#No shit people smoke every fuckin' day sometimes god damn

[lozmastermm]

"If you smoke weed every day you have an addi-"

Bitch fix the world. Bitch fix healthcare. Bitch fix something before judging from your porcelain personality.

[virusinfected-memes]

TIK TOK SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 4 ;

65 starters. CW: alcohol mention, cussing, drug mention, sexual themes. Some starters are just random quotes from Tik Tok creators, some starters are from Tik Tok trends that have popped up over the past year or so. The original sources of these trends are from various memes, shows, songs, and other popular media. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! [PARTS: 1 - 2 - 3]

“Are they smoking the devil’s lettuce? Yep! Faded. Look at him. Faded as fuck. Zooted!”

“Are you more of a Kafka person, lonely because you feel like the worst person in the world, or a Dostoevsky person, lonely because you feel like you’re better than everyone else?”

“Baby, I’ma have the best fuckin’ night of my life.”

“Back in those days, I didn’t really know how to love someone, but I wanted so much to be loved.”

“Be sweet to me, baby.”

“Dolly Parton would throw a brick at a cop.”

“Every day that I am not living in a haunted house with a sketchy past is a day lost.”

“God is an absent parent who demands loyalty despite never being around.”

“Hug me! Bring it in!”

“I can’t be the only one who hears you.”

“I don’t care what you think, as long as it’s about me.”

“I don’t know what you did to me.”

“If he ever hit you with the lies, better never hit him with the likes.”

“If no one roots for you, I always will.”

“I’ll treat you like my liquor. I won’t chase you.”

“I made you think that I would always stay. I said some things that I should never say.”

“I’m asking nicely. Give me what I want.”

“I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you don’t like the color pink? Yeah, no. Grow up, okay? Let me know when you grow up.”

“I’m sorry, this has to be addressed. How did this become this become this? Huh?”

“I’m taking this home with me.”

“I swear to God I saw her howling at the sky.”

“It’s not safe in the dark.”

“I wanna believe in you, I wanna believe.”

“I want you to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.”

“I wish I knew you wanted me.”

“I wouldn’t date you if you were a worm because you deserve a worm love of your own.”

“I would tear those damn legs up. You better back up.”

“Make me behave like an animal.”

“Motherfucker, where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

“My boyfriend texted me and said he wanted to break up. I replied and said “I thought we were just friends.” Stay toxic.”

“My mom said we can read each other horror stories by candlelight and summon spirits if it’s okay with your mom.”

“My mom says it’s okay to explore some abandoned funeral homes if it’s okay with your mom.”

“Pictures of last night ended up online.”

“Please don’t say you love me.”

“Running away is easy.”

“She ain’t out to get you, but she’s better on your side.”

“Some people think it’s even fun to smash pumpkins.”

“Sometimes God puts a man in your life so you can meet his best friend. Stay toxic.”

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.”

“So you seasoned it with just dry parsley? Parsley ain’t hardly got no real good flavor by itself.”

“Tell me what’s worse, losing you now or later.”

“That’s a lot of fucking cheese. You’re gonna be on the toilet for YEARS.”

“That shit taste good. I don’t give a damn what nobody say.”

“The fucking thought of you with somebody else, I don’t like that.”

“The jury said she’s charming, but her exes say she’s wicked.”

“There is nothing you can do to beat me.”

“There’s a pounding in my head.”

“There’s a stranger in my bed.”

“This a hickey or a bruise?”

“Tricked you? No, I saved you.”

“Well, just as I thought. Trash.”

“Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.”

“What happened to ‘hello’? ‘How are you’? ‘My name is...’? What happened to that?”

“What have you done today besides nothing?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Why are you so obsessed with Halloween?”

“Why don’t you go back to your own house and stop bothering us?”

“Would ya’ loosen up, would ya’?”

“You got me looking for attention.”

“You smell so sweet, like fresh-picked daisies.”

“You’re a ten, but your mom’s a twenty.”

“You’re a ten, but you spent $200+ on cosmetics for video games.”

"You’re so fine. With that being said, may God continue to send you terrible people, until you decide to choose me.”

“You ruined everything, you stupid bitch.”

[thunderheadfred]

🦅Hawks HC’s🦅

This is SO unnecessarily long. Some NSFW. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

Has zero social life or hobbies outside of work. He knows it’s unhealthy, but like, who has the time?? Oh? Lots of people do?? Haha what are healthy work/home boundaries? He desperately wants to retire and always talks about a world without heroes, but the truth is he would have no idea what to do with himself if he got his way. Take him to a park at midnight and watch him turn into a giant repressed child on a swing. He’ll do a standing-360 and it will be terrifying.

Listens to music way too loud in his headphones to drown out wind noise. Probably half deaf at this point. His musical taste is wild; listening history all over the fucking place. Algorithms have no idea what to do with him.

That visor? It’s prescription. Wow is he far-sighted. He wears glasses. He’s not blind without them (rather the opposite) but they help him see things directly in front of him without massive eye strain. Yeah, he looks really hot in glasses.

Prefers communicating via text. Sometimes it’s a lot of dumb memes, but mostly it’s sincere. He can say what he means when he doesn’t have to put on a public front.

Smokes like a chimney. Self medicates with stimulants. Coffee, tobacco, sugar. Fidgety, likes things in his mouth or hands. Gnashes on toothpicks and popsicle sticks. He really should go back to therapy, huh? His teeth are sparkling white for the cameras but his breath could use some work. Chews gum a lot to compensate, and always does it really loudly with a big shit-eating grin.

Impatient as fuuuuuck. Rude about it. If you take too long doing anything, you’re going to hear a foot tapping. He’ll smile and laugh it off, never ever directly criticize you about it. But lord, the dramatic sighs. He WILL nudge you out of the way and take over in order to finish a task faster, and it’s truly fucking annoying.

LOVES food. Has the metabolism of an actual bird. Will seize upon any excuse to eat. No need to be self-conscious about eating in front of him; he wants you to enjoy it. Steals bites from you and talks with his mouth full. Prefers street food and take-out, usually eats while walking or flying. Sit-down restaurants are an invitation for gawkers.

He’s one of those celebrities that looks way taller on TV. In real life, he’s small and compact. So you’re surprised the first time you see him in person. He has a big head. Literally.

If you’re taller or bigger than him, he does Not Care. He treats everyone like they’re four feet tall, even Endeavor. Everything you do is cute. If you’re actually short, he’s going to carry you around all the time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Collects big chunky overpriced watches. All the better to tell you you’re late.

Half his clothes are brand fucking new. Sometimes he forgets to take off the tags. (Don’t look at the prices, do NOT) He never seems to wear the same thing twice. He also never seems to go shopping. Brands just give him stuff, and he shrugs and goes “yeah okay.”

The other half of his clothes are old, faded, and patched up. Every item he acquires for himself has deep sentimental value. If you tell him to throw away that nasty ten-year-old pair of frayed cargo pants, be prepared to find out how wrong and evil you are for even suggesting it.

He doesn’t snore; he coos. Loudly. Like a fucking pigeon trapped in a megaphone.

- - - - -

Dating

Gift-giving is his love language. Bringing your favorite snacks. Leaving novelty magnets on your fridge. He found a copy of that book/game/movie you mentioned like a month ago, don’t you remember? If he has to go out of town on a job, he’ll bring back the ugliest possible souvenir, just to annoy you.

He likes gifting jewelry especially. Covering you in shiny baubles, little golden things. Not expensive, but unusual. Antiques or handmade, even bizarre vending machine crap. Gets really handsy if you wear or show off his gifts.

Since you’re the first person who has given him The Feels, if you are resistant to his advances (like, say, because he’s way too famous and you’re terrified he’s gonna break your heart) he’s going to go fucking nuts trying to woo you. Doesn’t have a single patient bone in his body but will wait as long as it takes for you to come around. He’ll act like he’s cool with just being friends at first, just hanging out, haha. Oh you’re busy today? That’s cool. Inside he’s shrieking like a tea kettle. Go ahead, make him wait.

Don’t bother giving him a key to your place. He’s coming in through the bedroom window or patio door. Just put out a damn welcome mat on your balcony... or a bird feeder.

A bit of a voyeur. He likes to watch you do your normal routine without interruption. He can see from miles away so if you’ve got your lights on at night, he’ll creep for a while before he comes in. It comforts him immensely, seeing a little slice of the world that isn’t constantly in need of saving.

Is super talkative and funny but a terrible communicator. Makes more jokes the worse he feels. Will almost never tell you what he needs. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know. You will learn to read between the lines and gradually notice his tiny unconscious cries for help. Back rubs make him emotional.

He shows up at your place at the weirdest times. All hours. You’re never ready. At first it was infuriating, because you wanted to look your best and have time to prepare, but you figure out pretty quickly that seeing you in your natural state is his favorite thing. He never gets to be around normal people, doing normal things. A boring, lazy afternoon is his idea of paradise.

He’ll pick through your things and ask a world of invasive questions. A medicine cabinet raider. He wants to know every fucking tiny thing about you, live vicariously through you.

He actually lives in a top floor penthouse. Because I mean, where else? Never spends any time there; mostly he seems to roost on the balcony. He has used the front door maybe once. He much prefers your place, and will only take you back to his after months of dating. It’ll take like, an entire emergency. You’ll end up in his bed by mistake.

Because when you finally come over, he’s embarrassed. Its sparse. White. Things in boxes. A new furniture smell. Like he’s not done moving in, though he’s lived there for years. He wants you to move in So Bad but doesn’t want to be pushy. If you don’t start leaving your stuff there, he’ll steal things from your apartment. Where the hell is your favorite t-shirt? Or that pillowcase you like? Dammit Keigo.

He’s a decent cook, a habit he made himself pick up because he thought it might make him feel more normal. It... didn’t. He never actually cooks until you give him an excuse. He’ll bring you breakfast in bed and watch you eat every bite with big hungry eyes.

He’s got a separate wardrobe for his hero costume and all his feathers. Yeah. His feathers. Because he can detach and control his feathers at will, when he’s alone at home he kind of just... shucks off his wings. The first time you see him do it, your eyes fall out of your head. He walks around in a tee shirt and boxers with these ugly little stumps covered in brownish, blood-red down. It actually looks kind of gnarly, like he got mauled by a bear.

He’s never dated until you. No one has ever been in his apartment until you. No one has called him Keigo until you. He has some bigass intimacy issues. Because. Y’know. The trauma. But god, he wants you in his life so bad, even if he has no idea how to make time for your relationship.

He’ll want to keep you to himself for a while. Once you go public he’s going to have an arm around your shoulders at all times. Publicly Displays his Affection way more than is socially acceptable in Japan, and gives precisely -100,000 fucks.

His fans either love you or hate you. There is no in between. He will immediately take your phone and threaten to drop it from a great height if he catches you reading shitty gossip about the two of you. Does NOT care about his public image anymore, doesn’t want YOU to care about it either. He’s gonna retire soon anyway, remember? That’s a lie.

Being a charming motherfucker is the core of his public persona, so you will get jealous. A lot. He will flirt shamelessly without realizing it. He will get photographed in compromising positions with gorgeous people.

Once you accept that he’s basically an actor 80% of the time and that Hawks and Keigo are separate identities, you’ll both feel better. When he comes home (to YOU) and falls over exhausted and stops being Hawks(tm), when he scratches his ass or burps in front of you, when he yells to you from the bathroom, when he groans childishly about his shitty day while laying face-down in your lap, you’ll know you have nothing to worry about. Keigo is all yours.

Boundaries? Never heard of ‘em. He’s either a million lightyears away or he’s glued to your hip. The whiplash is astounding.

Absolutely says “I love you” wayyyyyy to soon. It thrills you but scares you off at the same time, because there’s no way Hawks - The Hawks - can actually mean it, right? (He does)

Rings? Nah. When things get serious, he will make a necklace out of a feather for you, and if you ever take it off, you better be asleep or in the shower. Even then you’re on thin fuckin ice. If you’re not wearing it he knows. He’s never mean about making you put it back on, it just makes him nervous if he can’t feel your heartbeat.

- - - - -

SPICY CHICKEN NUGGETS

High sex drive. Horny like 25/7. Probably a symptom of having way too much pent up stress.

Often takes care of it himself when he doesn’t have the emotional resources for anyone else, even his S.O. Figures you don’t want him coming on to you as often as he would like to, but he’s too stupid to talk to you about it first. Morning masturbator.

Yes he’s fucked around a lot but he’s not exactly a playboy either. People have always thrown themselves at him, and before he met you he let them do it. Especially when out of town and staying in a hotel. Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

He’d never be unfaithful to you though; his loyalty and dedication are frankly a little unsettling. Sometimes you feel like the only thing in his life other than hero work. Teach this man to knit. Make him join a book club. Christ. Anything.

Does in fact have seasonal mating patterns and it’s super embarrassing.

An underwear-sniffing perv. He’ll definitely hump your pillow.

Gets a sick thrill out of breaking in and startling you. Coming up behind you in the dark, sneaking into your bed. It’s probably his worst habit, and even he hates that he does it. If you get better at detecting him he’ll be so proud. Land a slap on him and he’ll be a horny mess.

Dog-whistles at you. Often from rooftops, and you have no idea where he is but you know he’s leering.

He will call you a lot of really stupid pet names. He likes the way you blush when he finds a newer, stupider one. Calls you angel when he’s really far gone.

Likes to scratch you with his stubble until your skin turns raw and sensitive. If it annoys you or hurts a little? Even better. Making you squirm is his new favorite thing. Especially when going down on you. Your inner thighs are always exfoliated.

His cock is average in every respect. This is not a bad thing. He knows how to please you with every totally normal inch of that cock. He has some kind of homing beacon installed on your sensitive spots.

Goes absolutely insane for blowjobs. Any time, any place.

Likes to bend you around in all kinds of positions with an assist from his feathers to hold up an ankle here, an arm there. Get used to floating mid-coitus. It just seems to happen.

Spanky.

His number one priority is making you feel adored and at home in his bed. Ohhhhh he likes to make you smile. But if you encourage him to get pushy and dominant with you, you will have a good, good time.

He’s switchy, and will lose his shit if you initiate or take control. Again, he’s always horny for you, because he can finally let go. Breathe in his direction and he’s hard.

Doesn’t moan much, but Babe, he’s a dirty talker. He’s not smooth or deliberate about it, it’s more like he can’t fucking believe you let him do whatever he wants to you. You like that huh? Like he’s in stages of shock. He’s singing your praises to high Heaven and muttering oh shit oh shit oh shittttttt and laugh-crying as he cums. He never talks about his feelings; he fucks about them.

After. Care. King. He loves pampering and clucking over you anyway, this is simply another excuse to do it. He knows exactly how much water you drink in a day. Can’t take care of himself for shit, but you? You’ll never have a need he won’t try to fill. What’s all that hero work for if not this? Yeah, soak it up. You deserve it.

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

For the ship game: prime numbers for Lupin x Jigen!

HERE YOU GO GHOST, THIS WAS FIVE PAGES IN A GOOGLE DOC AND TOOK ME SEVERAL HOURS

Under a cut, allegedly, though mobile has been known to just IGNORE THAT. Sorry in advance if this gets goofed for anyone.

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, in any place?

Lupin, obviously (and canonically). Just the horniest man you ever did see. Jigen knows what he wants and when he wants it, but he has difficulty keeping up with Don Juan Triumphant over there. Lupin is also far less picky about locations and times than Jigen is. Jigen still has a FEW standards, thank you, and also a stronger sense of self-preservation. Lupin sometimes tries to start shit in public or during a heist and Jigen is like “I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT BUT CAN WE NOT.” The closest to public anything Jigen will put up with is bar bathroom/back-alley hookups, and he doesn’t really tend to do that with Lupin or Goemon since they have secondary locations far more suited to such activity (or at least the damn Fiat, if nothing else). That said, Jigen is a spiteful bastard and gets a huge kick out of riling Lupin up over the walkie-talkie during jobs. He is more than happy to get jumped by his boss after they make it out and secure the loot.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Honestly, while I can totally see Lupin and Jigen doing this with their other partners, I have a harder time imagining the two of them doing this together and I’m not sure why. I feel like these two on their own both like the privacy bathing gives them, whether it’s to clean wounds or decompress from a job.

On the occasions when they do bathe together, I feel like it’s an unspoken kind of thing, where the other person quietly slips in the tub/shower with them and they just don’t bother protesting. I think Lupin is more likely to join Jigen in his bathing, but if Jigen is sleepy enough or lonely enough he might do the same. There is a lot of mutual appreciation of scars. They’ve definitely smoked in the tub before (Intricate Rituals™). Lupin is probably more likely to get handsy, because Lupin, but two can play that game if Jigen is feeling it, and also Jigen gives Lupin a run for his money in the staring department. No hat to hide behind now.

Lupin has also 100% done the whole “Hey Jigen, do you know if—stop screaming, it’s me—do you know if we have any more instant dashi? Goemon’s gonna slice up the sofa if I ruin soba night again.”

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Jigen, but to be fair, he canonically sleeps on the couch most nights (possibly to keep an eye on the door, possibly because he knows that place, at least, is always “acceptable” for him to occupy). It’s an odd night if you don’t see Jigen out there with a glass and a bottle of scotch and an old movie on TV. The main difference is that if he and Lupin have been fighting, he won’t bother with the formality of a glass and the TV will be playing far louder or not at all.

7) [A] Who said “I love you” first? And [B] who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

I hate to take the coward’s way out here, but I think the answers are A) either one - depends on the headcanon/fic/version of the characters I’m feeling that day, and B) both.

For A, they’re both the sort of people to show their love—true love/affection, not just flirtation/infatuation, LUPIN—in action, not words. Lupin is a man of many words to a fault, generous with his verbal and physical affection, so Lupin has to find a way to make sure Jigen knows he means it and how he means it. He may rightly fear that Jigen won’t believe him (or else believe him but take it platonically) if he says “I love you” to his face, so first he’ll show him through every little action he can. Jigen is a man of few words to a fault, so saying personal stuff like that out loud is both a last resort and the point of no return. Getting him to say it at all, unambiguously, and while sober is like pulling teeth. Once one of them finally spits it out, though, I think the other is quick to reciprocate (again, if they manage to say it clearly and under good circumstances and not ambiguously/while drunk or wounded/etc. They’re both idiots and selective cowards so this is a big if). The mutual relief is palpable and immediately followed by sex, because they’re both (horny) idiots and selective cowards who do not want to talk about Emotions and Personal Things any more than strictly necessary.

For B, ohhhh man, if it isn’t that same emotional avoidance coming to bite them in the asses! Looks like talking about deep emotions is strictly necessary after all! You know it’s a Big Important Argument for them if this is what it comes to. This is going to tie in somewhat to the answers for 11, 17, and 23, so stay tuned. “Because I love you” coming from either of them should give the other pause, but if they are angry enough, they’re both quite likely to storm off after that declaration anyway. They’ll come back and have a real discussion later, but the shock or frustration of that arresting declaration dropped in the middle of an argument is something neither of them are great at dealing with. Hearing that from Jigen might be enough to stop Lupin in his tracks, but Lupin might also be so dead-set on something that he’ll steamroll right over it even if he knows he’ll regret it later. Hearing that from Lupin probably only makes Jigen angrier because of his awful self-esteem (see answers 11 and 23), and even if he’s been working on that, his instinct will be to snarl “Yeah, right” and storm out the door. I like to think that one day they are able to get to the heart of the argument sooner (because this is almost always it) and work on the behaviors that worry the other so much, but alas, they are a mess.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Once again, either of them depending on the day.

As you mentioned in your JiGoe post, Jigen says it partly because he thinks it’s funny (“You have a crush on me, Boss? Fuckin’ embarrassing”) but also because he’s fishing for validation. His self-esteem/confidence in anything outside his shooting skills is shit and he still can’t quite believe that Lupin isn’t lying/he hasn’t conned Lupin into something. This is rather overestimating his conning skills and underestimating his many good qualities, but, well, genuine, lasting affection is kinda new for him. Much to Jigen’s annoyance, Lupin figures out exactly what Jigen’s up to after the first few times and answers him seriously (and positively) instead of continuing the “joke”. Lupin loses patience for this particular tactic over time but I like to think that Jigen finally begins believing in the affection, too, so it comes up less and less and one day Jigen might actually play the quip straight without the self-deprecation. Ideally he would just take the damn compliment, but it’s LupJig and banter is one of their love languages.

When Lupin says it, he typically is playing the quip straight and fondly giving Jigen shit for showing an Emotion and motherFUCKER I just realized Jigen could probably be considered a tsundere. I hate this. ANYWAY. Jigen then immediately snarks back that yes, Lupin, considering we’ve been travelling the world together and actively fucking for X years, it’d be damn awkward if I didn’t by now.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Lupin absolutely initiates duets, or rather, he tries to; whether or not Jigen actually chimes in is another matter entirely. Lupin is also the better singer by far (when he’s sober). He loves singing along to pop and rock in the car (“This is the reason God invented America!”).

Much as it would please me personally to give Jigen a smooth operatic baritone, there’s no way in hell he sounds good after smoking a pack a day for twenty-something years. I think Jigen can carry a tune and he’s a decent hummer and whistler, but his singing voice isn’t spectacular.

Lupin occasionally succeeds in getting Jigen to join him in car karaoke, though as in all things, Lupin is much louder and more impassioned. Jigen frequently hums along under his breath, though, and Lupin loves hearing Jigen’s a cappella renditions of classical music (complete with hand motions).

When Queen starts becoming popular, car singalongs become much more involved because it’s MY silly headcanon and You Are Not Immune To Queen. Jigen cried the first time he heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” and he will kill Lupin if he ever tells Goemon or, God forbid, Fujiko. When the four of them are in the car it’s a full-on Wayne’s World headbanging party. (Pops is the drunk guy they pick up along the way. Also, seeing Payless Shoe Source in this clip dealt me psychic damage.)

Lupin and Jigen (and Goemon) are the living embodiment of the drunk friends singing “Sweet Caroline” post, and Jigen is specifically this version of “Sweet Caroline”.

17) Who is more protective?

THAT IS THE QUESTION, HUH, GHOST? Jigen’s job and, to a certain degree, raison d’être is protecting Lupin, but (to cheat slightly and quote your own DM to me), if you think Lupin won’t raze everything to the ground to keep Jigen (and the others) safe, you don’t know him at all. They are this meme to the deepest of faults. They are both so desperately afraid of losing what they have (and in Lupin’s case, this is tinged with a bonus, even more concerning “what is his”) that they will go full self-sacrificing, scorched-earth policy. This is, in fact, my favorite reason for Lupin to do the worst thing he does: fake his own death to protect his partners. Lupin never stops to think that maybe, JUST MAYBE, he should trust his partners to fake grief and keep the secret long enough for whoever’s on their tail to give up or let their guard slip. Lupin is willing to hurt them in an effort to protect them, so in that way, I suppose Lupin is the “most” “protective”. Jigen’s self-abasement to the point of unhesitating and perhaps even hasty sacrifice is painful, too, but Jigen would never dare go to the same level of deception (except in Goodbye, Partner, apparently? But 1) I haven’t watched it yet and 2) while awful, I still feel like fake betrayal pales in comparison to very convincingly (AND MAYBE REPEATEDLY) faked death).

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

They split driving duties, but Lupin genuinely loves driving and Jigen is more than happy to prop his feet on the Fiat’s dashboard and smoke or sleep the hours away.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other’s love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

HERE WE GO AGAIN!!! I think the answer to all of these is ultimately Jigen, but that’s not to say Lupin doesn’t share the exact same worries.

Jigen has a very difficult time believing that his partners’ love is genuine, and since Lupin is the one he knew first, that’s where it first manifests. Jigen has had very, very few good romantic connections in his life (if any). He doesn’t know what Lupin could possibly see in an older, prickly hired killer with a drinking problem and a head full of demons. He’s willing to believe that Lupin keeps him around for his skills, for protection, and for sex, sure, but anything past that? Doubtful. This ties into the other two parts of the question: Jigen is afraid that if he fails in his sharpshooting or his protection, he will be cut out of the gang, or worse, Lupin will end up dead because Jigen slipped up. As mentioned in question 17, Jigen cannot bear to lose Lupin and he would never forgive himself if he believed it was somehow his fault. Accordingly, Jigen takes “failure” that exceeds his usual margin of error very seriously in the early days. Later, he is better about this, but the worst-case scenario still stands.

Lupin, on the other hand, has had plenty of romantic connections, some good, some bad, though it is perhaps telling that Fujiko is his longest romantic relationship other than Jigen. He is afraid that if he doesn’t put on the world’s greatest show at all times, no one will give a rat’s ass about some scrawny grandson of an old French thief (or the perhaps unwanted/disliked son of a ruthless crime lord, because I love that fanon for Lupin the Second). He must live up to and indeed surpass the previous Lupins, he must shower his partners in money and adventure, he must always, always come out on top no matter how south the plan goes, or else what is the point of him? It takes time for him to turn his persona off for more than a few seconds, to let the quieter, sometimes contemplative side that slips through the cracks come to rest out in the open. Years down the road, Jigen finally gets up the courage and the words to tell Lupin that he would love him no matter what he did or where he went, even if that was nothing and nowhere. And again, see question 17 re: losing Jigen.

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

Lupin is by far the most guilty of this. He’s constantly pulling dumb shit, whether that be for World-Renowned Gentleman Thief reasons or just He May Be Stupid reasons. Case in point: the tunnel scene in The First, after which Jigen was duly impressed. Fortunately for Lupin, Lady Luck must be head over heels for him because the bastard keeps surviving, but sometimes even she can’t save him from medical consequences. Jigen bulk-ordered “Stupid Hurts” band-aids specifically for Lupin. Jigen’s bad choices are more likely to literally backfire on him, but Goemon more than makes up for Jigen’s slack in the Crazy Stunt department.

[2dmenenthusiast]

Bring me down (Arvin Russell x Reader)

Plot: Rather than God, you find solace in your only friend in Coal Creak, Arvin Russel, not knowing that he just might need you just as much as you need him.

Words: 4,176

Warnings: None really? Some swearing, suggestive themes, Arvin beating the crap out of people

A/N: heeeeey so first post yay lmao. (I have another blog tho so yeah) but after watching TDATT I just had to write something about Arvin. The movie is so amazing and if you haven’t watched it I suggest you do. Plus Tom Holland in that movie was just absolutely amzing (and hot af). But I hope you guys like this! I also tried to make the reader as gender neutral and non specific as possible for everyone, so let me know if I messed up anything. Also let me know if you’d like to see more!

There wasn’t a whole lot to do in Coal Creek, West Virginia. Besides driving aimlessly or stopping at the few diners around town, there wasn’t much that people did other than go to work and go to church every Sunday morning. However, people that grew up in Coal Creek still found ways to have fun, whether that was getting their rocks off in some abandoned parking lot or terrorizing some unsuspecting soul walking in the night. Most resorted to just getting drunk on a Saturday night before going to church the next morning, pretending that their head wasn’t pounding from the mass amounts of alcohol they drank the previous night.

Which is why you couldn’t understand for the life of you why Arvin did nothing but get himself into trouble.

“Christ, Arvin,” you sighed, rubbing the wet cloth under his nose to try and clean up the dried blood. “I don’t understand how you get in these damn fights all the time. Can’t you just, I don’t know, talk to them maybe?”

You knew immediately how ridiculous you sounded when the words came out of your mouth. There was no talking to Gene Dinwoodie and his lackeys. You just hated seeing Arvin so beat up all the time.

He scoffed and pushed your hand away, looking off to the side to avoid your gaze as you frowned.

“Fuck that. That no good sonuvabitch is gonna keep messin’ with Lenora unless I do somethin’ ‘bout it.” He then let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ talking. Jesus, do you know who you sound like?”

You weren’t expecting him to suddenly face you, and you sighed as you sat down on your bed next to him.

“Emma, I know. I’m sorry. I just…” You reached over and took his hand in both of yours, thumb gently brushing over his bruised and split knuckles. “It kills me to see you constantly getting bruised and beat up. And I can’t even do anything about it.”

You felt Arvin squeeze one of your hands, and you brought your gaze back up to meet his, your eyes slightly drifting to the purplish discolored skin below his left eye.

“Now that’s not true. Who else would patch me up everytime I get the shit kicked out of me, hm?” he asked, his lips splitting into a grin.

You scoffed and took your hand out of his to push at his shoulder before laying back on your bed, resting your intertwined hands on your stomach and staring at the white discolored ceiling.

“You’re lucky I even still do this for you. My daddy’s startin’ to throw a fit, constantly seeing you over here.” You sat up on your elbows to look at the boy. “He don’t like you too much, y’know.”

Arvin hummed and laid down next to you, turning onto his side and resting his cheek in his propped up hand, and you felt yourself wanting to shrink under his gaze. You and Arvin had some unspoken thing between the two of you. You didn’t know exactly what it was, but you knew for sure it wasn’t something as plain and simple as friendship. You had never kissed or anything like that. Well, besides when you both were about twelve years old and wanted to see what it was like, constantly seeing the adults around you kiss like it was something they did all the time. You were both young and curious, and you couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else, so it only made sense. Of course, it wasn’t anything spectacular. You were inexperienced kids, and at the time you weren’t really aware of your feelings.

Of course, you had loved Arvin since you were little. You met him when he transferred to your school after moving from Ohio. He was pretty quiet at first, didn’t really talk unless a teacher made him, and he’d get picked on and beat up by the older kids. He was new and didn’t have any friends, so of course he was an easy target. It wasn’t until he met you that he actually started opening up. You were friends with Lenora and often went over to her house, spending the night and going to church on Sunday with her and her family. Your relationship with Lenora sparked your friendship with her stepbrother, and you two were inseparable ever since. 

As you grew older though, you grew distant from Lenora. You had stopped going to church ever since your mother died, your faith pretty much nonexistent at that point, and you began to question everything about religion. You didn’t blame God for letting your mother die. In fact, you didn’t really know how to feel. All you knew was that rather than getting her some actual help, all everyone did was pray.

“Pray for her, y/n. God will save her,” is what they said.

What a load of horse shit. Praying only seemed to make her worse. And when she died, you completely closed yourself off from the rest of the world. Hell, Arvin could barely get through to you sometimes. But despite how angry you were, you still found it in yourself to let him in. The town didn’t like you too much after all that. People who didn’t go to church in Coal Creek weren’t really accepted by the public. They were cast out as outsiders for not finding solace in the Lord’s name. Not that you minded much of course. The town was full of fake people that weren’t worth your time. The only person you cared about was the boy laying on your bed at the moment.

“I miss her sometimes, you know,” you muttered softly, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

Arvin raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised by your words. “Who? Your mom?”

You shook your head. “No… Well, I mean yeah, I do miss her, but… I’m talkin’ about your sister.”

It was silent for a moment, neither one of you speaking as you laid comfortably in each other’s presence.

“... Does she ever ask about me?”

Arvin sighed, running his hand through his slightly untamed hair.

“Sometimes. I mean, she doesn’t really ask about how you are or anything. More like she interrogates me about what we're doin’ when we hang out.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, standing up from the bed and walking over to your bedroom window, watching as the sun began to set. You then heard the bed lightly creak and footsteps getting closer to you, and you’d be able to tell from a mile away that it was Arvin due to his signature boots. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and you slightly tensed up as his arms wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered softly, looking out at the evening sky with you.

You lightly shrugged. “It’s all right. You’re all I need in this shit town anyway,” you said, turning your head to look back at Arvin with a small smile. 

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes drift down to your lips for a moment, but couldn’t put anymore thought into it as you suddenly felt his lips against your cheek, closing your eyes at the sensation. It was over all too soon when he pulled away, your body feeling cold as he released you from his arms, and you wrapped your arms around yourself to try and get some of that warmth back.

“I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, picking up his jean jacket that he had thrown on the floor once he entered your room and slipping it on.

You hummed and nodded, giving him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes as you resisted the urge to ask him to stay the night. He’d spent the night at your house before, but asking him now seemed a bit too intimate. As he walked towards the door, you felt something bubble up in your throat, and as he began to step out of your bedroom, you took a step forward, reaching a hand up before you could properly think.

“Arvin, I…”

He turned to face you, all the words you wanted to say suddenly getting stuck on your tongue, and you sighed as you let your hand drop to your side, feeling a bit pathetic.

“Please… Please be careful,” you said softly, your concern clear in your expression.

Arvin gave you a small smile and nodded.

“I always am, darlin’. Don’t you worry about me.”

You let out the breath you weren’t aware you had been holding once he stepped out, and you watched from your window as he drove away in his beat up car. It was a miracle that thing hadn’t broken down already. You two had so many memories and adventures in that car, staying out late at night listening to the radio or going on short road trips outside of town that you wished never ended. It was one of the only times you ever felt peace, being in that shabby old car with Arvin. And as you fell back onto your bed and reminisced, you couldn't help but feel your heart ache a bit, thinking that one day all of this might come to an end.

_____________

“So is there any reason in particular you need me to be here?” you asked, looking at the front of the high school building from the passenger seat of Arvin’s car.

Arvin puffed on his cigarette and turned to you, blowing the smoke in your face, which you in turn punched him in the shoulder for as you coughed.

“You never know when to stop askin’ questions, do ya? I’ll let you know after we drop Lenora off to see her mom.”

Your eyes slightly widened at the mention of his sister’s name. “L-Lenora?”

As if on cue, the girl came running out the double doors of the school, pausing for a moment when she saw you in the front seat, before finally hopping into the back, Arvin turning his head to meet her gaze. He then looked back towards the school when he heard Gene Dinwoodie and his buddies shout for Lenora as they ran towards the car before he sped off, and you could hear vague shouts of “sister fucker” as you drove away.

The tension in the car grew thick, and you could feel Lenora’s gaze burning into the back of your skull as you let out a shaky breath. You were going to kill Arvin once you got him alone. He knew your relationship with Lenora was rocky, and yet he decided it was a smart idea for you two to be in a car together?

“God fucking dammit, Arvin!” you thought, your fists clenching in your lap.

You glanced over at the boy, catching his gaze for a moment before he looked away, fingers visibly tightening on the steering wheel. Once he pulled up to the church, you all sat in silence for a moment, the only noise being the loud rumbling of the engine.

“That preacher’s a little flashy,” you heard Arvin say, and it was clear he was trying to relieve some of the tension between all of you.

Lenora then piped up from the backseat: “Are you not coming?”

Arvin shook his head. “No, I got some things to do before we go home.”

Lenora looked at you again before dropping her gaze to her lap, scrunching up her dress in her fists. “Does it have to do with them?”

You sharply inhaled and dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, turning your head to look out the window to try and stop yourself from saying anything too mean. Why was it even any of her business? Sure, they grew up together and were basically siblings, but Arvin was a grown adult who could make his own decisions. And what, she had a problem with you just because you didn’t go to fucking church?

“Go on, Lenora. I’ll be back to pick you up,” Arvin said, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

She didn’t move at first until Arvin told her to go again, and she stepped out of the car, slamming the door a bit more forcefully than she needed to before stomping off towards her mother’s grave. Once she was out of sight, you immediately turned to Arvin and sent punch after punch to his arm, brows furrowed and teeth clenched in anger.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Arvin?! You couldn’t have given me a little warning?! Or maybe picked me up after you dropped your sister off?!”

“Ow, ow! Hey, would you just-!”

He grabbed ahold of your wrists, leaning over you and pinning you against the car door as you struggled underneath his grip.

“Would you cool it?! I wouldn’t have had time to come get you after dropping Lenora off, and I want you to be with me when I do this so I don’t fuckin’ kill someone, you understand?!”

You stopped struggling, looking up at Arvin with slightly widened eyes as your chest heaved, trying to catch your breath. You then became very aware of your position, face flushing as your eyes searched his face and trailed down to his lips. Before anything else could happen though, you pulled your hands out of his grasp and pressed them against his chest, feeling his lean muscles through his tight shirt, and pushed him off of you, quickly sitting up and pressing your back against the seat.

“What… What do you mean by that? So that you won’t kill someone?” you asked, finally looking over at Arvin.

He sighed and glanced over at you before putting the car in drive and driving away from the church, hoping that Lenora didn’t just witness the interaction between you two.

“Fuckin’ Dinwoodie and those other assholes aren’t gonna leave Lenora alone unless I do somethin’ ‘bout it. And I really just need you there to keep me in check. Make sure I don’t beat those sons of bitches too bad. You… You’re one of the only ones that calm me down, so…”

You stared at Arvin for a moment, taking in what he said before letting out a light chuckle and shaking your head.

“Fuckin’ christ, Arvin. You’re a damn idiot, you know that?” you said, your shoulders relaxing a bit as you noticed Arvin forming a smile of his own.

“Yeah, but you still put up with me.”

He sent you a wink and you rolled your eyes, letting out a small scoff as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“All right then,” you sighed. “Let’s go beat up some fuckers.”

_____________

It was raining by the time you and Arvin pulled up to the school, Arvin watching the doors like a hawk for Tommy Matson to come out. Neither of you said a word, simply listening to the radio as you both passed around a cigarette. This must’ve been what Arvin meant when he talked about waiting for the right time. He always mentioned it and told you it was something his daddy taught him when he was younger, but you had never seen him get into an actual fight, you were just there for the aftermath. Well, until now, that is.

Once you saw Tommy exit the building with some girl under his arm, Arvin let out a long exhale through his nose and handed you his half finished cigarette, stepping out into the rain as you took a few puffs. Your eyes then widened when you saw him walk towards the buses with a tire iron in his hand, quickly stepping out of the car and grabbing his arm. He turned around to look at you, the look in his eyes asking “what the hell are you doing?”

“I thought you said you didn’t wanna kill nobody. You’re gonna beat his face in with a tire iron?”

Arvin pulled out of your grip, shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Won’t hurt him too bad. Just enough to teach him a lesson.”

He then shrugged off his jean jacket and draped it over your shoulders, the look in his eyes telling you that nothing was going to stop him from doing this. Not if it kept him from protecting his sister.

“Stay by the car,” he muttered, parting with a kiss to your forehead and adjusting the tool in his grip.

It only took a few minutes for Arvin to come back, his steps a bit faster and his chest heaving, and he gestured with his hand for you to get back in the car as he threw the wrench he used to beat Tommy with into the backseat and got behind the wheel, speeding out of the school parking lot. While you wished that was the end of it, you knew he still had Orville Buckman and Gene Dinwoodie to take care of. And while you didn’t really like all the violence, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of adrenaline course through you as Arvin drove a bit past the speed limit, tongue swiping out to wet your bottom lip as you glanced over at him.

Arvin soon pulled up to the side of a garage, putting the car in park and stepping out, this time without the tire iron. You knew he probably wanted you to stay in the car, but you couldn;t help but let curiosity get the best of you as you quietly stepped out and followed a few paces behind him, watching as he came up behind Dinwoodie and slammed the hood of the car he was under against his head twice. The scene unfolded so quickly, you didn’t really know how to react, your eyes wide as Arvin kicked the door into Orville and sent blow after blow until his face was bloody, covering his face with a paper bag after rubbing a Twinkie in his face and punching him some more.

At first you didn’t notice it, but your eyes soon caught Gene getting up, regaining his balance as he grabbed a long wrench and began making his way towards Arvin who still had his back to him, completely unaware.

“Hey, asshole!” you shouted, purely acting on instinct as he turned to face you, and you sent a right hook straight to his face, your foot coming up to kick him in the groin afterwards.

You felt a strange, sick satisfaction as you watched him crumble to the ground, hands over his crotch as he wheezed, and Arvin looked at you in amazement for a moment before crouching down next to the moaning boy and putting a paper bag over his head as well. His hands held him by the neck as he made threats to kill him if Gene or his buddies ever messed with Lenora again, the boy wheezing out apologies through the bag, and once Arvin was satisfied, he got up and stepped over Dinwoodie, grabbing onto your hand and dragging you back to the car.

He drove until the garage was far behind you two, pulling over onto an abandoned stretch of road and letting out a shaky breath as he parked the car on the gravel. You two sat there for a moment, listening closely to the sound of Arvin’s heavy breathing before he reached across you and into the glovebox for a rag to wipe his bloody knuckles with.

“Here, let me,” you said softly, grabbing the rag from him and gently dabbing his knuckles with it.

You could feel gaze on you, staring so intently it was like he was trying to burn a hole through you.

“You’re staring, Arvin,” you said, your voice still quiet like you were afraid to speak up.

He didn’t answer, still staring as you grabbed his other hand to clean it as well. You let out a sigh, looking up at the boy.

“Arvin-”

His lips were on yours before you could get another word out, inhaling sharply and tensing up as you felt his hands on your face. It took a second or two for you to relax, melting into the kiss and placing your hands against his chest, gripping his shirt as you felt one of his hands slide around to the back of your neck, pushing your lips further against his as his arm looped around you to pull you against him. This was overwhelming, your mind not able to catch up as Arvin kissed you with everything he had.

“Arvin,” you muttered against his lips, trying to get his attention.

But he didn’t stop, his kisses only becoming more desperate as the rain pounded harder against the windshield, almost as loud as the drumming of your heart. You felt a calloused hand slide up the front of your shirt, and that’s when you knew you needed to stop this before things got way too far.

“A-Arvin!” you persisted, pushing against his chest, and you couldn’t help but feel a shiver go down your spine as he let out a growl against your lips, not happy with being interrupted.

“Fuck, what?” he asked breathlessly, his hand still pressed against your side underneath your shirt as your wide eyes searched his expression.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I… I-I just-”

“Y/n,” Arvin muttered softly, his thumb gently brushing over your bottom lip as you caught his gaze.

You let him kiss you again, Arvin capturing your lips with his and being a bit more gentle and slower than he had been before. However, when you let out a soft moan against his lips, it only seemed to spur him on, causing him to part your lips with his tongue and deepen the kiss as he gently pushed you until your back hit the passenger door. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, your skin hot to the touch, and you didn’t know if it was just you or if it was Arvin’s hands that were causing your whole body to heat up.

You let out a small gasp when you felt his hands go to the front of your jeans, attempting to make quick work of the button and zipper, but your hands stopped him, causing him to pull back with his brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-... Isn’t your sister waiting for us? I mean, we’ve been gone for a while,” you said softly. Not that you really cared, you were just trying to buy some time so you could catch your breath and think for a second.

Arvin scoffed in amusement and smirked down at you.

“Since when did you give a shit about what my sister thinks?”

You knew he had you there, and you saw he was about to say something else, probably just to tease you, so you quickly reached up and laced your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to shut him up with another heated kiss. His smirk remained as he kissed you, and in that moment he knew he would never be able to get enough of you. He had always been aware about his feelings for you, and he realized that waiting for the right time could be applied to more than just beating the shit out of people. But perhaps he had waited a bit too long this time, because as his lips locked with yours over and over, he realized he should’ve done this much sooner.

“Arvin, um…”

He pulled away when you began to speak, bringing a hand up to gently hold your face as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“Do you think we could um… maybe do this somewhere less cramped? My dad aint gonna be home til later, so…”

Arvin looked at you for a moment and nodded, giving you one last kiss before pulling away from you and putting the car in drive again. You would occasionally glance at each other during the ride back to the church, not able to help the blush on your face from appearing, and he chuckled at your embarrassed expression, reaching over to hold your hand. He knew once he got you alone, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you. 

By the time you got back to the church, the sun had started to set, and Lenora didn’t say a word as she got into the backseat. And if she noticed Arvin’s hand resting on your thigh, she certainly didn’t say anything about that either. She didn’t even question her brother when he didn’t get out of the car after he dropped her off at home, just watching the both of you drive back towards your house in the rusted vehicle. The giddiness was practically radiating off of the two of you as you thought about being alone with each other, Arvin’s hand squeezing your thigh.

But little did you know, your lives were about to get a lot crazier in the months to come.

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

bangs pots and pans together loudly FIC UPDATE COME GET YALL SOME JUICE

Apparently the vital, missing component to enjoying school was having a friend there. Go figure.

He and Kevin only have that first period class together, but they make the most of it, passing notes back and forth between the two of them, the teacher too tired that early in the morning to notice, or care. Lunch isn’t depressing anymore. They sit together under the shade tree, and Kevin does seem to also appreciate the view. “Can you even imagine working up a sweat, on purpose?” Betelgeuse pats his gut. “You know I can’t.”

“I can’t believe how little the track shorts are. That’s obscene. You think I’d look good in them?” “You join track and I’ll come to every meet, an’ it won’t be for th’ love of th’ sport.” He doesn’t think normal friends talk to each other like this, but he doesn’t actually know. Does everyone flirt with their friends? Are friends just cool people you wanna fuck but haven’t yet? Is it demon hormone bullshit, making him read into everything? Unclear.

It’s all going so good, until it isn’t, suddenly.

One lunch, two months into being there, Kevin pulls a huge and impressive old book from his backpack. “Look what I goooot,” he sing songs, waving it in Betelgeuse’s face, and he sneezes in response. “Smells old.” Emily and Lydia would love it. “It is. It’s very old,” Kevin confirms, and he moves so he’s sitting next to Betelgeuse, shoulder to shoulder, both their backs to the shade tree. “It’s about demons.”

Betelgeuse loses interest immediately, and focuses on not going pink at their shoulders touching, instead. “Z’at so?” he grunts. Kevin doesn’t seem to pick up on his moodiness, though. “It talks about all these ancient beings,” he explains, flipping pages. “Their summoning circles, their aspects,” he gives Betelgeuse a nudge at that, “all the things they can do for you, and the boons they grant.” He feels uncomfortable. “What’s with this? You obsessed with me, or somethin’?” He tries to play it as a joke, but that glint in Kevin’s eyes is back, and he doesn’t like it. “Of course, who wouldn’t be obsessed if they learned all this shit is actually true? It’s like there’s a whole secret world behind a locked door, and I’ve got the key.” Kevin looks back up at him.

He gets the feeling he’s the key. It’s not a good feeling.

“Where’d you even get this fuckin’ thing?” he lifts a finger, and the book slams closed in Kevin’s lap. His friend huffs. “Internet, of course.” “No, I mean… why were you lookin’ for somethin’ like this?” “I want to learn more. Don’t you?” Kev presses, and reopens the book. “I mean, what if there’s something amazing you can do, and you just don’t know, cause you’re not bothering to try?”

“So I’ll never know, so what?” Betelgeuse feels like this is a losing argument, but he tries anyways. “What’s so great about bein’ weird? You’re lucky you’re human.” “Dude, don’t even start with that. You can fly.” “So can humans,” he points out. “Wh- A plane and fucking levitating for fun are not the same, and you know it, BeetleJerk.” Kevin honestly can’t understand why he’s not excited over this. “I just mean… I’d rather be human, than this.” He blinks at his own words, because he’s never expressed that out loud before, ever. But it doesn’t feel untrue. “You’re out of your mind, more so than usual. Every human alive wants to feel special, and do the stuff you can do. Why are you acting like it’s so miserable all of a sudden? You use your powers all the time, I’ve seen you literally teleport five feet because you’re too lazy to walk.”

“You don’t get it.” He’s feeling sullen now, and he wiggles a little away from Kevin, and crosses his arms. “BJ, come on-” Betelgeuse teleports away to under the bleachers, and he eats his lunch there, until the bell rings.

He’s waiting for Emily after school, not feeling particularly friendly, when Kevin approaches. They stand there awkwardly. It feels tense, and weird, and he waits to see what the breather does. “Don’t be mad,” Kevin says, finally. “M’not mad.” “You sound mad.” “You know what mad on me looks like,” he finally turns to look at his friend, amber eyes burning with irritation. “First hand.”

Kevin looks down, and kicks at a rock that might not actually be there. “I thought you’d be excited. BJ, come on, I don’t wanna.. Not be friends over this.”

Betelgeuse signs, and scratches at the scruff on his chin. “It’s not like that,” he relents after a moment. “I just, I don’t care about that stuff. An’ I don’t wanna sit around, focusin’ on it. I don’t exactly like feelin’ different. Yeah, I do tricks an’ use my magic an’ stuff, but it’s hard to control. I lose my temper once an’ I could seriously destroy somethin’, or hurt my family. It doesn’t exactly feel good, knowin’ that. No one else my age can stand me, cause they can tell I’m weird. Before you, it was fuckin’ lonely, Kev.”

He feels a familiar pressure, because Kevin has taken his hand, and the human gives it a squeeze. He accepts it, melting a little against the other boy. “Still friends?” Kevin asks, and Betelgeuse purrs in response, resting his head on Kevin’s shoulder.

It’s not till later, at home, that he realizes Kevin never actually apologized.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````

It’s like that, for a while. He knows Kevin still has the book. He knows he’s reading it, and sometimes Kevin will bring up demon stuff, but Betelgeuse has almost exactly a minute and a half of patience for answering questions or hearing about it. Still, Kev doesn’t stop. He might feel angrier if the breather wasn’t so god damn cute.

The air is starting to go cold, and leaves are beginning to fall. October is settling in, getting comfortable, and mom’s starting to break out the Halloween décor. It’s the middle of a kind of gloomy, Autumn day, when things get weird.

Kevin has the book open, much to Betelgeuse’s annoyance, and he’s blabbing away about a demon that supposedly grants wealth- “Do you think you could do that?” -when Betelgeuse looks down at the book, and sees Juno looking back at him. It’s not really her, it’s an illustration, but he’d recognize the bitch anywhere. She’s ink, glaring up from the page, those same age lines etched into her face, confirming his private theory that she’d been an old hag even when she was young. The slit neck is prominent, and as he stares, he sees smoke billow out of it. Oh, fuck no.

He grabs the book and slams it shut, startling Kevin, and then he teleports it directly under them, a mile down in the rock of the earth. Kev blinks for a moment, confused, before looking at his friend. “Wh.. Dude, WHAT?”

“Possessed book,” he croaks out, feeling tense, because he can smell cigarette smoke. “And you’re afraid of it? Why? You are also a literal fucking demon!” “That’s why I’m not messin’ with it!” Betelgeuse stands up, uneasy. The ground around the tree feels weird, now. He doesn’t like it here anymore. “Cause I actually understand why it’s a bad fuckin’ idea! God, you should have instincts that tell you not to mess with this stuff! You’re deficient, Kev, seriously.”

“Me deficient? Seriously?” Kev snaps, which hurts in a new, unexpected way. “Whatever, asshole. Give me my book back.” Kevin stands up, too, but he’s not uneasy, he’s angry.

“It’s better off where it is.”

“Which is where?”

Betelgeuse glances down. The grass around the tree is starting to wither. Kevin follows his gaze, but doesn’t seem to notice the dying vegetation. “You buried it? Come on!”

“Leave it, Kev.”

“This isn’t just your cool secret, anymore, it’s mine too!” Kevin glares at him. “You can’t keep me out of it, BJ. That’s not fair. God, at this point, I know more than you! You should be listening to me!”

He feels his volatile temper flare.

“Ex-fuckin’-scuze me?”

He waits for Kevin to take it back. Instead, his friend doubles down. “Demons have to listen to humans,” Kevin crosses his arms. “If they’re summoned. It’s in the book.” “Nobody summoned me,” Betelgeuse snarls, letting his real snake eyes show, an intimidation tactic that works for about half a second. Kevin’s too used to him, at this point. “I’m up here on a deal.” “Bet I could do it. I bet I could summon you. Then you’d have to listen to me.” “Yeah? Well, good luck without your stupid book!” He storms off, leaving Kevin standing there.

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The rest of the day sucks. He’s moody all day, annoyed in the car, grumpy in his room. He cranks metal and wishes he’d learned to play a guitar instead of his rinky, happy sounding ukulele. The instrument isn’t going to produce the noise he wants to express himself, right now. He throws it across the room, into a wall, where it smashes, and reforms a minute later, because… it’s still his favorite, after all. Even if it’s no good for expressing his teenage angst.

He can hear shuffling, and talking, outside his room, though he can’t make out what’s being said over the music. After a moment, though, there’s a knock at his door. “Hey, Bug?” Emily calls. “Can you come give me a hand with something?” He wants to tell her to piss off, go away, to leave him the hell alone, but.. It’s Emily. The CD player lets out a strangled choke and suddenly stops, and the door swings open, all without him moving from his flopped position on the bed. “Sup, ma?” he grunts. Emily peaks her head into the room, and smiles when she sees him, the expression radiating warmth and adoration and.. Oh, God/Satan, bless his sunbeam of a mother. “Just wondering if you’re free to do a little decorating?” She reaches behind her and grabs a fake severed bloody limb from the box he assumes she’s dragged into the hallway from the attic. “Don’t you worry it takes away from the “wow factor” to do Halloween twice a year?” He asks, standing and stretching, before apparating in the hallway behind her, and giving the decor box a nudge with his boot. “What? No way, there’s never enough Halloween!” Emily grins. “Get that, please.” The box floats along behind him as they head downstairs. They pause in the entryway, as Emily thinks out loud. “So, maybe the kitchen should be-” “Functional as a kitchen, please,” Charles calls from the living room. Emily rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine! Spoilsport! We’ll focus on the entryway for now,” she decides. “You wanna put up cobwebs in the rafters?” She gets on tiptoes to reach into the floating box, and he lowers it a bit for her, as she grabs the fake webbing. “I could just instantly decorate the whole room,” He takes to floating next to the box. “Could make sure it’s all normal human stuff, too,” He adds, before she can respond. “I know you can… But I like decorating,” Emily says brightly. “It’s not about getting it done quickly. It’s about, you know, doing it together.” “So why are dad and Lydia slacking?” Her smile doesn’t falter, but becomes softer. “It kinda felt like you needed some mom time, today,” She says simply. God, she can read him easier than Kev can read his stupid book. “We got in a fight,” he admits. She hums at that, because he only has one friend. It’s not hard to guess who he could possibly mean. “I’m sorry, Bug. What over?” He hesitates. So far he’s not let any of his family in on this book business. He’s been sort of hoping it could just go away on it’s own, and not be a thing. Kevin’s made it into a thing, though, and not telling even his mom feels… bad.

“He’s really into demons. Like, really, really into em,” He rasps, floating up and beginning to put up the spiderwebs, as his mother takes down the usual, sort of spooky wall hangings and trades them for her very intentionally spooky Halloween ones. “He’s got this book, an’ it’s all about demons an’ like, how to summon them, an’ their powers, an’ stuff… Sometimes th’ way he talks, it’s like.. Are we friends cause we’re friends, or friends cause you think I’m gonna be... useful?”

Maybe that doesn't make any sense, but that’s how it’s been feeling, like there’s an invisible shoe hanging midair, and it’s about to drop. His mother waits until he’s finished before looking up at him. “And you fought over that?” She prods. “Not exactly.” How the fuck can she even tell that, though? Damn her mom powers. He really, really didn’t want to talk about this, not to her, but… “I saw Juno. In th’ book,'' He lowers back down to the floor, and digs through the box, pulling out fake body parts. Back up he goes, to stick these in the fake webbing. “It was just a drawing of her, but it started like.. Billowing smoke-”

“From the neck,” His mother remembers, suppressing a shudder.

“Yeah. I could smell the smoke. So I got rid of the book, buried it in th’ school yard, but Kev got all pissy about it. He thinks he’s an expert on this shit, an’ he’s gonna mess with somethin’ big if he keeps this up.” “I’m sure you’ve told him that.” “He doesn’t listen. He gets this look in his eye, like it’s a game, or like… I dunno. Feels sometimes like he thinks he’s…” He searches for the words. “Like he thinks he oughta be the boss a’me, or somethin’.”

He rubs absentmindedly at the moss on his nose. It clings, stubborn as ever, same with the patches by his hairline, and he’s found it’s easier to just add another little layer to his glamour than try to do anything about it.

Maybe that’s indicative of a bigger problem. It’s easier to do a bit of magic and make everything look better than to actually fix the underlying problem. Ugh, introspection, how absolutely miserable. He wants to keep thoughts like that locked away tight, but they have a habit of slipping past his mental defenses and making him feel worse. Absolutely no one can make him feel shittier than he himself can. He sinks to the ground, going purple, and he’s instantly wrapped in his mother’s arms. “It’s okay, Beetlejuice,” Emily has both her hands on the back of his head, and he pushes his face into the crook of her neck. “I just.. I’ve only got the one friend,” he groans. “I don’t wanna stop bein’ his friend, but.. Fuck, ma.”

“I know.” Her voice is a soothing balm. She works her hands through the mess of purple hair at the back of his head. “I know, sweetheart. I know it’s lonely at school, but school isn’t forever,” she tries to assure him. “If your friend is treating you this way, well.. He’s not a very good friend. Do you want to be around someone who makes you feel this bad? Does it feel worth it, to you?”

He knows the correct answer is, “No,” but he’s not sure if his self esteem is high enough for that.

“I like him a lot,” He grumbles, and she hums again. “He’s handsome,” She says, and then pulls back far enough to pinch his nose. “But not as handsome as my son, of course,” and it’s silly enough to help knock away his mood, so that’s something, at least. “What should I do?” He doesn’t pull away from her, just soaks up the mom energy for as long as he can. “I think you need to have a talk,” Emily tells him. “Lay out how you’re feeling. Try to get his side of things, and make sure he hears your side, too. Then, at least you both tried, you know?”

It’s such a mom type answer. He groans again.

“I was worried you’d say some shit like that.” She fuzzes his hair, and he feels the tingle in his scalp that means it’s changed colors. Back to green, he assumes. “You know your moss changes color along with your hair? And your creepo-stache?” “Leave the stache alone, it’s tryin’ it’s best,” He pretends to be defensive.

“It makes you look like the founder of a forum for people who marry their cars,” Lydia offers, from the bottom step of the staircase, where she has apparently been just chilling and listening.

“Wh-! Mom, it’s not that bad, right?” Emily tilts her head to the side and gives what can only be described as a condescending smile. “Oh, you’re both in for it now.” He brings the various decor items to life to terrorize them, and then Charles joins his side, sympathizing with his son vis-à-vis bad teenage facial hair, and by the time the whole squabble is over, hardly any decorating has gotten done… But he does feel better. His family’s good like that.

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Monday rolls around, same as it always does, but there’s a weird feeling in the air. Halloween is a week away, barely missing getting a weekend date, but there’s some big Halloween bash the school is apparently throwing. There’s fliers for it everywhere, plastered all over lockers and bulletin boards. He’s not much of a participator, though, and his reaction to his locker being plastered over with invites to a party he doesn't care about is to snap his fingers. All the fliers on all the lockers up and down the hall, all instantly fall loose at once, littering the floor. A few students jump back, but no one looks his way, because why would they?

He’s grabbing his history textbook when he feels a tap on the shoulder, and when he turns, it’s a girl he recognizes, but her name is absolutely lost on him.

“You’re BJ, right?” Miffy askes, and he nods. “Yeah, s’right,” and Margo seems to wince at how gruff his voice is, before continuing. “Um, you and that guy Kevin, you’re like…” Milicent trails off, waiting for him to finish her thought, but sorry, baby, he can barely finish his own. “Like…?” He says, with his gravel voice copying her tone and inflection, and she huffs. “Together?” Marge asks, “Like, all of the time?”

He cocks his head, and squints at her, hands t-rexing at his sides, as Lydia likes to say.\

“Usually,” He concedes, and he gets the feeling he’s dragging this out much, much more than Mango clearly wants, because he spies a group of girls a little ways off, waiting for her. One of them is staring intently, more focused on him, but he pushes that thought aside.

“Look, okay, he’s gonna be out for a few days, and I’m just trying to see if you can take him his homework,” McGrubber has grown tired of having to stand here, talking to the chubby goth loser, apparently. “I’m a student aid in the office and they’re trying to make me do it, but I have track practice!” Thaaaat’s where he knows her from. She looks different, not bouncing and sweating and also not half a football field away. “Sure, fine, I’ll make sure Kev gets his work. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on running in a fuckin’ circle, Maria.” Her face sours. “It’s Blair.” So close. “Who fuckin’ cares,” He replies, and turns back to his locker. He can hear her rejoin her friend group, all of them fawning over her harrowing experience of having to speak to him in public. The last thing he hears from Blair is, “He’s just so goddamn weird,” and then the group rounds the corner.

He closes his locker harder than he maybe needs to.

Kevin isn’t in class that day, or the next, or even the one after. The shade tree has withered and died completely, it’s color sapped and gone, and even walking near it makes him feel uneasy. His new lonely lunch spot is under the bleachers, which feels even more voyeuristic of a spot to watch the track team, but even that activity feels tainted, somehow. He’s back to being lonely.

He can’t stand being lonely.

It gets so bad he contemplates sitting, wait for it, on the bleachers, and maybe even trying to strike up a conversation, but he’s too chicken shit. He’s been going to school with these kids for the past three years, and no one’s wanted to talk to him or chat with him in all that time. He can’t imagine that’s about to change.

Still, on Thursday, miserable and lonely, he gives it a try.

Sitting up here sucks. It’s just a hard metal seat on a gloomy day, and when he’d ventured up and sat down, other people had slowly moved away from him, until he was sitting by himself, all the breathers huddled in a different area, away from him. He'd tried talking, but hardly had a "Hey, how ya doin'?" grated out before the migration began.

Figures.

He finishes eating and lies on his back, resting his hands on his chest, eyes closed, and after a while he feels someone standing over him, and something laid over his hands. He opens his eyes. There’s the most beautiful girl staring down at him. She’s got long, bleach blonde hair, darker at the roots, which is hanging down in a halo around her face, and the biggest, clearest blue eyes he’s ever seen. He glances down, to see she’s placed a daisy over his hand. He looks back up at her, amber eyes questioning.

“You looked so still,” She smiles. Her voice is like music. He thinks he can hear harps. “With your hands folded like that. Kind of like an open casket.” He’d been forgetting to breathe, apparently, which happens sometimes. She thought he looked like a corpse, and she placed a flower over him.

“Sorry, if that’s weird. You’re.. BJ?” She asks, and he picks up the daisy, sits up, and nods. “Yeah, you’re…” “Barbara,” she fills him in. “You’re not so good with names.” “Mmm. Buffy tell you that?” He recognizes her now, from that group of girls. Barbara sits next to him, which makes zero sense. “It’s Blair,” she corrects him gently, but not without a giggle in her voice. “Oh, right.” Her name could be fuckin’ Moonpie and it’d make the same amount of difference to him, but he’d agree with anything Barbara said, if it meant she kept sitting there, talking to him. “Are you going to the Halloween party?” She asks. “Supposed to be pretty killer. It kind of seems like your scene.” “I’m not exactly a social butterfly,” which is the understatement of the god damn century, honestly, but she laughs and nudges her shoulder with his. “Well, I think you should come. I bet you’d have the coolest costume. Maybe think about it?”

“I guess, maybe..” He says lamely, because his brain is short circuiting from that small touch.

“Barb, come on!” someone calls to her from a ways away, on the track. Lunch is nearly over. She stands, and smooths down the long skirt she’s wearing, which is modest but flattering. “Later, BJ,” she smiles, and just like that, she’s gone, like an angel going back up to heaven in a beam of light, off to rejoin her friends. He can hear what she says to them, though. “You guys are mean, he’s not so bad. Just shy.”

He keeps the daisy in a little glass of water on his dresser, and strums love songs on his ukulele.

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Thinking about Barbara and her smile and the way she nudged him is a fun distraction, at least for a little while, but when it’s Saturday, and he still hasn’t heard from Kevin, he decides it’s time to demon up and see what the fuck is happening with him. He’s been just teleporting Kev’s homework inside his room, and he’s sure it’s falling into a pile on the floor each time and startling him, but no one ever said how he had to deliver it. Today though, emboldened by the pretty girl on the bleachers, he appears at Kevin’s front door instead, holding Friday’s work, and he knocks. It takes a moment, but Mr. Loh answers.

Betelgeuse hasn’t had much chance to interact with Kev’s dad. He looks like a normal, tired dad, wholly unimpressive, and kinda short. Chuck could wrestle this guy to the mat, no problem.

“Oh, BJ,” Mr. Loh says, and then glances at what’s in his hands. “Kevin’s homework? Thank you. He’s holed up in his room… won’t come out.. Maybe,” and he suddenly looks hopeful. “You two are friends. Maybe you can try talking to him?”

Well, that’s what he was there to do anyways, so sure. “I gotcha, Mr. L,” he nods, stepping inside, and heading up the stairs and down the hall to Kevin’s room. The closer he gets to the door, though, the weirder he feels. Something stinks, figuratively and literally. It smells like… It smells like the waiting room. It’s that same, veil is thin type air that he can smell on Halloween night, but how the fuck is he smelling it here? He bangs on Kevin’s door. “Hey, Kev, it’s the B-Man,” he calls, trying to keep his tone playful, but he feels like he’s doing a poor job. What the hell is going on? “Come on, man, open up!” He tries again, when he receives no response. He thinks he can hear a shuffle behind the door. “Dude, I will bust this fuckin’ door down,” He growls, all the play gone from his tone. “You know I will. Better yet-”

He appears inside the bedroom, just in time for Kevin to slam shut the closet door. Kevin turns to look at him, back pressed to the wood. There’s a beat, both teens staring at each other, wide eyed, Betelgeuse in that weird way he does, and Kevin looking frazzled. “What,” the demon grates out, “the fuck, are you getting up to in here? It smells like the netherworld, Kev.” Unfortunately, that makes Kevin’s face light up. “It does? Oh my god, that’s perfect! It must be starting to work!” He crosses the bedroom, going to his desk, where an old book is sitting open. It’s not the same one he took from his friend, it can’t be, that book is still a mile down in presumably solid rock. “Another musty ass tome, great,” he growls, but Kevin ignores him, flipping through the book.

He hates feeling ignored.

A black and white striped arm sprouts from Kevin’s desk, and slams the book shut, which makes the breather turn and glare at him. “Get out of my room, BJ,” is all Kevin says, and Betelgeuse ignores that, instead crossing the floor to get a look at that book. “Where th’ hell do you keep finding these fuckin’ things?”

“This one I bought from a one armed man living out of a 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale,” Kevin recites. Betelgeuse squints at him, top teeth over bottom lip. “You’re too gay to know what that means,” he says, plainly, and Kevin shrugs. “He wouldn’t stop talking about his stupid car. I now know more about that antique than I know about geography.” It feels fun, for a second, like this drama isn’t happening, and they’re just having a conversation. It doesn’t last, though. He can’t let Kev off the hook.

“So you bought a second cursed book, this time from some amputee homeless guy, and you’re just, doing the rituals inside of it? And this seems like a super good idea to you?”

“I’m practicing,” Kevin replies.

“So what’s in the closet, Kevin?”

“Get out of my room, Betelgeuse.”

The way Kevin says his name is weird. It doesn’t feel like how it normally feels when a breather says the full thing. He shakes it off, and gives his friend a defiant look, before waving a hand and throwing open the closet door. There’s a cleared spot, in the middle of the closet floor, and a fucking summoning circle in what smells like, “Pig’s blood? Couldn’t get human?” He turns to look at Kevin, who is glaring at him intently. He matches the look.

“Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my room.”

That gets his attention. It feels like an invisible hand is pushing him, and he stumbles back out of the room, confused. “W-what?” Kevin is just standing there, staring at him, and Betelgeuse stares back, eyes wild. “You motherfucker,” he hisses, eyes in snake slits, teeth sharp, claws extended. “You wanna do that “real name” bullshit with me? That the choice you’re makin’ here, Kev?”

Kevin doesn’t even look phased. “I’m working on gaining a bit more control, but looks like that works, for now.”

“You’re cracked!” Betelgeuse growls, absolutely furious. “You’re really tryin’ to summon me? Are you out of your head!?”

“You’re wasting your powers,” Kevin storms forward. “You’re a supernatural being, and you go to school and play your stupid ukulele, and don’t even try to do anything bigger. You could be stepping on everyone under you,” his former friend is going red in the face. “You could be leading, you could be ruling, but you just jerk off in your room and play pretend at being human. But someone might as well profit, here. Why not me?”

“I thought.. I thought we were friends,” is all the demon can say, lamely, and Kevin’s smile is the meanest thing he’s ever seen on a breather. “Once you’re fully listening to me, we can be friends again. Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my house.”

He feels that same invisible pull, and he thinks maybe if he was stronger he could resist it, but a demon’s true name is like a lead on a dog, meant to control them, and unfortunately, Kevin has a tight hand on his leash. He makes it to the front door, and stumbles out, covering his face until he can calm himself enough to reapply his glamour.

Shit, he thinks, straightening up, and staring up at Kevin’s bedroom window. He is so fucked. ``````````````````````````````````````````````` Posted this chapter and another over at Ao3. You can read it right here

[rae-gar-targaryen]

oneirataxia, but make it comedy | marcus pike x reader

A/N: Part of the Sleepover Weekend.  Oh, shit, did I ever get carried away. “Write a blurb,” they said, “it’ll be fun,” they said. “You won’t write 3.3k words of a fake-dating Marcus Pike fic. Surely not. Surely the fuck I will. Buckle up, babe. I hope this is what you were looking for!

Pairing: Marcus Pike (The Mentalist) x fem!Reader

Warnings: Romance is its own warning. 

Word Count: 3.2k of fake dating tropes, bad jokes, Marcus getting a lil sassy (he gets it from his mom, apparently), and coffee abuse.

Summary: Marcus invites you home for the holidays; but there’s a bit of a string attached to the invite. Based on the prompt: “Your mum hates me.” “She doesn’t hate you…she just doesn’t like you.” 

NOT MY GIF

--

You were absolutely going to kill Marcus Pike.

Okay, not kill. Maybe maim?

As you met his mother’s eyeline over the rim of her tea mug you could have sworn she sneered at you a little.

So, no. Most definitely kill. Marcus was number one on the list. And his mom? Number two.

Let’s back up a little here--

You and Marcus were both agents at the Bureau together. You were part of the Art Squad, and have partnered with Marcus on missions a time or two. Honestly, you thought he was kinda cute. He had a sweet vibe to round out his killer intensity when he was in the field. And once you started talking to him, he had a kind of puppydog energy you found so darn endearing.  But in your sporadic interactions with Marcus, it never felt like he was being his fullest, true self. Like he was holding back a bit.

Still, you didn’t press. Pike’s business was Pike’s business.

Beyond him bringing you coffees a few times at team meetings, your interactions were limited. And he brought coffee for other people sometimes, too, so you tried not to read much into it and to damper your little crush.

It wasn’t until the two of you were partnered to go undercover together at a gala that you think Marcus really, truly saw you. You two had made an excellent team-- posing as a husband and wife undercover to sniff out some art thieves.

Marcus, in his pressed suit, had looked every inch of just dashing. You tried not to let yourself get too carried away in your daydream. Your dress was uncomfortable, and rode up a bit, if you were honest. You hoped Marcus didn’t notice.

But he told you you looked nice, ever the gentleman. And you were so busy looking for your mark that you didn’t notice how often Marcus was really looking at you.

After the gala, Marcus approached you more.

The idle, “Hey, how was your weekend” became, “Have you heard the new Black Keys album?”

You started to feel like he really understood you-- and the agency must’ve thought so, too, because they partnered you more and more.

Sure, Marcus knew you. So it was honestly fucking baffling to you why he’d even ask this of you--

“You want me to what?” you asked Marcus, your tone taking a slightly interrogatory edge.

“Uh, come to my family’s house for the holiday? I know you were going to spend it alone anyway, so really, you don’t have to--” Marcus sputtered a bit, his invitation seemingly sweet on its surface. But you were no dummy, you knew what you’d heard.

“No, Pike. Don’t act like you’re doing me some huge favor. I fucking heard you--” you started.

“Then why’d you ask me to repeat myself?” God, he could be so smug at times. That sinful little smirk around his full lips making you want to smack said smirk right off of his handsome face.

“Pike, I’m not going to pretend to be your little girlfriend at some family holiday shindig just so you can convince your mommy you’re not a perpetual bachelor, or whatever asinine reason you have for this request,” you chided.

The nerve of this guy! And to think, you’d had an Alicia Sliverstone-sized crush on this sweet, good-looking Paul Rudd wannabe!

“Come on, it’s not like that,” he protested, trying to win you over to his (obviously terrible) idea.

“Then what’s it like?” You demanded.

“It’s, uh.. It’s complicated. I was just hoping you’d do this for me? Please? Partner?” He implored. You almost gave in. Those damn puppydog eyes slightly too endearing for their own good-- but, no, you have always been a stick-to-your-guns kinda girl. Marcus Pike’s failed, mid-2000s rom-com of an oddball request wasn’t gonna change anything. But still… you were curious.

“Nope. No way, Pike. If you can’t be honest with me, then why would I do something so obviously-insane for you? Don’t act like I’d be doing you the favor when it’s obvious it’s a favor to you… especially if you won’t even tell me why. We’re partners, we’re supposed to trust each other.” You were resolute.

Marcus looked like he was going to tell you. In that moment, maybe he would have… He opened his mouth slightly as if to speak, before shaking his head slightly and closing his mouth again. As if he’d thought better about trusting you. Fuckin’ insulting.

“Sorry, Ace. I can’t tell you that.”

And with that, you left the room. Screw Pike! Screw him screwing with your feelings. A favor. Honestly!

Two days later, Pike walked into your office with your coffee of choice in one hand, and an apologetic look on his face.

“Look, I’m sorry about the other day. You’re right, it was crazy… it was crazy,” the second time sounded more to himself than to you.

“Bring me caffeine, babe, and all is forgiven,” you chirped, trying to lighten the mood. But it was clear Pike was thinking about something deeply, churning it over in his mind, his ochre eyes swimming with the sea of his own indecision.

“Pike, don’t think too hard. It’s not good for you. I can smell the smoke coming from your ears,” you teased gently.

“Teresa,” he said softly.

“Excuse me?”

“Her name was Teresa. She was my fiance… briefly. It… ended badly. Embarrassingly. I’m not-- I haven’t really been the same since. But I fucked up,” Marcus rambled. You nodded, trying not to interrupt him so he could continue. “I dove in too fast, proposed too soon. She didn’t really want me.”

Your heart panged at his confession. You’d had no idea. Honestly, your status as newbie agent didn’t really afford you to the inner workings of Marcus Pike, and you didn’t want to incite gossip by asking around too much. Being an inquisitive agent because it’s our job isn’t much of a guise if your crush becomes too obvious. Poor Marcus.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Marcus. I really am,” you placed a hand on his shoulder. “No one deserves that. But, um, what does this have to do with you asking me to spend the holidays with you?”

Marcus sighed.

“I told my mom about Teresa. When we were together, anyway. She knows it ended badly. I couldn’t take her smothering. Her pitying glances. Her everything. So, when she asked me about coming home for Christmas, I said I couldn’t because I was spending it with my girlfriend. I panicked. She then insisted I bring said girlfriend to Christmas at their place,” Marcus rushed out. “The problem being, of course, said girlfriend is fictional. Imaginary. Just like some bogus forgerd painting,” he chuckled a bit at his own attempt at humor.

Of course, of everything Marcus had just said, you were most surprised to hear that he was, in fact, single. File that one away for later.

“And your first thought was to ask me to be your fake girlfriend? Pike, that’s a little Hollywood. And not in a good way,” you chided.

“I know,” he moaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “And now she won’t let it go. So please, please, kid. Have pity on me? Come be my girlfriend for a week at Christmas?” He gazed at you pleadingly. “And you were an obvious first choice. You’re a stunner in the field, and smart. I thought you could handle it.”

Damn those eyes. Damn that face. Damn Marcus Pike.

If you hadn’t been caffeinated and in a better mood than the other day, you probably would have said no. Regardless of your caffeinated status, you definitely SHOULD have said no. And yet, here you were, drinking your coffee like it’s your dumb bitch juice.

But still, you couldn’t resist teasing a little.

“Don’t try to flatter me, Pike, it won’t work. I know I’m a good agent. But here, now, I’m just imagining you whining to your mom.” You put on your best, piteous John Mulaney impression, “Can my giiiiirlfriend come?” you mocked.

Pike rolled his eyes at you.

“Fine,” he said, popping himself up from the edge of your desk where he’d been irresistibly leaning since entering your office. “Enjoy your Christmas alone with your cats. I’m sure the ugly sweater looks great with cat hair stuck to it.” He started to walk out the door.

What possessed you to do what you were about to do?

“Pike,” you hollered, stopping him in the doorway. He turned.

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t put your finger on it. Maybe it was because you really did feel for him. Which you did. Maybe it’s because you didn’t want to be alone. Which you didn’t. But maybe it’s because you were still carrying a torch for Marcus Pike, and the idea of spending Christmas with him was too good to pass up. Even if his whole family was there. Oh, shit. You are so screwed.

He jumped up, wrapping his arms around you quickly.

“Great!” He intoned. “Because I already told my mom it was you.”

“I’m gonna let that one go for now, Pike,” although you were secretly imploding. “Because we need to set some ground rules.”

“Fine.”

So, here you find yourself, days later, standing in the threshold of the Pike family home, where Marcus’s mother had been smothering her son with kisses and coos, waxing poetic about how glad she was that her “baby is finally home!”

And then, like a demonic switch has been turned, she turns to you and greets you (if you want to call it that) nothing short of ice-fucking-cold and a chirp of, “So this is the tart you work with!” before turning on her heel and walking to the kitchen, hollering for Marcus to put his bags down and follow.

The rest of the week passed like that, Marcus’s mother flipping moods so fast it made your head spin like the little girl from “The Exorcist.” Ironic, really, since it was Marcus’s mother who was the damn demon.

“So, Jennifer, where is your family from again?” She’d been calling you “Jennifer” for the entire time. She knew damn well that wasn’t your name. You grinned and bore it, for the sake of her beautiful, idiot son sitting at the table at your side.

You mumbled your name, trying to politely correct her.

“Is that not what I said?”

Honestly. This woman was a piece of work.

“You know, Mrs. Pike, we could get to know each other a lot better if you started with the right name.” You were just trying to lighten the mood a little, but not able to resist a slight jab at this old goat of a woman.

“I’m sure I’ll learn your name, dear, if you stick around long enough for it to be important to remember,” she replied primly, sipping her tea. You wanted to knock the china cup out of her little rat hands.  

UNBELIEVABLE, you thought. Here, you were suffering this horrid woman because at the behest of the ghost of Teresa Lisbon, the recipient of a punishment for a crime you’d done nothing to incite. Guilty by association was still guilty, though, apparently according to Marcus’s mother. If another woman had broken her son’s heart, she obviously felt entitled to regard you with suspicion and disdain.

Marcus was nothing short of apologetic in the peace and quiet of his bedroom, expressing profuse regret from his spot on the floor where he slept. Because of course he would be a perfect gentleman to you and allow you to sleep in his bed during this whole whatever-it-was. And if he was trying to be a gentleman, he was failing. That tight white t-shirt stretched across his fine, firm chest was just fucking rude.

“Marcus, it’s fine,” you insisted. “You have no control over her or her opinions. And I’ve seen and dealt with worse. Federal agent remember?”

As the week pressed on, you were able to temper the rudeness of Marcus’s mother with the intensity of your ever-growing feelings for Marcus. Seeing him at home, in his element, in relaxed clothing was doing something to you. And you weren’t quite ready to admit it. You spent quite a bit of time together, reading in front of the crackling fire in his family’s cozy living room. You played boardgames against his younger brother and his sister-in-law, teaming up to destroy the competition at Codenames.

You’d thought maybe, just maybe, Marcus was developing feelings for you, too, his touch lingering on your waist as he shuffles past you in the kitchen, sending you soft smiles over the pages of his books as you two read. But the more you thought about it, the more you were convinced that Marcus was just being nice and putting on a show for his family.

Until that old goat opened her mouth.

The family dinners were the worst. Marcus’s mother always seemed to sit across from you just so she could glare into you with that unyielding gaze of hers.

“Jennifer, a word?” She asked, as you got up to help clear the table.

Yeah. Where were we? Oh yeah, you were DEFINITELY gonna kill Marcus for talking you into this.

Marcus put the dishes he was carrying down, and squeezed your hand gently.

“It’ll be fine,” he whispers to you, before pressing a soft kiss to your temple, your brain instantly going dumb and numb at the contact, like you were listening to the people in the room from underwater. Nevertheless, you followed her into the kitchen, where you stood, alone, a marble-topped island counter the Switzerland between the two of you.

“Yes, Mrs. Pike?”

“I’m going to be frank with you, dear, I don’t like you,” she stated.

You’d had enough. The wrong name, the cold shoulder, the glares, the hmphs of disdain whenever you talked about the cool cases you were working on. You’d just had enough.

“No shit, Mrs. Pike? I just assumed you’d greeted all of your guests this way, and that’s why there were so many of them here. Because of your warm hospitality,” you snipped.

“Don’t get cute with me. I’m not about to applaud a relationship with my son if it’s just going to end badly.”

Now that gave you pause.

“That Teresa girl really did a number on him. So excuse me if I’m not going to sanction any old relationship. I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. Not if you’re just going to break his heart. You’re just his co-worker and it should stay that way. Unless you’re serious, especially with the way he looks at you,” she stated firmly.

And you could honestly forgive her in that moment. Almost, anyway. “The way he looks at you” ringing in your ears. You had to say something-- and snark was getting you nowhere. So, you spoke from the heart-- before you could think about it too hard.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Pike. I wasn’t around for any of that. I don’t know much. Only the little Marcus has told me. And I'm not keen on making him relive any of that, or cause him heartbreak,” you paused. “But I wouldn’t do that to him. Because I care about him. Deeply. I really do,” and you just kept going... “I know I’m probably not what you envisioned-- I’m too dedicated to my job, it’s not glamorous, I’m not some subservient little housewife. I’m brash, I’m annoying. All of these things are true. But the biggest truth? Your son means everything to me. And that I won’t apologize for.”

And with that, you left. To go find Marcus and give him a piece of your mind.

You marched upstairs to Marcus’s bedroom, where he was perched on the bed with a book in his lap. You fist your hand into his sweater before yanking him up and planting a firm kiss on  his mouth. Marcus stilled in shock, before reciprocating, kissing you back, cupping his hands to your cheeks. You pulled away, heat pooled in you cheeks, blazing in embarrassment at what you’d just done.

Honestly, what the hell did you just do??

Marcus regards your silence by raising an eyebrow.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what the hell was that?” Marcus asked.

You rushed the words out, knowing you’d retract and redact them from your brain if you waited too long.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m so sorry. Your mom just really got to me… she thinks I’m another… her,” you spared reference to Teresa’s name, mindful of Marcus’s melancholy that followed when she was mentioned. “But I’m not her. I love working with you, Marcus. And I’ve always had a thing for you, if I’m honest. Which I am. But it wasn’t until she really started pushing me that I realized… I care about you, Marcus. I want you, I really do. All of you, even the parts that hurt. I want you,” you professed.

Marcus stood there, shock etching his features, eyes widening and mouth starting to gape.

You bowed your head, blinking back furious tears as you stared hatefully at your shoes. Why would you do that? You thought. You’ve ruined everything, all because that old grackle dug at you too much. And now Marcus hates you.

Marcus’s hands were suddenly in your downcast eyesight, palms resting on your cheeks and urging your face and eyes upward to meet his gloriously shimmering midnight ones.

“I want you, too. God, you drive me crazy, you’re such a punk at work. But, fuck if I can’t stop thinking about you. You make me crazy. And I thought I was the only one. I’d go back to my apartment at the end of the day sad, because I knew you wouldn’t be there. My love is not really the overwhelming kind. Jesus, I just go home and drink rosé and watch ‘Remains of the Day,’” he implores. “But I mean it when I say I want you, too.”

And with that, he slides one hand from its resting place on your cheek to the back of your neck, scooping your face upward for a soft, slanting, warm kiss.

Needless to say, you were fine with Marcus relinquishing the spot on the floor in favor of lying next to you in bed for the remainder of the week.

Now, you held hands while going for brisk, winter-air walks around his neighborhood, despite his mother’s withering gaze. You were always touching, never far from the other’s hand or mind. Marcus’s brother teasing you good-naturedly about your interlocked fingers being “PDA.”

You head back to your lives and back to reality, but still on cloud nine. Sharing kisses before separating to one another’s respective offices at work. Spending weekends at one another’s apartments, making out against any and every surface you can find, your thigh slotting between his as you press together during every conceivable moment you can.

One of these nights finds you laughing about the inception of your relationship, when, inevitably, Marcus’s mother comes up in the conversation. You had spared him the gory details of your kitchen scene in favor of a simpler retelling.

“Honestly, Marcus, your mom hates me,” you implored. “She told me so.”

“She doesn’t hate you…,” Marcus trailed off, “She just doesn’t like you. I’m pretty sure that’s what she told you, if the grapevine was correct,” he smirked.

You slapped him on his chest. The nerve of this guy!

“But that’s okay. Because I like you enough for the both of us,” He said, smiling as he presses his lips to yours for a sugary sweet kiss.

[bangtaninink]

when night falls i am your escape

a sequel / prequel to sanctuary! ( as requested by @athenakyle )

The dull sound of rhythmic knocking against a wall has Jisook stopping in her tracks, a tray of dirty dishes in her grasp.

“I’d keep walking if I were you,” Sanghoon says, fixing his glasses, a leather portfolio tucked in the crook of his arm. “Miss _____ has Master Jeongguk over again.”

Jisook sighs.

“I just did the laundry,” she mutters, walking off.

Sanghoon lets out a terse chuckle in reply, checking his watch.

“Ah, the Chairman and his wife also informed me earlier that they won’t be home for dinner tonight,” he calls out to Jisook. “They’ll be dining with the rest of the board of directors. Miss _____ will be dining out with Master Jeongguk also, so do let the rest of the staff know that only a light supper will be needed when they return, Jisook-sshi.”

“Thank you, Sanghoon.”

Sanghoon bows his head as Jisook disappears into the kitchen, the sound of her shuffling slipper-clad feet growing distant.

The rhythmic knocking eventually stops, and Sanghoon arches a brow at the sudden quiet, looking up from his diary, page half-turned. A few beats later, the door to your room opens, and you emerge in the middle of tying the silk belt of your robe around your waist, hair in a messy bun atop your head.

“Afternoon, Sanghoon,” you greet, lazy smile stretching across your lips. “How you doin’ today?”

“Good afternoon, Miss _____,” he replies, bowing his head. “I’m well. Thank you for asking.”

“Want anything from the kitchen while I’m there?”

“No thank you.”

“Okie dokie. Enjoy the rest of your day, okay?”

“I will do my best, thank you.”

                                                         〰️

Jeongguk yelps when something cold hits the small of his back, clicking his tongue as he pushes himself up off his stomach to sit against the headboard, taking the beer you’re holding out to him.

“It honestly surprises me that I’m allowed inside here every time I come over,” he says, taking a sip.

“Why?” you laugh, reaching into your bowl for a strawberry.

“Uh, ‘cause you’re one of the richest people in the country, and me and the hyungs literally have diets consisting of ramen and discounted kimbap. We are not the same, dude.”

“No one’s complained yet.”

“I don’t think your staff would complain. Maybe talk about you behind your back though.”

“Jeongguk, you’ve seen Jisook. She nags me more than my actual grandma. She would not hesitate to call me out.”

“True. She has such a cold stare sometimes. I can come over here horny out of my mind, but then I see her and I feel like my balls shrivel up and die in an instant.”

“Gross.”

“Well. I could be rich soon though. I hit five hundred thousand followers on Soundcloud within twenty four hours of those photos coming out from that dinner. And then seven hundred and fifty thousand followers on Instagram not long after. Kinda scary how quickly people can find my shit. You didn’t even promote me straight away.”

“Your nudes will be next,” you joke.

“Pfft. Please. You say that like it’s a bad thing. My nudes are spectacular.”

“You know who I bet would love to see your nudes? What’s-her-face. Hara? No, Hana.”

“Oh, Jesus. Don’t,” Jeongguk groans. “I thought her seeing you with me would force her to give up, but now I feel like she’s gotten worse. She keeps blowing up my phone.”

“You gave her your number?”

“Nah, nah. She’s been messaging me on Instagram. I bet it’s because of your ‘statement’.”

“What about my statement?”

“You said I was a ‘close friend’.”

“Well, what am I supposed to say? ‘Jeongguk’s my fuckbuddy. He’s got my favourite flavour of dick!’”

“Aww,” Jeongguk coos, hand pressed to his chest. “I’m touched.”

“Yeah, well, you can touch yourself on your own for the rest of eternity if you keep that up.”

                                                         〰️

“Hi, excuse me, um… c-can I get your autograph?”

You look up from your menu to see someone standing a few feet away from Jeongguk, holding a notebook close to her chest as she waits nervously for an answer.

“Yeah, for sure,” Jeongguk says, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at you briefly before taking the notebook from the girl, scribbling his signature on a blank page before bowing and watching her walk off. “Look at that. I’m famous.”

“Congratulations,” you say, nonchalant as you turn your eyes back to the menu.

“Damn, you really live like this? I could get used to it.”

“You say that now. Wait ‘til you’re getting followed into the bathroom when you go to take a dump.”

“How much do you think I could sell my shit for now that I’m famous?”

“I dunno. Ask Hana. I bet she’d be the only one crazy enough to buy it,” you say, looking up from your menu again to grin.

“Shut up.”

“Are you ready to order, Miss _____?” a waiter asks, stepping up to the table with a small notepad.

“Mmm, I think I’ll have truffle linguine,” you say, setting the menu down on the table.

“Of course. And for you, sir?”

“Uh… I’ll have the tenderloin steak with the cream potatoes, thank you. Medium rare,” Jeongguk replies, smiling.

“Excellent. We’ll have it over right away.”

“Thank you.”

“Damn. The perks of being rich.” Jeongguk leans back in his seat, hands on the back of his head. “I really could get used to this.”

“Don’t get too cocky, Jeon,” you say, taking a sip of your wine. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“You know what is a good look on me?” You look over your wine glass. “You.”

“God.”

                                                         〰️

“How were your meals tonight?” the waiter asks, collecting you and Jeongguk’s empty plates.

“Amazing. Send my compliments to the chef,” Jeongguk says, smiling. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“Would you like some dessert? Coffee?”

“Oh man, I’m stuffed.”

“Just the bill, thank you, Minwoo,” you say, reaching for your drink.

“Of course,” the waiter says, bowing his head before walking off with the empty dishes.

Jeongguk reaches into his back pocket for his wallet as you finish off your wine, counting out his money before slipping it into the small leather folder the waiter sets down on the table.

“What’re you doing?” you ask, amused; Jeongguk looks at you, confused.

“Paying?”

“Why?”

The crease between his eyebrows grows deeper as he furrows his eyebrows, saying, “because I asked you to come to this restaurant with me? Wait, hold on, I’m confused. Am I missing something? Should I not be paying?”

“No, it’s just… most people would be making me pay, that’s all,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Please,” Jeongguk scoffs, proceeding to put his money in and shut the leather folder. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am not like most people, sweet cheeks. Also, making you pay makes it seem like you’re my sugar mommy or some shit, and that feels weird as fuck.”

“Oh, eww. You’re right.”

“Come on, let’s go. I need a smoke.”

                                                         〰️

You can feel the floor of the club pulsing beneath the soles of your heels, walking over to your usual table with Hyemi and Sora on either side of you, paying no mind to all the heads that turn your way. The rest of your friends cheer and wave when they see you approach, making space for you three in the booths.

The drinks easily come and go, and eventually a bunch of you end up on the dancefloor, nodding your heads and swaying your bodies to the sound of the music, laughing and fooling around as you always do.

One by one, you friends drift off, returning to the tables or leaving with a handsome stranger, until only you and Hyemi remain on the dancefloor – but even she looks like she’s one song away from disappearing from your side.

As you anticipate, just as one Jay Park song ends and another starts, Hyemi has her fingers entwined with an unfamiliar face, and she turns to look at you with an apologetic smile before wandering off. You let her go with a casual shrug and a smile, unbothered because you’re used to this routine now, knowing the fun is only yet to start now that you’re no longer surrounded by your friends.

It’s now that others will gain the courage to approach you, no longer resorting to fleeting glances your way—as if they weren’t being completely obvious in doing so—but using their alcohol-fuelled bravado to make their way closer to you on the dancefloor, until eventually, someone will sidle right up to you, hand on your waist, department store jeans pressed to the back of your tailored Prada dress.

“Hey.”

Like clockwork, you feel a hand come to rest on the small of your back, and the air around you briefly smells like whiskey, cigarettes, and clean laundry.

“Jeongguk,” the stranger says, guiding your hips to sway in time to his.

“_____,” you reply, smiling to yourself.

“Knew that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Surely everyone here does,” Jeongguk says, chuckling.

“You’d be surprised.”

“No way. They’d be insane to think you’re just another pretty face. Are you having a good time so far, _____?”

“Sure am, Jeongguk. How ‘bout you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fuckin’ petrified.”

“What?” you ask, laughing as you turn around, Jeongguk’s hands wrapping around your waist as you rest your hands on his chest.

(You’re excited to find that his chest is beautifully firm—almost rock solid—beneath your palms.)

“Oh, definitely.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve got bodyguards watching you from afar. If I move my hands an inch lower, I could be tackled to the ground and banished from the country for laying a hand on probably the richest twenty-something year old in Korea.”

You throw your head back and laugh, the sound barely drowned out by the loud music.

“I don’t leave the house with bodyguards all the time,” you reply, grinning.

“Ah. A wild child, huh? I’ve heard that too actually.”

“Is that right?”

“Yup,” Jeongguk says, emphasising the last syllable with a pop.

“I’m surprised the tabloids are reporting the truth.”

“Oh, so it’s true? Oh, I like that.” Jeongguk grins when you laugh again. “So. What do you usually do on nights out, Miss _____?”

“Well, that depends on what you usually do on a night out, Mr. Jeongguk,” you reply.

“Hmm. Well, I’ll usually down a few drinks, dance next to a pretty girl, get slapped in the face before she tells me she has a boyfriend, and be on my merry way, crashing on my third secondhand mattress to the sound of my roommates fucking their boyfriends.”

“Sounds like a great time.”

“Eh. Could be better,” Jeongguk replies, shrugging. “Maybe havin’ the balls to dance with one of the richest people in the country will change my fate.”

You hum, barely audible.

“Or maybe this is the part where I slap you and find another hot guy to go home with.”

“Well if that’s the case, at least I can say I tried. I think I’ve done a lot better than that table on my left who’ve been staring at you from the moment you stepped foot on the dancefloor.” You turn to look off to the side, snorting when a cluster of guys startle and turn away from you before any of them can meet your eye.

“Story of my life,” you say, turning back to look at Jeongguk.

“It’s not too late to rewrite it, sweet cheeks,” Jeongguk says, winking. Smooth! “Unless, of course, you were planning on leaving with someone else.”

“Considering you’re the first person to come up to me, I think the gold medal is going to you tonight.”

Dramatically, Jeongguk swipes a finger under his eye.

“I’d like to thank my mother, my lucky lighter, and Jack Daniels.”

He takes your hand and leads you off the dancefloor, no complaints when you detour to your table and grab your things and wave goodbye to your friends who watch on with wide eyes as you leave with your arm hooked around Jeongguk’s.

His friends do the same, it seems, if the way he juts his chin out with a smug look on his face is anything to go by, ignoring the frantic waving to try and get his attention as he walks you to the door. He does, however, humour them with another wink just before he follows you out with a hand on your lower back, paying no mind to the ping of his phone when you’ve both exited the club.

“So. My place or yours?” he asks, waving down a taxi.

“Yours, s'il vous plait,” you reply, running your fingers through your hair. “My place is swarming with people and paperwork right now – probably the whole reason why I came out tonight actually.”

“That sounds so fun.” Jeongguk chuckles, opening the door to the taxi and holding it for you. “After you, sweet cheeks.”

“Wow. A gentleman.”

With a shrug, he waves you in, before climbing into the taxi after you, quoting the address of his apartment to the driver and leaning back, shoulder pressed against yours.

“So. What’s it like being filthy rich?”

“Eh,” you reply, shrugging. “It’s got its pros and cons.”

“Cons?” Jeongguk repeats, eyebrow raised. “That’s hard to believe.”

“That’s what everyone says – until they get a taste of the life, that is.”

“Hmm. Can’t relate. I get excited when I get a new follower on Soundcloud and Instagram, or when I can afford three cups of ramen instead of my usual two. I bet you barely notice followers flooding in – or even eat cup ramen.”

“Well, I can’t say cup ramen is a staple in my diet, but even I can’t resist that stuff. Just means I’ll have to do an extra session of hot yoga to get rid of all that excess sodium.”

“Hot yoga, huh?”

You look at Jeongguk, who stares off into space with wide eyes, totally distracted by what you’d just said. You laugh loudly, shaking your head.

“God, you’re such a… guy.”

“You said ‘hot’ and ‘yoga’ in the same sentence, and I am but a mere mortal,” Jeongguk replies, hand on his chest.

The taxi slows to a stop in front of an apartment complex, and you watch, intrigued, as Jeongguk hands his money to the driver, before stepping out and rounding the car to open the door for you.

He leads you up to his apartment, but without warning, he pauses, hand on the keypad of the front door.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“A problem?” you ask, amused.

“Yeah, I just remembered neither me nor my roommates cleaned up before we left.”

You shrug, saying, “doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

“Oh, it’s a problem. How dare I invite a goddess into a trash can of an apartment?”

“Are you like this with everyone you sleep with?”

“Well… the guys and gals I sleep with don’t usually have a net worth of a trillion Won…”

You laugh again, shaking your head.

“You can open the door, Jeongguk.”

“Alright, alright. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jeongguk punches in the passcode and pushes open the door, turning on the lights and kicking aside stray shoes in the doorway to make a clear path to walk through.

“Honestly,” he says. “I’d say shut your eyes and let me carry you to the bedroom, but I can’t even guarantee my room is any better.”

“This isn’t bad,” you say, scoffing as you look around at the expanse of the apartment, unbothered by the old takeout boxes, empty soda and beer cans, crumpled loose papers, and the remnants of rolled joints and cigarettes in ashtrays around the living room. “You made it seem like a junk yard.”

“I don’t know if you’re just saying that, but I’m not gonna push it,” Jeongguk says, rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling, before motioning to the door of his room. “If you so desire, your Highness, your throne awaits just over there.”

“Weird. Your lap is right here,” you say, nonchalant as you kick your heels off and put your bag down on the sofa, before walking over to Jeongguk’s room.

“Oh,” Jeongguk groans, fist pressed to his lips as he watches the way your hips sway, nodding to himself before eventually chasing after you.

                                                         〰️

Taehyung whimpers softly as Yoongi bites gently at his neck, punching in the passcode without pulling away.

“Hyung,” Taehyung moans, toeing off his shoes, hands fisted around the lapels of Yoongi’s shirt. “Hyung, wait. What’s that noise?”

“Huh?” Dazed, Yoongi lifts his head, eyes squinted in concentration as Taehyung takes the opportunity to nibble at the shell of the elder’s ear, fingers curling around his belt loops. “Is that… I think that’s Jeongguk.”

“Jeonggukie’s home already?”

“Oh fuck, Jeongguk! Yes! Yeah, right there. God!”

Frozen, Yoongi and Taehyung stare off into space as the apartment fills with the sound of moans and groans, jolting in surprise when Jeongguk’s bedroom door swings open.

Panting, Jeongguk frantically crosses the apartment completely naked, stopping dead in his tracks when he notices Yoongi and Taehyung standing in the doorway, staring at him. He jerks his head in a nod, chest still heaving as he grins.

“Hyung, I’m grabbing some condoms from your room,” he calls out.

They watch silently as Jeongguk disappears into Yoongi’s room – and Hoseok’s room, for good measure – before returning to his own room and kicking his door shut, and it isn’t very long before the sounds return.

“You wanna just… watch a movie?” Yoongi mutters, sighing.

“With the volume turned up very loud please, hyung,” Taehyung replies, nodding solemnly.

“I guess I’ll text Hoseok to warn him in case he plans on doing anything with Joon then.”

                                                         〰️

“Christ, you guys wanna turn that down?” Jeongguk says loudly, wincing as he stands shirtless and in a pair of sweatpants against his bedroom doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, lit cigarette held in the corner of his mouth.

Yoongi and Taehyung look at him, eyes narrowed, even as Yoongi’s thumb mashes the volume button on the remote.

“What the fuck were you doing in there?” Yoongi asks, frowning as he holds his lit cigarette to Taehyung’s lips. “I know you’re loud, but Jesus Christ, Guk.”

Jeongguk shrugs, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Did you kill her?” Taehyung asks, exhaling. “Have you just fucked someone to death? I’m telling you right now, we will not be your accessories to murder, Jeon Jeongguk. I’m telling the police everything.”

“I’m sure I can settle any lawsuits that might come from tonight.”

Yoongi inhales sharply, dropping his cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table as he coughs violently when you step out of Jeongguk’s room, tying your hair up. With wide eyes, Taehyung stares at you, mouth opening and shutting repeatedly as he struggles to find words.

“Y-you’re… you… you’re…” he stammers.

“That’s Yoongi hyung, my roommate; and his boyfriend, Taehyung hyung,” Jeongguk says, motioning towards them. “I’m sure I don’t need to introduce you to _____.”

“What the fuck, Jeongguk?” Yoongi says in between coughs. “What the fuck?”

“Your boy’s got game, hyung.”

“Mmm, and a great dick,” you add, picking up your bag.

“Is your driver here? I’ll walk you down.”

“It was nice meeting you two.”

Yoongi and Taehyung stay frozen on the sofa, completely dumbfounded, even when you and Jeongguk leave and meet your driver at the front of the apartment complex.

“Oh,” you say, reaching into your bag and pulling out a pen, grabbing Jeongguk’s hand to scribble your number on his palm.

“Oh, this is officially the best day of my fuckin’ life,” he says, grinning. “Same time next week, sweet cheeks?”

“Wouldn’t say no to that,” you reply, winking and opening the car door. “Let me know if any of your neighbours wanna file any complaints.”

                                                         〰️

[ sms: YOONGI ] _____.

[ sms: _____ ] mr. min. how can I help you?

[ sms: YOONGI ] my phone feels like it’s going to eXPLODE WTF [ sms: YOONGI ] did Jeongguk tell you to do this?

[ sms: _____ ] pfft no [ sms: _____ ] if anything, I did this to piss him off ;

[ sms: YOONGI ] jesus _____ [ sms: YOONGI ] there are so many notifs on here what do I do??? [ sms: YOONGI ] my phone is not strong enough to handle all this [ sms: YOONGI ] I’M not strong enough to handle all this oh god

[ sms: _____ ] you want a new one?

[ sms: YOONGI ] huh?

[ sms: _____ ] a new phone lol

[ sms: YOONGI ] HUH???

[ sms: _____ ] i’ll send you a new one [ sms: _____ ] and hoseokie too :)

[ sms: YOONGI ] hold on [ sms: YOONGI ] HOLD ON [ sms: YOONGI ] YOU’RE SENDING ME AND A SEOK A NEW PHONE??? [ sms: YOONGI ] HELLO?? [ sms: YOONGI ] _____?!

 [ DISPATCH ] Samsung heir, _____, promotes underground Soundcloud rapper, Agust D’s second mixtape, ‘D-2’.

 [ sms: JEONGGUK ] you gave the hyungs new phones??? [ sms: JEONGGUK ] WHAT ABOUT ME

[ sms: _____ ] i’m not your sugar mommy, sweet cheeks ;) [ sms: _____ ] maybe hana will buy you a new one!

[ sms: JEONGGUK ] SHUT UP [ sms: JEONGGUK ] YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE

[startwithbrooklyn]

THE GREAT ND REWATCH OF 2021 / SEPTEMBER 30, 2019 // larkspur lane/the whisper box

this post is a double whammy cause they have 2 eps happen in the same day if u can believe it (thats how awful judging timelines in this show is!!)

-"hi josh..." LMAOOOOOOO

-BESS just breaking in lmaooo how many god damn times does bess just shit the bed in this show

-LOVE her frowny face at nancys closet ("my expectations are low" lmfaoooo but this would totally be me)

-"bet she meant it metaphorically" okayyy but then why did lucy say that at all? i feel like theres defo more to this story, combined with josh's cagey behavior (part of which is to get nancy to stop looking into shit d/t him and karen but still)

-"they dont accept visitors unless they're family" .....🙂

-ace "youre really good at that" to bess i fuckin love this friendship with all my heart (also love their talk at the claw mirroring nick & nancys talk in the last ep)

-also PINK AND ORANGE BESS ARE U BLIND (also 1) why tf would nancy own this and 2) where would she wear it??)

-okay wtf is vampire dip

-"boss??" see this is what i meant yesterday about nancy ruining everything for nick/george

-god DAMN she sucks at dealing with this news lmaooo that emotional competency babey + love george literally agrees to help bc she feels bad (AND nicks immediate look of "you just reprimanded me for helping her last ep and i know why youre doing this rn" lmaoooo)

-LOVE george noticing nick "shout out to jean valjean" lmaooo once again nancy would never have noticed/commented on something like that

-"get the hell out of here" was this foreshadowing for an epic dad joke for these two eps? "how do you make holy water? you boil the hell out of it" 😂😂😂😂

-so what i dont get about the whole haunting is the ball + kids' laughter but its all the emphasis on "mr roper" the adult? wtf like what kind of entity is this

-"how did you ever have a solo career??" 😂

-okay amaya's hair is gorgeous here (also "you feel like a snack" ....👀) *ahhh so the reason bess feels so off balance is bc its like a top vs a top scenario

-has anyone who's ever been to prison confirmed this is what it looks like?

-love how ace is the only employee there when they all leave so he had to fucking close the place when he goes

-why does she take the whole file? time constraints? it'd be smarter to take pics + replace it (better sleuthing) but this place is clearly not well run anyway 😂

-so this is a pretty decent cover she invents but theres no way she would get away with it so easily for a real guard

-love how ace recognizes ryan's car (+ is able to find it by driving around)

-"my father wouldnt do anything like that" LMFAOOOOOO SIS WHY ARE U DEFENDING HIM ironically, ace is actually the best person suited to engage w ryan here d/t the car accident + connection with laura being ryans SIL. its a unique set up

-i am fascinated by the concept of priests + holy water being so effective here combined with mcginnis' beliefs and basically nondenominational ghosts/seances etc after that. the show is very clearly big on diversity but definitely steers clear from too much WASP stuff yk? wonder if other stuff from christianity works against the ghosts/demons like taking refuge in a church "holy ground" or using silver etc

-"did this start after the night of sept 10?" *this is where you get the time line for the seance if you didnt know

-this is so fucking funny when u realize that patient sal talks to is actually a ghost so sal really is psycho i guess 😂

-bitchsplain/tall jar of mayonnaise 🙏🏻😌 2gether 4ever

-how did ace get this van? also heart attack when he yells at carson (but then grins at him like a goofball lmaooo)

-"for nancys sake and yours" damn she owes ace big time for all this shit

-"what do we do for 7 minutes?" ...ummm play 7 minutes in heaven lmaooo 👀🥵

-was not expecting ace to look this sexy holding an axe but okay (*ah, its his short sleeve shirt showing his arms. usually hes a sleeves guy)

-"desperate for attention" nancy (from gomber) vs "bc she's starved for attention" patrice --> lucy (and candace also...) we know nancys detective work makes her seem like an attention seeker, but what was lucy doing to make them all think that? she was trying to hide her relationship with ryan, not expose it. unless they just mean the rumors about her?

-so is patrice hiding lucy's "truth" talking about lucy being a whore or lucy being a ghost? what is lucy's secret? did patrice guess she was pregnant or did patrice's somehow garbled mind remember tiffany trying to show patrice the video with lucy on it?

-wonder what captain thom thinks of this stand off w ace lmaooo

-"like you do?" top v top shenanigans

-how awko for carson to talk to karen again like this

-"oh no" ACE 😂

-love how amaya says "be a human" like shes kind of admitting people in rich circles typically arent (^this is an interesting focus in s2 when bess's rich family rejects her, thus making her human again, but nancy embraces her rich fam and experiences subsequent moral struggle which is predicted with the wraith)

-wonder what ryan thinks he could get from the marvins (which he cant get now lmaooo)

-this damn whisper box. so many questions. who named it the whisper box? why are the ropers' old possessions still there? who decided to build a mental hospital on top of it? and patrice! she "hid lucy's secrets" hannah gruen thinks tiffany tried to show patrice video w lucy on it, which patrice then specifically says she hid in the thin mans book. so patrice knows of the thin man? can she see him? does she know he was a ghost/supernatural? she must have a supernatural sense to know about him (unless sal told or some shit) so then when tiffany shows up w/ lucy being supernatural in it patrice hides it to protect her? is this why she is "crazy" kinda like victoria? supernatural elements or ability to sense ghosts makes her unstable? this is why lucy being a ghost/nursery rhyme that she repeats makes patrice worse/"stroke"? how did patrice even get into the whisper box to put the key in the bible and get out without getting trapped? also, her dementia --> lucidity is really fucking off, some people mildly switch like that but usually with dementia they cant even register new shit anymore

-...so did bess take the ride? 👀

-interesting how celia says "your father will be disappointed" but nothing of her own opinion. wonder how much celia truly puts up with to keep everett calm and nonhomicidal

-like george asking nick follow up questions that nancy never really would have asked

🥞🥞🥞(ep13)🥞🥞🥞

-is this bitch just eating a plain pancake with her bare hand?

-"extra case load and excessive volunteering" ugh. nancy's family here are like, gross in how "good" of people they are // unrealistic, trying to paint carson in the best light/ no way ryan could ever compare (but the reality is theyre not that good of people for lying about nancy) **and shes arrogant to think shes better than everyone else ie the only one who truly lives virtuously, thinks she can do no wrong sometimes even tho using sex to cope, breaking and entering, etc is not morally "good" stuff she still thinks she is the only one who doesnt lie and plays fair (like in the pilot she lists everyone else as a suspect but herself- obviously we know she isnt guilty but no one else does. (i mean in theory we really dont, what if nancy was an unreliable narrator and was actually guilty, that would be a hella cool show)its reactions like that where she cant understand why others like the chief suspect her

-ooooh ironic that in the Good Place carson readily agrees to pay her for helping with cases as opposed to s2 in reality

-nick's house has "problems" so why does he need a lawyer? as opposed to an interior designer, plumber, or realtor?

-in the Good Place nick and george realize they are not going to work out after one date. does this failure in the Good Place predict failure in reality, or merely an easier way of figuring out the truth? does this mean that the "opposite" of the Good Place is reality, or only an opinion of what is better? (nancy says "you all like me" as her opinion of them liking her is skewed; does this then only reflect nancys version for what is the "perfect life"?)

-why is bess a hippie??? and love how george curls her hair and wears pink lipstick here

-if this dream is so realistic then why is the one thing it cant conjure smoke? like how random

-love the locket being a key realization bc with things like jewelry you dont notice the weight of them until theyre gone

-"you all like me" in her perfect life nancy means they "like" her objectively/regardless of circumstance even though liking her is still an objective choice (like they "like" her because of other reasons instead of her working at the claw? (like how you make friends with coworkers/people at school every day but after you leave the job/graduate you never speak to them again) and her "thanks for showing up!" as if theyre not doing exactly that in reality 😐like where is she getting this shit? she sort of acknowledges in earlier eps she is hard to like/that she puts mysteries before friends, but also pushing them away to avoid danger like the previous ep "why do u show up" etc

-is it just me or does the inside of nicks "house" look like the drews'?

-nick has a dick scar lmaooooo (or more likely was hit in the balls or smth)

-love how nick + george match their anger in confronting sal 100% on the same level

-so when did ace go back to work after having such a busy day earlier?? lmaooo

-damn father shane is a creep (casting defo hired him for his voice) and how tf did he just poof + escape? and what did he request???

-love bess's white hair bow here 😌+ her jacket, whole outfit on point as usual

-like how bess is right that nancy has to find her way out but thats kind of a nonstarter for a room full of panicked people wanting to help

-in the Good Place theres no bad blood between drews + hudsons bc nancy is really theirs

-"the only one who has the key is you" in the Good Place nancy has the key (smaller picture, to finding out what happened to lucy but bigger picture, post-reveal) but ryan has the clues nancy needs- following the Good Place's mirroring, this just means that in reality ryan will either be completely useless or an active hindrance (but you KNOW this is a dream bc in what universe would ryan remember clues like that 😂)

-so in a perfect universe ryan acknowledges his family's "criminal empire" as opposed to reality where he only makes under cover jabs about disengaging with being an "entitled corrupt legacy criminal" ie finding the bonny scot relics but does nothing about them, etc

-"strippers" 😂

-okay what is nancys obsession w her beanie?? bc her mom made it? "wear beanies do crimes?" idk

-making the call: nancy -unable to make up for lost time/both her mothers had to find out/suffer alone / in the Good Place nancy was able to be with kate while she called, and in reality she had carson; somethig about seeing the mother looking to the daughter for strength in the Good Place instead of the reverse (which is what reality sounded like, kate being strong for nancy through the illness despite the struggle)

-concept: nancy & nick "let's wait out the storm"

-"i believe that you believe it" nick in the Good Place + owen in reality both trust nancy when she says she's seen things (owen's is the teeth) but nick in reality (and not really knowing details) doesnt think much of their "moment" bc it wasnt real (so she had to leave the Good Place to save carson- but if she had known then he wasnt her real dad, would she have stayed to be w nick?)

-stranger - suede james 💙👌🏻

-"really anxious as a kid" v telling bc of her desire to know everything to remain in control of situations like she always does now

-"the medicine or the metaphysics?"/"you cannot beat supernatural with science"

-i love nancy playing with her pinky while saying goodbye 🥺

-"always seek out the truth even if it hurts" this is straight irony bc kate never told nancy anything. like does that include the truth about nancys parentage? they taught her to seek out the truth, but who taught her that the truth is the only thing to live by? ie things dont count anymore like carson and kate straight up raising her is tossed out bc she finds out its not "the truth" like all that work/stress to protect carson + she just drops him? with kate maybe shes just upset thst she spent all that time mourning for someone who lied. and would she do the same to ryan if needed? probably

-bess and ace head tilt 💙

-like how for all the time she spent there nancy only has a subconscious memory of blue curtains

-YESSSSS i LOVEthese beautiful overhead shots of hannah's hands. so out of character for the show lmao but so gorgeous

-i feel like future eps/grand future will be nancy going through the lock boxes to help people who asked hannah for help

-the video is officially dated Aug 22, 2019

-soooooo in the first ep nancy breaks into the hudsons house and finds tiffanys secret drawer w the nail polish and finds the amulet with a note that says "for your protection HG" yet on this video tiffany says she talked to a medium who gave her the amulet sooooo am i just confused? HG is hannah gruen obvi so is the address for the medium what hannah gave her? or was the address on the amulet which nancy dissolved in salt water to see? so how would tiffany know where to go? its chicken and the egg which came first hannah or the medium?

and lastly:

i close these two eps with a thought that everything in this show is sealed in death. all the lies, the imagery, the fake constructs people put up to get by all crumple the second someone dies- all the secrets come clean just like these doors have been unsealed.

[softstraykidsimagines]

Boyfriend!Hyunjin

A/N: SHE PROTECC

SHE ATTACC

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY

SHE BACC

HI GUYS!!! I’m so happy to be posting again i cry :,)  i hope you enjoy!!!! i;ll be updating as much as i can without rushing too much :D

MASTERLIST

Prepare your wigs peeps

This is gonna make me swerve

I mean

cmon it’s Hyunjin

Let’s do this!

Prince Hyunjin

Is actually smooth af with his crush

He'll complement you whenever he gets the chance

Or gives you food

Basically your knight in shining armor

Ye, that’s not what actually happens

He's smiling like an idiot and about collapse when he’s with you because HE'S FREAKING OUT OK

So freaking nervous his heartbeat is always up when he’s with you

You sometimes think he’s about to have a heart attack and you’re not stupid you know why lmao

Same for when he confesses

At first he’s pretty calm about it

Just casually asked if you wanted to see a movie with him some time

“Like... a-as more than friends?”

You'd kinda expected it so you weren't too shocked when he asked you

So you said yes

Duh

And he does a double take

"Wait.... Are you serious? You want to?"

"Well yeah?"

"WHAT WHY"

Was good with flirting but didn't actually think you'd go out with him smh

Now every minute he just contemplates the fact that he has you

And he still can't believe it

Like shit dude

He’s with the y/n

You never feel unloved when you're with him

He loves going for long walks, just to talk and relax

Why does it sound like he's a dog here lmao

Will always take as many pictures of you as his phone storage will allow, his camera roll is stuffed with pics of you

Will insist on going to the park for a picnic, he just loves you and the sunshine

He loves to quietly slide your hand into his

But he always ends up giggling because he’s so giddy about being with you

Has to take a moment to charge up his courage before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek

He then goes an unreal shade of scarlet as he covers his face, muttering that he ‘can’t believe that he actually did it’! 

It takes him a while to finally gather up the courage to properly kiss you

Like.... a very long time

You were starting to get worried that he didn’t actually like you

Maybe he was just too nervous to tell you that it wasn’t working for him

buT NOPE

On one certain date, Hyunjin had prepared a cute little dinner on the practice room floor

He was so apologetic about the poor setting, but finally had stopped saying sorry when you’d told him for the 2376129th time that you were having fun

At some point, he just went uber silent, watching you not in a creepy way

You eventually noticed, and just stared back

“What?”

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes did widen a wee bit

“What are you lookin at, you’re sorta scaring m-”

He cut you off and just kissed you

BOI YOU WERE SO SHOCKED

Afterwards you both just stared at each other

And then Hyunjin goes all red

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that I’m sorry that was stupid you can slap me if you want!!!!”

“Bruh why would I want to slap you?!”

“You don’t hate me?”

facepalms for days

You meet the other boys only a few minutes later

Go figure

You’re talking casually, the embarrassment from the kiss wearing off

They all come stampeding into the practice room making an ungodly racket

And all go quiet when they realize what they’ve done

Changbin, bless him, tries to reduce the awful level of awkwardness: “*cough* uh hey, Hyunjin.... This must be y/n right?” He waves at you. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Hyunjin never stops talking about you”

He misses the death glare Hyunjin shoots him

Then Jisung

Freakin Jisung, man

Waltzes up: “Hyunjin’s cheeks are really pink”. He gives a cheeky smile. “You didn’t kiss did you?”

The room goes as quiet as a tomb

“OH SHIT YOU DIDN’T ACTUALLY KISS DID YOU????”

Of course Hyunjin completely loses his shit at the sight of you turning a deep red. “GODDAMMIT JISUNG STFU”

Ye your first meeting with SKZ wasn’t the best

But you all bonded rather quickly after

And Jisung buys you little snacks sometimes as an apology for your first awkward meeting

OH GOD THE BOYS ADORE YOU

If you’re ever sick, they always get snacks for Hyunjin to give you

And if you’re really under the weather, they’ll cover for Hyunjin so that he can stay with you and take care of you.

He wraps you in blankets

YOU ARE NOW A BURRITO

And tries to make soup for you

We know what cooking!Hyunjin leads to

You’re chilling on the couch and you suddenly hear a high-pitched scream

You’re up and sprinting to the kitchen at the speed of light still wrapped in a burrito

To find him fanning at a smoking pot

“WHAT THE FUCK HYUNJIN YOU JUST NEED TO HEAT IT UP HOW DID YOU START A MINI FIRE?”

You’re home doesn’t burn down thank goodness

And you end up heating some soup for yourself while Hyunjin watches

And it’s! hilarious! when he’s sick!

He becomes a little ten-year-old istg

But in a really cute way

He doesn’t ask for anything: food, to watch TV etc

Nah he just wants cuddles

The whole damn day

So while you’re struggling to keep a mask on and not getting sneezed on, this idiot is smiling like a puppy if puppies could smile, clinging onto you like a love-filled leach did that sound weird? i think that sounded really weird

i want this tattooed on my face thx

Now idk what this dude is afraid of

Something tells me one big fear would be to lose Stray Kids and the people he loves

And so I think he’d get kinda nervous when you both see less of each other and when he gets busier

You can’t talk as much because of his crazy schedule and with lack of sleep, he starts getting more irritated easier during the little intervals of time you get to see each other

At some point he might snap at you, maybe for no reason at all, and you’ll snap back indignantly

Yeah you love him but you’re not taking any attitude

If things get really bad, he just shakes his head, saying he needs some air

You’ll both give yourselves some space, but eventually Hyunjin becomes terrified that you’re too angry with him to talk again

So he goes to find you and talk

You both hug it out and decide to spent the rest of the day together for more quality time

And it’s totally worth Hyunjin getting an earful from Chan the next day

OK back to fluff quickly quickly

On the days Hyunjin goes somewhere, you sometimes join him in the car ride, tho you’re always super careful to never show your face when he gets out

Gotta stay hidden yknow?

You’ll both send cute little texts throughout the day and OOF just couple goals

You: hey check this out, this is me 2 u *sends heart meme*

Jiiniie<3: oh yeah? well this is me @ u! *sends heart meme with more hearts*

You: boi dont start smth u cant win!

And thus begins the heart meme wars

r they even called heart memes idk

i want this tattooed on my face pt2

We’ve already established that Hyunjin can’t cook for love or money

So if he even steps foot in the dorms’ kitchen

You bet that at least two other of his hyungs will follow for pure supervision

And he is not, under any circumstances, allowed to cook something by himself

And you’re grateful that your safety and world peace had been assured by this rule

Although, you’re allowed to cook together as long as you watch what he’s doing

If anything at all goes wrong, the blame is pinned on you

So it’s natural for you to treat these cooking projects as once-in-a-while occasions

Now when you ask about meeting his parents

Holy Hell

Stutters, clammy hands, flitting eyes, you name it

Hyunjin is so frickin nervous about you meeting his parents oof

You don’t understand why, like hey, how bad could it be right?

But pretty soon you get why Jinnie was nervous

His parents aren’t that trusting within the first hour of knowing you

You guess it might be because of poor past experiences?

Maybe Hyunjin had been judged or dated once too many times just for his looks?

The thought is enough to make you swear by all you know to always treat him like a treasure

You also make a mental note to ask him sometime

Eventually, his parents realize you have pure intentions and they become so much kinder and warmer

They let you know how welcome you are to visit whenever you want, they offer to send you off with some homemade cookies...

And Hyunjin gets so emotional at the beautiful site in front of him that he bursts into tears

Which causes you and his parents to tease and hug him

if you’re thick, let’s just be clear that im making a statement on how you should NOT judge Jinnie purely because he’s good looking, appreciate his talent!

Now, Hyunjin is kinda tall compared to the rest of SKZ hah im joking of course so it’s pure instinct to want to steal his shirts

Don’t lie, if you had the chance, you would take something i see right thru u

And at some point in your life, you stop realizing ‘hey, this isn’t my jumper!’ and just walk around in clothes that aren’t yours

And when this happens, three things follow:

You see a wild Hyunjin crashing through the apartment towards you, yelling happily that ‘that’s my favorite hoodie!!’ he tries to act like he’s angry and fails in 0.0000003 sec

He doesn’t slow down and freakin slams into you at full velocity, knocking you over or off anything you might be sitting on

He proceeds to tickle you mercilessly, until you either can’t breath and turn purple or until you commit an extreme act of violence in the name of self defense

Once this chaotic episode ends, most of the time with both of you are completely knackered and just lying on the floor

You both cool off by just cuddling and watching something on TV

Or reading something together!!!

I can totally see Hyunjin shoving one of his fav books in your face and insisting that you both take turns in reading aloud to each other

And you both react at the same time to shockers in the book, like you start crying together when a character dies who hasn’t had that traumatic experience or you both squeal with joy and hug each other tighter when something great happens

Did I just turn into a puddle of happy goo?

Yes I fuckin did.

I think Hyunjin wouldn’t take that long to tell you that he loves you

That doesn’t mean that he planned anything tho

HAH! Course he didn’t

Probs says it when he can barely think straight

Maybe you’re watching him dance late at night

You’d brought snacks to keep him going ‘cause he was working his ass off

And there you sit, marveling at his skill and fluidity while executing his choreo

You have a talent for hyping Hyunjin up while he dances, cheering when he leaps high into the air, gasping when he performs a complicated move, and aw-ing and his graceful poses ok im done now

When he finishes one of his more dramatic dances, you jump up with glee and tackle him in a hug despite him being sweaty, saying how proud you are

He hugs you back happily and says:

“I should be the proud one, having someone I love so much being so supportive of me”.

You both freeze, still hugging each other

And neither of you move or breathe for a moment

“What did you say?”

“UhhhHHHH NOTHING I SAID NOTHING”

“You said that you love me!”

“WAT NO I DIDN’T I-”

“HYUNJIN I LOVE YOU TOO!!!!”

“N- wait what?”

“I love you, dumbass” same tho

Oof that poor practice room has seen a lot of awkwardness

I’m cracking up just by thinking of how hopeless Hyunjin could become when SKZ are away

“Hey do you guys have a signal and/or data? I wanna Skype y/n and show them the beautiful view”.

*all of SKZ facepalms*

Always taking pictures to show you

In the evenings, you get a frickin cascade of notifications of both photos and messages from the poor boy telling you he misses you like crazy

When Skyping, he asks to see Khami, who you have the pleasure of caring for during his absence

You do question (mentally and then verbally) whether he calls to talk to you or his dog

He never answers the question heh

There’s lowkey a competition between you and Khami for Hyunjin’s affection

When the boys make their flight home, Hyunjin keeps you informed about everything that’s happening

I mean everything:

Jiiniie<3: we’re @ the airport :D     -6h ago

Jiiniie<3: waiting to board!     -5h ago

Jiiniie<3: they’re getting ready to go, i can’t wait to see you!! xxx      -5h ago

Jiiniie<3: will text you when we arrive, love!     -5h ago

Jiiniie<3: JUST LANDED! CANT WAIT TO HUG U     -31mins ago

Jiiniie<3: about to get our luggage!     -Just now

You get the point -_-

When you finally see each other, he runs at top speed to pick you up and spins you around

frickin goals man i feel so sad writing this :,)

He goes public in probably the most aesthetic way that’s physically possible

He posts a bunch of gorgeous photos-

Courtesy of Jisung

-of your silhouettes in front of sunsets

-Pics he took of you laughing during a cafe trip

-Bomb-ass selcas where you’re both lookin hella fine

Just

UGGHHH

SO! AESTHETIC!!!

Naturally, the internet freaks the fuck out

Both of you are kinda nervous about the explosive reaction

There are salty bitches who are telling you to piss off because they jelly

But the huge majority of Stay are crying with happiness and wishing you both well

this better happen in the future im watching all of u

And soon Hyunjin is talking about you on vLives, proud af because y/n freakin rules!

OhmyGod I love Hyunjin

Damn my heart be like < HYUNJIN 3 phew

[hobotalesaus]

Episode 3: A Hesitating Pulse Is Good Company

I still remember the first time I came to Melbourne; I was about 18. Everything was foreign and weird and busy and sunny. ‘People are strange, when you're a stranger. Faces look ugly, when you're alone.’ I ended up in Collingwood, another planet to me back then. I found solace in a corner pub. The porch light was on and it was the closest thing to home as I could find. 

Living in the big smoke isn't for everyone, but certain people just fucking thrive. Jay is one of those people. Totally sober in the spot he lives, figuratively speaking. When I first met the bloke, he showed me through his place in his moccasins (yeah I remember mate) and pointed out different pieces of art, memorabilia, just stuff. The stuff that we fill our spaces with because we love looking at it and it's a puzzle of what makes us, ‘us’. This was the shit that he loves and you could see it straight away. Outside, there was this faint buzz of the city, with a heartbeat and tyre noise and the smell of god knows what. Maybe a police siren or some shit. It reminded me of a song, with the line "A hesitating pulse is good company". If I was to sum up Collingwood, especially in that house on that day, it would be with that line. "A hesitating pulse is good company". 

Firstly, Jay is a bloody good bloke. My old man would always tell me the best way to approach somebody is like this: If you think you're a good fella, I do too, until you prove me wrong. Something tells me that Jay hasn't proven anyone wrong. 

Knowing this about him, we approached Jay recently about doing a story and he was more than happy to go with it, which actually sort of posed a problem; he's got so many fucking things on the go, and is equally good at all of them, that we were hard pressed to make room for it all. But we'll give it a red hot crack anyway. 

Born in the early 90s, Jay spent most of his time as a young fella riding BMX like most of us did. Outside til dark, jumping kerbs, ruining your shoes by putting them in between the forks and the front tyre. Yeah we all did it. "How do you keep ruining your shoes so quickly??" the words rang out across the house and you knew you were about to get whooped. Street Sharks on the telly, poster of Matt Hoffman on the bedroom wall. How good was that? Then the natural transition (as if that isn't the best fucking pun I've ever heard) to skateboarding. "The first skate video I ever saw was a FLIP SORRY part. That got me so pumped up to go skate, the whole soundtrack and attitude was surreal! Skateboarding basically consumed my life from then all the way up til now," he says, and yeah, it fucking shows. "I tell you what, I had a few Margera decks growing up. But Geoff Rowley stood out for me, and still influences me for sure, even to this day."

There's always been this weird connection between skating and motorcycles; we're not talking your $40,000 BMW touring bike or your Hyabusa. We're talking about Triumphs, Harleys, chopped up Honda's. Making noise and pissing people off. Literally giving the finger to anyone who gives you that greasy look. "I got into motorcycles when I was about 21 or 22, after a trip to the US. All I'd ever wanted to do was go to the U.S and skate all the spots I'd seen in the videos. I had organized with a friend from Geroa (check a map) to head over; his old lady owned a condo in Oceanside, Cali. They were kind enough to invite me over to stay." 

“We're talking about Triumphs, Harleys, chopped up Honda's. Making noise and pissing people off. Literally giving the finger to anyone who gives you that greasy look”

"I took some photos of that chopper on this 35mm Minolta 201 I got for $30 on eBay.”

"So there we are at a skate park in California, and a mate of Ray's rolled up on this bad-ass cone Shovel chopper that he built himself. I didn't grow up around parents or a cool uncle who rode motorcycles, so when I was confronted with this dirty, leaky machine, I was fascinated. No foot pegs, looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the 80s. We were in the car on highway, watching him haul ass, weaving in and out of lanes, skateboard strapped to the sissy bar. That was it for me" he says, and you know that you had the same moment at some point in your life where you went "Yep, that's what I'm all about". He continues, "I took some photos of that chopper on this 35mm Minolta 201 I got for $30 on eBay. Turned out the mechanism to eject the film was broken so I lost it all. Still have the memories though. I came home to Australia and maybe a month later I went and bought a 2016 Sporty 48; because what the fuck do I know about building old motorcycles?" But who the fuck cares what it is right, as long as it's not a street bike. 

This leads us into another jack of all trades moment with Jay; photography. "Sometimes when I'm feeling frisky, I whip out the old Nikon D700. I take 6 photos or maybe 30, and sometimes 1 will come out good. I'm not a photographer, I just take photos sometimes.", which is pretty much enough to sum it up. "I'm stoked with a whole bunch of photos I've taken, and that's all that fuckin' matters." Too right bloke. 

"Sometimes when I'm feeling frisky, I whip out the old Nikon D700. I take 6 photos or maybe 30, and sometimes 1 will come out good. I'm not a photographer, I just take photos sometimes."

"Sometimes I paint, sometimes I get angsty sitting there for long periods of time trying to figure out colour blending and all the rest. I did the Knucklehead painting and that's pretty much where that ends." I was actually lucky enough to grab said Knucklehead painting, which takes pride of place in my lounge room. It's a wicked, dusty, rusty painting that tells you that the motor is as old as sin. Just how we like it. "I can't draw to save my life, but I spent what felt like 3 months working on it here and there." That led us to a pretty significant point in the story, with what I guess I'm trying to capture with these interviews. "Expressing yourself is a great way to be heard; you can tell a story through an action, a photo, a drawing..whatever. And without self expression, the world is a pretty boring place."  

“I was actually lucky enough to grab said Knucklehead painting, which takes pride of place in my lounge room”

So, as far as the nitty gritty, I think a lot of us have seen Jay's scoot by now. That 48 Sporty we mentioned earlier was written off "trying to pull a wheelie leaving work", which is a pretty standard outcome I reckon. So the white beast is a 72 Sporty, which was stripped down and and built back up by David at Primal Garage, with some work being done by Sean at Bar-None Moto. He cut the rear fender struts, and had some solid bar machined up to look like suspension, but it is actually hard-tailed. He also lifted the tank a little, modified the seat pan that Sean made, fit a new rear fender so it tucked nicely around the tire. He also freshened up the bike by re-painting the tins pearl white, with champagne stripes fading to silver. He also chucked the Leviathan cross on the tank at my request. He finished it all off with a set of bad ass up sweeps! Sean smashed out new bars, sissybar, license plate/ brake light bracket, and gave Dave a good start on the king/queen seat pan. Now I have a sweet ass looking bike that I’ve barely ridden this year. Covid has been a struggle", he says, and those of you in Victoria can attest to the fact that this year has been a total write off. Not being able to get out, hit some pubs, roll the swag out beside the bike and sleep in the dirt; that's our lockdown. "I’ve gone damn near everywhere on that bike, I love it to bits!" 

“He cut the rear fender struts, and had some solid bar machined up to look like suspension, but it is actually hard-tailed.”

There aren’t too many ways to describe riding a motorcycle to somebody who hasn't done it. And there's a difference again between riding in total comfort, heated grips, perfect riding position, had vitamins this morning, has a go-pro strapped to his head, has every supply under the sun in his bags, middle aged dentist on a touring bike. I'm talking about being stripped down of all fancy equipment, burning your legs, can't hear anything, welts on your face, hot, cold, numb fingers, sore arse, no fuel left, phone is dead, you're still 50kms from where you think the camp spot is but you know what? You could keep riding for another 1000kms because fuck me, this is what it's about. 

“..total comfort, heated grips, perfect riding position, had vitamins this morning, has a go-pro strapped to his head, has every supply under the sun in his bags, middle aged dentist on a touring bike.”

The smell of a campfire, the taste of a bug on your teeth, the spine shattering crack from a pothole on your hardtail, losing your house keys somewhere in the last 2 days riding, unpeeling yourself from the bike and finally being able to stretch your hips as the locals stare. "Passing out in the dirt, waking up in the rain. Skateboarding was my first love, but riding motorcycles is one big adventure, and the best one I've been on in years." says Jay, as I think we all for a moment realize that from now on, whenever anyone asks "Hey, lets skip town for a night on the bikes", you're going to say yes regardless, for fear of never being able to do it again. 

"Passing out in the dirt, waking up in the rain. Skateboarding was my first love, but riding motorcycles is one big adventure, and the best one I've been on in years."

If our readers are anything like us, and I think they are, living in the city is doable if there's an escape in between the chaos. "Pre-Covid, my girlfriend (Asti) and our dog (Luna) and I would head up into the mountains every other weekend. Find a cool spot to park and just walk around for awhile, explore. We could let Luna off lead and she loved it. I like shooting photos in the forest. Nature is the best". 

"Camping holds a special place in my heart. I love the smell of a campfire, endless banter between mates, NO RECEPTION. Not showering for awhile is also a guilty pleasure. We've all had our fair share of wet-wipe showers". I'll be honest, as long as there's water near by, that's good enough for me. Winter or not. Which reminds me, little tip for painting the town brown in the bush; dig two little holes for your heels, stick a log or the shovel in the ground, hang onto it and lean back. Opens up the bowels. (You'll thank me I reckon). 

’’We've all had our fair share of wet-wipe showers"

Everyone has a favorite camping story. I think as time has gone on, they don’t stand out as much as they used to, they're all great. Even when you ended up broken down in the rain, lost, hungry, hungover. Still better than a night in the city if you ask me. 

"My favorite camp spot was something not easily forgotten.  My girlfriend and I tripped out to Wilson’s Promontory one weekend. We paid to spend the night in the camp site which was basically a grass car park with no fires allowed and we decided that it just wouldn’t fly with us. We packed a couple of backpacks with the tent, sleeping mat, sleeping bags etc. We hiked a trail for an hour or so, scouting a suitable place to set up shop along the way. We eventually decided to veer off the trail, and head down through the shrub toward the ocean. We ended up finding the most insane spot! On top of a cliff, a nice flat piece of land on some moss covered rocks. Looking over the ocean. We were even graced with a sunset, right over the water, directly in front of us. Romantic as fuck, it was amazing. Golden hour blew us away. Not a single person in sight, but us. We got a little fire going and just marveled at what we found and where we were. That was the best camp spot for sure. If it were possible to accompany that with motorcycles, shit. I could have died right there and then."

‘’Even when you ended up broken down in the rain, lost, hungry, hungover. Still better than a night in the city if you ask me’’

“We packed a couple of backpacks with the tent, sleeping mat, sleeping bags etc. We hiked a trail for an hour or so, scouting a suitable place to set up shop along the way.”

I reckon that's a pretty good image to leave this story on. I think there's something special about people who can find solace in nothing, in no-one, just being content with what's happening at that moment in time. A sunset, setting off a car alarm with your pipes, burning away from a servo with a full tank of fuel. The big picture is made up of a million little pictures.

We always ask people what their life motto is; what they stand by. Jay gave us this. "Do more of what makes you happy. Whatever it is.”

Thanks bloke, it's been a time and a half. First beer is on me once the wall comes down.

"Do more of what makes you happy. Whatever it is."

All photos by Jay except for top photo by Sean (Bar-None Moto). 

[babbushka]

Hey.. hey.. i love your pale.. do ya got anymore im not an pale addict... i swear, i just need some more if ya got it... please! *hands shaking furiously*

The 12 days of oneshots starts tomorrow with our favorite greaseball Pale in, Santa Baby ! (Be on the lookout for that, but until then here’s a small sneak peek of chapter 4 of TC!)

And he did, walk with you.Always. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous to go out by yourself, especially aroundhere, around these parts. He snorted to himself as he smoked his cigarette,wind biting at where his face was exposed, he sometimes had no fuckin’ cluewhat he was sayin’ – around these parts. What was he, from some goddamned wild west flick starrin’ the one and only Clint Eastwood?

You gave him a funny glance, andhe gave you one right back.

“You lookin’ at me like that?” Heasked, playful but with a scowl on his face.

“Yeah, what’re you gonna do aboutit?” You asked, swinging your joined hands back and forth, back and forth –until Pale let go of you long enough to snatch you around your thighs and chuckyou over his shoulder, making you squeal out a laugh and a, “Pale!”

He carried you like that for aminute or two, gave your body a shake making you laugh and laugh, beforesetting you down on the sidewalk carefully.

“Yeah yeah keep teasin’ me, watchwhat happens.” He said, smoking around his smile, not wantin’ no one to see.

He had no fuckin’ clue how he gotso lucky with you. Every day felt like a dream, no lie, no joke. But youlaughed with him instead of at him and you were the first person to do that indamn near a decade, at least to do it and really mean it. You were the firstperson to really mean anything, to him.

“You know it’s really too fuckin’cold out here, you sure you don’t want my jacket?” Pale asked, cigaretteglowing red in the grey air, snow falling but not harshly enough to cancel workor nothin’, “Because honestly the last fuckin’ thing I need is for you to getsick or somethin’, now I know it’s big on ya but I don’t care I think youshould wear it, at least ‘til we get to the diner. Fish keeps the heat on inthere right? You won’t be freezin’ or nothin’ behind the milkshake counter? Dopeople even drink milkshakes in this hour? Maybe if he keeps the heat on theydo. Hey did you know – ”

“Shit!” You suddenly dipped outof view, not that you managed to obstruct his vision too much anyway, bein’much shorter than him.

But you were cursin’ on theground, having landed flat on your ass, wincing.

“Fuck – (Y/N), you okay?” He rushedto help you up, steadied you with his hands on your arms, and you were onlylaughin’ again.

You were always easy breezy.

He thought about the way you hadlooked Saturday night, a woman possessed, and his chest filled with pride, withadoration. You were so sweet, so soft and patient and kind, but you knew how tofuckin’ throw hands and he respected that in a woman.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Damn, ice.”You brushed the snow off your ass, made sure none of it melted into your coat.You still wore it, that red trench coat, the one you had bought second hand fromwho the fuck knows where.

He still thought you should bewearin’ his leather jacket instead.

“You want me to beat the shit outof it?” He asked, jokingly, glad about your good mood. He didn’t ever want youshoutin’ like you’d been shoutin’, ever again.

“Yeah honey, let’s go fight JackFrost.” You rolled your eyes, and began swatting at his arm when he immediatelybegan to punch the snow in front of yous.

;)

[forbetterorworsefinalspace]

Shonky

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Final Space

Part: 2

Link-  🌌

__________________________________________________

Still trying to leave Earth, Sheryl is reminded time and time again that bringing her son along is a big mistake. However he can prove useful. 

Meanwhile Gary is reminded that his mother is a very different person from his father.

For Better Or Worse AU

__________________________________________________

“Is this wrong?”

Sheryl Goodspeed paused her actions to looked up at the sky, annoyed beyond belief. They were only a day or two into their journey, they hadn’t even left Earth yet for fuck sake, and the kid was already driving her up the bloody walls! Kid was a friggen Stickybeak, with no idea about his own personal safety, (She pulled him out of traffic twice already.) but somehow was insightful enough to know when she was breaking the law.

Trust John to raise him properly. Now she had to wreck all his hard work…

“Yes, Gary, but we need to do this.” Sheryl said, going back to her work.

They had driven down to a place Sheryl knew people stored their space vehicles during the off season. Rich tycoons that camp in space or some other nonsense. If they could get a craft that doubled as a living area, that be perfect… However she’d settle for whatever was stored in the fenced in yard.

They just needed to break in and steal one.

“Why?”

God fucking damn it.

“I’ll tell you later Gary.” She muttered, shaking her head. “We just have to.”

“But-!!”

“SHH!!” Sheryl spun to looked at him angrily, practically hiss in his face. “Listen here you little Drongo, see that there?!” She yell whispered, jutting her finger to the house just a few feet away. “That house?! If you wake up the person inside, then they’ll call the cops and take us away! You want to go into foster care?!”

The boy gave a frightened shake of his head.

“Right, then you’d best PULL your head IN!” She growled, then was back at the locks. She fiddled away for a few more moments, grumbling when she realized how rusty she had gotten. However she finally heard the tell tale click, pulling it apart and easing the door open with an ominous creek.

She looked around quickly. No signs of dogs. Or anything else. Suppose the guy just trusted his community. It was a high end area of town.

Sucks to be him.

She stepped in and could feel Gary follow behind her. She shut the door so it wouldn’t slam before leading deeper into the yard. Gary wandered a few steps away, with wide eyes.

“Are these… spaceships?” He asked in awe.

“That's a bit generous.” Sheryl shrugged. “More like space campers, space RVs and space cars, I suppose.”

“Wow…” Gary didn’t seem deterred by the explanation. He walked closer to a sporty looking craft. Likely a racing model. “W-what are we gonna do?”

“Steal one.” Sheryl said, looking over a large camper, only to deem it too noticeable and cumbersome.

“Why?”

Fuckin’....

“To go to space.” Sheryl glared at him. “Why else?”

Gary turned to her quickly, slack jawed and wide eyed. He began to bounce in place, growing a very large smile on his face. Sheryl realized what he was going to do a few seconds before he did.

“Don’t you dare!” She snapped, thankfully stopping him from squealing in excitement. She pointed forcefully to the house again, before going back to her search. As she looked, she kept having to make sure Gary wasn’t about to give them away. Sometimes he started talking too loudly and she’s hush him, forcefully. Sometimes he knocked over tins on the ground or started babbling to himself...and she kept having to stop him, wasting time they didn’t have.

This was a mistake.

He was a mistake…

Focus Sherie, focus.

Finally, near the back, she found a suitable ride. Perfect actually. It was a tow along trailer that had a self contained bubble at the front, where you could put a vehicle to move it, one just like her bike. The trailer area was smallish, but suitable. It had a mini fridge, sink, a few storage areas, a tiny bathroom at the back and two slim beds.

First, getting it out.

“Go hold the door.” She whispered to Gary, who actually ran off to do as he was told. With a heavy grunt she started to pull the vehicle from the storage area, hefting with all her might until her arms ached and her legs burned. Halfway to the exit she started to hurt.

Think of John. This is for John.

She managed it out before taking a second to breath. Gary scampered to her side, looking concerned and slightly upset. She frowned up at him from her seat on the ground.

“W-what?” She huffed.

“How were you moving that?” Gary asked. “Didn’t it hurt? Like a whole bunch? Forever?”

Sheryl moaned, standing up. “Well, sometimes you gotta work through the pain.”

“Why?”

Ah, this kid…

“Unpack our bags and get them in the camper.” Sherly grumbled. Thankfully the boy seemed interested in looking inside and ran to see.

Though still sore, Sheryl forced her bike into the bubble to act as an engine. Thankfully the bags were off it now, but looking inside, she could see Gary jumping from bed to bed, a big smile on his face as he made a mess.

Good lord this kid…

Sheryl leaned against the bubble. This was a mistake… and this was her last chance to leave the kid behind. Or at least on Earth anyway. She was tempted, so very, very tempted to just dump him here.I mean, sure he might get blamed for stealing the camper, but he was a kid. They’d let him off easy…

The boy giggled loudly, beds squeaking under his weight as he hopped around like a roided up Roo. As Sheryl put her head in her hand, pinching the bridge of her nose, the boy leapt from the trailer and ran to take a look at the rockets on the back.

This is a mistake.

“HEY!”

Sheryl looked up into the barrel of a gun, she went rigid as a man dressed in his pajamas started to come closer. “Who the hell do you think you are?!” He asked crossly, waving the weapon around.

God damn it, she hadn’t heard the man coming because of all of Gary’s noise!

Still she shifted to an unimpressed stance, scowling slightly. “That supposed to be a trick question?” She asked dryly.

The man huffed and went fumbling for his pocket, not taking his eyes off her. “N-now you just stay right there until my help arrives, or I’ll shoot you! Don’t you make any sudden moves!”

Where did this guy get his dialogue, a cop movie? Sheryl scowled when he pulled out his phone.

“Wassa matter? Can’t handle a lady on your own?” Sheryl scoffed. The gears were turning in her head, trying to think of a way out of this. Thankfully Gary was quiet now, which was making it a lot easier.

She had to kill him. She just needed to do it before he called for this so called help, or else they’d have to make a runner. She tried to lean to one side, inching her hand down her waist to a knife hidden in her boot. Guy was still trying to dial his cell, which was perfect for her. The longer he struggled, the more time she had to arm herself.

She closed her hand around the hilt when the man seemed to notice her strange posture. He straightened his gun out. “Hey! What are you-”

BANG!

Sheryl started, eyes rounded, as the man straightened like a board, then fell to the ground in a heap. Behind him stood Gary, who slapped his hands over his mouth when the man folded before him. A brick clattering down with the guy.

Sheryl blinked.

“O-Oh no! Oh no!” Gary whined, shaking his hands. “I killed him! That not good! Thats super not good!” He grabbed his hair tightly. “I friggen wreck his stuff!”

“Calm down.” Sheryl knelt, feeling the man’s neck. “He has a pulse Gary, you just knocked him out.”

Gary slumped in relief. “Oh thank crap!- Oph!” He flinched. “Sorry…”

“Fer what?”

“For swearing…”

Sheryl stared at him before laughing. “Ah you can swear all you fuckin want. I don’t give a shit. Just be quiet when we’re sneakin around, yeah?”

“Oh.” Gary stared back at her, processing this information, then hunched in on himself and spoke in a very soft voice.

“Fuck.”

Sheryl was… actually amused by this. She chuckled. “Feel good?”

“Yeah.” Gary looked up at her, but seemed a bit gloomy. “It just, dad said I shouldn’t…”

Sheryl darkened as well. “Hmm, he ain’t here now, is he?”

“No…”

Sheryl glanced back down at the man before taking his gun, she inspected it quickly, lining up her sights with it, then checked the chambers.

Empty.

So he was all bluff.

Sheryl tsked, but put it on her bike. Looking over she could see the house was still dark, but the door was open…

“Come with me.” Sheryl ordered before marching to the house. She nudged the door open, looking into the building. She flicked on a few lights once she knew no one was in the shadows.

For such a nice area of town, this sure was a dump. Everything was in a state. Newspapers and used dishes everywhere. There was no art on the walls, hardly any furniture, and it was cramped to hell.

She pushed Gary to the kitchen. “Find some bags and grab some food yeah? I’m gonna look upstairs.”

“Isn’t that stealing-”

“Gary, we’re already stealing. You konked this dude on the head with a brick not five minutes ago.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Just grab the food.”

Sheryl headed up the stairs, to a small bedroom. It was also sparse, the bed was unmade and every surface was covered in junk. She checked a few drawers and looked over the clutter. Then she found something interesting.

“Well, well, well. No wonder this place is a mess.” She said, holding up a tiny baggie of white powder. She opened it, dipping her pinky in and rubbed it on her gums. It dissolves instantly, leaving a bit of her mouth numb. Sheryl smiled. “Hello Basuco, its been a very long time.” She spotted a large amount of the baggies under a shirt. “And you brought the whole family!”

Sheryl wasn’t one for cocaine. She tried to steer clear of it, if mostly because she saw addiction as a weakness. She did, however, dabble in a few when… when John tossed her out. Thankfully she managed to slapped herself out of it a few days in and just stick to beer and smokes.

These would, however, sell very nicely.

She tossed the lot in a bag and kept looking. Eventually she found the ammo for the gun under the bed. Huh, maybe the guy thought the gun was loaded. Then a large wad of cash in his underwear drawer. After stealing her fill she came down, finding Gary struggling with a large bag of food. It was all junk food and things like that, but Sheryl didn’t care.

“Give.” She ordered, snatching it from him. She took everything down to the trailer, before tossing it inside. She looked back to Gary, but the boy was worriedly hunched over the man he knocked out. There was a sizable puddle of blood on the ground now, which she could see from the light of the house.

“Is he gonna be ok?” Gary asked, frowning.

“Hell if I know.” Sheryl scoffed, coming over. “Bleeding like a faucet though.”

“S-so I did kill him?” Gary asked, sniffling a bit.

Ugh!

“What? Your sad that you killed him?” Sheryl frowned. “He was gonna die someday.”

“Yeah, but I killed him! Me!”

“For the love of-” Sheryl knelted, pulled out her knife, and slit his throat in a quick motion. Blood splashed out, but not as much as she expected. He was likely running low, bleeding in the brain. She wiped her blood off on the grass before looking back to her son. “There. Now I killed him.”

Gary stared at her, eyes the size of pin pricks.

“What now?” She asked, exasperated.

“Y-you killed him…”

“Thats right.”

“...Why?”

She rolled her eyes. Again with the why! “To shut you up and because the less people who see us the better.” Sheryl grunted. The boy just stared back, horrified, making her scoff. “Just get in the bloody camper. I’m gonna hide the body.”

Gary slunk away and Sheryl grabbed the corpse by the legs, dragging him into the junk yard, where she covered him with a metal sheet. Her body groaned, unhappy with all the heavy lifting and pulling.

As she finished up, the dark sky rumbled, a few raindrops coming down from above. It was an ominous sign, but also a stroke of good luck. The water would ruin evidence, and the thunder would hide the noise of their take off.

Walking back to their new home, Sheryl could see Gary curled up inside, clutching the bug jar like a lifeline and wrapped tightly under some blankets. She paused, biting her lip and staring at him. He looked pretty messed up…

Well, he’d get used to it. She had grown up around that sort of thing. Maybe not people per say, but animals definitely.

She came to the bike and closed the bubble, climbing on so she could pull the ship into the sky.

“Mom..?”

“Eh?” She didn’t look at him.

“W-why did that guy have to die?” Gary mumbled. “Was it me?”

Sheryl paused again, and then turned to him.

“Gary. In this world, its either you or them.” She said lowly. “Sometimes the best thing to do is make sure there is no them at all. He would have made it harder for us to get away to space. Now that he’s dead, less problems.”

“Oh… ok.” Gary looked to the window as they started to rise in the air. “But why are we going to space?”

Sheryl looked back out the bubbled, which was rippling with raindrops.

“We’re gonna bring John back.”

The ship took off with a rumble, blending into the thunder as they rose to the cosmos.

And one step closer to John.

[thatshortdudety]

Types of Ravenclaws - Nicholas Black

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=usDdoAXxk_c

The Stereotype

Raven Qualifications: love knowledge, kind of witty

- Whenever they are around, people run

- They are insufferable

- They're just annoying in general and constantly act like they're better than you

- At least one or two of them exist

- You may not find them very often but when you do... you know

- They're the type of person that will debate you until one of you dies, so just give up and let them think that they are right, because it's just not worth it. Just fuckin leave

- The assholes in social media comments that start their comments with 'uM aCtuALLy' and like 'sOurCeS'

- Elitism is so thick that they might as well be in Slytherin

- They love knowledge so they are actually pretty smart

- They have some wit, but no wisdom or creativity

- They get really good grades, so teachers have a love-hate relationship with them as they're a know-it-all but make the class look better

- Usually in the library studying

- Makes you feel stupid in .3 seconds

- They probably drink tea and write Shakespearean lit in their own time [like fucking nerds]

- the LEAST RAVENCLAW Ravenclaw in the tower

The Weird One

Raven Qualifications: Intelligent, wise, creative, original, individual, acceptance

- Basically Luna Lovegood

- They're weird and you know it

- Tend to be obsessive over a few particular topics, eg. if they love crocodiles and you ask them a questions about crocodiles they will whip out an encyclopaedia from their pocket [and you wonder how it fit in there in the first place then you remember you're a wizard]

- They have porcupine teeth under their bed and you don't know why. Nobody knows why, all we know is that we live in fear

- They're the person you call when you know you are being haunted. They know about that spiritual shit. They have the sage ready, they know how to relieve you of your demons [basically if you have a ghostie problem, they gotchu bitch]

- They talk very rarely, but when they do, they either sound like a wise monk or a crackhead... or both [and that, my friends, is entertaining]

- They are divination experts [fuck you, Hermione, they know your future, whatchu gonna do about it]

- They have an ongoing "experiment" since like the first day they were at Hogwarts, and everybody knows there is an experiment, but nobody knows what it is [so the Ravenclaw power lives in fear. The Gryffindor tower should also live in fear, but those fucks aren't scared of anything so like honestly fuck 'em]

- They're like Socrates, sometimes, they're basically like "I know that I know nothing," all humbly-wise like that [and you're like "huh that's why you're a ravenclaw hm ok"]

- Despite having no social skills and scaring everyone shitless all the time, these Ravenclaws are the most mindful and spiritual, most open Ravenclaws

- They accept any theory or idea because "fuck it, we know nothing and anything could be real"

- Scary but pretty cool

The Mum

Raven Qualifications: Intelligence, WIT, wisdom, creativity, originality, SHARPNESS, ACCEPTANCE

- Has a first aid kit on hand and knows how to use it. Basically a doctor. Didn't go to med school, but they know their shit.

- Has a remedy for every illness. Pretty sure they're not allowed to have a potions cabinet in their dormitory, but Flitwick allows it, and so they've just got med potions in the dormitory [even though we have... a-uei- even though we have a hospital wing]

- The best advice giver in both complicated and stupid situations. They will give you some fucking common sense, they will spell it out for you

- NUMBER ONE Ravenclaw

- eg. If you have a boyfriend who has cheated on you multiple times and you ask them for advice they will look you straight in the eye and say "BITCH you deserve better, break up with that hoe" and you should probably listen to them because most everything they say is correct

- They will not tolerate stupidity [she will not tolerate your stupidity, richard, get out of the damn tree]

- They read the entire unabridged Lord of the Rings to their children, A.K.A. first year Ravenclaws and all Hufflepuffs

- The voice of reason [please just listen to her it.. it's all i ask.. please she's right, don't... don't question it]

- Knows all the answers to your homework assignment and knows how to effectively teach it to you [but fuck off dan she will not do your homework for you.. not again]

- If you get into some stupid shit, they'll say 'I told you so' and continue to fix your shit like a GODDESS [honestly she needs more love]

- Breaks up fights and sends people to their rooms. They're not having your bullshit.

- Such a smart person! eg. amazing war strategist [she-she knows. She knows all manipulation tactics, sh-she knows how to get her shit done, she is the strategist of the century, i swear]

The Artist

Raven qualifications: Intelligence, WIT, wisdom, CREATIVITY, originality, INDIVIDUALITY, sharpness, acceptance

- They're probably on Tumblr. That's just how it is.

- They don't give two shits about grades. The school system is rIgGeD............. okAy maybe they do care a little bit, but they'd DIE before they'd admit it

- They're an ex Emo and an activist

- They like politics

- They are the second debater in the house. For the love of god, don't put them in the same room as the Stereotype. Do you wanna fucking die? [i mean i do too, carol, but not now. It is unstoppable force vs immovable object, do you want to explode? didn't think so]

- They're either a music, theatre or art nerd... or possible poetry if you're.. that bitch. [but um if you don't know the difference between a play and a musical, we're judging you- WE'RE JUDGING YOU SEVERELY it's not that difficult i know what a fucking touch-down is]

- They're probably a communist, socialist, anarchist because fUCK CAPITALISM HELL

- Music and art is subJECTIVE YOU CANNOT TEACH IT, KAREN [and that's when the Stereotype walks in and starts a debate on that]

- They're pretty depressed

- They like musicals

- They have an aesthetic Instagram but all the captions are like 'aha lmao i wanna fucking die' and 'i crave death'

- Not gonna lie they cry after a debate even though they started it

- They have high standards that they don't meet themselves

The Bookworm

Raven Qualifications: INTELLIGENCE, wit, wisdom, CREATIVITY, originality, individuality, ACCEPTANCE

- They're kind of like a stereotype too, but they're the good stereotype

- They're like, the chill

- They're only passionate about like books and shit, so if you wanna have a 24 hour conversation with them, just bring up their favourite book series and they won't let you go

- They have a very popular fanfiction account. They are a veteran stan that wrote a 300k word fanfiction that is a STAPLE in the community. They are the fandom's mum

- They have like 30 books to read but for some reason they just read Junie B. Jones again. For the 5th time.

- They're very kind, usually patient, the most empathetic [other than maybe the Mum in the house]

- They do tend to be alone most of the time

- They have an internal debate on whether or not they should focus on their grades or read the 30 books they have to read [they.. somehow... do it both. um... i hate you]

- They're usually friends with the Mum Ravenclaw, they're like the parents of the house. Without them somebody might mysteriously disappear, or like, die [the weird one hasn't come back for three weeks send help]

The Junkie

Raven Characteristics: Wit, creativity, ORIGINALITY, individuality, acceptance

- [i know what you're thinking: 'come on nick, ravenclaws are smart, they wouldn't do drugs!'..... that's where you're wrong, bitch. they would do drugs.. but only the smart drugs. only the safe drugs]

- They only do marijuana. They don't even do any other drugs, and when they DO marijuana, they eat it in a pot brownie so that they don't get cancer from smoking it [like, they're pussies basically, i'm sorrty but]

- Okay, I take it back, they might do LSD once because the Weird One told them that they'd "see god" on LSD, but they'll never do it again cos it was a bad trip and probably killed some of their braincells, so they're a little overce

- They're anti-capitalist, but they never specify what their political and economic beliefs are, so they just kinda say 'fuck capitalism' then they go to bed high as Snoop Dog

- Usually friends with the Weird One [...i'm scared all the time]

- They're high all the time, but they never get caught because they're a Ravenclaw, and Ravenclaws don't get caught [take notes, Slytherin]

- They once woke up with a surrealist painting in one hand and the communist manifesto in the other... they don't know what happened the night before, but they got rid of the evidence real fuckin quick because you can't be too safe

- They claim to be Buddhist and trying to find the real meaning of life, but like they don't practice Buddhism really well.. they-aie- I think they're just doing it for the aesthetic, they know a lot about Buddhism they just don't practice it very well

- They're trying to open their third eye. [none of us want them to. their two eyes are problematic enough, we don't need them to have a third

[gray-anxiety]

No Sympathy → Levi Ackerman Chapter 4 → First Day

Read the rest of the chapters here!

As a result of this chapter being semi-late (I was working on the plot of this story and figured out a pretty solid one, though I'm not sure about the ending yet), have the longest chapter of the story so far — clocking in at 2,660 words

 Aella’s phone blared with one of her 30 alarms telling her to get out of bed, though Aella thought otherwise. Aella buried herself deep into her blankets and tried to go back to sleep but the alarms kept going off. Damn her and her genius method of making herself get up. The warmth that encased Aella lulled her back to sleep, but she knew she had to get up — school was in 3 hours and she had to now plan out a schedule and a new budget to share with Levi. She really needed to take a day off sometime; this shit is fucking horrible. Aella finally pulled herself out of bed and checked the time on her phone — 5:04 A.M. not bad considering that she spent all four of those minutes just trying to sleep in. Aella thought about taking a shower but decided against it knowing Levi was probably asleep still. Aella opened her door and was surprised to see Levi across from her on the couch watching the news looking like he’s been awake for hours.

   “Levi? The hell you doing awake?” Aella asked, rubbing her eyes while walking to the kitchen; Aella was already famished, any food seemed delicious right about now.

   “Insomnia.” Is all that Levi said, not bothering to even pay attention to Aella; he was focused on the news that had just come on four minutes ago. Aella looked back to the TV and saw a report about the recent murders that happened in the capital. Aella couldn’t have given two shits about the politics happening there as they never did anything to help Maria or the districts that struggled to not go broke. Corruption was everywhere in Sina, which made it perfect for mafia activity rather than the gang activity that occurs around here, but it was just as bad, if not worse there. The capital had long attempted to cover the high crime rate occurring in Maria and Sina (Rose was considered the safest city out of the three) and did a fairly good job convincing the other territories that the country with three cities was safe and far from corruption, but when you’re isolated from every other country due to their hate for you, it doesn’t do much. Yes, it did suck being born in such a hated place, but it did have its benefits as well — mafias have tried to lessen the corruption by attempting to take over the government to establish a more equal democracy, but every attempt so far has failed. That’s right — mafias. When fucking mafias try to lessen corruption you know you fucked up. Aella bit off a piece of her sandwich and grabbed a tea bag from her cupboard; no day started off right unless she had her tea.

   “Levi, we should establish a schedule and a budget since you’re living here now,” Levi grunted in acknowledgment and turned his head to pay attention to Aella once the news segment was over. Levi got up and stretched his arm a bit before walking over to sit at the tiny wooden table Aella had against the wall parallel to the kitchen.

   “Tea?” Levi raised his brow and Aella rolled her eyes; she pulled out three tea flavors and made him pick one.

   “You drink black tea as well I gather.” Aella nodded her head and poured the hot water into two cups with tea bags in them — she hoped he preferred nothing in his tea as she did. Aella grabbed the two cups and set them down at the table where Levi resided and grabbed her planner from the counter.

   “How much money do you make a month?” Levi rolled his eyes at the question and sipped his tea.

   “Too much. Let’s just say 50,000 for now. I imagine that’d be plenty for a month’s rent.” Aella’s jaw dropped — she only made 2,500 a month if she was lucky! How on earth does a high schooler make so much damn money?

   “How old are you even, Levi? That’s so much money!” Levi looked up with a blank face.

   “19. I would ask how old you are, but I already know from looking at your documents. You’re not doing all that bad for being a month away from turning 18.” Aella’s eye twitched; Levi could’ve seen her real name! Aella sucked in a breath and started planning a budget with Levi. Most of the funds would be stashed away and saved for an emergency while about 5,000 would be reserved for the apartment alone, 2,000 on food; which would bleed over to next’s month’s food reserves, and another 2,000 for anything that was needed but didn’t group in with the rest. Aella questioned why in the hell Levi, at 19, was still in high school, but made no attempt on asking knowing she’d receive a glare from Levi. Three hours pass by fast when planning out financials and getting ready for school, Aella managed to even start working on a ten-page essay! Levi stood waiting at the door with his backpack over one shoulder for Aella to hurry up and turn off all the lights — Levi even grabbed Aella’s own backpack and threw it over his shoulder too.

   “I work from 5-8 at a local writing company, please don’t do anything that’d destroy my apartment during that time,” Aella begged as the two of them walked out the door to school. Levi rolled his eyes and threw Aella’s backpack towards her.

    “Relax. I’m not going to do anything. The worst thing you’d ever come back to is me cleaning up a murder, which you’ve already borne witness to.” Aella rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. The dynamic duo had finally reached one of the numerous entrances for Karanese High, nodded at one another as a goodbye, and went their separate ways for one 90 minute class. Levi skipped out for the second half of his ‘block’ class for a smoke — he was considered a ‘bad boy’ for a reason, apparently. Levi thought the whole classification system was absolutely ludicrous, but who was he to judge? His official work title was being a motherfucking mafia boss. Another senior stepped out onto the roof as well, earning a blank glance from Levi — it was some guy named Armin Arlert. Contrary to popular belief, Levi and Armin both held the spot for smartest kid in the school even though both parties were considered ‘popular bad boys’. Armin nodded his head towards Levi and pulled out a blunt — offering an extra to Levi for later, which he gladly accepted. Armin had his bob-length hair pulled back into a mini man bun that surprisingly went well for some dude who was supposedly considered a nerd two years ago.

   “Did you hear about the party happening over the weekend? Apparently, some really high-class mafia bosses are funding it.” Levi’s eyebrow arched in interest; Armin nodded in understanding and continued:

   “Remember that chick Sasha from Government that’d always propose anything related to food?” Levi nodded and sighed through his nose. Sasha annoyed him to no end — especially when she was right next to him screaming to some kid named Connie right across from her.

   “She’s hosting it. She’s inviting all the populars and any party animal that wants drugs and booze. Of course, there is little to no chance of the party being raided as the police couldn’t give fifteen shits about anything outside of the capital. You in? There are some of my friends that I told you about that will be there — you should meet ‘em. They love fighting, drugs, and crime as much as you.” Levi looked at his phone and stood up.

   “I’ll keep it in mind, Arlert.” And with that, he walked off to fitness — where Aella would be. The whole popularity thing didn’t bother Levi much, except when the one person he was trying to talk to kept getting glares from every horny girl in the room wanting to have a go with Levi’s dick. Levi rolled his eyes and flipped off the girls before dragging Aella to a private sector for people who wanted to work out alone or in groups of two. Aella looked at Levi with the look of ‘you didn’t need to do that’; irking Levi to no end especially whenever he defended her from their comments.

   “Why do you keep letting them hurt you like that, Dumbass?” Aella stared at Levi; unaffected by his insults and harsh words.

   “Because I deserve it after last year. Now, that’s enough talk about the past, let’s just work out so we don’t look like the fuckin preps.” Levi followed Aella to the library for study hall, though Levi still had yet to need it — he finished all his assignments in period 1; irking Aella whenever he rubbed it in. Levi sat down next to Aella at a table in the corner and watched her pull out every material she needed.

   “Thought you didn’t like having friends.” Aella snarked, working on every bit of homework she was assigned for the entire day. Levi clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

   “I never said that; you assumed, Brat. If you didn’t realize already, but I’m in a bit of a problem that won’t stop coming back to bite me in the ass.” Aella scoffed and continued to type her essay due next month. Hey, it never hurt to get ahead, right? Especially when your unexpected new roommate is a fucking gangster.

   “Don’t you have homework too?” Levi shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair.

    “Unlike you, I get it done all in class.” Aella’s jaw dropped.

   “Pardon me, but what the fuck? How in the fucking hell did you manage to crank out a ten god damned page essay in one 90 minute class?” Levi mentally face-palmed — he never mentioned once to Aella that he graduated when he was 16 after founding No Sympathy and getting access to online education to make up for the years lost from living in the slums.

   “I graduated years ago, brat. I skipped five grades in one year the moment I had access to online schooling whenever things were quiet.” Aella groaned at the thought of asking about his GPA, but she already knew it was probably a 4.0 with no effort whatsoever.

    “Can you at least help me, then? I have work later and I’m not sure I’ll be able to finish all of this.” Aella was as desperate as it comes when asking the Levi for help. She still had a job to uphold even if Levi started helping with paying the bills.

   “No.” Levi was unfazed by Aella’s exasperated self and looked away to scan the library while she continued to beg for his help.

    “Please, I’m begging you, Levi.” Aella was now not only stressed about a new roommate, a job, finances, and where she’d even go to college — if she could even afford it –– but now she had to deal with homework that almost cost her to be held back because all of her assignments were late; she spent all her time working with no time whatsoever for homework. This year was no exception.

    “No.” Aella gave up trying to ask any help from Levi whatsoever — she simply sucked it up and worked on everything as quickly and efficiently as possible. As soon as school ended, Aella bolted out to get home to eat something before going in, leaving Levi to bolt after her in confusion.

   “Brat! The hell you going?”

   “Home!” As soon as Aella shoved the key into the apartment and got in, she dropped her backpack and ran to the fridge to make anything that’d keep her from starving, knowing that she’d be too tired to eat after work. 

   “Where’s your damn car?” Levi strode in, leaning against the door frame; his backpack still strung on one of his shoulders. Aella looked up from her food and raised her brow.

   “Can’t afford one. You’ve seen this apartment — it’s all I can afford and even then I’m struggling to keep myself off of the streets.” Levi closed the door and gently set his stuff on the couch before padding over to where Aella resided.

    “Why not live with your family?” Levi’s curiosity peaked.

   “Hate me; like everyone else. Got kicked out two years ago.” Aella answered so nonchalantly like it was an obvious answer, though the hurt in her eyes was evident and shown right through Levi — she suffered just as much as he did and had no one to help her. Aella turned back, walked to her backpack, and started to pack for work. The room was silent after Levi’s question — he knew he stepped too far but also knew Aella forgave him as long as he never brought it up once more; Aella sighed and ruffled her hair after looking at the clock 20 minutes later.

   “I gotta go. You have a phone?” Levi grunted and tossed his unlocked burn phone to her. Aella set up her contact info for Levi to reach her in case anything happened.

   “There. Call me if you fuck anything up.” Levi raised a brow and gave Aella a look of ‘are you fucking serious’.  As soon as Aella left, Levi looked around. Dust had covered everything — Levi felt disgusted at how little Aella must’ve cleaned the place. Levi walked to one of the cabinets in the kitchen to see glorious unused cleaning supplies that even came with the holy grail itself — bleach. Levi greedily grabbed every single product and started with a round of dusting and sweeping, then added a single layer of bleach on every hard surface that wasn’t the dark wood floors or the walls, followed by a good old fashion soap and water scrubbing while on his hands and knees, repeated about three times after until he finally moved on to the floors and walls. After deeply cleaning the floors and walls, Levi attacked the windows with Windex and polished them until they reflected everything — even the floors and countertops were so clean Levi could see his reflection in them; he even cleaned his room, the bathroom, and Aella’s room.

     Levi retreated back into the living room and looked at Aella’s full backpack; she needed all the help she could get with her assignments — Levi saw her planner full with 4 essays due ranging from tomorrow to next month; to say Aella must’ve been stressed was an understatement. Levi carried her backpack to the table and started doing everything to either completion or half-way to completion until he decided two hours of work was enough — Aella should be getting home soon at any minute. Levi put every single item back into the backpack and placed it on the couch where Aella left it. Aella sighed, brushing a rogue hair out of her face while she unlocked her apartment’s door — oh the benefits of living in a complex where the building had access to every single apartment outside. When she walked in she was greeted with a clean space and reading Levi — Aella smiled and silently thanked Levi as she walked to the couch to collapse — collapsing right next to Levi. Aella didn’t care if Levi would yell at her, she rested her head on Levi’s lap; eventually feeling Levi’s fingers thread through her hair while he read — Aella watching some late night show.

   Aella supposed that this entire arrangement wouldn’t be that bad.

[fivepercentgodsandearths]

Peace, I love and miss the 80’s era in Hip Hop, there was so many conscious MC’s such as Public Enemy, Poor Righteous Teachers, X-Clan, Brand Nubian’s, Kwame, King Sun and many more. I remember how we use to rock those leather Black Power or African medallions around our necks, I still have 2 left and one hangs from my car mirror to this day. I remember Flava Flav use to wear that damn clock around his neck and I went out and bought me one. The conscious organizations: Nation of Islam on the corners recruiting and selling their papers and pies. Dr. Yorks Ansaars in the streets selling his lies. The five percenters running around with book bags full of lessons teaching everyone they come in contact with. Conscious MC’s, Conscious music was the order of the day ! But what happened ? They are now replaced with rappers who are proud to be a nigga, proud to be a gangsta, proud to be promoters of black on black crime ! I listened to Capone n Noregas Album titled “ The War Report “ and these brothers talk all this Allah this and that and all these five percent lessons on this album and then on the same album they said: “ … gag her mouth so she can’t scream and start raping her… next day FedEx the tape next day in the mail “. Sometimes I wonder, do the listeners of this type of music ever stop and think and realize that these rappers are talking about killing another black man, selling drugs to another black man, raping a black woman ? Chew on that shit ! It was Paris (east coast) who said it perfectly: “ Mindless music from the one that makes ya, think less of the one that hates ya “. Seriously, what kind of Conscious Intelligent person sits and listens to Lil’ Jon and the east side boyz or get crunk wit it ? This is filth they feed to the public as if they are human pigs ! But hey, you are what you eat , right ? What happened to Conscious music ? The end of the beginning of Conscious music started with Niggas with attitude and after them came Hoes with attitude. N.W.A. sold so many records rapping about murdering black people that these white folks said this is what we want, THIS WILL MAKE US FILTHY RICH !. But this is a designed plan bigger then A&R’s and record labels, this was bigger then the F.B.I. This was the C.riminals I.n A.ction doing. Out with this black conscious crap and lets rock the Niggers back to sleep. Next thing you know conscious rappers started dropping off like flies. Conscious rappers like Intelligent Hoodlum, changed his name to a gangsta name and started rapping about gangsta life. You got Wu-Tang in the beginning rapping about the everyday struggle in the community and dropping the Nation of Gods and Earths lessons and then they flipped the script and started rapping about sniffing coke and picking up Mafia names. Fool, you not no damn Italians ! Why would you pattern yourselves after some people that hate Black people ! Did you see The God Father when they said only sell and put the drugs in the black community because the niggas aint shit and will never be shit. This happened for real !!! Go back and watch the movie “ Panther “ ! While your eating popcorn, your missing the message Tobie ! Fiddler plays his damn violin while you buck dance and shuffle your feet for whitey ! Negroes please, you mind as well paint your face black and yell Mammy ! You fake as Five Percenters on the mic ! You know who you are, you Wu-Tang members ! On Wu-Tang forever Rza said the meaning of Wu-Tang is: “ W-whistle U-universe T- truth of A-Allahs N-nation of the G-gods. Did Rza tell Wu-Tang what happened to his ass at the Nation of Gods and Earths 1997 annual Show & Prove ? Of course not ! Remember before 1997 he use to wear a cross around his neck with diamonds in it. After we got a hold to his ass, we found out he didn’t know no lessons but claim to be the razor sharp of the Wu! After we got a hold to him, now look what he wears around his neck. An Iced out Universal Flag which is the Flag of the Gods and Earths. I bet he knows his lessons now. Raekwon, Gza, Ghostface, Method Man and the rest, I listen to your music and how you use our lessons. Built for Cuban links the chorus was : “ why is my niggas always selling that broke shit, lets get money son, why you want to smoke shit, chill god, yo the son don’t chill allah, what’s today’s mathematics, yo Knowledge god ! “ and on the same ablum ghost and rae said: “ you memorize the 1-40 ? I’m at the 19th degree, if the civilized man doesn’t perform his duty what shall be done?…” This is all Nation of Gods and Earths lessons ! In a Hotel lobby back in Chicago around 1995 or 96 Raekwon said we couldn’t come up and build with them, The God asked him can we have your phone number and Rae said do you know 120 degrees ? The god said no ! Raekwon looked at me and said do you know 120 and I said hell yeah ! And Raekwon gave his number to me instead. Earlier that day, when Wu-Tang entered the door of the concert, I walked up to Ol’ Dirty Bastard and said Peace God !! Can I kick it with you all back stage, he and Rza asked me did I know 120 degrees and I said true indeed God and they said come on. 120 degrees are 120 questions and answers required for those in the Nation of gods and earths to memorize verbatim word for word. My whole point for saying all of this is, simple and plain you used our lessons to put a conscious message out and yet you never donated or gave a dime back to us. Method Man wearing our flag and has a righteous Five Percent name and I don’t know wear the hell he got it from but he donated over $10,000 to the columbine high school but Allah School in Mecca ( 5eadquarters in New york) floor was about to fall in at that time and you want to give these crackers money because little billy shot up his fellow devils !? I see Hell Razah, Killah Priest, 4th Disciple, Gza and more of these Pseudo-Conscious Wu-Tang members on Myspace and I ask them about doing a fundraiser here in Chicago so that I can raise money and start a community center to teach the youth about their culture and etc. and they take it as an insult. If I say, lets do a benefit concert to help the victims of September 11th or Hurricane Katrina you Negroes will break your neck for that. At least Arrested Development on Myspace is at least considering it and have not took it as a insult. Their down to earth and are not full of themselves, I respect them even if they decide and tell me no because they took the time to hear me out and see my legal paperwork. Wu members, I listen to your music on myspace, fool your not deep ! Your knowledge is a snack. Some of those Fischer Price lyrics you can take back to the Toys R Us. On return to the 36 chambers of Ol’ Dirty Bastards album, they couldn’t of said it no better: “ Coming in the name to proclaim your fame for protection, and you don’t know no fuckin lessons ! “ and Rza said on the same album: “ A Five Percent, but all he knew was 1-10, he love the Gods with his heart but his brain was full of sin… “. AFTER YOU READ THIS, YOU’LL PROBABLY PUT ON YOUR PAGE YOUR NOT A Five Percent, but let me do you a favor the only “ real “ members of the Nation of God’s & Earths that are Wu-Tang members that we as the N.G.E. acknowledge are: Rza, Allah Mathematics, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Poppa Wu, Allah Real and Masta Killah ! There maybe 2 more but anyone else is counterfeit and just use our lessons because without them their lyrics would be meaningless. Nas and Az, two more who use the terminology from our lessons. Nas said: “ as for today’s Mathematics we Allah’s children, and this goes on in every New York’s ghetto, kids listen as Five Percent says there’s pork in Jell-O “ and who remember Nas first album when him and Az said: “ We were beginners in the Hood as Five Percenters… “? and on another album Nas said: “ My movado says the God hour, that’s if you follow, tradition started at the school not far from the Apollo “ the five percent school is down the street from the Apollo theatre and the God hour means 7 o’ clock. All I’m saying is give back baby ! I shouldn’t have to ask you to come do a fundraiser, you should send money instead, for the cause that helped you sell records. Take the Five Percenter lessons away from Wu-Tangs album, Poor Righteous Teachers album, Brand Nubian Album what do you have ? Chew on that shit ! Oh yeah, I haven’t forgot you groupies. A few low self esteem women hitting me up and saving me as a friend on Myspace, asking me to teach them the lessons and yet never call me so I can do my duty as an educator and the same day they suppose to call to build, I see them all over the Wu-Tang members comment book posting messages about thank you for listening to me on the phone and I shed tears when we were on the phone. Then I look at the date before that comment, they were just saved as a friend THE DAY BEFORE. Here it is a day later after you just met him, your on the phone crying to him. Groupie shit ! Wanting me to teach you the lessons but never call when you say because your doing your groupie thing on myspace. Another one says she doesn’t have a telephone yet but posting her groupie thing all in their guest book. I’m a busy Intellectual who don’t have time for people who should be riding that little yellow school bus. Do you actually think these are real rappers ? Do you think they just have time to be on the internet everyday with you ? You talk to them on the phone but is it really them or an obsessed groupie like you ? Hamm ! Look, The Nation of Gods and Earths is not some hip hop fade. Just because Wu-Tang advocates it and unfortunately some of our lessons are in the Wu Tang manual, don’t mean its some hip hop stuff fans should study to be a wu-tang fan or groupie. This is what we teach our babies, our children, our women. This is what we live, this is our culture and everyday life. Wu-Tang got ya thinking that five percenters is all about smoking weed and stuff. Allah Jihad is a real estate investor and own properties, including the house I currently live in. I don’t smoke weed or don’t even take medications. I’m a vegetarian and live a righteous and productive life. I’m an author of a $35 book, that I have received over 12,000 e-mails to my website of people waiting to buy it. Do the math $35 x 12,00 = ? If my off the head calculation is correct, that’s $420,000 and I didn’t get on stage and profess to be something I’m not, promote genocide of my people and that’s just online customers. I’m successful and not a weed head, drug dealer nor do I act like something I’m not. You better go to www.immortalbirth.com and read “ about the author “. and on that note, I leave you as I greeted you in… P.E.A.C.E. Allah Jihad 1st. Born and elder of C-Medina(Chicago) Author of Immortal Birth of Allah: Rise of the Five Percenters Writer and reporter for the N.G.E. News (former nge power newspaperfive

https://www.wutang-corp.com/forum/showthread.php?9940-Message-from-the-honorable-Allah-Jihad-of-the-NGE-addressing-the-Wu-Tang-Clan