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dyketubbo · 3 years

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im rewatching doomsday (comps of all povs of course) and. yeah i just.. feel bad for the lmanburgians. i dont know how i could just. say these people deserved it, when they all sound, panicked and desperate and so so fucking sad. long long ramble under the cut as i recount the events and pick out a bunch of little things

even the day before then is painful. ranboos panic room. ranboo and tubbos talk (tubbo admitting that hes wrong, saying he believes that history is repeating itself and trusting ranboo because he believes in his loyalty), fundy showing the ring toss. tubbos surprise at being told to kill dream before stating that quackity would be in control if he didnt (god, did he plan to fail?). tommy being so so excited. everyone playing ring toss and cheering on jack. tommy still believing in tubbo. tubbo panicking. ranboo and tommy and techno talking, ranboo giving them info. dream placing walls and quackity instructing tubbo on where to kill dream. dream lying about the community house. the entire community house debacle. just, everything.

and then doomsday itself. having to frantically get there because it started early, tubbo only having diamond armor to protect him, fundy standing still after he sabotaged them. tubbo and ranboos genuine despair about the apiary.

tubbo eventually going nonverbal and actively putting himself in danger, not even moving away from techno at first and getting in the way of the firework launcher. tubbo trying to save tommy from the fireworks, ponks broken "dont come over here!" after she was trying to save his cat, tommys face falling and desperate attempts at convincing techno, ranboo going "its all gone", niki spiralling and silently burning down the tree, quackitys pure anger. all the death messages.

jack going "what is there left to protect", tommy brokenly trying to accept that its gone as tubbo and quackity blankly do accept it. jack going "i lost everything again". tommy desperately trying to understand dream, on the verge of tears as he asks why dream didnt just hurt him. his low health and food as hes unable to do anything anymore, his quiet gasp as he spots ghostbur, tubbos tiny shake of his head when dream says dream and tommys story wont be over.

tubbo and quackity breaking the repeaters. ghostburs "i didnt even know we were fighting". ghostbur finding out phil let friend die, hes pained "phil? but i- i gave, i gave phil to look after. and dream found me friend, and technoblade said we were friends", tommys pained talk about technoblade. "we were never his friend. to him, all of this was just an act of politics, an act of clout and a-a social ladder, and you won't remember. tubbo you will, and to you big q, this was a friendship. but to technoblade, this was a ladder. and techno climbed to the tippity talk. do you wanna know the only way you can go? on the ladder? -- and once you reach the top of the ladder tubbo, you can only go down."

quackity asking to sing the anthem again, him strumming as ghostbur sings (and tubbo and tommy joining in). ghostbur forgetting the second verse because it blew up. quackity remembering it, them stumbling through it. tommys "tubbo? im so so sorry", tubbos quiet "its okay." the four all singing together. tubbo looking at the lava with an ender pearl in his hand, tommy correcting quackity and going "our l'manburg". ghostburs speech about friend, about people not taking him seriously just because he has memory loss.

meanwhile.. phil and techno were laughing. cracking jokes. phil mocks them as he spawns withers on the apiary, going "ohhh noo not the bees!". techno shouts at tommy and shoots at him and tubbo. he kills jack and doesnt even notice that it was one of his lives lost. jacks death itself proves that it doesnt take any particular intent, doesnt have to mean anything to the killer. techno and phil were willing to kill people. it would be foolish of them to act as if there were no risks in the terms of canon lives, especially with phil. phil doesnt take ghostbur seriously, treats his despair as an opportunity to drill in a lesson. the most either of them lost was some of the dogs and used up potions, fireworks, and wither skulls

and then theres dream. dream whose been harming the l'manburgians since the beginning, who had taken tubbo hostage, offered eret a chance to betray them all, who had been the man in tommys walls and offering money to tubbo and jack to try and get them to destroy things, who tried to get tommy to kill tubbos villagers. dream, who took tommys discs over and over, who killed tommy twice in one day, who stopped caring about his friends that loved him and were so so loyal. dream, who helped schlatt and pushed wilbur deeper into his spiral, who even then tried to manipulate tommy.

dream, who helped destroy l'manburg the first and second time, who took advantage of tubbo so he could have a premeditated kidnapping of tommy. dream, who abused tommy, physically, psychologically, emotionally. dream, who degraded tubbo and had taken ranboos memory book (which btw, since ranboos memory loss counts as a mental disability with the memory book as his aid, thats dream taking the thing that aids ranboo in dealing with his disability).

dream, who had been the reason l'manburg was created. dream, who got to destroy l'manburg three times. dream won. and techno and phil dont regret it, dont care.

maybe l'manburg was never meant to be. and sure, it started with stealing and an attempt to monopolize on potions but. that wasnt even l'manburg then, was it? it was just wilbur and tommy having fun. l'manburg came after. after the police hurt them. l'manburg started as a silly little revolution, led by a naïve man who thought he could win wars by saying no. it was a place for a family, a place for them to escape from dream. it was a place to try and escape the harm of those outside the walls. it was meant to be safe, even if those against them made it hard to be. it was made from love. it was meant to be happy. it was a symphony, however unfinished.

so. i don't know. i just feel, bad. they never really won, did they? tragedy after tragedy, death after death, destruction after destruction, betrayal after betrayal, hurt after hurt. and now what's left of them, really? out of the founders, erets doing the best and even shes doing awful, forever trying to make up for what he did. tubbos paranoia led him to developing nukes in a desperate attempt to stay safe, because he was taught to stay quiet and keep his emotions to himself, because his death was "justified", because nukes and walls and weapons are the only way he can feel safe anymore.

tommy went through months of abuse, lost all of his lives and suffered upon coming back, suicidal but unable to bring himself to do it because limbo is worse, feeling lost and like he has no family anymore other than wilbur, who he knows is hurting him but cant bring himself to leave, who loved lmanburg so so dearly and only wanted a home, still doesnt have one (tommy from everywhere, tommy from nowhere at all). niki who loved lmanburg and wilbur so much that it hollowed her out and made her bitter and shes so used to being spoken over that all she can think to do is raise her voice and get pissed, who cant see wilbur as a good person anymore because shes hurt and hasnt truly recovered and she doesnt know how to cope without being angry.

jack manifold feels forgotten, hes lost all his lives and crawled out of hell and no one truly noticed, he doesnt even believe that niki really cares, hes desperate and has made his purpose to be spiteful and angry because he cant deal with the emptiness that comes when he realizes theres no point. fundys desperate to have friends, family, a partner, anyone thatll love him, anyone thatll keep him safe, slowly killing himself with cigarettes and disowned because of giving too little too late, because he was too little too late.

and wilburs lost himself. spiraling, paranoid. a young, naïve man who wanted to fight swords with words, who wanted to impress his father, who wanted a nation of his own to feel safe, who was so effected by erets betrayal that he cant trust anyone but himself, whose possessive nature eats him from the inside out, desperate for control and unable to let go of the only person he knows loves him unconditionally

all because outside forces kept pushing, kept destroying, kept ruining them and hurting them and traumatizing them and taking away their homes and pets and loved ones. and i just. cant feel happy for the ones that hurt them, i cant feel victorius, triumphant, any of that. i just feel bad that the l'manburgians never got to be a family. i know they arent the best people but shit, i love them anyways, love them because theyre flawed and because theyre *people*, people who tried so so hard and got pushed so so much and. fuck, i cant be happy that the people who loved nature and play fought and laughed by campfires and read poetry and re-enacted theatre and loved each other and wanted to *live* (even if they were willing to die, if it meant giving everyone else a chance).. lost. they lost.

canonical years of work down the drain in one day. records of history gone, now only remembered in full by a traumatized teenager who was taught not to talk about his negative emotions, and even he misremembers some parts. they didnt even lose fairly. they had no chance. they couldnt have prepared for withers, for tnt rain, for the hounds. they were poor, weaker than their opponents, sabotaged by one of their own. thats.. tragic.

doomsday was a tragedy. i cant agree that it was deserved. i cant agree that they had it coming, that they deserved to lose homes and pets and limbs and lives and land because they werent the greatest people around.

a small country of less than 10 people (at both creation and destruction) now a giant crater in the ground, remnants of a parisitic egg taking over the land. and it wasnt even lost fairly. three people were stronger than an entire nation, even with all of its allies. two anarchists working with an abusive tyrant. so, no. doomsday wasnt deserved. people dont deserve tragedy. there were better ways, i truly cant be happy that the way chosen was violence. i cant.

l'manburg's citizens deserved better. they really did. the ends dont justify the means. and god, am i fucking tired of "justice". if justice means choosing violence over love and respect and caring about those less strong than you, i dont wanna hear about it. fuck that man, id rather love and be loved than constantly give a shit about making up for hurting others by getting hurt, thats stupid and cruel and i cant see it as okay on a moral level. not when the people that got hurt deserved to be loved and cared about and protected and *talked to* instead of constantly shot down.

of course for the narrative i can enjoy violence and characters getting hurt and i do like how "real" it all is, the despair and dissonance in tone and how terrifyingly messy it all is. out of story perspective- honestly rather cool even if it makes me feel bad. in story perspective- holy fucking shit no that wasnt deserved and god i hope everyone hurt will be able to heal and learn to love and be loved again because thats such a terrifying thing to go through. from a detached pov i can appreciate the insight into everyone involved and i like the plotlines that came from it, but from a compassionate pov i just wish the l'manburgians were allowed to be happy and treated as equals so they didnt have to go through all of this

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pl-panda · 4 years

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The vines that bind us - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 || Next

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Until a trip to Gotham came knocking on the front doors

“I can’t believe Lie-la of all people managed to somehow get us the trip to Gotham!” Mari moaned with a mixed expression on her face.

Adrien, who was walking next to them, showed absolute disgust. “Technically, It was my father and I that did the heavy lifting. She really wanted to go to the Wayne Gala and…”

“What Lie-la wants, Lie-la gets.” The three finished in unison before laughing a bit.

“Don’t worry Mari-bear. I can promise you that this no good liar won’t get to ruin your return home.” Chloe pulled her best friend closer. Best friend. Much better than a servant. Who would’ve thought? “And we can even try to find your mom on free Saturday.”

“Yeah…” The girl with black-blue hair didn’t seem particularly cheerful at that.

“Now I refuse to have you making sad faces throughout the whole flight. You cheer up right this moment and that’s an order!” The blonde commanded.

“Yes, Maman-bear.” Mari giggled.

The three of them finally arrived at the rest of the class, who were already gathered around madame Bustier. Of course, Lila was bragging about a million different things, but the three paid her no mind. Adrien did his best to hide behind the girls, cherishing the last moments of freedom. Finally, Mari and Chloe had to step forward for their tickets. The blonde got hers without any problem, but for Mari there turned out to be none.

“I’m so so sorry Marinette!” Lila said with fake regret. “I must have accidentally miscounted the number of students… It must’ve been when I was helping those poor orphans. You know, at…”

“Sure…” Mari didn’t even try to act as if she believed her for a moment. When Lila scowled, realizing that it didn’t affect the girl, she smiled. “I guess Chlo, Adrien and I will have to go with the contingency plan number 1.”

“What?!” The sausage-hair shouted.

“Of course my Daddy would not send us to travel like peasants. We have tickets for the first class.” Chloe supplied, looking smugly. “We did plan to maybe sit with the rest of the class. What a shame…”

“Yeah, My dad also didn’t want me to travel anything less, but I convinced him to let me stay with my friends. Guess he will get what he wanted in the end.” For his part, Adrien at least tried to look apologetic. He didn’t try hard at all, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“But… But…” Lila tried to come up with something, likely a lie, to counter it. She didn’t have time as the trio handed their teacher the filled forms from their parents/guardians/Nathalie and proceeded to the plane. The tickets were personal, so she couldn’t do anything. The Italian girl came up with a lie to tell to the class, but it would do no good until they landed.

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“Did you see her face?” Plagg was rolling in the air while holding a giant roll of camembert.

“You were amazing my queen.” Pollen complimented.

“I still can’t believe your dad just… bought out the whole first class!” Marinette sighed.

“Phi! Daddy always gives me only the best. You should know it by now, Mari-bear.”

“Okay. Mari. You are the Gotham expert here. Any advice?” Adrien asked a bit more seriously.

“Gotham survival guide is probably unlike any other city.” She started. “The first rule is, believe it or not, run away if a person laughs too much or smiles too widely. The downside of living in the same city as the Joker is that most people don’t laugh in public. Secondly, never show that you are lost. Wherever you are, it’s exactly where you wanted to be. Finally, the third is to never flaunt your wealth.” She looked critically at Chloe before taking away her purse and lipstick in a golden case. “This,” She then pulled a mobile phone in a ridiculously sparkly case and popped it out of the cover, “this,” finally, she detached the golden chain on which the purse was supposed to be suspended and replaced it with a pre-prepared white one with copper clips, “and this must all go away.”

“Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! Now it will totally clash with my comb!” Chloe complained.

“Oh no! How will you ever survive that?” Mari deadpanned. All three of them had another burst of laughter. After they calmed, Adrien started.

“Do you think it’s wrong that I want to bet which rule will Lila break first?”

“Ten macaroons she will say out-loud about money.” Mari threw.

“I raise, four tea parties she will start by asking for direction.” Chloe had a grin on her face

“Are you sure?” Adrien asked. When the blonde nodded, he shrugged. “Movie night and double popcorn bowl refill that she will do both in one conversation.”

“Hi, could you be so kind to point me to my exclusive hotel? You know, I’m staying at the penthouse of this luxurious new one.” Mari gave a quite good parody of Lilia.

“So to sum up, the pool is now ten Macaroons, Four Tea parties, and movie night with triple popcorn?” Chloe asked. When they nodded, she quickly noted it on her phone.

“Now, who wants a movie? I think they have the newest Thomas Astruck one.” Adrien pulled a disc from the container next to his seat.

“Good for me!/Go!” The girls said. Chloe, who was in the middle loaded it and the other two leaned onto her to watch together. The three were happy. Faintly in the background, there was knocking on the doors to their part, but nobody paid attention to very angry Liela and some classmates. For some reason, the doors were stuck and the blinder rolled down. Later if someone asked, Pollen would deny everything.

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When the plane landed, the class was practically kicked out. The team walked calmly down the stairs, all of them having smug expressions. Lila wanted to comment, but a glare from Mme. Bustier shut her up quickly. Mari and co. would later try to guess, what got the crew so pissed at their classmates.

Once everyone was accounted for, the class made its way to the customs to retrieve their luggage. There was a small problem with Mari’s travel bag as it was apparently misplaced to the flight to Timbuktu, but luckily her true suitcase, which had her things inside, arrived safely. She giggled at the thought of custom office in Timbuktu receiving a bag full of Adrien’s old socks that smelled camembert.

Overall, the airport went mostly unproblematic. At least until they found themselves cleared and gathered in one place while Mme Bustier left to check on their bus. One of the men, wearing a dark blue suit started to laugh almost maniacally. Everybody immediately cleared away from him, out of sheer self-preservation. Lila must’ve decided that a show of kindness was a good way to regain class’ good grace. She was confidently approaching the man before suddenly Mari grabbed her and pulled her away. The designer might’ve despised the liar, but Joker… you don’t mess with Joker.

Of course, Lila used the chance. She faked falling on the ground and started crying crocodile tears. “Marinette?! How can you be so heartless? I wanted *sniff* to check on the man and you trip me?” Lila sniffled, eyes watering with crocodile tears.

“I might have saved your life genius!” Mari snapped. Joker was a really touchy subject with her. “Does the world Killer Clown mean something?”

“Don’t invent things, you bully!” Alya shouted. That seemed to break the dam and at once the class started to say awful things to Mari. A year ago, it would hurt her. Half a year ago, she would be sad. Now? Now she pitied them. Chloe didn’t, and she was ready to jump to protect her best friend.

“Ridiculous! Do you like… share a single brain cell? What if that man was…” she didn’t get to finish because Mme. Bustier returned. The commotion immediately calmed. By now the man stopped laughing and returned to talking with his friends.

“The bus is waiting. Come on children. Follow me.”

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Arriving at the hotel, the class was split into different rooms. Of course, Lila tried to lie her way into some privilege, but Mari was too dead inside to care. The Jet Lag was killing her. At least she got some sleep on the plane. From the rumors she heard from the class, they didn’t because of Lila’s drama with the staff.

“Now I want you all to be ready here at eight a.m. sharp. A Wayne Enterprises representative will come here to explain the details of internships.” Mme. Bustier instructed them. This, for some reason, caused outrage in students.

“What do you mean internships?!”

“Wayne Enterprises?”

“Shouldn’t we be preparing to go to Gotham Academy or something?”

The terrible trio in the back had trouble holding back laugher. Adrien warned the girls about what his father planned, so they could all prepare. Gabriel Agreste, devious as he is, decided to punish Lila and teach Adrien something about running a company at the same time and using his connections to put the class up for an internship at WE. He did send the liar all the details, but she must have skimmed over the corporate jargon because the class was fed overexaggerated stories about what they would and wouldn’t do during two months trip.

Most parents were more than happy to send their children away from Paris for two months, especially since the Internship was free and the employment rate after it was quite high. WE kept quite a lot of the interns, if only out of habit. But perhaps it was mostly because the class has become a go-to place for the Akuma. Only Mr. Pidgeon and perhaps Gigantitan were akumatized more often. Mari actually picked up to cleansing their class weekly through a ritual she learned, otherwise there would be enough residual dark energy to power a demon portal. Not something one would want in the middle of a classroom.

“I was told you’ve all read the brochure provided and Lila summarised it for you.”

“I did!” The sausage hair defended. “Marinette must have told them some imaginary story about the trip!”

Immediately, several other people started to nod and confirm this. Chloe actually started to walk toward the liar almost red, but Mari grabbed the back of her blazer and held her in place. All the while she had a completely deadpan expression like it was normal for her (it was).

Mme. Bustier sighed. “Well, In that case, I will…”

“Excuse me, but shouldn’t we be going to sleep today already? We don’t want to be late tomorrow.” Adrien asked with an innocent expression, but there was some satisfaction hidden there too.

“Well… um… I…”

“We will be going then.” Chloe grabbed the key and led Mari to their room. Calline didn’t even question it. She wanted a pay raise after this.

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The next morning, Mari was woken by a frantic Chloe

“Mari-bear! It’s already late! You don’t want to be late for your first day of Internship girl! It would be utterly Ridiculous!”

At first, the girl mumbled something, but once she finally processed everything she leaped out of her bed and started getting ready in record time. She was brushing her teeth, packing her purse, and tossing clothes at her best friend all at once. Once she had everything, she turned to see Chloe on the ground tied with a gray blazer. Mari just burst out laughing.

“How…”

“Ridiculous!” Chloe shook her head. “I demand you untie me this instant! We don’t have time for this!”

Once they dressed and did their hair, both girls were ready. Chloe now had a black button-down shirt, deep red blazer, and a matching pencil skirt. Mari also made her wear smart black stilettos (instead of her usual that were slightly more extravagant). The look was completed by a tablet in leather flip-over cover. Mari had a similar outfit, except her shirt was white and the suit was in dark blue. She opted for flat shoes to spare the embarrassment that was Marigold on heels.

“Ready to rock Gotham City?”

“Like you have to ask.” Mari smiled. There was something about the city of crime that made her feel safe and open up more. Maybe being on home turf gave her the much-needed confidence boost.

When Chloe tried to open the doors, she found them stuck. She was about to go on a rant about poor quality when Mari casually grabbed the doorknob and twisted it. There was a faint creaking sound as the mechanism gave.

“Um…”

“It must’ve been old,” Chloe said with a devious grin. “Nothing happened. Don’t you worry! I will deal with it.”

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When the doors to the elevator opened and two girls strode into the lobby, their class was already pushing toward the exit. Adrien looked very much uncomfortable with Lila hanging off his arm, literally sinking her claws into him. He mouthed them a muted ‘later’. Alya stared at the girls with loathing.

“Ah, you are here.” Mme. Bustier spoke. “Lila said…”

“Whatever.” Chloe dismissed their teacher. “Aren’t we in rush?” The blonde practically seethed the last word.

“Yes, good to see that someone is responsible.” The teacher gave Mari a pointed look. Apparently, she still didn’t get over the fact that she resigned from the class rep position.

“But…”

“Drop it. She is not worth it.” Chloe whispered. “Daddy will take care of that once we are done.”

Mari just nodded. She knew Chloe was preparing a lawsuit against the school, but their hands were tied until they graduated or Damocles could try and undermine it. Both girls knew that no adult would help them with the lawsuit beyond Chloe’s father signing whatever dotted line she asked him to. That man was more whipped than a fresh can of whipped cream.

The ride to the WE was short and uneventful. Girls took up to gossiping in English, effectively limiting any eavesdropping. Mari spent most of the time tearing down the outfits of all the villains. She started with Riddler, more as a joke than actual rant, but then she somehow got onto this new guy Anarky. From there, she just kept on, smoothly sailing from one to the next. Even her mom got some shots. Mari still couldn’t stand how skimpy it was. Her rant carried over when they exited the bus and entered the WE. Security led them to a conference room, where they were told to take seats.

Mari guessed that it wouldn’t be Lila if she didn’t immediately start sputtering lies about how well she knew the building already because of her Damiboo giving her private tours (All while clutching Adrien like a leech). She didn’t have enough ducks left to give to try to expose Lila about several facts. Such as that Damian Wayne definitely wasn’t living with Bruce when he was five. Any Gothamite could tell her that. Bored, she returned to her rant.

She was nearing the end of the list and was very much engaged in complimenting Harley Queen for her recent change in wardrobe. She still considered it a disaster, but at least it was somehow human.

“Ekhm…” A voice broke her out of the rant. “Good morning. My name is Richard Grayson. You are the french class chosen for the internship program, correct?” When people nodded, he continued. Idly, Mari noted that Alya and Lila stiffened and suddenly stopped talking at all. “We reviewed the individual profiles and appointed each of you a mentor that will help you settle into your roles. As I read the names, please come forward so I can update your badges. Do carry them on your person all the time or we will have to take you to our human cloning facility.”

People stared at him.

“Okaaay… That’s that about jokes…” He sighed. “The rules will be explained by individual departments. Now, who’s up for a tour?”

People started to cheer at that and Dick smiled. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad?

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It was that bad. Even worse. He knew from the background check that the class was both insanely talented… and borderline criminal. It was like someone de-aged the Rogues and put them in one class. The report called them Akuma class, which (if google is to be believed) meant demons. He questioned how they got accepted into the internship.

They only toured two floors when Dick wanted to tear half of them to shreds. He noted immediately that they were bullying the girl with black (slightly blue? Maybe it was dyed?) hair. What surprised him was that the teacher didn’t react. If he was to be honest, the girl and her friend slightly irritated him too. They kept talking and seemed to ignore him. It was not because they kept tearing down each and every bats’ fashion choices. Definitely not that. When they brought up Discowing he had enough.

“Ekhm. Excuse me, girls,” he stared at them. Both immediately stopped talking and looked at him. “Could you pay attention? I wouldn’t want any of you to waste your internship lost on our maze-testing floor.”

“There is no maze-testing floor in this building.” The blonde pointed out.

“And besides, we memorized all you’ve said.”

“Care to recall?” He heard several people groan at his pun.

“The first floor is most representative, where guests are welcome and low-level meetings happen. There is a separate kitchen for employers there that is always fresh on fruits. Don’t use the coffee machine there as it was only patched up and there is a high chance it will set itself on fire again. The…”

“Fine. You’re good. Still, I don’t appreciate the chatter.”

“They are always trouble!” A girl in bright pink colors shouted.

“Yeah! Why do you have to ruin this trip for Lila!?”

“You’re just jealous of her boyfriend!”

More voices like this came from the crowd of kids. Dick started to feel bad that he singled the girls out. It definitely gave the class a reason to gang up on them. And the teacher still did nothing! He sighed. What did HR think when they accepted them. He would have to look into it later.

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Mari decided that she didn’t like Dick. Everyone in their class kept talking, but for some reason, he singled them out. For the rest of the trip, she made sure to pay as much attention as she could. There was this silent determination on her face. Chloe wisely also kept silent.

After the trip class was led back to the conference room where another employer handed out the identificators and folders containing their assignments.

“Keep the IDs on you at all times. As opposed to the ones you received, this won’t expire and are synched with your jobs, so you will have access to anything you might need. They are also mandatory to receive lunch in our canteen. When you get acquainted with your tasks, you can go to the level specified at the end of sheet one. Your mentor will meet you there.” With that, he left. Dick really needed to do some in-depth research on this class. Something kept icking his detective sense.

“Well, I’m going to the law department. Apparently whoever made the assignments knew my well.” Chloe bragged to her friend after opening the folder.

Timidly, Mari also opened her folder. She skimmed over what was inside and groaned. “Apparently, I’m interning as personal assistant to one Tim Drake.”

“They actually assigned you to the sleep-deprived coffee addict?” Chloe asked in disbelief.

“You know him?” She asked in surprise

“He and his brother ruined my daddy’s parties two years ago. They got into an argument that ended up with them wrestling over a cake. It took me weeks to get the cake out of my hair! Weeks!” The blonde summarized.

“oh…” Mari tried to hold back the giggles.

“Don’t laugh! It’s a serious matter! Do you have any idea how much work it takes to have such a perfect hair?!”

“Of course… cakehead.” The girl couldn’t stop herself.

“Ugh, you… you… plant leg.” Chloe said.

“Really?” Mari raised an eyebrow. “That’s the best you can come with?”

“Well, I usually have better things to do than thinking about good insults.” Still, Chloe hugged her best friend. “Be careful. I wouldn’t put it past The Liar to try and sabotage you somehow.”

“I’ll be careful. Wish me luck.”

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The elevator took Mari all the way to the highest floor. When the doors opened, she stepped int a large room with one desk. As soon as the doors closed, the woman who was standing there rushed toward her. The girl tensed for a moment but she reminded herself that there is no real threat.

“Oh finally! I was asking them to hire someone else for months!” She had a messed bun of red hair on her head and looked like she didn’t sleep in a week.

“But… I’m just an intern madame!” Mari tried to explain.

“An intern?” The woman paused her packing and stared at the girl with wide eyes.

“Um… Madame Sarah Jackson?”

“Yes. An intern…” She said in a disappointed voice to herself. “Ah! That’s no problem at all!” She started to tap on her Waynetech Tablet and after a moment she smiled. “There! You’re hired!”

“Wha…?!” Mari shouted, but was interrupted when Sarah pushed the tablet into her hand, followed by a large box full of documents and a small mug with a coffee bean pointing a gun at the reader and words ‘Your Coffee or your life!’.

“They are your problem now! Everything you need is in the box. I left detail about ongoing stuff and whatever you might need. Don’t call. I’m outta here!” She shouted before grabbing her personal belonging and leaping into the elevator.

“But…! But…!?” Mari shouted after the closing doors. She could hear a cheerful shout as the elevator left the level.

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#maribat #miraculous ladybug #maribat au #miraculous lb #batman #dc #mlb x dc #Marigold AU #Mother!Ivy

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petty-revenge-stories · 6 years

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Our sandwich making skills aren't fresh enough? Well we won't be serving baloney at this location anymore, ma'am.

This is a story about the little things in life, pettiness, sandwiches, and the price of being a shit person. TL;DR at the end.

I worked at a big (at the time) chain sandwich shop about a decade ago. I was a young fresh faced teen about as intimidating as a free pamphlet getting knocked around an empty parking lot by the wind. That would soon change.

There is me (Thatsanicedoor) 17yo, cool guy Manager (M) 29yo, lazy Owners Wife (OW) 40's, and shitty customer, let's call her Thin Lipped (TL) mid 30's because she always made that pursed lip face.

I had just started working at the store, getting used to the job and regulars. About the same time TL started to make herself known. She starts off being huffy and rude but we just laugh it off as her being a mid thirties, upper middle class entitled white lady. This is fine, we get them all the time and M plays Dawn of Ashes over the speakers sometimes so it is going to happen. She told us one day she came to our store because it was close and her young twins and husband loved it, but continued to be rude. Still, totally whatever. Then she starts to get mad and become a nuisance, her twins need the "Exact same thing! What do you mean you only have one small cookie left! I said I needed two", or we had to remake food because she didn't like the way it looked or she decided she did want lettuce after all. We keep her happy because OW doesn't tolerate unhappy customers and will drive her Mercedes SUV to the store and chew us out.

After a few months TL thinks she deserves extra special treatment because she is there 3 times a week, and now we can not do anything right in her eyes. She even refuses to let M make her food because she doesn't like him and wants it done by "someone else". Finally one shift she comes in when I am acting manager. All that means is I turned down Asst Manager because of twice the responsibility and a $0.15 cent raise, but they still gave me most of the management power. And after TL demanding we pull "fresh" food from the back and telling other people in line "how awful the service always is here", she gives me a hard time on the price (I had to substitute things on her order to keep her happy and it came out to be LESS than her normal charge which she didn't realize till 5 min of me trying to show her) then asks to see the manager.

It's my time to shine! Keeping myself from grinning, hunching over, and villian-style cackling I tell her that I am the manager on duty, and if she has any issues she can take it up with me. She argues! I confirm I am the acting manager, she glares and leaves. M thinks it is hilarious and OW is just glad she didn't have to come in and do anything. I feel smug because I pissed her off without breaking any rules.

We aren't even close to being done.

For (some) brevity here are the bullet points of what she does over the next few weeks.

Makes female coworker cry because TL berates her

Complains even MORE e.g. "This can of soda doesn't taste the same as from store X"

Talks down to M on her order total because he "isn't quick at math" and says she wants Thatsanicedoor to come do it. (btw she was wrong)

Brings her kids in, yells what she wants while chasing them around and holding up the line

Tells us how hard she has it with twins, a wealthy husband, and having to come pick up food for dinner

Often will not respond to questions and just stare at you, wide-eyed, tight lipped, and furious. Sorry I asked if you wanted a drink.

Threatens to call the health department

Calls the health department which gets us in trouble with OW. NOT because we were being unsanitary, M was strict about cleanliness. But because OW had to buy more cleaning products and replace old sinks.

And she still came to our store! I was on my last legs with this job. We had to do something. OW would just comp TL's meal instead of ever disrespect a customer! This was even worse because OW was rarely there and TL liked getting free food, but only OW was allowed to comp meals.

The perfect opportunity came after a few more visits from TL. OW and her husband are Indian, which only matters to contextualize the contempt they showed for people below them, and because, oddly enough, they seemed to hate other brown skinned people. I don't understand it but it has been explained to me by Indian friends as a thing. So one day we decide M will report to OW every time TL came in to build a "case" against her. OW doesn't trust M (Mexican) so she asks me (White) to confirm his story. And while most of stories are true, we stretch it a bit. Instead of "This store is run so poorly!" It became "Whoever owns this place does a terrible job and should be ashamed!"

It worked like a charm, OW was extremely offended and started to come in around TL's normal time to see for herself. OW stepped in one day as she heard TL going off and to help defuse the situation. But OW didn't know what she was doing and did an awful job making TL's (at this point) very complicated order. By the time they made it to the register they were in a shouting match. All the anger of being, uh, "insulted" by TL seemed to fuel OW's rage and finally told her to never come back to the store again. TL said she would take her business to the further store and that we were awful. But of course TL called and demanded to talk to the owner, and they met at the store and she complained about his wife (OW), the store, how her family loved the food and now she had to drive an extra 7 minutes to the next store. She let it slip that she had been demanding, and getting discounts on her meals because of our "poor service" which pissed him off and they had another shouting match in which she got banned from 3 more stores he owned!

The real petty part was how much we had to do to make her suffer just a little bit.

All in all she had to drive an extra 14 minutes, 3 times a week, and pay full price at a store that was warned to give her no special treatment.

Thanks for reading the whole damn thing!

TL;DR Customer is verbally abusive to employees. Fake Store Manager doesn't care. We say insults are directed at her. She cares. Customer banned. Then extra banned. Always toast your sandwich twice.

(source) (story by Thatsanicedoor)

#pettyrevenge #by Thatsanicedoor #petty revenge #revenge stories #petty revenge stories #petty #revenge #revenge story #last10

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pettyrevenge-base · 6 years

Text

Our sandwich making skills aren't fresh enough? Well we won't be serving baloney at this location anymore, ma'am.

This is a story about the little things in life, pettiness, sandwiches, and the price of being a shit person.

There is me (Thatsanicedoor) 17yo, cool guy Manager (M) 29yo, lazy Owners Wife (OW) 40's, and shitty customer, let's call her Thin Lipped (TL) mid 30's because she always made that pursed lip face.

We aren't even close to being done.

For (some) brevity here are the bullet points of what she does over the next few weeks.

Makes female coworker cry because TL berates her

Complains even MORE e.g. "This can of soda doesn't taste the same as from store X"

Talks down to M on her order total because he "isn't quick at math" and says she wants Thatsanicedoor to come do it. (btw she was wrong)

Brings her kids in, yells what she wants while chasing them around and holding up the line

Tells us how hard she has it with twins, a wealthy husband, and having to come pick up food for dinner

Often will not respond to questions and just stare at you, wide-eyed, tight lipped, and furious. Sorry I asked if you wanted a drink.

Threatens to call the health department

The real petty part was how much we had to do to make her suffer just a little bit.

All in all she had to drive an extra 14 minutes, 3 times a week, and pay full price at a store that was warned to give her no special treatment.

Thanks for reading the whole damn thing!

TL;DR Customer is verbally abusive to employees. Fake Store Manager doesn't care. We say insults are directed at her. She cares. Customer banned. Then extra banned. Always toast your sandwich twice.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

#pettyrevenge #lol #omg

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

Text

Jimmy & Janis

Jimmy: you left your headphones here, mate Jimmy: got 'em in my pocket if you wanna collect Jimmy: wouldn't subject you to Cass' interrogation tactics Jimmy: better off buying new, rich girl Janis: yeah, realized when I went to start this run Janis: already in Twix's bad books so can't have that, like Janis: drop in and get 'em in a few Jimmy: 💔 on the rocks already you two? Jimmy: gutted Jimmy: stay for breakfast if you want Janis: Are now, like Janis: How to explain with a look that you can't take her out 'cos you tryna be 🤐 tragic misunderstanding Janis: [pic of protein shake thing] 👍 Jimmy: did try & let her know my dad was in the mood to do you for dogknapping but Jimmy: she ain't the sharpest pup at the park Jimmy: 👍 Janis: Rude Janis: she got plenty of potential Jimmy: where? Janis: 🙄 Janis: she got as much as you in her right paw, like, don't be rude Jimmy: says you as you're then snide to me 👌 Jimmy: you know my smoothies are 💣 & so my future is set Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: gotta stand up for my girl ain't I Jimmy: 💪 Jimmy: who took her out? she best remember that 🥇 Janis: didn't know you cared 💕 Janis: can handle the competition okay Jimmy: nah, you'll be 💔 when she's only got 😍 for me Jimmy: especially 'cause I don't care, double blow 🎻 Janis: Scandalous Janis: hitting her up with the screenshots as we speak Jimmy: no secret, babe Jimmy: go on Janis: Poor bitch Janis: #youdeservebetterhun Jimmy: shoulda fought the law, Juliet Jimmy: reckon you'd have gotten pretty far with her before the take down Janis: Appreciate the faith Janis: but as I didn't even make it out the door without being #exposed Janis: idk Jimmy: Just by the 🐶 though? Janis: Nah, your Dad had to share how full of the joys he was this AM, like Jimmy: sorry Janis: ain't your fault Janis: and no big Jimmy: I invited you & he's my dad so as much as it can be, it is Jimmy: 🙄 Jimmy: just accept the apology Janis: alright Janis: might wanna tell him i'm not a prozzie though, just look like one Jimmy: did he say that? Janis: No, nah, 'course not Janis: just 👀s Jimmy: then don't be a dickhead Jimmy: he knows you're my girlfriend Janis: just joking Jimmy: funny Janis: gotta laugh Jimmy: nah Jimmy: join me in misery Janis: that bad? Jimmy: just joking Janis: 👌 Jimmy: 👍 Janis: when you working 'til today Jimmy: 3 Jimmy: why? Janis: just working out when i can drop in to get my headphones Jimmy: I can give 'em to your sister Jimmy: she drops by at lunchtime like clockwork Janis: 😑 Janis: that would require talking to her Janis: for you and me Jimmy: I was reckoning more on a shove 'em at her & run Jimmy: gotta go on my break, soz gracie Janis: good 🍀 Janis: if she can read social cues at all she ignores them Jimmy: save me then, babe Jimmy: come yourself Janis: will do Janis: not lunchtime, obviously Janis: been summoned home anyway 🙄 Jimmy: you in the shit too? Jimmy: how #goals of us, Juliet Janis: truly Janis: it's only my dad, he ain't got no balls Jimmy: @ me in some shit to demonstrate our mutual pining like Jimmy: no way I'm allowed out until my dad's home at least Janis: figured Janis: least if you're effectively grounded no one waiting on that first date like Jimmy: he can't stop me taking the sibs & dog out but probably best if you don't show up too Janis: 👍 no problem Jimmy: 👌 Jimmy: if you wanna keep it coupley, gonna have to be in work hours Janis: guess i got no excuse not to be there atm Janis: hmm Janis: i will show up at lunch, least we'll have a definite witness Janis: that'll keep 'em going Jimmy: they travel as a pack, we'll have 5 Jimmy: take some selfies, make a scene, go again. Easy, yeah? Janis: 🙄 such a fake bitch Jimmy: law of Leprechaun town Jimmy: got us in on it even Janis: least we're going for gold, what the fuck are you doing gracie Jimmy: least we know Mia's going for the throat Jimmy: god bless Janis: gonna have to go for yours Janis: don't take it personal Janis: no time for half-arsing it Jimmy: 💕 Janis: that's the #mood Jimmy: it'll piss my dad off too so sign me up Jimmy: more lasting you can make it, the better Janis: no amateur at either, babe Jimmy: 🥇 Jimmy: I remember Janis: Yeah? Janis: told ya Jimmy: you tell me a lot of things, Judith Jimmy: so chatty you Janis: 🖕 Janis: be off then Jimmy: alright Jimmy: 'til lunch my love Janis: 💘 Janis: you know the deal, have something not shit waiting for me Jimmy: I'm already there, baby 💕 Janis: 😏 dickhead Jimmy: do you want food or you just gonna snack on me like you're channeling a mia move? Janis: she's not inspiration or goals Janis: can't have her reckoning that, ever Jimmy: #thinspo Janis: 😂 Janis: get me a bacon sarnie to fuck her off Jimmy: 👍 Jimmy: nowt sexy bout that but I'll 😍 best I can Janis: how rude Janis: what you want me to order, like u got anything phallic on the menu lads Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: you'll have a straw with your smoothie, it's fine Janis: I've been forced to endure many a teeny romcom, it's fine Janis: know what to do, boy Jimmy: weren't doubting Jimmy: easy for you anyway, what am I gonna do? lick out a coffee lid suggestively? nah Janis: please do Janis: need a good laugh Jimmy: piss off Janis: still think you're cute, don't worry baby Jimmy: yeah I know Janis: shut up Jimmy: save it for when you can make me Jimmy: the audience will love that Janis: yeah expecting applause Jimmy: I'll take the hit when Mia throws her iced coffee Jimmy: workers comp Janis: Love that for her, if only you didn't take your coffee like a basic bitch, might have the desired effect Jimmy: only gonna make me look hotter, girl so tah Janis: who isn't about a wet t-shirt moment Jimmy: she helps me out loads for someone who reckons they're a #hater Janis: save your thanks for the acceptance speech Jimmy: 👌 Jimmy: not gonna thank her the way lads usually do Janis: #notliketherest is it? 😏 Jimmy: #standardsunliketherest Janis: If you say so Janis: me being your 'girlfriend' probably has 'em doubting that Jimmy: I had said it, loads Jimmy: Start listening, girl Jimmy: might stop you chatting shit for a sec Janis: Yeah yeah Janis: I heard ya Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: 🤷 Jimmy: the manager's here Jimmy: in a bit Janis: 👍 laters Jimmy: 😘 Janis: [After] Janis: [Headphone selfie] Tah Jimmy: 👍 Jimmy: [Selfie to show the general disheveled state of him after that glorious PDA] Jimmy: likewise Janis: 😳 Janis: worked though Jimmy: I didn't reckon Mia's voice could get this high Janis: Ha 😂 Janis: so pressed Jimmy: their debrief is the real show Jimmy: & you're missing it Janis: Gutted 💔 Janis: gimme the play by play Jimmy: nowt you ain't heard before I'm sure Jimmy: 🎻 & 🗡 Janis: usual then Janis: sure gracie will fill me in on how much of a bitch i am no worries 🙄 Jimmy: if she don't you didn't do enough Jimmy: you'll have to come back Janis: yeah? doubt that was her shout somehow 😏 Jimmy: let me know Janis: If you think I'm letting her dictate 'round 2 you got the wrong twin Jimmy: 💔 Janis: Yeah, be sure to tell her how gutted you are about that Janis: love to get it #confirmed Jimmy: you're alright Janis: can't say i didn't try Jimmy: nobody can Jimmy: not after that display Janis: too much? Jimmy: nah Jimmy: it was spot on Janis: 🥇 Janis: no need to come back then Jimmy: unless you wanna smack Mia Jimmy: I'd be down to see that Janis: Perv Janis: and 'course I do but her bones might legit crumble and I don't need to get sued by Daddy Jimmy: 💔 Janis: I know babe Jimmy: more gutted I can't accidentally dump this order on the lot of 'em anyway Janis: can't even be mad Janis: #thecouplethathatestogether Janis: I legit couldn't stick another second of them Jimmy: I know babe Jimmy: A lesser ego would think you were desperate to get away from me, but not this one Janis: Thank God you're you 💘 Janis: can't be dealing with stroking egos and destroying others in one Jimmy: 💕 Jimmy: Love you too Janis: when will your dad forgive you/me enough Janis: wanna see twix, like Jimmy: He doesn't get back til 6.30 Jimmy: usually later Janis: so, between the hours of 6.30-6.30, she's all mine? Janis: well, share with the kids, not a total heartless cow Jimmy: yeah Janis: good to know Jimmy: not gonna stand in the way of #truelove am I? Janis: try it Jimmy: ain't got the energy today, darling Janis: 😏 Janis: oh colour me surprised Jimmy: you shouldn't be Jimmy: you know how I slept Janis: i know Janis: he was alright though once you went in with him yeah Jimmy: after a bit Janis: 👍 good stuff Janis: consolation i didn't sleep all that good either Jimmy: like I said, join me in misery Jimmy: you should drink coffee Janis: why are you trying to ruin me Jimmy: says the girl trying to kill me by any means she can Janis: You asked for it Jimmy: 😱 Jimmy: # something relevant for me 'bout that Janis: not blaming or shaming Janis: but you can't fool me, babe Janis: #youwantit Jimmy: #busted Jimmy: 😍💕 Janis: didn't know you were arty Janis: btw Jimmy: why would you? Janis: idk, feel like i shoulda guessed Janis: #softboi Jimmy: piss off Janis: you're pretty good Jimmy: now really piss off Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: 😑 Janis: 'scuse me Janis: giving you a compliment Jimmy: save it for when you can gimme one that matters Jimmy: just doing my bit Janis: Fussy Jimmy: what? Janis: My compliment not good enough 😜 Jimmy: gimme a better one then Jimmy: 'cause that's bollocks Jimmy: it's just a doodle not even that #goals Janis: can say my standards ain't high as yours then Janis: whatever, boy Jimmy: give & you take 💔 Janis: You're prettier than you've drawn yourself Janis: happy? Jimmy: you're prettier than I've drawn you Jimmy: shit artist Janis: ugh stop Janis: 🥊 Jimmy: take the compliment, dickhead Janis: you first Jimmy: 👌 Janis: Cute Jimmy: tell me something I don't know, Jennifer Janis: Alright Janis: I wish I could come back Jimmy: why can't you? Janis: Lots of reasons Janis: they're still there, for one Jimmy: that's a point in the 'why you should' column Jimmy: don't leave me with 'em Janis: poor baby Janis: but I don't know if I can chill Jimmy: we don't chill Jimmy: so fine Janis: you gotta work Jimmy: I'm on the clock with you putting in those fake boyfriend hours Janis: but Jimmy: what? Janis: I want you Jimmy: then come back Janis: it's okay yeah Jimmy: we got interrupted last night, it's only fair we get to make up the time now Janis: it's so hard just kissing you and walking away now Jimmy: I'll be done here in a bit Jimmy: we can leave together Janis: alright Janis: they better not say shit, actually not in the mood Jimmy: I'll fake sick & you can meet me outside? Jimmy: hangover's believable Janis: where we gonna go? Jimmy: I don't know Janis: Come back to mine Jimmy: ain't there 100s of you? Janis: Yeah but rich bitch no Janis: there's places, don't worry Jimmy: alright Jimmy: but if we get interrupted again I'm fake dumping you Janis: we won't Jimmy: 👍 Jimmy: where are you now? I can meet you there depending Janis: Gym Janis: had to distract myself somehow Jimmy: like I said, trying to kill ME constantly Jimmy: you're welcome for the headphones then Janis: Like I said, gotta make sure you feel it too Jimmy: you're wearing those clothes again, aren't you? Jimmy: I'll pass the news on to Mia before I go Janis: What else was I gonna wear, like Janis: sure she'll be thrilled Janis: fill in the blanks yourself though, babes Jimmy: a ballgown for all I know Jimmy: not set foot inside a gym Janis: don't let on Janis: so not #goals Janis: who they gonna take #gymselfies with Jimmy: you Jimmy: I'm ken to your barbie, Julie, basically surplus Janis: Please, I actually workout when I'm there, not stare at boys whilst also making sure I look #fit at all times pracing on the treadmill Jimmy: I know Jimmy: I can tell Janis: so 💪 Jimmy: yeah Jimmy: you're really fit Janis: shh Jimmy: I get it, you don't wanna talk Jimmy: I'm leaving, don't worry Janis: Good Janis: I'm done with waiting and interruptions and other people Jimmy: where am I going? Jimmy: realised I don't know where you live Janis: Ugh, middle of bloody nowhere literally Janis: Easier if you dare to step in the gym and I'll come with Jimmy: could've sent a car for me, rich girl, or a 🐎 Jimmy: but alright Janis: 🙄 we don't have horses, thank God Janis: there is a donkey if you wanna be that dickhead, very Blackpool, init? right at home Janis: [gym location] literally, down the road and do a left, you'll see all the wankers in the window benches posing Jimmy: swap you for the dog, just kick them cats out & you'll be right Jimmy: gimme a sec Janis: give you 5 mins, even as a 🚬 Jimmy: tah 💕 Jimmy: that's love Janis: it's something Janis: show you when you get here Jimmy: not what I want you to show me Jimmy: but I guess Jimmy: I'll survive Janis: what do you want? Jimmy: last night didn't help you figure it out? Janis: Got some ideas Jimmy: you'll get more Jimmy: just wait 'til I get there Janis: Inspiring Janis: thought I was meant to be the #muse Jimmy: you reckon we're a team Jimmy: I remember you saying Janis: I remember lots of things you said Janis: and everything you didn't Jimmy: won't have to repeat myself then, will I? Janis: I won't be mad if you have to repeat some things Janis: just saying Jimmy: you can do some of the exact same things too, if you want Janis: I intend to Janis: and more, better Janis: had plenty of time to think now Jimmy: just how far away is your house? I need to catch up Janis: Glad you said it 😏 Janis: like 15 on the bus 🙄 but I can tell you all about it then Janis: if I whisper, like Jimmy: 🤞 our fave grandma is there Janis: 😂 Janis: down to give her a reason to really hate Jimmy: are you even goals 'til you turn a hater into a fan? Jimmy: don't think so Janis: ew don't be tryna turn old ladies on Janis: omg, are you your ex Janis: tryna let me down gently Jimmy: there never was an ex #plot twist Jimmy: Barry is my true love Janis: damn Janis: i don't need you to be my true love though barry it's alright Jimmy: stashed the baby in the back of the CG it's why I take such long breaks Jimmy: don't even 🚬 Janis: suspiciously good with kids Janis: damn wait 'til they find out the real #tea Jimmy: 😂 Janis: imma look a fool but i hope barry isn't cheating on you, hearing that cry for help now, babe, soz 💔 Jimmy: channel it into my art, don't I? 🎻🎨 Janis: you did a good job not making me look like an old man Janis: hard to resist, I'm sure Jimmy: shoulda seen my first draft Janis: 😂 Jimmy: you do look better than I can draw you though, for real Jimmy: it ain't my preferred method or whatever Janis: yeah? Jimmy: bit rude if you don't know what is 'cause you've been spending loads of time posing for it Jimmy: means I'm shit at that too Janis: huh, no Janis: that makes perfect sense Janis: you do take a good snap Janis: also why they all thirsting, casual personal photographer 🙄 oh ladies Janis: not that you ain't fit too but you know Jimmy: we all know what the real attraction is Jimmy: keep getting more #goals me Jimmy: shame I had to be in 'em or I could've taught Mia about angles and improved her story even more Jimmy: you fucked up there, mate Jimmy: should've gone with Pete and let me film it Janis: full package, babe Janis: didn't feel like a shame, trust me Janis: though your desire to make money outta me making more and more sense #starvingartist Janis: you're the one that'll have to edit out his cum face Jimmy: hang on, you can let me know what this feels like Jimmy: [dramatic gym kiss hello] Janis: Well Jimmy: unconvincing Jimmy: [kisses her again because] Janis: Jimmy Janis: if you don't stop I'll have to start something right here Jimmy: nowt you've just said is making me want to Janis: I know Janis: Why do I want you this bad, fuck Jimmy: 💔 why wouldn't you, dickhead Janis: Shh it ain't personal Jimmy: what is it then? Jimmy: you said me Janis: I meant Janis: I don't know, this ain't exactly what I do everyday Jimmy: it should be Jimmy: you're good at it Janis: you Jimmy: us maybe Jimmy: it works Janis: Yeah Janis: that's what I mean, I think Janis: it's weird but it just does Janis: really good Jimmy: Like I said, you're weird Jimmy: 'course you like it Janis: why am i weird Jimmy: 'cause you're just Jimmy: different Jimmy: from them, from what I thought you were Jimmy: I don't know Janis: i cannot believe you thought i was one of them Janis: 😂 in what world Jimmy: not your sister, the collective them of this whole town Jimmy: you're just more like someone from before Jimmy: I can't explain it alright, shut up Janis: It's alright Janis: [Kisses him] Jimmy: we gotta go Jimmy: I can't stay here doing this and not Jimmy: I can't even finish the sentence 'cause you're like Jimmy: we just need to leave Janis: Me too Janis: Come on Janis: we just need to Janis: yeah Jimmy: yeah Janis: [On bus 'cos they can't keep kissing the entire time without anything happening so reprieve] Janis: I didn't think this would happen Jimmy: why? Janis: well, you know,you were kinda a dickhead, i'm kinda a dickhead all the time Janis: this wasn't the first logical conclusion to jump to Jimmy: sort of is Jimmy: we're both dickheads Jimmy: #matchmadeinheaven Janis: 😏 when you put it in words it sounds logical Janis: grace reckoned you were using me to get to her and i knew that weren't the truth but idk Jimmy: I know what it is, you reckoned I'd be a shit kisser all big ego & worse chat Jimmy: thought you'd have to suffer through it Janis: pretty much Janis: spot on Jimmy: not the first time I've made that impression Jimmy: or proved it wrong Janis: i bet Janis: wouldn't be the first time i'd suffered through so you know Jimmy: really? Janis: 'course Janis: hasn't everyone? Jimmy: gimme names I'll put them on blast Jimmy: twitter campaign with my newly unlocked account Janis: 😂 productive Jimmy: if one is Mia especially Janis: Christ, as much as she wants to turn me so she can be vindicated in her gaybashing Janis: hell no Jimmy: her teeth could fall out & choke you Jimmy: #goals Janis: 🤢 Janis: she can't be a good lay, I don't get it Jimmy: she isn't, I can tell Jimmy: just an effortless catch Janis: yeah? guess if you ain't yourself, ideal girl Jimmy: she'll be one of those girls who just lies there Jimmy: makes you do everything & then slates you for it Janis: exactly, 'cos heaven forbid you try and chat shit back Jimmy: why is your sister friends with her? I don't get that Janis: bitches of a feather Jimmy: but when she comes in on her own she's like Jimmy: shy Jimmy: nice in a 'don't you dare look at me' way Janis: meh, she's a co-dependent Janis: always has been Jimmy: is that like a twin thing? Janis: fuck off, I don't need her Janis: see me with a Mia to chase around like a puppy? Jimmy: nah, I mean like, she needs you but you don't need her so there's Mia ready Janis: idk, maybe Janis: i think anyone can be like that, some people can't hack being alone but it probably done help that she weren't even in the womb, yeah 🙄 Jimmy: yeah Jimmy: my brother & sister need me Jimmy: it's exhausting but I can't not do it Janis: they are kids though, that's excusable, like Janis: still hardwork, no doubt Jimmy: Cass ain't much younger than me though Janis: yeah but gracie has two perfectly lovely parents and an array of brothers and sisters and various fam about, if she's that arsed, know what i mean Janis: being close makes sense when its small like you gotta Janis: she don't need to be how she is on me Jimmy: I'm being a dickhead & you're being spot on Jimmy: I just want her to settle in, you know what I mean Janis: you're alright, most people think it 'cos loads of twins are freaky joined at the hip, so that's what she reckons she wants too but tough shit, you know, didn't ask to be born with her Janis: 'course Janis: it must be shit Janis: she'll be alright, it's that age where everyone's sorta stil mates, not dead separate Janis: she can hold her own Jimmy: yeah Jimmy: least my dad timed it better for them than he did for me Janis: you know Janis: parents are cunts Janis: our older sister had to do so much for us 'til she got sick of and fucked off basically Jimmy: hang on while I tweet that wisdom & @ him Jimmy: yeah he has twitter honestly Janis: cringe Janis: probs subtweeting 'bout me this morning like 👋 Jimmy: I don't reckon he knows what he's doing on it Jimmy: just wants to tell his girlfriends how relevant he stays Janis: can't really slide into someone's fucking linked in Janis: 'less it's with a business offer Jimmy: he does like to mix business and pleasure Jimmy: many an office romance Janis: 😬 Janis: always a good idea Jimmy: I told you, keeps jobs only slightly longer than he does lasses Jimmy: it's all connected, mate Janis: effort Janis: least i can ask to move seats Janis: can't be like, sack debbie from accounts bye Jimmy: don't be trying to have me expelled when school starts Janis: alright, thought you'd be buzzin' but i'll go Janis: cba Jimmy: I wanna go 'cause its bollocks not 'cause they've told me to Jimmy: more of a fuck you to my dad that way Janis: rebel with a cause okay 😍 Jimmy: I'm just saying he'd love it if I got kicked out so he can pretend he's right about what a waste of space I am Jimmy: like I don't do everything he can't be bothered to Jimmy: 🎻🎻🎻 Janis: seriously though Janis: that's just shitty adult speak for 'do my job for me' Jimmy: 🙄 Jimmy: I keep telling him that I reckon Bobby needs to like talk to someone or some shit but nah, I'll do the work for free Jimmy: qualified fucking child therapist me Janis: duh, got that PHD done between CG and school and full-time childcare Janis: 'cos when nothing happens, or only bad does, can blame you Janis: not deal with how some of it's likely on him Janis: and sorting it fully is, what can you do, or poor Bobby Jimmy: just worry bout him all the time 👍 Jimmy: tah dad really helpful Janis: useless, all parents are Jimmy: didn't wanna sleep in my own bed or get a decent night of it anyway Jimmy: it's fine Janis: but if you complain, you're selfish, yeah? when it ain't complaining for sake of, you just want something actually done Jimmy: 🙄 Jimmy: & fucked if I wanna stay with you or have you over Jimmy: how dare I Janis: how wild, a teenage boy with urges Janis: right for him though 'cos his roof and all that Jimmy: & new house new rules Jimmy: 'cause that makes sense Janis: 🙄 Janis: only stupid people would have kids, that's my theory Janis: if you had a brain, and could be sorta in change of another human, you wouldn't want to Jimmy: @ Barry next time, babe Janis: fuck you Barry, coming for your mans too and what Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: how do you do that? Jimmy: make me laugh when everything is still shit Janis: Just my renowned personality that Janis: everyone reckons, like 😏 Jimmy: [kisses her 'cause he does reckon, sorry bus peeps] Janis: Welcome Jimmy: when I don't say it that means you don't either, dickhead Janis: soz, new to this friends malarkey, like Jimmy: #friendzoned Jimmy: 💔 Janis: shut up Janis: you need reminding of what we're about to do Jimmy: maybe Jimmy: I do need to shut up & stop throwing my emotional baggage at you, very ungoals Janis: [Kisses him for the reminder and 'cos] Janis: Not to shut you up 'cos nah Jimmy: a bit Jimmy: but its alright Janis: got plenty of baggage to throw at you should you ever wanna even that score Janis: but I ain't telling so far as the world is concerned we're both 🥇 Jimmy: It's like I said last night, I don't mind talking to you but not this second Jimmy: I just want Janis: What? Jimmy: just kiss me again Janis: [More] Jimmy: I'm not saying tah Jimmy: 👌 Janis: 😏 Janis: Glad to hear that ain't what you say after Janis: would have been a struggle to act my way over that Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: what was it you said? Very polite very un me Janis: Something like that Jimmy: I'll try & call you by the right name though Jimmy: not let any Barry's slip out Janis: 😑 please try Janis: no convincing myself I heard you wrong Janis: ego can't hack that, like 🤷 Jimmy: 🤞 Janis: 🖕 Janis: could at least give me false promises now, boy Jimmy: no fake shit Jimmy: not for this Janis: deal Jimmy: [kisses her again cos yolo bitches] Janis: that was real? Janis: shit Jimmy: or how we make deals in the north, Irish girl Jimmy: figure it out Janis: 😏 as amusing as the mental image of business bro dickheads getting off with each other literal to seal a deal is Jimmy: you're welcome Jimmy: just don't think about my dad or we've got a problem Janis: no danger Janis: safe to say the feeling's mutual too Jimmy: least you'll be long rid of me before I start to look like him Jimmy: again, welcome Janis: 👍 Janis: baz can have you back Jimmy: he'll be dead Jimmy: come on Jimmy: life expectancy of 61 up north & that's if you try Janis: 😂 whoops Janis: pine then bitch Jimmy: 💔🎻 Jimmy: black's my colour anyway so sorted Janis: mhmm, buzzin' for it, I know Janis: welcome again Janis: i really fucked your neck up didn't i [touches] Jimmy: I okayed it before & during, didn't I? Janis: okayed during is an understatement but i'll allow it Janis: save your blushes Jimmy: I didn't have the blood spare for 😳 Janis: such a waste Janis: all the times you've turned me on in public Jimmy: how many? you can round up or whatever school ain't started Janis: Let me think Janis: I don't know, every time we've met up, before you've even kissed me half the time Janis: sometimes just when we've been talking like this, you're hot Jimmy: Where are we if we stop the bus and get off right now? Jimmy: 'Cause I really want to properly turn you on now you've said that Janis: Umm no neighbourhood I know, babe Janis: we've got all afternoon Janis: patience 😘 Jimmy: I'm too northern for that Janis: Excuse for everything 😏 Jimmy: if I'm gonna be dead in 40 odd years that's the only excuse I need Janis: Cheery 😉 Janis: go on then Janis: don't waste any more time, see how turned on I am now [moves hands winkwonk] Jimmy: [saucy activities ensue like I'm surprised ruster don't appear like don't steal our thunder bitch] Janis: Jimmy Jimmy: ?? Janis: just practicing Janis: can't say it out loud right now Jimmy: practicing trying to kill me, yeah? alright Janis: you don't need no practice, clearly Jimmy: #muse remember Janis: you're good let's do this all day Jimmy: challenge accepted Jimmy: if I get cramp and can't sling a latte tomorrow, on your head Janis: what do i care, i don't drink 'em Janis: 😈 Jimmy: that's the most #goals thing you've ever said to me Jimmy: as far as my personal ones go Janis: the ones we're keeping off the 'gram Jimmy: yeah Janis: do need to think of a non-cringe way to hype up how good you are though, don't get it twisted ladies 😍 Jimmy: while you're thinking Jimmy: [keeps being a saucy bastard cos no chill] Janis: Oh my God Janis: please, I need to bite you some more Jimmy: shit, I've never heard you say please before Jimmy: real or fake Janis: too real, you got me polite as you want, come on or this bus is gonna hear my prettiest too Jimmy: 😍 Jimmy: alright Janis: you taste so Jimmy: if its anything like how you taste then I Janis: i wish we had more time i just wanna climb on top of you and Janis: but we're about 3 stops away now Jimmy: [moves her himself 'cause he's cheeky like that] Jimmy: and what? Janis: fuck me Janis: we're gonna get in trouble Jimmy: that's the plan Jimmy: I'll get in trouble for you, it don't matter Jimmy: if anyone asks I'll just say it's all fake Janis: you feel pretty real under me right now Jimmy: you feel Jimmy: I thought I liked kissing you but this is Janis: I want it all Janis: so fucking much I didn't know I could this bad Jimmy: like you said, we've got all afternoon Janis: not long enough Janis: it's a start Jimmy: warn me if you're gonna say shit like that so I can warn everyone on this bus how I'll react Janis: Not sorry Janis: only sorry it's not School time so we could bunk and have all day without feeling bad Jimmy: excuse me while I turn it into a laugh/cry 🎭 Jimmy: don't mind me everyone, rehearsing my death scene Janis: They're all impressed, can't hide it Janis: 🥇 Jimmy: impressed by you Jimmy: you look Janis: Nah only you Jimmy: take the compliment, Janis Janis: Okay Janis: as you remembered my name, like Jimmy: I said I'd try Janis: I'm impressed by your efforts too, don't worry Janis: not gonna go unrewarded Jimmy: [kisses just because] Janis: How do you do that Jimmy: what? Janis: make kissing Janis: good Jimmy: I told you, you're good at it Jimmy: I take pretend it's all me Jimmy: can't* Janis: Suppose so Janis: doesn't say much for everyone else I've kissed but maybe I was shit then Jimmy: like I said, gimme the list Jimmy: they must've been fucking it up 'cause you're Jimmy: you're just not shit Janis: thanks Janis: sorry everyone but not really, ain't that deep Jimmy: were you really surprised when we first kissed or just me Janis: No, I was like Janis: you're gonna think I'm cringe or just saying it but I didn't know it could feel like that Janis: that's why it's got me thinking on everyone else, like what the fuck lads, why were you holding out Jimmy: I get it, I didn't expect it to feel like this either Jimmy: fuck you, Barry, honestly Janis: 😂 Janis: For real Janis: like, it wasn't even 'cos I thought you'd be shit really Janis: idk Janis: weird Jimmy: I didn't think you'd be shit Jimmy: for the record Jimmy: just not into it Janis: 🤷 Oops Janis: that's what I expected and intended too, I guess, just a deal, like Janis: but Janis: just feels too good Jimmy: We've still got a deal Jimmy: only it's changed a bit Jimmy: now it includes getting to finish what I started without some dickhead interrupting me Janis: Please Jimmy: [kisses her 'cause she said please again it makes him die] Janis: [Misses stop 'cos really, has to get off at next one] Janis: That was your fault Jimmy: yours too Jimmy: I don't know the stops, girl Jimmy: you've got one job, I was doing mine Janis: Hmm well perhaps if yours wasn't distracting me you could be doing your REAL job by now 😒 Jimmy: if that's what you wanna call how you felt, go on Janis: Hush, you cannot break my concentration now Jimmy: where the fuck are we? Janis: Farm town, boyo Janis: you ever fucked in a barn before? Jimmy: how would I? Jimmy: you know where I'm from Janis: idk how adventurous your life has been Jimmy: it ain't been well travelled Jimmy: til now Janis: you're welcome for the detour Jimmy: how long 'til we're back where we need to be? Janis: Only 5 if you keep up Janis: wasn't THAT distracted, soz Jimmy: let me get some blood circulating and stop being brutal Janis: 😏 Jimmy: 👍 lets go Janis: Do your best to sneak, yeah, God knows who's about Jimmy: easy for you to say, still so quiet on that bus somehow Jimmy: like a horny mute Janis: piss off Janis: that's such an unsexy thing to call me you bastard Jimmy: calm down Jimmy: it's impressive Janis: it's just self-control Jimmy: what's it gonna take to make you lose it? Janis: Maybe you'll find out Jimmy: I will Jimmy: challenge accepted Jimmy: if it takes me longer than this afternoon, then fine Janis: you wanna do this again Janis: not this exact scenario, detour included like Jimmy: do you? Janis: you always do that Janis: answer questions with questions Janis: sly Jimmy: that still ain't an answer from you Janis: yeah Janis: i wanna Janis: i like it Jimmy: I like you Jimmy: don't be weird about it Jimmy: weirder Janis: forever a dickhead Jimmy: piss off it's a compliment, how many times Janis: 😂 okay okay Janis: i get it, you like weird Janis: i like dickheads, namely you though Jimmy: bet you love yourself, you massive dickhead Jimmy: I like you & you happen to be weird, it's not a fetish or owt Janis: do actually 💪 Janis: got my own name tattooed on my arse, like Jimmy: 📷 one for the insta then Jimmy: least it'll help me remember it Janis: That's why I got it Janis: saves a conversation Jimmy: stop making me laugh Jimmy: trying to be mad at you for making us miss our stop Janis: you know you can't be mad at this face Janis: or this arse Jimmy: [kisses her and touches the booty 'cause true] Janis: See Janis: 😍 Jimmy: alright, shut up Janis: can make me in a minute Jimmy: I can make you now Jimmy: if you're gonna keep on Janis: Back to being mute Janis: thought you wanted to hear some noise, contrary Jimmy: leave it out Janis: 🤐 Janis: ❓ Jimmy: [starts being saucy to try and get her to make noise] Janis: You know how much I like to win, yeah? Jimmy: as much as me Janis: Oh baby Janis: you wish 😏 Jimmy: I know Jimmy: [cranks his naughty behaviour up a notch which makes me lol like where even are you lads? calm down] Janis: You know I have to live 'round here, right Jimmy: you do, I don't Jimmy: you know how to make me stop Janis: Bastard Jimmy: just stop holding it in Janis: I don't know if I'll be able to stop if I do Jimmy: I don't want you to stop Jimmy: do you? Janis: No but Jimmy: you want everything, gimme this Jimmy: [more sauciness 'cause] Janis: [is loud, hopefully no one is about lol] Jimmy: Fuck Jimmy: you really were holding out on me, weren't you? Janis: It's just Janis: embarrassing Jimmy: It's just amazing Janis: No bullshitting? Jimmy: I said I wouldn't Janis: Okay good Jimmy: You're so hot Jimmy: how you look, feel, taste, sound Jimmy: I just want it Janis: You're Janis: I don't know why but I'm not gonna question it because I want you just as much Janis: More Jimmy: [more kisses] Janis: We need to keep walking Jimmy: yeah Janis: I don't want to either but I need you to fuck me so Jimmy: It's alright, I need it too Jimmy: we can do this Janis: 💪 Jimmy: 🥇

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champhangman · 7 years

Text

Monumental Gravity - Part 1

Characters: Corey Graves x OFC

(shitty)Summary: I'd pick your thunder – I'd pick your rain – over anyone's sunshine any day.

Word Count:

Notes: There is an extreme lack of Corey fics. What's up with that? Anyway, here's my attempt to fill the void. Special thanks to @athoughtfulmindwrites for helping me with things and for assuring me that it's totally fine to abandon my other fics to work on something new.

More Notes: Those who read my other ongoing fic, Reckless, fear not! I’m not abandoning it! That fic will be updated later this week.

Propping his feet on the corner of the announce table, Corey Graves was just unlocking his phone when it vibrated with a notification. He smiled upon seeing what it was, and was opening the app to read it fully and reply when his feet were shoved off the edge of the table. Catching himself, he sent a glare to the man who'd done it. "I hate that shit."

"Didn't your mom teach you any manners?" Baron Corbin scoffed, pulling one of the other chairs over to sit in.

"Says the man that thinks it's totally fine to piss in a sink," Corey muttered. Lifting his feet onto the table again, he turned his gaze back to his phone. He paid no attention to his friend's defensive mutterings, intent on making sure he read the message fully. Nodding to himself, he began to reply.

"Who are you looking forward to seeing later?" Baron asked, having leaned to see Corey's screen.

"Jesus, personal space, man," he groaned, pushing the man away.

"You're setting up dates through Twitter? Are you that fucking desperate?"

Corey groaned again and sent the message before looking to Baron. "First of all, it's not a date. And I'm not desperate."

"What is it then?"

"She tweeted me a few weeks ago that her son enjoyed my commentary and he tries to emulate me when he plays with his action figures." Corey smoothed the front of his shirt.

"Emulate?" Baron snorted and shook his head. Then, smiling, he nodded. "The kid could do much worse than you."

"I told her he could probably find someone a lot better, but yeah. And we interacted a little more, then I saw she lives near here and knew we'd be here for Smackdown—"

"So you, being the big softie you are, arranged for them to come to the show?"

"No, she already had tickets." Corey kept his gaze averted from Baron, because he'd been prepared to comp her and her son some tickets. "But the kid likes me—"

"Poor deranged little guy," Baron murmured sadly.

"Fuck you too. Anyway, I'm meeting them for a little bit before the show."

"Cool. Am I allowed to ask questions?"

Like the man had ever asked permission. In all the years they had been friends, nothing ever stopped Baron from asking questions. It was one of the things Corey valued about their friendship. There were, literally, no secrets. "Go ahead."

"How do you know it's really a woman?"

Corey rolled his eyes. "I'm not that stupid."

"But how do you? It's Twitter. It could be some five-hundred-pound dude with a plan to kidnap you." Baron leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head.

"Why would a dude – don't fucking answer that," he muttered when he saw Baron's smirk.

"Have you seen a picture of her?"

"No," he answered after a moment. And he'd looked. Her profile picture on Twitter was a child's drawing of the sun. He'd followed a link to her Instagram, only to find it was set to private. The only photos she had posted on Twitter were random, sweet, funny, or weird things she wanted to share, the most recent being a plate of brownies she'd baked. It was a good thing, he supposed, that she was so private. But damned if it hadn't frustrated him when he'd gone looking. "She hasn't posted pictures of herself."

"Then it's definitely a dude," Baron decided. "How are you supposed to know it's her?"

"She just messaged me saying what her and her son are wearing.

"So you're just gonna go outside to meet this strange woman? That's luring you out with her kid?" Baron frowned. "When they find your mutilated corpse can I have your dog?"

"Would you fucking stop?" Corey scowled while checking the time. "And no, you can't have Bull."

"Come on, this is fun. I can already see the internet posts and news story about you missing without a trace." Baron was grinning now. "It'll be a sad, sad story with a wonderful lesson: Don't meet strangers from the internet."

"Why don't you come with me if you're so worried about my safety?"

"What, so I can get kidnapped too? Hell no." Despite that answer, his friend was nodding. "But if it'll make you feel better, I'll keep an eye on you from the door."

"My hero," Corey snorted.

***

Small feet encased in vivid pink Skechers hopped from one brick to the next. When they reached the end of the walkway, and a pair of brown cowboy boots, they danced briefly then began hopping in the other direction, until they met a pair of red Converse. After a moment of hesitation they moved to one side and continued their hopping, stopping only when they arrived at a pair of black leather boots.

"How many hops?" asked the owner of the boots.

"Um." The owner of the pink Skechers hesitated. "Eleventy four hundred!"

"Eleventy four hundred, huh? Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh." The pink Skechers turned and once again began to hop from brick to brick.

"Mom, there's no such number as eleventy."

"She's two, Clark. I think I can give her just a little leeway with numbers." Bette Spencer watched her daughter hop along the brick walkway. As she expected, Julia went directly for her grandfather, who was seated on the bench. Once she had climbed up to sit next to him, Bette relaxed and turned her attention to her son. "Besides, it wasn't that long ago that you told everyone the sun was made of mustard."

Clark's eyes widened with embarrassment. "Mom! I was six."

"Oh, right, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for reminding you of your misguided youth." Rolling her eyes playfully, Bette lifted her to-go cup of coffee for a sip.

"What time is it?"

She decided against sighing and pointing out that Clark had a watch, a cell phone, and had asked the time only two minutes before. Nudging the sleeve of her sweater up so she could see her watch, she blinked with surprise. Five minutes had passed since Clark had last asked the time. "Four ten," she answered, giving her son a smile. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," he admitted. Then, after making sure that Julia was still with their grandfather, he nodded. "What if he's a jerk?"

"I don't think a man that's offered to take time out of his busy schedule to meet you for a little bit could be a jerk," she promised, even though she had her own worries. What if he didn't show? What if he was standing backstage laughing with coworkers about gullible women? Perhaps she shouldn't have told Clark about the planned meeting. It would have been better to surprise him, if Corey Graves did show up. She could have kept quiet about Corey offering to meet him before Smackdown. It was already a pretty big deal in her son's world, getting out of school early to make the two hour drive to see a wrestling show. She would have come early even if Corey hadn't messaged her about meeting up, because she hated rush hour traffic in the city and had learned on their earlier trips that it was much nicer to arrive a few hours early. Better to have time for a bite to eat and a little bit of touristy action to blow off some of the steam of excitement. Especially with a two year old in tow…

Maybe bringing Julia had been a mistake. She was still a baby, for crying out loud. It would probably be too loud for her little ears. Or there would be some drunken jerk right behind them that would scream obscenities and scare her. Or she would fall asleep halfway during the show, as she was apt to do at home. Or…

Or maybe she was just worrying too much.

"He said four thirty, right?" Clark didn't look bothered by the fact he'd broken into her thoughts. Of course he probably didn't know. His hand reached up to smooth his hair, then fell to his lap.

Her sweet, worrying little boy. Like mother, like son, she supposed. She would have kissed him if she hadn't thought he would cringe at the public display of affection. Instead, she took another sip of her coffee before answering. "He did. We'll head around in a couple of minutes, okay?"

"Wouldn't it be great if he got us inside and we could see the announce table and the ring and maybe meet some of the wrestlers?" Clark blurted. "I mean, what if I could meet Kevin Owens?"

Knowing her son, he'd probably soil himself. Bette knew better than to say that, though. Smiling, she said nothing to discourage his imagination. An imagination was good, especially when so many people wanted him to face the cold, hard reality of life at his young age. So even though she was pretty sure he would only meet with his favorite commentator for probably only ten or fifteen minutes, she said, "You never know."

"Mama! Mama!" Julia's voice filled the early autumn air. Bette heard her voice and approaching footsteps before she focused on the blue-and-green blur that was her daughter. She lurched to a stop, wobbling long enough to make her mother worry she would fall, then surged forward to the bench Bette and Clark shared. "Papa's hat!"

"What have I told you about stealing your Papa's hat? Do you want his bald spot to burn?" Bette sighed, nudging the brim of the Boston Bruins cap back so she could see her daughter's face. Then she groaned. "Julia Rose Spencer! You haven't had a thing to eat in the past hour, how did your face get so dirty?"

"I'unno," Julia answered, shrugging her shoulders elaborately. When her mother reached into her purse and pulled out a packet of wipes, the girl's green eyes widened. "No, mama!"

"Yes, mama," Bette corrected, opening the packet and getting a wipe. "You can't go around in public with a dirty face. I don't mind if you go around in clothes that don't match, or when you insist on having your hair in three ponytails with ribbons in them, or even when you want to wear winter boots in the middle of July. But I'll be darned if I'm letting my child skip around with a face so nasty I could grow pumpkins on it."

She worked to clear the small face while she spoke, ignoring the sighs of complaint and squirms to get away. Julia wrinkled her nose in disgust when Bette brought the wipe to her chin.

"There," Bette announced, tossing the used wipe into the trashcan next to the bench. "Now take Papa his hat, and let's get moving."

Next to her, Clark hopped to his feet. "It's time to go around back already?"

"It will be by the time Her Royal Slowness gets to your Papa." Bette stood and finished the rest of her coffee before throwing it away. Smoothing the front of her sweater, she waited until Julia was further along the walkway before heading after her. The late afternoon sun was warm, making her sweater too warm to have on, but she knew that by the time the show ended and they left the arena it would be chilly. Julia had discarded her jacket; it was stuffed into Bette's purse. Clark was still wearing his Seth Rollins hoodie, which had come in the mail the day before, and Bette had a feeling it would take an act of Congress to get him to take it off.

When she reached the bench her father was on, he was adjusting his cap. He stood, one hand instantly reaching to grab Julia before she could skip off. He transferred her to Bette, then nodded in the direction of the sports bar they'd passed on the way in. "I'll be over there if you need me."

"I'm sure we'll be fine." Grateful he hadn't asked a million questions, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll text you when we're done."

"Wait a minute, I don't think my phone's on…"

***

She was late. Corey glanced to the handful of fans standing at the barricade. No sign of a woman wearing a green sweater, or a little boy wearing a Kevin Owens shirt and a Seth Rollins hoodie. He decided to give her a few more minutes, allowing for traffic and knowing that kids always had to use the restroom at the most inconvenient time.

"How long are you gonna wait?" Baron asked.

"A few minutes." He reached for his phone to check if she'd sent another message. "She could have gotten—"

"What's she supposed to be wearing?"

"A green sweater and black pants I think she said. The kid's wearing an Owens shirt and a Rollins hoodie." Head lowered to look at his phone, he grunted when Baron's elbow jammed into his arm. "What the—"

"What color is her hair?"

"I have no idea, why?"

"Because I think I see them. But she's got two kids."

Corey jerked his head up. His gaze landed on the figure of a woman standing a bit away from the other fans. A small child was on her hip and, next to her, a little boy. He squinted, saw that they matched the description she'd given him, and motioned to the nearby security guard. "That's them. Her last name is Spencer."

"You're bringing them inside?" Baron's voice was incredulous.

"I'm not dragging them into the locker room," he snorted, watching as the guard crossed to the barricade. "I just figured the kid would like to get a quick tour."

"Did you—"

"I cleared it with Hunter," Corey promised. "They can't be backstage for longer than it takes to get out to the ring, and he said to keep it under an hour."

"You're really sticking your neck out for a chick you met on the internet," his friend murmured. "Did she promise you a repayment?"

"Don't be vulgar."

"You're the king of vulgar, though."

"Well, yeah," Corey admitted begrudgingly. "I'm just being nice for a kid. What's the crime in that?"

"Nothing," Baron promised. "Nothing at all. It's just the mom's hot."

Corey rolled his eyes, turning to see the guard was coming back. Ms. Spencer was with him, and as they approached he saw the child on her hip was a girl. The boy – Clark, wasn't it? – was starting to smile, and when his eyes moved to Baron his lips parted in shock.

She was attractive, he conceded. Not of the drop-dead-gorgeous variety, but he knew she would get more than a few second looks in public. There was confidence in her step, and her lips were upturned in a soft smile. Her hair was dark, waves bouncing against her shoulders with each step. And when she turned slightly to reach for her son's hand, he suddenly understood what dangerous curves were.

"Told you," Baron muttered, pushing away from the wall and pasting a smile on his face.

There was the blur of introductions. The little girl was Julia, the boy was Clark. There was disbelief from Clark when Corey invited them in to see the arena and the commentary table. There was the curious, almost pensive expression on Julia's cherubic face that remained even as he escorted them through the backstage area.

"Oh my god," Clark breathed when they bypassed Gorilla and went through the side curtain.

He couldn't have timed it better if he'd tried. The techs were going through a light sequence, filling the arena with blue and white spotlights. The huge LCD screens and panels swirled with color. Corey rubbed his hands together, then guided the boy to the edge of the stage. "You gotta walk down the ramp, you know."

"I do?"

"Of course. Even commentators walk down the ramp." Corey lifted him onto the stage, then looked to the little girl. "Would you like to walk the ramp, too?"

Julia's lips puckered in thought. She looked from him to her brother to the stage and then back again. Finally, with a nod, she reached for him.

"Don't run," their mother warned once Julia was standing next to her brother.

"Aw, man," Clark sighed. He turned to see the LCD panels, then circled back to face the ring. Just as he took a step forward to get to the ramp, the panels came to life with vivid red, and Kevin Owens' music began to play. Immediately the boy's face lit up.

"Owens is his favorite," the woman at Corey's side explained.

"Then he's about to have the best moment of his day," Corey told her, leaning in so she could hear him above the music. She turned her head so he could see the confusion on her face. He caught the aroma of her shampoo. And realized how green her eyes were. "Kevin's coming out," he said, motioning to the stage.

They both turned to look just as Kevin stepped out onto the stage. At the sight of Julia and Clark he stopped, and Corey motioned to him and gave him a quick thumbs up. The man nodded, moving forward to stand behind the kids, then leaned to speak in Clark's ear. Corey didn't catch what he said, but judging by the grin on the boy's face it was something great.

Julia didn't seem half as interested, already skipping down the ramp. Kevin walked with Clark, whose mouth was moving rapidly. Corey reached for Ms. Spencer's arm to guide her around the lights set up along the edge of the ramp. The music blessedly ended once they all reached the ring, and he was able to introduce the three to Kevin.

Tom and Byron were at the announce table, going over notes for the upcoming show. When Corey walked over with Clark, both men glanced up and looked to him curiously. He made more introductions, explained that Clark would be the hottest commentator in the company in about twenty years, then motioned for the boy to take his chair while they showed them how they did their job. Opening his mouth to answer Clark's question about watching the monitor instead of the action in the ring, he lifted an eyebrow when Tom began to speak.

"We need to call the action that's shown on TV, so—"

Clark turned to look at Corey. "Can I say it? Please?"

Corey began to grin. "Go for it."

"Shut up, Tom!"

Kevin joined in the laughter. The next thing Corey knew, Clark was being taken to the ring for an up-close tour. Tom and Byron wandered off with promises of seeing him in a little while. Corey looked to Ms. Spencer and turned Tom's seat toward her.

"Is it always this hectic before a show?" she asked, taking the seat and tugging Julia away from a coil of cable.

"Sometimes it's worse. The calm hits a few minutes before the doors open." Corey turned his seat to face her, surprised when Julia leaned against his leg and stared up at him. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Tat," she announced, pointing to his neck.

He reached up to touch the front of his throat. "This one?"

She nodded excitedly. "C'I see?"

"Sure." Further surprised when she crawled into his lap, he grunted as her knee banged dangerously close to his crotch, reaching to steady her with one arm. He tilted his head back so she could get a good look at the tattoo. "You like tattoos, huh?"

"She's obsessed with them," her mother explained with a rueful smile.

"I can tell. Not a problem," Corey said, chuckling as Julia traced the skull on his throat. Letting his head move back to its usual position when she turned her attention to the ink covering his forearm, he smiled at her mother so she would know it really wasn't a problem. "I prefer kids who want to look at them instead of screaming over how hideous they are, Ms. Spencer."

"It's Bette. And she's been examining tattoos since before she could walk. Neither she or her brother have ever been scared of them. Probably because I have so many."

He looked from the girl in his lap to the woman next to him. Demure, level-headed, brownie-baking Bette had ink? His gaze quickly roved over her figure. No tattoos were visible with the leggings and loose sweater she wore. Of course, neither was much skin. "You do?" he asked, turning his arm so Julia could see the rest of the tattoo she was tracing. "Where?"

"All over," she answered. "Half-sleeve on my right arm, big piece on my left hip and thigh, both ankles, shoulders, left forearm… And of course the totally tacky college girl tramp stamp."

He lifted an eyebrow. "What are they of?"

"Good grief, it'll be easier to show you than to explain them all," Bette laughed.

Corey briefly wondered if she was going to start stripping, and was almost – almost – disappointed when she plucked her phone out of her purse. She leaned close and he glimpsed a photo of her kids as the wallpaper before she brought up her pictures.

"This is my hip piece," she said, angling the phone so he could see better. "It was right after it was finished, so ignore the redness and the sheet. I got irises because they're my favorite flower."

He pressed his lips together while looking at the picture. Vivid purple and white irises were arranged in a collage on her hip, extending to almost mid-thigh and up to her lowermost rib. The background was soft and perfectly shaded. He let his gaze settle on curve of her backside, which was visible despite the sheet, and suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. "That's great," he enthused. "Who did it?"

"Nick at Werther's. He's done all my tats." She swiped to the next photo. "My half-sleeve after the last bit was added."

It was a mishmash of small tattoos. Though they were all different, they meshed well. A Christmas tree, a brilliant gold star, a red and black dragon wearing a diamond tiara, a fleur-de-lis. Tiny butterflies and blood-red roses were interspersed between all of them. "What's behind it?"

She exhaled softly and told him, pointing to each individual piece. Christmas was her all-time favorite holiday, although Halloween was a very close second. The star was for Clark, who she always called her shining star. The dragon was for Julia, her little dragon princess. The fleur-de-lis was a nod to her French roots. "There are twenty-two butterflies, which is how old I was when Clarke was born. And twenty-nine roses, for how old I was when Julia was born. They were the last ones added to it, and we split them up over three visits."

He nodded, impressed. Opening his mouth to praise the work, he instead closed it as she swiped the screen to bring up the next picture. "Your shoulder?" he guessed, glancing at her before turning his attention to the picture. "That's insanely good."

A skull, thorny vines crisscrossing and growing into its mouth, stared back at him with blooming red roses. Bette zoomed in so he could see the detail, and he saw the smile on her face. "It's probably my favorite," she murmured. "It was my first one."

"Not the tramp stamp?" he teased.

She groaned. "That doesn't count because I was… Okay I wasn't drunk but I was on my way to being drunk."

"I gotta see it, you know."

"Let's save the worst for last," she insisted, swiping to the next photo. "Left shoulder. For my mom."

He nodded, admiring the detail of the wings spreading out from a heart. Across the heart was a banner, the name Joan filling it in a looping script. Next was an infinity symbol with her son's name and birthdate on the inside of her right ankle, then a matching one for her daughter on the left ankle. Then a dreamcatcher on her left forearm.

"And that's it," she said, beginning to shift away.

"Oh-ho, nice try," he laughed. He slipped her phone from her grasp. Ignoring her shocked noise, he swiped to the next photo. And immediately pressed the phone to his chest to shield it from Julia's eyes. Not that the girl seemed to care. She'd slipped out of his lap and was digging through her mother's purse.

"I told you it was terrible," Bette muttered, reaching for the phone. He waved her hand away though.

"You could have warned me the picture showed your—" he cut off, glancing at the little girl, and cleared his throat. "Your rear end."

"Don't be such a prude. There's barely any butt cleavage," she defended.

"Still," he grunted, tilting the phone away from his chest and looking down at the screen. The purple butterfly was dead center on the small of her back. Shaded swirls of turquoise and lavender extended beyond the wings, the tips of the swirls nearly reaching her hip dimples.

Hip dimples. He bit the inside of his bottom lip, not liking how easy it was to imagine his thumbs on those dents while he—

"Gum!" Julia squealed. She straightened, holding a pack of mint gum victoriously. "Please?"

"Ask Mr. Graves if he'd like some," Bette said.

"Mis'er G'aves?"

Corey dragged his attention from the photo on the screen and the inadvertent imaginings it had produced to find the girl extending the pack of gum into his direction. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Gum."

"Gum would be perfect right about now." He took one last glance at the butterfly tattoo and handed the phone back to Bette, smiling as Julia carefully extracted a stick of gum and placed it in his palm. "Thanks so much. It's just what I needed. Can't go around with stinky breath, can I?"

She giggled, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "Nope!"

"Geez, Julia, you're supposed to say his breath doesn't stink," Bette groaned.

Julia's brow furrowed, and she leaned close to Corey. Breathing in deeply, she shrugged. "I'unno."

"It's fine," Corey promised Bette when she groaned again. "I've been known to have some rough breath before."

"But it doesn't smell—" she cut off and glanced to the ring, where Clark was standing on the middle turnbuckle. Lifting her phone, she began to take photos. "Thanks so much for doing this. When you suggested we meet before the show, I didn't know you would go to so much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," he assured her, smoothing the gum wrapper between his fingers. "He seems like a great kid. Julia too," he added when the girl shot him a look. "I just don't understand how a boy can be more interested in commentary than the actual wrestling."

"He's not very physical. If I'm honest, he's a little bit of a klutz. Plus he had a few speech problems when he was first starting to talk. Delayed speech mainly, but also some phonetic difficulties. Playing with his action figures helped, and he began to repeat what the commentators said. That helped him even more. Then he discovered NXT a few years ago, and you. And well, that was that. You became his favorite. When I told him you'd be doing commentary on both Raw and Smackdown I thought his head was going to burst."

Touched, Corey pressed his lips together to keep a silly grin from forming. Watching as Kevin helped Clark down, he felt his breath catch in his throat when the boy slid from the ring and jogged straight towards him. He was startled at the feel of a pair of small arms wrap around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you so much, Corey," Clark said.

The words pulled directly on Corey's heartstrings. Returning the embrace, he cleared his throat. "Anytime, Clark. Anytime."

#corey graves #wwe #corey graves imagine #wwe imagine #multipart:MG #corey graves fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #OH GOD PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE THIS #because new story worries

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inadarkdarkroom · 7 years

Text

I Told You So

In the late ‘80’s I moved to a small town called Mercer Island just outside of Seattle to live with my aunt and her three daughters. I had just gotten out of one of those “troubled kids” institutions that I still blithely refer to as a reform school, and needed to enough credits to graduate.

I was totally cool with it. My aunt is a lovely woman and I did not want to go back to England where my dysfunctional immediate family lived. Fuck Margaret Thatcher, you feel me? I’d gotten used to living in the states after spending my entire life as an ex-pat.

When I first moved in with my aunt she’d been living in Winthrop, Washington, a small town in a county the size of Rhode Island but with only one stop light. But my aunt was getting her degree at the University of Washington, and Mercer Island has one of the best high schools in the state and she wanted to make sure her kids had a better chance of getting into the colleges of their choice, so we moved there soon after I moved in with her.

Mercer Island was, and is to this day, a very insular, wealthy, and tony community. And the people who lived there(not all of them, but most), were very pleased with themselves that they lived in a little John Hughes movie-type neighborhood. Which meant that there was fuck all for the local kids to do.

There had been bowling alleys and video arcades and an all-ages venue, but the parents had complained that these places were not in the Mercer Island spirit of making sure their kids were staying at home and hitting the books and making them proud. So pressure was placed, letters were written, complaints were filed, and one by one all these places went out of business. Then the parents would loudly bitch and moan and wonder why all their kids were dying in drunk driving accidents on the floating bridge coming back from keg parties held in Seattle eight miles away. It’s amazing how adults’ cogent thoughts and logic reasoning tend to disappear once they can afford a BMW...

What this meant was that there were two places for teenagers to congregate on Mercer Island. One was the parking lot at McDonalds, and the other was the local Denny’s. Years later, after I’d moved to Seattle, the local Parental Fun Police decided to take on this particular den of iniquity as well, with the end result that Mercer Island wound up as being one of only two places in the US where the Denny’s wasn’t open 24 hours, closing at 11 on weekdays and midnight on weekends.

So I’m now a senior at a real American high school after spending my entire life overseas. Sure, it’s in the middle of a overprivileged white ghetto, but the school is top notch and I’m making friends. And my friends and I would go and hang out at the local Denny’s, drink endless amounts of cheap coffee and smoke Camels and bullshit.

So one night my friends and I go down to Denny’s and I wind up meeting George Russell, who is hanging out there as well, and we sit at his table with him.

George Russell is charming. George Russell is loquacious. George Russell is well read. George Russell makes eye contact when talking to you, his handshake is firm. George Russell is also one of the very few black people who live on the Island, and all my friends who are quite sheltered are glad to have their One Black Friend to prove they aren’t that quite sheltered.

I could care less about his ethnicity or my friends’ attempts to gain street cred. I’d just spent eighteen months in a reform school after being kicked out of a British military academy I hadn’t wanted to go to in the first place, I have nothing to prove.

And like I said, George Russell is quite a fellow. That night we talk about comic books, and the publishing houses of Dark Horse and Fantagraphics, literature, movies, politics, foreign policy. George Russell’s a smart chap, and quietly self-effacing. Purposefully harmless.

But George Russell is also in his thirties, and while I understand the allure of associating with an older individual, especially if that older individual can buy your underage ass beer, that older individual is still hanging out with your underage ass.

And George Russell also has a police scanner on the table in front of him. Every now and then he would cock his head to the side to hear what was coming over the airwaves, pausing the conversation to hit the squelch button and fine-tune the frequency. Later that night, two cops wandered into the joint for some comped coffee and they give George Russell The Nod. George Russell gives The Nod right back. I ask him about it. Quite pleased with himself, he informs me that he does “some side work” for the local PD. My friends assure me that George Russell is cool. Don’t worry, he’s not a narc. He just helps them around the office. Also, he gets all the chicks. George Russell is the man.

But this sets my spidey sense tingling. I’m only eighteen, but I’ve already been around the block a few times in quite a few different neighborhoods in several different countries. And I’ve just gotten out of a reform institution. I can judge body language and vocal inflection and eye movement, and there’s something about George Russell that doesn’t add up. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s so self-effacing and purposefully harmless. Maybe it’s the fact that he screams Cop Groupie. And trust me, people who are Cop Groupies should set your antenna twitching. But no matter. As a minor acquaintance, he’s a good conversationalist.

So George Russell would buy my friends beer, hook them up with whatever shitty brick weed they were desperate enough to smoke, sometimes hang out with us at parties. We would chat a little bit, the two of us. But in the back of my mind I thought him an unctuous creep with a bad case of the smarm so we didn’t associate.

After I graduated I would still spend time on the Island, and I would run into George Russell here and there. By this point I was using my Swiss passport as a “fake ID” and my gift of the gab to get it past the liquor store clerks’ limited understanding of French and German so George knew he couldn’t sidle up to me and be all like “Hey bro, you need a half rack of Rainier? I can totally get it for you.” So we’d just give each other The Nod, and that was it.

One night I was hanging out at the Bellevue bus station waiting for the #220 to arrive. I looked over to the side and saw this girl nearby. Poor thing. She was probably barely seventeen and covered in makeup and her slumped posture and guarded body language just screamed “Get me out of here. Please. Take me away from this godforsaken dump and knock me up with two brats to beat in the double-wide while you’re working triple shifts at the brewery to pay off your Camaro lease, I don’t care. Just get me out of here.” My heart went out to the poor girl. Even though I was barely out of my teens myself I remembered how awful they could be.

Just then a voice said “Hey Dude. What’s up?”

I look over and there’s George, all smiling and harmless. He bums a smoke from me and we take in the night. He notices my pitying look at the sad case off to the side and apropos of nothing busts out with “Yeah, I noticed her too. Wanted to go over and say something and cheer her up, you know? But you know how it is. A black man in a town like this talking to a white girl? I’ve got to watch myself..”

The bus arrives. We stub out our Camels and get on board, he in the front with a magazine, me in the back with my Walkman and my thoughts. And my thoughts were this: What the fuck?

First of all, while Bellevue was another well-to-do white neighborhood on the East side, it sure as shit wasn’t Alabama. And yes, by this point I’d been living in the States for a few years and had realized that outside some cities it was kind of a racist shithole populated with really spiteful ignorant cunts who didn’t know jack and hated anyone that did. But it didn’t mean that if you needed to pull that Ralph Ellison Invisible Man shit, that Bellevue was the place to do it.

Second, every single other brother I knew would not for a moment have said something like that, much less to a white boy like me. Public Enemy was king, Malcolm X was years away from hitting the movie theaters but Africa medallions were omnipresent, NWA was pissing off both the cops and Tipper Gore in equal measure, no way somebody with any kind of self respect would up and announce that statement. Unless it was something they thought it was what you wanted to hear.

I remember looking at George Russell in the front of the bus and thinking to myself that yes, he was an unctuous creep with a bad case of the smarm. But there was something else. Something I didn’t like. I scanned my thoughts for racist overtones, but honestly could not find any.

Look, I understand if you’re a diplomat or a spook(Note to readers: Spook as in the pejorative of a member of the Clandestine Services, not that other pejorative. Please take a short fall off your high horse) or a diplomat who’s a spook or you’re an undercover cop and you want to blend into the background and not attract attention. I get it. But if you’re a normal citizen, a citizen, and you’re going out of your way to be unseen? There’s something going on.

And there was something going on with George Russell. And it made me suspicious that he told me what he thought I wanted to hear. Moral of the story here, if you’ve got spidey sense, listen to it when it tingles. It’s there for a reason.

A few months later one of my friends had a party at his apartment. He was one of the few of us who had one and because it was on the quiet white East side instead of Heavily Armed Hobo Junkie Alley where my warehouse was in Pioneer Square, all my friends would go there instead.

George Russell was there, doing hot knife hits off the stove and flashing that famous smile of his. Making small talk and minor physical contact, little pats on the back or touching your forearm when talking to you, like a waiter angling for a bigger tip or Bill Clinton hitting you up for a campaign contribution.

I remembered that night at the bus station and kept my distance. Just gave him The Nod, got it back in return. So far, so good.

George Russell soon left to go on a date, leaving behind the better part of a case of Henry Weinhardt’s for my friends to toast his early absence with. That was the last time I ever saw him. I don’t think I even touched a drop of his beer bribe, I just concentrated on the Afghani Blonde I had smuggled back from overseas the year before, so cut with henna it was like smoking designer shampoo.

Once again I voiced my personal opinion of his character to my friends, but they were white kids barely out of high school and so stoked to have a homeboy to high-five with, that they assured me I was just paranoid and definitely not as def and down with it as they were. My manners dictate that I don’t mention that they live in a fucking Disneyfied suburb where the most dangerous thing they have to deal with is drunken frat boys at TGIFriday’s.

The next morning a man walking his dog spotted what looked like a body by a dumpster near a nightclub noted for it’s blond and brainless clientele. The local homicide arrive in their unmarkeds and discover a twenty three year old female vic, naked and strangled and raped and most unsettling of all, posed. Laid out on the sidewalk like Jeebus on the cross, legs folded over each other, arms akimbo and outstretched with a pine cone carefully placed in each open palm. She’d been kicked so hard her liver had split open against her spinal column.

This is one was not a crime of passion. This one had had time spent on her. This one had been used like an object to send a message. This is not good.

Even though it’s a singular instance in a small town with a small police force, to give them credit they wise up quick. They swallow their pride and send an assistance request to Behavioral Science at Quantico.

But the Feds have a backlog a mile long and two miles wide. Everyone knows Washington State has the highest number of serial murderers in the nation, but the hard-ons in wingtips have been burned before out here. They’re still smarting from the fact that the Green River Killer has evaded capture for decades, burned up countless man-hours with nothing to show but the occasional awkward press conference. We’ll look into it. We promise.

About a month later a man broke into a woman’s apartment that she shared with her two young children. He raped and beat and strangled her to death, then placed her corpse on the bed posed so that when her kids came into the room the next morning to find out why she hadn’t made them breakfast before taking them to kindergarten, that the first thing they saw was the shotgun he’d inserted into her vagina and left there.

The suspect was a secretor, and the semen samples matched those of the woman found in the parking lot the month previously. The press dubbed him The East side Killer, and noted the two victims were habitues of local nightclubs where popped-collared douche bags flashed cell phones the size of bricks to impress the type of women easily impressed by a fucking cell phone.

Less than two weeks later, The East side Killer struck again. This one also was caught napping. Beaten with a baseball bat so badly her brains splattered all over the bedstead, he had then taken a knife and stabbed her almost three hundred times from her head to the soles of her feet, left her corpse with a dildo in the mouth and a copy of The Joy Of Sex tucked under what was left of her right arm.

By this point the Boys From Virginia With No Sense Of Humor had come on the case post haste. They sent out John Douglas, whose character Scott Glenn in The Silence Of The Lambs was based on. Overworked and seriously underpaid, he wound up with brain fever caused by exhaustion and almost died in a cheap hotel room in Seattle. But he recovered and continued to work the case. Posited that all three murders were the work of one man. Definitely a Cop Groupie. Maybe an African American, skilled at blending in white society, maybe brought up in white society.

This was big news. Serial killers go on the hunt inside their own ethnic backgrounds, at least, that was the given up until this happened. Douglas discussed how white American mono-culture had become so entrenched in media that it had become easy to imitate for outsiders. He was proven right when forensics found the pubic hairs found on all three vics were African American.

Meanwhile, good old George Russell was still being good old George Russell. Cheerful and good-natured and pleasant. But chinks were appearing in the armor. Ex-girlfriends now found him hostile towards them, whereas before he had always been Mr. Smooth. Whereas before he had always been modest, now he was cocky and arrogant.

One of the reasons George Russell had been doing “some side work” for the PD on Mercer Island was because he had been arrested a lot as a kid for petty crimes, and the local police had taken him under their wing to try and straighten him out, give him errands to run and a vision of a possible future that didn’t involve a vision from behind bars.

But it hadn’t taken hold, and they knew it. When the word was being spread around cop shops from Bothell to Bellingham that the suspect was an African American perhaps brought up in white society, they just knew. After all, Mercer Island was pretty much white society.

When they arrested him they found personal belongings of all three victims on his person. And although DNA testing was still considered science fiction, and expensive science fiction at that, they put up the scratch to have it done and it came back positive. He smiled and joked with them as they put on the cuffs. This is all a big misunderstanding fellas. Don’t worry, we’ll all have a good laugh about this later at Denny’s. Ha ha, you guys....

Good old spidey sense. It saved me from being subpoenaed. Because we didn’t associate I never had to stand up on the witness stand and point him out to twelve tried and true. A neighbor of mine with whom he’d had a relationship later told me he once confided to her that I scared the shit out of him. He was probably lying. If he wasn’t then it was probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me. Friends, acquaintances, they weren’t so lucky. Summons servers slapped paper on them and they had to go to King County courthouse and see the glossy technicolor close-ups placed on an easel for evidence, Kodachrome enlargements showing battered bags of meat that had once been mothers and daughters. Human beings turned into bloody mush out of rage and anger and hatred hidden behind a smile they’d all fallen for.

And there, in front of them in a snazzy sport coat and tie, seated grinning by his grimly aware public defender, was George Russell. Giving them little waves of encouragement. Hey fellas. Sheesh, can you believe this? What a world, eh?

In Washington State they still hang you, you can decide between the noose or the needle if you get the death penalty. Fucking barbaric either way, I suppose. George lucked out with three consecutive life sentences. No possibility of parole.

Walla Walla isn’t the worst place to do time, but prison is prison and inside your word is bond. Some chancer who fancies himself a smooth mover with a fancy line of patter isn’t going to get much credibility no matter how brutal the crime. Last I heard he’d been attacked while in the yard, had his throat sliced ear to ear with a piece of broken light bulb. Whatever genius for a day trying to make his rep wound up missing both carotids, so George survived. Probably still trying to weasel his way into the upper incareration echelon. Hey Dude, remember when you tried to kill me? Ha ha, good times, Bro. Good times..

My friends were astounded and creeped beyond belief. None of them had known any of the victims, but George Russell had been their buddy, man, their bro, and their bro had turned out to be a fucking great white shark in their very small pond. They were lucky they were minnows, they just didn’t realize it. I’m not a cynic, I’m a realist. Very few cynics get to say I told you so as often as I do, but in this case I kept my mouth shut and didn’t remind them of the times I had warned them about him.

At this point I’m working two jobs while taking night courses at the UW in filmmaking. Evenings I’m bouncing at the Moore Theater to feed my concert habit, but by day I’m back at Mercer Island working at a video store, pretty much getting paid to get a filmmaking education of another sort. And the housewives would come in and chatter about the local boy turned serial killer, getting a slight frisson as they discussed the case over little cups of overpriced frozen yogurt.

I’ll never forget a comment made by one of these people that sort of made me see it from George Russell’s perspective, which was really creepy in and of itself. These two women were talking, and one of them said: “Well, you know he was never reallyfrom Mercer Island. He just moved here as a child.”

I almost wanted to scream at them what fucking idiots they were. They were so soft and suburbanized and stuck up that one of their own had started hunting them for sport and taking their lives as trophies but hey, at least he wasn’t really from the neighborhood. Their property values weren’t compromised. Hooray for them.

If you don’t believe me google George Waterfield Russell(Because remember all serial killers have three names, natch), but be prepared to see blurry cop polaroids of a dead and naked woman with a shotgun inside her.

But the point of this story is, is that Bundy was arrested in Florida, Bianchi was tried in California, at the time this all went down Green River was still considered a bad place to turn tricks, this means that I used to hang out and get high with the first convicted serial killer in Washington State.

And he was a total creep.

#serial killer #serial killers #George Russell #George Waterfield Russell #scary story #scary stories #true stories #true scary stories #serial killer story #true serial killer story #i told you so #washington #green river killer #ted bundy #mercer island

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condensed-theorem-shop · 7 years

Photo

Lotuses in Amenta

Templates shown, top left to bottom right: Reuben, Emu, Zari, Jean(ne).

For those not familiar, Amenta is @luminousalicorn’s latest setting.

As usual, all facts subject to change, especially if I end up being informed that the setting does not work the way I thought it worked.

Reuben and Em appear as reds in Amenta (and not just because that way I can get Em icons without having to photoshop them).

Their backstory transfers with only slight variations from the standard. Their father (yellow) has a discreet affair with their mother (red) when both are of-age-but-barely-so; there isn’t much deep love lost between them, but both are teenagers and idiots and think this is a good idea.

Come spring, their dad knocks their mother up in a dubiously consensual fashion -- they hadn’t been planning on it for obvious reasons, he suddenly decides he wants a baby (as Amentans with poor impulse control tend to in the spring), she isn’t a fan of this idea, he pushes, she gives in from some combination of “teenage crush” and “babies are cute” and “better not piss off the yellow who can probably get me killed.”

The morning after, Future Mom remembers why this was a terrible idea, goes home and cries to her family; they reinforce the Don’t Piss Off The Yellow plan, and coordinate to pressure Future Dad into at least doing the decent thing and covering the baby credit and helping with other baby-related costs. Future Dad, not being a completely terrible person, steps up to the plate and provides for his new secret family.

And hence, Reuben. Red hair, red caste, no father on record.

Dad keeps up the support and makes an effort to be present in tiny Reuben’s life at least to some degree; this is however a pretty significant strain on the ill-conceived-to-start-with teenage relationship, which deteriorates quickly. They both make an effort -- Dad feels responsible for the baby (and also doesn’t want Mom’s family blackmailing him if it comes to that), Mom doesn’t want to be left a single red parent with no source of support, neither of them want to admit just what a terrible idea this whole thing was.

Unfortunately, they keep up the denial just long enough to, the following spring, go with the ancient tradition of Maybe A Baby Will Fix Our Relationship. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t. Things go downhill, and by the time the baby is born they can’t even agree on a name for her. They’ve managed to agree on a first letter, though, and Mom puts that down on the birth certificate for her new red-haired baby.

And hence, M.

Dad is at this point super unhappy. He is not an idiot teenager anymore, this whole secret family thing sucks, but for the aforementioned reasons he can’t bring himself to just call it all off.

So he starts semi-deliberately letting things slip to his own parents. And pretty soon they inevitably figure all this out, and are horrified at the Secret Red Family, and hold an Intervention and basically whisk him off and throw away all his stuff and throw him in a bathtub and set him up with a Nice Yellow Girl.

All this of course leaves Mom in the lurch, with one-year-old (= 4 in Earth years) Reuben and infant M and no more side income from Dad. She picks up even more work, and leans on her parents, and they juuuust about scrape by though at poor-even-for-a-red levels.

As adults/teenagers, M and Reuben have little contact with their father but not quite none; he irregularly sends cards/money/some combination of the above, not every semi-yearly Hallmark Holiday but once in a while. M, who doesn’t remember him at all but knows the story, wants nothing to do with this dude and at minimum burns the cards and sometimes comes up with more creative responses. Reuben, who can just barely remember him, is somewhat more sympathetic and generally writes back, but there’s never any sign in the following messages that Reuben’s were actually read.

Reuben, as an adult, ends up doing the standard trash-handling red job, and also being the main person-who-does-things-around-the-house for a largish group-house-for-extended-family-and-also-people-with-nowhere-else of the kind that reds tend to do. (That latter part he finds very fulfilling; it’s one of the occupations that Reubens slot into really well.)

He also gets picked a lot by the local red community to go do dangerous clean-castes-interaction stuff, because despite being a gentle protective caretaker sort of person he’s also six feet tall and built, which is at least something when you’re hoping not to get beaten to death. As a result, he’s reluctant to marry or have kids, since he really doesn’t want to die and be The Absent Dad for them as a result.

Eventually, if nothing intervenes, one of the people he puts up in his big house for while they’re in a bad way and don’t have anywhere else to stay is a young woman with a baby -- possibly dad died, possibly a case like Peka -- and he is absurdly sweet with the baby but of course Reuben is always absurdly sweet with babies, and then eventually he realizes that oh wait he has the most enormous crush ever on the young woman, and they get married and he adopts the kid and it’s sickeningly adorable.

Em ends up doing plumbing officially, I think -- they need reds to deal with the sewage pipes -- and general handyman-work within the red community. And making out with All The Red Girls, and having Absolutely No Interest In Non-Red Girls Even When They Hit On Her Because What Assholes, Really, and also having even more of an interest in explosives than Emus usually do.

Em will get involved in any kind of Fuck The Clean Castes movement given half a chance; she’ll jump at an excuse to blow some shit up. She is really not happy about the red situation. Reuben, on the other hand, is the social worker’s dream; he’s not, like, happy about how reds get treated, but he basically subscribes to the whole cleanliness theory, and someone-needs-to-do-the-dirty-jobs-and-I-guess-it’s-me, and of-course-I-shouldn’t-go-around-contaminating-clean-people. He just wants the clean castes to stop, like, murdering reds.

Faith is blue. Her dad is a wealthy green social scientist who married up; her mom is blue, fairly politically active but in a way that’s largely “march to raise awareness of minor social injustice” and “save the cute endangered animals” rather than anything particularly serious or controversial or effective.

Smol!Faith, being a Faith, eventually gets tired of being told to stay out of red areas and runs off to investigate one. The reds are of course terrified; Faith, on the other hand, notices that this gets a great rise out of her parents and starts making a habit of it.

The reds continue to have no idea what to do with the tiny blue who keeps popping up in unexpected places. Eventually someone shoves smol!Reuben in her general direction, on the grounds of him being about her age and also very well-behaved and sweet and maybe able to convince her to stop without upsetting her enough for her to go announce that they lunged at her.

Reuben successfully befriends her, but this has rather the opposite of the intended effect; Faith starts sneaking in even more often so she can hang out with her new friends. Her parents are continually horrified but have no idea how to manage their impossible child.

Faith decides pretty promptly that the whole cleanliness thing is Just Wrong, because no one can give her explanations that are Satisfactorily Consistent on it. Being a Faith, though, she expresses this less through carefully planned political maneuvering and more by blatantly ignoring cleanliness laws in a “what are you going to do about it, I’m a blue” sort of way.

(Her parents are so horrified.)

Jay is a red.

You can probably figure out how this one goes.

Jeanne also gets something pretty close to the standard backstory. Terridad is a terrimom here, for logistical reasons which will become clear momentarily, and hence Jean is a Jeanne; their genders tend to match absent compelling narrative reasons otherwise.

Terrimom, then, is green, with the typical template career track: failed actor, somewhat less failed director. She eventually meets through some circumstances or other, and falls for, Jeanne’s in-this-case-dad-since-genders-are-switched -- who is red. (Of course.) They get along, they hook up, it’s a reasonably happy relationship.

And they mess up with the birth control and terrimom gets knocked up. And the dad goes “you’re getting an abortion, right,” and terrimom goes “....no, actually, I’m going to keep it and raise it to be a Perfect Actor” and dad goes “.....I don’t want anything to do with this” and terrimom goes “that’s okay!” and they part ways amicably.

So terrimom scrapes together money for an aftermarket green credit, and claims she doesn’t know who the dad is she was sleeping with a lot of people but they were all definitely green okay, and crosses her fingers that the baby comes out with green hair, which she does. And so she raises her little green perfect actor, and eventually tells her about her genealogy, to which Jeanne goes more or less “...okay,” since she lacks the purity intuitions along with, like, fifty percent of the rest of normal human intuitions.

Jeanne of course also meets Zari, who is green (green physicist mother, wealthy yellow computer scientist father) and very happy about it. (Zaris and Jeans: both Such Greens.) Zari takes the purity rules seriously, but thinks that hereditary uncleanliness is ridiculous, and also that the treatment of reds is horrifying, and that people should do a lot more of just dealing with things and then taking a shower.

(Jeanne eventually reveals her parentage to Zari, when they’re both still fairly small. Zari hugs her.)

As adults, Jeanne and Zari can have exactly the day jobs they’d want -- Jeanne acts, Zari does cryptography/theoretical comp-sci/math/linguistics/a little bit of weaving on the side. Secretly, of course, they’re working on Plotting Revolution Or At Least Radical Social Shift In Favor Of Reds, as they do.

(Jeanne being half-red definitely helps with this, once she manages to track down her dad’s side of the family. Zari, among her many projects, puts out a series of free online instructional programming videos -- hey, she’s not making income off it -- aimed at a “smart but no background” audience, which are definitely not transparently “dear reds: here is how to hack things and get away with it.”)

#daily dose of babble #glowfic #amenta #my ocs #rape cw #babies cw #castes cw

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siwwhq-blog · 7 years

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SAMPLE APPLICATION

Below is a sample application submitted by Admin Alexis for Slacker.

OOC:

Name, Pronouns, and Timezone: Alexis, she/her, EST

Age: 26 years

Activity level. Please explain: 7/10 due to work. I will try to be on at least once a day to try and get responses in. I'll at least check in to read over things :D

Triggers: n/A

How did you find us? If you remember tell us the tag or page: n/A

Anything else: n/A

Character Basics:

What skeleton are you applying for?: Slacker

Character full name: Jackson Cole Taylor

Character age: 23

Faceclaim: Calum Hood

Second Choice Faceclaim: Patty Walters

Gender & Pronouns: cis male & he/him

What year is your character in, and what degree are they pursuing? Jackson has been at SIWW for three years and he’s pursuing his Bachelor’s/four year degree.

Any changes to the skeletons: n/A

Expansion:

Biography:

There's only the odd sensory memories before the age of six: the feel of dead, yellowed grass under his feet, the smell of whiskey burning his nostrils, the "kraa-kraa" calls of crows.

Jack's earliest tangible memory is of the stars. Nights spent craning his neck and staring intensely at the black velvet sky peaking out behind the billowy clouds otherwise blanketing the earth. Hoping for a glimpse of a shooting star and calling his older sister a liar whenever she claimed one for herself. Now all that remains of his early childhood is her coyly smug face and the intricate patterns cigarette smoke weaved in the air as they sat atop their trailer on the back of his eyelids as he sleeps.

A lot of families lived in that trailer park when they first moved in - Jackson got on well with the dirty-faced kids, some young, some older, kicking pinecones around and fighting over the cheap, plastic kiddie pools in the heat of the Colorado summer.

He went to school, and it was probably the most decent one in the district. It was the same building all the wealthy families sent their children, Jackson just so happened to have his address still listed at his godfather's house so he could stay there. But, when Jack wasn't in school he was running through the streets, wasting hours at the skate park, or stealing cheap beer out of the trailers around him. The neighbors never locked their doors so it only served them right.

The air, when it wasn't heavy with liquor or cigarettes, always smelled of crisp wilderness air and pine trees. That was Jack's favorite part about where he lived. His least favorite part was, of course, the lack of ambition most of the other residents demonstrated. Plenty of them enjoyed just sitting outside in their lawn chairs smoking cigarettes and gossiping with one another. Although Jack got on well with a lot of the kids, he couldn't help but feel like he was in the wrong place. He did little to remedy that, what with lack of direction and knowledge on how to pursue something better.

His grades barely suffered until he hit his sophomore year. His sister was an assistant manager at a grocery store trying to make ends meet. She worked her tail off throughout her schooling career just to be forced out with little to nothing to show for it, and Jackson couldn't help but feel defeated before he even entered the rat race to a successful future. So he stopped trying, stopping showing up.

There was something about the two different extremes of people he was around that had him feeling out of place. He fell somewhere in the middle, considering stepping out of his comfort zone but lacking the means and knowledge to do so. The endless feeling of floating did little to comfort him, and it had him seeking his own source of it- that of which included skipping class, attending parties, and basically doing all he could to not fit either the mold of the snobby elitist or ambitionless troublemakers. He almost always fell into the latter despite his attempts to do otherwise.

After Jackson failed his second attempt at sophomore year, his sister had grown tired of his behavior. She sat him down and gave him a stern talking to. Although initially met with his stubbornness, Jack took to heart what she had to say, and he redirected the path he ran astray from with the promise of at least graduating. It was all he could be sure of, anyway, as he studied and made his way through comp classes and rose his GPA from it's nearly unsalvagable score.

It was shortly after his birthday in his third try at sophomore year Jack had a brief experience with magic. After dark, running through the back streets, and it was only convenient he and his friends had just left a party. Like most things in life, it started off great. They were flying, adrenaline and smug, playful pride the source of their fuel, leaving a group of jocks they'd pissed off in the dust. But it was on the busier main street that he bailed– he slipped on the asphalt to tumble onto his side with a bit of a surprised yelp and an ‘oof’ as he hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him. He was met with headlights and a blaring horn, and just as he, with bleary eyes, looked up in a panic he was suddenly on the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

The friends with him were too fogged in their minds to realize that their friend was a wizard, and that it was a blip of teleportation that managed to work in that moment. They thought they just missed him making his way to a different part of the street. Jack never told anyone- not them, not his sister, not a single soul. Not until he was contacted and given a tutor, courtesy of SIWW, to help him manage his abilities. It was one incident with no tell tale of when it'd happen again.

A year and a half later, Jackson walked for graduation with no plan for his future. That didn't matter to him, though, as he shook the principal's hand, took his diploma and waved to his sister in the crowd. He'd never seen her so proud of him. After Jack learned very quickly that without a plan in action he had no real direction to go. He applied at numerous places and ignored any college spam letters he received in the mail.

Despite the earnest efforts of his guidance counselor, Jack never picked up an application before signing for his cap and gown. He had no intention to, but he found his disappointment in his struggle to get a footing in adult life. Already two years behind due to his own irresponsible decisions he barely paid any mind to anyone who tried to reach out to him. Until his sister grabbed an envelope and slid it across the table to him at breakfast.

Ah, right, magic.

He had that tutor, and he never forgot about what he possessed. With no knowledge beyond the management he was taught behind him it was like going in blind, but his sister smiled and encouraged him to take the invitation. He had an opportunity tailored just for him at his hands, and Jackson hesitantly accepted. For his entired life he knew nothing beyond his trailer park and the pine trees of Colorado or the too-white smiles of the upscale families beyond it. He never left his town, and it was nerve-wracking and exhilirating all at the same time to even consider it.

Jackson worked for the rest of the summer to save up money for supplies, and with some financial aid from both the school and his sister, he stepped foot into SIWW the following fall semester. He didn't have a real plan in action, but finally he felt like he could make something of himself.

Personality:

Stone-faced and oftentimes too silent, most people who aren’t in Jack’s immediate life would say it’s hard to get a word out of the boy. But, if you are to get him talking about something he likes, he will light up and speak passionately. He doesn’t go out of his way to seek friendship, but he isn’t closed off to the idea of it. Should he speak he can come off as borderline arrogant and rather crass lacking the politeness and manners expected by unprovoked strangers in the general public. He isn’t one looking for a fight as he often will think of himself above picking one with measly little ol’ you, but don’t put him passed lashing out if it is required for his own defense. His words are more a weapon than his fists, so don’t physically threaten him and you’re in the clear.

Jack's never been a cowardly man. He's always tried to take everything life has thrown at him like a champ, and he doesn't back down easily. Whether it was standing up against bullies or authority figures (he hardly sees the difference between the two words) or hurtling himself from rooftops and scaling the sides of ruined buildings, he's always had no fear keeping him from doing it. He handles most things in life passionately, be it a hobby or a person, he takes to it like a love affair.

Although he often carries a subtle smile on his face due to his consistence of contentment, he isn't one to fake a smile of any sort so no one has to worry about him wearing any masks. He does not try to lie, and the expressed downtrodden feelings aren't made noticeable for sympathy, he just doesn't feel the need to be secretive any time he feels gloomy about anything. This, however, can make him difficult to deal with especially if someone else's emotional needs are in more dire need than his own. He has a terrible habit of being unreceptive to those when he is on an emotional low.

Despite brawls in middle school and through out high school, and even a few altercations on the streets, Jack pays no mind to any of the consequences of his words or actions. He follows the typical mantra of “It is what it is” when regarding poor situations and unfavorable outcomes, be it his own or others’. He was a bit more mischievious as a youngster when the law couldn’t touch him. With age came the common sense of avoiding dangerous behaviors, but don’t put recklessness below him. He still can be impulsive in his actions and it’s mostly to stir up the monotony of his own routine life.

Jack has found that cracking snide remarks and maintaining a somewhat dark-humored persona has helped him through any remotely tough times. Although it can grate on others' patience, Jack tries not to let his age dictate his ability to let loose at times and shirk his responsibilities. He's a college kid with a high school senior's mentality. He is trusting to a fault, but if crossed he can bear a grudge and carry it to the grave, and he will let you know you are not on his good side. Jack is also prone to throwing himself pity parties in times of personal distress and negative thoughts, drinking himself into a stupor with whatever liquor stash he can get his hands on.

Headcanons:

1. Jackson is guilty for sometimes living beyond his means. He spends more than he should at the risk of having nothing to spend the next week. He was lucky to receive a student credit card with a very small limit, but whenever it's paid off he is quick to add to his debt again. Part of it is not wanting to hold off on the luxurious things in life (expensive coffees or name brand clothes), but most of his careless spending probably derives from when he had to pretend he wasn't lower class throughout his middle and high school career. 2. Through his elementary and middle school years, Jack practiced soccer. He became pretty decent at it. Not necessarily MVP or team captain level, but he was first string. It was when his attendance in high school started dropping he was at risk for losing his spot on the team. But it wasn't that he was booted, it was that the expenses were too much so he ultimately had to drop on his own. 3. He had an altercation, per se, with some rowdy individuals over money and maybe a bit of paraphernalia, that ended up in a scuffle that left him with a bloodied nose and a posterior knee dislocation. For the most part he’s recovered, but if struck there or if accidentally twisted it locks up or pops out of place. It hurts and he has to go and get medical attention to pop it back if it dislocates again, but otherwise, if the rough contact doesn’t knock it out of place it gets stiff and he limps for a bit. 4. Jack isn’t much into drugs so much as he is into drinking. Thankfully it’s not an everyday thing, but there’s likely a bottle of booze and a few cans of beer tucked under his bed. Jim Beam may be his favorite, but when his finances don’t allow it any bottom shelf liquor will do. He also had a poor habit of walking into the unlocked trailer's around the park and stealing cheap beer out of their mini fridges. 5. For unexplainable reasons Jack fears thunder and lightning. He doesn’t have any memory for when this fear started, it’s just always been there. If there’s so much as a hint of thunder in the distance he pops his headphones in and plays music at high volumes and finds sanctuary in his closet or under his blankets where he will wait the storm out. This isn’t something he really tells anyone.

Anything Else: Noooo, I'll be in the talk tag. Look out for various forms of Slacker inspiration.

#sample app #slacker

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survivor-rebelsvsroyals · 4 years

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EPISODE 6:Sorry hosts and viewers but we're keeping the inactivish girl. -Ryan M

My new tribe kinda slaps? It’s just nice playing with people who have the fight to win. We fucking S L A Y E D Jeopardy. Ken Jennings who? It felt so good helping my tribe win. For this reward comp I’m a little worried because we have a good system but if someone doesn’t show up, we’ll all hit 5 and be screwed. Also poor Glo, she’s just out here doing her best. She’s cute, but I don’t want that to carry her to the end like it did in Mongolia.

Finally have my computer back, so I can start writing confessionals as I think about the game. It sucks that Chloe was voted out. She was definitely my #1 ally in the game, so seeing her leave just sucks. And now I am on a tribe with 4 Royals who would be happy to vote me out the second we get to tribal council. I doubt my social game will let me leave here alive if we go to tribal. Instead, I just have to make sure we don't go to tribal. I need to put in all my effort in the next immunity challenge lest I want to be in the VL watching the rest of this season.

* a little later*

I've been socially active with Seamus and Amanda today. I hope I can grow a tight bond with them in order to keep myself safe for tribals to come. Especially if I manage to get to merge with a tight three. I'm praying that things work out because I need this for my own sanity.

It’s truly like babysitting this tribe lmao Like I know this is reward but how fucking hard is it to post on time. I worked a 9 hour shift today and still posted on time when I said I would. We have the lead, like why squander it. Also, I’m hoping we win out to til merge because I really don’t want to go into a tribal at swap in the minority. I feel like I might be making myself a target bc I’m being a little aggressive with this comp BUT I regret nothing.

I feel like I’ve been too MIA I’m kind of just ready for a tribal so I can get a little blood on my hands! Sorry I am the most boring player ever I’ll post something juicy tomorrow

I'm glad that we won the reward challenge. It must be a good omen for the next one, but I have to put in twice as much effort! I'm not planning on being the next one booted, so this tribe needs to pull its weight and get to winning!

Well I don;t know if I am coming or going or who is with me and who is not. I was lost on reward challenge and posted few times but they all offered to help me lol So how is my game ok I guess but I feel lost in a wilderness cause I think lots of these players know each other very well and I am lost

I feel so bad for Chloe. I stopped talking to her after Seamus told me she was debating between voting for me or Amanda. I feel like we all felt like we liked Chloe but we've spent so much time together. And also maybe a pagoning or w/e would be a little fun!!!! She's so sweet I wish she started off a royal.

Well I just BOMBED that challenge. I love to read but suddenly my mind went blank and I could only think of books with long titles! HAHA. I majored in art in college for a year and suddenly I forgot every color in existence! Hopefully the other tribes blanked so we'll be safe. 0:-) If not... maybe the royals will stay together but no lie, I've been talking to John and Lachie more than Pippa and Ryan.

I'm happy two tribes are going to tribal. Because I really want to see them vote ugly people out!!! But also if we go to tribal nbd Raffy goes. He's completely okay! But I love Seamus and Amanda and I think I can also get Anabel to trust me come merge time. xo

I am praying to god all-mighty that we win

WE LITERALLY COULD'VE WON IF ANABEL DID EVEN HALF THE CHALLENGE!!!!! I was so down to get rid of Raffy... still could... I like Anabel. But... I already feel bad about voting out Chloe and this time it's like... obvi Ana deserves to be voted out... ugh

I hope the 5 movies Glo could muster up in 60 seconds were all of the Twilight franchise movies

*Dan comes back ten minutes later*

Okay but real talk, 5 movies??? Glo you could only name 5 movies in 60 seconds? If she had done as well as Asya and gotten 28 we wouldn’t have gone to tribal. I really pray I can get Dane or Linus to team up with Asya and I. I mean if it comes down to it and I have to vote out Asya, I guess she better get those bags packed!

I am so pissed that we lost. We easily could have won this competition if Anabel had participated, but she's evidently bad at time management. If you knew you were going to be busy the next day, why wouldn't you do the challenge the night it was posted? I'm so over it! For once, I didn't want to have to go to tribal, but now I can't even have that. Not only that, but I'm pretty sure that I am the target since I am not a Royal which is utter bullshit. Hopefully my social game has paid off and I have bonded enough with these people, but I am not too sure about that. I'll just have to put it all my effort into saving myself, or my game is sunk. Pray for me.

* a little later*

I think I can get Seamus. He and I have talked a lot during the limited amount of time we've had together. I want to consider him an ally, but I'm not sure if he hasn't been doing this with everyone else. My target is going to be Anabel for three reasons: 1. She is a winner (literally won last season) which makes a threat going into merge 2. She singlehandedly lost us the challenge 3. I haven't personally talked to her a lot so she's the easiest to target for me I want to get everyone on board, but I need to not pester them. However, I cannot just let the vote casually go towards me either. I'm not going out without a fight

OK SO. glo sucks at challenges. like it’s real bad. which is good for me. cause linus is like he doesn’t have any allegiances or whatever to old arioi and just wants to succeed so like. let’s cut the dead weight. obviously dan is down and that’s all we need. i’d like to get dane on board too but it’s not necessary. like really, i just wanna keep my no vote streak. which means if dane and glo vote for a manahune, it’s dan and not me.

Seamus brought up Anabel's name to me which is a good sign. He also told me that I shouldn't worry about being the only Rebel, and he is open to keeping/working with me. I hope he's telling the truth. Apparently, he's only talked to me about the vote, so I am hoping that's a good sign. Now I need to approach Amanda and Ryan. If one just votes for Ryan, then I should be good.

*he talks a lot*

Amanda seems open, but reserved. She's acting noncommittal which is worrying for me. I have to speak with Ryan later and get him on board. Keeping this tribe together will help me going into a merge. I'm just hoping Amanda joins my side and not Anabel's, in the end. There is still time to save myself.

youtube

So tribal council is coming up soon and I legit have no idea what I'm doing. I'm pretty sure I'm going to get voted out tonight since I'm spreading myself too thin. I have a couple ideas going on through my head and I can't decipher which plan will be the best to project me moving forward. The first plan I have is to stay royal strong and vote out Asya. I have Glo and Linus as fellow Royals to make the majority. If I do successfully blindside Dan and Asya tonight then we have the majority going into the last pre-merge stage. However, Glo isn't the strongest in challenges and this could result in us going back to tribal council. If we do go back to tribal council then there is the chance that Dan can pull out an idol and take me out. If we don't even go to tribal then there's no chance of me rebuilding the burnt bridge with Dan prior to going to the merge, resulting in another person coming after me. Also continuing into merge, I imagine I'm at the bottom of the royals tribe. People can "like" me but that doesn't necessarily mean that they want to work with me. I'd be continuing this trend of saving people that don't want to work with me. The other plan in place is for Linus and I to team up with Dan and Asya to vote out Glo. If we are possibly merging after tonight then voting out Glo in my opinion is one of the smartest decisions. She is very well liked and she's a very loyal player, I don't think she will ever be targeted and it'll be an easy flow for her to get to the end of the game. Also, Linus was telling me that Anabel talks to Glo A LOT, and that lowkey just reinforces this idea that I created of an all-winners alliance existing. If we have another tribal stage I don't imagine that it will be a double trial again so getting rid of Glo (the weakest competitor on our tribe) might be the best decision for the tribe. Also with getting rid of Glo, this helps solidify some sort of allegiance with Dan + Asya. Going into the merge with Linus, Dan, Asya would open up so many doors. Dan and Asya are very close with the rest of the Rebels plus, Dan and Amanda are high school friends. I spoke to Dan and I think we'd possibly team up to take out Ryan M. Ryan M. always plays these games personally and votes out Dan, and now that him and I are not on great terms Ryan will target me. I explained that to Dan that neither of us would win with Ryan M. still in the game so we need to pull strength and get him out together. Plus we matched on Tinder one time so that'll help build some trust with Dan. Right now I think the benefits of voting out Glo outweighs voting out Asya so I think that's how we'll go. You can't predict the future but I can outweigh the pros and cons and keeping Dan + Asya on my side while pissing off the Royals majority might benefit me more than being a sheep led to slaughter

I lied to Raffy about not voting him... I mean he's not dumb he probably has a string inkling. I just feel bad . Like Anabel deserves to go home but I think she'll save me in the future. Plus she has beef with Lachie we can feed off of. I'm sorry Chloe and Im sorry Raffy. Sorry hosts and viewers but we're keeping the inactivish girl.

So Um the votes landed on Glo? Super easily? So I’m assuming I’m getting blindsided

I think I should be good for this tribal. Everyone has given me their word that they are voting Anabel, and Seamus seems trustworthy. I just hope my trust his well-placed.

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