#not me getting worked up over this shit again when id already resigned myself to only watch kory's scenes on youtube

[sex-storytime]

Under My Skin

It had been months since I last spoke to Jeff, last I'd heard he was having some difficulty with his life, and it just so happened that it coincided with one of the worst times of my life, too. In hindsight, we really could've been a great help to each other at that time, but it just seemed easier to not even try. We had always been great friends, and at times it seemed like we were just getting too close to each other, and honestly, that scarred the hell out of me. I wasn't ready for something serious, I knew it, so I kept getting with guys that I knew at heart were going to let me down. I always knew that Jeff never would, but like I said, I just wasn't ready for him yet. I guess I couldn't accept the fact that maybe, just maybe, the feeling I had about him from the beginning was right, that he was the one.

Now, I'm not proud of doing this, and to this day I still regret every time it happened, but I ghosted him again. I stopped talking, texting, everything, and it really hurt him. It hurt me, too, but it hurt him more, and I can't blame him for giving up and washing his hands of me. At that time, I really was a shitty friend, and after thinking about it, he was right, he deserved much better than my seemingly flaky bullshit. I had resigned myself to never start that horrible cycle again, the same one we'd been through many, many times over in the previous years.

A mutual friend of ours had just died, and Jeff was the last thing on my mind at the time. Even seeing him at family night and the funeral didn't make me think of him in anyway, until the night after. I just couldn't stop thinking about him after that. I laid awake all that night, wondering how he was doing, and I was actually worried that he'd found himself a girlfriend, and that I was too late, that I'd wasted every last chance I had to be with him, and now I was left to wander the rest of my life, bouncing from one failed attempt at happiness to another, never settling, never finding true love. Never having Jeff.

That part scared me even worse then, and I knew that despite the initial awkwardness, and the embarrassing apology, I had to find a way back into his life again. Hell, even just as friends if it had to be that way, I knew I needed him, and I hoped that he would be just as patient and forgiving with me as he'd been all the years prior. It turns out, he wasn't, he really had moved on without me, and now I had to really work at it to get him back.

I called him once, on a Friday night, but chickened out when I got his voicemail and hung up. I started to hope that he wouldn't recognise my number on his phone. It was a silly thing to hope for though, as there was no way he'd actually forgotten it after seeing it everyday for months, and even years on end over the past decade. I dreaded what might happen next, no matter what it would be. Either he'd call me back eventually, and I'd have to admit my feelings to him, or he'd just ignore it, and I'd be crushed just like he was when I ignored him. That waiting time was the worst, because between my call and his, both were very real possibilities.

Then, the next morning, just as I was waking up, it happened, he called me back. In the time between me seeing the caller-id, and actually answering the phone, millions of things ran through my head. Everything from what we could be, to what we might not have the chance to be anymore, to everything we'd been through so far. I decided that if he gave me another chance to be in his life, I wasn't going to throw this one away. It was time for me to grow up, I was 24 after all, and he'd been so great to me in the past, it wouldn't be fair of me to go at it with any other attitude.

On the third ring, I finally answered. "Hey, Jeff. I'm glad you called me back."

There were a few moments of silence as he formulated his response. I was terrified of what he would say, or wouldn't, and I must have turned as pale as the sheet I was sleeping on. "I'm on my way home from work. I'm about an hour away right now, why don't you get out of bed and come to the house for coffee. We need to talk."

This was it, this was the critical point where it could all go wrong if I wasn't brave about it. He'd already texted me months ago with his last coffee offer, and of course I just ignored it. I couldn't say no now, not that I wanted to, this was exactly what I was hoping he'd say.

"Absolutely!" I managed to blurt out finally, "I'd love to, I'll get dressed and meet you there."

"Okay, good. You can't stay for long though, I just got off a twelve hour night shift, and I'm exhausted. Work was ridiculous." With that, he just hung up, he didn't wait for me to say goodbye, didn't wait for me to ask where he was working, or what he was doing these days, he just ended the call right then and there. I'm not going to lie, it stung, and it didn't make the conversation ahead of us seem very promising. It was almost like he just wanted to get it over with and be done with me, once and for all this time, like I'd finally run to the absolute end of his patience. 

Maybe though, I thought to myself, maybe if I show him that I won't hurt him again, he'll let his guard down and let me back in. I mean, the coffee offer was a good start, and the fact that he actually called me back and invited me over to his house was almost promising. I knew I didn't deserve it though, and I knew that if the only words he said to me when we got there were "fuck you, Rachel," that it'd be fair. 

I jumped out of bed and put on my sexiest pair of underwear, a black thong with matching push-up bra, my favourite blouse, and my most revealing miniskirt. I paired all that with my favourite boots and looked at myself in the mirror. This was stupid, he knew I only had A-cup breasts but to be honest, I needed to feel good, I needed the confidence boost, because at the time, although hopeful, I felt like the lowest person on the face of the planet, and to him, I might be, considering everything I'd put him through.

I took everything back off again, laid it all out on my bed, and jumped in the shower to get cleaned up and fix my hair and makeup. After I got cleaned up and got my hair in order, I decided to skip the makeup in lieu of the natural look. I knew that he liked that better because every time he'd woken me up with a cup of coffee in his hand, it seemed like it would make his face brighten ten fold to get to see me that way. God, I really missed living with him. Nobody else ever looked at me like he did when we'd wake up, and here I'd just taken it for granted all this time. Hell, none of the guys I'd ever dated even bothered to make coffee for me before waking me up; most of them either asked me to do it, or didn't mention it at all and I'd have to ask. That was usually met with, "Yeah, get me a cup, too while your out. And how about doughnuts?" Jeff never even dared to try getting me up in the morning without making coffee first, even if it meant getting up early when he didn't have to, because I had to work and he wanted to make sure I was up on time.

When I realised that, I felt like an idiot. Here he was this whole time, and I'd just come to expect him to always be there, even when I wasn't. I'd really just made everything all about me, and rarely, if ever gave him even close to the same amount of consideration. It'd be a damned miracle if he took me back as a friend, much less put any kind of trust in me ever again.

I had to just stop thinking about it or I'd go hide under the covers, and we'd be right back to where we were before, with no future at all. I splashed some cold water on my face, got dressed, and walked downstairs to my parents kitchen. I left them a note by the coffee maker that I was going to see someone, then crossed it out and wrote that I was going to see Jeff instead. Mom and Dad always liked him, I could tell, but they never dared to suggest we date because, as I figured out later, they knew that would make me disregard the idea forever, just to spite them. I signed my name to the note and headed out the door to my car.

It was hot and humid that morning, almost sticky as I walked across the yard to the tree I'd parked under the night before after work. I checked my watch before climbing in, shit. He was probably home at that point, waiting on me, and it was going to take me half an hour at least to get there. Suddenly, for the first time ever, I felt guilty for making him wait. I pulled out my phone and texted him that I was on my way, and I'd be there in 30.

I didn't expect a text back, but almost immediately my phone buzzed in my hand. "Be careful," was all his reply said, and it felt like my heart was going to melt through my feet like the core of an overheated nuclear reactor. I totally threw the speed limit out the window as I drove the twenty five miles to his house. I was just ten miles out when I looked at my speedometer, 85. So much for careful I thought.

When I pulled up in the driveway it felt like time had frozen solid, and all the feeling had drained from my body. There was his house, his car, all as I had left them all that time ago. For the first time ever, I felt like I was looking at home, not because it was familiar though, but because Jeff was there.

I finally snapped myself out of it and began the walk to his front door. As I climbed the steps I noticed that he'd left the front door open for me, like he usually did, inviting me to let myself inside. Just as I had a thousand times before, I did so, closing it behind me to look around for him. I took a few steps inside and heard the shower running in the bathroom. I walked up to the door and knocked. "I'm here," I announced to him as I heard him rinsing the soap off his body, then shutting the water off and grabbing his towel.

"You know the drill, make yourself at home, the coffee should be ready any second now." Just then that familiar sound of his coffee maker beeping came from the kitchen, signalling that it was done brewing, and ready to serve the always wonderful coffee he loved to make for us. I walked in and grabbed a cup from the cabinet, and got his favourite cup from the counter to rinse it out. I poured both cups full, emptying the pot. He always knew exactly how much to make for the both of us, only making a cup each at a time so that it didn't burn in the pot, even though we'd both be ready for another sooner than that could happen.

He walked out of the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. Holy shit he looked good. Had he been working out? It certainly looked like it. His hair was much shorter now, and he'd shaved all the usual stubble from his face. Before I could catch myself my jaw dropped a little, he looked so grown up now, though he'd hardly changed, I saw him a lot differently than I ever had before. Gone was the guy from high school, and in his place stood this man of the dreams I never knew I'd had.

A few beads of water rolled down his neck and onto his chest, getting wicked up by the sparse patch of hair in between his pecs. I picked my jaw up off the floor and swallowed loudly before licking my lips. I probably looked stupid just standing there, but he didn't seem to notice. "I'll be right back, just going to put some clothes on," he said as he turned back towards the bedroom.

Damn, I thought to myself as I put his cup down on the table next to his spot on the couch, then taking mine before I decided to subtly scoot closer to the centre of it. As soon as I saw him I was hoping that he'd sit around in his towel for a little while like he used to, but no, he was going to cover up that incredible body of his, just as I wanted to actually pay attention to it. Served me right I suppose, I'd payed no mind to it before, why shouldn't he cover it up if it was going to go unappreciated. 

A few minutes later, after I'd calmed myself down a little, he emerged from his room wearing a t-shirt and jeans looking somehow hotter than before. I looked him over shamelessly, drinking in every detail from his black trainers, faded bluejeans, to his forearms, then back to the jeans to eye the bulge that I'd tried so hard to ignore in years past. I really had been missing out on a lot, and I mentally kicked myself for not seeing it sooner.

As he walked into the living room with his usual, cool, Gary Cooper walk, I got the insatiable urge to, forgive the French, fuck the ever loving brains out of his head. He smirked at me with his knowing half smile as he moved towards me. Oh God, I was biting my lip and staring right at him! I hadn't had an orgasm in months, and I guess I wanted one more than I thought I did. I had to ease off of it before I made an ass out of myself again. I blushed and looked down at the floor, then scooted myself closer to my side of the couch.

I realised what I was doing, I was trying to take my mind off of him sitting next to me. I think Jeff knew what was going on, but he didn't let on that he knew. Damn him for always being so good at reading me. He never made a move though, because I was stupid and used my words to contradict what I really wanted, but only out of embarrassment and nervousness. Then he really surprised me. 

"Look," he started out as he took a sip of his coffee, then lighting one of his own cigarettes. "I know why you're here."

"I want us to be friends again, Jeff." Why did that sound so weird to me? Oh, it's because I've avoided at all costs calling him by his name. Why? Because I was a stupid, power hungry asshole that got off on psychologically torturing people, probably because I wanted to hurt them before they got the chance to hurt me.

"We can't be friends, Rachel." I shuddered when he said my name. We've tried it time, and time, and time again over the years, and it just doesn't work." His deep blue eyes were piercing what felt like the bare fabric of my soul. It hurt, and I wanted to cry and run away then and there, but he continued. "We get close, but not close enough to get past each others walls, and when we hit those walls, that's when the bad shit happens."

"I know," I said, defeated as I looked down at my feet. It was like the entire world was being pulled out from under me. Why did I have to come here, why couldn't we have just done this on the phone? Oh yeah, I deserved it. Honestly I probably deserved a lot worse, but this was bad enough.

"Look, if we become friends again, we're just going to destroy the friendship once more, and the cycle will continue where you burn the bridge, then expect me to rebuild it. Why not light the motherfucker from both ends this time?" The question shocked me, what did he mean?

"What are you saying?" I asked, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

"I'm saying that if we're going to destroy it again, why not do it in the most spectacular fashion possible? That fits both of our personalities, doesn't it? You know, go out with a bang."

I was still confused, did he mean that he wanted to try one last time? Did he mean that we should hash out everything that was wrong between us right there so that we'd hate each other? What was he getting at?

"Be my girlfriend," he said bluntly. "Be the girlfriend I've seen you be, with everyone else you've dated. Honestly, when I saw you with them, I thought to myself, 'that's the Rachel I want. That's the Rachel I've always wanted,' plus every damn time you'd come to me complaining that they didn't love you the way you wanted, I realised that what you were describing to me was exactly how I've always wanted to love you, but haven't been able to because you wouldn't let me. Think about it." His eyes were still on me, cutting so deeply into my soul that I thought he'd look right through me.

"I-I-I don't know what to say." I muttered to myself, no doubt having lost every ounce of self confidence I'd built up that morning.

"Go home." He said sharply, "go home and think about it tonight. If you decide that I'm worth having in your life, call me. You can come back tomorrow and I'll cook diner." Something none of my other boyfriends ever liked doing for me. "I'll make you dinner and we can have our first date." There it was. It was all real now, and I had to face it. No longer could I run away and pretend that the chemistry between us never existed, it was right here, plain as the sun in the sky, staring me right in my eyes. 

My brain went into self preservation mode and I said the dumbest thing I could've said next. "What if I decide not to?"

Jeff just smiled at me, only now his smile had a little fire behind it and I was really feeling the heat. "Then don't bother calling at all." Damn. That turned the flame up to eleven and I was starting to sweat. "Here," he said, motioning to the door as he stood up from the couch, "I'll walk you to your car."

I was numb. There was my chance and I blew it. He knew I wasn't going to call him, not because I didn't want us to be together, but because he knew that I was actually just a coward wearing the mask of a bad-ass. He was calling my bluff. I couldn't even begin to think about what to do next, I just got up and let him lead me outside to the harsh light of the morning, illuminating what my reality now was, and what it had always been. "Okay," I managed to say while holding back a torrent of tears and self pity. I was going to get so drunk that night, hell, I might not even wait until nighttime, I might just jump in the bottle when I got home. To my parents house. In the middle of nowhere. Alone. No! I had to fix this, now.

Without even knowing what was happening, I turned on my heels and faced him, taking a step so that we were face to face, breathing the same air, and mustering all the fire I could into my eyes, fighting the fire he already had in his.

I kissed him. I kissed him right on his lips as I put my arms around him and stepped even closer. Suddenly the earth fell again, and I felt myself being wrapped around him like he was the only thing keeping me from floating off into the air. His hands lifted the hem of my short skirt above my hips, as my legs crossed behind him and I felt my back being slammed into the front of my car. My God, this was the hottest thing I'd ever felt, and I wanted more.

Suddenly he pulled away from me, and I slid my now almost bare ass down to the bumper of my car as my feet fell to the ground under me. Jeff had his hands on my face, and his eyes still firmly locked on mine. I couldn't let this end here. "Can I use your bathroom before I go? It's a long drive back," I said, hoping desperately to get back in that house.

"Sure," he said in almost a whisper, and followed me as I pulled my skirt back down and walked back to his house. Once inside I walked in the bathroom and heard him sit on the couch before I closed the door. I looked in the mirror and couldn't believe what I was about to do. I was never the bold one, never the one to initiate, and certainly never the one to do this. I pulled my shirt over my head, then unzipped my skirt and let both fall to the mat in front of the sink. I reached behind me and unhooked my bra, freeing my perky little tits from that awful push-up bra that made them look so much bigger and better. I then slid my fingers into the elastic string of my panties and pushed them down to join the skirt, bra, and shirt on the ground. I stepped out of them, kicking my shoes off as I did.

They fell to the floor with a clomp, and that was it. I was naked, about to waltz out of the room and into the future that I was so close to losing. Better to lose my dignity than my best friend I thought to myself as I adjusted my hair, and opened the door, feeling the cool air rush across my bare body and between my shaved legs and pussy.

I walked as confidently as I could with my hands by my side, around the corner into the view of Jeff. Now it was his turn to pick his jaw up off the floor. I felt a rush of energy race through me like a bolt of lightning, cursing myself for stepping so far out of my comfort zone, and being even half as bold as I was being right now. The kiss worked out amazingly though, so this just might work, too.

I walked right up to the surprised fool, sitting on his couch, and put my feet on either side of his legs, giving him a full, uninterrupted view of everything I had to offer. He still just stared at me, until he finally lowered his gaze from my eyes, and I could feel his attention crawl slowly down my neck and chest, then down my stomach, hips, and my now soaking wet crotch. His nostrils flared as he took in my scent, and the fire in his eyes turned from an angry red, to the most passionate blue I'd ever seen in my life. 

He reached behind me and grabbed my ass with both hands as he leaned me back and pulled me on top of him. His body slouched so that I was kneeling on the couch, with his face under my hot, naked, dripping wet pussy. He breathed deeply, his hot breath warming my pussy even more as chills ran throughout the rest of me, causing my perky little nipples to stiffen instantly.

Finally, he kissed me on my most sacred set of lips, and then his tongue went to work around the edges of my sex before finding and teasing my clit. My legs went weak and I pressed myself down harder on his face, the breath from his nose now where my pubic hair would be, while my hands explored the back of his head and neck. I was in complete shock that he could ever feel this good, and I wondered what else I had been missing all this time.

He just kept going with his tongue, his fingers soon joining the fun from behind me, teasing my asshole a little before spreading my lips and plunging slowly, deeply, satisfyingly into me. It's like he could feel what he was doing to me, because his long, strong digits knew exactly where to go, and exactly what to do to bring me to the strongest orgasm I'd had up to that point. Unbeknownst to me at the time, but this was only the beginning, and there was even better to be had after that.

I was leaned forward over the back of the couch, Jeff still underneath me, face between my legs, lightly teasing my clit with his tongue and lips as I struggled to keep my shaking, almost limp body from falling over. Suddenly, he grabs my hips and brings me back down on his lap, still facing him. He looks up at me with my juices all over his face, eyes that were even more intense than before, and says, almost growling, "let's get you into bed now." 

He stands up, holding me close as he walks back towards his bedroom, but stops halfway down the hall to pin me against the wall and kisses me with what I thought at the time, to be all the passion and fury he could gather. Damn, was I in for a treat. He puts a hand under my naked butt and lifts me over his shoulder, giving my ass a nice, solid slap, sending yet more shock waves throughout my slender little body. Before I knew it, I was thrown onto his queen size bed in the middle of the room. I sat up and grabbed his arms, slowly working my hands around him to take his shirt off.

I looked up at him, shirtless, panting above me almost like a wild animal. The look in his eyes almost scared me until his hands gently caressed my face, neck, and shoulders. I reached down and unbuckled his belt, pushing his jeans down to the floor, exposing a long, thick cock, with veins pulsing with his now rapid heartbeat. 

He slid his hands down the sides of my body and then lifted me back, further onto the bed where he spread my legs and climbed on top of me. I could feel his abs pushing against my clit as he kissed my lips, then my cheek, then my neck as I moaned with pleasure. Jeff then moved down and bit me on my shoulder, causing me to inhale sharply, his scent hit me all at once. I'd never smelled him before, other than his shampoo when he'd come out of the shower, but damn was it intoxicating.

He then moved himself up, and I could feel the head of his thick cock against my soaking wet hole. He reached down and teased me with it until I couldn't take anymore waiting. I reached down and grabbed his hand and his dick, the heat begging me to plunge it deep inside of me. He resisted and slowly let me guide him in. The sensation was overwhelming, and as he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside my aching pussy, I could tell it was going to be hitting all the right spots.

He gradually picked up the pace as he rode me, each push in and pull out bringing me new levels of pleasure, as I raked my nails down his exposed back, each time digging in deeper and deeper willing him to go faster and harder. It seemed to work, but I quickly found that sinking my teeth into his shoulder worked even better. Soon, I was getting close to climax again, and I couldn't believe it, I had never before gotten off from insertion alone. Jeff could tell that I was close, and he slowed his pace considerably, teasing me away from my orgasm.

I couldn't take the waiting any longer, so I grabbed him and threw him off next to me, where I rolled over onto him and then I took control. I slowly mounted his dick again, and began to rock back and forth against him. Once again I was so, so close to finishing, but I decided to hold off just a little longer. I wanted him to cum too, I wanted him to explode inside of me, and I wanted him to feel as good as I was feeling at that moment.

I tried and tried to hold back, but my body betrayed me by keeping pace with his hips bucking in time with mine. Soon, I was at the point of no return, and without even thinking about it, dug my fingertips into his chest, dragging them down his body to his ribs and stomach. I threw my head back as I came again, my pelvic muscles contracting and releasing around his thick shaft as I moved. Apparently this was what he needed, because when I was in the middle of what can only be described as the best ride of my life, he'd had enough, and shot into me with such great force and volume, it shot out around him, and I could feel the warm, sticky, cum being pushed out of me around his dick.

I looked down and saw the blood that I drew with my nails, trailing in ten staggered streaks, down his chest and abdomen. I smiled at the sight, then laughed at the unbelievable ecstasy we were both feeling. As his last shot of cum came shooting out of him, I had another wave hit me. We called out in unison as we slowed down, and I carefully laid down on top of him. He wrapped his arms around me and held me there, his chest heaving with each breath, his hips still bucking against me, in and out, in and out until I could feel his stiff member begin to soften.

I stretched my legs out, intertwining with his as we both finally relaxed. He moved a hand up to the back of my neck, and the other down my body, resting just above my ass. I looked over and whispered in his ear, "That was Amazing, Jeff," and before I could think twice to stop myself, "I love you."

My eyes bolted open and my heart began to race with the crazy, stupid thing I just said. I was certain he wouldn't say anything back, that he'd just ignore it and keep holding me, but I was wrong. "I love you, too Rachel," he said softly, his deep voice vibrating through his chest and into mine. I rolled off of him and lay next to him in his arms as he rolled to face me and kissed me again, softly this time, letting me know that he meant it.

It was done, we'd finally given in to our deepest desires, and what an amazing experience it was. Soon I was falling asleep, holding the most amazing person I've even known, and he held me until we both woke up later that afternoon. He kissed me again before letting go of me and getting out of bed. I drifted back off again until he walked back in the room, still naked, holding two cups of fresh, hot coffee. "Good morning," he said with that same old, bright and tired smile, only with a new little twinkle in his eyes. "I thought you might like a cup of coffee to wake up with."

"I'd love one," I smiled back, as I sat up to take it and watched him turn around to sit next to me. The scratches on his back and chest had scabbed over. I smiled to myself knowing that I'd finally marked him as mine, finally after all these years, waking up next to someone just felt right. We sat there naked, drinking our coffee, occasionally looking over to each other as if confirming that the hours before weren't just a dream, and was in fact reality. It was real, it was amazing, and it was exactly where I always wanted to be. He'd seen it all along, and I still kick myself for taking so long to figure it out, but I'm glad I did before it was too late.

That day I learned how much I loved him looking over my naked body, how hot it made me, feeling his eyes on my exposed flesh, and what great things happened when I just took off my clothes. It became a rare sight for me to be clothed around him, because I felt so wonderful when I saw how he looked at me. He made me love being naked, and I know that he loved it, too.

#under my skn #lovers #first time #reacquainted #fucking #temptress #desire #her perspective #Rachel

[ms31x129]

Woohoo! Time for Chapter 4! I had to make a another DJ! I felt compelled! I hope I have ideas for 3 more! @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK  AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish Tumblr LINK or AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 3: Graffiti of the Heart Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 4: Leave Your Demons At The Door  (Click on the name for AO3) or if you like Tumblr just clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below.

{Summary:

After seeing the past through Dana Scully's eyes, Jackson decides he needs a cold one. With the letter remaining in his possession, he finds a motel room to stay for the night and heads out to check out the nightlife. Of course, the past decides to hitchhike a ride. Jackson's internal conflict reaches a fever pitch when he steps into his birth parent's past at a time when they were fighting the future.}

“All men should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.” -James Thurber

Jackson entered the motel room and tossed his knapsack off his shoulder, its buckles scraping along the surface of the small table as it came to a halt. Not ready for any type of sleep, he flopped on top of the bed with an arm cradling his head and flipped blindly through the channels to drown out the noise of the rest of the motel.

A lonely emptiness ate at his soul like the dying feasting on its last meal. There was nothing scarier to him than the idea that he could be sentenced to a purgatory of existing like this, nothing and no one with whom to speak. No compassion, no remorse, his soul had darkened to the point of charred coal without a hope for recovery. So why not embrace it? Why choose to be alone in madness?

Guiltily, he had found pleasure in cruelty, a joy in its power as a boy growing slowly into a man. Not for the first time, impossible questions riddled his mind. What if inside he was one of them? A bomb waiting to detonate; his existence serving its purpose to end it all. He thought he’d never be pure enough to make it through the gates of heaven anyway.

Why toggle the light and dark? He wondered while rubbing the barely there stubble along his chin. What was he afraid of besides loneliness? What was there to fear when you were the monster?

The springs of the sagging mattress creaked out a warning as he rose up and headed out to clear his head. At least he could find company in the loneliness of numbers.

The streets he walked were nothing like any he had traveled before. Yet they were etched in his head with a sharp knife, a scalpel scoring information deep into his DNA like some strange work of art. As he passed storefront windows and busy restaurants, there was a familiarity there that tickled at his brain akin to recognition. The insistent feeling led him to a bar and his height and a little illusion granted him a bar stool and a beer.

“You’ve got to train for that kind of heavy lifting,” said the bartender as the used beer glasses clinked, clanked, and stuttered against the highly polished, lacquered wooden bar. After several drinks, Jackson was barely able to steady his arm enough to prevent them from crashing to the floor. “Having a bad day?”

“You could say that,” Jackson sighed, chasing down a hiccup with what was left in his glass. “You come here often?” he smarted back.

“I’m the owner of this establishment actually,” she returned as she wiped up the last of the spilled beer. “Tonight’s been busy so I’ve been helping out.”

The other bartender finished doling out the last of the drinks to the customers and joined her to help clean up. He pointed at Jackson hunched over against the bar. “You look familiar... and I never forget a face.”  

He didn’t reply, afraid of it getting him tossed out, instead pointing at the bar for another round.

“So what brings you here?” The older woman asked, her short blond hair wisping over her forehead like bangs. She said it casually, but Jackson got the sinking feeling she was either testing his age or his blood alcohol level. Both of which were enough to refuse him any more service. It would only take a closer examination of his ID to uncover it was created courtesy of a man in a long trench coat in a dark alley.

The two bartenders were waiting for an answer and his depression overruled his logic. He opened his mouth intending on just feeding another lie to strangers who cared nothing for him, but carelessly started to ramble instead and the room spun without him.

“I’m part of an experiment to conceal the truth about the coming apocalypse,” he scoffed, wondering if that were even true anymore while he fingered the condensation on the beer glass. “Contagions, on a global scale to wipe out the planet except for the chosen few. I’m the atomic bomb: the savior and the sinner, and I can choose to destroy or save every man, woman, and child on this planet.”

Jackson chuckled to himself at how crazy his tale already sounded. His hands and arms were now animated as he spoke, staring at the bartenders straight in the eye.

“So of course they killed my parents. I’ve been forced to leave my girlfriends, drop out of school, I’m more of a bad joke than a friend. I’m Jackson, but they call me William…”

The man had the same look plastered on his face that most people had at hearing anything remotely “out there.” The older woman just look resigned, as if she’d heard this same shit on a different day. Maybe she had. Nothing surprised him anymore.

Noticing they both were still waiting for him to finish his spiel, he dove right back into the bullet point version of what he called his life.

“I realized I was part of the X-Men when I was just a kid,” he huffed at comparing himself to hero’s when he felt like a manifestation of evil. He leaned back with his hands gripping his knees, blowing a stream of air through puffed cheeks. “And now I chase after threads of sanity, trying to find who I really am, armed with a letter and a prayer hoping to find the courage to go to my birth mother, hoping she still wants me and has some answers. I’m shouting to the heavens or whoever is out there on the other side of my one-way sonar that the sky is falling. It’s goddamn Armageddon: earthquakes, flooding, fire, and disease.”

Jackson shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Knowing anyone else—anyone “normal” would consider this insanity, yet they were the building blocks of his life. They were what made him him . Saying them out loud as if he were confessing to his mom’s priest at their old church on Sunday mornings felt like a slap in the face.

“I’m the shitstorm of alllll time.”

“Well, that sure makes me feel better about myself,” the woman joked as she closed out his tab. “Looks like 86 is your lucky number, kid,” she told him, effectively ending his rant.

Jackson got the joke. She didn’t believe him and thought it was all some big hallucination from his consumption. Through her stimpering chastisement, she was throwing him out and refusing to serve. The depression and irritation at not being taken seriously yet again sunk from his heart into his stomach.

“You know, I’ve come to realize that one is the loneliest number,” he said, sulking with an arched brow and bathing in self-pity.

“That’s where I know this kid from,” the male bartender interrupted. “You remind me of that Spooky Mulder man. The woman passed him a curious look.

“You remember the FBI agent? Used to come in here years ago with his pretty redheaded partner.”

The female bartender smiled and nodded, a glimmer of recognition danced across her face and she added, “I hope the poor bastard realized she was crazy about him and grew a pair to finally ask her out.”

“Spooky Mulder?” Jackson questioned. That was them. Goddamnit! he thought, realization dawning. Once again following in the shadows of their history; literally it seemed.

“Yeah, I remember him bringing in his partner, what was her name?” she asked the other bartender.

“It was the same as the famous baseball announcer.” He snapped his fingers while Jackson gaped at the irony of it all. “Vin Scully—Scully was her name. Brought her in here after saving her life out in the arctic or some shit. Or she saved his life? I don’t know if they ever got that straight. Anyway, they would drink in here sometimes.”

The woman examined Jackson’s face. “Now that you mention it, he kind of looks like them.”

Jackson was afraid the jig was up. He tossed a couple fifties on the bar and stood, using the barstool to steady himself as he blinked twice to bring his doubled vision into focus.

While stumbling towards the door, a gang of bikers were making their way inside, marking out their turf like a wolf pack. They were rowdy and demanding, pushing the crowd aside as they grabbed their barstools and ordered drinks, harassing the patrons. Another younger, inexperienced bartender tried to settle them and it only appeared made them angry. One pulled him by his collared shirt to whisper something in his ear. Another one held out a knife, fingering it like he couldn’t wait to use it, while another man displayed the holster of his gun. If this was a bar frequented by the FBI, they were taking the night off.

Jackson’s heart pounded within his chest with what felt like a force hard enough to crack a rib as it yearned to beat free of its cage. His senses went on high alert and every color in the bar glowed brighter, every noise louder, smell stronger. With every movement anyone made he was prepared to react.

The song “Glitter and Gold” played through the bar’s sound system. Adrenaline and anger spiked in his veins like he had a double shot of caffeine. They were going to pay for their drinks and their disruption.  

In a dopamine rush, Jackson covered his frame in illusion, a monstrous form he invented as a child. Everyone froze at the sight of Ghouli before them. The eyes of the witnesses of Jackson’s transformation bulged and he could hear their strangled cries of mortal terror. Bulbs burst from the fixtures until there was barely enough light for shadows. The darkness fed his rage. Even the stars and moon seemed to cower behind clouds through the window preparing for Jackson’s storm. Everyone, everything, was now his prey.

Through the mirror at the bar, Jackson caught a reflection of a young boy with utter terror taking over his once innocent features, and his mother with her arms wrapped around him ready to give her life for his survival. In that moment, something inside Jackson snapped, or finally broke free perhaps. He heard it like a twig cracking in his mind, a subtle deafening sound. He ran. The bikers fled fearing he was headed their way, but Jackson was running away, not towards. Running to feel the sweet pain in his lungs, lactic acid building in his muscles, reminding him that he was real, he was human.  

Jackson “the monster” was no more. The old him really had died in the depths of the water on that cold night at the docks.

Now outside, the cars zoomed as they passed him, the drivers never taking notice of the monster running down the street, half human half Frankenstein as his illusion faded. People were too busy hurrying back to a welcoming home, eating their sirloin steaks and mashed potatoes with their family, making sure the children ate their vegetables. Somewhere parents beamed happily as they knelt down to tuck their kids into bed with a story in hand...

Would he ever know that comfort again?

Depression and self-loathing, like liquid death swarmed inside him, the blackness flooded and choked him begging his body to choose his future.

Heaving and gasping for breath with his avatar long gone, he slowed and finally stopped, leaning on his knees as he hunched over and concentrated on not vomiting. The sky spun and he heaved out the night’s libations. He wasn’t much of a successful drinker to begin with. Somehow he ended up on the damp ground, not certain how it happened, but he could feel the frigid water seeping into his jeans. His hands rested back into the soil as his feet dangled off the curb and into the street.

That monster was not him and it would not return.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr fanfic #msrfanfic #the xf fanfic #the xfiles fanfic #chimera #xf fic #txf fanfic

[ficklefics]

Friends Like These: Chapter Twenty-Three - And I Burn

Harleen just can't resist.

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Chapter Warnings: Scars

I hover awkwardly outside of the director’s office, trying to organise my thoughts. I’d broken our deal – but it wasn’t really my fault. But will he understand that? It’s a risk even telling him, but I’m trying to be honest. Besides, he’ll inevitably find out somehow. He might even already know. Better that it comes from me.

I knock on the door and am immediately invited in. I sit down in front of him, watching as he finishes signing the forms in front of him. “Harleen,” He looks up at me, pen down and concern in his eyes, “Is something wrong?” “No, nothing,” I blurt out before I reconsider, “Well, maybe something. It depends really.” “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” “How do you know something happened?” “Because you’re panicking, and defensive.” Despite my lack of focus, the way I fidget and fuss in my seat, he speaks slowly and calmly. It relaxes me, and I concentrate on why I’m here. “We agreed that I would have no contact with Jerome, right?” “Right. Your mother insisted.” “Well, a series of… incidents occurred, and -” “And our agreement was broken?” There’s a dash of amusement in his voice, but it’s overpowered by his concern. “Yeah,” I sigh, slouching in the chair. “Are you alright?” “I am. In fact,” Now that I was thinking about it, “I feel good. It was good to see him.” “How so?” Director Williams frowned, the creases in his forehead etched deep from years of thinking and worrying. “It felt… cathartic. As though he no longer has power over me. Do you get what I mean?” I don’t want to push my luck, else I run the risk of getting locked up myself, but when Director Williams sits back, I relax. I’m not in any danger – I think. “I understand, Harleen.” “Also, I kinda told him he would be getting weekly treatment for his scarring, and more treatment for his burns. I know I shouldn’t have, but I think he should receive it. Otherwise, it may get infected, and that will put more strain on the asylum.” “You may be right, but it’s simply not possible. The nurses are all too afraid to go near him.” “With good reason,” I comment, and he chuckles. “You know that better than anyone. So, really, there are no options. Unless,” I see a thought appear, see him turn it over again and again in his mind before he offers it to me, “Unless you were to treat him.” “But… I’m not allowed.” “By my instruction. No one would need to know other than some guards, and another nurse or two.” I consider the idea. The logical part of me knows I should decline, leave Jerome to suffer. It’s what he deserves. And it’s not safe for me to be near him. But that emotional part of my brain, the part that longs to be near him, to feel the life that I can only experience when I am with him, overrules all other thought. “I’ll do it.” He grins, as though a personal battle had been won for him as well. “Thank you, Harleen. Of course, you can stop at any time, but this will be a great help to us.”

*

And so I began seeing Jerome every week. At first, I tried to keep our conversation to a minimum, simply dealing with his treatment and leaving. It was strange, surreal almost.

But life carries on outside of Arkham, beyond Jerome. I went to my parent’s house one day to find the hallway filled with suitcases and my father carrying another downstairs. “What’s happening?” As far as I had been told we were having a family dinner, nothing out of the ordinary. But this was anything but ordinary. Wren appears from the top of the stairs and hurries down them, wrapping me in a hug. Our father looks at us, his face wracked with guilt. “Dad?” “Wren is going to boarding school,” He tells me, immediately going into the kitchen. “What?!” “They wouldn’t let me tell you. I’m sorry, Harls.” I shake my head at her. “It’s not your fault.” Following my father into the kitchen I find him and my mom standing awkwardly. “How can you do this?” I demand. “It’s what’s best. She’ll have an excellent education, and she’ll be safe.” “You can’t just send her across the country!” “We’re not sending her across the country. She’s going to England.” I take a step back horrified. “How dare you. How dare you.”

*

I know I should ignore the anger inside me. I know I should push all thought of Wren going to boarding school to the back of my mind and focus on my work. But I can’t just forget about it. The whole day I’m snippy, rude to staff and prisoners alike. The worst part is how aware I am of the anger radiating from me. I’m most aware of it as I half-storm down the ward towards Jerome lying on his usual bed. He’s watching me. Watching my every movement. Like he always is. Before he can speak, I tighten the straps holding him down so they are pressing against him almost painfully. I refuse to put up with any bullshit from him today. But clearly, I’m just inviting him to talk. “What’s up with you?” He inquires, grinning at me as I pull out everything I need. “None of your business.” I lay the creams and dressings out and begin the process, hoping that he’ll shut up. He doesn’t. “Come on, what’s wrong? If I have to suffer, I should at least know what for.” He gives me an innocent look and I roll my eyes. “My parents have decided to send my sister to boarding school.” That’s all I say. It’s more than he deserves to know. But he keeps pushing. “Ah, family what can you do?” He pretends to think about it for a brief moment, then gasps as though he’s had a realisation. “I’ve got a few suggestions.” “I’m not murdering my parents, Jerome,” I sigh. With my admission, the anger has disappeared, replaced with resignation and irritation. “Okay, I’m outta suggestions.” “Thanks anyway,” I roll my eyes. “Anytime, doll.” That almost makes me laugh. “Why you so angry about it anyway? I loved getting rid of my family.” “You hated your family.” I suppose there’s no harm in talking to him. “Wren is my best friend. And I’ve been a shit sister recently.” “I doubt that,” Jerome scoffs. “No, I have. Not really my fault though. I blame you.” I glance towards the door, checking to see that the guard isn’t paying us any attention to our conversation. “Now that, that makes sense.” “Right?” I say sarcastically. “And now, because of me, she’s getting sent to the other side of the world.” I shake my head, trying to move on. “How are your burns healing?” “Eh, they’re fine,” I raise an eyebrow at him. He sniggers as I begin to open his shirt. He’s right they’ve healed well. They’ll be fine after this. I layer on the burn cream methodically. It’s routine now. Once again, I’m distracted by the hundreds of scars across his pale skin. “How did you get all these?” I wonder, more to myself than to him. “That’s a lot of stories, doll. Sure you’ve got the time?” There’s a sinister edge to his voice but I ignore it. “Tell me one then.” “Look at my arm,” I tilt my head at him, confused, but do as he says when he nods in encouragement. I have to unstrap his arm to do so and give him a look of warning. There’s a scar fairly new, dashing across it. Looks like a bullet wound. “From the day I took you to Penguin.” “The day I escaped,” I murmur, tracing the mark in his flesh unconsciously. “Not a good day for me, huh.” He chuckles. “Seems we’re matching.” “I suppose we are. Let’s see it then.” “Absolutely not.” I frown, trying to be appalled at the idea of showing Jerome the scar on my shoulder. “Come on. I showed you mine.” I huff, deciding to humour him. I reach behind me and pull down the zip on my dress slightly. I unstrap his other arm and his chest, letting him sit up. Turning, I perch on the edge of the bed. My heart is racing, and I try to reason that it’s from fear, but I know deep down it's from anticipation, from the mere idea of Jerome seeing me exposed, vulnerable. He shifts my dress out of the way, just slightly, to expose the back of my shoulder and the wound there. His fingers brush over the scar and I gasp lightly, making him laugh. “Is this your favorite? Or do you prefer the one I gave you?” I stand up and away from him, my anger rejuvenated and seething through my veins. “Don’t.” “I -” “Just don’t.” I zip up my dress, furious at him. And at myself; for letting him get to me, for giving in to the things I want but can’t and shouldn’t have. He raises his hands and I sit on the opposite bed, desperate to put distance between us. “Don’t break it.” “Break what?” “This. Whatever this is.” I rush the words out, don’t give him the opportunity to interrupt me. “I hate you, I will always hate you, but… you’re the only person I can talk to. Properly.” “I’m flattered -” “Shut up.” I stand, strapping him back to the bed. Can’t have the guard getting suspicious. “I’ll see you next week.” I hurry away to the door, glancing back with the slightest of smiles when I hear him call: “Looking forward to it.”

*

“Someone’s cheered up.”

I’m getting my things, ready to leave, when Molly comes in. “Have I?” Definitely. But I act as though nothing was ever wrong. I’m not sure why. “What could it be?” She hums as she leans against the locker beside mine. “I can’t imagine anything in here could have gotten rid of that mood.” “Not sure.” I close the door and lean against it to face her. “Maybe it’s magic.” “Maybe,” She narrows her eyes in joking suspicion. “I’ll figure it out.” “Of course you will.” She follows me out of the staff room and down the corridor, our heels clicking in time. “So, I heard a rumour it’s your birthday next week.” I stop, shocked that she knows. No one knows my birthday. “How?” “How did I find out? Your ID.” “Stalker,” I roll my eyes, irritated. “Sorry, invasion of privacy. But it's your eighteenth. It’s important.” “Really isn’t.” I continue walking but she keeps following. “You should celebrate.” “Maybe.” I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I was thirteen. It doesn’t mean anything. Just another year where I haven’t died. Then again, it’s pretty impressive that I’ve survived the past year. “You know what, maybe this is a year to celebrate.” “Told ya’.” She stops as I cross the checkpoint and I turn to wave goodbye. “I might even organise something for you.” “Don’t you dare.” “Try and stop me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

Tags: @psychobitchtess​ 

#flt #friends like these #jerome valeska fanfic #jerome valeska fanfiction #jerome valeska #jerome valeska/harleen quinzel #jerome valeska x harleen quinzel #Harley Quinn #Harleen Quinzel #Gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #gotham fanfiction

[purplesurveys]

422

Do you enjoy watching birth vlogs? I’ve never watched this particular kind of vlog. I’ve seen photo stories of births on Facebook though and while I find women fucking metal for going through childbirth, I’m rather squeamish and I feel like crying when I see the process :((( Would you rather paint on canvas or wood? I’d...rather not paint at all. I’m really not artistic. What regret keeps coming back to haunt you daily? I have this one class that I regret taking this semester just because there were two available sections, and I still ended up in the section with the shittier professor. It’s a pain in my ass every Wednesday and I can’t wait to give a review for this teacher. Do you miss someone? Always, but I’m on depression break at the moment and I just want to be alone for 7 days. If you could cure yourself of one allergy, what would it be? I don’t have any.

Do you know anyone else with your name? I know two people. When I was still applying for AIESEC, I was surprised that there was a sudden abundance of Robyns haha. There’s never any Robyns anywhere. Have you felt like the main character in a book was you? I’m not a big reader, so no. Which country's flag is your favorite? Nepal just because it went ‘fuck it’ on how flags traditionally should look like. What would you be most afraid of happening if you were to visit Africa? Getting arrested??? I’m down for anything but I can’t get in trouble, because I’m a big fucking baby when it comes to crime lmaooooo. Where are you tempted to move to sometimes? Canada. Have you ever hiked a mountain? Nope, but would love to someday. Who seems like they have the perfect life? People who graduate summa cum laude while juggling multiple orgs and have both a tight-knit family and a love life??? How???????? Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? I have. I still have them on my phone.  I don’t see the point of taking nor keeping them if they just make me upset every time I see them but since I have a photo hoarding problem, I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. Do you think it would be a good idea to post photos of negative moments as well as positive? It’s different for everyone. Some might want to capture their negative times to remind them that they went through it and they’re a stronger person now. Some might prefer to block negative stuff from their mind as soon as they overcome it. I’m the latter. What time zone are you in? Idk how the format is...but I use the Hong Kong one. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? No. ^Why or why not? It’s just something that would make me feel uncomfortable. I don’t even like crying in front of people other than Gab, so even more would I not want something permanent like a photo to capture me crying. Do you like dark blue jeggings or light blue jeggings better? Light blue seems to be the trend recently. What color is the rim of your whiteboard? I don’t own one. Do you have trouble staying organized? I’m generally organized, but there are certain things that I can never seem to maintain, yes; like I can never keep my closet organized. And my school bag. What was the last thing you cried about? I had a short breakdown in the car last Friday because I had to usher for an event and run errands all day while the weather was RIDICULOUSLY humid and I could feel the sweat seeping in my pants for 8 whole hours, and then when Gabie came to visit she didn’t do the one thing I asked her to do. I exploded by the end of the day and gave myself ample time to cry. Funny how the universe works though - in the middle of my episode, the known dogs that roam in my college skipped over to my car. I had some leftover lunch so I fed them and I instantly felt better. Have you ever held a newborn baby? I have, but he started squirming and crying and I almost dropped him onto the ground. I was 9 and I was assigned to watch over the baby. I’ve never held an infant since. Do you know anyone who has twins? Yes. I was surprised to see my classmate from comm research posting photos of her and her twin on Facebook. Would you rather look older or younger than your age? Younger, and that’s how it works so I’m satisfied.  Related story: I went to get my driver’s license renewed a couple of weeks ago. The guy in charge made me fill up a bunch of forms and made me do unnecessary shit in the process (i.e. made me go ACROSS THE MALL to have my ID xeroxed) because he thought I was a student driver and that I was getting my license for the first time. I would have gotten my license SO MUCH QUICKER, but he gave me the process meant for student permits. I was annoyed, but in the end 1) he apologized profusely, and 2) I just took it to mean I look much younger than 21 which I can be happy about. Where do you buy calendars from? I don’t buy calendars because I already have one on my laptop and phone. Do you shop at the dollar store often? We don’t have dollar stores. We don’t even use dollars. What does your name rhyme with? Bitchin’. Are you following in the career path of any family members? As far as I know, no. I think I’m the first to take up journalism. My maternal grandfather’s side are all very...lawyerish and diplomat-ish though, and I guess that’s kind of related to journ and the fact that I’m taking up history, psychology, and political science courses. Have you ever met anyone who talks like a robot? THAT PROF I TALKED ABOUT A FEW QUESTIONS AGO URGH. He’s probably like 25 but I wish he would resign. He’s awful. What is your favorite country in Europe? I don’t have one. Probably one with a lot of history in it. Name something unique about your town. It has a lower and upper part, haha. I’ve never heard anyone else talk about their province and if they live in the lower/upper part of it. Who does all the chores in your home? My mom. She prefers it that way. Do you feel you missed out on a lot as a kid? I believe so. I was exposed to a lot of nasty shit, so while I was pretty privileged and went to a good school, had all the cool toys, and kept up to date with the cool TV shows, I had to grow up earlier than the kids around me. What is your best kept secret (or one big secret you have right now)? Kinda the point of having a secret. Do you have anyone you can tell your secrets to? I know I can trust my friends, but I’m generally most comfortable telling my girlfriend. ^If so, who? ^ Who was that best friend you ever had? If this question was meant to be in past tense, then it would be Sofie. I really, really hope she’s doing well and that she’s happy where she is. Do people appreciate you and accept you for who you are? I hope they do? What color is your laptop? Silver. What class would you like to repeat over again just for fun? Any art studies and history class I’ve taken. I also had this one class where all we did was have oral presentations/monologues, and it was so much fun, even for an introvert. Passed that class like a breeze. It helped that I had an amazing professor who believed in each of us and knew that we all had stories to tell and share. What are five careers you think you'd be good at? Researcher, analyst...anything that entals organization and data, really. Are you thriving in your life right now? We’re all thriving. We all just have our own paces. :) Who do you have moral support from? College friends, Angela, and Gabie. Who encourages you to go after your dreams? There’s this shirt that says “I work hard so my dog can have a better life,” and that pretty much hits the nail on the head. Do you have people in your family who want you dead? Wow. List all the antiques you have in your room. None. What Bratz doll resembles you the most? I’m not sure about resembles because I guarantee you no human being looks like a Bratz doll, but Jade had always resonated with me. She always seemed like the spunkiest one out of the four. Do you have a walk-in closet? No, I’m not really interested in one. What was the last thing you ate? Krispy Kreme doughnut with Nutella filling. What would you do to save money for your wedding? Work my ass off. I absolutely need to have my dream wedding. Have you ever been manipulated, lied to, abused, or controlled? Sure. Are you against plagiarism? ...Aren’t we all?

#survey #surveys

[jeonggyunho]

warm - joshua hong

group: seventeen

member: joshua (featuring wonwoo)

prompt: hey I left my student id in my room and you’re the first person who’s walked by my building for hours now, I hate to be such a bother but can you pretty please swipe me in, it’s freezing

words: 2049

genre: fluff

warnings: uhhh some swearing and like,, the slightest mention of hentai lmao

Admittedly, going on a morning jog in an attempt to be healthy wasn’t the greatest thing to do before you had coffee. Nothing was the greatest thing to do before you had coffee. After nursing your hangover for the past three days after New Years eve, you had decided to finally get a start on your resolutions, determined to finally complete your lifelong goal of accomplishing a single new years resolution. However, at this point, you were ready to drop yet another resolution faster than you could say ‘fuck’, especially once you realized your reality. 

“Fuck!” you swore as you stood in front of your building, your nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. In your short-lived attempt at heath, you decided to not check and make sure that you had your student ID on you and instead sprint outside into the freezing cold that you instantly regretted. Running a hand through your hair, you went through all of your options.

Option one: you could call your best friend to come and open your door for you with his ID card. 

Sighing, you shook your head. She was probably still asleep after working all day yesterday and you wouldn’t want to be the cause of her losing sleep. 

Option two: you could be obnoxious until someone wakes up to yell and you and ask them to open the door for you. 

In all honesty, anyone who’d be willing to open the doors for you would probably leave you outside to freeze just because you woke them up, so that’s a negative.

Option three: you break in.

Onto option four.

Option four: you freeze until someone walks past you and you beg them to open the door for you so you don’t die.

Unfortunately for you, option four seems like the best one. Grumbling as you settle yourself on the cold concrete just outside of the doors, you resign yourself to your fate. If anything, at least someone could laugh about how you died at your funeral. 

“____ was a great person who passed far too soon thanks to her dumbassery.”

At least you’d teach students to never leave their dorms without ensuring that they have their student ID’s. 

it feels like you’d been waiting for hours when the first sign of life appears in the form of an angel. Scrambling to your feet, you almost sprint towards the boy in excitement because holy shit you were saved. “Thank god,” you let out a sigh of relief before quickly gathering the attention of the boy in the only form your clumsy ass was able to do at eight in the morning: slip on a patch of ice and fall straight on your ass. 

Letting out a hiss of pain, you try to push yourself off of the cold ground when a foreign hand appears in front of your face, belonging to the boy. Glancing up at the boy in front of you, your face heats up as his worried eyes meet your own. 

“That was a pretty nasty fall, are you okay?” His voice is warm, reminding you of creamy hot chocolate or your bed when you’re lying there in pure bliss. Really, it just reminds you of anything that isn’t the freezing cold that you’ve been in for the past hour. 

“Peachy,” you wince as you take his hand, pulling yourself to your feet. This is your chance ____, just ask the cute boy to swipe you in and this’ll all be over. “Hey, uh, do you think you could-” he cuts you off before you can ask him to swipe you in. 

“You do realize that it’s still winter, right?” He chuckles as he glances at your light jacket that you most definitely regret wearing. 

“No way,” you retort, “I thought that it was mid-summer with all the snow on the ground.” 

The boy lets out a snort, before glancing down at you uncovered hands that were still in his. In all honesty, you hadn’t pulled away due to his hands being so warm against your frozen fingers, but as you notice his gaze being on your hands you quickly pull them away and stuff them back into your thin jacket pockets. “How long have you been out here?”

“What time is it?”

“Around eight-thirty.”

“An hour.”

“What?” confusion contorts his face as he meets your eyes once again. 

“I’ve been out here for an hour,” you clarify, thinking that he didn’t hear you properly. 

Quickly shaking his head, the boy grabs your hands in his before dragging you in the direction opposite of your building. “Do you know how cold it is? You’re lucky if you just sick from being outside for so long in that coat, you could’ve gotten frostbite,” he chides, only pausing when you pull your hand (regretfully) out of his warm grasp. 

“Dude, where are you taking me?” He only sighs before meeting your eyes again. 

“To my dorm. You need to get warmed up.” He says the words as if they were obvious and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with dragging a complete stranger to your dorm room at eight in the morning.

“I don’t even know your name!” 

“I’m Joshua, can we please get you inside before you actually lose a finger?”

You let out a sigh, realizing that he won’t give up on getting you ‘warm’, whatever that meant. “Fine,” you grumble and Joshua quickly grabs your hand back into his before continuing down the pathway. 

It didn’t take long to arrive at Joshua’s building, and you couldn’t help but quickly bounce around as he swiped his student id and opened the door. Scampering past him and into the warmth, you let out a content sigh only for Joshua to look at you with amusement dancing across his lips. “C’mon, let’s get you up to my dorm so you can really warm up.” He starts walking towards the elevator before he pauses and turns to look at you with a sheepish look crossing his face. “Oh uh, my roommate is home so don’t mind him if he’s kinda grumpy, he isn’t a morning person.” 

Turns out that Joshua’s roommate was one of the quieter boys in your literature class, Jeon Wonwoo, who you already knew to not be a morning person due to the countless times you’ve watched him walk into the lecture hall with dark bags under his eyes and a scowl on his face. 

It took Wonwoo a few moments before he recognized your face, his morning scowl somewhat lessening as he nods a greeting before turning his attention onto his roommate. “I didn’t know that you know ____ Josh.”

“I didn’t until this morning,” Joshua turns to look back at you, his eyes mischievous as he started to tease you. “She’s much more graceful in the morning that you are Woo.”  

You swat the boy as a pout forms on your lips. “Hey, if you didn’t cut me off when I was trying to ask you to open my building door for me you wouldn’t have had to drag me to your building and I wouldn’t have almost slipped twelve more times.”

“Oh.” Joshua’s face turns red before he whips back around to look at Wonwoo who was chuckling into his coffee mug. 

“Classy.”

You let out a snort, a smirk tugging at your lips. “An interrupting gentleman, who could’ve known that there was such a thing.”

“I don’t need lit nerds ganging up on me this early in the morning, let me breath,” Josh chuckles as he slides off his thick winter jacket and tosses it onto their living room couch. Turning around to face you, he nods in the direction of the couch. “Make yourself at home ____.”

For some reason, hearing Joshua’s warm voice say your name made your stomach flutter and your face begin to heat up as you quickly moved past Josh to take your place on the couch. As you pass Josh, you mutter out a quick ‘thanks’ that only made him chuckle in response. Quickly disappearing into one of the two rooms in the dorm, you’re left with a smirking Wonwoo staring at you.

“So,” the tall boy chuckles, “you got locked out?”

“I’ll have you know that I forgot to grab my ID.”

“That’s so much worst.”

“I know,” you pout, pushing yourself into the cream coloured couch to try and warm yourself up some. Wonwoo doesn’t miss this, as stands up to grab another mug from the small kitchen cupboard. 

“Want some coffee?” He offers.

Nodding vigorously, you glance over at one of the few friends you have in your literature class. “I would fucking kill for some coffee.”

As he starts to pour the hot liquid, Josh reappears from one of the rooms with an armful of blankets. Carefully making his way over to you, he drops the bundle of blankets onto the cushion next to you before picking one pack up and holding it over you. “Arms in or out?”

“What?”

“Arms in the blankets or out of the blankets,” he clarifies, his words causing you to let out a snort. 

“What are you gonna do, swaddle me?” You tease, only for Josh to chuckle and nod. “Dude,” you laugh, “I can put blankets on myself.”

He pouts, still holding out the warm looking comforter. “C’mon, ____. Let me swaddle you.”

Wonwoo’s deep voice rings out from across the room as he chuckles. “Just let him do it ____, he won’t give up until you give in.” 

Glancing up at the boy standing over you, you snort. “Is he serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“Will you stop lecturing me on how I could’ve gotten frostbite if I let you?”

“We’ll see,” Josh’s smile widens as you nod, quickly going to work to ensure that you’re thoroughly covered in blankets. 

Stepping back to admire his handy work, Josh grins down at you as you roll your eyes. “How does a broke college student have this many blankets?” you chuckle as you glance down at yourself. 

“I took them from my bed,” he admits, face heating up. “I was going to grab them from Wonwoo’s bed but I was afraid that he’d try to smother me in my sleep if I did.” 

Shrugging as best as you can under the layers of material that covers almost every inch of your skin, you smile at Josh. “I really don’t care where the blankets came from, I’m just happy that I’m warm.”

His face lights up at your words as he plops himself down on the couch beside you and reaches for the TV remote on the small table in front of you. “Wanna watch something?” he offers, holding out the remote to you. 

“Josh,” you deadpan, “I don’t know if you can’t tell but I genuinely can’t use my hands.”

“Oh,” he chuckles as he drops the hand holding the remote. “well, do you still want to watch something?” 

“Do you watch anime?” as soon as the words leave your lips, Joshua’s face splits into a wide grin and a loud groan can be heard from the kitchen area of the dorm. 

Quickly winking at you, Josh chuckles. “I think we’re going to get along great ___.”

“I refuse to have two weebs in this dorm with me,” Wonwoo calls out from the kitchen. “I’ll be overrun.”

“Just give in already Woo,” Joshua chuckles, “then we can finally reach our final form.” His words cause you to let out a snort as the tall boy groans once again.

“And suddenly any chance that I’d spend time watching anime with you is gone.”

“That’s fair,” turning his gaze back to you, Joshua smiles, “you pick and then we can go from there.”

“Bold of you to assume that I want to spend more time with you than I already am.” You tease, eyes dancing with amusement.

“Bold of you to assume that I won’t try to convince you to spend more time with me than you already have.”

“Touche,” you shrug, “turn something on already.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Absolutely anything in the whole wide world?” 

“Josh, if you play hentai, I will kick your ass out of this dorm.”

“It’s my dorm?”

“Not if you play hentai in this holy household.”

“That’s fair.”

i had no idea how to end this lmao so uhh i hope you enjoy some soft joshua hong,,,,, also i didn’t proofread this at all cause im a r e b e l lmao 

#joshua hong #hong jisoo #seventeen joshua #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #joshua fanfic #joshua fanfiction #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #this took so long to write for some reason

[masterturner]

long drawn out personal post

this is a bit stream of consciousness, so if you’re reading this and trying to make sense of it, im sorry. its okay if youd rather not. its a lot and its emotional labour to even read it probably. it’s been almost a year since the breakup now. every day closer to the anniversary of it, i feel a little more broken. i’ve had two suicide attempts since then, a prolonged IOP thing, and i no longer see a therapist (though i really should start again). im not crying about borderline personality disorder though. this is all breakup shit. still.  im still holding together somehow. i dont really know how, some days. ive gone through the whole cycle of grieving multiple times now, cycling again and again through denial and bargaining and all that, ‘til i reach acceptance and think the hurricane is at its end. then i find i’m just in the eye of the storm, and it’ll soon pass as i get caught up in the winds again. then i do the whole cycle over and over again. thats what the therapists in the IOP said it was. a grieving process. you can grieve the terminus of a relationship the same way you grieve a dead person. it sounds so silly when i make that comparison. they also said that progress and healing are nonlinear and that it’s not really necessarily going to be as simple as passing through the grieving process a single time.  i said it sounds silly. its not silly though. its real, and i have to remind myself of that from time to time. i dont usually talk about anything personal on here, and its a little weird that im doing it now. but i guess im doing it because i dont know where else to do it. i could do it on facebook, but it feels attention-grabby, needy in a way i always feel weird being. doing it here under a little ‘read more’ thing feels less obtrusive and private, but not so private that im completely trapped in my own skull again. i hate feeling trapped in my own skull.  the anxiety bubbled up and got bad again pretty constantly. it got that way tonight. i felt my heart race while i tried to sleep. usually the worst points stemmed from me looking my ex up and seeing how their life was progressing along without me. unlike me, my ex has a drive and interest in the performance of social media that i generally lack. my social media experience begins and ends in shallow ways: i look at cute butts on tumblr, reblog dumb memes and get vague impressions of things going on in the world and such through the sometimes nonsensical things other people reblog. thats about it. my ex, though, shes the kind of person that does things like update her facebook profile picture at least once in a 6 month period, unlike yours truly.  i dont even follow her or have her friended anymore on facebook. heaven forbid i had an instagram to see what kind of stuff was going on there. it always got the worst when i saw her with her new SO. now i get to look at that every time i get the nerve to message her. its literally painful to even look to the extent i have to archive or delete every stray line of text we send to one another afterward.  i was seriously in denial - i talked myself into believing the SO wasnt an obstacle, wasnt a big deal, he was just a rebound and it didnt invalidate me. it didnt make me lesser, and it didnt mean that i was being replaced. after all, what stranger can replace 5 years of memories and experiences together? but i was a rebound too, and that led to a deep and intense relationship. why couldnt it this time too?  i was naive, i think. hopeful and naive, and i really wanted to believe this and that. ‘i know her’ i’d tell myself. ‘i know her, and i know she wouldn’t think this’ or ‘she wouldn’t do this’. but it’s wishful thinking.  maybe a part of me always did know better. maybe i stopped listening to that part of my own psyche because i started to recognize how harmful it was.  it’s kind of messed up how that works though? like... you can be happy with someone, but also be terrified of that day when they realize they can do better. and then it becomes a sort of twisted, fucked-up self-fulfilling prophecy because that thought sucks the life and passion out of you. it’s insidious and slow.  and it’s tempting to look at it like ‘i was right all along, everyone will leave me’, but that’s not really how it necessarily is. thats just the trauma talking, the fear, the part of my mind that’s lazy and resigned to suffering and collapse. it was that fear that made it real. maybe if i’d learned to manage that fear, though, things could have been different. would have been different.  it’s pointless to speculate on that though. the reason i say it isnt to speculate though, it’s because im trying to remind myself that it can apply to right now. the friendships and relationships i have now - few and far between as they may be, stretched thin as they may be, damaged and in dire need of repair as they may be - aren’t doomed to failure just because i’m afraid of loss and abandonment. the collapse doesnt have to be inevitable.  maybe talking like i’ve learned and figured something out from all this will make me feel better. maybe believing it all had a purpose will make it feel like it was worth it. eventually. right now, though, it doesnt.  i’m still so upset. i’m still miserable and i still long for things i can’t have. i miss affection. i miss being touched, even in a plain and nonsexual way. i miss being kissed and i miss being hugged. i miss being wanted, and every day i wonder if ill ever feel that again. and then i get to thinking, would it be enough to feel that from just anyone again? why do i feel so starved for... any kind of affection at all? why do i feel so desperate for something - anything like this? could anyone ever love me the way my ex did? i guess the cynical and plain answer to that is no, but thats okay. and maybe someone else can love me better. and maybe that desperate longing to be loved, cherished, cared about, touched, anything is just a symptom of an addiction that’s yet to pass. kind of a cold and clinical way to put it though, and i dont know if thats really me. yet i dont want someone else because its not enough to just have anyone. my ex left me, and now i still have that feeling of being invalidated, devalued, abandoned, and ultimately replaced. even if someone else came along and professed undying love for me, no matter how i welcomed it, that feeling of being tossed aside would remain. and i dont know how to come back from it.  i hate how much my mind... fixates on it. like... everything makes me think of it. i cant make a status on facebook without wondering if my ex will see it, what she might think. i cant leave my house and go somewhere without wondering, what if my ex sees me? what would she think of what im doing? would she approve, or be proud of me? would it impress her? or would it disappoint her? it saps the joy out of almost everything i do. i cant watch an old show without feeling bad im watching it without her. i cant help but wonder if she feels the same, or if shes gotten over it. and a part of me doesnt want to know the answer to that wonder. does she still listen to mili? coheed? does she listen to ‘old flames’ on repeat like i do? when ‘sweater weather’ comes on, does she think of me or someone else?  even now as i write this, i wonder if my ex still stops to peer at my dumb blog from time to time for a hint of how im doing and what im thinking. and i dont even know if id want to know, because seeing this message in that light casts a pall over it that makes me feel sick. i didnt want my ex to see how not okay i am. i didnt want her to see the part of me that feels so sick still. and i dont want to know that she doesn’t look at this either. so here i am at an impasse, writing words and tossing them into the void of the internet, hoping for and expecting only silence, while also hating and fearing the very same. id like to think that maybe this is a sign i dont care anymore, but i think i know better than to really believe that.  i force myself every day to just... not reach out. not say anything to her thats real or vulnerable - the few times ive talked to her it feels forced and fake. and it feels like ive cut off a limb, because im so used to leaning and relying on her. but i feel like i have to, because expecting that level of emotional labour from someone that has cut those ties with me seems silly and foolish... not to mention selfish.  why? maybe a part of me thinks that by hiding it, i’d win her back someday. or maybe im just afraid of being burdensome and difficult. or maybe i just... genuinely do want her to be happy without me. i wish it was that last one. i wish i could just back off and be happy that shes with someone else that maybe will treat her good in a way that i couldnt, or didnt.  i dont know what i want, though. i know what i dont want though. i know i hate feeling like this and i wish i could make it stop, but i cant. its not really getting easier. i had the borderline shit before this, and i could end up meeting the criteria my whole life for all i know. the breakup is just a massive complication in that whole mess, but i dont know if id even know what was wrong with me if i didnt have that relationship in the first place.  there was a day a few days ago, or maybe a week or two ago (i dont remember) where i wanted to hurt myself (not physically though for whatever reason), and in order to do it, i made myself do something i was starting to break the habit of doing. i browsed her facebook profile and scoured it for anything that’d make it sting again. i succeeded - it didnt take much. a few pictures, a relationship status change, that was pretty much it. my mind filled in the blanks after that because of course it did. it snowballed into full blown catastrophizing. they’re probably madly in love. they’re probably moving in together, if they havent’ already done so. they’re probably making plans to get married. they’re probably this and that and this and that - like it matters. like it affects me somehow.  but it doesnt. not really, not physically anyway. i dont have to look, and its like i hope not looking will make it hurt less. but not looking makes me hope, and hope has bred more hurt than anything else in the past year.  since i last looked her up in that fog of need to hurt myself emotionally, a lot of that dreadful hope i had that i could win her back drained away, and i want to believe that the pain will go away now. i havent talked to her since then. i still think about her. i still dream. i still fear and i still wonder and reflect. but i havent talked to her. is that good? is it bad? is it anything other than what it is? does it matter? maybe someday ill be over this. a part of me yearns for that. and a part of me is afraid to ever let go, because what if love wins in the end and all the time we had together meant something after all?  did it not mean anything if it didnt end up taking the shape i wanted it to take? no, it still meant something, but does that matter now?  i dont know. all i know is that to this day it hurts and... that’s all. thats all i know.  eleven months later and it still hurts. but i guess expecting it to be all better after 5 years of dating is a little unrealistic. i thought we were gonna be together forever. forever is a long time, though, i guess.  she makes it look easy, but maybe it isnt for her either, even if she’s better at making it look a certain way. i have no way of knowing and thats maddening in its own way. if i had the ability to close that distance... hear her out, be there for her, could i do it? could i get over my own fear and hurt to build a connection again? id love to find out. but i cant seem to get that far.  it doesnt matter though. its her life, and she has every right to move on without me. its easy to say ‘poor me’, but theres two sides to every story. a lot of pain that led up to the end. questions i still have that will never go answered, and closure i might not ever obtain.  ctrl+a, delete, backspace. that’s all it’ll take, tyler. then maybe you can sleep.  but no, instead you’re going to post this. for what? why? is it a cry for help? complaining for the sake of complaining?  i dont know. i cant leave it all in my own head though.  but the silence that i get back in response is liable to be deafening all the same  

#do not reblog this

[devil-dxrling]

SBR getting political, No.1

Pairing: Funny Valentine x Reader

Warnings: Political stuff

Words: 1788

Summary: Political argument over the economy gone sour.

This is the story of how a political disagreement came to become the greatest press scandal known to America. It all started at a meeting that I attended. The president, Funny Valentine, was going to be there. The meeting was discussing the economic structure of North America and how, if the Steel Ball Run was going to take place, it would have a major impact on the economy. I thought the run was a terrible idea, that was my argument. The only thing keeping his side alive was the fact that if they did find all the corpse parts, that economic fall would be dodged. The argument over the corpse was also one to be discussed at the table.

‘What if we don’t find the corpse parts? What if they don’t work? And, if we do, and they do work, the misfortune will be cast against other countries and civilizations. We have declared independence, yes, but we still have many pacts with European countries, and if something happens and it’s pinned on us, we could be looking at civil war, or even world war. Please think this through Governor Valentine, it is extremely dangerous. And what about the money that will be given out to the winners? And what about the people who will kill each other ‘in the name of the law and country’. I simply can not agree to this.’

‘Miss, with all due respect, stop being a pessimist. If we do find the corpse parts, we’ll direct the misfortune to countries with low populations or high crime rates. Or places that are a danger to us and the rest of the world.’

‘But they’ll know it was us. Mr President, do remember that we are not the only country with allies. Yes, maybe we have Europe, but what about Asia, and North Korea? SBR would be the biggest thing to happen in American history, and imagine what the rest of the world would think when they find out we have that kind of weapon. Every bad thing that will happen, our fault or not, will be put onto us!’

His eyes narrowed at me as he glared across the table in pure rage. But then his mask came back up, and he just smiled, sitting back down in his chair, and giggling to himself.

‘A solid opinion Miss, I am glad to have you at this table today, you stood up to me when no-one else did. I applaud you for that. Now, back to the pressing matter, the Economy.’

I got a ping from my phone. I slipped it out of my bag and glanced at it, “Don’t overstep your boundaries, he is the President, don’t forget you’re scum to him.” The text was sent from my manager, a stern guy who respected the president more than he loved his wife and child.

I couldn’t let this shit slide, not this time. New York, board meetings, fake IDs, lies, corrupt governments; they expected me to go along with it. Everyone knew I was 17, and nobody gave it mind. I quickly reached into my bag to grab a box of business cards. There were business cards with numbers from firms, but I also had a few plain white and black ones. I grabbed a white one and scribbled down a few words in cursive. It read, ‘My argument isn’t over yet.’ WIth that, I took the card and slipped it into a piece of plain paper. Somehow, I managed to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the meeting, glaring daggers at the president’s every move. 

When the meeting was over, we all walked towards the exit, I was at the back. The moment I got the chance to, I slipped the paper onto the table, we were both looking each other in disdain as one of his bodyguards stepped forward to take the paper. Valentine’s hand shot down to the paper, slamming onto the desk - I think it even scared the guard.

‘It’s fine, I’ll take this one. Miss, I think you should take your leave.’ I nodded and walked out, slamming the door behind me. The next day I resigned my job at the board, got a new fake ID and thought to myself, I’ll get to the top of the board one way or another. September 25th was my deadline. That was another thing I had heard, they briefly mentioned when SBR would be announced. 3 months. I had 3 months to get my shit together, get to the board, and convince some judge my point. And I had to do all of this under the president’s nose. In a world where women had little control over their country, this was going to be difficult.

In about a month and a half, I had managed to gather a team of people who agreed with my ideals, and we had already started to get protests out. People were queuing up at the white house, at Valentine’s speeches, outside the offices of his meetings. The newspapers were sold out daily. America was divided in this political civil war. I was about to go out for my first ever speech to a small population of people that I wanted to convince. These people weren’t rich, they were normal, like I was once. But they understood what I was telling them. One of the assistants there tried to help my nerves before I went on by telling me to remember toning down on book quotes and to get my message out quickly. Who knew how many red dots I could have on me? And who knew how many undercover spies would be there? Before I stepped out, I grabbed a thin cloth painted with the flag and tied it around my neck. I dressed in typical western style.

The outfit was compiled of a black tank top; a cropped black denim jacket with fringe hanging off the sleeves; black denim flare pants that also had fringe going down the legs; red, heeled riding boots covered by the flared jeans; a black garter that wrapped around the waist and both legs that connected to 2 gun holsters; 2 red, skin tight, leather gloves; a black cowboy hat; black circle-lense sunglasses; and the miniature flag wrapped around my neck. This may all seem crazy: ‘Black in the San Diego heat?’ Well, yes, but this was a new type of cooling material that did most of the work. My stand and hat did the rest of the work.

As I walked out onto the podium, I felt the sun blaze over my skin, it was so warm in San Diego. My pale skin fit with the black denim and fringe. I glanced at my pocket watch and then proceeded to look around as the audience went quiet. To be honest, I looked like the human version of Chariot Requiem. As I looked around, I saw that there were many guards. I knew they were guards from how suspiciously they were dressed. That meant only one thing: the president was here. I still had to make my speech, let him listen.

‘Dear American citizens, I come to you in a time of need to tell you that SBR, formally known as the Steel Ball Run, is only a curse, and so are the corpse parts. It could lead to arguments, disagreements, and even worse, wars.  We shouldn’t believe everything our government says. Who knows what their intentions actually are. Do we want ANOTHER civil war? 

It’s been 25 years, people, only 25. At least wait another 100 before you want to bomb us with your canons again. At least give us time before we have to raise our guns again!’ I was going to go on, but then I heard a gunshot, it came from the back of the crowd where all the guards were situated. Like the red sea, the waves of people parted to form a pathway. Out of the crowd stepped the one person I was the most scared of, President Funny Valentine. Once he got to the bottom of the stage I was standing on, he said, ‘My argument isn’t over yet.’ He took his pink coat off and tossed it into the crowd as he reached his hand up towards mine, was he asking for help onto the stage? I GENTLY kicked his hand away as he rolled his eyes and pulled himself up onto the stage, he sure had the muscles for it, I could see them through his shirt.

I realised I may get my head shot out because I kicked his hand, but I didn’t care. He had the audacity to stand up on MY stage, at MY speech, and tell the world I was wrong. Feeling that I’d had enough, I grabbed one of my guns and pointed it at his head. ‘Enough. Get off the stage, now.’

‘And what if I don’t? You’ll shoot me? Go ahead.’ This man had some serious balls today. That made me think of something. I lowered the gun from his head, down to his crotch. I looked around, all eyes were on the girl who was pointing a gun at the president’s dick. Most of the guards were already closing in, pointing their guns at my head.

‘Where’s my next business card?’

My teeth began to grind together as I ran off stage. I ran to my horse as fast as my legs could carry me. ‘Go Dea, GO!’ My black horse sped out through the town of San Diego and into a neighbouring town where I could spend the night at a motel. I was constantly looking behind me with one of my revolvers in my hand, checking if I was being trailed. I slept at a motel and ate cheap food. The beer was 50 cents, even if I was underage, who would pass up on a price like that? Sometimes I wonder why I’ve sunk so low. In the morning, I woke up and read the newspaper over an old army veteran’s shoulder.

“AMERICAN PROTESTER AGAINST SBR POINTS REVOLVER AT PRESIDENT’S CROTCH. 

Read on to find out more.”

Wow, a lot happens in one night when you’re knocked out. I just wanted to kill him even more now. I decided to go straight to Washington that day. Yes, it would be a really long journey, and I would be alone, but I had to make it before anything else happened. I couldn’t lose all of my standing just because I couldn’t get to a place in time. I was going to give that man a piece of my mind. This time, I might end up shooting him.

Next stop, Washington...

#part 7 jojo #funny valentine #cowboys #politics #sbr #steel ball run #guns #america #jojos bizarre adventure

[petty-revenge-stories]

Tales of delicious revenge from a recovering retail worker.

story data: long story. 2301votes. %97 upvoted. very popular.

I discovered this blog @petty-revenge-stories a while ago and it has breathed new life into my withered soul. Today, it's time that I return the favor.

These tales of petty revenge all took place over the three long years that I had the misfortune of working retail at a big-box store best known for its red bullseye logo and bitchy middle-class clientele. Enjoy.

ONE: THE TAG SWITCHER I was working in the fitting room one night when this lady bustles in with 3000 different items of clothing that she wanted to try on. Unfortunately my store had just lifted the item limit for the fitting room, so I begrudgingly had to let her take everything back.

She proceeds to make a HUGE mess in the fitting room (leaving clothes inside-out all over the floor, tags ripped off of items, size stickers peeled off and slapped onto the wall… the whole nine yards).

After she leaves, I report the ripped off tags to Assets Protection (per fitting room policy) and, figuring that would be the extent of my revenge, I resigned to cleaning up the mess she left me.

Then I get a call from the manager. He wants me up at the registers to do back up. I had worked the registers before, but it was exceptionally rare for me to get pulled away from the fitting room to do backup. Still, I don’t protest and I head up to the register.

Guess who my first customer is? Yep, the mess-making bitch from the fitting room. The manager has directed her straight to me, and I can tell from the wide-eyed look of horror on her face that she realizes she has just been lead into a trap.

She slowly begins to plop her items onto the conveyerbelt and tries to make nervous small-talk. At first I assume she’s just feeling awkward about the mess that she left… but when I get a better look at her items, I immediately realize there’s something much fishier going on.

Her purchase consists entirely of women’s clothing, and I recognize most of the items as brand new stuff that has recently come in. Stuff that should cost full price. So when I see nearly every single item’s price tag covered with a bright red 70% off clearance sticker, I realize that something’s up. When I look down at the first item from her pile, my suspicions are confirmed: the item I’m holding in my hands is a woman’s Mossimo Black clothing item, but it has a bright blue Circo tag that belongs on infant boy clothes.

Busted! This bitch was switching tags on clothes to get a lower price! Not only that, but she was so brazen (or stupid) that she used tags from the wrong department!

I don’t make it immediately obvious that I’ve figured out her scheme. Instead, I think fast. From my experience in the fitting room, I know every item of clothing has a little white tag on the inside that has a nine-digit item code. So instead of scanning the items, I proceed to type in each and every item manually, using the ACTUAL numbers inside each garment.

The woman watches this all unfold with a nauseous look on her face, as item after item rings up at full price ($19 - $29, compared to the $2 or $4 price tags she had stuck on each item). As her total grows, so does the look of combined hatred and fear on her face.

Finally she stammers something about “coming back later” and runs off towards the exit. The Assets Protection guy watches her walk out, then comes over to me. He reveals that he had been watching this chick before she even went into the fitting room, but he didn’t have enough on camera to approach her. Since I was the only team member working that night who was familiar with the clothing / tags, the manager put me on the register to check her out.. literally!

TWO: THE PHONE SHOPPER It’s the week before Christmas and the store is frantic. I’m manning the phones (which are ringing off the hook), and one night I get a call from Bitch Princess, who wants to know if we have any [insert name of whatever animatronic hatching robot dog toy every kid had to have that year].

Now the store’s holiday policy said we could confirm availability over the phone, but we weren’t supposed to put high-demand items (like the barking bird robot thing) on hold for a customer. Regardless, I was still un-jaded enough to like hooking people up (I’m still waiting on that lifetime of good retail karma to kick in…)

I let BP know that this highly-coveted toy has been flying off the shelves for weeks and I’m doubtful that we have any in stock, but I can happily check for her if she’s willing to go on a brief hold. She impatiently agrees to the hold, and I set the phone down.

After being slightly delayed by a customer that ambushed me on the sales floor, I miraculously find ONE of these stupid toys on the shelf. I grab it and head back to my post, excited to tell BP I just saved Christmas, but when I get back I find the phone ringing again. Recognizing the number on the caller ID display, I quickly deduce that Bitch Princess has hung up and is now calling back.

I barely get a chance to recite my scripted greeting before BP cuts me off, yelling that I put her on hold for “30 minutes” (more like 7), that she’s a customer and it’s my job to assist her, some nonsense about her having priority over the customers in the store, blah blah blah. I want to point out that literally NONE of what she’s saying is true, but I keep my lips sealed.

Instead, in a ridiculously pleasant voice, I say: “ma’am, thank you SO MUCH for your patience. I checked the sales floor and couldn’t find [stupid toy], but the computer is telling me that we might have one in the backroom. If you bear with me for another minute here, I can—”

She grumbled that yes, I could check the backroom, but I “better hurry” because she doesn’t have time for this. Smiling gleefully, I put the phone back on hold and proceed to return [stupid toy] to the spot where I found it on the sales floor. I then spend a nice chunk of time helping out ACTUAL customers in the store.

Eventually I remember that BP is still waiting on hold and I return to the phone. “Ma’am, good news… we do have ONE in stock,” I say. BP immediately barks at me to put it on hold, and a devious Grinch-like smile spreads across my face. “I’m so sorry ma’am, but we’re actually unable to put high-demand items on hold at this time. All I can do is confirm that it’s currently available on the sales floor…”

BP unleashes the wrath of a thousand fiery infernos and demands to speak to a manager. I oblige, transferring her to the closing manager (who confirmed the store policy, before promptly being hung up on).

I was pretty pleased with the turn of events, but the cherry on top came a short time later when BP actually shows up at the store, only to discover that the toy had already been purchased by another guest.

THREE: THE SHOE SNATCHER It was nearly closing time, and I was tasked with “zoning” (or straightening up) the shoe department for the night. It was nearly impossible for me to get anything done, though, because this obnoxious woman kept making me drop everything to help her shop for shoes for her toddler.

The worst part was that the woman didn’t put anything back where she found it. Instead, she just leaves the shoe boxes strewn throughout the aisle (wtf). She finally leaves, and I drag myself over to the massive mess that she’s left behind.

As I’m returning all of the discarded shoe boxes to their rightful locations, I’m popping them open to make sure the correct shoes are inside. When I open one of the boxes, I discover a very sweet sight indeed: a dirty pair of toddler sneakers.

It’s a scam I’ve seen far too many times: someone swaps out a pair of new shoes with their old dirty shoes. Only this time, instead of getting away, I had caught the crook red-handed (or red-footed?)

I tucked the shoebox under my arm and quickly retraced the woman’s steps. Sure enough, I was able to find her in the grocery section. And sure enough, her toddler was sitting in the cart wearing a pair of brand new cartoon character sneakers.

I approached the mom with a giant shit-eating grin on my face and said: “I’m so glad I caught you! You almost left without these!” I held open the box with the dirty sneakers.

The woman had the nerve to pin the blame on her child, playing it off as if her kid had swapped the sneakers. Smh.

(source) (story by DeliciousRevenge)

#petty revenge #by DeliciousRevenge #pettyrevenge #petty revenge stories #revenge stories #petty #revenge

[roseamongroses]

Antithesis: “we can be seventeen”

[Specific-Summary]: They should expect growing pains. For not everything to feel right or make sense. That doesn't mean it'll always hurt, nor does it mean they can't have fun along the way. It's senior year. Everything may be different. It won't be senior year for long. Everything will be okay.

[General Warnings]: Implied Emotional Abuse, Implied Physical Abuse, Bad Parents are Bad Parents, Mild Sexual Content/jokes,Mentioned Homophobia, Mentions of underage drinking (backround), Some Catcalling,Cursing , Self Hate,implied pregnancy talk/inability to become pregnant, adults arguing where the “kid” can hear it, adults drinking,

[Tags/mood:] highschool au,  fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters]Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana) Remus “The Duke” Sanders (minor/brief)

(Ao3) (Previously)

(8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)

(16) (17) (18) (19)

“Listen, Listen, she killed Clarisse,” Roman insisted, papers sprawled around him as he sat up on the couch, “Even if it wasn’t like fuckin’ cold-blooded slaughter it has to at least be manslaughter.”

Logan groaned from his spot on the floor, legs crossed and math textbook in lap, “You’re looking too far into it, Mildred wasn’t even that important of a character, more like a minor nuisance than anything or an example of the status quo--plus what would that even add to the plot?”

At that Roman snorted, “Plot? Lo, it’s all about the imagery,” he waggled his fingers for emphasis, “But I swear to hell I’m right about this. Sure I haven’t read it in ages, but like-- like c’mon babe back me up on this,” he whined.

Dmitri didn’t look up from his laptop, “Never read it,” he mumbled, scanning the screen.

“The shit,” Roman groaned, “You’re in AP Lit, what the fuck Dee,”

“Just because I read doesn’t mean I read for school,” he said eyes still concentrated on the screen.

Roman rolled his eyes, before snapping his fingers, “ Okay, in the beginning right,” started, “It’s established that she has two personality traits, right? She doesn’t pay attention to shit and likes to run things over with her car,--” he said, “Then a couple of chapters later Clarisse just fuckin disappears? It’s like a gun being introduced the first act, the being pulled the second act it’s not a stretch.”

“She could’ve gotten caught by the government,” Logan offered, setting aside the textbook since it’s long past the time since they’ll get any work done, “Or her death/disappearance was simply for plot convenience.”

“Yeah but that’s boring,” Roman drawled, “Plus of course it would allude to be being a big bad government conspiracy or deep dark secret--- that always could be a red herring distracting from the simple facts of the situation. She hit Clarise with her car.” he stretched his legs.

Dmitri lifting his laptop briefly so Roman could plop his legs down into his lap, “Like why would a character who we are told doesn’t pay attention nor care suddenly know how Clarrise died unless she was the one to do it? Hell, I doubt Mildred would even know Clarisse was dead unless she was directly involved. Sure she would have forgotten to tell Montag as it says in canon but it could be how she deals with guilt--with everything. Avoidance-- forgetfulness--the whole shebang.”

Logan rolled his eyes, “Mhm, sure thing,” he said, flipping the textbook back open, “Now about your math test.”

“Noooo,” Roman flopped back, “Why can’t we just watch a movie? We’ve been at it for hours-- It’s the weekend-- Plus Dee hasn’t seen high school musical we cou--” He frowned, voice a bit softer, “Dmitri you okay there?”

Dmitri blinked, a bit startled, “You could say that” he said, “Just thinking, that’s all.”

Roman cocked his head a bit, exchanging looks with Logan, “Bout what?”

He sighed, “Nothing just my birthday—“

Romans lit up at that, “Oh yeah! Where do you wanna go for that? I know you’re stingy about me getting you stuff but still—”

“Am I supposed to drive myself to my birthday date?” Dmitri mused.

“No of course not,” Roman rolled his eyes, “Lo’s driving you so you guys can look at the stars and make out while playing chess or some shit. I’ll be rewatching Princess and the Frog in my jammies.”

At that Logan finally tuned into the conversation,” Excuse me wha-“

Dmitri cut him off, “As much as you’re fond of projection Roman -- The jokes on you I like that idea.”

“For clarification which part of Roman’s ide—“

“Of course you do you fucking nerds—“ Roman said, and Logan resigned himself to a life of internal screaming.

Dmitri didn’t look phased, smile sly, “Funny, you seem to always have a thing for nerds--”

Roman’s face fell, and he was now stammering. Once again it felt like something unspoken went right above Logan’s head.

“Okay,” Logan loudly injected, wincing at how high his voice was, “ Let’s—move on and do some calculus okay? Plus Roman can drive you himself there’s no reason to get me involved.”

At that Roman had stopped, not so subtly inching away while Dmitri paused, “Huh,” he said, glancing at Roman, before nodding, “When did you get your license?”

“Who said anything about a license,“ Roman deflected.

“When did he get his license?” Dmitri asked again to Logan.

“A month or so ago—you didn't tell him?” Logan asked Roman with a raised eyebrow,

“I like him driving me around,” Roman lied.

“I’d drive you regardless Roman,” Dmitri said, redirecting his attention to Logan, “ He didn’t tell me for the same reason he never lets me edit any of his writing homework or help him practice driving, to begin with—he still gets embarrassed around me.” Dmitri corrected, hand tracing Romans calf.

“I do no—,” Dmitri shot him a look and Roman huffed,” Okay so I do—but that’s only because you tease me about it and it’s distracting,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dmitri said like a liar, “But one time we were at a cafe and he got so flustered because someone offhandedly said we looked cute together but that same night without even hesitation he—“

Roman not too gently rolled the ground, bringing his papers and books crashing to the ground with him as he loudly exclaimed, “Oh we should get back to work, Lo— can’t be slacking can we!”

“But I kinda want to know—“

“Calculus,” he squeaked ignoring Dmitri all together, “Now.”

—

Roman rubbed his eyes, vision adjusted to the dim light of his living room. A few more seconds and he processed the stark glow of Dmitri’s laptop from the couch and the distinct, albeit much slower than usual typing.

Carefully, he shifted Logan from his chest onto the collection of pillows and blankets, slipping onto the couch beside Dmitri, “You still working…?” he said yawning, plopping his head onto Dmitri’s shoulder. His eyes decided to flutter close rather than try and fight the obscene brightness level of the laptop to snoop.

The typing paused, a hand wrapping around Roman’s waist, allowing him to further snuggle Dmitri’s chest, before the typing resumed, “I...ca...can't sleep.” Dmitri said, voice still hoarse.

“Still thinking’ ‘bout your birthday?” Roman asked.

“More or less,” he said, sounding much more irritated.

“Then tell me more,” Roman countered. He was too pleasantly tired to bother with changing the subject and all too aware that the nice circles Dmitri was rubbing under Roman’s shirt was more calculated then Dee was willing to let on.

“I...I don’t know It’s just…” he said, “I want to ta...but I can…” he sighed, “I can’t find the words.”

“We have time babe…”

“You have a shift in a couple of hours, you should sleep,” Dmitri said.

“Mmm, fuck retail,” Roman eloquently mumbled.

Only then did the typing stops. Sounds of the cicadas, the occasional siren or car passing by, and the slow breaths of Logan filled the room before Dmitri finally answered.

“Do...I make you uncomfortable?”

“I’d so hope not,” Roman snickered, “Seeing as you’re already trying to work off my shirt.” Upon not receiving an immediate response, he opened his eyes, blinking back his remaining sleepiness, “Wait—shit sorry were you serious?”

Dmitri avoided his gaze,” Forget I said anything—never mind,” he said voice dropping to barely a whisper.

“No-No-no,” Roman objected standing up, the sudden loudness of his voice causing Logan to shift groaning before settling again. Roman dropped his volume, “Dmitri are you serious right now? Why would you think that?”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I won’t until you answer mine,” Roman said hugging his arms. Dmitri glanced over him curiously, their eye bags much more evident despite the dim light. Combined with their bed head and ruffled too big attire—

“Stop fucking checking me out and just explain,” Roman snapped, and Dmitri’s focus cleared again.

“I’m not…” he finally processed the pinched expression on their face. They were tired.“ I do make you uncomfortable.” He said, easily letting dread wash over him, “I do don’t I...I always…”

At that Roman sighed, “No I know you didn’t mean it like that--” he saddled next to Dmitri, careful, “But you were drifting, I need you to try and focus okay? I can’t answer your question without knowing why. I don’t want to lie to you, but I don’t want you to use that as an excuse to be an ass to yourself. ”

Dmitri still looked doubtful and Roman waited for him to gather his words.

“I’m just like her,” he managed to say, “I complain and complain, but I act just like her,”

“Dmitri-”

“No, I do, “ he cut Roman off, tone divisive, “There’s a reason nobody likes me Roman---A reason Virgil fucking hates me, a reason why I don’t have any friends and probably shouldn’t--people call me a fucking snake.”

He slouched over, hair falling in waves to obscure most of his face, “I push and I prod and fuckin-dissect---for fun---because I can get away with it and I know it. Then I go and complain about how manipulative and toxic she is, like a fucking hypocrite. ” he paused for a moment, his face splitting into an unnerving grin, “Then I….Than I’m surprised when people start leaving.”

“I haven’t left,” Roman said.

“I’m terrible, you really should.”

“You’re not terrible,” Roman mumbled, a bit more firmly as he tucked himself back into Dmitri’s side.

“I make you uncomfortable.”

“Yes, a couple of times you did,” Roman relented, “But that doesn’t mean you’re terrible, it just means you’re a person and not my build-a boyfriend.”

“You never make me uncomfortable,” Dmitri said, shoulders relaxing despite himself as Roman pushed his hair back, “A real-life prince charming.”

“Liar,” Roman scoffed, “I know for a fact my dumbass frustrates you.”

“You’re not dumb,” Dmitri said, frowning.

“Yes, I a--” Roman inhaled stopping himself, “I can still frustrate you regardless, babe. Spending a lot of time with someone can do that sometimes. Does it mean you should ditch me and never look back? I sure hope fucking not.”

“I wouldn’t ditch you,” Dmitri grumbled.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Roman said soft, “So stop assuming I would.”

Silence filled the space comfortably again, Dmitri mulling this over.

“I’m still terrible,” he said.

“Dee,” Roman groaned, rolling up enough so he can take Dmitri's face between his hands, “God knows I can’t and won’t play therapist but can we agree to the fact that ---You. Are. Not. Your. Aunt,”

He smooshed Dmitri’s face eyes narrowed in a challenge,” You might have similarities to her, but that’s because you live with her, not because you are her. She’s made her decisions to be the way she is and you still can choose how you want to be.” Only then did Roman release Dmitri’s face with a dignified huff.

“I…”

“If the next word involves any form of calling yourself terrible I swear--”

“No no,” Dmitri assured, “ I wasn’t... It's just you sounded,” he looked away embarrassed, “A lot like Emile…I guess it caught me off guard.”

“Oh,” Roman said, “Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah...it is,” Dmitri said, “It’s just been a while…I miss him...a lot,” he admitted quieter and Roman looked up startled, but Dmitri quickly moved on, “Still…”

Roman frowned, vaguely compliant as Dmitri slowly drew him into their lap, “Still?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“You didn't mention what I did to make you uncomfortable,” Dmitri said.

“Dee,” Roman whined, “It’s st--”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, “You said it yourself, I can still choose how I want to be, I’m choosing now.” Roman still looked concerned, so Dmitri added on a bit softer, “Please? I want to know.”

---

@daflangstlairde

@ace-anx

@cataclysm-al

#Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #roceit #ts sides #sanders sides #ts logan #ts emile #sanders sides fanfiction #Antithesis

[nastymomcomic]

Totally sort of on hiatus, but WAIT

I left off on a note that I wasn’t doing good. So here’s what’s up. I quit my job that I hated and that hated me and it was killing me going there. Honestly the entire experience there could be a comic in of itself. I started changing almost instantly after starting there and my SO brought that to my attention close to when I decided to quit. My anxiety was through the roof, I was getting physically ill from it. It’s been about three months since I quit and I actually feel much better than I did.

The decision to quit came around the end of Christmas season (aka retail hell), my stress level hit it’s max. With work and with how things are at home, I became suicidal and started breaking my things instead of hurting myself. (On a side note I discovered I have a deep raspy yelling voice that would be perfect for an anime character) 

(This is kind of long so I’ll put one of those read more thingies)

I talked with my SO about it and I agreed to quit the job, get back on my anxiety medication , and get back into steady therapy. (I was given a new counselor and hadn’t been able to make it to therapy because of work.) Shortly after I started becoming viciously sick around my period, turns out I just have extremely bad pms to the point ai throw up and become Dr. Jekyll Mr. Hyde. It is horrible. I didn’t figure it was my period until recently though, for a while I thought I was bipolar or had the flu, even pregnant. Nope, it was just pms. I had no idea how common that is for women until it happened to me.

With the job, I had a lady curse me out because I had to charge her for  10 cent bag that she wanted a giant barrel of pretzels put into, which didn’t fit anyway. That wasn’t even my worst customer by far, but it’s definitely my favorite story to tell. (There will definitely be an episode about that bitch.) I hurt my wrist the first month I worked there and my supervisor never made a report refused to report it, so I wasn’t seen by their doctor, and none of my managers or coworkers were notified of my injury, so my workload and tasks weren’t changed. I went to the my doctor before quitting so I’d have the injury on record, he found it was a sprained wrist, and told me it wouldn’t heal because I’d been using it too much. (Which is why work is supposed to fucking change your work tasks when you have a fucking work related injury.) This same supervisor looked me up and down with the fucking stink eye during my interview and I knew she was going to be a problem, and I wasn’t wrong.

I spent a good two months trying to figure out exactly how to report that my workplace refused to make report for my injury, but at the end of it I just wanted to quit and be done with all of it. This lady had definitely been acting like that way before I worked there, there’s no way the company or at least the other managers weren’t aware of what she does. As much as I would like to get her fired for being a gigantic asshole, it’s not my job to babysit women in their damn 50’s. And she definitely wasn’t the only deciding factor. Besides the shitty customers treating me like shit on a daily basis, I only had  a handful of coworkers who were my saving grace there. They were awesome to work with and I genuinely looked forward to seeing them. But when they weren’t there, my calls would get ignored by my coworkers and managers, I’d find them all chilling out in the office, customers would be left waiting for over 30 minutes because no one wanted to answer me, it was just ridiculous. I could go on and on but I think my final straw was being told by a manager that I needed to “stop doodling” while at the register…. like fucking when??? I asked for clarification or a date on when I’d done such a thing and said manager refused to explain or anything.

I mean, that and when I changed my availability for health reasons. I was working full shifts and 4 days out of the week during peek Christmas season, and changed my availability to just one day a week. Car broke down and you know, I was suicidal and loosing my mind. I made sure to change my availability only after peek was over, but gave management a heads up so they had time to fill shifts. Shit supervisor was the one I had to talk to about it first and she said ‘You’re kidding me, you’re changing your availability during peek?” And I’d had enough of her shit so I sad=id back “No I’m changing it after peek next week, but I’m doing the considerate thing and notifying people now.”

Fucking bitch. Like wow I wrote it was for medical reasons, thank you so much for your fucking concern.

The ironic part was they said I was doing absolutely great, but I’d stopped giving all my fucks over a month ago and started half assing my job like the people who got all the credit for slacking off while others and myself did circles around them. Now that I stopped doing my job well, they liked me? lmfao hwwaaaaat? When I was busting my ass I was always told I was “straggling” and needed to do better. I just… how does that even work? forget it, I don’t work there anymore, it’s not my problem. I quit without giving two weeks notice. I wrote my resignation letter before my shift, and when my shift was done I quit on the spot. Shitty supervisor never looked happier. (lol I bet)

It was weird, that place had fast turnover, but also had people who had been working there for ears. (Shit supervisor had been working there 17+ years) And now I totally get why.

The minute I walked out of the break room knowing I never had to work there again, I felt a giant weight lifted from my entire body. It was absolutely amazing. Thing is, me not having that job doesn’t even make a dent in my income because it was so far away, it had shitty hours, and I was spending so much money on gas to get there. It was absolutely pointless. Now I can focus on things that actually benefit me and build my future.

So I’m back in therapy back on my meds, not having the life drained out of me, and Nmom has been in therapy for like 5 months now and she’s starting to actually be normal, it’s like she’s learning to manager her emotions or something. I don’t trust it, but it makes things a lot easier and I’ll take the quiet while I can get it. Bad news is my grandpa is in the hospital right now, he nearly died, had to have a pacemaker out in him. It’s been a big ordeal but it could be worse. SO things are changing for me again, someone has to be there for him and it’s actually going to be me and Nmom seeing as no one else will. Things are a bit up in the air but I know it could of been worse so I’m just thankful.

My SO is going to be moving soon to his own place and I’ll be living with him half of the week and the rest of the week with my mom and probably with my grandpa when he finally comes home. Honestly I am scared, but I’m also determined. I decided to go back to school, pay off bills, invest in things I need to do, and get back to what I love or I think my soul will die if I don’t.

The comic nasty mom will be back soon, and eventually, it will have to end as well. I’ve found that I tend to reopen wounds through my muse, so i need to find a way to really really, really make this comic for myself. I also tend to care about others more than myself, even in my art. I haven’t really been doing this comic for myself at all, I think I’ve been doing it for others more than for myself. And I need to change that. I’m glad my comic has been able to make others smile and laugh, and it definitely will continue to. But I need to change how I approach my art and life if I want to start taking care of myself seriously.

For now I’m going to start getting my feet wet again with my art and buy a new scanner because mine broke like 4 months ago, and the bastard gave me a bruise last week on my foot. (printers are evil!!!!) There will definitely be a lot of drawings and work sketches to show, so that’s good.

I just got on birth control last week and I’m starting to feel some of the changes and stuff. I’m taking care of my body and hopefully my pms doesn’t make me go crazy. Last week I cried because my SO bought me french fries, and an hour before that I wanted to throw my iced coffee at people because Starbucks mad it wring and I was already nauseated and I got more nauseated because there wasn’t enough creme…. yeah, I’m a mess ahahahah.

I’m doing a lot of soul searching for sure right now, but I’ll be back soon! And with more art! And possibly another comic for when this comic finishes! (Shhhh that part is a secret!)

Until next time, I’ll always reply to comments, and I have a ask box on my tumblr as well. I have tumblr and instagram so that should keep readers and friends a little entertained while I’m away!

#fuck retail #lel

[the-baddest-bitch]

Mr. Han Will See You Now - Chapter 1

Tying Up Loose Ends

Rating : 13+ For cursing

Chapter 2

“Mr. Han. I have important news.” His capable assistant, Jaehee Kang, stepped into his office.

“Can it wait?” Jumin didn't look up from the paper that he was reading.

“It can, I suppose, but it wouldn't be wise to wait any longer.” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows in a “Well?” gesture.

“I’m going to resign.” That was something he hadn't expected. He blinked, and then nodded.  

“I understand. When will you be resigning?” Jumin was quite disappointed. Assistant Kang, soon to be just Jaehee Kang, was the best assistant he had ever had. He was going to miss her. Well, he was going to miss her work ethic.

“One week from now. I decided to tell you beforehand because I wanted time to tie up loose ends.”

“I appreciate that. But, if you don’t mind my asking, why exactly did you decide to resign?”

“I finally found something I truly enjoy doing, and I’m going to pursue it.” Jumin nodded, and quietly remarked, “I see.”

“I’ll start looking right away for your next assistant with the time I have left. Now, if you'll excuse me.” she bowed slightly to him and turned towards the door.

“Assistant Kang.” She looked back at him. “...Thank you.” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I...was only doing my job.” Jumin nodded.

“Yes, exactly. And I am thanking you for doing it with as much dedication as you have.” She blinked several times, then simply nodded to him and exited the room.

That had been 3 days ago. Jumin leaned back in the airplane seat and closed his eyes. Only 4 days left until she was gone. All he could do now was hope that his next assistant would stay at least a little bit longer than 3 weeks.

~

Yoosung Kim needed a job. It was almost summer break, and he was going to be graduating university soon. He needed money to be able to pay for medical school. His good grades alone couldn't make him a veterinarian.

He was 22 now, so no places should have any qualms about hiring him anymore. But he still couldn't find any places that were right for him. He briefly thought about C&R, remembering the internship application he'd sent in a year ago, but then dismissed it. They wouldn't hire someone who wouldn't even be going into their line of business.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes, considering gaming to take his mind off things. He retrieved his headset and logged onto LOLOL, his favorite game.

He played 3 rounds, but just couldn't get into any more, so he switched to his email. To his confusion, he had an email from someone named Jaehee Kang. Do I know a Jaehee Kang? I don't think so.

He opened the mail and his eyes immediately widened. C&R? What do they want with me? I was just thinking about them too, huh... He fervently read the email’s text, at first not comprehending the words. He reread the first paragraph a few more times, understanding but not believing, until he ripped off his headset and snatched his phone off the desk. He input the number listed in the email’s signature and held the phone to his ear.

“This is Jaehee Kang.” A polite, but tired, female voice answered.

“Ah, yes. I’m Yoosung Kim. You emailed me about the job offer as an assistant?”

“Oh! Thank you for calling me.” Her voice perked up a bit. “Are you interested in the job?”

“Yes!” He coughed, trying to cover up his eagerness. “I am. When can I come in for an interview?” She was silent for a moment.

“It is a bit sudden, but I would like to say tomorrow.” He sputtered a bit - only a little! - and she continued. “I’ve already reviewed your résumé, after all.”

“That’s right. Yeah I can do tomorrow, then. What time?” The woman made a small thinking noise before responding.

“2 p.m.?”

“Alright. Thank you very much!”

“Thank you. If you’ll excuse me.” With that, she hung up. Well, she seems like a very nice lady. I wonder what that Jumin Han guy is going to be like. Oooh! I should tell 707 about this!

8:37 - DuDe

8:38 - Ya?

8:38 - REMEMBER WHEN I APPLIED FOR AN INTERNSHIOP AT C&R

8:38 - Yaaaa

8:39 - I’VE GOT AN INTERVIEW TOMORROW WITH THEM FOR AN ASSISTANT JOB

8:39 - wo~ah. Whose assistant are you gonna be?

8:39 - Well it’s not a certainty yet it’s just an interview

8:39 - BUt I’m going in to be interviewed for being Jumin Han’s assistant

8:41 - YOU MEAN TH E FRICKING EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR

8:41 - THAT JUMIN HAN??

8:41 - holy. Shit. Yeah that one

8:41 - DUudE HE WAS KNOWN FOR NOT KEEPING ASSISTANTS MORE THAN LIKE 2 WEEKS THEY ALL SAID HE WAS A HORRIBLE BOSS

8:41 - What’d he do??? He didn’t sound TOO bad from the lady’s description.

8:43 - Apparently he’s really cold and unreasonable and basically like a slave driver

8:45 - well...people exaggerate

8:45 - BRO

8:45 - Bro. This is the only job offer I’ve gotten in months. I NEED money for med school. And for money, I need a job

8:46 - alright alright alright whatever

8:46 - just be careful

8:47 - Careful of what? I’m just going to be his assistant. And I still might not even get it

8:47 - IDK man. Just be careful

8:47 - yeah yeah

The next day, Yoosung arrived at C&R at 1:45. He’d been too excited and nervous to wait any longer to leave. He stood outside the revolving doors for a few minutes, working up the courage to go inside. He finally took a deep breath, pushed through his apprehension, and into the lobby.

The lobby was actually a lot quieter and more reserved than he’d imagined in his head. The high ceiling and sleek metal surfaces gave it a very futuristic air. Yoosung saw professionally dressed people walking around purposefully. He looked down at his own clothes (namely his bow tie) and wondered how much he stuck out. He decided it didn’t matter whether he stuck out or not. He squared his shoulders and strode towards the reception desk.

The man sitting there spoke before he could. “How can I help you, sir?” He said. Yoosung didn’t think he’d ever been called ‘sir’ by someone older than him before. He almost laughed.

“Ah, hello. I’m here for an-um-interview.” The man nodded and directed him to the correct place. Now, he had to get on an elevator. Great. An elevator. I hate elevators. I hope I don’t get stuck in the middle. Please don’t let me get stuck in the middle. He hurried towards the elevator bank, and noticed - mercifully - that there was no line. Maybe I won’t even have to be with another person on the elevator! He pushed the button and stepped back, making sure he wasn’t in the way of anyone walking.

The steel doors whooshed open and Yoosung practically fell inside. The nervousness was starting to really wear him down, and he very much wanted to get the interview over with. As the doors were closing again, a hand reached through them and they opened back up. A tall, handsome man strode through them and Yoosung crept to the back of the elevator. They stood in silence for a few seconds, until the man said something unexpectedly.

“So.” The man didn’t turn towards him as he spoke. “Are you to be my new assistant?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Now Yoosung was uncomfortable and confused.

“We’re going to the same floor, you have a guest ID badge, and you seem very afraid. Was I incorrect in assuming that you’re here for an interview?” Those points all made sense, but he couldn’t quite believe that this man was Jumin Han. Shouldn’t he be a lot older? He was supposed to be the executive director, and this guy didn’t even look thirty!

“Ah. Excuse me. I forgot to introduce myself. I suppose you may not know my face unless you read those senseless magazines.” The man finally turned to look at him, and put his hand out. “Jumin Han, Executive Director.” Oh. Shit. This was the guy?

Yoosung met his eyes and shook his hand firmly.

“I’m Yoosung Kim. And yes, I am here for an interview.” Jumin nodded, but didn’t turn back around. Instead, he turned more towards Yoosung, his eyes bright, his voice a little less deadpan, and asked,

“Are you allergic to cats?” The elevator dinged over his response, and Jumin stepped out.

“If you’re to be my assistant, I hope you aren’t. This way.” He made a beckoning gesture and continued down the hallway.

Why...does it matter... if I’m allergic...to cats? I suppose I’ll find out soon.

~

The interview went smoothly. A lot more smoothly than he'd expected. Ms. Kang was very polite and professional. Luckily, Jumin didn’t sit in on the conversation, which would've made Yoosung feel waaay more nervous than he already was. All Ms. Kang did was ask Yoosung things like, “Are you okay with late hours?” and “Why do you want this job?” and a few out-there questions like, “Are you allergic to cats?” Ms. Kang explained that Jumin's cat, Elizabeth 3rd, sometimes required taking care of.

The day after, she called him with the good news. He'd spent the day titillating between apprehension and excitement, overthinking his behavior and wondering if everything he'd done had been a mistake in hindsight.

When Jaehee told Jumin about the good news, he didn't react with nearly as much excitement. He was glad that she'd found someone suitable, mind you, but still displeased that she was leaving in the first place.

On the phone call, Yoosung asked her why it was that she was resigning. He wouldn't want the job if Jumin was actually a horrible boss, obviously.

“Um...if you don't mind my asking, why exactly are you resigning?”

“It makes sense that you would ask that. I found my true passion, coffee, and I'm going to be opening a coffee shop with one of my close friends.”

“So it has nothing to do with Jum-I mean Mr. Han?”

“No. He's a fair boss, as long as you're willing to work hard.”

“Oh. Alright. I am definitely going to work hard!”

“I hope you will. I'll see you tomorrow at 8 a.m., then?”

“Yes ma’am! Thank you again for choosing me. I won't let you down.”

“I will hope not. If you'll excuse me.” When he got off the phone with Jaehee, he yelled ecstatically in his apartment. His neighbor banged loudly on the wall and yelled back, telling him to shut up. He looked apologetically at the wall and whisper-yelled excitedly instead. He had just gotten a job! And tomorrow he'd be shadowing to see what he'd be doing. He decided to text his best friend, 707, again and tell him the news.

7:17 - dUUUDE

7:17 - I!Got!The!Job!

7:18 - HOLY SHIT THAT'S AWESOME

7:18 - despite who your boss is gonna be lolololol

7:18 - yeah yeah whatever with your superstition

7:18 - BUT I'M SO EXCITED

7:19 - I'M GOING IN TO SHADOW THE CURRENT ASSISTANT TOMORROW

7:20 - alright alright

7:20 - bUT YEAH THAT'S PRETTY AWESOME I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU

7:20 - YAYYY

7:21 - YAYYYYYYY

7:21 - okay okay I'm calm now

7:21 - I'm gonna play LOLOL wanna join?

7:22 - man I'd love to but I'm working

7:22 - T_T alright

Yoosung shut his phone and booted up his computer. Tonight would be his last rage for a while, and he’d only play until 10 o’clock. He was going to be a responsible adult for the first time in his life. Tomorrow would start a new chapter in his life, and he wanted to be well rested in preparation.

#fanfiction #jumin x yoosung #my work #thebaddestbitch #mystic messenger fanfiction #jumin han #yoosung kim #Mr. Han Will See You Now #mystic messenger #MHWSYN #jusung