lot more lore published, and maybe a few actual works out there that people can reference/stories/games/basis for OCs to exist in the first place. If that makes sense? 

8. "Hey, is it ok to use your outfit posts as inspiration for a dnd character? I love them so much, you have such a unique way of combining crazy patterns and fabrics into something that gives off a good vibe”

Yes, that would be fine! Thank you for asking, and I appreciate the compliments~ Hopefully I can get back to posting that sort of thing more often lol.. I’ve gotten WAY off my routine and haven’t done many outfits lately.. aaa

9. "hi Luca! i just wanted to say i really love all of your costumes and fashions and dress ups, its all so cool and pretty and interesting. i actually wanna dress up for fun for myself, and now that i know about the bins i think i'll try to convince my mom to take me to similar places for cheap clothing pieces, since my mom is worried about how much all this costume stuff costs. anyway, please keep posting your cool and beautiful stuff! "

Thank you so much! I wish you luck with your costumes! Yeah, I think there’s a common idea in a lot of fashion communities (like with makeup, costumes, etc.) that you have to always have high quality things to look nice, and even if sometimes you can do more with a little extra money, really you can make anything look good with what you have if you just combine it right. As I’ve always been quite low income, being into fashion and stuff has be discouraging at times, that I couldn’t afford certain materials or items, but you just have to find a niche where what you’re able to do works. For example, a lot of even ‘cheap’ lolita style clothings are too expensive for me (like $30 - $50 for a dress??? then the more pricey ones can be over $100???) lol.. BUT, then stuff like mori kei, cult party kei, fantasy costumes, etc. you can do with nearly any fabric you can find, and it’s still just as fun and creative. Most of the outfits I take pictures of probably cost me no more than $1 - $10 for every single item combined. Obviously it depends on location - I have better access now that I live near a place like the bins, which I understand there may not be similar resources in small towns or etc. But even with generic thrift stores (which may not be as cheap as the bins), you can still find pretty good alternatives to all the money it costs to buy things brand new. There’s still some stuff I legit just can’t do because I don’t have access to the materials, but for the most part I can manage everything I’d like with $3 eye-shadows and 15 cent tattered curtain fabrics lol. You can still do really cool stuff on a pretty nonexistent budget!

10. “do you have any tips on growing your hair long? is it expensive to up keep? i wanna grow mine out but it grows so slow!”

Well, I know nothing about hair and am not a hair stylist or etc. so I really don’t have any tips lol??  And I think hair maintenance depends a lot on the type of hair you have, not everyone’s is the same. I assume we must have similar hair  (my natural hair is thick kind of coarse very dark brown/black hair, which is a bit wavy in some parts but mostly straight, but most of my hair currently (aside from the overgrown roots at the top) is altered because of damage from bleaching and etc., it’s more brittle. so that’s what I’ll be referencing) if you’re asking me this instead of someone else, but just know that whatever I say may not apply to you.  

Anyway, I really don’t do anything to my hair to make it grow or etc., it’s just that I’ve gone a long time without cutting it lol. I used to cut it all the time or change styles, and now I’ve kind of just left it for 5 or 6 years or so. Because of my mental illness I have trouble maintaining personal care and etc., so I do sometimes go a week or more without washing it, even though I’m trying to work that into my schedule more (luckily I don’t have stinky head, I’ve heard some people’s scalp oils and stuff can smell weird if left for too long, I have the privilege of being able to like.. skip on hygiene a lot without it severely impacting my ability to do things or etc. since it’s usually not obvious if I haven’t bathed in a week or two). 

My cat also EATS HUMAN HAIR for some reason, so I have to keep it up all the time, so that when I shed it doesn’t actually just fall loose onto the ground lol. Literally all I do to my hair is just keep it in two braids at all times and wash it with normal shampoo and conditioner occasionally, when I can. I really only think it’s gotten long because I’ve been leaving it alone and not messing with it, not really because of anything I’ve done (like I don’t use fancy products on it or etc.) And because of that, no, it’s not really expensive! It absolutely WOULD be if I were like..a normal functioning person and I regularly bleached it and dyed it and put products on it and styled it and used shampoo and conditioner every 1-3 days on it and etc. lol.. But I guess because I don’t do anything to it to maintain it, I’m not spending money on hairspray or dye or shampoo or etc.  I used to bleach it a lot and straighten it and use hairspray and stuff on it, and it seems healthier (at least on the new top parts) now that I’m just ... ignoring it basically lol. But I don’t really know what to do to make it grow faster! I’m bad at self-care, and even if I do costumes and stuff, I really am not into beauty and hair and nails and makeup and stuff, so I’m probably the wrong person to ask hghjhb.. My upkeep routine is just... eat and sleep. wash face with water daily.. do extra stuff if you can manage to despite your functioning issues, etc. I’m definitely not a Beauty Advice person, I barely brush my hair even once a week lol

11. "Maybe you should reduce the number of races if it's too overwhelming? A world can still be immersive with only a few races in it."

(sidenote - Not to be nitpicky, but I make a specific point that the groups of fantasy creatures I create are species, not ‘’races’’, even though it is a commonly used term in fantasy worldbuilding, I think it’s inaccurate/weird )

I know I don’t have to make so many different groups, but, I guess I just really want it to be a broad setting. Part of the point in creating Nanyevimi (aside from worldbuilding just being extremely fun and a hobby greatly suited to someone with my personality traits lol) is to have an established world that I can do anything within, a framework already built where it'd be super easy to just drop a character anywhere on the map and already have an idea of what their culture, background, experiences, etc. would be based on pre-existing details about that portion of the world, etc. But I also want it to be broad, and varied, where every area kind of has it’s own dynamics going on there, so if you’re in a different place, you get a different kind of story. (like in an elven alliance city, you’d be better suited to tell an adventure story centering around complicated local politics, or city life, or etc.. whereas out in some isolated mountains in the south, it’d be more suited for a mystery story about stumbling across ancient ruins, or running into a mysterious traveler, etc.) 

Which I guess doesn’t matter much, since I'm better at setting, world design, character design, planning, and details than I am at plot, so  I probably won’t actually ever do anything with it (god forbid I tried to write a book or something with my utter inability to be concise/brief in any imaginable way). I can craft settings/characters/history/world-details all day endlessly, never losing inspiration or etc, but my weak point is actually telling stories within those settings and formulating a solid plan, organizing plot structures long term and etc.. Setting up everything for something to happen/creating a place where many interesting premises could occur is fine, but then actually thinking of how those things should OCCUR, or how the set up should play out, is where I get kind of lost. I guess the ideal at some point would be to have people working with me, helping when writing stories in my world/outlining games/etc, to add more cohesion/structure and reign in the unfocused stream of ideas,  but that’s very unlikely since I don’t have any close friends that are good at organizing or plotting either, etc. BUT anyway, even if I can’t ever manage to do anything with it, the whole “having a setting I can use for anything I want if anything ever comes up, which is already established and thus makes it much easier to formulate ideas because all the background work is already done for myself” thing is at least a nice goal.. in concept...theoretically lol..  

And, it’s not really too overwhelming, I think the overwhelming part is actually just formatting and producing those ideas in a consumable form. It’s not hard for me to keep track of 20 different groups and make backgrounds and every imaginable detail for them, but it IS hard to actually take all that information that exists in my head, type it out as a worldbuilding post, format and organize it, draw pictures to go with it, etc. If I could just post long stream of consciousness style 300,000 word long posts with no paragraph breaks, 4000 typos, barely any punctuation, etc., then I’d have A LOT more world-building info publicly available (since that’s what all the initial documents on my computer look like lol), but that’s just so inaccessible it’d be pointless to have public in the first place. The hard part isn’t really coming up with or managing the information, it’s just... organizing it all, and finding a way to share it. 

12. "oh PLEASE tell me what boing peach beverage the elf looks like"

a quick sketch of them.. mysterious peach (and other produce) salesman   

13. "fun question: what are ur fashion pet-peeves?"

Well, basically none because I hate when people are rigid over Fashion Rules or etc. Like, people who take pictures of others in public because they “look weird” , or who constantly trash on what people are allowed to wear, what patterns can be mixed with others, etc. etc. I get that some stuff can look kind of bad sometimes, and it’s not that I think nobody is allowed to criticize fashion trends or etc. (especially if they’re legitimately problematic, like of course someone wearing a homophobic t-shirt or doing blackface should be criticized), but I mean just like... that sort of trivial bitter criticism that doesn’t do anything but make people feel bad about the way they look or make them afraid to dress in ways they feel comfortable. Like taking a picture of someone and posting it online to make fun of them because they wore socks with sandals, or bullying 14 year olds who just started doing makeup and haven’t totally gotten their look sorted out yet, etc. etc. (ESPECIALLY since this can often intersect with classism, racism, etc. if you really examine what people mock as 'ugly' or 'unacceptable' styles, it's often stuff like men wearing dresses/makeup, women not shaving, clothing associated with poverty (like wearing “”cheap”” clothes), physical traits commonly associated with poc, making fun of people who look a certain way likely due to mental illness (like fidgeting, dirty mismatched clothing, carrying stuffed animals or comfort items in public etc.), etc. etc.

I find costumes and makeup and outfits to be a very cool and fun way to express myself. So when people are complete freaks about it and set out to just relentlessly make others feel bad for no good reason, it’s like... obnoxious... How can you take something with so much potential and limit it and close others off and turn it into this rigid hateful thing, when it should be something that everyone is able to be passionate about and appreciate?? Outside appearance isn't everything, but it's a tool of expression for so many people and can relate to who they are as a person, people should never feel uncomfortable to be who they are or look how they look just because some dumbass rich person writing for a style magazine has the gall to declare some random thing to be 'Unfashionable' despite not having a genuinely creative bone in their body, or some bigot thinks that certain things are ‘ugly’ or ‘unprofessional’ due to their own mental associations, etc.

But anyway, I guess if I had to choose a few things that I just think look kind of odd to me personally/are generally off-putting...  

--- the overdrawing lips thing when you can see the persons actual lip-line and it almost looks like they have two mouths or something? (if not done intentionally for costume makeup). It can look a little strange to me sometimes, like an optical illusion where you see multiple mouth lines at once?? idk like this?

--- freckles that are just round circles and really heavy and don’t look realistic (though again, I also realize this could just be the person’s first time drawing them on or something and I’m not  mocking for lack of skill, etc. I just mean that it’s a little strange to look at, not actually BAD though) (and it can also be intentional, like for a cartoony costume look) ---- People adopting cutesy/childlike fashion and clothing and sexualizing it or using it as part of their sex/kink stuff.. I just feel like anything associated with children should not be sexualized..? If the first thing someone thinks when seeing children's school uniforms or frilly little girl’s doll dresses or whatever is that it could be a Hot Thing then hhh... like why is your brain making those connections lol.. People can dress how they want for whatever reasons they want, but that’s always personally creeped me out a little. Similar to our culture’s obsession with looking young being ‘hot’ (like a grown man wanting someone who’s a legal adult but still “looks 16″ or etc.), where it’s like.. okay, I guess yeah outwardly you can make that choice, and maybe aren’t directly causing harm, but.. the underlying tones of it and etc. still make it very unsettling to witness lol... ---- anything appropriated obviously, as well as fetishization or bastardization of cultures, like t-shirts with Japanese writing on them Just For Aesthetic, or taking certain culturally or religiously significant symbols or etc. and adopting them as ‘just a silly fashion’ thing when you’re actually being disrespectful, etc.  ---- those shorts or whatever that go up extremely high on the hipbones always look a little weird to me lol, like they give a person funny proportions, 

(you may have to right click open image in new window and zoom to see the text, but it’s like.. the blank space makes it look kind of weird to me? Like there’s too much where there’s just nothing going on? idk. That’s just my personal preference though, obviously I tend to lean towards busy designs lol)

That’s all I can think of though, like I said, I’m really not picky or judgy about fashion since I think people should be able to do whatever they want for the most part. I’m not like a “omg stripes should NEVER be worn with plaid!!” type person or something lol. 

14. "Hey Luca! I love when you post about your world. Do you have a favorite species you've made up so far? Also, I hope you're holding up well during the crisis!"

AAaa thanks! I’m okay mostly. It’s distressing since because of my particular mental illness I already have constant paranoia and obsessions about health, so of course hearing about so much illness can be really triggering constantly and I’m preoccupied in never-ending anxiety spirals about mortality and etc. etc. etc. , but situationally, I’m just very thankful that nobody in my household has gotten sick yet and I desperately wish that will continue to be the case. *** *** *** 

(ignore the *** *** *** , this is a text version of a physical compulsion (a hand movement) that I have to do when I mention certain topics lol.. the little man in my brain that controls my obsessive compulsive disorder says I must do certain things after saying or thinking certain things,, You Know How It Is ) 

And I really love worldbuilding questions, so thank you so much!!!!! Hghgh maybe it seems weird to favor any over the others, but of course I really like the Avirre'thel. Conceptually, I think their origin story and connection to ancient elves and their abilities and etc. put them in a really unique position in the broader world (some of the only truly immortal people to exist, the only people who can still decipher ancient elven texts in a way that makes sense, etc. etc.). Since Nanyevimi (my world) is really just a setting being built so that in the future I can set things within it (games, short stories, etc.), I think I'm drawn to the aspects of it that have the most potential to make interesting characters, and there are definitely a lot of pre-established dynamics with the Avirre'thel/in Navyete (their home country) as a whole that would make it an good place to set certain things, or a good group for a main character to be from, etc.

I do really like the Jhevona as a species overall too, even if I haven't developed them as much, they also kind of stand out as having some fairly unique features that put them in an interesting position in the world (being one of the most magically capable groups that exists but that also having downsides (health issues and infertility from magic exposure, etc.), how the necessity to keep control over their magic influences their culture, being some of the only natural shape-shifters, etc.). Within that, I REALLY love the Thastanri (a subspecies of Jhevona), like their connection to dreams, the Imkasyn, being one of the last few peoples in contact with real dragons, etc. etc. There are a lot of complex things going on in their area, so there’d be a lot of potential to tell a variety of stories or have interesting characters from that group. 

AND, though it's supposed to be Unknown in the world so I won't talk about it just in case I ever write a book one day or something and need to preserve at least a FEW mysteries that I don't just outright explain in worldbuilding posts, Jhevona do have the most interesting origins of any species in my opinion. There are some things from before the timeline break sort of thing (where all recorded history was seemingly wiped and everyone had a big memory loss about 50,000 yrs ago) that people aren't aware of anymore... but Jhevona used to have a cool backstory and quite interesting function in society prior to that. There are some remnants in the genetics of the species and how their magic works (at least for certain groups) that kind of hint at how ancient Jhevona used to look and what they used to do, even though in the modern day things are very different.

15. "Top 10 songs you've been listening to lately?"

I don’t have a top 10 since I listen to everything for different reasons, and don’t have as deep a relationship with music the way some people do (like I don’t really have a favorite band or group I have a connection with that’s “gotten me through hard times”, or music I cry to/any songs that are specifically personally emotionally meaningful to me, etc., etc.), but here’s a quick playlist of a few favorite-ish things I’ve had in my head a lot recently - 

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLPmQ4SZdFFHNkgKo7nAiEMgVvLcycX5Qc

the last song on the list specifically I’ve been replaying a lot for some reason, I guess since it’s good background music as there’s no words. Particularly the part that starts around like 38 seconds in, something about that melody reminds me of something distant, in a dreamlike way. The past few days I mostly alternate between that song, Outstanding, and And The Beat Goes On  lol

16. " Do you ever sell sculptures? I really like that little fawn!"

Yeah, I hope to eventually! Like I mentioned in question number three, if I can set up some sort of way to do auctions or etc, then maybe I can sell that one! 

17 & 18 : '"aaa yay!! i missed your outfits!!!" / "can I just say love ur outfits! They're so cool and inspire me to draw my ocs with new outfits > o < and I love your cat too, please give him a big ol pat!"

Thank you!!!! more compliments posted just to show I appreciate them lol, even if I don’t publicly respond to every one~ And, the Boyes appreciate the pats.. here is them.. big babbeys... 

#it bothers me still that I didn't take all the screenshots the same way and there's different colors of nu #mbers and etc. lol.... but some of those are from 4 months ago or more and I had already deleted the original ask #from my inbox so I can't go rescreencap it to match the others.. #this is the issue inherent in taking so long to answer things that I just respond in large batches lol #replies #okay also I know it's been months but... one of you has to like this post or at least show you read/interacted with my #response somehow because I cannot spend like 4-5 hours typing stuff for others if nobody will read it ghghg #( i know i make it take longer by being rambly and etc. but.. still...) #I'm sorry they sat in my inbox a long time and etc. but... also..... my pwecious time and effort #i hope at least one of the people I'm responding to sees that i did indeed reply to them lol

[kingofthewilderwest]

Being someone new to the fandom after following the series for a long time, I was curious: Why do fans seem to argue so much about if the series are canon or not? Personally I find them interesting but.. Less canon, I guess? Than the movies, but I still enjoy watching, and I'm super happy people love it bc any new content is great. Yet browsing the tags I keep finding people complaining that the shows are/aren't canon in a way that really makes you feel bad if you disagree? I'm just confused :/

Hey there, friend! Any new content is a great thing indeed, I’m with you there! It’s something I’m rather thankful for. Whether or not everyone is invested in new material, there’s something cool to say on the matter that we have the blessing of being given more material to experience within our fandom franchise.

Before we begin, I’ll plop links to my prior posts on the RTTE canon discussion (mostly my opinion on the matter, which is canon =/= consistency):

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

And another good post (not mine) about different angles of analyzing a story:

[Watsonian and Doylist]

Sorry that you’ve had a potentially unpleasant experience browsing through the tags for this matter! I absolutely love the HTTYD fandom to tears and love the people in it, but yeah, this is a major point of contention within the community sometimes. 

I’d say that as with anything in any fandom, when there’s material some people like and some people don’t, there’s going to be discussion, disagreement, and sometimes butting heads over it. Some people adore Race to the Edge. Some people don’t. Some people take it seriously. Some people don’t. That’s okay and awesome! We’re all allowed our preference, and frankly communities are better places when people don’t all have the same brain about a matter. Not everyone’s going to like the same thing or look at something from the same angle and that’s the entire point about being unique human beings. We need different perspectives, and if we know how to handle different perspectives, we grow and develop and have better times because of it.

What it does mean, though, is that some fans find RTTE to be full of contradictions to the timeline of the movie trilogy. They’ll talk about how Hiccup’s characterization doesn’t make sense in the context of HTTYD, GOTNF, and HTTYD 2. They’ll talk about how in a world that was supposed to be at peace for the five years between movies one and two, there’s way too much chaos for RTTE to be “real events.” They’ll talk about how Hiccup encountering a Bewilderbeast or dragon trappers or lots of other dragon riders couldn’t happen before the events of HTTYD 2, because then it contradicts his reaction when he learns about Valka the mysterious dragon rider. And other such commentary. It’s hard to get into it all, here. 

Some people who take this position about RTTE being contradictory to [other] canon enjoy RTTE or have casual fun with RTTE. They may or may not call the show canonical. If they don’t call it canonical, it’s because they don’t see it as consistent with the rest of the franchise. Perhaps most of the people who take this position (I say this anecdotally though) don’t enjoy RTTE and don’t accept it… and probably don’t call it canon. While people do try to make logical arguments about the canonicity of RTTE, I know that many peoples’ emotional feelings toward the show get in the way of how they analyze it. It’s how lots of humans work, after all; if we don’t like something we’re less likely to accept something. But regardless, many people take the position that RTTE can’t be canonical because it seems riddled with contradictions compared to HTTYD, GOTNF, and HTTYD 2.

Others don’t see contradictions, try to smooth over contradictions, or don’t care about contradictions. People who call RTTE canonical are most likely people who like the show - again, showing how emotions get intertwined in our arguments, even when we’re trying to argue through logos. XD Most people who say RTTE is canonical either point out it’s really not as contradictory as others say… or if they’re like me… say that canonicity isn’t about consistency at all. Consistency is irrelevant to whether or not something is canonical; canonicity is about whether or not it was officially produced. And in the case of RTTE, it’s definitely not a fanfiction, it’s not made by some independent group of people without official studio authority… RTTE was produced and distributed by DreamWorks on official channels like Netflix, so it’s canon. For many people, it’s silly to revoke RTTE as canon, because whether or not you like the material, or whether or not you consider it consistent with the rest of HTTYD material, you shouldn’t be denying that official material is official material, right? 

The debate can get a little more in depth / complex than that, which you’ll see in the links. But that’s the gist of the main positions.

Honestly sometimes people talk past each other in this fandom discussion. People ARE, after all, using one word “canon” in several different ways - to talk about consistency, to talk about being officially produced, or both in one. (You can also talk about whether or not it’s as Big as the movies, aka a greater canon versus lesser canon thing). The different perspectives have valid points. But sometimes this turns into equivocating, and it’s largely because we’re specifically using the word “canon” to talk about: 

Consistency

Official production status

And then some people try to go after arguments of each, conflate the two issues into one, try to argue both things at once, and all sorts of various tangles. XD 

It’s basically the word “canon” has become problematic, because some people like RTTE, some people don’t, some people take RTTE seriously, some people don’t, some people think RTTE is contradictory, some people don’t, and we’re all trying to use one word to describe that. And we’re trying to use a word that has a lot of “power” behind it. The word “canon” is a pretty serious word - after all, it’s a word that elects whether or not something should be “included” (to some degree or another) in our fandom. So people don’t like hearing RTTE is or isn’t “canon,” given the power behind the word. The word “canon” elicits emotion. To call RTTE not canon could feel like an insult to the show, or to call RTTE canon would feel like inattentiveness to the movies, etc., depending on your position. Even with me, I admit I’m always working on pushing down a pet peeve I have when people treat canonicity as continuity.

I’ve given my piece on what the word “canon” means multiple times, and haha of course I think I’m totally right ;) XD, but given as I’d rather enjoy myself celebrating material I love rather than fall to a topic I consider a sometimes petty discussion (I say this with all love, fandom friends), I’ve elected to quit talking about this at all. It’s a topic I don’t need to be in and a topic I’m honestly tired of seeing. I’ve found a solution. I’ve quit using the spark-word “canon” altogether. I use the synonym “official materials.” I’ve made it quite clear with this synonym what I’m talking about, and no one can say RTTE isn’t official materials, whatever their opinion is on consistency.

Regardless, what’s important is that we all have fun enjoying the things we love. Fandom communities are about coming together and relating to materials we enjoy. If two people like RTTE, we can have fun with it! If two people don’t see eye-to-eye about RTTE, we can squeal about the movies excitedly! That’s truly the core of what it means to come together. 

To be a fandom community and have fun!

And really, even if the HTTYD fandom can get a little bit sour about the RTTE sometimes, all fandoms have their disagreements, and I’ve really found it to be an awesome community filled with lots of positivity, too. Hope you have fun in the fandom, friend, and feel free to shout about RTTE with me if you want!

But yeah that’s more or less why it’s gotten contention. “Canon” is an emotion-evoking word because it has a lot of “power” for what it means about the status of RTTE. Please, no one take my post, reblog it with your opinions on the matter, and spark up another round of debates. That will make me very displeased for you to take my post for that aim. Thanks for understanding!

Hopefully this explanation helps!

#httyd fandom #rtte #Race to the Edge #faq #long post #DreamWorks Dragons #ask #ask me #awesome anonymous friend #analysis #my analysis #Anonymous

[marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches]

Oh my goodness, I didnt see the link to your fanfic account! I am dumb. So ignore my previous ask and instead answer this one for the meme. 13, 3, 14, 1 and 2 for Happiness goes on? (I shall leave reviews on your beautiful fanfic soon I promise, they are good.)

(Hiii, sooo…this whole reply is late because I actually typed up ALL OF THIS last night, and then accidentally “x”-ed out of my browser and lost it all, because I am very very stupid. And then was too tired to retype it up before going to sleep. I hope I remember roughly everything, and apologies for that mistake.)

Oh! Haha! Alright then! Thank you! Don’t feel dumb at all for not realizing which AO3 account is mine or for your previous ask(which for others who are curious, said: “1 - 5 for all your fics! Just talk about your favs!”). I was prepared to choose 3 fics (including “Happiness Goes On” since that’s definitely the one I’m most proud of, so I guess that’s closest to a “favorite” right?), and go through the first 5 questions for each, though I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t have taken some time to answer.

BUUUT…since you said to scrap that first ask, I’ll answer these individual ones for “Happiness Goes On.” And your compliment and promise for a future review means SO goddamn much, thank you sincerely.

(WARNING / REMINDER: This is about my fic that deals with the subject of child molestation, and I do reference that a little bit in this reply. Don’t read further if it makes you uncomfortable, which I entirely understand and respect.)

**********

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

HA! Well, American Pie obviously, for a majority of it. While brainstorming / writing / editing the epilogue? A lotta Billy Joel. ;)

The idea to use American Pie bounced into my brain when it came on the radio at the thrift shop where I volunteer, one of the rare times my own music speaker battery died. Usually a disaster, because our store radio is pretty crappy, but the sound quality wasn’t too bad that day, and I rediscovered how much I love that song and ‘Why isn’t this on my ipod again?’. Listening to the lyrics, I realized how much some of them fit the Guardians in general, and this story specifically, which I have Gamora mentally note in the fic. I was sitting and casually chatting with the manager while also thinking, ‘Google what year this came out when you get home, but I’m sure it’s the 70′s. Peter would know it, and it could be the Zune. I think it could work.’ I’m proud that I was able to reference the song so many times without actually naming it by title, but I assume most readers knew what it was, it’s just that famous. (I also couldn’t resist the light-hearted joke, later when things calmed down, of Gamora saying “This…is the longest song…I have ever heard.” and Peter smiling without even looking at her and giving a cheeky “I know.”)

In terms of using Billy Joel for the epilogue, I’m just a Billy Joel fanatic. The use of him for this story began just from the We Didn’t Start the Fire joke toward Rocket at the bar (I thought it was clever, Peter!), and later on I saw how The Longest Time fit romantically for Starmora, and some of the lyrics matched the healing themes of the overall story, and I thought ‘Maybe they’ve been playing BIlly Joel since that night; maybe that can be the joke.’ Why shouldn’t his Greatest Hits albums (at least) be on the Zune? I struggled a lot over what song should be the final one Gamora comments on before they switch artists to appease the group. I never specify which romantic Billy Joel song Peter and Gamora slow danced to during their “date night” in that six-week summary, but I like to imagine it was Just the Way You Are. I considered Keeping the Faith or Vienna for the final one, but I thought they deserved something more fun and naughty to analyze this time, so Only the Good Die Young it is. :D

In conclusion, I listened to The Longest Time, and the entire An Innocent Man studio album, a lot (as if I needed an excuse).3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

The portion in italics is my favorite line, but I’m including the entire sentence for context purposes: “She would need to grow used to him viewing Yondu as a caring parent who was extraordinarily protective of his boy, and would have hunted down this pervert to whistle a glowing arrow through her skull.”14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Ohh geez, wow, that one is tough. I don’t know if it’s accurate to say this story was intended to educate, but just to explore the idea with fictional characters. I have no expertise on the subject, and would never claim such, or talk down to those who do. I didn’t intend to create a PSA. I suppose all of the “lessons” for Peter (if they can be called that) I hope all readers already know and agree on (basically a collection of “it wasn’t your fault” and “this doesn’t define you” and “trauma isn’t a competition, someone else suffering worse doesn’t invalidate your experience” and “you should feel comfortable talking about anything without judgement or shame” etc.).

Slightly lesser scale messages, there’s also reminders about the importance of communication, trusting each other, letting the other person speak in an argument, not letting one’s jealousy/instincts/bad mood interfere with fairness, not running away from a fight or staying angry, respecting boundaries and privacy, all that healthy relationship jazz that these two are still figuring out. 1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

This post is already very long, and I could probably talk for hours about the decision-making process for many scenes (of my GotG fics, this took the longest to write and publish, over 2 months), so I’ll try to condense this to a few bullet points that probably don’t fit the “inspired” criteria.

- It was originally going to be in two parts, 4 scenes each, when I thought the epilogue would be much shorter. But as the lil’ wrap-up got longer (because we needed a fluffy conclusion, dammit!), I decided to make it a separate “chapter.”

- I think the concept probably started as one of those strange, angsty “what if?” scenarios I make up in my head at night that I still can’t believe I created into a full-fledged work. I liked the idea of Peter and Gamora having this conversation and her comforting him, but I knew if I was really going to throw it out there for other fans, it had be more balanced with happier moments, too. I just know I was always going to make the offender a woman - both because it would lead to the misunderstanding that she was a past consensual hook-up when Peter was an adult to spark some irritation and jealousy in Gamora, and because it’s realistically different from other sexual assault stories, since women can be pedophiles and child predators too, and they’re just as horrible. :(

- The fanfic idea of “Gamora accidentally starts a fire while trying to cook, and Peter falsely accuses and lashes out at Rocket” was in my head before, but there were two key differences. 1) It was the entire plot, not a light-hearted subplot in the shadows of something bigger, 2) Meredith’s letter was either fully or partially burnt as a result of the fire. By the end Gamora was going to confess it was her fault, that she was trying to surprise Peter by cooking spaghetti, and he would apologize both to her and to Rocket for losing his temper and getting so angry. I hated that idea later and found it too sad (he’s already lost the Walkman and second cassette tape, why would I want him to lose even more from his mother?), and in “Spark My Memory” (the Christmas fic I wrote for “12 Days of Starmora”) the Guardians put his mother’s letter in the photo album gift for Peter, completely safe and unharmed. I like to keep all my fanfics canon-compliant and non-contradictory from each other, so the letter is fine, no burning it.

Yet “Gamora started a fire cooking” still seemed fun to me, as I like the idea that she’s so badass and skilled and intelligent, but failed at something so domestic and simple. Kinda cute. I was so excited to insert it into this, because I think it worked on multiple levels. It’s a driving force for the plot (the reason the team go to the restaurant and they stumble upon that particular waitress), the reason Gamora was already in a bad mood during her fight with Peter, it could be used as a metaphor/comparison for Peter’s anxiety and Gamora’s guilt, it was something for the Guardians to put at a higher priority to tease and mock Gamora for while oblivious to the main story, something for Peter to just break down into giggles over once they changed the subject (because he earned a good laugh after that heartbreaking and vulnerable childhood trauma story), an excuse to give Rocket so many funny lines, an overall silly and sitcommy-style subplot to fall back on, and a sweet “victory!” for Gamora to have (sort of?) conquered by the epilogue. ^_^2: What scene did you first put down?

This is easy. I’ve written all but one (8 out of 9) of my fanfics in order, except for “Just Like Everybody Else.” So ya, I wrote the opening scene first, Baby Groot’s magic trick lesson and Peter’s oh-so-cruel “can only be seen once” deception. I needed to ease readers (and myself) into the angst and heavy shit to follow, and that cute idea had also been in the back of my mind for a while. ^_^

**********

PHEW, OKAY, ALL RE-TYPED! Thank you again SO MUCH for the lovely ask and wonderful questions, your actual interest and curiosity thrilled me! You see I wasn’t kidding about the incessant babbling. :P

Thank you also for the kudos you left on AO3, and take care!~

#Guardians of the Galaxy #Message #Ask Box Meme #Fanfic Asks #Fanfiction #My Fanfiction #Peter Quill #Star-Lord #Gamora #Starmora #Peter Quill/Gamora #Meredith Quill #Yondu Udonta #Yondad #Quotes #Groot #Baby Groot #Rocket #Billy Joel #Text Post

[cinnaminsvga]

Memento Mori | Jimin

→ summary: At 7:49PM, Park Jimin is supposed to die. In his last 24 hours, it is your job as a grim reaper to make it his last good day by impersonating a lost loved one and giving him closure. Against all odds, your visit only makes it harder for him to pass on. 

→ genre: angst, grim reaper!reader

→ warnings: character death, mentions of suicide/depression/self-loathing

→ pairing(s): Jimin x Reader; Jimin x Hoseok

→ words: 4K

→ a/n: semi-based on HYYH series plot line, but I took A LOT of artistic liberties. you’ll see the similarities thought, just thought you should know. this is basically a series chronicling grim reaper!reader’s three most heartbreaking missions. 

→ masterlist // mission 99 // mission 100 // mission 2

Mission #99

Client: Park Jimin

Age: 18 years old

Death Date: October 8, 20XX.

Death Time: 7:49PM

Chance of Death: 95% success rate; medium chance of fluctuation

Cause of Death: Suicide by drowning

Grim Reaper in charge: L/N Y/N

Host: Jung Hoseok; Park Jimin’s close friend

––♡♡♡––

“Hoseok-hyung? You’re back?”

A boy with messy bleached blonde hair and tired brown eyes stares at you incredulously, as if he has just seen a ghost. Technically, he isn’t wrong.

“Hey Jimin, missed me?” You tease, your voice sounding giggly and optimistic, just like how he might have sounded like when the two boys last met. You still aren’t used to this new appearance, but you try your best to imitate Hoseok’s ticks and habits as closely as possible.

You expect Jimin to flounder about, unbelieving of seeing the dead suddenly among the living once again. You ready yourself with an explanation, a way to explain how a dead man could be standing in front of a dingy Busan high school as if his two-week disappearance had all just been a dream.

You find no questions escaping Jimin’s lips; instead, he drops his school bag with a resounding thud as you are suddenly withstanding the force of a scrawny 18-year old boy catapulting himself onto you with a vice-like hug.

“Woah there, kid!” You laugh, patting his fluffy hair endearingly. “I’m not as strong as I look, you know?” You try prying Jimin off your body to take a look at his face, but you find that Jimin wasn’t budging. As you feel his body start to shudder, you take that as a telltale sign that Jimin is probably crying in relief.

But when Jimin finally removes himself from you, his eyes are dry.

He smiles as bright as the sun, discreetly trying to sniffle away any signs of tears. His eyes crinkle cheerily, as if the sad kid who had walked out of the school building just a minute ago never existed.

This is the Jimin that existed before Hoseok had disappeared.

“I’m… sorry. It’s just… It’s good to see you, hyung.” He whispers it like it’s a secret.

You try to smile just as brightly. You aren’t sure if it works, but Jimin doesn’t comment.

“It’s good to see you too, Jimin. Now, let’s get you home, shall we?”

Any sort of awkwardness or tension slowly melts away as the two of you start walking back to Jimin’s house. You choose to follow him from behind, as you weren’t quite as sure of where the two of you were supposed to go (you’re sure Hoseok probably knew exactly where Jimin’s house is, but you failed to memorize the map before coming to his high school.) Jimin doesn’t seem to mind, however, as he continues to talk animatedly about his day, all while walking backwards with a grin on his face.

“And so, Taemin shoots the spitball at Kyungsoo’s head when he wasn’t looking! Oh man, it was utter chaos! I was sure Seulgi was going to call the princi—“

“Aish, Jimin!” You suddenly call out, pulling him out of the way as he almost rams himself against a not very kindly looking man. The older man only huffs in annoyance before promptly grumbling away. As you send Jimin a teasingly angry look, he at least has the decency to look sheepish.

“Whoops, I guess walking backwards is harder than it looks, huh?” He giggles melodically, and you try your hardest to ignore the guilt rising up from your stomach.

He’s definitely going to be one of the more difficult ones to let go of.

“You don’t need to walk backwards, you idiot. Here,” you say, grabbing Jimin’s hand in your own. You don’t fail to notice the pale blush spreading on Jimin’s face, but you don’t acknowledge it either. It’ll only make things harder if you did.

“See? If we hold hands, at least I can stop your stupid ass from bumping into every person on the street.” You joke, and the weird atmosphere slowly dissipates. Jimin laughs at your jab, but the sound ends quicker than it did before. From the corner of your eye, you see Jimin staring at your linked hands.

The rest of the walk home becomes more muted as Jimin starts talking about his after school dance practices. The look on his face is serious, maybe even ashamed. You ask him what’s wrong.

“Hyung… I haven’t danced in a month.”

Your grip on his hand stops the two of you in your tracks. This information isn’t new to you, because it was highlighted in yellow in his death report. But the deep breath you take isn’t fake; you genuinely ache for him.

“Why? I thought dance was your life. It’s our life.” You state more than ask, and Jimin fidgets under your weighty stare. Your gaze softens, and you rub circles of comfort over his clenched fist. He looks away before he speaks.

“It is my life… but when you disappeared after that night, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep it.”

It? Was it his passion for dance? Or his life?

You don’t ask that question. Instead, you take his chin in your unoccupied hand to tilt his face towards you. His eyes are still downcast—irises flitting about apprehensively. You know that he still has something to ask, but it seems like you were going to have to push him a bit to make him speak. So, you lower your head to make eye contact with him, waving jokingly at his face.

“Hello? Earth to Jimin? Go on, say whatever is on that silly brain of yours. I know you want to tell me something.” You say, rolling your eyes before pointing a comforting smile at him. Jimin’s smile resurfaces like lightning, before disappearing just as quickly.

“It’s just… I heard from some classmates that you overdosed a few weeks ago. And when you suddenly stopped coming by the school during dismissal, my brain went to the worst place and I… I just thought—“Jimin’s voice catches mid-sentence, cracking slightly from emotion. He clasps a hand around his mouth, as if unwilling to finish the thought. A dark look encompasses his face, but his eyes remain dry.

You start to panic. Fuck. This is bad. You can’t make Jimin’s last day a sad one. You got to turn the conversation around.

“Oh Jiminie! Is that what was worrying you all this time? You know me; I was just cooped up in the dance studio these days. I finally found this awesome mixtape for my showcase. You ever heard of Rap Monster?” The lie falls smoothly off your tongue, and you’re suddenly grateful that you had read that part of Hoseok’s file just as deeply as you had analyzed Jimin’s, or else you wouldn’t have known about his dance activities at all.

It is only with some guilt when you allow yourself to bask in the warmth of Jimin’s grin.

“Rap Monster? What kind of name is that?” He laughs heartily, his giggles pitching to almost sound like little squeaks from how happily he shook.

In that moment, Jimin certainly didn’t look like the type to commit suicide in a bathtub. Not a lot of people ever do, but you suppose that’s why they say you can never judge a book by its cover.

The thought leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

Not soon after, the two of you arrive outside Jimin’s small apartment. Your hands are still intertwined when Jimin goes to open the door.

“Hey, want to go upstairs and play some video games?” He chirps, tugging you along to the inside of his home. Just as you are about to enter, however, your phone rings. You jump at the sound, surprised to be getting a notification in the middle of your mission.

Almost reluctantly, you separate your hands in order to reach for your phone. Your eyes widen at the warning signs on your display screen, and you are quick to push Jimin inside his home lest he get a glimpse of your text. “Uh, sorry Jimin. I got a call from work. You go on up, ok? I’ll catch up.”

Jimin seems unwilling to let go for some reason, and you are almost afraid that Jimin might refuse, that he knows the truth and that you’re not actually Hoseok—

The weird look on Jimin’s face vanishes soon after, but the tension from his odd stare remains. “Alright… but don’t bail on me alright? My mom left some fried chicken for dinner, and I really don’t want to finish it myself!” He tries to jest, but you don’t miss the subtle message in his tone: don’t leave me.

After you nod your head and promise that you won’t leave, Jimin gives you one last look before closing the door. The moment Jimin’s prying eyes leave your form, you quickly unlock your phone where his death file is still open.

Everything still seems to be in order, except—

“Shit,” you mutter, watching in horror as his “Chance of Death” lowered by the second. It had been a solid 95% this morning, but now you were watching in real-time as the percentage dropped to as low as 68%.

You curse to yourself, pocketing your phone and taking a deep breath. It seems “Hoseok’s” reappearance has reignited Jimin’s will to live, meaning you are inadvertently preventing his death. This is definitely not good.

You can only avoid death so many times before it catches up with you—and you didn’t want it to hold Jimin down by the throat. He didn’t deserve a death worse than the one already predetermined for him. This was supposed to be his last good day.

Think. You have to increase those chances to at least 95% again in order to consider this mission a success. Assortments of ideas filter through your head, but all of them seem so indescribably cruel that it almost pains you to do them.

But you had to. An escaped death would have been much crueler, in the end. If Seokjin had taught you anything about helping humans evade death, it’s that it would only hurt you and them in the process.

Jimin was not going to be another Yoongi. You can’t allow it.

Park Jimin has to die today, and you had to make sure of that.

When you muster the energy to go inside his home, you are startled to find Jimin shirtless, seemingly in the midst of changing. He yelps at your sudden reappearance, a steady red blush rising from his chest to his neck. He licks his lips nervously, and you force your eyes to stay trained on his own.

He quickly puts his shirt on. “You came back.” He breathes out.

You swallow drily, before nodding and feigning disinterest as you try not to look too disappointed that he put his clothes on so quickly. The tension is fucking palpable, and you can feel yourself choking on your own spit. You plop yourself on the couch, giving him an expectant look as you pat the space beside you.

“Video games, right?” you smile, breaking the silence.

Stepping out of his reverie, Jimin shakes his head, coughing lightly as he goes over to his gaming console and pops in a random game to play. He chucks an extra controller at you, and you stare with wide-eyed amazement as you see the numerous stickers decorating it. Glittery hearts and smiley faces are scattered all around it, making its original black color almost unrecognizable under the sheer color of the stickers.

Jimin smirks at your dumbfounded look. “Why do you look so surprised? Don’t you remember when you said you wanted to, what did you say? Stake your claim on the better controller that didn’t have messed up buttons?”

You gulp, looking at Jimin then back at the controller. Holy fuck, they really were whipped for each other.

“Uh… yeah. Obviously, you sabotaged the other controller which is why I always lost in the games!” You still aren’t over how fucking in love Jimin was with this dude. Fuck, how hadn’t you noticed? You itch to look at the status of Jimin’s chance of death.

“Oh, shut up hyung! You lose every single time we play, no matter what! I think you just like saying my stuff is yours,” he laughs, but it sounds forced, embarrassed. A deep flush coats his cheeks yet again and you try to wrack your brain as to why he would seem flustered by a little comment—

Oh right. He was referencing that night again.

“Let’s… just play the game, alright?” You say not unkindly, but your subtle rejection makes itself known on Jimin’s face as his eyes droop even lower, before carefully placing himself beside you, with some space between your two bodies.

As it turns out, even though you’re impersonating Hoseok, you obviously don’t acquire any of his skills, and that includes both dancing and gaming. So when Jimin defeats you for the tenth time in Mortal Kombat, it is almost a surprise that Jimin doesn’t find it odd that you were just button mashing your way through the rounds.

“Hyung! What the fuck! You’re so shit at this game!” Jimin laughs, throwing his body onto yours in his fit of glee. You tense up at the contact, trying to inconspicuously inch away from his body until he finally gets the hint. Jimin freezes in his giggling, before retracting away from you in an instant. He looks away from you, and rubs his neck in embarrassment.

He coughs awkwardly. “Uh, sorry about that.”

You try to shrug it off, but your heart pains for him. He loves Hoseok so damn much. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean it.”

Oh, he fucking meant it all right.

In the wake of the uncomfortable silence, you happen to glance at your watch and almost gasp when you notice the minute hand slowly reach 7:01PM. Your head snaps up to Jimin, who was gazing at you forlornly.

“Oh…Are you leaving so soon, hyung?” His voice drops by the end of the sentence, his stare finally breaking and turning towards the floor instead. “That’s too bad.”

You seriously debate leaving right now. This mission was already starting to look too much like Yoongi’s. Even looking at Jimin’s sad face was starting to make you hyperventilate in fear, your repressed memories slowly rising up.

Dark black eyes staring pleadingly at you, his rosy red lips begging to be kissed again. He whispers, “Don’t leave.”

You shake your head, willing the thoughts to go away. Bad, bad, bad.

But as you sneak a peek at your phone to check Jimin’s percentage, it still hasn’t reached 90%, and you know from experience that the best way to know that they were truly going to die is if the percentage reached 95%, so you couldn’t just hope that he would suddenly want to die within the span of 40 minutes.

No. You had to do something. Something cruel.

Even though Park Jimin was your 99th mission, it never gets any easier.

“No, Jiminie. I’m not leaving just yet. You can’t kick me out that easily!” You slap Jimin on the back playfully, and the gesture makes your phone ping in response. Fuck. That means it lowered again.

You clear your throat. “Hey, Jiminie. Mind if I use the bathroom real quick though?”

Jimin looks at you semi-strangely. “Why are you asking all of sudden, like you have manners? You normally just go and take a shit whenever you want to, gross-hyung.”

To save yourself from your slip-up, you yawn over-dramatically, taking care to make your face look as ugly as possible. To your disappointment, you hear Jimin laugh endearingly, and you can only imagine how low the percentage is right now.

“Oh fuck, I don’t know what’s happening to me, Jimin. I guess I’m starting to get senile from all that dancing.” (A weird joke between Jimin and Hoseok that you still didn’t quite understand, but you’re guessing it was the correct thing to say because Jimin shrugs off your strangeness almost immediately after.)

Rolling his eyes, he grabs your hand and drags you to the toilet himself, all the while whispering how “you are such a drama queen” the entire way. He directs you to the bathroom, and it almost appears as if he wants to follow before you give him a hard gaze and he flushes embarrassedly, running his hand through his hair before tripping his way back to the living room.

You watch his retreating form and wish with all your heart that you could turn him around, tell him once and for all who you were and that you’re not actually—

You banish those thoughts to the deepest recesses of your heart. This is not the time to be soft. You can’t allow it. Not again.

As you close the door with a resounding ‘click,’ you hurriedly check your phone to see Jimin’s file once again.

Current Time: 7:07PM

Chance of Death: 74%

Although it wasn’t as low an hour ago, it is still not even nearly good enough. You are in the middle of figuring out how to go about raising his percentage when you happen to notice the water heater unplugged.

That’s no good. His bath water would be cold.

You open the door, peering out into the living room. “Oy, Jimin! Your heater isn’t plugged in!”

The soft pattering footsteps indicate Jimin’s approach. “Huh? Why are you looking at my water heater, weirdo?” He says, looking inside to see what you were doing. He raises a brow. “Were you gonna shower or something?”

“No, but like…how do you even handle showering? Cold water is shit!”

Jimin shrugs. “Oh. Well, I like to shower in cold water. They say it’s healthier.”

“Healthy, smellthy! Are you a masochist? Hot baths are the best!”

“It’s okay, really. I’m used to cold water and colder beds.” He suddenly spits out, and the dark look that had encompassed his face a while ago makes its return. You stare wide-eyed at him, realization dawning on you. Oh. That night again.

“Jimin…”

Jimin finally snaps. “Don’t Jimin me, hyung. What happened? What changed? Why did you disappear after… after that? We were so close back then. I’m always happiest when I am with you, and I know you are the same. Are? Were? I don’t know anymore! It’s just…” he takes a breath, swallowing heavily. You look at his eyes: dry as the desert, still.

“When you disappeared, I thought…I thought it was because of me. That you were disgusted with yourself, that you had chosen to be with someone like me—“

Your heart breaks even further. Don’t say that about yourself, please. That’s further from the truth. Hoseok loved you so much. Please.

Please, stop.

But Jimin doesn’t stop.

“Then this afternoon, you suddenly reappear into my life and it’s like nothing happened. I was fine with letting myself think this was like how we were before. You’re making me laugh and making me remember what it was like to be happy. I thought we could just go back to being friends. But I can’t.” He pauses, breathing heavily. He stares pitifully at you.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about that night. You held me so tightly, hyung. You kissed away every drop of hate I had for myself in my body and made me actually feel loved—as if I was worthy of it. So when you came back to me today and started making me remember, it made me think that…that night couldn’t have been a mistake. That you remember it, that we could still be something more. That my anxieties can finally be put to rest because you are finally reciprocating and yet! And yet.”

And yet.

“You still push me away. I see it, you know. I may be suicidal, but I’m not dumb, hyung. Just, tell me. What do you want from me?” He gasps out, despair clinging onto every word that Jimin uttered.

He said it. He really admitted it.

In that moment, wave after wave of sadness and pity washes over you. The pain of seeing such hopeful eyes, a gaze that whispered of stuttered promises at the dead of night and unspoken vows never to be uttered. A future waiting to bloom, if only you not been an imposter.

In a different universe, Hoseok would be standing where you stood, and he’d kiss away all of his unshed tears away.

It was all too fucking dreadful—horrendous even—to bear.

You wished so badly that you weren’t standing here, watching as a man in love watched his lover—you—hold his entire life in your hands. You wished you weren’t tasked with this fucking mission, that you had gotten some random old man instead of this boy who had too much love in his bones.

You wished that you didn’t look like the boy who carried Jimin’s heart. But most of all:

You wished Hoseok hadn’t died, so Jimin wouldn’t have had to die as well.

In the back of your mind, a voice whispers, tempting you.

Save him. Save him, please. He isn’t going to be like Yoongi. You will save him, Y/N. He is worth the pain. He is going to make it; he has to. Please, don’t let him die. Please.

You ignore the way the voice sounds like a man’s, like a man in love with the boy in front of you. You squash it, suppress it, burn it.

I’m sorry, Hoseok. No one can save a dead man.

“I don’t want anything from you, Jimin. I never did. I’m sorry.”

74%…78%…

“What? Hyung, I know you’re dealing with things right now, but I swear, I can fix myself. I can—“

“It’s not that. We just can’t.”

78%…80%…

“Why?”

“I can’t give you what you want because…because I don’t want to.”

80%…85%…

“Hyung…?”

“Jimin. I can’t love you. I don’t love you. I never did. I used you as a warm body on a cold day. It wasn’t real. I’m sorry.” You were feeding his anxieties, making it fester and boil and mature. It was eating him alive; you could see it.

85%…90%…

“You don’t mean that. You don’t… You’re not like that.” His voice warbles, and it might have been the trick of the light but you swear that his eyes start to shine. But no tears fall, still. You aren’t sure if you could continue if he did start to cry. You wish he would start to cry, just so you could fucking stop.

“Why do you think I disappeared for so long? I was guilty for using you, so I went far away. Along the way, I met someone, Jiminie. Someone who can actually complete me. I wanted someone whole, you know? I’m sorry. In fact, she’s texting me right now.” You take this moment to check your phone, pretending to text this fake girl in order to see Jimin’s file.

Current Time: 7:24PM

Chance of Death: 93%

You look back up. You stare at the space above his head, in fear of what you’d actually see. You were a coward, and so you quietly choked on your sins.

You seal the deal. “In the end, Jimin, all I wanted to do today was just to apologize. I’m sorry.”

93%...95%

Your phone beeps the moment you finish your sentence. You swallow heavily, a sob almost making its escape from your throat.

And so you turn, not wanting to see the destruction you leave. You are cowardly. You are more than ready to dash out of there and never return when your eyes land on the heater again. You quickly push in the plug, feeling his eyes drilling holes into the back of your skull. You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

You still don’t look back, but you manage to say, “Have a good bath, okay Jiminie?”

How cruel. How despicably cruel.

You rush out, never taking one glance back.

You run as fast as you can, the tears finally flowing as your disguise melts away from your body. Bright orange hair slowly starts to dull to its original color, perfect nose turning back to its meager appearance. You were no longer Hoseok. You were yourself.

And so, you allowed yourself to grieve.

In the end, you never got to give Park Jimin proper closure like you had intended, but the rules of your business are simple but strict. Death before closure; that was the rule. Park Jimin’s last day was not a good day, and it was all your fault.

As you look up at the setting sun, the only comfort that will help you sleep at night was the fact at the very least, his bath water will be warm when he dies.

At 7:39PM, Jimin unplugs the heater.

At 7:44PM, the water fills up to the brink. Jimin submerges his head.

At 7:49PM, the house is still.

#BangtanWriters-Net #sfwbangtan #btswriters #kreativewritersnet #jiminnetwork #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts scenario #park jimin #jimin #jimin scenarios #jimin angst #bts angst #bts jimin #bangtan #BTS x you #bts fanfic #jung hoseok #hoseok #hoseok scenarios

[pluck-my-life]

In today’s episode of Snark’s failed (but productive) naps: getting into Chuck’s mindset!

My fellow character&ship analysis nerd @loverofthebirbs may wanna read this. But I gotta warn everyone: this text is full of junk and stray associations. 

Long post ahoy!ヽ(◕ヮ<)ﾉ

Some of you might already know what I look like (I’m not encouraging you going to my Facebook for pics, having seen me irl may get in the way of you perceiving this semi-RP blog as I intend it to be, but curiosity is the right of all sentient beings so it’s up to you) and it’s even surprising why I relate so much to Red and not Chuck (it really is because I’m introverted and world-weary and take too much upon myself, but this all is for later ‘cos for a limited time those qualities have flocked off into the back of my brain and I wanna enjoy being less self-conscious while I can). It’s annoying though to deal with a bunch of thoughts buzzing around my head like a bunch of flies and having to catch them to lay ‘em down on the page. And having fidgety fingers when they’re not typing (and having to retype the parts my brain found a better wording for right after I’ve typed ‘em down). But this state of mind is important to document for later references, because my brain isn’t always so generous, so I’ll leave all this mess as is, minus the typos (my keyboard is comfy but kinda old so the keys are not as pliable as they used to be). Oh bling, I’ve got SO off topic. 

The point is, when you perform so many actions without slowing down to consider them, you become desensitized to your own actions. Being everywhere all at once mashes the experiences into one big jumble and it’s just... kinda there. You’d have to unravel it afterwards when you have a contemplative mood. (Uh, the keyboard annoys me so much more than usual, it’s the digital analog of trying to say a lot of things that are on your mind, they might even be aligned into the perfect sequence, but that clumsy meat tentacle in your mouth a.k.a. the tongue just can’t keep up). When you admire someone very much and you’re sooo full of feelings you just wanna touch ‘em everywhere at once, because they’ve got so many features worth of attention, and it isn’t enough to just look (like, would you be content to just look at a cake? It may be a work of culinary art, but that’s not what cakes are for, you get the meaning?) but imagine if you actually do it: the receiving party would feel as if they’ve been poked all over with a finger, like I do sometimes to my friend who likes touches but I’m in the mood for silly things so I just poke their chest with a finger, probably also sticking my tongue out ‘cos I’m like that, maybe it’s a new and innovative way of gesturing, I often do that after a joke or a sarcastic remark to show that I’m not serious (subconsciously, I don’t try to control everything I do when I’m in a comfortable environment, that’d be an extra waste of my already precious energy). 

Anyways. My friend knows that I’m like that, but a new person I’ve just met - doesn’t. So all the things I do jokingly-affectionately to my friend would annoy that person and make ‘em think I’m really weird. But it’s a matter of habit too, excitement makes people lose their grip on themselves and (in my case) get very loud and intense without even noticing it - or, in Chuck’s case, get too carried away touching that new bird he really likes and showing off his cool moves (perfectly natural for a male bird, I’ve read people even use this behavior to determine the sex of some non-dimorphic birds: you put a bird in a cage by itself and after a while get another bird in there, if the first bird starts to show off to the newcomer it’s male, even though the newcomer can be male as well). Aaand... I lost my thread of thought. It feels exhausting to have this many buzzing thoughts, and I wouldn’t even be thinking in words and sentences if I didn’t need to type them out. Back when I was trying to take a nap the thoughts were like multiple background voices, and the ones I focused on sounded louder than the rest of ‘em. All the things that could be visually imagined were pictures and movements. Uuhh my brain is so tired. 

Last important notice: when they touch you, at their own initiative, it feels much more meaningful than a hundred of your own touches. You’ve devalued your own actions, at least in your own perception, they’re a dime a dozen. They’ve probably zoned you out at this point, voice and gestures and all (who? the girl reading this lmao, the person whose attention you want). Because they operate on another time scale (at least their brain does) or they’re always in that chill sniffing-flowers mode, or they’re so introverted they gotta recharge after any interaction with you ‘cos you’re so disproportionally intense they need a breather after every dang story you tell (especially if you swerve a lot because your brain brings up so many associations, like I’m doing constantly in this post). So you’re annoying to them, but you still wanna earn their attention and you ain’t very patient, so you do even more ridiculous loud things and get stuck in this vicious circle of getting zoned out, further and further, it may even become a habit for the person you’re annoying (but at least that introverted birdie is getting used to touches, so that’s getting somewhere, sadly at the expense of your chances to earn appreciation, which is what you’ve wanted in the first place).

Got off road again. Let’s say they’ve had time to analyze your behavior and their own reactions and now they’re making a conscious effort to accept you. Say, you’ve invaded their personal space for a hundredth time and... they wrap their arm around you. Time stops. You can hear galaxies spin ‘round each other, yadda yadda, all the bombastic tropes to show how meaningful it is. You don’t even wanna move. Your perception turns to their breathing, their heart beating, that look you’ve never seen in their eyes - or never stopped to notice, too caught up in a mix of your own stupid shenanigans and lamenting how cruel your fate is, how inconsiderate they are not noticing your efforts... well now they have, and you gotta make sure this moment's as pleasant for them as it is for you, so they'd want more of it and more often. Make use of each other’s basic pleasure-seeking instincts to reinforce this behavior (ain’t we all just animals with too many complications?) Relationships take effort on both sides, especially trying to see things from another’s perspective. Now I’ve done it and I’m so worn out my unfinished nap is gonna take me :3

P.S. pardon any typos, I’m really not in the mood to edit, and it would ruin the integrity of this state of mind (yeah I’m justifying my laziness, so what, how many people are gonna read this magnum opus anyway?)

#chirpy chirp #long post #character analysis #Chuck #Red x Chuck #(implied) #Red #(hardly even mentioned) #personal #my weird brain

[zensations35]

Silence is Golden (LoZ BotW)

So, I wrote this a while back when I was really into Breath of the Wild, and my friend convinced me to post it here for all of you. It’s just a short, sweet little drabble done in Zelda’s perspective (based off of her personality in the journal you find in Hyrule Castle). 

Link’s got the issues of course. No major spoilers. Okay, here goes.

He’s so quiet.

I’ve always been rather talkative myself, and I encourage others to communicate their thoughts and ideas as much.  I suppose that’s why it bothered me so much.

Ever since we began traveling together, all I’ve been able to get him to do is nod at my commands.  The man never speaks! Does he not respect me?  Does he hate me? I knew he could speak – he’d spoken to my father.  I knew he had a voice, he simply refused to use it.  It drove me mad.

My boots sank into the soft earth as we trudged through the grassy Hyrule field. My eyes were down as I picked through my thoughts and worries.  The frilled cup of a gorgeous white flower caught my eye and slowed me.  A silent princess flower, one of the most elusive when it came to gardening.  They only survived in the wild.  I gazed at it with a small smile, wishing I could stop to admire them a bit longer, but we did have places to be.

Wasn't that always the case for me?  What I wanted to do always shadowed by what I needed to do, or what I was told to do.  I frowned at the simple reminder of my father, trying not to grumble out loud.  

Eyes still downcast, my body collided with the one in front of me.  The shock made me gulp back a yelp of surprise as I reeled defensively.

“What are you doing?!” I snapped rather harshly, barely able to catch my breath as my heart sped.

The hero soldier said nothing.  Of course.

My hands met my hips and I glowered at the back of his blonde head, fresh anger flaring in my gut.

“Would you at least tell me what in goddess name-“

“Hiett-chzz!”

I stared at him, words completely forgotten.  That was the first sound I’d heard him make since we began this journey.  I blinked at him, stunned.

I heard a sniffle and caught him peeking back at me with a mixture of apologetic embarrassment on his flushed cheeks.

“Are you…”  I fumbled for words.  I’d never found myself speechless before, but here I was, not knowing what to say to the normally silent warrior.

He nodded and we continued.

Now my brain filled with new thoughts and worries. Should I have pushed?  Asked him again, more forcefully?  He could be catching a cold.  Should I check him for fever?  Perhaps I’m over-analyzing.  I tend to do that.

Did he just shiver?  I’m being silly. Then again…

I watched him carefully now, instead of the scenic flora we were passing through.  He seemed to be tending his nose rather often, and his pace had slowed from the time we'd left the castle.  It was obvious he wasn’t feeling 100%, but I still said nothing – again, odd for me.

I continued observing him, noting the small gasps he drank in that one might have mistaken for breathing (if they weren’t as attentive as I).

Twenty paces of fighting it later, he dipped down into his sleeve with a sharp inhale. “Hhheehhxxt! Iiiehh…” his face came up again for air, “Tchh!”

Finally I could say something!  I lit into him. “You’re obviously unwell,” I huffed, recognizing my haughty tone, but not bothering to correct myself.  He massaged the wings of his nostrils and sniffed, still attempting to ignore me, I assumed.

My frustration with him peaked and I snapped.  My hand flew out to grasp the collar of his sky-colored tunic and tugged him backwards so that he stumbled. “Fine then! Don’t talk to me, but at least let me-“

He took a step back from my outstretched hand and winced at my enraged snarl.  “Stand at attention, knight!” I ordered.  I was done with his evasion.  I was the Princess here.

And he knew it.  The hero complied, placing his hands by his sides and straightening his back, facing me with only a bit of worry knitting his brow.

“That’s better.” I moved closer again and brushed the back of my hand across his forehead.  My touch made him cringe (or that’s what I thought made him flinch like that).  It looked like he was holding his breath, teeth clenching as he chomped down hard on his lip. His already flared nostrils curled and I realized why almost too late.

“Hhihh…” I pulled my hand back quickly as his flew up to cover his face with his palm, “Eiiikkktshhh!!”

His eyes fluttered above the cupped palm latched over his mouth, the look he gave me made my chest tighten and my features fall with sympathy.

I felt bad.

I’d been hard on him, and for no reasons but my own internal angst.  We’d only just started traveling together, and truth be told I was angry with my father, not his soldier.

I sighed at the young man, using the back of my fingers to check his cheeks. “Well, you don’t have fever.  What’s wrong with you…?” I wondered aloud.

The soldier’s wary eyes slipped down to his feet, and my gaze followed his to one of the stray silent princess flowers nearby.

Oh.

I stared at the innocent-looking flower before my eyes returned to the afflicted soldier and I laughed.  I couldn’t help it.  This stoic soldier hadn’t made so much as a peep since I’d met up with him, but now, here he was, forced into breaking that silence…by a flower.  The irony of its name was not lost on me either.

I tried not to giggle through my words as I finally spoke again.  “Ridiculous man! Don’t just stand around in it then!” I tilted my head to the side, remembering why he was so still.  “Oh, yes of course.  At ease and all of that,” I pinched the fabric of his tunic and tugged lightly, “Come on then!”

We made it out of the field and I huffed at him once again.  “You know, if you had told me you were allergic to those, we could have avoided this whole tiff.”

This statement got me another apologetic blink, complete with an abject nose rub and a grunt.

“Sorry.”

I froze.  My head swung back to stare at him again, certain I was mistaken.  “Did you just…”

His cheeks heated and he rubbed the back of his neck abashedly, not meeting my gaze.

My heart lifted, a sliver of hopefulness lightening my tone and bringing forth another bubbly laugh from my lungs.  I felt my mood completely shift from the anger I’d felt earlier.  Link seemed to be feeling a bit better now too, which brightened my smile further.

“Suppose I’ll keep on talking then; perhaps a loud princess won’t give you such a poor reaction.”

His shoulders sagged and he looked at me now, lips twisting in a wry expression that made me chuckle again.  Perhaps he didn’t need to say anything at all.  I could read that face well enough.  One day I’d get him to say more than a mere word, but for now I felt better knowing he was growing more comfortable around me.

Perhaps then, he might forgive my brash rudeness and come to see me as more than just the Princess.  

#Be gentle #I love silent Link #I will torture him endlessly #Zel/da #snzkink #snzfic #Li/nk #OH GAWD WHAT HAVE I DONE #breath of the /wild #no spoilers #loz botw #zenfic #fanfiction

[jumarit38]

THE THEORY OF LOVE - MAYUKI OS

#Mayuki #Watanabe Mayu #kashiwagi yuki #AKB48 #OS #Fanfiction

[demondarakna]

The totally inaccurate guide to depression #3 - Depression or playing life on HARD mode.

Hello again,

This is a person with clinical depression, but enough about me.

Let’s talk about what YOUR POSSIBILITES are.

If you read any of my guides from before, you know I’m kinda messed in the head. Maybe not your messed, because each individual has their own personal messed, and we try to fight it in our own ways and we give different faces to our monsters that feed off different emotions and deep down inside we accepted it as ourselves … it is not a competition, we ARE messed up. We are TOLD we are messed up and we start BELIEVING we are messed up and this automatically ‘gives us lower value’.

If you read romanticizing of depression, you might think you’re just ‘different’. That in fact everybody else is messed up. And you’re ‘special’.

The truth is, the disease is not what makes you special. And you’re not the only one messed up. EVERYONE is messed up. You just lack the tools to fight your mess.

So, let’s talk about what happened to me. My body got with the program of depression and stress and all the shit united and a thing called psoriatic arthritis broke out as I turned 26.  

I went to the doctor. Doctors. Shitload of them. Did every test. Changed my diet. Changed my routine. Changed how I handle my job. Tried EVERY approach in the book EVER. Believe it or not, if you have NO ONE in your life to help you put on your clothes or go to work instead of you, or DON’T HAVE work where they accept that you can’t move because you’re sick … those usually regular suicidal thoughts get really good looking as an only way out. Despite the antidepressants the depression follows you everywhere. You can’t really work, you can’t do anything at home, you can hardly walk. I won’t lie, the reason I’m alive is because my friend (who is married and has a life of his own) visited me occasionally and tried his best to just let me talk it out. And told me he needed me.

So, I went to the shrink (again, after a year). I told him that despite the pills, my situation is worsening. And I don’t even have a clue what is wrong with me. I have 3 different doctor’s appointment in the next month, and I just CAN’T GO ON like this anymore.

I got new pills (antidepressants) that I was 100% won’t do shit for my joints. I was wrong.

I found my perfect combination. The rheumatologist worked with the pills my shrink gave me, because not only was I able to move again (altho with little pain at that point, because it took a bit longer to really get into my system), I seemed POSITIVE about moving forward despite my disease.

So, first note: find your perfect combination of antidepressants. These are the 4th kind I ever tried, and I got them accidentally because my body went into shutdown mode.

If you ARE depressed, it’s a chemical imbalance, you need to balance it. Just like you need meds to heal acid reflux! It’s not YOUR mind that’s the problem, it’s YOUR HORMONES AND BRAIN. And IT CAN BE FIXED! It only takes effort in figuring out HOW, because your brain is more complicated that the rest of your body combined. Talk it out with everybody needed for the process, try different approaches (yes, that sometimes also means, try different meds or doctors … or faith, whatever works).

Now, as a person who just the day before yesterday almost told his friend (that’s not in the great part of his life right now): “Can’t you try -”

This is where I cut myself off. Because I heard that start of the sentence too many times before. As I’m sure ALL OF YOU DID.

“Can’t you try to be happy?”   “Can’t you try harder?” “Can’t you try not to be depressed?” “Can’t you try to see the world as a better place?” “Can’t you try to trust people?” “Can’t you try …”

I wanted to say: “Can’t you try to see the positive side to your current situation?”

I was ready to punch MYSELF in the face.

The HYPOCRACY!!!

He stopped me from hurting myself, of course. Happy that I’m that far out to be able to see from the other side of the fence.

I hate it being on the other side, and yet IT GIVES ME POWER. OVER MYSELF and OVER THE WORLD (read on).

ALL OUR LIVES we’ve been trying to understand the rules of this world. We’ve been trying to understand WHY US. Why are some people better than us. What can we do for people to like us, to want to be with us. Why doesn’t anybody want us around. Why are we the worthless ones. How did we get this messed up. Why don’t people just understand. How many times must we get hurt before we finally die of a heartbreak. How many times must we get betrayed. Will it be always like that. Why is life so unfair.

In old posts I told you, that the easiest way for me to fight depression is to understand it. And I stand by that.

Now I’m going to tell you something else.

You are not BROKEN, you’re not LESS than anyone else. You are in fact PLAYING LIFE IN HARD MODE. You’re doing shit without tutorial. Without health potions. Without NPCs pointing the way of the quest.

And you know what happens when you get your medicine? When you get your brain-acid-reflux fixed?

You become the MOST BADASS, MOST skilled, WISEST, MOST hard-working, MOST HYPED, MOST EMPATHIC, the BEST MOST POPULAR PLAYER this game-world HAS EVER SEEN.

Suddenly, the maze that is people’s minds is clear to you. Let them be depressed or even BAD people, let them be good people. You UNDERSTAND THEM ALL. Because you have tried understanding them in HARD mode and you got so so close, but never quite far enough.

YOU BECOME ready for the WORST! And you KNOW YOU CAN TAKE IT! Because OUTSIDE worst can hide from what INSIDE WORST can do.

Nothing is sucking up your energy.

There is not a job you would say no to or be able to be perfect at, because you’ve been doing the hardest job of getting out of bed when you just wanted to vanish ALL YOUR LIFE.

Dealing with EVIL BOSSES is a laughing matter. Because THE SHADOW INSIDE had your memories, your WORST fears in the arsenal and it couldn’t kill you. WHAT COULD A HUMAN EVEN DO TO YOU?!

YOU ARE THE WISEST, because all your life you were told that you are stupid and wrong, so you learned how to keep your mouth shut unless you are 100% sure you knew what you were talking about.

And people will BOW to your ability of consideration. They will BEG for your presence, as you are a good listener and give good advice what to do at bad times, because you theorized about THE WORST TIMES with your own INNER DEMON.

Not just your CONSIDERATION, but your PROTECTFULNESS – because as we know, depressed people don’t let other people be depressed. And now, NO people should be depressed or sad. You know a way out!!!

YOU CAN DEAL WITH THIS!

COME AT ME, WORLD! I LAUGH AT YOUR PATHETIC TRIES!

Imagine staring at the painting your whole life, memorizing those dim tones, searching for the meaning and then somebody comes and tells you: this is just a silly painting I did when I was 5. Dude, you can tell STORIES about this painting. This shadow under the tree being stronger, symbolizes that you were a child who kept to the dark. That rose over there means you loved someone even then. And, hell, the LAKE! I can analyze every reflection on the LAKE like its Art History time!

I’m still single. I am without a family. I am at not-so-great-job.

But you know what. I’m okay with all of it. I will handle it.

I can be married to my hobbies. Who needs a human, when you have shit to spend time on. My family are my friends now. And my job is a piece of cake (even tho I’m looking for a more delicious piece on the side, everybody there still loves me).

And the best of things? That inner demon is now your bitch on the leash. You ever wanna go back and just linger – you can tap it on the head, while it whines with its muzzle on. The cute little fucker.

No matter if you’re young or old. Everything CAN and WILL turn around. Just find the BRAVERY to find what can get you fixed. Jump from that ledge - not in a suicide way (that one can wait, it’s not going anywhere) ... but in a way of getting you better. Risk fixing yourself. As they say: “pessimism gets us ready for the worst, or makes us pleasantly surprised” - an optimistic look to pessimism. 

You will be no less of a person. You’ll just be a pro switching to EASY mode.

Any questions regarding this matter? (seriously, I’m happy to help if you contact me in any way)

#depression #pain #mental health #anxiety #healing #self-help #guide #mental disorder #mental illness

[krisnicyo4]

Is Normal Really Working? 18+

   I tried once to pinpoint the moment I started to become me and left behind the person I was supposed to be. I told myself there was a moment when I could’ve avoided the current restlessness that is now permanently a fixed part of my inner makings. I could've gone my whole life without knowing the all too familiar sections of myself I kept hidden behind a veil of willful childlike wonder and oblivion. I would’ve been able to settle and marry the guy from my street; who loved me from our first interaction in kindergarten. I could’ve been satisfied with our unbelievably normal kids and Tuesday night bingo followed by Friday night date night. My life would have been simple and comfy without all the current question taking over my brain. My life could’ve been all the good right things it should've been before I took my first step towards him and her. They were a roller coaster ride of confusion and bliss that both drained my spirit and fed my soul. I wanted to regret them but I couldn’t. I wanted to move on and erase them but my mind wouldn't let me. I knew it wasn’t healthy or right but as I sat at our dinner table sipping wine and laughing it somehow didn’t matter.

  Alba was once again focused on me pretending to listen to James story making sure he didn’t notice. She was looking for a reaction of some sort in me. Alba favorite game lately seemed to be let's figure out the Nicol. There wasn’t a moment where I could have to myself without either of my partners analyzing a reaction. I couldn’t exactly complain about all the studying because I was the main catalyst for all of it. Both the mature willing adults sitting across from me had made their intentions with me clear the moment they had decided them. I, on the other hand, had chosen to make my own desires for our little trio secret. I playful exclaimed there was no fun in truth when asked to reveal my endgame; I was absolutely right in this case. The truth was that I had no endgame and was just enjoying my ride with little intent on having future. I was Alba and James plaything; only there to make two lovers who lost each other find themselves again. I wouldn’t allow myself to have silly ideas like a future. Regardless of what both of them said I knew eventually my presence would have come into question.

  James made eye contact with me as he continued to speak making a private but forceful request. I smiled breaking the intense stare pretending to need more wine finding the two staring together to be too much for me to handle. I disappeared into the kitchen opening our fourth bottle of the night grateful for the break. I would’ve hidden the whole night pretending to find something or having a hard time opening up the bottle.

   I knew neither James nor Alba would let me escape into a safe cocoon. They both had been trying to get me back into their lion's den for about a month now. I had done my best to avoid being here knowing that the game they enjoyed so much was inevitably dangerous for me. I had done a little bit of too good of a job playing confident and brave. I stood in the kitchen shaking like a little girl trying desperately to control my nerves.

   “Wine helps.” The voice scared me making me jump slightly out of my skin. I turned around expecting to see both of my hosts but instead found only one. James was standing in the doorway expecting me to have some witty remark like I always did but all I could do was smile. I cursed myself knowing that every second of silence was like a glowing beacon of James effect on me. I couldn’t let this happen again not after all the promises I had made to myself. This was my first time back to James apartment since Alba moved in. I was there strictly to have a drink with two old friends and prove to myself that the ongoing battle was finally over. I was no longer going to be apart of the lies and make-believe.

“ Why can we all just go back to how we used to be? “ James stated the question so matter factly as he easily opens the bottle on the counter. I turned to him rolling my eyes.

“Because you two decided to move into this apartment together. Because you told her that you love her and I got tired of convincing her it was the truth. Speaking of her, where is our Alba?” I walked into an empty living room feeling the nerves grow slightly. James came up behind me letting the heat of his body warm my open back. I stayed a moment too long before stepping away.

 “ We wanted to talk to you about everything but you never gave us a chance to. You just disappeared overnight. “ James settled into the couch across from me handing me a full wine glass never taking his eyes off of me. I gave my practiced response of being busy but he knew me better than that.

 “Busy doing what ?” James was toying with me. I repeated my question hoping Alba would be enough to derail the conversation but James was stubborn as usual.

  “ I missed you, Nic. I know you think I wouldn’t but just so ya know I did.” James wanted a reaction but I knew better to give one. We sat like that for a few more minutes playing a silent game of power before we heard Alba returning from her disappearance. Her voice was like a hit to the head bringing me straight down to earth. I told myself to stop whatever I thought I was doing. Alba was cheery as she sat down the take on out on their coffee table along with a bottle of tequila.

   “Alba decided that we needed something stronger. That’s why I love her always thinking.” James words were hurtful but I kept it hidden. I took a long sip from my glass in hopes of further hiding my jealousy. I was questioning my decision to come back feeling the game starting up around me. I could’ve always made an excuse to leave suddenly but my pride wouldn’t let me run scared. James and Alba were happy and I had to be happy for them.

    “James wanted to invite you over here to discuss the recent changes in our dynamic. We don’t want to lose you,  Nic.”

    "I just needed some space from you two. It got a little intense at one point." My confession caused both my host to show a tinge of hurt but at the same time, it was the truth. We all sat quietly trying our hardest to ignore the growing elephant taking over then the room. I played with my phone contemplating the increasingly attractive idea of running away once again. I peeked back at the two staring back at me knowing neither would be content with the idea of me pulling another disappearing act. I wasn't leaving this apartment until whatever their motives for having me here where fulfilled.

  I started to gnaw at my lower lip feeling the weight of the silence closing in on me. I noticed James eyes glued to me with complete focus. I saw Alba trying her hardest to appear to be unfazed by the attention. She instead opens the bottle before taking a big swig in an attempted to comfort herself. I followed suit taking an even bigger wanting to stop the ongoing parade in my gut. I felt body relax almost immediately letting the nice warm waves of drunkness wrap around me. I leaned my head back focusing on the skylight above us. I had almost forgotten the clear view of the stars and moon that could make the floor perfect for watching shooting stars. I had wished so many things that night I couldn't remember half of them.

   Despite my focus is on the stars, I could still feel both pairs of eyes watching me. I played with the idea of teasing them letting my skirt hike up an inch higher. This idea was obviously brought on by my fresh inebriated state. I looked up just in time to catch the end of a secret non-verbal conversation between Alba and James. It was time for them to say whatever they had brought me to discuss. I braced myself for the impact of what was sure to be a disaster.

    "I know why I am here and the answer is no. Both of you aren't ready." I never looked at them as the words left my lips. Alba would most likely be looking away knowing I meant she wasn't ready. I sat up to find exactly what I expected to find. Alba was absolutely looking away. James on the other hand was staring at me intensely waiting for me to change my mind. I choose to ignore him instead of taking another shot. James followed suit grabbing a shot for himself. Alba took a sip before putting the almost full shot glass back on the table. James sucked in with a deep breath as the burn hit his throat. I took another without any reaction forcing down the liquid with a smile. James was so thrilled watching me play tough.

  "It's been all wrong without you Nic. I need you here with us. " Alba was the one to speak in all the quiet battle of wills. Her voice was mixed with a thick combination of sadness and excitement. It made me shift in my chair once again questioning my decision to come to this apartment.

 "We've made her nervous Alba. She's biting her bottom lip." James mischievously pointed out commenting on my unconscious tell. I ignored him but stopped the lip biting wanting to not encourage him. I asked him to leave me and Alba alone. James compiled but not before a crude joke about playing without him. I waited until I heard the door shut and lock behind him before turning back to Alba. She was finishing her shot avoiding look at me.

 "You asked me to leave and did everything you could to squeeze me out. What the fuck is this Alba?" My tone was harsher than I wanted it to be making her retreat further into her chair.

 "He's been different since you left Nic. He is resentful and just plain mean at times saying we abandon you. He thinks we messed up everything. I can't take it anymore. We were a perfect mix of things with all three of us. I realize now that I didn't love him. I loved us" Alba finished her speech with another shot. I looked at her in utter disbelief. This wasn't some daytime soap opera but it was starting to feel that way. I took my own shot not wanting to steady my nerves.

 "You can't just switch me on and off. I respected your wishes. You can't just come in here and ask me to do all this again. I know you Alie in a month we'll be right back here." I had gotten up from my chair to look up at the skyline not wanting to see Alba's face. She didn't continue to talk just sat for a moment longer. I heard her get up from her chair to stand next to me.

 "I am sorry if I let my jealousy get the best of me. You were just so good and fun. You never worried about the real-life aspects of us. You just enjoyed and loved us with no questions about where you fit. The night we all first met was like some unbelievable fate that made everything make sense." Alba was definitely stealing her dialogue from a soap opera. James entered the room as if on cue sitting in the chair across from me.

   " I think I should go. I am dating now the traditional way and its working.I've met some nice people." I tried to convince myself that what I was saying was true and it was for a good reason. James leaned forward watching me before getting up and placing both hands on either side of me trapping me. I looked into his eyes trying my best not to waver.

    "Is normal really working? Can someone like you do normal" He said taking a moment to review my heavy breathing? I felt the familiar urge bubble up in me as I felt his eyes and thoughts. I recited the same thing, however, this time it was breathy and unintentionally seductive. I saw the smile curve on James' lips as they inched closer to mine. I leaned up my chin knowing I was in real trouble. James lingered just out of reach and repeated his question playing with my nipple through my thin shirt. I tried my best to repeat myself but I couldn't get the words out.

   "Alba" I whispered hoping she would stop him but she sat still watching us a strange look in her eyes. James explained Alba was to sit and watch tonight as punishment for ruining our fun for so long. James' hands slipped down into my underwear before finding the perfect position. I let a gasp as his fingers entered me his thumb rubbing my clit. I clung to him as the pleasure inside me slowly grew. He groaned before commenting on how wet and ready I always was. I wanted to say no and push him off but my body wouldn't allow me to use it.

   I felt my leg move up on its own and took him into me. My hips rocked back and forth against his fingers allow him to go deeper. I moaned out my need to be normal but it only made James laugh to himself. He kissed me rough enough to make me quiet. He used his other hand to push down his pants showing just how excited he was to have me back. I felt my panties being pulled down as his hard cock rubbed against my now naked dripping slit. James pulled back looking at me searching my face for what I wanted. He mouthed to me making sure Alba could not see a silent message. I thought about the words finally realizing what they were as James plunged into me. I started to scream the message over and over as he pumped in and out of me at an impossible pace. He was filling me up over and over again as I screamed to the world that James was mine and I belonged to him. I could hear Alba on the couch behind him moaning repeating to herself that she would be my good girl. She begged to taste me again like old time. James barked out their agreement while still pumping in and out of me. I turned James attention back to me asking him to let her play.

  "Does she really deserve to baby? What do I get if I agree." James said sending a particularly deep thrust into me. I begged for mercy feeling every inch of him inside of me. I wasn’t able to focus at that moment to speak anymore. Alba looked away when James wasn’t looking with an unreadable mixture of emotions. James turn my face towards him demanding my attention be on him. He looked into my eyes with an intensity that made me clench around him from inside. James' eyes went wide with the new pressure. He paused still inside me his head on my shoulder telling me to be still. I tried but failed his request squeezing him once more causing him to start pumping again at a much quicker pace making me moan out until my voice was hoarse. We both reached the peak together then just as fast it grew it was gone. James let go his seed filling me up with everything he had built up inside of him. He stayed in me still hard and twitching. We collapsed on the floor a sweaty ball his cum and my juices leaking down my legs as I struggled to breathe.

 James cuddled around me holding me tightly. Alba left the living room walking to the room in a daze. I watched her leave into the bedroom slowly closing the door. James didn’t move to join her and just continued to hold me. I knew it was wrong but I snuggled into him allowing him to warm me with his body heat pressing myself back into him. Missing the sensation of waking up him still inside of me thrusting in an out in his sleep. James was like a machine that never tired of the sensation of my warm wet center wrapped around him.

  I woke up the next morning on the floor James nuzzled behind me. I felt a slight headache building against the blinding light. I attempted to get up but he pulled me back in giving light kisses up and down my neck. I smelled pancakes and bacon from the kitchen. Alba was humming away to herself happily.