Senior Trip had been… okay so far, Jonathan supposed.
((Jonathan Meyers: Trip Begin))
Wasn’t great — probably never would be great — but it was something he could slightly enjoy. Washington didn’t really interest him in general and most of the things he actually had to do weren’t until near the end of the trip but hey, having a few days where he could just do nothing were pretty welcome in his book. Allowed him time to beat a couple of games, allowed him time to practice the guitar and get a little better at some of his songs. In general just allowed him time to be alone. Friends were cool and friends were definitely something Jonathan wanted more of but Jonathan wanted a little bit of time to decompress, not have to deal with people, not have to think about all the social minutiae that Jonathan had accepted he’d never be able to understand.
And believe him, with the people Jonathan had to share beds with, time where he didn’t have to be with them was more than welcome.
He sat up on his bed, looked around at the rest of the room. Everyone else assigned to this room seemed to be taking up their space here right now. Lucas Diaz — maybe an okay guy, maybe someone he could talk with, but given his history with Jiji and the things he had apparently done during their relationship there was a whole can of worms that he really didn’t want to open — was sitting on the bed he and Jonathan shared, doing something that Jonathan couldn’t quite tell from this angle. Lucas Brady — probably actually the person Jonathan was most okay with here, despite political views that Jonathan didn’t quite agree with and despite the things he said about Nathan during the fallout of elections — was sitting on the other bed, talking about politics to Demetri Futscher, who... the less said was the better. God did he never spend a night not cringing about the point in time where they actually tried to be friends.
The saying was that with friends like these, Jonathan didn’t need enemies, but he wasn’t really sure what “enemies” would become if “friends” was replaced with “roommates.” Not like it mattered, but…
No, actually. It didn’t matter. Point of fact was that they were probably going to leave soon, so he just needed to bide his time until then. He brought out his phone. Maybe one of the many people he had text contacts with wanted to try and talk to him. Lord knew that regardless of whoever it was talking to him, they’d be better than the other three.
Room 724: The USS Dekcuc (Read it Backwards)
"The room for crazy plot shenanigans with the badass GHHS boys" — Slam, 2019 (content warning — very lewd)
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MethodicalSlacker
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It had only taken one day for Lucas to want to skedaddle right the fuck back home.
[Lucas DIaz continued from Fight!]
Of course, it had been a little bit more than a couple of days by this point. The homesickness settled in during the first few hours lying in bed next to Jonathan. He had been texting Ophelia that whole time, trying to keep himself from, shamefully, tearing up. It wasn't home he missed, but drink. Which, okay, maybe that was home, but come on. He had pregamed a lot the night before getting on the bus, which was a horrible idea but he wanted to have some fun before he left. It wasn't too much—just the two cans of beers he kept tucked behind the sodas in the minifridge he bought himself for christmas that he put in his room, his emergency stash—but it felt like a lot. Milo watched him. He offered his brother some, but he refused, as usual. One day.
He didn't get drunk, but his head still hurt when he woke up that day and got on the bus. It didn't help that he was stuck in front of two of the conservacucks, Max and some other whosit, arguing the whole fucking time. When he got to the hotel and had to fight through the crowd in front of that one kid's room, he was just about done with existing here. He just wanted his booze and his bed. He was hoping Brady brought some, but he hadn't asked yet. The other Lucas had been staring daggers in his direction for the duration of the trip, and he wondered why. Was it the Facebook thing? Diaz hadn't seen many of the screen-caps. He had been drinking heavily that night, and most of it was gone from memory. Water under the bridge, right?
The rest of the trip up to this point, he went on some group tours with some people and took notes for his "Fear and Loathing," which he was reviewing now. And, god, there was no more fear and loathing anywhere else than in this room right now. Fear of a fight breaking out, and mutual loathing of all parties. He had been cordial with Brady and Demetri, but holy shit if they weren't annoying. They hadn't said anything fashy enough to warrant a punch to the face, but he was listening. Sharing the room with another Lucas was statistically improbably but fuck that. "God" decided it should happen. RNGesus. Jonathan was alright, but frigid.
So to his books he turned, his books and his notepad. And Oph. He could count on her for some text-based company, even if it wasn't, y'know, the kind of company he had wanted.
[Lucas DIaz continued from Fight!]
Of course, it had been a little bit more than a couple of days by this point. The homesickness settled in during the first few hours lying in bed next to Jonathan. He had been texting Ophelia that whole time, trying to keep himself from, shamefully, tearing up. It wasn't home he missed, but drink. Which, okay, maybe that was home, but come on. He had pregamed a lot the night before getting on the bus, which was a horrible idea but he wanted to have some fun before he left. It wasn't too much—just the two cans of beers he kept tucked behind the sodas in the minifridge he bought himself for christmas that he put in his room, his emergency stash—but it felt like a lot. Milo watched him. He offered his brother some, but he refused, as usual. One day.
He didn't get drunk, but his head still hurt when he woke up that day and got on the bus. It didn't help that he was stuck in front of two of the conservacucks, Max and some other whosit, arguing the whole fucking time. When he got to the hotel and had to fight through the crowd in front of that one kid's room, he was just about done with existing here. He just wanted his booze and his bed. He was hoping Brady brought some, but he hadn't asked yet. The other Lucas had been staring daggers in his direction for the duration of the trip, and he wondered why. Was it the Facebook thing? Diaz hadn't seen many of the screen-caps. He had been drinking heavily that night, and most of it was gone from memory. Water under the bridge, right?
The rest of the trip up to this point, he went on some group tours with some people and took notes for his "Fear and Loathing," which he was reviewing now. And, god, there was no more fear and loathing anywhere else than in this room right now. Fear of a fight breaking out, and mutual loathing of all parties. He had been cordial with Brady and Demetri, but holy shit if they weren't annoying. They hadn't said anything fashy enough to warrant a punch to the face, but he was listening. Sharing the room with another Lucas was statistically improbably but fuck that. "God" decided it should happen. RNGesus. Jonathan was alright, but frigid.
So to his books he turned, his books and his notepad. And Oph. He could count on her for some text-based company, even if it wasn't, y'know, the kind of company he had wanted.
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"I mean, just think about it. Forcing a shutdown would be super alpha, right? Dems are the ones who are like, 'oh, damn, we need government to decide what direction brown people wipe with their toilet paper', onus is on them to bloat government spending and shit." Demetri shrugged. "My take on it, anyways."
Demetri had sat himself lap casually draped over the one chair in the room and legs folded around the chair's back. The room was a bit small for four dick-wielders, wasn't it? At least, he thought so, and he'd been the first to volunteer to sleep on the floor when they'd first posted up in their man cave called 724. A little back pain was worth avoiding an overly warm bed... but like, eh. He'd been through worse before, that one time Varsity had gone to Nashville for an Away game. Nothing wrong with a little bro-ing out, but like, it would have been nice if any of the other losers in the room could have been assed to be interesting. Pretty much all of Demetri's jokes fell flat, and he was putting up all his best tales of mischief and inceldom.
Like Garren told him, you had to open with the humor before you got to the mind-blowing, life-changing, crying at the altar type stuff about MGTOW.
But the room was dead. Diaz had turned out to be even more benchwarmer than Demetri had given him the benefit of a doubt on- precucked by some chick, texting home. All the being whipped aside, it was a damn waste of money. Disrespectful to his parents. Meyer was Meyer, that one kid who'd turned from an antisocial loser to a libcuck trying to curry favor by selling out. He'd been, like, okay for a bit, a decent guitarist and shit. If Demetri had brought the Yamaha and if he hadn't been conditioned to assume that Meyer would spit some SJW shit whenever Demetri even glanced his way nowadays he might have been inclined to jam out a bit when Meyer had been busy power chording over in one corner.
Brady was okay. Pretty informed, actually. Kind of like Max but way more embarrassing, but that was all cool. Demetri was considering inviting this Lucas along to the White House tour at least, he'd earned that much. Not like the goons led by Miss Mackenzie could get any less cool with one extra spaghetti mouthbreather along for the ride.
"Did you bring any of your decks, by the way? That chick in charge of the club lent me some cards to experiment with, and I've been like, trying out building a mono-white. You'll probably floor me but it's still better to test this shit live." Demetri cracked his neck a bit, smirked.
"We have a few days of downtime anyways. Whatever you have planned for going out on the town- you heard Faith and Max and Abel and the rest of us are hitting up the White House? Official tour and shit."
Demetri had sat himself lap casually draped over the one chair in the room and legs folded around the chair's back. The room was a bit small for four dick-wielders, wasn't it? At least, he thought so, and he'd been the first to volunteer to sleep on the floor when they'd first posted up in their man cave called 724. A little back pain was worth avoiding an overly warm bed... but like, eh. He'd been through worse before, that one time Varsity had gone to Nashville for an Away game. Nothing wrong with a little bro-ing out, but like, it would have been nice if any of the other losers in the room could have been assed to be interesting. Pretty much all of Demetri's jokes fell flat, and he was putting up all his best tales of mischief and inceldom.
Like Garren told him, you had to open with the humor before you got to the mind-blowing, life-changing, crying at the altar type stuff about MGTOW.
But the room was dead. Diaz had turned out to be even more benchwarmer than Demetri had given him the benefit of a doubt on- precucked by some chick, texting home. All the being whipped aside, it was a damn waste of money. Disrespectful to his parents. Meyer was Meyer, that one kid who'd turned from an antisocial loser to a libcuck trying to curry favor by selling out. He'd been, like, okay for a bit, a decent guitarist and shit. If Demetri had brought the Yamaha and if he hadn't been conditioned to assume that Meyer would spit some SJW shit whenever Demetri even glanced his way nowadays he might have been inclined to jam out a bit when Meyer had been busy power chording over in one corner.
Brady was okay. Pretty informed, actually. Kind of like Max but way more embarrassing, but that was all cool. Demetri was considering inviting this Lucas along to the White House tour at least, he'd earned that much. Not like the goons led by Miss Mackenzie could get any less cool with one extra spaghetti mouthbreather along for the ride.
"Did you bring any of your decks, by the way? That chick in charge of the club lent me some cards to experiment with, and I've been like, trying out building a mono-white. You'll probably floor me but it's still better to test this shit live." Demetri cracked his neck a bit, smirked.
"We have a few days of downtime anyways. Whatever you have planned for going out on the town- you heard Faith and Max and Abel and the rest of us are hitting up the White House? Official tour and shit."
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
“I know about the White House tour. Faith and I are good friends.”
Lucas Brady had moved to root through his bag and pull out his MTG deck. While he obviously needed to look at what he was doing, it gave him a good excuse to not make eye contact with Demetri, temporary as it might’ve been. Which was fantastic, because holy shit was Lucas realising just how unpleasant a person Demetri was. He continued avoiding acknowledging who he’d gotten stuck in a talk with as he shuffled the cards, not even bothering to check if Demetri was moving to get out his own.
“And of course I’m going. I wouldn’t come all the way to D.C. and not see the White House. So yeah, I guess we’ll both be there. You might not want to say things like that about minorities there though, you’ll probably get kicked out.” Really, he might not have wanted to say those things anywhere. Not anywhere Lucas had to listen to that kind of unpleasant cliché opinionated view that made his side look like a bunch of clan members, at the very least.
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the other two in the room who had sunk into their phones. Jonathan, whom Lucas had nothing in common with, had been considerate enough to bring his guitar, because that’s just what Lucas had wished he’d have to listen to in his room when he’d signed up for his trip. Lucas Diaz, on the other hand, was an absolute prick. How he'd managed to wind up with one of the shitheads on Facebook was anyone's guess, but given his luck it wasn't exactly that far fetched. Rather than check if Diaz had half a brain cell and could remember that, he had opted to just ignore him and not say anything unless prompted. For all he knew, Diaz pulled that shit regularly enough that he wouldn't even register it.
He drew seven cards from his pile, still not really paying attention what Demetri was doing, as he furrowed his brow. It wasn't anything to do with drawing a bad hand, but rather his realising that he actually really hated sharing a living space. It was just a peachy thing to learn with the thought of college and a room-mate on the horizon.
Still, the thought of college pulled a very small twinge of a smile from his mouth. He’d gotten into Georgetown, his first choice, and in just two days he was going to get to see the campus first hand. Even if his room-mate did turn out to be a Demetri grade idiot, he would still be at one of the best schools in the country studying his favourite thing. How could he be anything but hyped about that?
“Anyway, you can’t force a shutdown just to prove you’re an ‘alpha’. Do you realise how many people have to go without pay when that happens? Just because Canon knows how to make a point doesn’t mean that you can bully your way into getting a working system. There’s more to keeping the USA running than trying to prove you have a bigger dick than the other side.”
Lucas Brady had moved to root through his bag and pull out his MTG deck. While he obviously needed to look at what he was doing, it gave him a good excuse to not make eye contact with Demetri, temporary as it might’ve been. Which was fantastic, because holy shit was Lucas realising just how unpleasant a person Demetri was. He continued avoiding acknowledging who he’d gotten stuck in a talk with as he shuffled the cards, not even bothering to check if Demetri was moving to get out his own.
“And of course I’m going. I wouldn’t come all the way to D.C. and not see the White House. So yeah, I guess we’ll both be there. You might not want to say things like that about minorities there though, you’ll probably get kicked out.” Really, he might not have wanted to say those things anywhere. Not anywhere Lucas had to listen to that kind of unpleasant cliché opinionated view that made his side look like a bunch of clan members, at the very least.
He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the other two in the room who had sunk into their phones. Jonathan, whom Lucas had nothing in common with, had been considerate enough to bring his guitar, because that’s just what Lucas had wished he’d have to listen to in his room when he’d signed up for his trip. Lucas Diaz, on the other hand, was an absolute prick. How he'd managed to wind up with one of the shitheads on Facebook was anyone's guess, but given his luck it wasn't exactly that far fetched. Rather than check if Diaz had half a brain cell and could remember that, he had opted to just ignore him and not say anything unless prompted. For all he knew, Diaz pulled that shit regularly enough that he wouldn't even register it.
He drew seven cards from his pile, still not really paying attention what Demetri was doing, as he furrowed his brow. It wasn't anything to do with drawing a bad hand, but rather his realising that he actually really hated sharing a living space. It was just a peachy thing to learn with the thought of college and a room-mate on the horizon.
Still, the thought of college pulled a very small twinge of a smile from his mouth. He’d gotten into Georgetown, his first choice, and in just two days he was going to get to see the campus first hand. Even if his room-mate did turn out to be a Demetri grade idiot, he would still be at one of the best schools in the country studying his favourite thing. How could he be anything but hyped about that?
“Anyway, you can’t force a shutdown just to prove you’re an ‘alpha’. Do you realise how many people have to go without pay when that happens? Just because Canon knows how to make a point doesn’t mean that you can bully your way into getting a working system. There’s more to keeping the USA running than trying to prove you have a bigger dick than the other side.”
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Yugikun
- Posts: 950
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- Location: in a place where this joke is funny
- Contact:
Gyu-ri Christensen
Additionally, because I only want to bother you for photos of Washington D.C so much I should provide at least some token update of my own.
I've started to listen to Green Day as you recommended. Starting from their third album.
I listened to the first track Burnout about eight times on repeat- just to reiterate that, because I know you think me focusing obsessively on things is at least modestly cute.
Whatever points I can score in my favor, right? This is the part where I have to hope aloud I'm doing things right. That's on your mercy.
May my appealing to your ego have some impact! I have only ever appreciated your candidness. It looks good on you.
Gyu-ri Christensen
So, going through the song I find that the singers voice is generally whiny in a captivating way- he has a particular cadence to his drawl that seems almost pubescent.
The repetitiveness of the hook is endearing, it's a good hook that I can also easily strum along to by ear. I'll send you a recording if you ask, though I think my voice won't quite match his in terms of delivery. I'll sound daftly soft for a song of this punkish flavor.
The drum fill at 1:22 was chaotic for my tastes, but the contrast was at least welcome.
And lyrically I suppose I can relate, though the actual songwriting is somewhat crass.
But I am interested- somehow I believe this song captures some sliver of the zeitgeist of the modern disaffected teenager. You, at least, make it sound better.
He kept going in and out of the screen where Gyu-ri had texted him, reading her day’s worth of text one message at a time before going back out again, waiting with nervous excitement each time before going back in, repeating the whole process again. This was basically how it had been since prom, since he and Gyu-ri… somehow, in an act of divine comedy, got with one another. He’d go through his day, do whatever he needed to do and every time he then opted to turn on his phone there’d be a sea of things Gyu-ri had said for him, ready for him to go through and respond to. Admittedly Jonathan wasn’t really sure whether he was kinda getting this boyfriend thing right because ahahahahahahaha was this absolutely not something he’d done before. Like, he liked being in here and talking to Gyu-ri was actually sorta kinda fun but he wasn’t quite sure whether the feeling was mutual? He wasn’t sure how she really felt about his phone habits, when she sent him a ton of stuff to no initial response. It was something he’d have to ask her about..
Either way though, texting Gyu-ri was… far better than interacting with the outside world here.
His attention got brought back to the room, to the conversation Demetri and the semi-okay Lucas were having with one another. Primarily, they were talking about politics. Primarily, they were talking about some stuff that’d been happening recently in the magical and absolutely terrifying realm known as the Canon government. Demetri and the group that he was in were apparently going to visit the White House and… really Jonathan couldn’t see it as anything other than them getting confirmation bias they probably so desperately wanted. Y’know, more of the ‘Canon is the best president we’ve ever had and he’s been making America great again never mind the fact that he hasn’t actually fulfilled any of the things he’s promised never mind the fact that he had the lowest approval rating ever never mind the fact that he and his flunkies are trying their best to make America like 1930’s Germany, everything is absolutely fine and not on fire’ stuff that his party loved to tout.
At least the semi-okay Lucas was living up to what Jonathan thought he was. Like, for a Republican, Lucas was actually saying things that Jonathan agreed with. Maybe it was a bad reason to join the conversation (because it was, especially since Demetri would probably start spewing his stuff about how it was totally not Canon’s fault if he decided to shut down the government), but whatever. Not as if he really had anything else to do other than reply to Gyu-ri.
“I agree,” he said, speaking from his bed, only really looking at Lucas. “There’s, um, far more people involved in government than the politicians themselves. Shutting everything down just because the majority won’t give you your way seems… um, immature.”
And here he was, injecting himself into a conversation about politics.
God help his very soul.
Additionally, because I only want to bother you for photos of Washington D.C so much I should provide at least some token update of my own.
I've started to listen to Green Day as you recommended. Starting from their third album.
I listened to the first track Burnout about eight times on repeat- just to reiterate that, because I know you think me focusing obsessively on things is at least modestly cute.
Whatever points I can score in my favor, right? This is the part where I have to hope aloud I'm doing things right. That's on your mercy.
May my appealing to your ego have some impact! I have only ever appreciated your candidness. It looks good on you.
Gyu-ri Christensen
So, going through the song I find that the singers voice is generally whiny in a captivating way- he has a particular cadence to his drawl that seems almost pubescent.
The repetitiveness of the hook is endearing, it's a good hook that I can also easily strum along to by ear. I'll send you a recording if you ask, though I think my voice won't quite match his in terms of delivery. I'll sound daftly soft for a song of this punkish flavor.
The drum fill at 1:22 was chaotic for my tastes, but the contrast was at least welcome.
And lyrically I suppose I can relate, though the actual songwriting is somewhat crass.
But I am interested- somehow I believe this song captures some sliver of the zeitgeist of the modern disaffected teenager. You, at least, make it sound better.
He kept going in and out of the screen where Gyu-ri had texted him, reading her day’s worth of text one message at a time before going back out again, waiting with nervous excitement each time before going back in, repeating the whole process again. This was basically how it had been since prom, since he and Gyu-ri… somehow, in an act of divine comedy, got with one another. He’d go through his day, do whatever he needed to do and every time he then opted to turn on his phone there’d be a sea of things Gyu-ri had said for him, ready for him to go through and respond to. Admittedly Jonathan wasn’t really sure whether he was kinda getting this boyfriend thing right because ahahahahahahaha was this absolutely not something he’d done before. Like, he liked being in here and talking to Gyu-ri was actually sorta kinda fun but he wasn’t quite sure whether the feeling was mutual? He wasn’t sure how she really felt about his phone habits, when she sent him a ton of stuff to no initial response. It was something he’d have to ask her about..
Either way though, texting Gyu-ri was… far better than interacting with the outside world here.
His attention got brought back to the room, to the conversation Demetri and the semi-okay Lucas were having with one another. Primarily, they were talking about politics. Primarily, they were talking about some stuff that’d been happening recently in the magical and absolutely terrifying realm known as the Canon government. Demetri and the group that he was in were apparently going to visit the White House and… really Jonathan couldn’t see it as anything other than them getting confirmation bias they probably so desperately wanted. Y’know, more of the ‘Canon is the best president we’ve ever had and he’s been making America great again never mind the fact that he hasn’t actually fulfilled any of the things he’s promised never mind the fact that he had the lowest approval rating ever never mind the fact that he and his flunkies are trying their best to make America like 1930’s Germany, everything is absolutely fine and not on fire’ stuff that his party loved to tout.
At least the semi-okay Lucas was living up to what Jonathan thought he was. Like, for a Republican, Lucas was actually saying things that Jonathan agreed with. Maybe it was a bad reason to join the conversation (because it was, especially since Demetri would probably start spewing his stuff about how it was totally not Canon’s fault if he decided to shut down the government), but whatever. Not as if he really had anything else to do other than reply to Gyu-ri.
“I agree,” he said, speaking from his bed, only really looking at Lucas. “There’s, um, far more people involved in government than the politicians themselves. Shutting everything down just because the majority won’t give you your way seems… um, immature.”
And here he was, injecting himself into a conversation about politics.
God help his very soul.
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MethodicalSlacker
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Brown people? Lucas thought, the fuck, dude?
It almost came out of his mouth, too. Almost. He knew it would be tantamount to suicide, with Demetri here. The worst that could happen would be that he'd get some stares and maybe an insult and maybe a bit of a tiff, which would suck, but, fuck, of all the people that could actually make him feel sad, Demetri was at the very bottom, and he was only on there for the reason that he'd be depressed about the state of humanity and its continual and seemingly never ending decline. Plus, it wasn't really defensible to get offended at someone stating a color. The way he said it was bad enough, but Lucas didn't expect Demetri to understand that.
Then, conversation went to the shutdown. Surprisingly, the conversation was pretty agreeable. At least, on paper it was. Lucas' feelings were a lot stronger than those espoused by Brady and Jonathan. Namely, he felt that Canon's shutdown was kind of an affront to politics, and that if things escalated then impeachment was pretty likely. All prayers, if that was something that he did on a regular basis, went to The Report.
"It's not just immature," Lucas said, closing the cover of his notepad, "it's downright childish."
He put his pencil in the spiral.
"Childish, and unpresidential."
It almost came out of his mouth, too. Almost. He knew it would be tantamount to suicide, with Demetri here. The worst that could happen would be that he'd get some stares and maybe an insult and maybe a bit of a tiff, which would suck, but, fuck, of all the people that could actually make him feel sad, Demetri was at the very bottom, and he was only on there for the reason that he'd be depressed about the state of humanity and its continual and seemingly never ending decline. Plus, it wasn't really defensible to get offended at someone stating a color. The way he said it was bad enough, but Lucas didn't expect Demetri to understand that.
Then, conversation went to the shutdown. Surprisingly, the conversation was pretty agreeable. At least, on paper it was. Lucas' feelings were a lot stronger than those espoused by Brady and Jonathan. Namely, he felt that Canon's shutdown was kind of an affront to politics, and that if things escalated then impeachment was pretty likely. All prayers, if that was something that he did on a regular basis, went to The Report.
"It's not just immature," Lucas said, closing the cover of his notepad, "it's downright childish."
He put his pencil in the spiral.
"Childish, and unpresidential."
Roblox oof, everyone had suddenly come out of the woodwork to do the in-fashion liberal media thing of shitting on one of America's sole useful presidents in living memory. Demetri had been expecting it though. Lucas B. was Facebook kid- and nothing wrong with being cringe, Demetri shared that much as a commonality, it was just that Demetri had evidence that this kid couldn't be trusted to do anything besides crack easy under pressure. Demetri had been assuming the other two would have been distracted by their being beta-ed by random chicks, but whatever.
This internet forum type shit wasn't even worth the slight discomfort of the boredom yawn.
Demetri considered his hand. Too much mana, nothing to actually put on the board. "Gonna mulligan, that alright?"
"And there's nothing wrong with proving you've got the biggest dick, y'know? Gotta negotiate from a position of strength." Demetri had never explicitly read much of or any of Art of the Deal at all, but Canon diplomacy was so common sense that Demetri needed little awareness of the foreign policy specifics to know that power projection was infinitely superior to milquetoast Conman conning. "Everyone'll get paid when all this shit is fixed. Can't toe the line when people aren't negotiating in good faith."
Demetri supposed he was out of his depth here, he wasn't entirely sure if he was using the right buzz words. But the other two cucks in the room were making it pretty clear they were involved now. Nice on the notebook, Lucas D. Couldn't have telegraphed it any more obviously if he'd melodramatically tapped his Harry Potter glasses. Demetri felt a certain pressure to keep talking.
"But you can't agree with those two, right?" Demetri didn't look at either of them, opting to keep his focal point in the argument on the person he believed was probably at least nominally on his side. Solidarity, or something like that. He didn't like arguing like this, it was just the way things worked out when you were being singled out for your own beliefs all the damn time. "If it were up to them Conman'd be busy getting our troops killed in Syria."
This internet forum type shit wasn't even worth the slight discomfort of the boredom yawn.
Demetri considered his hand. Too much mana, nothing to actually put on the board. "Gonna mulligan, that alright?"
"And there's nothing wrong with proving you've got the biggest dick, y'know? Gotta negotiate from a position of strength." Demetri had never explicitly read much of or any of Art of the Deal at all, but Canon diplomacy was so common sense that Demetri needed little awareness of the foreign policy specifics to know that power projection was infinitely superior to milquetoast Conman conning. "Everyone'll get paid when all this shit is fixed. Can't toe the line when people aren't negotiating in good faith."
Demetri supposed he was out of his depth here, he wasn't entirely sure if he was using the right buzz words. But the other two cucks in the room were making it pretty clear they were involved now. Nice on the notebook, Lucas D. Couldn't have telegraphed it any more obviously if he'd melodramatically tapped his Harry Potter glasses. Demetri felt a certain pressure to keep talking.
"But you can't agree with those two, right?" Demetri didn't look at either of them, opting to keep his focal point in the argument on the person he believed was probably at least nominally on his side. Solidarity, or something like that. He didn't like arguing like this, it was just the way things worked out when you were being singled out for your own beliefs all the damn time. "If it were up to them Conman'd be busy getting our troops killed in Syria."
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Lucas was sorely tempted to pinch the bridge of his nose in an exasperated manner. He didn’t because in recent months, unlike Demetri, he’d practiced having a conversation without looking like an utter cock. Most of the time it even worked. But he was sorely tempted.
Jonathan contributed in a supportive but entirely redundant manner, so that was a great contribution. And of course Diaz was using the chance to take a pot-shot, as was his idiotic nature. Both their additions really added value to the discussion.
Still, Lucas didn’t want to alienate the two not Demetri people in the room. Or at least he didn’t want to alienate Jonathan, guitar or no, because he was the least irritating and Lucas didn’t need to be trapped in a room all week with everyone out for his neck. If Facebook had taught him one thing in its useless existence, it’s that you had to be diplomatic every now and then, even if everyone else in the room was a fucking moron.
“Are you saying that we shouldn’t be trying to fight against dictators? Even if we have to focus on our own defence first, we’ve got the strongest military in the world.” Lucas retorted, inadvertently but indifferently ignoring the other two’s comments. “We have a duty to support weaker militaries in situations like that and combat evil. I bet most soldiers would tell you they’d gladly give their lives to defend civilians.”
Lucas placed down an island card, really not caring about the game going on and just going through the motions so that he could continue avoid looking at Demetri. “And negotiating from a position of strength doesn’t have to mean people have to go without salaries for weeks on end. You come from strength by having the more reasonable argument, and by winning the popular vote so the Democrats’ don’t have enough seats to push anything through. Bullying your way to a win may work in the short term, but you’ll alienate the moderates. At least if there’s an election coming up soon enough. Voters do tend to have short memories after all.”
“Though I’m going to guess if it was up to you, you’d just want to change the system so the moderates don’t have a chance to vote against us in the first place. Seems like the big-dick move to make.” he quipped, not really meaning to say it so audibly but not making much effort to hide it either.
Jonathan contributed in a supportive but entirely redundant manner, so that was a great contribution. And of course Diaz was using the chance to take a pot-shot, as was his idiotic nature. Both their additions really added value to the discussion.
Still, Lucas didn’t want to alienate the two not Demetri people in the room. Or at least he didn’t want to alienate Jonathan, guitar or no, because he was the least irritating and Lucas didn’t need to be trapped in a room all week with everyone out for his neck. If Facebook had taught him one thing in its useless existence, it’s that you had to be diplomatic every now and then, even if everyone else in the room was a fucking moron.
“Are you saying that we shouldn’t be trying to fight against dictators? Even if we have to focus on our own defence first, we’ve got the strongest military in the world.” Lucas retorted, inadvertently but indifferently ignoring the other two’s comments. “We have a duty to support weaker militaries in situations like that and combat evil. I bet most soldiers would tell you they’d gladly give their lives to defend civilians.”
Lucas placed down an island card, really not caring about the game going on and just going through the motions so that he could continue avoid looking at Demetri. “And negotiating from a position of strength doesn’t have to mean people have to go without salaries for weeks on end. You come from strength by having the more reasonable argument, and by winning the popular vote so the Democrats’ don’t have enough seats to push anything through. Bullying your way to a win may work in the short term, but you’ll alienate the moderates. At least if there’s an election coming up soon enough. Voters do tend to have short memories after all.”
“Though I’m going to guess if it was up to you, you’d just want to change the system so the moderates don’t have a chance to vote against us in the first place. Seems like the big-dick move to make.” he quipped, not really meaning to say it so audibly but not making much effort to hide it either.
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Yugikun
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“As opposed to people getting killed in our own country because of how they were born?”
He moved his legs, made it so that he was sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed. Let himself sigh, quietly, now that the Lucas he didn’t have any problems with started talking again. At least the conversation was essentially just Demetri being Demetri and repeating the same sort of shit he tended to see from /r/The_Canon. At least it wasn’t the sort of alt-right shit that was designed for Jonathan to be unable to make a response to. At least Demetri was the only actual person on Demetri’s side here. Wasn’t an immediate sign that this conversation was going to be pleasant, but hey, maybe this would be the best conversation about poli-
Actually, no. This was still probably going to make him want to smother himself with the hotel pillows at the end of this. He just hoped here that his death would be painless, rather than drawn out and cringey.
He gave a far more audible sigh and let his back and body fall to where it had been before. It would have been a better idea to go to the bathroom and talk to Gyu-ri. Maybe then there’d be something pleasant to talk about.
He moved his legs, made it so that he was sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed. Let himself sigh, quietly, now that the Lucas he didn’t have any problems with started talking again. At least the conversation was essentially just Demetri being Demetri and repeating the same sort of shit he tended to see from /r/The_Canon. At least it wasn’t the sort of alt-right shit that was designed for Jonathan to be unable to make a response to. At least Demetri was the only actual person on Demetri’s side here. Wasn’t an immediate sign that this conversation was going to be pleasant, but hey, maybe this would be the best conversation about poli-
Actually, no. This was still probably going to make him want to smother himself with the hotel pillows at the end of this. He just hoped here that his death would be painless, rather than drawn out and cringey.
He gave a far more audible sigh and let his back and body fall to where it had been before. It would have been a better idea to go to the bathroom and talk to Gyu-ri. Maybe then there’d be something pleasant to talk about.
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MethodicalSlacker
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There was nothing that Lucas Diaz wanted more, in this moment, than to feel like he was smart enough to say something.
Here was a room full of people who were willing to entertain, or at least engage with on some level, the kind of discourse that led to fascism and bigotry. Taking the people who espoused that kind of bullcrap seriously meant that it was now acceptable to talk about in a social context, meaning that the idea was now "valid" again, right? That was absolutely the last thing that Lucas wanted to happen, especially to the kind of trash Demetri was talking about.
The shitty thing was that Lucas just flat out didn't know enough to feel like he could talk about anything and not be ridiculed. Not that the opinion of these particular three people, and their friends, really mattered to Lucas, but the feelings of rejection and ridicule over the course of the next few days that would inevitably follow would drive him a little nuts if he wasn't super careful about camouflaging the parts of his speech that would tip the others off that he didn't think about this shit too often. He was a social justice minded person. Quite frankly, he thought that discussions of "policy" were just engaging with a hopelessly flawed system that ought to be replaced sooner than it was fixed. It was like, a shitty band-aid thing. With peeps entrenched in establishment, that shit wasn't going to fly sooner than it started to stink.
Or some other horrible, awful mixed metaphor. Lucas could think of at least four more.
He looked down at his notepad for a couple seconds while the others continued their "talk." It was really more like that painting, that one sad fucking painting of the goddamn dogs sitting around the table playing poker and looking at each other's cards. He only wanted a normal room. Normal people, for once in his life, who got him. Like, got him. Or at least weren't racists and homophobes and shit, probably. Not people who thought that slobbering all over a microphone and yelling about locking up Mexicans had "big dick energy". Was that too much to ask?
That was the one thing that he could talk shop about, though. Canon's shitheap of a personality.
"Whatever happened to 'speak softly and carry a big stick,' Demetri?" Lucas asked, "The 'biggest dick' quality to have is a sense of restraint, some of the fuckin' time, eye-em-oh."
Here was a room full of people who were willing to entertain, or at least engage with on some level, the kind of discourse that led to fascism and bigotry. Taking the people who espoused that kind of bullcrap seriously meant that it was now acceptable to talk about in a social context, meaning that the idea was now "valid" again, right? That was absolutely the last thing that Lucas wanted to happen, especially to the kind of trash Demetri was talking about.
The shitty thing was that Lucas just flat out didn't know enough to feel like he could talk about anything and not be ridiculed. Not that the opinion of these particular three people, and their friends, really mattered to Lucas, but the feelings of rejection and ridicule over the course of the next few days that would inevitably follow would drive him a little nuts if he wasn't super careful about camouflaging the parts of his speech that would tip the others off that he didn't think about this shit too often. He was a social justice minded person. Quite frankly, he thought that discussions of "policy" were just engaging with a hopelessly flawed system that ought to be replaced sooner than it was fixed. It was like, a shitty band-aid thing. With peeps entrenched in establishment, that shit wasn't going to fly sooner than it started to stink.
Or some other horrible, awful mixed metaphor. Lucas could think of at least four more.
He looked down at his notepad for a couple seconds while the others continued their "talk." It was really more like that painting, that one sad fucking painting of the goddamn dogs sitting around the table playing poker and looking at each other's cards. He only wanted a normal room. Normal people, for once in his life, who got him. Like, got him. Or at least weren't racists and homophobes and shit, probably. Not people who thought that slobbering all over a microphone and yelling about locking up Mexicans had "big dick energy". Was that too much to ask?
That was the one thing that he could talk shop about, though. Canon's shitheap of a personality.
"Whatever happened to 'speak softly and carry a big stick,' Demetri?" Lucas asked, "The 'biggest dick' quality to have is a sense of restraint, some of the fuckin' time, eye-em-oh."
By this point it was confirmed on some metaphysical, spiritual plane-type level that Demetri couldn't go two minutes without becoming the target of a liberal witch hunt. Soros bucks raining from the heavens like this was some (((strip club))).
Like, okay. If it had just been Lucas 'nothing to do with his downs' galaxy brain Demetri might have been capable of continuing the convo. It was a decent debate to be had, probably. Demetri already had some of his counterpoints- like, Lucas was already being too shrill about it like internet arguments tended to inflame themselves into. Ad hominem, like, really? It wasn't like Demetri was going to outright deny people the vote as long as they weren't, like, wall-hoppers or criminals or whatever. But Lucas just had to go there, and say that, and putting him aside there were two other dumbasses jumping into the froth just because they happened to have drunk the Conman brand kool-aid, and all of a sudden Demetri was pretty sick and tired of the entire room's worth of conversation. The cards in his hand folded into one another, and he put a bit too much pressure into the card's edges before he remembered they weren't his own.
Whatever. He totally could have continued the argument if he'd wanted, but it was like, too toxic of an environment now. No energy for a threeway gangbang like this.
"I mean, if we're just going to devolve into talking dick size we might as well just skip the rest of the pseudo-intellectual shit and whip them out, right?"
That'd end this conversation and he could bugger off and find something better to do with his time.
Like, okay. If it had just been Lucas 'nothing to do with his downs' galaxy brain Demetri might have been capable of continuing the convo. It was a decent debate to be had, probably. Demetri already had some of his counterpoints- like, Lucas was already being too shrill about it like internet arguments tended to inflame themselves into. Ad hominem, like, really? It wasn't like Demetri was going to outright deny people the vote as long as they weren't, like, wall-hoppers or criminals or whatever. But Lucas just had to go there, and say that, and putting him aside there were two other dumbasses jumping into the froth just because they happened to have drunk the Conman brand kool-aid, and all of a sudden Demetri was pretty sick and tired of the entire room's worth of conversation. The cards in his hand folded into one another, and he put a bit too much pressure into the card's edges before he remembered they weren't his own.
Whatever. He totally could have continued the argument if he'd wanted, but it was like, too toxic of an environment now. No energy for a threeway gangbang like this.
"I mean, if we're just going to devolve into talking dick size we might as well just skip the rest of the pseudo-intellectual shit and whip them out, right?"
That'd end this conversation and he could bugger off and find something better to do with his time.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
“Not unless you actually want to see my dick Demetri, which sorry, sounds a bit–“
Gay, he was about to say. Which it was. But he’d caught himself just in time to avoid giving the other three a great big repeat-Facebook button. It had been too close for comfort though, he still had to watch that. There was no doubt Demetri tossed around that word in whatever terrible manner he did so, and Lucas couldn’t see the harm in just mentioning what it was, but again, stupid social justice people etcetera.
Taking a deep breath, trying to hide his almost faux pas by making it look more irritated than anything, he ran his fingers absently across the tops of the cards without paying any attention to what was printed on them. He resumed his conversation, looking annoyed as he had become by that point, with a look that fell somewhere between staring Demetri defiantly in the eye and wanting to avoid seeing him as much as possible.
“I don’t deal with ‘pseudo-intellectual’. You want to have an intelligent conversation, try to avoid phrases like ‘brown people’. You want to see whose dick is bigger, you can ask those two. Maybe they’ll be more into it.” he nodded his head towards Diaz and Jonathan, but continued to not really acknowledge their presence much otherwise. He wasn't really in an acknowledging mood by that point.
Besides, he was pretty confident he was bigger than Demetri, who no doubt had a micro-penis. Not that that sort of thing mattered. But he was.
Gay, he was about to say. Which it was. But he’d caught himself just in time to avoid giving the other three a great big repeat-Facebook button. It had been too close for comfort though, he still had to watch that. There was no doubt Demetri tossed around that word in whatever terrible manner he did so, and Lucas couldn’t see the harm in just mentioning what it was, but again, stupid social justice people etcetera.
Taking a deep breath, trying to hide his almost faux pas by making it look more irritated than anything, he ran his fingers absently across the tops of the cards without paying any attention to what was printed on them. He resumed his conversation, looking annoyed as he had become by that point, with a look that fell somewhere between staring Demetri defiantly in the eye and wanting to avoid seeing him as much as possible.
“I don’t deal with ‘pseudo-intellectual’. You want to have an intelligent conversation, try to avoid phrases like ‘brown people’. You want to see whose dick is bigger, you can ask those two. Maybe they’ll be more into it.” he nodded his head towards Diaz and Jonathan, but continued to not really acknowledge their presence much otherwise. He wasn't really in an acknowledging mood by that point.
Besides, he was pretty confident he was bigger than Demetri, who no doubt had a micro-penis. Not that that sort of thing mattered. But he was.
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Yugikun
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And oh hey look there it was, the typical alt-right shit of not acknowledging any point your opponent had and going on pretending that what you said had been totally uncontested and that you’d won the conversation and that Jared Canon was the greatest president the U.S.A had ever had. Jonathan hadn’t actually seen that script in action until now, but all the videos he watched and all the posts he’d read on the internet made him far, far more familiar with what Demetri was doing than he really ever would have wished. Now that he had pushed the conversation to talking about things that wouldn’t happen Demetri had been made comfortable. Now that the conversation had been pushed into a different direction, it was likely to fizzle out, with Demetri convinced that he was the winner and with nothing present that could convince anyone otherwise.
And really, was Jonathan going to be content losing a battle to fucking Demetri, of all people?
No.
Not really.
And did he have a plan? A counterattack?
Well…
“Okay.”
He got up. Moved to sitting position and then to standing position. Walked around the bed, stopped roughly to the right of the non-okay Lucas. Looked at Demetri. Did his best to stare him down.
“You down, Demetri? Because I’m down if you’re down.”
The better question was: ‘will this be the absolute worst, most embarrassing thing Jonathan will do in his life?’
The answer was: yes. Yes it was. Now, more than ever, he hoped that he would never have to see any of the people in this room again.
And really, was Jonathan going to be content losing a battle to fucking Demetri, of all people?
No.
Not really.
And did he have a plan? A counterattack?
Well…
“Okay.”
He got up. Moved to sitting position and then to standing position. Walked around the bed, stopped roughly to the right of the non-okay Lucas. Looked at Demetri. Did his best to stare him down.
“You down, Demetri? Because I’m down if you’re down.”
The better question was: ‘will this be the absolute worst, most embarrassing thing Jonathan will do in his life?’
The answer was: yes. Yes it was. Now, more than ever, he hoped that he would never have to see any of the people in this room again.
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MethodicalSlacker
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Wait.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, what?
Hold on a fucking moment, what the fuck? Was Jonathan really about to fucking do what Lucas thought he was about to do? Was this happening? Right here, right now? What was this that Lucas was about to witness? Why had Demetri had to say those words, in that order, in that way? Why did they have the assurance of graduation around the corner as an excuse to never see the consequences of their actions here? What were Brady's thoughts on this? Could Lucas do anything to stop it? What the fuck actually was happening? Was this a fight? Was this literally what Demetri was saying it would be? Where did Lucas want to be right now and how far would he have to run? What was that weird fucky taste in Lucas' mouth? Why was he getting hard all of a sudden? Where was this going? Wh-
Again, wait. Back up a little. What the fuck was that last question? Second to last, actually. 'Twas taking care of the grower/shower problem on its own, but, holy fuck, stop! Lucas shifted on the bed, scooting a little ways away from Jonathan towards the head of the bed-frame, the bed-head, the whatever that was called. The spirals of the notebook tickled the underside of his thigh and dug in as Lucas planted himself more firmly down in the mattress, crossing his legs and staring wide-eyed at Jonathan and Demetri without meeting catching the sight line of either of them.
It—
—and this was something Lucas hated to be considering in the moment because it accepted what was still very much maybe going to happen maybe not going to happen as predetermined—
—wasn't like Lucas thought that he would lose. He was above average enough that if math held true, he'd probably win or at least come second in a... contest. That is, unless the other Lucas was also packing, or if Jonathan, y'know, also was. Lucas couldn't even hypothetically imagine Demetri with anything other than a micropeen, so at least losing to him was probably out of the question, but the fact that he might even have to confirm that fact with his own two eyes startled him.
The problem was, this was undesirable! It shouldn't be happening, at all!
"Let's not do this, okay?!" asked Lucas with a panicked look on his face, "I—nobody is whipping it out right now, right? Please?!"
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, what?
Hold on a fucking moment, what the fuck? Was Jonathan really about to fucking do what Lucas thought he was about to do? Was this happening? Right here, right now? What was this that Lucas was about to witness? Why had Demetri had to say those words, in that order, in that way? Why did they have the assurance of graduation around the corner as an excuse to never see the consequences of their actions here? What were Brady's thoughts on this? Could Lucas do anything to stop it? What the fuck actually was happening? Was this a fight? Was this literally what Demetri was saying it would be? Where did Lucas want to be right now and how far would he have to run? What was that weird fucky taste in Lucas' mouth? Why was he getting hard all of a sudden? Where was this going? Wh-
Again, wait. Back up a little. What the fuck was that last question? Second to last, actually. 'Twas taking care of the grower/shower problem on its own, but, holy fuck, stop! Lucas shifted on the bed, scooting a little ways away from Jonathan towards the head of the bed-frame, the bed-head, the whatever that was called. The spirals of the notebook tickled the underside of his thigh and dug in as Lucas planted himself more firmly down in the mattress, crossing his legs and staring wide-eyed at Jonathan and Demetri without meeting catching the sight line of either of them.
It—
—and this was something Lucas hated to be considering in the moment because it accepted what was still very much maybe going to happen maybe not going to happen as predetermined—
—wasn't like Lucas thought that he would lose. He was above average enough that if math held true, he'd probably win or at least come second in a... contest. That is, unless the other Lucas was also packing, or if Jonathan, y'know, also was. Lucas couldn't even hypothetically imagine Demetri with anything other than a micropeen, so at least losing to him was probably out of the question, but the fact that he might even have to confirm that fact with his own two eyes startled him.
The problem was, this was undesirable! It shouldn't be happening, at all!
"Let's not do this, okay?!" asked Lucas with a panicked look on his face, "I—nobody is whipping it out right now, right? Please?!"
"I'm pretty much all about not seeing any cocks, don't worry about that, B."
To this very moment in time 'wait until all the other dudes had left the locker room to change' was his modus operandi in life. Demetri had certainly never expected that his virginal inauguration of taking his pants off around others would be this close to being in a room with three other guys. Over-the-border Lucas was right to be getting a bit freaked out- this was rapidly getting out of control. Demetri had thrown out the obvious troll bait and someone had actually been novice enough to take it. Figures it was Jon 'robot voice engage how do I compute talking to human beings' who had taken eighteen whole years of life to learn how to string sentences together in a non-autistic manner.
That's how it went on the internet, anyways. For the uninitiated: never back down from the 'tardery. One always had to rise to the occasion, and throw themselves into the mud.
See, Jon was about to back down and Demetri was about to win all the harder now that it had escalated this far. No way the dude would have enough of a spine once Demetri finished burning up what little shame he had left. Fuel for the provocative fire.
"So," and Demetri stood up too, swinging his leg over the chair stuck between his thighs so he could take a warrior's kinda stance. "It's like, no need to inflict your dick on the rest of us, right? Kinda get you though. I figured you were an honest to goodness cuck when you hooked up with Christensen." Demetri nodded to himself, feeling the answers to all mankind's problems enlightening him, juicing up his brain. "You realize who she hangs out with, right? Langley, Myles, the Carters?" Names were ticked off of Demetri's fingers.
"You were doomed from the start, and I'm sorry you never realized it, but, like."
Demetri patted his crotch rather aggressively, glaring at his target with a shrug.
"Locking yourself up in the friendzone chastity belt, fine, but we still don't want to see it. Let's just cool off on the Harambe tributes and we can all pretend you've still got actual balls."
Well alright, the Micheal Jackson pelvis grab had probably been a bit much. The outline had been a bit too close to the palm of his hand.
To this very moment in time 'wait until all the other dudes had left the locker room to change' was his modus operandi in life. Demetri had certainly never expected that his virginal inauguration of taking his pants off around others would be this close to being in a room with three other guys. Over-the-border Lucas was right to be getting a bit freaked out- this was rapidly getting out of control. Demetri had thrown out the obvious troll bait and someone had actually been novice enough to take it. Figures it was Jon 'robot voice engage how do I compute talking to human beings' who had taken eighteen whole years of life to learn how to string sentences together in a non-autistic manner.
That's how it went on the internet, anyways. For the uninitiated: never back down from the 'tardery. One always had to rise to the occasion, and throw themselves into the mud.
See, Jon was about to back down and Demetri was about to win all the harder now that it had escalated this far. No way the dude would have enough of a spine once Demetri finished burning up what little shame he had left. Fuel for the provocative fire.
"So," and Demetri stood up too, swinging his leg over the chair stuck between his thighs so he could take a warrior's kinda stance. "It's like, no need to inflict your dick on the rest of us, right? Kinda get you though. I figured you were an honest to goodness cuck when you hooked up with Christensen." Demetri nodded to himself, feeling the answers to all mankind's problems enlightening him, juicing up his brain. "You realize who she hangs out with, right? Langley, Myles, the Carters?" Names were ticked off of Demetri's fingers.
"You were doomed from the start, and I'm sorry you never realized it, but, like."
Demetri patted his crotch rather aggressively, glaring at his target with a shrug.
"Locking yourself up in the friendzone chastity belt, fine, but we still don't want to see it. Let's just cool off on the Harambe tributes and we can all pretend you've still got actual balls."
Well alright, the Micheal Jackson pelvis grab had probably been a bit much. The outline had been a bit too close to the palm of his hand.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes: