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yandere-society · 3 years

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The Rabbit Hole

Summary: The Windy City in the mid-1920s is a spectacle of lights and sounds, roaring with the excitement of jazz music and swinging dance moves. Amid the brilliant stars of Chicago nightlife, there is a dark underground of secrets, mainly that being the mysterious Wonderland Ball you've been invited to participate in and be crowned the next "Alice". What you don't know is you may or may not be allowed to leave, per the Mad Hatter and a White Rabbit's desires. So, daring and brave as you are, you decide to take a journey down The Rabbit Hole and come face to face with high society - people - as you've never seen them before.

Genre: Yandere; Historical Fiction/ Fantasy Based In The 1920′s; Smut; Thriller; Alice in Wonderland Inspired

Warnings: Yandere themes, Mentions of drug/ alcohol use with/without consent, mentions of “gangsters”, light talks of selling your soul/ the devil/ religious “themes”?, sedative drugs used non-consensually, vivid dreams/nightmares, maybe light profanity? Smut: Non-protected sex (twice), creampies, oral sex (f and m receiving/giving), slight nipple play?, spanking, marking, bruising, slightly rough sex, use of a sex swing/ sex swing intercourse, f and m orgasms. I think that’s it.

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook (White Rabbit) x Reader (Alice) x Kim Seokjin (Mad Hatter), Side Pairing of Johnny (Jonathan) Suh from NCT x Reader, Johnny x Jung Jaehyun from NCT.

Author’s Notes: This is not going to be a historically accurate piece. As much as I am an advocate for research and learning about the times of old, I am only human and I am short on time researching in between my full time job. I have grown up and currently live in Chicago and I have never written a story about the Windy City before so here I am, writing to you about the wonderful city I call home. I am doing my best to stay true to my writing as well as make it as accurate as one can, but please forgive me if there are faults in this story!

We are not doing a collective Valentine’s Day event this year but the contents of this piece have been weighing heavily on my mind, so I asked if I could write this story for a little something-something. I hope you all enjoy it!

Written By: Admin 💖 @therealmintedmango

Also, who do you think the other boys from BTS are from Alice in Wonderland in this story? I’d love to know!

Stepping out of my very own vehicle my future husband’s family sent for me, I take in the sights and the sounds that Chicago provides this snowy afternoon.

People waltz around one another and mingle about, snow crunching under their feet. The faint sounds of jingle bells float down the streets in the chilly air, it smells of popcorn and roasted nuts as well as the sludge of gasoline tainting the snow. A cold breeze gliding across the buildings nearly knocks me off my feet as I look up to my new place of residence, a new high-rise Michigan Ave. The stars above my head seem to sparkle in the dark sky, or are those just the electric lights from the grand buildings surrounding me?

Curious, I think as I continue to have my sights set above the horizon. I’ve certainly strayed very far from the corn fields of back home. Inhaling the sharp, bitterly cold air around me, I feel a sense of dread almost wash over my senses. I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. Jonathan and I discussed it in great detail over the wire.

The reality of the situation is finally sinking into my layers of clothing.

Jonathan Suh, the grandson of Suh Realtor Industries Incorporated - which owns about one third of Chicago - has asked me to marry him. It was seemingly out of the blue too. I was going to spend the next years of my life trying to marry into the best livestock or vegetable farmer in town, not the filthy rich grandson in a large city. It felt like a dream when he called me and begged me to come as soon as possible. I suppose it pays off to be kind to everyone, especially when it felt like it was yesterday we were both in grammar school together.

I drink it all in, the busy sounds, the cold night air that leaves me feeling bitter and raw standing in the street while snow begins to descend from the blackened sky. It feels foreign to me even though it’s only about two hours away from the farm. The breeze blistering in from the west sends a chill up my spine.

This is a new beginning, I ponder to myself as I stretch upwards in the middle of the sidewalk. This is my chance at a better life, this is way better than being some poor, sad farm girl. That’s right! I’m going to be the wife of my childhood friend who just happened to be some rich playboy who has more money than he knows what to do with.

I’m going to be a Suh!

...Even if the whole arrangement is a sham...

“Miss, you are going to freeze to death outside!” Jonathan’s maids rush to usher me out of the cold quickly, but not before I accidentally bump into someone on the busy sidewalk.

“I beg you to pardon me,” I mumble as I set my sights over my shoulder on a man dressed in a long coat with hair as white as the snow currently blanketing the ground. “You’ll have to forgive me, I am just enraptured with how bright Chicago seems to shine at night.”

The man’s seemingly red eyes expand with my excitement, then soften. “No pardon to beg, Miss…?” He queries, a bloom of warmth spreading across his face.

“Suh.” I smile as the men shout from my car they have finished unpacking. “Well, I am the future Mrs. Jonathan Suh. For now I suppose I am still Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Strange, I didn’t think he… Well, never mind that now.” His eyes linger on mine. “Johnny’s got good taste.” I hear him mumble under his breath in a deep tone, slurring his words together in a string. “Well, I can’t wait to see more of you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.” He says as he swings his coat behind himself and takes off down the street, the crowd and the night dissolving him like a pill in warm water.

Curious and curiouser this night becomes, I think as the maids finally have enough of me standing about in the cold.

“Do you know who that was?” I ask the hoard of them, hoping someone has the answer to my bump in the night with a rather odd fellow. My heart is beating but I’m not sure what for. I know my place. I know why he called me… My fate was sealed as soon as I got the wire from my future husband.

The collective flock shake their heads and mutter polite “noes” as they lead me up grand staircases of marble and through dim corridors at this time of night, leaving my brain a drifting piece of snow in the blizzard that will surely accumulate outside overnight.

“Right this way.” A young redhead coos as she parades me up what must be my twentieth flight of stairs I’ve climbed this evening. “Master Suh will be so happy you are here at last!” They lead me into a beautiful room with the most lavish furniture I’ve ever seen in my life! Magazines and pictures certainly don’t bestow such fine items with quite the same honor as seeing such beauty in person.

“Madam Suh has a full schedule for you this weekend.” One of the elderly looking women dares to swoon as she says, “Wedding planning, I’m sure, no doubt.” My coat is taken from me and I am given house slippers to wear.

The flock - or really I should call them a herd of lemmings - all agree once more as a butler leads us through a hallway with objects of fine art, pottery, and paintings. Each item is so uniquely wonderful that it would make my brothers’ and sisters’ heads spin if they saw how perfect and polished everything is. How ornate and lavish! Am I to spend my life with fine, intricate pieces of art from all mediums? I wonder if Jonathan has created any of these himself? Would he allow me to paint? I wonder...

“Master Suh,” I inhale, realizing I am right at the threshold of a beautiful oak door. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N has arrived.” The butler announces.

My body feels all fuzzy and nervous for some reason. It’s been many years since I’ve seen my dear friend from when we were still learning how to hop on a bicycle in the country where his family had a small house and property that butted up against my family’s by the little lake in the middle of a corn field.

“Y/N!” A deep, refreshing voice purrs before he embraces me in a tight hug. “How was your ride? Did the car fair well, unlike the weather?” He chuckles as his tall frame dwarfs mine in comparison. The scent of him is most definitely cinnamon, scotch, and leather, which I’m not surprised. All fine things to smell of for certain.

The maids all giggle and mumble their approval and the butlers look away, anxious to gaze upon a woman in another man’s arms. I suppose his gesture of a greeting is very rude, but I don’t mind. Being smack-dab in the middle of my siblings, I feel like nothing phases me anymore, even the hug Jonathan wraps around me.

“Jonathan Suh,” I simper, pulling out of his embrace, “The ride was not too terrible, and my, how tall you’ve grown! And so dapper too.” I sigh earnestly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“I hope you say that every day you wake up and I am there beside you.” Jonathan’s brown eyes seem to daze in the glow from the lamp lights in the sitting parlor.

There’s nothing more I hate than an arrogant flirt, not to mention an arrogant flirt with money is all the more trouble. Is this really going to be the rest of my life? Living with Jonathan like this? So contrived and fake… it makes my insides twist.

“I am rather weary though from a day full of travels.” I pretend to yawn, shifting out of his arms bit by bit and heading toward the door. “May I have the delight in seeing you tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, you must be quite tired. I always get sleepy on car rides.’ Jonathan muses as he extends his hand to the door and the staff scramble into place. “Mr. and Mrs. Alan would you please escort Y/N to her room? I will be here but on the other end of the house until we are...you know-”

“Goodnight, Jonathan.” I say almost too quickly after that, leaving almost as swiftly as I’ve come.

Once my hair is down and I am dressed comfortably in my nightgown, I feel like I can take a deep breath again. It feels odd with my hair unpinned, sitting in a brand-new nightgown, overlooking the rocking waves of the lake and the snow that drifts down from the sky. Basking in the sill of my window from the beautiful lights and moonlight shining through my velvet curtains, I hope and pray that every night I spend in Chicago is not as forced and fake as this one has been.

I’m chasing something odd in my dream.

I move between pictures hanging on the walls, through the bellies of grandfather clocks, I emerge through the darkness every time, chasing a little white rabbit with a cottontail through or around objects of grand design. I have never had a dream that felt so vivid and real, like I am actually flying through my thoughts, time of the utmost essence for some unknown reason. I can’t seem to escape a dark feeling looming around me and I feel slightly frightened that I will not catch the little thing.

When I reach for the little dumpling covered in pretty white fur, it lurches forward, propelling my desire to catch up to the little beast.

I descend deeper and deeper, the spotlight in the darkness focused solely on the bunny ahead of me. I can’t reach him, I’m not fast enough, my feet do not carry me quick enough. I call to the animal but it doesn’t hear me, instead it flies between two large velvet curtains.

“Please!” I beg the animal as I pop through the hole in the curtains, shuffling through on my knees. “Where are you taking…me…” My question dies in my throat as I look up to find red eyes, his curly blonde hair waving at me from under a gold top hat, a gold mask from that of a masquerade celebration covering most of his face.

But, I know that soft smirk well now. I’ve replayed it several times already in my mind like the fool I am.

This is the man I met on the sidewalk. I gasp. But, why is he inhabiting my dream?

“Welcome to Wonderland, Alice.” A soft voice wafts from high above the two of us, making me shiver. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Why am I frightened? Surely this is not a nightmare. I was only following a rabbit and now I am here with these two men.

Slowly, my eyes trail up the large mahogany platform, showcasing a very large, ornately plush gold and maroon seat which houses a man in an all green suit of the finest quality. He is also wearing a mask trimmed with greens and golds, his lush lips pinkened like he had just indulged in delicious raspberry jam pulled into a dark smirk. He sits with the side of his pale face in one of his hands, resting comfortably on the arm of the pretty chair. The man from the street sits on a swing that hangs high from the rafters, silently taking me in. An aura of power and class drips tastefully from every fiber of his being, weighing heavily upon me like he is a hammer and I am but a humble nail.

“Good job chasing rabbits.” The man’s smile further stretches, his amber eyes boring down upon me, making my skin want to jump from my skeleton. “The next step is to find The Rabbit Hole.”

My eyes fling open, a train's loud horn blaring in the distance, the golden morning haze filtering from the curtains across the room. I jolt upward in bed, cold sweat beading my body, tainting the beautiful nightgown the Suhs have given me. I throw the sheets off my bed and clutch my forehead, musing the words of the man in all green over and over to myself in a frenzy.

...What a dreadfully vivid dream...

I’ve been here for almost a week and I’ve lost count of the tea parties and luncheons I’ve attended with Mrs. Suh. The people and the houses and families they all belong to are getting lost to me in the wake of planning for a wedding. Though, I’m not sure how much I am actually planning. Merely pointing between two colors of table placemats and napkins or choosing between a flower or two.

Tonight though, it is another snowy evening on the lakeshore, we are attending a jazz concert at the Sunset Cafe to see a wonderful show performed by the talented Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong who make the most wonderful music. I was practically buzzing when I heard the news that the Suhs would be taking me this evening. As always, Jonathan and his mother have only two options for me to wear this evening and I must make a choice between them. A silver, more A-lined gown that shows off more skin than one should in the winter with a mink-fur cowl or more fluttering, off the shoulder velvet cobalt-blue style of a ball gown with embroidered golden stars falling from the bust in waves of tulle.

Call me old fashioned, but I choose the one that makes me feel like a princess, not the one that makes me fit in. My thoughts wander between which Suh picked out which dress for me to wear and the dream of me chasing a white rabbit.

I can never seem to catch that rabbit nor have I seen the two men since my first dream. It relieved me, but it also scared me.

A shimmering laugh that is made of moonbeams and stars pulls me from my spell of thought that engrossed me.

The Suhs are dotting and cheerful people, always looking out for their only son in this cruel world. They are wonderful and powerful in their own ways, working the men and ladies in the sitting room of the theater with just a glance or smile of their lips. Mr. Suh smokes a cigar and smacks Jonathan on the back as they stand in the corner away from the ladies. Mrs. Suh includes me in all her conversations, never wanting me to feel lost or dissuaded from a million questions by another matriarch of a well-to-do family.

I can see why Jonathan doesn’t want to disappoint them or the good people of his clan’s name before or after himself.

The room is hazy from the smoky cigars that the men all drag on in between their elaborate conversations about President Coolidge and his beliefs while the women discuss lighter subjects such as traveling to Paris and Morocco as well as tennis. I find my thoughts up in the cloud of smoke that hangs in the room.

“Pardon me, ladies,” Jonathan places a hand gently upon my shoulder, “may I steal Y/N away for a few moments?”

“The concert will begin shortly, Johnny.” Mrs. Suh smiles, casting her charms to her son who smiles with reassurance to his dear mother.

“Don’t fret, mother,” Jonathan grins as she calls him his nickname, “I want to show her off to my college chums.”

Her eyes twinkle in delightful mischief as she swirls her glass of sweet liquor in her hand. “Just be sure to return her in one piece. Y/N has a long day ahead of her tomorrow.”

More wedding planning I’m not privy to I suppose? Such is my life now. High society is fun and all but the pressure is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before… No, my brain is captivated once more by the dark aura of the man from my dream, looming and lingering above me, teeth glimmering in the lim electric light of the room from my lucid dream. That was true, pure evil pressure I wish to never partake in the feeling of ever again.

Jonathan says nothing as he turns from her, ushering me away with his hand placed gently on my shoulder. We move silently and quickly through groups who mingle and giggle, alcohol strong in their glasses and upon their breath as we pass through the crowd of rich socialites.

We stop at one group of gentlemen, but I am only introduced to one handsome man named Jung Jaehyun who fondly shakes Jonathan’s hand and winks at me. What an odd fellow, I tell myself as we dive deeper and deeper into the crowd of people loitering in the fancy sitting room.

“I’m glad you wore the one I picked out.” Jonathan says so low that I may only be able to hear his words. Well, that answers that question then. “These men might eat you alive, so stay as sharp as a blade but soft as a lamb, understand me? They will not leave me be until I introduce you to them.”

“Are they your friends?” I query with a whisper as he pulls me to the edge of the room where young men have beautiful young ladies draped on their elbows.

I have never seen a lady look like they do, but I suppose it is fashionable and “kept up with the times”. I am not so appealing as these ladies are with their skin on display and their heels high, they attract my attention before the men who hold them up do. Their makeup is dark, yet shimmering in the soft glow from the electric lights from above. The fair ladies’ hair is cut so short, their sideways hats and feather headbands merely slip off their sleek and shiny hairstyles. I am in awe of the way they look and envy them for behaving and chatting so freely.

“Do not be scared, but they are budding gangsters who run speakeasies.” My eyes widen with his words, but I do what I am told. “Please do me another favor, Y/N, and become the most desirable woman here.” Jonathan whispers to me before we approach the hoard of people in front of me. “I will set you free from this cage as soon as I can.”

I can only nod as my demeanor switches like that of a light switch.

Walking up to these men and women I’ve never met, I invoke the acting spirit of Jane West for Jonathan. I demand my attention. I am the most beautiful creature in this sitting room, if not all of the world. I did not go to college but I am going to show you how well read and cultured I am. I am going to be a Suh and I command you all to bow down to me in this instant.

“Suh!” A tall man with coiffed, sandy blonde locks beams as he steps away from his fair darling on his arm tonight. “You dog! I didn’t think you’d grace us with your presence this evening!” They shake hands and laugh at nothing vigorously as I look between the two before the blonde catches my eye. They are pretty amber eyes that remain half-lidded and surely dazzle in the glow from chandeliers above. He’s not as tall as Jonathan, but he is handsome. “This must be-”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

A voice from behind the blonde says clearly, setting to be free from the shadow of Jonathan’s friend.

It’s the white rabbit! I think as I try to hold myself together. He looks rather dapper in a white and gold waistcoat with tails, a top hat making him appear to be as formal as one can be. This is the gentleman I bumped into the streets, but I cannot press out of my head. I want to tell him to stay out of my dreams, but I fear he will think me mad if I declare such a bold thing without expressing my thoughts further.

“You know of my future bride, Jeon?” I feel the grip upon my shoulder tighten and breath being held from above me. Don’t fret, Jonathan, I would never tell anyone. I promise. Your secret is safe with me.

The friend with his hair as white as the fallen snow looks at me passively, eyes rimmed red like he can’t sleep a wink either. “I met her on the sidewalk, John, but we’ve never been properly introduced.” He bows and takes my blue-colored gloved hand in his white ones. He kisses the top of my hand and in this ball gown-like dress I am indeed fulfilling my fantasy of pretending to be a beautiful princess. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.”

“Y/N,” Jonathan says, exhaling the concerned breath he’s been holding in, his grip returning to normal as well. “These are my friends from college: Mr. Kim Namjoon, whose family owns one third of the city like mine does, and Mr. Jeon Jungkook, who makes up the triangle of the most powerful families of Chicago.”

“At your service.” Jungkook says with a cheeky grin stretching across his face, kissing the top of my hand once more.

The way he looks up at me makes butterflies trapped in my body flutter and flounce about. But I cannot swoon or succumb to a young man so openly. Jonathan is counting on me.

“I’m delighted to meet Jonathan’s friends from his schooling.” I say in the same charming manner Mrs. Suh has produced all week.

“Forgive me for this is a bold question, future Mrs. Suh, but, will you be getting a gown made?” Namjoon asks me as he sips his scotch on the rocks.

“I think tomorrow I am going for a fitting, yes.” I nod my head, smiling just the right amount.

“Then it should be crafted by the finest in the Windy City, Kim’s Couture on the corner of Washington and LaSalle Street. Have you heard of the establishment before?” Namjoon queries.

“Indeed! I have!” I exclaim happily, my eyes wide as his stay half-lidded as though he is sleepy, though he smiles earnestly.

“Then I must insist you have a treasured wedding gown made by my seamstresses.” He hands me a white business card with only his name upon it. I stare at it until he taps it twice. “They will take excellent care of you, I promise.”

“Oh-ho!” A soft, almost melliferous voice rings out behind me. No... “This must be the infamous bride-to-be!” I know this voice! Fear rattles through me, making me tremble as I look over the shoulder Jonathan is not draped over to look at the mysterious voice. Time is slow as molasses as I face the man from my dream, clad all in a green waistcoat, vest, and top hat, wolfishly grinning at me.

“Ah, this is my eldest brother,” Namjoon muses as the electric lights flash, indicating the performance will begin soon, “Seokjin Kim.”

Kim Seokjin...

I feel like I know everything about this man yet nothing at all. He is the type of man who is a brilliant summer on the outside and stormy winter on the inside. The smile on his lips - that is the color of the inside of a cherry tart - is warm, yet cold all in the same breath. He appears to be a powerful man of high class, wrapped in an enigma of grace and power. But there is a scent of something malicious in the air as he closes the gap between us and gets down on his knee to kiss upon my hand.

I’m not sure what made me do it, but something comes over me, the flight or fight instinct animals possess lurches out of me in this moment.

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” I ask, pulling my arm away from him.

Seokjin’s bright amber eyes slowly travel up my ball gown, disbelief and confusion colors his good looking features.

Mouths open in shock and my heart drops, but I feign a lie, turning out of Jonathan grasp, and quickly say, “Forgive me, for I feel faint.” I run to the bathroom in the hall as everyone piles into the main room of the Sunset Cafe, heart pounding in my chest and cheeks on fire.

I’m so sorry Jonathan, I did not mean to make a fool out of you. There is just something about the way Seokjin’s gaze is so feral that chills me to the bone.

A hand rests upon Jungkook’s shoulder while he continues to longingly gaze at the door as if he was willing me to come back with his mind. “Don’t worry, Jeon.” Seokjin purrs in his ear, amber gleam set upon the door. “She is the one who chases you every night, not the other way around.”

“I know, hyung.” Jungkook whispers as the brass begins to trumpet through the building. “When do we make our move?”

“Soon.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, guiding the younger of the boys to follow behind him. “Very soon we will have our glorious tea party.”

The subject of marriage has always been an odd one to me, I think to myself as maids and fashion consultants from the Kim’s dress boutique flutter and coo around me.

My parents married but it was never for love. I knew that, my siblings and myself knew that, yet they both loved us all the same. My mother and father married as more of a “good match on paper” sort of situation, than they were truly, madly in love. Still, they never fought, my father never hit my mother, never drank himself silly, never talked to another woman. My mother upheld the same standard and raised us all with love in her hardworking heart. I knew she was aware that I haven’t spoken to Jonathan since we were young children and that I would soon be in the same boat if I accepted his offer.

“A lifetime of money doesn’t equal happiness.” She told me. “You should marry for love, not for any green or gold.”

I agree. I know this full well. I’m not one to be stingy or greedy by any means. I don’t want to be an actress in a picture show or model for a beautiful Channel garment. And though I do want love in my life, I want a secure future. I am the middle child of middle-class farmers. The best match I could have made besides this one was with a cattle farmer or a man who works in the stockyards on the south side of Chicago.

It’s selfish for me to do this not only for myself but to my mother as well.

But, I am here and like my family, I will be fiercely loyal to the man I will call my husband. If not, call me a bold-faced liar and take me and my words to the grave.

Jonathan Suh is not a bad man for who he prefers in the sheets. I know that and have never felt such a way to treat someone less of me if they do prefer the company of one sex over another. I will not break the promise I’ve made to him, but I cannot help but feel like a songbird trapped in a tight, metal cage for the decision I’ve made to help him.

Due to the poor weather Chicago has currently come down with, the wedding has been postponed until further notice.

When I wired my family to tell them the news, my mother answered. I was a bit more than surprised that she almost sounded relieved when I told her the news. I promised I would wire soon and my younger sisters begged me to take them to the city to go shopping at Marshall Fields. My father sounded passive at first when the telephone wire was transferred to him by my youngest brother after he told me the family cat, Cheshire, had gone missing.

Truth be told, I am also more than happy to exhale a breath and not worry about someone questioning me about my upbringing. Or having Mrs. Suh and the don of high-class ladies and waist-coated men galloping around every breath I take.

I can finally relax, I think as I pull out a book in the study as Jonathan reads the Chicago Tribune on the couch across the way from me. We get along well, I realize. Silence suits us both. No tricks, not faking our way through hordes of important people. We have to conserve and save our energy for when we face the people mercilessly wanting to know everything and anything about us, good ole’ Jonathan and I...

No, not Jonathan anymore… I am to be his wife, and he...my…

I peer at him from over my book on flowers, losing interest in the pages.

Can I really pretend we are to be an item forever? Will one of us crack or slip up? It seems like we are stuck in a circle now, both of us floating in a pool of choices we will surely drown in.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Someone knocks at the door, plucking me from my fever of thoughts. I fully peer over the pages in my hands, pretending like I was in fact engrossed in the origin story of an author I enjoyed as a girl.

“Enter.” Jonathan says without skipping a beat, not looking up from his black and white ink. His eyes scan the pages, following the drumming beat of the grandfather clock next to the roaring fireplace. But, now that I study him closer, I’m unsure if he was actually reading or just musing to himself like I was moments ago.

“The post, sir.” Butler James reports as he opens the door, my handmaiden Emily gliding up to us with a silver plate in her hands.

“Thank you, Emily.” Jonathan gives her a half-smile as he takes the single envelope off the tray, slicing it open with trepidation.

I look at the blood-red colored wax seal as he flips the paper, revealing a knight chess piece glaring upside down at me.

Jonathan scans the letter passively at first, his orbs lazily scanning the pages, then suddenly his eyes ignite with rage behind them. “No.” He says softly, red flushing to his handsome face. He rips the paper up into shreds then, aggression and hatred oozing from every pore for some unknown reason. He gets up as he throws the scraps in the fire with vigor as butler James, Emily, and I all stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “Don’t you dare go.” He warns me, irises blaring with unmeasurable loathing. “Those people are dangerous.” Jonathan practically snarls as he exits the room in a fit of rage, stomping down the hall as we look on stunned and slack-jawed at what had just happened.

From what I can tell, Jonathan isn’t one to get upset easily or lash out so that letter must have set him off. But what could it have been?

It really has sparked my curiosity, that’s for certain.

Where wasn’t I supposed to go and who was so dangerous?

I got the answer the next day as I read a book about traveling the jungles of South America.

“Miss!” My handmaiden whispers like a hiss as she enters the study. “Miss!”

“Yes, Emily?” I smile, putting my book down as she flutters to my side in a nervous frenzy. “What is the matter?”

“I snagged this from the post, miss.” She hands you the letter you saw the previous day with Jonathan, the one that he got enraged over. “Please open it quickly, miss, before the butler spots it! They want us to destroy anything with this seal on it!”

I do as I am told, opening up the letter addressed to both Jonathan and myself with the odd wax seal to find an invitation inside.

You Are Cordially Invited To Participate In:

THE WONDERLAND BALL

A Masquerade Party To Determine The Next “Alice”

For Directions Follow Us Down The Rabbit Hole

Knock Thrice For The Door Mouse To Let You Inside

Cheers,

The ‘Mad Hatter’ & Company

“How curious...” I muse as my eyes trail over the letter over and over, wondering what has Jonathan all in a panicked rage. “Well, I don’t even know where “The Rabbit Hole” is so I shan’t be going.”

“Tis’ a speakeasy, Miss.” Emily says her eyes wide as she reads the paper with you. “They say it’s the most fun one in all of downtown!” She giggles. “Shall I fetch you a gown for the ball?”

“No.” I shake my head with a small smile, hanging her back the letter. “If Jonathan said he doesn’t want me to go, I won’t.” I pick up my book as she slightly deflates, wanting to paint me up for the festivities I was invited to. “Please burn this now, Emily, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Right away, Miss.” Emily bows a little before she heads out of the room, leaving me to daydream in the middle of the study in peace.

“How long must we wait?” Jungkook pesters Seokjin tirelessly who looks down from his wooden pedestal in the back room of the very peculiar club. “I am afraid a letter and her dreams are not going to cut it.” Jungkook snorts, frustration flashing in his red eyes.

“Mm, yes…” Seokjin rubs his chin with his white gloved hand, “Johnny boy has been hiding our little Alice away from our prying eyes, hasn’t he?”

“Yes!” Jungkook stomps his foot like that of a child, fists balled into tight fists at his sides. “And I was promised a maiden for all the hard work I’ve done for you!”

Seokjin laughs darkly then, the sound echoing off the walls of his private chambers. “Jungkook, I’m not sure if you understand that poisoning people and taking out a few smaller families in our beloved city is considered hard work.” He stops then, Seokjin’s usually light voice dripping with malice when he says, “But, I suppose this is one way to end the Suhs and get the last jewel on the crown you are desiring in your attempts to rule the city.”

“Is everything in place for the ball?” Jungkook grits his teeth as he stares up into the man who could end him in one go, but is choosing to help the young gangster. “Your magic won’t fail us now?”

Seokjin winks at him, spending him a flying kiss as he says, “It's going to be dreadfully delightful.” Ending the Suhs, managing to take out some more people in big crime families in Chicago, and adding one more perfect woman to his growing collection of pawns.

Sure, he was mad and about to destroy several lives in the process, but hell if he wasn’t half brilliant and good looking while doing so.

“Mr. Jeon!” I gasp as I peer at the man at my penthouse doorstep, covered in white flakes of heavy, wet snow sticking to his black trench coat and bowler hat. Everyone, even most of the maids were out this afternoon which is why I find myself in front of the door to the penthouse.

“Good evening, Y/L/N.” Jeon Jungkook smiles as he looks down at me earnestly. “Is your future husband not at home?” He whispers as he looks around the empty foyer, red-rimmed eyes glancing over the dim electric lights in the hallway.

I flush. My mind was hazy remembering my kiss with him and the other man that is never far away, Kim Seokjin, from the depths of my dreams. My dreams need to leave me be or I may turn into a codfish with the way they keep my head spinning. They haunt me so, the way my brain demands my nightmares to be replayed over and over like this.

“I’m afraid not, he said he’d be out for the night, taking care of something important at the office.” I say with a fake sigh, shaking my head. Truthfully, he’s been acting very strange lately and I can't quite put my finger on the reason for his odd behavior. Ever since he got that letter… Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any post since that strange night. I’ll ask Emily about it in the morning.

“I see.” Jungkook says softly. The grandfather clock chimes from the sitting room and I am suddenly aware of what time it is. I’m severely underdressed in my baby blue lounge attire, completely ill-prepared for meeting company. Books about faraway lands with princes and kings were the only thing occupying my time this evening and I’m embarrassed to even think that. “In that case, your outfit will just have to do, I suppose…”

Jungkook suddenly steps closer to me in one long stride, closing the gap between me and him. My heart skips a beat, his pupils dilate, my words run dry as he snakes one arm around my back, the other holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Mr. Jeon-” I stammer, unable to call for help, now that this man has me in his grasp.

“I have been willing you to come and follow me, to give into your darkest desires, but still you resist me.” The young man hisses down at me, brows knit with confusion. “You are the only thing anyone talks about and I cannot stand it any longer.” My mouth hangs open. His nostrils flare as he makes his move. “You will be mine. Not locked away in this tower while Johnny is out and about with another man. You will be our new Alice.”

Before I can say anything, he pours a vile from his pocket into my mouth, holding it above my arms so I can’t smack it away. It tastes like roast turkey and strong alcohol and I try to claw and get away but I cannot as Jungkook holds my mouth open; my tongue feels numb and my arms feel like jelly, going limp in Jungkook’s arms. The only thing I can remember before completely blacking out is the little tag on the side of the bottle that says “DRINK ME”, tied with a pink ribbon hanging from the tiny glass and the smell of his cologne which reminds me of musk with a dash of black pepper.

Faint sounds of brass and strings pull me from my unconscious state in a flurry.

My brain is working hard, producing series and strings of thoughts. Why did Mr. Jeon Jungkook do that to me? Does Jonathan know where I am? In the same breath, where am I? What was that drink? Have I been poisoned? I look at myself on the red heart-patterned bedsheets. I look fine. There is no sign or feelings that I’ve been harmed, no bruises, and most importantly of all, there is no blood. There is no indicator at all that I’ve been harmed at all, which makes me sigh in relief.

But still, where have I been taken? This surely is not a room in the Suh residence.

A room with no windows, a giant bed in the middle of the room, large wooden pedestals with various wax candles lit drip down the sides surround me, red velvet curtains drape the walls making the warm room seem even more dim, and a wooden swing all decorate the space I find myself trapped in.

I can feel the color drain from my face when I realize that I’ve been here before. In fact, I’ve been here many, many times - almost every night. Not in the flesh but in my dreams. The only thing that is missing are the two men I see every night…

All the little hairs on my body stand at alert, worry coloring my thoughts, and I feign a small gasp in the large room.

With a lump in my throat and my heart thumping so hard I fear it might try to escape my chest, I run from the room.

My blue nightgown flutters behind me, time seems to slow as my bare feet carry me through the rooms from my dreams - though it’s backwards this time. I dash like a mad person, twirling and twisting my way through the room with mirrors on every side, seeing myself panting like a dog running so hard in the reflective glass. Though, I am happy to see I have no scratches upon my face either. I run through the room with clocks hanging all over the walls chiming and ticking at different times, springing through the belly of a giant, tall grandfather clock. I trip over the hems of my dress in the room with a long table in the middle which appears to stretch on for miles in this long room. There are various tea sets, cups, and pots along with tea cakes and sweet treats placed in a perfectly chaotic mess on the table as the eyes of various animal heads stare at me from their places hanging on the walls.

As I shimmy through the small door leading to the room with the walls full of water and sea creatures from the ocean, I pause my panting and sputtering as I spot Mr. Jung Jaehyun with his back pressed up against the glass. He is moaning, panting himself, a masquerade mask dangling in his hand, legs wrapped around the waist of a tall man in a vest who is rolling his hips sensually into his. My eyes widen as I figure out what the two of them are doing quickly and avert my attention. My thighs rub together, a strange fire grows in my lower abdomen, and I know I shouldn’t be looking but there is nothing but pure bliss on Mr. Jung’s face.

I can’t stop, I remind myself as my feet continue to carry me through the rooms I know so well.

Slinking away across a far wall full of lobsters without being caught, I hear Mr. Jung Jaehyun mewl one singular name, “Johnny!” I want to turn around, catch my “future” husband's side profile as he makes love to another man, confirm it’s him, but my mind flashes back to meeting Jaehyun for the first (and only) time and how they touched each other so fondly. Jungkook’s words ring in my words as I hear laughing coming from beyond the rooms filled with tanks and gilled beasts.

Keep going. I can make it out of this place from my nightmares.

The next room is filled with more people, though it’s hazy at best in here. There are giant hookah pipes in the middle of floor cushions, people with and without masks on touching each other so unabashedly, some naked, half-nude, or still in their ball gowns all laying over each other in a pleasure-filled party I was slightly jealous I haven’t been invited to.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A deep yet clear baritone purrs over the sounds of jazz music and groans of love-making. I turn my head to his voice, feet skidding to a halt as I look at Mr. Kim Namjoon in his half-naked glory, navy blue silk robe hanging off his shoulders exposing a lovely chest, half-lidded eyes tracing my form like I am a piece of delicate meat he wishes to indulge in. “What are you doing without your mask?” He snaps his fingers, chuckling lightly as he takes another drag of his long silver pipe. “Twins, get her a mask!”

“Where am I?” I query as I feel the presence of two figures slowly approaching me out of the dim haze. “Who are you people?” It feels wrong to be here, to witness this. It doesn’t feel right. I feel out of place and my body is begging me to run and my legs tremble like a fawn.

His brows furrow as he takes the tube out of his mouth, blowing smoke rings in my face. “Who are you to question me, Y/N?” He snickers as the “twins” catch my arms, placing a mask over my face as I struggle. “You are but another “Alice” to me. Take her to the ball, you two. The rabbit and the hatter are dying to see her, I’m sure.” They tie the mask around me successfully, leading me out of this room into the next one which I know is the one where the floor is a giant chess board.

“Please,” I plead with the good looking twins who march on like the loyal soldiers to this strange cause, “what is all this?” The music and the chatter and maniacal laughing is growing louder as we prance down the hallway with portraits of people who are dressed in all white and all red. “I just want to know…”

“Suppose we ought to tell her?” The taller of the two says after a moment of silence between the three of us.

“Suppose we ought not to.” The shorter one shakes his head as he carries on in the quest to take me somewhere. “Boss will be mad.”

“You are to be the belle of the ball.” The taller one says with a viscous boxy grin.

“The new “Alice”.” The short one with fluffy lips nods this time.

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know what it means?” I say as I hold my breath, about to waltz into the strange chess-board-like room.

“The most beautiful, wonderful, talented, special, magical-” The taller twin rambles on.

“The most perfect woman at The Wonderland Ball is called “Alice” until the next one.” The shorter one states softly as he inhales a giant breath. They both let me go, pushing me forward as the drapery of the simple heart-patterned curtain gives way and I am standing at the top of a grand staircase while hundreds of people from below all gasp and stare up at me.

As soon as I regain my footing a spotlight hits me and causes me to shield me eyes away from the bright light bearing down upon me. The upbeat music falls silent and I am acutely aware that I am standing here in my loungewear and not properly dressed to be at the forefront of attention this evening.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The voice that makes my hair stand up on end purrs as his lush lips soothe the microphone on the little stage they’ve set up for the jazz band to play on. Kim Seokjin, my eyes lock with his which dance with mischief, his smile greedy, dressed to the nines in a rich green suit. “The crowning of the belle of the ball, the apple of all our eyes, the one that shines brighter than anyone in the picture shows, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!”

A roar of cheering, clapping, and brass music erupts as a white haired-man with a stretched, gummy smile that doesn’t fade takes my hand and leads me down the black and white staircase. The noises seemingly die in my ears as the man on my arm says nothing, grins like a cat about to catch a mouse in its claws. Time slows, people moving and waving at me become a blur as I see who is waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

Mr. Jeon Jungkook.

The man on my arm notices how tense I am and he ever so slightly turns his head and says to me in a deep voice, “They are not going to harm you. Jungkook is infatuated with you.” My cheeks heat up. “Seokjin is helping him accomplish his dreams because he signed his life away to the servitude of others for as long as he shall live.”

“Signed his life away?” I breathe, eyes never leaving Jungkook in a white waistcoat.

“You can’t get something for free in this world.” The cat-like man growls as we are almost there. “You’ve heard of an eye for an eye, correct?” I node slightly. “A soul of servitude so he can produce strange magic, according to him and the Red Witch of Underland.”

My heart nearly stops realizing what has happened. “The devil?”

“Bingo, babe.” The cat-man chuckles a deep rasp, sliding his arm away from mine. “Have fun.”

“Now you kids have fun chasing rabbits!” Seokjin’s voice crackles through the microphone. “Everyone, enjoy the last few hours of the wonderland ball!” More hooting and hollering echoes in the building as I am exchanged into Jungkook’s strong arms.

“I thought you’d never make it.” He smiles from under his white mask at me. He takes my hand and leads me to be embraced on the dance floor. Seokjin smirks at us as he begins to sing a popular pop song everyone swoons at.

“Would you like to tell me what this is all about?” I query with a sneer on my lips. “Why am I here? Why have you poisoned me?”

“I have not nor would I ever harm you.” Jungkook grips my waist tighter. “I merely gave you a strong sedative so that I could bring you to our wonderful palace.”

“Why?” I question as he twirls me around his outstretched arm.

“Because from the moment I bumped into you, you have been the only thing consuming my mind.” He earnestly tells me, sorrow coating his eyes. “I’m not sure what trap Johnny has ensnared or tricked you in but I very much hate seeing him lock you away from the world.”

“You’re wrong.” I state angrily, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t care about you. He likes to frolic about with diplomats’ sons, not farmers’ daughters.” Jungkook smiles at me.

“That’s not true…” I mumble, my eyes looking away from his red-rimmed ones boring down upon me. “I-I am marrying Jonathan for my own personal reasons.”

“Oh, ho?” Jungkook softly chuckles, leaning over, turning my gaze back to him as he gently caresses my cheek. “Do you really believe that, darling?”

“I do...I do! I-I came here willingly.” I tremble, my facade I’ve been trying to convince myself of this whole time crackling under the pressure of his words. “I l-love…” My words linger as I look beyond Jungkook, looking up to see, “...Jonathan…” walking toward myself in the middle of the dance floor.

“Jeon!” Jonathan says, Mr. Jung Jaehyun trailing behind him, eyes wide and scared when they find mine. The male in the waistcoat holding me turns his head to the noise, the brass music climaxing, the gasps of people Jonathan is stepping between couples dancing in the soft electric light from above - I feel like my heart is going to burst. My future husband pulls his arm back, fists clenched, ready to hurt Jungkook, and with an exhale I close my eyes fearing the worst was about to ensue.

The electric lights in the strange ballroom give out in the same second.

People scream all around me, a loud thud is heard and I feel like something unexpected is about to occur, the atmosphere heavy and full of invisible pressure.

“Release the jabberwocky!” A voice echoes as chaos ensues.

“Come with me.” A voice purrs, ripping me away from Jungkook’s arms. I feel almost empty as shouting and yelling break out in the middle of the dance floor. “I will protect you, Y/N, my crown jewel.” My stomach pits hearing him say my name, tickling my ear like the serpent that led Eve to eat the apple of her demise.

Kim Seokjin.

With a snap of his fingers, we are back in the room I started out this evening in and where my dreams always have me end at. I land on the bed in a huff and he ends up sitting upon the swing, looking at me with a triumphant smirk on his luscious lips. There is a certain air about him now that doesn’t seem so threatening, so serious now for some reason. Perhaps it’s him sitting upon the swing like that of a child? I haven’t the slightest clue.

“Where am I?” I demand, glowering at Seokjin from across the way.

“Curiosity often leads to trouble, my dearest Y/N.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, eyes roaming my body, a knowing look on his features. “I think before your marriage you are looking for a little trouble, if you catch my drift.”

Trouble…

My mind completely spirals remembering the scenes of people entangled with one another, their mouths working in tandem with each other, their slippery pink tongues entwined in a passionate battle for dominance. Mr. Jung Jaehyun’s face twisted in pleasure, moaning and mewling as his lover - my future husband - was thrusting vigorously.

A lightbulb finally goes off in my head.

“You want me to give into you both then my dreams will end?” My voice shakes as I query to Seokjin who continues to lightly push back and forth on the swing. “Then you will let me leave?”

His eyes flicker with a hungry vigor to them, gleaming in the dim candlelight. “Precisely.” His soft voice cuts the atmosphere like a sharp blade, leaving me with a chill radiating down my spine. “Let’s have some fun, “Alice”.”

“As long as you promise I am to be set free from all of...this.” I gesture around the room as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers at me.

“You have my word.”

Somehow, I don’t believe him, but I am desperate for any way out of this wretched place I can find.

So, I will use the body I was blessed with to the fullest extent.

I am a loyal woman. I step toward the man on the swing, my hands coming up to the ties around my chest and my waist. His eyes spark with a ravenous hunger in the depths of his orbs. I know that I am not doing a decent thing. Seokjin snaps his fingers again, all his clothes disappearing but his green top hat, vanishing before my very eyes. I know I am more than what I am succumbing to right now. But my stomach does feel hot and my thighs rubbing together is making me feel faint for some reason. My garments fall to the floor in a soft patting sound and I lose my breath in the same moment.

Don’t tell me I actually want this…?

I stand in front of him on the swing and I can’t help but bite my lip as my eyes roam his pale figure, tracing down his collarbones to his sculpted abdominal muscles he has been hiding. Did he sell his soul to the devil to become handsome too I wonder?

“So beautiful.” He revels looking at me unabashed, a wolfish grin spreading across his pretty face. Part of me wants him to touch me, to caress the underside of my breast, to trace the outline of my hips with his fingertips, but he doesn not.

I have to remind myself this isn’t for me. This is for the man that has been tormenting me.

“Get me ready for you.” Seokjin commands, smirk still spread across his face. I comply, dropping to my knees to be faced with a large member swinging forth from the middle of his legs on the swing. “And you will address me as “Sir”, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I respond, biting my lip as I look from his eyes to his member once more.

“Suck.” He chuckles lightly, pointing to his middle and I can’t help but follow this simple instruction.

I don’t tease him, though I’m not really sure I know what I am doing in the first place. I swirl the flat of my tongue over his mushroom-tipped head several times. He moans in response, his hands coming off the swing’s ropes to hold my hair from my face as I swallow him further down my wet cavity. My middle aches and pulses, empty, missing something as I steady myself against Seokjin’s thighs.

“Good little girl.” Seokjin hums, his sound voice making me feel appreciated. The sound vibrating through to my own middle, making me groan around him.

I bob my head up and down his long length, enjoying the way he hums and gasps in response to my efforts. It’s a little hard to breathe I think as I continue my pace, nose hitting Seokjin’s pubic bone, smelling the most intimate part of him.

My dominant hand grabs his member at the base, working him in tandem with my mouth. Up and down his thick member I go, reveling in every twitch and rumble that flies out of his throat. The swing starts to sway with my rhythmic movements, bobbing him back and forth with vigor, tears climb to my eyes. The tip of him hits the back of my mouth, making me gag and choke on his wonderful cock. The heat was pooling in the middle of my stomach and I fear I am going to lose my mind. I pick up the motions of my mouth and hand, tears skating down my pinkened cheeks, his grip tightening around the base of my skull, digging into my scalp.

It burns… But, I also enjoy it. This feeling...so wet and tight and I feel so evil and sinful but the pleasure is driving me mad.

“Baby girl.” There’s warning in his tone as I pop off his cock in an instant, looking up to him with big worried eyes. His head was leaned back, not focused on looking directly at myself, but the feeling of my lips and fingertips. “Up.” He commands once more, head twisting back to a comfortable position to stare at me.

I scramble to my feet, missing the feeling of him in my mouth already, not to mention aching for him in the middle of my legs. I rub my thighs together for some easy friction, knowing that it won’t help me much at this point.

Seokjin moves his hand to stroke against his giant member in his palm and I lock my orbs in place on the slit of his cock where a clear liquid was oozing out. My mind is truly hazy at best, as I just stand there and watch him stroke himself up and down in a lazy fashion. I bite my lip once more.

I do want this. I am almost ashamed to admit that I want this man.

“Are you going to be good and let me use you?” Seokjin’s dirty words make my middle pool and contort with more of a raging fire.

“Y-Yes, sir.” I say again, cheeks hot and damp from sucking his cock moments ago.

His nostrils flare, his cock twitches in his grasp as he motions to sit upon his middle. “I bet you’re so wet for me.” He chuckles, smile darkening with his words.

Seokjin eases me down on his thick member, my hole so wet, so slick, allowing him to stretch my clenching walls in an easy motion. I gasp, eyes popping out of my head. My nails dig into his shoulder blades, back arching with his giant, twitching dick tight inside of me. I wrap my legs around his lean waist, his pale skin flexing in the candlelight with his movements as he stills, letting my hips sink down into the base of his cock.

“Baby girl.” Seokjin purrs, breath tickling my ear as he throbs inside of me. “I need you.” He growls, littering the crook of my neck with sloppy kisses. He positions us just so on the swing, readying us to begin when he deems necessary.

“P-Please use me, s-sir-r!” I mumble in the base of his neck, feeling high on this pleasure-filled pain.

“I live to serve.”

I gasp as he starts moving his hips inside of my center, bucking up into my body with a fevered pace instantly. The swing moves back and forth and I feel like the motion is going to make me feel his body sliding in and out of me too well. I cling to him for dear life, my grip surely bruising him or harming him in some way as he slides in and out of my slicked out center at a brutal rhythm.

Tears find my eyes again as he nips at my neck, marking me up with tender love bites. I’m a howling, moaning mess, losing my sanity. I am finally full of Seokjin’s girth, filling me up beyond desire.

Seokjin kisses my lips then in his, melting our mouths together in a hurry. He holds my face in his palms, grunting and groaning for me, and only me. His tongue enters my mouth in search of something unknown, moaning into my lips laced together with his hot mouth connected with my pink tongue. He rolls his saliva coated tongue into mine in haste, need seeping into my senses, consuming my thoughts as he thrusts up in me, using the swing as a propellant to ease us forward and backward.

“Feels...so-o..good~!” I moan in between our passionate kisses.

Seokjin just growls like a feral animal in response. The tip of his cock kisses my cervix continuously, brushing past a spot inside of me that instantly makes me quake. He rockets himself against me, rutting his body against my core in sync with his hips slamming into mine. Seokjin expels filth from his mouth about filling me to the brim with his seed, seeing my stomach swollen and full of his children, his warm breath hitting my ear making me shudder in response.

I can’t focus, my climax getting ready to pop at any moment. Wet noises fill the dark room, as Seokjin’s rough speed of his length in and out of my molten, wet center continues. My erect nipples swirl on his pale chest, circling quickly as he bounces me up and down his giant cock, swinging through the air like some sexual trapeze artist.

“Are you going to be good to me?” He asks me, smirk present in his tone, pace almost blinding now as he pushes in and out of me with a need so heavy and strong I can practically smell it rising from his skin. “Are you going to let me fill you up, my little doll?” Seokjin snarls into my skin.

“Pleaseeeee!” I practically scream, eyes flying open as he hits my center at just the right spot that makes me see white.

“Ah-ah!” He tsks. “What do we say?”

“Please, sir!” I mewl and gasp, thighs quaking in his hold, my juices squelching out of me as he continues to thrust into my sensitive molten core. “Seokjin!” I cry while he growls into the scorching skin of my neck inhaling sharply as he slams his hips into my shivering body. “Sir!”

Seokjin grunts, cock spurting his seed into me with a need so raw, so feral he finds his footing hard to maintain on the swing, stilling us from moving about, holding my hips tightly down upon him. He sucks harshly on my skin as he too shudders and grunts, biting down on the crook of my neck, stretching my clenching walls around his member as he fills me with his hot white seed.

My cries of pleasure fill the small room, my pleasure-filled haze coming to a close as Seokjin shifts us - still joined together - to the bed in the middle of the room. I hold onto Seokjin as he keeps his seed inside of me, feeling like I just had the ride of my life on top of him. My climax dies down, my first high fading away, fog around my brain being lifted temporarily as my nails rake over shoulders I’ve definitely marked up.

A cool, damp towel appears with a wave of his arms, stroking my middle with it delicately cleaning up the mess I’ve made. “How does it feel to be connected with the devil?” Seokjin sneers as he pulls out of me, making my center ache and twitch for him.

My eyes grow wide and my lips part but before I can say anything Jungkook bursts in the room.

“Am I late?” Jungkook pants as he looks awestruck by me on the bed.

“For a very important date.” I gaze back to Seokjin who is now fully dressed, smirking that soft, playful smile like he usually does at Mr. Jeon. “Don’t worry, I was just getting her ready for you, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook eyes him with narrowed orbs, but buys the lie Seokjin is selling and proceeds to strip himself of his white waistcoat. “What is on the menu tonight?” His red-rimmed irises bore into mine and I feel self-conscious suddenly. He circles the bed in the manner like that of a wolf would as he finishes stripping himself of any dressy garments, though his slacks remain on.

“The one you most desire out of everything in this world.” Seokjin purrs, stepping up to take his seat on his pedestal high above us.

Is he going to watch us?

“Fuck,” Jungkook growls, dropping to his knees in front of the bed suddenly. He pulls me closer to him by my ankles, throwing my thighs apart so my center is exposed to him in the rawest form. He stares at my glistening middle as I try to close my legs with a little, pathetic whimper.

“Don’t.” The rabbit-like man moans wantonly, holding onto my ankles loosely. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” His hands glide up my thighs achingly slow, holding me in pace for his eyes to ravage as they please.

The fire in my lower stomach has returned, hungry and ready to go for more.

His warm fingertips make it to my inner thighs, kneading the flesh there tenderly, so close to my throbbing core that I almost beg him with a cry to dip down into me, but I refrain, hanging on to every trace or brush of his hands against my scorching flesh.

“What do you want, my darling?” He groans into my inner thigh, lips ghosting my sensitive flesh there, inching closer to my heated skin with his upper body.

“Please.” I finally ask, begging, almost choking out the word, forgetting Seokjin watching us from above.

His dominant hand finally finds my nether lips, tracing them up and down with his two longest fingers but not exactly touching me where I am aching quite yet. “Please what?” He teases, stroking me up and down slowly, holding his feral gaze in mine, amber eyes seemingly on fire.

“Please, Jungko-“

He slaps my middle with little force or malice behind it, but I jolt, mewling aloud, wanting him to secretly do it again.

Jungkook goes back to tracing my lips in the middle of my body, smug smirk seated on his devilishly handsome face. “You are so wet, darling.” He slaps me again, though this time I want it more than I’d actually care to admit.

“Jung-” I choke on my words.

He slaps me again, this time with slightly more force behind his fingertips. I hiss out a breath, staring at him with my mouth slightly ajar, brows turned up, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes already.

“I have to have a taste.” He kisses my inner thigh as he slowly traces his thumb over my slicked out folds.

I let out a wanton cry as he hums into my thighs, growling low and deep. I swear there’s a smile in his voice as he works with his mouth and fingertip in tandem. “Mine.” He breathes, sucking on the sensitive flesh of my innermost thigh, marking me with a throaty growl.

“J-Jungkook..!”

I am a mess. I let loose a series of pants, breathless moans as he works my coil in the pit of my stomach tighter with every brush or groan he grants my hot body. I am melting under Jungkook’s touch, my body feeling sticky, arousal dripping from my middle while he circles my delicate clit.

His thumb was increasing his pace of gliding over my bundle of nerves, still slow, still making my breathing become erratic, but the desire for Jungkook to do more was driving me insane. I’ve had a taste of sex and look at me wanting more. I didn’t know if I could be in the position to ask for more. But I wanted him to place those perfect, beautiful sinful lips on my molten core. Jungkook’s breath fans over my middle as he continues to stroke me down there.

I miss the twitch confined to the middle of his pants from the man watching us from above with eager need.

As if sensing my need, his tongue swipes a slow stripe through my folds, the cool of his muscle against my exposed center making me black out for a moment, the sensation far too much for me to bear with right now. His snort of laughter brings me back to reality as he swirls his pink tongue at my empty entrance.

Jungkook laps at my folds as if he is a starved man, hungry, desperate for his next meal. I keen, gripping onto the base of his golden torso as laps at me. I’d think grounding myself on top of Jungkook’s head would make me saner, gripping his strands of hair as he goes to town in my middle. But really, it makes me feel completely mad, like I’ve gone insane.

The feral, untamed animal-like noises that escape his throat drive me absolutely wild, my skin on fire with need and want. My nails cling to his scalp, dragging him closer to my middle as he ravages my core. He maneuvers his two longest fingers through the glossy slick, lubing his digits to breach my entrance.

“Jungkook!” I gasp, choking on my words as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers, splitting my velvet walls to open for him.

Jungkook swirls his tongue over my little pearl of sensitive nerves, lapping and sucking my flesh like he's never eaten a thing in his life. He continues his very audible growling and moaning, husk in his voice incredibly thick.

“Let go, baby.” He coos into my middle as I jolt and shake, his digits brushing past the most delicious spot deep inside of my clenching walls. “Give me your release.”

His words finally tip me over the edge.

I tighten my hold on him, gritting my teeth in the process. My head falls backward on the sheets, eyes screwed closed as Jungkook slurps every inch of my middle clean, not leaving anything to go to waste.

“Kookie,” I sputter out, the feeling of his tongue and fingers becoming too much for me. “I-I’m c-c-cumming-!”

As I say the last of my words, the world comes undone around me for the second time today, my tight coil finally popping. Blinding white stars coat my vision for a second, my body shivering and shaking as I drip out onto the flat of Jungkook’s tongue.

He laps up my sensitive hole up with more snarls, more feral noises escaping his body. Tears flow down my face as I unhinge my nails from his silky blonde strands, trying to push him away from my overly sensitive flesh with pathetic mewls of protest escaping my throat.

More. My brian prompts me to continue to sate my undying lust burning inside of me. I need more.

“Jungkook,” I beg while his tongue still explores my throbbing hole, giving my sensitive skin rapt attention. “Jungkookie. Please. I c-can’t.” I tug at his blinde hair gently, trying to get him to stop teasing me with his tongue.

He doesn't stop and I can only think of one thing to ask before I lose my damn mind with him between my thighs.

“Jungkook.” I shudder, high building up once more. “Please fuck me.”

Everything in the room stills, the only sound heard was our heavy breathing.

He looks up from my sensitive core, brows knit together as he looks into my eyes with such a passionate gaze of uncertainty. My juices were coating the bottom half of his face, his blonde hair is in a state of disarray, as he proceeds to slowly rise to his feet, looking over me on the bed.

“What?” He questions incredulously down at my fucked out form. Jungkook looks at me as if I am the most fragile thing in the world, as if I would burst into flames at any moment. “My darling, my love, there’s no going back if we-“

“I know.” I smirk up to the gorgeous gangster in all of the Windy City. “I want this too.”

His nostrils flare, his eyes widen, and his gaze softens. Jungkook looks down at me with something akin to lust, which makes my heart rate increase...

“Up.” He commands, raw husk pouring out of his tone as he starts to undo his pants, the zipper noise almost jarring in the quiet of the night.

I do as I’m told. I’ve fallen far down the rabbit hole now, I think as I shift on the bed. Standing was a little difficult as he’s just given me one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. I keep my eyes glued to Jungkook. His hands travel sensually down his tiny waist to his slacks he unbuttons. I am gasping, unable to take my eyes off the very beautiful sight of his thick cock bouncing, finally free from the confines of his dress pants. The tip was red and angry, a bead of precum adorning the slit of his mushroom-like head. He was long, girthy, and I want nothing more than it inside of myself at this very moment.

Jungkook grips the base of his cock with his hand while he steps out of his pants, giving his shaft a few pumps up and down while I watch with an open mouth.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long.” He confesses softly, reaching for me with his free hand. I inch closer to him, gliding my hands over his defined body, admiring his lithe, yet sturdy frame. My fingers hungrily trace every ridge, every contour of his golden torso. Jungkook was so warm, so wonderful, and I am slightly kicking myself for not giving into him sooner. “To have you,” he continues, kissing up the side of my neck.

“Please.” I beg him again, eyes flickering back and forth between his.

“Turn around.” He leans in to kiss me with passionate need. His lips molding into mine as I cling to him for more. I taste my essence on his tongue which makes me whimper into his strong hold. “I’m going to fuck you now, my love.”

Again, I don’t need to be told twice as he guides me to where he wants me, bending me at the waist so my fingers dig into the unkept sheets below, my backside open and exposed to him.

“So pretty for me.” I hear the grin in his deep rumble. Jungkook slaps my bottom, granting him a hiss to escape my throat. I whine when he does it softly several more times, making my head soar.

I hear him spit before I feel the extra saliva lubricant coat my backside, the cool of his juices combined with mine was driving me up a wall.

“Jungkook!” I gasp.

He groans when I call for him, pushing his fat head of a cock at my aching, empty hole, wanting him to finally join the two of us.

“Darling,” he sounds like he’s straining to hold back. “Baby, please, fuck!” He grunts, splitting my walls inch by agonizingly slowly. I moan as he stretches me wide, entering me like he owns me.

He thrusts inside of me all the way with one snap of his hips suddenly. A cry leaves my lips along with a strangled one from the man inside of me. My eyes widen as I realize that he’s not going to go easy on me tonight, he’s going to fuck me on his terms. I was in for a wild ride this evening.

Jungkook leans the front of himself over my sticky back, pressing our heated flesh together more, growling to the outside shell of my ear, nipping the flesh under my lobe while sliding in and out of me with a brutal pace he’s set.

“Baby…” he moans in my ear, the deep purr vibrating throughout his body making my breathing hitch and sob. His hips snapping into mine with a rhythm, I swear, no human man could ever achieve. Liquid was flowing down my eyes as the push and pull of Jungkook slamming his giant cock into my velvet folds repeatedly already had me tearing the sheets in two with my nails.

“Jung! Ah! Kook!”

Seokjin glides his hand over his cock from above the bed, matching the rhythm Jungkook’s hips produce, enjoying the wonderful show.

I gasp this over and over like a prayer falling from my lips. My eyes are squeezed shut, my body hot with the raw purpose to feel Jugnkook inside of my heated center. His cock pushes in and out of me at a fevered pace, making my vision blur, seeing far too many white stars.

My brain is fuzzy as he hits the spot inside of me that blinds me, pleasure swimming in my veins. My third climax was surely on the way.

“Baby,” Jungkook grunts, one of his arms snaking up my torso, his long fingers finding one of my bouncing breasts. He starts pinching my erect nipple, holding on to me tighter as we slide back and forth off of one another.

My coil was wound so tight, I don’t know if I’d be able to last much longer. Especially not with Jungkook’s fingers attaching to my hardened nipple, his lips to the crook of my neck, and his cock slamming in and out of my clenching middle with a fevered need.

He bucks into me faster, my walls clamping down on him, my coil about to pop, about to burst forth again. I can’t hold myself up any longer, my legs shaking violently. My knuckles are turning white with how hard I am clawing at the heart patterned sheets.

“Jungkook! I-“ I mewl, but I don’t get to finish my thought.

In a split second, Jungkook pulls out of my middle, flipping me over and letting me fall onto my back so I could be face to face with him. Jungkook climbs on top of me quickly, wanting to resume his feverish pace immediately, hunger and need in his amber gaze. He settles between my legs, pushing himself back into my slicked out center easily, restarting from where he last left off.

I gasp when he enters me, clinging to his shoulders, holding him while the lewd squelching noises in the room continue to grow, faster, louder. He grips onto my hips, guiding me at a blinding speed I didn’t know he could achieve. Is he a victim of the devil as well?

Sweat was pouring off our bodies, my brain unable to produce a sane thought as he grunts and moans my name, his red orbs never leaving my face as he rockets his cock into my folds like it was his job.

It happens again, the very right feeling deep inside of my body, the one that makes me grit my teeth, that makes me see hundreds of tiny white stars.

“Jung! Kook~!” I scream into the quiet room, tears flowing from my hues as I card my fingers through his blonde strands, trying to make a purchase on his roots.

My hands travel down his backside as he snarls, “I’m going to make you my wife! Not some wannabe from the Northside!” Jungkook huffs, his movements slowing down, one of his thumbs finding my folds again, circling my aching clit in hurry - a stark contrast to earlier. “I’m going to claim you as my own.”

Seokjin smiles like he’s just won the lottery, masturbating to the sight of both his clients intertwined, fucking onto each other with unbridled lust. He comes then watching his new toy’s back arch, breasts in the air, Jungkook’s frame pounding into her with hungry trepidation.

I grab onto the ample flesh of his bottom, feeling the world come tumbling around myself once more. Letting my body shake and quake on top of the sheets, my third orgasm taking me by force. I feel complete - feel whole for some reason. I am so completely taken aback with the storm rippling through my body in pleasureful tremors, one right after the other, I cannot even begin to breathe properly.

He lets a feral snarl rip through his body as he pumps into my leaking middle a few more times, my whole being consumed by Jungkook. He leans over me, sucking my neck colors of purples and dark reds and I scream as his cock swells inside of my velvet walls, releasing his own essence into my womb, holding him there like a vice grip as he spurts his seed deep inside of me.

Once our highs come to a close, I run my fingers through his hair, his throbbing cock still joined inside of my middle. We both pant, holding the other for dear life, finally together, and fulfilled with one other. Jungkook kisses along my jaw, moaning my name, telling me what an amazing baby doll I am as his cock finally softens inside of my aching cunt.

“Bravo.” Seokjin claps as he walks down the wooden stairs. “You both did very well!” He chuckles darkly. I squeak in surprise. I forgot he was there and I scramble to cover myself with the soiled sheets.

“Okay, Kim,” Jungkook says as he kisses my nose, pulling out and picking up my clothes and handing them to me. He dresses in his undergarments and dress pants quickly, buttoning them up as he turns to the man all in green. “You had your show.” I listen as I dress myself with haste, back turned to the two men. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked: invested the money overseas, gotten rid of the competition and family in this lovely city, got you a new “Alice”, and even let you watch us play ball. I think it’s time to set us free.”

“Yes,” the mad man snickers, darkness clouding his tone, “you both have served me well. But nobody is leaving my perfectly curated speakeasy.”

I turn around and my heart is dropping to the floor. Shock is written all over Jungkook’s face as I clench my jaw in guilt.

“But, I’m afraid you both made a deal with me, and I don’t give up my new toys so easily.” Seokjin caresses Jungkook’s face in his pale hand, while holding my gaze with a sense of gentle anger. “You can’t always get what you want. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you have each other.”

---

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this trip down the rabbit hole! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

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seat-safety-switch · 4 years

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If there’s one piece of linguistic terrorism I hate above all, it’s the word “mancave.” Mancaves used to mean something, dammit! They weren’t just the sad little room in your 2br condo that you go into so you can play with your Funko Pops without your wife asking why the Eartha Kitt figurine has so much finger wear on its paint. I still hew to the original meaning of the word, and so it was a good thing I wasn’t around when the cops raided the last one.

In recent years, buying rural real estate has caught sort of a bad reputation. What used to be a statement of one’s independence and virulent dislike of authority has now become a group of rich people huddling in their cardboard McMansions and having to get their drinking water trucked in. You can probably blame the skyrocketing land prices for this: even buying the shittiest prairie-ringed “compound” is now priced far outside even the most well-heeled death cult’s means. Caves, however, are still pretty cheap when you consider what you get - and it was in one that I decided to start hoarding some shitboxes.

You might be surprised at the conceit that a “man cave” exists. Do caves represent themselves only on a gender binary? That seems awfully reductive. You’re right: this terminology exists from a bygone era, when people confused the sex of a cave (stalactites vs. stalagmites) with its gender. Nowadays, the gender expression of a cave can be hinted at by what it wears (Men: Chevy Parking Only signs, big screen TVs. Women: old tractor tires, Chinese knockoffs of AK-47 semi-automatic rifles. Everyone else: a complicated series of traps for the government agents to fall into.)

Caves have a lot of natural advantages to being used as a mancave - for instance, the humidity and temperature regulation is ideal for storing a vast quantity of cheddar cheese in anticipation for the End Times. You could pretty much live in one, which is what I did as soon as the bank figured out that I transposed the numbers on the outside of my real house. Admittedly, I kept them on the run for a few months, but I guess I only had so many neighbours for them to “accidentally” flashbang and foreclose upon. Damn robosigners. At least in my cave, no one can ask me if I am of competent mind to accept the mortgage documentation. Mostly because I’m squatting in it on Crown land. The Queen seems cool, so I’m sure she’ll understand.

There’s just one thing my mancave lacks: electricity. For some reason, solar power doesn’t work too well inside the cave, and I’m not about to start trucking the panels outside where they could get peed on by coyotes or abducted by ultra-libertarian seccessionist ranchers. So I’ve set up this kind of weird treadmill deal. To power a television for an hour takes me about a day of jogging. At least my welding has been vastly improving in efficiency, because every inch of arc I strike costs me a month of flat-out marathon running. However, I’ve been assured that a bunch of super-rich people will soon be moving into the next quarter-section over, so chances are I’ll be able to help myself to their electrical grid in exchange for old tractor tires and other country kitsch. If not, I’ll just hijack the battery truck when it comes by every week.

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fandomfanfics12 · 4 years

Text

For Blue, Blue Skies-Part 4

Title: For Blue, Blue Skies Pairings: Steve x tony Part: 4/5 Warnings: swearing, bullying, abuse (physical and verbal), blood, angst, fluff. Summary: Steve was sure he’d aced his latest test in his forensics class but as it turns out, Professor Fury failed almost everyone. In order to get extra credit Steve and his friends join a program that Fury called The Avengers to deal with a bullying problem at the nearby high school. Hidden behind the glitz and glamour of his father’s money, most people can’t see that Tony Stark’s life is a nightmare. All Tony wants is to get out of this hellish school as quickly as possible and get as far away from his abusive father as soon as possible. A/N: This took me like a thousand times to get write but i am finally happy with the result! Hope you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Steve’s eyes widened and his stomach churned as the old man charged for him, his fist connecting with Steve’s face. It was the shock Steve needed to get his ass into gear as he stumbled back, pain radiated from his left cheek.

“Get out of here! Go!” Tony’s voice was raw, hoard and Steve inhaled sharply. He wasn’t going anywhere, not now, not seeing Tony like this. his cheek was throbbing but Steve couldn’t think about it right now, he had to figure out a plan and fast.

“I’m not going to fight an old man.” Steve growled, but that only antagonised the old guy even more. His eyes wild with rage and Steve’s mind racing for an answer, a solution.

“Old?” he snarled and moved to throw another punch, but Steve caught it, his nose scrunched up and lip curled as revulsion rolled through him.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Steve snarled and risked a glance at Tony. His guard dropped as he took the younger boy in, face swollen and bloody, back covered in welts and he was gasping for breath. It felt like the whole world had slowed down as Steve glanced to Tony, crying and begging for Steve to get out of there.

“Go.” he whispered just as the old man landed a blow to Steve’s stomach and Steve doubled over, the wind knocked out of him.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” the man roared but Steve shook his head, shoving the man aside and began to make his way over to Tony. Tony began to shake his head, his eyes were wide and skin awfully pale, but Steve wouldn’t leave him here. Not like this. and then something sharp and hard came down on Steve’s back, a crack sounded in the air which was followed by Steve’s cry as he fell to the cold hard floor.

Tony’s eyes widened as he saw Howard’s belt come down on Steve’s back, his father was so consumed by rage that he had whipped a stranger. But not just any stranger, Steve. Tony was aware that they were screwed now, there would be no containing Howard, he’d gone too far.

“Steve go!” Tony pleaded, why wouldn’t he just listen to Tony? Why was it so impossible for him to just leave, let Tony take this rage like he had done on so many other nights. Instead Steve clambered up to his feet, body flinching from the agony that definitely wracked through his body at the action.

“What are you going to do now?” Howard demanded and Tony’s eyes zeroed in on Steve’s hands which had curled themselves into fists.

“Nothin.” Steve shook his head, uncurling those fists and turning back to Tony. He took a step forward and Tony inhaled sharply as his father moved to follow. But then Steve spun, first connected with Howard’s face and Howard’s body crashed against the floor. Tony winced but the man wasn’t unconscious, though he was struggling to get back up onto his feet. But Tony didn’t get to study his father for long before Steve scooped his body up off of the floor and carried Tony outside bridal style, the cold air bit at Tony’s skin.

“It’s going to be alright Tony, I’ve got you now.” Steve whispered and Tony nodded, though he didn’t feel any better.

“Why did you come back? Tony whispered, though it came out more like a sob and Steve’s grip tightened on his body, pulling him in closer. The warmth from Steve’s chest spreading to his body, Tony could feel Steve’s racing heart on the side of his face.

“I was coming back for my jacket.” His voice was tight, strained and Tony inhaled sharply. Oh. Of course, he’d just come back for the jacket. Tony hated the stab of disappointment that filled up his entire being and he suddenly wished he could disappear. Why did he care so much about Steve? It was clear that Steve didn’t even like Tony, why would he have come back just for Tony? Tony was overcome with feelings of stupidity and wished his back wasn’t in so much pain that he was incapable of walking. Wished he could fly out of Steve’s arms and hide away for the rest of eternity. Wished that he didn’t find so much comfort and safety whilst he was being held up in Steve’s arms, wished he didn’t find those blue eyes so damn gorgeous. Wished that it wasn’t near freezing so Tony didn’t have to snuggle into Steve’s chest so he would die from hypothermia.

But alas, life could be a bitch sometimes.

While Steve had know that Tony was skinny, he still hadn’t expected him to be so light. Insanely light, he practically weighed nothing. And Steve was grateful that Bucky had pushed him so hard at the gym so that this task wouldn’t seem so damn difficult. His back ached with each and every step Steve took his mind racing a million miles a minute. It was no surprise really, if that was the house that Tony had grown up in, he probably didn’t get to eat very much. Steve glanced back over his shoulder, fear and paranoia mixed and moulded together in his gut, putting Steve on edge.

“You alright?” Tony mumbled into his chest, his body shivering. Tony snuggled in deeper and once again Steve tightened his grip, not wanting to let go.

“Feeling kind of tired.” Tony mumbled and Steve nodded, stomach churning.

“You’ve got to stay awake alright, don’t fall asleep on me.”

“What do you want me to do?” Tony asked and Steve bit his lip, glancing down at Tony’s big and brown and warm eyes.

“Talk to me.” He raised a brow and nodded.

“What about?” Steve hadn’t actually thought that far ahead, and he was growing tired.

“Anything, tell me what your favourite colour is.”

“Red.” Tony said without hesitation and Steve chuckled.

“fair enough, hospital’s left here right?” Steve asked and Tony’s body stiffened in his arms.

“we can’t go to the hospital.” Tony told him and Steve rose a brow. What?

“Why the hell not?” he’d been walking around all afternoon and he could feel the blisters that had formed on the back of his feet.

“my dad has contacts there.” Tony mumbled, looking scared suddenly and Steve relaxed his face, letting his jaw go slack and erasing any momentary frustration.

“Alright then, I’ll take you back to my place.” Steve said and changed directions and Tony relaxed once more.

“Do you want to take a break?” Tony asked after another ten minutes. Steve nodded but then shook his hand.

“We’ve gotta get you stitched up.” Steve murmured but Tony shrugged, starting to pull out of Steve’s arms.

“Two minutes isn’t going to make much of a difference.” So they sat down on a bus bench, both of them slumping together.

“Thank you, for saving me.” Tony whispered, his voice sounded so raspy and broken.

“I wasn’t going to leave you there.” Steve whispered back and Tony squeezed his eyes shut, trying to even out his breathing. No one had ever cared before, no one had ever been there before.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Tony asked, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s own head came to rest atop of Tony’s and they snuggled together for warmth.

“red or blue, maybe black. I can’t decide.” He admitted and Tony’s lips formed a faint smile.

“Do you think I really am so awful?” Tony whispered, terrified of Steve’s answer.

Steve inhaled sharply, his heart breaking for the fractured boy beside him. Steve’s hand moved out without his brain’s permission and took hold of Tony’s.

“No. I was worried at first, but you’re not a bad person Tony.” He nodded and Steve half expected him to let go, but he held on, as if his life depended on it.

“thank you.” he whispered and Steve squeezed his hand.

“How long was that going on for?” Steve whispered into Tony’s hair, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the answer.

“couple years.” Tony admitted and Steve inhaled sharply. Shit.

“I’m so sorry Tony.” But Tony just shook his head and pulled back, still holding onto Steve’s hand.

“don’t be, you’ve done more for me tonight than anyone had in my whole entire life.” And that might be the most devastating thing that Steve had ever heard. There was no way that his small and simplistic acts today had been the nicest thing that anyone had ever done for Tony. But the sincerity in Tony’s voice made Steve believe it. and to think that only a few hours ago Steve had thought Tony was a spoiled rich brat who didn’t give a damn about anything. About anyone.

“I’m sorry that I judged you so harshly when I first met you.” Those big soft brown eyes met Steve’s blue ones, how could anyone hurt Tony?

“We should get going before we get frostbite.” Tony said and Steve nodded, letting go of Tony’s hand so he could pick up his body and carry him.

“I can try and walk.” Tony whispered and Steve snorted.

“you’re funny.” He grumbled and besides, it wouldn’t be long before he made it back to the apartment. Tony just had to hold on for a little while longer. He could feel Tony’s body going slack in his arms and Steve’s heart began to race.

“Hey, stay with me.” Steve murmured and Tony’s eyes opened, he nodded once.

“Okay.” Steve could see his apartment building now, relief flooded his veins. Thank god. When Steve stepped inside of the lobby, it was mercifully warm and empty. They both groaned at the sudden heat and Steve made his way over to the elevator.

“I can stand.” Tony mumbled and Steve nodded, putting Tony down but wrapping his arm around Tony so he wouldn’t fall. The elevator doors opened as soon as Steve hit the button and they stepped inside, soon Steve could collapse down into his terrible couch.

“almost there.” Steve whispered and Tony nodded. The doors opened and together they stepped out into the empty hall, it was then that Steve realised his keys were in the jacket that was still all the way back at Tony’s house. Fuck. Praying that Bucky and Nat were home, Steve kicked the door with his foot. He banged a couple times then waited.

“About time!” Bucky swung open the door and then rose a brow when he saw them.

“Bucky?” Nat asked from behind.

“what the hell happened?” his eyes kept wildly looking back and forth between Steve and Tony, as if the answer could be found there.

“I promise that I’ll explain all of this later.” Steve said as he stormed passed, marching Tony all the way back to his room and onto the bed.

The world was spinning and tilting and then Tony was aware that he was laying down on a bed. And the scent that filled his nose was so purely Steve that it made him dizzy.

“Slow down.” Tony whispered, but his voice was lost in a sea of shouting. Bucky and Nat were arguing with Steve, Tony couldn’t decipher what the fuss was all about, his head was just pounding. But then he was rolled onto his stomach, his thin shirt lifted and an ointment was being rubbed into the welts of his back. Tony arched his back and let out a scream as the sting radiated throughout him. The roars ripped out of his throat and his body writhed on the bed, hands clawed at the sheets in an attempt to escape.

“Stop!” he cried, curling into the mattress but the hands didn’t stop, more just joined to pin him down to the bed.

“It hurts, stop!” he sobbed, his face was now wet with tears as they streamed down his cheeks.

‘I know Tony, just breathe through it alright.” Steve’s soothing voice murmured and Tony began to grind his teeth together.

“This looks bad Steve, shouldn’t we call for an ambulance?” Bucky asked but the hands never faltered, never stopped.

“No, we can’t go to the hospital.” Steve said and Tony sobbed. Soon the hands pulled back, slipping off of him as if they’d never been there at all.

“Bucky and I will go get some pain killers from the pharmacy.” Natasha said before the sound of footsteps exited the room.

“Tony?” Steve asked softly and Tony slowly eased himself up until he was sitting. He cracked his eyes open to take in Steve’s warm and comforting face. But amongst all that warmth and comfort was fear.

“I’m so sorry.” Tony whispered as the realisation dawned upon him that he had brought Steve into his nightmarish mess.

“Hey, this is not your fault.” Steve said and Tony nodded, but it really was his fault. Steve took hold of Tony’s hand again and Tony’s heart fluttered in his chest. Steve moved so he was propped up against the headboard and then pulled Tony down so his head rested on Steve’s chest. Tony squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply and was met with just the smell of Steve. And then Tony was crying, because his life had officially turned to shit.

At first all Tony did was cry, and then he would apologise. It was an hour before Natasha and Bucky came back, she handed Tony two tablets and a glass of water.

“I got the strongest ones I could, they’re going to make you drowsy though.” Tony had just nodded, taken the tablets and then Nat had slipped out of the room, not daring to utter another word. Steve’s back still throbbed and ached but he didn’t let out even the smallest whisper of complaints. Not after he’d gotten a proper look at Tony’s wounds, not when he knew Tony had suffered through Steve’s pain a thousand times over. it had killed a part of Steve, to rub the antiseptic ointment in while Tony had screamed. But Bucky had said words of encouragement and Steve had known he had to keep going.

“thank you, for taking care of me.” Tony mumbled, the words melding into one another.

“Of course.” Steve whispered, only starting to become aware of how much Tony would mean to him.

“do you feel any better?” Steve asked and Tony nodded at that.

“Yeah, the pain meds must be starting to kick in.” Steve relaxed. Good. He thought to himself as he studied Tony’s face. Tony’s eyes were closed, he looked so peaceful for once. Not a trace of the chaotic energy he seemed to have always carried with him.

“Good, I’m glad.” Steve admitted. Steve stayed perfectly still as a comfortable silence filled the room, and Steve just held Tony gently in his arms whilst Tony hung on for dear life.

“Please don’t leave me.” Tony whispered into the dimly lit room and Steve squeezed his eyes shut. as if he could ever go anywhere now. as if Steve could ever let go of Tony Stark.

“I’m not going anywhere Tony.” Steve promised as Tony’s body went limp in his arms. The other boy began to snore ever so softly and Steve’s whole body relaxed with each little exhale.

When Tony woke up, he was still being held in Steve’s arms. He was safe and his back actually felt better. Still painful but at least it was bearable now. sunlight was streaming in through the windows of Steve’s bedroom, revealing just how simple Steve’s room was. Steve’s jaw was slack and open, his head tilted to the side. His body was still propped up against the headboard, leaning rather than laying and a wave of guilt washed through Tony. What had he done to deserve Steve’s help? How would he ever repay Steve for this? Tony was aware that he literally owed Steve his life, and he had no idea as to how he would repay that debt.

“You’re staring.” The words barely passed through Steve’s lips but Tony’s entire body tensed up.

“sorry.” He mumbled and Steve chuckled, his whole body moved with the little laugh.

“good morning.” Steve mumbled and Tony couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on his lips.

“Good morning.” He’d woken up in Steve’s bed, in Steve’s arms. And for half a moment, Tony let himself consider what life would be like if he and Steve were together. What life would be like if he could do this every day. But he didn’t let the thought go much further, thoughts like that would only break his heart.

“feeling better?” Tony nodded, not wanting to move from the warmth of Steve and his bed but knowing he would have to soon.

“Yes I am actually, thank you.” Steve nodded and then he started to sit up. Tony backed away but Steve’s hand reached out, fingers grabbing onto Tony’s.

“good.” Steve’s blue eyes met Tony’s and he inhaled sharply.

“and you?” Tony asked and the corner of Steve’s mouth twitched upwards.

“Good.” He said and Tony nodded, not daring break the eye contact. They really were the prettiest blue eyes that Tony had ever seen in his entire life, they were unbelievably blue. His brain short circuiting by the fact that his skin was touching Steve, they were holding hands.

“Good.” Tony echoed, his mind racing with a thousand other things he could say, but unsure of what was the right thing to say first.

“Are you hungry?” Steve asked and Tony’s stomach growled in answer. At that, Steve tipped his head back and let out a laugh.

“No?” Tony said and Steve raised a brow, amusement lit up his eyes and it tugged at Tony’s heartstrings. Why was Steve so nice?

“your stomach says otherwise. I’ll make you some soup.” Tony shook his head in protest, his heart pounded at the mere thought.

“it’s fine Steve, save your own food for you.” Steve just rolled his eyes and pulled away, exiting the room and leaving Tony alone.

Steve heated up the chicken and vegetable soup and put some bread in the toaster. His mother had always made him this whenever he was sick, but did Tony’s injury equal sick? Was Steve trying too hard? All he’d known when he woke up was that he could feel Tony watching him and that he hadn’t wanted to ever let go of Tony’s body. Had wanted to stay in bed, with Tony in his arms for the rest of his life. And that was only mildly terrifying since Steve barely even knew Tony. But maybe going through what they had done last night had changed something. Had brought them together. As soon as the bread had turned into toast, Steve put on heaps of butter and cut it up into thin strips. He put the soup in a bowl and set it down on the counter.

“Tony?” he murmured, entering his room and finding Tony surveying his back in Steve’s mirror.

“it looks better.” He mumbled, blushing slightly and Steve nodded, his stomach twisted into knots.

“yeah it does. Your soup is ready.” Tony nodded and followed Steve to the kitchen. Steve sat him down on the couch, grabbed some fluffy blankets and wrapped Tony up into them. He then handed Tony his soup and Tony just stared at it.

“Who knew you were such a mother hen?” Tony asked, a smirk was splayed on his lips and Steve just rolled his eyes.

“just eat your soup.” Steve grumbled and Tony laughed, it put Steve’s mind at ease just hearing the sound. He’s okay now. Steve told himself and was startled by how much comfort that brought him. He was most definitely in some deep shit then, if he was so worried about Tony’s wellbeing.

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” Tony admitted as Steve sat down on the couch next to him, turning on the tv. Steve looked over and studied Tony as he ate his soup, his heart breaking at the thought. He had to get Tony out of that house, away from that bastard of a father. Steve would protect Tony, no matter the cost.

#stony #stony fic #Steve Rogers #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #bruce banner #howard stark #high school au #au #for blue blue skies fic #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers fic #avengers fluff #avengers angst #stony angst #Iron Man #captain america #stony fluff

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onceaponamidnightdreary · 4 years

Text

The Crimson Crusader

Ksk--ksk--testing-sks- ello- ske- esting one to three, testing one two three. Alright, we’re live. Greetings civilians. This, as you may not know, is the Crimson Crusader, your average vigilante that you don’t know and love to hate. Though, I ain’t your average vigilante. Why, I’ll get to that later. I’m perched on a rooftop, doing my daily patrol. It’s about ten at night and things are a little low, crime-wise. You may want to know why I’m broadcasting this recording, as people like us like to keep our identities hidden. It won’t matter, you won’t find me on any records, or government documents, those have been burned. Heck, I don’t know why I’m doing this myself, but I’ve gotten tired of all you conspiracy theorists. This is my story, where I came from.

See, I was born and raised in the town of Lindhold, of which you are probably familiar. You see it on the news all the time, all the crimes and the rich people up the hill. See, the town was divided into three parts, the Uppers, the Middle, and the Slums. Figure it out by yourself what they mean. O’course, I just happened to be born in the worst part of town. Down there, we didn’t call it Linkhold, nah, to us, it was known as Fester. Cuz everything was always rott’n and festering, the buildings, the food, the people. ‘Specially the people. I was born in a dead-end alley-way with one-eyed alleycat as my nursemaid. The first thing I saw, apparently, was the cat hissing as me. Funny enough, I’ve always loved the creatures after that.

My mother named me Angel Crimson Aldrich, though nobody called me Angel. You called me by my middle name, or you didn’t talk to me at all. Why my mother named me this, I didn’t know. I was as far from Angel as you could get. She said it’s cause I looked like one, with my sienna-pale skin, slate-grey eyes. And white-blond long hair. I cut it the next day, lopped off the sides and the back and it stayed that way ever since, wild in a devil-may-care way. Nothing to grab. One thing I couldn’t figure out was my last name. Aldrich. My mother's name was Evalin Savanna, so I figured it was my father. Never knew him, but I hated him all the same. It was ‘cause of him that my mom suffered. Never even paid a stupid child support check. I bet he didn’t even know I existed.

I lived with my mom in a rotting wooden flat, just the two of us. She died when I was five, pneumonia. Never had the money to afford the medicine.

The tenant evicted me and I spent the next two years as a street-urchin, pickpocket extraordinaire. Don’t feel bad for me, I was’n the only one. Hell, those streets were riddled with kids like me. Nobody batted an eye. It was just life in the town of Fester. I went to elementary school, I was smart for my age. The school was deplorable, a library the size of a cupboard, overcrowded classrooms, you name it. Dropped out at age six. From then on, my life moved on faster. At seven, I joined my first gang, held my first gun at nine, and killed my first man when I was eleven. Those streets make you grow up fast.

When I was thirteen I was lucky enough to run with a gang called the Crusaders.

Sound familiar?

I kept with them, moved up ranks. I was smart, I followed orders, I was ruthless, I fought like a demon. At fifteen I was the right hand girl to the leader, a chick called Smoky, cause of her eye-shadow. She was like an older sister to me, teaching me everything I knew. She was the toughest person I know, and it ain’t easy for a girl on the streets. You learn to survive, to not trust. She died in a gang fight, promoting me with her dying words. I was sixteen and I became leader to the second largest gang in Fester. Back then, gangs were everything. You paid homage to the right gang or you died trying. Turf wars were battles that decided life or death. We controlled five city blocks, and they were everything and we gave everything to defend them. But the Crusaders weren’t your average gang. I doubt any gang led by a woman is. See, we didn’t deal drugs, ammo, or counterfeit money. And I know you’re wonderin’ what we did do. See, ‘Crusaders’ means a person who fought in the Crusades, a medieval battle for Christianity or something. But today, it comes to mean someone who uses vigorous, aggressive movement for the defense or advancement of an idea or cause. That's what we did. Since the police were useless and usually bought off by a gang, crime raged rampant in Fester. If you walked down town at night, it was extremely likely that you would be mugged, shot, stabbed, or kidnapped.

Or all of the above.

So me and my gang, we dealt out justice, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth situation. But we had a very meticulous system. If you stole, the first question we would ask is why. If you stole to feed your family, we would let you go. If you stole because of greed, we would take double what you took. And thrice the second time. The third time, we cut off your hand. If you murdered for revenge, we understood that. If you killed for power, for gain, for absolutely no reason at all, well, then you died. If that made us bad people, we didn’t know. But it was the only type of justice we knew and we were good at it. We also stole from the Uppers, the rich, white folk in their god-awful fancy McMansions. They never walked in our lower part of town, didn’t bat an eye at the crime and the poverty, didn’t know an’ didn’t care that one peice of furniture in their house could feed an entire family for a year. Man, we hated them, them in their fancy cars and clean clothes. Worst of all, they did nothin’ to deserve it. They were all born into money, like their parents before them. And their parents before them. So we stole from them, hacked into their bank accounts, emptying ‘em little by little.

Wait- sks there's something,- sks- I’ll be back- sks-(Gunshots and yelling in background. Thumps and bodies hitting the wall.)

Sks- ksk- krshhh-sks-kay I’m back. There was some idiot who thought he was at the top of the food chain ‘cause he had a gun. Now he’s got a major concussion and the entire police station in his face.

Idiot.

So I should probably tell you about some people that were in my crew. Every gang has a crew, the inner circle basically, then a few runners, people that send messages and help with other stuff but aren’t there fulltime and lastly, your hoard, which were people that were under your protection that other gangs couldn’t touch but only ran favours for you now and then. My crew and I were real tight, we had to be, watching each other's backs and all.

My right hand man was a guy called Leon, smart as a whip and tough as a shark, and man he could get things done. He used to run with the Sidestreet Shavers, I think, before they kicked him out ‘cause he saved a little girl's life. I heard, took him in, and he’s been loyal ever since.

My tech guys, the hackers, was a girl, ex-heroin addict nick-named Half Print, and her sweetheart, a thin, skinny blond guy called Stevie. And damn, were they good at their job. I had no doubt they could hack the Pentagon if they wanted. They had an extensive blackmail file on everyone. You know, just cause.

My muscle, two brothers, only two years apart, named Cork and Neal, just your average for-hire thug, buzz-cut, 6 foot 2, tattooed knuckles, that kind of thing. But they had good hearts, you know, real softies when you got to know them. They lived on the streets before they busted a dog-fighting ring and I gave them my protection. Genuinely good people are hard to come by.

I also had a spy/assassin, a mute girl named Stiletto, cause of her preferred weapon, and her girlfriend who was my scout, Hatchet, an african-american girl who ran away at age ten thanks to her abusive and homophobic father. She also had the largest library of curse words known to mankind, including some in different languages.

We all suffered. We all dreamed. And that's what made us different from other gangs, you know? Nobody in the god-forsaken town of Fester had ever dreamed. The place just sucked the hope right outta you. We were a group of hopeless dreamers, wishing for something more than this hellhole. We wanted to go to college, to travel, to help others like us. But we can’t. Can’t afford any of it.

Which brings me to the next part of my story.

It was dangerous, living in a gang. You run the risk of getting beat up and shot.

Which was exactly what happened to Stevie.

Now we weren’t as close as Me and Leon but we were still great friends. And looking at his broken and bleeding figure I wasn't thinking clearly. He was the most fragile out of my crew, and I thought he was dead. So we did the worst thing possible.

We called 911.

We were gang members with a bleeding dying figure on our hands. But we were hysterical and young enough that they didn’t arrest any of us. They let Half Print ride in the ambulance and the rest of us ran. Straight on ran the six blocks to the hospital.

The news was grim.

He was alive but in a coma. Busted rib cage, punctured lungs, ruptured organs, several broken bones. They needed to do surgery or else he wasn’t gonna live. We agreed, saying that we would pay them back.

The price came to $530,000.

We didn’t have that type of money.

Hell, we didn’t even know how to get that type of money.

But Hatchet heard about a government program that needed willing human volunteers to experiment on. They were offering $600,000.

We argued about who should go, everyone offering themselves. I told them it was my duty, as leader and left without a word. I appointed Leon as the head until I returned. No one mentioned what we were all thinking, that they might never see me again.

From then on, everything becomes a little blurry.

The scientists didn’t bother using anesthesia, so I remembered pain. Lots of pain. They took my right eye, too. Replaced it with a mechanical one. After the experiments, I trained, and everything became a haze. I learned weapons use and types of fighting styles, my drugged up mind not even questioning it. They made me stronger, faster, with inhuman reflexes. There were 20 volunteers of people desperate enough to need the money.

After a year, there were only three left, including me. I still don't remember what happened but apparently I killed them. Then I burned down the government building. The head scientist escaped, a man called Dr. Armada.

Then I went back to my gang.

They pressured me to tell them what happened, how I was stronger then normal, stronger than human.

I didn’t have a lot of answers to give them. They were excited for my powers, as they called it. They wanted to use it to stop crime, to do the things we strived to do.

I told them no. I didn’t want to be like the superheros in New York. Nothing good came out of that, look what happened to Tony Stark. Dead after saving the world. I wanted to lay low after all that had happened.

We had a fight, … and… I left. One of the greatest regrets of my life. As I was heading out, I heard a girl crying out for help, with my inhuman hearing. I got there without thinking and stopped the guy attacking her. It was laughably easy. I realized that they were right and I headed back to apologize.

And I will never forget this, as I headed back, the warehouse doors were wide open and the moonlight illuminated red stains on the floor.

Blood.

I rushed in but it was too late. Wide, glassy eyes, bodies cold and stiff. And I heard a gasp to my right. It was Stiletto, the girl who never spoke in her damn life. She looked at me and… I-I’ll never forget this. She said “Remember Crimson, doing what is right is not always easy. But doing’ what is easy is not always right.”

And then she was dead.

I swore then and there that I would become what they wanted to be. The dreams they never had, the fight they always wanted.

I became, in honour of them, the Crimson Crusader.

That is me, Angel Crimson Aldrich, signing off, for now.

#madeup superhero #badass lady #oc

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dancinginthecenteroftheworld · 5 years

Text

Nov 16: Cuddle (Brienne/Jaime)

Brienne has no intention of calling Jaime Lannister. She really doesn’t.

She’s not sure why he gave her his number and offered to let her visit Brenna. Pity, probably. And fine, it was nicer than she expected from someone like him. In Brienne’s experience rich, handsome men who clearly get anything they want don’t care much about others.

So it was kind enough, and it did make her feel better about sending Brenna and the kittens home with him.

But she wasn’t going to call him.

Then she has one of the worst days she’s had in a long time. Brienne is used to bad days. It’s part of her job, and she’d known when she went to vet school that it wasn’t going to be all happiness and cuddles. She’s here to take care of animals when they’re sick or hurt and that isn’t happy.

Still, it’s usually spread out.

Then her day started with news a of an animal hoarding situation outside of town, an influx of dogs and cats (and, oddly, chickens) that the shelter can’t handle, many of whom were too sick or injured to be save. Then Brienne had left the shelter in Asha’s hands and gone to the clinic to be met with more sorrow and loss.

Some is unavoidable. Pets don’t live as long as people, they get sick, they get old and Brienne knows that. But while some of the cases fall into that category, she also has several of the kind she hates. The kind where an animal’s suffering could have been avoided with proper care, with an owner who gave a minimum of effort to keep a dog on a leash or a cat inside or stay up to date with preventative vaccines.

And then the dog who has been exposed rabies also bites Brienne, so she has to head off to the health clinic and let Doc Luwin jab her with the first of four incredibly injections, leaving her arm sore and throbbing.

So Brienne is sad, she’s tired, and she can’t stop thinking about Brenna and how close the sweet cat had come to losing out, just because people couldn’t be responsible owners.

Before she knows it, Brienne is pulling up the phone and dialing Jaime Lannister (and honestly, who puts their own name in a phone as Most Handsome Cat Owner?) and asking if he meant it when he said she could visit.

Jaime clearly hasn’t expected her to call either, because he stumbles over his words and sounds shocked. But he refuses to let Brienne back out of asking, and it’s not long before she’s waiting in front of one of the nicer condo complexes in town.

To Brienne’s surprise, Jaime meets her outside before she can ring the bell.

“My brother has the cats,” he explains as he types a code to let them in. “Until Christmas morning.”

Right, they’re a gift. Brienne still isn’t sure that’s wise. She doesn’t get a chance to say it, though, because they walk in and Brienne has the brief, disorienting sensation of becoming a giant. Or feeling like one.

The furniture in the condo seems smaller than usual, much, and everything is just off, slightly, in a way Brienne can’t put a finger on.

At least not until a man walks out of one of the back rooms and Brienne sees he’s a dwarf. Or little person, she supposes, is the accurate statement.

That would explain why the furnishings make Brienne feel even bigger than usual.

“You must be Brienne,” the man says, holding a hand out. “Tyrion, the smarter Lannister.”

He has mismatched eyes and he’s nowhere near as handsome as Jaime, but there’s something about Tyrion that makes Brienne feel a little more at ease as she greets him.

The cats are being held in a back bedroom, to save Tyrion’s furniture from fur and claws. (”It’s not exactly easy to find,” he says. “Jaime’s far less particular.”)

Jaime mumbles something under his breath, but Brienne doesn’t hear it, because they’ve reached the bedroom and Brenna is curled up on the bed (normal size, Brienne notes, possibly larger than typical) in a sunbeam.

Brienne rushes over to the cat, stroking gently as Brenna wakes up and regards Brienne for a few seconds before starting to purr. There’s a startled noise of surprise from Tyrion – “she doesn’t do that for me” – and then Brenna is crawling into Brienne’s lap. Brienne pays no attention to the room, just holding the sweet cat and whispering into her fur how glad Brienne is that she found a home, even if it is with an insufferably wealthy, arrogantly pretty man, how lucky Brenna is to live in such a nice place, how happy and spoiled she looks now.

When Brienne feels more even-keeled, she finally looks up. Tyrion has slipped out at some point, but Brienne is alarmed to find Jaime is still there, idly waving a feather wand around for the kittens to pounce. They’re bigger, alert and healthy, happily chasing the toy and climbing all over Jaime.

“Sorry,” Brienne says, blush rising in her face.

“I told you to call,” Jaime says. He offers a crooked smile. “I didn’t think you’d do it though.”

“I didn’t either,” Brienne admits. “It’s been a long day.”

“Working at an animal shelter must be hard,” Jaime says. “I looked it up, after, how many animals wind up there.”

“And the clinic,” Brienne adds. “Most people are great owners, but some ...”

“Clinic?”

“I’m a vet,” Brienne says, realizing she never mentioned that. “Asha – Dr. Greyjoy and I took over when the Manderly’s retired.”

Something in Jaime’s face shifts.

“The mysterious Dr. Tarth,” he says. “I wondered.”

Brienne tilts her head, so confused she forgets to pet Brenna. Brenna chirps a protest.

“I handled the loan application,” Jaime explains.

Jaime Lannister. Lannister Bank. Wealthy. The pieces suddenly slot together in Brienne’s mind.

Jaime tosses the feather toy down and the kittens rush on it. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, closer to Brienne. This near to him, Brienne can see flecks of silver starting to form in his golden hair and beard, the way his green eyes have several shades of emerald and jade.

“She’s not this cuddly with me or Tyrion,” Jaime says, looking down at Brenna. He reaches over to pet her as well, his fingers brushing lightly against Brienne’s.

Brienne tries to ignore the tingling sensation she gets when his hand touches her skin.

“It takes time,” she says, hoping the increasing redness in her face isn’t too obvious. “She’s had it rough, she doesn’t know who to trust.”

“Staying here probably doesn’t help,” Jaime says. “But I want to surprise Tommen, so Tyrion’s watching them until Christmas. I know he’d love them just as much now but he’s had it rough and I just want it to be special for him.”

“Your nephew,” Brienne remembers.

“Tommen Baratheon,” Jaime confirms. “I know a cat isn’t much consolation for having your mother and brother murder your father but ...”

He shrugs helplessly.

“You think she did it, then?” Brienne has heard the story. Everyone in town has. Varys is having a field day at The Weekly Spyder.

“My sister? Absolutely.” Jaime shakes his head. “The younger kids, they’re not. They haven’t had it easy. So anything I can do.”

It’s a far different story than Brienne would have expected to hear when Jaime walked into the shelter, looking around like he was entitled to anything he wanted from the dingy building.

Brenna is delighted to have two people petting her, stretching out on Brienne’s lap to better receive her adoration. It’s oddly peaceful, considering Brienne is in a strange house with a man she doesn’t know.

But Brienne has responsibilities, and her own cats to take care of, so she can’t stay in this odd cocoon of warmth for long.

“I’ve taken up too much of your time already,” Brienne says. Brenna gives a cranky meow when she’s nudged of Brienne’s lap and back onto the bed. Brienne waves goodbye at Tyrion, who is busy clattering around in the kitchen, and Jaime walks her to the door.

“Would a hug help?” Jaime asks suddenly, as Brienne finishes buttoning her coat.

“What?”

Jaime looks a little sheepish. “I hear they’re good for when you’re having a bad day.”

The way he says it is odd, like hugs aren’t a familiar concept. Brienne is opening her mouth to say no, because hugs do help but she doesn’t know Jaime, if she wants a hug she’ll go see her father or maybe even Sansa, but not a strange man.

Except somehow no comes out as yes.

Jaime is just a tiny bit shorter than Brienne and his arms wrap around her easily, Brienne awkwardly bringing hers around his waist. Jaime’s face is next to her own, his breath warm against her ear, ruffling her hair slightly. He smells like sandalwood and pine, his body a firm line of muscle against Brienne’s own.

They stay like that a few moments, longer than Brienne thinks they should, for two strangers, before Jaime releases her and takes a step back.

“You should come see Brenna again,” he says. “Call anytime.”

#november prompts #ficlet #jaime/brienne #braime #cats #small town au #fluff

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caramelohaechan · 5 years

Text

Beach Boy ~ Jung Jaehyun Smut

hello i decided to combine two of my jaehyun requests together ->

hope that is okay with everyone! I’ve just been swamped with requests and I am just all swollen with love for you guys but I’m not used to this lol

Fandom: NCT, NCT U, NCT 127 (foreign swagger line(lmao))

Genre: Smut

Warning(s): another male!reader// dom/top! reader // sub! jaehyun // lifeguard! reader//sex, bitch//

The beach was a magical place. The waves were always crashing beautifully into the sand, day and night, making such a lulling sound it was what you thought heaven sounded like. You always spent your days in the water, letting your toes sink into the sand and basking in the warmth of the sun. It was your safe haven.

You were ecstatic that you got to spend your time on the beach and make money off of doing so. Being a lifeguard on a private piece of land where most rich people had their summer homes was your dream job. The people only visited during the holidays and most of the time they just gave you free food and occasionally you had to go out into the deep to retrieve the lost floaties of their grandchildren, but for the most part you had the whole thing to yourself. An entire portion of the ocean to explore yourself.

It was the dream for the most part. But there weren’t always happy times on the beach. Just two months ago, an old lady by the name of Catherine had passed away and it broke your heart. You had grown very close to her and she had made the beach 100 times better than it already had been.

Sometimes you still left shells along the edge of her porch, ones that you knew she would love, even her though beach house was vacant. You didn’t expect new people to move in soon because you knew there would probably be a whole scandal with which one of her children got to keep it. She always joked about leaving it to you instead, but you knew that you would much rather have her still here than to have the house.

It made the new summer feel slightly different.

It was just a regular Sunday when you found yourself with a beautiful purple seashell in your palm. One that you knew Catherine would love. You found yourself on her porch, laying the shell on the edge where a dozen other beautiful shells were gathering sand.

You were surprised to see that a light was on inside of her house. You creased your eyebrows and looked around. Everything seemed normal. You sighed and shook your head after a bit and sat on the steps of the back porch, looking at the setting sun. You’d get off your shift soon. This was usually when Catherine brought you a lemonade of her own recipe. It had slices of fruit in it and always just a splash of liquor.

“Excuse me!”

You jumped and turned your head quickly. And you almost completely lost your breath. There, standing in the glass doorway of Catherine’s home, was the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your entire life. He had the palest skin you’d seen near this area, and also the most beautiful set of dimples that carved into his cheeks as he opened the door and chuckled nervously.

“Are you the pizza man?” He asked.

You looked down at your red swim shorts and the white unbuttoned shirt. Then you looked back at him. “Do I look like the pizza man?”

He chuckled nervously again and scratched the back of his head. “Well I was hoping you were. We’ve been waiting for our pizza for twenty minutes and if you’re not him I have to assume you’re a murderer.”

You laughed, getting up from your spot on the porch and rubbing the back and front of your shorts. As your back luck had it though, your thumb caught in the string of your shorts and tugged your shorts down so that the happy trail you never bothered to shave peeked out and exposed the very lower part of your stomach.

You adjusted it quickly and cleared your throat, knowing that your face was probably beet red. “I’m the lifeguard for this beach. I was just here to leave another shell for Catherine. She loved them. I assume you’re a grandchild?”

He looked confused for a second before something in his beautiful face clicked. “Oh, the woman who used to live here? No, her son is renting this beach house to me and my compa- me and my friends for the rest of the summer.”

You nodded and smiled sadly. “Oh, well sorry for scaring you. I need to get back to my job. Saving all those lives, you know?” You laughed and gestured towards the empty beach. You could barely feel the last beams of sun on your face as it sunk passed the horizon.

He laughed and you found yourself smiling and turning around to go.

“Wait!” He yelled so suddenly you almost jumped. Almost. You turned. He was smiling sheepishly. “What’s your name, hero?”

His cheeks grew cherry red after he said that, his lips turning up into an embarrassed smile.

You smiled back. “Y/N.”

“Jaehyun.” He smiled back.

The two of you smiled at each other for a moment before the screeching of tires was heard on the other side of the house. Jaehyun turned and you took that quick moment to turn and begin your descend back to your post.

Over the course of two weeks you found yourself talking to Jaehyun more. You found out that he had lived in America for four years before that’s why he’s here man and was a singer in a band in Korea. You met his friends and became well acquainted with all of them. Most of them weren’t very fluent in English but you found it very fun when Jaehyun tried to translate as fast as they spoke and when you spoke to them.

Eventually, Jaehyun invited you to a party they were going to be hosting on your day off. It was one of the many they were going to have in the next few weeks before they left back to Korea. You felt stupid for not having made a move on Jaehyun yet, and harboring the slightest bits of feelings for the beautiful boy.

Tonight was the night, you decided as you pulled into your usual spot by the beach. It had your name placed before it with a horrible sign you had made out of old surfboard wood. You were wearing your usual attire of swim shorts and a button up, but this time you had gotten your fancy shirt with a little rainbow heart embroidered right above your own heart.

The party was already in full blast by the time you arrived. You had taken your time tracking through the sand as the sun sunk passed the horizon and ran some salty seawater through your hair to get the perfect messy look.

Yuta opened the door for you, holding a bright solo red cup in one hand and the other wrapped around Winwin’s waist. “Oh, hero! Hello!”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname that the boys had made for you. It was far easier to call you hero instead of your real name because they all had trouble pronouncing it correctly.

“Hi Yuta! Hi Winwin!” You greeted, smiling softly at the two.

“Hello hero! Jaehyun’s in the kitchen.” Winwin said, looking quite annoyed to be in Yuta’s steel grip. He was still hugging him back like Yuta was his lifeline.

You nodded and made your way through hoards of people you didn’t know. Most of them were drinking and laughing, the other half were dancing and singing like they didn’t care. You excused yourself until you got to the kitchen.

Jaehyun was looking good as always. He had picked up quite a bit of your style through the days and was wearing a pair of swimming trunks, blue with red hearts, with a normal white button up.

“My hero!” Jaehyun said, looking up from a bowl of juice he was pouring vodka into. “You’re late! That’s not very heroic of you.”

You chuckled. “Sorry, I was-”

“Playing in the sand?” He asked, looking at your sand covered feet.

You chuckled and walked to stand beside him, placing your arm on his shoulder. You ruffled his hair. “I was taking a walk. I love to see the beach at sunset. Gets you drunk without consequences.”

You grabbed a slice of pineapple Jaehyun was about to throw into the bowl and popped it in your mouth, winking at him as he frowned. His cheeks were already flushing bright red. You loved to make him blush.

“Oh, Mark is having the others play a game of volleyball in the back if you wanna say hi.” Jaehyun mumbled as he continued to stir various things into the bowl.

You grabbed a dressed beer from the corner of the counter and shrugged. “I wanna be here with you.”

His face got redder, if possible. “You’re too sweet.”

“I know, it comes naturally.” Jaehyun rolled his eyes at you. You peered down at your beer as you licked a long stripe from the side. You squeezed your eyes at the sourness of the lime salt. “By the way, who pre-dresses their beers? That’s weird.”

You looked at Jaehyun when he didn’t say anything back and saw that he was staring at you with wide eyes. When he saw you looking he cleared his throat and continued to throw fruit in the already overflowing bowl. You raised your eyebrows before smirking. You walked over to him and grabbed the hand that was stirring the drink hastily.

“Chill, Jaehyun. I think it’s good.” You plucked a cherry from the bowl with his hands and took it between your teeth. Your lips touched his fingers as you yanked the stem back. He could only stare with wide eyes.

“U-uh, Y/N. I really want to confess something to you.” Jaehyun started to say.

You cut him off and pointed to the window. “I should actually go say hi to Mark and Johnny.”

Jaehyun tried to protest but you left the house quickly, smirking.

Three games of volleyball later you found yourself on your fourth cup of the very strong alcohol juice Jaehyun had made. You were starting to get a bit tipsy, and so was everyone else.

You weren’t drunk, though, so you thought it would be a good time to make your move on Jaehyun. While everyone was on the verge of being drunk. You left your spot next to Johnny on the sand and walked inside the house where you saw Jaehyun last disappear into.

Most of the people who had been in the house had grown bored of the party and left, leaving it quiet and nearly empty. Jaehyun wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room, so you had to assume he was in his room.

When you peeked your head and saw that it was empty you sighed and entered anyway. You aimed to go to the bathroom door but stopped when you saw something on Jaehyun’s dresser. You walked over and saw polaroid pictures of him and his friends. Some were of him alone and you smiled. You grinned even bigger when you saw one was set right in front of your row of shells. It wasn’t like the others. Jaehyun wasn’t forcing himself to smile, it was a candid of him adjusting a blue shell you had found just a few days ago. He was grinning and you could even see the blush on his face through the film. The bottom had JOHNTOGRAPHY in sharpie.

You needed to find this boy soon. You wanted to kiss his stupid dimples and run your fingers through his stupid hair. You were almost out of the door when you heard something strange. It was grunting, coming from the bathroom on the other side of the room. You bit your lip and debated on going to check if someone was in there or not. Technically, you knew that someone was in there, but you really wanted to know who was in there.

Your curiosity got the best of you and you found yourself across the room placing your cheek against the door to hear better. To your surprise, you heard your name being moaned. You almost gasped, but fortunately for you, your hand stopped the sound. But your hand also slapped the door. Unfortunately for you, the door hadn’t been clicked closed all the way, so it sprung open slowly.

You froze and debated running away, but the image you saw erased every thought you had running through your head. Jaehyun was leaning against the wall, his hips jutted out and his head thrown back. His dick was in his hand and the moans leaving his mouth were way beyond sinful.

You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your dry mouth. You licked your lips and leaned against the door as he continued to touch himself without noticing your presence. “Oh, Jaehyun that’s why they made locks.”

Jaehyun was so surprised he slipped on the shower rug and landed against the side of the toilet, dick still out. “Y/N! Oh my god! It’s not what it looks like!”

You looked down at his dick and then to his hand, and then nodded. “So I guess you were just... massaging your lower regions...rapidly?”

Jaehyun was panting and pushed himself up. He was red all over. His ears, his neck, and his face were all crimson. He looked so cute flustered. He shook his head and shoved his dick back into his shorts. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

You reached back with one hand and wiggled the lock. “So this is a lock, okay, Jaehyun?” You teases him, a slight smirk on your face. “This makes sure people don’t walk in on you jerking off.”

Jaehyun groaned and leaned against the wall again, looking beyond embarrassed. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

You decided not to argue. “I came looking for you because I remembered you wanted to tell me something earlier?”

Jaehyun peered up at your through his hair, which was falling over his forehead and shook his head. “Seems like an inappropriate time to tell you. Especially because-”

You took two giant steps towards him and placed your hand beside his head on the wall. “You were moaning my name? Is that it? You’re embarrassed.”

Jaehyun was stunned once more. He looked up, his eyes going wide and his body radiating the heat of his blood. “W-wha- You heard that?”

“Kind of hard to miss when someone’s moaning your name like that.” You stated. He looked down again. “Tell me, Jae.”

He huffed and let his head back up. His eyes never met yours. “I think I have feelings for you. Really intense ones. Ones that I really want to act on. But I’m afraid you won’t feel the same. And I really just want to kiss you and... I really really want to kiss you.”

That really caught you off guard. You found your heart skipping a beat. You smiled. “I thought it was obvious that I like you too, Jaehyun. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met and the moment you accused me of being a murderer I knew I’d catch feelings. The moment you said you have to go back to Korea was when I knew that all they would do is grow. I always want the things I can’t have.”

Your eyes trained on his lips. Pink, moist, and so kissable.

Jaehyun took a deep breath. “You can have me. Take me. I’m yours.”

You looked into his doe brown eyes and he shot forward, his hands latching themselves to your cheeks. Then his lips met yours in a soft, passionate kiss. Your hands pulled his body closer to yours as you kissed him back.He tasted of fruity booze, and your hands wandered under his shirt as it rode up. His skin was soft, so soft and warm and you just wanted to taste and touch every part of him.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to escalate. You found yourself licking your way into his hot mouth and letting your fingers dip into the waistband of his shorts. He was moaning against your lips, grinding himself into you to get friction. You pulled back for air and panted into his neck, using your teeth to nibble lightly on his pale skin. His fingers curled into your hair and tugged harshly, causing groans to leave your mouth. He relished in the feeling it sent down his shoulder.

“Tell me what you want, Jae. Tell me where you want me.” You whispered into his ear, letting your thigh push itself in between his legs. He groaned at the feeling.

“I want your mouth on me.” Jaehyun managed to say, cheeks red. “Everywhere.”

You kissed his red ear, and then his blushing cheeks. “Okay, Jae. But first tell me how bad you want it.”

Jaehyun huffed like he was about to complain about your teasing but gasped when you dipped your hands into his shorts and got a hold of his aching dick. You smiled as he suddenly moved his hands to your shoulders and gripped them harshly. You moved your fingers over his shaft lightly.

“I want you so b-bad. I want it so so bad.” Jaehyun moaned, nails digging into your shirt.

You smiled and kissed his lips softly. He kissed you back before you gripped his dick a little harder. Then he pulled back. You pulled back and slowly began to sink down. You popped open the buttons of his shirt and licked and sucked marks on his chest as he continued to breathe heavily while peering down. Finally, you yanked down his shorts and boxers, licking your lips at the sight.His dick sprung free and you could feel yourself starting to salivate at the thought of getting to taste him.

“Please.” Jaehyun whimpered.

You started by licking up the underside of his dick, causing his thighs to shudder and a long moan to leave his lips. You didn’t waste any time and began to rub the base and suck the head into your mouth. You did this a few times before flattening your tongue and taking him in until your nose touched the underside of his stomach. Saliva began to drop from the corners of your mouth as you swallowed around him. He bucked into your mouth, his moans growing louder and his hands tangling into your hair. You took him in deep for as many times as you could, wet, vulgar sounds filling the room. Eventually it began to burn and you opted using your hand for what you couldn’t take in. Spit and precum were coating your fingers and lips, but you didn’t mind. You pulled up for air and grinned at the way Jaehyun couldn’t stop his moans from growing in volume as your thumb pressed against the head of his dick. You licked the underside of his dick again and began the process all over again, sucking Jaehyun like he was your last meal. His hands had raveled into your hair and he tried to buck up again but you help his hips down with your free hand.

People always said that sucking dick was a sign of being a sub. You looked up at Jaehyun, how fucked out he looked, how he was basically screaming your name. How if you were to stop he’d do anything you asked for you to touch him again. You began to grab his balls and chuckled. They didn’t know power.

Jaehyun was so vocal and into the moment he didn’t remember to tell you when he was about to cum. However, you were ready for it, pulling yourself far enough so that his cum landed on the base of your tongue. You swallowed it all up, rubbing away the excess that landed on your chin.

Jaehyun slumped against the wall and panted, his hands swinging lifeless by his side. You smiled and kissed his lips. He didn’t have the breath to kiss back. His ears and cheeks were cherry pink and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“I fucking love you.” He said when he had enough breath. “And it’s not because you just gave me a great orgasm. I really do care for you a lot, beach boy.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him and resting your forehead against his own sweaty one. “I care for you too, Jae. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to enjoy the beach without you once you leave for Korea again.”

Jaehyun smiled sadly and placed his lips against yours in a soft soft kiss. You melted and placed your hands on his hot cheeks.

“We’ll think about that when the time comes.” He whispered against your lips. “But first, I think we gotta help you out with this.”

Jaehyun reached forward and placed his palm on your evident bulge. Your hand cupped over his wrist, your breath stopping in your throat.

You grinned and wrapped him in your arms swinging him around, heading straight for the bedroom.

The night had only begun.

~~~

This is probably the one of the shittiest smuts I’ve ever written

I tried really hard tho

also people always act like this boy is incapable of letting people take control of him... I see Jaehyun as a mad switch change my mothufucking mind

#jung jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct imagines #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct u smut #nct 127 fluffy smut #featuring the shortest yuwin thing because I miss them :(#kpop smut #kpop x male reader #jaehyun x male reader #nct 127 x male reader #x male reader #x male reader smut

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anthonybialy · 4 years

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Rich in Spirit and Money

Access to wealth is definitely something to take for granted, as pointless hostility ensures the cash will keep flowing. Practice resentment during ample free time brought to us by the very thing neo-pinkos condemn. Sure, you got a raise. But someone got even more, which is an unacceptable violation of feelings.

The person whose decisions affect an entire company is going to have a bigger house because life is so mean. Putting products on shelves feels like harder work, which means it's worth more according to the logic of people who don't know about the Cold War.

Someone getting a bigger raise just because their work has a bigger effect seems awfully against equality. You're still getting a piece of cake if someone else gets a piece and a half. Their extra joy takes away all of yours because life is happiest by comparison.

I remember back in the ancient times of 2015 when motorists had to turn their heads. Be thankful we're in a modern era of looking in the car's rearview camera instead of a mirror like some driving caveman. Unimaginable luxuries a few years ago are treated as expected options now. Stone Age dwellers last century would dream of a television watch. It never came true: your watch counts your steps. Phones with no wires are for catching up on your shows.

The magic alight rectangle all of us have at hand shows how quickly something extraordinary can be part of the everyday when dreamers are allowed to work. Some comrades express gratitude by using a product that's a direct result of markets to pimp socialism. They can access every bit of information ever, including how the state fails every stinking time. Some freedom-minded think tank should really host phone tutorials.

We're so sick of being entertained by each production humans have ever created. You used to have to be one of the richest people around to see the content you wanted. Howard Hughes once bought a Las Vegas television station so he could watch the movies he wanted. Now, anyone can see anything they wish without being a creepily eccentric tycoon.

Working at an alleged wage slave in 2019 is so much better than being a king of some European dump in a three-digit year. Our greatest issue is the problem of more entertainment than can be consumed. At worst, there's ample time to watch it, as people don’t have to toil in the acid mines 120 hours per week in order to afford hardtack.

Typically appreciative humans moan about the very system that allows them to wallow in comfort. They don't even notice what enables their complaining. Everything sucks, according to those least entitled to bitch. Fish doesn't respect water, either. Things are really working well when the mechanism is invisible. Failing to see it even upon squinting is a sure sign of possessing vision.

Someone having more is the most infuriating crime of our era. Resenting the person who's been able to maximize personal monetary worth is very not juvenile, especially while neglecting just why they reached that point. It's corporate greed, right? Hating those thriving motivates our wholly calm politics. Useless people who want what others earned attest to their own selflessness.

Class warfare rhetoric is sounding more literal. The newest cool socialist kid trend of threatening the existence of billionaires features menacing talk that'd be appropriate around a guillotine. Daring to create things everyone wants is the worst crime, as selling people whatever they desire is the most cunning way of stealing.

Hand over what's yours to be fair. The notion that big earners owe everyone else isn't going to motivate them to keep at it, but at least they're forced to fund awful useless governmental schemes. Wealthy bastards don't employ everyone or invest in companies or anything when they're decadently allowed to keep their compensation. Thinking there's only a certain amount of money they're hoarding explains why the perpetually jealous can't explain anything.

Punish success to ensure there will be more of it. Now, that's understanding incentives. Conglomerate titans better keep earning fortunes to fund the next horrid attempt to give everyone the same lousy product. The most despised have to keep participating in order to even pretend the funding's there.

I hope the resented corporations don't get tired of punishment for creating the future. We're enjoying Moore's law applied to consumer goods. The surest way to make sure incredible advancements continue is to get out of the way. Or punish the innovators if you'd like to miss what was taken for granted.

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marshmallow-phd · 6 years

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A Simple Life

A/N: Shout out to @hobi-stole-my-heart who put this idea in my head through our weird conversations! I hope you guys enjoy this little surprise!!

Genre: Modern Royalty AU

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Part One I Part Two

He certainly had the look of a king. A stoic, neutral face that never revealed what thoughts lied behind it, perfect for international relations. He was well-mannered, respectful, and even handsome. The kind of prince that was often found in fairy tales.

But Prince Kyungsoo wasn’t happy. He understood that he was born into this life and therefore didn’t have the ability to choose, instead it was seen as his duty to attend every meeting, keep a clean reputation for the public, and be knowledgeable of politics of all nations. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

Very few people had even seen Kyungsoo smile. His parents saw it often when he was child, but it faded as the years went by. Even his best friend, Jongin, son of the Prime Minister, had only seen the ghost of a smile.

This was exactly what Jongin was complaining about as their plane came into view of of the airstrip ahead. Kyungsoo was barely listening, scrolling through the tablet in his hands and reading through his itinerary for tomorrow.

“Are you even listening to me?” Jongin huffed from the seat across from him. Still ignored, Jongin snatched the tablet away.

“Give it back,” Kyungsoo ordered, unamused at his friend’s antics.

“I don't really feel like it,” Jongin smirked. “After tomorrow, we’re on vacation. Why don’t you actually try to enjoy it?”

Kyungsoo scoffed. Vacation? He was never on vacation. You can’t take a vacation from life. Although, he wished he could. Neither of them were in the position where they could really let loose, always having to be mindful of possible cameras that could snap one picture and then suddenly he’s on the front page of every tabloid and embarrassing the royal family as well as his country.

“You’re really going to like the place,” Jongin continued. “It’s nice, quiet, away from everything. Although, to be honest, this entire country is away from everything. I don’t think I’ve spotted a single large city on our way here.”

“It’s a farming country,” Kyungsoo reminded him. “Their major exports are crops. The land is rich with nutrients. Wasting it on skyscrapers is a ridiculous notion.”

Jongin threw his hands up in surrender. “Alright, you win.”

And there is was the smirk, the ghost of smile that was all Jongin had ever seen. Kyungsoo stared out the tiny window of the jet, watching the fields pass by, wishing that could be the life he led.

The summit was over. Kyungsoo let out a deep breath, loosening the tie around his neck as the luxury car drove away from the hotel and the hoard of reporters who were disappointed at his lack of comment.

“That went well,” Jongin smiled.

Kyungsoo nodded. “Yes, it did.”

Another allying country was experiencing a severe drought and in desperate need of supplies. Tensions were high with the host country and so Kyungsoo was sent in to ease relations between the two and act as a mediator for the negotiations. After six hours, the two countries had come to an agreement. It gave him a sense of pride, knowing that he was responsible for the peace. It was the rare time he didn’t completely hate his life.

The place that Jongin had booked for the small excursion was a bed and breakfast located on a relatively small farm away from the capital city.

It was a quiet drive the whole way, Kyungsoo still lost in documents on his tablet and Jongin watching the landscape change as they sped past. When the car came to a stop, Kyungsoo shut off the tablet and exited the car before the driver could even turn off the engine. He rounded to the back, tapping on the trunk and lifting it open once he heard the telltale click.

A man - presumably the owner - came running up to the prince.

“Your Highness, there’s no need for that,” he huffed, taking the suitcases out of Kyungsoo’s hands. “We can take these up to your rooms.”

Kyungsoo gave him a ghost smile, hoping it was friendly enough. “It’s alright. I can take it up.”

“We do this for all guests, Your Highness,” the man laughed. “We take pride in being as helpful as possible. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Up on the steps waiting was the owner’s wife and you, their daughter. While the woman had a bright smile on her face, you were certainly not happy about the newest arrivals.

Arms crossed over your chest, you reluctantly stepped out of the way to allow everyone to pass. Jongin sent you a wink while Kyungsoo just gave you a curious glance. You were pretty in his eyes, but he’d met plenty of pretty girls. It was the fact that you weren’t batting your eyes at him that had him intrigued. The only time he’d ever been met with disdain was when he had to go attend a treaty signing with a country his own had been at war with.

Tired after a long day, Kyungsoo thank the owners and bowed a good night to them before shutting the door. As he changed into sleep clothes and lied down in bed, he pushed your odd behavior out of his head, ready to shut off his brain for a few hours.

You were not happy. That might even been an understatement. The entire routine of the bed and breakfast had been completely upended. Security detail had been around for the past week, constantly asking questions, following you around to observe your daily tasks. You’d hated every second of it and now that the Prince and his friend had arrived, you couldn't wait for them to leave. The security detail was now staying in a neighboring house, far enough for them to be out of the way but still close if something were to happen.

Just one week. You only had to put up them for one week.

Admittedly, though, when the first day came, it wasn’t too bad. You hardly saw either of them.

They came down for breakfast, deliciously prepared by your mother, and ate quietly with your family. After the wink he’d given you, you thought the Prime Minister’s son - Jongin? - would have been flirting with you the entire time. However, you were proven wrong as he was nothing but polite, inquiring about your name and how you enjoyed living on a farm.

You answered happily at the last one, not wanting to trade your life of peace and quiet for anything. The Prince was silent during the exchange, just observing the two of you.

Over the last two days, your mornings were similar and you wouldn’t see the pair until dinner. You weren’t sure where they went or if they even left their rooms. They weren’t wild or crazy, so you found you couldn’t complain too much.

Day three and you were out in the barn, busy brushing the coats of the horses housed there. You were currently working on Sunfire, a beautiful white Andalusian. Spirit, you favorite stallion, was tied up outside of his stall just a few feet away as you would get to him next before taking him out for a ride.

With your attention elsewhere, you weren’t aware of the snake that had slithered into the barn. Spirit gave out a series of huffs through his nose, but you took it simply has his usual impatience.

Letting out a high pitched neigh, Spirit kicked into the air. Finally realizing the situation, you grabbed a pitch fork and scooped the snake up and threw it away. Spirit was still worked up, kicking the air and unable to calm down. You grabbed hold of the reigns and tried to sooth the horse.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Foreign hands came up, taking hold of the other side of the reigns and petting Spirit’s neck.

Kyungsoo had appeared out of nowhere and his soothing “shs” seemed to work wonders on the horse. Even after Spirit calmed down, Kyungsoo continued to gently pet him. The silence was a bit awkward, kicking in your instinct to make a light hearted joke to liven up the atmosphere.

“I guess you can see why we called him Spirit, huh?”

Kyungsoo let out a short laugh, pulling the corners of his lips up into something that was almost a smile. But still, he said nothing.

“Do you ride?” you asked cautiously. You weren’t used to royalty, the bed and breakfast usually housing family reunions and honeymoons on a budget.

“Yes,” he answered straight. “Not so much anymore. I don’t have as much time these days.”

You nodded, sure that the poor rich boy could really go whenever he wanted but just chose not to. If he rode at all. Curious, you decided to see for yourself.

“I was just about to take Spirit out for a ride,” you informed him. “Would you like to join me?”

Something lit up in his eyes as he nodded. “If you don’t mind, I would like that.”

Once Spirit and Sunfire were saddled and the two of you were mounted, you took off towards the hills, not caring if His Highness could keep up. Just a few moments later, the Prince was right by your side, staying with you without struggle.

When you felt Spirit losing steam, you slowed down to a trot and he did the same.

Looking over at him, you shook your head. “I didn’t know that princes still learned how to ride horses these days.”

You could tell that he was fighting a smile at your poke.

“Some traditions never die,” he replied

“Like finding your princess?” you teased.

The struggling smile disappeared. “There’s not many of those these days. It’s not a priority anymore.”

And with that, he turned Sunfire so they were going off in a different direction. You hurried to catch up. He didn’t look at you and you wondered if you should apologize, even if you weren’t sure what for.

“You’re very lucky,” he said softly, taking you by surprise.

You frowned. “Why?”

“This is the kind of life I would choose,” he admitted. “I always admired farmers, those who chose to live life away from the cities and have quiet lives working the land. I envy them.”

“Most people would say they envied you,” you pointed out.

He shook his head. “They only see what the camera captures. They don’t see the endless nights, trying to solve economic crisies or how to prevent war. The movies make it seem that being royalty is the height of luxury, but really it’s just a cage. Or maybe more like a zoo. You constantly have to be aware of how others perceive you so you don’t appear weak or out of control. It’s suffocating.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, ashamed that you had made so many wrong assumptions. “I never stopped to think about that. You must be under a lot of pressure.” You paused. “Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugged. “You seemed like you would understand. Every time I’ve tried to tell Jongin, he shakes his head. He likes this life, going from country to country, saving the world and keeping the peace. He doesn’t understand the want for the simple life. He only came here for me. Perhaps to try and change my mind about it.”

“It takes a special kind of person to appreciate this kind of life.” you looked up at the open blue sky, confused as to how anyone could prefer for this view to be obstructed by ugly skyscrapers and highways.

After that first ride, the two of you made it a daily event. Right after breakfast, you would head to the barn, ready the horses, and wait for Kyungsoo to arrive. He’d given you permission to call him by his first name. Sometimes the two of you wouldn’t return until well into the afternoon. You became close, something you never would have conceived when they first arrived.

Without any effort, he pulled from you your dreams and aspirations and favorite childhood memories and in turn he told you about his life in the palace and the pressure he was under as the future king.

Your favorite moment, however, was when you knocked on his door the night before he was meant to leave and took him to your favorite hill, a blanket folded under your arm. Placing the blanket down on the grass you sat down on top of it and patted the space beside you. Once you were both on the blanket, you laid down on your back and after he did the same, you pointed up to the clear sky, showing him your favorite constellations.

He turned to you, letting a smile spread out on his face. It mesmerized you, how his lips shaped a beautiful heart and his eyes just sparkled as they stayed trained on you. So focused on his smile, you hadn’t noticed when he leaned in closer until his lips were already on yours.

The kiss was so short you barely had time to close your eyes before he pulled away.

“Sorry,” he murmured, blush barely visible in the dark.

Shaking your head, you pulled him back for another quick kiss. “Don’t be.”

The memory still played in your head as you played with your breakfast. The boys weren’t down yet and you were thankful as you might start turning red the moment you saw Kyungsoo.

Your plate was empty by the time they entered the kitchen. Jongin bowed to your father.

“I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to eat with you this morning. I just got a call and our ride will be here in less than ten minutes.”

Your mother pouted. They loved her food and she was proud of that. You wouldn’t be surprised if she put up a plaque stating such. “Well, let me at least pack you something for the journey. The airport is quite a ways away.”

Jongin nodded in appreciation. “Thank you.”

Your stomach dropped. You thought you might have just a little more time before they left. Disappointed, you excused yourself from the room, not looking at Kyungsoo as you passed.

Barely a minute later, he found you in the barn, murmuring to Spirit.

“If it helps, I don’t want to go,” he whispered, leaning against the railing beside you on his elbows.

“This wasn’t just a thing you did for fun, right?” you asked, worried about the answer. “You didn’t try to seduce the farmer’s daughter for a story, right?”

His eyes widened and he grasped your hand desperately. “No! Never!” He sighed, his entire body deflating. “I would never do that. Meeting you is one of the greatest things to ever happen to me.”

You let the corner of your mouth go up, pushing away the doubt at his sincerity. “Really?”

He gave you another heart-shaped smile, brushing hair out of your eyes and behind your ear. “Yes, really. And if you’ll let me, I would like to come back. To see you again.”

You nodded enthusiastically and threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in close.

“Ah-hem.”

At the interruption, you pulled apart, embarrassed to be caught.

Jongin stood in the entrance, a smirk on his lips. “The car is here. I’ll wait for you out there.”

He walked away, his shoulders shaking. Kyungsoo turned back to you and kissed your cheek.

“Until I see you again.”

Watching him leave was painful. You never asked for a fairytale and yet, it seemed one landed in your lap. Once he disappeared, you ran to the entrance of the barn, partially hiding behind the wall as you watched Kyungsoo put his luggage in the trunk. Before he slid into the backseat, he made eye contact with you and smiled.

Come back, you thought. Please, come back.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #exo oneshot #D.O.#do kyungsoo #exo royalty au #exo x reader #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo

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jorelassicpark · 6 years

Text

Imagine Being Thanos (AU, spoilers, duh)

Something I wrote really quickly.

Apologies for turning Titan into Man of Steel’s Krypton.

Imagine this: you're young, you're optimistic, you're among the brightest and best of your planet. Your family loved you. You're among friends who'd die for you. You've had one of the best upbringings you could ask for. You never go to bed hungry and you've got a job lined up for you once you complete your well-earned education.

But outside of your circle, what your family and friends ignore, is strife - poverty, racism, homophobia, xenophobia, nationalism, us vs. them, politics vs. politics, riots, hunger. Resources are dwindling while the population rises. Your hometown was once quiet, even if it was big - now it's stuffed to the gills with the rich getting richer while the middle class can't afford a house now because all the jobs are being taken by either the overqualified or the rich, while criminals prey on the poor and rich alike who're moving in hoping to snatch up a job. The schools are stuffed to bursting and the teachers get paid for shit. Your friends who start families have to start homeschooling them or scrape up money to send them to a private school to get a quality education, or keep them away from gangs that are popping up. You're assaulted twice, and criminals looking to start fights with you because you were born big break your bones. Even your family can't afford the bills anymore. You're followed by beggars - some you recognize as your old classmate from high school, hit by another recession. Some are completely out of their minds, talking to Gods that aren't there and screaming and hollering. One nearly slashes your throat open with a rusty blade because he thinks you're recording him with your phone.

You notice the summers getting warmer, earlier. Winter doesn't feel like winter anymore. Everyone knows it's the factories struggling to keep up demand spewing smoke into the air. The leaders of each country repeal the fragile environmental laws in place. Your dad used to take the family jetskiing and fishing. You can't do that anymore - the fish are completely gone and the last person who took a swim is dying in the hospital from Gods-know-how-many chemicals. Last week, it hit

In your lifetime, one war after another pops up, in one way or another. Nation A accuses Nation B of meddling in their politics. Nation B invades Nation C that used to be a part of it. Nation A's citizens argue back and forth about Nation B. The right is cleaved in half, one finding Nation B a right-wing aliy, while the other half can't forgive the shadow war waged for the last century. The left fares no better - one half despises its lack of free speech, its own bigotry, while the other half believes it to be an ally against Nation A's own longstanding issues with hatred - slavery in the past, subtle racism that keeps minorities in ghettos now, police brutality. Your nation elects a bigot who seethes against the other every day. Your university shuts down several times. You're tear-gassed by police as you try to make your way to the laboratories. You're mistaken for the Other by one faction or another and you barely escape with your health more than once.

You try to help. You donate to charity, and find the board has been stealing what should be cancer research funds to go party on their yachts. You give blood, only to read that 99% of it goes unused because the collection methods spoil it before it can be used. You

Then it hits. War comes home. Half your family is dead. Half your friends go missing, disappeared into prisons to never be seen again or simply *gone*. You used to share a room with your brother and it takes a long time for you to stop coming home and start talking until you realize the bed above yours is empty. You don't see the sun for days because there's so much thick smoke choking the air from all the bombings. What's left of your family huddles in candlelight after the power shuts down for the nth time, hoping the rifle cracks don't get closer.

The war doesn't get better. Nations are gone overnight. Another half of what remains of your family is drafted to die in a land they don't know. Half of your university is gone, also drafted into the war. In the break room, the professor of philosophy - a man you respect, a man who taught you how to debate, to question what you see, to make sense of other people's suffering - watches the news. The damage is catastrophic. Nuclear weapons poison lands irreversibly. Another scientist is quoted that out of a once roiling planet of one trillion, five billion are left, and dropping *nightly*.

The city mayor calls an emergency meeting. The food supplies are dwindling. Medicine is zero. The remaining hospitals had to put the old, the terminally ill, the critically wounded in palliative care and lie to them that they'll make it.

Something inside you snaps. Maybe it's the fact you barely made it out of an artillery shelling last night. Maybe you're so hungry that you've considered eating the bugs coming out of the rubble. Maybe you're tired of the arguments on who to banish next for some petty thing - banish him because he looks fat and maybe was hoarding food. Banish him because he used to be a racist. Banish that guy because he voted for the party that got us into this war.

You suggest everyone draw straws. One half with the tallest straws get to stay. The other half... you want to say banishment, but you've seen the girl down the street die of radiation poisoning in the gaping crater when she took the wrong path out of town.

Everyone - even your own family - stares at you like you're pure evil.

You work alone, now. Trying to find a cure, and it's hard without anyone to help you move isotopes or work the microscopes or bring you raw materials. But what you can do is math. Prove that your plan, as evil as it is, is right. You draw up statistics. You call on census records and the remaining orbital satellites to determine who is left. You sample soil and watch the clouds and orbit and temperature and all the food sources - animal, plant, and otherwise. Math is simple and easy to understand - it didn't make fun of you for being different, it didn't care if it couldn't understand you.

You have your final plea to save the world. There isn't much time to execute it, and a shred of you hopes you are wrong.

You broadcast your plea. End this. Save what we have left.

You find nothing but mockery. Your plans are broadcasted to other nations to prove yours is an evil, genocidal one when you meant nothing like it.

Another half of your city is destroyed in a bombing sweep trying to target you. The cowards didn't even spare one of their foot soldiers to do the job personally.

One night, your father wakes you up. His eyes are red, and there is something other than hollow shock in his eyes. He leads you to what is left of the laboratories. The readings are getting worse - the tremors are shaking continents apart. The oceans will evaporate in a year, no matter what anyone does. Soon, everyone who survives the quakes will have their lungs collapse into a poison sludge - if the last leaders of every 'great' nation just finally settle for Mutually-Assured Destruction.

He used to be a rocket scientist. He helped Titan meet other worlds, trade peacefully, explore the stars - and that technology is now used to deliver more missiles to nations no longer there.

His personal ship can only fit one. He says he was trying to modify it to fit the family, but that's moot now. It's just you and him.

You're not going, you say. You don't want another hole in your heart. You don't want another ghost haunting this world. You tell him he's older and wiser and he can orate and argue and that he was a diplomat. They'll listen.

You know you screamed at each other, begging not to go. You don't remember much of the exact details - but you remember one. You remember the strength you inherited from him picking you up and tossing you bodily into the cockpit.

You are in orbit when your father is proven right. Nuclear strikes scour light into your eyes. For days, you can't see anything but the memory of your planet turning to the sickest pitch black for a second is burned into your eyes forever.

You drift through space. Your father had set coordinates for the nearest friendly planet. You hope and pray for a diplomatic mission to meet you, to have some kind of shelter. You look forward to a bed and clean food, even though you know they'll probably ignore you at best.

You're beset upon by pirates, beaten to an inch of your life, your ship scrapped for parts. But you live. You manage a living doing hard labor. You work your way into the sciences. You hope this planet avoids another war.

And this world repeats what your world did.

Once again, you escape with your life on a one-man ship. And this time, war has spread through the system - into the next one. You see ships burning unnatural fires into colonies. You see planetary rings formed from endless dead fleets.

It is here, alone in the galaxy, utterly, completely alone, that you decide you will make them listen.

#avengers #avengers 3 #avengers infinity war #avengers; infinity war #marvel #thanos #thanos did nothing wrong

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allbeendonebefore · 7 years

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you've done the other two prairie bros, now its time for head/canons for sask! (only if you want to tho)

Ok today’s disclaimer is that the majority of what i know about Sask comes less from my 2 brief stays in Sask and more from my Saskatoonberry friends/roommate + additional stereotypes

- dont do the flat jokes they don’t like that

- How to find Sask in a crowded place: shout “GREEN IS THE COLOUR” and wait for the response (”FOOTBALL IS THE GAME”) and very shortly you will see him with a disembowled watermelon helmet

- ya you got any pil? grab me some pil bud

- literally just oscar on corner gas. plans Revenge brunch. Petty small town cranky grandpa.

- let’s go to the lb and get some pil [turns on the radio and blasts the Sheepdogs]

- “its SASKATCHE-WAN not SASKATCHE-WIN but also we’re winners”

- “see that orange blob on the horizon? thats the pumpkin festival. but if you hit that dark shadowy place you’ve gone too far, that’s winnipeg”.

- the (physically) softest man. Like of all the province boys he is 10/10 the nicest pillow. Soft all over but can throw you like a pigskin

- well bud if there’s no pil i guess i’ll have a vi-co

- his house is Just Right sized but his property boundaries are LARGE and CLEARLY MARKED by roughriders flags and whatever

- Farmboy AF. But he’s hick >>> redneck ok, take this from a pseudo-redneck lmao. Like 100% You Cannot Take The Country Out of the Boy Because the Boy Is the Country

- Probably went to Vet school at some point, maybe multiple points as medicine improved. Has also probably helped stitch people/himself up while repeatedly saying ‘im a vet im not qualified as a doctor pls stop doing stupid crap’ to himself

- drives his combine down the road and laughs to himself as everyone pulls over and doesnt know what to do as he drives over them. Has once driven into town with his tractor because it was the only thing with enough gas to get there.

- plaid shirt tucked into jeans up past his belly button and duck dynasty baseball hats + camo = high fashion.

- outmigration to cities is a really sore spot with him. It means losing a lot of necessary people and sways his opinions to be older/crankier/more conservative the more people leave. Frustrated because he can’t provide all the necessities/that social safety net he worked so hard for if nobody friggin stays.

- literally no patience for regina jokes until The Minute he is the one making them

- Not an impulsive person when he’s on his own. Takes either 10000 years to do something right the first time or doesn’t do it. This entirely depends on whether Bad Influence Bert is in the room or not jk (but Sask has sort of been trying to be more impulsive lately on get-rich-quick schemes and he Doesn’t Like It but because Bert admires independence he’s like LOOK HOW WELL SASK’S DOING Pshh you dont need libraries!!!) He was equally hard hit in the 80s as Bert so they like to be Angry about it together because this is like the 100th time they’ve been Shafted by central Canada. But they spend more time ranting at each other than thinking of better ideas lmao.

- When he doesn’t think things through they usually do end up badly even if they sound good at first i.e. hey big bro Mani really liked that Riel guy maybe I should just give him a shot and Do Whatever He Says Even If Its STupid

- like canonically his design is based on primarily scandinavian immigrants but despite being a settler in appearance he’s always been really close to local first nations people- back in the 1880s there was a lot more solidarity between white settlers/metis/FN than there is now but he’s doing his best not to lose touch with his roots...

- Absolutely the hardest hit of anyone in the country during the Depression. Is really actually hung up on food/health/financial security and tends to hoard things sometimes. Was probably definitely motivated to haul himself up after to help big bro Mani (again)

- More soft spoken but also more persuasive than Mani so was almost solely responsible for Canada/Matt’s 180 on the rest of the country in the 60s etc. He gets crap Done - if Bert is all bark and some bite, Sask is some bark and all bite.

- Clams right up around strangers but if you’re his neighbour he will absolutely talk your ear off about Anything on his mind and will just follow you around with gossip and probably just shove cucumbers he’s grown at you because he’s got tons of them and just wants to get rid of them because he doesn’t want to see them go to waste please you can pickle them you can hide them in desserts just take them away

- Keeps pics of Tommy Douglas in his wallet and CCF propaganda under his bed. OTP Sask/Tommy Douglas = Saskommunism. Sits on his tractor shirtless and tanned gazing idealistically out at big sky country - a plane flies by with the banner THE FUTURE BELONGS TO SASKATCHEWAN - his bros start feeling Very Uncomfortable.

- canoes on the lake and goes fishing. Lays back in the boat with a hand on the fishing rod and stares up at the clouds until he falls asleep. When things are still and the sun is at the right angle you can pretend the whole lake is an extension of the sky. Swims in the Sask river in the summer and sinks his feet into the sand as far as he can go. Values his alone time the most of the prairie bros because he’s the glue that holds them together and that can be tiring.

- like both prairie bros, the sort of person who won’t let you in his house again if you don’t eat something when he offers it to you. “No I’m not hungry,” you say. “You look thin,” he says. “You need to eat.” his voice gets more shrill “You’re skin and bones... I just made this this morning...” “No thank you” “how about you try this pie that my neighbour dropped off eh? you will like it!!” “I already ate” “I made you coffee, just take it!!!!” If you don’t eat something you will let the devil in the house.

- [doing laundry with bert wearing his Laundry Day Bunnyhug] IT’S NOT GONCH ITS GOTCHHHH [towel whips him]

- everyone always says he’s afraid of heights as a joke and im like hahaha but what if..... he and bertie got their pilots licenses together :) as bros :))))) y e s

- the one yelling WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM at the top of his lungs when bert launches a potted plant through the window.

- Extremely invested in the Sasktel commercial storylines

#projectcanada #pc: saskatchewan #iamp #iamp: saskatchewan #iammatthewian #pc headcanon #Anonymous

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zennygee · 4 years

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Today, as I sit inside my room, folding my cluttered clothes and reading chats about work, posts, and videos about COVID-19, and comments about the actions of every country on this pandemic, I realize how life should be simple. With the number of cases rising around the globe because of this virus, the lives of humans have changed.

Lockdown is implemented, self-quarantine is strictly followed, works are suspended, going out is prohibited, people are panicking making them hoard supplies and protection necessities.

Everyone is making a move. But most people think about themselves, their families on how they could survive. Some don’t take it seriously, but others are overreacting. Many share their sentiments on social media, complaining, encouraging, spreading information, some are even joking.

In this time, you will contemplate on whose humane and who is not; who cares and who doesn’t; who take actions and who just complains but sits comfortably. But, above all, it will remind you how life could be so simple. How everything could stop and the only remaining essential thing is to survive.

The virus makes us realize to be thankful for every situation we are in and the kind of life we have. Every thing we possess, may it be big or small as long as we can still survive, we are in the best place. Many complain about not getting this and that, but I realize owning enough is better than nothing.

If we complain about not being able to do our daily activities such as, going-out, working, hanging with friends, going back to our families, just think of the people who does not have food to eat, shelter to live, and time to think about the disease because they think they might die of other things. Think about the health workers who are doing their best, not having enough rest, no personal consumption of masks, alcohol, and basic needs because others hoarded it, who spends hours of wearing heavy and uncomfortable PPEs to avoid contamination, and whose health is at risk. Think of the government officials who are restless thinking on how to mobilize every resource our country has to provide all the needs of its citizens – planning and managing every situation just so everyone will be at peace. Think about the military people who spend hours checking every people, patrolling goods, and providing the needs of the health-workers and common people.

Everyone is human, if we complain about being tired, they can be tired too, if you are anxious, depress, hopeless, sad, lonely, they can feel the same way too. It is not the time to blame, to share negativity because it is happening, our race is in danger and we need each other to survive.

It’s time to inspire people, to encourage everyone to be as one, to plant hope to every people’s heart. Stop ranting about the government not doing its part, because we are the government, and we are doing our part. If you think the officials can’t see the situation, have you been on their shoes? You are never in anyone’s place to complain.

Why not cheer for humanity? Pray for the affected, message your loved ones, send encouragement to our health workers, follow the rules, and thank everyone for doing their part.

While at home why not clean your house, cook for your family, read books, think of the hobbies you once had but forgotten, write something beautiful, show extra love to anybody, and self-reflect? Why not do positive things instead of spreading negativity? Be an inspiration, be encouraging, be optimistic.

It is not about being rich, successful, having this and that, achieving personal goals, and dreaming of personal things. The long hour work does not make sense at all, achievement and success don’t count anymore. Money is needed but it’s not enough. Connections became scary and social status is turning unimportant.

Now, it’s about learning to go back to the basics of life: wake-up, eat, love, care, breathe, survive, and live.

#COVID-19 #self reflection

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markdecastroweb · 4 years

Text

How the rich spend their money will astonish most lottery winners

"What do you think?" said the neighbor, as we looked around his property and saw the improvements.

"Great!" we all said, but secretly I was wondering... he's a cash millionaire but the place is not finished yet?

And we listened as he and his partner detailed all the work they were going to do over the next few months... maybe years. I was too polite to tell him a few home truths which I'll explain in a minute.

But first I'm going to use this following example to change your thinking about the use of money.

Note that I said the USE of money... this is different to dealing with actual money itself. Because it's only the USE that will make a difference in your life.

We're all used to getting paid for our time, then spending most of our wages on essentials - and maybe putting a bit in the bank for a rainy day if we're lucky.

No surprise that we all live up to our full income, even the rich. A prominent financial planner to the moderately rich - that's earning up to $10m - said recently he was never surprised to see that even the wealthy had money problems.

People are people no matter how much they earn.

And it doesn't stop at the moderately wealthy either. A few years ago the accountant for Larry Ellison (Larry - the billionaire who owns Oracle and is one of the world's richest men) said he "must stop his runaway spending." Well, it seems everyone has problems of some sort at all levels.

There are a lot of people with too much money. Like my neighbor - and perhaps you, after winning the Big One.

And excess funds cause problems. Especially when you don't use it as it is intended... to be spread around.

For example, a couple of people I know have too much money in the bank. They haven't told me how much they earn, but I can figure it out based on their job position and the current earning patterns.

They are quite well off. But you wouldn't think so. Because they do everything themselves.

They mow their own lawns.

They chop their own wood.

They do their own decorating and painting, and gardening.

My house-fixin' neighbor has spent 2 years doing up his home. It looks terrific, but... 2 years gone and still not completed??

With a few thousand dollars drawn from his comfortable bank account he could have hired all the experts he needed... and have the place finished in a couple of weeks. He and his partner could have stayed in a nearby hotel for the time and brought more income to the local economy through all the services they would use there.

But because they are so hands-on, they are always behind the eight ball, tired, and don't have enough time to enjoy their spoils.

You will probably be in the same position as them after your win. And like them you've been trained from an early age to respect hard work, and heck, you'll be darned if you'll let someone else do it - even if they do it better than you!

So here's what I'm guessing will happen...

After your win you'll have a ton of greenbacks stashed away - but you'll continue your old lifestyle of DIY (Do It Yourself).

And this will be bad for the workers, trades and experts you could hire to make your life easier. They will lose out in many ways:

The laundry service will lose your $60 a week.

The lawn cutting service will lose your $55 a week.

The housemaid service will lose your $150 a week.

The nanny will lose your $400 a week.

The window cleaners will lose your $90 a week (you have a LOT of windows in your lotto mansion!)

The mobile car cleaners will lose $30 per car a week (yup, that's $180 gone).

The pool cleaning service will lose $50 a week.

There's more losses too, on a less regular basis... the guy who refills your filtered water, the ventian blind guy who cleans your 70-100 blinds, the tv installer who upgrades your plasma, the house painter, the waterblasting service. And so on.

It's a huge economy out there, and everyone relies on spenders like you to put food on their table. If not, they have to find work elsewhere, and in today's economy that could be difficult.

Big Lesson here: Money is made to be used, not hoarded.

When you have a huge winning sum from your lottery win, you'll never have any problems again in your lifetime. But make sure you don't cause problems for others by withholding it.

Spread your good fortune around. So make sure it is earning some interest, and then spend some of that amount on getting things done... by others.

It will be the best investment you'll ever make.

By the way, you needn't go overboard like Polo clothes founder Ralph Lauren. In a recent article, I read how his gardeners have to remove the animal barriers from his immaculate gardens before sunrise, so he can awake to a pristine uncluttered view of his grounds from his bedroom window.

Oh well, if he's paying, who minds!

—- WON $22 MILLION

Ken, Still shaking from my win, bought your Silver Lotto system last year and have played lotto regularly since, definite small wins and a few no wins, until last night. Checked my ticket online and I have won 1st division $22,236,652.87. Your system works. Regards, Jason

How to win the lottery in 8 games out of 10 How the rich spend their money will astonish most lottery winners published first on https://188lotosite.tumblr.com/

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pamphletstoinspire · 7 years

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Our Universal Mother - Part 48

Our Mother of Perpetual Help - Feast Day: June 27

Mother of Perpetual Help, you have been blessed and favored by God. You became not only the Mother of the Redeemer, but the Mother of the redeemed as well. We come to you today as your loving children. Watch over us and take care of us. As you held the child Jesus in your loving arms, so take us in your arms. Be a mother ready at every moment to help us. For God who is mighty has done great things for you, and his mercy is from age to age on those who love him. Our greatest fear is that in time of temptation, we may fail to call out to you, and become lost children. Intercede for us, dear Mother, in obtaining pardon for our sins, love for Jesus, final perseverance, and the grace always to call upon you.

The origin of the Our Lady (Mother) of Perpetual Help Icon is uncertain, although many have thought that it was painted by St. Luke and venerated in Constantinople until that Holy City fell in 1453. The Byzantine style and Greek lettering are consistent with an icon of Eastern origin.

While we may not know the exact origins of Our Mother of Perpetual Help, we do know the next part of the story—-from the original picture itself. A parchment attached to the painting tells the story of how it got to Rome.

According to this record, a merchant from the island of Crete heard stories of many miracles that occurred around a fabulous painting on the island. Wanting this power for himself, he stole the painting and packed it away with his other wares. His travels led him, and the stolen picture, to Rome, where he suddenly fell ill. As he lay dying, he told the whole story of the stolen picture to his friend, a Roman, who was caring for him during his illness. His last request was that the Roman take the picture and have it placed in a church where it would help many people.

The Roman’s wife, however, put the picture in her bedroom. Mary made her opinion of this situation known by appearing to the Roman in a series of visions. Each time, she asked him to stop hoarding the picture and start sharing it with others. And each time, the Roman ignored her. After being rejected by the adults, Mary visited their six-year-old daughter. The daughter announced that Mary had commanded that the picture be placed in a church between St. Mary Major and St. John Lateran—a church called St. Matthew’s. At last, the Roman obeyed, and the picture was placed in the care of the Augustinians on March 27, 1499.

It’s hard to understand why Mary would choose such a place to be honored. St. Matthew’s was a small church in a barren place far from the center of the city. Yet the rich and the poor, the powerful and the lowly alike, traveled the rough stone path to the church to seek comfort from Our Mother of Perpetual Help—and to learn from her humility.

One man, however, was not impressed. In 1798, Napoleon’s general ordered the destruction of thirty churches when the French invaded Rome. St. Matthew’s was one of them. After the soldiers left, those who loved Mary searched the ruins but could find no trace of the picture. There seemed to be no doubt that their beloved picture had perished with the church.

Almost half a century later and miles away, an altar boy named Michael Marchi listened to a sacristan’s tales of the past. The sacristan, named Augustine Orsetti, pointed to a picture of Mary in the chapel and said, “See that picture, Michael? It is very old—very old. It used to hang in St. Matthew’s Church, where many people came to pray to the Mother of God.” The painting, he said, had been rescued at the last minute, hidden from the marauding general in a humble cart, and transported secretly to this chapel. “Remember that,” the sacristan told him. Michael Marchi remembered.

Years later, Father Michael Marchi, by then a Redemptorist, was in Rome. In 1853, Pope Pius IX commanded the Redemptorists to establish their world headquarters in Rome.

After much searching and prayer, the Redemptorists bought a huge estate. When they inspected their new property, they found a house, barns, stables, gardens—and the ruins of an old church. Inquiring into the history of the church, the Redemptorists learned that its name was St. Matthew’s, and that it once had housed a miraculous painting, a painting that had been lost.

Even as they ruefully shook their heads at the loss of such a treasure, Father Michael stunned his associates by telling them that not only did the picture still exist, but he knew where it was.

After three years of prayer, the Redemptorists decided to ask that the picture be brought back to Rome. When they told Pope Pius IX that it was Mary’s own wish that she be enshrined between St. Mary Major and St. John Lateran—where the Church of St. Alphonsus now stood—the Pope immediately commanded the return of the painting. Flowers and banners greeted Our Mother of Perpetual Help on April 26, 1886, and miracles attended her procession—including the cure of a four-year-old boy suffering from a brain illness. After 75 years, Our Mother of Perpetual Help had finally returned home.

But Pius IX didn’t give the picture to the Redemptorists as a gift. He gave it to them as a mission. He told them, "Make Our Mother of Perpetual Help known throughout the world." The Redemptorists embraced this command wholeheartedly by distributing reproductions of her picture and talking about her in missions and homilies around the world.

Their efforts yielded impressive results. By the turn of the century, 1.8 million Spaniards belonged to the Archconfraternity of Our Mother of Perpetual Help, ten thousand shrines and altars were dedicated to her in France, and devotions in her honor were observed in several thousand churches all over America. These services, or novenas, of Our Mother of Perpetual Help drew thousands of people. Churches in St. Louis, New Orleans, Detroit, Chicago, and Boston had to hold eight or ten services a day to accommodate everyone who wanted to honor Mary, and in New York, the service was even broadcast over the radio.

THE CHARMS OF THE PORTRAIT ARE MANY, FROM THE NAIVETE OF THE ARTIST, WHO WISHED TO MAKE CERTAIN THE IDENTITY OF EACH SUBJECT WAS KNOWN, TO THE SANDAL THAT DANGLES FROM THE FOOT OF THE CHILD. THE EXPRESSION OF THE CHILD JESUS IS HAUNTING AS HE GRIPS THE HAND OF HIS MOTHER WHILE GAZING SIDE WARD AT THE INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE HELD BY THE ANGELS. ABOVE ALL, THE EXPRESSION OF THE MADONNA EVOKES A SADNESS ON THE PART OF THE VIEWER. WITH HER HEAD GENTLY TOUCHING THAT OF HER SON, AND WHILE SURROUNDED WITH THE INSTRUMENTS OF HER SON’S SUFFERINGS, SHE SEEMS TO GAZE PLAINTIVELY—AS THOUGH SEEKING COMPASSION FROM THOSE WHO LOOK UPON HER.

Devotion to this wonder-working icon spread rapidly to the United States. In 1870 when the Redemptorists were asked to establish a mission church in Roxbury (near Boston, Ma.) they dedicated their small church to the Mother of Perpetual Help. They received from Rome the first copy of the portrait, which had been touched to the original. This Church was raised to the honor of a “Papal Basilica” by Pope Pius XII.

WHAT THE PICTURE MEANS

GREEK INITIALS - FOR “MOTHER OF GOD”.

Star on Our Lady’s Veil: she is the Star of the Sea who brought the light of Christ to the darkened world—the star that leads us to the safe port of Heaven.

Greek Initial for St. Michael The Archangel-He is depicted holding the lance and gall-sop of Christ’s Passion.

Mary’s Mouth is small for silent recollection. She speaks little.

Red Tunic the color worn by virgins at the time of Christ.

Dark Blue Mantle the color worn by mothers in Palestine. Mary is both Virgin and Mother.

Christ’s Hands turned palms down into His Mother’s indicate that the Graces of Redemption are in her keeping.

Golden Crown placed on original picture by order of the Holy See 1867. It is a token of the many miracles by our Lady under this title.

Greek Initials for St. Gabriel the Archangel. He holds the Cross and Nails.

Mary’s Eyes are large for all our troubles. They are turned toward us always.

Greek Initials for: “Jesus Christ”

Mary’s Left Hand supporting Christ possessively, she is His Mother. It is a comforting hand for everyone who calls .

Foot with Falling Sandal symbolizes Christ’s Divine nature, barely clinging to the earth. His human nature is symbolized in the other foot to which the sandal is more firmly bound. Christ has two natures—human and Divine in One Divine Person.

The Entire Background is golden, symbolic of Heaven where Jesus and Mary are now enthroned. The gold also shines through their clothing showing the heavenly joy they can bring to tired human hearts.

#our universal mother

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meltedmagazine · 7 years

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AN INTERVIEW WITH THE FUNS

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The Funs itself was a positive result of a time of negativity. Do your songs reflect this? Are they aimed towards creating a positive attitude?

To me The Funs is about creating positivity from a dark place. It’s obvious if you pay attention to what’s going on in our music. My lyrics very much reflect what is currently happening in my life and documents our evolutionary time line. The Funs started in a depressed and desperate state. I was limp and basically walking around with no skin. You know, being 21? My immediate family is densely touched with mental illness of the schizophrenic variety. I had to get the fuck out of that head space to make it. I had to reprogram the path ways in my brain. You can hear it in those earliest recordings because they’re blown out, hardly listenable, trashy and lyrics are raw and biting, and as we climb out of that hole, the lyrics get more hopeful and the tones start to get a little softer. There are these glimpses of the sun and flashes of it getting better.

In the beginning it was me and Philip vs the world, surviving, but now we’ve carved a place for ourselves and we’re really happy and healthy. We’re keeping the shadows in check. I think you see it in our newest stuff that we can breathe now and that we fought for it. We started out as a two piece. I get really sick of calling it that, a two piece I mean. Philip and I have always played together because we are lifers. This is it. Whatever form it takes we’re not stopping. I just get tired of getting labeled anything really even though that’s what has to happen. But to answer your question yes I am positive person that is riding the REAL into the pink and blue sunset. Every day I work for it and it comes out in the songs.

How has creating music allowed you to channel negative energy and/or escape it?

Music has been the motivator for getting healthy. Philip and I were living in Chicago and we were both working 24-7 to live in a crappy apartment in Pilsen for $800 dollars a month that only had heat in the kitchen. We practiced at 16th and Western. We lived in that practice space when we got bed bugs, drinking orange juice and eating Vienna sausages. I ate them because my Grandma gave them to me as a kid. Philip wouldn’t eat ‘em. Anyway, it wasn’t sustainable. It was a joke. We were working to live and living to play and barely getting by. I will forever be beholden to Chicago’s basements because they made me who I am today but those spaces and those shows are ephemeral. They’re like a cactus flower that blooms one night and is gone. Change is constant and I was constantly trying to figure out how the hell I could play very loud, punishingly scary, pretty sounds and capture it or record it and keep it going full steam.

Philip always talked about his Grandpa’s place in the country and how it was this huge old house and how we could move there and clean it up and play music and tour and take care of each other. Music motivated me to move into a hoarded, abandoned, funeral home, in New Douglas IL. That’s the truth. This was four years ago about now. I don’t know how in the hell we did it looking back. It was nuts. We loaded up our mish mash pawn shop gear into a caprice classic (also Grandpa’s) and we broke down before we got out of Chicago’s city limits, so we rented a U haul and got to work. Skin to the bone work. Head to the wall work. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you work. There was a petrified squirrel in the toilet. Mouse shit and bird seed. It took years to get it livable but we started making noise immediately. We got to know our neighbors and to be accepted. I just kept telling myself it was worth it because I’d have the space and opportunity to sustain my visual and performing practice. That’s it. That’s everything. It was all inspired by playing music with Philip every day because that is what I am meant to do. Now after cleaning out an insanely, hoarded, filthy, house and basically rebuilding the whole damn thing room by room, we have something really beautiful and I can walk downstairs and pick up a guitar and press record and it’s everything to me. I’m able to share this exquisite space we made. We call it Rose Raft. It’s a place of peace, music, and making. We are officially opening as an artist and musicians residency next year. It’s all escape. It’s all healing.

How has the Chicago DIY music scene that you're a part of affected and influenced you as a band?

As I said earlier, Chicago basements and DIY spaces made me. The ethos and ethics that uphold those spaces and their fleeting moments’ drive my being. I can let go and share. It makes me feel so present and alive like how the 1st winter night can cut your face. Chicago will beat you down as a city. Make you feel beat.

And what do those shows, the kind where audience and band are almost in total sync, feeding off of each other, creating a coexisting mass of energy, mean to you? Do they happen often?

Life is suffering but to me those shows are about feeling outside of that. Maybe, for some people, at those kinda shows, it’s about being seen, or getting fucked up, or getting fucked and that’s fine we’re all coping but for me it’s the two or ten kids that are really feeling it. Sometimes it’s a whole room. The lucky nights where the energy electrifies the air and it feels like lightning might strike you down. That’s when the room becomes a wave and people crash and break on you. They form a wall holding each other back so you aren’t smashed completely. People throwing themselves into sound blindly like being raptured. We are playing that emotion and hurling it back, and it tugs, and pulls, washing in, and out like tides. It’s mouth to mouth. It’s fucking beautiful and you can’t do that on a stage. It’s just not the same. It’s a whole different production. You can’t have the barriers and the body guards and green rooms and the separation. You have to be sacred and talk to people face to face. You can’t do that at Pitchfork. Not really. And it doesn’t last forever ya know? I’m grateful to have played one show like that, in my lifetime, but Chicago has spoiled me, to my very bones. It’s given me many extraordinary shows. The music there is brave and fascinating, and it carried me home. It’s my heart away from heart. I have to live the country life now to keep from going crazy but I bleed in Chicago. Those shows are endangered wild beasts that I long to visit.

You guys seem to stick pretty close to the definition of a pure DIY band. Releasing your music on cassettes, playing in people's basements, music before money, etc. Is this mentality an important aspect of creating music? Do you believe making music this way is the most fulfilling way and will lead to ultimate personal success?

Without a doubt yes this is the only path I could have taken to self-actualization. Let me be clear though. Money is not Evil. Greed is what sucks. We all need money to be alive in America in 2016. Being in a band is a privilege that I do not take for granted. A lot of bands do and it’s boring. It makes me fucking gag. You need money to be in a freaking band. It’s why rich dude bro rock jock types get to be heard over everyone else all the time. We know this. It’s boring. But still, the reality is you need money to be in an American band. You need $$$ for a van, to fix a van, to fix a van again, to gas a van, to fix your ancient guitar, to have an amp, to repair your sweet shitty amp. Bands are fucking expensive that’s why it’s a huge god damn privilege to play music. I have to get paid to play music in order to function and I’m clear about that but the real important thing is, and what makes a big difference creatively is that money is not what motivates me to make. Real deal DIY shows take care of touring bands financially and spiritually better than a rock promoter does 9 times out of 10. Writing something that takes me to the other side and makes me feel light is what makes me feel complete always. Finishing an album is the reward. Connecting to other humans in a real and personal way is the incentive, even if they are few and far between. Not fans, not likes, not getting rich. There’s meaning in the work. It’s worth it. I like to share what I have had the opportunity to create. I take nothing for granted. There are lots of different paths you can take. There are suits, and loafers, dinners, jet fueled planes and billboards, twix bars, red bull, chevy cars, and hard rock hotels using “cool” bands to overtly and subliminally manipulate millennials into buying shit. Don’t get lost. There are several potential sources of dopamine out there. There are choices. I’m an atheist that doesn’t believe in the afterlife. I keep death in my pocket. You’ve got to. You’ve got to ask yourself the hard questions and be honest. How do want to spend your time on this momentary spark amongst black dust and diamonds? Every second counts. Who do you want to spend those seconds talking to?

DIY has been sold to home depot. I don’t mean to sound jaded. It’s just really tough to keep things pure. A band is business plain and simple. You are selling yourself. You are pushing a product. You’re creating an image and people are selling it. I’m mindful about what I sell but it’s impossible to play out in the world and not compromise something at least a bit. The bigger things get, the messier it gets, and that’s all. I got to be careful and protect my freak flag in the sand. I’ve done stuff for a paycheck so I could buy a guitar and plant a garden. McDonald’s was the best job I ever had in some ways. I’ve done worse. The facts are in and we live in a consumer driven capitalist country that benefits and functions from the oppression of vulnerable peoples. You’d have to live in Canada in the woods, and grow all your own food, and make all your own clothes, and play the banjo, and bathe in waterfalls to stay totally pure. I eat McDonald’s sometimes, but I’m trying. I’m trying to do right with what I’ve got and what I can create. We’re making everything out of nothing. It’s all I can do not to pop. Art is culture. Music is our most basic beauty. To sing a song and connect and express is vividly significant. Too many bands are too busy trying to do nothing but sell shit and aren’t giving anything back. The idea of a commercial rock band grosses me out. I’m more successful than I ever thought I could crawl out of. I’m grateful for my life. I get to have it because my parents made castles out of wreckage. So now, I’ve built a home that I can share with others based in music, art, and love. I’m consistently creating passionate work that I’m fulfilled by and it meets the tall standards I’ve set for myself. I’m only ever competing with myself because this is not a cool contest to me. It’s no joke. It’s my life and it’s meant to be shared. Music is powerful. It can create change and bind us or it can blankly distribute junk food. I’ve found my voice so I’m able to help others to find theirs. That’s what really charges my batteries the most, to give opportunities to those without the resources, exposure, spotlight or strength. I’m looking in the holes and throwing down ropes. It’s as pure as it can be. It’s a dream inside a dream. It makes me fucking gleeful. I feel splendor every day. Sanctuary.

Do you feel like people these days are lacking a part of the music listening experience when they use stuff like itunes and spotify? Is physicality in music important to you?

YES PHYSICAL MUSIC IS IMPORTANT TO ME. IT IS ART. We make everything that goes into our albums, it’s like the organic produce of merchandise if organic actually meant anything still and……yes, hello world, buy local, buy direct, not direct tv, but hey ya know amazon is really really really fucking convenient. And CGI sucks! Stop it already all the time. Make it real with your fingerprints I say. It’s more interesting and nourishing like fresh baked bread from your friend. Maybe put down the 3D printer and forge something with your hands? Let me see your hammer blows.

I don’t listen to itunes or Spotify but it’s not because I’m too cool. I’m just being honest. It depends on how you want to consume, and how much, and where. It makes sense for most people to use it. I don’t really listen to a whole lot of music. I’d rather be playing or writing. Philip plays a lot of records and I enjoy that. Sometimes. Records are beautiful. But you know they are petroleum based so fuck it all to hell. You can’t win. You got to be you and figure it out. I blast Vivaldi when I clean the house. Our van has a tape deck and it’s lovely to drive at night smelling cow shit and listening to a band that made something special just for you. It feels like a gorgeous secret. It makes my life.

I get why people do stuff, it’s convenient. It’s the same reason I go to Walmart sometimes because I’m broke and I want something and it’s okay, I can still buy stuff straight from artist’s hands and I make a decided effort to do so regularly because hello?! It makes the world less shitty. People want things immediately. I’m guilty too. We are raised for it now. Instant gratification. You have to learn to play an instrument. You have to write a song. Practice a song. Write the lyrics. Record it decently. You have to mix that shit. Then master it. If you can manage to access all that. Then you got to get it out into the world one way or another. All that shit takes time and money. It’s crazy to put in all that time and work and then have the expectation that it must instantaneously exist on the internet for free. I had to rehab a totally fucked up house, rearrange my brain, and barrow a 4 track, to get to place where I can do that and sustain myself in a healthy way. You can find yours. It is possible. It’s not easy. Nothing worth having is. I’m so grateful to be able perform, record, and tour and not compromise myself or my work. That is very rare thing for an artist.

Is there an artist/song/album that makes you feel a heavy dose of nostalgia?

I just listened to Summerteeth and it made me super nostalgic because Philip and I used to drive around and listen to it as kissin’ teenagers, in love out in the cornfields. And Jeff Tweedy cut his teeth not far from where we are now and I think he has kept it about as real as you can. The Breeders of course for always and forever. Little Fury and Off You take me away to a bliss-state. Flock of Seagull’s Space age love song reminds of me of the day I fell in love with Philip forever walking around lost and alone in downtown Chicago with giant headphones. Everything looked grey. Grey sky. Grey buildings. Grey concrete. But I felt a rainbow in my chest like a divinizing, dowsing rod pulling me along. That’s what music and love can do. I can’t really listen to Neutral Milk Hotel anymore because it makes me too sad. My older brother died when I was 19 and NMH, Nirvana, and Sonic Youth and Beck all remind me of him. There’s a lot. He gave me so much. He showed me another planet.

what's it like being a musician/band in the 21st century?

Big question. OK. You know it’s weird to be a band now but it’s weird as it ever was I’m sure. It’s weird to exist. Derealization is fucked. Anyway, I know I love to tour pretty city to gritty city via interweb connects. I’ve figured out how to do that well. I camp and touch a redwood if I’m near one. I hug a person and shake hands when I see them. Now is a good time to be alive even though there’s climate change and Trump. There’s always something: war, terror, Reagan, nukes, neoliberals, crusades, famine witch hunts, plagues, divorces. The Big music industry is inherently flawed, sex obsessed, exploiting as the day is long. It’s in its nature. It’s in our basest nature. Luckily one can exist outside of it. If you try hard enough. Bullshit consumerism and main stream media blows. These systems prevent musicians from financially benefiting from their designs even if they are popular. You’re encouraged to sell guitar center and start a clothing line. It’s a machine and there’s a lot of people in line getting paid before the laborer. There’s no quick fix. It’s always been difficult for artists to make money from original work. Who cares? You can’t give up. You got to be relentless. Besides, it’s romantic to be a starving artist. I say fuck that. Find a way to feed yourself. Build a bridge out of tooth picks if you have to. It takes Disney channel talent and trash bag full of four leaf clovers to “make it” and what is it worth? It’s like hitting the ultra-mega million. It takes Michael Jordan riding a unicorn crying One Direction’s tears. America’s tastes are constantly regurgitating and changing like a hungry monster in a Miyazaki film. I understand that we live like kings on a red white and blue hamster wheel. The world is relatively at peace right now, historically speaking, with 7+billion people. It’s a miracle. That can change at any moment. We are talking about trans issues in politics in America. I’ll take that. There’s some good stuff out there within the horror show. You got to fight for it. That’s what art is and art gets dissolved in industry like pop rocks in a can of coke.

I have hope that we will keep evolving toward symbiotic peace in a world where everyone has the choice to create and not just work to live. Most people are working to live. I’m grateful to be the age I am, 30 yrs. because I grew up not having the internet and then having it. So, I feel like I see it for what it is…An insane tool. It’s mind blowing. My freedoms are obscene. It’s all in what you choose to learn and what you choose to connect to. My childhood was cell phone free and I read a lot and ran around in circles outside. I watched MTV and VH1 until it morphed into road rules. I dug in dirt for fun. I still do. I like to sweat to accomplish a goal. It’s remarkable when labor is a choice.

Discovering music as teenager felt magically powerful and holy. Like a whisper in a church. I think that’s harder now to feel like that but it still exists and always will in a world I want to live in. I love science and technology. It’s thrilling. Things are happening the only way they can. I don’t long for the past. The good old days don’t exist. The past is never better. I wouldn’t go back if you paid me. But being in a band in a constant wash of media bombardment with PR campaigns and competitive sports can wear me down sometimes. Still, I don’t lose sight of what matters. I won’t let myself be jaded. That shit is sad. If you’re jaded you’ve givin’ up so try something else Sound Guy. Never be bitter. You have a choice, so use it. Be mindful. Facebook can be a sad hole so make good habits. Reach out. I channel all that shit into making work and into real time connection. I check myself regularly. Skate and make art. I keep my fire lit and light house burning. Don’t get put out by the drool.

LISTEN TO THE FUNS HERE

interview by AL SMITH

#melted #melted magazine #the funs #music #chicago #interview #band #art

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