Author's Note: Thank you so much for the overwhelming support! Thank you so much for continuing to subscribe (?) despite of my very lacking update schedule. And thank you so much for 1k reads~ For some reason I can't download GIFS at all so...
; The Death Bros start a reform project, doing everything they can to steer clear of all of their bad habits. Jisoo, along with Seulgi, start a plan of action to ruin their course.
Red shoes on grey wooden floors.
White tie, loop it around (make sure it looks like the bunny's ears), pull it tighter, now, he won't trip.
A tower of brown pancakes bathed in red syrup with yellow butter on the top. It tasted so good. Now his tummy won't ache.
Orange juice, it's cold. There are three clear ice cubes on top— how about he names it Phoebe, Rachel, and Monica?
Grandfather: grey wrinkles, brown eyes, he smiles with pale lips. He was always safe with Grandfather.
"Taehyung. Always make sure they're happy, alright?"
Grandfather knew best. Taehyung would always do everything he'd ask, even if he always got the rough part at the end. He slurped his orange juice and stabbed a fork in his pancakes, "Okay, grandpa."
Today was the first day of school. There was a hand-me-down strapped to his back— a newly patched knapsack he knit himself. He wasn't very good at knitting, wounding his fingers a lot, but at least he didn't trouble his grandfather.
He had fifteen oranges in his bag. It was heavy and it slowed him down, his grandfather said he should give it away to his classmates.
Taehyung walked along a dirt path, his school was about fifteen blocks away. Maybe if he ran, he would get there in time— but what if he dropped his grandfather's oranges? No. He should just speedwalk.
Perhaps it didn't matter, because just as he was deciding his course of action, carefully walking down the path, he tripped on something hard and long. It's a bone, he's familiar with it.
Hands, knees, and feet buried in mud, Taehyung looked up to his perpetrator.
He met eyes with broad-shouldered Oh Sehun. He was with his friends: Kim Jongin, Lee Taemin, and Park Jimin. They weren't people Taehyung was suprised of seeing— they lived around the area, attended the same school, and were fond of making fun of Taehyung and his grandfather's way of life, they would always shove him or throw rocks any chance they'd get.
And call him...
"Alien!" Jimin yelled first, pushing him further into the mud, "You have any space rocks in your garbage bag?"
"I..." be nice, be nice. Taehyung replaced his scowl with a feigned smile, "...have oranges, Jiminie. Do you want some?"
The next to come forward is Oh Sehun. Sehun is super tall, he probably slept a lot, he always slurred when talked, "He never gets mad, does he?"
His fingers tangled themselves in Taehyung's hair, jostling it before gripping. Hard.
Taehyung wanted to tell them off, but he bit his tongue. His grandfather told him that the best response was the response that would make them the happiest: and since they seem to be fond of making him his rag doll, then staying limp and defenseless was probably the best solution.
"Come on now, get mad, Taetae." Taemin cooed. He was the nicest of the four of them, he never insulted or hurt him, but he very much liked provoking him.
"I guess being a worthless loser runs in your blood," this one was Jongin. His grandfather was a farmer, too. Jongin was always what everyone wanted Taehyung to be, Jongin was always called the better version of him— his grandfather always won the awards for best produce, he was a real dancer, he had better grades, and he even got Momo, the prettiest girl in Taehyung's class to crush on him. Plus, he had just the best little sister ever.
Jongin bent down and picked up a stray orange rolling in the mud. He inspected it, groping, "Your grandfather is a failure. You are both stupid."
Jongin, albeit he had the most unoriginal insults, was blunt and keen on making Taehyung feel like the c-word. Every time Taehyung would remotely glance at the direction he had stepped on, Jongin would strive for a chance to insult him and his grandfather. And for what?
"Your grandfather should just die already," Sehun snorted.
It was like a thread had snapped. These... boys... just kept ganging up on him for no whatsoever reason. They were vultures— they preyed on the weak and drenched their bodies in mud. They were... they were...
"Poopyheads!" Taehyung shouted, fists clenched.
Yep. That definitely sounded better in his head.
There's a silence that threatened to suffocate them. A look of wonder and disbelief that Taehyung wasn't a stranger to each graced their faces. They blinked in unison, mouths etched in a grin.
Finally, Jimin spoke, "What?"
Taehyung bit his lips, "N-nothing."
"Poopyheads?"
"Nothing!" he screamed, looking away. If the ground could swallow him, he'd let it be.
(But it was, and it was staining his uniform.)
"No, Taehyung. I want you to repeat that." Jongin smirked, holding back laughter, "We are poopyheads."
Lying is bad. Taehyung inched back, dragging his shoes across mud, "Y-yes." he stuttered, "But I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings..."
The silence came back again, even thicker: it choked Taehyung and dried his throat. He sunk deeper into the mud, kept his eyes on how it seeped into his nails.
And then they burst in laughter, like sirens in the wind.
It happens again, like déjà vu.
Jiwon guffaws, slapping his hand on his desk, rocking back and forth, "A poopyhead?! You're calling me a poopyhead?"
Taehyung awkwardly nods, playing with his fingers, chewing on his lips. Jiwon reminded him so much of Jongin, "Y-yes, in fact, I am," he says, blinking furiously, "Do you have a problem with that, Jiwon?"
"You're twenty-four and you're calling me a poopyhead." Jiwon says in between laughter. Taeyong bites his lips until it turns a bright shade of red, he probably didn't want to laugh with Jiwon.
"Leave him be, Jiwon." Eunwoo stifles his laughter, shielding his eyes, looking away, "You don't want to be promoted to peemonster."
Eunwoo reminded him of Sehun. Not only were they both the richest, but they were the ones who made him feel the worst. But in Eunwoo's case, maybe it's because of the way he was born perfect, so insecurity-deriving.
Suprisingly, Jinyoung was the one who listened the most. In the midst of the chorus of laughter amongst Eunwoo and Jiwon, he lists notes— fumbles in his pencil case for highlighters and stickers and asks Taeyong for a sharpener often.
"Just shut up for a second and listen, okay." Taehyung says, stern. Jiwon rolls his eyes but settles down. Eunwoo coughs, nodding, "So anyways. Back to the question."
Taeyong shoots up a hand, "I have one."
Taehyung groans throatily, setting down his chalk to point at Taeyong. Why can't they just let him speak? They've been at their study session for about an hour and all they've learned is ethos... and only because it sounded like Evos, which was the name of Jinyoung's goldfish that Eunwoo ate when he was five, "No, I ask the question. You're all my students, and I," he points to himself, "Ask the questions."
Of course, Taeyong doesn't care.
"Yeah... why do we need to discuss this? Why can't we just give twinkies to kids or something?"
"Yeah, I could live with that." Bobby says next, adjusting in his seat. Taeyong shoots him a glare, and he sinks down again, "No. I disagree. F-fuck you... TY."
Jinyoung speaks next, "How about this? Taeyong gives away twinkies while we discuss utilitarianism and he can be famous as the twinkie twink."
"I am not a twink."
"Shut up, Twinkie Twink."
"I am not!"
"I said shut up, Twinkie Twink!"
Taehyung sighs, slumping in his seat as Jinyoung, Eunwoo, and Taeyong bicker the class hours away.
The plan is called The Twinkie Plan.
The Twinkie Plan is a messy and impulsively put together plan: and it consisted of Jisoo disguising herself as a human and sabotaging the fugitives' intertwined fates into a disbandment and an untimely Jisoo-nised death. When that happens, she'll take their emotionally defeated souls and deliver it to the high council without much fight, perhaps, this way, she'll make it easier for the newer judges to catch fugitives.
And why was it called the twinkie plan? Well, Seulgi told her that was the last sweet candy she ate before she died, and what else was sweet? Victory. Twinkie plan.
There was the textbook way. Was. Seulgi discussed it with a well-made powerpoint presentation over a cup of tea and a plate of crumpets. However, it only served as a nice little lullaby— a lullaby about cutting strings, waiting for deaths, and white, very white walls.
She's totally winging it.
(A synonym for breaking the rules.)
Seulgi warned Jisoo that if she were to be caught by the counsel, she would be forced into retirement: which was code for disintegrating her soul and placing all of her molecules into the sun, where her essence would eventually be scooped out of her body with a ladle to be poured over diamonds.
But on the other hand, if no one notices, her breaking the rules and risking getting caught would be all worth it. She served a better cause after all, that was ethical. It was utalitarianism!
(Plus, if the plan did fail, at least she'd get to turn into a diamond.)
What would happen in her success and innovation? Maybe they would let her paint her walls beige; maybe they would rub it all over Rosé, Jennie, and Lisa's faces— MAYBE they'd get Jisoo a dog!
The possibilities are endless.
The portal to the human world is about eight feet tall. There are quartz corinthian columns surrounding it, pure white contrasting with a dark shade of red. The matter in between squelches, it looked homogenous: like a gigantic sheet of... bloody milk. Or a huge galactic tampon with extra greek wings.
She takes a deep breath, holding onto Seulgi's wrist, "This is it, Seul."
"Jisoo, I am not getting in there." Neutral Seulgi smiles, not a lick of emotion in her speech despite of the fact that Jisoo has just dragged her in the forbidden human portal and forced her in latex spy clothes. In a way, it was comical.
Jisoo grins.
"Don't you assist me?"