#i thought we got rid of stupid fucking gender roles
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trans men are allowed to paint their nails.
trans men are allowed to wear dresses or skirts, or any generally "feminine" clothing.
trans men are allowed to wear makeup.
trans men are allowed to embrace their more "feminine" side.
it does not make us any less of a man.
EDIT! : ALL MEN are allowed to do these things, but this post is more centred around the idea that "oh, people who 'claim' to be men and wear dresses and shit are not trans!" yes, we are. skirt go spinny. painted nails are nice. its not that hard to understand.
#peer edited by @munnchausenzip#thank you munnchausen#same thing for trans women in the opposite direction#i thought we got rid of stupid fucking gender roles#but as soon as somebody TRANS does something slightly in line with their agab#oh no oh NO#they're suddenly faking it!#fuck that shit.#do what you want.#transgender#ftm#trans#trans boy#transmasc#trans rights#transitioning#transisbeautiful#nonbinary#transgirl#trans guy#transgurl#transfem#transfemme#trans woman#trans women#trans pride#trans positivity
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Utena ep 6 thoughts: Take Care, Miss Nanami
Spoilers for whole show!!
It’s gaslight central in here damn rip Nanami. Anthy once again is just pulling out all the stops to mess with her. Tsuwabuki is ummmmm so strange I feel so bad for him. It’s so funny how Nanami mistakes him for a prince and everyone is like wow so cool she got saved by a dude (the whole “in the end all girls are like the rose bride” theme) and it seems so envious until we learn he’s just a kid and then it’s obvious how fucked up how hard he’s trying to embody gender roles. I also LOVE the Utena Mickey duo. They’re both so stupid and are just as easily manipulated by Anthy in these situations. When they just fucking ignore Sionji when he’s like no one understands my love…. So goddamn funny. The parallels between Anthy and Nanami are also really strong this ep because Nanami is trying to recreate what Anthy has with a protector against a student council (the three boys) and they also met when they were younger (Nanami saved by touga the way Utena saved Anthy) and Touga in Tsuwabuki’s memory is a stand in for Dios in Utena’s memory. Then in the episode, Touga comes to the rescue the same way Akio will in the third arc. It also shows how absurd Anthy and Utena’s relationship is, we just accept it because they accept it. Nanami stays being the reason why we question reality at Ohtori Academy. Thanks Nanami. Oh my god and Touga is really dead like Dios/Akio is. This episode is Fr just the rest of the goddamn plot of the show. Oh my god. God bless Nanami episodes. And Anthy with the “we got rid of the vermin in the rose garden!”
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Okay my problem with sylki isn't it's selfcest or they're the same person. It's literally fiction, loosen up Tumblr puritans if anyones gonna get down with themselves it's Loki. If it's not your thing, no shame, but there's nothing WRONG with it as, as I've mentioned , it's FICTION, has no bearing on who you ar as person what fictional ships you like, and has no real world consequences because it isn't even possible.
My problem isn't even the "he's bi why can't he be in a gay relationship" cause, yes, why CAN'T he, but he can also be in a "straight" relationship too. That's the point of being bi. Also at least Tom's Loki is gender fluid , Sylvie probably is too, so any realtionship between them is automatically queer cause they're both enby, and neither are a woman or a man .
(but YES it does feel disingenuous of marvel to take a charecter who has had no love interest for SIX MOVIES , and shown no romantic or sexual interest in anyone, reveal he's bisexual and THEN get him together with a woman in the next episode. Like, Loki's bi, and nothing marvel will do can ever take that away from me, but ....it does feel like having your cake and eating it too. We'd be very happy with no love interest too)
It isn't even that I don't like Sylvie herself. I DO. I LOVE her Loki, her version of Loki's life, the ways they're similar, the ways they're different. The way I think she kind of reminds Loki of Thor sometimes (angry blondes gonna hit something she shouldn't hit. Must stop before it gets worse!) (Cause that moment when she was about to kill he who remains , Loki's tactic to calm her down and reasons behind it were eerily similar to him stopping Thor from attacking the frost Giants in movie 1) I think that Sylvie is a rare occurance--a female charecter that is fully developed, has goals and wants of her own, and isn't just a love interest. I would very much like to see more of her.
My problem is. Loki. LOKI Loki. Tom's Loki, is our mail charecter. Main characters must go through charecter development. They must have a WANT and to contrast with it a NEED. they must pursue said WANT and at the end of the day , get not necessarily what they WANT but what they NEED.
So what does Loki WANT? Well in episode one we get a very clear want. Loki wants to destroy the TVA. He wants to figure out who's behind this and get rid of them. Right. Good. That's the plot.
Now we're looking at his internal arc. Mobius lays it out, again, in episode one. Loki is, BAD. He causes pain and suffering wherever he goes and hurts everyone he loves. He does bad things. And his role in this game of destiny is to be Bad, so other can be good. Loki realizes that about himself, and he hates it. He doesn't really want to be Bad. And he certainly doesn't want to be a pawn in others stories. So meld the internal arc, the NEED to the WANT and Loki wants to destroy the TVA so that he can get away from his destiny to hurt people and see what else he's capable of.
(this entire arc was also done a lot better in Ragnarok. )
Okay so. We jump around. Loki tricks people, Loki gains information. He meets Sylvie. Their goals align. Sylvie wants to destroy the TVA. Very well and good.
Now thematically, this is where the want and the need should start switching at the midpoint. The midpoint of the series s of course episode 3, when Loki realizes the TVA isn't all it seems to be and everyone is a varient.
And here's where it falls apart. There's that fun scene with Sif where she criticizes Loki for being a worm or whatever. I thought that was going to go somewhere but it didn't. But after that Loki's plotline fizzles out. He no longer really wants to destroy the TVA, Sylvie does. The show now becomes about HER goal to do that. And Loki's need sort of...disappears. instead of growing or learning something about himself, his need seems to be Love Sylvie. And that doesn't add up.
So either this is EXTREMELY lazy writing.
(yes. Yes it is)
Or someone thought that the way to fulfuil all of Loki's emotional needs--whicj we've seen develop over, let me state this again SIX MOVIES-- were to give him a love interest. Not to mention they thought that was the culmination of his plot NEED. Loki WANTS To destroy the TVA but NEEDS to...fall in love?
There's an argument to be made for a very literal reading of he needs to accept himself, but not only is that not what's being set up here, it's fucking stupid because loving Sylvie who--while they're the same person technically--has had a completely different life, personality, choices, has nothing to do with accepting THIS Loki.
So then we do this main charecter switch. Loki now just follows along Sylvie's goal. He has no more need, and no more real want. Sylvie has a want, but no need either. And the one moment when Loki tries to talk her down, and says he can't risk the universe in exchange for power really falls flat because Loki is not seen to WANT To rule the universe through the tva. He's way past that.
So in an attempt to just tie up loose ends what he got, instead of self actualization, instead of charecter development, instead or ANYTHING, was a kiss.
Because in Hollywoodland, kisses solve everything. And that's where my aro ass jumps off the film school horse and onto the UGKGBVSJJBE keysmash horse. Because they really do believe that it is Good Writing to do that because Love Solves Everything .
And I'm pissy.
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Does This Mean I'm a Girl Now?
Content Warning: this fic contains genderbending (sort of anyway) and gender dysphoria as a result of it, also multiple mentions of genitals as well as nudity in general.
My friends and I were discussing a thing that we were mildly salty about which brought on the topic about how we were salty in general over how a lot of genderbending stuff is portrayed. It often relies on stereotypes and gender roles which is really annoying and pretty shitty. Then my dear friend @itsladykit (I hope it’s okay that I tagged you, I just wanna give you proper credit for the idea) brought up the idea of a cis character getting magically genderbent and experiencing gender dysphoria because of it. Which I thought was a really neat idea but I wasn't sure if I was qualified to tell that tale but then they told me to follow my heart and write it and that's why this fic came into being.
Now I feel like I need to put the disclaimer that while I have personal experience with gender dysphoria, the worst of it was was back when I was a teenager, I've mostly grown out of it and I'm pretty sure most people have it stronger than I ever have. So if this isn't an 100% accurate depiction of dysphoria, that is why. I did my best though.
Also, Frender features in it mostly just because I was already fueled primarily by salt, might as well let my usual Futurama salt fuel me too.
-
“Wow,” Fry said as they looked over the naturally formed pool of bright pink goo. They’d been to a lot of different planets and seen quite a few different kinds and colours of goo but never one so pink. “It’s kind of pretty, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” Bender replied, disinterested. “I’m bored though so I dare you to jump in and see what happens.”
“Do not!” Leela snapped from somewhere behind them before Fry could even decide if he wanted to take that dare or not. “I don’t know what you guys found over there but don’t listen to him Fry because whatever it is, is probably dangerous.”
“Fucking killjoy,” Bender muttered so that only Fry could hear. He was right though; they were hiding out on a dumb planet with nothing on it to escape some asshole pirates which meant they had to just sit around and do nothing until Leela was sure they were free. It had only been probably an hour so far and Fry was already bored out of his mind. Leela had forbade them from doing anything ‘dirty’ in case they needed to get out in a hurry so the least she could do was let them investigate some cool pink goo.
So, feeling rather rebellious especially as the sound of Leela’s footsteps approached, presumably to investigate, Fry lowered himself to the ground so he could lean forward and stick in his hand in. The goo didn’t come up all the way to the lip of the natural pool, forcing him to lean a bit farther than he was really comfortable with considering the utterly unknown alien substance he would fall into if he lost his balance but if he fell Bender would catch him… probably anyway, so it should be fine.
The goo was pleasantly cool as it engulfed his hand, almost seemingly clinging to him and pulling it down. It was like sticking his hand in thick syrup fresh out of the fridge, a pleasant texture if a bit odd. Right away though his hand began to have that pins and needles feeling that came from laying on one’s arm wrong for way too long so he should probably…
The ground gave way beneath him, sending him into the goo. He didn’t even have time to yelp in surprise before he was fully submerged in it. He gasped instinctively, inadvertently breathing it in, making him choke and sputter.
He needed to get to the surface now! Except he didn’t even know where it was. He thrashed, trying to go in any direction but to no avail, the goo was too thick to swim well in and blackness was already eating at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t die like this! No fucking way! It wasn’t…
~
“…think it’s permanent?” Bender was saying from somewhere above Fry as he slowly came to.
“Who knows?” Leela replied from also somewhere above him. “For his sake, I hope not.”
“You make it sound like it’s a big problem.” Bender’s tone indicated that he disagreed.
“You don’t understand.” Leela was giving Bender her annoyed look, Fry didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that. “Though I guess I can’t really blame you for not understanding this, you’re a robot so it’s probably different for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Leela sighed. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it won’t be a big deal. Heck, maybe it’ll only last a few hours.”
As much as Fry enjoyed napping, the way they were talking was rather disconcerting so with a groan he opened his eyes and forced himself to sit up. Bender and Leela were standing to either side of where he lay on the ground. Bender was coated head to toe in bright pink goo, calling to mind what had happened last. That meant he’d jumped in after Fry and was probably the sole reason he hadn’t drowned. Now he was trying to wipe the goo off with a pink rag that might’ve once been white but it wasn’t very effective.
“Hey meatbag,” he said, turning his attention onto Fry. “How do you feel?”
“Uh… weird.” Fry was covered in goo still too. It clung to him and made him feel all tingly and odd, like his whole body had fallen asleep even though that wasn’t possible. And it smelled strange too and tasted bad. He turned his head to the side to spit as much of it out as he could, though it did little to rid his mouth of the taste. “I got to wash this stuff off,” he said as he stood up, careful of the probably slippery goo coating him and pooling around where it had dripped off him and Bender. “Thanks for saving me.” Was it just him or did his voice sound strange?
“Uh… Fry,” Leela cut in before he could turn to start for the ship. “The pink stuff kind of did something to your body.”
Oh no. “What?”
“Well, uh… um…”
“The most noticeable thing it did was give you boobs,” Bender finished. “I didn’t check your pants so it might’ve changed you down there too. You might want to look into it.”
Fry looked down at himself and… true to Bender’s words, his chest was quite different; his clothes soaked in the pink goo clung to him, highlighting the weird lumps on his chest. Boobs was what they were called, he had them now, big ones too. Or at least they looked big to him from this angle which wasn’t an angle he was ever supposed to see boobs from so how was he supposed to know?
“Does this mean I’m a girl now?” he asked as he looked back up at Leela and Bender. The strange thing about his voice was that it sounded more feminine and if it sounded that way to him how much more so was it to everyone else?
“Not unless you want to be,” Leela said with a reassuring smile.
“Uh… I don’t think I do.” He’d never considered it before even in passing but now that was forcibly faced with it, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to be a girl.
“Come on, let’s go wash this gunk off,” Bender said as he gave up on the rag, tossing it disdainfully to the ground before starting for the ship. Fry was more than happy to follow because who knows, maybe it would only last as long as the goo was coating him.
“All right,” Leela said, “I’m going to collect a sample of the pink stuff to bring back to the Professor.”
-
Undressing brought to Fry’s unfortunate attention that the goo had changed more than just his chest and voice. His hips were wider, his shoulders a little narrower – not by much, he’d never exactly had broad shoulders but enough that even if no one else was likely to notice he still did – and the other biggest change was that his dick was missing. He could explore what was there instead with his hands but… he didn’t feel particularly inclined to do so.
Which was odd, wasn’t it? In every movie or TV show he’d ever seen where a man ended up with a female body through whatever means, the joke almost always was that they were excited to touch themselves down there and play with their new boobs. It wasn’t even that he wasn’t into such things, while he did prefer men – especially if they were robots or aliens – boobs and vagina weren’t turn offs by any means. On himself though it was just… too weird.
With a sigh, he did his best to shake it off and stepped into the shower after Bender. There was only one on board the ship because it wasn’t exactly meant for everyday use, mostly decontamination and washing off dangerous chemicals which this probably counted as. There was enough room for both of them though so it was whatever.
“You owe me for going in after you,” Bender said, turning to face him. “It leaked into my everything and now I have to clean everything.” To demonstrate, he opened his chest compartment, revealing that it had been partially filled with pink goo, Fry had to pull his foot back to stop it from splashing on him. Bender then began taking things out to wash off too, including his cigar case, its contents most likely ruined. He gave Fry a pointed look as he put it back as if this were his fault, which it kind of was.
“Sorry, thanks for saving me though, I owe you big. But uh… you did dare me to jump in.” Not that Fry had meant to or would’ve if given the choice, not even he was quite that stupid.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it. But whatever, I guess this is more exciting than sitting around doing nothing. By the way, in case you haven’t noticed yet, your dick’s gone.”
Fry had to hold back a groan; that wasn’t something he really wanted to think about. “Yeah, I know. How long was I in the goo before you pulled me out though?” Because surely a change this drastic couldn’t have happened in brief awful seconds he remembered.
“I don’t know, five, ten minutes. That stuff isn’t exactly easy to see through and it was a lot deeper than it looked. Which was why I had to jump in to find you in it.”
“How come it didn’t do anything to you?”
“I don’t know, maybe because I’m a robot.” That was kind of an ‘oh duh’, huh?
They were silent for a bit while Fry focused on making sure to wash all the goo off. He could probably safely step out now if he wanted to, the pins and needle feeling the goo had given him was rapidly fading, but the water was warm and… “What do you think of this?” He did his best to keep his tone casual. “Does it uh… change how you see me or anything?”
Bender scoffed as if Fry was stupid to even consider such a thing. “No, why would it? I’m a robot and I’m pan so I have double the reason not to care what your body is shaped like. It should be fun to play around with later though.” He winked as if his meaning wasn’t already obvious.
Fry wasn’t really sure about that but… that was probably just because he still wasn’t over the shock of the sudden change. When he was more used to it, it would probably be fun to experiment with so… “Yeah, maybe once we’re home and stuff.” Or maybe it would wear off before they even got there and thus it would basically be a non-thing, just another weird adventure that wrapped up quickly and left everything exactly the same as before. He could always hope, right?
~
“… and it’s permanent,” Professor Farnsworth finished, jerking Fry out of the bored stupor listening to the scientific explanation behind the exact mechanics behind the sex change had put him in.
“It’s what?” Hopefully Fry had just misheard something. He hadn’t exactly been paying attention after all.
“It’s permanent,” Farnsworth repeated. “It’s not going to wear off.”
“You mean I’m stuck like this forever?”
“Not necessarily. There’s of course the traditional transition methods you could take or I could use this,” Farnsworth held up the vial of pink goo that Leela had collected for him, “to engineer a substance that will have the opposite effect. And then it’ll be like this whole misadventure never happened except we’ll have the means to get rich off of selling this stuff. Of course we don’t yet know what all the risks it might pose are but that’s all the more reason to sell it to as many people as possible so we can find out.”
Ugh, Fry hadn’t even considered what other possible risks his inadvertent bath in the pink goo might’ve had. What if it was also super toxic and was going to eventually kill him? Or what if it drastically increased his risk of cancer other possibly fatal condition? … Eh, it was probably fine so… “How long is that going to take?”
“Hmmm…” Farnsworth held the vial up to the light as he studied it. “I don’t know. I should probably get to work on it.” And without any further word he was shuffling off out of the room. Everyone in the room, which was everyone employed at Planet Express because privacy didn’t exist in the modern age, watched him go.
“On the bright side,” Leela said from the other side of the conference table, “if he can make something that can do the reverse, we’ll have discovered something that can help a lot of people.”
“Assuming it’s safe anyway,” Amy added. “It could still be super toxic and deadly or something. So, congrats Fry, you get to be a guinea pig for a new way of transitioning. Here’s to hoping it doesn’t kill you in the end.”
“Uh… thanks, I think.” He’d rather not be a guinea pig for anything but seems he didn’t have a choice here so yeah, hopefully it was safe to use. But at least if anyone could make something that could turn him back to normal it was the Professor. So really everything would be fine. He just had to deal with this weirdness for a little while.
~
Looking at himself naked in his bedroom mirror was a mistake. His boobs were weird shaped lumps on his chest that hung there kind of like those ballast bags that hung on the sides of hot air balloon baskets but rounder and with nipples. How could something that looked like that be natural? Crossing his arms over them to try to hid them from view sort of worked but it also pushed them closer together which wasn’t a pleasant sensation. And combined with his hips, they gave him that ‘hourglass figure’ that was supposed to be desirable but didn’t look right in the mirror.
He couldn’t bear to look at his crotch for more a couple seconds because his dick was gone! That was weird and just plain wrong. Everything about his body looked wrong now and he hated it. He’d never particularly liked his body before – muscles would’ve been cool to have but weren’t worth the effort – but it had been utter indifference. Now looking at himself was an unpleasant experience.
He… wasn’t just going to just get used to or over this, was he? His body wasn’t supposed to be like this and thus he couldn’t feel comfortable in it while it was.
Eager to be done looking at himself, he stepped forward and turned the mirror around to face the wall. It would stay until his body was back to normal. All he could really do was hope that that would be soon.
In the meantime though he went to his closest in search out the baggiest clothes he had. Luckily everything he wore on a typical day was already baggy and a lot of it a size or so bigger than needed. Zipping up the jacket should help obscure his boobs too, maybe even completely, though probably not because his initial call had been right, they were on the larger side. But regardless it would be better than nothing.
Right as he was pulling on the jacket, the door opened behind him. “I don’t like this whole sex change thing,” he said as he zipped up and turned to face Bender as he entered. “Like I really, really don’t like it.”
“Why?” Of course Bender wouldn’t understand and well, honestly Fry didn’t either.
“I don’t know.” There wasn’t any solid logical reason for why he disliked it so much. “It just makes me uncomfortable. My body’s not supposed to look like this with boobs and… stuff.” And lacking of other things. “I don’t like it. So if we could pretend that it’s not a thing that would be great.”
Bender gave him a weird look before shrugging and moving on. “I swear you meatbags never cease to be weird. But if it really bothers you that much, I won’t mention your boobs or junk if that’s what you want.”
“Yes, I would like that, thanks.”
“That means we’re not going to fuck tonight though, huh?”
“Uh… yeah, I’d rather not.” That would involve exploring his new body and he couldn’t imagine that being fun.
“The things I put with for you. But whatever, let’s go watch TV then.”
Fry was more than happy to follow him back out into the living room. He could really use the distraction of both watching TV and of cuddling up with Bender.
-
True to Fry’s prediction he never got over his discomfort about his new body. Wearing obscuring clothing helped as did making sure to never look at himself in the mirror, especially without clothes, but it was still there. He could go for hours at a time without thinking about it but ultimately it always came back in one form or another and it was the worst.
Thankfully no one at Planet Express treated him any different. None of them even mentioned it after the initial buzz about it had faded. Sadly, such was not true for strangers; men flirted with him more which wouldn’t have been much of an issue if they weren’t flirting with him because of something he was uncomfortable with and wished wasn’t a thing. Bender put a jealous stop to a lot of that though which was much appreciated. And then there was everyone calling him she or her which sucked – he got called they or them some too which was better even if it still wasn’t right – most people didn’t care when he corrected them but it was still awkward that he had to.
But finally, just when it was starting to seem like he’d reached his limit and couldn’t take it anymore, upon arriving at work, Professor Farnsworth was there to greet him with some actual good news for once. The opposite of the pink goo was ready to be tested. The fact that Fry would be the first one testing it didn’t even matter to him to anymore.
It was in the pool out back where everyone else was already waiting because again, privacy wasn’t a thing anymore apparently, though honestly Fry didn’t even really care that much. But… “I’d thought it’d be blue,” was the first thing he said upon seeing it because it was bright yellow.
“Why would it be blue?” Farnsworth asked, genuinely confused.
“Because the other stuff was pink and it did this to me so it just makes sense for something that’s supposed to do the opposite to be blue, right?”
“That makes no sense,” Bender said. “Stop being stupid and go jump in already. And don’t almost drown this time because I’m not jumping in to save you again if you do, once was more than enough.”
“You say that but I doubt you mean it,” Hermes chimed in. “We all know you’d jump if to save him if you had to.”
Bender glared at him but Amy spoke up before he could say anything. “Yeah, you two have been dating for like a year now and were like totally in love for like ever even before you were official so don’t pretend to be a tough guy.”
“Just jump in already,” Zoidberg butted in. “I want to see what happens.”
“Yes, let’s just get this over with,” Fry said before anyone else could chime in with anything. He stepped forward to stand on the edge of the pool. “Can you guys like… look away please? I don’t want to ruin my clothes and uh… yeah.” He didn’t want them seeing him naked when his body was still like this even though logically they all already knew what he looked like but… he just didn’t want them seeing.
“Of course,” Leela said as she turned away. Thankfully everyone else soon followed suit with only a little grumbling.
Eager to have this over and done with, Fry quickly undressed. After tossing his balled-up clothes to the side, he sat down on the edge of the pool and slowly lowered himself into the yellow goo. It felt exactly the same as the pink goo had; cool and thick, quickly giving him that unpleasant pins and needles feeling. He had to force himself to submerge his head.
-
Fry was awoken by cold water being splashed onto his face. His eyes shot open to see who else but Bender hovering over him. “Hey Fry, I thought I told you not to almost drown this time.”
He didn’t remember falling asleep or unconscious and he certainly hadn’t intended to. “Sorry,” he said as he sat up.
Everyone had crowded around to loom over where he lay on the ground next to the pool. “How do you feel?” Farnsworth asked, adjusting his glasses. “Did it work? I can’t tell with all the yellow.”
“Uh…” Fry looked down at himself. … “It worked!” he said as he shot up to his feet. He was back to normal, how his body was supposed to be. His chest of flat, his proportions back to normal, and he had his dick back. Gosh, he never would’ve thought he’d feel so good while naked and surrounded by a bunch of people staring at him.
“Congrats on surviving another sex change,” Leela said.
“And on getting your dick back,” Amy added with an unhelpful thumbs up.
“Maybe next time think twice before deciding to play with a mysterious alien substance,” Hermes said.
Of course the Professor had something to say too. “Now we just got to wait a couple weeks and see if you randomly drop dead before declaring it tested and ready to sell.”
This was very quickly growing awkward with everyone standing around Fry and talking at him while he was butt naked and covered in experimental goo. “I’m going to go wash this stuff off now,” he said as he was already backing away. Also, now that his body was back to normal, there was something he wanted to do because he finally could again and the shower would be the prefect place to do it.
He’d learned an important and valuable lesson though: next time Bender dared him to play in an unknown substance, no matter how bored he was, he’d think about it a little harder before deciding to risk sticking his hand in. And to be more careful around alien goo in general.
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Justice League International #9 (1988)
I guess that means Black Canary will have to defeat the Manhunters.
I read The Lord of the Rings trilogy when I was twelve and I'll admit that I thought Éowyn killing the Witch-king was a pretty good twist on the prophecy that he would not be killed by the hand of man. Later, as I got old enough to despise everything in the world because my sense of wonder had been worn down to a nub like a well-used eraser, I realized twelve year old me was a credulous little rat bastard who wouldn't know a good twist if it jumped up out of the lake as a drowned zombie boy and pulled him under just when he thought the film was over and he was safe.
Wait a second. I don't want to discuss Éowyn anymore! Maybe I'll get back to it but I've just realized something more important. If Jason had drowned and remained a little boy from 1957 to 1979, how does he become a grown ass adult in the subsequent movies?! I suppose serious Friday the 13th fans believe Alice simply imagined being pulled into the lake, since the police found no trace of a small boy. And the actual Jason didn't drown at all but received such severe brain damage that he decided to live in the woods like Grizzly Adams. Maybe he didn't even remember his mother until she showed up to murder all those counselors and he learned who he was by observing the first movie from the woods. Then we was all, "Man! That woman killed Ma! I'll show her you can't behead my Ma and not get beheaded yourself!"
Hmm, that was too easy to solve once I spent any time at all thinking about it. I wonder how many hours I could lose looking up what actual fans of the franchise think? I'll never know though because I dislike fans and fan theories almost as much as I dislike my twelve year old self for being so amazed by the Éowyn twist!
Maybe the Éowyn twist is just as good as I thought it was 37 years ago. It's not like I've ever gone back to re-read The Lord of the Rings. I've only read a handful of books more than once in my life and have never re-read a book immediately after reading it until now with Gravity's Rainbow. You can blame Thomas Pynchon on my lack of reading comic books lately because his book was so fucking good and had so much going on that I had to read it again immediately.
This issue takes place during the big DC Millennium event so it might be a bit confusing for me. I'll be damned if I'm going to dig through one of the forty comic book boxes lying around just to find Millennium to read before this.
No thanks! I think I'll just muddle through!
Remember when DC had huge events that crossed over into every single comic they put out but were totally boring and inconsequential and didn't have "METAL!" in the title? I'm so glad those days are over and Scott Snyder has made crossover events super fucking hardcore and radical again! *five minutes of mouth guitar noises*
Oh! Is this some of that Éowyn-like prophetic foreshadowing?!
Rocket Red #7 has to be the most lame attempt at having a team member betray the team, especially since he's immediately replaced by Rocket Red #4. "Whoa! What a twist!" I probably thought back at my still tender and rat-bastardly age of sixteen.
Rocket Red #7 comes right out and tells everybody that he's a Manhunter. I guess part of the Manhunter philosophy is to first try and recruit man. If unsuccessful, only then do you hunt man. Batman explains to Manhunter Rocket Red #7 how to painfully shove offers like that up excretory orifices.
After Black Canary gets on his ass several times for not including her in his exclamations of "gentlemen," Manhunter Rocket Red #7 learns to say, "No man—or woman—can escape the Manhunters!" So I guess no Éowyn twist this time. Hell, I'll probably never learn the twist for how the Manhunters can be defeated because that's the kind of plot point that's going to take place in the actual Millennium issues. And I probably won't re-read those for another few years!
"Suck on this, manhunter!" was my most commonly used phrase in college.
Black Canary is so concerned about gender equality maybe she should be scolding Batman for not hiring any other women.
Rocket Red #7 beats the shit out of everybody inside the ship (not Beetle's Bug for some reason probably explained in Millennium #1) and then flies out to stand on top of it and not say he's king of the world because Titanic wasn't the huge breakout romantic hit it would be a decade later. What a great movie! It had everything! Boobs, guns, people dying. Like an Agatha Christie novel but with boobs!
Once Rocket Red #7 is outside of the ship, the members of the Justice League with actual, non-screaming-related super-powers take notice of him. That's because they're flying to show off to the others their super powers. The characters I'm talking about are Guy Gardner and Martian Manhunter. Booster Gold is also flying outside the ship but he's just a small town thief with a Legion flight ring and a force field. He doesn't even have a manly bulge in this super tight suit!
One thing I learned that maybe I knew once but probably not for long because I don't think it was ever front loaded as part of his characterization is that Rocket Red (like all Rocket Reds) is a techno-empath. That means his suit allows him to control technology by crying or getting angry. If you know for a fact that it means something else, just keep it to yourself, okay? This isn't fucking Wikipedia. It's a stupid joke review blog that, most of the time, forgets to even review the comic book.
Nobody knows how to stop Rocket Red #7 from crashing the ship into a Bialian oil refinery because if they try to stop him, he'll blow up the ship and kill everybody inside. Which, you know, will happen anyway if it crashes into the oil refinery. So I don't know why nobody tries to stop him anyway. They just fly ahead to save civilians. Luckily Rocket Reds #1-...I don't know, 53 (minus #7) save the day! I guess they use their Techno-Empathy to shut down Rocket Red #7's eyeballs.
Oh yeah, Rocket Red #7 dies here. I mean, not here, exactly, because nobody stops the Manhunters. He dies a little later after the jump scare out of the pile of debris scene.
Max Lord consults his mysterious robotic sounding friend about the Manhunter threat but the dumb thing doesn't know any more than he does. Lord mentions that the Manhunters have gotten close to all of their potential recruits while looking at a monitor with those recruits. One of them is Halo and Geoforce from The Outsiders! Oh why oh why couldn't Halo have become a member?! Halo was my pre-Sailor Moon role model. I think I've just always wanted to be a hot young woman.
Oh yeah. Didn't Doctor Jace turn out to be a Manhunter?
The story ends with Maxwell Lord's personal assistant shooting him because she was also a Manhunter. How all these people were Manhunters, I'll never know! I suppose it's like when you've been playing a Dungeons & Dragons campaign for four months and suddenly one of the NPCs turns out to be a polymorphed dragon and you're all, "Holy shit! What a twist! This DM is devious!" But in reality, the DM only thought up the twist thirty minutes before that night's campaign. It's pretty much exactly like that.
Every writer at DC must have gotten a memo from editorial that read: "One of your characters needs to be a Manhunter. It doesn't matter which one but it would be a lot more exciting if they were an important part of the team!" And Keith Giffen and J.M. DeMatties read their memo, shrugged, and concluded they were only willing to rid themselves of Max Lord's secretary and the stupid, replaceable Rocket Red.
A second short story finishes up this issue. It's about Jack-o-lantern of the now defunct Global Guardians being wooed by Bialian Rumaan Harjavti. He wants a super group of terrorists to threaten the Western world with. I guess they'll become Bialya's version of Qurac's Jihad. If it ever comes together, of course. Jack-o-Lantern would just be using Rumaan's money and support to get a new global team together. Probably.
Justice League International #9 Rating: B. Did you know China has a university called the China University of Mining and Technology? That acronym is so close to being disgusting! Some translator should point it out so they can come up with a synonym for "mining" that begins with an "n" so they can sell a ton of school merch to the West.
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VALENCIA: Axel Martinez —
Full Name: Axel Jose Diego Martinez
Nickname: Axe, Ax, Diablo
Age: 33
Gender & Pronouns: Cismale, he/him
Sexual & Romantic Orientation: Bisexual/Quoiromantic
Occupation: Owner of Roberto’s
Affiliation: Valencia
Rank: Bone Breaker
Faceclaim: Manny Montana
Character introduction.
PROMPT:
ROUTINE —
Ever since he was a teenager, Axel has worked at Roberto’s. At his father’s insistence to teach him some responsibility, as the owner, it was common for him to hire his children and other relatives because he didn’t trust anyone. When Roberto, his father, went to prison and was simultaneously killed while there, his business was given to his eldest son. Axel wasn’t very torn up about losing his father, it made his life significantly easier and allowed him to take over the role as head of the Martinez family. Something he’d been well prepared for and while he wasn’t the nicest guy, he wasn’t the psychopath Roberto was. At least, he didn’t think he was.
With his father gone, his days started with the sun (if he even got to bed the night before). He opened the convenient store, put the money in the till for the starting shift and made sure everything was turned on and stocked from the night before. Once the first shift comes in, he usually heads to the back to double check that everything is locked up and set up for the next shift. After that is usually when he gets word of anything Valencia needs him to do that day. Even though he’s not a soldier anymore, he likes to keep busy so he picks up slack where he can. If not, he starts checking in on his younger siblings and making sure they are doing what they’re supposed to be doing and staying out of trouble. If he doesn’t have anything pressing to get done, he heads to the gym to do his usual workout and possibly some sparring to keep his endurance at peak along with his fighting technique. Afterwards, he hits up Ridge Roasters if he’s going to the North side of town and gets his coffee with a random pastry to go. Otherwise, he heads to Blue Hill Diner for a proper breakfast and chats with the staff there or scrolls through his phone. He heads back to the convenient store if they need him, otherwise he heads home for a nap or just to relax. Most days he can trust his shift supervisors or the manager to finish up the rest of the day at Roberto’s. Only on occasion does he have to cover a shift or go in to change the cash register for a shift.
By five or six in the evening, Axel crosses the threshold of St. Peters and takes a spot at the bar. If he feels like dinner, he gets something to eat. Otherwise he has a few drinks to pass the time and watches the environment. If he’s lucky, he catches something that isn’t supposed to be happening in Redridge without approval and brings it to a higher up. Otherwise, he wastes some time before Rogue’s opens and he can go watch the fights for the night. By the time it’s his turn to get in the ring, he’s usually itching to start fighting. He’s not one to get excited about much, but once he gets sight of his ‘opponent’ a wide shark-like smile will spread across his face. Axel loves the work he gets to do with Valencia and if he could do more he would. Fighting and getting rid of people was something he specialized in, he was damn good at it, too. If he was lucky, he brought someone home with him at the end of the night. If not, he has another drink and heads back to his house to watch something on the television or, if he’s even luckier, gets a few hours of sleep before he has to wake up and repeat it all the next day.
REMINISCENCE —
“Not everyone gets to just blurt out how the feel about whoever or whatever on a fuckin’ whim, dude.” Axel spoke into his glass, the third brandy making his voice hoarse. Stuck in the reverie that his best friend had pulled from him. That afternoon they’d gotten the news that his father was found dead in the showers that morning. He was out celebrating. That man had never done anything for anyone, nothing good at least and definitely not any of his kids. Axel looked at the brown liquid in his glass and swirled it around. “Remember back in high school, that kid Jake who used to hang around sometimes?” He asked, eyes still on the glass. “We used to mess around or whatever. I was young and stupid.” He shook his head, knowing at twenty-five he wasn’t exactly old but he was a lot older than he was then. “Anyways, it had been a few months and I started talkin’ a big game like I was the boss of my house. My papi didn’t give a shit what I did or who I was with and all that. We stopped at Roberto’s after school to get some snacks or whatever. You know, same shit different day.” Axel paused and let out a slow sigh. The alcohol was getting to his head and loosening his tongue to reveal shit he’d never talked about with anyone. Most people knew his father was a prick that was quick to correct his children with his hands rather than his words, but Axel didn’t ever make it seem like it bothered him. He sure as hell didn’t let on that he harbored a great fear of the man. “We were at the counter paying, right in front of my dad and Jake tried to lean in for a kiss or somethin’ to say thank you or some shit. I just freaked out, I didn’t know what to do because that shit wasn’t goin’ to fly with Roberto Martinez. Not one of his kids. So, I pushed him away and beat his ass bloody right there for all the world to see.” He didn’t want his dad to do it and if he thought for a second that Axel was into guys he would probably shoot him on the spot. Definitely would have gotten rid of him in one way or the other. Even if he still liked girls, too. “My brother had to pull me off of him. I was so fuckin’ scared man, I just kept hittin’ him. He had to go to the hospital and his parents didn’t even press charges, they straight pulled him out of school. I never even saw him again.” Axel finished off his glass and exhaled the burn it left in his throat and chest. “Out of all the people I’ve beat in my lifetime, all the shit I’ve done, man. That’s the only one I regret. But you know the sad part?” He let out a bitter laugh. “If I could go back and do it over, I’d still beat his ass. What the fuck does that say about me?” Axel shut up after that, didn’t even really pay attention to what his friend had to say about any of it. He drowned himself in a bottle and had no idea how he got home at the end of the night.
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Can we talk about Mona? I was blown away by what she did. I know a lot of people think she was a traitor or PB did her dirty but I thought it was in character for her. She was protecting her friends the only way she knew how. Not to mention if she hadn’t agreed they would have killed her. Idk maybe I’m the only one who thinks this was a selfless act ?
We can 100% talk about Mona. There’s a lot to unpack with the recent developments and just Mona in general. I adore Mona, I love her backstory and her personality, the aloofness when in fact she’s fallen hard for MC. There’s been a lot of difficulties with how she’s been presented, like an almost side romance this entire time, mostly only available in diamond scenes. This is the true travesty of the book as it is written. Sure, I could go on and on about what tweaks I would personally make so we could have a not gender-locked MC and Logan, but this isn’t the question.
MC spends very little important time with Mona in terms of the actual meat of the plot. Mona isn’t introduced until after the sideshow and time spent with her is usually time you could spend with the other LIs or side plots that don’t really turn into anything, like getting rid of the classic car for the Brotherhood. Nobody in the book has remotely anywhere near as many diamond scenes as Logan does. It’s really not funny. Colt and Mona’s scenes combined are fewer than Logan’s. I counted. Logan has fifteen scenes, Colt has seven, and Mona has six. That is where Mona is done dirty, not in the recent plot development that fits her narrative and actually brings her central to the plot.
First of all, let’s discuss what actually happened with Mona after parting ways after Ardizzone (which is quite an interesting west coast organized crime reference btw PB). Mona is tracked down by the Brotherhood since it seems like she didn’t actually leave town, potentially none of the crew has left town because we know the three LIs didn’t. She’s threatened by them and she “joins” them because she tells them she’ll help them lure out and get their hands on MC and the rest of the crew. On the night of the prom, she “helps” the Brotherhood with their attack, only she foils it entirely by helping MC and their LI (if it isn’t her) escape.
There’s some important things she says here. That they caught her. That she’s doing this to stay alive. And that the longer Logan/Colt/the crew/MC manage to stay alive, the longer she’ll be alive. This is peak self-preservation and it’s absolutely in line with Mona’s character. Do I need to remind you that Mona isn’t even her real fucking name? She’s been running with this crew for a while and won’t even tell them her real name. Yes she was betrayed in the past, she did time for it, and she’s grateful to Kaneko for the freedom he afforded her. She values that freedom and she straight up gives it away for the MC. Mona falls hard and it makes her do kind of stupid shit when she does (as seen with her backstory).
She’s working this whole thing as a double agent, deliberately keeping the Brotherhood one step behind the MPC, because the longer the rest of Mercy Park is running free the longer she is safe. It’s almost poetic for her to be manipulating a betrayal in her favor like this after what happened to her. It brings her central to the plot and honestly it fits no other LI but her.
Colt is who he is, Kaneko’s son and a fucking maladjusted basket case, and if the Brotherhood doesn’t kill him on sight he wouldn’t last through his first meeting with them because he’s filled with so much vitriol that he would try to kill them the first moment he got. Logan is whipped for MC, he might be a good candidate for this twist, but he’s already played such a pivotal role in the story and he’s a terrible liar. Imagine Logan trying to lie to the Brotherhood about having helped MC out the back at prom all dismissive and avoiding eye contact, the boy would be dead. It has to be Mona and it works so well to be Mona.
This does not feel like a ploy to get rid of her whatsoever so they don’t need to write her. The finale is likely this week (based on the summary) or next if we get an epilogue-esque chapter, she’s going nowhere. Shit is about to go down with the Brotherhood and she’s right fucking there. In fact, she’s way more important than ever before in this story because she’s potentially our in.
#rod#mona rod#rod mona#the recent twist isn't what does her dirty whatsoever#its everything else#long post
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OOOOH BOY. GET READY ‘CUZ HERE COMES ONE LONG ASS POST, FOLKS C’:
OH MY GOD, I can’t believe i’m FINALLY done with this cursed thing.
Well… after the first Sanderstuck thing I did, I decided to might as well commit to it fully adlakshdlkahdjah SO. HERE WE HAVE IT.
FULL SPRITE SHEETS OF EVERYONE IN THIS CURSED SANDERS SIDES AU. THAT IS SANDERSTUCK.
Ok, to be completely honest, Those are all just my ideas and all djsakdjaskdl If you have like, a different God-tier for anyone here,
THAT’S GREAT!
:DD It has actually been a few years since I did some good God-tier Analysis and all, so some of my choices might be weird and stuff, but hey, if it makes at least A LITTLE bit of sense, it’s good for me :v
I don’t think I need to say this AU WOULD have them all as Humans/different beings…right? :’v it should be pretty obvious but still. Being a Human AU AND a Homestuck AU, That’s why they each look different from one another, have more “casual” clothes And the reason to why I changed some stuff, Like, YES. I know, Thomas eyes aren’t anywhere near the mint color I gave him, BUT i a Homestuck AU context it makes sense since Eye color = Text color in HS. I could have given him brown eyes buuuut…Brown text wouldn’t be as fun :’) So, he gets a nice mint-green color! Oh, and if anyone is curious, Remy eyes are a Silver-grey color! c: Everyone always thought he was blind whenever they looked at him (he isn’t, his eyesight is a bit sensitive to light, but he can see without any problem) so to stop the staring and questions, he decided to just wear glasses all the time. :o
So, In order, We have the sprite sheets of:
Thomas - Patton - Logan - Roman - Virgil - Deceit(Dolian) - Remy - Emile
Now, Under Read more i’ll put some extra info about each sprite, so if you are truly curious go ahead and read it! c: I must say, this definitely was fun pff, Since I was going more deep into this whole thing, I figured I might as well give their trollsonas signs from the canon extended zodiac Even though, someone like Deceit might still keep the original idea I had for him and not show his sign at all, I made him showing in the sprite just for shows c: And I did change Troll!Virgil horns so they would resemble something more like a lightning bolt, due to the thunderstorm cloud that is his symbol!
It was DEFINITELY fun to come up with Emile and Thomas troll desings, since I never did one for them in the past, Thomas being a Bronze blood is simply because…well..he’s a Taurus :’v I was going to make Emile the Bronze Blood first (Not even sure why anymore, Just thought it would fit at first??) but then decided to let Thomas have it and Emile as Mustardblood with psiionics in blue and pink, giving a little nod to both his ties in both cartoon therapy videos c:
Again, this was really fun, pfff If anyone ever want to talk to me about this AU or anything, feel free to! I am mainly doing it for fun, after all c: no matter how cursed I feel it is
Thomas Sprite sheet:
Standard Black and White Homestuck Style (AKA. Not that stylized sprite)
“Could be Gayer” Shirt
Steven universe Shirt
RETRIEVE ARMS. (Arms sprite)
Trollsona, Bronze Blood (Canon extended zodiac - Sign of the Entrepreneur- Taurnius)
Dreamself, Prospit
God-Tier, Heir of Hope (Hood down)
God-Tier, Heir of Hope (Hood up)
Grimdark
Trickster Form (”Gay Bacon” Theme) The idea came to me out of nowhere and it was TOO GOOD to not use PFFT
Patton Sprite Sheet:
Standard Black and White Homestuck Style
Standard/Normal Sprite
Happy boio! (Arms sprite 1)
CAT JACKET ON! (Arms sprite 2)
Trollsona, Jade Blood ( Jade Blood, Canon extended zodiac - Sign of the Foundation - Virlo)
Dreamself, Prospit
God-Tier, Maid of Heart Because screw gender-roled GTs (Hood down)
God-Tier, Maid of Heart (Hood up)
Grimdark (welp someone is heartbroken.)
Trickster Form (Sweethearts candy Themed, Would probably be the first one to actually go on Trickster mode.)
Logan Sprite Sheet:
Standard Black and White Homestuck Style
Standard/Normal Sprite
“Allow me to pull out the fact to say how wrong you are.” (Arms Sprite)
Trollsona, Teal Blood (True Libra sign - Sign of the Watcher - Libra)
Trollsona, Just for funs, Troll!Logan with canon Terezi Pyrope horns.
Dreamself, Prospit
God-Tier, Seer of Mind i can’t believe I literally made Logan Terezi, holy fuck(Hood down)
God-Tier, Seer of Mind (Hood up)
Grimdark (a n g e r y a n d f r u s t r a t i o n . )
Trickster Form (Crumpets with crofters jelly Themed, Well… looks like it isn’t everyone that can get super hyped on a weird sugar overdose-indulced happiness. Huh. AKA: Logan is Basically Dirk and doesn’t get all hyped like every other trickster.)
Roman Sprite Sheet:
Standard Black and White Homestuck Style
Standard/Casual clothes Sprite
Casual Clothes + Arms (Arms Sprite)
Princey outfit
Trollsona, Violet Blood (Canon extended zodiac - Sign of the Campaigner- Aquaga)
Dreamself, Derse
God-Tier, Knight of Space (Hood down)
God-Tier, Knight of Space (Hood up)
Grimdark
Trickster Form (Raspberry pie Themed)
Virgil Sprite Sheet:
Standard Black and White Homestuck Style (Though it is still rather complex because I didn’t want to get rid of the plaid…pff)
Standard/Normal Sprite
Ow the angst. (Hood Up, Arms sprite 1)
“I’m not ignoring you, it isn’t my fault that my phone is way more interesting than you right now.” (Arms sprite 2)
Trollsona, Purple Blood (Canon extended zodiac - Sign of the Bold - Capries) If you think of making a dick joke because of the sign form, just know you are too late as it already has been done by half the homestuck/hiveswap fandom lmao.
Dreamself, Derse
God-Tier, Page of Time (Hood down, Changed outfit because he sure as HECK wasn’t gonna go around wearing no pants.)
God-Tier, Page of Time (Hood up)
Grimdark (Oh look, i’m more dead inside than I already was. Wow.)
Trickster Form (Cotton Candy Themed. Too much positive emotions and completely lack of care surely seem to be rather overwhelming and awful when you deal with stuff like anxiety and paranoia on a daily bases, huh?!)
Deceit (True name in this AU is “Dolian”) Sprite Sheet:
Standard Black and White Homestuck Style
Standard/Casual Clothes Sprite
“Why, I certainly have NO IDEA what you mean by that.” (Arms sprite)
Normal Deceit Look
Trollsona, Cerulean Blood (Canon extended zodiac - Sign of the Doubtful- Scorittarius)
Dreamself, Derse
God-Tier, Bard of Void (Hood down, and no fucking Cod-piece because I refuse to draw anyone that isn’t the canon HS characters with one, and because Deceit sure as heck wouldn’t wear it if you ask me)
God-Tier, Bard of Void (Hood up)
Grimdark (Someone seems…way too happy with this…)
Trickster Form (Lemons Themed. If you were around the internet before the word “sm u t/ ns f w” was being used, i know what you are thinking… D O N T .) The famous Twisted happy person.
Remy (Sleep) Sprite Sheet: funfact- Remy is the only one who eyebrows deceive logic and appear on top of his hair, mainly because i didn’t want to lose the chance to present more emotions and expressions to him.
Standard Black and White Homestuck Style
Standard/Normal Sprite
“GUUURL, YOU WOULDN’T GUESS WHERE I AM. But please try to because I personally have no idea how I got here, lol” (Arms Sprite)
Trollsona, (Mutant) Lime Blood (Canon extended zodiac - Sign of the Vociferous - Canun)
Trollsona, Would disguise himself as an Olive blood (but never change his sign because he figured no one would be bothered to fucking look that stupid thing up, right?! Oh no, there goes my hive and my lusus is now dead, woops.)
Dreamself, Derse
God-Tier, Thief of Breath (Hood Down)
God-Tier, Thief of Breath (Hood up)
Grimdark
Trickster Form (Frappuccino themed. How does the cup stays in his hair and doesn’t spill or anything?! Trickster Magic.)
Emile Sprite Sheet:
Standard Black and White Homestuck Style
Normal/Pink Tie Sprite
Blue Tie/Glasses Sprite
THE THERAPIST IS IN AND READY TO GO! (Arms Sprite)
Trollsona, Mustard Blood (Canon extended zodiac - Sign of the Intimate, Gemcer)
Dreamself, Prospit
God-Tier, Sylph of Blood (Hood Down, again, fuck them gendered GTs, slightly modified so it isn’t much of a dress and more like pants, mainly for easier walking/practicality)
God-Tier, Sylph of Blood (Hood up)
Grimdark
Trickster Form (Fizzy bubblegum bottles candy Themed)
#my art#sanderstuck#sanders sides#oh boi i am going to tag all those names huh. welp here we go#thomas sanders#patton sanders#logan sanders#roman sanders#virgil sanders#ts deceit#deceit sanders#ts sleep#ts remy#emile picani#ts emile#dr. emile picani#homestuck#homestuck au#i forgot how fun it is to make sprites ppfff#also yes i did pretty much everything in the sprites from zero#only had a simple sprite base and the sprites for the god-tiers#dreamselves i used the canon ones as base and changed some stuff for most of them#and i did use a base for the grimdark sprite but?? i can't seem to find the creator??#if you know who made the 'grimdark smoke sprite base' pls let me know! :o
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New Rules Ch. 4
Word Count: 9,665
"What?! This is totally unfair!" You exclaim at the weekly school newspaper meeting.
Yoongi, the editor, rubs his temples in exasperation, "I thought I explained this to you, ___. This isn't permanent. I just need you and Somin to switch positions for the rest of the semester."
"You should be thanking me," Somin pipes up from where she sits across the room from you, "Your politics section is way more difficult to write for than mine!"
"Yeah, but yours is dull as hell," you shoot back, "At least I won an award for my piece on sexual violence last semester! What competition could I even hope to enter writing about goddamn sports?"
"For god's sake, woman, it's only for six weeks," Yoongi growls, frustrated with the length of the meeting, "Just make the switch already."
"I don't know why Somin can't still write for her segment! All of the stadiums are wheelchair accessible on campus!"
"But what about the away games?" She exclaims, "Do you really expect me to ride a long-distance bus with a broken leg?!"
She's got you there. You feel a twinge of guilt about being so insensitive when your colleague is in pain, but you're still hesitant about giving up your beloved politics section for something as mundane as sports. "You're right, Somin," you say in a soothing tone, "You've been in a lot of pain with that leg, and you should really just stay home and rest… The politics section might be a bit too stressful for you. Why don't you switch with Taehyung instead?"
A handsome boy with sandy blonde hair looks up from his phone at the sound of his voice, "Huh?"
"No way! How dare you suggest that I do the fashion column?!" Somin exclaims in outrage, "You're just trying to get rid of me!" She accuses, lifting one of her crutches to point at you from across the room.
"Hey, what's wrong with fashion?" Taehyung pipes up, indignant.
"That's right! What's wrong with fashion, Somin?" You exclaim.
"Really, ___?" she says with a haughty wrinkle of her nose, "I am the first woman to write for the sports section in our university's history! Do you really expect me to write for the fashion column after this? How humiliating!"
"There's absolutely nothing humiliating about writing about fashion!" You jump to your feet to yell at her.
"That's right!" Taehyung echoes, rising as well to stand next to you, "Fashion is cool!"
"And your logic is so misogynistic!" You add, feeling yourself getting fired up.
"Oh no…" Yoongi mumbles under his breath, but it's too late.
"Kudos to you for breaking a gender stereotype and writing for a traditionally male section. But how fucking dare you look down on a traditionally female pastime?!"
"Wh-what?" Somin splutters, "That's not what I—"
"That's the problem with modern day feminism," you rage on, "It's all great and dandy to have women break into stereotypically male roles. I love that we're encouraging young girls to embrace leadership positions and enter STEM fields. But the issue with this is that we're now depreciating traditionally female roles! A woman scientist is so fierce and strong. But now a woman who is more interested in fashion or beauty is scorned and considered weak?! That is bullshit! We're not teaching women to be equals to men. We're teaching women to be men. And that's so fucked up!"
Somin's face flushes red as she realizes her mistake, "This isn't just a gender thing," she feebly defends herself, "You have to admit, regardless of traditional gender roles, fashion is a bit…"
"A bit what?" you snap, "What makes sports so much better than fashion? Both are unsubstantial pastimes! Is watching men throw balls at each other really that much better than dressing nicely?"
"Yeah!" Taehyung enthusiastically defends you, "You're all just jealous because I look cuter than you!"
"He does!" you angrily agree, "And besides, don't be so haughty, Somin. Taehyung is also breaking gender roles!"
"I'm the first male fashion columnist in our newspaper's history!" The golden-haired boy crows in delight, "You ain't special!"
"And there's so much stigma for him as well," you add, "The fashion column is seen as so girly and irrelevant. Taetae has received so much flack for taking on the column. And I am so proud of him for not allowing society to tell him that engaging in traditionally female roles is shameful!"
"Exactly!" Taehyung jumps to his feet to sling an arm around your shoulder, "We're socially woke! Take that, you jerk!"
"Taehyung, sit the fuck down," Yoongi growls as he pulls his blood pressure medication from his backpack, "Don't pretend to be a raging feminist when we all know that you wanted the fashion column because you thought it was pretty."
Deflated, the younger boy awkwardly plops back down in his seat, "So what?" he mumbles, "That's a good reason…"
You sympathetically pat his head, "Don't worry, Tae. You did well."
Yoongi pops two pills in his mouth and dry swallows them before responding, "___, come outside. We need to talk."
"___, you really need to stop getting everyone riled up like that during our meetings," Yoongi says as soon as he pulls you out into the hallway.
"Sorry, but it's seriously unfair, Yoongi. You know how hard I worked to get the politics section. This feels like I'm being demoted."
"It's just temporary," he assures you, "And besides, those in leadership positions should set an example by making sacrifices."
"Leadership…?" you repeat with wide eyes.
"Yeah, didn't I tell you that you were the top candidate to take over my position as editor when I graduate next year? Don't ruin your chances, dumb ass."
Your heart soars in your chest at the reminder and you have to fight to keep a smile off your face, "Taehyung is just easily influenced… but I promise I'll try not to lead him astray."
"Good. And play nice with Somin as well! She's actually really good at her job and we need her."
Your face falls at the reminder, "She needs to play nice first," you childishly mumble, "I know she has no interest in politics, but she wants my section just to spite me."
"Well, even if that's the case, just ignore it. As editor, you've always got to be the bigger person."
"Fine," you sigh deeply, "I'll do it… But please don't fire me if I do a terrible job… I don't know shit about sports."
"Eh, I'm sure you'll do fine," the silver-haired man waves you off, "Besides, you have connections that Somin doesn't have. If you use them right, I bet you could even outdo her."
"Connections?" you repeat in confusion, "What do you mean?"
Yoongi gives you a pointed look, "Don't pretend to be so sly, ___. The men's soccer team is the talk of the whole school. If they continue their winning streak, they'll be the first team to advance to the championship game in twenty years."
"That's really great, but what does that have to do with me?" you ask, wracking your brain for any connection to the soccer team. But no one you know plays a sport… except Namjoon, who keeps trying to claim that chess is a real sport. That nerd.
Yoongi cocks an eyebrow at you, "I didn't think you were the type to play coy, ___. It really doesn't suit you."
"Honestly, Yoongi, I have no frickin idea what you're talking about."
"Do I really have to spell it out to you? Jeon Jungkook. I don't know what's going on between the two of you, but every journalist knows to use their personal connections to make a story. An interview would be amazing."
"Why would I interview that stupid fuckboy?" You ask, still not catching on, "He's not even good at talking… Though not as bad as Taehyung."
"Are you a good actor or seriously oblivious?" Yoongi asks in astonishment, "Because he's the star striker of the soccer team, of course!"
"Wait, really?"
"Aren't you sleeping with this guy? How could you not know?"
"I mean I heard someone mention it before, but I thought they meant it as a metaphor… Wait a minute! How did you know I was sleeping with him?!"
"Isn't it obvious?" Yoongi says with a snort, "The amount of PDA between the two of you at the barbeque was sickening."
Your face flushes, "What? It wasn't PDA! He was just being a handsy pervert!"
"Yeah yeah whatever. Just get the interview with him, will ya?"
"Alright… But I'm kinda disappointed that he's an athlete… no wonder his ego's so huge."
"I think you're the first girl to ever say something like that," Yoongi wryly informs you, "But whatever. Just get this done, ok? And please calm Tae down and go apologize to Somin together."
"Fine," you say with an exaggerated sigh, "Being editor isn't easy, huh?"
"Yup. You better watch yourself or I'm giving the position to Taehyung."
Your eyes pop open with shock, "You wouldn't dare!"
"Hey so you like kick around a ball or whatever?" you ask over the phone after your meeting for the school newspaper.
"Huh?" Jungkook says when he picks up on the other end, "Is that a euphemism for something?"
"What the hell are you talking about? How could that be a euphemism for anything?!"
"Balls?" he says pointedly.
"Stop it, you nasty. I just need to know whether you do sports things or not!"
"Ah, so this isn't a booty call?" Jungkook says, clearly disappointed.
"What?! It's Wednesday! How could this possibly be a booty call?!"
"Do people not fuck on Wednesdays?" He asks in amusement, "Besides, I haven't seen you for over a week," he whines, "I thought we were going to make this a regular thing!"
"You could see me more often if you actually went to class," you coolly inform him.
"Yeah, but we can't fuck in class, so what's the point?"
"The first part of our presentation is due next week!" You exclaim, "Please tell me you remembered that?"
"Yeah, of course," he says, but he sounds uncertain, "We should definitely get together and work on that…"
"And I need an interview from you for the school paper! Why didn't you tell me you were on the soccer team?!"
"Wait, what? You didn't know?!"
"No! I thought you were just jacked up on steroids or whatever shit. But I guess it makes sense that you're putting that muscle into use. But anyways, give me an interview with the team!"
"You're on the school newspaper?" Jungkook asks in surprise, "Wasn't there that Somin girl or whatever?"
"She broke her leg," you explain, "So unfortunately, it will be me for the next month or so until she recovers."
"Oh really? ___, did you know that she was supposed to travel with us for all of our away games?"
"What? No way! Why?"
"Our team is playing the best it has for over twenty years. We're blowing up in the press, and it'd be good publicity for the school newspaper to follow us and be the first ones to report. And since Somin is gone… I guess you'll have to be the one to travel with us."
You frown at the giddy quality of his tone. You can't see him, but you know for sure that he's smirking at you on the other end, "Fine. Whatever. That's not a big deal."
"A lot of our games are so far that we have to stay overnight though… and sleep at a hotel…"
You're slowly catching on to the implications of his words, but play dumb, "So what?" you defensively ask.
"Well, hotel rooms can be expensive… and if the newspaper ever wants to save on your travel costs, then you can just—"
"Ah stop right there, pervert!" you shriek at him before he can continue any further.
"Why?" he asks in disappointment, "It makes economic sense for us to share a room!"
You pull a face and shake your head before remembering that he can't see you, "Should you even be having sex before a game?!"
"It's just an urban myth that sex before a game decreases your stamina," he informs you, "And besides, what about after the game?"
"I guess I can hold you and feed you cheetos when you lose," you wryly shoot back.
"Lose?!" Jungkook repeats in outrage, "I'll let you know that we have a ten-game winning streak!"
"Against who? High schoolers?"
"You're talking major shit for someone who's never seen us play. I seriously can't believe that you didn't know I was on the team!"
"If I had known, I would've never slept with you," you mildly retort, "I hate athletes. Especially soccer players."
"Why? Because we're better than you at something?"
"No, because you're all so stupid and arrogant."
"What? Where did you even get this ridiculous—"
"You're getting off topic," you irritably interrupt, "When can we meet up?"
"Tonight," Jungkook says at once.
"What? I can interview the team tonight?"
"Oh, that's what you meant… Ah I have to ask the team first, so probably sometime next week?" He says in a dejected voice.
"Ok. And when can we work on the project?"
"Maybe this weekend? Hey, are you coming to our Halloween party on Saturday? We can work together the next morning."
"Why are you working so hard to get me in your bed, Jungkook? I already said I'm down to make this a regular thing!"
"Yeah, but it's been so long," he complains, "Come over and let me eat you out."
You hold the phone away from your ear with a wince, "Gross."
"How is that gross?!"
"Whatever. I'll see you on Sunday."
"Wait, aren't you going to our party?"
"I thought I told you that frat parties aren't my thing. I'd much rather get drunk in the comfort of my own bed, thank you very much."
"You are so weird," Jungkook sighs in disappointment, "Fine… See you on Sunday then."
"Ok, but don't drink too much," you warn him, "I can't have you hungover when we meet."
"Same with you," is his disheartened response.
"What? I'm a tank. It'll be no problem for me, so just watch yourself," you snort.
"Mijoo, are you ready?" You happily call out three days later.
"Yep, just one sec," Mijoo says from the bathroom stall right next to yours. You hear the fumbling of clothing for a few seconds before she says, "Ok, ready!"
"Great. On the count of three, let's both come out and reveal our outfits, ok?"
"Okay!" Mijoo cheerfully agrees.
"One, two, three!"
As soon as you count down to three, the two of you burst from your stalls at the same time. Then you simultaneously freeze in your tracks.
"What the fuck?"
"What the hell are you wearing?!" The two of you exclaim at the same time.
"Mijoo!" You half-scream at your roommate, "I thought we agreed on a matching couple's costume!"
"We did," she says in bewilderment, "So what the hell are you wearing?"
"I'm the hotdog!" You exclaim, twirling around to reveal your enormous, inflated body suit, "How are you the ketchup?" You demand, angrily pointing at her tight, red mini-dress.
"It's right here!" She defends herself, pointing to a tiny logo on the hem of her dress.
You squint your eyes and barely make out the "Heinz" logo for the first time. "That's so unfair!" You explode, "You look hot and I look like a fucking weirdo!"
"I didn't know we were going this far!" She says in bewilderment, "I thought you were just going to wear a t-shirt with a weiner dog on it something—you know, like normal college kids?!"
"Oh god, this is such a disaster," you groan as you bury your face in your hands.
Mijoo awkwardly shifts from foot to foot as she watches you suffer through your despair, "Do you still want to go get drunk?"
"Of course!"
"Alright… So should I give you a few minutes to get changed?"
"No!" You yell with so much passion that your oversized hotdog costume wobbles, "I paid good money for this costume and I intend on getting my money's worth out of it!"
"Okay… but don't be too mad if I document this whole thing on my snapchat…"
The bar you end up in an hour later is crowded with college kids going out on a Saturday night. A few of them are dressed up for Halloween, with pretty animal ears or graphic t-shirts, but the vast majority are in street clothes. As a result, the moment you and Mijoo walk into the bar, all eyes are on you.
"Um…" Mijoo says when you spend nearly five minutes shoving your oversized plush hotdog costume into your seat, "Would you be more comfortable sitting in a booth?"
"No!" you exclaim, causing a man to walk straight into a door in his attempt to rubberneck after you. "Don't be embarrassed, Mijoo! There's nothing to see here."
"I'm not embarrassed," she mutters, "I just thought it would be nicer to sit in a booth…"
"Nonsense!" You boom, "Let these children stare! They're the ones missing out by not dressing up for this glorious holiday!"
"Next time we should share our outfit ideas with each other in advance," Mijoo tells you in a hushed whisper, "But anyways… I think we're going to need a lot of alcohol… Excuse me, waiter!"
An hour and three bottles of soju later, both of you are hunched over on the tables, Mijoo resting her head on her hands, and you bunching your hotdog costume up as a pillow.
"One more bottle!" You exclaim, waving animatedly at the waiter.
"Ugh, I don't know if I can have anymore," Mijoo complains, "I just want to take a nap…"
"Don't sleep!" You reprimand her, reaching across the table to slap her arm, "We're having so much fun right now!"
"Are we?" Mijoo groans as she peeks up at you through a curtain of long, dark hair, "I want to sleep!"
"Just one more bottle," you beg her, "It's only Halloween once a year and we need to celebrate! Oh wait, Jungkook invited me to a party at the BTS house. Do you want to go to that instead?"
"No!" She nearly yells at you. Then, she pauses and blushes, "I mean, I don't think that would be a good idea…" she mutters.
"Why not?" you ask, eyebrow quirked. You have a good idea why she'd be uncomfortable going to the party, but you want to squeeze it out of her.
"I just don't think it'll be fun," she awkwardly lies, "Let's just get another bottle of soju, ok? That's way more fun!"
"Aren't you sleepy?"
"No way," She hastily denies, "This is the best! Waiter, another bottle please!"
Another hour later, and five bottles of soju litter the table around you while you incoherently ramble on about your love for dogs.
"I just… I love them so much!" You tearfully exclaim, "I wish I could go and hug every dog in the world, but I can't because that's crazy… It's crazy right? I can't hug every dog… But I want to… I want to. It's impossible! But I just… I love dogs!" And with that, you burst into tears, startling the customers seated around you.
"That… that's so beautiful," Mijoo says, equally as emotionally affected as you, "I love dogs… And I love you!"
Your heart feels like it might burst at her confession, "You love me? No, I love you!"
"No, ___, I seriously love you."
"I love you more!" You dramatically cry out, catching the attention of every person in the bar, "No one else was there for me in Freshman year after that incident, except you. You were the only one who stood by my side."
"That's because you're an amazing person!" Mijoo exclaims, tearing up, "Those other people were all unloyal assholes! But I'll always be here for you."
"What have I done in a former life to deserve you?" you lament as you reach across the table to squeeze her hand.
Mijoo offers you a watery smile in response, quiet as the two of you share an emotional, albeit drunken, moment. Then a brilliant grin flashes across her face, "Want to go to a party?"
You frown in response, "You didn't want to go to the BTS party!"
"Yeah, but I was also invited to an epsilon chi omicron party," she says with a grin, "Wanna go dance and meet cute new boys?"
"Fuck yeah!"
"Whoo, this is so much fun!" You yell in excitement as you grab Mijoo by the hand and beeline for the dancefloor.
"Ah, ___, hold on! Not so fast," she says, then turns to apologize to all the annoyed people on the dancefloor who you nearly plow over in your quest for the center, "I'm so sorry," she whispers, over and over.
"This is the best!" you yell to be heard over the pounding music, even as your oversized hotdog costume whips around to knock a guy onto his knees, "Party, party, party!"
"Um… Do you want to take that costume off first before we dance?" Mijoo asks, wincing when you accidentally bodyslam another partier.
"No way!" You exclaim, excitedly pumping both hands in the air, "This is the most fun I've ever had! Let's go!" You whoop in joy, turning in a wide circle.
Mijoo sighs as your dramatic spin knocks off a half dozen people on the dance floor, "What did I get myself into…?"
"Please come help me," Mijoo begs over the phone not even an hour later.
"Mijoo?" The voice on the other end says in confusion, "What's wrong?"
"It's ___," she explains, "And it's pretty serious… How soon can you come?"
"Um… maybe fifteen minutes?"
"Alright," Mijoo says with a nod, "Please hurry, Yerin."
"I'm on my way!"
"Thank you so much."
But as soon as Mijoo hangs up the phone, she looks up in shock to find you crawling up a table, "___! Get your ass down right now!"
True to her word, Yerin shows up at the epsilon chi omicron party less than fifteen minutes later. She takes one step onto the dance floor before spotting you sloppily trying to climb up the pole on the table before she hurriedly intervenes.
"Oh shit, Mijoo," she gasps as she rushes on top of the table to join the two of you, "This is worse than I thought."
"Tell me about it," she cries as she tries to physically pull you off the pole, "I haven't seen her this drunk in years!"
"Ah, we really should get her home," Yerin says with a frown, "Everyone's watching!"
"Ok. You grab her arms and I'll pull her off the pole!"
"Got it!" The younger woman chirps in agreement as she jogs into place. But as soon as she tugs at your arms wrapped tightly around the pole, the whole dancefloor begins to boo.
"You're no fun!" Someone yells out.
"Boo! Damn party poopers!"
"Let the hotdog dance!" A third voice bellows so loudly that it cuts through the loud pop music. This sparks interest from the crowd, and within seconds, the entire dance floor is chanting "Let the hotdog dance. Let the hotdog dance. Let the hotdog dance!"
Mijoo winces and redoubles her efforts at pulling you off the stripper pole, but as soon as Yerin loosens your arms, you wrap your legs tightly around the pole.
"Staph it!" you blubber, "Dey lurvvv me! Muh people!"
"Oh god, why is she so strong? What do we do?" Yerin asks in a panic.
Mijoo's face crumples, but before she can respond, a familiar voice calls out your name, "___?"
The two sober women turn around, and Mijoo nearly weeps in relief when she sees a confused-looking silver-haired man standing in the crowd, "Oh my god, Yoongi. Thank god you're here!"
"What's wrong with her?" He asks as he makes his way through the mosh pit to stand at the foot of the table.
Yerin's eyes pop in surprise at the sight of the older man, "O-oh, hello."
Yoongi briefly regards the pretty blonde girl with a nod of his head before he turns back to Mijoo, "Is she on drugs?"
"No!" Mijoo cries out in frustration, "I don't know why she's acting this way!"
"Let the hotdog dance! Let the hotdog dance!"
Yoongi cringes at the loud chants from the drunken crowd, "Aish, so noisy. Ok. That's enough fun for one day, ___." And with that, your editor grabs you by the waist and pulls you away from the stripper pole.
"Nuuuuu!" you cry out dramatically, "Muh peorple –hic- want meh!"
"Sure they do, babe," Yoongi wryly says as he pulls hard. You desperately cling to the pole for another second, but you're no match for his strength and in a second, he yanks you off the table with a surprising show of strength from the slender man.
The crowd immediately starts booing, "Give us the hotdog back!"
"You guys suck!"
But Yoongi ignores them all as he makes a break for the exit, "Hurry and help me!"
Mijoo and Yerin quickly rush forward to each grab a limb and together, the three of them manage to drag your body out of the party.
"LERME GO!" you yell, wildly squirming from where you're slung over Yoongi's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
He falters under your thrashing, "Aish, woman, why are you always like this? Why can't you participate for once in your goddamn life?"
"MUH PEOPLER -hic- NEED MEH!"
All three of them wince from the volume of your voice. "Geez," Mijoo mutters, "By the way she's yelling, it seems like we're kidnapping her or something."
"This is for your own good, ___," Yerin says as she sympathetically squeezes your hand.
"Oh god," Yoongi grunts when a sudden spasm of flinging limbs nearly makes the both of you fall over, "I think I'm going to need some backup for this… You there, what's your name again?"
"Yerin!" she pipes up in surprise, flustered by his direct question.
"Oh, ok. Yerin. Can you grab my phone from my pocket?"
"Yes!" She says, stumbling forward at once, but then pauses with a blush as she realizes that his phone is in his back pocket. She demurely plucks it from his pocket, careful not to touch him, then hands it to him, "Here you go."
"Ah, my hands are full," he says, gesturing to where you squirm on his back, "Can you scroll through my contacts to call her boyfriend?"
"Boyfriend?" Yerin and Mijoo exclaim in unison. "What boyfriend?"
"You know, that bratty soccer player kid," Yoongi says with an irritated shrug of his shoulder, "Jeon Jungkook. Now can you please call him so he can go collect this hot mess?"
"Are they dating now?" Yerin hisses at Mijoo as she scrolls through Yoongi's contacts.
"I have no idea!" Mijoo says in genuine bewilderment.
Confused, the younger girl nevertheless dials the number. The phone rings ominously for a few seconds before Jungkook picks up, "Hello? Yoongi, what's up?"
His voice is slightly muffled on the other end and it's clear that he's at a party from the pounding music in the background, "Oh, Jungkook, this is Yerin from your creative writing class. I'm sorry to bother you, but we need your help."
"Huh? Where's Yoongi?" he asks in suspicion.
"Right here!" the older man yells into the phone, "Just get your ass over here!"
"What? Where are you? What's wrong?" He asked, slightly worried now.
"We're outside the epsilon chi omicron house," Yoongi explains, "Come here and collect your girlfriend, goddamn it!"
"Who are you talking about?" Jungkook asks in confusion, "I don't have a—ah you mean ___?"
"Yeah, obviously," Yoongi says with an annoyed roll of his eyes, "Hurry and come here."
"Wait, what's wrong with ___?"
"Just listen to this," Yoongi says, then juggles your weight with one arm so that he can grab the phone to hold next to your face.
"YOONGERS," you screech at him, "AH WANNA PARTAYYYY!"
"Oh shit," Jungkook curses on the other end, "Ok, I'm on my way."
It takes only a few minutes for Jungkook to show up on the scene, since the BTS house is located on the same street as EXO. By the time Jungkook arrives, Yoongi has given up on all hopes of carrying you home and simply sits on the ground as he watches you squirm around in the grass, along with your frantic two best friends.
All three of them look up in relief at the sight of Jungkook. "Oh thank god," Mijoo sighs as she wearily pulls herself upright, "Jungkook, you are—" but she stops, mid-sentence when it becomes apparent that there is someone walking right behind him.
"Hi Mijoo," Jimin nervously greets her when he steps out of Jungkook's shadow.
"Oh… H-hi," she stutters before immediately dropping her gaze to the ground.
Jungkook walks past the awkward couple to squat next to you on the lawn, "Oh god, ___. Why did you drink so much?"
"MIND YER OWN BUISHNESH, BETCH!"
He laughs and reaches into your hotdog costume to affectionately pat your head, "You're the same as always, even when drunk it seems."
"ERM NOT DRUNKING!"
"God, what are you even wearing?" he chuckles as he pulls you off the grass so that he can take in the entirety of your outfit for the first time, "What a cutie."
"Junglebook," you whisper to him in a serious tone, nearly going cross-eyed as you stare up at him with strange reverence.
He raises an eyebrow, as he tries to stifle a laugh, "Yes, babygirl?"
"Wah're you sho purty?" you say, trying to reach for his face with sheer awe on your face.
"Wait did you just call me pretty?" Jungkook asks in surprise.
You eagerly nod, "Purty!" you exclaim, "Mah purty purty -hic- Jengahook."
"Ah, so you do think I'm good-looking," Jungkook says in excitement, "I knew it!"
"Yah!" Yoongi yells over at the two of you, interrupting your conversation, "Stop your flirting, Jeon, and carry your damn girlfriend home so I can go to bed!"
"Yes sir!" And with that, he loops an arm around your shoulders and under your knees, picking you up bridal style with ease.
"Oh no, careful not to throw out your back, Jungkook," Yerin warns him as she looks over at you in concern.
"Yah, what about me then?!" Yoongi hotly demands, "I'm gonna need to see a chiropractor after this!"
"Thank you so much for your help, Yoongi," Yerin sweetly says, "That was really nice of you, and I hope you let me show you just how grateful I am for your help."
"Oh," the silver-haired man rubs the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed, "No need for that, Yerin."
"No, I insist," she says with a brilliant smile that makes him hesitate.
Normally, you'd be the first person to interject and angrily rip your precious friend away from the older, senior man. Or you'd send Mijoo to intervene. But unfortunately, both of you are too distracted to notice. And as a result, you are helpless as Yoongi awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and agrees.
"Um… okay, sure."
"Ah, I seriously can't make it any further," Jungkook pants a few minutes later when your strange gang of six arrives near the beta tau sigma frat house, "She can just sleep over with me tonight."
"Maybe we should get an uber?" Mijoo says in concern.
"There's no way an uber driver would let such a belligerent drunk in his car," Yoongi says as he looks over to where you're wildly yelling out and kicking in Jungkook's arms.
"Yeah, they'd probably call the police," Yerin adds with a frown.
"Let's just switch spots for the night," Jungkook wisely suggests, "Jimin, go crash over in ___'s bed and ___ can sleep in yours."
"Hold on, wait a minute—"
"Wait, no that's not—"
Both Mijoo and Jimin protest at the same time, thoroughly embarrassed, but Yoongi stops them in their tracks with a single glare.
"Can you guys just tough it out for one night?" The senior growls, "Just let the kid sleep with his girlfriend so we can all go home. It's nearly three in the fucking morning for god's sake!"
Thoroughly chastened, Mijoo and Jimin fall silent.
"Oh wait, what about Yerin?" Jungkook asks, half-way through the motion of crossing the lawn into the frat house.
"Can't she go back to the sorority with Mijoo?" Yoongi asks with a raised brow.
"I'm a Freshman," Yerin informs him with a blush, "I'm still rushing the sorority and I don't live there yet…"
"Ah, fine. I'll walk you back to the dorms," Yoongi gruffly tells her, "Let's just wrap this whole mess up."
"Oh no, it's fine!" She says, embarrassed, "I can get back by myself, don't worry."
"Yeah right. You think it's safe out there at this time of night?"
"I can call an uber! It's really not a big deal."
"Pssht, I wouldn't trust a pretty girl like you to be left alone with those shady ass drivers. Come on, Yerin. I'm taking you home."
Flustered by his unexpected compliment, she can't help but agree, "Oh… okay. Thank you." And then she has to duck her head to hide the smile that spreads across her face.
Yoongi simply rolls his eyes and reaches forward to grab her by the wrist, "Come on, kid. Let's just get you in bed." And with that, he marches off, not sparing another glance towards Mijoo and Jimin, who have been left standing on the sidewalk in front of the frat house.
"Um… So is it okay if I crash at your place tonight?" Jimin asks as he awkwardly scratches his ear.
"Yes of course!" Mijoo says, a bit too quickly, "Why wouldn't it be okay?"
"Ah, that's not what I meant… I just…"
His voice trails off after a few seconds, and he can't find the words to salvage the situation with as he stares at her in the frosty darkness of the night. Mijoo rubs her hands over her bare arms, self-conscious under his scrutiny. She can't meet the intensity of his gaze and drops her eyes down to her heels.
"I’ve missed you."
Her eyes shoot up in surprise at that unexpected confession, but he's already crossing the distance between them. She stiffens when he comes within a foot of her, but instead of kissing her like she half expected, he wraps something heavy around her shoulders.
Mijoo peeks through her eyelashes to find that he's covered her with his jacket, still warm from his body heat. "Jimin…"
He simply smiles at her as he begins to walk down the deserted street, entirely disregarding his previous confession as though he never said anything, "Come on, Mijoo. Let's sleep."
Although he can't see her, she nods and quietly follows after him. His blonde hair turns silvery in the moonlight, like a halo of light paving her path back home. Mijoo shivers and pulls his jacket closer to her body, heart sinking in her chest when his poignant scent overwhelms her senses.
"Wait, Jimin!" She calls after him before she can stop herself.
He pauses, mid-step, to peer over his shoulder in curiosity. Mijoo jogs a few steps to catch up with him, her breath icy in the frigid air. She stops within a step of him, then offers him a shy smile.
"Let's go together."
Meanwhile, in the frat house, Jungkook is having a much more difficult time trying to settle you down.
"Where'sh mah baby???" you gasp as though suddenly remembering something when Jungkook carries you up the stairs and into his bedroom.
He grunts as you suddenly begin to thrash in his embrace, and quickly dumps you on his bed to get rid of you, "Which one?"
"Meerjooo," you whine, "An' Urchin! Muh babers!"
"They're fine," Jungkook assures you as he rubs the kinks from his neck then begins to struggle with your oversized costume. But he barely manages to pull your face free from the hotdog top when you suddenly grab him by the collar.
"Junkcock," you address him in a serious voice, "Ah lurv you." And then you close your eyes and pucker your lips.
He laughs and skillfully dodges you before you can kiss him, "Sure you do, sweetheart."
"Ah do!" you whine in protest, kicking out your legs like a child, "Come kish me, ya binch."
"Alright, fine," he laughs, "Let's make a deal: if you still love me in the morning, I'll kiss you all you want, okay?"
You pause for a moment to try to think it through, but your thoughts whirl around incoherently in your mind, making it hard to focus. "S'kay," you reluctantly agree.
Jungkook chuckles and gives your hair one more ruffle before he gets up to turn to his dresser, "Alright, let's find you something to wear other than that stuffy costume of yours, and we can make out to your heart's content in the morning."
You say nothing in response, and he takes your silence as agreement as he happily shifts through his clothing. After a minute, he finds a t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts that seem about your size. "Ah, ___," he says as he triumphantly holds up the garments, "These should fit—oh," he says, stopping mid-sentence when he turns around and takes in the sight of you fast asleep on his bed.
"Wow that was quick," he chuckles as he sets back down his clothing, "Oh well, I guess you'll stay a hotdog for a bit longer… Cute... Now where'd I put my camera?"
The next morning, you feel like you're suffocating in heat. Your mouth is dry and your head feels like it's stuffed with cotton. Confused, you thrash around in bed for a few moments, kicking the covers off of you before realizing that you're still burning with heat. You struggle with the plush blanket still surrounding you before you realize that it's attached to your body.
"What the fuck?" You mutter, then wince when even this simple action causes your head to throb. You take a moment to gather up all of your courage. Then you open your eyes.
The sunlight streaming through the blinds hits you like a train. You scowl and cover your eyes with a hand before looking down at yourself. You blink at the hotdog costume covering your body in confusion before the memories of the last twelve hours come pounding back.
"Oh… oh fuck."
A chuckle from the side catches your attention. You whip your head around to find Jungkook sitting in a rolling chair, laughing at you, "So you're finally awake."
"Fuck my life," you croak out, "I'm never drinking again."
"Why not?" Jungkook teases, "Drunk ___ was so cute. Do you remember confessing your feelings for me?"
"I did… I did what?"
"You told me you loved me," he snickers, "Many, many times."
"Oh god..." you whisper as your memory finally returns.
"Are you finally ready to make out now?" He continues to tease as he suddenly gets out of his seat to approach you.
You cower back when his face comes close to yours, "Shut up, you know I was just drunk and didn't mean it… Wait you didn't kiss me last night, did you?" You ask in suspicion.
"And have you puke in my mouth?" he laughs, "No way."
"I'll puke on you right now if you don't back up," you threaten as you push him away by the forehead.
He good-naturedly acquiesces as he walks over to the dresser, "What happened to being a tank, huh?"
"Even a tank has a breaking point," you wisely inform him.
"Really? But Mijoo seemed fine last night."
Your jaw drops in indignation. Jungkook laughs at your expression and tosses you a handful of clothing before you can respond, "Come on. Go change into these."
"Ugh, I stink though," you grumble, more than aware of the old sweat caked underneath your plush hotdog costume.
"Wanna shower first?" Jungkook asks, "I also have mouthwash in the basket."
"Oh, ok," you say, surprised by his consideration as you pick up his shower caddy, "I'll be right back."
He simply hums in response, "I'll just be playing my game," he says, already slipping back on his headphones.
It's a bit embarrassing to shower in a communal frat bathroom the morning after a grand party. You know you probably look like some one-night stand who has overstayed her welcome, but luckily, you don't run into anyone as you shower at top-speed. You hastily towel yourself off, and not caring that you're still damp, and pull on Jungkook's clothes.
You don't have to look in the mirror to know that you look silly in his oversized outfit, but it's better than that musky hotdog costume. You finish up by splashing cold water on your face and chugging the mouthwash for an infinitely long period of time until the taste of soju is out of your mouth, then you head back to Jungkook's room.
He's fully engrossed in his game when you return, and you briefly consider interrupting him so that you can start on your project, but shrug it off instead. It's really not a big deal and you're not the type to nag. Instead, you plop yourself down back on his bed and turn on your side to watch him play.
You feel so refreshed from the shower and there's something soothing about watching him engrossed in his game that within minutes, you find your eyelids growing heavy again. You sleepily reach for the glass of water Jungkook has conveniently placed on the nightstand for you and gulp down half of it before your eyelids grow too heavy to keep open anymore. You place down the glass and you're asleep before your head hits the pillow.
You wake up to the sound of voices. Confused, you rub your eyes for a moment before your vision clears and you recognize Mijoo and Jimin standing in the doorway, talking to Jungkook.
"Wait, don't come in yet," Jungkook says, physically blocking their entrance with his body, "She's still resting."
"How do I know what you've done with her?!" Mijoo exclaims, panic evident in her tone, "I was drunker than I thought last night, letting her go home with you. I should've never left!"
"Calm down, Mijoo," Jimin says as he rests a hand on her shoulder, "You know Jungkook wouldn't do anything."
"How do I know?" She growls as she throws off his hand. "___ is my best friend, Jimin. My best friend. I don't care if you trust this pervy little fuckboy roommate of yours, but if I find out that he's touched a single hair on her precious head, I'm gonna—"
"Wow, Mijoo. You sounded exactly like me for a moment," you interject, quickly jumping from the bed to approach them in the doorway, "I was shocked."
Mijoo's expression, relieved at first from the sight of you unscathed, quickly flips to distress when she realizes what you're wearing, "___, are you okay?" She asks in a hushed whisper, "What did this little fucker do to you?"
You know exactly what you look like, dressed in Jungkook's clothes with your hair mussed from sleep. You pause for a moment as you consider your options. The most logical course of action is to laugh off her concerns then soothe her worries by going home with her. It's the obvious thing to do… But Mijoo is upset right now. She's lost her temper with Jimin. Things might be awkward between them for a while if she views him as complacent in some imaginary nefarious plot to harm you… And you can't let that happen.
So instead of laughing it off, you slip under Jungkook's arm, "He didn't do anything. Mijoo, you know that I trust him." And with that, you carefully wrap both arms around his waist and hug him.
Startled by the gesture, Jungkook instantly squeezes you back, but it all feels a bit awkward. Surprisingly, after all you've done together, this is one of the first times you've hugged him.
If Jungkook is surprised, then Mijoo and Jimin are shocked out of their minds, "What the hell happened between you two?!"
"Are you seriously dating?"
Your first instinct is to vehemently deny it. But that would only make matters worse. Mijoo's budding relationship with Jimin is still so fragile, plagued by her heavy guilt over her actions a whole year ago, and you refuse to nip it in the bud before it can actually start. So you tighten your hold on Jungkook and bury your face in his neck, "It's complicated."
Sharp to catch onto your act, Jungkook slides a hand down to the small of your back, holding you against him, "Don't worry about us," he tells them, "Just worry about yourselves."
Still, Mijoo looks uncomfortable, "Alright, whatever. We can talk about this later. Let's go, ___."
But to her surprise, you shake your head, "Jungkook and I need to work on our creative writing project… I'll see you later at the house." Mijoo's face shows her surprise, so you quickly reach over to grab her hand, "Seriously, don't worry about me, Mijoo. I'm okay."
Her face softens from your reassurance and she hesitantly nods, "Alright… I'll see you later then?"
You smile, "Yes, see you later."
You and Jungkook continue to awkwardly hold each other in the doorway and wave at your two roommates as they reluctantly trickle out down the hall. As soon as they disappear down the staircase, you break out of the stiff embrace with a deep sigh of relief.
"How much longer must we do this for?" Jungkook complains as he shuts the door and slumps back down in his chair.
"Just a bit longer," you assure him, "I can see her defenses crumbling already. She's no match for Jimin's sweetness!"
"I don't think I can even support this," he grumbles in annoyance, "She's still kind of an asshole."
"Call her that again and I'll shove my fist up your asshole," you threaten in a low voice.
"Ooh, are you feeling kinky, babe?" he asks, eyebrows raised, "I thought you needed some time to recover from your hangover first?"
"God, I hate you," you groan as you slump back down on his bed.
"Ah, finally the ___ I know returns," he teases, "It was a bit scary to have you love me so intensely, to be honest. I like the normal you so much better."
You snort at his response, "Whatever. Just be nicer to Mijoo, okay?"
"I don't know why you're so defensive over her," he says as he spins around in his chair to face you, "What she did to you was messed up. I don't care if you don't like Jimin or whatever. Still doesn't make it okay."
You simply shrug in response, "I know what she did wasn't right. But she apologized and tried to make things right and I forgave her. Besides, it would be so petty of me to hold onto this one incident when she's been nothing but supportive and loving on hundreds of other occasions… Hiding a note? That's nothing compared to what she's done for me."
"What exactly happened between you two to make you feel this way?" Jungkook asks in bewilderment.
"She was there at my lowest point," you explain in a quiet voice, "She helped me even when no one else would… I don't expect you to understand, Jungkook. You just need to know that if you hurt her, you hurt me too."
"Alright, whatever you say," He reluctantly says, "I still think you're wrong, but that level of loyalty is impressive."
You acknowledge the compliment with a small smile before continuing, "Anyways, we're getting off track, Jungkook… Should we start the project?"
"Wait… really?" he says, eyes widening with horror, "Do you really want to? I mean… It's still early."
"You're right," you play along, still fatigued by your hangover, "I mean it's not due for another couple of days…"
"Yeah… And you're still probably exhausted."
"I am… so should we…?"
"Order pizza and play games together?"
"It's like you read my mind."
The next day, Mijoo and Jimin officially begin dating.
It hurts. You're only human and of course it feels like your heart is being trampled on when Mijoo sits you down in the morning and tells you how she is accepting Jimin. You hate the way your heart drops to your stomach and bile crawls up your throat as you force a smile that quivers more than it should. You hate the way that for a split second, you genuinely dislike your best friend.
But then it all clears. Your throat loosens and you smile more easily as you reach for her hand and encourage her to go after him. It's nowhere near easy and it hurts like a bitch, but the pain is slowly dissipating, day by day. And soon, you hope that it will leave you entirely. And then you'll be able to smile at the person who means the most to you in your life without this ugly jealousy swallowing your heart.
But for the meantime, it lingers like a sour weight in the pit of your stomach as you gather your things after class and head down to the soccer field. You would like nothing more than to go straight to bed so you can curl up under the covers with a pint of ice cream, but unfortunately, today is the only day the coach of the soccer team will allow you to crash a team practice. So after leaving your grueling three hour stats lecture, you grab Taehyung, the best photographer in the newspaper with the nicest camera, and drag him over to the soccer field.
Practice is already in full gear by the time the two of you arrive. At once, you guys are bombarded by the sound of loud male voices yelling out numbers as they complete their laps around the track along with the shrill blow of the coach's whistle. Even as you and Taehyung set down your things by the bleachers on the other side of the field, you can smell the rubber of soles burning on the track and fresh sweat that makes their uniforms stick to their muscular backs.
"You might want to take a few pictures here," you tell Taehyung as you collect your voice recorder and a notebook from your backpack, "The lighting's pretty good at this time of day."
The blonde boy nods, "It might be nice to get some candid photos."
"Yeah, I agree. Do you need your tripod?"
"Hmm. Probably not for now, but I'll set it up on the track just in case we need a team photo."
"Got it. Now can you remind me what Yoongi—"
But before you can finish your sentence, a loud call of your name catches your attention.
"___!"
You look up to find a blur of gray rushing towards you. Startled, you defensively hold up your arms in front of your face, but it's too late and Jungkook nearly plows you over.
"Ah, Jungkook!" you shriek when the two of you go tumbling down onto the grass.
"Oops, sorry," he laughs, rolling over to keep from crushing you with his weight, "I think I went a little too full-power."
"Ew, you're so sweaty," you say, shooting him a look of disgust when you realize that he's dampened your shirt in his fumbling.
"Sorry," he says as he bounces to his feet and pulls you upright, "I'm just excited that you're here! And ah, you brought Taehyung too?"
Startled by the mention of his name, Taehyung helplessly blinks three times in rapid succession before stuttering, "Y-yep."
"Yah!" A voice booms out from behind you, "Jeon Jungkook, what the hell are you doing?"
The three of you turn around to find a stocky middle-aged man marching towards you, clearly displeased by his star striker's sudden disappearance from practice. This clearly must be the famous coach, Bang Sihyuk, who is bringing the team to victory for the first time in over twenty years.
"Hi, Mr. Bang," you say, quickly intercepting before Jungkook can be scolded, "My name is ___, and I'm temporarily taking over for Somin at the newspaper. We spoke over the phone, remember?"
"Oh… Oh yeah, that's right," he says, scratching his head in confusion, "You're doing the interview today?"
You nod with a wide smile, "Yes. Is this a good time?"
"Well…" he hesitantly begins, "As you probably know, we have our a big game this weekend with the top ranked school in the district… and it's important for the boys to get in as much practice as possible."
"I know, this is incredibly monumental," you sweetly say, trying to get into his good graces, "The team is doing amazing, clearly under your expert guidance, and it would mean so much to the school to be able to hear about it from the members themselves."
Still, the older man looks conflicted, "I don't know… They really need to focus right now."
"I only need one member. And it shouldn't take longer than half an hour," you say with an award-winning smile, "Please, Mr. Bang?"
Jungkook and Taehyung's jaws drop in shock at the way your voice suddenly turns sugar-sweet and your eyelashes flutter girlishly against your cheeks. "What the f—?" But Jungkook luckily nudges the blonde before he can finish his sentence.
"Fine," Coach Bang reluctantly agrees, "You can interview one member this time, okay? But next time, find the kids during your own time, not during practice."
"Got it, Mr. Bang," you say in excitement, "We're just here this time because Taehyung needed to take pictures, but we promise we'll never interrupt practice again!"
Coach Bang simply grumbles in response, a bit flustered by your earnestness, "No longer than half an hour, got it?"
"Of course. That's plenty of time!"
"Great, now where should we go?" Jungkook asks, "Coach, should I show her the locker rooms?"
"Why the hell would you do that?" Coach Bang barks with a little smack to the back of the boy's head, "Besides, who said you were the one being interviewed?"
"Wait, what?" All three of you look up in genuine confusion.
"Coach, I was the one who invited them here," Jungkook explains, "Can't I do the interview?"
"No," he bluntly says, "You've been slacking off, kid. I need you to a dozen drills by the end of the day. I'm really worried about your performance on Saturday."
"But, coach—"
"No but's," he sternly interrupts, "Besides, isn't an interview from the team captain better? Hoseok can do it instead."
"What? That's so unf—"
"Keep whining and that'll be two dozen drills," Coach Bang threatens.
Thoroughly frightened, Jungkook obediently bows, "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." And with that, he hastily jogs away before Coach Bang can change his mind.
"Who the hell is Hoseok?" you hiss at Taehyung as soon as Jungkook leaves.
"Beats me," he whispers back, "I didn't even know we had a soccer team until this week!"
"Hey, Jung!" Coach Bang bellows out, catching the attention of the entire team diligently running through their drills, "Come here for a second."
A lean man with dark red hair looks up at the sound of his name, "Yes, sir!" He leaves the drill and jogs over to join the three of you on the track. "What can I do for you?" He's still a bit out of breath from the practice, and his chest heaves up and down from the exertion.
"Hoseok, these are reporters from the school newspaper," Coach Bang introduces you, "This is ___ and she'll be interviewing you for an article."
"Oh really?" he asks, his handsome face suddenly splitting into a stunning smile, "That's really great."
The brightness of his smile hits you like a direct glance into the burning mid-afternoon sun. For a moment, you can't speak, your mind completely filled with shooting stars and rosy lights. And when Hoseok runs his hands through his sweaty hair, brushing it off his forehead, you feel like a volcano has erupted in your core.
"A-ah, yes," you stammer, self-consciously wiping your mouth for any drool, "I… yes…"
"Awesome," he beams, "Let me towel off real quickly and grab a water bottle, and I'll be right back."
"I… um… oh…" you splutter, but he's already rushed off.
Both you and Taehyung fall into stunned silence as you simultaneously admire the way the lean muscles of his calves flex with every step… and that toned little ass… damn.
"Are you guys okay?" Coach Bang asks, interrupting the moment.
"Oh, yes, sorry," you say, quickly snapping back into it. "We'll be quick with the interview. Thank you for being so accommodating."
He simply grunts in response, "Just hurry it up, kids." And with that, he saunters off to yell at the players.
You and Taehyung stand there for a few seconds, still reeling from Hoseok's potent presence as you watch the gorgeous team captain bend to grab his water bottle from his duffel bag. As of one mind, both of you turn your heads at the same time for the best angle of his ass as he squats on the grass.
"Damn," Taehyung murmurs, "I thought Jungkook was hot but this guy is…" he whistles lowly as words fail to adequately express his appreciation.
You laugh at his reaction and playfully throw an elbow into his ribs, "I didn't know you were so gay, Tae."
"Fuck, I didn't know either... but damn."
A/N: Sorry for the crack-y nonsense! And I know I’m always a holiday late with my updates, but Happy Thanksgiving and Happy belated Halloween lol. As always, please don’t ask me about updates :)
#bts scenarios#bts scenario#jungkook scenarios#jungkook scenario#noonanet#new rules#hehe im just excited about hobi tbh
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‘Exile in Guyville’ at 25: Still, if not more, relevant
It feels like we’re living through the ‘90s all over again right now. Everywhere you look, reboots of shows like Twin Peaks and The X-Files, slip dresses and Dr. Martens in Urban Outfitters, and reunions of bands like the Breeders and Smashing Pumpkins dot the current pop culture landscape. This is not unusual; we’ve found ourselves in these throwback eras before (think the ‘70s obsession with the wholesome ‘50s, or the ‘90s homages to the swinging ‘60s). Pop culture is cyclical, and when faced with uncertainty and turbulence (which we have in abundance), recalling “simpler times” of decades past provides some sort of semblance of familiarity and comfort.
And so, in the midst of this ‘90s resurgence, Liz Phair’s explosive and divisive 18-song debut Exile in Guyville turns 25 years old. The album came at the right time and place: in the midst of the (mostly male) rise of indie rock and trailing on the riot grrrl movement. Nearly three years in the making, it emerged as a fully-formed articulate, confident, and cutting concept — a track-by-track response to the Rolling Stones’ 1972 tome Exile on Main St. — paired with unpolished and imperfect vocals and instrumentation. It was an enormous “fuck you,” as Phair once recalled in an oral history on its making, to “people say[ing] ‘you can’t do this, you aren’t good enough to do this, you don’t know what you are doing’” giving Phair “enough rage in me to say, ‘I have as much of a voice as anyone.’”
Guyville topped the Village Voice’s esteemed Pazz and Jop poll the year of its release and thrust Phair into the role of an artistic wunderkind, even though she never thought of herself as a one, much less as a serious musician. “I was just a neighborhood kid who wanted to show the boys I could do it, too,” she told Mojo in 1994. In the decades since its release, the album has served as both a boon and a ball and chain: a critically-lauded record most artists dream of making, but one all of her subsequent work would be unfairly measured against.
Marking its anniversary is a new, expanded box set and short U.S. tour that will revisit the series of demo tapes that informed the album’s sound and concept. Revisiting emblems of pop culture from years past, and celebrating their milestone anniversaries, often drips with rose-colored nostalgia. But Exile in Guyville’s anniversary is different. To revisit Exile in Guyville in 2018 is to reckon with something that is not nostalgic, but something that strangely still feels current and all too relevant.
Exile in Guyville is a coming of age album, one that grapples with what it’s like to be a modern 20-something American woman: supposedly liberated, but not much better off than her mother, facing an insurmountable amount of societal pressures to look, act, and think a certain way. Phair wrote the majority of the album in ‘90s suburban Chicago, which the band Urge Overkill had previously deemed “Guyville”: a wasteland of “alternative” bros who, for all their feigned enlightenment, made it more than clear that, even though women were, in theory, their equals, in practice, in they would never really be their equals.
What if, in the 25 years that have passed, Guyville didn’t change or even get better? What if it just moved and grew? Women face just as many threats as they did in the early-90s. Guyville still very much exists in 2018, only now it’s come to encompass other gentrified, creative communities, be it by geography (like Bushwick) or industry (like the studio film system), or even digitally (like Twitter) — pockets where women are oppressed in some way or another.
“There’s a million Guyvilles,” Phair told the Washington Post this April. “‘Guyville’ could be a catchphrase for any oblivious community that has no idea that they’re shoving people to the side. I don’t know where it isn’t.”
Listening to Exile in Guyville today, I constantly have to remind myself that this album is almost as old as I am. It is not lost on me that I’m the same age as Phair was when it was released. Its words feel like they easily could have been written by me, by a friend, by other young, female artists coming up today, like Angel Olsen, Snail Mail, Soccer Mommy, or Frankie Cosmos — all musical daughters (or maybe younger sisters) of Liz Phair. For me, and perhaps for many young women my age, Exile in Guyville is one of those albums that feels more fitting now than ever before.
Phair recently compared her album-making process to creating historical documents. “I’m doing these things to log on to history,” she told The Cut. “Like, ‘A woman lived in this time, and this is what it was like for her back then.’”
While Exile in Guyville does carry the weight of its time in some senses, its tie to a specific period lies mostly in the details: the paper map in “Divorce Song,” the stereo in “Help Me Mary,” the tight blue jeans styling of the titular “Soap Star Joe.” For the most part, Exile in Guyville seems to resist the trappings of history. Her words still sting, the taste of hurt and disgust and shame and anger in all of her words remain vivid, prescient, even. Art that both defines an era and transcends it is rare and worthy of discussion: What does that sort of status say about the art itself? More, perhaps, what does it say about our collective society?
In her 2014 book on Exile in Guyville for the 33 ⅓ series, critic Gina Arnold wrote: “Phair’s record brought out the uglier side of the indie rock scene, in the process highlighting the way that women artists, both there and elsewhere in the popular music world, are often undervalued as both listeners and consumers.”
Exile in Guyville pointed out that these problems existed then, but listening to the album now, I’m still hit with a stream of remembrances of offenses — some big, some small microaggressions that add up — that have come with being a woman in the music scene today.
I think about the conversation I once had with a male music writer who had just earlier asked me on a date. He ranted about why I was wrong to dislike a prolific male musician with a history of misogynistic behavior: “Most musicians are huge dicks,” he said. “Just put your gendered prejudices behind you.”
I think about the record store clerks who ask me if I’m looking for something “as a gift for my boyfriend.” The guy behind the counter at a used shop who rolled his eyes and told me to “just order a reissue at Urban to go with your Crosley” when I asked if they ever sell Sonic Youth.
I think about all the music dudes I meet at concerts, in record stores, and on dates, who always seem to test me, the ones who ask me what the rarest vinyl I own is, tell me that if I’ve never heard this or if I like X over Y, then I’m not serious, and I don’t know what I’m talking about. The ones who try to make me feel like I don’t belong.
I think about one of the most recent shitstorms of male @s I’ve brought upon myself on Twitter — the ones that happen every now and then when I casually denounce specific men or say simply that their art does not excuse their bad actions. Instantly, I recall the grown man telling me that a heavily researched piece I wrote wasn’t valid because I’m a woman, and that he saw my agenda as playing the victim card: “I get it. It’s the era of #MeToo and righting wrongs from 30 years ago. Getting justice for all those slighted for being female in a male world.”
“I was so disrespected,” Phair told Rolling Stone in 2010. “Being a woman in music back then, at least the level I was, was like being their bitch. Sit there, look pretty, bring us drinks and we'll talk about what music is good and bad. And it was almost understood that women's taste in music was inferior. [...] I was so angry about being taken advantage of sexually, being overlooked intellectually.”
Did Phair know something as a 25-year-old then that those of us living out our mid-20s now still have yet to figure out? A way to rise above her situation, maybe? Did she think that calling it out then would maybe lead to a change for now? How many of us girls listen to her today and wish we could wrap our arms around her like a friend and say, “Oh, but Liz, things are going to get so much worse”?
They make rude remarks about me / They wonder just how wild I would be / As they egg me on and keep me mad / They play me like a pit bull in a basement, and for that / I lock my door at night / I keep my mouth shut tight / I practice all my moves / I memorize their stupid rules
It takes Phair barely over three minutes on Exile in Guyville before she rips into the types of men who have tried to keep her in her place in “Help Me Mary.” They’re the ones who overrun her home — in her case, Wicker Park’s indie scene — and trap her, reducing her to a mothering role. Their ridicule is just barely above that of a schoolyard “you can’t play with us” taunt, nagging her with “you can’t do this” and “you don’t belong here” to her face incessantly. Instead of biting back, she swallows her anger, internalizes it and uses it as a fuel to learn their game, to get so good at it that she ends up besting them in the end. But can she really best them in the end? No matter how good Liz Phair got, she is still, at the end of the day, a woman.
In a recent essay on the prominent gender biases present in music criticism for The Outline, critic Leah Finnegan argues that perspective when writing about art matters: “How does the journalist see the world, and how do they place art in it? If you’re paying attention, an article will reveal those biases. It will sometimes tell us more about the writer than what the writer is writing about.”
Early criticism of Exile in Guyville and profiles of Phair were primarily written by men who missed the point entirely. Rolling Stone’s initial review lumped it in with PJ Harvey’s not-really-all-that-similar Rid of Me, describing both as albums by angry women exacting a strange sort of revenge, exploring “the toxic consequences of intimacy with lacerating explicitness [...] relationships don't just end, they splatter. Yet listen closely, and you'll hear these women laughing under their breath.” Meanwhile, Spin pushed their criticism further, calling Phair a “well-off Winnetka, Illinois brat” who wrote an album of “songs about all the boys she’s fucked and how soon they fucked her over.”
Attempting to follow an album that had set such a high standard would be difficult for anyone. Yet while many of Phair’s later records — Whip-Smart, whitechocolatespaceegg, and Liz Phair — were solid works, full of tender, piercing, tough, and smart songs about being a woman in this world, each faced subsequently fading reviews that placed more emphasis on her looks than her music — mostly written by male critics. Her career withered.
“Men can make middling, maudlin art and be celebrated, and women artists face harsher scrutiny while doing the same thing, and usually better,” Finnegan wrote in the same Outline piece. I can’t help but wonder how Phair’s career could have been altered if more women were writing about her back then. Women who understood what she was talking about, who didn’t reduce songs about complicated issues we face to maudlin drivel or the shallow venting of a girl who is simply angry.
But more distressing than the theme of how female artists continue to be mistreated is the theme that life as a young woman in America continues to be, more or less, the same. Maybe even worse.
Whatever happened to a boyfriend? / The kind of guy who tries to win you over. / Whatever happened to a boyfriend? / The kind of guy who makes love ‘cause he’s in it. / I want a boyfriend. / I want a boyfriend. / I want all that stupid old shit / Like letters and sodas / Letters and sodas
In 1968, Virginia Slims famously began marketing their cigarettes to women with a tagline “You’ve come a long way, baby!” The strides Gen X’s mothers had made for women’s liberation in the ‘60s and ‘70s had allowed women of the ‘90s to boldly own their sexuality as something casual, their wants and desires equal to a man’s. Except it wasn’t that simple, and on the song “Fuck and Run,” Phair laments the disposable turn that dating life had taken. Had we really come a long way? Hardly.
Twenty-five years later, on an unusually warm April night, a friend and I were explaining Tinder to two parental figures over dinner. This was not the first time we’ve had to break down the State Of Meeting Men in 2018 to people who are our elders, but the first time I was struck by how exhausting it is, how demoralizing, how my resigned, yet defensive, argument that this swiping and scheduling our way to hookups thing just is the way it is makes no sense.
“Guys don’t talk to us in real life,” I insisted. Sitting back in my chair, I dropped my fork on the plate in front of me as defeated punctuation. “The only way to meet a guy now is on an app, and they pretty much all just want to have sex and nothing else.” They looked at us incredulously.
Millennial women share a desire planted by Baby Boomers and driven home by Gen X: That we can be independent women who don’t need men in our lives. But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t times when independence becomes tiring; times when you know that even though you can do it all by yourself, you don’t really want to. Millennials are 48 percent more likely to have sex before even going on a first date with someone, even though we’re 40 percent more likely than Boomers to think sex is better with an emotional connection. Virtually having access to sex at any time is making us feel increasingly more hollow.
Sitting across from a couple who had been together for nearly half a century, Phair’s “Fuck and Run” lyrics came to mind. We both find ourselves wanting what the women who came before us have and had: stability, a relationship, affection, love. That admission terrifies us, in a way. It makes us feel like we’re betraying our generation and the freedoms we’ve earned, when, really, we’re just allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, allowing ourselves to be human.
So don’t look at me sideways / Don’t even look me straight on / And don’t look at my hands in my pockets, baby / I ain’t done anything wrong
In “Never Said,” Phair’s powerlessness against pervasive gossip and doubts recalls the strains of #MeToo. While Phair centers the track around adamance that nothing happened and #MeToo is focused on the insistence that something happened, what they both share is the painful sense that being a woman and being a person believed to be telling the truth are, at times, mutually exclusive.
When faced with doubts, both Phair and women today are forced to aggressively defend themselves as they see their reputations ruined. Past actions are called into question, personality traits turned against us, and our repeated insistences — done to keep our names “clean as a whistle” — are seen as lies or exaggerations, at best, admissions of guilt, at worst.
A recent study from the Pew Research Center found that a frustrating number of people think women are making false #MeToo claims: 31 percent categorized false claims as a major problem; 45 percent called them a minor issue. Do we really still think that women lie more often than not?
Why does it seem that men are believed unequivocally, but when women tell the truth, they are wrong until proven right? Why do we have to work extra hard to fight suspicions? It’s a frustrating sticking point. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. We’re not always seeking justice against aggressors, not always seeking revenge, as Phair may have been in “Never Said.” Sometimes, all we want is to be heard and accepted.
But for all its anger — and Exile in Guyville is an album full of a specific form of women’s rage — it still holds quiet moments of vulnerability. Its songs still depict evergreen, nuanced feelings so specific to this strange time period of delayed adult womanhood. The reflections on the city in which you live, the uncertain hope for a relationship with someone better than what you’re used to, the growing pains of doing and being what you want versus what is expected of you, and the encounters with the more realistic, perhaps sadder, side of elders you once considered heroic — all of those complicated situations live in the softer in-between moments of the album, from “Stratford-On-Guy” to “Shatter”, “Canary” and “Flower” to “Explain It To Me.”
It’s in these ebbs and flows that Exile in Guyville resonates. Guyville helped to usher in the transition between punks like Debbie and Viv and Siouxsie, who reached the bedrooms of young girls listening and made them feel like they weren’t so alone in their emotions and their anger, and alt-girls like Alanis and Fiona and Shirley, who built upon that rage, but let listeners know they, too, sometimes felt strange and misunderstood and were still struggling to figure everything out.
Listening to the album today can, on certain occasions, feel like listening to what the inside of your brain sounds like over the course of 24 hours, the rollercoaster of rushing thoughts and feelings that go through it. Angry. Excited. Sad. Hopeful. Complicated. So, maybe not much has changed in 25 years. Maybe being a 20-something girl still sucks in so many ways. But there’s a silver lining: At every step, we have this album in our ear, there to tell us that someone else, who is now older and wiser than we are at this moment, has been through all of this before and knows exactly how we feel.
#my writing#liz phair#exile in guyville#this album tho#cultural criticism#feminism#thinkpiece#longread#music criticism#music journalism#on lady heroes
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Rococo Kids
Fandom: Homestuck. Pairing: Dave Strider <> Rose Lalonde. Words: 5,060. Additional Tags: One Shot, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Hurt/Comfort. Cuddling & Snuggling. Trigger Warnings: temporary character death, suicide attempt, past child abuse.
AO3 version.
A/N: i haven’t written for these two in ages, let alone ever actually posted on tumblr for them. guess it’s time to try it.
He finds her floating there, suspended and pale. The full-length lavender dress she’s wearing is drifting like smoke around her form, loose as the pale hair haloing her head. The black of her lips stand out stark against her ivory skin, smudged on the left side like a bleeding ink stain.
Like this, Dave unwillingly thinks of how some people would describe his sister as unearthly and beautiful. Mostly, he just thinks this is sad.
“Dammnit, Rose,” He mutters, and lets his sneaker skim the surface of the pool. The one Rose has drowned herself in. “We talked about this shit.”
She remains as still and lifeless as she has for the past five minutes- exactly that, as Dave has that thought- and he sighs. Sometimes Rose has the sense to let resurrection do its thing and get back up on her own, and sometimes it’s like this.
Rose floats along the aqua green bottom of her pool, encased in water that is clearer than glass. The only disturbance of the surface comes from Dave’s brief toeing of it, adding to that impression.
Dave kinda really hates looking at her like this, even if he gets it. Kanaya is away with Karkat and won't be back for at least another few days; special moirail retreat from the public eye. Like Rose clearly has, Dave has also been getting away with things while his partner is absent. He only came by to see Rose because... he's not sure. Maybe because he wanted her to talk him out of stuff, or maybe because he somehow sensed he needed to talk her out of stuff.
Looks like he's too late to, fuck.
He captchalogues his sneakers, socks, and hoodie, and lets himself fall out of the air above the water. The pool is practically frigid as he splashes into it, and Dave is even less impressed with how his night is going. He swims downwards in long strokes, descending towards his sister. His aviators stay on his face probably from sheer force of will.
Rose is limp and colder than ice as he grabs her; the dress’s long folds tangling them both as Dave kicks around for a moment, remembers he can just fly them out, and does so. Pulling her out of the water takes away the effect of weightlessness, and Rose nearly drags him off balance as her stupidly heavy dress acts like deadweight.
Not that Rose isn’t literal deadweight, hanging in his arms like giant stiff porcelain doll. It’s only a little less disturbing than it could be, since this isn’t the first time.
Dave’s hair sticks to his sunglasses as he flies them to the edge, water dripping everywhere from them both. He sets his sister down gently on the tiles, sitting back a few feet and waiting for the rebound to start.
Only a Just or Heroic death can kill a god. Rose dunking herself in the nearest waterbody, for whatever reason it is tonight, hardly counts.
Rose jerks a few minutes later- two and twenty-six seconds, she’s resisting only a little now- and gaudy multicolor light covers her body. It’s blinding, and then fades to reveal that life has colored Rose’s cheeks again. Of course, Rose also starts choking on the residual water in her throat.
Dave rolls Rose on her side as she coughs violently, rubbing her bare back as she spits chlorine filled water onto the pool deck. The backless dress remains wet despite the resurrection because God Tier shit only extends to their game clothes. This is probably a lovely number Kanaya made for her wife, and while Dave knows shit all about fabrics, he thinks his sister has ruined it thoroughly.
Rose shivers and keeps taking gasping breaths, recovering from being dead for- Dave checks the history around Rose, and finds she’s been down for five hours and twelve minutes.
And she didn’t even text him before she did it. That hurts in a weird, uncomfortable way, and Dave doesn’t appreciate the feeling.
He’s mad at her, because they promised each other, but he’s also got no leg to stand on right now.
So Dave doesn’t point out that Rose broke their promise. He just slides an arm under her side as she settles from the coughing fit and helps her to sit up. Her dress sticks to her everywhere, revealing quite clearly Rose Lalonde, co-queen of a kingdom, goddess of insight and luck and light, saw fit to discard her bra tonight and wear a dress that goes sheer when wet.
Dave knows more than he’d like to know about Rose’s body, considering the years between them, and the years they spent on the meteor, so only the faint impression of old earth’s oh shit boobsattitude lingers. This is nothing compared to other shit they got up to as young and depressed teenagers. He just brushes the lank white hair out of Rose’s face and focuses on her strikingly purple eyes.
“You’re lucky some poor chess guy didn’t find you,” Dave informs Rose. “Would’ve given them trauma induced nightmares for the rest of their life, finding their god queen biting the big one in her own pool.”
“Which is why we got rid of the staff months ago, you know that,” She informs him right back, twice as hoarse in voice. She’s haughty in tone, but that’s just her default state. It would be more worrisome if she were to apologize.
Dave pulls his soaked t-shirt away from his chest, grimacing as it peels off his skin. Rose doesn’t even bother with her own clothes, just drawing her legs to herself and wrapping her arms around them. They sit in their joint puddle of unhappy feelings for a while, letting the chill creep into their bones until it’s more unbearable than the silence.
“You look like shit,” Dave comments eventually. Rose is back to full health, no longer corpse colored, but she still looks like something… drowned. Yeah.
“In the sanctity of my own home, I would think I am permitted to be less than stunning,” Rose replies derisively. “The double standards for gender roles were left behind three universes ago, Dave. A woman is allowed to look like shit rather than the epitome of beauty whenever she pleases.”
Dave tilts his head down, lips a thin line. “Wear a wet dress and ditch the undergarments if you want, but I’m pretty sure suicide is still illegal, Rose.”
Rose sniffs. “We’re gods, Dave. We can’t die unless we meet the qualifications of a nonsensical and interpretive set of rules.”
“You’re heart wasn’t beating for over five fucking hours,” Dave says, somewhat harshly. Rose goes quiet. “I’m not trained in any kind of medical expertise, but shit, Rose. That’s pretty dead.”
His hands twitch in his lap and Dave curls them into fists to avoid shaking. It gets easier but it doesn’t, handling someone being dead. Handling Rose being dead. Dave’s eyes sting dryly and he resists the urge to rub them. He’s too tired for this shit.
Rose runs a hand through her hair, dragging it backwards into a messy slick. It leaves her face exposed and reveals her long lashes, which stand out under the light from above them as she blinks once, twice. She shuts her eyes, sighing.
“I have no excuse,” She says softly, after a long beat. Dave grunts.
“What was it this time?” He asks.
“Kanaya is turning forty- ah, no. Nineteen sweeps. She’ll be nineteen sweeps this year,” Rose says, and looks so tired as she does. “I scarcely look eleven.”
Dave does a few calculations in his head- Rose tries hard to use Alternian chronology for Kanaya, but Dave is a little stuck on human earth calendars, given his powers and all- and comes up with forty and some months for Kanaya, and twenty-five for Rose.
“Midlife crisis, then,” Dave summarizes. Rose titters tightly.
“If only it were that.”
He shrugs. “Not like we’re in different boats here.”
Rose slides a violet iris to him, and reaches across the short space between them. With her thin little fingers, Rose slides his sunglasses off. Only she and Karkat are allowed to do that, and it’s only because of that fact he lets her.
Rose hooks his glasses on his shirt collar, lifting her hand back up to delicately trace the black circles under his eyes.
“And you deal with it in such a comparably stellar manner,” She responds finally, cupping his cheek and examining the sallowness Dave knows is in his cheeks. “How long has it been?”
Dave doesn’t answer.
“Dave.” Rose’s eyes glint. “How long.”
He relents. “One hundred and fifty-two hours, thirty-nine minutes, four seconds and counting.” Gods can go longer than the average schmuck before hallucinating, and even longer before they die.
Rose frowns at him, and her eyes show how much the number hurts her. She rubs his cheek with her thumb, biting her smudged black lips. “You didn’t tell me you stopped sleeping again.”
“You didn’t tell me you were looking to literally drown your sorrows, either,” Dave shoots back, and dislikes it when Rose’s hand drops from his face. He misses its presence, even if he’s a knot of frustration and hurt right now.
“Communication, for all our lengthy conversations, was never our strong point, was it?” Rose observes softly. She curls around herself again, looking at anything other than Dave.
“Nah,” Dave says, dropping his eyes to his soaking jeans. “Kind of a shitty irony.”
Rose doesn’t respond, and they sit like the emotionally stunted, uncommunicable assholes they are in the puddle of misery they made themselves. They’re supposed to support each other, look after one another and make sure they don’t do stupid self-destructive shit like this. Some moirails they are.
“We’re fucking awful at this,” Dave mutters, tired in a lot of ways he’d rather not be.
“An apt assessment,” Rose agrees. He hears the nearly hidden regret in her words, because even now they’re cagey about how they feel when they’re upset. Especially when they’re caught in a downward spiral of self-loathing.
Actions are a little easier, though. Like reaching out and pulling on the hem of Rose’s dress, silently asking. Her hand slips around Dave’s almost immediately, their fingers sliding together and holding tight.
A moment later, and Dave and Rose are winding around each other in a wet, desperate hug. He puts his face in her damp shoulder, smelling pool and his sister’s skin. Against his ear he feels her pulse, hears the air going in and out of her throat, and hugs her tighter to press the sensations into himself.
She’s alive, she’s alive and neither of them can die. Neither of them can die and as much as that terrifies them sometimes, it’s a god damn blessing here and now.
They can’t die, but without Rose Dave knows he’d find a way. She’s told him she’d do the same if it were reversed.
Rose’s sharp nails dig into his back as she holds onto him, a shuddery breath moving through her thin body and coming out hoarse. Dave’s eyes aren’t just stinging from lack of sleep anymore, and they’re considerably wetter as Rose makes a quiet little sound by his ear. Something close to a cry, but too short and dainty to be.
Sometimes she sobs for hours, sometimes he does. Tonight they just hold onto each other and blink tears away until they can breathe right again. It’s not so bad they breakdown completely, or maybe it’s so bad they’ve relapsed too far into old habits to do so. Dave can’t tell.
He doesn’t really care.
They’re both shivering, chilled by the air and by the mass of self-inflicted feelings inside themselves. It’s a lot less cold with Rose halfway into his lap and keeping her arms locked around his shoulders.
Dave rubs one hand up and down her back, feeling the bumps of her spine and ribs. He feels her hands find one scar he’s got on the back of his neck, a particularly nasty one from a strife when he tried turning his back on Bro to run away- her fingers run along it, icy to the touch, and different enough from the agony of steel and hot blood that Dave barely thinks on the memory longer than a second.
“I told you why I fell off the wagon, Dave,” Rose says in a hushed voice, leaving the scar be and moving to tangle her fingers in his wet hair. “Tell me why you did.”
Dave shrugs, keeping his world dark as he hides in his sister’s neck. “Nothing really. Dumb shit.” She waits, massaging his scalp, and Dave continues after he wrangles his own feelings into submission again. “It’s his birthday next month.”
Rose hums; the sound warm and full in Dave’s ear. She doesn’t ask who the person is, because she knows. “And?”
“And I made a dumb mistake by getting lost in my head,” Dave continues. He can usually handle the weird hang up he has on Bro’s birthday- they never even did much for it, it makes no sense- but he fucked up this year. “Ended up wandering around the city, headphones on and everything- and I just, forgot to pay attention to where I was headed. There’s too many parks in trolltopia, you know? I can’t tell them all apart even when I’m on the ball, and fuck if I know west from east when I’m full on dissociating.”
Rose keeps massaging his scalp, patient.
“Strife hobbyist group,” Dave finally explains, voice dropping low despite his attempts to keep it level. “There were swords involved. I wasn’t even all that near, Jesus, but I just- got stuck, and it’s fucking stupid but I couldn’t move until they stopped strifing and noticed their local godly ruler was having a stroll right by their weekend sparring field.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. They might look young but he’s a grown man. He hates being unable to handle this, even now. “Should’ve just walked away instead of staring into space like a braindead tool.”
“And I should have confided in you that I was being drawn back into a spiral of fear and self-loathing again,” Rose comforts. She presses her lips to his neck, sighing through her nose. It’s warmer than either of them are. “We both made some bad judgements as of late.”
Dave draws back, partly reluctant to. Rose watches him through her lashes, and like always, it feels like she’s seeing way deeper than most people ever will into him. Dave kinda wonders why it feels like that, when really, there’s not that much depth to him at all.
People (Rose, Karkat) tell him otherwise. He still doesn’t quite believe them.
Dave looks over his sister, who is pale as ever and resembles strongly a white cat dunked in water. Almost too thin everywhere she isn’t gently curvy, and built out of somewhat vicious tendencies, meticulously kept aloofness, and an impulsive streak ten miles long.
She’s beautiful, even if she’s as much a mess as Dave is.
Because they’re alone and it feels right, he leans close again and presses his lips to her forehead; then tilting his chin down and putting their heads together. Her eyes are close enough they blur into whites and purples, and Dave counts the nearly invisible freckles under them.
“I think we need to actually read one of those handbooks Karkat gave us,” Dave says wryly. His partner used to unsubtly leave moirallegiance handbooks out everywhere when he and Rose first started figuring this out. Dave never actually read one, since he’d thought it can’t be that different from just being friends/estranged siblings, right?
“I already have,” Rose says, because of course she has. “I can’t say I’ve been all that good about following the advisory tips, unfortunately.”
“I live with the guy who’s favorite hobby is dissecting romcom relationship dynamics. Loudly. I thought I could get by with just osmosis.”
“Perhaps relationship counselling?” She suggest.
Dave makes a please no noise, grimacing deeply. Rose huffs. “I take that as a no.” She pauses, and then says softly, “Dave, I’m sorry.”
“Oh shit, a sincere and straightforward apology from Rose Lalonde? I think the world’s ending again,” Dave doesn’t flinch when Rose draws away from him to give a flat stare, but he does feel a little bad for interrupting. “Sorry, go on.”
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “I attempt to apologize like a civil, non-complex afflicted individual, and you mock me for it. My therapist will be in tears of frustration at my lost progress.”
“The day you actually set foot in a real therapist’s office will be the day you give up overanalyzing every Freudian slip our friends make. And you have so much fun with John’s dickups. I mean slipups.”
Rose smiles faintly. “No you don’t.”
“Nah, definitely do not,” Dave smiles back. “But seriously, say what you need to. I, uh, I’ll keep things mature until you’re done.”
Rose’s shoulders rise, and then fall. She still looks tired, if less suicidal. “I’m sorry, Dave. We both may have been keeping our rough patches from one another, but I am the one who took the most direct action of self-destruction.”
Dave quirks an eyebrow. “It’s not like I wouldn’t have dropped in a few more days.”
“There’s a difference between keeping yourself awake until sheer exhaustion knocks you out, and holding yourself underwater until you drown.”
“Not much. Exhaustion kills you when it gets to a point.”
“A watery asphyxiation by my own hand is still more severe than that.”
“So’s drugging yourself with enough energy shots to give your heart an arrhythmia.”
Rose purses her lips. “Let’s agree to disagree. Competitive comparisons of mental health failings helps no one. Anyway,” She says before Dave can butt in. “I offer you my apology for what I did, whether you accept it or not.”
Dave doesn’t hesitate in his response. “Course I do, Lalonde. But you gotta listen to mine, too, if you’re going to get all pale like that.” He smirks at her. Rose gives him an exasperated look. “I’m sorry, too. We literally had an in writing accord that when we get bad, we fucking talk to each other about it. I spent way too long an afternoon on that thing with you to ignore its existence now. We both broke it, not just you. So… I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven,” Rose replies, taking his hands into hers as he reaches for them. His are a little bigger, now that puberty is long done, and they’ve got scars in a hundred different spots hers don’t. But they’re still close enough in resemblance he sees their relation.
It’s a comfort, to know that however badly they fuck themselves up, lie and keep secrets from each other- genetics ensures they’ve got a connection that won’t break by any means.
Maybe they can’t die, and will have to watch the people they love age in ways they won’t- Jane and Dave together can rewind their ages, regenerate youth, but it’s just not the same as being a God Tier- but at least through all that, they’ll have each other no matter how long time stretches on.
Dave feels he’s still riding the unfortunate bump of fresh trauma from earlier, the way his thoughts keep getting mushy with his consent. It’s not something that really bothers him in the moment, wrapping himself back around Rose and sinking into the mutual apology and acceptance. Alone on the pool deck together, they sit and just mend themselves in the presence of their twin, not talking for a length of time.
“Kanaya will be so disappointed,” Rose mourns, once they try to stand again. Her dress still sticks to her in places, and otherwise hangs heavy everywhere else. “I think this was a birthday gift.”
“You’re such a drama queen,” Dave snorts. “You can’t just toss yourself in the drink and be done with it. Nah, you need to be a twelve out of ten and ready for the president’s cocktail party before you’re fit to drink your poison.”
“Last I checked, we have no presidents to speak of anymore.”
“Eh, old world government tiers still work if it’s in the presence of in-the-know individuals.”
“Hispter.”
“Cauldron calling the kettle black. Don’t think your Sappho collection ever got forgotten.”
Rose sniffs. “Classic lesbian literature is quite different from an outdated patriarchy based power system, thank you.”
“Fair, but you’re a hipster in your own ways, Rose.”
She doesn’t respond beyond a dismissive hum. They’ve had this conversation nine times already and it’s gone in loops for hours if they let it. Best to wait until they’re dry to start it up properly.
Rose leaves the ground, stepping into thin air and flying out across the pool towards the exit. Dave follows slowly, and watches as her dress trails against the water. The ripples they leave disturb the mirror perfect surface a third time since he found her.
Dave hooks an arm around Rose’s waist, and she returns the gesture. He banishes the memory of her lifeless body under that rippling surface, even though he knows it’ll come back to haunt him at least a few times before this can be processed completely.
Because carapaciens have only one mode when it comes to their gods- undying adoration is the least extravagant way to say it- the veritable mansion Rose and Kanaya ended up in is barely not a castle. The swimming pool on the middle level isn’t even the most lavish thing.
They pass by the bigger rooms, headed for the one they always use when it’s been a Night for them. It’s on the eastern side, where the sun will rise tomorrow and shine through the curtains to burn their sleep deprived retinas out of their skulls and force them into the land of the living. A full-proof plan that usually works if one of them doesn’t shut the curtains and pull the other back under the thick comforter.
There’s an ensuite bathroom attached to the wide bedroom, big enough that it makes the tiny closet washroom in Dave’s old Houston apartment look even smaller than it had been. The whole set up might just be larger than that old place; thick carpets and actual drapes and furniture that’s fit for royalty. Dave drops onto the first loveseat he passes, dampening the rich purple fabric with his soaked clothes.
Rose bends briefly near him, turning her back and gesturing vaguely at the straps holding her dress up. Dave obliges her and unhooks the clips. As she stands and walks away, he decaptchalogues his phone to start mindlessly scrolling social media while she takes first shower. He doesn’t even glance over as she drops her dress at the door, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.
When Rose emerges again, wrapped in a wide and thick towel, she looks better all around. Dave stands and takes his turn, dropping a kiss to her temple as they pass each other and then dropping his itchy, half dried clothes on top of Rose’s. He shuts the door as she starts getting changed in the bedroom, and walks right into the still running shower. It’s hot enough it burns a little, chasing the chill out of his system.
Dave shuts it off when he no longer feels the itch of dried chlorine on his skin. There are still plenty of big warm towels for him on the rack, and he wraps one around his waist. Another smaller one goes around his head, just for the hell of it.
Rose is on the bed already when he walks out; dressed in a baggy old t-shirt proclaiming Foxy Grandpa she probably alchemized years ago, and soft pajama pants. Her hair is still a mess, and her black lipstick has been wiped clean. She’s brought out her laptop and is probably scrolling through whatever her video library has to offer.
Rose slides her eyes from the screen to Dave’s face, and she gives a faint smile. He decaptchalogues his own pajamas into his arms, smiling back at her before he starts changing. They’ve been around the Harley-Englishs way too long to be bothered by nudity, let alone each other’s. The tenth time Dave wandered into Jade’s personal garden and she was sans shirt under the hot sun, he’d gotten over it. Mostly.
It’s different with Rose, versus Jade who is twice their size in a lot of ways and not his sister. It’s mostly like glancing at a reflection of himself, really. Just with slightly different parts and heights.
Dave slides onto the cloudlike mattress once his undershirt and shorts are on, scooting to the middle of the bed where Rose is. With a mountain of pillows propping them up, they settle into the position they want to have tonight.
Dave opts to put his head on her chest, listening to the steady tempo of her heart for definitely trauma related reasons. Rose’s cheek rests on the top of his skull, arm under his neck and holding him close. Their legs end up tangling together as they rest their hipbones against one another; sharing residual warmth of their showers. Rose sets the laptop to the side Dave isn’t on, screen angled so they can both see as she presses play.
Her hand paps his cheek only once, and he returns the favor. It’s mostly just a formal recognition thing for them, rather than the soppy calm-down switch like it is for trolls. Cuddling like octopi works just fine on its own for their informal piling.
“Can’t believe troll Jaden Smith got an anime before I did,” Dave mumbles as the pastel opening credits begin. It’s considered a classic now days, and Dave feels weirdly old since he remembers when it first came out. “Still haven’t gotten one either, damn. I need to get on that shit.”
“What genre will you be classifying it as?” Rose asks, tangling her fingers in his hair for the umpteenth time.
“Maybe sci-fi or something, but I’m also still leaning towards maid café.”
“And the story?”
“Underground government revolution, duh.”
“Excellent choice, brother dear. Keeping to what our family knows best, are we?”
“Roxy and Dirk are too good a material source to waste.”
“As is our alternate selves’s history as resistors.”
“Obviously.”
They run through the first half of the episode before Dave starts to really wind down. He’s gone days without sleep, out of some kind of fear/self-punishment reasoning, and he’s beyond absolutely exhausted despite his pretending to be otherwise. Rose’s nails are gentle against his scalp and her body warmly pressed to his, so Dave’s mind is relaxing out of its sleep resistant anxiety without his prompt. Even if he has nightmares- and inevitably he will- Dave will wake up right next to his sister and moirail. He’s safe.
If he wakes up thrashing, fighting against spectres of his past or trying to rescue his drowning sister, Rose will just hold his face and make him focus on her, on the present. She’s the god of clarity in a manner of speaking; she’s the only one who can snap him out of an attack besides Karkat. And not just because of her powers.
If and when Dave will wake up, surfacing from a nightmare that sends his heart beating painfully fast in his chest and leaves him breathless, she’ll be right there to talk him down, kiss his temples and cheeks and keep holding him until the shakes fade. And if and when Rose wakes up like that, stifling cries about what she’s lost and may yet lose, shivering from images of things that’ve been in her head and the way her wife’s eyes gain wrinkles as years past- Dave will take a turn holding her close until she breathes evenly again, regaining sense of where she is and who she’s with. He’ll look her in the eye and make her look back, cupping her cheek gently and pressing his lips to her forehead, and they’ll tangle themselves up until everything passes and its morning again.
They’re not picture perfect moirails, but they’re there for each other as much as they can be. It works majority of the time, and they make up for it later when they falter. And that’s good enough.
Dave sinks into the heavy exhaustion inside him, not quite as afraid any longer while he’s wrapped around Rose. She cuddles him as close as he does her, and Dave drifts off to the sound of her breathing.
When morning- afternoon, nearly- rolls around, they’ve only woken each other once in the night, and Dave feels considerably less like he’s dying slowly. Rose, in turn, seems considerably less like she really did die the night prior.
Before they haul themselves upright again, to check in with their friends and partners and put real food into their stomachs, they lie around in the enormous and soft bed. Talking quietly and touching intimately, just enjoying the calmness that comes from being together and around no one else. They’ve become better practiced over the years, opening up around their friends and loved ones- but it’s still hard, and sometimes they can only manage it with each other.
It’s good, just lying together and talking in circles. It’s what they should do more often, so weeks and nights they’ve been having don’t happen.
When they do sit up from the covers and pillows, Dave watches his sister pull open fully the heavy drapes, pushing outwards the panes and letting the afternoon sun inside. It illuminates the pale white of her everything, and makes her shine gold.
Standing in the open sunlight, lavender eyed and glowing bright, Dave finds again he will always strongly prefer her like this. Sleep rumpled and sunlit as the open window blows her short hair, rather than elegantly dressed and still like an empty shell against the bottom of a pool.
That preference is an easily guessed one, seeing as the smile Rose turns on him says she knows exactly what he’s thinking of her at the moment.
“We’ll talk next time,” She promises him, and that’s enough for Dave.
#daverose#dave strider#rose lalonde#fanfic#homestuck#moiraillegiance#my writing#tw: abuse#tw: sucide mention#she's fine obviously#just a little dead at first#(a/n: been feeling really down lately so i projected strongly onto these two#feel better now that i have.)#dave#rose
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Just Friends ~ Even If It's A Lie (part 54)
A/N I really love this chapter
Harper White is best friends with Luke Hemmings, they always have been. Not only is she friends with the rockstar, but with the rest of 5 Seconds Of Summer, as well as a really nice girl named Erika.
Harper has a few secrets, she can play all the instruments the boys play and many more. It’s a talent she has kept hidden, only very few people know.
What will happen to the six teens, wondering around the world together?
Warnings: nothing just sadness
***
It’s like I don’t know her anymore.
She’s become this person that’s almost terrifying and daunting. There’s this hollow and tired look in her eyes, and she looks like she could break at any second.
We haven’t seen Harper too much, she’s been busy with physical therapy, and talking with special people, as well as sleeping a lot, but we can see her, she just doesn’t interact with us.
I think she just feels so ashamed. Harper hates showing feelings, so to have this huge cloud of suffocating feelings in the room, makes her feel even worse. I’m conflicted between being here to support her or leaving her alone so I don’t overwhelm her, but by leaving her alone, I’m worried that she might feel like I don’t care about her anymore, which is the complete opposite because she’s one of the only things I care about.
I would give anything to just hug her and make it all better, but we don’t live in a fairytail. It’s so frustrating, because now she’s woken up it’s just like she’s in a coma again, only she can move and talk.
There’s like an invisable barrier between us, where as this time last year, I could run towards her without hitting anything, the only thing I’d hit is love, coming from both of us.
Ever since we talked the night she woke up, I can’t get her words out of my head, all of them. The fact that she doesn’t want to live anymore, that she said it all comes back to one person and she doesn’t want to experience all these achievements because it won’t be with the right person, and when she said we both made stupid choices.
She’s right we did make stupid choices.
These weren’t mistakes they were choices.
I made the decision the sleep with another woman.
She made the decision to not move.
They were both fucking stupid.
It’s the silence between us that hurts the most. I’m right next to her or at least in the same room, yet we couldn’t feel further away. I just wish she’d talk to me, not just casually, but about what’s going on in that head of hers. I don’t know how she feels, is she confused, angry, upset, anxious, or even emotionless? I just don’t know.
It’s not just me she’s not talking to, Harper isn’t talking to the others either, she talks to them but they’re half assed simple words, but it’s something, right?
They don’t know how to deal with it or what to do.
Sometimes it’s so awkward between us, which makes me so sad, because we all used to be the closest little group. That was one of Harper’s worries when we first started dating, what if we don’t work out, what happenes to our friendship group?
You don’t just get one of us, you get all of us, and we come as a package, but now that’s not so much the case. Which is so sad to see, years of friendship getting torn apart because of two people, well, basically one person.
Harper and I’s breakup has put a strain on quite a few things.
Firstly the band, I’m not always in the right mindset and feel as if I’m not actually there, so being the frontman of the band and that being said, those things don’t collide well.
Secondly, my friendship with the band, because I don’t feel like I’m actually there, I fuck up sometimes, with lyrics, guitar playing, and sometimes just missing my cue. All that frustrates the boys and makes us look bad, when they are doing perfectly well.
Thirdly my concentration, I just can’t concentrate, my mind drifts into a daydream. Which sometimes is a good thing, because I take some of the things that happen and put it into a song, but it happens far too often, and a lot of the time, it’s a really personal and private thought, which I could never sing to millions of people. Although, I have written some songs which are just for me, which contain some of my darkest secrets. It’s almost like a diary but a little more to it, because whilst I’m writing I can focus on just that thought, whilst my mind ignores all the others.
It’s also put a strain on my mental stability, relationship with a lot of people because I don’t like people seeing me vulnerable, which causes me to distance myself.
My life is on pause whilst I attempt to deal with this all, but it doesn’t entirely pause because time still goes by and I still have to live life but do a bodge job of it.
This damn girl is causing me hell when she’s not even in my life anymore.
“Hey.” Me and Calum say in unison as we walk into Harper’s room.
“Hi.” Sarah smiles and looks up from her book.
“Hello.” Michael waves, without taking his eyes off his phone.
Harper looks up from painting her nails and meets my eyes, I send her a subtle nod and she gives me a tiny smile before going back to her nails.
Well that’s new.
“Can you paint my nails.” Calum asks as he sits next to Harper.
“Uh, why?” Harper furrows her eyebrows.
“Excuse me, this is the 21st century, boys can have their nails painted too.” Calum gasps.
“I didn’t say boy’s can’t.”
“Please?” He begs.
“What colour do you want?” She sighs.
“Yay! Well I don’t think dark red will suit me.” Calum motions to Harper’s nails, which are currently half done. “Do you have black?”
Harper puts the brush back in the pot, before carefully picking out some black nail polish from a little jar.
“Let me finish painting my nails first.” She says and goes back to painting her nails.
Michael and Calum begin to talk about some random show, whilst I lean against the wall watching Harper.
The way she purses her lips and raises an eyeborw when she’s concentrating, the way she tilts her head to the left slightly and analyses her work before moving on to the next nail.
“Cal.” Harper says.
“Yes?” He asks.
“Hand.”
“Oh right.” He nods and places his hand on the little table.
Harper shakes the bottle of black nail polish and screws the lid of, wiping the excess off on the sides, before bringing it to Calum’s nail.
“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” She asks.
“Because you love me!” He smugly smiles.
“Deabtable.” She shrugs.
“Rude.” Calum gasps.
Well she’s definitely changed.
She barely spoke to us, now she’s actually holding a conversation with someone.
“Do you want yours done too?” Harper teases me once she’s done with Calum.
“I think I’ll hold on to my masculinity for another day.” I chuckle and give her a pointed look.
“Uh, screw gender rules.” She tells me. “And what masculinity?” She laughs.
“Excuse you!” I hold my hand to my heart. “When we were dating who got rid of all the spiders?” I question.
“Uh, no, you’d just put them under a glass and then run away, then leave me to either feel like it’s watching me or sleep in Angus’ room until it suffocated.” She claims.
“I was tired, it was like 12:30, I didn’t want to deal with it.” I laugh. “And I thought you said screw gender roles.”
“You don’t have to be a dude to get rid of spiders. Plus, you could’ve stayed with me to protect me, because you’re oh so manly.”
“Why couldn’t you do it then?” I question and cross my arms, waiting for an answer.
“Because I was fucking terrified, there’s not a gender that’s less scared of spiders.” She claims.
“I dealt with it, you should be proud of me.” I say.
“Do you want me to give you a sticker?” She laughs.
“You never support me with anything I do.” I exclaim.
“What is going on?” Michael questions.
“Luke’s lack of masculinity.” Harper explains.
“Are you ever gonna let this go?” I ask.
“What do you want me to say, my manly man?” She mocks.
“I don’t like this game.” I pout.
“Whatever.” She shakes her head.
Feels nice to be able to actually joke around with Harper, it’s always been so tense ever since we broke up.
Does this mean we are getting on the right track again? I hope so, because if I can’t love her anymore, then I’d at least like to be her friend. I’m still hung up on her, it’s gonna take me years to get over her, because what we had was so real. Also it’s the only thing I have had left of her for a while now, so if I let go of that, I’d only have useless memories.
I can’t completely lose her, I’m not myself without her.
If being friends is the best we can be, I’ll take it and run with it.
“Can I touch things now?” Calum asks.
“Uh yeah, but be careful because if you come back in a couple hours with it being chipped, I’ll be mad at you.” Harper glares at him.
“I’ll try my best, if I do manage to chip it, I’ll just get Erika or Maddie to fill it in.” Calum smugly shrugs.
“Did you ever read Holes?”
“I’m here bitches, your day just got better.” Erika bursts through the door.
“We’ve talked about this before.” Harper sighs.
“Yeah b-”
“No, you just become another person I have to make an effort to talk to.”
Looks like Harper is becoming herself again, which makes me so happy.
Maddie and Erika still haven’t made up, at least that I know of, they haven’t came here together since. We haven’t really talked about it, for a couple reasons, firstly because it’s not really any of our business but theirs. Secondly because we’ve spent most of our time with Harper and we don’t want things to become awkward between Erika and Harper, we’ve never really talked about that day.
“So, how are you?” I ask not missing the pained look in her eyes when I spoke.
“Fine.” She nods and purses her lips, sticking her tongue out slightly.
Maddie has still visited, just at different times, usually in the morning, and occasionally late at night.
“Where’s Maddie?” Harper questions, clearly oblivious to situation in front of us.
“She uh, couldn’t make it.” Erika responds.
“Oh, okay. Also, where’s Ashton?” Harper asks.
“He’s doing something with his family, I’m not quite sure.” Michael answers.
“Hello.” Someone says and I turn around and see the doctor.
“Hi.” Sarah waves.
“I’ve got some great news.” He smiles. “Harper has been doing really well this past week, and everything is going well, physically and mentally. So you will be discharged in tomorrow.” He announces.
“Oh my God, really?” Harper asks.
I know how much she hates it here. Harper is a free spirit so being confined to one room let alone to a bed, has been tough on her. Don’t even get me started on the food, it tastes so bland, it’s something an old lady who can’t drive, possibly only has one eye, and just boils everything to death.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be sent off with some medication and hopefully you should be completely fine in the next few weeks. I also recommend seeing a therapist, it’s optional, you don’t have to go see one, but I’d advise it.”
“I probably will go see one when I’m back in England.” Harper replies.
“I’ll leave you guys alone for now, I’m never far away.” He waves and heads out the door.
“Thank fuck for that.” Harper says in relief and we all chuckle.
“How long are you gonna stay for once you’re discharged?” Sarah asks.
“I’m not really sure, I can’t stay long because I’ve already missed tons of school. Probably around a week, I’m not too sure.” She shrugs.
***
“I honestly don’t know what to do, she won’t even talk to me.” Erika runs a hand through her hair.
“When was the last time you guys talked?” Ashton asks.
“The day after Harper woke up, that’s been like 10 days, we’ve spoken very small words since then.” She shrugs.
“When was the last time you saw each other?” Michael asks.
“Uh, a few days ago, we ran into each other at the hospital.”
“So like, explain to me what this is all about again?” Calum enquires.
“Maddie didn’t know that I had feelings for Harper before we started dating, and she thinks that I was still in love with her when we first started dating. Which there were some feelings left, but I was so infatuated by her herself, and Harper was just a distant memory at that point. I’m not really sure why she’s making such a big deal about it.” Erika sighs.
“Maybe because she thinks that the first part of your relationship was just a lie, and you were thinking of Harper the whole time.” Michael says.
“But that’s not the case!” Erika exclaims.
“How is she supposed to know that?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Erika huffs and sits down in an armchair. “How did you feel when you and Harper were going out, and saw us?”
This past tense shit really hurts.
“That wasn’t really on my mind at that moment, I was more focused on Harper and her well being.” I confess.
“It’s not really a big deal is it?” Erika questions.
“It may of been wise to of told her at the beginning of your relationship, but I’m not really sure what it would’ve done.” Ashton tells her.
“I really hope we aren’t like this on our anniversary.” Erika sighs.
“It’s your year anniversary soon?” Calum asks.
“Yeah in 5 days.” Erika confirms.
I really wish Harper and I could’ve celebrated our year anniversary, although it would’ve been based on lies, I just wish we could’ve made a big milestone in our relationship. I know it’s not about numbers, as long as you’ve got love, the amount of time you are together doesn’t really matter. When Harper and I first started dating, we were already madly in love with each other, and there isn’t a set time where you know you love them. Love comes randomly, love sometimes goes randomly, love hurts, sometimes there’s multiple ways of love hurting.
The heartbreak, when you were head over heels in love with someone and all of sudden they’re ripped away from you, whether it was because of you or your time with eachother is is up. The heartbreak hurts so much, and the break up is always hard and painful to look back on. Usually heartbreak is such a long process to get over.
Time is up love, the type of love that you’ll always look back at and smile. It might of been a mutual agreement to breakup, but it was about the experiences that person gave you, the lessons you learnt from that person. It probably will hurt a little, because letting go of love will never be easy, but you’ll always be greatful for everything that happened during that time.
The worst type of love is when you keep going back and forth with one person, you’re in a continuous cycle of pain. From the outside it looks toxic, but from the inside, it’s almost normal to you. Deep down you might know that this relationship isn’t alright, but you come to a point where you’re addicted to pain and it’s so hard to let go. You kiss, then fight, then kiss again, and this cycle lasts for such a long time, and it’s so hard to get out of.
There’s deep and light love, all types off love is easy to get addicted to and hard to get over.
“Why don’t you do something romantic or something.” Michael says.
“What’s romantic in your books?” Erika laughs.
“Netflix and chill?”
“You’re a fucking loser.” I sigh.
“Name one romantic thing you’ve ever done.” Michael declares.
“When I told Harper about my feelings it was fucking movie material.” I laugh. “Plus I’ve written songs about girls before, that’s pretty romantic.”
“Well in that case, so have I.” Michael smirks.
***
“You looking forward to going home?” I ask Harper.
“Yeah.” She nods.
Harper is finally able to leave the hospital today and go home, we’re all excited for her, and I’m so glad I don’t have to spend any more time in this place. In a weird way I’m also dreading it because I won’t see harper anytime soon, even if we talk after this is all over, I won’t be able to see her in the flesh.
“Don’t forget your watch.” Sarah reminds Harper.
She nods and goes to the table next to the bed and picks up the leather strapped watch.
“You ready?” Andrew questions.
“Yes.” Harper sighs.
“Speak to you soon?” Ashton questions.
“Yeah.” She confirms and they both hug.
“I’m always a call away, feel free to talk anytime.” Erika smiles and Harper pulls her into a hug.
“Bye, lil’ sis.” Michael teases.
“Bye, big bro.” She chuckles.
“Don’t have too much fun without me, okay?” Calum says.
“Of course, anyway, a party isn’t a party without Calum Hood.” She smirks and pulls Calum into a hug.
Harper moves away from Calum and across the room, all the way to me which shocked me because although we’ve been talking recently, we’re not all good again.
“Hey.” She bites her lip looking down at her shoes.
“You’re saying goodbye, but here you’re saying hey to me.” I chuckle.
“I guess you’ve always been special.” She trails off.
“I’m gonna miss you.” I look down at her.
“I’m going to miss you too.” She admits.
“I’ll see you around?” I question.
“Maybe.”
“You take care okay? Promise me you won’t do something stupid.” I say.
“I will, and I promise you I won’t do anything.”
“I’ll wish you good luck in uni, and hope you keep my promise.” I smile.
“Thank you, I’ll wish you good luck on tour, and I’m sorry I put a pause on that.” She sheepishly says.
“Don’t feel bad because of it, babe. I had to be here, I couldn’t of just left you, I could never live with myself if I did that.” I explain.
“Goodbye hug?” Harper questions.
“Always.” I smile and wrap my arms around her waist and she wraps hers around mine.
Feels so good to hug her properly, I havent done it in months, and that’s too long.
Once we pull back, I look down at her and she looks up at me. I press my lips against her forehead and whisper, “please take care of yourself.”
***
I need to clear my head.
It’s so fucked up, I just need Harper, I’m not sure in what way, I just know I need her with me right now.
She should still be here in Australia, it’s been 5 days since she’s been discharged, but I’m not entirely sure.
We leave for tour again in a day, that’s probably the only thing I’ve got going for me right now.
It’s around 3 AM, I’ve kinda lost contact with time, I just do whatever whenever. It’s not particularly too healthy but that’s probably the smallest thing on my mind right now.
Grabbing a hoodie and quietly going down the stairs and out the door. Putting my hood up and then stuffing my hands in my pockets. Winter is approaching and that makes things really fucking cold and all though I might get frostbite, I’m willing to take that risk.
I begin to approach the old abandoned building and keep my eyes trained on the ground, where little clouds of dirt rise when I take a step.
Sitting down and dangling my feet over the edge, and lean against the railing which provides some security.
I begin to he a footsteps from behind me, and it could either be a murderer or the girl I love. Turning around I see Harper coming out of the actual building, which confuses me because that building is terrifying.
Harper freezes when she spots me and begins to walk towards me.
She sits down next to me with a huff and copies my position but rests her chin on her arms.
“What were you doing in there?” I ask.
“Uh, I was bored so I decided to explore it, there’s literally nothing in there, just broken glass, spiders, and lots of cobwebs.” She shrugs.
“How are you feeling right now?” I question.
“Alright I-”
“No, about us?” I cut her off.
“Luke…” She drags out.
“Seriously.” I say.
“Luke, there is no us anymore.” She bluntly tells me.
“Could we start a new us?” I question.
“No, we could never get back together, as much as I enjoyed being with you at the time, we’ve changed, times have changed. There’s too much going on, and just because maybe our break up has caused a lot of this, it doesn’t mean getting back together is gonna fix everything again.” She painfully states.
“So there’s actually no hope of us getting back together?” I ask for confirmation.
“What did you think was going happen, Luke? That we were gonna get back together and everything is okay, just because we’ve actually held a conversation?”
“I’m not really sure what I expected.”
“We can’t get back together Luke, too much has happened. I don’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want to do.” She sadly stares at Sydney.
“You can say to yourself that you don’t love me, but could you please just tell me you love me one no time?” I ask.
“I couldn’t do that to you Luke.” She claims.
“Just one more time.” I desperately request as I cup her jaw. “Even if it’s a lie.” I say and a tear rolls down my cheek, but a tear also escapes Harper’s eye, and they are almost in sync.
“If I do tell you that, what’s that gonna do Luke?” She questions.
“I don’t know, but I need to hear you say it one more time.”
“Will you repeat it?” She questions.
“Always.” I nod.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
All of a sudden we both burst into tears and hold onto each other.
Here I am crying into the arms of my ex girlfriend, infront of Sydney, at 3 AM, overdosing on false hope.
“I’m so sorry.”
#luke hemmings#luke hemmings fanfiction#luke hemmings imagine#luke hemmings one shot#luke hemmings blurb#luke hemmings smut#calum hood#calum hood fanfiction#calum hood imagine#calum hood one shot#cakum hood blurb#calum hood smut#michael clifford#michael clifford fanfiction#michael clifford imagine#michael clifford one shot#michael clifford blurb#michael clifford smut#ashton irwin#ashton irwin fanfiction#ashton irwin imagine#ashton irwin one shot#ashton irwin blurb#ashton irwin smut#5sos#5 seconds of summer#5sos fanfiction#5sos imagine#5sos one shot#5sos blurb
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Roses In Thorns
Summary
Being apart of the countries greatest mafia families had its problems; enemies grew from every thorn and you were one of the greatest roses to target.
You didn’t expect the greatest thorn to prick you to be he who was assigned to protect you- Jeon Jungkook.
Genre: Angst, (the good type), fluff, future smut in story line.
BodyguardJungkook, Mafia
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
6k
Part 2
Part 1- YN POV
“Can you get down?” Taehyung asked, holding the ladder for you steady. You were worried you were going to fall flat on your ass, but it didn’t matter at this moment. You just wanted to get down out of sight and to Emily’s party. You didn’t drug your bodyguard for nothing.
“Hold on, I’m jumping!” You braced yourself as you stuck your legs out from the ladder and jumped. Luckily, Taehyung caught you.
“Awh Tae, such a ladies man.” You winked cockily as you were set down. You brushed your dress off, happy everything was left in tact and snaked your arm around Taehyung’s.
“Aren’t I amazing Taehyung, could you do that?” You asked, smirking.
Taehyung was the boy next door who you grew up with. Your parents both worked in the same…business. Taehyung and you got each other, you had each others backs in times like these. All you really wanted to do was just go out and have some fun, but being apart of the countries greatest mafia families had its problems: enemies grew from every thorn, and you were one of the greatest roses to target.
You were from a family that had been in this business since 1809 when the opium trade was rife. Your family had a series of alliances with the British, jotted somewhere in the history books as one of your ancestors amassed fortunes spanning Asia. Over time, enemies had grown in great numbers and they targeted those close to the current head of the entire family. Three years ago, your father was given the role of head and you were on the list of most targeted people in Korea, if not South East Asia.
“I’ve been given more freedom than you Y/N and you know that.” Taehyung said, taking you to the car he had parked.
Snapping out of your heritage thoughts, you figured Taehyung was right. Some things never changed, including how conservative the people in your world could be to their daughters. Tae, while restricted had the freedom to go out and live his life like any normal 21 year old could; provided he had a gun tucked away under his pocket and security detail following him not far off.
You on the other hand, were expected to be a rose in a steel glass cage. Sheltered, monitored, protected, guarded- you name every protectionate word and you were supposed to be the object of its affection.
“These gender expectations irk me you know. Promise you’ll never do that to your daughter Taehyung.” You said, hoping your best friend would never be over bearing as your father and uncles.
“Never. It’s a free world ma cherie.” Taehyung smiled, a hand over your shoulders as he gave the instructions to his driver on where to go.
“I hope Sir Y/N/F/N is okay with this. I really don’t want to get in trouble for taking you two out without permission.” Taehyung’s driver subtly warned.
You hid your smile.
“I won’t have anyone taking the blame for my mistakes, besides- appa needs to learn how to live a little.” You said, hoping the driver didn’t do anything rash like call your dad.
You saw his eyebrows rise and then a sense of defeat going down as he proceeded to drive.
“What did you do to your body guard this time?” Taehyung asked, scrolling through his instagram as his other arm still rested on your shoulders.
“I made him a cup of coffee, spiked it and then stuffed a sock in his mouth before getting ready.” You said casually, twirling his fingers that were hanging just off your shoulder.
“Well it’s a step up from locking them in the food cupboard.” Taehyung admitted, reminding you of your weakest performance getting rid of a bodyguard.
“I wish appa would just give up, y’know. I’m too smart for the doofs he hires.” You said, lying your head back on Taehyung’s arm.
“You know, Y/N you really do have enemies. People would love to see nothing more than your dads little pride and joy deflowered and tortured before his very eyes.” Taehyung said, giving you a knowing glare.
“Then why’d you take me out if you’re on his side?” You said, shoving his arm away.
“I knew if i said no, you’d go out anyway and then no one who cares about you would know where you were.” He said in the most calmest voice, like it was the obvious thing to do.
“No, no, no. That’s- you’re supposed to be on my side, Tae.” You said, annoyed Taehyung was taking you to Emily’s because he didn’t trust you. It seemed like no body trusted you around here.
“I am on your side, but I’m not stupid. People really want to see you dead, Y/N.I get that your security details can get over bearing, but they’re really just looking out for you.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Save it, Taehyung. You’ve got your own motives too. You’re probably just trying to get into my pants.” You said as the car halted in front of Emily’s house. You shook Taehyung’s arm off and got out the door the driver had opened for you.
You smiled at him. ‘Thanks Ajusshi, I owe you.”
You strutted inside, ignoring Taehyung’s calls to wait up for him. Taehyung, the boy you grew up with but also the boy that was your first kiss. Taehyung, who probably put on the I’ll-take-you-to-Emily’s- act because he knew there could be something in it for him.
Kim Taehyung, son of the other oldest mafia groups- like his father, known for his sweet talk but ulterior motives.
You weren’t going to be anyones pawn. You weren’t a girl made of glass.
“You made it, thank goodness I thought we’d have to sneak up and get you out!” You found Emily, the hostess of the party. She was one of your closest friends from boarding school and her mother was a hacker. You were both introduced when you were young whilst your parents went on their business trips.
Her eccentric attitude was infectious.
“I wouldn’t miss it, this is the fifth time I’ve managed to get out without being busted. I’m a pro at this now.” You said, as you took a flute of champagne from the waiter who had just passed you.
“She won’t be a pro any longer if she keeps this up.” Taehyung said from behind, joining you and Emily now.
“T-Taehyung. I didn’t know you’d show up.” You knew that face, Emily had always had a crush on Taehyung. Recently it had gotten worse, and you hoped they’d hit it off soon. Taehyung was a hopeless puppy set on someone closer to his home though.
You sighed. You couldn’t deal with this much emotion.
“I’m gonna get something else to drink, who else wants some?” You asked, ignoring Taehyung’s warning look.
“Me!” Emily yelled as you already started turning on your heel.
The music had risen a few beats up, bodies were swaying to the rhythm as you slithered in an out. You paused every few moments to get lost in the music yourself. Ah, you felt good. You felt free.
A small part of you inside still had that delicious feeling: rebelliousness.
“Enjoying yourself there princess?” A cool voice set the hairs on the back of your neck at edge as you filled the punch in your cup mid way through.
You slowly turned towards the voice, which was closer to your body than you had thought.
“I hope you wouldn’t mind pouring me a glass.” He smiled a breathtaking smile. Soft dark hair touched the tip of his eyebrows, with warm brown eyes and a gifted face. You were cross torn between saying if he looked angelic or sinful. It was somewhere in between.
The suit he wore hinted more sin, but the smile on his face was angelic.
“I need a name first for that kind of service.” You tilted your head, a smirk on your own face as you met his eyes that were boring into yours.
“J. Just call me J.” He said, closing in on you as he put his hands on both sides of the bunch table you were now back against.
Daring, you thought.
You acted unfazed, turning your back which was now right against him and poured him a glass of punch. Slowly, you turned back against him to face him with an innocent smile on your face.
“Thanks. I’m parched.” He said, backing away as you felt his member come alive against you.
Make your move Y/N, make your move you said as you pep talked yourself. You wanted him.
You really wanted him.
You watched the way he drunk the glass of refreshment in one go, veins straining out from his neck.
Who was this J, and why had you never seen him around before?
“Y/N! What’s taking you so long- oh. Hi.” Emily had come up from nowhere to you, and was stopped as her eyes rested on this ‘J’.
“Emily! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Thanks for inviting me. I hope you don’t mind I brought along Jungkook, my plus one.” A girl you had seen around threaded her arm over Jungkook, who looked at your annoyed reaction and smirked.
“Nice to meet you ladies.” He said, acting like the gentleman you knew he so wasn’t by his behaviour just a moment ago.
“No problem, I hope you both have a good time.” Emily said. This J- or Jungkook’s girlfriend excused them both and Emily turned to look at you.
“We thought you were both about to fuck, what the hell happened? What an idiot!’ She hissed, referring to this new Jungkook.You were going to also agree with Emily, you had your sights fully set on him. He looked and fitted every imaginary box you had in the back of your mind. You were pissed.
“Ugh, it’s nothing. Come on, let’s get drunk.” You said, taking her arm and pouring yourself shots of punch. You both drunk one, followed by another, and you were going to stop on your second shot but you spotted those familiar eyes burning a hole into the back of your neck. Jungkook. You didn’t even know him apart from his half angelic/sinful face and body but he was already annoying you. You proceeded with your third shot.
Taehyung had eventually joined you both, who were now tipsy from the 13th shot of sweet poison you both had practically inhaled.
“KIM TAEEEEHYUNG YOU MONSTER, HOW ARE YOU SO CUTE!” You yelled, putting your arms over Taehyung as you sloppily danced with him, shooting Jungkook a death glare since his eyes still followed yours despite his hands being tucked under his girlfriend.
“HEY, MINE YOU BITCH!” Emily said, laughing between hick ups. You pouted at her.
“I’M SORRY EM, HE’S ALL YOURS- YOU GUYS ARE GOING TO GET MARRIED AND HAVE THE MOS-” Your voice was shut up by a familiar sound you had grown up with: gunshots.
Emily screamed, whilst you and Tae looked at each other confused.
“Y/N- run!” Taehyung yelled before getting his gun out to shoot someone in front of you. You were dazzled, the gun shots started firing fast and you were caught in the midst. You hated the helpless feeling. Your leg was pulled down by Emily, who was cowering under the bar with tears streaked on her face.
“Y/N…tell me it’s not true. Please, please, please, I can’t be friends with someone whose family murder-”
“Emily!” You screamed, as a circle of blood expanded from her centre. She was shot. You looked up to see the perpetrator.
Jungkook.
Tears welled in your eyes, angry tears in an instant as you held Emily in your arms. “Em-” Your arm was yanked up by Jungkook.
“Do you know who my father is? He’ll have you fed to dogs.” You threatened in your most dire voice. Jungkook smirked.
“Come on princess, we don’t have all day.” In an instant he flipped you over his shoulders tightly, locking your legs in the process.
You bit him.
“Ouch, feisty.” He said in the midst of more gunshots.
“Keep your head down or you’ll get shot, brat!” He yelled, as you tried your best to escape him.
Who was he?
What was going on?
Emily was dead. Emily, the girl you had been friends with since you were 5, was dead in the space of a few seconds.
Jungkook killed Emily.
You bit him again.
“As much as I’m into kinky shit princess, nows not the time. Ahh, you sure don’t hold back do you?!” He said as you proceeded to vigorously bite his neck to get him to put you down.
You hated feeling so helpless.
“My father will destroy you if I don’t first- you piece of shi-” BANG!
________________________________________________________________
You opened your eyes to a familiar face: Dr. Jin.
You felt your eyelids being expanded by his fingers as your vitals were checked.
“All clear, seems like just a fall. You’ll be fine in no time.” Dr. Jin said calmly. Slowly regaining more consciousness, you tried to lift yourself up from bed.
Bed. You were home by the looks of it. You had just been smacked out cold a few minutes ago though, it didn’t make sense.
“You’ve been asleep for two days now. I’m going to leave some medication for you to take if you feel like it, but you’ll mostly be fine. Any issues, give me a call.” Dr. Jin said sweetly, his handsome face lathered in empathy.
Two Days?! You had somehow managed to be taken back to the safety of your home and out cold for two days.
You were probably a nightmare to treat. You felt bad. Dr Jin was one of those rare people you actually liked and you usually had nigh terrors in your sleep, most certainly not a pretty sight.
“Thank you. Does my father know about this?” You asked hesitantly.
“I, Y/N that’s not really my place. Please don’t try to get into any more trouble from now on though.” Dr. Jin tried to warn you.
“You know where I am if you ever need to find me. Come see me about those night terrors you’re having when you feel ready.” His warm smile was something you didn’t deserve, but basked in anyway.
“Thanks, Jin. I really appreciate it.” You said, letting out a small bit of your appreciative side.
“Anytime.” He said before leaving your room.
Just when you thought you would be able to get a bit more sleep before the realities of what had happened two days before caught up with you, Jin’s exit paved the way for your parents and their team to come in.
“Kim Taehyung and you are the most irresponsible mafia heirs I have ever seen in my entire life doing this! Explain yourself!” Mother joy, your mother was clearly distressed. You knew it by how her ever changing nails hadn’t changed from when you last saw her. They were still hot blue.
“Mother, my head hurts.” You said, trying to escape yourself from her doting wrath.
“We had Dr. Jin give us an all clear before coming in. Explain yourself, Y/N. Surely you know how you’re one of the most wanted targets in this family!” Your mother had another outburst, and small part of your felt bad. You quickly pushed it back down.
“I need to live my life normally. What I want is answers though. One of my best friends is dead, why?” You asked, now looking at your father. He was in a navy pinestripe suit with a solemn expression.
“The entire hacker family was supposed to die that night. I had put extra provisions in to make sure you didn’t end up there, but you just couldn’t listen could you?”
The reality of the situation just sunk in.
“You were going, no- wait, you were planning on killing Emily?” Your eyes doubled up into the size of saucers in surprise.
“Whilst I don’t like involving you and your mother in the business, simply yes. The hackers were swayed away from being loyal to us, the risk they posed was too great to not avoid. You know how we go on sweetheart.” Just like that, your father had explained killing like it was the most natural thing ever. It was what you had grown up with.
For the first time, you got a taste of how your family was successful all these generations.
You were ruthless.
Ruthless killers.
That didn’t explain who Jungkook- who had killed Emily was. Was he working for your father?
“Y/N, I’d like you to meet your new bodyguard.” Your fathers voice took you out of your thoughts that were just starting to unravel.
The men separated into two files to reveal the sinfully angelic face that you had met two nights ago.
Jungkook.
“I think you owe your life to Jungkook, Y/N.” Your mother said, forcing you to tear your eyes away from him. They were filled on the brink of tears. He killed Emily.
“He killed Emily.” You said in a solemn voice.
“Emily was planning on killing you, don’t you get it? Y/N. Welcome to the family business. People will use you to get close to you before they do something. Loyalties change. Learn the rules of this family, it’s about time.” Your father tried to reason. Your eyes flitted back between him and your mother, who had her head down meaning she agreed.
Betrayal. Emily was planning to betray you.
It was all too heavy for your mind and heart, but you’d hide it.
“I still don’t want him as my bodyguard.” You said, casting him a glance. He shot you a cocky smirk.
“Jungkook’s one of the finest, I had to go through a lot of hoops just to get him. You will not be attempting anymore midnight excursions with the Taehyung boy, or with anyone else. You’re under house arrest. Jungkook will be with you every moment of everyday. If you by so help me God, attempt to pull one on him- not that you’ll be able to, you’ll be sent off to Seychelles.”
Seychelles, where your grandmother lived in hiding.
“Am I 12, to you? You can’t do this.” You fought back.
“As long as you’re under my protection, I will be. This is for your safety, Y/N.” Your father said sternly.
You listened to his stern words, but didn’t accept anything he had said. You were still going to live your life, you had managed to get through 3 body guards in the past month alone by confusing them, making them quit or locking them in cupboards with spiked drinks. Jungkook wouldn’t know what hit him.
“Don’t think of pulling anything.” He warned again.
You smiled sweetly. “Of course not, appa. I’ve learnt my lesson.” You lied, but your father believed you since you were his only daughter and pride.
You saw Jungkook lowly chuckle out of the corner of your eyes.
“Good. Your mother and I have a flight to catch in a couple of hours. Make sure to see us before you go.” Your mother and father kissed you gently on the forehead before leaving with their entourage.
“Don’t let her be too much of a bother.” Your father patted Jungkook’s shoulder as he left.
“I enjoy challenges sir, it won’t be too much of a hassle I’m sure.” Jungkook beamed a breathaking smile at your father back. You could tell your father loved him already, he barely ever smiled at his men.
The room was empty, apart from you and Jungkook your new body guard.
You stared at him, dressed in a black fitting sweater and caramel trousers. Who the hell glows dressed like that? Jungkook did clearly.
“Hi Princess.” He smiled that same cocky smile you had seen those nights ago.
“Stay out of my room, Jungkook. All the other bodyguards had the decency to do that.” You scowled.
“I’m not like the others, princess. Room’s airy, no?” He then sauntered over to your window to shut it.
“I’ll be keeping this from now on too.” He- he’d managed to find your secret pick lock for the windows under your desk too.
That was your only means of escape.
“Are you serious?!” You yelled.
Jungkook simply smiled at you back. “I know every fucking trick there is to know in the book, princess. Try and get past me. I dare you.” He challenged.
“You won’t last long.” You said back.
“I do love challenges. Especially from princesses like yourself. You can’t run to daddy now, not when he knows your always trying to get out.” Jungkook zoned in on you, closer to your bed. Your heart rate accelerated, but you pushed it back down.
“Go to hell.” Those were your last words before you decided to fling the covers off yourself and walk to your bathroom.
You heard Jungkook’s footsteps.
“Are you going to watch me pee too?” You challenged, ready to throw a punch.
“Call me if you’re showering, then we’ll talk.” He winked, before backing away.
Cocky bastard, you thought.
Beautiful cocky bastard.
Luckily you had clothes to change into in your bathroom to save yourself from embarrassment. Dressed in a white tee and jeans, you came out with wet hair to see Jungkook reading a book from your shelf.
“You know, I never took you for the sappy romance kind of girl. Really?” He showed you the cover of Wuthering Heights, where you had left your bookmark in.
“So much angst, that can’t be healthy you know.”
“I never took you for the read a book kind of guy.” You shot back as you grabbed a fresh towel from your drawer and started to towel dry your hair.
“I majored in Math, but I had a minor in English in college. Don’t let the looks fool you, princess.”
“Maybe you can help me with my math homework.” You said absentmindedly.
“I could help you with a lot of things.” He zoned in on you from behind, which made you stop drying your hair midway.
It reminded you all too clearly of that night meeting him, where you were set on fu-
Your phone rang.
It gave you an excuse to leave his trap, so you dashed over to your bedside table.
Taehyung.
“Taehyung, are you okay?!” You yelled down the phone.
“I’m fine, I got out there pretty safe actually. My father had some of our men there, I had no clue. “ You didn’t believe that for one second, Taehyung always knew.
A small part of your heart warmed at the thought though, even without Jungkook- you wouldn’t be dead. Taehyung would have your back.
You realised you should really apologise for lashing out on him like you did in the car on the way to the party.
“My place, we’ll have brunch on the porch and talk this over.” Taehyung proposed.
“I can’t.” You said looking back over to where Jungkook was standing a couple of feet away from you. He now had a solemn expression, analysing your movements over the phone.
“I have a new bodyguard. I don’t think I can stuff him in a cupboard just yet.” You said, a little louder so Jungkook could hear what you were capable of.
“I’ll come over to you then.”
“Great, I’ll make us some brunch.” You said, before saying your goodbyes and putting the phone down.
“Does daddy know you have a boyfriend?” Jungkook asked, following you out of your room as you descended down the spiralled stairs to the kitchen.
You ignored him all the way there.
“Let’s keep our personal lives secret.” You winked back at him, and Jungkook rolled his eyes.
“Ma’am. Would you like me to make you anything?” Sylvia, your elderly cook was in the kitchen.
“No thank you. Taehyung’s coming over, so I’d like to make us something. You’re excused for now.” You said sweetly.
Sylvia excused herself and you got to work taking out all the ingredients you’d need from the fridge. You ignored Jungkook, who was now sat on one of the kitchen stools following your every move.
“Does appa think I’ll burn the kitchen too, now?” You asked haughtily, as you saw Jungkook glare at you from the corner of your eyes as you whipped up the pancake mix you were making.
Jungkook cast his eyes away from you momentarily.
There was a silence between you both as you worked, which you welcomed. You could still feel his eyes watching your every move, but you didn’t care. You loved cooking, and the kitchen downstairs was where you were most comfortable. You didn’t have too much control over your life, but you did have control here.
It was your space.
You had managed to whip up some stacks of pancake, a bowl of fruit salad and freshly squeezed orange juice in no time at all. It felt rude to not offer Jungkook any, and you figured he’d be hungry too. The look in his eyes gave it away.
“Here. Eat.” You said to Jungkook as you made him a plate.
“Wow, she has manners.” He said as he took the plate from you.
You didn’t know why, but you were particularly looking forward to his expression once he tasted what you had made. He had on a poker face, but it slipped momentarily when he had his first bite.
It was…cute.
“What are you smiling for?” He asked as he looked up at you, face full of pancake like a bunny.
“Nothing.” You said, breaking away from his gaze.
“I brought us some- Y/N get down!” Taehyung’s voice filled the hollow kitchen, and you were grabbed by Jungkook in a split second as he pushed you behind him.
Taehyung had his gun pointed to Jungkook, and Jungkook had his gun pointed to Taehyung.
Thee testosterone in the room was overwhelming.
“Tae, it’s okay! Emily’s family were trying to kill me, he saved me.” You said from behind Jungkook’s protection.
“Why is he here then?” Taehyung wasn’t dropping his gun.
“Appa thinks he’ll make a great new bodyguard.” You said sarcastically.
“Drop the gun, kid.” Jungkook warned in his most deadliest voice.
Taehyung chuckled lowly before putting his gun back inside.
Jungkook did so too, and you broke free from his grasp.
“Tae.” You said looking at him as you made your way over to him, walking into his open arms.
“I was going to get you out, you know that right?” He said into your ear.
Jungkook heard and scoffed at your moment with Taehyung.
“I know you were, thank you. Let’s eat.” You said as you pulled Taehyung by the hand over to the kitchen island to sit where you passed him a plate of pancakes.
“Mmmmm…these are good, right bodyguard?” Taehyung said after his first bite, gesturing to Jungkook who was still on his plate.
He looked like a bunny caught in red lights, a stark difference from the usual stern and cocky attitude.
Jungkook mumbled what sounded like an agreement before going back to eating.
“Why’d you think Emily’s family changed loyalties?” You asked Taehyung, breaking him out of his brief interaction with Jungkook.
“Well, you know what’s common in our world. Money, sex, power. It was one of those three.” Taehyung stated, listing the reasons on his fingers.
“My bets power. The hackers always wanted a bit more respect from your household and it was obvious for them to get to you to spite your father.” Taehyung reasoned.
“You seem to know a lot about their motives.” Jungkook intervened, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Taehyung as he sat back.
You watched Taehyung’s reaction carefully. “It’s one of the most plausible. Power sells better than only sex in our world. Look at Y/N here, she’ll probably be wed off to the son of some powerful heir to cement alliances. It’s how we work. Have been for centuries.” Taehyung said not breaking Jungkook’s gaze.
It was uncharacteristic of him. Taehyung was everything you would never expect to be in the mafia world. He was sweet, fun and lighthearted.
It was like Taehyung’s father was talking.
“Tae, you don’t need to be so direct.” You chuckled.
“It’s true Y/N, you’re going to have to accept it someday or another soon.” Taehyung momentarily flicked his eyes back to you.
Tears welled up in your eyes, but you pushed them back down like you pushed any sort of feeling you had.
Always pushing things back down.
“I want to get drunk.” You said, you didn’t care if it was only midday. You wanted to numb the thought of your future wed off to some mafia heir, probably miles older than you, the older the more powerful usually.
“I have to meet my father later to discuss some things. I can’t see you all the time Y/N, it’s what I came here to say. I’m going to be accompanying him on a few trips.” Taehyung said, ignoring your proposal to do something.
“But-Tae-” You tried to get him to listen to you.
“It’s time we start to take on our roles Y/N. Last night was just an example of the life we’ll have to face. You’ll always have enemies, I’ll always have enemies and I’m going to be making a lot more as my father passes down his mantle to me.” This was uncharacteristic of the sweet Taehyung you knew.
It was like he was trying to put on an act for himself.
“Take care of her.” Taehyung said, after kissing you on the forehead looking to Jungkook.
Jungkook scoffed. Both of their eyes met they narrowed their eyes at each other.
“With my life. I’m her protector after all.”
“You know to call me if you need anything Y/N.” Taehyung said, unable to tear his eyes away from staring down Jungkook.
You scoffed. I want my friend back, you thought.
Jungkook broke his gaze out of respect, realising he was staring down a mafia heir which in your world- his position did not allow. Taehyung tore his gaze away and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
A few tears escaped your eyes.
Jungkook was staring at you, a sigh escaped his lips. He took the plates on the kitchen island and took them over to the sink, turning the tap on.
“Where do you keep your washing up stuff?”
You wiped the tears from your eyes.
“Left drawer.” You replied, surprised by how croaky your voice had been after a few tears.
You decided to help him, as you both worked in silent union as Jungkook washed and you dried the plates.
The weirdest thing was it was oddly comforting, normal.
You never had normal.
Not when you grew up with seeing men in suits with bloodstains on them casually coming into the kitchen for a bite to eat, guns laying around in odd bits of the house and deadly eyes following your every move. Your father tried to avoid business and the home, but they were far too connected for him to realise.
“What are you smiling at?” Jungkook asked, a small smile on his lips.
“Nothing.” You said.
“Thank you.” You mumbled.
Jungkook washed his hands and turned the tap off. He turned on his back and leaned against the sink.
“I, I couldn’t hear that. Did you just say thank you?” Jungkook mocked.
You rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips.
“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You said clearly.
Jungkook winked, and you hoped the blush that followed your cheeks wasn’t visible.
“What are you going to do with the rest of your day?” Jungkook asked, turning to tilt his head to you.
“Wanna get drunk with me?” You asked, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to ask. You could even drug him up in the process and sneak out.
“Nice try, princess.” He scoffed.
You sighed. You were alone with an insanely hot guy who- in all other circumstances, if he wasn’t your bodyguard, would be upstairs in your room right now. You started biting your lip at the thought.
“You’re thinking about it, right? I know you are.” Jungkook leaned forwards towards you.
“I’m thinking about what I’d do to you if we weren’t so rudely interrupted those nights ago.” Jungkook said in your ear, his voice was cool like those nights ago. He closed in on you, trapping you with his arms resting on both sides of the counter.
“Too bad you’ll never find out princess.” He said as his lips ghosted over yours.
With that, all traces of contact were ripped away as Jungkook moved away.
“You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?” You said, more of a statement than a question.
“That blush is riveting.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to mask how upset you were from Jungkook’s reluctance to make a move.
Eventually you announced that you were going to go down to the library to read, and Jungkook followed suit. It was hard to concentrate knowing he was there, in all his scowling, cocky glory. You were surprised your father had even allowed him to be near you like this, he clearly thought you had no interest in men. That, or Jungkook had charmed him.
He was charming.
“Who are you?” You asked, realising you knew nothing about your new bodyguard.
You usually never knew anything about your body guard, but Jungkook was different.
You nearly fucked him at a party.
He glanced up at you from the book he was reading sat across you on a leather chair.
“Did you get memory loss too from your fall?” He asked.
“No, don’t avoid my question. Who are you, where are you from, why did my father hire you?” You asked.
Jungkook sighed.
“I’m Jeon Jungkook, my uncle knows your father and recommended me. I’m working my way up the ranks and he hired me because I’m fucking badass.” He said, but you didn’t buy it. In the short time you knew him you figured Jungkook wasn’t the type to work his way up the ranks- he had to be at the top.
You’d figure the truth out, but you let it slide for now.
You were about to dig in for some more answers to other things, but Jungkook’s phone rang a couple of times.
“Answer it.” You said.
“It’s family. Stay put here, okay?” Jungkook sent a warning glance your way.
You rolled your eyes and nodded.
Jungkook POV:
“This isn’t a good time.” Jungkook said, looking to make sure the coast was clear as he picked up to answer.
“Haven’t you killed her yet?” The voice on the phone asked.
“You think I can just snap her neck on the first day of the job?” Jungkook hissed.
“Do it soon. The sooner the better, her father will be putty in our hands when his little girl is dripping in blo–” Jungkook cut him off.
“Give me more time. I need her to open up to me.” He said.
“Just do your job Jungkook.” The voice hung up.
Jungkook nearly threw his phone across the room outside the library, but clutched it like a stress ball instead.
He was already supposed to have snapped the girls neck in two by now. He had no reason not to, they were in the perfect situation. A secluded house, a naive girl and the friend who had decided to leave her.
He was going to do it in the kitchen, he planned to get it over and done with after her friend left.
Then she cried.
He couldn’t fucking kill her when she was crying, could he? He wasn’t that heartless, was he?
He was Jeon Jungkook, heartless was supposed to be his middle name.
He had a knife in his backpocket, ready and ripe to go. He was so ready to just stick the weapon in her neck but she just had to look at him with doe eyes.
Why did she have to smile at him like that? She wasn’t anything special. When he first took on the case, he figured it would be easy as cake. Difficult to kill the daughter of one of the most feared men alive, but he had no sympathy for the girl before she struck a cord with him. She was supposed to be a spoilt mafia princess that wanted nothing more than to do her hair and play on Daddy’s yacht.
She wasn’t supposed to be the girl that effortlessly danced around the kitchen, a victim of the mafia world thrust on expectations to marry old men and make babies, a girl with a lot of will power and might. She wasn’t supposed to be any of those things. She wasn’t supposed to be feisty.
She wasn’t supposed to be interesting.
Jungkook needed to get his head in the right place, he’d seen a billion pretty faces in his time and snapped the necks of them in an instant.
Why couldn’t he just snap hers?
He was interrupted from his thoughts by a scream that he instantly recognised as Y/N’s.
No, no no, this couldn’t happen to him now. Were his men deciding to take things in their own hands?
AN: I can’t wait to write this entire series! It’s going to be one of my main projects this summer, I’m SO excited.
#jungkook#bts reactions#jungkook fic#jungkook mafia#mafiakook#bts fanfic#taehyung#taehyungfic#bts scenarios
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Okay, so you said I was problem when I said that being being masculine was okay as long as it wasn't interpreted as an excuse to be violent and that identifying as masculine or feminine is fine. I really want to know how that is a problematic view.
If you can reword your stance to sound more reasonable I can reword it to make it sound less. I think mine is more accurate to your complaint about my post.
“It’s fine guys you can be masculine if you want…as long as it conforms to my feminine sensibilities of acceptable masculinity. Like you can be masculine but all violence is bad no matter what and don’t be mean or aggressive ever. “
This is what annoys me about these types of people. They shit all over masculinity actively discourage it then when I say fuck that, masculinity has value and more men need to strive for it they shift the goalposts to men should be able to be feminine if they want…or masculine I guess. Nobody is saying people shouldnt be allowed to do whatever they want You can choose to be stupid and not learn anything ever but don’t pretend dumbness and intelligence are equal outcomes just because it’s okay to be both. Maybe being a dullard works for you, great I’m still going to advocate intelligence and the improvement of it just like I’ll still advocate masculinity in men as a standard.
A feminine man is allowed to be feminine he’s allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants its none of my business…but I’m also allowed to think it’s an embarrassing waste of a y chromosome. If you saw a bird that’s supposed to be great at flying that can’t fly but is better at swimming than the rest of his species…but not as good at it as a fish you’d think there is something defective about it, and it would probably die without reproducing. Great you can swim but biologically youre supposed to fly, other birds need you to fly. Why is everyone so against having standards, we mustn’t let anyone feel bad for not meeting them so let’s just get rid of them and all drift to a low common denominator and all feel bad…yay. Manliness is a virtue for men and so that makes less masculine men …less valuable the truth hurts but it doesn’t stop it from being the truth. And in a world designed around competition, competition for jobs, skills and mates… by refusing to instil those values you’re not preparing boys for the future. Have you not noticed the complete breakdown of the dating world, the sharp decline in marriages and dissolving of the family unit…all things that are the greatest predictors for longer happier lives and help prevent things like crime, mental illness and poverty more than any other studied factor. This is a huge problem for men and for women and is more than just what toys kids play with.
Also people don’t choose to be the way they are, nobody was born and thought you know what I’d like to buck social trends and fulfill a role not typically suited to my gender. No it happens slowly it happens when everytime they act like little boys you punish them. It happens when you train them with feminine values admonish them for their masculine behaviours and condition it out of them. It happens when you raise them the same as little girls and tell them stupid things like violence is never the answer…fuck you sometimes it is. Before they grow up into fully formed human beings with their own thoughts and ideas. They wont figure out they’ve been cheated until they’re 40 and realize…shit why does nobody want a nice sensitive feminine man? Then you’re too old to change, too old to reverse years of being trained for roles they don’t really want. Same goes for women.
And for the record no there is no cookie cutter for masculinity it does have varying forms. You don’t need to be a lumberjack or a football player to be masculine. That’s the physical side of masculinity but there’s also the mental side. Engineers, surgeons, innovators, great thinkers, writers and philosophers. But all of it’s forms are in decline. Where once men thought for themselves and wrote insightful thought provoking literature today they write clickbait about Trump being racist or 13 ways to queer your feminism. Where once men stood in front of speeding pucks without a mask on and scored goals with broken legs and solved their differences with their fists, now we have to make a federal case out of it whenever they bump their head, and make celebrating and shit talk against the rules…who ever heard of competitions being competitive or entertainment being entertaining.
It’s all bullshit and people like you are what causes it. I’m sure I may as well be speaking another language to you right now which is exactly why women shouldn’t be arbiters of what’s acceptable for men.
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This is just a copy and paste of a ask I asked that got deleted. I'm going to write a little about it in a moment.
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