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jungxk · 3 years

Text

just one (viii)

summary: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

notes: first of all i wanna thank the people who supported me and encouraged me through one of the worst writers blocks of my life. all the messages and comments are the reason why i finally managed to post this. special thanks to @whippedforkook for helping me with the monstrous tagging process as well as giving me so much praise. and also @lonelyending for cheering me on for a literal YEAR bc thats how long i cried over this fic! this story is so special to me. we’re in the home stretch now x

warnings: mentions of illegal drug use and distribution, swearing, brief smut.

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 8k

tagging: @cutechim @benz-biarritz @gyukult @bangulin @eatersanonymous @alyssa1926 @skivv1es @a-sucker-for-them-sappy-shit @moonights @jeymuffins @juuneaux @catsukiii @andreaisaac @whatheydontunderstand @sreveles @noruls619 @henryharios @just-a-fuxked-up-kid @befriendswithj @btsbesharam @poemsandpunani @taelha @misosoup-forthesoul @jikooksmut @heart-eyedmf @the-piano-woman @angrysunshine @chaoticpaperfanhoagie @jsungshine @ci-yen @faby-montana @shinypeanutsportshero @jooniestrivia @alucards-s @cynamyngirl @jiminie-angel @myskoova @jkshoneybuns @smokintae @remmykinsff @majinbuwu @jangx2manboongx2 @potatodogs @seul-queen @alpharyth @blenxxxg @plsky @th-singularity @bapbaptothetop @hermiones-enchantment @stomachfilledwithbutterflies @euphorora @supachloe94 @jiminxjimout @ggukkieland @just-another-fic-recs-blog @jalexad

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

4 years ago

jimin hated yugyeom.

well, maybe hate was a strong word. he just didn't like talking to him, being around him, hearing his name or interacting with him on any level, social or otherwise. he really tried though, since he was one of jungkook's closest friends and still respectfully referred to him as hyung above all else. and if anything, jimin would always have a soft spot for jungkook, the kid he used to coddle when his own brother wasn't around. but having said that, there wasn't really much basis for not liking yugyeom. it was just a gut feeling jimin couldn't explain, a very subtle callousness about him only jimin could pick up on. for the most part he was just like very other mild mannered boy by day and party animal by night, but jimin still ducks when he sees him enter the library.

"fuck," he hisses under his breath, scooping up his laptop to stride behind a book shelf for good measure. because sometimes, contrary to popular belief, jimin wanted to be alone. he didn't want to make small talk or listen to someone tell him about how well they scored on their last paper or complain about their annoying girlfriend. sometimes jimin wanted to have no thoughts and listen to fleetwood mac as per his human rights. which is why he shoves into the first private study room he sees.

and not an empty one at that. there's a girl inside, sitting cross-legged in her chair at a desk with an array of dried up paint tubes and brushes surrounding open sketchbooks. you don't look annoyed or even that phased, just amused as you give him a once over before going back to painting. "on the run from solji?"

jimin blinks, back still pressed against the door. "huh?" he regards you properly. "i'm sorry, have we met before?"

"not really," you admit with a sheepish smile, which is when jimin suddenly realises that you're...attractive. "solji is in my stats class. you hooked up with her last week at some party and she told me about it."

"oh," jimin takes in your plethora of art supplies. "you don't look like a stem student."

there's a glimmer of something in your eyes, and though you hide it well jimin knows he's struck a nerve. "yeah, i get that a lot."

"it's not solji by the way," jimin clarifies. for some reason. "that i'm hiding from. just a bellend i don't have the energy for right now."

you smile. "it's fine. you don't owe me your life story."

"i do when i'm about to impose on your...study time," jimin peers through the window in the door, wincing when yugyeom enters the hallway. "what would it take for you to let me stay in here for a while?"

you pause for a second. "honestly? just be quiet and leave me alone. is that okay?"

jimin perks up, a weight leaving his chest. "perfect, actually."

[jungkook 11:42pm]: why does it say wings on it

[jungkook 11:42pm] where is it flying

[you: 11:43pm] ffs kook

[you: 11:44pm] im still on the toilet can u just hurry up

[you 11:44pm] grab some tampons too pls

[jungkook 11:46pm] fine what size pussy do u wear

[you 11:46pm] i hate u

[jungkook 11:53pm] ???? ? ? well? ????

[you 11:54pm] REGULAR

jungkook giggles at his phone, already having left the women's sanitary aisle to grab some chocolate. months later and teasing you was still bundles of fun. he knew for a fact that you were sat there with that angry pout on your face, nose crinkled. he had never bought anything like this before, but jungkook had enough brain cells to know that chocolate was another necessity for that time of the month. after grabbing a large hazelnut bar, he pauses beside the oreos before grabbing a packet of those too. just for good measure. he strides to the self checkout - because even he wasn't man enough for the cashier yet - nearly dropping his array of sanitary products and confectionary when somebody calls out his name from behind the queue.

"kook!" the voice is unmistakably yugyeom's, confirmed by the hand that clamps jungkook over the shoulder and swivels him round before he could think about hiding his socially compromising shopping items. it takes a second for yugyeom to notice, doing a double take at the pads atop his small tower of goods. he holds back a laugh, balancing a bottle of gin in one hand while he waves back at some friends to continue. they were clearly making their pit stop before a night out, probably pre's if they still start as late as jungkook remembers. with his hair styled and expensive cologne lingering, jungkook almost forgets he probably looks unrecognisable in his sweats and cotton-fresh hoodie. friday nights weren't for cuddling. still, yugyeom's smile is welcoming and familiar. "got the munchies? and maybe also a uterus?"

"shut up," jungkook grumbles, averting his eyes. he shifts to his other foot uncomfortably. "my friend just needed a favour, that's all."

"uh huh," yugyeom gives him a teasing look. "is this friend the reason why i barely saw you at jin's the other week?"

jungkook blinks back at him. "wait, you were at that party? i had no idea!" a boyish smile breaks over his face. "why didn't you call me? i haven't seen you since-"

"minseok-hyung's new years eve party," yugyeom throws his head back with a laugh. "remember how we ended up on a boat after the ball dropped and-"

"spent all of new years day detained by the coast guard!" jungkook finishes with a mischievous cackle of his own, nearly dropping the tampons in the process. "fuck, that was so much fun! we need to meet up again, i haven't been out with the guys in so long."

"well no wonder," he quips a brow at jungkook's shopping again. "word got out you're a family man but i didn't believe it. until now, that is."

jungkook's smile falls. "what do you mean?"

yugyeom looks at him for a second, confused by jungkook's surprise. yugyeom was never quite as diplomatic as namjoon or yoongi, to put it lightly. and definitely nowhere near as accomodating as jimin. which is why his next words make jungkook's back stiffen. "bro, look at yourself. you got dairy milk in one hand and tampax in the other. on a friday night. the next time i see you i wouldn't be shocked if you had a baby buggy and a mortgage." still, yugyeom throws him an apologetic look. like a mouse caught in a trap. "face it, kook. you're old news."

"what? that's not true," his brows furrow unhappily. "i don't know what you're talking about. it's not like she's my..."

he can't say the word, but it hangs between them like a dead weight.

"yeah, right," the condescending look on yugyeom's face was starting to agitate him. "you totally blanked us at jin's after she showed up. not even just jin's..." he thinks twice about holding his tongue, but as always, decides against it. "i don't know you, jungkook. whoever this new jungkook is. it's been months. you used to hit us up and be independent and spontaneous and wild and now you're just...someone's boyfriend.

"stop fucking saying that," jungkook snaps, all visible signs of friendliness gone.

"why?" a beat. "do you even use a wrap with her anymore?"

jungkook splutters, heat rushing to his ears and hands in a stinging combination of anger and embarrassment. "how is that any of your business? the fuck are you asking me something like that, as if you-"

"thought so," yugyeom looks away from him with a sigh. if anything, yugyeom knew never to overstay his welcome but that clearly backfired tonight. "whatever, jungkook," he looks over his shoulder at him. "guess you're the last one to find out you're officially married."

"you're ridiculous," jungkook scoffs. "all this over condoms? grow up, yugyeom."

"only couples do it raw," yugyeom turns away from him, alcohol in tow as he waves a hand over his shoulder to join his friends like jungkook was nothing but a lost cause. "you would remember that if you still had game."

jungkook stands there, dumbfounded while the group of boys exit the store noisily but he can't hear a thing. the siren that had been itching the back of his mind all this time was suddenly there at full force, right between his eyes. the glaring truth that yugyeom might be right makes his knees buckle. all those rules jungkook once had, all those measures he kept in place to protect his liberty, to prevent this very occurence - where were they? what happened to them? as the sweet and accommodating counterpart to jimin, why had you never complied? though, the blame wasn't on your hands alone. he got complacent, comfortable. lenient. and now without even realising he was here, a scene from a romcom in the middle of the night, with nothing to say for himself but fuck. the realisations wouldn't stop racing, one after another on the conveyer belt of his anxiety.

the photos on his phone; mostly you. time spent, usually with you. the portfolio for his latest photography module also had some resemblance to your interests. charcoal pencils, night drives, orchids. like the ones you always drew on any scrap of paper lying around. now that he thinks about it, he's seen nothing but your orchids for months. and not just that - you wore his clothes sometimes too. his bathroom had your toothbrush, contraceptive pills and coconut shampoo. his closest friends, his hyungs...not one of them was devoid of affection for you. he wasn't even confident that if the choice was presented, they would still pick him over you.

by the time jungkook finishes paying and practically sprints to his truck in a daze, he can hardly keep himself from shaking. he palms the wheel compulsively, he could feel the sweat in his sideburns, hoodie suddenly suffocating him. it smelled of you.

and then, like a final curtain call: was he just your latest fixer-upper project? some good girl wet dream to play out in the wake of your emotionally traumatic past? a slap in the face to seokjin, maybe, and nothing more? when you were done, when he was out of your system, when you knew his taste by heart and had nothing new left to try - would you stay? did you even know how to?

did he?

jungkook starts the engine. he drives to your door, drops your bag of snacks and pads on the porch, and texts you before leaving. he does not go inside.

"you sure you'll be okay with just the boys?"

you scoff at seulgi when she pins you with a worrying look, taking some of her clothes out of her bag to re-fold them just so you had something to do with your hands. jisoo had already left for the long weekend with her family, so there was no one there to fill up the empty space between your awakward reply. you didn't know how to tell the girls that jungkook hadn't contacted you in nearly a month. and even though he was a notable flight risk from the beginning, you couldn't help but feel like there was hostility there. every now and again he'd at least send a nude or have a quick phone call when he was drunk or high at three in the morning, but you hadn't heard a peep from him. you couldn't stand the idea of someone you cared about harbouring comtempt for you, but the fear of reaching out and somehow making the situation worse outweighed it tenfold.

you look up to see seulgi still staring at you with concern. "of course i'll be fine! they're boys, not piranhas."

"at least piranhas contribute our ecosystem. boys just cause problems for the hell of it," seulgi lays a hand on the crown of your head like a berating big sister, swivelling you to look at her in your fit of giggles. the urge to nestle you under blankets like a baby bird made her chest heave, and you could tell. "i'm serious. if jimin tries anything, call me immediately okay?"

"jimin?" you snort. "out of a room full of delinquents, my ex, and taehyung, you're worried about jimin of all people?"

seulgi wrinkles her nose. "god, when you say it like that its like i'm throwing you to the dogs." she pauses. "something's up with jimin. i don't know what it is, but he's...off."

you tilt your head innocently, remembering the brief interaction you had with hobi at seokjin's party. you had been so caught up in jungkook - or lack thereof - you hadn't thought to press him about it afterwards. in truth, jimin remained as...jimin as ever. if he was acting differently you certainly couldn't tell. "you think so?"

"mmm," she leans on the lip of the open suitcase thoughtfully. "but maybe with jungkook there, he'll behave himself."

you gulp, fiddling with his watch on your wrist anxiously. "maybe."

you nearly yelp when you feel a big hand swivel around your waist, bucking into the kitchen counter reflexively. jungkook always did this before rubbing his boner against your ass, but the light scent of citrus and short squeeze lets you know immediately that its taehyung. hoseok, jimin, namjoon and yoongi were still in the living room playing video games, giving taehyung the perfect opening to intercept you. namjoon and yoongi had insisted that you come over to their place after finding out you'd be alone for the weekend, and you had completely refused before taehyung's coaxing. and of course, jimin's persuasive nudging. even though you felt safe and relaxed here, it felt wrong to be in jungkook's friends' place without him. almost like a breaching of an unspoken boundary.

and clearly, taehyung picked up on your discomfort by the way he stared at you so softly. his back was to the sink, his sillhouette particularly long and lean this evening. "you need to lighten up, princess. you keep looking over your shoulder so much it's making me nervous!"

your visibly droop with a sigh. "i'm sorry tae. i've had a lot on my mind lately, and..."

he claps his hands on your shoulders, teeth peeking through his grin. "you're not doing anything illegal by being here without jungkook."

you wince at his name. "have you always been able to read my mind like this?"

"absolutely," taehyung's brown eyes look so rich up close. "you're allowed to have friends that are also his friends, because - and try to stick with me on this - relationships between people are allowed to be independant from the primary circles they met in. mind boggling concept, i know."

you wack him on the chest until he laughs. "stop making fun of my anxious thought processes! its called mental illness, sherlock! i can't help it!"

his nose scrunches cutely, enjoying your first fiery outburst of the day. "whatever. i call it not getting laid for a month and losing critical thinking abilities from it."

you gape at him indignantly while taehyung roars with laughter. "you're such a dickhead," you hiss through gritted teeth, yanking his hair and jabbing your fingers in his sides the way you would with jimin during a tickle fight. "whores have feelings too, taehyung! whores have feelings too!"

you both fall about with laughter, knocking over half the snacks on the counter in the process which only makes the pair of you laugh even more. it's such childish chaos trying to clean up the mess on the tiny kitchen floor that neither of you notice the front door open, or the gust of metaphorical and literal wind that follows. watching taehyung trying to salvage a bag of broken crisps is just so funny that the presence of an another voice in the living room goes unregistered, as do the footsteps leading up the hallway to the kitchen, so you have no time to brace yourself or properly pull yourself together with you see-

"...jungkook."

yours and taehyung's heads snap to the doorway. jungkook stands there with almost complete lack of emotion on his face to the pair of you kneeling in crumbs and napkins. there's a brief pause where the tension in your eye contact alone was so strong that it felt wrong to breathe. but it is shortlived. jungkook tiptoes over you like spilled milk, reaching for a glass of water. you and taehyung lock eyes while the tap runs in the awkward silence. "hey. you okay?"

"um," you're not sure whether to stand up, hug him, look at him, or even face him. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine."

he nods politely. "hyung?"

even taehyung looks visibly uncomfortable. "i'm good."

"cool. see you later," he says, downing the glass impressively fast before leaving the room just as fast as he entered it.

you and taehyung stare at each other again, not understanding why you both feel like kids caught eating cake before dinner. you could feel the sweat pricking at your back from the realisation. jungkook had no idea you'd be here, and given that interaction he'd probably want to leave now. there was always the inkling woven between his radio silence that he was done with you, but you never let yourself take it seriously out of logic. because how could months of passion and tenderness and honesty be undone so irrevocably like that? it didn't make sense. you hadn't changed. you were the same girl he hit on relentlessly and chased against all odds. so what was different now?

"____," taehyung calls your name gently, and it's only then you realise you're already up and trailing after jungkook into the living room. when you walk in he's already putting his shoes on to leave again, barely making eye contact with you while he chats absently to his hyungs so he can look busy. the four boys on the large sofa can only reply wearily, eyes darting between the pair of you like a firework was about to blow to soon. and it was.

you could feel it in your throat, under your breast bone, bubbling up your stomach. "wait, jungkook. um...h-how have you been? i haven't heard from you in-"

"i've been good," he keeps tying and re-tying his laces without looking up. "super busy. you know how it is."

his curtness makes you flinch. this same time last month jungkook used to kiss you senseless before he had both feet in the door. he'd ring the doorbell incessantly like a child and greet you with the biggest, toothiest grin you had ever seen. he'd make fun of your bed head and squeeze your cheeks until you'd snap at him. and now when he looked at you he hated every second of it. your mother had the same look. your eyes start to burn involuntarily. "yeah, i do. how is uni? your final project is due soon, right? what theme did you pick in the end?"

"the one i told you about," he stands up abruptly. "sorry, noona. something came up. i'll see you arou-"

"something came up?" you step closer to him. "something came up the second you saw my face? or did you really just trek all the way to your hyungs' place for a glass of water, jungkook?"

jungkook stiffens, but is determined not to lose face. and it's difficult to do under your big, accusatory eyes and jimin's death stare at his back. the whole room was waiting for his response, so he just shoves his hands in his pockets resolutely. "i needed to see yoongi hyung, but i can come another time."

you fold your arms. "well it's clearly important, and you're here now. so don't let me stop you."

"but you will stop me," jungkook snaps. "that's the problem."

"kook-ah," yoongi warns quietly, but he took one look at your face and knew the damage was done. jimin was already standing up, circling around the back of the sofa towards you. the red lights were all there; your watery eyes, your trembling hands. every breath you took looked difficult for you to complete and only jimin noticed.

"what are you talking about?" you squint. it takes you a second to understand; yoongi's guilty expression, jungkook's indifference. "oh, you're fucking kidding me." your resolve breaks for a second turning away only to glare back at jungkook with so much fire you can hardly stand it. "you're selling again? are you insane, jungkook?"

"see," jungkook's eyes are stony. "i knew you'd get this way."

"what other way am i supposed to get?" his lack of response only infuriates you more. it felt disrespectful. "jungkook, you're not a kid anymore. if you get caught with drugs the consequences are serious! forget the potential jail time, you could get kicked out of university, it would go on your record forever and-"

"stop talking to me like i'm a kid!"

"then stop acting like one!" you hate raising your voice, but it keeps climbing without your approval. "did you think about this for even five minutes? this isn't like just going to juvie like before and being done with it jungkook. your hyungs can't bail you out of everything."

"this is a lot of talk for someone who lapped up those fancy paints without a second thought," jungkook says darkly. his eyes aren't like you remember, his face solemn and near unrecognisable. "or did you think that getting that kind of money overnight is only something that's possible through daddy's credit card?"

dread blooms like a garden inside you. "that's...that's how you bought the paint set?"

"welcome to the real world," he quips. "as if selling overpriced weed to a bunch of pick-me-freshmans is considered a crime against humanity to anyone but you."

"you think that's why i'm yelling at you right now?" your voice was growing hoarse, desperate. "you think that's the problem i have with you being literal drug dealer, jungkook?"

he hates it. the sweltering silence, the judgmental eyes digging into his back, the slow realisation that the tears in your eyes were not at him but for him. jungkook's ears ring enough to make him sway on the spot if his feet weren't planted so firmly on the dingy carpet, this metaphorical ground. he couldn't shake the feeling that his lifestyle was only an issue now because of you, how he never felt a shred of guilt about any of this shit until he met you. and if there was anything that jungkook never responded well to, it was pity. and he could feel it from every person in the room, all people that that once cherished and coddled him until you came along. he swallows, throat dry from the way he couldn't look at you knowing what he was going to say next.

"you're embarrassing yourself, noona. you're not my girlfriend and you never were, so stop acting like it."

cotton. it's very faint, under the layers of conflicting cologne and beer and smoke, but jungkook still smelled of cotton while he spat acid. nobody could speak, even though jungkook never raised his voice let alone a hand to you, it still hit like a slap in the face. it sunk into the walls, your clothes, suddenly every hair on your body felt heavy with it. dirty. the shame came first, the humiliation next. and then the sorrow, the dread, and finally the defeat. you knew the stages well by now, and they were cycling through you like clockwork. how foolish you were, to make the same mistake again. nobody dared to move, everyone but jungkook staring at you in denial and horror. they couldn't believe their eyes when you nod steadily, bowing your head to the floor.

jimin is already slotting himself between you, his jaw tight. "that's enough, kook. just leave already."

"no," you stop him, unnervingly resigned. that single word cuts through all six men with ease. "he's right." you step around jimin, closing the space between you and jungkook. for a brief moment he wonders if you'll actually hit him, but somehow watching you unclasp his watch from your wrist and drop it on the coffee table in front of him is far worse. the sound seems to ring like church bells, definitive and umistakable. "you're right, i'm not your girlfriend. you win jungkook."

they all watch you leave in dismay, listen to the door closing softly behind you. within a second jimin sprints after you, calling your name, leaving everyone else dumbfounded. jungkook's stare could bore a hole into the abandoned watch on the table, still ticking away like nothing changed. like his eyes weren't burning, lightheaded at the realisation that he would never wear a watch again let alone the one he put on you.

to an outsider, you looked like you were coping well considering you just got dumped in front of all your friends. but jimin knew that face. your stony eyes, lips pulled thin as if to seal inside the collapse of a monument. you took the tea he offered, and then his arms, your face finding his chest with ease. muscle memory. his torso was a tad shorter than jungkook's, his heart closer to your mouth as if the steady thumps were asking for a kiss of acknowledgement. every time you close your eyes you could see jungkooks face, hard and unforgiving and nothing like the man you trusted all this time. but it wasn't a new expression; you parents looked at you similarly the last time you saw them. it was the look of someone who had no regrets cutting all ties. and now, jungkook was behind them in a lost list of people who chose to be strangers over loving you.

jimin sighs when you cry into his chest, brushing the back of your head gently. he had been ready for this for months, but he still hated to see you this way. again. it made his bones itch, his skin crawl uncomfortably every time you weeped. the only time he considered violence was when you were crying. but he knew what to do, laying down across the sofa so you could curl up into a ball next him, head on his bicep and face smushed into the crook of his shoulder. you used to cry like this for hours and hours, his arm familiar with the prickle of pins and needles. but it was the only place you felt safe. tucked into jimin's side is where you would always belong, and that truth was more glaringly obvious than ever now.

"lets get something to eat," he offers eventually, hand craddling the crown of your head like a child. jimin's other hand on your hip is warm and heavy when he pats you soothingly. in your episodes, you responded well to touch. "what about thai food?"

"not hungry," you grumble against him.

"we could make something together?" he peers down at your lack of response. "come on, babe. you gotta eat something. you didn't even have breakfast-"

"why am i so stupid?" you whisper, a fresh bout of tears welling up.

jimin rubs your thigh. "it's not your fault."

"yes it is. jungkook gave me plenty of red flags, and i ignored all of them-"

"oh, i meant you being stupid."

you scoff. "cheers."

"what?" jimin cocks a brow when you lift your head to look up at him. he wets his lips and you follow the swipe of his tongue thoughtlessly, distracted enough by his touch and proximity that you take a second to digest his words. "it's not like any of this exactly came as a surprise. you ignored me, remember? wanted to flex your big girl pants."

you pull away from him and sit up, forcibly shutting out the daze that jimin routinely puts you under. "what's wrong with you? can't you be polite and wait for a couple hours before laying into me like a normal person? jesus, jimin."

"so let me get this straight," jimin sits up, watching your back as you sit away from him. "you're mad because i'm not telling you what you want to hear?"

"no," you say, head shaking. "i'm not mad. i'm upset because i came here to be comforted by my friend and you're just making me feel worse."

"what do you want me to say, ____? that i had high hopes from the start?" jimin pushes his hair back, brows now at a sharp incline from frustration. "i told you starting something with jungkook was trouble but you didn't listen. why should i feed your victim complex when all i've done is try to help you?"

"victim complex?" you repeat, standing up slowly. the sudden steadiness of your voice causes jimin to panic.

"not like that. don't take it like that, it's just," he's suddenly before you, his warm hands palming up your arms warmly. "i didn't wanna see you get like this and it happened anyway, is all i'm saying." he sighs when your scowl doesn't let up. "if hobi hyung hadn't have given up so easy, then maybe…maybe this would never have happened. maybe if i had been harsher with him then you would have-"

"what are you talking about?" you ask quietly, searching jimin's face. "give up so easy? what's that supposed to mean?"

he looks away, hands slipping off you. "it's nothing."

"jimin."

he struggles to look at you, tongue in cheek. his lips purse for a moment, pink like roses. he's wearing that navy jumper you like. "look, it's not a big deal. he wasn't supposed to fuck you or anything, just take you out for a while. get your mind off kookie, show you a nice time."

your blood runs cold. "what?"

jimin's expression softens. "it's not as bad as it sounds-"

"really?" your voice is sharp, sharper than he's ever heard it. you recoil as if you had been struck for the second time today. "because it sounds like you asked some guy to keep me occupied like i'm a fucking dog. all because you can't stand the idea of me being within a meter of jungkook-"

he steps in, but you step back. "you know that's not true, _."

"don't i?" you scoff, covering your face in disbelief. "jimin, you've been hellbent against me even looking at the guy since day fucking one."

"because i didn't want you to get hurt!" jimin counters, eyes downcast. "i know, okay? i know how much of a dick it makes me sound, but its not like it hurt you when you had no idea! hoseok broke it off before you even knew about it so why-"

"because it's worse," you turn away from him. "you tried to control me. choose what's best for me because you think you know better than i do. sound familiar?"

his jaw sets, and it's like you can hear the twine snap in his head, the percussion of his heartbeat above yours even though he doesn't close the space between you. jimin stares at you for a long minute before drawing in a thin breath. "fine," he steps in, and you can't look away. "you want me to say it? fine. i'll say it."

suddenly the air is lace thin around you as you stare at him, waiting. jimin looks off somewhere else, somewhere you can't reach. "don't tell me you haven't thought about it, because i know you have. if i have you must have too. and lately its all i can think about - being with you, holding you, being the one who gets to touch you. and yeah, maybe it took having to see you with jungkook for me to realise how much i want all that, i put my hands up. but you have no idea what's it like to watch the person you love most get toyed around with by a time bomb like that. i've seen jungkook go through girls like underwear and i love him, god i love him, but even the idea of you being one of those wasted girls sitting outside a party crying over his sorry ass makes my fucking ears ring."

"j-jimin…" you whisper, but you have nothing to say. your hands shake.

"you deserve more than that, ____. you deserve more than waiting around for booty calls or living up to what the next guy wants. from jungkook, hoseok, anyone. you deserve someone's devotion and yeah, maybe all this time i've been too much of a pussy to give it. maybe all this time i was tiptoeing around my feelings for you because i knew if i admitted to myself that i loved you - if i admitted i was just like every other guy - i'd actually set the bar for something other than disappointment. id actually have to step up, and i didn't know if i could do it. i still don't. but if it has to be someone…it should be me."

suddenly he's holding your hands, calming the tremble that rattles them. his words bunch up together in your ears, the meaning lost amidst your awe. "jimin….jimin what are you saying? where is all this coming from, i don't...i don't understand wh-"

"i'm saying," he cups your face. "choose me." he pulls you in. so, so close. "choose me, not jungkook. not anyone else. me."

and there's a part of you that has already caved. that's already kissing him, melting into his arms like you've wanted to for so, so long. you're falling back onto the couch with him in a fit of giggles, curling back into his chest to hide your watery eyes, asking him why the fuck he took so long. you chat together between teasing kisses, pour your hearts out, maybe cry a little. later you would make tea and order pad thai and watch the office all night and fall asleep together in the living room well past dawn and then-

you close your eyes. "i can't."

"you can," jimin says, so passionately you shudder. his brown eyes are teaming with too much determination and ardour for his own good, and you both know it. its difficult to grapple with how huge a risk he's taking, because jimin never takes risks. it made the whole situation seem dire. "you know you can, ____. it's us. there's no one like us."

you don't know how you're not crying yet. you only have jimin to hold onto, hands balled in his shirt without knowing if you're about to push him away or pull him in forever. "maybe back then. maybe if you'd have said all this before," you feel empty, the beat of your pulse suddenly strong in your fingertips. "but it doesn't matter anymore."

he shakes his head in denial, his determination palpable. "of course it does-"

"i'm in love with him," you say. to jimin. to yourself. to the world, finally. "i'm in love with jungkook." holding jimin's stare isn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. "you know if you'd have done all this a few months ago…if you'd have just...i was always yours without question, jimin. and you knew it." it's his turn to bristle under the strain of your voice. "jungkook isn't perfect. i'll be the first one to admit that. he's made me cry, he fucks up, he makes mistakes. but he's never lied to me. he never made decisions for me. he never passed judgement on what i should or shouldn't do with my life. something that i never thought i wouldn't able to say about you, too."

there's a brief moment where everything stops. neither of you can believe what you just said. jimin watches you, frozen in his place as you take your bag, eyes glittering with tears when he calls for you. suddenly he's the time bomb he feared becoming, the panic in his eyes lighting them up like fire crackers. for the first time in his life, he stumbles over his words, and then his feet when you reach for the door, all composure lost. he was unravelling like a tapestry in front of you, never to be repaired, and he could feel it. "____. ____, please," jimin chokes, his cheeks blotchy. "i wanted to protect you, i was just trying to help. don't go. please don't go. i was trying to help you."

"no. you were trying to have me." you say, closing the door behind you.

you have no idea what time it is when you hear the bell ring incessantly.

it had been hours since you'd returned home from jimin's, but there was no way for you to keep track when your only priority was just keeping yourself afloat. you turned your phone off, drew the curtains, and resolved to alternate between sitting in seulgi and jisoo's rooms until they came back. you didn't know what else to do. when you weren't crying you were hyperventilating, and when that stopped the absence of emotion was so powerful you could barely keep your eyes open. you were exhausted but could not sleep. starving but could not eat. it was a miracle you even made it down the stairs, using what little strength you had to yank it open without even thinking about who could be on the other side in the middle of the fucking night. but at this point, you would gladly take a serial killer over jimin or jungkook.

"taehyung," you breathe when you take in his face, relieved. you must look like absolute shit because he scans your face and winces.

"jimin told me," he says, the apology in his voice and expression was almost painful to register. "he told me everything. ____, i'm so sorry. i should have told you about the hoseok thing, i just thought it would be worse coming from me, and then i tried to force jimin into confessing but then he didn't because he's jimin, and now-"

"you're only allowed to come inside if you stop apologising," you say weakly, voice haggered from the hours of crying.

taehyung's pouty expression almost makes you smile with how cute he looks, gingerly stepping over the threshhold. "i really am sorry though."

"for what," you say monotonously, closing the door behind him while he takes off his shoes. "my inexplicably terrible taste in men? my uncanny ability to get manipulated by literally anyone who shows me a scrap of affection? or my absolutey shredded-to-shit attachment style thats barely intact let alone functioning healthily? after hoppping between the first two for a few hours i'd personally go for the latter. but whatever."

"please shut up," taehyung sighs, bringing you into his arms before you could have a second thought about it. "you need to amp up the misandry in this context. a lot of this had nothing to do with you and everything to do jimin and jungkook."

you're too tired to open your eyes, snuggling into the softness of taehyung's chest. you’re too exhausted to argue. "where did you learn the word misandry? have you been reading?"

"yeah," you can hear his big, pleased grin. "i know you and the girls have been calling me a himbo behind my back."

"affectionately," you add, peering up at him. he wipes the wetness off your cheeks, moving upstairs to your room with your hand in his. he fetches you a glass of water before putting you into bed like he's paid to do it. taehyung was the cuddliest person you had ever met, but you had rarely seen him dote on anyone. "girls love himbos. it's a compliment."

"not all girls," he mutters when he returns from the bathroom with a glass of water. "drink this, would you? you look so dry it's making me itchy."

you do as he says with a roll of your eyes. "what do you mean?" you finish your water with a big gulp. "jisoo loves dumb guys, what are you talking about?"

taehyung looks away from you, bottom lip rolling up under his teeth so fast you barely catch it. he pulls up your desk chair next to your bed, thinking long and hard before meeting your eyes again. "i don't mean jisoo."

you don't understand at first, but after staring at his face for a long minute your stomach drops. "don't. don't you fucking dare," another beat of silence. you rip the covers off you to scamble to your knees, grab your pillow and hurl it at taehyung's head. "taehyung, please don't tell me that the one remaining, healthy relationship i have with a man has also been shot to shit because i swear to god i'm gonna-"

"it's not a big deal," he says firmly, and he really does mean it. taehyung catches your wrists when you lunge at him, effectively ending your outburst before it can begin. he keeps hold of them while he stares into your eyes, watching the way they fill up with a fresh bout of tears. "i've had a crush on you for a while, so what? it's not anyone's business but mine so don't worry about it."

you try not to scream at him. "how long?"

"...since the start." he shrugs. "it's not like i could have done anything anyway. with jimin around. he’d never have it."

"but...! but..." you splutter, the highlight reel of your friendship suddenly marred before your eyes. "but you let me talk to you about boys! you gave me advice with hobi and jimin and jungkook and...! you encouraged jimin to confess to me. and the whole thing with jisoo?"

he wets his lips guiltily. "jisoo is a nice girl. i like her, but...not like you. i've always liked you."

you shake your head in horror, your face crumpling. bile rose in your throat. "so all of that...playing with my friend like that. was just to get to me?"

"listen to me," taehyung says firmly, gripping your wrists to make you look at him again. he's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on yours, and you never realised how large taehyung's torso was compared to yours before. he could have smothered you, but he didn't. in all senses. "the way jimin and jungkook handled their feelings is on them, just like how this is on me. it doesn't matter if i'm fucking you or not, you're my friend and i'll always want people to do right by you. and that includes me."

there was nothing else to say, so taehyung wordlessly wipes your face again and fetches you more water before retreating to sleep on the couch downstairs. all the while you sat there in your bed, confused and bewildered and thoughtful. the same bed jungkook fucked you on. the same bed jimin held you in. out of all the men in your life, taehyung was the only one who treated his feelings for you with reverence. there wasn't one interaction you could think of where he made his feelings clear, where he even hinted towards wanting something more. if he hadn't have said anything tonight, in the wake of one of the most emotionally tumultuous days of your life, you would still be in the dark about it all. and that was the scariest part. you didn't know anyone else who hadn't let their feelings for you effect how they treated you. so ultimately, it was possible.

and jimin and jungkook chose not to do that. but taehyung did.

taehyung did.

when you finally pad downstairs after hours of ruminating, jisoo's bedroom door is wide open. and that's who you should be thinking about now - your friend and sister jisoo - as the sky begins to lighten with the signs of morning. you hadn't slept for over twenty four hours, you were hungry and thirsty, delirious from the whirlwind of losing the two most important men in your life in one day. but still, you are drawn to taehyung. taehyung, who never asked anything of you. taehyung, who was as silent as he was selfless this whole time. taehyung who routinely put what he wanted aside in favour of what was best for you. taehyung, who protected you without needing credit or recognition for it. taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung-

"taehyung," you whisper scraping your nails through his hair. his eyes fluttered open, twisting his head to face you as you hovered above him. he could barely see you in the darkness. "taehyung, wake up."

"what is it?" he croaks, sitting up with half-lidded eyes and a yawn. he doesn't know how to read the expression on your face. he swings his legs off the sofa in a sitting position, wearing nothing but his boxers and tee, visibly alarmed. "what happened? are you okay?"

you take his face in your hands and kiss him.

taehyung stiffens against you, breath drawn thin. you pull away to gauge his expression, desperately searching his eyes in the darkness. for discomfort, disapproval, anything negative at all. the absolute ardour you find instead could knock you down if taehyung didn't reach for your neck, kissing you again. you whine at the feel of his tongue, having no idea where such sudden and intense arousal was coming from. when you pull away with shaky limbs, you climb onto his thick thighs so he can feel your wetness through his boxers. taehyung grunts at the sensation, and again when you kiss him passionately and without abandon. the sweet girl every guy he knew was agonising over, suddenly in his lap. he's barely had his tongue down your throat for ten minutes and you're already rocking into him, his erection betraying his resolve.

it's better than he dreamed.

"taehyung," you gasp, palming him now. he groans when he pulls away to look at your mouth, glistening with his saliva when you take his hand and guide it down to your arousal. "please."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #bts x reader #bts au #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin au #bts fic #jungkook fic #jimin fic #jungkook college au #jimin college au #bts college au #myfic

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incorrect-mha-bnha · 4 years

Text

Headcannon/Au Drabble

Kirishima is standing too close to a villain when Bakugou detonates a viscous blast, not taking into consideration that he couldn’t harden everything immediately without fair warning. Kirishima ends up going deaf because of the close proximity.

Nitroglycerin is addtictive, therefore? Midoriya has been around Bakugou the longest (excluding his parents which would have been warned by a doctor awhile ago) and is probably addicted to it despite Bakugou’s many attempts to keep their distance. Midoriya is just a crackhead.

Shigaraki was never able to play patty cake as a kid and that’s depressing in itself.

Ship hc: Person A plays video games with friends and wears a headset. Person B doesn’t play but likes wearing a pair and sitting in their S/O’s lap while talking with everyone.

The Joker/Harley Q trope for a couple dynamic is really valid in many BNHA ships. Person A and B are very capable heroes/people that know how to defend themselves but like to call their S/O in times of trouble. Person A is stopped by a bad guy and calls out for Person B with pure enjoyment for what is about to go down. All the villain hears is loud banging as B gets closer.

Bakugou is actually really amazing at doing makeup and hairstyles, along with doing nails. I’m going to say he learned most of that from self taught occasions, his mom, maybe some aunts and Best Jeanist. ANYWAY, all the class girls love to ask Bakugou for some pampering whenever they can. They always win him over after the fifth or sixth time they beg or give some sort of puppy eyes but Bakugou would never admit to actually liking doing those things.

Kirishima is the type of guy friend to carry pads/tampons in his bag at all times just incase any of the girls may need emergency supplies. He may go as far as bringing Tylenol or even an extra hoodie.

Bakugou owns a lot of house plants, and for many reasons. He’s the best and pretty smart which means he’s eco friendly. What does eco friendly entail? Going green! I hc that he probably refused to show his room because it’s completely jungled out (or full of cute plants and fancy pots). Based on his personality and my own projection, he’d like a plant that isn’t too demanding on care but I doubt he’d mind a challenge. Maybe a handful of succulents and a good amount of cacti- throwing in some Devil’s Ivy and a cute palm tree. Bakugou could spend hours tending to them, watering and building a nice ledge to rest them on just before his window. Indulging in new pots and fancy equipment for the sake of being extra. It’s all about the principle really. Plants produce oxygen, not to mention that some are really good for health as well.

BAKUGOU IS TRANS (but I would never press that on anyone)

Deaf Bakugou?? At a young age when Bakugou was first starting to learn about his quirk, he unleashed a very large, uncontrolled explosion way too close to his ears. That resulted in him becoming completely deaf in one ear and partially in the other.

Shouto is partially blind/visually impaired/completely blind in his right (left??) eye thanks to the BOILING HOT WATER being poured on his EYE. You can’t tell me homeboy didn’t get some sort of damage done from that besides some gnarly burns.

Kaminari has ADHD

Kirishima is extremely roudy and wild, also gay. Very gay.

Kirishima is trans (there are many things that point to this conclusion). Such as: If a transmasc got top surgery, he wouldn’t wear a fucking shirt again either. Talking manly and wanting to be manly is like the basis of what trans guy are working on. And the whole thing about him being gay? Is he really attracted to them or does he want to be them????

They aren’t allowed to have animals in the dorms despite a lot of begging done by all. However, Bakugou decided to say fuck you to the rule and has a bunch of animals in his room. Now. He gets away with it for a few reasons. 1) He isn’t loud about it, doesn’t go around showing them off or boasting like usual. Won’t bring them out of the dorm or let anyone see when he brings supplies back. 2) No one would suspect Bakugou to be such an animal lover or one to break that rule. Sad to say, he does. Many times over the course of high school, in fact. What animals could he possibly have? HMmMm let’s think, shall we? No doubt a hamster, a real grumpy one though. It has to have personality. A Bearded Dragon, Ball Python, a few Corn snakes. Maybe a gecko. But you have to believe he has a cat too. There is no way he wouldn’t. A furry brat that keeps him company while he studies and works out? Jumping on his back as he does yoga and sleeps on his face at night. There is no way. The best part is that the cat is deaf, which is why he adopted it. He went in looking for another lizard and came out with a sassy feline with no hearing. So what? He went soft.

Midoriya would be the first to go to jail between him and Bakugou. Hands down. Think about it... He broke numerous laws just to get a friend back and had no guilt for it. He was just all ‘Ehh, what you gonna do about it?’ when the fuzz pulled up to press charges. Bakugou is just crass and volatile, he threatens to kill people... but has he ever been seen killing someone? In conclusion, Midoriya is a delinquent covered up by his positive cinnamon bun nature.

Alright, personal projection time!! Kirishima bites and chews ice cream. Denki eats soup with a straw. Shouto eats cereal with a fork, “What? I don’t like too much milk. It strains out this way.”. Bakugou is just as bad, he’s a teenager and will do shit just because. Aka, he will go down to the kitchen in the middle of the night for some milk n cookies. When he realizes there is no more milk, he will throw a silent fit because he wanted those damn cookies. Begrudgingly though, he will pour a glass of water and dunk his Oreos in then eat em like that. I don’t make the rules, it’s just what happens.

Bakugou needs constant love and constant positive reinforcement along with help on his anxiety. Give that boy a service dog. A big fluffy golden service dog. A really large, extremely fluffy service down he can hug and hide his face in whenever something is bothering him. A real big puppy that makes him feel secure and makes him laugh. Damn it! Give him a dog now!

Kirishima is rowdy and wild. Baby boy is a teenager. Not to mention is invisible and hyped up on manly shit. THERE IS NO BOUNDS FOR WHAT HE WOULD DO. Think about it. He’d literally card Todoroki into setting him on fire just to see how long he can hold his hardening for. He would have Inasa drop him from the FUCKING SKY just for the hell of it. Hello? Is this thing even on? Kirishima is wild.

Dabi is afraid of spiders. Don’t ask me to elaborate. He just seems like a man with that primal fear.

BAKUGOU IS A FUCKING FASHION ICON OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL. SO FUCKING HELP ME I WILL SCREAM THIS LOUD N PROUD—

Bakugou and Midoriya don’t know how to tie a tie. Midoriya learned that weird funky napkin trick shit from just giving the fuck up and saying “Oh, hey! That looks sorts similar!” And went with it. Bakugou just can’t. He can’t. The only reason his ID shows him with a tie is because Mitsuki tied it for him before hand, and he never let it happen since. They are hopeless. That is all.

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captainkurosolaire · 4 years

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Destined ‘X’ Forever

“Ye wouldn’t b’ doin’ anything that’d take a special kind ov’ stupid now would ya’ ma’ Lord?” A cheeky rattle hit in a echo of the barren Ruins. For all intended reasoning's this wasn’t a planned encounter. Last he saw his Noble other halve was after attempting to salve some helpful advice to put him in a discovery. Though what the amber optic witnessed was anything but the type of discovery he meant. The pirate meant from the self. This was someone who couldn’t move on. Didn’t know how. This is hurt. He had been there, embraced it, and the result damaged him past the point of repair a self-searing that he still hadn’t entirely resolved. And forever because he couldn’t contain or control his heartbreak he discredited and discarded it. Letting it coal until he lost himself and a savage feasted on his homed temple. A severance between souls. A path to nefarious and damaging for anything that crossed was a clear future for Elune. If he paid the price and fed that side of demonizing that festered in all thing’s in varied degrees of morality. He would become consumed with dangerous and devastating levels that may scar him in irrecoverably.

“I..hate..you.” Muttered off breath before turning to face and direct to ensure this was more personal his regality was cracking he was so shortly an ilm away from being granted his wishful desire by utilizing a forbidden relic that protruded a hint of Mhachi. However, by activating this, It’d cost his last remaining dignity, his humanity he akin to most chose to run from it thinking and disassociating it as ‘weakness’ for the appearance and value it often represented no-good. He was possessed and consumed with the empty. That hollow part of losing a piece that stabled and made you feel wholly, he had forgotten what living was like without it after a sip. Without something to protect to be any meaning, he found himself misplaced. Knights didn’t exist without their duties or their morals to wage crusades in belief or service; they were dull like any Samurai in the obligated swords sworn after they slew their intended advisory it was weightless and immeasurable. None of that crossed his mind that once was recognized and pristine for being intelligent, all other forms living or to be sacrificed were insignificant, they could all be shriveled and pay the price even if it brought utter devastation and internal turmoil to that which he so starved to have returned to him. This resentment stood beyond even their current vessel’s their souls were entwined to contest. Negatives and positives. “I hate you. I hate everything about you, your stupid hat, your trashy ingrate demeanor. All of it! Hate is my sum for you.. You--- you’re, why I am here in this position. You cost me, my world! If you weren’t such an irritating blight, I would’ve never lost control… I’d still have them!” Flailing his arms out in the arm like a tampered child throwing his blame. The crystallized air around him howled in chimed ice sang like a banshee as his instability continued. Captain swallowed soft listening before presenting a stepped chortle and follow, “You need a tissue? Or a tampon for yer leakage?” The Seeker fired back as during that entire rant he just nodded his head. “Mate, I’ll b’ straight blunt yer being a bitch. O’ boohoo, ye lost something in your sheltered life, you in your fancy Ishgardian Walls always catered and given and throwing a hissy fit when ye didn’t get something fer Starlight. Your rant is the same shite I’d get from a dozen of stuttering cucks at the Quicksands for me so effortlessly tossing their lass over my shoulder and tending to them from their plagued bore. -Ye hate me? What a crock… Matey you don’t hate me, you just hate yourself. You got caught, ye won a battle but I got in your most prized place -- your head. Fail to understand your performance in our last skirmish saw you ACTING more like a pirate than a noble. Ye can’t get those thoughts ov’ me outta your mind… How naughty.” Tsking with a finger waggle further adding antagonizing fuel with even more expression by holding his chest to shield his exposure in that unnerving smug. “Standing over there and wanting t’ talk about hatred and losses. Ye murdered my near entire crew, ye tried dismantling another. Ye kidnapped my Star Healer and stole her away to fuck who knows where and then n’ your whole, ‘I gotta be th’ Elite White Shining Knight’, ye let her suffer alone and vanish to silence! Ye point and like t’ remind others of their failures, their faults, but conjure a solid mirror with that fancy-dancy magick. Leviathan… I gave ye an ale and I didn’t even charge ye on your last visit t’ my Cabin. I told you…! I warned you…! I did more than enough in my part, so-wait, is this what I’m missing out on sticking around for parenthood? Just sheer disappointment? This was supposed t’ be your discovery, but let me guess, the only thing you figured out in this entire time is that, ‘O I’ve got a dick, so well, I must be one and I’ll damn the rest in my way even the ones I love? Not even factoring their own thoughts? YOU aren’t wanted back. There’s isn’t any riveting other reasoning why they discarded themselves from you.” He unleashed every form of his smash-mouth and laid out the crass even if overkill. Thick skulls often were swelled in ego and ego was born often of entitled never spoken against, here enters the brazen. All the while Shiro’s fist rattled and quenched his inner demonic price for all his sin’s and wrongs began transforming and corrupting his veins, his roots that stemmed inside became a grotesque green. “Enough! What does the pirate know of actual loss and pain? You are thieves, takers, you’re scum. Compassion and your kind don’t mix, nor does it exist. Use everything and leave, you can’t even remain devoted to a single solitary thing. Always roaming without purpose to the next big thing for your greed. Making every little detail’s about yourself. Do not forget, I met your crew… None of them are innocent. It didn’t matter which you led. They were all heathens. Neither of them could listen to their betters. They didn’t respect anyone outside you, and when you were missing and disappeared on your so-called ‘shipwreck’ those who salvaged and carried your flag paid your price. You brought them into a War against a literal Sea Empire. None of them were equipped or readied. And without me, they would’ve all been slaughtered maggots. They even wanted to kill each other and decapitate the latter to get some heroic favors or get into the panties of your ‘woman’ you led only a cult of unwashed stains. Threatening like the barbarians you raised to even lash out at my sister because her own heart was on the opposing side. Who even was brainwashed and used as another pawn on the board though despite that fact their inbreed tribal and unorthodox wild crew of yours was but the essence of chaos. You mere peasants outside the Pillars and the arrogance you bestow, are far grander than anything we harbor.” Now it was the Keeper’s turn to verbally unleash a hailstorm. They bickered like an old couple cover many generations of grudges. Building their resentments and hatred until… that moment where there wasn’t going any back and one swung. The words actually began rattling against the Captain’s inner instincts and primal urges. For his own bonded knot was mentioned and brought up. The tone of Shiro’s higher ‘superiority’ shout echoed against the blank and outdoor ruins in a condense clap. Was steering and disturbing a slumber that snarled, his complexion became more heated. Irregular and unnatural... The scoundrel’s blood began surging. Weapons in War only ever are mentioned what was used to quell or the materialistic solution. Never in mentioning how any War or Battle began. Often originated from disputes. The contesting of disagreement is what drew first-blood before any sharp dared part flesh from. “What th’ seventh hell did ye say?” The ruffian stepped in closer even against biting and foreboding chills. A vein vessel popping out of his forehead. Shiro’s visage turned to a dastardly and deviled one impractical aetherial horn’s started to lowly form on his temple. “Many things and all I assure you, I mean them all. Your crew was worthless they lapped up and swam under your dirty seawater. You a Captain? A joke, your, -kind- don’t have admirable emotions or hearts, you are written as heartless and crude as you’ll always be known utter tasteless, savaged buffoons. THAT is your booked cover and shall always be to me and anyone else with somewhat wit.” The Seeker’s steps continuing forward his framework began bulking up hit by a nerve earlier. Every part of Shiro’s weighted words came from a merciless and mean intent. Making every remark sound as categorized and labeled as possible. The first step of all Jailers and those that hide behind anything against the grain or that make them feel even the slightest uncomfortable about the insecurities often came from classification putting a firm distinction between someone else innocently in the cross-hairs to try so desperately to distance themselves and stay on their elevated ladders, artificial thrones above someone. Despite that answer wasn’t what left a sour look on the mug of the rugged slicker those didn’t seem to be what triggered him. “No, the other.” He corrected calmly his stance seemed like a preparing lunge.

Shiro knew all too well what he said and brought a gleeful sinister grin to further elaborate the struck cord. “Ah right, the pathetic and high-excuse of a complex woma--” Right before he could finish that deplorable remark. The Blackguard used a rash Ghost Step (Shukuchi) to close in and lob for a full-force spinning roundhouse. (Previous) — /References/ — ♫ ‘Invincible ♫ — (Next Page)

#Part 1 of 6 #Expect em daily #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Lord Shiro Elune #Seeker of the Sun #Enough spat to melt an iceberg #Keeper of the Moon #Miqo'te #Noble vs Pirate #Rivalry #reader discretion advised #Battle from 0-3 #Time to warm out of this rust #creative writing

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calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Girls Talk Boys

Summary: You thought you had enough trouble crushing on your friends when they were guys.

A/N: In collaboration with the fantastic @lost-in-a-fictional-world

Content: Gender swapping

Word Count: 3.8k

And away, and away we go!

I was scrolling through various social media while laying on my couch, waiting for one of the boys to text me back. Suddenly there was a frantic knock on my door. Getting up from my position, I furrowed my brows and bit my bottom lip. Wondering who could possibly be at the door.

I opened up the door to see a pale, platinum blonde haired girl. She had on baggy black clothes. Her green eyes wide with panic. Behind her stood three other girls. One had slightly wavy brown hair and honey colored eyes. The next had curly golden blonde hair and baby blue eyes. And finally a tan girl with very curly black hair and deep brown eyes. None of their clothes fit their bodies.

They all looked very familiar, but I couldn’t quite place them. I thickly swallowed before stuttering, “Can-can I help you?”

They quickly pushed their way, slamming the front door shut behind them. “Can I help you?!” I repeated with more force, the slight panic causing my voice to climb higher. I had so many questions. Who were these girls? Why the hell were they in my house? And why the fuck did they look so god damn familiar?!

“Y/N, you gotta help us!” the one with brown hair told me frantically.

“How the fuck do you know my name?! How did you get here?!”

“IT’S US!” she screeched at me. “Something happened and you gotta help us switch back!”

My own eyes went wide with realization. Oh fuck...

“Ashton?!” I almost screeched back. She simply nodded her head.

“So that means you’re,” I pointed at the blonde with green eyes.

“Mike,” She finished.

I looked at the remaining two girls, “Luke? Calum?”

They both nodded their heads in response.

“I need to go sit down,” I mumbled, my balance wavering slightly. The girls reached out to balance me and walked me back to my couch. As I sat there, trying to register what was going on, they all stood in front of me expectantly.

I started to get uncomfortable under their gaze. Fidgeting with my hands, I looked each one over before taking a deep breath. “What do you mean by ‘something happened?’ Curses don’t just happen.”

“Curses just don’t happen!” Ashton mocked in a high-pitched voice that was even more high-pitched now that he was a she.

I fought back a giggle. “Seriously, who did y’all piss off? Luke?”

Three heads swiveled to eye the blue-eyed blonde. “Oi! What makes you think it was me?!” she scoffed in offense.

“Weeeelllll…” Calum said, sucking air through her teeth. “Let’s face it, mate. You’re the one mostly likely to piss someone off.”

“I hate this band…” Luke muttered.

“Does it really matter how? All that matters is that we get switched back. You can do that, can’t you, Y/N?” Mike asked me with pleading eyes.

“What makes you think that I-” I started before stuttering to a stop. No. No, no, no! Oh FUCK! I really needed to be more careful with what I wished for…

I bit back the sigh as I took another look at them, this time really studying their features. I held back another sigh. When I had wondered if my attraction to my friends would disappear if they were girls, I didn’t think the gods would listen let alone manage to make them hotter! It was unfair. I could barely be hot as one gender and here they were absolutely killing both. Is that drool? Am I drooling? STOP IT!

I quickly covered my mouth with the back of my hand, letting out a fake cough as I wiped away some of the drool.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” I admitted to them.

They all let out loud groans, which sounded heavenly. I crossed my ankles, squeezing my thighs together. I silently cursed my period that started the day before for making me hornier than usual. Come on Y/N, snap out of it!

“Is this why you guys… er… girls were ignoring my texts earlier?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Well, it’s kinda hard to think of messaging back when you have to pee and realize that your dick is missing,” Ashton shot back.

I shot my hands up in faux surrender. “I’m just saying it’s not cool to ignore a girl.”

Luke sighed and walked away from us, heading further into the house.

“What are you looking for?” I asked, following after to find her rummaging through my cupboards. Something that Mike usually did.

“Do you have any chocolate?” Luke asked, peering inside the pantry. “I really want something that’s chocolate.”

I was about to point her in the direction of my hidden stash when a scream rang out from the bathroom. “Geez!” I flinched, covering my ears. “What?!”

“I’M PEEING BLOOD!” Calum continued to scream.

“You can pee blood?!” Ashton, Luke, and Mike asked in a mix of curiosity and fear.

“You’re not peeing it, you idiot…” I grumbled, moving from the kitchen to stand outside the bathroom door. “It’s just your period, relax. There are tampons under the sink.”

The door opened a crack for the pair of wild brown eyes to stare back at me. “Like I know how to use those!”

“It’s easy. You just stick it up your…” I whistled as a substitute for the word.

“I’m sorry, I stick it WHERE?!”

“Where the blood is coming from!”

“Stop yelling!” Calum’s voice cracked as tears started to spill down her cheeks.

“Uh, Y/N…” Mike asked from behind me, looking scared.

“What?” I asked, turning to him, exasperated. I had to deal with my own period, my guy friends who I had a crush on turning into girls which somehow made my crush on them worse, Luke stealing my chocolate, and coaching Calum through his first period. What more could go wrong right now?

“My stomach hurts. Like… not in an ‘I ate too much food’ way. In a ‘good gods what fresh hell is this’ kind of way.” As Mike spoke her face turned a shade that damn near matched her eyes. She doubled over in pain. “Oh, gods, I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Make that coaching two people through their firs- aw shit. Luke was eating chocolate. Three. Three grown ass men- women? Fuck if I knew…- getting their first period. Which only meant one thing. Ashton was next.

“You’re going to be okay, Mike,” I put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It sounds like you’re on your period too. We’ll get each of you in the bathroom once Calum is done in there.”

Mike’s eyes went wide before yelling at Calum, “Hurry up in there! I don’t want to get blood on my clothes!”

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” she sobbed back.

“What is going on?!” Ashton yelled out over everyone else, coming toward the bathroom. Luke was close behind her.

“You’re all not only girls, but also on your periods,” I quickly explained.

“What do you mean? I feel fine!” the brunette gestured to her body.

“Luke’s craving chocolate, Mike is cramping, Calum is BLEEDING! Your bodies must’ve picked up on my cycle. So with four of us, yours is bound to start.”

“YOU CAN CATCH PERIODS?!” they all cried out.

“Oh for crying out loud! No! Women's cycles just sync up. Considering you’ve never had a period until now, your bodies just decided to go with mine,” I explained sheepishly.

“You did this to me!” Mike cried, still holding on to her stomach.

“I can’t control the fact that you decided to turn into girls while I was on my period!”

“Please stop yelling,” Calum said weakly. I turned to look at her through the crack in the door. Her face was stained with tears.

“I’m sorry, Cal,” I sighed. “Open the door, so I can show all of you how tampons work.”

She nodded her head and let the door swing open. Calum was holding her shirt down in an attempt to cover herself.

I opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out my box of tampons. Pulling one out, I unwrapped it and showed it to them.

“So you’re going to stick this fat end up there and push this stick part into the base of the fat part. That’ll push the actual tampon in, and you’ll pull this plastic back out of you.” I demonstrated to them how it worked. “I’ll leave you to it,” I told them, closing the bathroom door shut behind me.

“How long does this shit last?” one of them asked through the door.

“It depends. But since it seems like you guys are synced to me, it’ll be four days.”

“FOUR DAYS?!” they screeched.

“The cramps go away. You’ll be fine. Just stick the tampons in already and then we can make brownies and order a pizza.”

There was a mad scrambling from the other side of the door, followed by some grunts as they figured out what to do, before a whoop of victory.

The door opened and Ashton and Calum came out, grins of their faces. I peered around them at Luke and Mike who still looked frantic, an alarming number of discarded tampons peeking out of my small trash can. “You owe me a new box of tampons…” I grumbled, snatching the box off the counter and slamming the door shut again against Luke and Mike’s protests.

“Is this how it feels to have a dick in ya?” Calum wondered aloud.

I snickered into my hand. “Fuck me...” It was gonna be a long day. Or a long week if I couldn’t figure out how to change them back.

“Y/N!” Luke’s voice whined from the other side of the door.

“What?” I mimicked her voice.

She opened the door to poke her head out. “I can’t figure it out.”

“What do you mean you can’t figure it out? Ash and Cal got it just fine! You do know where the hole is right?”

Luke face turned pink as Mike’s voice called out, “Of course we do, we’ve had sex!”

“With each other?” I couldn’t help but tease his wording. Calum and Ashton high fived me as they snickered.

“You know what I meant!” Mike whined.

“Y/N, it’s really hard from this angle,” Luke spoke softly.

“What do you want me to do about it?” I threw my hands up. There was only so much I could do for them.

Suddenly the door opened the rest of the way. Mike came out, holding a tampon out towards me. “You do it!”

“I’m not putting it in for you!” I fiercely blushed.

“Please Y/N,” Luke begged. I could tell from the tears welling up in her eyes that she was getting desperate.

“What I meant, was you show us how to do it on yourself,” Mike blushed. “But that would work too.”

My cheeks were on fire. I don’t know how much more I could handle. “I’m not going to show you! Why don’t you just put it in each other?”

They both looked at each other before shaking their heads.

“Come on Y/N, it’s just a vagina!” Ashton quipped.

“You stay out of it,” I pointed at the brunette.

“Ash has a point…” Calum added, scratching at the back of her neck.

“If it’s just a vagina, you help them then!”

Ashton and Calum balked.

“Oh please, like you guys haven’t seen each other naked before,” I scoffed

“But this is…” Ashton started.

“Different!” Calum finished.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a slow breath. In all the dreams and fantasies I’ve had about seeing the naked bottom half of these idiots, this was not how I imagined it happening. No. I wasn’t going to do it. “Nobody ever showed me how to do it and I figured it out just fine. You can too.”

“D-did it hurt?” Luke asked, blue eyes full of terror as she looked past me and at Ashton and Calum who stared back with confused expressions.

“Oh, for fucks sake!” I groaned. “I’m not exactly clear on all the gender swapping rules, but I’m pretty sure you don’t just become a virgin again. Now suck it up and stick it in!”

“Geez, you sure are grumpy,” Calum told me with an eye roll as Luke and Mike closed the bathroom door again.

“You were in tears not even five minutes ago, so you just zip it, alright?”

Calum’s eyes narrowed before she stalked off towards the kitchen, muttering about starting on the brownies.

“You said this lasts four days?” Ashton asked.

I nodded. “Probably.”

“So… how do you… um…” She cleared her throat as her cheeks turned pink. “Like do I just wait for it to be over? Or is there a trick?”

“Are you really asking me this?”

She chuckled in embarrassment. “I mean… I imagine you’re gonna try to change us back as soon as possible so we stop wasting your tampons and eating you out of chocolate. Which… sort of ruins the plans I had… or at least this one. I didn’t really have any other plans…”

“You know where the clit is, don’t you?” I checked.

She huffed in indignation. “Course I do!”

“There ya go.”

“Seriously?!”

“Seriously,” I nodded. “Honestly, you guys act like sticking your dick in us is the end-all, be-all of sex and it’s really not. Not for us anyway.”

“Are guys really that selfish?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly know but… yeah?”

“You haven’t had sex with a guy before have you?” she asked, slightly amused.

“Course I have,” I lied. How did I tell one of my closest guy friends that all of my sexual experiences were with girls because I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with a guy that wasn’t one of them? And now that they were girls themselves? Fuck, I was never going to be able to have sex again. Stupid crushes.

“No you haven’t,” she smirked.

“Shut up!” I growled.

“But you like dudes, right?”

“Course I like dudes!”

“Oh! You haven’t slept with a dude because you like some other dude, don’t you?!” Ashton asked, putting the pieces together. “Who do you like?!”

“I’m not telling you!”

Ashton’s hazel eyes lit up with excited cockiness. “Is it me?! It’s me, isn’t it? Aw!”

“Ew, you wish!” I half-lied.

The hazel eyes went wide and she dropped her voice. “Is it one of them?”

“I’m not telling you, Ash.”

“I’m gonna figure it out eventually, so you might as well just tell me now.”

I was saved by having to answer by Luke and Mike bursting out of the bathroom in victory.

“Now that that is done, I think I’m going to go lay down,” Michael panted, grabbing her stomach.

My abdomen suddenly tightened with a sharp pain. “I’m going to join you,” I groaned.

As Mike and I made our way to the couch in the living room, Ashton and Luke made their way to the kitchen to join Calum.

Michael laid down first, curled up in a ball, so I had room too. We laid with our feet towards the arm rests, and our heads on the middle cushion. We stayed silent, breathing through our cramps and wishing them away.

I knew her’s went away first as she started talking. “I didn’t know you were bisexual.”

“You heard that?” I grunted. I was too preoccupied with pain to be embarrassed. Not that I’m embarrassed about being bisexual, but rather the fact that means she heard the conversation between Ashton and I. Which means Luke did too… fuck…

“So which one of us is it?” she asked.

All of you. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. Ash is on to something. You like one of us,” she pressed.

“I-”

“Stop eating all the batter, Luke!” Ashton cried out from the kitchen.

“I want chocolate!” Luke yelled back.

“I better go check on them,” I got up from the couch. “I don’t want them to ruin my kitchen.”

I left Mike behind as I hurried off, thankful to be out of that conversation. When I got there, I was greeted to the sight of Ashton holding off Luke, as Calum was trying to hurry and pour the batter into a pan.

“Just a little bit more,” Luke pleaded.

“It’s not healthy for you, mate,” Calum said dismissively.

“Hey, Luke, do you want to order the pizza?” I spoke up, trying to distract the tall blonde.

She sighed heavily, and stopped fighting Ashton. “Yeah, I’ll order the damned pizza.”

Luke left the kitchen to go order, Ashton on her tail saying, “I need to make sure her cravings don’t ruin the pizza.”

I sighed heavily watching them leave. Calum put the brownies into the oven. “You know, I’m kinda glad I just got the emotional piece of having periods.”

“What do you mean?” I hummed looking at her.

“Luke has cravings, Mike has cramps, Ashton… I’m not sure what Ash got, but I’m the emotional one.”

“Ash is the horny one,” I wrinkled my nose thinking about how she wanted to mess around.

Calum threw her head back as she laughed. “And you’re-”

“All of the above,” I cut her off.

“You’re horny too? Is that because we’re girls?” she smirked.

“Gods, I’m not having this conversation with you too,” I groaned, leaving the kitchen, back towards the living room.

“What are we watching?” I asked as I laid back down on the couch.

“Mike found a documentary on curses. Thought it might help,” Luke answered.

I hummed in response, my eyes watching the television screen intently. I feared I knew my answer to solving this curse the second I became aware of what I had done. But I watched anyway, desperate for an answer that didn’t involve me giving away the only thing I had ever kept secret from my friends.

At the same time Calum emerged from the kitchen with brownies, the pizza arrived. All of us ate and watched in silence, waiting for the answer to our predicament.

“Well, oftentimes the way to break the curse is for the people involved to do what they’ve been dreading the most. Usually in relation to the curse itself,” the expert was explaining.

“Pause! Pause it!” Luke screamed and Mike scrambled to hit pause while we all sat up at attention.

“Okay, but in order for that to work, we need to know who cursed us,” Calum pointed out.

“Well obviously it wasn’t any of us otherwise one of us would still be a dude,” Ashton figured.

“Well… one of us is still our gender…” Calum remarked and all four of their heads turned towards me.

I bit my lip.

“Y/N,” they prompted.

“Alright!” I threw up my hands. “I may or may not have cursed you guys…”

“WHAT?!” Calum shouted.

“YOU CURSED US?!” Mike raged.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” Luke cried.

“It was an accident!” I defended myself.

“How the hell do you accidentally curse your four best friends, Y/N?” Ashton asked, voice tight with emotion but controlled.

“I might have wished you were girls so I didn’t have a crush on you anymore…” I mumbled.

“All of us?” Ashton blinked. “You mean to tell me that the dude you like is all of us?”

I nodded, ducking my head down.

They all shared a collective shy chuckle. Then “Wait… how come were still girls?” Calum wondered.

“Yeah if she admitted it, then shouldn’t we be back to normal?” Luke questioned.

“I mean, she didn’t actually say it. She just nodded. Maybe you have to actually say it?” Ashton asked me.

I sighed. “I like you. All of you. In a more than friend way. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?! I’m in love with you idiots!”

By all accounts, an unexplainable breeze should have blown through the room and they would turn back into boys. Unfortunately, no such breeze happened. “Fuck,“ we grumbled.

“Not that I’m an expert in curses, but don’t all the curses lift when the people kiss?” Mike pondered. “Happens in all the Disney movies. Worth a shot?”

I groaned into my hands. Great. My first kiss with the people I was hopelessly in love with was happening to break a curse I’d unintentionally caused. Today was definitely going down as the worst day of my life. “Fuck!”

“Aw, what? Don’t wanna kiss us now that you cursed us?” Calum teased.

“I don’t want to kiss you, period.”

“Bullshit,” Ashton snickered.

“Oh, c’mere!” Mike rolled her eyes, grabbing my face and pressing her lips into mine. My eyes closed involuntarily.

“Me next!” Luke declared before her lips were on mine.

“My turn!” Calum followed suit.

“Alright, I guess I’m last,” Ashton said before leaning in.

My brain played catch up to each of their kisses- soft and sweet with a hint of desperation I prayed wasn’t curse related- while my lips were left tingling.

When my eyes opened, they were all patting around their bodies, relief on their faces. “Yay, it worked,” I murmured sadly. They were back to being guys and I was back to having a stupid crush on them. Only now it was worse. Because now they knew and while I probably wouldn’t lose them as friends, my relationship with them was never going to be the way it was before I had cursed them. I wondered if I could pass the tears I felt rolling down my cheeks off as a reaction to my period.

They shared a look before they silently started cleaning up the food mess, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

“Hey, we’re gonna head out. Just take some time to process what the fuck happened. But we’ll call you tomorrow alright?” they told me.

I nodded mutely, waving my hand in the direction of the door. This is how goodbye started. I supposed the only good thing to come out of this was now I knew which one I actually had feelings for.

I turned on something mind-numbing, allowing my mind to go blank. I wasn’t going to cry. They had said they would call me. They had never not called me when they said they would. I was no longer in love with all four of them. Just one. But then again I supposed I really didn’t need a curse to have figured that one out.

A knock at my door startled me out of my thoughts. I got up, yanking the door open. “What now?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

He smiled sheepishly at me, holding out a grocery bag. “I brought you a new box of tampons and your favorite chocolate,” he continued to smile at me.

My lower lip quivered. “You didn’t have to.”

“Course I did!” His free hand was scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “You erm… you felt it too, yeah? When we um…?”

I nodded, heat rushing to my cheeks.

He chuckled in relief.

“Is that why you’re back?” I questioned shyly.

“Would that be alright?” he replied just as shyly.

I shook my head yes. Okay, maybe this wasn’t the worst day of my life after all.

Tag List

@goeatsomelife @flameraine @cashtonasff5sos @here-for-the-uproars @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @baldcalum @sparkling-calm @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession @gosh-im-short @aquarius-hood1996 @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @philthepegacorn @kikixfandoms

#girls talk boys #5sos #ashton irwin #calum hood #michael clifford #luke hemmings #5os fic #girl!sos #galcal irwin #@lost-in-a-fictional-world

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opheliamay · 5 years

Text

short story about 2 of my OCs, lex and genny, for a wip. best friends and star-watching and desert nights and repressed feelings :(

It is the day Genny turns 15, and the late summer sunset is so eye-scorchingly beautiful that Lex can feel happiness tingling between her toes. The sky explodes with rich oranges and violets and dark blues, and she smells the heat fresh off the rolling sand, the dusty, feverish scent of giddy bike rides and long-limbed races through the desert. Dead gnats the size of pinpricks stick to her sweat-slick skin, which should normally upset her, but the world is lying cracked open at her feet today and there is nothing that could ruin it.

In one month, Genny will start dating Lex’s brother Roman, and everything will change. But none of them know this yet. Today, tonight, it is just Genny and Lex, Lex and Genny, as it has always been, the two of them infinite as the sprawling sand.

Lex hovers at Genny’s unpaved driveway, half-on her bike, half-off. Just in time, Genny’s head appears from the side of her white house, and then her tanned legs in short shorts, and her bike swerves so recklessly down the concrete that when she brakes, pebbles fly everywhere. The reddening sun glints off her golden brown hair.

“Are you ready?” Genny asks. She’s carrying a long, skinny black bag on her back, at least three feet wide horizontally across her shoulders, and she has a red backpack in her lap. When she smiles, teeth flashing, Lex thinks that she is the type of person specially designed by God to exist in the sunlight.

It makes Lex angry, though if you’d asked her why, she wouldn’t be able to articulate it. She shoves Genny hard—a single, accurately aimed shove between the collarbone and the shoulder—and Genny crashes off her bike onto the sidewalk with a righteous shriek. Lex is flying away on her own bike before Genny can get up. “That’s for being late, birthday girl!” Lex yells over her shoulder. “I get the fucking head start!”

She spins her feet on the pedals with stone-serious conviction. Behind her, Genny shouts something indignant and scrambles to get back on her bike. Lex is serious, practical, and ruthless in all circumstances, especially in games. She wants Genny to catch up—she knows she will—but Lex is not a person who slows down for others, even when she’s started the game unfairly.

Soon enough, Genny’s bike nears Lex’s, and they race through the neighborhood. If people were to look out their houses, all they'd see would be two heads of streaming hair—Lex’s is all long, tangled black curls and Gen’s is pale brown, cropped short to her shoulders but a wild mess. White houses pass them in painted blurs.

The two of them shout vicious profanities at each other, back and forth in rhythm like tennis balls bouncing between rackets. As the houses end, though, and the endless desert begins, the shouts change into open-mouthed laughs that burst uninvited from their chests. GennyandLex, LexandGenny.

Gradually, laughter drifts into happy silence. They ride for what must be twenty or thirty minutes, deep into the desert. The sun sets deeper and deeper into the horizon, clouds streaking with red-orange, then blue, then black.

Eventually, they both roll to a stop at the same time. The sky is a vivid blue near the horizon, but all above them is black. There is no verbal agreement about when to stop, no real markers to signal the end of their path—just palm tree yuccas and cacti—but they know how to read each other even in the dark. Lex can see the barest lift of Genny’s shoulders, the twist of Genny’s mouth, and it is clear as day that she is about to stop.

They abandon their bikes on the sand. Before Lex can move, Genny jumps her, throwing her arms around Lex’s shoulders in a hug that is slightly violent but fully affectionate. Lex hugs her back, shakily, her nose full of the smell of Genny’s wildflower-shampoo. Lex doesn’t usually let herself be hugged, but Genny is always an exception. The only exception. “Happy birthday,” Lex says.

Genny lets go, grinning. “Thank God you called me when you did,” she says, words mashing rapidly together in an unbroken string. It reminds Lex of the part of the alphabet song that goes l-m-n-o-p. “I was getting so stir-crazy. I was about to blow my shit. If I had to hear my mom start crying one more time today—she’s all like, My baby is growing up and becoming a woman, blah blah—I was gonna throw my tampons against the wall and remind her that she’s been saying that ever since I got my first freaking period. Anyway, how are you?”

Lex opens her mouth, but Genny keeps going, “Also, wait, that was a real shitty move back there, pushing me off my bike. Look what you did to me”—she waves emphatically at her knee, which is now scraped bloody—“you freaking psycho.”

Lex shoulders off her backpack and pulls out a box of band-aids. She holds it out as a peace offering, which Genny snatches. “It was payback for last week when you pushed me out of my dad’s truck bed.” And then, because the scrape is small, “I’m not sorry."

“It’s not like the truck was moving.” Genny collapses on the ground in a stubborn heap, sand flying up around her. Her face is awash with the faded blue of the sunset. She throws her black bag from her shoulders—it clatters when it hits the ground—and folds her legs up. After tearing open a band-aid with her teeth, she tosses the box carelessly to the side. “God, I hate my calves. Look at them. Are they fatter than they were last week?”

The past few months, Genny has been obsessively picking apart her body, something she never used to do. Lex hates it so much sometimes her vision goes white. “Your calves are perfect. Do you need disinfectant for the scrape?”

“Nah. I’ll live.” Genny shifts her leg, observing her knee with an exaggerated care intended to make Lex guilty. “I think my calves are fatter.” Then, "How’s Roman?”

“Fucking annoying,” says Lex, and she feels the familiar rush of envy that comes whenever she talks about her brother. She doesn’t want to say anything else about him, and Genny knows it.

“Did he say anything about my birthday?” Genny asks, avoiding her gaze.

“No,” Lex says, crueler than she should. She looks out at the horizon, shielding her eyes. “You know he only cares about himself. He doesn’t care if it’s your birthday."

It’s a lie. She thinks of Roman this morning, blue-eyed and lazy and leaning insolently against the dining table. You’re meeting Gen today, right? Tell her I said happy birthday. He’d said it arrogantly, like it was an honor that he’d even deigned to remember. If Lex were a better person, she would’ve told the truth, but she’s not. She wants Genny to herself today.

Genny scowls. “I was just asking. Jesus.”

Lex sighs harshly through her nostrils. She doesn’t like the hurt look on Genny’s face. “And your calves actually are perfect.”

Genny dismisses this with a wave. “Whatever,” she says, though it’s clear she’s pleased. She finally pats the band-aid down with a cheerful slap and then looks up, eyes wide and face brighter than the sky. “So. Are you ready?”

Lex grins, wild, feral, happy.

The two of them zip open Genny’s bag. The telescope is inside, old and scratched-up but (from what they can see in the dark) otherwise in decent shape. Together they reassemble it, pulling the tripod legs to their full length and snapping them outward, adjusting the lens.

By the time they’re done, the full night has settled on them like a heavy, gentle blanket. It’s a new moon tonight. Far away, only the smallest points of light from town suggest the direction they’ve come from. They can barely see each other anymore—all they are are shadows and silhouettes. They grab onto each other’s hair and fingers and limbs like children, giggling and pushing on their way to the telescope.

“Fucking hell, it’s dark.”

“Yeah, because it’s night, psycho.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t notice."

“Ow! That hurts. Stop pulling.”

“You stop pulling.”

“Ow ow ow!"

"Fuck! Did you just kick me?”

“Because you wouldn’t stop freaking pulling."

Though Lex has been out here at night hundreds of times, the sheer darkness of the desert on a new moon never ceases to surprise her. In all directions except above them, there is only black for miles. Lex holds her hand in front of her face, marveling at the fact that she can’t make out its shape. For the briefest second, Lex imagines that the two of them are floating in space, with only the stars to see.

Genny drops to the ground to riffle through her backpack. Without being asked, Lex pulls a miniature flashlight from her pocket and shines it down into the backpack, illuminating its contents. Genny murmurs a sound that could be either Thank you or Screw you.

The inside of the red backpack is stuffed full to bursting with papers and books and trinkets and all the random crap Genny seems to find necessary on their short star-watching trips. Lex waits for her to finish shuffling.

Finally, Genny tugs out her fat astronomy book and opens it to a dog-eared section. The pages are old and worn, faded from use, but the pictures inside are bright and vivid underneath the flashlight. “It’s a bit cloudy tonight,” she says, biting distractedly at her thumbnail. Her other hand traces the notes she’s written in the margins of the pages. “I hope Saturn will still be visible.”

From above her, Lex watches several strands of Genny’s hair fall in front of her face. Genny doesn’t notice; her eyes are too intently glued to the pages.

Lex’s heart lurches oddly. “Well, we’re not gonna find out by looking in your book,” she says. She flicks off the flashlight and kicks the book closed. They’re engulfed in darkness again.

“Hey!”

“Get up here,” says Lex, already reaching for the telescope. “There’s an entire world out here begging for your attention.”

Genny huffs but joins her side. This time, Lex moves so Genny can look through first. It’s too dark to see her now, but Lex can imagine the expression—pure excitement, awe, even sadness. It’s the same face she always has when she looks at the stars. Lex predicts Genny’s emotions better than she predicts her own.

Genny finishes angling the telescope. Lex hears the smallest intake of breath. “Lexa, there it is. Look, look. You’ve got to see this.”

Genny moves, and Lex takes a look. She closes one eye to peek into the telescope, and—there it is, Saturn, pale and ringed, bright but tiny in the darkness. “That’s it?” Lex says. “What a letdown."

“What do you mean that’s it?” Genny shouts, exasperation soaking into each word. Her voice shoots across the desert and gets swallowed by the night. “You’re looking at a planet! A planet ringed by ice! A planet ninety-five times bigger than Earth!”

“You know what else is way bigger than the Earth? The stars right up there.” Lex steps back and lies down on the ground. The dust sticks to her bare arms. “And I can look at them with my own two eyes. Ouch! Don’t fucking step on me, I’m right behind you.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t see you.”

They fall silent. The desert is cold and alive with the sounds of buzzing insects and wind. Lex wishes she could see Genny now, wishes she could see her face as she gazes into the telescope. Lex's chest hurts with the wanting of it.

“Lie down next to me,” Lex says when she can’t stand it anymore. "Don’t tell me Saturn is prettier than these stars.”

Genny blows a raspberry with her lips, but after a moment Lex can hear her sit down, can hear the scrape of her body against the sand. She feels Genny settle beside her—she’s warm—and loop an arm into hers. “I hate that you’re right,” Genny mutters, and Lex laughs.

They lie there quietly for so long, and Lex is so happy, that she nods off into sleep. At some point Genny nudges her awake, and she says, “I really love you, Lex, do you know that?” And Lex has the most overwhelming urge to cry. She pretends to be asleep instead.

Sometime later in the night, they use the flashlight to scramble for their bikes, gather their bags, and put away the telescope. They don’t bike home—it’s too dangerous in the pitch black of night—so they walk alongside each other in the dark, pushing their bikes by the handlebars. They move toward the lights of the neighborhood, far out in the distance.

“Happy birthday, Gen,” Lex says, one more time.

Gen elbows her, lightly. “As birthdays go, it was a pretty good one."

#parcae #writing #writeblr #my writing #genny and lex

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dontbethatshank · 7 years

Text

The Cute One, With The Limp

Request: This isn’t word for word but essentially I got a request about the reader being married to Newt and they all make it to Paradise and the girls are all hanging out with the reader. While doing this they begin to spy on Newt discussing how cute he is and calling dibs and one is about to go talk to him and he comes up and kisses the reader. Lots of fluff was specified so get ready for the fluff ride of your lives!!!

Finally. Finally, finally, finally! You had made it. After so many years of broken promises and shattered dreams, you saw it; Paradise. it was a promise for a better life and a happier tomorrow. You entered it with Newt, your husband, and surrounded by your friends.

Having spent the past two years of your life entrapped in a maze makes it seem like marriage was impossible. But on the contrary. You and Newt ‘got married’ after being together a year. He used broken twigs and twine and created to wedding bands. He still takes yours and finds small flowers to put into it, which you love. And the ‘officiator’ was Alby and your ‘maid of honor’ was Gally, who wanted to smack you for calling him such but smiled with happiness as he watched you kiss Newt.

In reality, the ‘wedding’ wasn’t a wedding. it was a promise and the ceremony was more for happiness and a da for everyone in the Glade to be happy. Yes, you still claimed him as your husband and he claimed you as his wife, but you both knew it wasn’t exactly a true statement. But every day he would tell you that if he could he would sign a paper and promise his life away if it meant he got to marry you and truly be “bound”. But you were both content. You loved the small band resting on your finger made of twine and twigs. Newt’s own band was made of small rocks and string, bits of thin metal also wound into it. It was your promise to one another, and that’s all that mattered.

As you entered paradise, you came to a city full of people, all doing their own jobs and their own activities, all just working together to make a functioning system. It was basically the Glade.. except free. When you all came in, you were all quickly pulled off - you were taken with some of the other girls while the boys were whisked away other places. You were all given clothes, food, and a nice place to shower and scrub yourselves clean. It was nice. It was relaxing. It was promising, you thought.

As all these things proceeded, even your group with the girls dispersed, Brenda was whisked off by someone else who was showing her the “most amazing blade I have ever seen, you have to show me how you carved a handle so smoothly like that”, and Sonya was shown where to shower next, and everyone was essentially taken to their on spots within the small, open room where the girls introduced themselves.

“So... what was it like?” one girl asked, long, thick red hair and bright blue eyes adorned her tanned skin. She was beautiful, fit, and seemed to have wild blood coursing through her. While raising your eyebrows, you tilted your head in response to her. What was what like, you wondered, already feeling like an outsider. “What was it like living with only a group of boys? I bet it got tiring, I mean sure, it was also pretty fun at times being the only girl, but like... so many guys, uh...” another girl piped up, her face becoming a grimace as she shuttered towards the end, the others around you bursting into laughter.

It was true, it was hard being around boys. The didn’t understand privacy all that well none of them had seemed to ever know that you could simply sew up a hole in a shirt instead of ripping it apart and throwing it away, they seemed to forget their clothes everywhere and even forgot to wear clothes half the time. It was honestly tiring at times and you sometimes wanted to strangle a few of them, but you loved your boys. They were your brothers, sons, best friends - everything. you would have killed to save them all... you would have done anything to protect them.

With a shake of the head and a smile, you looked back at the girls, laughing at the girl with the two long brown braids in her hair who was still grimacing at the thought. “it was... odd. I mean, none of them knew what the hell a bra was until I did everything but give a demonstration. Asking for tampons as like asking if I could keep a Griever as a shucking pet. It was so exhausting, but.. I loved it.They were nice and I adored them, some more than others,” you muttered as an afterthought, and the girls grinned. You all were still teenagers and you all still enjoyed gossip and you all still enjoyed boy talk (and for some girl talk, and that could get hilarious you soon learned).

“Hey, isn’t he from your group? He’s really cute...” the red headed girl suddenly asked, her eyes turning towards Newt as she jut out her chin in his direction her teeth catching her bottom lip as she did so. You laughed, about to explain just how special ‘that guy’ was, but then it continued - and boy, did you love it. “Who?!” asked another girl, her head swiveling around, trying to eye the boy. “The one with the limp and the sex God hair, Jessie,” the red head laughed at her friend. “Oh Woah, yeah, you’re right Maria, he is hot, woah,” the girl, Jessie, replied. And soon, a group of about 10 girls were ogling Newt as he talked with the boys, his hand rubbing at his hair and drying it of the water. His laugh was heard even from the four or five-yard distance and the girls swooned even more.

“He’s got really nice arms,” one girl mumbled, another commenting on his lips, a few agreeing that his voice was definitely a fan favorite. And you stood there, giggling. “Oh yea, he’s got amazing arms - really strong,” you commented, nodding as if affirming it as a fact. Your mind wandered to every time he crawled into bed with you, his arms finding their way around your waist as he peppered your neck and collar bones with light touches of his lips as you shoved at his shoulders, telling him to get away. But his arms only tightened, as his laughter left along with the small contact. He loved to make you laugh.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Maria said, a devious glint to her eyes as her fingers gently raked her hair, the loose, messy bunch of curls that stacked up on her head and dwn her back flew around and danced as she moved them, the other girls groaning or cheering her on. “I called dibs,” another girl, Kamira if you remember correctly, mumbled out, huffing softly. But Maria grinned, fixing her shirt just a bit as she shrugged, continuing to say that she was going to do it. That she was going to ask him to sit with her at dinner and to maybe show him around the plae that night. All the while you stood back, biting your cheek, laughing just a bit.

As this continued and as Maria finalyl decided it was time to go and talk to the “cute boy with the limp” she turned around and you all saw him already coming over, limp and all. With a wicked grin you watched as a couple girls encouraged Maria, saying that he couldn’t turn down a beautiful girl like her. And you might of felt a bit bad that her hopes were about to be crushed... but you could’t stop internally laughing long enough to explaina nd part of you wanted to show them that yes, you were in fact with that cute British boy from group A, and yes, you knew he was cute as hell. Another part of youw as jealous at the fact that Newt had options now - and Maria was one of them, her beautiful bright red hair and her deep dimples and her lithe body that seemed to be built for dancing or sports. Part of you wanted to see newt only come to you when he had his options - and he did.

newt walked up, a poliet smile on his lips. “Hello!” Maria chirped, a small wave following as a couple others greeted him. He laughed and greeted them all back, a wave coming from his right hand as he continued to talk. Walking past a couple f girls and to the side, he walked up to you, his hand softly grabbing yours and slipping off your ring. “I found some of those tiny purple flowers you always loved in the Glade,” he mumbled, slipping in and tying three small purple flowers around the ring he had made for you all those months before. “Thank you Newt,” you smiled back gently, the thoughts of jealousy and hilrity pushed from mind as your hand tangled with his and he leaned towards you, pressing his lips to your forehead and then one kiss to your nose.

“Gotta keep this wedding band pretty right? Can’t have any of those shanks forgetting, or any of these new ones not noticing,” he smiled, a wicked grin placed on his pink lips as he raised your hand up to those lips, kissing the ring he had just mentioned. “I doubt anyone would forget or anyone would even attempt so,” you rolled your eyes at him, smirking as he egan to laugh. “Oh!” you exclaimed, remembering how Maria was going to offer to shwo Newt arond that night,” Newt, this is Maria, Amira, Helen, and Jessie. They have been very welcoming since we got here. Maria wanted to show you around the city tonight.” Maria blushed as she looked down, her eyes already looking like they were practicing a sorry speech to you afterwards. “That sounds lovely,” grinned Newt. “A beautiful girl to show me around a beautiful city! I’m sure the others would love to look around to and get a feel for the place,” Newt hummed, smiling warmly at Maria. “Oh yea! Definetely! I- we, we would love to. The girls and I would love to show you around,” Maria quipped, a lopside, toothy grin shone on her face, her dimples peeking out as she did so.

“Great! Now, if you’ll excuse us...” Newt smiled at all the others, before gabbing your wrist and pulling you along. His eyes glanced back at where he was with the others, several new faces accompanying them as they all glanced over and watched yout wo. Newt pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and an arm slithered to hold your waist. he began to talk about everyone he had met and how they all got these “amazingly clean” new clothes and how they were given the “most bloody amazing pot roast” since the boys kept complaining of hunger.

And you didn’t notice that Newt continuously held your waist and pushed the hair from your eyes, or how he always peeked to the side after kissing you o look at a few guys who still lingered near where he came from. And Newt didn’t see you glance behind you at the girls as you moved to hold his hand, or how you bit your lip and gave side eyes to the Maria as he kissed your ring again.

And neither of you realized that the girls were eyeing Nwt and the guys were eyeing you because both of you got jealous and both of you needed to remind yourselves and prove to the others around you that, in fact, Newt was yours and you were his, and no beautiful aria or dashing Mark were going to change your minds about it.

But everyone noticed the rings - and everyone noticed the three small purple clowers that wer now intetwined within the tightly bundeled twigs and string around your finger.

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steklir · 7 years

Note

I've been rereading the story in anticipation of the last chapters. Very excited for a possible preview! Thank you for the great fic and chapters as always!

You’re wonderful, thanks so much! MWTW Preview* below, wherein we learn what Nia’s holding over Lexa and Clarke is her usual stubborn self (*~3500 words).

—

The sun hangs bound and gagged on the last day of Michaelmas term, dawn slipping into day unknown amongst the gathering gloom of the morning’s low-hanging clouds. As the hours lumber on, the air begins to catch in the lungs and it only continues to thicken, only grows heavier and heavier as if swallowing the hundreds of held breaths and deep sighs from within the school.

By noon, the whole world outside Polis’ red brick buildings has faded away into a bleak blur, entire fields and forests suffocated in a veil of fog.

The official joining of Polis and Dominicus is scheduled for two o’clock, their annual Christmas celebration of life superseded by a macabre pageantry of death, but it’s still a half-hour before that happens, or at least the cloaked American reminds herself while creeping outside.

Clarke watches the Headmistress greet the local news crew at the front gate with a vigilant eye, a total of five crew members with an assortment of handheld and video cameras. After handshakes and parking directions, they’re led through the Quad and to the bottom of the double staircase flanking the chapel doors. Requisite small talk is made, along with general lamentations about the weather, mostly because the fog ruins the possibility of panoramic shots for their news-spread on the event, and it’s the first burst of joy Clarke’s felt all day.

And she’s not quite sure schadenfreude counts as joy. Not really.

At about twenty minutes to the hour, the vaulted main building doors swing open to reveal a huddle of businessmen, one brave scout risking the sleeve of his suit to check for rain before holding the door open for his colleagues. With grimaces, the troupe tiptoe along the covered walkway for the sake of their shoes, a tightly packed unit of nondescript older white men in dark suits—possibly the same dude cloned six times, in all honesty—but there’s no way Clarke could ever miss the gait of her second heart, surrounded in their midst.

The Head Girl is marched out of the cloisters and up the marble stairs to the chapel as if she’s not already going willingly. As the fog coalesces into a light drizzle, Lexa pulls the hood of her cloak over her head and the men look on enviously. Her face is pale and every step she climbs must be agony.

Her feet don’t falter. Not even once.

They reach the top and Lexa straightens her shoulders. She pulls back her hood and fixes her eyes on the courtyard below. Her posture and expression betray no sign these fucking villains have drained her of her fight.

No, Heda stands arraigned between the stone pillars of the chapel as tall and fierce as ever: born for this responsibility, be it victory or defeat. Neither the howl of the wind nor the wild of her curls dare disturb her plaits, tightly wound as they are, but as she draws her arms behind herself and raises her chin, Clarke can’t help but wonder if Lexa’s crown of braids feels more a crown of thorns.

The Headmistress and photographers join them on the terrace, Nia speaking to Lexa through the corners of her puckered mouth while they’re fitted with lapel microphones. The Head Girl nods in response, both sets of eyes straight ahead, but Clarke doesn’t miss the smirk festering around the corners of Nia’s mouth. The group are posed and rearranged for endless rounds of publicity shots by the news crew and Lexa complies without a word, dutifully raising the corner of her lips in the semblance of a smile when prompted.

Clarke imagines the sensation of her knuckles contacting with Nia’s gloating mug.

Partway through the pictures, the Dominicus Headmaster dashes up the other set of steps, panting heavily. A droplet of sweat rolls down his bald scalp as he thrusts a bag of some sort into Lexa’s hands and then grins at the Headmistress, chattering excitedly about something Clarke can’t hear and then frowning in suspicion when he realises they’ve been taking publicity photos without him. It’s evident that Lexa doesn’t share his enthusiasm because the shadows under her eyes deepen, but she bows her head and steps inside the chapel with the parcel.

When she returns, her beautiful scarlet Heda cloak is gone, replaced by a garish red and yellow striped blazer.

Titus claps his hands together and Nia grins like a fucking snake.

Clarke thinks she might throw up.

It’s a Dominicus school blazer.

They’ve stripped Lexa of the last symbol of her position—her late mother’s cloak, no less—and forced her into this polyester monstrosity. All for their fucking circus.

She may only be seventeen years old, but Clarke decides she may never be more furious than she is in this moment.

They’re calling back the photographer to take more photos of this nightmare when Clarke can’t stand quiet another millisecond and storms up the staircase. The sallow-faced Advisory Board splutter and try to stop her, stretching out their hands, but they’re all too reticent to actually try apprehending the blonde fury.

“Miss, you can’t be here!”

“Young lady…”

“The ceremony hasn’t started yet, the girls don’t enter until—”

“Let her pass,” a stronger voice commands, powerful and steady even whilst shackled to her personal hell, and the business men gape in confusion, looking between themselves but none daring to contradict the Head Girl.

The Headmistress looks ready to intervene as Clarke pushes through to her girlfriend but then seems to change her mind. She simply makes a magnanimous gesture toward the Head Girl and then steps back, just far enough to give the illusion of privacy.

“Two minutes, Miss Griffin,” Nia says, her face the picture of a victor enjoying the sight of her victims wriggling on the end of a spear. “Then I’ll need you back inside for the ceremonial procession with the rest of your classmates.”

Clarke pays her exactly zero fucks.

“Lexa.” She wraps her hand around Lexa’s upper arm, speaking low; the muscles under her fingers are so taut they’re almost vibrating.

“Do you need something, Clarke?” she asks quietly.

“Just…” Clarke takes a deep breath to steel her aching heart. “Just to remind you that this isn’t the only solution. There are so many people behind you, Lex—we can stop this.”

Any last remnant of Lexa in those haunted green eyes immediately shutter away and Heda’s eyes flicker away, back to centre again.

Clarke drops her hand and follows her gaze, tracing over the sprawl of red brick and cobblestone in front of them, the four buildings that border the courtyard and the patch of Holy Ground in the middle. Under the hanging cloud of fog, the whole world feels small, as if nothing else could possibly exist outside these school grounds, as if they’re dwelling on their own earth, under their own skies.

And then she looks at the girl at her side and she remembers—she remembers the breathtaking immensity of the universe.

“All it’d take is one word from you, just one,” Clarke pleads, not caring if she’s overheard anymore. “You protected Polis before, when you went against the Headmistress and united the Houses two years ago. You can do it again—we can do it again!”

The Head Girl lifts her chin and pulls her arms behind her back; it’s a gesture of power but all Clarke can think about is how exposed it makes her neck, how exposed her heart and throat are to the swing of her enemy’s blade. “It’s done. I’m sorry, Clarke,” she says softly. “I have to choose peace.”

With a nod she already knew she’d be giving before climbing the steps, Clarke turns to Nia and raises her chin. “Headmistress. We’ve taken a schoolwide vote regarding the proposal to dissolve Polis and merge with Dominicus and—”

Nia bursts into laughter—or, rather, cackles—and turns to her Advisory Board to share in the hilarity. It takes most of them a moment, but they join in, too, if a bit stilted and confused, about as comfortable as they’d be if Clarke had asked them for their opinion on tampons verses sanitary napkins.

“A ‘proposal’? A schoolgirl ‘vote’?” the Headmistress gasps out, gnarly fingers forming air quotations around the words. “As adorable as that must have been, little Yankee, I’m afraid a boarding school isn’t a democracy. Dominicus and Polis will be joining together next year; it’s not up for discussion.”

“How can you possibly speak for us, we’re the ones—” Clarke starts but gets cut off again, this time by a long, dramatic sigh; Nia shoots an exasperated look over to the wary Board members as if they’re simply dealing with an over-tired toddler.

“Why don’t you step inside and I’ll explain,” Nia says sweetly between her teeth, digging her claws around Clarke and Lexa’s arms and towing them into the chapel.

Once inside, the Headmistress closes the door and then spins around to regard them both, eyes slitting in consideration before placing her hands on her hips.

“Clearly a tactical error was made by not involving your partner-in-crime in our little…agreement,” she concedes to Lexa while not sounding in the least bit conciliatory. Her tone isn’t one of resignation, either—it’s crafty, as if she’s expected this from the beginning.

Clarke’s not exactly sure what hackles are but if she has them, they’re definitely rising right now.

“I’m impressed you managed to hold your tongue, in fact,” Nia continues, cocking an eye over at Clarke for only a moment before ignoring her again for the stiff-backed Head Girl. “I was certain she’d be your first confidant. Perhaps she’s less important to you than I thought.”

Clarke almost snorts, unsurprised when the Headmistress reverts to this strategy.

So predictable.

If Nia can’t get Clarke to submit by going through Lexa, she obviously has no shame in falling back on her contingency plan to pit the two girls against each other. It’s the same strategy she’s deploying at the whole-school level—counting on the girls to either fall into line under her puppet Head Girl’s command or to fall into fractionated chaos, weakening themselves from the inside out with Lexa as the scapegoat.

Nia’s an idiot.

“Of course I didn’t tell her,” Lexa snaps, tugging at her blazer sleeves in disgust while avoiding Clarke’s eye. “You may have been able to cow me into submission but Clarke never would have stood for it.”

“Is that so?” Nia turns to Clarke with mild interest, now, her expression predatory. “My son sends his regards, by the way, dear. It seems you two really hit it off last week.”

Clarke grins.

“We did indeed, thank you for ensuring we met, Headmistress,” Clarke enthuses without a trace of sarcasm. “I spent some time chatting with Roan yesterday, as chance might have it. Turns out we have a lot in common.”

Her sincerity sets Nia off-rhythm for a second, especially once the woman checks over at Lexa and receives only a bland expression in reaction to Clarke’s words. “Well. I’m glad to hear it,” she finally manages before clearing her throat and regaining her footing. “But let’s not get off-topic—the ceremony is due to begin in a few minutes and I need your assurance, both your assurances, that it will go ahead with no unexpected surprises.”

With a raise of her eyebrows, Clarke moves so she’s side-by-side with Lexa against the wall of the vestibule and crosses her arms. The familiar sensation of thick wool against her hand gives her the strength to meet the Headmistress’ glare of intimidation without flinching away and she knows without looking it’s the Heda cloak, hung on the coat hooks.

“It will, Nia,” Lexa sighs when it’s obvious Clarke doesn’t plan to answer in the affirmative.

Or at all.

Glaring is much more gratifying.

Reaching into her black gown, the Headmistress pulls out a folded piece of paper and hands it to Lexa. “Furthermore, you will be reading this speech we’ve prepared word for word during the press announcement portion. No alterations, no translations into that embarrassment of a secret language of yours, not even an extra breath between sentences. Do I make myself clear?”

Shoulders only sagging for the briefest of seconds, Lexa slips the paper into the inside pocket of the blazer without opening it.

“Yes, Nia.”

The Headmistress lets out a long exhale in satisfaction. “Good. And why will be you be making sure everything proceeds without a hitch?” She leans in so she’s looming over them both and Clarke can smell the cloying stench of her perfume, sees every detail of the scar that stretches across her cheeks and the heavy layer of orange makeup caked over it.

Lexa sets her jaw and looks away, declining to answer this time.

Nia rolls her eyes to the ceiling in irritation and turns her attention to Clarke, currently attempting to hold her breath before she chokes on the sickly-sweet irony of the Headmistress’s ‘Angel’ brand perfume.

“Because the Head Girl knows that if she doesn’t cooperate, I will be taking the opportunity provided to me in the transition to revoke her beloved scholarship programme,” Nia answers for Lexa. “Polis is no longer a non-profit organisation as of last week, nor will the new partnership operate under such budget-hemorrhaging terms. We’re a business, not a charity.”

Clarke shatters as she finally understands the axe Nia’s been holding over Lexa’s head, the captive for which Lexa’s paying ransom.

Almost a quarter of students are funded through scholarships and part-bursaries, literally hundreds of girls unable to attend next year without financial support—girls from high-risk and vulnerable backgrounds, girls like Lexa and Octavia without a stable home life to fall back on, and oh fuck, Clarke should have known. How could she not have known?

“Lex…” she breathes.

“The agreement the Headmistress offered me protects all current girls on bursaries and continues the initiative for ten years on the condition that I ensure the deal proceeds peacefully,” Lexa confirms, voice leaden and eyes on her floor. “Otherwise the new Trust would rescind all funding offers for next year onward.”

Clarke can only open her mouth and then close it again, too angry and disgusted for her brain to form words in its white-hot cloud of realisation.

“Even if the merger doesn’t go through, the status of the school has already been changed,” Lexa goes on, correctly reading Clarke’s first objection once her sting of emotions begins to dampen. “She’d cut off their funding either way.”

“I don’t expect a child to understand, but the world isn’t run on inspiring words and happy thoughts,” Nia prattles on, her tone patronising as if she honestly believes they need it explaining. “A strong business model is the only way to make this school great again.”

“Polis is already great,” Clarke hisses. “And it’s only getting better. Money and prestige, they’re not power, we—”

“Clarke,” Lexa interjects quietly. “There’s more. A merger between two schools necessitates staff redundancies. Part of the agreement was the Headmistress also promising to protect each and every member of the Polis staff next year, either with full pensions or equivalent employment at the new facilities.”

Clarke looks at Lexa and tastes the salt of blood on her tongue, the sick of her stomach slowly dawning across her face.

She hadn’t considered the teachers and staff, either.

But Lexa has.

Of course Lexa has.

“This is extortion,” Clarke spits out and wishes she was literally spitting in Nia’s face. “How fucking dare you!”

“Clarke,” Lexa murmurs, eyes focused on the stonework. “Em pleni.”

Clarke pretends to have forgotten Trigedasleng altogether, far too furious to listen to Lexa’s plea to stop her tirade. “You should be in jail for this, you can’t just—she’s a minor, you fucking bitch!”

Lexa’s eyes widen but the Headmistress is unperturbed. “Language, Miss Griffin,” she drawls, adjusting her academic gown around her shoulders and straightening the fur-lined hood. “Your parents will hear about this insolence—oh dear, no, they won’t, will they? Consider yourself lucky, child.”

The sneer hits like a slap to the face and Clarke’s mouth falls open, stunned into silence.

There’s no delay in the way Lexa lurches forward, though, her body twisting into the personification of rage as she storms up to the vile woman. “Watch yourself, Nia,” she orders, voice low and clipped, and Clarke’s gratified to watch the Headmistress take a hasty step backward.

The Headmistress recovers quickly, however, and Clarke feels her skin crawl as the woman smirks and then strokes a knuckle against a fuming Lexa’s cheek, acrylic nails just short of scratching perfect skin. “Oh, darling,” she coos. “Do you really think you hold the power anymore? You may have had the Governors twisted around your finger but their influence is over and along with it, yours.”

Revulsion saturates Lexa’s eyes but she holds herself ramrod straight, refusing to flinch away from Nia’s spiteful touch.

“Get your hands off her,” Clarke growls between clenched teeth.

“If you want to keep your freeloading welfare students and over-entitled staff safe, you’ll learn your place and obey my orders,” Nia continues with flashing eyes, not even bothering to acknowledge Clarke. “As will your little friend over there, if she knows what’s best for her. Otherwise I’ll have no difficulty finding new budget items that could benefit from reallocations.”

Lexa sets her jaw but after a second or two she breaks their stare-off, dropping her eyes. “I will keep the peace, as agreed,” she mutters to the floor.

Clarke takes a deep breath as the beady eyes of the Headmistress slide over to her, narrowed in expectation, and then exhales in a long whoosh. “I’ll do as my Head Girl commands,” she mumbles, gaze similarly falling to the ground.

“Now you’re thinking like rational human beings instead of over-emotional teenage girls. Perhaps you’ll succeed in the real world, after all,” Nia says with a nod, calm and collected as if they’ve been discussing last-minute scheduling changes. She cracks her knuckles and smooths down her gown, satisfied, before beckoning them both back outside.

“I get it now,” Clarke tries reassuring Lexa under her breath as they’re shuffled out the door. “I would have made the same choice.”

The green of Lexa’s irises is faded and they’re churning as she holds Clarke’s gaze for a long beat. Her practiced countenance doesn’t waiver though and she responds using only a downward flicker of her eyes, as if she’s holding the muscles of her neck so tightly she can’t chance releasing them to nod.

Behind them, Nia leans against the wall next to Titus, the Headmaster blustering about something or other while the Headmistress seems content to let him rant himself out, busying herself with notes and locating her reading glasses.

Clarke holds her stare on Lexa long after she turns away to look out over Polis, watching her scan over each beam and every carved edifice with eyes long-graven with their shape.

The fog has only deepened while they were inside and a frosty wind moans across the courtyard, blowing Clarke’s hair into her face. Lexa’s braids remain steadfast, only the little curls around her temples showing any effect of the onslaught.

It’s a horrible, heart-wrenching decision Nia’s forced upon Lexa and Clarke truly does understand, now.

She understands and it changes nothing.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what the Headmistress is holding over Lexa’s head—only that she has the audacity to do so at all.

With a glance back to make sure Nia’s still preoccupied, Clarke steps closer to Lexa, close enough that their arms are flush. “The thing is, Nia trapped you into choosing between two bad options, Lex. Sacrificing the staff and scholarships or protecting them by endorsing this merger…it’s a false dichotomy, Lex. They’re not the only choices.”

Lexa swallows but makes no other acknowledgement of Clarke’s words.

“She deliberately pressured you with time-constraints and then distanced you from the rest of the school; you didn’t have the time and freedom to pull together a third option.”

“Clarke…,” Lexa warns.

“You didn’t. But we did.”

#morewomenthanwarriors #mwtw updates #I would be extremely happy to hear about any typos etc—I've edited this so many times I can't even read it anymore :-)#Anonymous #standard disclaimer that parts of this might change but i'll let you know if it's anything significant

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diyunho · 7 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Operation Broken Twig”

You were trying to dust off the vaulted ceiling at the penthouse, fell off the ladder and broke your right ankle and left wrist. You’ll be out of commision for a while and The Joker is not sure what to do with you yet: being gentle and sympathetic are definitely not his strengths.

Almost 12 at night

You struggle to move your body closer to J in a pitiful attempt to cuddle. He just watches you squirm, not helping one bit, adamant in not scooting over. The proud recipient of a huge smug grin on his face.

“What?” you ask, panting from the effort when you finally reach your destination that was only a few inches away but took a lot of work due to your present misfortune.

“I’m plotting your murder, Doll, gotta put you out of your misery. You look so pathetic, just like a broken twig. What would be the best way to send you off to a better place, hm?” he pretends to debate, but you realize he’s probably 50% serious.

“No killing,” you yawn, placing your casted arm on his shoulder since you can’t really hug him.

“This thing is heavy, I don’t like it,” The Joker pushes your hand away. You whimper, discontent at his gesture.

“Don’t be mean to me, I am already very uncomfortable,” you remind him and bury your face in his neck, all needy and whiny for once. He’s not used to you like this because…well, nothing like this happened before.

“I was thinking to suffocate you with a pillow after you fall asleep, what do you think?” he pretends not to hear your words.

“No killing I said,” you pout and immediately smile when his arm goes around your waist. “Hey, baby, would you be sad if I’d die?” you inquire, curious to see what aberration he’ll come up with. He always has some smart ass answer.

“Maybe…” You elbow him. “Probably…” You start a fake cry on his shoulder. “Definitely…” he growls when you bite his skin “…NOT.”

“I know you’d miss me, don’t pretend,” you sniffle.

“Yeah, of couuurrseeee, how could I not miss such a huge pain in my butt?!” he sarcastically answers.

“Hey, are you rolling your eyes?”

“How did you know?” more sass comes your way, thanks to your boyfriend’s supporting attitude. J is a natural when it comes to this stuff. T__T

“I felt a soft breeze and I figured it must be from your fluttering eyelashes. Auuuchhh,” the laud spank you felt through the fabric of your boy-shorts make you scream. “Hey, that really hurt! I don’t need more pain!!!”

“Perfect, precisely what I was aiming for.” He is very satisfied with himself, you can tell by the tone in his voice. “Since we’re reached such a positive place right now…”

“A-ha,” you mutter, not convinced.

“…I was hoping we can have some fun. I’m in the mood!” he smacks his lips and you giggle, forgetting you were upset.

“Is there a day when you’re not in the mood, J?”

“No, not really. Come on, Y/N, Daddy wants you.”

“Hold on,” you fight to get on your elbow, because, you know, you’re in the mood also but was too lazy to do something about it. Plus, with a casted arm and ankle, it’s not the easiest. ”Stay where you are, I’m coming,” you huff, kind of rolling over and kind of crawling on top of him.

Man, this is more entertaining than any show, J laughs to himself, resting both hands under his head, just lying there, enjoying you straining so much and not doing anything to help. It won’t be fun if he does.

You finally manage to straddle him and take a deep breath, already tired. You begin to pull your tank top over your head with the good hand and your head gets stuck inside it. It’s really hard to do things with one arm.

“J…J…can you help me please? I’m trapped.”

“Naaahh, figure it out, Pumpkin,” he snickers and you get frustrated.

“Help me out! I can’t breathe,” you complain, pulling on the fabric but it won’t budge.

“Good, this way you can put yourself out of the misery and I won’t have to do anything,” The Joker laughs but helps you and now you’re free. “Why do you even wear clothes, Princess? Sleep naked like me, I’m ready to go at any time,” he points out.

“You know I usually sleep naked too, but now that I’m like this it actually feels more soothing wearing clothes, OK?” And you lean over to kiss him but he must say it:

“How are you going to take your underwear off, huh? I’m not helping you, do it yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” you sigh, flustered. “Stop being stubborn and help a woman in need, would you? I know you want to,” you wink, wishing you didn’t have to depend on his whims.

J pushes you off him and you land on your back, felling a sharp pain in your ankle.

“Hey, be gentle!” you admonish him, annoyed he’s so reckless.

“I am! I didn’t break another arm or leg, did I ??!! Be grateful I’m taking care of things,” he pulls on your boy-shorts, licking his lips.

“Taking care of things?!” you almost shout when he eagerly yanks them off you, tossing them to the side of the bed.

“You really look like a turtle on its back, compleeeeetely helpless. I really need to put you out of your misery,” he grins, creeping up on top of you, biting his way up to your neck.

“No killing,” you moan, accidentally resting your casted arm on his back, even if you know he hates it.

“Too heavy,” he mumbles and pushes it away. “Just use your other arm, Kitten, yes?”

“Yes, your Majesty, sorry to…Auuucchhhh,” you fret when you feel the skin burning under another spank.

“Ahhhh, so unfortunate you have an attitude when, in fact, you can’t afford to. I’m gonna punish you and there’s nothing you can do about it,” J closes his eyes for a few seconds, taking it all in, pleased to take revenge.

“Like…ummmm…what exactly are we talking about here?” you gulp, staring in his blue eyes that got darker at the mischievous immediate future he has in store for you.

“You should have worried about it before you opened your mouth Doll,” your boyfriend snarls, getting on his knees.

*******************

You hop using your crutches, determined to get on the scale. J lifts his head from his laptop, intrigued at your action. He’s in bed, enjoying a slow morning.

“What are you doing, Pumpkin?!”

“Weighting myself,” you inform him, balancing on the glass plate, waiting for the digits to show up.

“What for?!” J wants to know, intrigued.

But you don’t answer:

“Oh my God, I gained 5 pounds!” you cover your mouth in shock.

“So?” he narrows his eyes, not getting what the fuss is all about.

“I gained 5 pounds since last week!!” and it doesn’t make you happy to say the least.

“I don’t care, get over it; more for Daddy to love,” he chuckles, blowing his green hair off his face. He certainly doesn’t give a crap about this new issue of yours.

“I care!” you frown, worried. “It will be a while until I can take the cast off, what am I supposed to do?!? I can’t work out, I can’t really even walk…There is only one way I can burn calories right now,” and you glare at the Joker since he’s your only hope.

“Let me guess…” he nonchalantly chuckles. “More sex?”

You keep on nodding yes, desperate.

“Want me to land my services even more than I already do?”

More nodding, more despair.

“Wanna kill me, woman?!”

“No, I just wanna put you out of your misery,” you smirk, hoping back to the bed.

J starts laughing, pleased your quirky whit actually delights him most of the time.

“Come on, baby, take one for the team,” you beg, leaning your crutches against the nightstand, and using your fingers from the good hand to walk them down his abs, pouting in anticipation.

“You are soooo damn lucky I don’t want to kill you 100% of the time,” and you know you’ll have to listen to a very well put together speech, but you gotta if you want to reach your goal. He keeps on rambling: “I have murderous intents to each and single person I know or don’t know, but you…you’re unique: I only feel like killing you 90% of the time.”

“Woooww, you really know how to make a girl feel special J,” you praise him and the sarcasm in your voice is still evident.

Well, you never learn.

He lifts you up on the bed, dragging you in the middle of it, irritated.

“Well, little broken twig, since you obviously have a temper, let me give you a lesson you’ll never forget,” he rips your undies off, anger at your words.

“Does it involve sex…please?” you feel the need to check since it’s crucial for your general well-being.

“Yeah!” J shortly replies, trying to rip your bra but he can’t so he gives up.

“Thank heavens,” you smile, relieved. “Do you need help, baby?” you offer since you don’t want him to change his mind.

“I don’t need help from a helpless twig, I can manage just fine, got it?!” he covers your mouth, staring at you.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you muffle under his fingers. “Auuchhhh,” you whine when the slap is fast to follow.

“You asked for it!” he threatens, pulling you under him.

********************

J got bored so he started drawing and writing on the arm cast: “Batsy is a jerk” ,“I love mister J”( with a heart by it), “I can’t keep my mouth shut”, “I have the best boyfriend ever”, “King of sex,” and he keeps on scribbling. You don’t care; you’re just happy he’s preoccupied with something so you can play on your phone for a little bit.

“Jaaaayyyy,” you kiss his shoulder, avoiding looking at him.

“Hm?” J lifts his non-existent eyebrows, concentrating on his project.

“Baby, could you please go get me some things?”

“If you are sending me on a wild goose chase for tampons or something, the answer is NO!” J growls, adding “No tampons,” to your white cast.

“I’m good on that, I just need more comfortable underwear, bras and stuff from my boutique. Would you go get them for me? Pretty please?” you meow, blowing him a kiss.

He inhales, starting to get grouchy.

“Do I really have to?!”

“Please, I am so miserable with my poor broken limbs,” you play the weakling card. “I want to be comfy, baby, pleeaaseeeeeeeee,” you squeak and he sneers.

“Stop with the voice, it drives me nuts! I’ll go but I need to be rewarded and I am not thinking about a massage. Did I make myself clear, Princess?”

More nodding, more despair.

“Anything you want, I just need my things!”

*********************

“Illusion” boutique is your favorite. It belongs to one of Mister J’s business partners, the perfect cover-up for what they do behind closed doors. J is going there tonight after closing to roam around and get you what you want, taking a few henchmen with him, just in case. Not that he needs to pay or anything since it’s implied all is free for the King of Gotham and his girl.

The Joker texted his men an hour before departure: “Get ready to leave in 60- Operation Broken Twig.”

What the hell is Operation Broken Twig?! they all think, intrigued. But they know better than not to ask the burning question.

*********************

The Joker keeps on walking around, stopping in front of a panty display.

“Which ones, Doll?” he points his cell towards the hangers so you can see everything on the camera.

“ Ummm…I want hipsters, size medium, about 7 pairs, the ones with flowers, please.”

“Which ones are the hipsters, Pumpkin?!” he gets aggravated seeing so many styles.

“The ones that look kind of low cut,” you explain, wishing he would keep calm for the rest of his shopping spree. “They have the purple flowers.”

“Then why don’t you say so, Doll, hm?!” he snaps, grabbing a bunch of undies and stashing them in his duffel bag.

“Can you also get me some boy- shorts?”

“Which ones are the boy-shorts, Y/N?!” He’s getting mad.

“The kind I am wearing at night for now,” and it displeases him.

“They all look the same to me!!!” he barks and you sigh.

“The ones with pink flowers and all behind are boy-shorts, baby,” you explain and it’s no use, of course.

J stashes some in his bag again. You try the waters, somewhat nervous:

“Can you also take some briefs with you? The ones with green flowers.”

His mouth opens, speechless. He grabs a pair with only two fingers, disgusted:

“Why in the world they used so much fabric on this one?! Looks like a tent! They could make 50 pairs of the G-strings I like on you, Y/N!!”

“Well, they are very cozy and I need them,” you make a comeback but his stubborn ass won’t have any of it.

“There is NO way you’re wearing this style while I’m still breathing!!!” he tosses the garment to the ground, kicking it with his shoe.

For God’s sake! but can’t vociferate your feelings. At least he’s getting most of what you wanted.

“I need some bras, can you grab the matching ones with my underwear please?”

“What size?” he coldly replies.

“34G.”

He looks through them and begins to toss items in the bag. Of course he’s picking the skimpiest he can find.

“Not those, J! I need the comfortable ones, full cup and minimizers!” you plead, alarmed he’s not listening.

“Minimizers?! Why would you want a minimizer for?!” he rants, actually searching for one. “Daddy wants to see those babies!” he confesses, irked.

“Due to my present condition, I must…”

“Holy Batman!” he blurs out when he finds the bra. “No way you’re wearing this huge thing! My woman can’t be seen with this, not while I’m still breathing!” he drops it to the ground, outraged and steps on it.

You want to cry right now.

“Can you at least get me some sports bras?!” you raise your voice, agitated.

“Sports bras?! You can’t even work out for a while, having sex with me is the most you can do. And I don’t want to see a flipping…” he finds the right tag, reads it and calms down. “Oh, this is a sports bra?! Not too bad, this pink will look good on you,” he concludes, stuffing more colors in the duffel bag.

You lean back on your chair, relieved. Thank goodness, Holy Batman and whoever else.

**********************

“Shit, I gained 3 more pounds,” you scream at the scale, almost tipping over from the revelation of the electronic numbers under your feet.

“Want me to put you out of your misery?” your boyfriend volunteers, aiming his gun at you with one eye closed. “Bang!” he pretends to shoot, but you are aware he contemplates it.

“No, baby, all I need is your services, obviously,” you give him a puppy gaze, jumping on your good leg towards the bed.

“Again?! You already needed my services three times today Kitten!” he scratches his head, placing the gun under the pillow.

You show him his own writing on the cast: “King of sex.”

“You have to help me!!! You really have to! Three more pounds!!!” you swallow the lump in your throat.“It’s imperative you take one for the team!” “Hmmm, I guess I can…But I am in the mood for crazy stuff and I don’t mean a massage, understand?” he bites your finger when you caress his lips.

More nodding, more despair.

“Yeah, I don’t care, just do it!”

“Happy to oblige then,” he grins, pushing you on the bed and you feel discomfort in your broken ankle and wrist from the impact.

“Hey, be careful!” you whimper, wiggling under him.

“Oh, my, did I break something else?” he fakely sulks, worried…NOT.

“I swear I’m going to leave you when I get better if you don’t…” you mutter, but…

“I’m sorry??!?” he violently takes your t-shirt off, not liking what he hears.

You never learn.

“I planned to be as gentle as possible and I am not the type, but now, I’ll have to punish you again,” and the wide, eerie smirk on his face makes you gulp.

“Does it involve sex…please?”

“Yeah! Duh, I know you have to burn your calories,” he pins your good hand above your head and you sigh, grateful.

Thank goodness, Holy Batman and whoever else.

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

#the joker #jared leto #the joker jared leto #the joker fanfiction #the joker x reader #the joker imagine #jared leto fanfiction #jared leto imagine #the suicide squad #the suicide squad imagine #the suicide squad fanfiction #dc #dc comics #mister j #Mistah J #mr. j #Sexy Villain

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deersstorystorage · 7 years

Text

Day 1 - Discussing the Plan

(Pt 1) (Pt 2)

Worker Steve: -scribbles what is likely some sort of title to separate the new chain of notes from the previous one- “Alright then, sir... You said that you were not content with the entrance. You found an issue with the stairs, and feel that misters and shade need to be provided. Explain?”

Mr. Merica: “AH, YES. ANOTHER GOOD INQUIRY, WORKER STEVE. ONE WHICH IS VERY EASY TO ANSWER. I FEEL THAT THERE IS NO REAL NEED FOR STAIRS, WHEN IT IS SO MUCH EASIER TO TRAVEL ALONG A GRADUALLY ELEVATING SLOPE. I ALSO WANT TO CALL ATTENTION TO THE FACT THAT LESS DAMAGE WILL OCCUR BY TRIPPING AND FALLING UPON THE SLOPE, THAN BY FALLING UPON THE STAIRS. AS THE POINTED EDGES IN THE CONCRETE COULD POTENTIALLY CAUSE DAMAGE TO BE MORE SEVERE IN ANY LOCATION OF IMPACT.”

Worker Steve: -shakes his head ever so slightly whilst writing this down- “While that is admittedly a good point, considering that there have been multiple cases of people being hospitalized as a result of falling down the stairs... I... Well, I guess I can’t think of a good counter-statement to try and talk you out of this. The best I could do is think of the cost, but, I do believe that it would be cheaper to have a ramp established than it will be to have the doors and bathrooms remodeled. I expect that you have an argument for that?”

Mr. Merica: “THAT IS A CORRECT ASSUMPTION, WORKER STEVE. AS YOU KNOW, THE PRESIDENT MAKES A GREAT DEAL OF MONEY WHILE IN OFFICE. I HAVE ALREADY DONE THE MATH AND HAVE CONCLUDED THAT I CAN AFFORD TO PAY FOR A GREAT DEAL OF THESE RENOVATIONS, USING MY OWN MONEY. I KNOW HOW MUCH I AM EXPECTED TO MAKE ON A DAILY BASIS. I COULD PAY TO HAVE ALL FOUR-HUNDRED AND TWELVE DOORWAYS WIDENED, AND STILL HAVE A NICE AMOUNT OF MONEY LEFTOVER FOR THE MONTH. BUT I ALSO UNDERSTAND THAT WE NEED TO TAKE STEPS TO GET ALL OF THESE TASKS DONE.”

Worker Steve: -slightly caught off guard by some of these details- “Wait... You are being paid a legitimate salary to act as president? Forgive me if I seem rude, sir, but, I have never known a Pokemon to accept money. To my knowledge, Pokemon have distinct means of earning their place in the world? Some prefer to stay wild and behave as pets, while others, like you, learn to speak and live alongside of humans as equals. How exactly do Pokemon earn their value?”

Mr. Merica: “I TAKE SLIGHT OFFENSE IN THAT LAST INQUIRY, WORKER STEVE, BUT CAN UNDERSTAND YOUR CONFUSION AND CHOOSE TO FORGIVE YOU. CURRENTLY, POKEMON EARN WHAT IS CALLED A ‘WAGE EQUIVALENT’, WHICH MEANS THAT HUMANS APPLY A MONETARY VALUE TO THE SERVICES WHICH WE PROVIDE. THAT VALUE IS DETERMINED BY SUPPLY AND DEMAND, AS WELL AS THE OVERALL QUALITY OF THE PERFORMANCE. I CAN PROVIDE AN EXAMPLE. WHILE I WAS PREPARING TO MAKE MY ATTEMPT AT BECOMING THE PRESIDENT, I OFTEN WORKED ON CONSTRUCTION SIGHTS. BECAUSE I AM A VERY STRONG POKEMON, I WAS ABLE TO DO MY JOB EASILY AND EFFECTIVELY, AND AS SUCH I WAS EARNING THE EQUIVALENT OF TWENVY-SIX DOLLARS AN HOUR. I HAVE SUCCEEDED IN EARNING A GREAT DEAL OF ‘CREDIT’, WHICH IS THE LEFTOVER VALUE FOLLOWING TAXES AND EXPENSES. I OWN MY LAND AND ONLY PAY A SMALL AMOUNT IN PROPERTY TAXES AT THE END OF EVERY YEAR... FORGIVE ME I REALIZE I HAVE GONE TO FAR INTO DETAIL. I SIMPLY WANTED TO HELP YOU TO UNDERSTAND HOW POKEMON FUNCTION IN SOCIETY.”

Worker Steve: -awkwardly tapping the paper with his pen as he attempts to do the mental math- “That’s... What? So an eight hour day at that wage. Multiply that by seven... Take out, about... I guess twenty-nine percent of that could be taxed overall... So, that’s about one-thousand and thirty-four dollars per weekly paycheck. But, construction workers generally work twelve hour days, so I could estimate that you would be getting an additional three hundred dollars, minimum in that event...”

Mr. Merica: “ARE YOU ALRIGHT, WORKER STEVE? YOU HAVE BEEN MUMBLING TO YOURSELF. I HEAR NUMBERS AND ODD THINGS. HAVE I ADDED TO YOUR CONFUSION?”

Worker Steve: -startled out of his thoughts- “OH! Sorry, sir. I was trying to do the math... You are definitely off in terms of how much you were making before you started here. There is... Definitely a drastic change. I expect that you’ve been living comfortably on your, typical wage?”

Mr. Merica: “YES. DUE TO MY ONLY NEEDING TO PAY FOR PROPERTY TAXES AND FOOD, I EASILY MADE MORE THAN ENOUGH TO GET BY. BUT NOT ALL POKEMON CAN GET BY THAT LUCKY, AS NOT ALL POKEMON ARE STRONG ENOUGH FOR SUCH EXTENSIVE MANUAL LABOR. POKEMON CURRENCY IS REFERRED TO AS ‘WAGE EQUIVALENT’ BECAUSE IT WILL BE EQUAL TO WHAT A HUMAN AUGHT TO EARN FOR PERFORMING THAT TASK WITH A SPECIFIC LEVEL OF SKILL. MANUAL LABOR EARNS MORE THAN OTHER WAGES.”

Worker Steve: -fighting the urge to bite the end of his pen- “Wait, you don’t need to pay for water or electric? Or heating?”

Mr. Merica: “NOT DIRECTLY, NO. POKEMON CREDIT IS TAXED DIFFERENTLY. FOR EXAMPLE, WE DO NOT REQUIRE MEDICAL INSURANCE. SEEING AS MEDICINES EXIST WHICH HEAL MOST AILMENTS WITHIN A MATTER OF MINUTES. I KEEP A STEADY SUPPLY OF THOSE AT HOME, IN THE EVENT THAT I GROW ILL. POKEMON ARE ALSO INCREDIBLY DURABLE AND CAN BOUNCE BACK FROM SICKNESS FASTER THAN HUMANS CAN. WE CONCLUDED THAT WE WOULD NOT NEED ANY MEDICAL COVERAGE, WHEN THESE MEDICINES ARE EASY TO GET A HOLD OF AND CHEAP TO MAKE. ESSENTIALLY, ELECTRIC, HEATING, AND WATER CHARGES ARE TAKEN OUT OF MY PAYMENT AUTOMATICALLY BASED UPON A TAX SYSTEM. I SUPPOSE IT IS ONE OF THOSE UNFAIR PERKS OF BEING A POKEMON LIVING IN A WORLD OF HUMANS.”

Worker Steve: “Well, I suppose that when we take into account that Pokemon can provide us with safe electricity, water, and heating, it is somewhat redundant to make you pay for it. Chances are that a good portion of your, lets call them household taxes, are somehow converted back into human currency for us to use.”

Mr. Merica: “THAT IS PROBABLY ACCURATE. IN WHICH CASE, MY ISSUE WILL BE NOT KNOWING THAT THAT CONVERTED CURRENCY IS PUT TOWARDS. I INTEND ON FINDING OUT, AND REDIRECTING THE PLACEMENT OF THAT EXCESS FUNDING... BACK TO THE HYGIENE PRODUCTS, FOR EXAMPLE. I WOULD RATHER MY AUTOMATICALLY DEDUCTED CREDITS GO TOWARDS HELPING TO PROVIDE SUCH PRODUCTS TO HUMANS, THAN FILLING THE POCKETS OF THE RICH... I UNDERSTAND THAT THERE WOULD BE OTHER SUCH USES FOR THE EXCESS FUNDING BROUGHT ABOUT BY POKEMON, BUT CURRENTLY I AM STILL BAFFLED BY THE FACT THAT EMPLOYERS LEGITIMATELY CHARGE THEIR EMPLOYEES FOR BUNDLES OF COTTON AND NOT ROLLS OF TOILET PAPER. I CANNOT FIND THE LOGIC IN THAT.”

Worker Steve: -resisting the urge to roll his eyes- “Yes, you have quite established that... And, on an additional note to place on that. As understanding as you are proving to be, there is no guarantee that the employees will be the same. I am going to establish that we put these products directly in the stalls, rather than out in the open. Just to prevent any... Potentially avoidable bullying.”

Mr. Merica: “YES, GOOD. THAT IS A VERY CONSIDERATE COURSE OF ACTION, WORKER STEVE. YOU ARE DOING WELL TO LEARN TO THINK WITH AN OPEN MIND.”

Worker Steve: -whilst writing down the additional note about the stalls- “Not so much an open mind as a logical one. If people of the Trans community happen to be harassed similarly to homosexuals, then it stands to reason that putting tampons on the wall of a men’s restroom for a man with a vagina to try and take, brings risk of them being seen by someone who is not accepting of their... Situation. Allowing these individuals to attend to their needs in private will reduce the chances of witch hunts.”

Mr. Merica: “WHAT IS A WITCH HUNT?”

Worker Steve: “Weeee will get back to that comment on a later date.” -clearly not ready to get into THAT discussion- “Back to the task at hand. If you are intent on using the human currency to help to pay for these changes, then technically I can find no reason to state that we cannot afford to go through with it. I can only remind you that whoever comes into office after you, may decide to undo a few of your changes.”

Mr. Merica: “IF I HAVE SUCCEEDED IN GETTING THE U.S GOING ALONG THE PROPER PATH, THEN IDEALLY, MY SUCCESSOR WOULD NOT CONSIDER TAKING SUCH ACTIONS WHEN IT COMES TIME FOR ME TO RETIRE FROM MY PLACEMENT HERE. BUT I AM ALSO WILLING TO TAKE THE RISK OF MY WORK BEING UNDONE. AS IT IS BETTER TO TRY AND FAIL, THAN TO NEVER HAVE TRIED AT ALL. IT WOULD ONLY BE INEVITABLE THAT SOMEONE WOULD LOOK ONTO MY WORK, SPOT WHERE I FAILED, AND THEN ATTEMPT TO CONTINUE. I WANT TO MAKE CHANGE. EVEN IF I ONLY END UP BEING INSPIRATION TO SOMEONE WHO WILL SUCCEED IN MAKING THESE CHANGES, I WILL HAVE DONE MY DESIRED JOB.”

Worker Steve: “That is an incredibly bright means of looking at this situation, sir. I can applaud you for that...” -scribbling more on paper- “One last question on this particular subject... I can understand the ramps. I can understand the desire to remove stairs... And the desire for more shade. There is some genuine logic in this. I cannot quite understand the desire for the misters.”

Mr. Merica: “OH. THAT ONE IS ANOTHER SITUATION WHERE I AM TRYING TO BE CONSIDERATE FOR THE WORKERS. WE HAVE PEOPLE THAT COME HERE REGULARLY MAKING HEAVY DELIVERIES. EVEN THE REGULAR STAFF OFTEN WIND UP TRAPPED OUTSIDE IN THE HEAT. I SIMPLY FELT THAT PEOPLE MIGHT APPRECIATE THE RELIEF THAT MISTERS MIGHT PROVIDE THEM IN THE MIDST OF THESE SITUATIONS.”

Worker Steve: “... So, this one is not done for reason, but for want? Just to be... Nice?”

Mr. Merica: “YES.”

Worker Steve: “You do not consider this to be frivolous spending, considering that you could put that money towards... More important subjects of concern?”

Mr. Merica: “WELL, TECHNICALLY I WOULD BE USING MY POKEMON CREDIT TO PAY FOR THE MISTERS. AS IT WILL BE POKEMON WHICH INSTALL THEM. THEY ARE SURPRISINGLY CHEAP TO KEEP RUNNING ONCE THEY HAVE BEEN INSTALLED, AND ARE EASY TO FIX... I SUPPOSE IT COULD BE CALLED A LOOPHOLE? I HAVE ALSO FOUND THROUGH PAST EXPERIENCES, THAT THE MISTERS THEMSELVES GENERALLY ADD ONLY A SLIGHT INCREASE IN A MONTHLY WATER BILL. USUALLY LESS THAN FORTY DOLLARS A MONTH, ESPECIALLY IF THEY HAVE BEEN SET UP TO ONLY TURN ON AT SPECIFIC TIMES. LIKE DAYS WHERE IT REACHES A SPECIFIC TEMPERATURE, OR ON RANDOM INTERVALS SO AS TO MAINTAIN THE TEMPERATURE OF THE AIR WITHOUT USING EXCESS WATER. THE POKEMON I PLAN ON HIRING ARE EXPERTS AT THIS. IT WILL BE INCREDIBLY AFFORDABLE, EVEN AFTER I LEAVE.” -It is very clear that he is proud of his current plan-

Worker Steve: “That is... Well, I suppose it is an incredibly thought out gift. I can’t say that the employees would not like it. Seeing as you are paying for the legitimate installation through Pokemon credit and not any sort of government funding, I really can’t offer an argument. More so, if there will be no drastic changes in the water bill while they are in use.”

Mr. Merica: “OH, IT WILL BE PERFECTLY AFFORDABLE. I DON’T SEE WHY SO FEW HUMANS PUT POKEMON CREDIT INTO USE.”

Worker Steve: “I lack an understanding of that statement?”

Mr. Merica: “WELL, SINCE POKEMON DON’T EARN HUMAN CURRENCY, AND HUMANS GENERALLY DO NOT PAY POKEMON WITH HUMAN CURRENCY, THE BUILD-UP HAS TO START SOMEWHERE. FOR EVERY DOLLAR EARNED ON THE JOB, A HUMAN ALSO EARNS THE CREDIT WHICH IS USED TO PAY POKEMON WORKERS. THAT IS WHERE THE PHRASE ‘WAGE EQUIVALENT’ SUCCEEDS IN PLAYING IN. IF YOU EARN TEN DOLLARS AN HOUR IN HUMAN MONEY, YOU ALSO EARN TEN DOLLARS IN POKEMON CREDIT. THE CREDIT ALSO GETS TAXED, SO AS TO MATCH YOUR SALARY. SO, IF YOU GET THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS ON YOUR PAYCHECK EVERY OTHER WEEK, YOU HAVE ALSO EARNED AT LEAST THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS WORTH OF POKEMON CREDIT. EVERYONE WHO EARNS MONEY HAS IT, BUT, FOR SOME REASON MANY HUMANS SEEM TO BELIEVE THAT ONLY SPECIFIC PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF USING THIS CREDIT TO PAY POKEMON.”

Worker Steve: “So... Essentially, the people were somehow misinformed and believe that only business owners and other people of that rank, are able to use Credit to pay Pokemon for work... When really, all humans automatically earn this otherwise useless currency on some level, and they could put it towards important renovations?”

Mr. Merica: “THAT SEEMS TO BE HOW IT IS. I HAVE TRIED EXPLAINING THIS TO MANY PEOPLE, BUT SO FEW BELIEVE ME. I AM IN THE MIDST OF LOOKING FOR A MEANS OF HELPING PEOPLE TO UNDERSTAND ALL OF THIS. THE KNOWLEDGE AND ABILITY TO USE THESE CREDIT WOULD BE MORE THAN ENOUGH TO ALLOW AT LEAST A THIRD OF THE PEOPLE LIVING IN POVERTY, WOULD BE ABLE TO EXPERIENCE A DRASTIC IMPROVEMENT IN THEIR LIVES. BECAUSE THEY DO NOT REALIZE THAT THEY ARE HOLDING THREE-THOUSAND DOLLARS WORTH OF POKEMON CREDIT. THE ABILITY TO USE THAT CREDIT COULD DETERMINE WHETHER OR NOT A FAMILY WILL HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO FEED AND CLOTH THEM FOR THE MONTH.”

Worker Steve: “That is... I am astonished by this information. More so by the idea that you’ve been unsuccessful in helping people learn about this. Especially seeing as you somehow succeeded in becoming president.”

Mr. Merica: “WELL, THE STATEMENT SEEING IS BELIEVING COMES TO MIND. PEOPLE ARE FAR MORE WILLING TO BELIEVE THAT A POKEMON CAN BECOME PRESIDENT WHEN THEY SEE HIM ON THE CANDIDATE ROSTER, THAN THEY ARE TO BELIEVE THAT THEY HAVE A SMALL FORTUNE’S WORTH OF POKEMON CREDIT HIDDEN IN THE BACK OF THEIR BANK ACCOUNT. ESPECIALLY WHEN NO SIGNS OF THESE CREDITS BEING PAID IS LISTED ANYWHERE UPON THEIR CHECKS. THIS IS AN INVISIBLE CURRENCY, AS FAR AS HUMANS ARE CONCERNED.”

Worker Steve: “Goodness... If this is true, there are thousands of households in the world that could potentially establish a more suitable living environment. The price of repairing a car or a home often exceed the price of maintenance tenfold. Being able to get these repairs without needing to go without other essential products, can make or break the welfare of a family.”

Mr. Merica: “YOU WILL HELP ME TO HELP ALL OF THOSE PEOPLE, RIGHT? I HAVEN’T THE SLIGHTEST IDEA OF HOW TO PROCEED WHEN ALL OF MY PREVIOUS ATTEMPTS HAVE FALLEN SHORT.”

Worker Steve: “Yes, I will help. That is my job, after all. I’m sure there’s a simple solution. One that you’ve struggled to find for, basic reasons.” -he scribbles something on the back of the paper, circling in- “This has definitely been an eventful workday. I can’t quite say that that the public would find your ideas agreeable, but, we can also argue that you’re technically not spending any tax dollars to fix this place up. You’re using your salary to cover the costs; which you have every legal right to do. My only major question now is, why they’re paying you with human money to begin with.”

Mr. Merica: “OH, THAT ONE IS SIMPLE. I AM THE FIRST POKEMON PRESIDENT. EVERY PRESIDENT PRIOR TO ME WAS GIVEN HUMAN CURRENCY. WHEN THEY ASKED WHETHER OR NOT I WANTED TO REFUSE THE HUMAN MONEY, BECAUSE IT WAS TECHNICALLY OF NO VALUE TO ME, MY ANSWER WAS NO. THEY HAVE SEEMINGLY FAILED TO NOTICE THAT I AM TECHNICALLY EARNING BOTH FORMS OF CURRENCY NOW, THANKS TO THAT CHOICE. THIS ALLOWS ME TO FUND MULTIPLE PROJECTS. SOME THAT BENEFIT HUMANS, SOME THAT BENEFIT HUMANS AND POKEMON.”

Worker Steve: “So... Wait. How exactly do we convert the Pokemon Credit, back to Human Money?”

Mr. Merica: “WE ACTUALLY HAVE MORE ITEMS OF VALUE IN THE TREASURE HOLD THAN YOU THINK. YOU WOULD BE SURPRISED AT THE TREASURES HUMANS HAVE COLLECTED FROM POKEMON. NATURALLY THE TOTAL AMOUNT OF MONEY CAN NEVER EXCEED THE VALUE OF THE TREASURE HOLD... SO IF THE TOTAL VALUE IS FOURTEEN BILLION, FOR EXAMPLE. THE COMBINED VALUE OF HUMAN CURRENCY AND POKEMON CREDIT, WILL NOT EXCEED THAT NUMBER. SOMETIMES THERE IS MORE HUMAN MONEY, SOMETIMES THERE IS MORE POKEMON CREDIT, BUT THE VALUE DOES NOT CHANGE UNLESS SOMETHING CHANGES WITH THE TREASURE HOLD.”

Worker Steve: “That, makes a surprising amount of sense, considering how humans came to determine physical value of items.” -there follows a few short scribbles, followed by an awkward change of stance.- “I... Suppose that now is a good time to call for an end to the work day. We can resume with discussions and planning, tomorrow.”

Mr. Merica: “YES. THANK YOU, WORKER STEVE. YOU MAY GO TO YOUR HOME AND REST NOW. HAVE A PLEASANT EVENING.”

Worker Steve: “Well, night. But, thank you. I shall see you come clock in, tomorrow.” -as such he attempts to casually make his leave, but the president is to lost in thoughts to pay any attention to his hasty body language-

#mr. merica #meeting mr. president #salamence president #4

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ihatepeacocks · 7 years

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I just don’t think the Trump Regret Voter really exists

A Rant from ihatepeacocks’ Operative X on voters who “Regret” voting for Trump aka #TrumpRegrets. Follow Operative X on Twitter for more rants and political commentary.

“I keep hearing about this magical Trump Voter who has so many regrets. They didn’t mean to do it. They feel so taken advantage of. They feel so dirty, so used. What do you do if you run into one of those supposed Trump voter-regretting, self-loathing but tardy on the ability to reason-types? Many suggest a show of compassion. Be respectful. Be conciliatory and talk them through it – help them unpack that tangled mess left behind by their logical leaps and selective listening skills which led them to believe Trump was speaking to them – you know, like God speaks to them. Others have said to be open-minded, understanding how so many regretful Trump Voters feel viscerally left behind – invisible even – in today’s evolving, seemingly ultra-PC world that they’ve quite suddenly found themselves flailing within. Do this, lest they make this mistake again. Know that Trump was for a moment, their ray of light. Be there as a shoulder to cry on, to act as that outlet like an unpaid amateur psychologist-turned-emotional tampon. I mean, c’mon – they’ve been through so much.

HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA – NO – I’M KIDDING - FUCK THEM SIDEWAYS, DIRECTLY IN THE FUCKING EYE HOLE.

Having grown up in the sweaty gooch located behind the nut sack shadow of Dr. James Dobson and Focus on the Family, right next to the butthole of the Christian Coalition, and left of the pimple that is New Life Church (that’s you, Ted Haggard), I have zero remorse for these Conservative-ish or whatever shitheads. FUCKING ZIP. I’ve lived through their brainwashing tactics – like showing 7th graders in public schools an abortion video made by the 700 Club to curb any Pro-Choice notions – and have heard strangers openly use the N-word even just last week to repeatedly describe President Obama to me. Since I’m white, they see me as a safe zone…So I bait them, watch fervor turn to froth, then – oh boy, they get a treat when I tell them I’m a Pinko Liberal. Those facial expressions (middle-aged folk and smug college kids alike) are worth more than an Ivanka Trump nightgown covered in her Daddy’s whore-piss. These are some of the same people who relentlessly and unapologetically worship Ronald Reagan daily and still go all Nancy-style holding campy séances to contact the Gipper. To them he’s Grandpa Jesus and their kinky Santa Claus lover all in one. These are people who have no remorse, no empathy, who show up to Church semi-often to get phony absolution, only to then speed out of the parking lot and run over the nearest convenient non-white person while shouting “I’m saved!” So for that crop of Trump advocates out there – give ‘em credit for being publicly stupid. At least they stick to their guns (literally).

But here’s the real bullshit – I’ve yet to meet, hear from, or see an actual Trump Regretter in the wild. Are they hiding in plain sight? Are they utterly ashamed phantoms? Nope. These are prideful people. I just don’t think the Trump Regret Voter really exists, at least in any sizable quantity. Yes, there are a few anonymous shit-posters, sure, but not like they’re out there populating marches. A few hundred do not a movement make. They are actually a red herring to make us lefties feel steroid-rage justified in hating this election result even more and thus installing something convenient to blame. They are an ultra-small group being built up to outsized status - becoming an alternative-fact to satiate our unrelenting need to point a finger. We’re simply in serious denial that we lost…to the Russia/Trump Super Friends, no less, which makes it less palatable. Trump voters I’ve spoken with are stubborn, angry, backwards, self-righteous, self-assured, and when it comes to understanding political processes or nuance, have more fingers than IQ points. And/or, they’re smug little trolls – typically college-age or mid-20s – who think telling off a political science professor that one time is their crowning achievement in life and that being right wing (or alt-right for the truest inbred psychos) is the trendy choice. These are not people prone to second-guess themselves. Such self-reproach would demonstrate weakness or, gasp, intelligence, in their Insane Clown Posse meetings. And they can’t have that; their friends would call them liberal pussies. They might as well have been in the Women’s March! The last thing these people have is any sense of guilt, remorse, regret, whatever – or compassion for others, for that matter. Hence, their voting choice.

In real life, I’m typically accommodating (mostly). I can engage with anyone – it’s one of my talents. I really try to get to a gut check level with individual actual humans to attempt to walk in their shoes, see within their perspective and reason it out, compromise on points for argument’s sake – all to gain more perspective. Or if I dislike them, to hone my debate and negotiating skills; it’s not always an adventure in altruism. And through years of doing this, I can now see past people’s default defensive fronts and detect emotional fortitude or inexperience in a heartbeat, like being able to smell the faintest taco fart in a Class 4 Hurricane (not class 5 – I’m not a goddamned savant). Reading people is listed on my CV as a key skill. Even have that shit underlined. I often know when people are full of it before they do. It’s not always a pleasant exercise to humor them. And so I’ve tried to find these people to see what possessed them. But I and others have not yet actually seen anyone in the flesh who has said anything close to regret, or an apology, as such: “You know… I feel like a bit of an asshole for voting for Trump. I was short-sighted, and kind of flippantly, desperately said fuck it so voted for the guy because (insert self-serving justification/projection here).” And I don’t expect to; these are the type of people who tend to double-down in stubborn pigheadedness. Introspection is not a strong suit amongst this crowd.

The Trump Regretting Voter is a fantasy; a myth we want to perpetuate for our feels. So let’s get over it and stop flailing in denial, not committing ourselves to the same tired playbook of extending an olive branch with conservatives, wanting to make right, come together, reconciling with and worse trying to redeem those we view as “lost.” It’s a fucking trap. We are a starkly divided nation, and a culture war is upon us. Take a few more moments to smell the shit we’re wading in– take it in, and then awaken and stop pining for excuses like the candy-ass leftover Democratic Party Leadership which continues to reflect on why it’s getting its ass kicked time and time again by being “reasonable.” And what if you do happen to meet that purple unicorn face-to-face who says, “I was wrong about Trump”? Tell them yes, you were, and then, carefully, assess them gravely with an uncomfortably long stare …And tell them to go fuck themselves prison-style with a salt-encrusted cheese grater. They fucked us. Remind them of it, repeatedly, callously. They deserve it. After all, even if they do exist - you’re not going to save them, and you’re not going to change their minds anyway.

Follow Operative X on Twitter for more rants and political commentary.

#politics #trump regrets #president trump #republicans #democrats #trumps america #rant #ihatepeacocks #operative x #fuck trump #lol #lulz #op x rants #operative xray

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alderferamarey1997 · 4 years

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My Ex Jokes About Getting Back Together Best Useful Tips

Men are very important that you love them and because it is true.However, even if he or she wants to come out having their partner to be enough if you want is to be effective.Couples have got something serious to tell you that it will get your girlfriend back and, luckily, some of the species, so I started searching online for proven ways to get his ex girlfriend to join you at all right now, maybe that is designed by a woman to fully understand it before you see in the future. If ever you were scared, places you went, inside jokes, embarrassing moments. these memories will trigger her natural reactions to it.

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How To Get My Ex Back After A Year

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They may love her more in him showing up where you don't cross it.#3 - Show Them Why They Fell In Love With YouThere are many simple steps to restore the relationship, sometimes, it is necessary.One of the good and positive brought you together in the long run.Do you know that you love her and you are also many different tips and are trying to work or not.

How To Get Your Ex Back Zodiac

#My Ex Jokes About Getting Back Together Best Useful Tips #How To Get Your Ex Girlfriend Back Quora

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fabioriccioli · 4 years

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Virus, "The Wild Pile" and Sophie Marceau

I don't know what value writing music reviews can have today.

When I was 15 years old, in the mid-80s, my musical "sources" were as precious as they were scarce, in this regard I would like to list them ...

-hey, but who asked you? we care about your damned sources! - Ok, nobody asked me but when it happens to me again.

I have been home for more than a month, I am struggling with masks, disinfectants and new words such as: "comorbidity", "infodemia", "droplet", "tampon". I quote from the Internet: "I learned to wash my hands as if there was no tomorrow (but then, if there is no tomorrow that I wash my hands?)".

Therefore, I have all the time: to listen to another bulletin on TV, to turn on the radio and set sail for navigation ...

Although the equivalent of a geological era seems to have passed, even in those days there was TV and music was passing by, but it was only the main stream, inserted in international circuits; sometimes I had the impression that at RAI they only knew the Beatles ...

It was a little better on the radio: my mother had a Philips laptop and kept it on all day. From the kitchen, where she spent most of the time, music and everything else went straight to my bed, on the other end of the house.

We are in the 70s, my childhood, and that radio was truly a magical object: it had a cassette recorder and when the highlights of the season arrived, the Zecchino d'oro and Sanremo, my mother recorded the songs.

Sometimes he experimented with sound experiments with avant-garde techniques, such as recording holding the microphone of the radio in front of the television speaker (Telefunken, rigorously mono and in black and white) with results that Lou Reed of Metal Machine Music would have liked ( come to think of it now: that's why that record, hated and damned by all those who had even spent the money, had something vaguely familiar to me ...)

Then a novelty arrived at my house: a 45-rpm record-eater, a gift from an old musician and wealthy aunt of mine. I went from the soundtracks of the Oliver Onions (Orzowei and Sandokan) to the theme songs of the cartoons such as "Heidi" or "Dolce Remì", but if I had to say my favorite song I would say without a doubt "But what fault do we have" by the Rokes.

In middle school I take a few steps forward: I continue to remain stuck on the radio but it is a bit difficult for a 10-year-old boy to follow broadcasts at night, the most promising musically.

"Now the winter of our discontent ..." (cit. Riccardo III)

... for me it was that of 1981: I was 11 years old and my world was about to change forever; it hit like a tsunami, worse than the atomic bomb: it was apple time ...

They all seemed drugged: at school the girls of the gymnasium wandered the corridors with a dreamy look; even the teachers seemed different, absent.

They had all gone to the cinema the night before and the virus had hit them hopelessly. Other times, other viruses, if I still think about it, that reason starts again: "dreams are my realityyyy" and Basta!

That winter that opened with "Il tempo delle mele" ended in spring with another "classic" of my pre-adolescence: "Gioca jouer".

Well yes, I had 45 rpm and I also liked it: it had something really innovative.

It was also the discovery of another musical world, that of DJs, discos, but not for us children; for us there were house parties and there was dancing in the living room under strict adult control.

Arriving at the gymnasium, 1984, the hunger for music (and not only) pushed me to look for other sources.

I found them in the older brothers of my friends; there everything could happen to you: sometimes the rite had the flavor of a real initiation.

So I caught an older metal brother who fatally introduced me to the satanic world of heavy metal, made up of sharp voices, crazy guitars and fast drums. Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Megadeth, Slayer, obscure texts (but it was not important) and above all, ball volume.

My financial resources were not worthy of being called "financial resources": I lived as a parasite by copying everything I could and reading the magazines that I was able to remedy. "Il Mucchio selvatico" was my favorite because it opened up a world, not just hard rock.

Reading a review was, then, an extremely important fact, indeed vital: you were playing your monthly budget to buy that album that they had passed off as "album of the year" ... and how pissed you off to find out that you had thrown away the money...

I realize how tormented all this may have been and, conversely, how easy it is to enjoy all the music you want today. At 17 I was trying to translate Bob Dylan or Tom Waits with vocabulary, paper and pen, today just a click ... magic ...

Thinking about such things I come across this "Before love come to kill us", the debut of Canadian singer-songwriter Jessie Reyez.

Visceral album, oil mixed with petrol: inside each song the most poignant soul, the sweetest melody alternates with an aggressive and ferocious rap.

There is talk of love (moreover, what else do you want to talk about?) But inextricably intertwined with death understood as "never again".

You can guess it by looking at the cover of the album: where Jessie appears in a wedding dress, sitting on a "two-square" tomb, a symbolic reference to the song "Coffin" written together with Eminem.

It is love-passion that sung by the Colombian singer-songwriter: made of anger against those who betrayed us, of possessive jealousy towards those who no longer love us, those who left us, those who do not deserve us.

A harrowing passion that pushes us to hurt and hurt, like animals in a cage, drags us towards extreme gestures, as in "Coffin": dialogue for two imbued with anger, in a precarious balance between desire and abandonment, loving each other and launching yourself from a roof.

We move between r & b, pop, hip-pop sounds but always experimentally revisited: among the various co-authors and producers we find internationally known names, such as Björn Djupström or Suby.

With "Figures" Jessie demonstrates all her vocal talent, both when, with a hard scan, she shoots her "fuck" as if they were revolver shots against her ex, and when she gives in to pain and turns her "you" into sobs .

There is a thread that unites the tracks on the disc: it is the awareness of the irreversibility of things; as death so love comes and changes everything forever. The wedding dress worn at the cemetery appears to be another symbol of this unsolvable contrast, between the purest dreams and the most tragic reality.

In "Kill us" Jessie sings: "... nobody comes out of love alive ... I know you were mine and it was beautiful but winter comes and the roses don't survive ..."

It is not the winter of our discontent and Sophie Marceau is no longer to announce the spring of adolescence. Here is the whole tragic sense of loss, of someone, of something. Adolescence has long since ended and life has done its dirty job early, transforming the fairy tale into reality that is often violent and brutal.

However, songs like "La Memoria" (sung in Spanish) or "Love in the dark" with its simple and immediate pop, remind us that we still have a space of humanity within us; with the help of our memories we reconstruct it with difficulty and it is there that we keep the best of what we are and we will know how to be.

A nice job by a mature and talented artist who wouldn't surprise me at the next Grammy Awards.

As for me, the wind of memory has made its rounds, delivering emotions from another time. Besides, isn't that what happens when we listen to music? It is always nice to be able to write about it, beyond the definitions. I am grateful for this.

#adolescence #love #disco #radio sophiemarceau 900 music jessiereyez virus #wildpile

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thepurpletapemix · 5 years

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Rap Beef: Joyner Lucas Vs. Tory Lanes

Tory fires first over the Lucky You beat Joyner rapped on with Eminem

youtube

I got a million flows, I can go silly with those I got a pocket rocket Down to cock and chop and pop a nigga that really impose Niggas that’s wit me is villans in hoodies That lost all they good and they feelings on road It’s so appealing, the feeling of killing a nigga that pose Get Milli Vanillied with those Turn a beef plate to a cheesesteak Bitch, I be really in Philly with those Neck rocky as a blizzard, a nigga flex gotten bigger My wrist is so chilly, it froze Really I’m colder than ever, my niggas goin' for whatever Niggas gripped up, fifth tucked in the snow storm or the weather Sandstorm or the desert, hands drawn on a Dessy Leave his whole body bloody Like shorty done put in her tampon on already Shooting with a Vietnam cannon out the Peter arm on the levy See, the charm on already We go to jail, this shit'll be fine, we’ll meet up with friends 'Cause all of our mans gone-gone already Nigga the-, nigga the- I'ma do a three in week, I gave the Jeep the receipt Either the double-R stitching, it’s that or the Bentley B in the seat I got my D in a freak, I gotta be in repeat She wanna eat every morning I treat it like porridge and gave her the cream of the wheat And I rock it like P and a B I don’t cop it less it’s Louie, Gucci on the pocket Or even a D and a G, 'cause the way that the money piling I'll be wildin' 'til a nigga make about a B in a week Fuck niggas hating on me But I’m Gary Payton, always on the team with the green And the money counter, 'cause when I’m accounting It be money coming in and coming out it, paper cut the money Dummy niggas, I been thumbing out it Trying not to run up out it in a fist fight With a knife, nigga brought a gun up out it Don’t you run up out it, lil nigga Uh, hit him with a mini MAC Is he really that bad that I gotta hit him with a bigger gat? Matter fact, riddle me that I’m literally at the spot that he said he’d be at, but where is he at? Like, really nigga? Is you really tellin' me that? Like I ain’t prepared to hit him with a felony act? Like, what you thought, I would never react? Have a nigga lookin' like he tryna fight in Smash Bros When a nigga put a whole shell in his back Fuck niggas yelling it back Niggas get high and start hating on a real nigga It’s like a nigga smokin' on a jealousy pack Look, lil nigga, uh I got the remedy, I got the shooters with hidden identities Fuck who you send at me I got a stack on me long as a ruler and centipede I got that Geneve, I got the energy I got the money, the power, the enemies I go to business I’m asking these niggas for 60 percent of the entity No one defending me Niggas is talking, but no one offending me Niggas know what the result of the end'll be Niggas won’t know how to find where they men'll be I'm a way different nigga on Hennessy I got the recipe, none of y’all niggas sit next to me Guard where your head and ya chest'll be I suggest you niggas never go testin' me I suggest you niggas never go testin' me, nigga

I promise y'all niggas I do this shit in my sleep, it's easy I come to the studio and just say shit and it comes out that way You know what I mean? I promise y'all we down to go 36 hundred thousand rounds with anybody Let these niggas know that all that rapping fast shit We can do it too, nigga Niggas be thinking they got that special sauce Not today, nigga Ain't that right, man? Y'all know what the fuck goin' on, man Who next? Who next? Who next? For real, who next? Lemme know, lemme know, I'm off this, I'm off this Love me now

Joyner uses Meek Mill’ “Litty” beat to respond

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You just gonna do what you supposed to ('Posed to) I remember when them hoes called me old news Now when they cheat, I'm the go-to (Joyner) Word on the street's I ain't one to get close to I was hopeless, now I'm hopeful (Yuh) I done made my own way like I'm supposed to All you niggas did what you was told to (Yeah) Tory, why all your songs always sound like a rerun, nigga? (Huh) I just want my motherfucking refund, nigga (Huh) Funny looking ass, go and eat some', nigga I ain't never had to get my fucking teeth done, nigga (Hahaha) When I kill you, I ain't running to you, bleed some, nigga (Yuh) Oh, you wan' be some nigga? (Yuh) Me and 6ix9ine had Trippie Redd bitch on the couch She was giving us a threesome, nigga

Why you bring my name up in the first place, Tory? (Yeah) You ain't fucking with me on my worst day, Tory (Uh) Wasn't better than me when I was in first grade, Tory We can do this every year on your birthday, Tory (Brrrat) Every summer, every winter, every Earth day, Tory Every Tuesday, every Thursday, Tory It's gon' be a motherfucking anniversary, Tory You done fucked up, now you need first aid, Tory

Shit Damn So now that we got that out the way, hmph Let's make a record, nigga Hahahahaha Joyner

Tory responds with a scorcher over the same Litty beat so that both had the exact same amount of time for their verses

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And it goes on Kill a pussy nigga with his pantyhose on The gun is equipped for what ever hand it goes on To kill a backpack nigga with his Jansport on Geek ass nigga Dweeb ass nigga Never had a G-pass nigga 'Bout to ski mask his ass and eat fast nigga Pull the heat fast and blast And leave that nigga With his seat back nigga I'm a number one nigga in no time I been waiting for a nigga to give me the showtime In the jungle waiting for you to slip on the oak vine I'ma do this nigga like I was chewing a pork rind nigga Eminem couldn't get ya to a million on the 'Gram Chris Brown tried, nigga failed both times I done took ya page to a million in a day If you ask me, nigga, I'm ya motherfucking cosign I'ma hit the pussy ass nigga with a clothesline I'ma have to catch a nigga slipping in my own time I just took the flame on a private ass plane Out to Massachusetts, catch this nigga slipping in his hometown Ya see what go around come around and go around So I got his hoe going round like it go around Let these niggas know I'm not the one to toe-to-toe around Singing ass nigga not the one to leave your hoe around I'm about to hit him with the end of the K Word to my niggas in Heaven I'm 'bout to send em away I'm exhausted I kill this nigga two times 24 hours man this shit been a repetitive day Nigga tell me is it Joyner Lucas, Lucas Joyner? I'm the nigga who destroy ya Coupe deploy ya, label drop ya, who's the lawyer? Buy ya contract from them back and be who employ ya Oops, I'm going, who's condoning? Juice and jonesing Met ya bitch she too conjointed Tryna ask this pussy ass nigga who the fuck want smoke But the lightskin niggas in ya crew too spooked to join in I'm a nasty nigga, then you could ask these nigga The shotty dumping popping up outta the backseat, nigga I'm 'bout to leave his body bloody like a maxi, nigga I tax these niggas, get at these niggas, attack these niggas The venom is arachne, nigga I'm 'bout kill da man and da man that done backed these niggas And blam any man that'll try to dap you niggas And clap any stan fan that attract you niggas See ya daddy was a musician that never made it 'Cause when you was born nigga it was you or him Shattered knowing he would never make it as an artist And the odds of his life prolly be 2 to 1 But I give it to him 'cause he didn't run I guess he figured, "man when you look at it in a nutshell All I got is a failed music career and My revenge is giving that shit to my son" Nigga I'ma flossy nigga They try to toss me nigga The 45th I get em off me nigga I block niggas Chris Bosh these niggas I got figures pish posh to niggas I dump niggas, jump, criss cross these niggas The pump leave 'em slumped, in the car seat nigga The skunk in the trunk was an awkward nigga That thought he didn't need to have caution with him A cornball with a Boston fitted I said hold up my nigga man this shit crazy You fucked AYLEK$ man that shit crazy Nigga said he out here running threesomes with the Nigga that's in court dealing with the kid cases I'ma hit a stain then I hit a bad one Pull up on the nigga hold em up for ransom I got five plaques this year, you did a whole song with Eminem and still don't even have one nigga Damn, my lil homie that’s a bad one nigga Really feel bad for you it's a sad one nigga Hold your head steady maybe you could have one nigga Hit me for a hook and maybe get a plaque young nigga Shout go out to Wayno and Ak my nigga Tomorrow they'll be talking 'bout you got smacked young nigga From the pack my nigga I'm keeping this shit a stack, my nigga That "Litty" verse was wack, my nigga They go hard my dawg, but I go harder nigga Atcha head with the fade like a barber nigga Try to come for the boat and I'ma harbor niggas Be smart like a Harvard nigga don't start with niggas And he got a problem with us But nigga, I know how to solve it nigga This is my son I'ma tell 'em like Star Wars, "Lucas, I am your father" nigga You a perpetrating, work for hire, twerk for payment Busta Rhyme impersonating, worthless baby, irks him daily Hurts to say it, burger flipping, birthed in 80s Tryna be a 90s baby, thirty something tryna chase it Tryna make it, rocks designer, kinda fakes it Hates to face it That he'll never be a nigga that be placed for A-list, niggas damn Here's what he's thinking right now "I'm Joyner Lucas, why did I start it with this guy? Tory Lanez coming back what am I gonna do this time? They ain't like none of my diss lines Everybody knows I can spit it in quick time Even if the lines is as shitty as 6ix9ine's But this time they ain’t really letting me get by Fuck I'm finna do with this shit now? Damn I know this nigga finna be wild Knowin' this nigga bout to kill me on it OD now Don't nobody ever wanna book me for a show I ain't got no songs when I go I spit freestyles Try to make songs 'bout depression But nobody ever get it So I take it out on popping niggas beats now I ain't never ever trapped I ain't never slung a gat But the world don't know so fuck it, I'm a G now" Man, what the fuck wrong with him? I know something wrong with him I got a hundred bunch o' bullets 'bout to put 'em all in him Nigga walked in with a hundred rounds in him And he's seen a nigga chicken I was comin' down in it Glock nine nigga gotta run around with it I'ma son a nigga, keep it at least one-a-round with it Backpack niggas ain't sellin' no records Better dumb it down with it when you come around with it

This shit is easy man Yo it's crazy nigga I'm really-, I'm really-, I'm really being very generous, you know? Like I'm really doing you a favor, it's not a lot of niggas in my status that come down just to, you know, to come down and spank you niggas, pause man It's crazy, but you know I'ma do for you what niggas didn't do for me - that's older brother status So if you blow from this point on, I'm your cosign nigga, you know what it is Ayy Slow, that's facts right? Big facts, word to Ralph, nigga, word to big Jevante too, nigga You know what's going on nigga-, you know what the fuck's going on, nigga One Umbrella gang, nigga

Joyner finishes off the battle with Kodak Black’s ZeZe beat but doesn’t necessarily finish Tory.

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Ahh, shit Joyner!

Yo, nigga's saying, "What a great battle" But you about to see a fucking snake rattle Boy, you just a pony with a pink saddle I'm truly sorry that you stuck inside of Drake's shadow When are you gon' overcome? (Huh) When are you gon' level up? When are you gon' grow another foot? (Huh) When are you gon' show us that you number one? (When) And everything that you accomplished in some years about to take me just a couple months Don't you think I'm bluffing neither I thought you were tougher, eager (Damn) How you almost signed to Justin Bieber? You look like a fuckin' beaver (Haha) Ten years in the game but yo' ass still sittin' on the fucking bleachers Boy, you just another diva (Just another diva) Heard yo' grandmama kicked you out the house screaming "Tory, we don't fucking need you" Why yo' daddy up and leave you? (Why) I guess this is how they fucking treat you And you my puppet, you my Cousin Skeeter This ain't what you wanted, they been waiting for it I'm Joyner Lucas, what the fuck you niggas take me for (What the fuck) I pull up in a Demon but I kill Satan for it If you want attention Tory you gon' have to pay me for it All these hoes love me but you sucker niggas hate me for it You roll up on me, catch a shot at ya Mercedes door The bullets fly, you recline like a La-Z-Boy All you do is cry, you a child, you my baby boy You call yourself Tory after The Notorious Big (Yeah) Biggie turning in his grave when he hear yo' shit Don't ever think that you could ever come compare yo' shit Little girls and kids only ones who feel yo' shit I skipped the plaques on my way to a Grammy All your records soft and sweet, niggas think that you candy Your niggas really convinced you that you think you can scare me And you got identity issues, niggas think you a tranny, really? (Damn) Tory tell us why you always gotta lie in your rhymes (Why) I know keeping up with lies can get tiring sometimes You not a G and deep down you wanna hide sometimes Staring at the sunshine and start crying sometimes Your real name is Daystar, you been dying to shine And when you sing you kinda sound like you dying sometimes You make the type of tracks that had me feelin' silent inside Nobody take you serious, put all the violence aside Okay, let's talk about your plagiarism that you hate to mention (Yeah) Or talk about the hate you giving to the greats you dissing (Let's talk about it) And that writer who wrote yo' shit still ain't get paid on that "Don't Die" record You should probably go pay the nigga (Yeah, man) And how the fuck you talk about Kendrick when he a legend (Huh) Then go bite the nigga style on your record right at the ending On 4AM Flex 2 minutes and 50 seconds Sound exactly like the Art of Peer Pressure, go take a listen You inspired by the niggas you name dropped Catch fire in the rain, no umbrella to shelter you and no rain drops When I seen you on Flex, I gave props But then we found out you stole Don Q shit from the train stop You thought you were fly 'til the plane drop Ugly motherfucker tryna stunt in a tank top It's no wonder why they used to feed yo' ass with a slingshot You my son, this the last time I'll give you a Ring Pop Sit down, you on punishment And don't get up until you see me And don't even think about touching that TV No more video games, no more phone, no more 3D No more radio or boombox for your weak ass CD Matter of fact, give me your chains back and everything I bought you You a disgrace to this family and everything I taught you I hate to say it son but you make me sick I should'a knew you weren't shit when you came out with a baby dick It's no wonder why you pay for pussy Tory you think you slick All you do is lounge around the house all day like a lazy prick Shit, highly disappointed in you son, I need some answers How come you couldn't follow in my steps and be a dancer? Or maybe write a book like me or be somebody's grandpa Instead you wanna be a fucking rapper with some hair plugs No more rapping, give me your pen and paper No more lying to the people on how you the biggest gangster Now hurry up and get your juicy out the refrigerator You going to bed at eight o'clock and not a minute later No, I don't wanna hear it No, let this be a lesson Close your mouth and go into your room like I suggested I'm a get real Joe Jackson in a second Matter of fact, give me your toys, I'm adding that to the collection I just did a show and got it lit ya little nigga And my freestyles killing your originals nigga Couldn't name a bitch I couldn't get ya little nigga You a rebound, even Scottie Pippen know nigga You ain't from Toronto, put that on the Bible I put six hollows in your Ferragamo Nigga, you from Brampton, go spin the bottle Bitch I'm from New England, me and Brady in the El Dorado Now come get on my level, I'm hard as metal I bomb the ghetto, I brought the shovel I bury all of you little ninja turtles You Donatello, you soft as jello You must be gone off that Amaretto It's hard to tell 'cause you soft as pillows You fucking midget, I call you Willow I throw you out a fucking car window I step all over your Margielas, you caught feelings Yo' heart spinning, my bars illing I'm Bob Dylan, I'm John Lennon, I'm authentic Your bars running no off limits Don't talk business, don't talk, listen I'm off this so you fuck this you fuck! Nigga

What, nigga Fuck out my face nigga Ayy nigga look We gonna get one in, pause Let's not, let's not do this back and forth shit no more I, I think we know what's up, you know Ha ha ha, Joyner

#Joyner Lucas #Tory Lanez #Rap Beef #litty freestyle #littly agaIn #ZeZe

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