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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

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August Contest Submission #18: The Concrete Rose

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: Angst, brief Hansanna

October 12, 2019

From the second Elsa saw her roommate, she knew she would become her muse.

Douglas Academy of the Arts produced hundreds of graduates every year already with an astounding, artistic reputation. Anyone that had a future in the arts ran through Douglas Academy first. But that prestige came at a price, success at all costs meant that almost everyone was cold and cutthroat; no one was a classmate, everyone was competition.

It was a mantra that all the students bought into except for two people: Elsa and her roommate Anna. From a simple handshake and a peace offering in the form of a chocolate bar (“The vending machine accidentally gave me two, how lucky is that?!”), Anna stood out from everyone else in Elsa’s eyes.

They became quick friends despite how drastically different they were. Elsa was reserved and stayed in her head a lot, Anna loved people and spoke every thought that came to her. Elsa was constantly second-guessing her decisions and had a keen eye for details, Anna was more impulsive and loved seeing the bigger picture. Elsa was a sculptor who kept her works secret until they were finished, Anna was a dancer who would always post videos of her practicing for her latest performance.

The one thing they had in common was their need to support the other.

One day well into their first semester, Anna barged into Elsa’s room with a flyer that she’d gotten in almost all her classes: an advertisement for the 3-D Art Showcase in three weeks. “You’re doing this, right?” she asks, pushing the flyer in front of Elsa’s face. “You’re entering a thingie into the thing?”

Elsa plucked the flyer out of Anna’s hands and turned back around in her chair, “Not a chance. I heard first years get eaten alive at these showcases, I’ll wait until next year.”

“Oh come on! You’d kick so much ass if you entered something. Remember that clay canary you made me?” Anna pressed her palms against Elsa’s shoulders, which almost knocked the pencil out of the unexpecting sculptor’s hands.

Elsa shook her head, “That was different. I’d have to make like… something fancy and intricate if I want to even be considered for the showcase.”

“Well, can’t you at least try? Please?” Anna slid her hands down so she could wrap her arms around Elsa’s shoulders from behind. “I can help you just like you helped me while I was rehearsing my first interpretive dance.”

It took a while for Elsa to get used to Anna’s touchiness, but she learned to accept it. This was just another thing that added to Anna’s eclectic personality, and besides Elsa was a big fan of the rosemary body wash she was using. “Anna, all I did was press play on your speaker.”

“Which helped out a lot!” Anna assured her. “You know how much energy I could have wasted doing that myself?”

“… not a lot?”

“Just think about joining, okay? Knowing you, I bet you probably have like five ideas running through your head and when you pick one, I’ll do whatever I can to help turn that idea into something concrete.”

Well if thinking about it was all that Anna was asking her to do, then Elsa could do that. Less commitment that way. And she was right, of course, there were five ideas floating around in Elsa’s mind but none of them she could latch on to and say that that was the one to work on. “Alright fine,” she said after a dramatically heavy sigh, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s my girl! Oh shit, I’m gonna be late for rehearsal!” Anna sprinted out of Elsa’s room to grab her dancing shoes. Before slamming their shared door shut, she said, “If you eat my spaghetti, I’ll kill you!”

November 5, 2019

There was something that Anna told her that day which stuck with Elsa much more than she thought it would.

Turning an idea into something concrete.

What if she sculpted something out of concrete? It was a near guarantee that a lot of the sculptors entering the showcase would be using clay, recycled metals, or wood; using concrete would probably help her stand out and better her chances of being picked. After a researching how to make this work, and some choice words of encouragement and dancing from Anna, Elsa set to work getting everything she needed for her crazy idea.

There was still, of course, one glaring problem: What was she going to sculpt?

Her answer came to her during Anna’s first performance of the semester. It was an interpretive dance that told the story of a young gladiator fighting for the freedom of his sister who was enslaved by a vindictive landowner. Her ability to tell this story without words (not even in the song she chose) wowed the audience and inspired Elsa as she waited for every beat of the story she’d seen Anna tell maybe a hundred times in their dorm.

Elsa decided to recreate one of the poses Anna did where she jumped in the air and punched her arm out like she was thrusting a spear into an unseen adversary. It was a painstaking process that tested her dexterity and her patience even more so, she shut herself in her room until it was finished. In the end, the sculpture was much smaller than she wanted it to be because she underestimated how much concrete mix she actually needed. And a piece of Anna’s skirt chipped off because it refused to stick to the wire mesh. Still, overall she was very impressed with herself.

And so it seemed was the showcase committee, because she was given one of the last remaining spots on the showcase floor.

Elsa somehow found a way to keep Anna from seeing it beforehand, so when she went with her roommate to the showcase, her reaction was genuine.

Anna gasped, “Holy shit, is this me?! She’s so pretty!”

Everyone in the building looked at them with judgmental glares, especially the judges. Elsa didn’t mind all that much, she wasn’t expecting to take a ribbon home, this was more about proving she could hang with Douglas’ best and to thank Anna for supporting her these past few months.

“I ran out of time to add details to the face, so I kept it blank,” Elsa explained. “I hope it doesn’t look too creepy.”

Anna shook her head, “No, I love it! It’s like… it fits so much with Henry’s character, the gladiator I mean. He presents himself as this nobody that could be anybody, like Henry is just a faceless idea, but he stands for justice and integrity, which can speak to anyone.”

Elsa smiled, her heart fluttering from the feeling of being understood. “I’m glad you were able to see that. I think I’ll steal that explanation when the judges come over.”

“Fine, but if you win a ribbon then you’re buying me dinner. For believing in you and for being your muse.”

“Pssh, you are not my muse.” How in the world did Anna already know that?

Anna squeezed Elsa’s shoulders and smiled, her eyes seeing right past Elsa’s thin resistance. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Michaelangelo.”

The judges came around a few minutes later to ask her some questions and write notes on their clipboards. Anna wanted to talk her roommate up so badly but settled on providing moral support right next to Elsa as she answered the questions concisely and with the professionalism that got her into Douglas Academy in the first place.

She didn’t win a ribbon, but decided to take Anna out to dinner anyway.

December 26, 2019

“I think concrete should be your thing,” Anna said before taking another long sip of her hot chocolate.

“My thing?” Elsa asked.

“Yeah, like the thing that makes you stand out from everyone else. The thing you’re known for. Da Vinci had his inventions and paintings, Degas painted ballet dancers, you could be the concrete rose.”

Elsa chuckled, “Concrete rose? That sounds more like you than it sounds like me.”

Anna gasped, “Why Ms. Elsa, you best be careful or I might just take that as a compliment.”

“Uhh you should because it was.” Elsa gently kicked her foot forward to keep the front porch swinging. They drank their hot chocolates in silence, relishing in that post-Christmas bliss. Elsa’s family was always a little more dysfunctional around the holidays, but when Anna told her she’d be spending her Christmas in the dorms she knew that couldn’t happen. Her best friend deserved a real Christmas for the first time in forever.

When their mugs were empty, Anna spoke again, “Thank you for letting me come with you. I… maybe I would have felt a little lonelier this Christmas. And I’m happy that I’m not.”

“Anna, you’re my best friend- heck, you’re like the sister I never had. I can’t leave my sister hanging, you know?” The confession is so raw and unusual for Elsa that it doesn’t feel right coming from her lips at first, but the more this moment sat the better it felt.

She looked to Anna, her red cheeks were a sign that the cold was finally getting to her. “I had a lot of foster siblings growing up… none of them liked me all that much.”

“Well that’s their loss.”

“Thank you, Elsa. Really. Everything you do means a lot to me, I hope you know that.”

Elsa smiled and tapped her shoe against Anna’s, “Everything you do means a lot to me too.”

Anna brought the empty mug back to her lips. “So, if we’re sisters, does that mean I get to steal your clothes and burst into your room to tell you stupid nonsense?”

“You mean you don’t already do that now?” The force that Anna pushed her with almost sent Elsa off the porch swing.

October 21, 2020

Elsa and Anna complemented each other’s strengths in a way neither of them ever expected. The 3-D showcases happened four times a year, and Elsa entered every one of them with the support of Anna. There were also four major dance performances throughout the year, and Anna entered every one of them with Elsa’s support.

Anna had taken second place for interpretive dancing at the last competition, but Elsa was still looking for her first major win. She felt confident, however, in her entry for the upcoming showcase.

“I mean I love it of course, but it’s ambitious,” Anna said while looking over Elsa’s sketch. “How are you gonna carve out the bird and the cage at the same time?”

“I was thinking of making the cage and bird separate, and then putting them together,” Elsa answered. “If I get the dimensions right, I can hammer some nails underneath the cage so it stays put.”

“Hmm, alright well you sound like you know what you’re doing.” Anna handed back the sketch. “And I’m gonna support you a hundred percent. No matter what.”

“I know you will,” Elsa said while putting her arm around Anna’s shoulder. “… I think this is the one.”

“I think so too,” Anna said proudly. “And when you come back with a ribbon-”

“You’re buying me dinner.”

Anna gasped and wriggled out of her best friend’s arm, “Rude!”

Elsa rolled her eyes, “Oh please, half my budget is spent feeding you. I’m sure you can afford to buy me dinner one time.”

She saw the gears turning in Anna’s mind, trying to come up with a rebuttal, but in the end she groaned and said, “Fine, I’ll take your bum ass out for dinner, sis.”

Elsa worked harder than she ever had before, inspired once again from seeing Anna’s latest performance. It was a soliloquy in dance form, about a bird who’d spent their entire life on the move and in the hands of many owners, but never once being allowed out of its cage. It paralleled Anna’s life story: the foster child from New York who was only getting her first taste of freedom now. She paid special attention to the bird’s eyes, wanting them to emulate the longing and ambition she saw in her best friend.

The process resulted in a lot of tiny cuts and a couple of sleepless nights, but it was all worth it in the end. She won second place at the showcase.

True to her word, Anna took her out for dinner that very night on the condition that Elsa wear the obnoxiously huge, red ribbon. They had to stick it on her shirt with a safety pin. “Alright, where does Madame Second Place want to go for dinner?” Anna asked, dressed in an adorable skirt and blouse combo.

“I was kinda joking, you know?” Elsa said. “You don’t actually have to buy me dinner.”

“Oh please, you can’t get cold feet now. I mean you’re already wearing the ribbon, that’s like… I don’t know, it’s like when your high school prom date puts the corsage on you. It’s official, no backing out.”

Elsa raised an eyebrow, “What so you’re my prom date now?”

Anna pursed her lips, “Well maybe not for prom, it’s too late for that. But I’ll be your date if you want me to.”

That answer leaves Elsa speechless.

“Ooh, I know where we can go!” Anna added before Elsa could finish catching up to the millions of thoughts running through her mind. “There’s this really good Mexican place downtown. I heard they sell this burrito that’s the size of your forearm, and I have long forearms so I wanna see that. Sound good?”

Elsa blinked and said absently, “Yeah, let’s go.” They walked side by side to Anna’s car, all the while Elsa pretended she wasn’t seeing her best friend in a brand new light.

May 15, 2020

It’s a scary feeling to know that you’re in love with your best friend. Even scarier when you’ve considered them your sister for almost two years now. It’s like being strapped in to the world’s best roller coaster against your will. Sometimes it’s exhilarating and you think maybe this isn’t so bad, but most of the time you’re screaming and want to get off.

Elsa’s been on the same damn ride for months now and it hasn’t gotten any easier. But she’s accepted it, which is something she never expected.

All of Anna’s errant touches, her smiles and glances, and even just the way she says “we”… Elsa has second-guessed each and every single one of her behaviors. And yes, she would probably stop overthinking if she’d just talk to Anna but she doesn’t know how. It’s hard enough trying to have a regular conversation with her now, it’s nearly impossible approaching her with a talk about their feelings.

And even so, she’s accepted the fact that she’s fallen in love with her best friend. For the past two years, they’ve been nearly inseparable, there’s no one in the world she knows better or cares about more than Anna. Falling in love with her felt almost inevitable.

But did Anna feel the same way? Well, she’d find out soon.

For the last 3-D showcase of their second year, Elsa had been working on a particularly special project. It didn’t have to do specifically with Anna’s last performance, but it was dedicated to her nonetheless.

Rising from a slab of concrete, she sculpted out a finely detailed rose, complete with a realistic crack where the stem breaks out and defined petals spiraling into the rosebud. It represented Anna’s ability to grow and flourish from a life of a constantly uncertain home life and rough nights on the streets.

At the base of the concrete slab, she wrote ‘For Anna, for everything’. When Anna notices the inscription, that’s when Elsa would tell her how she feels.

She shut herself out from the world for a particularly long time; Anna only saw her when they were walking to classes together, and even then Elsa remained tight-lipped so as to not spoil the surprise. Her patience had to be rewarded, she figured, or else this would have all been for nothing.

When the showcase finally arrived, Elsa waited anxiously for Anna to show up. She said she would be running late because she needed to meet someone, but that was fine because it gave Elsa more time to figure out what she’d say to the judges. Which in turn helped keep her from pacing around the showcase floor like a lonely, lovesick puppy.

When the judges came, she defended the lack of complex expression and vibrancy of her piece by quoting Henry David Thoreau’s opinion on simplicity. And she covered the etching with her hand because that was one question she’d rather not answer just yet. At least not to them. The judges looked impressed with her answers and one of them even mentioned that she had a knack for giving life to her sculptures. The high from that compliment should have lasted her throughout the entire day, but it was shot down almost immediately.

When the judges left, she saw Anna walking towards her. But she wasn’t alone, she was with a guy.

And they were holding hands.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I was waiting for this guy to get his fucking shoes on.” Anna patted the guy’s chest with a coy smile. He was tall, proper, and with fashionably thick sideburns. The way he wore his t-shirt and jeans looked awkward, as if he was ripped straight from a 19th century portrait and was forced to wear modern clothes to blend in.

“Hey in my defense, I didn’t know I was going to the showcase until you texted me like half an hour ago,” he said while wrapping her arm around Anna’s shoulders.

“Lies. And propaganda.” Anna turned to Elsa with a softer smile on her lips, which was just another hit to Elsa’s already bruising heart. “Again, I’m sorry I was late but I figured it was time for you two to meet. Elsa, this is Hans. We’ve been dating for a month now.”

A month?

A… a month.

Elsa’s doing her best to remain polite and cordial, but it’s hard when her entire body feels like it’s crumbling onto the floor. She extends a hand out anyway, wincing when Hans takes it with more strength than she’s expecting. “It-It’s nice to meet you, Hans. Anna’s lucky to have you around.” The words come out of her mouth like a rejected poison.

Anna talked some more, so did Hans, and maybe Elsa nodded and smiled when she needed to, but for the life of her she couldn’t tell you what the hell they talked about. When it came time for the… couple to examine Elsa’s sculpture, Anna beamed at her with that same pride that was on her face since day one and Hans said she did a good job. Elsa kept her hand over the inscription the entire time.

She won another second place ribbon. When Anna noticed the inscription, Elsa said it was a thank you for being a wonderful friend. Each word felt like pulling teeth.

September 4, 2020

They met at the campus coffee shop while Elsa was isolating herself. Ironically, Anna was going there to get a hot chocolate to surprise Elsa.

She brought Anna and Hans together.

It was a very lonely summer for Elsa. Since Hans lived in New Jersey, it wasn’t that hard for him to visit Anna whenever he wanted, which is exactly what he did. They spent almost every moment of the summer together, and while Elsa pretended to be happy with getting texts, the occasional phone call, and a surprise weekend visit from her best friend, none of it could stop the constant ache in her heart.

Move-in day for their third year was especially brutal, she unpacked absentmindedly while listening to Anna and Hans joke around and kiss when they thought she wasn’t looking. She tried all summer to let go of the feelings for Anna and to just be happy for her, but it felt like the more she tried, the more she held on.

“Alright, that’s the last box.” Anna wiped her hands on her jeans and looked at Elsa and then at Hans. “Let me just change out of this gross, sweaty shirt and we can get something to eat?”

“Of course, babe.” Hans kissed her and walked out of the girls’ dorm, Elsa finally let go of the breath she’d held since they started moving their stuff in.

“You’re coming with us, right?” Anna asked.

Elsa wasn’t expecting her to to talk to her, and she had to take a second for her mouth to catch up with her mind. “Uh no that’s okay,” she finally replied. “You two enjoy yourself, I want to unpack all of my stuff before I eat.”

Anna raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure? If you’re worried about being a third wheel, trust me it’s not gonna be like that.”

Elsa tapped her fingers on the stacked boxes in front of her. “No, I’m just not hungry yet. That’s all.”

“Well… alright, but I’ll bring you back some food and I won’t take no for an answer.” Anna peeled off her shirt and disappeared in her room to find a new one. From somewhere inside the room, she added, “We’ll hang out sometime soon okay? Just the two of us.”

October 1, 2020

'Sometime soon’ turned out to be nearly a month later. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but with the third year at Douglas being notoriously difficult, they needed to spend a little more time adjusting to the bigger workload and busier schedules. And any free time Anna did have was taken up by Hans…

Elsa continued to pretend to be okay, and she actually relished how busy their third year was going to be because it gave her something else to think about. A six-page essay on contour ate up time she was going to spend thinking about the sexual innuendo Hans was 'accidentally’ adding to him and Anna’s conversations.

The busy times couldn’t last forever, though, and Anna and Elsa finally found some time to spend together- just the two of them- one night on top of one of Douglas’ parking garages. It was a place they’d gone to many times just to get away from the staunch air of pressure and competition in every corner of every building underneath them. This was a place for them to breathe, a home away from a home away from home.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much lately,” Anna said, breaking the silence from their lack of conversation. “It’s just that this is the first relationship I’ve been in and… I don’t know, it’s exciting and new. Not that things aren’t like that with you, it’s just-”

“Anna, you don’t have to apologize. Whatever time I get to spend with you is just fine.” Elsa bites her tongue before she can say that she still wishes she had more time with Anna.

“I just don’t want you to feel like I’m neglecting you, that’s all.”

“Well, you’re not, so it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Okay…” Anna scooted closer to her, their bare elbows touching made the nerves in Elsa’s arm tingle and send shockwaves through her entire body. “Sooooo, you want to know what I’m doing for my next performance? You know, so you can start figuring out what you’re gonna do for the showcase.”

Elsa looked away, “I don't… I think I’m gonna skip the showcase this time.” She wanted to say she was going to skip the showcase this year, but that would have set off too many alarms in Anna’s head. She could deal with the one alarm she saw going off behind her best friend’s eyes.

“How come?” she asked.

“It just looks like it’s gonna be a real busy year, and I think I need to focus on getting through it. Once I can do that, then I can start thinking about sculpting again.”

“I… see.” Anna looked out across the campus. “And that’s the only reason?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Elsa wondered if there was something she said, or some visible part of her full of pain that she’d forgotten to cover up.

Anna shrugged, “No reason. Just wondering.”

Elsa didn’t have it in her to pry, so she also went back to looking at the buzzing nightlife of Douglas Academy. With luck, they wouldn’t have to address this ever again.

November 30, 2020

Luck remained on Elsa’s side for nearly two months, and then they returned from Thanksgiving Break. Anna had declined her invitation to spend Thanksgiving with her, and instead she spent it with Hans’ family. Who, as it turned out, was exceptionally rich.

Anna spent a good hour gushing over their massive house with the hot tubs (plural) and rooms as big as their whole dorm, and then talked about all the people that were there for Thanksgiving dinner and how amazing the food was. Knowing Anna’s struggles, Elsa tried to remain supportive while she gushed over Hans and his family and his really nice house. And then she said something that should have remained a thought.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet not joining me for Thanksgiving.”

Anna pounced on that out-of-character remark immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gosh, what could she say that wouldn’t sound passive-aggressive? Elsa decided on, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m really glad you had a good time on break.”

For a second, that looked like it would work. And then Anna closed her eyes and sighed, “Oh god… you don’t like Hans.”

Elsa didn’t say anything, which is the worst thing she could have said.

“Elsa, we’ve been going out for months now. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I…I guess I…”

Anna sighed and waved her hand, “Never mind, I guess it doesn’t matter. Look, I like you both so I don’t want things to feel awkward or whatever. What can I do to help? I want you to like Hans so that things don’t suck between us.”

There’s nothing Anna needed to do, this was a problem that Elsa had to deal with on her own. That’s what she wanted to say to her best friend. But instead, there was another disconnect between her brain and her mouth and she said something that was bound to make things worse, “You don’t even know why I don’t like him.”

Anna nodded, “You’re right. So why don't you like him?”

Elsa wrung her hands together, “Anna, we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“What? But you’re the one that brought it up.”

“I know, but it’s just not… this won’t end well.”

“Is this one of those things where the protective older sister hates every guy her sister dates and thinks that no one’s good enough for her?”

“No,” Elsa replied. And under her breath, she muttered, “I wish.”

“Elsa, we’re the only two people in your room. I heard that.” She scooted across the bed to get closer to Elsa, their fingers nearly touching were enough for Elsa to feel like her arm was on fire. “Just… tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

Though it felt like the wrong thing to do, Elsa pulled her hand away. “I don’t know if I can,” she replied. “Can we drop it please? For now?”

“… okay.”

December 13, 2020

This was the longest time Elsa and Anna had gone without talking to each other. Sure, they were polite and fake when Hans was hanging out in their dorm, and they still said good morning and whatnot to each other, but they hadn’t made an effort to really talk to each other in two weeks.

Knowing this was her fault, Elsa set out to craft an apology to Anna. After deciding on recreating the canary she made her during their first year, this time in concrete, she went to work quickly on creating the mesh outline for it. One night, during this process, she heard a knock on her door. A knock that could only belong to one person.

She took a deep breath and then opened her door. “Hey Anna,” she said far too generically.

“Do you love me?”

Elsa tensed up so much she almost tore her doorknob off. Any answer would have been a good one, but instead she remained frozen in silence.

“Hans and I had a fight and he said…well I mean he thought that… areyou in love with me?”

Still as a statue, much like the concrete rose Anna’s holding in her hand, Elsa somehow found her voice long enough to say, “Anna, I didn't…”

Anna nodded, and in the darkness of their shared loft Elsa could finally see that her best friend had been crying recently. “I should have known. I’m sorry.” She walked away, pressing the concrete rose closer to her chest, and disappeared into her room.

January 20, 2021

Though their relationship had hit an all-time low, Elsa felt it was wrong not going to Anna’s performance. She still very much wanted to support her best friend even if they still weren’t talking all that much. But Anna smiled at her the other day and that… gave Elsa hope somehow? Either way, it was enough to get her to stop being a coward and show up to the performance.

She arrived at the auditorium just in time to see Anna walk on to the stage, but not with enough time to find a seat. So she stood by the entrance awkwardly as the music began playing through the speakers. What conspired for the next five minutes was the most poignant expression of heartbreak and longing that Elsa had ever seen in dance form.

It started off as a simple ballroom dance, and though Anna had no partner you wouldn’t realize it in the way she moved. But her mystery partner continued to pull away no matter how many times Anna chased after them. When the partner disappeared, Anna continued to dance alone and while her moves were perfect and calculated, she let her posture slump with every break in the song. By the end, she’s nearly dragging herself along the floor hoping to make it to the end of the song, all the while reaching out for someone. Something. The song ends with her laying on the floor breathing heavily and the audience erupting in applause.

And for the first time in a very long time, Elsa felt a jolt of inspiration.

February 15, 2021

Elsa sat by the base of her sculpture. The judges had come to talk to her long ago and spectators were slowly trickling out of the building, but she couldn’t leave yet. In fact, she’d wait all night long for Anna if she had to. The note she left underneath Anna’s door even said so.

This had to be the fastest yet most detailed sculpture she’d ever created and there were no doubts as to what inspired her. Time continued to tick away, and Elsa continued to sit.

Finally, after an eternity, she saw the familiar silhouette of her best friend walking through the door. She was wearing the same skirt and blouse that made Elsa fall in love with her in the first place.

Quietly, Anna closed the gap until they were a couple of feet apart. “I got your note,” she said softly.

Elsa nodded, “I watched your performance.”

“Oh, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“I was in the back of the auditorium. But it was beautiful, I’ve never seen anyone move like you do. I’ve never seen anyone express heartbreak like you did.” Elsa wrung her hands together, “I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but did you and Hans…”

Anna nodded, “A couple of months ago, actually. But my performance, it… wasn’t about him.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No, it…” Anna took her first glimpse at Elsa’s sculpture and it completely threw her off. “Oh my god.”

Immortalized in concrete was Anna in a stunning ball gown, her face content while she swayed in the arms of her dance partner. Except unlike the gladiator sculpture, Anna’s partner was completely visible.

And it was Elsa.

“I know it’s a little forward, but it didn’t feel right having you dance alone,” Elsa replied. And with much less confidence, she added, “Is that okay?”

Anna looked at her, confusion settled on her face. But then that confusion chipped away slowly but surely until a beautiful smile was seen in its place. “It’s perfect,” Anna replied, “Y-you did it again.”

Elsa blushed, “Well, I do have a pretty wonderful muse.”

“Well, I think that muse owes you dinner. What do you say?” Anna reached out her hand, eyes telling her that this was what she wanted.

“She doesn’t owe me anything.” Elsa took her hand and a lovely, warm feeling enveloped her. “But I’d be glad to go with her.”

Anna squeezed her hand and said, “Then it’s a date.”

Elsa’s sculpture won first place that day.

#elsanna #submission #august 2021 contest #prompt: flowers

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delusional-void · 3 years

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Thank you so much for agreeing!

I'm Gabriela, but my friends call me Gabika, Gabi, Bella, Raven and Gigi. I'm 15 years old girl from Slovakia 🇸🇰, Libra ♎, 5'9 ft tall and I'm tall. I am an only child.

I am half Spanish, Russian and Slovak, my family members are from these wonderful countries and yep, I have a big family.

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Others are afraid of me and they call me freak, monster, hideous monster, freak of nature and so on. They beat me and slapped me but I always defend myself.

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I have always on me mascara with some eyeshadow and I usually wear pants and T-shirts. I hate skirts and I wear mostly blue and black clothes. That's why that nickname Raven.

I adore people who understands technique and I love them immediately. My favorite is Hi-tech.

I LOVE CHINESE DRAGONS! If you give me anything with Chinese Dragon ( T-shirt, textbooks, plushie, toy..) I love you for life! You make me really happy with this.

I love universe and if you tell me something new about dragons, I'll be listening you for hours.

That's All. Thank you so much again 💜💜

I think I'd pair you with

Donnie

Your eyes are the first thing that caught his eye

But your honesty, loyalty, and kindness are what really stole his heart

It makes him upset to hear that people make fun of you and call you names

He can definitely relate, but he wishes people would get to know the real you, the you he loves, before judging you

He is glad you aren't afraid to stand up for yourself

He isn't bothered by the fact you can't stand sunlight, down in the lair, there isn't much of that anyways

Whenever you smile, he can't help but feeling all warm inside, he loves seeing you happy

Even more when he gets to be the one making you smile

He loves it when you help him work on his inventions and was surprised you were so good at it

Now he often finds himself helping you with your inventions

He is obsessed with your drawings and always tries to sneak a peek at them before you've even finished them

Always recommending books to each other

One day he saw you drawing a Chinese Dragon in your sketchbook

Ever since then, he is always surprising you with little dragons

Paper mache, plushies, drawings (not near as good as yours, but hey, you love them anyway)

**Sorry, this might be terrible-or it might be okay! I've never done anything like this before, so I wasn't sure exactly what to put or how to put it. But I hope your happy with who you got!

#tmnt 2016 #tmnt match up #tmnt donatello

5 notes · View notes

smoochkooks · 4 years

Text

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed.

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

Park Jimin

Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.” it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn’t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.

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cornelthecursed · 3 years

Text

The story behind the vampire

// Finally after weeks of putting it off, Cornel’s story is ‘revamped’ so to speak (see the pun hehehe) A lot was added and a lot was redacted, but it does not change the interaction you might have with the vampire gentleman. Don’t worry you didn’t loose all too much from his story if you didn’t read the previous version and I quite get that asking you to read around 1,7k words long background to my character might be a little more than usual, however, I would very much appreciate if you could at least give it a skim.

Without further ado - let’s dive into it:

🩸 Early childhood

Cornelius’ life started like any other - being born to parents that were well off, he never had to worry about not having anything to eat at the end of the day. He had not suspected that he might have been of supernatural origin at all. However, not everything is all nice and pleasant when you are born in the 1500s. Even if he had no idea about magics and vampires or other supernatural creatures, humans around them did. You see, his parents were not regular humans either - a mother who was a renowned vampiress and his father being the son of the Lightbringer himself, attracted unwanted attention.

The city was in uproar with accusing everyone of witchcraft and his parents were no exception. His mother had enough foresight to hide the poor child in the tool shed of their gardens when the inquisition came to get them. Cornelius stayed there for hours not knowing what was going on exactly, he had thought that bad people came to speak to his parents and so he had to hide (it was not the first time he had done so, an antichrist and a vampire marrying and actually creating an offspring isn’t exactly approved of), however, as the hours passed and his stomach grumbled with bigger intensity the longer he stayed there he slipped outside.

It didn’t take long to figure out that his parents were not home, nor their servants. Everyone was dragged off apparently and the boy did the next best thing. Grabbing a few pieces of food to eat at the moment he slipped into his bed. Being woken up early the next day by shouts of the guards to bag anything they saw for their taking Cornel used every wit he had at his disposal to hide and run away from his family home.

He realized pretty soon that he would have to scavenge for food to make due, going around town he begged where he could, nipping a bread or a grape from the odd basket put on the floor while they bantered for a better price. A first sneak peek into the life of crime for our little Cornelius. However it wasn’t long before a certain man found the boy stealing from him and decided to make him pay for the food by actually working for him - as an apprentice, since he had no children of his own. The man turned out to be the later famous man Leonardo da Vinci.

🩸 Adolescence

Gaining skills in woodworking and actually staying still (whenever muse struck his adoptive father to draw him) kept Cornel busy during his early years. Soon he was being sent out to make deals, or meet people in Leonardo’s stead when he had proven capable enough. He trained almost daily to keep his body well kept and he had a prospect in joining an order that went against the corruption that was going on in the city they lived in.

However, fate had a different plan for him. Around the age fourteen he had got very sick, to a point where he was bed ridden. No one knew what was happening to him, the doctor that was called had thought it was tuberculosis, since he was coughing up blood.

Turns out it was the year that changed his life completely. He had eventually, after weeks upon weeks of the lungs hurting and heart palpitations, turned into a creature of the night he had never heard of, with thirst that could not be satiated with normal means.

He could still feel his heartbeat, he could still breathe (even if the time he could spend underwater drastically prolonged), yet he looked different. His eyes changed from their previous blue color to red, whites exchanged for blackness that seemed to be unending, not to mention the fangs. He couldn’t go out during the day anymore either. And yet he had started researching (perhaps he had learned from his adoptive father or not), looking into anything supernatural he could get his hands on. Eventually he had found a witch who helped him with the sun dilemma, the constant voices in his head (turns out our boy is telepathic) and the weird object movement that happened around him (telekinetic powers as well). She even taught him a few glamour spells to cover up his real identity, which helped him to establish himself into the society once again.

🩸 Adulthood - until the WW I

The years went by and he trained with the assassins. He wasn't very skilled in hand-to-hand combat (and still has trouble with it) but he had been shaped into a skillful tracker, strategist and sniper/long range combatant. He used his powers to help the guild where he could, but more often than not he got captured by the enemy and tortured in many various ways, which left scars on his physical body. Surprisingly he coped with the mental scars pretty well.

Still as a young vampire, he fell in love with a beautiful mortal woman. He had created a bond with her on a spiritual level he had not known was possible (granted that was the result of his supernatural nature and them exchanging their blood accidentally), he was at first scared of the fact that they could feel each other’s emotions and had to come forth to his partner as not being completely human. Yet Emalia took it in stride and accepted him for what he was, which Cornel was eternally grateful for.Their wedding was the most joyous thing in his life, right after the birth of his daughter, Caitlin. Few months after that he picked on work yet again, this time he decided for a more docile one, since he had a family to take care of.

Yet as it was in life - when there are good things, bad ones are right behind the corner. One night when he had stayed longer in town working on a wooden piece for one of his clients his world turned upside down. He had found his family murdered in their own home, his heart breaking in half at the sight. Not to mention the chest ache from the bond breaking didn’t help any.

After burying them and still stricken with grief he made it his personal mission to hunt down those that killed his immediate family, since that was the only one he had in this world. But oh, if it ended there. He found the two hunters of course, but the newfound bloodlust that dulled the pain he felt, the surge of power with the amount of blood he consumed….it didn’t end well for the city of Venice, near which he had lived.

The bloodshed that he had caused took around five vampires to stop. Only when he was face down on the flagstones, tears running down his cheeks from the amount of pain he was feeling and seeing what he had caused made him sober up. That was the day he met his best friend Leoric - not without a nice little story to exchange between themselves now as they recalled the old days, the poor two thousand year old vampire of a viking had a scar to prove their first meeting made by none other than yours truly.

After that incident with Leoric keeping a close eye on the young pureblood, Cornelius had moved out of his home country, not being able to stay because of the memories and more importantly hunters that were hot on his tail. Few attempts were made at his life during his stay in Italy by the aforementioned group, scarring the otherwise perfect skin around his heart and a thin line across his throat. Finding a nice spot in the UK, a few hours away from London and near a small village Ibberton, Cornel started on building his dream home in the middle of a clearing. Not even realizing how but had built himself a sizable mansion.

🩸 Adulthood - WW I & after

The world wars rolled in. Cornel felt obliged to answer the call to arms and yet there was more imminent war than the one between the humans. His own race was warring against the werewolves all the while archduke was assassinated in Sarajevo. It was not a big battle, a skirmish at most a couple of hundred of kilometers away from his own home, yet Cornelius was not left unscathed.

Up until that point he was making his fortune in tracking people and even killing them if the contract required it off him, however, after he returned home from the vampire-werewolf war he had to put that kind of job on hold. He prided himself on being a good strategist, on observing and using the information the best he could, yet it is completely different to do so on the battlefield. One second of not paying attention and he ended with a spear coated in werewolf’s blood through his left knee.

Even after years or healing, of drinking antidote for months after the battle, he was left with a limp. Relieving him of duties towards the United Kingdom in the upcoming wars. With the time that suddenly appeared in his hands he started to seek different hobbies (not sure how tracking and killing people could be a hobby but to each their own). Leoric, who was always somewhere around his old time friend suggested to take up cooking, since he himself was baking and found enjoyment in it. Few tries later and the vampire sacrificed sleep in attempt to perfect his skills in the kitchen.

By the end of the twentieth century, he was a skilled chef that would give Gordon a run for his money and since there really was no better time than to start his own business than after the world wars he did that. Funding the rent of a place in Ibberton, he founded Assaggia la Storia, an Italian restaurant keeping true to his family roots.

Granted there are many stories and little tidbits that occurred in vampire’s life - be it how other vampires flocked to him or how he actually managed to lay claim to his family heirloom back in Italy. Yet these are the ones that marked his life the most, making an impact on how he is now. The rest are for you to discover through mutual interaction.

Updated: 18th August 2021

#//bio #//the story behind the vampire

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caramelldraws · 3 years

Text

A TARANTULA GUIDE - nearly done! :D

I just got my marks so this is the first look at the tarantula guide book I put together for my final project for my mediadesign ... what´s the english word for Ausbildung again? Anyways this is what it looks like so far (sneak-peek!), I expect to still have to iron out a lot of mistakes still as professional feedback is still pending and some of the topics were victims of time crunch.

As we were not meant to write our own texts and are being graded solely on the design, I had to copy parts (from wikipedia (sorry, it´s good for anatomy) and tarantula websites made by people far more knowledgeable than me) to get it done in time without resorting to using filler text as one of my profs suggested (no SIR I will NOT get rid of these texts, yes there´s a lot that´s were all the information is supposed to be! Designers I swear).

All the illustrations were done by me and I really hope to add more until I can print it (for myself, no money involved)!

(Click for the crisp)

(please excuse the mockups) The cover is black because everything I make is black for some reason, the illustration is supposed to look like Da Vinci´s Vitruvian Man although I decided against drawing sixteen legs - eight is quite enough. Photoshop literally hates me so I had to draw this twice two days before the deadline :(

Each new topic is introduced by a title page with a white illustration on black ...

... which is then mirrored on the inside of the chapter in black on white. Pure Magenta (okay so everything I make is black and white with fun colors if you leave me alone for too long. Sue me). I wanted to take a look at different reasons for arachnophobia - which of course most tarantula people don´t really need but I wanted it to be as well-rounded as possible, going over definiton, anatomy, phobia, mythology and myths, venom, bodylanguage, molting, sexing, mating, setups, feeders and slings as well as a small selection of typical beginner species (yeah there´s way too many to name but it´s supposed to be like a small primer for the ones new in the community - like me! I didn´t have one when I put this together but I do now!)

parts from body language and venom chapter

(help girl I love block text layout too much but it´s a bitch to put around some illustrations) I had a hard time choosing which mythological spider stories to take but I must admit favorites won out at the end so I went with the classics!

Molty time! This time with some red. Every chapter gets one little extra color if needed for the illustration

some info on enclosures (the mockup wasn´t happy with this one, I think it´ll look better in real life as the book binding I chose so far will accomodate the illustration a bit better)

there be a small selection of dirt :>

Can´t forget dinner of course, have some.

I debated for a long time how much to put into the species descriptions as I didn´t want to go overboard and like I said, still don´t have enough experience to call myself anywhere near knowledgeable. So I went with some small trivia to provide a little information, with the general idea that anyone interested enough would be doing their own research on which species to get and why.

I often tried to put an emphathis on reaching out to others in the hobby and doing your own research a lot because I feel this is the best way to get into the hobby.

Anyways, the whole thing is a good 100 pages long by now, with some more being planned. The full layout is 165 x 245mm when closed, I used Gentium Book Basic for long texts and Bely Display Regular for headlines and similar :3 We had roughly eight weeks to start and complete our projects and I still can´t believe I actually finished it in time. I think I drew about 45 spiders (and critters) that made the final cut into the book so far xD

#hey look a dead blog zombie #tarantula #final project #sorry i´m having happy jitters rn ><#long post

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magusofstone-archived · 4 years

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Ladies and Gentleman, I present: The Fate Protag Shuffle!

We’re all the protagonists of the Fate franchise that you all love, getting down and spitting rhymes, together we’ll have a real good time!

Now we’re not doing this for any money, a cease and desist does not sound funny, we’re not here to start no trouble, we’re forced by OP to do the Fate Protag Shuffle!

They call me Shirou, OG MC, as reckless as a human being can be,

Getting myself into danger, refusing to summon my servant Saber,

I’ll never give up despite that though, I’ll aim to someday become a hero,

I’m not here to put myself in trouble, I’m forced like the others to do the Fate Protag Shuffle!

Kiritsugu is my name, ‘Magus Killer’ is my claim to fame,

Irisviel is my awesome wife, both her and my daughter are my life,

Or at least they were, then Iris died, making me feel more dead inside,

This dance is stupid, it isn’t fun, but at least I’m with my daughter and son.

I’m Bazett Fraga McRemitz yo, the baddest mage lady you’ll ever know,

I dreamt of fighting with the Child of the Light, and winning the Grail War to make his life right,

Punching bad guys, being brazen, getting my arm and command seals taken,

But I’m not here to start a scuffle, I’ve been coerced to do the Fate Protag Shuffle!

We’re all the protagonists of the Fate franchise that you all love, getting down and spitting rhymes, together we’ll have a real good time!

Now we’re not doing this for any money, a cease and desist does not sound funny, we’re not here to start no trouble, we’re forced by OP to do the Fate Protag Shuffle!

Hakunon is what people call me, my friends are Shinji, Rin and Rani,

With Nero Claudius I fought a Grail War, in a digital world inside the moon’s core,

Although I remained undefeated, in the end, I got d̸̻̜͓̦̘̈́e̴͔̬͝͠ͅͅl̴͓̮̀̅̑ė̷̗̺̗t̴̼͚͊e̷̡̦̠̐̇̓̋ď̸̬͖̫̗̿̓̄͝

And although I wonder how I’m even here, options other than to do this shuffle don’t appear.

‘Sieg’ is what I like to go by, once just one of many homunculi,

Close to death, Siegfried bravely gave up his heart so he could save me,

Now I wait in the world’s reverse side, waiting for my love Jeanne to arrive

Until then, whether fall or spring, I also have to do this shuffle thing.

Last name Einzbern, first name Illya, please don’t lewd me, or I’ll kill ya!

With trading cards I can wield the power of heroic spirits in a needful hour,

Also there’s like two more of me- well, four if you’re speaking more technically,

Swift like a bird, and sweet like a truffle, I also have to do this Protag Shuffle!

EPIC GUDA SAX INTENSIFIES

I’m Ayaka Sajyou, the real OG, no one here is as normal as me,

At least I think so comparatively, and I’m also.. a magus...

...

T-That aside, I’ll think you’ll find that I am also one of a kind...

F to the U to the J-I-‘Maru! I’m hippin’-to-the-hoppin’ and so are you!

Saving the world is what we’re doin’, protecting humanity from total ruin!

With Mashu, Romani, Da Vinci and friends, the fate of everyone on us depends!

We’ll save the future, on the double, but first I’mma rock this Protag Shuffle!

We’re all the protagonists of the Fate franchise that you all love, getting down and spitting rhymes, together we’ll have a real good time!

Now we’re not doing this for any money, a cease and desist does not sound funny, we’re not here to start no trouble, we’re forced by OP to do the Fate Protag Shuffle!

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Star Trek: Lower Decks Episode 9 Easter Eggs & References

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This Star Trek: Lower Decks article contains spoilers for Episode 9. You can read our review here.

If you started watching new Star Trek in the past ten years, that means your introduction to the franchise might have been the J.J. Abrams reboot films. From 2005 to 2017, there wasn’t any new Trek on TV, making the movies the only representatives of new stories set in the Final Frontier. This was also true for a big chunk of the 80s, before The Next Generation debuted in 1987. Arguably, without the success of the Trek films — either in the ‘80s or in the ‘00s — subsequent renaissances of Trek on TV wouldn’t have been possible. The latest episode Star Trek: Lower Decks is fully aware of this fact, and in episode 9 of season 1 — “Crisis Point” — the show tips its hat to the larger-than-life cinematic voyages of Starfleet.

Along the way, there are references to all 13 Star Trek feature films, at least two versions of Star Trek that were never made, and one iconic shout-out to Aliens. Here’s all the Easter eggs and references we caught in Lower Decks episode 9, “Crisis Point.”

They’re eating those guys!

The lizard aliens Mariner is trying to liberate seem to be oppressed by an alien that looks suspiciously like an Antican. In the TNG episode “Lonely Among Us,” the Anticans were self-described carnivores who kind of looked like dogs. In that episode, the Anticans were rivals with a reptilian-like species called the Selay. These lizard people don’t look like the Selay, but the reference seems clear.

This is the ‘80s!

Mariner complains about how she doesn’t need therapy because “this is the eighties!” She’s right! Lower Decks takes place in 2380 and depending on how much time has passed in Season 1, we might be in 2381. This also seems like a reference to the fact that even though we think of TNG as a ‘90s show, it debuted in 1987.

Mariner’s therapist is Paul F. Tompkins

The bird-like therapist (maybe an Aurelian?) is played by Paul F. Tompkins. In our universe, Tompkins is the co-host of the current official Star Trek Podcast; The Pod Directive, along with Tawny Newsome, the voice of Becket Mariner.

Da Vinci on the Holodeck

When Mariner enters the holodeck, Tendi, Boimler, and Rutherford are all shooting skeet with Leonardo da Vinci. This references da Vinci’s appearances as a holodeck character on Star Trek: Voyager, as played by Jonathan Rhys-Davies. However, this is also, possibly a reference to an unused script idea for a TNG feature film that was never made. Because this entire episode is about movie-versions of Trek, it seems possible that this is a slight nod to a script called Star Trek: Renaissance, which was developed shortly before First Contact became the second TNG film. In that unfilmed script, Data would have traveled back in time and become da Vinci’s apprentice. Really!

Boimler’s simulated crew

Boimler creating an entire holographic version of the Cerritos crew has several precedents, but the most on-the-nose episode being reference is probably the Voyager episode “Worst Case Scenario.” In that one, Tuvok created a holonovel that simulated a situation in which the Maquis tried to retake the USS Voyager. The simulation even meant that Tom Paris encountered his holographic self at one point, which is exactly what happens with Mariner later in the episode.

Opening credits

The opening credits to Mariner’s “movie,” are mostly reminiscent of the opening credits to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, although the warping streaks behind the letters recall a brief title style used by The Next Generation during the season 5. The way the letters are flying past the Lower Deckers might reference the opening credits to the original Christopher Reeve-starring Superman film from 1978.

“You were kind of a Xon, to be honest”

Mariner says that in her movie, Boimler would be “kind of a Xon,” and that he might not make the final cut. This references David Gautreaux’s Vulcan character Xon, from the unmade ‘70s series Star Trek Phase II. Xon was intended as a kind of replacement for Spock because, at that time, it was unclear if Leonard Nimoy would return for the role. David Gautreaux does appear in Star Trek: The Motion Picture as a human named Commander Branch.

Artistic license

When the Cerritos is sent to track down a mysterious imposter starship, Boimler says “If this was actually happening, they’d send the Enterprise, but you know, artistic license.” This references the Enterprise itself, obviously, but also the idea that in several Trek movies, the Enterprise is bizarrely the only ship available to respond to a distress call or strange situation. In The Wrath of Khan, the Enterprise is sent on a dangerous mission involving a top-secret project. In Generations, the Enterprise-B is the “only ship in range” to assist refugee ships caught in an energy ribbon. In both cases, it feels odd that the Enterprise is the only ship that can help out, but you know, artistic license.

The long approach via shuttlecraft

Think it took a long time for the shuttlecraft to land on the Cerritos? This is an extended joke that references the loooong wordless scene in The Motion Picture in which Kirk and Scotty lovingly stare at the newly refitted Enterprise until, eventually, docking and getting on the ship. In TMP, the reason why Kirk and Scotty make the long approach via shuttlecraft (rather than just beaming over) is that the transporters aren’t actually working. But, in subsequent Treks, from TNG’s “All Good Things…” to “Caretaker” in Voyager, people tend to take shuttles to get onto big starships, even if it makes zero sense. Perhaps the only scene like this that makes actual sense (other than TMP) was in the first episode of Enterprise. In 2151, the transporters weren’t reliable!

Lens flare

The bridge of the Cerritos is bathed in lens flare, referencing the extensive use of this camera technique in the J.J Abrams-directed, 2009 Star Trek reboot film.

Warp Me!

Captain Freeman saying “Warp Me!” references her workshopping a catchphrase in the earlier Lower Decks episode, “Envoys.” In that episode, she wondered if “It’s Warp Time!” was a good thing to say before ordering the ship into warp.

The “movie” warp speed effect

When the Cerritos jumps into warp, the effect is way more bombastic than on the show. This references the warping effect in Star Trek Into Darkness, but also the rainbow warp speed effect from Star Trek: The Motion Picture.

“Our revels now are ended”

As Vindicta, Mariner says “Hell is empty and the devils are here” and also, “Our revels now are ended.” Ransom asks, “Is she quoting The Tempest?” The answer is yes, which not only references The Tempest by William Shakespeare but also the fact that General Chang (Christopher Plummer) said “Our revels now are ended, Kirk!” as he was attacking the Enterprise in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country. More recently, Picard quoted The Tempest during Data’s “death” in the season finale of Star Trek: Picard, “Et in Arcadia Ego, Part 2.”

Mariner’s energy weapon

The super-destructive phaser used by Vindicta/Mariner has a similar vaporizing effect as lasers used in the TNG “As Loud as a Whisper.”

The pah-wraiths and Jax’s giant phaser

In the Cerritos bar, Jax says “When you get to hell, tell the pah-wraiths that Jax sent you; special delivery from Bajor!” The pah-wraiths are the “evil” versions of the Bajorian prophets, which first appeared in the DS9 episode “The Assignment.” Jax’s giant phaser seems to be a reference to a huge weapon Guinan busted-out in the bar in the TNG episode “Night Terrors.” The design of this phaser rifle also seems a lot like one of the giant weapons used by Khan (Benedict Cumberbatch) in Star Trek Into Darkness.

The Pirates Orions

Tendi pushes back against the stereotype that all Orions are pirates and slavers. The Orions were first established in TOS episodes “The Cage,” and “Whom Gods Destroy,” and later in the TAS episode “The Pirates of Orion.” It wasn’t until the Enterprise episode “Bound” when it was revealed that certain Orion “slaves” were actually manipulating their “masters” to create an illusion of who has the real power. Tendi isn’t the first Orion we’ve seen serving in Starfleet — Uhura’s roommate Galia (Rachel Nichols) Star Trek 2009 was Orion — but it’s never been fully explained the relationship between the Orions and the Federation. In TOS, TAS and in the Short Treks episode “The Escape Artist,” we get the general idea that every aspect of Orion society is connected to crime and pirating. Tendi points out this isn’t true, and that some Orions haven’t been pirates for “over five years!” So, it sounds like some kind of Orion reform happened in 2375!

The destruction of the Cerritos

When the Cerritos burns up in the atmosphere of the planet, the effect is similar to the way the Enterprise burned up in the atmosphere of the Genesis planet in Star Trek III: The Search For Spock. But, when the saucer crashes on the planet’s surface, that references the saucer crash of the Enterprise-D in Star Trek: Generations. The Enterprise’s saucer also crashes on the surface of a planet in Star Trek Beyond.

Weird movie beaming

Rutherford says he uses a “a rapid repeating transport sequence” to beam the entire crew to safety. Billups is utterly confused as to how this is possible, and Rutherford says “No, it’s a movie you can beam whatever- you can do all sorts of beaming stuff in a movie!” This references several times that beaming tech in Trek film has been downright miraculous, as opposed to the slightly more reasonable beaming in TV series. In Star Trek: Generation, Scotty is able to beam 47 people off of one ship with a touch of a button. In Star Trek (2009) Spock helps Kirk and Scotty beam from a planet and onto a moving ship traveling at warp. In Star Trek Beyond, Scotty converts a cargo transporter so it can beam up dozens of people at the same time. In The Voyage Home the crew beam up some humpback whales. You get it.

Get off my mom, you bitch!

Holographic Mariner’s battlecry against Vindicta is not a Trek reference! This line is a reference to the climax of Alien in which Ripley said “Get away from her, you bitch!”

Toby Targ on Halloween

Mariner apparently dressed as “Toby the Targ” when she was a kid for Halloween. A targ is a type of Klingon pet that kind of looks like a dog crossed with a pig. The educational children’s character “Toby the Targ,” comes from Voyager. B’Elanna Torres owned a plush Toby the Targ, and the Doctor was familiar with the publisher of the “Toby the Targ ” stories, Broht & Forrester.

Rickety catwalk

Throughout the episode Mariner is obsessed with having a fight on a “rickety catwalk.” This probably references the ending of Star Trek: Generations, in which Kirk and Picard fight Dr. Soren on a series of rickety catwalks. But, Riker and his duplicate, Thomas Riker, also have a big confrontation on a rickety catwalk in the TNG episode “Second Chances.”

Do you like turtle necks or just standard uniforms?

Boimler absent-mindedly asks Captain Freeman if she likes “turtlenecks or just standard uniforms.” This seems to indicate that the DS9-style turtleneck uniforms might still be in service in some parts of Starfleet in 2380. Either that, or Boimler is wishing those uniforms could make a comeback.

Mariner is buried in rocks

Captain Freeman buries the body of the holographic Mariner in a strange grave made of rocks. This references the ending of Star Trek; Generations, where Picard buries Kirk in the exact same way. Why did Picard not wait to have Kirk’s body taken back to a starship? Why would Freeman have her daughter buried on a random planet? It’s a movie! Don’t ask questions!

Vindicta’s return

Before being shot by da Vinci, Vindicta rises out of a photon torpedo tube. This references the ending of The Wrath of Khan, which shows that Spock’s casket landed on the Genesis Planet. During the filming of the The Wrath, this scene was actually filmed at the last minute, and was overseen by Robert Sallin because director Nicholas Meyer was opposed to hinting that Spock was still alive. In other words, the photon torpedo casket was a small retcon inside of The Wrath of Khan, which is why it’s fitting to have it as the coda in this episode. Just when you think it’s over — somebody’s gonna rise from the dead.

Da Vinci shooting Vindicta with a shotgun could be reference to the very first episode of Enterprise — “Broken Bow” — when a farmer shoots a Klingon with a shotgun in the first scene.

Signatures at the end

At the very end, all four of the Lower Deckers sign their names in spacey blue ink across a starfield. This references the ending of Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country in which all seven cast members of the original series sign their names over the ending credits. This concept is interestingly used for the ending of Avengers: Endgame, probably because Marvel president Kevin Feige is a self-professed Star Trek fan. So, is this a reference to the TOS crew and the Avengers? It’s an episode of Lower Decks, so it seems like you can totally have it both ways.

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Star Trek: Lower Decks will air its Season 1 finale next Thursday on October 8.

The post Star Trek: Lower Decks Episode 9 Easter Eggs & References appeared first on Den of Geek.

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ikevampeventarchive · 5 years

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[ERS] Once Again, I Will Fall In Love With You - Leonardo

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Year 2XXX, Paris, France

Near the Louvre, I met a man with amber colored eyes, looking for his lost cat. His pointed gaze seemed to shoot right through my heart. There was a hidden meaning behind it that I couldn’t understand....

What the black cat has brought to me, was none other than a man of destiny.

[This is an unofficial work based on fan-translation. Copyright belongs to Cybird.]

Warning: Spoilers Underneath.

Route Summary:

Common Route

Year 2XXX, Paris, France

It’s on the news, Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece “Mona Lisa” will be displayed to the public for the first time in half a century.

MC is excited, she had just arrived in France. It’s been a while since she started working as a travel agent, but it’s the first time she’s traveling alone, and for her own leisure. She was excited the moment she heard the news and immediately traveled here to see the Mona Lisa. She looks up to the sky to see a crescent moon hanging between the stars. It feels like she was always pulled here by a thread, perhaps of fate. Those dreams she always had from childhood keeps reminding her.

Next morning, she is hanging around the Arc de Triomphe before going to the Louvre. She decides to sit on a park bench to eat a snack, when a black cat suddenly jumped on it and settled on her side. The cat stared at her with glowing eyes, contrasted by its black fur. Somewhere from behind her, she hears a man’s voice calling out and looking for a cat. MC calls back to him, pointing out that there’s a black cat with her. The man approaches, sighing in relief. He becomes very surprised upon seeing her.

Seeing those wide amber colored eyes, she doesn’t know why, but it felt like there’s a weight added to her chest.

“You’re here, huh,”

“…‘was looking for you.”

MC thought he was referring to the cat, but the man suddenly pulls her into a tight embrace. MC is really surprised for a stranger to just hug her like that. Noticing her reaction, the man pulls back, but still doesn’t move. He stares at her silently, trying to figure out the reason she didn’t accept that well. MC finally asks him to let go, and he immediately did, the mysterious expression turned into a casual smile. He seems to realise the reason why.

He apologizes for suddenly hugging her, since he was just too happy. MC doesn’t really buy that excuse, but she brushes it off and says she’s glad he’s able to find his cat. MC thinks for him to be that happy he must’ve been looking for a long time. Their eyes meet, and indeed it looks like he had found something very important that has long been missing.

“Thank you...for everything.”

There’s that feeling in her chest again.

MC recognizes that feeling. It is the same feeling she gets from those dreams. Dreams of living in an old mansion. It’s supposed to be the first time she met this person, but that heavy feeling that had been engraved in her heart since before she was born returns upon seeing him.

She asks the man if they have met before. The man went silent, then teases if she is trying to flirt with him. MC’s annoyance just entertains him more, and he tells her to stop looking at strangers with such honest eyes.

MC looks at her phone and says it’s time for her to go. He says goodbye too, and thanks her again for finding the cat. MC is still bewildered by him. Even so, she wants to talk to him again.

Leonardo watches her walking away, memories of those first days she came to the mansion coming back to him.

“Even reborn, you still have those same eyes. My heart almost felt like stopping there,”

He laughs softly, staring up at the blue sky.

“If you’ve forgotten, then you don’t need to remember,”

“…don’t want to repeat that pain again,”

“It’s enough seeing you alive and well.”

The crescent moon is still there by the time MC left the Louvre.

MC was satisfied. Not only did she get to see the legendary Mona Lisa, she also saw a cute painting of a black cat by da Vinci. She never thought he would like cats.

Her stomach makes a noise. She realizes that she hadn’t eaten since lunch and notices a nice looking bar on the side of the road. The menu was written on front, and it somehow has a distinct da Vinci’s strokes. She decides to eat there before going back to her hotel.

When she goes inside, she is greeted by a sweet piano melody. She sees a silver haired man playing and he stares back at her with a surprised expression. The song he plays feels so familiar to her, like she has heard it many times before. Before she can dwell on it longer, a man’s voice welcomed her in. By that voice, she recognises him to be the same man from before.

He sees who actually came in and stared at her in disbelief, but immediately caught himself. He teased, she must’ve think he’s so handsome to follow him here. She denies that and claims she really was just passing by. Her stomach makes a noise again. He laughs and tells her to sit down.

She asks him if he owns this place, and he says yes, this bar is Leonardo Owned. MC introduces herself too. He repeated her name after hearing it, smiling fondly, before getting back to work. He gives her a free glass of martini, garnished with a slice of lemon, and says it’s for finding his cat earlier.

They start to chat. Leonardo asks her the reason for coming to Paris. She says it’s because she really wanted to see da Vinci’s Mona Lisa that’s displayed in the Louvre. He chokes on his drink.

But, MC continues to say that it’s not the only reason. She opens up to Leonardo about her dreams. She never told anyone about them before, afraid that people would just brush it off, saying that it’s not real and have no meaning, but something about his warm and gentle eyes makes her want to talk without realizing.

“Inside those dreams, I feel like I made an important promise to someone. I traveled to Paris for that promise but…I don’t even remember who I made that promise to.”

“So, you want to remember?”

“It’s aching trying to remember. Isn’t that why your head just refuses to?”

“...Eh?”

The sweet piano melody stops abruptly and random keys were slammed. It surprises MC, she quickly turns to the pianist.

“…Seeing this is irritating.”

The pianist grumbles and continues to play a happier sounding song, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Leonardo chuckles at him. MC somehow feel the nostalgia of singing along to this song. Was it from her childhood? She turns back and catches Leonardo staring. He continues, she really shouldn’t be swayed by that dream and better off living her life as it is. MC thanks him for lending an ear, but to answer his question earlier, she does want to remember. After all, this is important for her.

Leonardo smiled at her. The piano continues playing beautifully into the night.

It’s already late. Leonardo is walking her back to her hotel. She apologizes for making him leave during work. He claims he’s taking responsibility after making her drink anyway, and continues to tease her.

Suddenly, rain is starting to fall and MC regrets not bringing an umbrella. Leonardo offers to take her to his apartment close from here to get an umbrella and towel for her, since the store around has closed. MC is hesitant, since she will be going inside a man’s and a stranger’s room, but agrees.

Inside his apartment room, she meets his cat again. After Leonardo hands her a towel, she asks him the cat’s name. He admits he hasn’t got any names yet, and asked her to name it for him. She tilts her head at that request but thinks about it anyway, and immediately came up with Lumiere. It just pops up in her head. Leonardo once again looks taken aback.

He reaches out to embrace MC, the sweet aroma of tobacco enveloping her.

“Seeing you smile like that… I feel like it’s not enough to just watch over it.”

—

Chance Meeting End (Sweet End)

The two of us, connected by an unseen thread, fall into a love that cannot be fought for a second time....

“Forceful kisses, you don’t hate them right?”

—

“Seeing you smile like that… I feel like it’s not enough to just watch over it.”

MC is confused once again, but her heart is stammering. She pushed Leonardo’s chest slightly. He has a serious expression, sharp eyes looking straight through her. She asks him what’s wrong for him to hug her again suddenly, but it seems like words wouldn’t go through him.

He finally asks her, why did she choose ‘Lumiere’ ? MC thinks about it hard but doesn’t have any answer. It really did just pop up in her head.

“…I see.”

He answers, loneliness seeping through his words. He lets go of her and apologizes, saying that he’s still drunk after all. He tells her to wipe up properly as she’s still wet and throws the towel on her face, obscuring her vision. She wonders if that is the only reason, or if he’s just making up an excuse.

It’s the next day. MC is walking around the city, thinking to herself. She traveled to France in order to get answers for her dreams yet all she gets is more questions. Without realizing, MC finds herself in front of Leonardo’s bar again. She sees Leonardo standing there and her heart skips a beat.

Leonardo teases if she hadn’t drunk enough last night and wants more. She denies, since it’s still pretty early in the morning. Leonardo laughs and it just made her heart beats faster. While she’s puzzling about this odd feeling, Leonardo offers her to go on a little date if she have the time. Before MC even gets to answer, he storms off into the opposite direction.

MC followed him after all. They end up on an unexpected place. A boat. MC asks him why he brought her here and he laughs while rowing it across the lake. He claims it’s the best tourism spot in Paris and it would be a shame if MC came all the way to Paris only visiting his bar. MC starts saying that she does like to go sightseeing when she’s alone, when the boat suddenly shakes. Leonardo starts joking around by rocking it on purpose.

He laughs seeing her reaction every time, but MC can’t help but notice a hidden feeling behind those eyes. Those eyes she sees seems so familiar again, like it came from her dream. She asks him the reason he keeps taking care of her, and he says being nice to tourists isn’t that rare. MC still doesn’t buy his excuses and tries to stand up, rocking the boat even more. Before she can fall, Leonardo catches her and tells her to stop going wild or she’ll really fall down. A vision suddenly flashes across her mind.

It was night time. She was on top of a boat with a man, teasing her to show her face, trying to hide that she’s crying. She accidentally fell down the lake to avoid showing it to him. He swam down to save her.

MC snaps out of it again. Leonardo is holding her, stroking her hair and asking if she’s okay. The boat swayed gently.

“This time, you’re not going to fall again,” he smiles at her.

MC notices, he said it like they have been on a boat before. She is frustrated because she can’t remember what she feels she should. Leonardo gazes at her confused face. He asks her when she will be going home and MC answers it’s tomorrow, noticing that he’s trying to change the topic.

“That’s pretty early, huh,” He smiles again. She wants to understand the meaning behind that smile.

“I can only take 5 days off.”

“….then take care on the way home, ok?”

The boat slowly moves. Her time spent with Leonardo seems to be reflected on the lake’s surface. They just met for the first time, why is she feeling this way? She doesn’t want to leave him.

“….it’s an afternoon flight tomorrow. Can you come to see me off?”

She doesn’t want to think that this will only be a one-time vacation love. Every second they spent together feels like a missing piece that will slowly lead her to the answer she has been searching.

“Yeah, I’m going. I’ll see you off,” He smiles at her once again.

The airport is busy with people walking around carrying their suitcases. Leonardo accompanied her here to see her off as he promised. He bids her goodbye and to be careful on her way. She wishes him well too, and took the hand that he offered. Unexpectedly, he pulls her into a hug again.

The warmth that spreads, she can’t brush it off as a friendly hug anymore. She starts to realize she might be actually attracted to him. After he apologizes for touching her without permission again, MC honestly confesses her feelings, that she ‘may’ like him after all. He laughs at her.

“Don’t- don’t laugh at me please.”

Then, he pressed his lips on hers.

She remembers this kiss. Inside the door that she can’t quite see, with a person she can’t quite remember. It seems that she keeps getting these visions every time she is with Leonardo. He pulls away, teases her again for being a bad girl and tells her to calm down. This conversation, once again, feels very familiar.

She doesn’t want to leave Leonardo. The string of fate has pulled her into this place, and it seems like it leads to this man.

“Leonardo...wait for me. I’ll come to see you again soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be waiting. I will always be here, forever.”

The future of these two that just met, begins.

—

Fated Love End (Premium End)

His feelings that have endured over time, rouse sleeping memories within me --- .

“Your way of living always ... makes this world seem like it’s shining.”

—

Leonardo embraces MC once again, his warm body enveloping her. He’s silent, and MC doesn’t know what to say either. When their gaze finally meet, a distant memory forms into a vivid vision in front of her. The warmth of his arms, she had felt it before. A flashback occurs….

Her hand that lay on the bed was gently cradled. Leonardo softly called her name; his hand that clasped hers was slightly trembling.

“MC…. You are suffering from death. I know how to save you from it” “even so…. I-“

“Please don’t say it,” she cuts him off, “I understand Leonardo’s feelings.” (if I become a vampire, I can be freed from death.) (but….this is fine.) (we already promised, to love each other as a vampire and human being.) “To accept everything that is different and the same….” “To have loved you…. it is my pride.” (and until the end, I will hold this pride in my heart.)

“Yes, you have lived as much as you could.” “Thanks to you, every day we spent together has been shone in light.”

“….I’m so glad,” “but even after I’m gone, I want your every day to be still be shining too.” “When I am reborn, I will meet you again. That is my request in the meantime. Please promise….”

“MC….”

Leonardo gulped any words he was about to say. MC doesn’t want to see him like this, because she loved Leonardo’s smile. She laughs, seeing him so usually full of words. “I love you, for eternity,” “You have to promise. Because if I believe we will meet again… I am not afraid to die.”

“I love you too. As usual you’re still so strong and glimmering.” “I will do anything for you. If in the end I can’t even make a promise for the woman I love, what kind of man I am?” “It’s okay… I promise, so don’t worry.”

“Thank you…”

Leonardo kisses her hand softly.

“Hey, MC, if you will ever be reborn, then come back to me quickly, okay?”

“Because I will also find you once again.”

Leonardo’s calling snaps her out of her vision. She is greeted with a worried expression in front of her. She finally recognises those amber colored eyes. It’s the gentle eyes of the person she loves. The person she remembers in those dreams merged into what is in front of her now.

MC asks Leonardo if after she was gone, the rest of his days that he spent still shines. Right after that question left her, his face change into utter happiness and surprise. He chuckles, saying that keeping that promise is even harder than unraveling the truth of this universe. He says he had made every effort to meet MC again. Turns out her way of living really makes the world seem to shine for him.

MC apologizes for making him wait so long. He says there’s something else she should’ve said before that. They pronounces their love for each other, back to back, MC even says it twice. He welcomes her back home and they share a kiss. Right after their lips part, he laughs out loud, teasing if she just finally remembers. Their forehead touches and his smile spreads into a pure childlike happiness.

He hasn’t heard her voice for a long time. So, tonight he will show his way of loving her again from the very beginning.

—

Secret End

Once again, until the day you meet again --- Relying only on his love for you, the thoughts that he, who has lived for an unending time, has for you is....

(... ‘I love you’, not even being able to say those few syllables ... it’s pretty heartrending.)

—

In a world where your beloved has already left it, the clock’s hands still moves, unstopping.

This is the tale of a man who continues to believe in fate inside a world that has lost all its meaning….

Leonardo is sitting in the bar, running his pen on a board, making the menu list. A piano melody sings in the air. He notices that there’s a lot of blank space left on the board and quickly sketches a small cat to fill it. Someone approaches him to talk. He looks up to see Mozart looking down at him.

Mozart says he is done tuning the piano and he’s going home now. Leonardo forces him to stay and taste his new cocktail. Mozart finally complies. After all, Leonardo lets him play the piano however he likes.

Mozart asks him the reason he started managing this bar. Leonardo remembers MC’s wish, for his every day to still be filled with light even after she was gone, and then to meet her again. He thinks it’s to fulfill that promise. In each passing second he gradually loses his hope. Without realizing, the world has shifted into an era filled with light different from the ones of candles and gas lights. Inside such a city, he wants to make a place where people can gather, much like the old bars he remembers.

He answers Mozart that he wants a nice and lively place where various people gather. These days you can’t smoke as freely anymore, so he also wants to make a place where he can. Mozart doesn’t ask further. He picks up the glass Leonardo offered and stares off, seems to be reminiscing something.

Leonardo goes for a walk around the park before opening his shop. He stares at the blue sky that seems so far high.

He remembers her loving and unstoppable smile, reflected on that unreachable heights. He would do anything to be able to tell her he loves her once again.

He sees a stray cat walking closer to him. He jokes to himself, wondering if MC has finally been reborn as a cat. He talks to it and notices it doesn’t have any collar. He decides to adopt the cat, remembering the time when MC named his old cat, Lumiere.

Next morning, when he got back from work, the cat is missing from his room. He had left the window open. He searches for it around the city and ends up at the park again. He calls around and tries to hear any meowing. Just then, someone stood up from a bench.

“Um… If you’re looking for a cat, there’s one sitting right here!”

He realizes who it is. He freezes.

The blue sky reflected in Leonardo’s eyes now truly shines in front of him.

—

Event Info Post | Mozart Route | Vincent Route

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