Tight Jeans, Loose Morals

@loosemorals​ liked for a starter!

      ❝ cass, you missed me? ❞

  honeyed words speak in a friendly jest,    his legs dangling off the deck,   his eyes trained   on this land-bound companion. there is a bottle of cold beer in one hand, joint in another.   he merely watches her before jumping off, body crouched down, squatting on the pier. 

      ❝ did you bring fried chicken? ❞

  the  first  of  any  courteous  trade for marijuana is to offer fried chicken from his favourite   fast food restaurant, of course.    though, recently he has gained an affinity for the korean   fried chicken stores that had started to pop up. 

   her lips quirk toward a half-smile. it doesn’t crack her veneer of solid  steel. cassie    hack didn’t do house visits if there wasn’t an undead waiting to lunge at her throat    and call her a slut. perhaps by  criterion, any  high  school  would  do.  then   again    rules were meant to be broken, and golden boy lived on a fuckin’ boat. 

   rumpled   remnants   of   the brown bag that held half a chicken, deep fried in beer    batter, balls perfectly   into  her palm as it forms a makeshift handle. vlad would kill    her, should he know that she’s back  here against all the saintly decisions there are    to make. for fucks sake, she told him, they  kill  for a  living.  what’s  one  blunt? he    worries she’d spiral. she  reminds him her spiraling left her with eight toes.  a good    time never hurt  as bad. still,   cassie   reminds  herself to cut him some slack. vlad     meant well --    he  lives  on this shithole earth as  a child in a giant’s body, he  was     her better half. 

   shoving the bag into his chest, the smile twists into a wicked grin. 

   her  lips  felt  as  sweet  as  syrup, like the ones that get gummy and sticky    under the hot summers sun, against her lips. cassie knew she was nothing    more than a tired bug trapped in a honey pot. at every turn, on every curve    on her body, cassie found  herself  running  right  back  into  her.  even  if it    started  with  growing  waves of  anger and gushing blood on her knuckles,    even  if  she feels like she's had the wind knocked out of her by her fucked    up life, she somehow still ends up right there in the same hopeless spot. 

   same words. same charms. same girl.

   the feeling  she  gets  being  around  zelda was something she couldn't put    words to. it was like she was merely a sketch etched  with  graphite  a  little    too  hard  on  a piece  of paper, and an eraser came and tried to get rub out     but  left  her  as nothing more than a dark smear across the canvas. it didn’t    feel right nor like her, and she can’t figure out what is anymore. the bullies in    the  schoolyard,  the  borderline   abusive   foster  families,   and   the  snide    therapists  all  seem  to  stop  mattering   when it came down to her and her    girlfriend.

   cassie decided that ‘girlfriend’ was a weird  label  to  give  themselves.  they    hadn’t decided that they were girlfriends,  they  just  were.  and  every  word    that leaves cassie hanging, as if it were the thread that stood between safety    and falling off a cliff,  were  words  she  believes she could never be  deaf to.    zelda  was  gorgeous;   the  giggle  bubbling  out  of her served  to feed that    festering insecurity within cassie,  where  she wonders if this is the only way    to get the validation she craved, but denied lusting over. 

   air escapes her parted lips after that chaste   peck, and she's  almost  giddy    with the fact that for those short seconds of intimacy,  they  were also  short    seconds where the wave of resentment and hurt melted away. there’s defeat    in the way cassie averts her gaze, emerald eyes grazing over the purple and    blue over her human knuckles, and the perfect unbroken skin of  those  that    were crafted for her.

   she wants to be good. she wants to make her parents  proud.  she wants to    do all those things but they were ripped away from her in an instant  that no    one asked for but bigots and assholes who  can  now  do  no more damage    to her than raise the rage within her body. the heat rises again. she wants to    be good. the guilt  fighting  against her wants  her to  be  good.  she  wishes    she didnt have these feelings. she wants to be as unfeeling as the other half    of  her body. she doesnt want to  feel  anymore. her gaze flickers back up to    zelda.

   perfect porcelain skin that hid  danger  within each  crevice,  cassie  couldnt    deny that it excited her. everything was electric. young, dumb, and wrapped    around each others fingers, she decides that it isn't love that exists here. its    something wicked, wicked enough to bring  the  prideful like  them  both  to    their  knees.  it's  only  a  matter  of  who  keels  over  first.  so  cassie   asks    herself, why be good, when  the  world  is just as bad as zelda  wants her to    be? she kisses her teeth, knowing full well that she'd break them before she     breaks her pride, and  if being wicked means continuing to play this game -- 

          "what do you want, babe?”

    her body fails to listen to the commands her brain  issues  as  she stumbles     into the diner round the corner. they’d say it’s the fuckin’ broken ankle she’s     sporting like  it’s  spring’s  latest  fashion  trend,  but  cassie would say it’s a      perfectly fine, swollen foot. sometimes,  she  may  even  call  it  dehydration.     the voice behind her startles the living crap outta  her,  and  the  living these     days are way more bitey than the  media  sinking  their teeth into the league.      so she rests her weight on that ‘dehydrated’ ankle on instinct,  and in return     cassie delivers a rather unfriendly yelp.

        “oh FUCKING bitch, mother–”

    she’s definitely wincing. breaking that bitch whilst being called into action     for the whole  exploded  party  shindig  was  not how she planned for the      night to end. 

       tw: suicide, death

your stereotypical masculine side

you love hoodies. you love shorts. you love jeans. dogs are better than cats. it’s hilarious when people get hurt. shopping is torture. sad movies suck. you own a car racing game. you played with hot wheels cars as a kid. at some point in time you wanted to be a firefighter. you owned a ds, ps2, n64, or sega. you used to be obsessed with power rangers. you have watched sports on tv. gory movies are cool. you go to your dad for advice. you own like a trillion baseball caps. you used to collect hockey cards. baggy sweats are cool to wear. it’s kinda weird to have sleepovers with a bunch of people. green, black, red, blue, or silver are one of your favorite colors. you love to go crazy and not care what people think. sports are fun. you talk with food in your mouth. you sleep with your socks on at night. you have fished at least once.

your stereotypical feminine side

you love to shop. you wear eyeliner. you wear the color pink. you go to your mom to talk.you consider cheerleading a sport.  you hate wearing the color black. you like going to the mall. you like getting manicures and/or pedicures. you like wearing jewelry. you cried watching the notebook. dresses are a big part of your wardrobe. shopping is one of your favorite hobbies. you don’t like the movie star wars. you are/were in gymnastics. it takes you around one hour to shower, get dressed, and make-up. you smile a lot more than you should. you have more than 10 pairs of shoes. you care about what you look like. you like wearing dresses when you can. you like wearing high heel shoes. you used to play with dolls as little kid. you like putting make-up on others. you like being the star of everything.

appearance

i am shorter than 5′5″. i have many scars. i tan easily.  i wish my hair was a different color. i have friends who have never seen my natural hair color. i have a tattoo.  i am self-conscious about my appearance. i’ve had/have braces. i’ve been told i’m attractive by a complete stranger. i have more than two piercings. i have/had piercings in places besides my ears.

experiences

i’ve gotten lost in my city. i’ve seen a shooting star. i’ve wished on a shooting star. i’ve seen a meteor shower. i’ve gone out in public in my pajamas. i’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator. i’ve kicked a guy where it hurts. i’ve been to a casino. i’ve been skydiving. i’ve gone skinny-dipping. i’ve drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour .i’ve crashed a car. i’ve been skiing. i’ve been in a musical. i’ve caught a snowflake or snow on my tongue. i’ve seen the northern lights. i’ve sat on a rooftop at night. i’ve played a prank on someone. i’ve ridden in a taxi. i’ve seen the rocky horror picture show. i’ve eaten sushi. i’ve been snowboarding.

relationships

i’m single. i’m in a relationship. i’m engaged. i’m married. it’s complicated. i miss someone right now. i’ve gotten divorced. i’ve told someone I loved them when I didn’t. i’ve told someone I didn’t love them when I did.

honesty/crime

i’ve done something I promised someone else I wouldn’t. i’ve done something i promised myself i wouldn’t. i’ve snuck out i’ve lied to my parents about where I am. i’ve cheated while playing a game. i’ve ran a red light. i’ve witnessed a crime. i’ve been in a fist fight. i’ve been arrested.

death and suicide

i’m afraid of dying. i hate funerals. i’ve seen someone/something dying. someone close to me has attempted/committed suicide. i’ve planned my own suicide before. i’ve written a eulogy for myself.

random

skye had been tossing back drinks like water, although at the moment there was only a – decent buzz flitting through her system. certainly no lightweight when it came to alcohol, that much was proven MOST nights at the neon. though she was also attempting to restrain herself more than normally, because she really didn’t want to end up a drunk mess in front of all these people. it would only further bring attention she didn’t want AT ALL. not to mention, the possibility of failing to keep her powers in check, having worked to damn hard to get all the emotions under control. and just being here was already setting her off. 

so venturing off to find a little more solitude, not that she hadn’t already been dong so for much of the event, she certainly hadn’t expected to run into someone, apparently making their escape with a bunch of FOOD. brow lifts with merely a semblance of curiosity. ❝ forget to go grocery shopping?? ❞ she deadpanned, mocha orbs flickering to the food for a moment, before her attention goes back to the other. ❝ honestly i don’t care what you’re doing — or taking rather, maybe work on your thieving tactics for next time though. ❞

  oof, preachy. she reminded cassie of her second foster mom, and how   much she would’ve liked to link her metal fist into those  pearly  whites.    through a  forced  cordial  smile,  cassie wonders if being good was all   that worth it. many liked throwing sharp comments  at  her  completely   unprovoked, when she’s  done  nothing  but  be  good; she’d then find    them crying  foul  when  her  forced  grins turn to snarls. a quiet part of    her wished that people would just fucking jump off a cliff. 

      “thanks for the advice, i’ll remember that next time.”

  she  knows  she shouldn’t. she  knows  that  her  tongue   would   love    nothing  more  than to lash out, but she shouldn’t. could she hold back   though?