#I’m so going to fail the Religion exam

[gayerthanevertbh]

say your prayers - four.

pairings | dark!priestess!natasha x fem!reader

your school have church service once a week. of course, as a good little schoolgirl you are, you attend to it. which means you always have to see your priestess, natasha, who you are secretly infatuated with. until there was an unexpected turn that made you feel something else other than good. but maybe, even better.

warnings | smut/dark taboo themes - 18+ MINORS DNI! religious themes, blasphemy of religion, sacrilegious acts, sex with a priestess, rough sex, breeding kink, strap-on (used), oral sex (n receives), mommy kink, dirty talking, pet names, slut shaming, and more.

notes | i’m sorry if this took a while to update, i have more energy to write now! to your requests, i’ll be doing them as soon as i wake up. thank you so much!

navigation | series masterlist

“Make yourself comfortable,” says Mrs. Johnson, and sits down across from me with a nonchalant look. I looked around at my surroundings and realized how frightened and intimidated I was by the spacious area–which was weird since I like being in a big room. Either way, I felt nervous as well. Sweaty, if I may add. The thought of Mrs. Johnson knowing my affair with my priestess could cause a lot of trouble, especially for the older woman who has done nothing wrong but love me. I know that, or do I?

I sat down on the checkered chair and closed my legs together with a fearful look on my face; hoping that it was not as evident as it seems. There was a brief silence until I heard her speaking: “I heard from Mrs. Humpston that you’ve been failing her class, when in fact it’s one of your strengths. Literature, how are you failing that class, Ms. Rogers?”

I didn’t even know that I was flunking Mrs. Humpston’s class, I had no idea that my eyes widened with what she had told me. Knowing myself, I ace Literature. It’s one of the classes that I rarely fail on, and now I’m just as curious as my principal who had a skeptical calm look on her face. Although I could tell how disappointed she was, I was one of her best students in this god damn school. It took me a while to figure it all out until I realized that I’d been spending so much time with Mother Natasha that I don’t even care about my education anymore. The feeling and thought of just dropping out crossed my mind, but then I suddenly don’t want to flunk out of school anymore. Maybe I was distracted; stressed, perhaps.

“Mrs. Johnson, I’m very sorry.”

“I just want to know what has been going on with you,” she sighs and clasped her fists together on the desk. “That’s all. You’re my best student, Y/N. This has been going on for a month, you recently failed her quiz and your exam.”

Fuck, shit, oh my god.

She asked, “Have you been talking to a boy? You know that’s not allowed in the school district.”

“No!” I exclaimed, defending myself, and sat back on my chair while fidgeting with my fingertips. If she knew about my affair, even the tiniest bit, my life would be over. “I-I mean, I’ve been going through a lot recently and I honestly can admit that I’ve been distracted. I’m sorry again, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Is there something I can do to help?” She asked, but with a concerned look on her face that I honestly don’t want to see. I hate it when people pity me, I do. She waves her hands in the air. “I could schedule you with our school counselor, Mrs. Regene, or perhaps Mother Natasha so that they can help you with what you’re going through. If you ask me, I would much prefer Mother Natasha since she has empathy.”

My whole body was suddenly relieved with joy when I heard her say Natasha’s name. I imagine going to Mother Natasha’s chapel and asking for her advice. She, of course, would kiss me and make me forget everything–which is something I would want and what I would need. I was desperate for it like a cat in heat who won’t stop meowing with the urge of being fucked. Have I become this not-so-innocent little girl anymore because of her? I probably do like it.

“I think I’ll be more comfortable talking to Mother Natasha about my problems,” I say, trying to sound casual and not desperate. “If you don’t mind, of course. I promise I’ll do better this time, I won’t let you down, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Then it’s settled!” she exclaims with a clap in her hands, standing up and marching to the door to open it for me. “I will be seeing you again next week, Y/N. I pray that the Lord shall give you wisdom and strength throughout your life.”

And with that, I walked out with a small smile on my face–acting like a deviant little bitch.

When I came back to my dorm, Wanda was there with two books on my bed and crumpled hair that was tied up in a bun. I still wonder how she gets in, maybe she was given a key? Impossible, there’s a thing called privacy.

“How did you get in here?”

“I have a hairpin.”

“You do know I hate it whenever you do that,” I say with a grumble under my breath as I gently throw my bag across the room. I sat down beside her and yawned, “Mother Natasha will be my counselor for a while until I get my shit together.” I wasn’t as nervous as before, it’s probably because I have nothing else to fear. If my relationship with Mother Natasha goes on for a while, I might even tell Wanda about it. But knowing her, she’d freak out.

She scrunches her face as if disgusted and asked with a painful tone in her voice, “And you never bothered telling me?”

Shit, I thought. I shouldn’t have said anything, of course, she’ll be offended.

“Y/N?” she calls out my name as the silence crept on us, I felt my whole blood system turning cold; my face becoming paler.

“I, well… I was going to,” I say with a nervous laugh, I bit my lower lip and looked away from her eyes as they intimidated me. “I really was. But you would react so badly to it that I feel like–”

“But I’m your best friend!” she answers with a slightly higher voice that honestly makes me flinch. She added with her eyes piercing at me, “I thought we said we don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“And I do know that, Wanda–”

“No you don’t,” she says with a hurtful look on her face. “Y-You don’t. You’ve been acting weird for a whole month and I keep asking you if you were okay, if you needed help but–you never said anything! What, have I become the worst friend you’ve ever had? Do you have someone else in your life? What is something you want that I don’t have?”

“Now you’re acting like you’re in love with me.”

She scoffs at me, and she usually never does. And this is where I realize how I have become a jerk toward her, I deeply do regret saying that. I knew she wasn’t in love with me, I just didn’t know what else to say. I had to protect Mother Natasha and myself, of course. She bites her lower lip angrily and mutters, “You are fucked in the head, Y/N. I can’t believe you’d fucking say that.”

I watch as she grabs her books and walks out of my room with a loud slam of the door, everyone could’ve possibly heard it. I wanted to go after her and ask for her forgiveness, but my body couldn’t even move. I felt frozen, stuck, and angry with myself. But if I had to be honest, I couldn’t care less either. As long as Mother Natasha was around, I felt like my whole world revolved around her. As she once said: you should always be thinking about me just as much as I think about you and I will never forget that. It’s ingrained in my brain like how you write a beautiful poem, you could barely understand it.

                                                       —

Around six o'clock in the evening, Mother Natasha was waiting behind the building with her black car. She told me to walk out quietly and never look back since it could get me anxious. I did what she has told me and surprisingly–I have gotten out of the district with a small tote bag slung on my shoulders that has my spare clothes in it. I got inside of the front seat and kissed her cheek which led me to her lips, she was excited as I am.

“You’re here,” she breathes out as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. “I’m so fucking happy that you’re here. Let’s go, yeah? My house isn’t that far from here.”

I nodded and put on my seatbelt as she drove away from the school, making my heart beat a thousand times faster. It almost made me think that I was going to have a heart attack, but that felt exaggerated. I looked out of the window while I felt her hand grazing against my school skirt, talking about how excited she was to bring me home. Would it be safe to say that I was at least nervous? Although people could say it’s normal since it’s your first time going to your partner’s home, I was hoping for something sentimental to happen later other than just fucking each other’s brains out.

Her house looked very lonely. I might’ve guessed that she had a kid or a husband, but she explained all the way that she isn’t married nor had a child. I remember myself asking: would you ever want one? I could hear her faint chuckle as she replied with a sultry voice that she wanted one with me. It seemed impossible for that to happen unless there was a donor. Anyway, I looked around and saw the kitchen by my right, then the living room once you walk passed by the kitchen. I saw her retro record player that was beside the big television screen and some of the record albums were under the tall long oak shelf.

“You have a nice home,” I say as I couldn’t remove my eyes from the magazines on the table. They were pornographic, it made me feel a little surprised. “Have you ever thought of a roomie that could live with you? Your house is pretty big.”

“I thought about it,” she responded with a sigh while my back was facing her. “But I like living on my own, well… liked. I can kind of imagine you living here with me, you know?”

“You think we could?”

“Anything’s possible, my child.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” I asked curtly; which I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to know and see how she’ll react to that situation. It couldn’t be now, but it could be later as our relationship grows.

“I am,” Mother Natasha wraps her arm around my shoulder as she brings me in for a peck on my forehead; I sighed happily once she has kissed my skin. “But don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Just do what I say.”

“Aren’t I doing a good job of obeying you?”

Now she was giving me a smirk, a sexual-looking smirk where she imagines me being on my knees as I suck her vagina. She leans against my lips and kisses me passionately with her sucking on my bottom lip for need. I let her kiss me hard and soft, I let her control me. I felt her whispering in my mouth, “You like it here?”

“Uh-huh,” I nodded and began to fiddle with the belt of her pants, trying to get her animalistic self out of the box. “Natasha–”

“You’re forgetting your manners,” she says while pinning me against the wall near the stairs; her hips thrusting up against my core that I moaned. “You’re my good little schoolgirl, isn’t that right baby?”

I nodded again and felt her lips attached to my collarbone while her hands were groping my breasts gently with care.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “I love you, Mother Natasha. I want you so much–”

“Shh,” she presses her thumb against my lips and slides it down to my chin; her lips are now kissing my jaw. “I love you too, baby. You have no idea how much I love you.”

Was she lying? Was she trying to maneuver me into having sex with her again? Not that I was complaining, but I needed her to mean it. I was going to ask if she meant it but instead, her lips were such a distraction for my mind. She brings my waist closer to her as she tries to ground her hips against my core with a cry of desperation, her face is now buried into my neck. Not even blinking an eye, I was brought inside of her room and I realized how much I fucking wanted her to make love to me. I wanted everything that she wanted, maybe I was that obsessed.

“Lay back pretty girl.” Mother Natasha smirked and I sprawled my back against her soft covers, feeling myself already. She smiles down at me and kisses me for one last time before she goes to the other room, leaving me completely bothered. I waited for a minute, then a two until I was a whining mess. I called for her and moaned her name, but she wasn’t coming out. Was this woman teasing me?

Five minutes later, she comes back with her nude body and a strap-on that was dangling between her legs. I lifted my head up with a shocked face, the faux dick was even bigger than I saw when she put it inside of me for the first time. This time, it was longer and girthier. I clenched my legs in response–she smirks.

“Are you scared?”

I shake my head slowly, gulping a lump down my throat.

“No, Mommy.”

She pushes my legs open with her knees and leans down to kiss my lips, this time it was more searing and wet. “Get naked for me, sweetheart. Lemme get a taste from your pussy.”

Immediately, I obeyed. Natasha pulls herself up and watches intently as I remove my school blouse, leaving my white cotton bra and skirt on. She looked down at my cleavage and I could see how her mouth was foaming with arousal, the thought of her mouth licking my nipples got her head all fuzzy and dazed. I tried to be flirtatious so I slowly–leisurely–removed my bra with my perked nipples that hit the cold air as I gasped out quietly, she was staring into them like it was the first time.

“D-Do you like my boobs, Mommy?” I asked with a teasing voice, curling a smile on the side of my face; she nods viciously.

“Yeah, baby. I do.”

I pushed my breasts to give her a little show, and she was rolling her eyes in the back of her head–sinking that memory inside of her until it eats her up. My eyes were glued to her hand that was playing with her right breast, squeezing them while I kept teasing her with my boobs. I was never an expert when it came to being a flirtatious and teasing woman, I just learned it from her and used my own instincts. After a while, she tells me to stop and I dropped my hands below my thighs; staring up at her innocently.

“You’re so cute,” she coos and brings her thumb to my lips again and pushes it slowly until I’m sucking her whole thumb–pulling it out with a loud sucking noise that gets Natasha rolling her hips down onto the mattress. “F-Fuck, you like that don’t you? You’re so pretty, so beautiful for me…”

“I want you to fuck me, Mommy,” I say with a moan that vibrates her thumb; she halts and grabs my hair with one hand and pulls it down to expose more of my neck. I hissed in reply and was about to whine when she whispered: “I’m going to make you cock-dumb once I rip your insides with no permission, do you understand me? I owe you. You don’t get to fucking say that to me, do you understand little girl?”

“Yes!” I didn’t have enough time to say something before she pushed me back to the mattress where she had her nose running up against my cheeks, smelling me with her hand on my neck. I felt her giving open mouth kisses on my shoulders, then to my lips as I felt the tip of her cock prodding against my covered clit. She hikes up my skirt and pulls down my panties which made me let out a loud cry, I don’t know what kind of cry was. But I was so insatiable, aroused, and incredibly desperate when it came to her.

“Beg me to fuck you,” she purrs, the way she commands me to tell that to her gets my cunt wetter than before. I was practically humping the air for her touch, at least her dick inside of me. “Come on baby, tell Mommy you want her to fuck you.”

“Please fuck me,” I choked out, looking at her lips instead of the darker shade of eyes. “P-Please, Mommy? I’ll be such a good girl–I promise! Just please put it inside of me…”

“Shh,” she closes her lips against mine and kisses me passionately just like she always does. I felt her tongue lapping against my bottom lip for access, so I let her, and my god it was heaven on earth. She grips both of my hips hard and whispers roughly: “I’m gonna have to stretch that tiny cunt…Mmph, you’re so fucking sexy.”

I could hear her panting hard when she finally pushed half of her length inside of me, both of her hands were still gripping my hips like a possessed woman. My throat felt so dry from all the whining and screaming that I let out the tiniest moan when I felt her dick. She kisses my chin and pulls out, then pushes the cock inside of me again with much force.

“I-It’s too big, I can’t take it!”

“Baby you can,” she coos again and cups my right cheek with a short faint smile on her face; reassuring me that nothing will go wrong. “Oh fuck, you can take that all inside of you, eh? What a little slut you are for me, so pretty…”

A wet patch was starting to form underneath my butt as her hips never came down. She was thrusting inside of me like it was the last time, her chest heaving and starting to become red. Her eyebrows scrunched when her eyes drifted away from my face and instead stared down at my breasts that were bouncing rhythmically with her hips that snapped back each time I moaned. She wasn’t keeping a slow pace, she was hard and fast–just like always. I could hear her quiet growls and pants, as she slams into me each time.

“What do you think the Lord would say if he’s here right now, watching you fall apart because of me?” she slurs in my ear, bottoming out in a grinding matter. “He would think how pathetic you are, how you are easily manipulated by your priestess. Tell me, would you let me touch you if I hurt you?”

That was no longer a hesitation; I nodded.

“Yes, Mommy…” I whispered with a mewl, arching my hips to meet hers. “I don’t care if he sees me like this–Jus’ wanna be a good girl for you…”

“You’re going to be my good little girl once I get you pregnant,” she husks and drives the faux cock back inside of me with a loud smack of my ass that hits against her thighs, filling the room with the sound of our fucking. “Ya like that, baby? Do you want Mommy to knock you up?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Fuck,” Natasha buries her head on my neck and starts moaning widely, her cock moving inside of me roughly as our hips are pressed to each other. The bed was creaking loudly, I wondered if anyone would hear us at all. I started to moan like a whore in heat when she tweaks my nipples with her right hand, whispering you’re such a slut wraps around my head and my soul. “I’m going to send you home to your parents like a beaten-up child. They’re going to see how much of a slut you are for me, how in love you are with me even though I can be a dangerous woman.”

I hardly believe she could hurt me, but this would be the time that I’d feel scared. But I wasn’t scared, I was far more than scared. It felt thrilling to see how far she could go, how she could use my body for her pleasure. It’s like I’m submitting myself to her, and I'd gladly do it.

“I’m going to bruise your pretty body, my child. I’m going to make you my little slut who only deserves to be fucked like one.” her hips were now pummeling inside of me as she crept her hand to my throat, gripping it and pushing me down while she handled me like a man. I was close to my climax, so my walls were starting to grip her length tightly–of course, she felt that and gave me a wider evil smile.

“You gonna cum, aren’t ya?” she chuckles darkly and spits onto my face, making me shut my eyes. “That’s it, now you are my certified slut. Cum for me, baby. Cum for your Mommy.”

The constant movements of her hips made my back arch and let out a strangled moan that broke my throat painfully. She scoops my back and kisses my chest lovingly, purring out my name while her hips gradually hump my core. My arms clung to her as I shook my body with the immense pleasure that has overtaken me. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t even breathe. I could see the white stars that were glimmering in the back of my eyes and I could only remember my body falling apart with how used and corrupted it was from her.

“Baby,” she calls out my name, peppering kisses on my neck. “Don’t pass out on me yet, I need you to suck me. Come on, do it for Mommy.”

I lick her folds with my eyes glued to her heaving chest, her hand tangled up in her red hair as she moans out my name twice or thrice. My lips were attached to her clit and continuously flicked it with my tongue, trying to see if she was getting any pleasure from it. She looks down at me and thrust her hips up to meet with my mouth; all I could remember was her growls.

“You like going down on me, huh?” she bites her lower lip to control her possessive self, not wanting to hurt me. But she had her other hand on the back of my head as she pressed me down on her. “Fucking eat me like it’s your last supper, little girl. God, I love you so much…”

I loved it when she talked to me like that, how she could just handle me like some sad girl. She treated me the way no one else can, I mean, who else would treat me like this? Natasha was my first in every situation I was in, even with love. Every time we would have sex, she would kiss me like singing a lullaby telling me how important I was to her. But the thought of her saying this possibly to anyone else was swirling in my head crazily like it just couldn’t stop messing with me. I felt her clit nudging against the tip of my tongue and I continued to lap on her cunt, licking in between her folds.

“I’m going to cum so hard inside of your mouth,” she growls and I let my tongue sink into her hole where she felt incredibly tight but loose at the same time. I thrust my tongue once or thrice, earning another guttural moan from her. “Fuck, I’m going to make you my breeding bitch!”

You’re such a good girl, my child. I can’t wait to ravish you all night.

And that’s what we did the whole time I was there, letting her experience hands continue to touch my bare skin with her choice of words that gets my whole system to act up again. Her tongue, fingers, and body were all over me like it was a life sentence. She fucked me hard, made love to me, and even made me pray while she played with my walls with her faux dick inside of me. The sheets were soaked in our cum and juices, my body was full of purple marks that were created by her. I was infatuated, in love, or whatever else you could say in a relationship.

“I’m in love with you,” she whispers to my wet ear while she had her arms wrapped around my lower waist; her cock slowly thrusting up inside of my velvety walls. “I’m so in love with you, I can never let you go. Please, don't let me go.”

I made a promise to her that night.

                                                        —

Natasha drove me back to the campus with a satisfied heart. She held my hand while she drove, sometimes kissing my knuckles that would linger there for a minute or two. If you’d ask me how I was feeling, I’d say that I was feeling the depths of the earth. To demonstrate it in an easier way, I was happy. I'm very happy. And she was too, despite her kissing my skin and the smile plastered all over my face that reached to her cheekbones. It wasn’t a long drive back to the campus, so I was a little shocked that we arrived there in less than fifteen minutes.

“Did you have a good time with me, baby?” she asked while unbuckling her seatbelt to wrap her arm around my shoulder; giving my temple a languid kiss.

I nodded sheepishly, it was a little cold this morning. “I really did, I don’t know when we can do this again though.”

“We do have to wait for your semester’s break,” she sighs. “How about this, maybe around the weekend you could spend your time with me? When do your parents usually visit?”

“Only if necessary,” I responded with a tiny voice that could still be hearable. “Maybe they’d pick me up around two weeks, it comes abrupt sometimes.”

I could tell that she was tense a bit, the thought of my parents seeing something so sinful in front of their eyes would ruin their whole reputation–especially Mother Natasha’s since she’s been a priestess ever since she was a younger, so it would be whole chaos. Her arm tightened around me and I felt my head leaning against her chest; smelling that heavy shampoo on her hair.

“We have to schedule it then so that you won’t get caught.”

“That could be arranged.”

“Alright,” she groans and opens the car door for me, pulling my jaw up so she could kiss me one last time. Our kiss went on for thirty seconds, all tongue and smearing our teeth together. She pulls away with a long sigh and whispered: “Think about me while I’m gone, okay little girl?”

“Always, Natty.”

I felt her hand smacking my butt and I let out a soft giggle, closing the car door and watching as it drifted away from me–a sudden drop filled my heart. Anyway, I didn’t waste my time going back to the campus. I was thankful enough that I knew how to unlock doors with a hairpin–all thanks to Wanda–and got inside swiftly with no worries. When I opened my door to my room, I almost dropped my bag on the ground with wide eyes that were about to fill with warm tears. I knew it was a bad idea to get out of the campus in the first place.

“You have some explaining to do, Y/N.”

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #dark natasha #black widow x reader #black widow x you #natasha romanoff smut #say your prayers series

[bunni-v1]

Taking a break from writing my second essay to pop in and complain about it. My professor is always so odd with instructions and expects far more from students than is humanly possible, but that’s not really the issue.

The issue is my thesis, which I have already written almost three pages on, hardly works for what he’s wanting. I already okayed the idea with him, but what he wants in the essay is just not feasibly possible with my thesis and it’s making my brain rot writing it.

It does match his prompt, but it doesn’t work for the amount of SHIT he wants me to include. He wants me to use about seven different sources of evidence and thoroughly explain it in 3-5 pages. It’s doable, but I don’t think I’d be able to make a good paper out of it.

The issue is, no possible topic could cover all seven sources. They’re too different and only a few of them have something in common. The most he’s getting for me is four sources and a meaty ass analysis.

I’m a good writer academically, I passed those stupid AP lang and lit exams with flying colors during horrific learning environments (covid). I’ve done more with less and gotten great grades, but god is this frustrating to deal with. He always wants so much more than what is POSSIBLE to do.

If I fail out of my “for funsies” religion course, I’m going to be livid. (It’s technically important for my minor, but I could’ve taken a different religions course and had more fun).

Anyway, that’s your Bunni update. I have to make my client toast now. Goodbye <3

#bunni babbles 🍓

[cobul]

It has been a long time since I posted something personal, but I need to vent a little.

My christian family (mainly father’s sides, him included) KNOWS that I don’t believe in anything, yet given the minimal opportunity, they will try to convince me to “talk with god” just in case I ever miraculously gain faith. They say things like this:

“Oh, cobul, so you are stressed with college exams? why don’t you try talk to god? You will feel release!”

“So you’re worried about [insert ANY topic]? I know you don’t believe in anything but please! Pray for god! Or at least do it for me”

Like, if it was just a few times? No problem, I understand it is their set of beliefs or whatever. But because of the frequency of it happening in this last year, it’s becoming really off putting, honestly. I swear, one of these days I’m going to snap and tell them to fuck off. If they wanted me to believe in god, maybe, just maybe, they shouldn’t have sent me to a laic school where we studied history of religions (a class where we were taught about the biggest religions worldwide in the most aseptic way).

It’s kinda funny, they me gave free will and didn’t make me join a catechism group while I was younger because they thought that I would somehow choose Christianity when I became an adult. These were my fathers words, a few years ago:

“A kid cannot fully understand what a religion is and what it compels, and should not be indoctrinated in one. Believing in god should be a conscious decision, not something coming from a compulsory habit”-.

Taking in account that my father and his siblings were brought up in a traditional christian family, it’s to be expected that they think of Christianity as the default and the best, despite them being more liberal than my grandparents, I think they failed to realize that giving me freedom of choice could also mean that there was a chance of me not becoming christian. That or they overestimated their persuasion or faith power to convert someone. As a more tongue-in-cheek comment, maybe they thought that at least I would believe in something, which would be easier to work with for them, probably.

All in all, at least they’re not TOO homophobic and my father accepts my homosexuality way better than my lack of faith.

Sorry for the long post, I know it’s an oddly specific situation what Im talking about, but thanks for reading, in case this reaches anyone. (Also sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes, I’m not a native speaker, so feel free to correct me).

#atheist #christian family #religious family #agnostic #non religious #sorry for the vent #non christian #could be worse #ex christian #??? #I was baptized when I was a baby but that’s it #idk if this counts a ex christian

[what-if-nct]

HIIII I get my exam results today and it feels like I’m going to explode. I’m surprised it wasn’t sooner but it finally hit me yesterday evening. It was like time went so slow and I didn’t know what to do. But it’s gonna be over in a few hours!!! Like so many years of me life have led up to this and it’s going to be over~~~!!!

IVE GOT MY RESULTS NOW!!! I got a 4 in art (it’s equivalent to a C, art grade boundaries are brutal where I live), 5 in biology and chemistry (which is in between a B and C, I was expected to get 8 or 9 in biology tho :/), I also got 5 in French but cause I’m in foundation I’m capped but I would’ve gotten an 8 if I wasn’t. I got 6 in physics which is like between A and B. 7 in maths and English language which is an A. I got 8s in English literature, religion and history which is equivalent to A or A*. I was one mark off 9 in religion and two marks off a 9 history. I’m really happy though cause I’ve improved a lot. For the next two years I’m doing sociology, history and religion :))). Some of my friends haven’t done so well. One friend’s life is geography but she didn’t get high enough to continue studying next for the next two years and at university. Another person also wants to be a surgeon and go to med school in London but didn’t score well enough in chemistry. Also the person who since year at the school who’s been known to be great at art failed art. She’s had some issues at home though so I’m still really proud of her. She was on the verge on failing maths but she got a 5!!! Another friend who has had issues affect school failed everything but they still get to go to this animal college thing. So yeah good for me but not so good for other people. I have a relative the same age of me and she’s gotten what she wanted.

I'm sure there's a ton of relief that's been lifted and thank you for relating it to letter grading, I would have just looked it up to get a better idea but it was really helpful that you did that. I'm glad you're happy with your results, you did really well, far better than I ever could of. I only did well in English, art, dance, creative writing. I hope you enjoy the next few years with those subjects. You should be very proud of your grades. I think all of your friends should be as well, exams are hard and test taking is more difficult for some than others That's all a low score means, retaining information is just a bit more difficult, i wish you all the best luck in your next steps.

[funkymbtifiction]

hi, i’m trying to type my friend and i’m fairly sure she’s an extravert. she interacts with and wants to be in the outside world a lot, even when she’s alone, she’ll be on social media, reading gossip forums, or watching TV (almost like she always needs external stimulation?) she says her greatest fear is to be alone.

This could also be high Se, to be honest, it doesn’t have to mean extroversion (constant stimulation and a need to stay busy and engaged with something).

she seems to use ni-se axis as well, since she has this vision of her life that she wants but can feel hopeless when her current circumstances are bad, like there’s no point to planning ahead if she can’t see past the dread of that day.

This is most common in SFP types, because all they can see is how they feel right now, right now is all that exists, so if right now is lousy, they fear that how they feel today is going to be how they feel forever.

she’s a perfectionistic when it comes to something about her future, like career or love interest. if there’s a huge exam, she’ll study extra hard to ensure there’s no possibility she fails. if there’s a person who she can’t see being her significant other down the line, she’ll dismiss them and keep them as a friend or ghost them.

I assume she reaches the latter judgments rather quickly? Could ISFP fit? Rapid judgment (Fi/Ni: I am not feeling this and it’s not fitting the life I want).

on the flip-side, when she really likes someone, she sort of idealizes them and creates an image in her head of what they’re like and how they’d be together.

This could be high intuition, or a romantic nature, or a positive Enneagram type that is prone to idealization and fantasizing.

she’s very logical when she’s not involved in a situation and can tell a friend the blunt reality of things, but when she’s involved, it’s harder for her to do the same.

Se users are pretty realistic and objective about other people’s lives (Se/Te in particular) but high Fi isn’t good at objectivity when their emotions are involved.

as for se, she’s very adaptable and loves the typical se-ish things, like fast cars, loud music, adrenaline-pumping activities. but she can be very impulsive, like spending way too much money, thinking she needs the items sooner than later, and then regret it after or throwing her TV remote in anger and accidentally breaking the TV. she’s not one to throw all caution to the wind though and likes to have a comfort zone to retreat to.

This might fit SP 9w8.

as for fi-te/ti-fe, i’m not sure. she’s very open about her political beliefs. she can sometimes press her values onto others and expect other people to adhere to it.

This is where it doesn’t work.

Fi-dom doesn’t demand others adhere to their views, although a 9w8 will be more black and white/forceful in stating their opinions. IFP 9w8 is more “let me be me, I let you be you, you push me, I lash out at you.” So you would need to dig into why she needs/wants others to agree with her. Is it just that she’s asserting her own values and expecting others to respect them (high Fi)? If so, that would fit SFP. Trying to change other people’s minds aggressively would not fit IFP and would be more strong Fe territory.

her political beliefs and religion she was raised with clash, so she doesn’t identify with it anymore but she still goes to church every week with her family just because they expect her to.

This is attachment, which is why I said 9, but it could also be 6 (and 6 would also fit with pressing her views on others -- 6s want people to validate them as right by agreeing with their position on something; they are fearful of differences, and so try to influence others into sharing their beliefs, regardless of type). This might also indicate Fe, depending on her reasoning (”I want to avoid conflict” vs Fe “this is what they need from me.”)

it’s also easy to tell when she’s upset because she gets quiet, and it’s easy to read her emotions. she won’t say what’s going on outright but if you ask her, she’ll tell you what she’s upset about.

Again, iffy. Less IFP than other types.

she’s often the mediator of the friend group since she’s great at handling conflicts and never gets into those herself.

This is why I think core 9. Mediation, avoidance of conflict, bringing peace between others, while being detached.

she’s really great at explaining difficult things in a way that’ll make sense to others, sort of condensing the info to make it comprehensible.

I would need an example of this to say what it “is.” Simplification usually involves decent judging skills, but it can be facts-driven (Te) or catering the message to your audience (Fe).

she hates when people are confused/not understanding a problem even when it’s written in clear instructions somewhere else or when they ignore her while she’s trying to explain it.

Easy frustration sometimes means high Te (why aren’t you getting this when it’s obvious and how to do it is written down right there?!).

she can feel like everyone can see her mistakes and are judging her for it, and to ground herself, she reminds herself that “no one cares about you as much as you think they do.” she said this to her brother when he worried about how others saw him, and she was confused when he took offense to it and found it too blunt when it helped her own worries.

This is attachment. It means she’s in the attachment triad (3/6/9). Attachment types care too much what others think, so often remind themselves that it’s okay to be themselves, to do their own thing, that no one is watching them, etc.

Given that she is blunt, practical, opportunistic, and struggles with objectivity, I think an SFP 9w8, although whether she’s I/E is debatable. Would you say that Ni or Te has greater prominence in her life? How much does she try to structure her life around a single forward purpose? If it’s a lot, ISFP. If she has a far-reaching vision but is constantly pulled away from it in favor of momentary emotions and pleasures, ESFP.

#question #isfp #mbti #esfp

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

honestly looking back at my undergrad degree…. i find it so strange how the philosophy faculty while i was at my home uni didn’t think that presentations were a good way to assess people. don’t get me wrong, i hated public speaking and i had anxiety attacks around presentations during uni. but like. it was so bizarre that the one subject who obsessively prides themselves on being able to communicate complicated esoteric ideas to the layman- ie keep the ideas of tableau rasa in philosophy of mind or epistemic injustice in epistemology “simple stupid”; just didn’t want students to present these ideas to an audience.

so the one main way to present the said esoteric ideas in a formal assessment with my home uni’s philosophy dept was either wholly essay based (eg my epistemology subject had two 50% essays only- once they scrapped philosophy exams or mid term in class written assessments/quizzes as a form of assessment) and maybe an unmarked essay plan worth 2% and class participation that was always around 5%. and yeah, again, i loved the fact that not having presentations meant i had a reason to avoid my readings in philosophy.

but still. i think being forced to communicate the esoteric ideas in a marked presented assessment would’ve probably made me engage with the readings more. bc otherwise it was just a vague “oh yeah i think i understood the first 2 pages of dennett’s view of the zombie problem” (this was a 50 page reading) or “the narratives in our lives that goldie posits shape us into human beings correlates with our sense of self and the way we interact with the world and media around us” (this was a whole ass book my dad bought me for a first year subject called media, art and censorship; but we used one like 100 page chapter) in the class go around of pretending that you’ve done the readings.

because you can spit all that bullshit out during tuts for days, weeks, months of a sem or YEARS of doing your degree, with either a major or a minor (like myself) in philosophy. but the minute that you have to do a presentation for say, like, your honours thesis or your phd or whatever else degree there is with philosophy (i’ve forgotten tbh)…. just how the fuck do you actually posit and present those incredibly complicated philosophical problems clearly to an audience???

for example, how do you easily explain the twin earth thought problem (which my tutor for philosophy of mind was doing his dissertation on i think)??? or intelligently and clearly speak on the importance of the structure of thought problems and their philosophical patterns of learning connections or whatever the fuck (alas philosophy of science and logic was not my friend but i think my tutor of that subject did his dissertation on that. props to him (and also his corgi’s that he’d always use in his class tut questions) honestly.) and communicate them simply to your professors and other marking people??? when they’ve never let you build presentation skills???

but once you force me to present this then…. fuck man. maybe i actually have to do the 50+ page readings. maybe i actually have to form my arguments properly, before tyler, one of the really annoying philsoc dudebros that i can’t stand, will shut his fucking know it all kissass mouth….. just so i don’t hit him over the head with a chair.

but the irony of it was that by the time i finished my degree, the philosophy dept of my home uni FINALLY introduced presentations as an assessment method…. after marking what i think would’ve been too many failed philosophy rote learning exams; where no one remembered the meanings of epistemology or phenomenology or whatever else. they also added some more interesting fields to include stuff like the philosophy of media, film and literature which was the main one with a presentation (and i’m pretty sure it was even a GROUP presentation…. when philosophy is always painted as a solitary subject/activity) . there was also philosophy of religion which i think had a presentation as well. and the philosophy of narratives, self and psychosis; which was a third year subject i never took bc it had a 6,000 word essay in it lmao.

but still. to go through an entire degree that’s all about clear communication, argument and reasoning skills etc etc etc, it’s weird to think that they just straight up avoided or outright ignored presentations for so long and just wholly relied on essays upon essays and exams as their main source of assessment marking (not counting class participation and any of the dumbass 2% essay plans).

if there’s any philosophy tutors or profs on here, please feel free tell me your views on including presentations on your syllabuses. maybe it’s too much marking. maybe they take up too much time in 1hr tut slots. maybe people don’t want to hear jenna or freddie, the class stoners, half baked 20 min presentation on who the fuck knows what else i did in my philosophy minor. maybe philosophy profs don’t want to inflict more stress on students who have like 3 other subjects that ALL have presentations as assessments, some of which may be group ones. but i think i would’ve benefitted from doing presentations during my philosophy minor, whether they were individual or group.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #uni #uni life

[automatismoateo]

Religion exam dilemma via /r/atheism

Religion exam dilemma

So I go to a catholic school, not because I'm religious or anything - otherwise it'd would be quite silly to post this in the atheism subreddit - but because it's quite close to where I live. Overall it's a good school, never really had any problems regarding grades or teachers, except for this year. With, as you might've guessed, the religion course.

It's absolutely terrible; the unworthiness of man, and God being oh so benevolent as to forgive us is repeated ever. damn. time. Our teacher is obviously convinced of Christianity's greatness and I'm sick of it. For the past couple of years I've managed to mindlessly regurgitate whatever we had to learn, but it's come to the point where I'm at such level of disagreement with the course I almost physically get sick whenever I have to write things down.

Our religion exam is next week, and I've half a mind to simply not answer any question. My other grades are quite alright, but I'm afraid of the other consequences failing religion might have - like losing some of my privileges.

So, here's my dilemma: fail or don't fail?

EDIT: thanks for the help everyone :) will definitely try not to fail

Submitted November 30, 2022 at 01:32PM by Smileylover1 (From Reddit https://ift.tt/fyC31lg)

#reddit

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

I Hate To See Your Heartbreak

Summary: The guy you were dating broke your heart, your best friend came to your rescue 

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Prompt: Square — Heartbreak for @spnvillainsbingo // Square — Crowley for Tell Me A Story Bingo for @supernatural-jackles

Warnings: Rated PG — Loneliness, sadness, heartbreak, torture (mention)

Word Count: 1932

A/N: I mean no disrespect or offense to any religion nor people who profess religion. This was based purely on my life experience.

^

When you started this new job you promised yourself that you didn’t want to find love, you just wanted to find good friends among coworkers. It wasn’t in your plans to know someone at “love level”.

In the beginning, you weren’t ready to “open up” with anyone, the only one who knew you, was your coworker Romi because she was the one who helped you get the job position. But after some time, you started to be comfortable around everyone. The team members for the project you were working on were the closest.

One day, when your coworker Tom arrived and came to greet you, you felt something that never felt before around him. It was difficult to explain but it was like a connection. You were confused, what exactly was that? you thought. You opened your last conversation with Crowley, your best friend, and you mentioned it. “Don’t get your hopes too high, love” Crowley texted you knowing you were already picturing a long-time relationship. He knew you too well, and you loved him for that.

Crowley and you met under weird circumstances. You were in college about to take a test and you were 100% sure you were going to fail it because you didn’t have the time to study everything. You started to panic about it when the power went off in the entire building. You thanked the one who listened to your prayers but the power came back after a second and your panic state got worse, you needed to leave the room.

-That’s it — you said to your Romi

-What? — she said — are you leaving?

-No, I’m selling my soul for not failing this. It’s the only way — you admitted

-Don’t overreact! You’ll be fine

The power went off and on again and there was a little note in front of you “We’ll talk about that offer later. Good luck with your exam. The King Of Hell” You didn’t understand what was going on. A minute later, your professor entered the room and told everyone that the exam was still happening. You sat for that exam knowing you’ve failed it before even starting it. That same night, you met Crowley personally, he was quite a character you found yourself attracted to him. After that, you became really good friends. He was such a gentleman for being a demon. He never mistreated you, he was always checking on you, taking care of you, so when you told him about this man you met he went on protective mode.

When you got back home after your little encounter with Tom, you found Crowley in your kitchen cooking for you.

-Hello darling — Crowley greeted you

-If I knew you were going to come, I would've cleaned up the mess— you said leaving your things

-Don't worry about it, you are too busy — he said and you kissed him on the cheek

You went to shower, you changed into more comfy clothes, and cleaned up your mess a little while Crowley was in the kitchen.

-You are too sweet with me, you know? — you said when he gave you your dinner

You knew why he was doing all of this and you didn't blame him. He did it because he was worried about you, he wanted to protect you. He knew you were going to end up hurt and he wanted to prevent it.

-This is delicious — you mumbled with your mouth full avoiding the topic he wanted to know

-So, who is this guy you're head over heels for?

-First, I’m not head over heels for him, and second, his name is Tom

-Tell me about him — he encouraged you

-What do you want to know? I don’t know much about him, I haven’t talked much with him yet

-Do you feel attracted by him? — he questioned

-I don’t know. Everything is weird — you sounded frustrated

-Weird how?

-I don’t know how to picture it. It’s like, we like each other but we are afraid to face it — you tried to explain and Crowley nodded

-My advice for you is to let time do its work. Don’t rush anything, okay? — you nodded

-I understand your worry, but I’m not planning on getting married to him. But what happened was weird, just that. I’ve never felt that with anyone — you admitted.

The rest of the night went well, having a nice conversation with Crowley. You really missed having those quiet nights with him.

As the days went by, your relationship with Tom grew a lot and you became closer, almost to the point of dating. Crowley disapproved of your relationship with Tom, he was always saying that he didn’t deserve you. For a moment you thought he was doing it because he was interested in you, that he was jealous, but you could’ve been mistaken.

Your relationship with Tom progressed and you started to get confused with your feelings. It was the first time you were getting “serious” with someone, yes you’ve dated guys before but no one was like him, caring, supportive, understanding, and such a sweetheart. You were falling for him and it scared the hell out of you. 

Crowley kept giving you pieces of advice regarding what was best to do and not to do, he recommended places to go on dates, but there was one problem. You didn’t have conversational topics to talk about. You were seeing the man Mondays through Fridays and when you were on dates over the weekend, there was no topic to talk about. So, here you were getting confused with your feelings with someone whose relationship was getting cold because there was almost no conversation between each other.

One day you got home from work wasted and stressed out.

-Crowley, I need… — you weren’t able to finish the sentence that Crowley was already there

-What’s the matter darling? Why are you wasted? You did not have fun with your colleagues?

-No, it’s not that. I had fun, hence me being wasted. The problem is Tom

-What do..?

-That’s the problem — You interrupted him and he looked at you confused — He doesn’t do anything

-What do you mean? — He asked you handing you some water

-He says he likes me, that he wants to be with me, that he enjoys spending time with me, but he doesn’t want to have a relationship, and I don’t know how to feel — you said on the verge of tears

-Oh darling — Crowley said and hugged you — It’s okay. Don’t worry, give it some time, this is too recent to see if you’re ready to be together or not — you sighed and laid on his lap falling asleep instantly

You knew that Crowley was right, but still, it hurt you knowing that he wasn’t interested in you. Because it was that, you weren’t that interesting to be someone’s girlfriend. 

The following days, you tried to avoid Tom and kept your distance from him, you were hurt. Crowley noticed your behavior so he moved in with you, to make sure weren’t neglecting yourself. He knew you weren’t going to tell him how you felt so he needed to see it. You tried to be strong when he was around you, only crying in the shower, writing your feelings, keeping yourself distracted, but he was Crowley, the King of Hell, he was able to know how you were feeling even if you weren’t in the same room. 

-What is it? — He asked you?

-Nothing — you said sitting on the couch

-What’s getting you so frustrated?

-I don’t want to talk about it

-Is it Tom, right? — you huffed

Crowley sat next to you and pulled an arm around your shoulders

-Did he do something? Did he say something?

You remained silent

-Tell me, darling, I can’t see you like this

You look at Crowley with teary eyes. You’re about to talk but a sob scapes

-Oh honey — he said hugging you tightly

Once you were more calmed, you changed your position and looked at Crowley in the eyes

-He said that he wasn’t ready to start a relationship, that he felt that I was falling hard for him too fast and that he needed to get back to his religion because he needed to “change”

Crowley looked at you thinking what he should say to not make you feel worse

-Do you think he is right? — you looked at him surprised and ready to shout at him — That this was going too fast? — you laid back on the couch thinking

-Maybe, I don’t know, I’m not sure — you explained — The thing is that when I asked him about it, he didn’t say anything, he told me he was ok with this.

-He is religious?

-Yes, I don’t know which religion he professes, but yeah, he believes in God

-And he knows you are not into religion?

-Yes, I even told him why

-And he still wanted to be with you? — you nodded

-He explained to me that he was very religious when he was younger and then he decided to stop practicing because he wanted to “experience” life, but now he feels the need to come back

-And how do you feel about it?

-I mean, is his decision, and I’m not going to become a part of his religion to be with him. Besides, he said that I was a witch for believing in astrology and all that stuff

-I see. Why the tears then? — Crowley asked you

-Because I ca…

-He called you a witch? That’s it, I’m going to send one of my people to get him

-No love, please. Why the bother? It’s okay, I’m not going to text him anymore, I’m just going to say hi and goodbye when I’m at the office. I promise

A few weeks later, you received a text message from Tom asking you to meet him after work because he needed to talk to you.

After work, you met him in the little park that was near the office. He seemed to be scared, almost paranoid like if someone was spying on him. He explained to you he was sorry for the way the things between you two ended and that he shouldn’t have judged you because you didn’t say anything when he told you he was religious. He gave you one last kiss and left almost running, he seemed to be in a hurry. You were very confused, he never behaved in that way with you, like being scared to get caught, stuttering the words, afraid of saying the wrong thing. He looked like he was scared of you. That’s when it hit you, Crowley did something to him, and by the way he was looking behind his back, you knew there were some of his demons around. You left the park and went back home with Crowley, he ended up moving with you permanently.

When you arrived home, Crowley had the bath ready for you, dinner already cooking and a chocolate cake ready for when you finished your bath.

-I know what you did, love. I really appreciate it, but it wasn’t necessary the torture — you said hugging him

-I didn’t torture him, I just scare him a little

-A little? — you giggled — he looked like paranoid

-Well, that’s what he gets for hurting my girl — he kissed your forehead

Tag List (Is open, let me know if you want to be added)

@iguessweallcrazyithinktho | @thevelvetseries | @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem | @mrspeacem1nusone | @caplanbuckybarnes | 

#spnvillainsbingo #Tell Me A Story Bingo #spn fandom #spn fanfic #crowley x reader #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #supernatural imagine

[joontella]

achromatic.

Yandere!Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Word Count: 11.1k

Genre(s):  Angst, Slight Fluff, (HORRIBLY WRITTEN) Smut

Trigger Warning(s): Mentions of religion or lack thereof, blood, murder, idk how the human body works, (unknown) consumption of blood, manipulation, stalking, male masturbation (again, horribly written), Namjoon is an asshole, and musical terms because i play music rip, minor character death, slight gore. it gets really shitty towards the end. i’m sorry

Merry Merry! It’s Peppermint! Your gift is finally here, @exhausted-joy​! I’m sorry for the wait. I had to make sure that it was perfect. This is my first time doing this, and I really wanted to give it my all. Please forgive me, and thank you for putting up with my antics in the server. I hope you enjoy it!

I also want to thank Saniya (@smeraldos-blog), Mari (@joheun-saram), Hannah (@spicykoreantatertots), Ley (@pars-ley​), Avery (@ksmuttherapy​), and everyone else who tolerated and/or helped me out! I love you all and thank you so much for the help and support! I’m so happy to have met you all!

ach·ro·mat·ic /akrəˈmadik/

adjective

without color.

“Damn. There goes my chance of starting my winter break with a passing grade.” One woman groaned.

“What the hell are you talking about? You have a solid ‘C’! I’m literally failing everything!” Her friend responded, as her arms waved in a cartoonish rendition of exasperation. “And whose fault is that?” “Not mine! This semester was nothing but a months-long depressive episode. How could I focus with everything that’s going on?”

He so desperately wishes that they would shut up, or at the very least, take their obnoxiously loud conversation elsewhere. Namjoon twirled the ink pen in his hand with a practiced precision only years of being hunched over paperwork could provide. However, those were nothing but pipe dreams as the two students turned their attention over to him. “There’s Kim Namjoon! He’s had the top spot for years now, way before he was enrolled here.” One began babbling quite loudly whilst pointing to the man in question. “I bet he came out of the womb with high marks. I heard that he scored in the 99th percentile for his newborn screening tests.” The other swooned in response to her own musings.

Obviously, these two were much more idiotic than he had originally thought. It didn’t take an expert to read his body language: the way that he twirled his pen faster, as if that could speed up the agonizing conversation he was being forced to bear witness to; the way his jaw clenched so tightly that it could easily break a metal wire; and the position his shoulders held, resembling an animal coiling in preparation to strike or flee. He pleaded to gods he didn’t even believe in for the duo to be quickly eradicated with a swift strike of lightning. According to the calculations he made swiftly in his head, the chances of something like that happening were infinitesimally small. How unfortunate.

Deciding that the best course of action to take would be to leave the two neanderthals to their devices, Namjoon did just that. He quickly snapped his book shut with one hand and a loud, meaningful clap as the pages suddenly collided with each other. If that didn’t make the nuisances jump in surprise, his words would.

“Although I’m a source of inspiration and wonder to many, it’s degrading to hear someone so openly refer to me in a way that one would to an exotic zoo animal,” He began. Namjoon’s tone was cool and even, carrying an air of regality all the while retaining a bitter edge of contempt and disdain for both the conversation and the mere existence of the two original party members. 

Finally, the two felt the brunt of the consequences their crimes on Namjoon’s ears had to offer. They both visibly wilted, reminding the tall man of his mother’s daisies being roasted and withering under the dry summer heat. Normally, this would have been more than enough to diffuse the situation and lift him of his auditory burden. However, his heart ached for more. His brain so desperately yearned for more stimulation and a rush of dopamine.

He decided to twist the knife, so to speak.

“Also, you too could rise to the top.” Namjoon said as he began to turn away.

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the two wilted flowers gain new life and their faces brighten with newfound hope. The loudest of the two even had the audacity to whimper a pathetically optimistic, “Really?”

Twist. Twist. Twist!

“Of course~.” Namjoon purred, deciding to turn to face his victims’ satisfying demise. His heart threatened to beat in double time in anticipation.

Although their anxiously awaiting smiles made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny the mirth swirling alongside the disgust in his belly.

“First off, instead of blaming your inadequacies solely on the tumultuous events of this year, take responsibility for your shortcomings. Only children avoid blaming themselves.”

He could hear the glass shattering as their faces fell in a tandem that most would find heartbreaking. He found it utterly amusing. Now, he would take his leave. After receiving the reaction he desired and more, Namjoon wanted nothing more than to leave the duo to stew in their humiliation. Yet, one last thing lingered. He had yet to land the finishing blow that would ensure that he wouldn’t be bothered by these two pieces of scum ever again.

Twist. Twist! TWIST!

“Before I forget, avoid talking so loudly. As you may or may not have noticed, I was trying to study. You know, one of the things that facilitates good grades? I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but your incessant bantering made it increasingly difficult to do so. Might I suggest that you follow my example and do the same? Maybe then, one day, you could take my place at the top.”

Namjoon wasn’t even facing them anymore. His back was to the two women, further solidifying his dismissal of them. With a simple and curt wave of his hand, he simply uttered,

“Ladies.”

And he was on his way.

“Exam results will be posted this afternoon. I trust that you all scored high enough marks to keep our university in high regard.” Your professor droned from the front of the lecture hall. “I know that many of you despise the fact that a standardized test is still administered in college, but so far, it is the only way to ensure that Mugunghwa National Academy is churning out bright students worthy enough to contribute to society!”

The students in question couldn’t care less about their scores or the school’s prestige. All they were worried about was getting the hell out of there after two hours of examination and stifling silence. They all stood from their seats and slung their bags across their bodies. A disgruntled murmur rang throughout. Quite frankly, you were no different.

As you hugged your notebook close to your body, your professor stopped you as you reached the lecture hall door.

“Ah, Miss (L/N). A word, please.”

Surprised, you let out a soft, “Sure.” and walked over to the podium where your professor started to neatly stack and organize his papers.

“As you know, Miss (L/N), you are one of the two best students we’ve had at this academy recently.”

You shifted your weight awkwardly at the sudden praise. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you began to speak. “I mean, I guess? I wouldn’t go that far, but I suppose that records and the numbers do suggest that I’m performing quite well.” Your professor scowled at your response. You were a bright young woman. You deserved to flaunt it and soak up the praise every once in a while, right? He folded his arms and sighed deeply causing your brain to go into overdrive on how you could rectify the situation. “While pride does come short of a fall, you should learn to take compliments when they’re given, (Y/N). I promise you that you won’t become an egomaniac anytime soon as a result.” He said gently, causing your nerves to subside. Right. Maybe you should just accept compliments. A little self esteem boost never hurt anybody, right? “Thank you, professor, but may I ask why you’re telling me this?” You asked, trying to move the conversation along as politely as you could. You had an hour before you were due to go to the college’s radio station and prepare for this evening’s broadcast. Hopefully, your professor would get to the point so you could quickly grab a bite to eat before you started airing.

“Oh yes, of course! I’m sorry! I said all this to tell you that I have your exam results already. Seeing as how you are the brightest in your class, you finished early, giving me enough time to grade yours while your peers were working. I think that you’ll find the results to your liking, Miss (L/N).” He grinned, handing you a white manila envelope with the school’s insignia printed on the front.

You quirked a brow and opened it. You were then greeted by the name of the school, its motto, and yet another print of the school emblem on the header. Your (E/C) eyes scanned the page until you found what you were looking for:

𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎 

𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: (𝑳/𝑵), (𝒀/𝑵) 

𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒎 

𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21 

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 98/100 

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌:

1 𝒐𝒇 300

You stood there, dumbfounded. The paper you once held gingerly and timidly was wrinkling and threatening to tear under your now iron grip. You were now number one. Somehow, some way, you managed to best Kim Namjoon. Mugunghwa’s already carefully balanced and fragile ecosystem was crumbling around you. What have you done?

“I take it that you’re in shock. I’ll leave you alone to celebrate.” Your professor said smoothly as he slung his coat over his shoulder. “Congratulations, (Y/N). Please enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Uh huh… Will do…” You uttered dumbly.

Mugunghwa National Academy ran on strict rules, but most of them were unspoken. For the sake of your sanity and that of the rest of the student body (and let’s face it, staff, too), you intended to follow those sacred and silent rules to the letter.

Rule Number One: Don’t look in the janitor’s closet near the athletics facilities. You may not come out the same way as you came in.

Rule Number Two: If the cafeteria serves meatloaf, avoid it at all costs. Only eat it if you want to get sick and purposely miss class.

Rule Number Three: Kim Namjoon is the best at everything. He is to be number one until Hell freezes over.

Rule Number Four: In order to keep peace and balance between the nations, (Y/N) (L/N) must always come in second. This is the natural order of things.

You were content with being in second place. To be frank, you preferred to leave the pomp and circumstance of being the top dog to Namjoon. He was more equipped to bear the burden, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like your future career was depending on you being the best. You could skate by with a silver medal and leave Namjoon with the gold. You preferred the look of silver, anyway.

Now look at what you've done. There’s no doubt that the records have been updated by now. Your professor did grade yours early, and it’s reasonable to assume that Namjoon’s was as well. You’d inadvertently torn a hole in the gossamer fabric that was Mugunghwa National Academy. With one exam, you signed the collective death certificate of every other person besides Kim Namjoon himself. 

May God have mercy on your wretched soul.

“Young Master, your father would like to have a word with you in his study.” The head butler of the Kim mansion stated simply.

For the second time that day, Namjoon clenched his jaw tightly. He shrugged off his coat and handed it to the older gentleman who was automatically waiting at his side to collect the article of clothing. He hadn’t even gotten through the door and already his father wanted to speak with him. This didn’t bode well.

“Seokjin, did he mention why he’d want to see me?” Namjoon asked dryly. Seokjin simply shook his head and hung his coat on the nearby rack. 

“He only mentioned that it was urgent, so I suggest that it would be in your best interest to make it there expeditiously.”

This certainly did not bode well. Kim Joonho was a man of few words. Most would say that he’s the very definition of “actions speak louder than words”. Whenever the CEO of Kim Industries did something, people watched in equal parts starstruck awe and fear. However, when the CEO of Kim Industries deemed something important enough to speak on, there was no choice in the matter. You either listened intently or you perished in more ways than one. This was no different for Joonho’s family. In fact, he was worse to them. Working under the guise of caring for his family, Joonho was more stoic to his wife and children.

Regardless of his debatably righteous intentions, it sent the Kim family into delicately managed dysfunction. Simply put, Kim Joonho never spoke to Namjoon out of wishing to connect with his son on a more personal level. Namjoon was the next heir to Kim Industries. Being his son was an unfortunate side effect.

“Sir, I know that I did implore you to hurry, but-”

“What?” Namjoon growled. His nerves were shot to shit today. Anything that impeded his meeting with his father and his goal to quickly get it over with was met with hostility.

Seeming to understand this, Seokjin cleared his throat and motioned a gloved hand towards the mansion’s threshold.

“You know better than to walk in the house with your shoes still on,” The Kim butler began smoothly as he made his way over to Namjoon to collect his shoes. “I do understand that you are upset, but you shouldn’t let your emotions cloud your judgement so drastically that you forget such basic cultural conventions.”

Namjoon sighed sharply and bit back a retort that was bubbling in his throat. Arguing with Seokjin was pointless. As per usual, he was correct. Engaging in such petty conflicts would only worsen things.

“Right. I suppose I was quite hasty. Thank you.” Namjoon sighed whilst peeling off his shoes.

“I do believe that an apology is in order, Young Master.”

Namjoon was already halfway across the foyer, about to ascend the grand staircase leading to the upper floors when Seokjin’s cheeky remark reached his ears. He felt his blood begin to simmer in his veins and his muscles stiffen.

“The fact that I haven’t fired you by now and ruined any chances of you gaining any further employment should be enough of an apology. You’re treading on thin ice, Seokjin. Remember your place in this world.”

With that, he continued his journey to the final boss room within the Kim family mansion: his father’s study. The last he heard of Seokjin was a sly chuckle and the clicking of his polished leather shoes against the floor. Staff were not guests. Therefore, they were not allowed the privilege of removing their shoes. They were expendable. They needn’t get too comfortable.

Despite how much he detested it, Namjoon couldn’t deny that cold chill of anxiety that frosted his entire body. His father never wanted to talk to him. Ever. He could count on his hands the times that Joonho requested his presence. He could count on only one hand how many times Joonho requested his presence to celebrate his son’s successes. Their relationship was solely professional. There was no love to be found, no matter how hard you read between the lines. Even in as high of a position as Namjoon is in, he is still subservient to his father.

That’s the natural order of things.

“Come in, Namjoon.” Joonho’s voice rang from behind the large mahogany doors.

Almost cartoonishly, the hinges squeaked like Namjoon was uncovering the entrance to a haunted crypt. Namjoon decided long ago that was an eerily apt way of describing his father’s study.

Naturally, Namjoon obeyed his father and entered the room. Dead center, there sat Kim Joonho on his throne. Sitting with perfect posture behind the large oak desk, Joonho stared his son down with cold eyes filled with disdain. How Namjoon desperately wished he could gouge them out with his father’s prized letter opener.

“Don’t waste my time. Have a seat. I don’t have all day.” Joonho snapped.

“Of course. How are you today, father?”

The CEO’s eyes narrowed at his son’s inquiry. “Spare me the niceties, boy. Sit down. We have business to discuss.”

Before Namjoon could interject, Joonho was already reaching into a drawer and produced a white manila envelope. Upon closer inspection, one could see Mugunghwa National Academy’s insignia emblazoned on the front. Once Namjoon was properly seated, he reached out and grabbed the parcel.

“May I ask what this is?” “You may not. You have eyes, boy. Read it for yourself.”

The frigid chill of anxiety was soon being replaced with the molten heat of fury. Some tiny part of Namjoon’s mind was concerned that he would develop a fever at the sudden and constant shifts in his body temperature. That wouldn’t do. He couldn’t afford for his health to decline. That would be another thing for his father to berate him for.

“Of course. My apologies, father.” Namjoon whispered as he undid the envelope’s fastening. Once he did so, he pulled the paper out with an air of nonchalance. Surely, it must have been another letter from the school to congratulate him on some academic achievement he didn’t even realize existed. However, in his eyes and in the eyes of his father, it was the exact opposite.

 𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎 

 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: 𝑲𝒊𝒎, 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏 

 𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑩𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓(𝒔): 𝑩𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚, 𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 

 𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21 

 𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 96/100 

 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌: 2 𝒐𝒇 300

For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon’s world fell apart before his very eyes. Suddenly the sturdy and imposing columns holding up the large study appeared to crumble around him. The fire that crackled in the fireplace was reduced to nothing but pathetic cinders. He felt the ground split beneath his feet and his father… His father grew to a monstrous size in comparison to his surroundings, suddenly hunched over his son in preparation to strike.

“This must be some mistake! The results must have gotten mixed up! I-”

“Enough!” Joonho boomed. He swiftly slammed his hand down on his desk, successfully frightening his son into silence. “Only children avoid blaming themselves. I thought I taught you to accept responsibility! How dare you blame your inadequacies on the people who made them apparent?!”

Namjoon clenched his fists tightly in his lap and pushed down the urge to go through on his original plan of plucking his father’s eyeballs out.

“Can’t you see? Whoever graded my exam was clearly incompetent. If they had a brain stem, they would know that I am only capable of producing top-class work! Just like you should not be blamed for one measly employee’s mistake, I should not be blamed for the mistake of someone beneath me!” Namjoon exclaimed. Once he finished his spiel, he found himself standing up, but he didn’t remember willing his muscles to do so.

“This entire conversation is pointless. It’s inefficient at best and mind-numbing at its worst! For someone who values time and money more than his own family, I find it quite curious that you’re willing to waste both so frivolously.”

Now, it was Joonho’s turn to clench his jaw and his fists. Despite the utter disdain he felt for the situation, the patriarch had to admit the merit in his son’s retort. His pride would never let him express the sliver of admiration that stirred within him at Namjoon’s courageous display.

Nobody dared talk back to Kim Joonho. That was the natural order of things.

“Regardless of who’s truly at fault, find this (Y/N) (L/N). She usurped your throne, Namjoon. She deserves to be punished for her transgression.”

“Of course. She’s public enemy number one, but she won’t be number one ever again.”

With that, the young master of the Kim household turned his back on the old master and shut the door to the crypt behind him.

“Aaaaaand now, we’re back after our break!” Your co-host chirped from beside you.

The red on-air sign glowed warmly overhead, creating a sense of coziness and heat in the otherwise cold station. You wrapped your cardigan closer around you before adjusting your mic.

“And we’re about to go into our winter break soon. How fitting!” You posited, trying to match your co-host’s energy.

“That’s right! Mugunghwa exams are finally over, and the scores and ranks have already been updated for some! Care to talk about that, (Y/N)?” Taehyung, your co-host, wiggled his sharp eyebrows in his quest to prod for information.

Normally, his rectangular grin and bright eyes would warm your heart. Today, however, you wanted to punch that devilish smirk right off of him. You should have known that Tae would have suddenly caught wind of your latest academic achievement. He’s the university’s most involved (read: nosiest) student. 

“Not really… But you won’t shut up until I do, so…” You sighed as you spun around in your swivel chair. Once you stopped your cycle, you scooted closer to the microphone and cleared your throat. “I got a 98 on the exam. My professor stopped me after class and told me the news.”

Not that anyone but you and the sound director, Yoongi, would see it, but Taehyung’s impish smile turned into a disappointed pout. “Ah, listen to our (Y/N). Always dodging the important questions. Such a tease!”

You shoved him gently and laughed at his comment before shaking your head. “This guy… To everyone who dreams of dating him, work with him first. You’ll see how much of a horrible person he is.”

“Yah! That’s slander! Aren’t journalists supposed to avoid that?”

“I’ll kick your ass.” You licked your lips and began to answer the original question in further detail. “Yeah, so… Anyway, I got a 98 and I guess that warranted me becoming number one…?”

Both Taehyung and Yoongi’s faces dropped. From his booth, you could see Yoongi grimace and in your peripheral, you saw Tae stiffen.

“Up next is Still With You by our resident golden boy Jeon Jungkook. We’ll be back soon. Stay tuned.” 

Suddenly, the on-air sign was turned off. The song began to play and Taehyung immediately gripped your shoulders.

“You what?!” Taehyung nearly screeched. “(Y/N), do you have any idea what this means?!” “That I took Kim Namjoon’s place and sent the fragile society of Mugunghwa into ruin? Yeah, I do.” Tae blinked for a moment. “No… Although, that does make sense. That seems way more important than what I was gonna say. Huh.”

You were actually going to punch the shit out of him. “Dude, what?”

“Listen, this is your chance! You can finally get recognized as the top-tier person that you are! As long as you were under Kim’s big, goofy shadow, you were going to be pushed aside! Now you can show everyone here how cool you are!”

You felt your throat tighten. That all-too-familiar sensation of a goose egg being lodged in your esophagus rose. You were going to cry. How you desperately wished that you could view the world like Taehyung did. How you longed to see the silver lining of every situation just like he did. All you saw was destruction and despair. All you felt was guilt for damning the entire student body to some cruel fate that only Kim Namjoon could dish out.

“Tae, I love you, but you don’t fucking get it! I’m screwed! We’re all screwed! I broke two of the sacred rules of this school! Kim Namjoon must always be first! I must always be second! I just sentenced everyone to death!”

Taehyung raised a brow, as if what you were saying were the incoherent ramblings of a mad woman. “You describe my cousin like he’s some heinous demon.” Even the usually passive Yoongi had to straighten his spine and widen his eyes at this revelation.

“He’s your cousin?!”

Tae leaned back in his seat with yet another smirk. This time, you couldn’t put a finger on the emotion this specific lift of his lips held. “Isn’t the resemblance obvious? The Kim line has some strong genes. It’s been that way since the Joseon era, I’ve been told.”

Ignoring the historical implications for why such strong genes would still be present thousands of years later (assuming that Taehyung was actually serious), you hurried the conversation along. Jungkook’s silky voice had faded away a while ago, leaving the two of you with little to no time left before it was time to open the floor to callers. This was your last chance to get some useful information about Namjoon before you were dragged into what you knew was going to be a relentless storm of phone calls and incredulous screeches at the news.

Like you had said before, you’d damned everyone. Who wouldn’t want to yell at the person that had the audacity to send an entire population into ruin?

“Get to the point, Taehyung. You’re telling me that you’re related to Satan himself? And I’ve been your co-host for how long?!” You near screeched.

Tae’s ambiguous smirk was now replaced with a blank expression. “I didn’t think it mattered, (Y/N). Why does it even matter now? If there’s a bigger issue here, I think you’re dodging it.”

You froze. He was right. For as long as you knew him, Taehyung had this uncanny ability to pick people apart and leave them vulnerable in an instant. This was especially effective on you, you’ve come to realize. The funny thing was that you hadn’t realized that you were employing tactics to postpone the inevitable inundation of accusatory and furious phone calls being thrown your way. Deep down, you always hated confrontation. Until Taehyung uttered those words, you hadn’t realized how deep that hatred and aversion was ingrained.

“Damn. You’re...good… I guess I am avoiding things. Let’s just get this over with. If we hold it off any longer, things will get worse.” You muttered as you looked towards Yoongi’s booth, motioning for him to put you both back on air.

Taehyung placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and flashed his signature boxy smile. “You don’t even know what they’re going to say. Who knows? News of your latest accomplishment may have brought the (Y/N) (L/N) Official Fanclub out of hiding. I bet that there are going to be several callers professing their undying love for you!”

“Their what now?” You asked dumbly.

Taehyung placed a hand on his heart and slipped into a persona reminiscent of the male protagonist of one the many romance dramas that were plastered on television nowadays. His deep voice rumbled the soundproof padding on the walls and wrapped you in its velvety embrace.

“(Y/N), I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I’ve struggled with these emotions for so long, but news of your success has given me the courage to confess them. I can’t quite make heads or tails of them, but I want to explore them all with you…” Not that anyone but you and Yoongi could see the exchange, but Taehyung gently cupped your chin with his large hand and looked longingly into your eyes. “That is, if you’d let me.”

Silence. Then raucous laughter from you and Taehyung. (Yoongi was visibly cringing in his booth.) You expected nothing less from the theater major, but you couldn’t help the delicate fluttering that began in your stomach. Was this the fabled Taehyung Effect at work? The two of you turned to your microphones and opened the floor to callers, as per usual for this segment of your show. What was highly unusual, however, was the heartfelt “confession” that was unwittingly broadcasted to everyone tuned in. Unbeknownst to everyone, the red on-air sign shone above your heads, serving as a beacon or perhaps an unfortunately ignored warning. A warning that your lighthearted joke wasn’t going to be a joke to some.

A warning that the harbinger of doom himself was listening in… A warning that he had now collected leverage over his new enemy… A warning that he was going to destroy you, even if he had to use his own relative to do it. He would surely add this to his rapidly growing arsenal of schemes.

The next day, the very air at Mugunghwa was different. Somehow, despite being the enigmatic second-place student, everyone instinctively knew to distance themselves from you. Biologically speaking, humans were still animals, despite the staunch separation that was created over time. There was still a basal instinct to survive. In this case, that instinct screamed, “Get away from the brainlet that dared to tip the scales and anger Kim Namjoon.” You didn’t blame anyone for their decision. You couldn’t. You’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if you did, and you didn’t want “hypocrite” to be engraved on your tombstone next to “cold-blooded killer”.

Everywhere you walked, people watched you intently with eyes filled with either fear, confusion, or disgust. You could hear thinly-veiled whispers as you passed your fellow students. 

“There she is.”

“She’s surprisingly pretty. I expected some ugly broad to be under Namjoon’s shadow.”

Ah, yes. You had forgotten your previously fairly secretive life before the shoe dropped. You were content with living under the radar. After all, it kept the vicious rumors of the poor girl who by hook or crook got her way into an elite university on a full-ride scholarship at bay. As long as you held the number two spot, nobody cared about you. News of your arrival and subsequent theories surrounding it were just a fad that most people shortly moved on from. The drastic and sudden change from peaceful irrelevance to hostile notoriety made you nauseous.

The cold air nipped at your flesh while you made your way to the library. Fresh snow made its satisfying crunching sound as you sped towards your destination. Wait. Sped? Only when you looked down at your feet did you realize that your steps were quicker than usual. Needless to say, you were confused at this revelation. Were things really this bad? Why was your body subconsciously hurrying you along when no danger was immediately present? Then, it hit you: If the Kim Taehyung Effect caused your insides to flutter and your heart melt with glee, the Kim Namjoon Effect caused everyone to cower and hide in pure horror. Maybe it ran in the family. After all, the two were related. How that crucial detail managed to slip past you was beyond human understanding.

Soon enough, you made your way into the campus library. Warmth enveloped you and thawed your chilled skin with each step into the large building. The tall bookshelves that towered over you and the other patrons made you feel safe. The walls of knowledge served as barriers from the predatory glares that were shot your way anywhere else. Here, while not entirely forbidden, hushed insults and remarks were more so. The library was your sanctuary when the dormitories weren’t, and with all the girls and even your RA avoiding you like the plague, it was safe to say that your dorm wasn’t very inviting right now.

Whatever it took, you needed to get your mind off of the Namjoon business. Sitting down in the warm silence served to do just that. You absentmindedly wandered through the various sections of the building. The nutty scent of someone’s morning brew filled your nostrils on your journey, easily putting you at ease in an instant. The rhythmic click-clack of someone's fingers against a computer keyboard kept your body grounded to the Earth. It served as a nice tether and protection from your thoughts that threatened to whisk you away into the stratosphere with every step you took.

Your feet took you past the reference section, the nonfiction section, and even the genealogy section before making its final stop at the fiction section. When you first started college, you found it odd that a library carried such books, but you soon came to realize that an escape into another world was appreciated by everyone. A love for fiction did not have an age limit.

You found yourself engrossed in a high fantasy novel by one Bang Sihyuk. (A very talented author, you decided. You made a note to look into some of his other works when you weren’t staring death in the face.) The sweet sound of yet another page turning and revealing more of the lore slowed your racing heart. The subtle smell of ink and glue softened your muscles, willing them to relax into the plush chair. The floor lamp next to you glowed softly and turned the usually stark clash of pitch black lettering against white pages into a mellow brown against cream parchment.

Even if you knew you had to face the wolves outside your sanctuary eventually, you still savored the solace you had in that moment. What you never considered was that those halcyon days were going to soon fall into utter ruin and despair with a singular human-shaped silhouette.

Everywhere Namjoon went, eyes followed. The air around him crackled with apprehension, but he couldn’t care less if he tried. This was natural. The pitiful prey animals around scrambled away for dear life, functioning solely on the fleeting notion that sticking around would spell their demise. Most of the people here were college students beginning their prime. They couldn’t afford to wither away… Not yet, at least… And certainly not here.

Stifled gasps laced with fear and admiration threatened to strangle the poor Kim heir. How he so desperately wished that they would all shut up! The constant buzzing murmur felt like mosquitoes tiptoeing across his skin during the hot and balmy summer months. It was highly annoying, to say the least.

His piercing mocha eyes landed on a target. A mousy figure was dwarfed by Namjoon’s taller and muscular frame. Pair the size difference with his steely and—arguably murderous—gaze fixed on the piteous male before him, both parties were surprised that the smaller student didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

“I would stay to chat, but I have important business to attend to,” Namjoon began. The timbre of his voice seeped into the small man’s bones and rattled them with each syllable. “You obviously know something, or else you wouldn’t be so pathetically fearful.”

The other male gulped audibly. His dull brown eyes stared into Namjoon’s vibrant cocoa ones. His pupils contracted as a cold sweat formed on his forehead and neck. Deep down, he knew that one wrong move would send him spiraling into horrors unimaginable. This was Kim Namjoon he was dealing with. He only had one chance. 

“I don’t know w-what you’re talking about…” He squeaked.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes with clear annoyance and disgust for the situation and the animal shivering before him. This caused the mousy man to gasp sharply.

“Tell me where (Y/N) (L/N) is. It’s a simple request. Even someone of your calibre should be capable of such a mundane task.” Namjoon stated simply. Disdain bled through his words into his tone and seeped into his prey’s already paper-thin psyche.

With a trembling arm, the rodent (as Namjoon decided to call him) pointed in the direction of the campus library. Of course you would be there. It made his blood boil to think that you’d already be in the library after receiving news of your latest feat. Anyone else would be a fool to risk losing such an honor. Studying was the only way to cement your new station as Mugunghwa’s new number one.

Without so much as a half-assed utter of thanks, Namjoon strode off in the direction of the large building. He was so hyper-focused on cutting you down and ensuring that you wouldn’t be a problem again that the signature thud of a body against snow missed his attention completely. The concerned and shocked gasps of onlookers didn’t affect him either.

Soon enough, he was at his destination. The same book-filled shelves and walls that greeted you greeted him at the entrance. Upon seeing his figure, the librarian at the circulation desk straightened in order to greet Namjoon properly. ‘At least one person here knew their place.’ He thought to himself.

“I’m looking for (Y/N) (L/N). It’d be in your best interest to point me in her direction as quickly as possible, Jimin.” Namjoon stated coolly with a tinge of nonchalance. Although he was painfully aware of the importance his little scouting mission served, his seemingly apathetic tone was the result of having said the same thing over and over like a broken record. The sooner he found you and got you to bend the knee, the sooner he could return home to his own studies.

The librarian, Jimin, nodded and swiftly pointed towards the fiction section. His mug of hazelnut coffee threatened to spill at the sudden and crisp motion. “She went that way, towards the fiction books.” He stated plainly. Namjoon couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his features. Jimin was always such an attentive servant. 

Ever since that little incident before Mugunghwa’s annual recital, the dance major felt a deep sense of allegiance towards the older male. He had to. Namjoon was the only reason Park Jimin was able to continue his dream of becoming a world-class dancer, and it was made abundantly clear that what Kim Namjoon giveth, he can just as easily taketh away. Poor Jimin had no idea why you were being sought out by the most powerful student at the university, but he couldn’t help but suppress the gnawing sensation that he was leading you to a painful end.

Once again, forgoing a thank you, Namjoon began the final stretch of his arduous journey to find you and finally set things right in the world. The only issue was that he had no idea who he was looking for, exactly.

Oddly enough, despite your status, you had managed to keep a low profile. Very few people actually knew what you looked like. Hell, your student profile didn’t even have an image of you posted. In fact, the only way people outside of your direct circle of cohorts started to gather what you looked like was because the web connecting (Y/N) (L/N), radio show host and journalism major and (Y/N) (L/N), former number two was finally starting to weave itself. As far as most of the student body was concerned, you were nothing but a faceless placeholder image against a drab gray background. It wouldn’t have surprised Namjoon if you actually walked around with the words, “NO IMAGE AVAILABLE” permanently marked on your body. What he saw, however, was beyond his own comprehension.

There you were, his enemy, his prey. You sat idly in the large cushioned chair with your book nestled delicately in your hands. For the moment, you were blissfully unaware of the danger that loomed nearby. This was almost too easy. Almost as if your presence unlocked a vault to all his plans to destroy you, you looked at him.

And then his world changed. He almost felt sick at the sudden rush of sensory input his brain was forced to parse through. The previously unsaturated hall roared to life with colors he hadn’t even seen before. Warm browns, reds, and hues of every other name shot into Namjoon’s retinas upon gazing at your graceful form. This was (Y/N) (L/N)? This hidden gem? He was meant to demolish this?

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was rendered speechless. His heart began to beat in double-time. If his biological functions were a musical piece, this specific section’s tempo marking would be prestissimo. Beyond vivace, beyond presto.

He couldn’t take it, so for the first time ever, Kim Namjoon ran away.

You didn’t dare move. Fear wrapped its spindly fingers around your heart and clutched it in its icy grasp. You didn’t have to move your eyes off of the page to see who the shadow cast onto it belonged to. Deep down, you knew. 

Goddamn it.

You just knew.

Just when you gathered the courage to face your doom head on, he was gone.

“What the fuck…?” You whispered. Your fantasy novel fell to the ground on its spine with a soft thud. Was this it? Were you officially losing it? Was stress causing you to hallucinate and see literal shadow people?! That was it.

Not wanting to have a literal breakdown in the middle of the library, you honed your senses in on the now cold-smelling coffee nearby. The faint hazelnut blend managed to at least tether you down to reality once more. You took a deep breath. Everything was now in focus. You had to leave, you decided. So that’s what you did.

If the library’s other patrons noticed the shocked, glazed over look in your eyes, nobody said anything. You had just come in contact with the menace. You were lucky to be alive. There’s no need to add insult to injury by inquiring about your current situation. Wordlessly, you ambled out of the library door. Jimin’s small eyes followed your every movement until you were finally out of his line of sight.

Soon enough, you made it to your dorm room. Oddly enough, it felt like you’d walked through a wormhole and warped to the private space. It appears that moving effortlessly through time and space was an eerily common theme that day. Not wishing to dwell on it any further, you plummeted onto your bed and let a dreamless sleep whisk you away from all your troubles.

A month had passed since your clandestine encounter with Namjoon. Surprisingly enough, after the first week or so of living in terror, the foreboding feeling of doom had all but disappeared. Like a colony of ants rebuilding their anthill after a sudden rainstorm, so too did Mugunghwa National Academy rebuild anew. As Thanksgiving rolled into Christmas, the student body had learned to accept that you were now at the top of the food chain. The status quo had shifted in your favor. Students that would previously mutter curses after you passed by would suddenly wave amicably once they noticed your presence.

While the sudden lack of hostility was appreciated, you couldn’t help but notice how shallow the whole situation was. A faint sense of disgust settled at the pit of your stomach. Or was it foreboding, after all? After your encounter with Namjoon’s shadow at the library, the Kim Industries heir had disappeared suddenly. He had disappeared without a trace. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. His scores were still updated regularly; his name was still in the mouths of every man, woman, and child that walked across campus; and you swore that you saw his tall figure slither like a snake behind buildings and shrubbery one time after class. While there was solid proof that he still (at the very least) resided within this plane of existence, Kim Namjoon had achieved cryptid status. Just a month ago, he was the dark overlord that ruled Mugunghwa with an iron fist. Now, he was merely a relic of the past, a name synonymous with the Boogeyman. Kim Namjoon was now used to scare freshmen like tales of a monster under one’s bed were used to frighten young children.

The truth, like all things are, was much more complicated than that. After he met you, his goddess, at the library, Namjoon spiraled out of control. Nothing was the same for him. At first, it was a fleeting rush of endorphins, he had decided. Perhaps the sense of victory he felt after finding his long lost rival caused his brain to go into overdrive with glee. With that in mind, he returned home to lick his wounds and rewrite his battle plans.

The next day, everything seemed normal enough. His world was in grayscale once more. Individuals who weren’t of direct importance to him retained their distorted, blob-like features. His senses were mostly dulled once again… Until you appeared. You walked across campus with grace that put the supermodels that his father regularly “worked with” to shame. To be honest, they looked like pitiful crows with snapped legs when put up against your stork-like elegance.

His previously unsaturated world regained its color. His heart rate increased, warmth filled his veins as a result. Everything was crisply in focus when it came to you. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was terrified… But that’s what intrigued him all the more. Once you left his sight, however, the blooming colors vanished. Everything was blurred again. The warmth had died and left him empty, hollow, and cold. After a few days of this occurrence, Namjoon made his biggest realization yet: he was in love with you.

He was quick to write it off as pure lust. After all, remaining at the top didn’t leave much time for him to indulge in more carnal pleasures. Hell, the only thing he could remember slamming on a table on doing all night long was homework, as old and pathetic as the joke was. Namjoon was a dashing, intelligent young man beginning to reach his prime. Abstaining from such a primal and basic need wasn’t good for him. With that in mind, he immediately began his conquest.

First, it started with the models his father would fuck behind his mother’s back. Despite how carefully manufactured their appearances were, they didn’t quench his thirst. In fact, they enraged Namjoon to the point where it wasn’t uncommon for the women to leave his bedroom bruised the next morning. This charade went on for much too long until he’d had enough.

No other woman could set his heart aflame without even trying. No other woman could bring life to his distorted and achromatic world like you could. So he tried a man. Several men, in fact. He got so desperate that not even his little Park Jimin was safe from his ravenous clutches.

Nothing. Nothing had worked.

Now, as the clock struck midnight in his grand bedroom, Namjoon sat in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. He’d been so on edge for the longest time, yet nothing he did could stir him. So, he did the only thing he knew how… Thoughts of you filled his mind as he ghosted a finger across his limp member. The warmth he felt was returning once more…

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?” 

There you were in the Kim manor’s living room. A black silk robe hugged your form perfectly as you bounded over to him. Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains and cast you in its heavenly warm glow. Your (E/C) eyes peered up at him with such admiration, lust, and most importantly, love. Before he could even properly process the scene, you had him enveloped in the warmest hug imaginable.

Namjoon felt a rush of lust and blood shoot straight to his dick.

“I know, darling… But I’m here now. We can be together. I’m all yours from now on.” He replied smoothly.

Namjoon didn’t even think it possible for your eyes to shine any brighter, but they did. And they were all for him. Your eyes, your beautiful eyes, for his eyes only… He gently caressed your cheek, careful not to mark it. The time for leaving marks and bruises would come later on… 

“Really?” You asked. Your entire face lit with hope and wonder. “You mean it? Please don’t tease me, baby~. I don’t know what I’d do if you had to go so soon…” 

You buried yourself into him, as if you knew that your home was within his embrace. He relished in it. He really did…

Namjoon felt feverish. His hands got to work immediately. Visions of you nestled against him, starlit eyes gazing into his, your form undulating beneath him as he pounded into you with everything he had. Your ecstatic moans and gasps filled his ears and mind, creating a carnal symphony only you could compose.

Sweat beaded on his temples, his arms beginning to burn with exhaustion as they continued to bring him to completion. Musical, “I love you, Namjoon”s and “Please! I’m so close, baby! Fuck me!”s began to crescendo rapidly. The world around him went from a gentle warmth to a blazing inferno. Colors reached their maximum saturation. Namjoon’s heart began to beat erratically. This was it. This was it! This is what he needed!

“Yes, (Y/N). You’re so good to me! Take it! Take it!!”

With an animalistic roar, Namjoon shot his seed. It coated his body and even his blanket that he pushed aside in his lustful fever. The fireworks came to a close. His jagged breaths began to even themselves out. The angels stopped singing. He was alone once more… But he wouldn’t be for long.

Tears filled Namjoon’s vision as he looked at his clock. Time wasn’t important anymore… But you were. He was going to have you, and he was going to become number one again. Kim Namjoon was going to be your number one.

Just like that, the year of terror had come and gone. Now, a new year was upon you and another December along with it. You stared up at your dorm room’s ceiling with a dumb smile etched on your face. After all, that was the only expression you could possibly muster, given the circumstances. 

“Damn… What the hell happened to me?” Was all you managed to say as you turned onto your side. Your phone in hand, you scrolled through your photo gallery almost absentmindedly until you reached one particular photo. There you were at a carnival with the Devil incarnate, Kim Namjoon. Your eyes bright with glee at the large plush you held in one arm as you posed with Namjoon for a selfie.

You chuckled and zoomed in on the image with a wistful smirk. While you stared ahead at the camera, Namjoon stared at you with an expression that you didn’t even know that he possessed: pure, unadulterated admiration. You were almost inclined to call it love.

The past year and some change was a whirlwind. Your earliest memory of it consisted of finally coming to terms with the ecosystem at Mugunghwa, only to be faced with Namjoon and your whole world coming down. Students and staff alike scurried away from the dining area, not wanting to be a witness to a crime. You had gained new friends over the course of these months. They simply couldn’t stand to see your last moments on this earth in complete agony.

However, your death never came. Namjoon stood proudly in the now empty cafeteria, as if he relished in the fact that he could clear a room without uttering a single word.

“(Y/N) (L/N). It’s so good to finally put a name to a face… And what a lovely face it is…”

If Namjoon wasn’t going to kill you, the water lodged in your windpipe at his words would. You sputtered, hands waving as you choked on your water. Suddenly, Namjoon came behind you and swiftly patted your back. Once you could breathe again, you wiped at your tear-filled eyes and peered up at him. “I’m sorry… What?”

Namjoon returned to his original position in front of you with a smirk. Pulling out a chair, he sat down with the practiced air of a businessman about to make a deal. “I called you beautiful. I do hope that wasn’t too forward.”

Now, you were suspicious. Satan himself had saved you from choking and was now calling you attractive? Were you dead? Did you imagine Namjoon helping you as a last-ditch effort to survive somehow? Was that the image your brain created as you slipped away into the world of the dead? But this was reality. Something deep down told you that you weren’t dying or dreaming.

“Forgive my skepticism, but I highly doubt that you came to exchange compliments. What do you want, Kim Namjoon?” You asked icily. The male in front of you visibly recoiled at your tone, as if he didn’t factor in the possibility that you could speak with such a tone. He quickly recovered, however, and he began his pitch.

“You’re half right, (Y/N). I didn’t come here to only compliment you, but I came here to have a discussion that is long overdue. At my core, I am a businessman. I make deals, I negotiate. That’s what I’m here to do.” Namjoon stated simply. Looking deeply into his eyes, he didn’t show any signs of insincerity, but that’s to be expected. He’s been trained his entire life to hiding his true intentions behind an amicable facade, regardless of how nefarious his plans may or may not be.

“I see… What is it that you wish to discuss? I’m afraid that I’m not as well-versed in business etiquette as you, so please forgive me for any mistakes or slip-ups that I may make. That being said, this is not an invitation to walk all over me. I may be inexperienced, but I am by no means an idiot.”

Could you be any more perfect for him? A beautiful face and body, poise and grace, and the courage to hold her own in a negotiation? Not to mention, the colors were swirling around you and blooming delicately in such a comforting fashion. He was absolutely smitten.

“I wouldn’t dare make the mistake of calling someone who replaced me as top dog an idiot. Give me some credit. I’m not as vile as the university’s tall tales make me out to be. I’m sure that my cousin, Taehyung, could vouch for me.”

You bristled at the mention of Taehyung. What had he done to him? Did something happen? No, that couldn’t be. You had just finished your show with Tae only a half hour ago. Surely, that isn’t enough time for him to get into any trouble, right?

“Calm down, (Y/N). Nothing’s happened to him. I can see the wheels turning in your head. My cousin is safe and sound. I can even call him up for you, if you don’t believe me.” Namjoon said smoothly, already fishing his phone out of his designer coat’s pocket.

“No, that’s fine…” You swallowed and regained your composure. Once you were calmed down, you returned Namjoon’s gaze. “I’m sure he’s alright. If anything, I’ll call him later. Right now, this is more important.”

Namjoon put his phone away and leaned back in his chair whilst giving a dismissive wave of his hand. Hopefully, the display of nonchalance would mask the sheer excitement and feverish nervousness he felt from being so close to you. Hearing your voice was like hearing the soothing melodies of birdsong in the morning. His heart soared at the mere act of being in your presence.

“Very well. I came here to apologize. You see, I’m well aware of the distress to you and everyone here at Mugunghwa that I’ve caused, and for that, I’m sorry.”

You could have died right there. Kim Namjoon? Apologizing? And apologizing to you, no less?! The infamous heir to Kim Industries, known for the downfall of any and everyone who dared impede his goals was apologizing to you?!

“Please, (Y/N). Forgive me. It’s just that losing to you has put my life into perspective. Yes, I was the head of our class, but what did that mean? Why was I fighting so hard to keep a title that in the long run, means so little? What was the point if I had no one to share it with?”

“What the hell are you getting at, Kim? I fail to see what this has to do with conducting business.”

As precious as you were to him, Namjoon despised your tone. If you were to be his, that sharp tongue would have to be dealt with. Besides, in that instant, you reminded him of his lowlife father. That certainly wouldn’t do. His queen should never adopt the mannerisms of Kim Joonho. Never. Ever. You were to whisper sweet nothings into his ear while he reciprocated. You were to never take such a tone with him ever again.

“I was rambling, so I’ll forgive that insolent remark of yours just this once. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Namjoon stated darkly.

Not wanting to push your luck, you relented. You were actually talking to Kim Namjoon. You couldn’t afford to ruin an opportunity like this.

“Right.” He resumed “The truth is that I’ve been watching you for quite some time. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do anymore. You’ve occupied every inch of my mind, and I just wanted to ask if you’d be mine, (Y/N).”

You sat there, slack-jawed. Was he serious?! What was happening?

“You’re joking… There’s no way that you could be serious. There’s no fucking way!”

“I am. I’ve done some soul-searching recently, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you are what I’ve been fighting for all this time. Not a damn class rank. I’ve been fighting for love, affection, understanding… And I believe that I can find all of that in you.”

“You… What…? I- How?”

“February 14, a dozen red roses were waiting for you on your desk in your dorm. With them, was a card addressed to you from a secret admirer. March 14, a diamond necklace was gifted to you for White Day by a secret admirer. And now, these.”

Namjoon produced a stack of envelopes bound by a black silk ribbon from his jacket pocket.

“These are from me. You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). Can you tell me who your secret admirer is?”

That was April. After a few talks with your co-host and having to sit through embarrassing stories of their childhoods, you finally took the leap and went out on a date with Namjoon… And you were the happiest you’ve ever been. The large stuffed animal that Namjoon had won you sat on a bookshelf, next to several other trinkets he had given you over the months you had dated.

You chuckled to yourself at the memory and closed your photos app. After which, you opened up your messaging app to shoot a quick text to Namjoon. That was until, you got a notification reading,

KIM INDUSTRIES CEO, KIM JOONHO FOUND DEAD IN HIS WINTER ESTATE.

Without thinking, you dialed Namjoon’s number and was greeted by a somber moan answering the phone.

“Namjoon, baby, I’m so sorry… I just saw the news.”

A sniff. “Hey. So the news outlets already published the story, huh? I should have known that it wouldn’t take long… They could at least have the common decency of letting his corpse grow cold first before they publicize it.” Namjoon chuckled humorlessly.

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t imagine going through the sudden shock of losing your parent, only to deal with the press soon afterward. You sensed that Namjoon needed some time to himself to grieve, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“Yeah, it’s shitty what they’re doing. And to think that I’m going into that profession. It’s crazy.”

“It is what it is, (Y/N). Besides, I have faith that you’ll be one of the good journalists that don’t try to weave everything that they hear into lies and defamation.” He said earnestly.

Something about the way Namjoon spoke was unnerving. He didn’t sound like someone who was mourning their late father, but then again, he might have been in shock. His apathetic demeanor on the matter must have been a coping mechanism. After all, losing your father so suddenly is a lot to process.

All you could do is hum in response. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so, dear.”

A pregnant pause.

“Hey, (Y/N). I know this sounds horribly insensitive, but, can we still have our dinner date at my mansion? It’s just that I can’t bear to be alone right now, and you’re the only person I’ve been able to trust lately. It doesn’t have to be a date. I guess I just want you to come over.”

Your heart shattered into smithereens. He was alone and scared. Namjoon had no one to trust or turn to in his time of need, yet he found it within his heart to ask you. Who were you to refuse?

“Alright. I’ll go. Same time?”

He didn’t have to say a word, but you could hear his dimpled smile some out to play.

“Y-yes, yes, of course! Same time! Thank you so much, (Y/N). You don’t know how much this means to me. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Alright, see you soon. Bye.”

You hung up the phone with a sigh and faced your closet. You had exactly two hours to get ready for dinner. You had two hours to prepare…

And so did Namjoon.

Once again, Namjoon was summoned to his father’s study. He was expecting it sooner or later. His class rank hadn’t improved since his father sent him to take his top spot back by any means necessary, but you were number one now. Namjoon wouldn’t dare dethrone his goddess from her rightful pedestal.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was upon opening the large doors a swift slap coming across his face.

“You useless, useless brat! You can’t even eliminate a simple girl?! You can’t even reclaim your title?! How am I supposed to leave my estate and company in such incapable hands?!”

Joonho was fuming. His once pride and joy had betrayed him and disappointed him. How dare he? Namjoon sat on the floor, gingerly rubbing his cheek. He was sure his father’s handprint was burned into his flesh.

“I swear, you’re incompetent just like your brother! He disappointed me, and look at where he is now! I should have known that it was too good to be true.”

At the mention of his brother, Namjoon’s body stiffened.

“All of this. You’re ruining your life and your career all for some girl?! You’re willing to throw away what I’ve essentially bred you for, all for some lowlife pussy?!”

At the mention of you, Namjoon began to see red.

“I suppose I’ve been too lenient on you. I should have known that you would flounder. Maybe I’ll get rid of (Y/N) myself. It’s clear that she means a lot to you. Maybe you’ll get back in line once she perishes.”

That was the final straw. With pure rage fueling his every cell, Namjoon sprinted over to his father’s desk and grabbed his letter opener.

“Say it again, bastard! Say it again!”

Now, Joonho’s figure was dissolving into a crimson blob. All of his human like features were gone in a furious red haze. Kim Joonho wasn’t his father anymore. He wasn’t even human. 

He was the enemy.

Without giving his father a chance to speak, Namjoon plunged the letter opener into the older man’s eye sockets. After that, it was a blur. Hours had seemingly passed and Kim Joonho was nothing but a human pincushion. Stab wounds littered his body, and blood was oozing out of every one. With a satisfied grin, Namjoon stood and cupped a crimson hand to his face.

“Seokjin! Seokjin! Come down here!”

The head butler rushed in the study and into the carnage. The older male was mortified at the bloodbath before him, but he couldn’t help the relieved smile and tears of joy forming in his tear ducts.

“Brother, come help me clean up father. Unless, of course, you have some words for him?”

Seokjin carefully approached his father’s corpse and smiled wickedly. He placed a gloved hand on his eyeless face.

“You’ve disappointed me, Joonho. And now look where that’s brought you. My transgressions against you warranted that I were to be stripped of my place in the world as your son, only to become your servant. Your transgressions warranted your death at the hands of your prodigy. Isn’t that poetic justice? Sleep well, father.”

“Master Namjoon will be down in a moment.” A maid stated as she had you seated.

A white cloth napkin was folded and placed on your lap while you got comfortable in the antique dining chair. Staff hurried to and fro to finish preparing for your meal, and it was almost amusing seeing them rush around like busy worker bees instead of the esteemed staff of the Kim Manor.

A few moments ticked away before Namjoon made his appearance. He was elegantly clad in a designer Armani suit, giving a regal and princely appearance as he made his way over to you from the grand foyer.

“Please forgive me, dear. I had some business to attend to.”

Namjoon outstretched his arms, motioning for you to give him a hug. You happily obliged.

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?” You cheekily giggled. If you ignored the whole dead dad situation, the whole scene would appear wholesomely domestic. You decided to indulge in that notion.

Namjoon’s breath hitched.

“I’m sorry that I’ve kept you waiting. I hope that we can make up for lost time during dinner, yeah?”

You nodded and sat down in your chair. Namjoon was seated right beside you. As if on cue, the staff brought in your dishes. A classic Christmas dinner, consisting of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, ham, and vegetables was placed in front of you. On a small dish nearby, some cranberry jelly sat. You tried to hide the grimace at the red jelly. You were by no means a fan of the garnish, but you didn’t want to appear picky or ungrateful, especially considering the reason why you were having dinner with Namjoon in the first place.

Ever the attentive partner, Namjoon was keen on noticing your inner turmoil. “Is something not to your liking?”

“Uh, it’s just… I don’t really like cranberry jelly… That’s all.”

Namjoon looked utterly dumbfounded before letting out a joyful, booming laugh. “That’s all? Oh, (Y/N). You had me worried! I thought that I’d ruined the whole meal for you!”

His fork stabbed into a piece of turkey and he dipped the meat into the red gelatin.

“But, please do try the jelly. My brother and I, we made it for this occasion. I promise it’s nothing like the canned slop they sell in grocery stores.”

Namjoon made this? Now, this you had to try.

“Alright. Since you went through the effort of making it, I’ll give it a shot.”

You copied Namjoon’s actions of taking a slice of turkey and dipping it in the cranberry jelly. With the expression of a chef on Chopped, Namjoon eagerly watched as you placed the food in your mouth.

“Mmm! This is delicious! Namjoon, you should sell this! This is amazing!”

Another laugh came from Namjoon, although, this one had an arguably maniacal lilt. “Why, thank you, but I’m afraid that this specific batch is one of a kind. Besides, cranberry jelly isn’t the most profitable market out there.”

Little did you know that you had just ingested Kim Joonho’s coagulated blood. Perhaps that was why his cranberry jelly was one of a kind.

Merry Christmas.

#bwcssy2

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

P S Y C H (ch.1)

I hate definition intros but it has to be done: The word "PSYCH" is commonly used online and in conversation as a slang term to indicate that something that has just been said or typed was intended as a prank on the recipient or a joke.

Also short for Psychic

Next Chapter

Say what you want about organized religion, but you can’t deny that it is one of the most dangerous weapons on the planet. For centuries people have developed weapons and fought wars in the name of their beliefs. They’ve conquered lands and assimilated nations. Give the people superpowers and there’s no way people don’t die on a daily basis. Unless you give them lame ass powers and call them quirks. God’s funny like that. Most people get run of the mill things like the ability to draw small objects close to them. That way there’s a power imbalance in the world. It’s less chaos if only a select few get the good abilities. Less people question God’s authority that way. Those who get the awesome superpowers are seen as blessed, divine. Honored.  

[Mo.Name] [L.Name] was not blessed. She was liked by God at best. Being an empath, her quirk was not something to marvel at. If she worked hard to develop it, she could use her quirk offensively and defensively or even professionally but she would never be someone who was in charge of maintaining the world order. 

As she grew older she would become disillusioned with God and the blessed individuals that policed over the nations. They called themselves heroes, and a few people were but everything about hero society just didn’t sit well with her. She became a teacher instead and worked with kids with special needs. When they had trouble expressing themselves she could use her quirk to get a feel for what they needed in the moment or she could project enough calmness that they could pull themselves together and communicate without throwing a fit. 

She had a kid at a young age. 30 years old. Not too young and not too old. But by the time she was 35 she was a single mother. Her kid was the best. He didn’t cry too often and he learned how to speak very young. He soaked up information like a sponge and he didn’t develop a flashy quirk like the heroes she felt mild contempt for. Her baby was ignored by God.

Psych.

“No one is born equal. Yadda yadda yadda- How long has he been planning this monologue? No seriously it’s been playing in his head since the day (not really) we first met and I’m kind of bored of it now”

Izuku Midoriya was not a late bloomer. He never got his quirk, he has the extra toe joint, and he was bullied for being powerless. A Deku. [Name] [L.Name] WAS a late bloomer. He got teased a little, picked on. Sometimes people even gave him pitying looks. But it all ended  when he turned about six. There’s that old saying: two roads diverged in a yellow wood. Well one of those roads is for those scorned, and the other for those who who were touched by fire yet never burned. The sinner and the saint. What a traveller wouldn’t know is, that at some point, the roads converge. How else are they supposed to get to the same destination?

Wonder, outsiders..who is on which road? What makes the sinner a sinner and not a saint?

“Using your quirk in public is illegal”

“And minding your own business is free” [Name] bit back. What’s a little telekinesis gonna do? Cause mass destruction? Widespread panic? He just didn’t want to touch the handle on the door. Public spaces are very unsanitary... it’s not like his arms are too sore to do any sort of lifting. Nope. Not at all.

[Name] had unfortunately spent the entire weekend doing his least favorite activity. Physical exercise. Of course with a quirk like his he’d rarely ever need physical strength, but that’s exactly what everyone else would think. And [Name] is the type of kid that wants you to doubt him so he can feel the rush of proving you wrong. It’s a warped mindset but when no one ever expects anything from you, it’s kind of a thrill to see the surprised looks on their faces. A psychic with impressive physical strength would be the same as someone 5’6 (167.6 cm) dominating a sport made for tall people. Like basketball. Or volleyball.

Anyway, [Name] was in the sportswear store, a place he’d rather not be caught dead in, trying to get support for his wrists. Most of his quirk usage was through precise hand movements, a slight flick of the wrist could easily send someone flying. His hands, and by extension his wrists were very important. A punch thrown wrong during training could fracture that oh so important wrist, hence the whole idea of getting wrist wraps. 

For once [Name] was actually being proactive and he was very proud of himself for thinking of the idea in the first place. His eyes glowed golden as he reached his hand out to grab the wraps floating down from the top shelf. The UA exams were in about a week and a half and he had no idea what to expect. So he would train for everything they could throw at him. Even if it meant he had to go back to throwing punches at an oversized bag of sand.

[Name] used his telekinesis so often the drawback was nearly negligible. But if he did overuse it, the damage was a headache that could range from minor inconveniences like losing your chapstick, to a grenade going off in an enclosed space. The big ones weren’t usually the problem. The problem would be somewhere in the middle, because it would cause him to lose control of his telepathy, and once the headache combined with the voices of everyone in a 50 meter vicinity his brain would get seriously overwhelmed. Ultimately he’d be passed out on the ground within 5 minutes. 

For the first year and a half of middle school three times a week [Name] would have fighting training along with weight training, alternating days so that he’d have a break in between each session. This was all pretty much to catch up with his rapidly developing quirk. [Name]’s body wasn’t prepared for the use of his quirk. He grew to the age of 6 doing things normally until his untapped power literally exploded out of him. Talk about damage control. For quirk training he usually offered to help his neighbor who ran a junkyard by lifting cars and other heavy things telekinetically. An unofficial part of the training regime, [Name] would also read other people’s thoughts all day everyday. He said it was to get used to hearing others’ voices in his head. But that was only a half truth. [Name] was just extremely nosy, but he went about it in a casual way. He probably should apologize for the invasion of privacy but he loved every minute of it. Besides, listening to the spirits of others could be considered a god-honored practice.

On the day of the entrance exams [Name] regretted everything. He’d decided to become a hero for fun, less than two weeks prior (the whole reason he went to the sportswear store and started working out again), and by the grace of god he was regretting it. Not because he was nervous he’d fail, at least he wasn’t before he got there. It was just SO loud. He’d gotten better at controlling his quirk since he began using telepathy to eavesdrop but the last time he was in a room full of this many people was the middle school entrance ceremony (which he skipped halfway through because of a headache. By the way how could so many kids sitting in silence be so loud). It made sense, he was not used to having to deal with the noise of people muttering, thinking, PANICKING. And now that his quirk is stronger than what it was before everything felt ten times worse. [Name] leaned forward and tapped the green haired boy sitting in front of him muttering. Not only could he hear the boy’s thoughts going a mile a minute but his mouth was too. The kid whipped around eyes wide and shook nervously. [Name] was about to ask him to quiet down but got confused when he made sense of the kid’s thoughts. 

The kid was obviously a fanboy muttering about Present Mic who was getting on [Name]’s nerves a little with his exorbitant amount of energy. Before [Name] could say anything the ash-blonde near the fanboy spoke up.

“He’s probably telling you to shaddup”

The green haired boy opened his mouth to apologize and then realized he would be making more noise and quickly shut it before nodding profusely. [Name] was tired of referring to them by their hair colors and may have invaded the fanboy’s head for some background information on the two and got more than he bargained for. The fanboy whose name was apparently Izuku, was not only sitting next to Bakugou, his childhood bully, but just this morning he had gained an immense amount of power, officially becoming All Might’s successor. Oh look, two of them would be taking the exam in the same area. Things at UA were gonna get interesting.

#bnha x male reader #mha x male #male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #m!reader #m!reader insert #x m!reader #bnha #mha #that bi bitch writes #that-bi-bitch-writes #psych

[stillebesat]

Catch Me (If You Can) -Part 1

December Drabbles Day 17 Sanders Shorts: Remy  Sanders Sides: Logan  Blurb: Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick. Fic Type: Sick!Fic, Guardian!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Sickness, Fainting, Mentions of Religion Taglist in reblog. 

He tried to push open a pull door. That’s how Remy knew he was in trouble. 

“Gurl. Seriously?” He rasped, wincing at how his voice sounded like he’d been stranded in the Sahara Desert for twelve years. 

That wasn’t good. 

He needed to sound perfect. Perfectly uncaringly carefree that is. No one needed him sick. No siree. No. Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick.

The fact that the words ‘PULL’ were dancing right in front of his bloodshot eyes and he’d still tried to push open the freaking door was beside the point. 

Remy swallowed in a failed attempt to soothe the fire burning his throat to a crisp as he drew up his flagging energy to pull open said door. Pushing would have been so much easier. Taken less energy. Energy Remy was barely managing to keep above empty at the moment. No, if the cool glass door had only allowed him to let his weight fall against it in order to gain access into the local cafe that the interwebs claimed had a cure-all chicken based chili that could fix any illness within the hour, they both would have been much better off.  

Hopefully this was more of a fifteen minute cure. Remy would be spending the last of his money on this soup. He didn’t have an hour to feel better. Not after being laid up in his closet sized bedroom for the past two days with nothing but water in his apartment. He had places to be, a midterm exam to nail and a delightful after party to attend.

Adjusting his sunglasses, Remy walked-he did not stagger!-inside and paused to take in the place as the first nauseating wift of eggs and bacon hit his nose.

Quaint. 

That was the first word that came to his spinning mind. A quaint little cafe that practically screamed fifties country diner. Warm. Inviting. Probably run by a white-haired grandmother who adopted all the college kids as her precious grandchildren and piled their plates high with food to ensure that they got a ‘proper meal.’ 

At least that’s what he thought normal grandmothers did. His old hag had lived off of bread and butter for so long Remy doubted the creature masquerading as his granny knew other food existed. She certainly hadn’t when he’d been forced to stay weekends there as a kid. 

Focus.

Remy tugged at the collar of his jacket, already feeling sweat running down his back and prickling on his forehead. Too Warm. Grandma needed to turn on the AC. 

Focus.

There were far more of his peers hanging out here than he’d expected, doubling vision to be ignored, and he did not want to make a fool of himself by throwing up two steps inside the building. 

Remy took a shallow breath to avoid smelling more eggs. This soup better be heaven sent, because if it smelt anything like whatever was currently cooking...he doubted he would be able to keep it down.

“--lp you?” 

Remy blinked, lowering his sunglasses as he turned to the singular cadentic voice that cut through the buzzing in his head and promptly forgot that his lungs worked. 

If the soup wasn’t angelic, the help certainly was. 

Tall, lithe, with sharp sapphire eyes accentuated perfectly by a pair of glasses. The man standing at the counter was like the handsome stranger one meets in a romcom. That or one of those cherubic angels -minus the tropey golden locks- he’d been forced to stare at whenever the old hag had dragged him to church.

Remy pushed his shades back up, hiding his bloodshot eyes. What sort of deal with God had this Grandma made to have such a dark haired handsome glass of yesness working for her?

The man raised a singular perfect eyebrow. “Can I help you?” He repeated in that same melodious voice.

Remy nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak without sounding like a harpy in the face of such a wonderful tone. 

Focus.

First approach. 

Sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, Remy sauntered -he did not sway not at all, he was in perfect control of his balance thank you- up to the counter and leaned against it, offering his most dazzling smile to the man. 

Moment of truth.

“Hey, honeycakes.” He said keeping his tone low to prevent the rasp in his voice from being heard. “Where’s your Halo? Cus you, my dear, are quite the Angel.” 

Nailed it.

The man pursed his lips in a thin line, his head moving in the slightest of shakes. “Unfortunately, we’re out of honey cakes, sir.” He said, tilting his head to the display of desserts in the glass next to him. “But our triple death by chocolate cake will send you,” his hands moved to form air quotations -who did that anymore?- “over the edge.” 

Ooo was that a threat or an invitation? Remy flashed another smile, tugging at the collar of his jacket. So warm in here. “So long as you’re there to catch me, Honeybee. I’ll gladly leap over any edge for you.”

The man adjusted his black rimmed glasses, moving to the register. “So you want the cake then? That’ll be $3.58. For here or to go?” 

Seriously? Remy gaped before clicking his tongue in exasperation and straightened, only to grab the counter to keep himself from falling backwards as his legs nearly buckled. 

Focus Darlin. Get in. Get out. Get healthy. Flirt later. 

“Actually.” He flinched as his voice grated in his ears. He swallowed, again lowering his tone to hide the soreness of his throat as he rested his elbows on the counter. “I came for your ah--”  He flicked his eyes up to the menu overhead, briefly lowering his shades to squint at the wiggling letters. “Chicken Chili a la Cluck.” 

A spark of recognition flashed in the Angel’s eyes. “Ah, you are under the weather?”

“Wha--NO!” Shoot. Was it that obvious? “No, ma’am!” His voice cracked as Remy jerked his hand up in the scout salute. “On my honor it's for a….” He trailed off. Well that was a pretty pickle. How the blazes could he lie if he was promising on his honor? 

The man crossed his arms the faintest of smiles appearing on his lips. “Let me guess? A friend?” 

Was that excuse used a lot then? He shrugged, shivering as a chill ran down his back. Geez, Grandma had cranked the AC up a little too high now. The place was going to freeze over any second. “I just wanted a taste of home-made soup is all.” He managed, rubbing his arms. “To go.” 

Handsome remained silent, seemingly staring straight into his soul, bright blue eyes analyzing him like a hawk about to swoop down upon a rabbit.

Geez. He was no rabbit! Remy fixed a smile on his face, ignoring how his gums ached. Don’t show weakness. Not in front of his peers. He was fine. He totally didn’t feel like his knees were going to buckle at any second. Not at all. He could hold it together for a few minutes longer.

Abruptly the man nodded, releasing Remy from his analyzing stare as he pushed his glasses up so that the glare of the lights overhead on the lenses hid his eyes.

A pity. He could stare into those glorious eyes all day long.

“Of course, Total is $4.78 for the half size.”

Perfect. He only had a five anyways. “Ah, Sugarbee, truly you are an angel to provide me with such an affordable price for homemade goodness.” He purred, shifting slightly to fish out his limp wallet from his back pocket. This soup better be divine. If he kept up this conversation much longer his throat truly would catch fire. 

The man raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand. “I am not the one to thank for deciding prices, sir.” 

Sure sure. Grandma was the one who did, sweet soul that she was, making things affordable for all her poor adopted college children. 

“I’m sure if such an angelic being such as yourself set the prices then they would be even more heavenly.” Remy swallowed wishing the soup already was in his grasp as he finally pulled out the crumpled bill, fingers betraying him by trembling. “Even so, you can keep the--” 

The Angel’s cool fingers brushed his own, feeling like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer’s day. Remy’s breath caught in his throat, hazy mind short-circuiting at the unexpected touch. How he wanted to take those hands and-- GET A GRIP REMY! “--change.” He choked out, dropping his hand to the counter before he did something even more stupid than pushing on the pull door. 

Smooth. Real smooth. Geez Gurl. Keep it together! 

But that didn’t stop his fingers from tingling, nor from the room suddenly feeling like a sauna. What had happened to the arctic temperatures freezing him two minutes ago? 

The man huffed, slipping the five into the till. “Your soup will be out momentarily, sir.” He said, dropping the coins into the nearby tip jar with an all too loud clink. “If you could step aside so I could help the next customer in line?” 

Remy glanced behind him, lowering his glasses. Internally he cursed as he took in the gaggle of people he could barely focus on. Shoot. When had they come in?! He usually was more aware of that sort of thing. 

“Relax, Specs.” Said the guy right behind him, wearing a simple red shirt that showed off nicely toned arms.

Specs? What an ugly nickname. The Angel behind him was far more than his glasses.

 “I don’t mind the wait.” Red flashed a smile to Remy. “It’s not everyday I get to witness someone flirting with you.” 

Really? He had to have misheard that. “Who wouldn’t flirt with him?” Remy asked, casually straightening slowly enough that his vision wouldn’t tunnel. “Honeybee here is absolutely…” He gestured to give himself a chance to swallow back the agony rising in his throat. “Divine.” 

Red’s grass green eyes sparked with humor as he looked beyond Remy. “So I keep telling him.” 

“You tell me yes, and we both know you’re prone to drastic exaggeration.” His Angel stated, barely twitching as the chef rang the bell, placing a to-go bowl within range for ‘Specs’ to reach if he would simply turn around and grab Remy’s food. “Now are you going to order or are you just here to antagonize me at work again?” He asked. 

“Mmmm. Gurl. No. No.” Remy shook his head, whirling to fully face his cadentic Angel and promptly regretted it, placing a hand on the counter as his knees almost buckled. Hold on. Hold on. He was fine. “Ah--” He forced a smile to his face, fighting to see through his darkening shades, to look into those wondrous eyes. “Red here---no---doesn’t lie. You are an….an….ange--” The words suddenly felt heavy on his tongue as the diner tilted, the pressure of the cool marble top fading from his fingers as he fell backwards. 

“HEY!”

A band of ice wrapped around his wrist, jerking Remy upwards. His eyes fluttered open enough to see his Angel lunging over the counter, one hand holding his, the other clenching onto his jacket, saving his head from hitting the tile floor.

Well how about that? 

“You…caught me.” He whispered in stunned disbelief as his Angel’s bright blue eyes seemed to fill his entire world before everything went black.

To Be Continued Part 2

#Catch Me (If You Can) #December Drabbles #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Remy #Logan #Sleep #Logic #Sick!Remy #Sick!Fic #Guardian!AU #sickness tw #mentions of religion tw #fainting tw #December Day 17

[filmwuju]

[TRANS] Character Introduction: People around Yeonghwa

Go Yejoon | Go Yechan

Go Yejoon (Male, 23) University student

1 Corinthians 10:13. God is faithful; he will not let you be tested beyond what you can bear. But when you are tested, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it. Yejoon tore the entire chapter 10 of Corinthians into pieces. F**king bullshit.

A person prepared by Jesus.* That is the meaning of Yejoon's name. What a name which invades the freedom of religion. It would be less embarrassing if he's Yejoon because he's pretty.** His maternal grandfather, who named him, was a pastor. In this awfully devout Christian family, he basically attended the church ever since his cells were still undergoing mitosis in his mom's belly. His first meeting with Yeonghwa was also at the church kindergarten. He didn't expect that relationship to go on until them attending the same university. Times of "I'm you and you're me" have so soon come to 20 years.

He believed that he grew up not really lacking anything. Divorced, his mom took on even the dad's role and raised the siblings; as for money, she made a lot of them, unbelievably. As long as Yejoon does as he's told, it's a guarantee that he'll get in an autonomous private high school. Under normal circumstances, he'll move forward and become a high-income earner graduated from Seoul National University. If only Lee Yeonghwa didn't say that he's emigrating, some days before the exam. That day, Yejoon realized. The fact that he lacked nothing was because Yeonghwa filled up the gaping hole in his heart. The cause of defeat was he never tried imagining a life without Lee Yeonghwa. Lee Yeonghwa existed within a parentheses inside his smooth plan for life. It wasn't strange to have Lee Yeonghwa there in his entire life. But actually, that was strange. The day he witnessed the true identity of his feelings, Yejoon's world collapsed.

What's fortunate among the unfortunate is Yeonghwa didn't emigrate; and unfortunately, Yejoon failed to get in the autonomous private high school. His smart brain that never wrote the wrong answer in exams and his decent appearance were all part of the things his mom gave him. Mom always said that it's a relief he took after her appearance, but would it also be a relief to say that he took after her attraction to men? Days when he wakes up at the distant sound of ambulance sirens grew in numbers. He wondered if he might be one of the people being taken away by the ambulance. Yejoon's identity was a wrong answer, no matter how it's written. There was no way he could pass the exam.

He went to church diligently, prayed fervently, and cried as if begging. The more he did those, the more he realized his existence itself is being denied. God our Father, you said you will not allow tests we cannot handle? You said you will provide a way out for us to endure it? Of course there was no response, and at some point, all of Yejoon's prayers became silence. He wanted to tell the world who he is. Even if his life becomes one that no one will mourn.

When a man holding Korean citizenship becomes an adult, a hideout for them appears. The army. Yejoon, who was accepted into the same university as Yeonghwa, is currently only waiting for the day he can escape to the army, before these feelings spills out.

T/N: * In Korean, "a person prepared by Jesus" is 예수님의 준비된 사람 (pronounced as "yesu nim e junbi dwen saram"). "Yejoon" comes from the first syllables of "Jesus" and "prepared", respectively.

** In Korean, "pretty" is 예쁘다 (pronounced as "yebbeuda"), which has the same first syllable as "Yejoon." Also, a common Hanja counterpart of 준 (joon) is 俊, which means good-looking. However, I'm not sure if the Hanja used in Yejoon's name is this one!

Go Yechan (Female, 19) Senior high school student

The most pitiful existence in this world, high school seniors. Loved by Dong Kyung, the busiest mom in the world, and Yejoon, the meanest villain brother in the world, she is the family's baby and mascot... probably.

Her current wish is to safely graduate high school and go to university. She's dreaming the most ambitious dream that a South Korean high school senior can dream in the current situation. Only as long as mom doesn't find out she's secretly doing sports. As long as she could safely go to a sports university.

(orig post link from writer Park Shihyun’s DC gallery post)

#run on #this wraps up the character introduction and all crumbs that writer park shihyun has posted! #run on trans #run on kdrama #run on jtbc #jtbc run on #run on drama #run on icons #runon #jtbc #kdrama #korean drama

[simonalkenmayer]

I’m being self-indulgent, so I understand if you ignore this, but I hope you won’t.

Since you said you like Terry Pratchett, what are some of your favourite quotes from the Discworld books? Say, the top 5, maybe?

And favourite characters?

Vimes, Weatherwax, Tiffany, Death and Vetinari.

I cannot recite them for you, but I will say that my favorite books are as follows:

Small Gods

Night watch

Jengo

Monstrous regiment

Lords and ladies

Hogswatch

All the Tiffany books

Hmm

I love the discussion of Vetomari’s time in school, when he failed his exam in concealment by not showing up. I love Vimes’ romance with the city. I love Granny’s Stern discipline and hard life lessons. I love Tiffany’s cleverness and self-analysis. I love Death for all he does in so many capital letters. I love the spaces they occupy together.

I miss him very much. I recall reading the second Tiffany book and knowing something was terribly wrong with his mind. He announced his diagnosis two weeks later.

You know when he died, his final wish was to have all his computers teamrolled. They did it. All that material he’d tinkered with...all gone. He didn’t just die. He carved himself out of the world and left a crater for us to fall into with desperation.

If you have never read a discworld book, do yourself a favor, go pick one up. There are arcs, and you can choose to either read the whole world in order, or parse them out by character and read only that arc...it’s up to you.

If you struggle with religion, see small gods. If you are LGBTQ see monstrous regiment. If you want to learn and feel like you have walked into a wall of savvy, weatherwax. If you want to feel comfortable and drink a bit while tackling deep social issues like racism and economic disparity, Vimes. If you want pure silliness, the wizards. And well...Death and all his wisdom are in every book.

[thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness]

“He didn’t like to stand out. However, his legs made him look fast so he would get chosen for the class competition relay. But as he didn’t want to draw any attention, he would purposely take a longer time running in P.E. class. “

Notes before reading: This is from Kaoru’s first book “Dokugen” in which his articles from “Ongaku to hito” magazine were compiled, but also an exclusive interview about his life was included. I already posted the first pages of this interview for Kaoru’s birthday  (pages 62-66) and you can read it here. This second part starts with his high school days, getting into metal music, HIDE and first music steps and bands. If you own the book, these pages are 66-75, if you don’t, you should consider getting it *wink wink* -You were a free and uncontrolled boy, right? K: That’s it. Somehow, I felt like I just liked to be where everyone else was. Rather than being an active part of the group, I would just follow it.  It was kind of like floating around. The so-called ego woke up in my body once I entered high school. I started to be my own self. -So, what about high school days? K: I was going to a high school near my house but,  until I went to get the application for the examination, I was like “is a place like this a high school?”, it  was a school that looked like a vocational school. Later, when I went to take the exam, even though it was a high school entrance examination, there was calculation, I remember doing the exam while thinking “if I fail this, I’m really a useless guy”. I was really nervous when I went to see the results days later. But even if I thought “It’s good that my name is there!”*  and I went to the school thinking “I’m a useless guy for sure!” when I was asked by a homeroom teacher “how was it, how was it” and I said “I passed”, they would say “Congratulations!” (laughs) As I feel embarrassed, I felt like “please stop!!”. *Often in Japan, if you name appears on a list of exam results, it means you passed, if your name is not there, it means you have failed. -What kind of school was it? K: It was really a hopeless high school. Bad punk guys, people with bad conditions or that couldn’t take middle school classes properly…. there were only that kind of people. When I was in middle school, I played sports, when I entered high school, there were many people who just gave up about their future.  The topics when they gathered were about girls, television, Idol clothes or hairstyles…that were the main topics of conversation. After that, as expected, as there were a lot of punks, there were guys that would bring to school knuckle dusters (a weapon attached to your fist). The first time it felt like saying “there are embarrassing guys” but gradually everyone started to feel similar(laughs) -Did you feel like you were deteriorating for being in such a place? K: Well, I was thinking about what I would do after that.  There were plenty of negative things too. I could no longer meet my acquaintances from middle school…. But gradually I started to open my eyes to bands, then I started to think that that was the only thing I had left. -Unexpectedly, the reason of that was because you found about “X” (X Japan), right? K: Yes. X debuted when I was in my first year of high school, so I listened to “Blue Blood”. Originally, when I was in my 3rd year of middle school, a transferred student came, he was a lot into metal and listened to various bands. Until then, if someone said metal, I only knew Seikima-II (laughs). Because of this person’s influence, I started listening to X’s “Vanishing vision”, DEAD END and Kinniku Shōjo Tai. However, I didn’t think about buying CDs myself, I was satisfied with the tapes that person dubbed for me. But with “Blue Blood”, I went expressly to the store to make a reservation and buy it. -Is that so? K: When I was back from school, I went to buy it. At an electronic chain stored called “Seidensha” I bought it and I got a poster too. Also, there was a rock flower ( a toy that moves as response to sounds) with the faces of the members of X at the store and I wanted it, but as one would expect, I didn’t get it (laughs) -Making a reservation and buying… that means that your expectations were high. K: That’s true. I never have booked anything besides Nintendo games. (laughs) -What do you think that motivated you to that point? K: Probably it’s connected with what we have talked about until now but, since long time ago, I have this tendency, I like to hang out with people and I also feel like I want to know what that people like. If someone says “this is interesting”, I honestly think “I’m going to try it too!” It’s like I’m trying to understand what people says it’s interesting. Maybe it’s because I like the other person, or I think “I want to get along with this guy”. I want to understand more about the other person. So, as I was good friends with this transferred student, I wanted to understand the things that he said that were “good”. -As if it was a recommendation…. K: The band that this guy said that was cool was about to debut soon. Then I should buy that too. Maybe that’s what I thought. -If you think about that, his existence is quite important, right? K: That’s true. If this guy didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be what I am now. Anyway, Hide looked like nothing but a ghost/spectre. “This person is hella cool….” I thought. He doesn’t look human. From that moment, I only could see Hide. -So, “Blue Blood” caused a huge impact on you.  Can you remember that moment? K: Of course. I came back home, with my uniform still on, I listened to it on the radio cassette. I had goose bumps all the time. Then, I was like “what a……”. Anyway, I listened to it all day at home and the next day I went to school and I “propagate*” it to everyone. I let the guys from my class listen to it. *Kaoru says “布教” which means propagation (e.g. a religion); proselytizing; missionary work. -You acted fast, right? (laughs) K: From that moment, I started buying magazines, I would cut the articles of X and put them in plastic sheet. Then, a guy said to me “Eh? I don’t listen to this band” but he liked ZIGGY, so I said, “X is a bit different”. There was a guy who covered BOOWY songs… I was “attacking” people, one after another. -This is the most active story I have heard until now (laughs) K: For sure! I would bring the videos I bought to that guy’s house and I would show him the magazines too.  The next day, I would tell another guy “Today we are going to hang out at your house” …. that kind of things. -So, your music friends increased…. K: That’s it. Then, from that moment I started playing guitar. -Why guitar? K: As one would expect, it was for HIDE.  I wasn’t really interested in guitar as an instrument until I saw a X Live. I thought that Hotei’s guitar strumming was cool though. I became obsessed with HIDE right after “BLUE BLOOD” was released, at the concert held in the medium hall of Kōsei Nenkin Kaikan in Osaka. It was my first-time watching X, my seat was at the back of the first floor, but as it was the medium hall, the stage was very close. Then, my eyes met TOSHI many times, it was like “he is pointing at me!” (laughs). Anyway, HIDE looked like nothing but a ghost/spectre. “This person is so hella cool……”. He didn’t look human. From that moment, I only could see HIDE. -So, you thought “I want to be like HIDE”?

K: The day after the concert, I looked up in a magazine where I could buy HIDE’s guitar model. Then, I went to an instrument shop at Amerika Mura, I think the shop is not there anymore, but I went there and if you didn’t do a reservation you couldn’t get it. So, I made a reservation on the spot and I paid it with the money I have saved from my part-time job and New Year’s gift. But it didn’t arrive for about 6 months.

-So, you started practising with a guitar borrowed from a friend’s sister.

K: Yes, yes.  I started with the strings. Of course, I couldn’t play any song of X, it always was like I was only strumming. Since then, I gradually started to be surrounded by guys who liked the same bands, so we would gather at someone’s house and without an amplifier, we would practise together.

-Did it feel like “I have finally found something that makes me go crazy about it!”?

K: I was totally addicted/absorbed by music at that point. I would go every day to the bookshop and the record store to check if there was something new. At that time, from corner to corner, I would read every page of WeROCK magazine. I would read the pages for the recruitment of members too. (laughs) Then, I would go to indies shops and shops that were selling metal style clothes. I was attracted by things made of rubber or panted leather, that kind of fashion.

-What about your hairstyle?

K: Of course, I started to grow my hair long. At high school, long hair was not allowed but I told a teacher “I’m moving forward on my music’s path, growing my hair long is job hunting.”

-Those are defying words….

K: I said, “Because I already decided my path”.

-You were really thinking that?

K: Make a living of it……but yes. “I will play in a band!”, “I absolutely will be up on a stage”, I think I already decided that. “I will play in a band after graduating from high school, so if I cut my hair, I won’t be able to do it!”, I said.  It wasn’t a homeroom teacher but a teacher who played guitar and I was told “if that’s so, then do your best”. But sometimes when I tied my hair up, I was told “if it is bothering you, cut it”, “I will overlook this but if it is bothering you, you should cut it, if you grow it that long, more than a man you will look like a Basset hound” (laughs) After that, during class I would hold a pencil and practise how to press down the chords, I was told “Take this class properly!” but I didn’t take it seriously.

-At that time, what about other music or bands besides X?

K: Unless the songs were fast, I wasn’t interested. One way or another, I’m a guy of sharp riffs and fast beats. Even though I really didn’t understand the riffs at that moment, it was like “fast riffs are life!”, that’s why at that moment I was barely clicking with Western metal. Rather than that, I liked punk because there were many songs that were fast. A person from the rental shop in my neighbourhood recommended IRON MAIDEN (British metal band) but I was like “I don’t understand anything at all!”. But I liked HELLOWEEN (German metal band)

The first song played at a studio was “NO NEW YORK” from BOOWY but we couldn’t cover it properly at all but I felt like “ We are getting closer a bit closer”, it’s like going up a stairway (laughs) -So, you liked fast songs, right? K:DEAD END didn’t have fast songs, but I liked them though. The melodies, the atmosphere of the songs, MORRIE’s looks, all that. As you know, I would get the information from magazines, so I liked people who looked cool and flashy. I also liked COLOR and D’erlanger among others. -That’s national metal. Before that, there were bands like LOUDNESS and 44MAGNUM. K: I didn’t go there. This is also a cool story but, the bands of that time, weren’t the ones with sauvage perm? -LA metal style?* *LA metal is  a Japanese term that refers to rock bands that were active during the 80s. K: Rather than those, the ones that put their hair totally up. The ones were the hair looked stiff until the very end. Also,I thought that if the hair wasn’t blonde or red, it wasn’t cool. That’s why COLOR and X were shocking. The hair was totally up and the songs were fast. The first thing I liked about those bands were the way the hair was standing up. -When did you try to put your hair like that for the first time? K: Probably months after I listened to “Blue blood”. I put it up by myself, at home (laughs) I was like “how do you do this?”. But, in a magazine said “use hair spray” so I went to buy it. I would my hair like that when I went to school too. It was like “this is what a man does” (laughs) -Later, you would finally be in a band. K: It was at my second year of high school. Our first live was at a school festival. Before that, everyone got into the studio to match the sounds. It was mostly imitation. -Do you remember entering at a studio for the first time? K: It was really messy. I think we were at the studio for maybe two hours. For the first hour, it was just a mess, playing around with the instruments. Then, I think we say “Let’s give it  try” and played “NO MORE NEW YORK” by BOOWY.  Of course,we couldn’t cover it properly at all but I felt like “ We are getting closer a bit closer” (laughs) -That’s something naïve/innocent, right? K: “We are like going up a stair way right? is it cool?” that’s how it felt. -Then the first concert came…. You wrote in an article that you were so immersed into playing that you don’t remember it. K: That’s true. I remember really well the preparations before the concert, though. -What was that band’s name? K: It was called “DIE:STERIA”. I attached the world DIE somehow with TERIA. -It’s a coined word. Did you make it up by yourself? K: That’s it. A lot of the bands that I looked at the magazines had D and then something else attached, so I thought it was cool. As I’m talking about this, I suddenly feel embarrassed (laughs)

-(Laughs) That’s being young, right? Did you make any original song with that band?

K: Just one. It was fast, like melodic speed metal. But I was just scratching the guitar.

-Is there a recording?...

K: I don’t think I recorded it. In the studio I would like “do this, then like this” “sing like that”…I explained everything.

-What about the lyrics?

K: The lyrics……I wrote them (laughs). The lyrics were pretty terrible. They were kind of violent (laughs) Then, there was a melody that could be played by an acoustic guitar with fast riffs.

-From that point, furthermore you could be part of an original band, CHARM.

K: I came up with that name too. I think I made it up thinking it means “to charm, to fascinate”.

- Even after graduating from high school, you continued in that band.

K: But as expected, my parents didn’t approve, so for the time being I got into a vocational school. After the first semester, I decided to leave the school, I went only to convince/persuade my parents.

-Even after graduating high school, the band activities were local.

K: That’s right but I would rather say that we didn’t do much. Some members were working so more than doing nothing, it was like we weren’t moving much. Some members were working so we had periods that we did nothing. I still felt like I have to do it properly, so I used to play at live houses. Even so, we would play once or twice a year. That kind of level. Then, we would hang out at someone’s house and made songs with MTR.

-By the way, did HIDE’s existence mean the same for you as before?

K: Well, even more, I was addicted/crazy about him. X was appearing more and more on tv and they were national wide. The more opportunities you have to see them, the more you are going to like them. “Ah, Hide is wearing new clothes” or “Recently his hairstyle changed a little”, things like that. I would record all their tv appearances and I would see all the magazines. At that time, candid/natural photos were sold a lot a the bookstores. I bought many of HIDE. I bought a big hat that looked like the one that HIDE was wearing.

-You were completely a HIDE geek/nerd.

K: That’s right. When they came to Kansai, I would definitely go to see them. I also went for Tokyo Dome performances, “White Night” and “Blue Night”. I took a night bus with my friends, we arrived at Tokyo very early and would kill time around until the time of the concert. After it, I slept at all-night movie theatre in Shinjuku and then took an early-morning bus to come back home.

-Admiring his presence in that way, did you ever think “I want to become like that someday?”

K: I didn’t. Because I was playing only locally. Because there weren’t things like sending a demo tape or doing an audition. That’s why after that, if I hadn’t had the encounters that I did, I would probably have kept being local.

-What would you say to the Kaoru of that time?

K: To myself at that time? I see…. “Practice more!!!, I guess (laughs)

 (Next part)

#dir en grey #kaoru #dokugen

[aspiringhorrorauthor]

hello, PLEASE tell me your aroace analysis of the black parade album, i would like to see it 👀👀

What up guys, I just passed a vet med practice exam and I’m aroace and emo as fuck so let’s do this

 First off, I will preface that I know that this wasn’t quite MCR’s idea of the album, but art is interpretive and I will at every possible opportunity rub my grubby little aroace hands all over that shit. This is also gonna get long so here’s a read more

 Okay so first off, let me just exclude the following songs from this interpretation simply because they are exactly as they appear: The End, Dead!, Welcome to the Black Parade, Sleep, Teenagers and Blood. I can’t find anything to really psychoanalyse in this regarding the aroace experience so much as they are about the emo experience. And also, as a heads up, I feel this may teter more into aromantic interpretation than asexual simply because that’s how I roll, baby.

Let’s start with ‘This Is How I Disappear’, there’s something in here that strikes me as ‘coming to terms with being aroace Very Badly’, that first onset of panic when you realise ‘oh crap, I’m not allo’. I didn’t have the ‘hell yeah no sexual/romantic attraction oh wait there’s a word for that?’ realisation often stated online, I was in a lot of denial, especially when I first started listening to this album.

The lines “And without you is how I disappear/and live my life alone forever now” really strikes this message to me. The gnawing sense of loneliness and isolation when you first realise that you’re not like everyone else, that ‘living a life alone’ is both what you want from life and dread, as an amatonormative society drills into every one of us that love and relationships is what makes us important in life, and without it we will simply disappear. The line hits home the pain of questioning, the horror of when you realise this is who you likely are before you can truly accept it. It’s not a pretty part of being aroace, it wasn’t for me, but it is an important one, and the lines always hit home to me in this era.

Added on to this is a sense of how we’re seen in media. Consider the line “Who walks among the famous living dead”. There’s a real push in amatonormativity that love and romance is what makes us human, what makes us alive, and without it, we’re not human. Therefore, by extension, the aromantic narrator is ‘not alive’ by these standards, nor is their community they’ve yet to find. This is also doubled down by the monster symbolism throughout the song; especially when I was younger, aromantic (and asexual) coded characters in media were always the bad guys, the monsters who could only be stopped by the unstoppable power of love; the narrator is lamenting how this part of themselves seems monstrous, evil to society, when really that isn’t true, and this evolves over the course of the album.

Let’s move on to The Sharpest Lives. This is less aroace specific, but it certainly seems like a downward spiral of the narrator, which carries on from the self-loathing of Disappear. There’s really only 1 line I want to talk about here: “Juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands/Drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands, Romeo”. This is an obvious allusion to Romeo and Juliet, but it turns on its head the usual story of Romeo and Juliet being in love; Juliet doesn’t love Romeo, she just loves the beat, and Romeo is taking it too far. This speaks to another experience, not exclusive to aromantics, but definitely strongly felt in it, when someone misinterprets the relationship or your feelings and tries to push for romance when all you wanted was a good time. I had an awful experience of this myself, so I’m claiming this one for the aroaces.

(As an aside, I got into MCR around the same time we did Romeo and Juliet at school, so imagine little me, not knowing she’s aroace and sick to death of talking about romance at school and hearing this line. To say I lost my shit was an understatement. I ADORE that line.)

Next up is ‘I Don’t Love You’. I’ve talked about this one before on my blog, but this is the song that really gives it away to me that this album is very strongly catered towards aroaces. “But it’s a break up song!” No, it’s not, if you look at it from the correct angle. Also I’ve gone to further lengths with other break up songs so try me bitches (See: Love Drunk by Boys Like Girls being about disregarding amatonormativity rather than breaking up with someone. It’s so damn obvious too)

Here’s the short of it: I Don’t Love You is actually about falling out with a friend because you had entirely different ideas as to what it was you wanted from your relationship. The aro narrator wants it to remain friends; they’re happy with where they are, and doesn’t want it to change. The other ‘person’ in the song is alloromantic, and wants it to become a romantic relationship. The most important line for this is the most important line in the song: “When you go, would you even turn to say, I don’t love you like I did yesterday”. Let’s focus on the word choice here: ‘Like I did yesterday’. When allos talk about love, they talk about the amount; if this was about falling out of love, it would reflect that, that the other person in the song loves them less, not differently. The narrator is lamenting that their friend no longer loves them as a friend; the friend’s view of love has changed, they love them romantically, and less as a friend as a result, and the narrator’s insistence on remaining friends has highlighted this.

What’s more, I don’t think this is the first time the narrator has gone through this. Admittedly, I misheard one of the lines for years and I insist the line is “Another time was just another blow” but I’m not American so we don’t have dollars, and this is about me and my interpretation of the album so we’re in this ride together and I’m driving so lets do this. The song is very pained, you can hear it in Gerard’s voice, and there’s so little about the pain of losing a friend, especially when they wanted romance from you, that this song really speaks to.

What really gets me though is how the narrator is clearly still struggling with being aroace too. Let’s consider the line “Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading”. The narrator clearly isn’t at ease with their identity yet; maybe they wish they could keep their friend, but their placing their boundaries down, even though its costing a friend. These boundaries are important, and its important for our friends to respect them too. And listening to, and singing along to, this song really makes me proud for the narrator in a sort of self-love kind of way when you couldn’t love yourself.

Final matter on this song: the narrator still thinks of them as a friend, which is tearing the narrator apart. Yes, the line “Don’t ever think I’ll make you try to stay” might make you think differently, but I believe that’s the narrator setting their boundaries; they’re not going to become an item just to please their friend and make them stay. Instead lets look at “Better get out while you can”. The narrator sees that their different views on the relationship is incompatible, and suggests they ‘fall out’ before their friend gets too caught up, and the rejection pains them both even more.

Now for House of Wolves. Not a long to say on this one, but I see it as being about media and ace exclusionists. See, the song flips between another character seeing the narrator as an angel and as a sinner simultaneously; just as how the media depicts asexual/aromatic/aroace people as non-human, that our sexuality (or lack thereof) makes us incomplete (the sinner aspect), while exclusionists say that we must be loved by the same media (and by religion too) for being aspec (the angel aspect). The song flip flops between them very rapidly, a state of confusion that felt very poignant for me when I was questioning in the height of the ace discourse.

Okay Mama is just here not for interpretation but because my English teacher once told us to analyse songs for her to mark as revision for exams and she loves long songs and kept making us analyse them so I analysed Mama and handed that in and got an A*. So Mama said AroAce rights that day.

Disenchanted is another strange one, filled with lines that mean more to aroace interpretation than the song itself. It spoke to me most when I was on my year out, having failed to get into uni despite good grades, still struggling with coming to terms with being aromantic, and dealing with severe anxiety. All in all, it was a year of disenchantment. It’s a good song. So what about an aroace interpretation?

The main thing about the song seems to be pretending to be someone you’re not. And really, when talking with family who expect you to be allo, how can you be anything but? I was told in this time that ‘Girls only go to university to find a husband’, which is many levels of wrong, but that thought always sticks in my head with this song. Moreover, I always think of break up songs with the line “You’re just a sad song, with nothing to say”, because they ARE just sad songs with nothing to say; and yet we’re expected to love them, because it’s a universal experience. There’s never been nothing to them.

But really, the line “I spent my high school career spit on and shoved to agree, so I can watch all my heroes sell a car on TV” is what really spoke to me. You spend school years being told that these people are sexy, you’ll want romance one day, and you have to agree or we’ll bully you mercilessly for it. The kids at school knew who was aroace before they knew what aroace meant. And we grow up watching heroes we relate to on TV, the fantastic loners who don’t need a significant other, only for fandom and the shows themselves to pair them up, make them “sell cars on tv” and sell out what made them special to us. And it hurts. And this song reflects that so well. In this song, the narrator is reflecting back on the years lost by hating themselves, slowly coming to terms with being aroace.

And finally, Famous Last Words. This is the real tipping point where the narrator feels comfortable with themselves, and finally confronts the friend from ‘I Don’t Love You’. The song is sung by one person, yes, but it feels like a dialogue between the friend, who still wants to hold a romantic relationship with the narrator, and the narrator who’s finally had enough. The introduction is from the friend, their thoughts on the narrator and how they know that they’re not going to win, but maybe they can make them feel bad for it “But where’s your heart?”, the friend is accusing the narrator of being heartless for being aromantic. But here’s the thing:

The narrator’s accepted who they are. “Well is it hard understanding? I’m incomplete.” The narrator accepts that they’re aroace, that to the friend, they are different, they don’t experience romance. The pain that they felt in the first few songs, of being the living dead and disappearing, makes them feel incomplete still, but they’re finally secure with being aroace enough to declare that, while they aren’t fully there yet, “I am not afraid to walk this world alone.” The narrator knows who they are, and they’re no longer afraid of it. Even when the friend tries to backpedal “Honey if you stay I’ll be forgiving” the narrator knows that the friend isn’t worth the pain anymore “Nothing you can say can stop me going home.”

That’s also why the lines about ‘love’ in this song are so important too. “A love that’s so demanding I can’t speak” “A love that’s so demanding, I get weak”. The narrator is explaining that, for them, romance is demanding; it’s not easy, and it’s not worth it for them, it’ll tire them out. The first quote can also speak of their friendship now; it’s so demanding, the narrator feels that if they stay, they may not be able to speak up for themselves any more. They have to friend break up, for both of their wellbeings.

And finally, the last verses “Awake and unafraid, asleep or dead” is the final attempt at kicking the narrator, harking back to “the famous living dead”. But the narrator refutes it by insisting that they’re not afraid to be alone anymore. And the song ends with the narrator winning, leaving the friend for good, for a better life.

 And that’s the aroace interpretation of Black Parade.

And it’s 2200 words long fuck

#my chemical romance #the black parade #aroace #aromantic #asexual #You should've asked me why I can headcannon every video game character as aroace instead its shorter #Well all except the sims 2

[suninks-moved]

worldbuilding: problems

there’s no place where everything runs smoothly. every country has it’s problems. that might be poverty, weak government, fake news, gun violence, or abuse of magical abilities. it could really be anything. so what’s wrong with your world?

what could go wrong:

poverty

corrupt government (a few infiltrations? biased officials? a dictator?)

discrimination/persecution of any kind (sexism, racism, religion, anything that makes someone unique)

violence (gangs, guns, magic, sexual assault)

failing economy

counterfeits (money, expensive products, anything)

drugs (fake drugs, very real and dangerous drugs)

weak government (ie. the government isn’t necessarily corrupt, but no one listens to them and they have no real power at all so everyone just runs amok)

environmental crisis

relations with other countries/regions

war

fake news (can be something smaller like what goes around on the internet today, or something as horrible as the propaganda the axis powers fed their people about the allied powers)

scarcity

terrorist groups

stereotypes (remember, even seemingly positive stereotypes can be damaging)

manipulation/using people

there’s a whole lot more, get creative! as saddening as this will be, scrolling through news articles will give you some good inspiration because our world is pretty messed up

how to choose which problems to include

what is your world like? as obvious as this probably sounds, your world’s problems are directly related to the things in your world. choose pretty much any element of your world, however small it may seem, and there can be made a problem out of it.

in a world of magic:

magic can be abused

magic can be faked (ie. in harry potter, around exam season, students sell items that “enhance your brain” or whatever when it’s really pixie poop, i’m not even kidding)

discrimination between magical and non magical people (muggleborns vs. purebloods)

people rely too much on magic and become weak (a great example of this is the Renegades series, where the non prodigies depend on the prodigies way too much)

non magic people using magical people (or magical people using other magicals, ex. grindelwald/percival graves using creedence to find the obscurial)

really, the problems for a magical world are endless - you can use regular real-life problems with a twist. the magical government lies to the public, buying out the main news source? people of pure magical lineage are somehow better than those related to non magical people? harry potter is a fantastic example of magical worldbuilding, steal stuff from jkr (but don’t make gay characters who are never actually gay)

in a world of science:

i’m a big fantasy nerd, much less sci-fi, so i don’t really have any good examples from books/movies, but here are some ideas anyway

the people who live on a different planet are starting to run out of resources and take over the earth (literally the plot of the Lunar Chronicles series)

the government is testing out new sciencey techy stuff and they accidentally make superhuman demon things (Incredibles, but they’re nice guys, not demon things, except maybe jack jack but he’s a cutie don’t hurt him)

terrorist groups steal a smart guy to make weapons for them (Iron Man)

the world is dying 

two + planets are fighting over something

technology/inventions/whatever can be abused

wow these are terrible i’m sorry i need to read more sci-fi

again, you can take regular real world problems and put a sciencey twist on them; a gang that kills people with laserbeam contact lenses, a new invention that uses a very rare element that’s important to the ecosystem and is starting to destroy the planet, the little robots we send to mars become self aware and build a colony of robots. go off

#worldbuilding problems #9k #old post #ngl i hate this post njcadnjsd