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komotionlessqueenmm · 1 year

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Imagine # 1,042

Gif NOT mine.

If this gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - @meph1stophel3s (Unless told otherwise.)

Year posted - 2023

⚠️Warning(s) - Little spicy at one point, you'll see.

*I made up a random name for the book in this story, but odds are there's actually is a book by that title, because to me it sounds so generic so someone is bound to have used it. Just roll with it.

(Y/h/c) = Your hair color

The sound of the tiny electric car approaching rapidly should have been warning enough. But (Y/n) found her nose deep in her latest book, one she'd gone as far as to create a elusive cover for with washi tape. Due to her embarrassment of her latest taste in literature, and considering why she was so enthralled with such stories since she began working nights at the museum. Should she have saved these stories for when she was home, nestled in the comfort of her favorite reading chair, and surrounded with privacy? Yes, she probably should have. But that was easier said than done, considering just how perfect this particular book had been so far.

'He trailed kisses along her pulse point, taking his sweet time as he drank her in. His dexterous leather clad fingers inched slowly from the back of her neck, trailing down her clavicle, to the swell of her breast, where he gave a playful almost needy squeeze. As his nose gently nudged the underside of her jaw, tilting her head back further, and his fingers continued their journey. Fire was left in their wake across her bare skin, and making her ache in ways she never knew was possible. His hand grasped firmly on her hip, as he nudged her legs apart with his knee, whispering sweet nothing's as he began kissing down the valley of her breast. "What a sight you are darlin'." His voice drawled deliciously as he peered at her untouched flower. "Sweet I'll bet." He hummed as he inched his face closer and closer to where she needed him most. "Oh~." She breathed out a soft moan as his tongue-'

"Evenin' darlin'!" Jedediah called out as he and Octavius existed their hotrod. In an instant (Y/n) snapped her book closed with a very audible thump. Then, without thought, she shoved the book underneath her right thigh, as a precaution that no one would learn of what she was reading. Her cheeks flushed as she looked down to the cowboy and centurion, their confession evident on their faces as they peered up at her questioningly. "H-hi guys." She stumbled over her words, clearing her throat immediately afterwards in an attempt to calm her racing heart. "Good evening (Y/n)." Octavius called out to her, attempting to move on from the odd encounter. Jedediah on the other hand, was having none of it.

"Watcha readin' there darlin'?" He asked as he tried to peer at the book only just barely poking out from under her thigh, frowning a little when he realized he could only see the edges of the page and no title. "Oh! Uh n-nothing just a u-um." She trailed off trying to think of a quick lie. "Horror story!" She suddenly belted out, chuckling nervously as she wiped her sweaty palms against her pants, hoping her lie was convincing. "Is that why yer so jumpy?" Jed asked with a tilt of his head, while Octavius looked at him confused, clearly having seen right through her lie. (Y/n)'s eyes darted around for a moment, unable to look at Jed without blushing all over again. "Yes yes exactly, it's very..." She trailed off, subconsciously thinking back on the words she'd just been reading moments ago. "Scary." She concluded in a soft tone, before shaking those thoughts away.

"Perhaps we could read it some time." Octavius suggested, knowing damn well she was lying, and attempting to get her to admit it. "O-oh no n-no it's um... It's not my bo-book I'm afraid!" She cursed herself internally for still being so flustered. "Maybe you could read it to us then." Octavius pushed, a cheeky grin on his face when he noticed just how deep her blush became. "No I uh don't read aloud to well, an-and I don't really have a good reading voice." (Y/n) cleared her throat once more, squirming a little out of nervousness. "Are ya crazy? Your reading voice is real sweet I'll bet." Jed tried to encourage her, unknowingly making her thighs clench at the words 'sweet I'll bet'. But Octavius noticed, and suddenly realized exactly the kind of book she was reading.

"Ah well perhaps another time." Octavius suddenly stated before pulling Jedediah back by his vest, confusing the cowboy as he waved goodbye as he spoke again. "We'll leave you to your story then." He stated before all but shoving Jedediah to the car. "See ya later darlin'!" Jed called out, complying to Octavius' silent demand to get in the car. (Y/n) waved goodbye despite averting her eyes to the rather "interesting" part of chipped tile on the floor. "What was that for? I wanted to-" Octavius cut Jedediah off by simply holding his hand up. "My friend." He started before casting his gaze to (Y/n), who could be seen inching her fingers towards her book. "(Y/n) is reading a scandalous book." He stated as Jed followed his line of sight.

"What do ya mean scandalous?" Jed questioned as Octavius began driving away. "I mean a romance novel that takes a rather lewd turn." Octavius tried explaining without actually saying it, but Jedediah understood this time. "Oh... Oh!" He muttered under his breath before frowning. "How would you know?" He quickly questioned, making Octavius sputter a bit. "This-this isn't about me!" Octavius quickly defended himself, turning Jedediahs attention back to the matter at hand. "Didn't you see the way she was acting? She couldn't handle looking at you without blushing!" The Roman pointed out, his words effectively directing Jedediahs attention elsewhere. "Well... So what?" Jed concluded with indifferent confusion.

"Well that means she's probably reading that story with you on her mind!" Octavius pointed out, as if it was obvious. "No." Jed denied the notion, making Octavius groan as he slammed on the breaks, jostling Jedediah in the process. "Hey what are ya doin'!?" Jed hissed as he readjusted his hat, which had become lopsided. "That means she likes you, you idiot." Octavius pointed out as if it were obvious, which admittedly it was pretty obvious. "Yer crazy." The cowboy shook his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks at the notion. "Fine if you don't believe me, I'll just have to prove it to you." Octavius decided before making speeding off, needing some reinforcement in order to do what needed to be done.

----

They watched and waited for the precise moment before enacting Octavius' plan. The moment coming when (Y/n) began her rounds to ensure all the doors that needed to be locked were still locked. "Now!" Octavius exclaimed as if they were charging into battle, him and his men along with Jedediah rushed as quickly as they could to cross the room. Then they climbed up to the bench where (Y/n) had left her book lay, right beside her bag of assorted trinkets she would toil with to occupy her mind. Luckily she left it with the spine away from her bag, making it possible for Octavius' men to heave the large cover open. It took a few minutes, and much encouragement from Octavius, before the solid cover of the book swung open and fell with a loud bang. Well... Loud for them.

Octavius and Jedediah climbed up the thick book, walking across it to read the title. "A Cowboys Lust." Jed read aloud, a blush creeping up his neck. He couldn't look at Octavius, so his eyes cast to his feet, where he realized they stood on a large image. And image of a blond cowboy, holding a woman with (Y/h/c) hair firmly against his body as he kissed her throat, her body scarcely covered by a thin sheet as he held her in his lap on horseback. Octavius had been observing the image as well when he realized what Jed was looking at, a smirk spreading across his face as he noted the similarities between the characters in the book and (Y/n) and Jedediah. "I told you so." Octavius stated as he placed his hands on his hips. "Shut up." Jed quickly shot back, sulking away, much to Octavius' confusion.

"Well what's wrong now?" Octavius questioned as he and Jed hopped down from the book, silently signaling for his men to close the book so as to not raise suspicion. "What's wrong?" Jed chuckled bitterly. "What's wrong is I'm not even a fraction of her size! I couldn't... We could never... I can't even hold her hand!" Jed exclaimed dramatically, making Octavius hum in acknowledgement. "That does pose a problem." The Roman mused aloud, making Jed scoff. "Ya think?" The cowboy retorted sarcastically. "Well... Maybe Ahkmenrah can do something about that with his tablet? We've never asked him before." Octavius offered as they stood a good ways away from his men, near the edge of the bench. Jedediah sighed sadly before descending down their makeshift ladder, unable to allow himself to feel any semblance of hope that they could do something about it.

Octavius wasn't about to let it go like Jedediah had, he knew all to well how much his dear friend cared for (Y/n), and he always was a sucker for romance. For two nights Octavius and Ahkmenrah worked in secret, to figure out a way to temporarily change Jedediahs height. And when Jedediah finally found out what they were up to, Ahkmenrah was confident he'd finally figured it out. "Now hold on." Jedediah started, hating the flicker of hope that bloomed in his heart. "Ya can't just-" He tried to argue, but Octavius had cut him off. "You'll thank us for it." The centurion stated before waving an encouraging hand to Ahkmenrah, who with a nod of his head began pressing the appropriate buttons.

The tablet glowed a brilliant bright gold, making all three men's eyes widen in anticipation. But nothing happened. The glowing dimmed and snuffed out as quickly as it had came, leaving Ahkmenrah and Octavius confused, while Jed tried to swallow the knot in his throat brought on by disappointment. "I don't understand, it should have-" Ahkmenrah was suddenly cut off by the sound of (Y/n) screaming from down the hallway. Ahkmenrah quickly snatched up Octavius and Jedediah before dashing out into the hall to see what had happened. But as they locked eyes on (Y/n), they saw that she was shrouded in that same brilliant golden glow that the Tablet of Ahkmenrah had just been bathed in, the sight making Ahkmenrah freeze in his tracks. "(Y/n)!" Jedediah called out to her.

"What's happening?" (Y/n) called out as she locked eyes with the Egyptian Pharaoh. But before he even had a chance to utter a word, (Y/n) suddenly glew so bright they had to look away. And when they looked back, she was gone. "(Y/n)!" They all shouted in unison, panic bubbling within each of them, that is until movement caught their attention. There she was! In the exact same place she had been, only now she stood at about an inch tall. "Put me down!" Jedediah hollered, and Ahkmenrah complied, setting him and Octavius down gently after he crossed the majority of the distance between them and (Y/n). Which was only about 12 feet, but he knew to them it would have felt like miles.

"Jed." (Y/n) called to him with confusion etched onto her face, the wind being knocked from her lungs when he suddenly embraced her in a bone crushing hug, his hat having flown off from the impact. "Jed." She wheezed quietly, making him loosen his grip in an instant. "Sorry!" He blushed in embarrassment, keeping ahold of her shoulder when he pulled back from the hug. "What's going on?" She questioned as she looked around, realizing quickly that she'd somehow been shrunk. "That would be my fault." Ahkmenrah chimed in, smiling sheepishly. "Mine as well." Octavius cut in. "But we were trying to make Jedediah grow!" The Roman quickly added. "I'm not sure what happened." Ahkmenrah mused as he looked to his tablet. "It shouldn't be permanent though." He added as he looked back to (Y/n).

"Shouldn't?" She breathed out fearfully. "I'm sure it will be fine." The Pharaoh reassured her, again smiling sheepishly. "Why exactly where you trying to make Jed grow in the first place?" (Y/n) asked as she looked to Octavius, her gaze turning back to Jedediah when he released her shoulders, to instead hold her hand between both of his. "Well darlin'... It's because I've been wanting to ask ya out on a date." Jed explained anxiously, his piercing eyes gazing longingly into her own. "You?... You do?" She asked in honest surprise, not realizing that Ahkmenrah and Octavius were slowly leaving to give the pair privacy. "Course I do. Do ya have any idea how incredible ya are?" Jed mused with a large smile, using his right hand to turn her head to look at him, when she bashfully looked away.

"I'm serious (Y/n), yer incredible." He whispered softly, slowly leaning in for a kiss. (Y/n)'s eyes widened at the realization of what was happening, and when a fleeting thought that this could be her one and only chance to kiss him occurred, she shut her eyes and closed the distance. The kiss was filled with passion and tenderness, nothing quite like anything else (Y/n) had ever experienced before. "Is it bad that I don't ever want the spell to reverse?" Jed asked softly as they parted for air, his question making (Y/n) lightly smack his shoulder with a playful glare. "What?" He chuckled with bright sparkling eyes. "How about that date cowboy?" (Y/n) changed the subject, her words immediately sparking the perfect idea in Jedediahs head. "Come on." He grabbed her hand and swept her away, spending the rest of the night riding around on his beloved horse, simply enjoying each other's company and forgetting about the what ifs of the whole situation.

*Making a custom cover with washi tape on scandalous books is something I actually do. Because I will read them while out and about, and especially on downtime at work, and I'd die if anyone was to see the actual cover and know what I'm reading. And if I ever feel like someone is getting nosey over my shoulder, I snap the book closed and wait until they've gone before picking it back up. 😅 Stupid I know, but what can I say?

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mydearesthrry · 1 year

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Y/n Y/l/n and Harry Styles play Which One? with Pop Wizz!

hi loviessss <3 missed you so much!!! heres this little thingggg i came up with last night! i am SORRY its so short. something coming on xmas day maybe?? ok bye i love u happy holidays 😊

disclaimer: which one and pop wizz are both fragments of my imagination!! these games dont exist, copyrightedly at least, they do not exist!!!!!! i made these two things up. ok thank u enjoy

PART OF THE AND THEN SOME UNIVERSE BUT CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE

“Hi! I’m y/f/n,” She pauses, gesturing to her boyfriend sitting next to her.

“And I’m Harry Styles, and today we will be doing the Which One game with Pop Wizz!”

“He’s gonna be chatting a bunch of shit throughout this so don’t take his words to heart. I’m definitely the better one of us two!” She sends a light hearted disclaimer to the viewers, giggling at the sour face Harry sends her way.

“First question: who is the messier tour mate?” The interviewer asks. The couple immediately pop open their marker, scribbling across their tiny whiteboards.

“Right then, on three?” Harry nods. “One, two, three!”

They both flip their boards to first face each other, and then turning them to face the camera.

“I am not a messy tourmate!” Harry exclaims. She knows he’s right, she just put his name to save herself.

“Guys, don’t listen to her, she always throws her clothes and makeups and chapsticks everywhere!” Harry points a finger at her.

“Hey! I use Aquaphor!” She cries, setting her board on her lap.

“Whatever, we both know I’m right, so, one point for Harry!”

“Whatever. Next question, please.”

“Who loses more things while on tour?” The interviewer asks.

Y/n let’s out a snort, giggling to herself. They don’t count, but they give each other looks to confirm they’re both done writing before flipping their boards. Both of which read y/n.

“Okay, I admit, I have lost like— more things than I can even count on tour. I think I’ve had like 7 hydroflasks that I’ve lost! I just hate drinking from plastic bottles and so now I have this jug, you guys have definitely seen the jug, but I bring that with me everywhere. Harry loves it too! He has our names sprawled on the jug written in sharpie. But yeah, definitely me.” Harry nods along with her words, grabbing ahold of her hand while she’s talking and bringing it up to his lips.

“Aw, what a romantic!” Someone from behind the camera shouts.

“It’s a facade! He is not this nice to me! Matter of fact, he likes biting me.” She stops there, not seeing anything wrong with her statement. Harry whips his head over, a subtle pink rush of blood coating his cheeks.

“Shit! I didn’t mean it like that, I promise!” She whines in realization. Harry wraps his arms around her, squeezing her tightly to rid the embarrassment. “Nooooo, everyone g’na think ‘M a nympho.”

“No one’s gonna think you’re a nympho, m’heart. ‘S okay! Shit happens, whatever,” he pauses, sending a cheeky grin to the camera. “I do like biting, though.”

Y/n is now the one to blush.

“Next question, I’m begging.” Y/n pleads, looking around the studio for someone to speak.

“Who’s the bigger softie?” The kind lady behind the camera asks.

“Oh, pfft, is that even a question?” Y/n chuckles, quickly sprawling an answer on her board, harry doing the same.

“Okay, ready, set, go!” They both flip their boards, which unsurprisingly both read the boys name.

“H is the biggest softie I’ve ever met! Seriously, he cried during A Dolphins Tale! Like, literally sobbed in my arms. What a loser.” She lets out a belly laugh, forehead coming down to rest on her boyfriends shoulder as she tries to gain composure.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. A bully, is what you are.” He all but rolls his eyes playfully, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her hair.

They fly through the next few questions, getting into small banters when they disagreed with each others answers.

It’s obvious that they’re in love. Any bystander or viewer could see it. The way he looks at her adoringly, or the way she scrunches up her nose at him whenever he flashes a smile. They’re just simply young and in love, and everyone seems to adore that about them.

“Shit, well, that was— a bit too much fun. Thank you so much Pop Wizz for having us! Me and my tourmate are very thankful.” Y/n has tears in her eyes from laughing at the last question, hand now resting on the inside of Harry’s elbow.

“I’m Harry Styles, and this is Y/f/n, and you can see us at all North American tour dates of Love On Tour, and you can watch her new movie, Sweetener, on all streaming platforms and select movie theatres!” He grins, exhaling a long breath after his spiel.

“Great job babe, got all of our gigs right!” She smiles, pecking a kiss to his temple.

“See, she loves me. Alright, bye!”

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles x famous!reader

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damianbugs · 1 year

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hi <3 since ive already obsessively reread your works i dont know how many times i think it's time for me to branch out and find some other batfam stuff too (im still a loyal reader tho dw bestie) i was wondering if you had any batfam authors you personally love and / or are inspired by! or maybe your top 5 batfam fics? if you don't mind sharing it ofc! thank u have a swag day and thank u for putting out such amazing amazing work into the world that offers me (personally) so much comfort :)

hello !! thank you so much for reading my works and i hope you will continue to enjoy them <3 i am so glad they bring you as much comfort reading as they do for me when writing !! and YES OF COURSE there is simply nothing i love more than recommending batfam fics that have me going absolutely crazy insane.

i previously did a top 5 batfam fic recs, and so here are my, uh, other top 5 batfam fics? everything is at the top of my list at this point.

+ these are in no particular order !!

MY TOP 5 BATFAM FICS (AGAIN) ON AO3 !

Cold Hard Want by AudreyCritter

“Are you happy?”

“I...I’m getting there.”

A follow-up to DC Rebirth Batman #35, in which Bruce recovers from being stabbed in the back and Damian considers the elusive nature of happiness.

MY NOTES: i might have read this fic a dozen times and everytime i do i am always so amazed by it. i have a soft spot for fics that move alongside actual comic canon, and so this was a lovely follow up to that original story (though you do not need to be familiar with it to enjoy this fic). damian is such a complicated character but at the end of the day, he is a child — and i think this handled his tumultuous relationship with bruce, dick and selina(!!) really well.

White Christmas by LemonadeGarden

Jason's been in the manor for a few months now. Bruce is a pretty cool guy, sure, but he's not exactly sure what to expect from him.

And then they go to Siberia in the winter on a case. It goes horribly wrong, and then pretty well.

MY NOTES: personally i think it is always the perfect time of year for a christmas fic that isn't actually about christmas. now, not only do all the best tropes meet in this fic (cuddling for warmth, sick fic, comfort after nightmares - to name a few) BUT this is also about robin jason todd. the little boy of all time. wonderful fic.

all the other rooms are a party tonight (and you never got an invitation) by irnan

(You will need an ao3 account to access this fic)!

The major difference between Gotham before Bruce left to set up Batman, Inc and Gotham after he comes back is that his children are grown-ups. Well, except for Damian.

Still, four out of five's an overwhelming majority.

MY NOTES: there is something so healing about this fic. bruce is rather pathetic (said fondly) in the way troubled middle aged men become when they finally realise their life is only in consequence of the people who exist around them. the dynamic between cass and bruce and dick and bruce in this is one of my favourites. the latter is very carefully weaved into the entire story, even when pertaining the other characters. a great take on bruce!

Have I Told You About Minnie? by Hinn_Raven

After you’ve known Matches Malone long enough, you get used to him telling you about his kids. Not that his kids know about it.

MY NOTES: oh this is such a fun one!! stephanie and bruce is such a wonderful dynamic and something about bruce creating an entirely new persona as a subconscious excuse to gloat about his children is just too funny. really sweet!

i want you to remember me by zxrysky

Bruce really needs to get rid of his saviour complex. Not all of them are the same as that poor boy who had to watch his parents get murdered in a dark alleyway; not all of them need to be saved.

Jason is perfectly fine where he is. Some capital would be great, but otherwise, he’s fine. He’s fine.

He doesn’t need to be saved again.

“No thanks,” Jason mutters, and pushes the papers away.

MY NOTES: this one hits you when you least expect it. it is so funny, so sweet and it hurts. jason todd you are so ridiculously complicated and tragic. also my favourite kind of time travel, kind-of-time-travel! little jason receives all of older jason's memories and his meeting with bruce and journey to robin is different, but some things are just destiny i suppose. so lovely.

as for inspirations or favourite authors, i have to say it might just be everyone i have ever read a fic from so i can not pick out anyone right now. the writers featured on this list are also phenomenal and some have written other amazing and loved batfam fics you should definitely check out!

hope you enjoy these anon and thank you again <3

#bruce wayne #jason todd #stephanie brown #robin jason todd #time travel #damian wayne #dick grayson #batman and robin #batfamily fic recs #saki batfam fic recs #hey guys unrelated news #but i think i have finally figured out how to format on tumblr #hope this is not horrendous to look at

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holdontokpop · 2 years

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Realizations - Jungkook scenario (Requested | Fluff/Angst)

@thehopelessromanticclub said: Are you a bank loan? Well, you’ve certainly got my interest. ur ffs are sooooooooooooo damn good. i mean ur existence itself is amazing.....u r one of the finest writers out there, trust me! i just wanted to request a long ff of reader and jungkook. where the reader confesses to him but he kind of rejects her. so she challenges him that she will move in with him and make him fall for her...with lots of fluff and angst if u'd like.....would u plsss do it???*puppy eyes*.

A/N: Hii there, I am sorry for the wait, BUT I hope it's worth the wait! I changed some things up a bit. I hope you don't mind! Ly, have a nice day 😊 💛

Summary: A boy named Jungkook is your childhood crush, and finally, you get the courage to tell your feelings to him, but there's a twist to it.

Members: Jungkook x You

Genre: Fluff / Angst

Warnings: cussing, yelling, fighting, alcohol, cheating

Word count: 2048

Your heart starts beating faster, your hands are sweating. Nervousness washed you over. Your eyes kept looking down at your feet. Jungkook's hand reached yours, taking it in his, but you move it away gently.

"Somehow I never thought my own best friend would do me like this..." you look up at him and laugh a bit. His face wrote "worried" all over it.

"She... She didn't tell me anything and yet knew I liked you for so fucking long..." you spoke and looked away.

"Y/N- I'm sorry." his words left his mouth and you simply nodded your head.

"It's okay... Just one thing is that the two of us are sharing this place... Seeing you with her- You know what? It's fine. I am happy for you, because you're my friend. If you're happy, I am too... For you."

Smile spreads across your face as you touch his shoulder, but you just wanted to cry. It felt like he had feelings for you, too. I guess you were only thinking that way.

"Everything will be the way It always is! I will not let that change." Jungkook got out of the swing, looking at you. Your legs swung a little and you nodded your head.

"Okay, Jungkook."

"Come here-" he spoke, taking your hand, pulling you out of the swing, hugging you tightly. Maybe it felt like a real hug or maybe just a "I'm feeling bad about all this, so I will hug you" type of hug.

For years, Jungkook and you have been friends. Best friends. Over the years, of course, both of you grew and found the things you want to do in your life. To keep and save up some money, the two of you decided to share an apartment where each of you has their room, their privacy, etc... Some of your guys' friends were kind of worried about the two of maybe fighting or something similar.

Basically, the apartment was only for sleeping since the two of you had busy schedules and such and for hangouts.

Way before moving in with Jungkook, secretly, you always felt something towards him. He was just the person who understood you, was always there for you, makes you laugh, etc... In the last year, Jungkook was more affectionate to you. Hugging you more, being closer to you, even sometimes flirt in a way. When at the clubs, parties, the two of you would get so close to each other. Few kisses would fly when both of you were drunk but not being talked about the next day.

Your best friend started to come over more than usual to your place. Everything was normal, like nothing was going on. You never asked Jungkook about his love life, goes both ways. Being that blinded and stupid made you so mad and irritated.

- - -

Time did pass by; somehow, you grew out of those feelings towards Jungkook but knew they were still there. Him and your best friend were still together. Sometimes, watching them cuddling up, hugging, kissing, and such made you so sick. Jungkook, in a way, kept his promise of everything being the same as it did before. He kept trying to talk to you, joke around, and such. That wasn't it anymore. It stopped. When the two of you needed to talk, you did. Maybe you were in the wrong for that same as him, but you just couldn't do it.

Jungkook saw a guy talking to you outside through the window. At first, he didn't think of it as much. He did notice how much you were smiling and him making you laugh. It felt weird to watch you being with someone new? Like he couldn't accept the fact you met someone else and is talking to that person. All of the questionable feelings run through his body. Then the of you kissed. He looked away in that moment, not wanting to watch.

From being best friends to almost just mutual friends did hit him hard sometimes, but never he wanted to show that to you or his girlfriend. He always questioned himself "What if Y/N never told me that?" , "How would our friendship be now if some things didn't happen?".

He was a soft soul, just trying to be tough from the outside.

- - -

After a while, he met your boyfriend, who you have been dating for about 6 months now. His eyes scanned him from head to toe. His hand gripped on his hard, and he fake smiled at him. Jungkook asked you politely if you had a few minutes to spare to talk to him.

You were surprised actually. Jungkook pulled you through the hall, to the kitchen. His body moves closer to yours.

"That guy?!" out of all the things he could say, he said that, whispering. You raise your eyebrows and move away from him.

"What about him, Jungkook? You just met him and have already something negative to say!?" you whisper back, wanting to shout actually being completely out of your mind.

"I don't like him."

"Jungkook-"

"He just- He isn't a good guy for you, and I can FEEL it." Jungkook points at himself, staring at you

"You are being weird now Jungkook. Since when do you even care about me or who am I dating?" you look back, just to check if anyone is coming by.

"Y/N- I never even stopped caring about you. We just somehow stopped hanging out or talking that much. But I can assure you, I saw you many times and-"

"Jungkook, were you watching me??"

"No, just sometimes I just happen to be at the time the two of you kiss or something like that"

The two of you just stared at each other for a few seconds. You didn't know how to feel or what to think of his sayings. It all felt just too many new things at the same time.

"I'm sorry Y/N... For everything... I'll just go now, I don't want any of them to suspect something... Let's have a good night out!"

Smile formed across his face, and he quickly passed by. The night was going really well. All of you were drinking, getting prepared for the club. Cheering one last time before going out, Jungkook and you shared a long eye contact. Both of your hearts would start beating just a little faster.

The group of friends met you at the club, which was already packet. It felt so nice to feel the music and great atmosphere in the air. All of you danced, had quite a lot of drinks. It was all about having fun and being together. Looking to your side, you see Jungkook and his girlfriend sitting on his lap, the two making out, being all over it each other. You didn't want to watch, but just for a split second, I wanted to know how she feels. How is it to be in that position as her? For a long time, you didn't feel this way. It was wrong to feel this way since you have a boyfriend by your side. Jungkook's eyes met yours; the energy that went through your body gave you chills. This time, both of you didn't look away. Jungkook slowly bit on his lower lip and gave you a little nod, before he looked away.

"I am not feeling good... I am going to get some fresh air!" You shout to your boyfriend and slowly find your way out. Jungkook saw you going out alone and made his way to you. Drinks were hitting him hard, but he managed to stay on his feet. He saw you standing near-by the club.

"Hey..." he spoke up, standing in front of you catching you by a suprise.

"What are you doing here, outside? Your girlfriend will look for you." You spoke and Jungkook rolled his eyes being annoyed by your sentence. He took a deep breath and looked around.

"Well... Let her look for me then, I don't care. I want to be with you." He leaned towards you, placing his hand on the wall beside you

"Um... Jungkook... You stink out of alcohol!" Both of you laughed, and he nodded his head in agreement

"Always the same things... You used to say that all the time Y/N-" he looked up, his eyes being very sparkly, a little red. His hair falling over his forehead. This perfume of his that was always one of your favorites.

"You're too close Jungkook-"

"So? Let me be-"

He said softly before kissing you hard. The air felt sexual and hard. Just "wanting more" kind of energy. Happiness above all, but then it hits you. You're cheating. He's cheating. This is wrong. By doing the wrong thing, it made you feel like it was actually the right thing to do. Both of you didn't want it to end.

You placed your hands on his chest, pulling him away quickly. Jungkook looked at you in suprise, but knew what's up. His eyes go wide and he steps back a little.

"Oh shit- Oh fuck me... What have I done?" Jungkook placed his hand over his head.

"No one has to know. We'll just pretend it never happened- Like we always did..." You spoke up

Your boyfriend came storming out of the club. He was mad as he saw Jungkook standing near by you.

"The fuck are you doing with him?!" he shouted at you

"We- We just talked nothing else-"

"I don't care! You don't need to talk to him. You can't!"

Jungkook snapped out of the bad thoughts and looked at your boyfriend being too close to you, getting into your face, shouting at you.

"Hey- Get the fuck away from her!" His hands would reach onto his clothes, pulling him away from you. He was ready to fight. Ready to kick his ass because of the way he treated you.

Managing to come in between them, you stop them. You faced Jungkook in that position. He was breathing heavy and quickly, his hands being formed into fists. Your hand, without your boyfriend noticing, places on Jungkook's. Just to calm him a little bit. You didn't understand why he was doing all this. He never did, never stood up for you like this.

Jungkook's dark brown eyes fall down on yours. He observed your face; just the way you're trying to calm him makes him feel all kinds of ways. His heartbeat raced up; he wanted to kiss you more and be with you more than ever. He wanted to cry because of everything that had happened in the past.

It was the moment of realization for Jungkook. All this time, as soon as you got yourself a boyfriend, he was jealous. What if he always has felt something for you but was too afraid to tell you or ruin the friendship you two had?

"Y/N I'm sorry..." he spoke quietly, looking up and down at you and walked away.

Turning around you just gave a look to your boyfriend and followed Jungkook. He kept walking, being angry at himself, at everything. When there was a nearby bench, he sat down taking a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Why are you walking away Jungkook?" he hears your soft, innocent voice. As he opens his eyes there you were stabding in front of him.

"Why are you following me?"

"Maybe because you need to do some explaining" you cross your arms over your chest, he starts laughinga bit and stands up. Jungkook took a step towards you.

"I don't know, but I think this is your lucky night because Y/N... I just realized I was too afraid to ever actually admit to my feelings for you"

"I fucking never should have let you go." he added, placing his hands on each side of your face, looking at you with a smile.

"Y/N, I want to treat you right and be with you, but.... Let's forget all this. Let's start over, please."

He leaned in for a kiss. His lips tasted as the alcohol he drank. His warmth felt nice as it was close to you.

"Jungkook-"

"Shh... Just enjoy the moment before it becomes a memory." He cuts you off by kissing you again, pulling you in even closer, harder.

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missmeinyourbones · 1 year

Note

kin assign your moots :)

ok this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and kin is too hard so i decided to ship my mutuals... so basically i am not answering ur question but alas here we are

also i have a lot of mutuals so i think im just gonna do a few rn... maybe the ones i interact w the most or who i see the most on my dash ???? idk i also haven't talked to some of my mutuals bc im a dumb scared baby so if you are not on this list please do not crucify me i love u and if anyone wants a ship/more of these pls ask me i swear i can be normal

@crysugu - why do i wanna say... d-d-deku.... I DONT KNOW something about him is making a lot of sense with you! two lil sweethearts who are so so selflessly kind but ik u guys are Freaks when it comes to one another....

@soumies - i know megumi is such a safe answer but its so real... like so real i cant even think of another name to put down here. my two sweet little babies !!! :3 ;P you match one another energies so well... i trust him in ur hands (and more importantly, i trust u in his)

@alert-arlert - porco LMFAO its always gonna be porco with you ryn! i want you to walk him like a dog so fucking badly. he is so annoying and you are so powerful i just KNOW you have the ability to tame him. close second is hange tho for similar but less intense reasons

@ghostbeam - again there is no answer that is not dabi... but weirdly... i see you with dabi more than touya ??? idk something about the dabi-eqsue yearning closed barriers angsty dark love that shouldn't work but it does fits you guys so well. an icon in the dabi universe is what you are

@demxnscous - im fearful that im saying osamu. and im saying this because the way u write him is so RAW that you cant not be soulmates. i swear you could turn anyone on to him and THAT right there is such a power to wield.... the power of ur love for that man deserves this title

@izurou - SUNA please my favorite suna baby. he annoys you and you let him and its so beautiful. you just get him !!!!! which is tough but you're tougher. i think about ur characterization of him all the time, specifically in the routine and thursday and i could cry with how lovely he is when it comes to you

@augustinewrites - augustine.... you feel so Classy to me. like in my mind u radiate the purest of elegance. a god-tier creator on this app amongst us mere mortals. i feel like your poetic way of existing could compliment sakusa really well! the two of you are so sexi you look like you'd bully people but in reality are so kind just a bit intimidating

@maplesuna - maple i love the idea of you and atsumu becuase i cant stand him half of the time and i absolutely adore you so i love the concept him just being absolutely whipped for you. like u boss him around and he adores it and i get to watch it all front row w some buttery popcorn

@touyangel - sunny my baby you are so sugary sweet i know that hawks would treat u sooooo good. because hes kind and a little fucked up but you truly see the very best in everyone and i think you could save that man from himself. also pls take his #2 hero money u deserve fancy things

@utahimeow - gojo!!!! char u are one of my go to gojo babies whenever i want to giggle and make fun of him or completely tear my hair out thinking about him...i know ur always game. u understand him so well!!!! u are also not afraid to humble him <3 which i love

@kentoangel - choso. choso choso and choso. i know u love him but it feels so right. u guys are like a quiet kind of morning love... like when you sit in a sunlit window and don't need words to explain how you feel. also i think about your mango piece every day of my life... need i say more?

#again if you arent here i am just stupid and there's a lot of you #im happy to do more tho!!! :P #and this is just me being kinda silly and ranting :P nothing serious

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myszumizu · 2 years

Note

chronoir with a gn!reader playing apex or something together. Just a 3-player collab. Like my other request can they be famous? (lol I just like making famous readers haha)

- 🧪 Anon

hehe thank u for this request <33 i tried to capture the two boys personality as best as i could and i apologise if it is ooc

gn!reader, fluff

CHRONOIR PLAYING APEX WITH READER

. hoho, you are in for one hell of a ride

. first things, i just need to quickly warn you that if you have sensitive ears, pls for the love of god DO NOT PLAY WITH THEM

. your ears will be bleeding by the end of the session

. so this collab with nijisanji’s chronoir was something you planned on the spot

. both kuzuha and kanae were big fans of you and were also lowkey simps

. when you offered a collab, they were ecstatic

. in the beginning, they were super nervous, especially when you guys were doing introduction

. both stumbled over their words but you found it really cute

. they were quite shy at first but oh no, when you began playing the game, that shyness disappeared like it never existed

. the first game started and kuzuha was the jumpmaster

. now, we all know that going to a place like capitol city is risky

. and that’s what kuzuha did, just for fun you know

. immediately, there were multiple footsteps from all directions

. “KUZUHA WHY HERE????” kanae shouts as he punches another team’s player off the building, successfully taking the load

. “idk just felt like it.”

. you mentally facepalm but laughed out loud

. “[name]-san, do you have a gun? there’s a pistol here,” kuzuha says

. “oh, thank you kuzuha <33”

. the vampire almost melted

. kanae, slightly envious of the interaction jokingly punched kuzuha off the building

. a loud “AHHHH” could be heard from the other line and you hear a giggling kanae

. suddenly, kuzuha is getting shot at

. since you were using bloodhound, you used his skill to detect the enemy

. in an attempt to ‘wow’ you, kanakana jumped down and began to open fire at the other players, kuzuha doing the same

. “i will protect you [name]”, kuzuha tells you as his health rapidly decreases

. but thanks to ur amazing gaming skills, he was saved

. when the game ends, you being the one with the most skills, kuzuha would immediately scream “YOU’RE SO GOOD [NAME!!!]”

. then the three of you went off to tweet

. kanae : someone take kuzuha away from spending time with my [name] 😒

. kuzuha : [name] is too good for us. such a baddie

. [name] : i have no idea what just happened

. you guys would definitely stream again

. but maybe next time, you won’t wear your headphones <33

#myszumizu posted 💦#nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #x reader #chronoir #🧪 anon

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miwauko · 2 years

Text

@/moonjellifish i think you're forgetting to add the part where you took my words out of context and opened up a space where ppl can be openly racist towards me + send INCREDIBLY racist asks and death threats as well. random people on here that i didn't even know existed were saying the nastiest things about me because you kept twisting my words and making it seem like i came at you for no reason. lets also talk ab how you accused me of "stealing" from you (but when i said that ab u im the bad guy and i got shut down?) and accused my friends and i of making fake accs to ruin your blog and friendships? unlike you im in college, i teach a ballet class, and i have a fucking life in general you bum. i have better things to do than harass someone on the internet.

you demonized me as a black woman for MONTHS. not only that, but you said some very ignorant things towards the black community such as calling us "blacks" and said im using my race as a weapon when you literally offended my race many times and even in my own comments. don't ever speak on the black community or any other community ever again. don't ever speak on ME again. all i wanted you to do is stop finding my personals and private accounts that i dont even give out and leave me alone. instead you twisted my narrative when i don't even fucking know you. i did not "steal ur user" its ai yazawa's NAME and i swapped two letters just like i did in previous users of mine. how am i supposed to know an older user was yours? you were just finding any reason possible to come at me aggressively while painting me out to be the aggressive one.

i've found out so many nasty things you've said abt me and how racist you are over these past few months. i don't know why you're even acting like you care now because you don't. if you did you would've changed your behavior months ago but like i said, you came up with a bunch of excuses to save yourself and demonize me for no reason. you're only apologizing cos you got called out (again) for offending the black and asian community. please stop making up lies about me and others because if i find something out i have no issue posting about this on another platform i have and letting people come at you JUST how you had people come at me. maybe then you'll actually develop some common sense and stop being a terrible person.

by the way, your apology isn't sincere because you didn't write it yourself and you've been shit talking me and other ppl for months. you'll most likely see this sooner or later and make a very passive aggressive post yet again to make it seem like im coming at you for no reason. you aren't sorry at all, you truly dont give a fuck.

#dni with me if u follow her btw :p #u also cant call us blacks when u know its offensive then suddenly post blk ppl to somehow made it seem like u care ab us #instead of addressing only one thing you should address the ACTUAL people you hurt & everything that you did to us

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seekingjamespotter · 1 year

Text

The Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts are so corrupted, that is almost funny

DNI: JKR, Snape and Dumbledore apologists

So... I'm re-reading the Chamber of Secrets and I'm finally in the chapter where Harry can see Tom's memories through the diary and "discovers" that Hagrid was the one who opened the chamber the last time

Now, my problem with this.... I know Harry didn't know any better. He was twelve, confused and scared, and he only saw Tom's memories, so his opinion was biased, but the adults... COME ON YOU GUYS!

It's stated in the books that there were multiple attacks back then, so apparently Acromantulas can petrify people too or the injuries that an acromantula and a basilisk leave in you are so damn similar.

BE FOR REAL, one is a giant spider and the other is a giant snake, there's NO WAY they left the kids with similar Injuries... So even if Tom set Hagrid up, someone could've thought: "This is not making any sense". And I'm starting to think that the ONLY reason they "believed" Tom was because they didn't know what was happening and more importantly needed someone to blame, the ministry and the school were OK with this.

Also I know they didn't really believed Tom because if Hagrid really did it... Why did they leave him free after killing Myrtle? That's Azkaban kinda behavior... But mmmmm

Now even if I'm willing to pass this detail, after Hogwarts, Tom was a blood purist, known in Europe, and yeah he changed his name but before Goblet of fire he looked pretty much the same that in his school days... Nobody thought... Hey, maybe he was the heir of slytherin and killed mirtle? Specially Dumbledore and the director, because the attacks stopped after they explained to HIM that it was an inconvenience to his plan.

HE WAS ACTING SO SUS THE WHOLE MEMORY, and why do you guys store his trophy. Dumbledore KNEW Tom was Voldemort, why did you save that plaque for being an outstanding student? Weird ass hag, I swear

And to end this whole mess, Harry discovers who opened the chamber all this years ago and who was behind it all and tells Dumbledore. NOW everybody knows Hagrid is innocent.... And what do they do? NOTHING. They free him from Azkaban, place who was put for a crime HE DIDN'T COMMIT and without proofs, and let him be a teacher the next year, without a proper wand training btw.

They expelled him for this, you can argue they could've expelled him for the possession of an acromantula, but in the book it's clear it was because he "opened the chamber, and people got injured", and then when they discover he's innocent they're just like "GOOD FOR U". You probably ruined his life, he is a half giant, he lives enough prejudice for existing, and now he doesn't even have a proper education, he can't be a magizoologist, and his life depends in Dumbledore's charity and that's one of the many reasons why he even had to abandon Hogwarts when he died.

The Ministry and Hogwarts needed someone to blame, and the half giant with the love for big creatures and nobody to defend him was RIGHT THERE. And even when he was proven innocent, he didn't get the help or the opportunities that were taken away from him, because he was useful for Dumbledore right where he was.... I'm not even that big of a fan of Hagrid but I feel bad for him, he deserved better

#harry potter #chamber of secrets #tom riddle #anti dumbledore #anti ministry of magic #Hagrid actually deserves better #rubeus hagrid #Also why is everybody so low-key racist and classist #I'm still so pissed with the things that happen in this book

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ventiswampwater · 1 year

Note

I've been absent from Tumblr for a couple of days and somehow my FYP is full of Sinclair thots??.?? Is this some national holiday?🥶🥶🥶🥶 I have so many that gnawl at my brain at night.

Imagine calling Bo Beauregard for the first time🤐🤐🤐 You're either trying to be serious and have a real conversation with him for the first time since settling in Ambrose (spoiler: this is impossible. He's misogynistic and a firm believer that there's nothing to talk about with girls🩷🩷🩷🩷 he gives off that TikTok vibe "Do girls even have hobbies?" Like bro, drinking bear and crying ain't a hobby either), or you're so exhausted with his neanderthal shenanigans that you just sigh "Beauregard...." while absolutely pissed off and annoyed.

I just KNOW mama Sinclair would call him Beauregard in that no-nonsense tone when he would rip a hole in his dress pants before church , he must have PTSD from hearing his own freaking name. He's so used to being just Bo, that the only times he even acknowledges his full name are when he's either being scolded by his parents or when he's arrested and sees it on the paperwork.

So yeah, long story short I doubt he'd be amused by anyone calling him Beauregard. RIP MC.

*bonus crack thought* I remember talking here with someone about how Fucking Funny™ would it be to call Bo Robert. I'm not a native English speaker and I honestly never heard of the name Beauregard before😭😭😭 I just assumed Bo is like Bob, which is Robert😂😂😂😂 I'd get smacked on the head with a wrench for trying to be cute and calling him Robert. End scene

omg jhdsjhfjd not the fyp being inundated w/my dumbassery 💀

I lowkey felt like I was spamming the dash last night. BUT idk what came over me, I've had a couple days off work and I'm in a chatty mood hjhdsjahjhsdjh like. I just wanna TALK about this goofy ass movie?? **note to all the poor souls that might be following me rn: pls feel free to block the tag "sinclair brainrot hours" if u would like to save urself from my shenanigans**

this ask is killin me dshjhdfsjhj DRINKING BEER AND CRYING AIN'T A HOBBY BOY

I'm unfortunately part of the Anti-Beauregard Sinclair Hater Nation. I am, after all, the graphic designer responsible for THIS abomination:

context for this can be found here, with poki's galactic big brain take

I also love this take on what his real actual name is 🐔🧊

I just CANNOT buy this guy as a beauregard hdjhdfjh I simply cannot

HOWEVER. I do this thing w/ppl I'm fond of where I'll lengthen their names in ridiculous ways. like just add in entire syllables and letters that just. wholly don't exist. and I could see one of two situations playing out w/bing bong

scenario one: u drop a "beauregard" out of the blue one day. maybe you're trying to be cute. maybe you're trying to piss him off. he looks over @ u. crinkles his brow and gives u the bitchest lil expression. u best be glad u make good pork chops, WOMAN. bc u can't even remember his NAME. who tf u think ur talkin to??? one of ur fancy shmancy city boys?? get outta here!! just grumblin' around the living room abt how if u want some prissy ass boy w/a genteel ass name like that, his brother's right downstairs grumble grumble mutter mutter

scenario two:

he's been slurpin up that good ambrose moonshine (some crazy ass shit that comes in a jug w/x's on it. u know the one. lester labeled it as "ambrosia" and walks around saying it's the "fruit of the gods" and slappin his knee. bo has no fuckin' idea what he's saying.) and despite his high tolerance, boy's a bit sloshed. so are u. u drunkenly crawl into his lap and call him beauregard. he thinks this is v heehaw funny. whatchu think I am girl?? some kinda royalty?? that pretty lil head of urs is all kindsa messed up!! figure I AM like a king here hehehehehe

both equally as annoying😔

#if his name is short for anything it SHOULD be ROBERT dhfjhdfsj BOB SINCLAIR the DUNGEON DOM #dumbass idiot man (endearingly) (sweetly) (chasin him w/an axe)#asks #lanamiller #sinclair brainrot hours

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istherewifiinhell · 2 years

Text

reading progress: chapter 222 (i had to get some shit sorted but we're back in action here folks)

reading highlights: get the scrolling fingers ready

196 oh theres a character w gender

kdj kind of commenter that just wants a girl character. okay

kdj ID theft yjh: oh there you are

197 "in moments of low self esteem Kim Dokja would say "I'm Yoo Joonghyuk"

UNIONIZE HELL!!

198 going to a bar to eat the appies yes (non drinker solidarity)

guy who survived a decade on one story -> maybe [non constellation] people need stories also

kdj: WWYJHD? wait im better than him

199 kdj special fake it til u make it

listening to funky synth music during the reaper fights (cat out of hell on bandcamp)

"my lovely kids LGY & SYS" t-t

200 [processing gamified revolution] HMM

201 hell yeah publican dude (british sense) i want him to make me a butty

Han Myungoh (HMO?) union buster OFC

YJH bar of handsome ness entry #1652

203 kdj unabashed long media enjoyer

LITERALLY comparing this to union efforts at the old job. okay

204 why are all office manager/company men roman philosophy losers

bring out the skill/item from 100 chapters ago

kinda hot to kill people just cause there fucking with the revolution

ORV MPREG?

205 orv a story for people who like wall

JHY videogame siren girl technique :/

206 HMO demon king consort? good for u?

ppl can grow off screen?? kdj lack of human object permanence

YJH widower era babey. uriel not causing problems persay. but on purpose

207 [BAD SOCIETAL THING] isnt the natural state of the world and can be changed. kissing this arc

brooo do get yjh a therapy watch to get him to dissociating/alienating himself less -> kdj is the guy planing this o__o

KNW and abyssal black dragon are u evil or just 14

208 [hsy feels like] an abandoned food processor?

The entire hsy & ysa scene its got everything: sexual tension, fraught emotions, abt secrets and grief, Big Dragon

JHY in a world of minmaxers is a balanced PC

209kdj you have a new kid a they are a foolish teen

4th wall dog training continues. NO eating other smaller wall

Big Guy (derogatory) my fav passive aggressive insult

210 "I forgot to I was Yoo Joonghyuk" yeah rookie mistake man cant forget that

"Tell the Duke to learn to fear the Day" HOOTIN AND HOLLERING

211 why is this egg so cute wtf. it needs story and hugs okay

dokkaebi sys birth im crying. kids man, you gotta love them! they love the whole world!

212 [heh] kdj dad moments! thats his kid!!

SYS LGY LJH kid hang out T_T -> maritime admiral yi sunsin T_T

uriel is so normal about dokhyuk. you abandoned ur incarnation!!

213 yjh uriel Road trip buddy comedy

STEAL FROM WORK!!

214 "if you have to sell your story sell it for the right price" THATS PRAXIS BAYBE

kdj doing the blackbeard thing about demon king of salvation

215 kdj cant talk to people. mood. -> praising jhy cute

216 kdj no good billionairs-ing the constellations

the readership to commenter to author pipeline. themes

Kdj existential crisis about the existence of truth and the true self and if its possible to know the other

Yelling

"I think there is a huge wall" [Fourth Wall is looking at you] -> THATS WRITING

'theres no such think as communication' DOKJA

everyone has a wall, communication is impossible thats obvious -> TEENS ROCK

you should leave your mark

music: loves first explosion

kdj 🤝 me : getting the names slightly wrong

SWK!!!

↳ 217 he had sweet lips?

↳ one of swk hairs? -> secret tool that will help us later?

↳ its the gaze of one person...

218 the snake says hes okay cause he has no hands and feet (GOOD JOKE) i missed the twitch chat

THE REVOLUTION MUST LIVE IN OUR HEARTS AND IN OUR MINDS

many stripes one team! (blaseball ref)

219 dokhyuk's constant one up man ship ID fuckery

219 theres the swk hair. im gonna get a good grade in orv!

220 KNW is a mech. okay

Bye KNW see you in another 50 chapters

UGH YJH [SCREAMING] thx for saving him bbygirl

"He came..." I was so happy I wanted to call out his name... yeah bro?

221 kdj self rationalization speed run. did my friend do smth just to save me? no he must have some convoluted motive

Author is that file A THREAT? sad yjh tho bby.

rotating: i mean shit. i already made a post cause part of of this section was so fucking good. kim dokja! you got problems man. fucking fascinating ones. I love it when teens school him about the philosophy of communication. yeah bro its all signifiers all the way down the platonic realm of perfect objects is inaccessible to us. but meaning can still be created even if its infinite meanings of infinite texts. hang on.... can we get fictional character Kim Dokja to read Borges i think i would fuck him up so bad. delightful revolutionary stuff going on here too, big fan. to think we can kill the trope of the evil revolutionary that takes power for themself if we all just had the most weird intrinsic gay identity thing going on with some guy thats assassinates politicians in ur name.

i think ill leave the actual nibbles of kdj yjh legacy/story swap for next time tho. just based in vibes. also just noteing the veritable gaggle of kids being collected. love em. kdj like many people with parent problems and who is easy to own, collecting them like flies

remember all epiphanies of the self are 80 percent wrong

#some shit #orv blogging #going to go DEVOUR some fucking dinner the narratives make me so hungery -> actually just forgot to eat #just so u know i can see the activity feed ticking up ominously from this screen but am powerless against it #did u know posts work exponential i think im learning that.#orv notebook

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randommagicpotato · 2 years

Text

Some random imagine I'll never write about in the future (.. maybe) so I'll just say what's in my mind rn

Yuu and the sentient puppet

Basically the Puppet just appeared in Yuu's backyard at home

Now Yuu's just stuck with it

Then both of them gets transported to the twst world

(it basically looks like both a girl and a guy at the same time (or like epel, fyi) and their voice can switch from a girl to a boy multiple times (main voice is male voice))

Yuu's coffin get opened first, runs away bcuz grim chasing, Crowley went to fetch em, the ceremony and the reveal of the magicless thing all that happened and there's 1 more coffin to open

Which is the Puppet's coffin

It was opened, the puppet was confused, the students were confused with their looks, thinking they're gonna be sorted into pomefiore, and the ceremony proceeds again (oh since the robes are like, covering the whole body, they don't know it's a puppet

Apparently, the puppet has magic and was sorted to Heartslabyul

Hoo boy they're gonna get a lot of questioning from Yuu

Yuu's giving them a stink eye like: why u no tell me

And ofc for the story to work Crowley founds out both of them are somehow related to eachother and yeah their world didn't exist and such before sending the puppet back to the dorm and such (i can't write sense)

And they're like: dude i don't even know my magic applies here we're not from the same world (and pretty sure the "magic" in my world isn't the same)

Anyways cue to the Heartslabyul part where the stuff and rules and that, when the puppet took of their robes they were shook like

"ur not human?"

"nope, I'm just a lil puppet"

"cool"

They meet Ace, Ace thinks they're cool, be friends! Ayy

(oh and i heard that the Heartslabyul students get like the card symbols assigned to them, so after a few research thanks to someone in the dc server I'm in, deciced that a spade is suitable for this lil puppet)

To the next day where Yuu's just, doing some janitor stuff and like Ace and the puppet passes by, Ace saying he had a plan and proceeds to be friendly with Yuu and Grim, which the puppet thinks "oh! They're just being friendly, that's fine! Yuu need friend :D"

Then when those insults came in

"...woah. that's not rly nice >:("

Cue battle, grim burning the queen of hearts statue, Crowley panic, all of them get punished to wash 100 windows

Skippity skip skip skipppp

The trio waiting for Ace to show up, and he didnt

Went to chase him, meets Deuce, chandelier accident happens

Angry Crowley, him sending them to dwarfs mine and fetch a magic stone to cover up the expulsion

Cue dwarf mine scene, the ghost encounter, and them meeting the monster in the mines

Apparently Deuce is being stubborn when he heard about a stone being inside

Let me write a short badly written fic hehe (note, for the puppets talking, normal is them speaking in a feminine tone, and italic is them speaking in masculine tone)

"DEUCE, WAIT!"

"it's too dangerous for now, please wait, and we'll discuss about this!"

"no, we don't have enough time! I my school life is on the line!"

"OI-"

Deuce ran inside the mine to get the stone

"we need to go after him!"

The trio went to chase Deuce and they found the monster directly behind him, lifting it's pickaxe

"DEUCE, WATCH OUT!!"

When Deuce turned around, and when he saw it, he froze up with fear, closed his eyes and braced for the impact

...

It did not come. When he opened his eye, the monster's raised hand with the pickaxe was wrapped in some sort of thin but sturdy thread

"GET OUT OF THERE, QUICK!" He heard the puppet yell and does as said.

All of them managed to escape safely

"what were you thinking!? Charging in without a plan like that?"

"i.. i had no choice! I can't be expelled in the first day of finally coming to this school!"

"and oi, what was that just now!?" Ace asked, reffering to the puppet "and uh i didn't catch your name again"

Aight let's just skip this part

"let's save that for another time"

Basically they followed Yuu's plan, succeed, have to fight the monster, which the puppet just straight up summon a huge axe and smacked the monster

"welp that settles it i guess" -Yuu, done with their shit back home

Going back to nrc, Crowley getting emotional over some teamwork which Yuu and the puppet looks at him like: "ಠ_ಠ"

Now Yuu's a student... And a prefect!! Yay!!!

Grim's also a student!! Yay!! Happy happy all

Yuu is still not free from the responsibilities, and the puppet is either angry at Crowley, does not care, or both

Anyways some small skit with the 1st years cuz why not

Ace: Hey uh puppet, do you even have a name?

Puppet: name? Nope, don't have one. Unless you count serial kI-177-eR a name, then yeah it kinda is"l

Jack, writing it down: ..something seems wrong.

Puppet: of course it's wrong, it's my occupation :>

Jack: wait what

Puppet: just kidding :] it's Herrscher. I said it before at the ceremony, it's just that i whispered it so no one heard it

Yuu: and you've never told me?

Herrscher: ye never asked :>

Yuu: I'm so gonna dismantle you again

Herrscher: try me :>

-------

That's all. Continuation of the story? Probably in meme form.

Random shit about this AU? Yes :> no seriousness in this, just some funni funni

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland oc #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst oc #potatos sentient puppet au

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crazy56u · 2 years

Text

Welcome to Monday. I can watch it live this week. Go me.

Last time on Quantum Leap: Mystery Cowboy.

And we cut to the Project having a stroke.

Okay, are we fucking doing Evil Leaper Project this week?

Well, fuck, that‘s on the backburner: Ben’s in 1989, doing the original pilot now.

I have never been to a sport’s bar in my life, and I thank every day of my life that I have yet to do so.

Oh boy, the 1989 World Series! Luckily nothing bad happens today!

And I love how Ben automatically remembers what happened today.

Uh oh, the camera’s shaking, things are going fucky!

That guy fucking died.

Or not.

I love that Ben fucking fled down the street instead of doing his own medical shit.

Was that the Breaking Bad RV?

“Okay, so, I just experienced an earthquake, but what the fuck was up with the cowboy?”

“Look, last week was last week, focus on this week. Next week involves ghosts, apparently.”

Ben, push comes to shove, just claim you have a migraine, that’ll explain you not knowing shit.

Leaper X. The only force capable of toppling Jason X.

Calling it now: Janis’ bootleg chamber she was building is a red herring. It’s gonna turn out she couldn’t make it work.

“Wait, you’re saying this Project exists in the future? That NBC renewed the show?” “It’s a shot in the dark, but...”

Press X to Jason 2.0

“Huh, baseball hat... ...do I still have a family?”

[Interruption because of football pool shit]

So, calling it now: By saving Jason, Ben also saves their marriage.

“We got this photo from the Imaging Chamber, totally not a publicity photo.”

Also, I’m pretty sure Ernie Hudson is legitimately disgusted with the Leaper X name and this wasn’t in the script.

We have now reached the point where we are using toys to explain how the show works, I love this.

“I don’t want to scare you, but basically everyone’s alive.”

“Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if I have to scan everyone’s face, it will take a long fucking ti- and it’s already done.”

They fucking bullied Ernie Hudson into saying Leaper X.

Ian, Ziggy didn’t “say” shit, Ziggy has yet to fucking talk.

So, the cause of the conflict was the invention of the telephone. Maybe the cowboys last week were right, and it shouldn’t have caught on.

Ben, you are confusing your not wife by yelling at your to-be wife, stop talking to ghosts.

“Someone is going to tell me what the Hell is going on. Today.” Sucker’s bet.

Plot twist: Ben’s watch isn’t correct.

“Look, I know we have to get our son before the earthquake kills him, but I know you think I made a mistake-” “Why am I remembering yelling at my mom?”

And the camera shook again.

That wasn’t sarcasm. That was legitimately Magic’s backup plan.

“Come in, sir?” “For... what?” “Look, I know something’s going on, and I am a properly paranoid man, I ain’t taking chances.”

Okay, I thought those Tabasco bottles were beer bottles for some reason.

Yeah, America sure is great, luckily nothing bad has been happening for the past several decades. 2022 is just great.[/s]

Also, calling it now: Bootstrap paradox. By going to talk to this guy, he becomes convinced to take part in Project X and leap to cowboy times.

Okay, here’s a suggestion: Go visit Janis. You already know she stole Project-sensitive materials.

“I’m gonna get you out! FUCK THIS WINDSHIELD!”

I choose to believe Ben knows what will happen with the car because of seeing Final Destination.

And the wife is dead.

Oh fuck, Ben yelled his mom into a heart attack, Ben killed his mom.

“Ben, punch her heart if you want her to live.” “(POW!)” “FUCK, OW!”

I love how, to an uninformed outsider, it looks like Ben attacked an unconscious woman, talked to ghosts, and then fled the scene.

[Really getting sick and tired of fucking football.]

“I CAN OUT RUN YOU, TRAUMATIC MEMORIES!”

“Ben, what’s going on?” “(still processing trauma and exhaustion) I’m fine!” “Bitch, you ain’t!”

...they got into a fight over an all-B report card. ... ...fucking Christ, Ben, I am so sorry...

Also, calling it now, this is setting up a future episode.

...what if that is the date Ben is shooting for? The day his mom died?

Okay, once again, putting this out there: Go to Janis. That might be your best bet.

“Wait, what if we caused all of this by investigating him-” “Ian, I already have a headache, drop it.”

Ah, so that’s why Jason died. Because some random asshole.

“OUT OF THE WAY, I’M BEN SONG!”

“He’s just sitting there in shock.” ...damn, what a fucking way to go. Sitting in your recliner as the roof caves in.

And there goes Benny!

“Uh, I’m Mr. Wheeler, I’m good, thanks, bye, don’t be dead.”

For some reason, I thought Ben was going to have another flashback, not... wake up...

Dude almost got crushed to death and blacked out for a few minutes, and he still fucking sprints out of a falling building, Ben Song is the GOAT.

That was the fucking shittiest reflection CGI, oh God...

“Sorry, I just missed this place.” “Well, it’s gone now...”

“Look, I know we almost died, but I FUCKING HATE MOM!”

That is a fucking ballsy ass decision, to use the elevator on the day of an earthquake...

Why are her eyes open so wide? Is she on morphine?

So, by saving their son, they saved all the buildings.

And now the cowboy is calling!

...or Ben is about to rack up a massive phone bill.

I love how Sam had to take three tries to call his dad, and even then that was because Al gave him his last name, while Ben got the phone number on the first try because of pleading, and he immediately leapt out before he could get through on the call.

“I think Ben was trying to leap into the future.” I still say he’s gunning for his mom.

“Old Ben was amazing. But New Ben hit different.”

I love how this how they passed the Bechdel Test.

And Ben leapt into The Exorcist. I fucking can’t wait for next week.

669. Flip it... FLIP IT...

IT FLIPPED, FUCK YEAH, IT’S OFFICIALLY A HALLOWEEN SPECIAL!

Final thoughts: This week was fucking wild, but next week is where it’s at.

#quantum leap #what a disaster #spoilers #Jason X #heavy rain #final destination

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thewestern · 8 months

Text

Chapter 15

Jiggle the knob. You have to fuc-king jig-gle it.

I am jiggling it.

No, you’re j-j-j-erking it. It’s not some homeless guy you met under the highway. He’s not gonna share the rest of the ham sandwich he found in the dumpster in exchange for you grating the cheese off his dick. It’s a door knob. You have to Jiggle It.

Hey Thadeus, guess what?

What, Louisa?

I’m about to Jiggle this rusty old key in your fucking eye socket … fuuuck, dude. This was supposed to be my day off.

Our Day Off, Lu. That’s just it — your selfishness. It’s limit does not exist. And that’s just as a twin sister, to say nothing of your fucking tending bar. Maybe if you weren’t such a [whispers] c-u-n-t to the customers, we could make some real money. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to take the extra shift from the first.

Maybe blow me, Thad, you chode.

Parked across the street from the green awning, over the gentle purr of his lithium-ion battery-powered engine, Billy could hear every word of this invective volleying, as if it were taking place in the backseat. Sometimes when people cursed a lot — such as Ari on Entourage or Hank on Californication, two of Billy’s favorite premium cable television anti-heroes — it could be kind of hilarious. You know, like if they knew creative swear words or how to incorporate clever puns into their insults and stuff. But this seemed more scary than anything. Borderline abusive, actually.

You know at the time I thought it was harsh but maybe mom was right when she said you were a mistake.

Oh really … we’re twins, you twat.

I know. That’s why I wish I was never born, only so that you wouldn’t have ever been born either. You make life worth not living.

Well, I wish you could terminate one half of a pregnancy. Then I would travel back in time and drive mom to the clinic and pay the hundred and twenty-five dollars or whatever it cost back then to abort you.

Oh yeah? Because with you I bet she’d say, why bother with all the paperwork, when I’ve got a hand mirror right here, and there’s a closet full of perfectly good coat hangers.

What if we were Chinese, and we were born under the One Child Policy? They probably would have put you up for adoption. Wait, you’re the girl, so it definitely would have been you, by fucking default. You’d have been sent to live with a couple in Paramus, New Jersey, who tried for years to get pregnant but couldn’t because the husband grew up downriver from a cat food factory. They’d name you Jennifer. You’d be their little China doll and they’d spoil you rotten. But they’d never love you. Not really. Not like they would have their own flesh and blood.

Listen, you creep. I don’t know what blood type we are, but you better hope you don’t ever need a life-saving plasma transplant because I will let the cancer eat away at your bone marrow until you fucking die slow. Bitch ass.

Jesus. Them two were mean, man. No doubt about it. But also, so fantastical with their dueling barbs as to render them mostly harmless. At least by Billy’s estimation. Hildy on the other hand didn’t have to resort to any profanity-laced threats of incurring bodily harm upon one’s unborn person to hurt his or her feelings. That’s not to say she couldn’t be passive-aggressive, which she could — with the best of them. Whatever she did say, however, you could be sure that she meant it. And that was the worst part.

It goes without saying though that while Hildy practiced nonviolence in her campaigns against Billy’s self-esteem, the Jackson twins were willing to defend themselves by any means necessary. When she finally got the door to lock (thanks to some subtle jiggling, although she’d just as soon die than admit as such), Lulu raised her hand in the air and snapped her fingers repeatedly, creating a diversion that she used to then throw the keys at Thad, aiming for his groin. Somewhat haphazardly he blocked them by lifting his right leg, scrunching up into a standing fetal, and countered by bludgeoning her with his backpack whilst hopping on one foot like a defensive flamingo. Absorbing the off-balance blows, she readied to perform the fatality maneuver — every time … he started, she finished — a behind-the-leg, scorpion kick to his upper shin, buckling his knee just shy of hyper-extension.

Argh, Full-blown AIDS, he shouted, thus signaling his submission as he crumbled unto the sidewalk of New Frontier.

But right back up he sprung. And, with that out of their system, they carried on down the block as if nothing happened, walking right past Billy to their car. It was a hand-me-down minivan that their mother and father had previously used primarily as a means to promote the family orthodontistry practice. (Also they would take it out on weekends and holidays to the Less Fortunate neighborhoods, where they’d offer up orthodontic services on a pro bono basis. A nice gesture, albeit ill-conceived.) And damnit if there wasn’t a big old fucking incisor impacted right on the roof, crowned by a bracket fashioned out of aluminum foil and coat hangers, that which twins never bothered to have removed.

Billy waited for them to disappear around the corner before himself flipping another bitch and pulling around to the curb beside the front entrance. With the press of a button, the drivers’-side door flapped open, like a hydraulic wing. Billy suddenly regretted how difficult it was to subtly exit out of a vertically-hinged door, especially when it was attached to a canary yellow sport coupe. Stepping onto the curb, he could see how in all that commotion, the quarrelsome twosome had left the keys just sitting there, right beneath the chalk sign which today read: Our intent is for all your delight.

Funnily enough, almost this exact scenario had played itself out once before. Although in that instance circumstances had been the reverse, in that it was Thadeus who’d flung the keys at Louisa, a short time after which a presumably homeless person happened upon them, entered the bar and beelined for the cash register, the key to which was situated there on the very same ring. Unfortunately for the perpetrator, this crime of utmost convenience was committed on what was among the slowest Monday’s in recent memory. The take, therefore, was less than fifty dollars in small bills. Probably feeling a little put out, before absconding with the paltry sum, he or she used the bar as a bathroom. And not the bathroom part either.

It had to have been Hank who discovered the burglar’s fecal calling card there on the parquet floor. But then wouldn’t you believe he wasn’t all that upset? Not the first time, he said somehow wistfully, as if reminiscing about a past instance of a similar nature. Suppose then this was just an occupational bio-hazard. Another day in the bar business. Obviously, he left the mess for Thadeus and Louisa to clean up. You can only imagine how bitterly they argued over the how, the where and especially the who, when it came time to dispose of the turd. Hank didn’t fire them though, or really even offer much reproach. For crying out loud he let them keep their closing privileges. That was the kind of guy Hank was. Accepting of all shenanigans.

Billy, though, might could have tested his patience. Experienced as he was in causing mischief, he knew better than to do … whatever he was going to do — he still hadn’t decided — on a downtown avenue, beneath the street lamps as they refracted off his highlighter-coloured, cry for help-of a motor vehicle. So he pulled it around the corner and ducked back down the alley.

The greatest trick this car ever pulled was parking itself, which it proceeded to do between the dumpster and a brick wall. To interpret this as a testament to the benevolent sophistication of Artificial Intelligence and its potential myriad of positive applications for aiding humanity, or a demonic sign of the coming singularity, is your prerogative entirely. In either case, Billy didn’t have near enough room to open his driver’s side door. (Because it hinged open vertically, one could not crack it open and shimmy out like a regular schmuck. It required room enough to fully spread its wings. Before you fault the manufacturer for this, a rather obvious design flaw, consider that the typical driver of a car that costs more than your average three bed, two bath, in a great neighborhood with good schools, isn’t squeezing into many tight spots between two gigantic fucking pickups, because somehow it’s the single empty space in the entire Pacific Ocean-sized parking lot of the Save-a-Load. It’s called, Valet.)

Just as soon as he was through hoisting himself out through the moonroof and sliding down the hood, Billy approached the back door with a privileged sense of calm — as if he owned the place, which according to his mother he bloody well would, pending board approval. There were five keys on the chain, and none of them were working. It occurred to Billy how he didn’t have much experience with analog locks. True, his parents weren’t around a lot when he got home from school, but you don’t qualify as a latchkey kid when your house has retinal scanner-enabled entry. And of course it goes without saying that his car’s ignition was push-button. On the whole, keys were very not swag at all.

Readying to resort to his most time-honoured practice — quitting … just giving up — Billy remembered all the way back to five minutes before. You have to jiggle the handle. You fucking twat.

###

Ask yourself. What would Billy do? Not as a Craft Beer Explorer, so much. As an individual. In this instance, a highly fucking suspicious one. Well, recall that crime comes down to motive. So what does he want? Right now he wants someone else (his mom) not to do something, which is hardly wanting anything at all. Suppose then, in the grander scheme of things, that he wants to become a successful beer executive and to carry on his family legacy. But does he want that, or does his mother want that? Or does he want his mother to want that. Or does he just want her to want something — anything — on his behalf.

Now that we’re clear on his intentions, what are his available options? Counterintelligence, obviously, comes to mind. Corporate espionage. Gather, or better yet manufacture incriminating evidence against the New Frontier Brewing Company, and use it to sabotage the acquisition. Realistically, without Yayo-L standing by to help him hack the mainframe, he wouldn’t be likely to find a smoking gun among their electronic records, even if he knew what he was looking for, which he did not. Ah, but what about the art of sabotage, in and of itself … couldn’t he skip straight to that? Contaminate the beer with a foreign agent to somehow interfere with the fermentation. Again, he wasn’t fully up to speed on the microbiology of beer making. (Even the macro was beyond his tenuous grasp.) Perhaps that would be covered in his rotational leadership program, but then the whole point here was to avoid that bullshit straight away. There was always acting out of spite. That he had in spades. Take a dump on the floor? Who says no?

All This was synchronized swimming laps around Billy’s head. Sometimes it was all he could do to tread water, try not to get kicked. The physical space was likewise pitch dark. Rather than flick the switch, Billy used the LED screen on his cell phone as a torch to light his way, slaloming between the tall metal tanks, hopscotching over hoses. Guided by only the faint blue glow, floating in all that darkness, he was like the captain of a deep-sea submersible, exploring the uncharted leagues along the ocean floor, searching for long lost shipwrecks and cataloguing new species of aquatic life forms.

All that was on the the Mick’s stark workstation was his marble composition notebook. Billy shined his light on the dog-eared page, faintly illuminating a vivid sketch of a man on a buffalo being chased off a cliff by a rocket ridden by … Doctor Ezekiel Lupustein. A big bad omen. Billy hated that fucking mutt. He would haunt him for all his days.

Entering the sanctum of Hank’s office, preserved in amber ale, for the first time in this particular breaking and entering, Billy felt like he was actually intruding on something. He was someone who had spent most of his upbringing in places that lacked a certain hospitality, to human life forms. Prep school, around his mother. And whereas these hallowed places, like the great halls of the Wolffenhaus, were intermittently occupied … this office, was a room that to him had seemed Lived In. He could tell by all the cool shit there was everywhere. Like the furniture. Oriental rugs, a leather sofa, lamps galore. Items that had been walked, sat and turned on, many times over.

And books. A voluminous library with what figured to be many dozens of them. Dense biographies of Real Men of Genius. Such as Lyndon Johnson. The odd reference book about metallurgy. And of course, a robust stack of Hank’s favorite genre, Prepositional Phrase Adventure Porn. Into Thin Air, Into the Wild, Around the World in Eighty Days, In Harm’s Way, In the Heart of the Sea, (Twenty Thousand Leagues) Under the Sea, Between a Rock and a Hard Place, On Horseback Through Asia Minor, Through the Looking Glass.

Kitty used to tease Hank about all his things. How he made his adult male doll house. A magnanimous man cave. He said, poke fun all you want, Kitty dear, but these things and this place are who I am. She thought better than to say so aloud, but what a sad thing that was to hear.

Just like behind the bar, the office walls were covered almost every inch over. Although mostly by photographs. Also a mounted plastic fish that sang a song when you pressed a button, which Billy did instinctually.

Take me to the river, dip me in the water (Washing me down, washing me)

Billy fixated on one of a man he did not know to be Hank — khaki-clad, head-to-toe — standing in a row of what appeared to be tribesmen, all holding spears and shields. Then he inspected the various commendations, citations, honorary degrees, etcetera. Displayed most prominently among them was a plaque inscribed to John Henry W. O'Sullivan the distinguished recipient of the Randolph Scott Award for Innovation in Brewing as so recognized by the North American Master Brewers Labor Association. Somewhere, in the distance, the Mick stuck his tongue out and made a fart noise.

Wasn’t much art to speak of, unless you count framed concert posters. Hank surely did. Winterland Arena, Nassau Coliseum, Avalon Ballroom, Wembley Empire Pool, King’s Beach Bowl, literally the Great Pyramids, in mother fucking Egypt. Souvenirs from faraway fantasy lands, were these illustrated relics from the bygone times of Kings, Emperors, Warlocks and Pharaohs. Only one painting without any accompanying copy. A lithographic portrait of Sadaam Hussein. Crude oil on canvas. You could expect that Billy didn’t much keep up with current events, but everybody knew Uncle Sadaam. He saw the video of him getting hung online. Like, bruh. See an opp in a spider hole. Catch a case in a tribunal. He want the glock. We got the noose. Neck go pop. Off your head top.

Oh, cool, a ship in a bottle. There on the executive desk. Here was your classic old wooden ship with the full square rigging. Billy was once sent away as a teenager on a four-week Experiential Outdoor Education and Immersive Behavioural Optimization Expedition to the Caribbean, the first of several attempts at correctional recreation made on his behalf. The Bahamas was tight, but having to learn all those gay knots and eat canned pasta was whack as fhuck, dude.

Having some sailing experience under his needlepoint belt, Billy took note of how this ship in a bottle wasn’t running triumphantly downwind, though. It was tilted at an acute angle, but it wasn’t sailing on a reach either — no, the masts were down. Was it capsizing? The water was white. For a fact, it wasn’t water at all; it was ice. The ensign was a Union Jack and the name on the stern read: ENDURANCE. Huh. Billy couldn’t make withdrawals from his trust until he turned thirty-five, and if he made it, he looked forward most to buying a Super Yacht, or at the very least a speed boat like the ones in Bad Boys II. BIG PIMPIN’, he would christen the goodship. Best part of getting a boat is you get to name it, he reckoned.

Then there was a shitload of other random ass shit. A totem pole in one corner. A grossvater clock catty-corner to that, which Hank never bothered to wound. (The time was currently set to quarter past eleven, actually only thirteen minutes slow, numbers which are not symbolic in any way, you can rest assured.) He kept a vintage milk crate filled of some of his favorite rock specimens he’d collected on various hikes. Chairs were set out in contradiction more than invitation — a royal blue plastic-molded seat he stole from the football stadium before it was imploded in a controlled demolition, an eames lounge chair notably sans ottoman, a set of two bean bags, a vintage wicker wheelchair and a t-bar, which was a primitive form of ski lift. (Somewhere in a faraway storage unit Hank had a one-hundred percent authentic electric chair. To be perfectly clear, he came by it organically. Insofar as he hadn’t sought it out or anything. And he only very briefly considered setting it out in the bar before he thought the better. He wasn’t one of those death perverts who collected blood relics and other assorted pain paraphernalia to put on public display.) Right by the door there was a human skeleton — like they had in science class — with a crown of fake roses. (They looked and felt plastic, but they smelled real.) Kitty and the Mick got him that for his sixtieth. She grave dug it out from the janitor’s closet at West Middle, and he brought it back to life with a couple coats of spray paint, appropriately bone white. This specimen dated back to a simpler time when they used actual human tissue in classrooms, to Show the Children how exactly the knee bone connected to the shin bone. (Via what are called articulations, surfaces wherein two bones meet, the patellofemoral and the tibiofemoral in the knee joint.) Those were the days. Back in the present, some knuckleheaded smartasses had doodled tattoos all over it with permanent marker. The words Thug Life was written across the lower rib cage. A teardrop fell down the cheekbone. A monarch butterfly took flight from off the coccyx. In fairness to those kids though, they had no clue that Casey Bones, as Hank got to calling him, used to be a real living person, who very generously donated his or her body to Science, back in an era when that wouldn’t have been nearly as common a thing to do. (Long before it was a decision you could make at the Department of Motor Vehicles.) They probably had no idea then that they were desecrating that charitable person’s remains with these, their entirely coincidental symbols of life, death and rebirth.

Beyond the cheap thrill of trespassing on someone’s property, as well as apparently their whole personality, nothing here was quite sustaining Billy’s interest. To be honest he was getting fairly bored. His phone phantom buzzed on his right hip. Out of habit he opened the Brick Blaster app before quickly closing it, something he did routinely — in important meetings, at the movies, one time while getting his ass et. It wasn’t easy to lose focus like that, in the act of committing a class-three felony, nor while reaching third base on a bend-over triple. But that was Billy. Always off someplace else, adrift in the tide pool of his own fucking head.

On the way out he opened the mini fridge. Doing hoodrat stuff always made him thirsty. Hopefully there was a sparkling water in there or something. Damn. Just half a turkey sandwich, and two-thirds a six pack of Wolffenbeir Native. Or, Natty Dub, as it had been colloquialized by Billy and other like doofuses.

Taking a hard right out Hank’s door led him into the taproom proper. Billy could see a switch along the wall, marked by a little black tape label with embossed white letters which read: THE WALL of LIGHT. You already know he flicked that shit, and sure enough, son-a’-bitch lit up like the Fourth of Ju-ly. Red and green lights Hank hung for Christmas, blue and whites he hung for Hanukkah, despite the Mick’s repeated insistings how very much that he did not care, those paper lanterns for Chinese New Year … and for some pagan holiday for worshipping the occult, that neon likeness Doctor Lupustein — Billy could swear he stalked him — flashing red the color of hellfire ember.

Although for once Billy’s animated nemesis wasn’t the center of attention. Not on THE WALL of LIGHT, at least. Like a nervous system, all of the bulbs and their corresponding circuitry seemed to lead to the middle top of the wall. There, the reason he came all this way was revealed unto him. Bertha, the prize bison head. Billy knew now. He was going to steal it.

###

Billy was what you would call a Bad Kid. Objectively speaking. But, he didn’t do drugs. He didn’t even drink beer, it bears repeating. And he wasn’t a bully, not like a lot of his peers — rich pricks. For that he deserves some recognition from this board. Sure he liked to talk tough, but that boy wouldn’t hurt a fly. Still, by any measure, Billy was a Bad Kid. Or what you would call one. So, why? Because. Billy stole.

Now your typical thief, Billy wasn’t. In so far as his crimes weren’t borne of necessity. Without the mean old Kraut Wilhelm I, Billy’s Grossvater, around to piss vinegar in his kids’ milk, this next generation of Wolffenbeir spawn had been spoiled rotten, almost as a matter of policy. One of familial diplomacy: Hard-earned entitlements by way of unilateral appeasement. Anything he ever wanted he could have. (Except that which he wanted most of all — a boat … for now.) Usually in forty-eight hours or less. (And this was before two-day shipping.) All this is to say that Billy didn’t Have to Steal. He Wanted to Steal. Baby, he Needed to Steal. So Steal he Did.

Pre-school was his first score. Snuck away during nap time and cleaned out every last one of them cubbies. While he was able to nab the odd knapsack and lunchbox, mostly, it was an art heist. Finger paintings, macaroni pictures, hand turkeys. Damned if he didn’t get away with it, too, burying the loot in the sandbox, taking it home piece by piece throughout the remainder of the school year.

Ms. Huey, his frizzly red-headed teacher, was beside herself. She hadn’t for a moment considered that one of her students could be capable of such an act, fearing surely it had to have been the work of a local pedophile. You can imagine then, when she expressed as such, the police were called in to investigate. They dusted off every inch of that classroom for fingerprints with which to cross-reference via the sex offender registry. Sure enough there was a hit, with Ms. Huey’s fiance, Geoff. It goes without saying that she was devastated to discover she’d been betrothed to a criminal pervert, who let the record reflect had courted her under false pretenses, and an assumed name, presumably because her job could afford him tangential and therefore untraceable access to a wellspring of toddlers.

At least she hadn’t walked down the aisle to an awaiting Geoff (his real name, if you can believe it, was Jeff … now, this doesn’t apply to you pederasts, but pro tip to everybody else out there using aliases for non sexually-violent offenses, don’t just change the spelling of your name, and certainly don’t swap it out for something more conspicuous, like fucking Geoff … now there’s a guy who touches kids), before he could be perp walked out of their shared apartment in front seemingly the entire complex. That they had not recovered the stolen goods among his otherwise highly incriminating belongings, however, the proper authorities were not the least bit concerned, since they had quite obviously ID’d the culprit positively, and apprehended him peaceably.

All the while, no one ever suspected Billy. It was the perfect crime.

So perfect in fact, that Billy may well have peaked, prematurely. Thereafter, his lopsided record of W’s to L’s indicated he wasn’t a very good thief. He wasn’t a bad one either, necessarily. Not sloppy by any means. Really his was a problem of regression to the mean. You see, when it comes down to it, grand larceny is a numbers game. Any snatch and grab man that’s worth a shit will tell you you’re going to take a pinch, sooner rather than later. So you pick your spots. But that was just it for Billy. He had a different calculus. A high-volume shooter, you could call him. To be clear, it was not that he was trying to get caught, as if he had some kind of complex. You wouldn’t say he was compulsive about it, in that way. More … prolific. And with regard to consequences, it wasn’t that he didn’t care. Sure, he affected an air that he didn’t care, about anything, but it was painfully obvious to anyone paying attention that he cared — desperately so — about every little thing.

Perhaps it was partly because those consequences didn’t bear down upon him with anywheres near the severity as they would for your average hoodlum or hopper. To that end, Hildy spent much of Billy’s childhood into young adulthood covering his ass. For his benefit, certainly, but also for hers. Being a young and ambitious female executive within the chauvinistic corporate hierarchy that pervaded the Wolffenbeir Company, as it had been meticulously erected by its patriarch, Wilhelm I, Hildy’s career prospects were tenuous enough as it was. If somehow it was made widely known that her meteoric professional ascent as a working mother had come at the expense of her increasingly delinquent son, well, that would’ve reflected quite poorly on her wouldn’t it.

Mercifully for her sake then that criminals are territorial by their very nature, and Billy was no different. So it stands to reason how for many of his subsequent crimes, he returned to the scene of his original sin. The Canaan Country Day School. The ideal staging ground for an aspiring thief, this petri dish of deteriorating privilege. Those little human bacteria were isolated and cultured from pre-K all the way on through Twelve, although Billy only made it to Eleven.

Though it ended thusly, just woefully short of completion, Billy made the most of his prep school tenure, rest assured. He robbed that place fucking blind. Offender on repeat. And he took big scores, too. For example like, at the start of every academic year, when it was often required that students of a certain grade level purchase a specific school supply, Billy took that as a personal challenge. In fourth grade it was recorders. He stole an entire symphony orchestra’s-worth on the eve of the big recital. Poor kids had to hum My Heart Will Go On.

Thereafter, the middle school — or rather, Lower School, as the Canaanites insisted on calling it — mandated that students begin using three-ring binders to organize their assignments. Preliminary training for the diligent work that is Wealth Management, for the children of parents whose estates were to be meticulously stewarded through a convoluted network of byzantine financial instruments deployed in the name of charitable trusts, itemizing contributions only to worthy grantees such as the City Ballet or the Common Sense Institute for Economic Policymaking, or perhaps, say, the Canaan Country Day endowment fund, that which exceeded the GDP of some developing nations. So important a lesson indeed, that these parents — and acting executors of their family foundations — could not be bothered to pick up said binders or other learning implements on behalf of their brood at the local big box outlet. So that the binders were issued, included as part of the goods and services expense in their tuition, to each rising middle schooler, emblazoned with the Canaan Country Day motto: Values ad vitam impletum (Values for a life fulfilled), or teaching the upper crust’s moldy fucking scraps how to hold on for dear life to the rest of what’s theirs.

But, before the all-important binders were to be distributed on the first day of sixth grade, Billy jimmied the door to the supply closet where they were stored, and lined them one by one, up, down and across the cloistered hallway, painstakingly popping open the flimsy metal claws to fashion them into bear traps for the pre-pubescent.

Come high school (beg your pardon, Upper School … fucking ugh), the nonlinear nature of polynomial algebra necessitated the ubiquitous use of sophisticated graphing calculators. Nevermind how he was a year-and-change behind, mired in eighth-grade-level pre-algebra. Billy resented the implication. However, by now you can bet the administration had picked up on the forensic patterns of his still-developing criminal mind, which by contrast were quite linear indeed. Which is to say, the heat was on; they had a Bolo out on Billy. Not subtle with their tails, either. These were obvious hall monitor types. With their snitch asses. They were working in shifts, in his khaki cargo pocket, coming and going in and out of every class. But somehow though, Slick Billy shook his tail, if only for a moment. That was all it took. In the span of a second period, every last calculator up and vanished from Mr. Kuntz’s advanced placement trigonometry classroom, using as a diversion one of his interminable lectures on the myriad practical applications of creating statistical models for means testing entitlements. Twenty-three calculators were taken in total, summing to a street market value of just a shade under two thousand dollars, the legal threshold constituting Grand Theft according to state law. (Again, Billy wasn’t a Master Thief by any measure, but he had his moments.) They were recovered on the first day of the following semester, stacked neatly on the headmaster’s desk, each bearing a numeric signature of sorts. Billy’s five-digit calling card: 80085.

While the Canaan Country Day School was secular (godless, even), they did accept indulgences to pay for pupils’ past and future sins, as you might expect, in the form of in-kind donations. Ever the shrewd businesswoman, rather than pay an adjusted-rate premium for Billy’s a la carte offenses, Hildy negotiated a proto-subscription service model with the aforementioned headmaster, Lieutenant Colonel Richard Judd. In addition to providing a welcome stream of recurring revenue to the school’s general fund, the agreed-upon payment structure called for financing a semi-annual facilities upgrade. Before Billy could do long division, he was attending classes and participating in extracurricular activities on a completely renovated campus of state-of-the-art learning spaces, named almost exclusively for his familial ancestors and other figures of significance to the Wolffenbeir Company. up to and including the much-heralded dedication of the Doctor Lupustein Infirmary. To the utter delight of the assembled faculty and student body, Billy notwithstanding, the wolf himself, in the plush, attended the ribbon-cutting ceremony, with a trio of his sexy nurse practitioners in tow.

Thereafter, running out of immediate relatives and beloved mascots (it should be noted how she refused to commemorate her Grossvater, Wilhelm I — joke’s on her though … Big Will would have burned that mother down and pissed on the ashes before suffering the disgrace of association with such a Rat Ship, as he referred to CCD), Hildy resorted to namesaking Conservative Women of Consequence whom she admired from throughout history. The Margaret Thatcher Dining Hall. The Shirley Temple Center for the Performing Arts. The Ayn Rand Endowed Teaching Chair. The Nancy Reagan Head of the Class Scholarship, given to that year’s Top-performing female student, pending results of comprehensive drug tests and an astrological reading.

All this in lieu of expulsion, for which Billy would have been a prime candidate. Not for nothing, but it was an outcome he would have vastly preferred to his rigorous program of deferred discipline, in favor of rigorous rehabilitation. As per his mother’s agreement, Billy was required to undergo an intense battery of one-on-one counseling sessioins, as well as additional Nature-based experiential therapy for troubled youths. (The latter was the reason for Billy having to earn his basic seamanship, as well as a full suite of other basic skills suitable for survival on land.) Headmeister Lieutenant Colonel Judd, you see, was a firm believer in the character-enriching properties of the Great Outdoors, drawing on his own personal crucible in the highlands of the Korean Peninsula, and later the flood planes of the Mekong Delta. Of course, if you could only line these ungrateful tenderfooted faggots on the business end of a Chinese-made AK-47, they’d fall right in line with a hop-to, lamented the Lieutenant Colonel. But, begrudgingly, he would settle for at least getting them outside, away from their perverted music videos. Marxist-Leninist indoctrination propaganda films, the lot of them. (Every afternoon he would watch Total Request Live and seeth, fantasizing about ripping out host Carson Daly’s polished nails, one by fucking one.)

As for Billy’s shrinks, the diagnostic consensus was that here was your garden variety case of kleptomania, mostly benign. There was although some clinical disagreement among them therein — he was treated by a rotation of psychiatrist specialists over the years … the top docs in their respective fields, all — as to whether he also exhibited any symptomatic comorbidities, such as an elevated risk for substance abuse, latent homosexuality or perhaps even psychopathic tendencies. Now it was true that he lied, compulsively. Even Billy would admit that. But he only intentionally misled insofar as it enabled him to steal things. It wasn’t as if he was out here burning ants or drowning cats. Quite the contrary. Like his late grandfather, Wilhelm II — The Deuce, Billy-boy was a big-time softie for all the animal kingdom’s many multi-legged subjects. (There was one exception. He never did get along with man’s best friend. Obviously, there was Lupustein, M.D., his nemesis. Fucking doggy doctor, specializing in sniffing dudes’ dongs. Also he was aggravated by the constant mood swings of his mother’s manic depressive terriers. But to be honest, he couldn’t truly hate those two slobberpusses. Really, Billy only resented how they seemed to always take her side.) For a fact, when the day came to dissect bullfrogs in tenth-grade biology, he intercepted the shipment of live specimens and laid a plague upon his teacher Mrs. Toebbe’s hatchback, the one with the Darwin fish decal on the bumper. To be clear, no amphibians were injured in the making of this caper. The Canaan School stood on the grounds of a would otherwise-be wetland preserve and wildlife refuge, so this toad load thrived upon their stay of execution and subsequent release. (Yes, you are correct in assuming that these organisms are typically pre-euthanized and embalmed before being bulk-ordered and shipped off to classrooms for to be descecrated by teenagers. However, the Lieutenant Colonel pulled rank to intervene in Mrs. Toebbe’s lesson planning, insisting that if her students were to observe life in such a state, that they themselves see it drain from their subjects’ bulging eyes.)

Despite his many trespasses, this delicate arrangement Hildy had made to shield her son from any repercussions whatsoever was holding up quite sturdily. Billy was a ball hair away from finishing his penultimate, third year. (A note on style. CCD didn’t go by grade numbers, like eleventh. There were no juniors, or sophomores or seniors or freshman, for that matter. Billy was a Third Year.) From there he could coast on through to graduation. (Commencement, in Canaan parlance.) Smooth sailing to the finish. That was until … he crossed a line so bold, his transgression, even his all-powerful mother could not erase.

###

Without its tradition, the Canaan Country Day School would be but a husk of itself. In all his litany of larcenies, running up a rap sheet the length of the Condoleezza Rice Football Field and back, Billy had still yet to run afoul of the school’s ritual customs to an extent that which would narcissistically wound its stratospheric sense of institutionalized self-importance. Partly because Lt. Col. Judd took great pains to prevent such occurrence. As the school year in question drew to its conclusion, the Lieutenant Colonel was preparing to unveil a bronze bust of the Canaan founding headmaster, his administrative mentor and father, Doctor J. Jerome Judd — a groundbreaking figure in the fields of preparatory education as well as eugenic theory, although this tribute would serve to emphasize the former. Several weeks preceding the ceremony, Judd the Younger spent bolstering his tactical defensive postures against Billy, the teenage insurgent. No expense would be spared, up to and including the subcontracting of a comprehensive risk assessment, to be drafted at exorbitant cost by a counterterrorism analyst from the Perlmutter Agency.

Whosever fuckup was culpable for the binder debacle or the calculator calamity, this time, the Lieutenant Colonel wasn’t taking any chances. The evening before it was to be unveiled at the all-school assembly, he himself supervised the delivery, had it encased in bulletproof glass, and installed a laser tripwire alarm system, courtesy of the good people at Karakuchi, Ltd., a high-ranking executive of which was the parent of a Canaan first-year. So help him god, if Billy or some other poor soul so much as set foot in the Ann Coulter Common Room, hell itself would descend upon them.

The following morning, after making an excruciatingly lengthy speech covering a bevy of topics — scholarship and virtue, respect for one’s elders, the moral cowardice of guerilla warfare and others — Lieutenant Colonel Judd removed the velvet cover revealing to all his late father’s likeness ... fully caked in clown makeup.

Billy styled the black and white countenance after one popularized by the rap duo Insane Clown Posse. During that time he was experimenting with Juggaloism. Juggal is the term of endearment with which ICP refers to their devoted fans, and they themselves and one another. Billy was more a casual Jugallo, though. Not a credentialed Jugallo for Lyfe. Which is to say he’d never had the pleasure of attending the Gathering (of the Juggalos), their annual pilgrimaje. However he was a one-time completist of the rap rock-slash-nu metal genre, and he had transformed the Canaan Country Day commemoration of its founder, Doctor J. Jerome Judd, into his own commemoration of the co-founder of the Insane Clown Posse, Violent J.

(Some years after Billy’s rap palette matured to the extent it did, an infomercial for the Gathering of the Juggalos was parodied on the very same sketch comedy show that Doctor Lupustein made his much-heralded debut in primetime. It was very funny, and for a time the Juggalos became a kind of collective cultural punchline, especially among new media types, many of whom sent their Reporters out on Assignment, inland from their respective coasts to Cover the now-infamous music festival. From these hillbilly safaris, they brought back more low-brow fodder, masquerading as some socio-cultural taxonomy. Ironically cataloguing their various customs. What they drank, for example — Faygo, a budget-friendly brand of soft drink distributed exclusively to the Midwestern market. Their mating rituals — bartering beads or other goods in exchange for the baring of one's breasts, which are often also festively painted.] Their iconography — the Hatchetman, a silhouette of a running man with dreadlocks bearing a hatchet, is the trademarked logo of Psychopathic Records, and a symbol many Juggalos have tattooed on their person. Their terms of endearment — colloquially, Jugaloos and Jugalettes refer to one another as Ninja. This is because Joe Bruce and Joe Ulster, the Christian names of ICP frontmen Shaggy 2 Dope and the aforementioned Violent J, respectively, grew up dirt poor in a suburb of Detroit, Michigan. To entertain themselves, they watched television. Professional wrestling and horror movies were obviously their most profound influences. But, also, Kung Fu films. In popular folklore, the Ninja, or shinobi, was a peasant warrior whom the higher class Samurai warrior looked down upon for employing tactics they deemed to be dishonourable. Stealth assassinations, spying, sabotage, general sneakiness. But the ninjas weren’t concerned with anyone’s concept of honour. Perhaps as testament to their poor upbringing, these outcasts were concerned only with one thing — survival. And this their special set of skills, made them exceedingly difficult to kill. Jugallos, or Ninjas, likewise, live forever.

Their war cry —

Although it wasn't all fun and games. You see they also documented a troubling pattern of harassment against female ICP fans [Juggalettes]. Okay, lookit. This is not to in any way excuse that kind of behavior [here it comes …], which is incorrigible [ … bu bu bu], But [Flex Bomb!] the notion that women being mistreated is somehow endemic to this tiny subgenre of a subgenre … well that’s just crazy, man. Ask yourself this. What about Grateful Dead shows? All about peace and love, right? Well, why don’t you ask Mary Ellen Moffet how the fairer sex faired on Shakedown Street, where the love wasn’t always so peaceful. The point is that The Genre of music — however fucking silly — has got nothing to do with it. At every fest, concert, rave, recital, drum circle, jamboree … you name it … wherever music is performed and judgment-impairing substances are served … you can bet that women are probably being taken advantage of if not outright abused. Pointing the finger at these mostly harmless hillbillies because they wear funny facepaint doesn’t make the rest of us any less ugly.

Around about that same time the FBI officially classified the Juggalos as a criminal street gang. With backing from the ACLU, ICP, Inc. strenuously objected to this characterization of their fanbase, going so far as to file suit against the federal government, albeit unsuccessfully. Spurned by the courts, ninjas took to the streets, staging a hundred-or-so Hatchetman March on Washington.

Whether or not the increased law enforcement scrutiny served to prevent any crimes from being committed, it no doubt resulted in many otherwise law-abiding juggalos being targeted and harassed by dragnet investigations and baseless accusations.

Five or so years later, Donald Trump got himself elected president.

Not so funny now, is it?)

To this day, nobody knows how Billy did it. Shucking and jiving his way like Catherine Zeta-Jones through all them lasers. Then again, as far as the other students were concerned, well, none of them much cared. You might suppose he would have been lauded by his classmates as a crusader — sort of a combination of Robin Hood and Ferris Bueller — sticking it to the curmudgeonly principle. But it wasn’t like that. Not even close. For a fact, everybody thought that Billy — the Insane Class Clown — was weird. Whenever he pulled off one of his big scores, they collectively rolled their eyes. Mostly they were worried about getting into a good college. Canaan Country Day fostered a highly competitive environment. They didn’t have time for Billy’s shenanigans. So while he would have relished in their tacit approval, or perhaps even having a partner in crime, as all the best stick-up men do, Billy was left to work alone.

The Lieutenant Colonel on the other hand was very curious indeed about how Billy had thwarted him for the last time, so help him god. Worse than the crime itself, Billy had also managed to lock the bulletproof encasing in such a way that nobody could get the damn thing out and wipe the grease paint off. For hours on end, he enhanced interrogated him. But Billy wouldn’t budge. This despite the Lieutenant Colonel pulling out all the stops. Intermittently he’d leave the room. (Canaan did not yet have a dedicated interrogation space, so he resorted to retrofitting the maintenance shed.) When he returned with the sweet old Mrs. Huey to play good cop to his bad Lieutenant Colonel, Billy still kept his cool. So Judd put him on ice. He left him there alone from fourth through sixth period, playing at full volume a selection of his favorite music, courtesy of the Margaritaville station on satellite radio. Still, Billy wouldn’t say a word. Judd was beginning to begrudgingly respect his adversary’s resolve. The boy had sand. He would know, having himself withstood an all-inclusive stay in a beach-front villa at the Hanoi Hilton. Then, in that exact moment that the Lieutenant Colonel was starting to admire his fortitude, without breaking eye contact, Billy farted, audibly and olfactorily. At this, the old fart finally went fucking ballistic. How’d you do it? You little pinko commie pissant! You’re not worthy of a Canaan Cadet! (The school had no military affiliation, he just liked calling the kids that. Cadets.) You disgust me! You’re scum!

It went on like this for some time, until finally, like an old dog barking at the wind, the Lieutenant Colonel wore himself down. Billy, for his part, still hadn’t fucking blinked. So Judd returned his gaze with as much contempt as he could muster and asked one final question. The rhetorical type, that better not come with some smartass answer. He said, son, what do you have to say to yourself? Billy looked down in repose as if to truly consider this condescending query. Then he answered.

Whoop whoop.

What did you say to me, maggot?

Whoop whoop.

Are you whooping?

Whoop whoop.

God damnit, boy, stop whooping at me!

Whoop whoop, Ninja.

You will address me as Lieutenant Colonel!

Whoop whoop. [With these latest whoops, Billy gave a mocking salute.] .

Don’t play games with me, Mister Wolff.

WHOOP WHOOP!

Stop it, I said! You stop it this instant!

WHOOP WHOOP!!

This is your final warning! Cease whooping at once!

WHOOP WHOOP!!!

Nihilo sanctum estne?

Billy stopped. Suddenly his expression was sorrowful, as if he meant to convey, here is where it ends. I will fight no more forever.

Now the Lieutenant Colonel paused, satisfied with himself. He knew the boy would break. They all do.

Do I have your unconditional surrender then? Go on. I want to hear you say it. I, Billy Wolff, am a gutless little worm, and I hereby submit.

Billy leaned across the desk ever so slightly and whispered:

Whoop. Whoop.

Expelled! Wilhelm Wolff the Third, I expel thee!

#novls of tumblr #grateful dead #insane clown possee

1 note · View note

tyonfs · 3 years

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hi<3 i love your fics they are super good! i wanted to ask something hehe . could you (if you want to ofc!!) make a fic about mark? i mean like you are enemies with him but eventually u fall in love with him and the u guys dating but its almost full of angst then fluff and smut? its ok if you dont want to! i just wanted to ask this<3

author’s note: hello anon !! i’m sorry for getting to this so late 🏃‍♂️ but omg i hope you enjoy this little bullet fic tho! AND TYSM i’m so glad you like my fics 🥺💞

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

summary: competing with the bane of your existence, mark lee, for a letter of recommendation from the dean was bad enough. on top of that, he was now the manager at your new job.

genres: enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, smut, crack, slight angst, coffee shop au, college au

warnings: profanity, sexual tension!! bc what’s e2l without sexual tension, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap!), hate sex, making out

finding out the dean only wrote a letter of recommendation for one student every year was probably the third worst news you could have received today

the first being the realization that the dean had to pick between you and mark lee

the second being that you were against mark lee

mark lee: the captain of the ice hockey team, the student body president, and the top student in the english department

he was also a smidge too attractive for his own good which made you want to pull your hair out

hot people with shit personalities should be a federal crime

but your gripe with him right now was that damn letter of recommendation

how Canadian Shakespeare was all buddy-buddy with the dean was beyond your understanding

maybe it had to do with the fact that he was the student body president and a perfect all-rounder student but you were appalled when you walked into her office to see her laughing at something mark said

this was just unfair; she didn’t laugh at your jokes

mark wasn’t even funny! he was just a kiss-up and you were infuriated

“take a seat, y/n,” she said, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “mark was just telling me the most hilarious little tid-bit about edgar allen poe.”

ah, yes. edgar allen poe. what a riot.

mark smiled at you as you took a seat next to him, but you saw past his fake smile

“hey, y/n,” he greeted cheerily

you returned the stiff smile. “hey, mr. president.”

douchebag, you thought bitterly. who was he to say hi to you? clearly he’s working against you. this is his evil plot to watch your downfall.

“so, as you two know,” the dean interrupted your delusional thought process, “i only can give one student a recommendation and you two are my top candidates.”

you were practically on the edge of your seat, hanging onto every word the dean was saying

“so i came up with the perfect solution to decide,” she said. “write me a short paper by the end of next week on why i should pick you, attach your resumé, and then i’ll decide.”

you and mark turned to each other, exchanging a look

this was war

“end of next week? you got it,” you replied, fired up

you were confident you would get it

plus, you could add your new job at the coffee shop to your resumé—the timing was perfect

when you and mark left the room, it was like a switch flipped in him

“good luck getting the recommendation,” he said, raising his brows at you. “you’re gonna need it.”

“oh, please.” you scoffed. “save the attitude for when i get it. now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m gonna go to my first shift. have fun with your hockey pucks!”

you stormed off, enraged

you were not taking shit from a dude named after someone from the old testament

okay, so maybe the world hated you

“what are you doing here?” you sneered

it was very clear what mark was doing here, actually

above his name on his name tag read manager, and you’ve never wanted to die more

“i’m here for work,” mark replied with a smirk. “excited for your first day, y/n?”

“not anymore.”

“come on, don’t be like that,” mark cooed. “sora here is gonna show you the ropes.”

the perky girl mark gestured to was enough to slap you out of your brooding nature and manage a smile for her

she looked you up and down and grinned. “let’s get you an apron.”

you sighed as she disappeared into the back room

mark leaned close until his lips met your ear before he turned to leave

your stomach twisted from what you thought was hatred, but it felt odd

he whispered, “by the way, don’t think i’m going easy on you today.”

you groaned when mark walked off

your day couldn’t get any worse

newsflash: your day got worse

who knew making a coffee could be so complex? what the hell was steamed? did people enjoy making their orders longer than the declaration of independence?

mark sighed heavily when he saw you struggling with the whipped cream

“let me show you how it’s done,” he offered

instead of demonstrating like a normal person, mark walked up behind you so that you were caged against the counter, and he placed his hand over yours

this isn’t weird, you tried to convince yourself even though it was very, very weird

“gentle,” he murmured in your ear, pressing against the nozzle to create the perfect dollop of whipped cream over the drink. “got it?”

your heart was going crazy. screw mark lee

“mmhm,” you hummed, not trusting yourself to speak coherent words

you had to remind yourself that this was your mortal enemy, and he was clearly playing mind games with you right now

“so what’s going on between you and our manager?” sora asked once mark had gone to work the register. “i could feel the sexual tension all the way from the blenders.”

“nothing at all,” you replied coolly. “we hate each other’s guts. he’s just trying to break me down, but i won’t back down.”

“that’s a bit dramatic. i think he just wants to fuck you.”

you choked on air, backing away from the drinks. “no way in hell.”

sora laughed. “i’m just saying,” she said, “he doesn’t do things like that to the other girls.”

“trust me,” you replied. “we hate each other. whatever that was is just him trying to get into my head and mess with me.”

sora shrugged. “if you say so.”

you honestly weren’t quite so sure yourself, but if this was just mark’s plan to throw you off your game, you weren’t going to fall for it

and if this was how he wanted to play, you had a few tricks up your sleeve as well

“i thought you said you weren’t coming to the party,” renjun said as he watched you apply lipstick. “what changed your mind?”

renjun and jaemin were currently sitting in the middle of your room while you were putting on your makeup to go to a party with them

it wasn’t everyday you dressed up this good, but tonight you were ready to kill

but nothing too severe because you still wanted that letter of recommendation

“mark lee,” you replied, eyes practically burning holes in your mirror with how intense your gaze was

“i thought you hated him,” renjun said. “now you want to go to a party for him?”

“exactly, renjun. he thinks he can mess with me so i’m going to fight back.”

“sounds concerning, but you look great, y/n,” jaemin replied, giving you a thumbs-up

you beamed, turning around and placed your hand on your chest in gratitude. “why, thank you, jaemin.”

“but, y/n, what makes you think mark’s trying to mess with you?” jaemin inquired

you raised a brow at him. “you two are his best friends. you know better than anyone that we hate each other.”

“right.” renjun snickered. “and that’s why you’re wearing that low-cut dress?”

“i plan to make my revenge sweet, huang renjun.”

“oh god, they’re gonna fuck,” jaemin muttered

“we’re not gonna fuck, jaemin!”

jaemin and renjun were under the impression that your target was mark

and he was, but you weren’t going to get to him directly

your plan was to get to him by other means: his friends

there was nothing mark hated more than his friends getting along with his foe

he already had to deal with sharing jaemin and renjun with you, so you figured his breaking point would be if you got closer to jeno or hyuck

but you didn’t even get to carry out your evil plan because mark walked over to you himself

well, that was easy, you thought

his eyes were on your dress, examining the way the material hugged your body

you’d be lying if you didn’t say you were a little intimidated. being under his gaze was a little nerve-wracking

“you’re up to no good,” he observed

you batted your eyes innocently. “what makes you say that?”

“you look stunning.”

that would usually be a compliment but mark made it seem like you needed to be behind caution tape

“thanks? i guess.” you scoffed. “i just dressed up more than usual today.”

“yeah, okay,” mark drawled and looked back over his shoulder, which you assumed was him checking to see if his friends were around. “can i get you a drink?”

hook, line, and sinker

“i’m not drinking tonight, but we can dance,” you offered, slipping your hand into his

mark raised a brow at the physical contact but pulled you over so that you both were closer to the mosh pit

mark didn’t let go like you did; his eyes were serious and studying you like he was trying to calculate your every movement

his lips brushed against the shell of your ear when he leaned in. “i have a feeling you’re up to something, y/n.”

“oh yeah?” you taunted. “like what?”

“i can’t tell if this is about the letter of recommendation,” mark said, “or if you’ve already noticed how badly i want to fuck you.”

maybe it was a good thing you didn’t go get drinks with mark

because you surely would have spit it out all over him

“you want to—what?” you asked, cheeks heating up when your voice started to fail you. “did i hear that right?”

no way. there was no way in hell mark lee thought about you in that way. not after the constant bickering and teasing and—

wait

yeah, no, that just sounds like sexual tension, y/n, you realized

maybe you were stupid for intentionally ignoring all the signs, but that didn’t change much because the guy still pissed you off

even though the feeling of his lips against your skin was absolutely sinful

and the way his thighs looked in those jeans made your head a mess

and his hands on your waist left his touch lingering and left you wavering

the moment was ruined, though, because someone had to bump into you and spill their drink all over your perfect dress

“i’m so sorry!” the person apologized profusely

“it’s fine,” you replied

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t frustrated. how were you going to mess with mark’s head when you looked like this now? plus, you were sticky and felt gross

mark tutted. “look at you.”

something about his tone, about the way he was looking at you, made your stomach flip

mark grabbed your arm and continued, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

you could only follow after him as mark pulled you into the bathroom, closing the door behind him once you were in

“okay, now—fuck,” mark hissed and averted his gaze when you started peeling off your stained dress. “what the fuck are you doing?”

“isn’t that what i’m here for? to clean this?” you asked with a scoff

mark grumbled something incomprehensible and simply manned the door

“you don’t have to keep looking away,” you added with a smirk

“you’ll be in danger if i look at you right now.”

your breath got caught in your throat at his words, but you huffed and continued, “mark, why the fuck do you think i even wore this dress?”

a muscle in his neck flexed and his eyes darkened. it was all so incredibly attractive to you so you didn’t mind when he locked the door and made his way over to you, taking in the way you looked in lingerie

“you’ve been messing with my head these past few days,” he growled. “showing up to work and then dressing like this.”

mark snapped the strap of your bra and traced the fabric down, running his finger over your nipple

you shivered, even more so when he pressed the lower half of his body up against you and placed his large hands on your hips

“you’re one to talk. do you know how i felt when i found out you were the person i was up against for that damn—” you were cut off, gasping as you felt mark’s hand slip into your underwear and slide two fingers against your slit. “h-hey! that’s not fair!”

“you’re wet,” he observed, “and you talk too much.”

“fuck you.”

“it’ll be my pleasure,” mark murmured before he leaned in, kissing you with a vigor you had never seen in him before

you were caught off guard but before you knew it, you were wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to pull him impossibly closer

mark was a good kisser, and it didn’t help that he knew all the right things to do that got you turned on

he held the back of your neck, tilting your head up so he could reach you better, and his fingers wouldn’t leave your slit alone

when his thumb moved to rub small circles against your clit, though, you had to pull back for air, whimpering at his touch

mark smirked and took this as his opportunity to kiss down to your neck

“i should’ve done this a long time ago,” he whispered against your skin before planting kisses along the column of your neck

mark’s hands moved to the back of your thighs and picked you up so you were sitting on the counter

“just fuck me already,” you groaned out, running your hands through his hair

“beg for it.”

“you’re such a prick.”

“i can stop.”

you whined and gripped his shoulder. “please, mark,” you begged, heat rushing to your cheeks at what he was making you do. “please, please, please fuck me.”

mark’s lips curved into a smirk. “that’s more like it.”

before you knew it, mark was ripping off your panties and unbuckling his belt

he must’ve noticed your shocked look when you saw how big he was because he grinned, grabbed the back of your neck, and pulled you in for a deeper kiss

you were so dazed from the taste of his lips, but snapped out of it immediately when you felt him push himself into you

“mark!” you gasped out, breaking away from the kiss to catch your breath once again

“f-fuck, you’re so tight,” mark moaned out, waiting for you to get adjusted and groaning whenever you clenched around him

when you got adjusted to his size, you met his eyes and mark immediately understood

he held your hips tightly and started thrusting, his merciless pace making you moan uncontrollably

“i fucking hate you,” you whined. “stop making me feel so good.”

mark moved one hand to clamp over your mouth. “quiet, kitten. we don’t want people hearing us, do we?”

you nodded, tears springing to your eyes and running down your cheeks as he hit that perfect spot every single time

your moans were muffled by mark’s hand but he got aroused each time regardless

his hand on your hip crept to press his thumb against your clit again, aiding his thrusts by stimulating you more

“c-close,” you whimpered out against his hand, and mark removed his hand just to hold your hips steady so he could go faster. “fuck.”

“you gonna cum for me?” mark cooed, leaning close to nip at your neck. “come on, y/n.”

you were at your limit

your climax washed over you and you came, crying out into mark’s shoulder as you were hit with intense waves of pleasure

mark was at his limit shortly after, groaning and pulling out so he could cum over your thigh

the both of you took a second to process what you had just done, and mark simply stared at you as his ragged breaths turned shallow

“you asshole,” you started, “we came here to clean me up and you made an even bigger mess.”

mark grabbed the dress you had strewn aside to slip over you again. “round two in the shower then?”

“this shower?” you asked, nose scrunching up in disgust

“my shower,” mark said. “let’s go to my place.”

you wanted to outright refuse him, but the sex was so good that you complied

mark’s driving was a bit concerning with most of his attention on you, but the both of you managed to make it to his apartment in one piece

he was ignoring his texts from his friends and you were ignoring yours, but you had no time to feel guilty because mark’s lips were on yours again

and round two was even better

now you found yourself in a dilemma

hooking up with mark once was fine and all

you both had your fun and sure, you didn’t follow through with your initial plan, but the sex was good

the problem was that it was too good

too good as in you hooked up with mark for six days in a row after that party

and you were currently making out with him in the back room of the coffee shop

too good as in you were starting to soften up to him

like he had gotten you both takeout the previous night

and you kissed him to say thank you

literally who does that?

and later he sent you a picture of his dog because he thought you’d like a picture of his dog

and fuck you, mark lee, you really did like the picture of his dog

you liked it so much that you added a heart reaction

and the night before that, he asked, “are you pissed off with me because we didn’t cuddle?”

he wanted to cuddle? he knew you wanted to cuddle? you wanted to cuddle?

you wanted to cuddle mark lee?

you also had to explain your whereabouts to renjun and jaemin

your friends were hellbent on finding out if you got together with mark or not, but you and mark had to keep your hookup under wraps

but that unfortunately didn’t stop you from accidentally blurting out that sex with mark was really good

but, to be fair, you were drunk so it wasn’t really your fault

plus, mark forgave you after you kissed him

this was a syndrome called Down Bad and you were not happy with it

what was this? rivals with benefits? acquaintances with benefits and downsides?

whatever it was, you were not happy

and you ended up pushing mark off of you

“what’s wrong?” he asked, looking concerned at how you withdrew

“what are we doing?”

mark straightened up, running a hand through his hair. “uh, making out?”

“no, like, are we just having fun until we go back to hating each other or what?” you asked. “because if you’re stringing me along, i don’t want to be part of it.”

“stringing you along? how am i stringing you along?”

“i don’t know, maybe you’re trying to get in my head because of that letter—”

mark cut you off with a frustrated sigh. “why is everything about that damn letter of recommendation?”

anger bubbled in your stomach. “how can it not be? that recommendation determines if i can apply to my dream grad school.”

“and you think it doesn’t make a difference to me?” mark asked. “why would i fool around with you right now when i could be writing my paper right now?”

“i don’t know!” you exclaimed. “i don’t know what you want from me. you already have the upper hand.”

mark put his hands over his face and groaned. “god, you really think i just want to play with your feelings and drop you? you know better than anyone else that i take what i deserve and leave behind what i don’t deserve.”

“what?”

“forget it,” mark grumbled. he backed up and made his way to the door, adding, “you’re working register.”

screw mark lee

screw mark lee for being against you for that damn letter of recommendation

screw mark lee for leaving you like this

and more importantly, screw mark lee for making you cry right now because you cared about him more than a stupid letter

you did a lot of thinking that night

well, you had to, because your letter was due the next day

but you thought a lot about mark said about deserving things

and frankly, you didn’t deserve this letter

you tried to cheat your way into knocking out your competition

even though that completely failed and you ended up catching feelings

but that was besides the point

you did a lot of thinking

and you weren’t sure if you came to the right conclusion, but it felt like the right thing to do

so you sat down and you started writing

it had been a week since you submitted your paper

you hadn’t spoken properly to mark since your argument at the coffee shop

sora had asked if there was something up and you ended up telling her everything

she assured you that he’d come back once he was done blowing off steam, but now you had to walk into your meeting with him and the dean

and you were nervous as hell

she was going to announce her decision and you had a feeling you knew who was going to get it

it was bad enough you had to sit through a meeting with mark during that, but did you really have to run into him outside her room?

“hey,” he greeted awkwardly

you froze for a second but greeted back, “hey.”

“hey,” the dean spoke from behind the both of you, a brow raised at how distant you two sounded

you balked and she walked past the both of you. “come inside.”

you and mark exchanged a wary glance before walking inside and sitting in the two seats in front of her desk

she grabbed two letters on her desk and handed one to each of you

“congratulations,” she said with a smile. “two letters of recommendation for the both of you.”

“what?” you and mark exclaimed, taking ahold of your respective letters in disbelief

“i’ve never had two students write papers on the other student, but i was impressed so i decided to give you both a recommendation this year,” she said

you turned to mark in shock. “you wrote your paper about me?”

mark was equally as shocked. “you wrote yours on me?”

“i had a feeling you didn’t plan to bring up each other’s achievements,” the dean said. “that’s all i have for you two, so again, good job.”

you thanked the dean before saying your goodbyes, but mark writing about you was still bugging you

“i told you i didn’t think i deserved it,” mark said once you two walked out of the dean’s office

“i didn’t know—god, i feel like such a bitch right now.”

mark smiled. “well, you kinda redeemed yourself back there. i didn’t see that coming.”

for the first time, you could confidently say mark lee’s smile made your heart swell

“hey,” mark started, a touch nervous, “do you maybe wanna grab dinner sometime? and go see a movie or something?”

“is that a date?” you asked

“it could be.”

“mark,” you warned

“okay, it is!” he admitted, smile widening. “go on a date with me, y/n.”

you broke into a smile, too. “well, how could i say no to mark lee?”

mark laughed and swooped in to peck your lips

you could practically feel the happiness radiating from him

“this calls for a quickie in the bathroom,” mark said

“absolutely not.”

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