#my inbox is now empty though so any questions would be more than welcome :D

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

How did you two get together?

The kitchen floor of the cottage was covered from end to end in newspaper. Knives of various sizes and an entire pack of sharpies sat in a bucket placed off to the side until the pumpkins Matthew and Gilbert had bought from the farmer down the road were emptied of their insides. Gilbert reached into the gigantic pumpkin clamped securely between his thighs and grabbed a handful of pumpkin guts. He pulled them out and held them in his hands, mischief glinting in his eyes and a wicked smirk on his face. Matthew, who had his own gigantic pumpkin between his legs, had no time to get the threat bubbling in his throat out before the pumpkin guts and seeds were thrown his way and landed on his chest with a wet slap. The Prussian’s celebratory cackles were cut short by returning fire coating his cheek in orange slime. 

“Hey! Not the face!”

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart, and you declared war.” Matthew said with a smirk of his own, already reaching back into his pumpkin for more ammo. 

The kitchen quickly became a battlefield of laughter and pumpkin seeds being thrown just about as hard as the belligerents could manage. Newspaper saved the floor, but the cupboards, oven, fridge and ceiling became casualties of giggle-filled, fall-coloured war. 

A momentary truce was called when pumpkin guts whipped particularly hard hit Gilbert’s phone clean off the table. The device landed on the floor with a clatter, but upon checking it to see what the damage was, Gilbert noticed a notification. 

“Hey, liebl- aw, really? In my ear?” Gilbert laughed as he schlocked the orange off the side of his face.

“We got another ask?” Matthew asked, holding the next bit of his dwindling ammo in his slimy hand, ready to throw as soon as the truce was over. 

“Ja! They’re asking how we got together! I think it’ll be nice to reminisce while I shove pumpkin guts down your pants!”

“Gilbert, don’t you dare-” Matthew cut himself off with a screech and a giggle as his lover charged at him, a cackling menace with two fistfulls of pumpkin. In an instant Matthew ran to the front door and outside so at least the rest of his house would be spared in the wake of the Great Pumpkin War. 

-    -

October, 2000

The morning sun shone bright and cheerful through the windows to the meeting hall, a stark contrast to the few nations inside who were already dreading the events to come. World meetings were always chaos, always ran stupidly late, and were an event that Matthew was almost never on time for.

Today, though, was different. He’d gotten to the hall with plenty of time to spare, thanks to his brilliant idea of bringing his most obnoxious alarm clock with him. He was so early, in fact, that there weren’t too many people there just yet. Ludwig and Gilbert hadn’t even arrived, and it was that shock of white hair that Matthew kept his eye out for while he sat in his chair and listened in on Lovino and Feliks shit-talking someone or other. 

When he finally saw Gilbert he nearly leapt out of his chair. A smile he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to played on his lips as he made a beeline towards the man. Gilbert had just completed his scan of who was here when he caught sight of the Canadian making his way over. A grin crossed his face, and as soon as Matthew was close enough he pulled him in for a hug that was exuberantly returned. 

“Hallo, Maus! I wasn’t expecting to see you for another twenty minutes, at least! Did you finally find a coffee maker that doesn’t hate you?” Gilbert teased with a smirk that only grew wider with a roll of amethyst eyes. 

“No, I’m pretty sure coffee makers as a whole have it out for me.” Matthew said. He pulled his dress shirt out of his pants just a little bit to show the nearly-dry coffee stain that was, thankfully, easy to hide. "I got here early because I have something I wanted to ask you, actually.”

A silvery brow quirked, and the smirk softened into a lopsided smile. “Ja? Well go ahead, I don’t bite. Often. Ish.”

“You and I both know that’s not true. A-anyways, I wanted to ask if we were planning on skipping out of this meeting sometime later, and if so, if, um…” Matthew trailed off as he worked up his nerve, ignoring how much his cheeks were burning as he did so. Deep breaths, deep breaths! His brain screamed at him. This is your only chance, don’t screw it up! “...If you would maybe possibly want to go to the movies with me? I-I won’t be mad if you don’t want to, or-”

A joyful laugh out of the shorter man cut the word vomit off before it could get embarrassing. Gilbert’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at the poor, flustered Canadian. “Ja, of course we’ll be leaving this stupid meeting early. Same time, same place?”

Relief crashed through Matthew and brought with it a more relaxed smile. “Mhm! I parked pretty close to the entrance, we can just hop in and go.”

“Sehr gut! It’s a date, then!” Gilbert remarked with a grin. He walked off to bother some poor unfortunate soul, leaving Matthew to stand in the same place with hearts floating around his head. 

It’s a date, then!

Oh, how right Gilbert was. 

The sun was already beginning to dip under the horizon by the time a chance for escape presented itself, at about the same time it always did. Strong personalities confined in a relatively small space together, coupled with centuries upon centuries of history, meant that every world meeting was a bomb just waiting to go off. Gilbert walked out the door as Arthur got into a screaming match with someone over some perceived slight. Matthew wasn’t far behind.

“So, I noticed something.” Gilbert started once they were in Matthew’s red pickup truck and on the road, with an eye on the driver and a growing smirk. “You have the back of this thing covered.”

Matthew tried to slow his grin by biting his lip, but it was no use. Of course Gilbert would be observant enough to notice the one time the cover was on. A chuckle out of the albino, and Matthew had to turn his head to hide the light pink dusting his cheeks. 

“Oh, I see how it is. You have something planned, don’t you, Maus? Just wanted to get me alone?”

The light pink deepened instantly to a dark flush guarded by a roll of amethyst eyes. Those eyes threw a quick glance over his shoulder as Matthew changed lanes and proceeded to not use his turn signal. “Oh, shush. Is it so hard to believe that I might want to hang out with you?” Matthew asked with a whisper of a smile. 

There was a brief space for the unspoken ‘Yes, actually, it is.’ to breathe before a chuckle loud enough to cover for it erupted from the Prussian. “Nah, ‘course not. Everyone wants to hang out with me! Frankly, you’re lucky I could fit you into my schedule.”

“And, pray tell, what else do you have in your schedule?”

“...That’s uh, that’s private business! You never ask a woman her age, and you never ask a man what his schedule is like!” 

Matthew simply rolled his eyes fondly and decided to let Gilbert have this one. 

Soon enough, Matthew pulled onto a long dirt driveway that led to a little drive-in theater tucked into the edge of a forest. He backed into a spot, turned the truck off, and was out the door before Gilbert had a chance to undo his seatbelt. While the Prussian was scrambling to catch up, Matthew took the cover off the bed of his truck and stood back with bated breath to watch the other man’s reaction. 

The bed of the truck had been covered with every plush, warm blanket that Matthew owned, all tied down so they wouldn’t move too much in transport. The back of it housed a veritable mountain of stuffed animals and pillows. Matthew watched as lovely vermillion roamed all over the spread, saw the dumb grin dancing on Gilbert’s face, and finally caught his gaze from under snow-white lashes. Their hands brushed, very intentionally it seemed, and Matthew felt like he was about to burst. As much as he would have liked to lace their fingers together, they'd left the meeting a little bit later than anticipated, leaving just enough time for last-minute adjustments before the movie started.  

“Do you want to get some snacks while I fix the pillows and find the radio?” He murmured, fingertips just barely touching Gilbert’s. From his back pocket he produced a crumpled ten dollar bill and held it out. 

“Aw, no five course meal stuffed somewhere in there?” Gilbert said with a laugh as he took the bill and walked towards the concession stand. Matthew could only chuckle and hop up into his truck. 

By the time Gilbert returned with an extra-large popcorn slathered in butter and a single large drink, Matthew had gotten the pillows and stuffed animals rearranged and changed into an oversized hoodie. Gilbert got up onto the bed of the truck with a grunt and plopped himself down beside the Canadian, leaving just enough room to put the popcorn and drink between them. The portable radio was turned on and to the right station just as the projector flickered to life. 

Recognition flashed in Gilbert’s eyes as soon as he saw the familiar sight of a husky running across the Antarctic waste. He smirked and reached in for some popcorn, hand brushing Matthew’s as the other grabbed some popcorn of his own. 

“Have you seen this movie, Maus?”

“Er… well, no. I don’t watch too many scary movies.”

Gilbert stretched his arms upward, drawing it out just a little bit for what Matthew could only assume was effect, then not-so-subtly rested his arm behind Matthew, eliciting a little roll of the eye and a smile to dwarf it. “You just tell me if you get too scared, ja?”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Matthew said with a chuckle. 

He was sure the movie was enthralling, as it had come highly recommended from Alfred for both atmosphere and practical effects. But Matthew’s attention was split between it and the man beside him. Lilac eyes stole glances whenever they could, and once or twice, he could have sworn he saw crimson do the same. It was with one of these glances that the Canadian noticed the man was shivering. The sun had set and taken all the heat in the air with it. The blankets were still tied down and weighed down by all the stuffed animals, and Gilbert's dress shirt wasn't exactly the warmest thing on the planet. A frown crossed Matthew’s cheeks as he figured out what to do about this. Hm… Well, in all the great, cheesy romance novels, the lead usually gave his jacket to his love interest, right? He didn't have a jacket, but hopefully his sweater would do. He took it off in one fluid motion and held it out to a very confused Gilbert. 

“You, um, you seem cold.” He explained with a blush.

Confusion softened into a rose-coloured grin as Gilbert took the sweater and put it on immediately. That pleased grin persisted for a moment, before a small look of concern replaced it. Matthew didn’t have time to ask what was wrong before the man scooted over and planted himself between his legs. Gilbert leaned back into him and nodded once, apparently satisfied with this action.

“There! Now we’re both warm!” 

Matthew’s heart skipped a beat as he snaked his arms around the other man’s waist and pulled him in just that little bit closer. He felt Gilbert melt like popcorn butter into his embrace and had to bury his face in his shoulder for a moment while he remembered how to breathe. He felt a chuckle rumble in Gilbert’s chest, a pale hand reach up to ruffle golden locks, and it wouldn’t be an understatement to say that Matthew needed a full five minutes to put himself back together. 

With his chin now resting on Gilbert’s shoulder, he could finally pay a little more attention to the movie. The tale of the doomed Antarctic team gripped him with wisps of paranoia and an intimate knowledge of how horrific a snowy base in trouble was, even without the added horror of a monster. It was only when he felt Gilbert laugh a little that he realized he was squeezing the man like a frightened child holding a teddy bear. 

“Aw, don’t worry Mattie, I’m here to prote- FUCK!” Gilbert exclaimed as an unexpected scare got him. He dug his fingers into Matthew’s arms, which had only gotten tighter around him, and kept his eyes glued to the movie even though there was a face buried in his shoulder again. 

They stayed holding each other as the movie raced towards it’s conclusion. The final scare had them both screeching and laughing at themselves. They were both centuries old, after all, and had definitely seen worse things than an admittedly terrifying monster. That laughter settled into a comfortable silence once the credits were rolling. Cool night air washed pleasantly over Matthew’s bare back as his front was warmed by the Prussian in his arms. There was just one more thing he had planned to top the night off, and it was now or never.  

“Hey, Gil? I-I have, um, another thing to ask you.” He quietly stammered. 

“Ja, Maus?”

A deep breath was taken, a little squeeze given, and a question that would change their lives forever was uttered. 

“Can I… Can I kiss you?”

Gilbert’s breath hitched in his throat at the question. He twisted himself in Matthew’s arms, enough to look at him and see that he was, in fact, serious. A smile warm enough to drive away the chill of the night crossed his lips as he reached up to thread his fingers through the man’s wavy hair. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” He murmured with a little chuckle.

Matthew’s only response was to close the distance between them and capture Gilbert’s lips in a kiss that left both of them breathless and seeing stars. When they parted, Matthew couldn’t help himself. He held the other close, planted kisses on his cheek like he’d been wanting to for years, and sighed in happiness as he felt strong arms wrap around him and hold him tight. It was only when he started snickering that Gilbert pulled back and raised a questioning brow. 

“Do you know what that sweater’s made of, Gil?”

“Uh… Cotton?”

“Nope! It’s made of boyfriend material.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to roll his eyes, to laugh and kiss Matthew’s burning cheek. “You fuckin’ dork. Guess I’m keeping this sweater, then.”

Matthew could only grin and kiss him again, under the light of an autumnal moon filled with new love.

[9uk]

Let Me Stay Close To You part: 4

⌲ summary : you were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. the doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. that shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

⌲ pairing : bully!jungkook x reader

⌲ word count : 5.2k

⌲ genre: a cup of weird fluff, a tablespoon of bitter angst

⌲ warnings : mentions of abuse, wrestling in bed & almost dying (strange combination, i know.)

⌲ a/n : hoho sorry for being late, and boring as well, for always ending with a cliffhanging dialogue, but hey. it’s merely a type of means to keep you guys sticking around ;> all in all, enjoy while i prepare for the amount of hate coming into my inbox for this. and hv a feeling many of you will drop this series after this chapter ;;;

part three >  part four  > part five

The hallways of this mansion seemed to never end.

Running as fast as your legs could take you, your heavy boots stomping hardly on the red carpet and wooden flooring with every step in your sprint. As you feel the exhaustion take over your legs, breath beginning to quicken, your eyes lay on the second room on the right of this hallway you have turned into. You’re not too sure if you have been in this one before, because this hallway seemed to be a little less well-lit, that you sharply took note of amidst your frantic dashing. They all looked the same anyways—his mansion was an enormous labyrinth. You can hear the distant sound of his footsteps, hunting your running form down, causing the thudding sound of your frightened heart to streamline its way to your ears, interrupting your hearing with heavy thumps like a staccato of a hummingbird’s wings. You have to hide now. Your run casually slows to a small jog as you twist the doorknob of the second room on your right, opening it and slamming it shut behind you. You closed your eyes and steadied your breaths, before making your way to find a suitable place in this rather large bedroom to conceal yourself from him.

This room was strange. It was dark. You noticed it was particularly different from all the other rooms as you walked further in, looking at the features of within its four walls under the faint moonlight that shone through the thin curtains. This one had Ironman theme bedsheets, toy cars scattered across the floor, and a game console on the table. It was like someone, was occupying and living in this room. And this definitely wasn’t his room.

Your initial fear of being found had been replaced instantly as you reverse your steps backwards, eyes witnessing even more evidence that this room indeed, belonged to somebody else. Someone you have never known of, despite your frequent visits in this house. As the darkness of the whole room engulfs you, and the slight movement of the rocking chair at the corner as the breeze from outside blew into the creepy room, you almost felt like screaming. Tears almost spilling out with trepidation, you swiftly turned to escape from this scary room.

“You’re leaving…?” A hand tugs at your wrist and you stood rooted to the ground, horrified. The fingers encased tightly around your wrist were icy and filled with desperation.

You were too caught up with observing the furnitures of the room, that you failed to notice and realise the boy quietly and stationarily located at the side of the bed, who has now stood up to stop you from leaving.

Intimidated, you carefully turn on your heel to face him. The boy stood around your height, his black fringe hung loosely on his forehead, the ends of it hiding his dark eyes. He looked rather pale with his chapped lips and skinny frame, cuts and bruises littered across his forearms and legs. You had never seen him around in this house before, not that you’ve encountered before. He almost looked like a ghost, but you knew he wasn’t. He was real and he was badly hurt, in need of help. Was he trapped here or something?

“D-Don’t leave..me,” He starts begging, “please.” His cheeks was now glistened with streaks of tears as he tugs on your arm with even more strength.

Here you were, in anatomy again, this time without anyone sitting beside you and basking in the comfort of having this whole space at the back to yourself. One thing you liked about situating at the back of this hall, was that it was a few shades darker than the rows in the front. Though it wasn’t completely pitch-black like you wished, the lack of lighting was more than enough to appease your nocturnal self and accompanied by the bright light of your laptop screen—a perfect environment to concentrate on the lesson beforehand.

Until the lecturer walked into class, followed by Jungkook, who still has his airpods stuffed in his ears. He didn’t give a damn—not now, and never before. His presence ignited a few giggles and teasing between a few girls at the front and you weren’t even one bit surprised.

You were thrown back to last Monday when he sent you home, saying he’ll see you around—you mean of course, the both of you were definitely going to see each other around, not until this whole tedious project on the structure of the human body was completed. He eyes the empty seat beside you and scurries to your side, only to come face to face with your pink stubborn bag taking up his place.

Jungkook is so tempted to grab your stupid backpack and fling it down the steps, to then plummet down on the seat with ease—but he knows he shouldn’t, he wouldn’t, and he couldn’t treat you in that manner anymore.

You weren’t letting up either, placing your undivided attention on the screen of slides in the front of the lecture hall. Disregarding his existence entirely. 

Was he supposed to ask you to move your bag?

“Uh, I want to sit here.” He realised that that, wasn’t asking. It came out more like a demand.

He could easily spare the effort and sit somewhere else, somewhere with those girls at the front who’d loved to have him there—but Jungkook actually tried asking if he could sit there, and if you would move your bag for him.

You almost let a laugh slip out as the words come out of his mouth. Jeon Jungkook actually seeking your permission. Moving your bag to your lap, he smiles and occupies the seat, muttering a barely audible ‘Thank you’ and you shake your head in utter disbelief. This was too much to bear. He was being suspiciously too nice for your liking. But it was a great change and you weren’t complaining. It turns out that you too, had many questions for him. You don’t even recognise him now.

The class passes by smoothly, without Jungkook laying a finger on you or speaking a word.

Instead, you could sense the way he shook his legs abnormally faster, the way his fingers were clasping onto the pen like a vice grip, and the occasional hard clenching of his jaw.

He looked like he was struggling with some kind of inner conflict, wanting to so badly untangle the dead knots of ambivalence towards something. You choose to close one eye to what you noticed about him, reminding yourself to 1. Stop staring at Jungkook like that. and 2. Get Jungkook out your mind and life. You don’t think you are emotionally stable enough to handle another catastrophe rolling into your life like a giant boulder down a steep slope.

The screen of your phone lights up and you pick it up, reading the incoming texts from Sooyoung.

[10:39] Sooyoungie : will be staying over at sungjae’s today

[10:40] Sooyoungie : feel free to bring that kook guy home!!!

[10:40] Sooyoungie : o and rmb to stay safe & use a condom ;)

Your eyes grew wide at her wild insinuation, mouth opening wide before turning into a soft giggle at her messages. As if he was interested in why you had a silly grin plastered onto your face, you can feel Jungkook leaning his head closer to you as you’re typing, trying to peer at your conversation with your friend. What was he being so intrusive for? You quickly type out a reply, before clearing your throat—causing him to return to his initial form casually, spinning his pen like he didn’t just try to look at your phone.

“Who were you texting?” He questions with an unimpressed tone.

You turn to look at him, confused for a second. You almost wanted to throw an ‘Is that any of your business’ to his damn cocky face but for peace’s sake, “My friend.”

Jungkook genuinely feels this burning desire to know the gender and name of your friend, but he chooses to not pursue anything so that he doesn’t seem like he was more than necessarily interested in who you were talking to. Or in your life, generally.

It was until everyone started packing their belongings to head for the exit of the hall, that Jungkook’s hand flies at the speed of light to grip your wrist as you turn to leave. Your arm jerks slightly, turning to face him with wide eyes of shock.

“Can we talk?” Jungkook looks at you with pleading eyes, somewhat afraid of your possible objection. You are hyperaware of the touch of his fingers grazing against your skin, feeling a shimmer of light flashing through your heart as the electricity of the skin contact flows through your veins. Looking at his fingers encased around the small of your wrist, you blink, stiff arm relaxing in his grasp and pulses settling in aftershock. When you give your silence as consent, he quickly suggests and releases his hold.

“Let’s go outside, there might be a class coming in.”

“No, there aren’t any classes conducted here until 4,” You hurriedly provide him with a reason to stay. You didn’t wish to be seen with Jungkook outside—especially by your friends or anyone else—because the last thing you wanted was for the obsessive girls to throw bitter looks at you, or his friends to check out the girl he was talking to—for the bad light to be shined on you. Hard pill to swallow, but you were still the old you who cared a lot about what people thought of you, just that you don’t express how bothered you are from it well.

Where was Namjoon? He rarely skips lectures.

Jungkook doesn’t open his mouth, eyes shifting everywhere but your own, with arms crossed tightly like he was protecting himself from something—to actually show how uncomfortable he was feeling. The lights in the lecture hall slowly dims to a low light due to the lack of motion in its sensor, but you could still make out the outlines of everything around you—and the Jungkook right in front of you was now looking to the ground, shaking. His breathing starts becoming ragged, and his chest begins heaving up and down rapidly like he was short of oxygen and you instinctively reach out to him.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” You gently place your hands on his shoulders, which were tensed to the brim. He explodes all of a sudden, slapping your hand away so harshly that he stumbles a few steps backwards, causing you to involuntarily squeak in surprise. His brows are knitted to the center, eyes burning with rage and jaw screwed tight. 

“I fucking said to go outside!” He yells through gritted teeth, voice rough and boiling in infuriation.

He doesn’t do anything to you, despite the privacy given to the both of you in this empty room—he only busts out of there, leaving you to follow behind like a helpless duckling.

Jungkook has his hands on his hips, the same gaze trained onto the concrete ground, but this time he is slowing his erratic breathing, focusing on calming himself down. Your mind is a blank, as you backpedal to what you had said earlier on to him, searching for anything offensive or rebelling—ah, right. You didn’t comply to his request of having the chat outside. Half of you thinks that you did nothing wrong, that insisting on staying in there was perfectly reasonable, but the other half is telling you that he was being polite enough already, and you were being a stubborn bitch intentionally poking at his buttons you knew best you shouldn’t even touch.

He cools down at last, turning around to face you—who is currently toying with your own fingers in nervousness.

“Are you free right now?” Jungkook steps closer to you once he is out of his fit.

You stumble on your words at the change in his demeanour. “U-Uh, I’m-I’m free.. erm, until-wait I mean the whole day I have nothing-“

“Then great,” Jungkook already heard what he needs to know, “let’s go to your dorm to do this project.” You open your mouth to retort, “But-“ But your words are sucked back in when you remember how he shouted at you back in there. Jungkook challenges you with a lift of his brow, anticipating the excuse that wasn’t going to work on him. “-okay.” You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding.

The journey to your place is quiet and the tension in the air is thick. You did not want to say anything stupid to rile Jungkook up—for the second time of the day—Well, you never did in the past (except for once, and it did not end up well as clearly stated on your forehead) so you should remain as it is in the present. You shove your earpiece in, drowning yourself in soothing melodies away from this eventful day, preparing for more that was bound to happen later on. It was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook never failed to make your life as interesting as ever. You were tailing behind Jungkook, and he looks back to you to make sure you were tagging along. He shoots you an unreadable expression at you harmlessly listening to music, before facing front again. What.

Reaching the lift lobby, a word hasn’t left his lips yet. You never knew he could actually keep this quiet. If only he put that skill to good use back in high school. Yet.

“Tell me there isn’t anyone in your dorm.” He says, as if he was planning to do something to you. In your own fucking dorm.

“There isn’t anyone in my dorm,” You submit to his request this time.

He nods in approval and the lift doors open.

You are startled when the platform of the lift slightly sinks as you step foot into it, weight pushing it down. It further descends when Jungkook enters, but is able to barely support the both of your weights, starting to rise as you press the button of your floor.

This was strange, the lift had never acted this way before.

And just when the unsettling doubt is pushed to the back of your mind, it fully pops out again—

“What the fuck!”

“AHHHHH!”

You can hear something akin to a metal clanking and a harsh snap of a wire, legs weak from how fast this small box you and Jungkook were confined in had just speedily went down. The elevator abruptly jerks to a stop, sending the both of you crashing onto the ground. The lights and ventilation dies out. You assumed the two of you were currently dangling on the edge of death —because once this thing falls to the very bottom, the both of you were fucked. As well as your corpses.

But it grows to be the least of your worries when you see Jungkook at the opposite corner, crouching his smallest and hands covering his ears in fear. Maybe it was because you had always wanted to die the second you knew how to communicate with the world, but you weren’t as afraid as he was at the moment. Maybe pampered kids never encountered incidents like these before with their luxurious high-end elevators.

Nonetheless you carefully creep to his side, making sure to not cause a sudden tilt shift in the lift.

The darkness may have engulfed the entirety of the lift capsule, but you can tell how white Jungkook’s face has gotten. He is trembling harder than the cranky washing machine you used to own, the ends of his dark fringe damp with cold sweat and he is softly crying out murmurs of pleas. For as long as you known him, Jungkook never shows his weak side to anyone. Everybody saw him as a buff and dashing successful athlete, rich, powerful and perfect. And here you were, witnessing him curled up in the corner of a lift, on the brink of tears.

You are taken aback by the entire situation, too many things were happening at once for you to handle. You could feel your heartbeat practically punching at your ears as anxiousness got the better of you. Panicking, you try your best to get the first thing done, and that is to comfort Jungkook out of his traumatised state. Normally you would ring the alarm, but you’re afraid it would send his trepidation spiralling.

“Jungkook..” You attempt to call out his name in the most delicate manner, scared of his outburst. 

He was like a ticking bomb, waiting to go off any time and you don’t even dare touch a fibre of it.

He doesn’t respond, only shaking his head and letting out pained whimpers.

Tears are rapidly forming in your eyes and you forcefully suck them back in.

Now’s definitely not the time to have a freaking breakdown, Y/N!

You needed to get a proper hold of these distressing emotions.

“Jungkook, I’m here.” You had honestly no idea why you said that to him in efforts to comfort him— you were always the cause of his uncontrolled fiery temper, and you’re not too sure if your presence will bring him comfort in any way possible. 

“Out..” You could hear how badly he was quivering from his shaky voice, soft and weak. You have never seen him this afraid before—and part of your heart aches for him.

Without him having said another word, you find his hand and lightly holds it with assurance. His palms were covered in a sheen of cold sweat, and you thought it was drained of all energy from how limp it felt. It was probably too stuffy for him in here. Did he suffer from claustrophobia? Your questions could wait, because your main priority at hand was to get this guy to stop trembling.

But all you could do when he is frightened stiff and feels alone, was to make your presence known. That somebody was here for him.

You reach for his elbows, in attempt to soothe him with physical contact—only for him to shrug your hand away with full strength, like you’ve touched an open wound. “Please..!” He cries out, “N-No more.. I beg of you!”

Jungkook is now sobbing, in his fullest vulnerability—like he has given up on fighting the demons in his head, succumbing to every one of them. He was paralysed with fear, never leaving the solace of that corner.

You resort to none other than the last plan, hand slamming hard on the red button of the panel.

He jumps in surprise at the blaring sound, and groans loudly in annoyance. You rush to his side again, the lift teetering on the edge of splitting from the measly grasps of the wires.

He was having spasms now, mind oversensitive and body overly reactive to the blasting shrills of the alarm. There was no point trying to talk him out of this seizure, so you spat a ‘fuck it’ under your breath, and to your better senses—you boldly wrapped your arms around the crying boy. He struggled in your hold, trying to wriggle his way out of your persistent arm cage, but only to fail as you bring him closer to your chest and caressed the back of his head with a rhythmic pace for him to focus on and calm down. You hugged his quaking form securely, hoping it feeds him with some sort of reassurance, till he quits shivering in fear. You can feel Jungkook leaning into your embrace, his hand coming out to hold you by the waist like a baby koala.

“It’s okay. Everything’s alright.” You assure him as you stare at the opening of the lift with worry.

Jungkook was still chasing his own breath, eyes shut tight as he tries to relax in your arms and absorbs the warmth you radiated to save his icicle-stabbed heart. Your body smelt like the familiar wild berries and white violets—a scent he recognises and is quite accustomed to—which guides him back to reality as he inhales more of you. It was there to tell him that he no longer lived in the terrifying past, and he is currently free of all the torture back then.

His eyes fly open. The only thing he sees is your arms circled around him, the softness of your breasts cushioning his lower cheek and the curve of your waist on his hands. Strangely, Jungkook wants to stay in this comfortable position for a while longer. It felt nice to be hugged like that, with a hand stroking his disheveled hair with utmost care. Noises and muffled shouts can be heard from the outside of the stuck doors, and Jungkook slowly, reluctantly abandon the comfort of your arms.

He feels humiliation seeping in when he immediately misses your cradling like a baby, but he opts to observe the look on your face. You were exhausted from doing so much all at once—from trying to pacify his wailing ass, to managing your own composure to finally successfully seek help from being near the margin of death.

When the both of you were safely rescued out, finally seeing light, your mind goes off to wonder about the way Jungkook acted back in there. He looked like something was in control of him, beating his incapacitated self to pulp. Wiping the beads of perspiration off your forehead, you walk over to his worn out form, sitting by the stairs of the lobby.

“Are you feeling better?” You sit beside him, hands rubbing the ball of your knees.

Everyone had fears. Even the tough-looking Jungkook did, and he was completely overthrown by the traumatising accident. Sadly, he was one of your fears.

Thus it felt extremely conventional to see the powerless side of him. And to be fair, Jungkook had been treating you like an ordinary person but not some garbage bag by the dumpster. To that, you can’t help but feel a pinch of gratitude swelling in the pit of your stomach—at how maybe Jungkook, wouldn’t mess up your life again.

Although you’re still uneasy at how he switches back to a monster at times, said monster is now going through a rough time and it intensifies your soft-heartedness for him.

He grazes his thumb over the other, tongue pushing at the insides of his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m good now. Let’s..” He stands up, eyes flicking between the lift and the stairs, “..take the stairs up to your room.” If Jungkook says he’s good, means he’s good. You don’t question any further, hopping onto the tortuous climb with him.

The incident is never brought up again, and you sure as hell dare not bring up something that upsetting for Jungkook. The both of you carried on with the project at hand like usual, a few discussions here and there, just that his voice sounded like it was drained of all energy and emotions. His hair is slightly tousled, cheeks still mildly stained with the tears of perturbation. And when the work was finished, it was time to either have a real talk or act like nothing happened.

Jungkook scratches the back of his head. “Can I stay for the night?”

Could you say no? Honestly, you feel yourself being sucked into this pool of poison, slowly eating up at your organs and killing you from the inside. Jungkook, in one way or another, was still tormenting you into allowing him to do whatever the fuck he wants.

“Urm, okay.” You think to yourself that this will be the first and last time you’re listening to him—you would care less if he threw a tantrum at your rebellion—and for the sake of him looking so sad and pitiful. Besides, you perfectly empathised with him not wanting to be alone after that incident. It is only normal to seek the company of another soul in your darkest moments.

“You’re taking the floor. My roommate doesn’t fancy anyone touching her bed.” His lips part, almost wanting to argue with that, but beggars can’t be choosers. He had rather slept on the floor with you around then to suffocate in the emptiness of his cold room.

You toss him a spare towel and some oversized clothes you owned, like a host showing great hospitality to her (unwanted) guest. He stares at you with confusion blanketing his features. Jungkook has really lost his mind after being trapped in the lift for fifteen minutes.

“You don’t need to wash up?” Like a small kid, he scurries to the bathroom.

It still felt too revolutionary for you. You still find yourself feeling perplexed whenever you are near Jungkook—mind reeling back to the past, where he was still that guy who pulled childish stunts on you and hurt you. The scar on your temple—a constant reminder of how he dragged your self-esteem down and obstructively blocked your road to something as simple as, happiness.

He was the guy who denied you of all the blessings in the world, the guy who caused you to lose the ability to find the love in yourself or anything. He was also the guy sleeping on your floor right now. You shake off these thoughts and faced the other side of the bed. The whole room reeked of him and you stuffed your nose in pillows.

The night falls and the whole campus quietens down, nothing but buzzing street lamps and silence taking over your bedroom.

Until,

“I really can’t sleep on your bed huh?”

“Not really.”

You feel the mattress sink on the empty space behind you and you sit up instantly, seeing a Jungkook propping his folded arms on your bed, looking at you with the big deceiving round eyes which you hated so much. It was such a strong deception and a poor representation of his true personality.

“You didn’t actually say no.” He nibbles on his bottom lip in anticipation and bubbling excitement, ready to prance onto your comfortable, bouncy bed at any second.

Oh my god.

“I didn’t mean-“

And then he’s climbing onto your sheets, making himself comfortable in your quilt covers. It was your turn to lose your mind. No way in hell were you going to share a bed with this creature.

“Get off my bed you freak!” You’re backed against the window grills as you wildly kick him in a cycle.

“Ow-ouch! Wait, you’re hurting me!” He manages to catch and grab onto one of your ankles, tugging harshly at it, causing you to shriek in surprise as you get dragged across your bed.

So much for helping him back there?

In a swift, he picks your body up and dunks you onto the mattress hard, locking you tightly in place with veiny hands gripping on your shoulders. Your legs start wrestling again, attempting to kick him in the balls and send him tumbling off your safe haven—but his quick reflexes has his leg pinning your limbs down unforgivingly. You’re too tired to fight a battle you know you would surely lose—to a Hercules-like body of Jungkook—so you let go of all willpower and strength to escape his clutches.

Huffing, you closed your eyes and painfully accept the fact that you were going to sleep with Jungkook beside you. Truthfully, you preferred the distance he gave you back in high school.

Now he’s hovering over you, panting from the effort to keep you still, looking at you sprawled out defeated beneath him. “Do whatever you want Jungkook, goodnight.”

You’ve accepted your fate. In fact, you’ve already did a long time back.

So just like that, you gave Jungkook the permission to do as he wished, to which he slowly lowered himself on the bed, on the top of your body he rests and buries his face into the crook of your neck. When you feel his hard chest and puckered abdomen against your body, you realised how Jungkook had incinerated every bit of lucid logic in your mind. Concluded from how you’ll let it slide this time, allow him to be this close to you and fall asleep. And you wonder just how many times, you will keep submitting, submitting and submitting to him. How many ‘last times’s’ will it take for you to bulk up the courage to go against his wishes. And when exactly, will Jungkook stop having you at the very tip of his fingers.

You subconsciously follow the rhythm of his breathing, the overdue fatigue finding its way to your heavy lids, effectively fluttering them shut.

Placing your hand over his, you shudder at the feeling of his freezing skin.

“I won’t leave you..”

The boy begins sobbing even harder as his right arm flinches.

“Why are you crying? Does it hurt?”

You carefully inspect the wounds inflicted all over his body and winced when you twist his arm gently, seeing a fresh open cut on the side of his elbow. There was blood dripping out of the sliced flesh, and the surrounding was badly swollen and bruised violet.

“I need to go get help for you!” You weren’t a doctor, and you really needed to cling onto your mom at the sight of all this gore.

Shaking his head vigorously, he is fixed on not letting you leave his side. Why didn’t he want to escape? 

“They’ll hit me.” His voice is cracked and shaky, like he has been crying for hours.

It was because he couldn’t, and you felt so, so sorry for him. Being trapped in this room, suffering and dying. Your thoughts arrow towards the owner of this house, you start suspecting them of being kidnappers who held this poor boy around your age as hostage. How could they do that, when they were endearingly offering you cookies and milk every time you stayed over?

You start doubting everything around you.  

“Who are you?”

The final question and the main point of this whole conversation comes out.

 What in the world was a fatally injured boy doing in a random room of your bestfriend’s house? And why didn’t your bestfriend come to his rescue like you thought he would?

“I’m Junghyun’s brother, Jeon Jungkook.”

The moon today shines exceptionally bright, transcending all stars. The soft glow of the moonlight filters through your thin curtains, a replacement for the nightlight you lacked, bringing the both of you serenity. 

Like someone was watching over the both of you.

 The room now was filled with luster and tranquil, it almost lulls you back to sleep. Shoving Jungkook off your body, you can feel a layer of sweat sticking your shirt to your skin, and you flip over to the side, letting the cool air dry your skin. He sleepily connects his body to yours in no less than a second, pressing against the damp skin of your back and you cringed away. Jungkook is now spooning you from behind, arms wrapping tightly around your waist with his nose nuzzling at your hair.

You prayed that someone would save you from this torment.

He’s murmuring incoherent noises softly into your nape now. One, which you were able to make out.

“Don’t leave me…”

[dcarhcarts]

regarding recent absences

And other such updates!

If you want the tl;dr, here it is: my mental health isn’t in the greatest place right now, and I figured I ought to explain why I must ask you for continued patience for the snail speed on this blog. I’m not announcing official hiatus, but just know that I...might continue to be pretty scarce, but I’m trying my best to be here and to be writing here. To hopefully get me more active here, I plan on dropping a few threads and cleaning out my dash re: people who follow me but aren’t writing with me. You’re more than welcome to keep following me if I unfollow you, and if you want to write with me and just haven’t gotten the chance and would like me to re-follow you, pls just go ahead and shoot me an im. I will be making a separate post about both those things, it’s just that I can’t deal with how fast my dash is moving at the moment.

If you care for the long version, under the cut so as to not bother everyone else!!! Be warned that it’s uh...it’s l o n g. TW for depression and anxiety and the general things my brain does to me lolol. 

Wow I haven’t used the post title function in a l o n g time. Anyway, hi, it’s me, Ro, your friendly neighborhood mun of a 20+ muse mumu. Don’t let the kind-of-serious format scare you - nothing bad is happening. I just have a few things that I felt the need to address that have been happening either in my life or just in my screwed up brain :D Buckle in and get ready for the ride, I guess?

Starting with something y’all already know about - I’ve not been here a lot recently. I joke about that a lot, but really, if you catch the pattern, my activity here is: exclusively after 10 pm, 2 drafts at most a day, inbox straight up clogged from like a month ago. IMS basically desolate, because I haven’t worked up the courage to pick them back up since I last forgot about them in the endless stream of things I had to do about a month ago! (that being said, uh, if you want to talk to me your best bet is probably through discord. Ro#6782 - pls, mutuals only, and tell me who you are!)  

And - because I h a t e being that mun that reblogs memes and asks for for them and then never answers their askbox / puts out starter calls when she has 10000 drafts / puts out plotting calls when she has unanswered ims, (no problem at all when other people do this but somehow when it’s m e I’m like “no you’re a terrible person”???? hmmm), I’ve also been avoiding t h o s e. If you’re new and you followed me in the last month, I’ve been putting out n o t h i n g that indicates a willingness to interact with new/more people, while the opposite is true. I’m always willing to interact - if I follow back, I want to write with you, only, well, aforementioned issue aside, I also have m o r e problems.

Namely, IRL and the fucked up thing called my brain. 

As most of you know, I got a job ~end of may or early juuuune~ and....well it’s pretty damn time consuming. I can’t have my phone during the course of my job - by the way, 4 hours - and so in those 4 hours (from 4 pm to 8 pm) I can basically get nothing done here. Then there’s also the fact that the time my shift is placed mentally and physically drains me a lot. Because it starts at 4, most of my morning is spent thinking “god I don’t wanna go to work” and because it ends at 8, most of my evening is spent trying very hard not to doze off. It also drains me a lot socially - I work at a call center, and all day I’m basically calling people who don’t want me to call them and are very irate even when they pick up, and uh, that already doesn’t do well for my anxiety haha. 

The other thing, of course - is my sort-of-seasonal depression. Winter tends to equate to anxiety for me, and summer tends to equate to depression. Again, I think I’ve joked about this a lot, but I apparently can only do drafts when I have 3 finals tomorrow and I haven’t studied for any of them. When it’s break, I get into a really weird slump - when i wake up in the morning, I don’t really want to wake up, and sometimes just stare at the wall for like, an hour. Nothing that I enjoyed during the other months, I seem to enjoy doing now. There’s too much time and too little time. It’s like i spent the whole day doing absolutely nothing meaningful but I can’t break myself out of the cycle so I keep doing that, rinse and repeat day after day, and sometimes my definition of spending time is just lying down in bed again and doing nothing for an hour randomly in the middle of the day. I feel guilty for wasting time as much as I am clueless as to how to fill it in a fulfilling way. “But Ro, you could do drafts!” A Concerned Person May Say. “You like writing!” Well, Kind Person, on some of these days, absolutely n o t h i n g Sparks Joy. 

“But Ro, I follow you on your other blog too!” The Concerned Person might continue.“You’re kind of active there, aren’t you?” And the answer, Kind Person who supported my career even if that blog is mostly obscure af fandoms - is yes.  I am kind of active on my other blog, @storyblcd. This brings us to the third and final reason why I’m.....moving at snail’s speed here, and that, my good friend - is anxiety. Well, mixed with a certain amount of mental exhaustion, of course. Note: this is n o t anyone’s fault. People’s interactions with me have not been negative - and they are not responsible for how my brain chooses to reaact to it. 

I’ve not lost muse for the muses on this blog, per se - but I’m getting burned out really fast writing them, for multiple reasons. First, muse imbalance. Now I know, I definitely k n o w - that sometimes people like one muse more than another, or have more interest in writing with one or the other, and I get that. I’ve said multiple multiple times that that is p e r f e c t l y fine. But honestly the reason I’ve lasted so long on a multimuse is because I can pick which muse I have muse for when, and I can respond accordingly / ask for interactions accordingly. But when I get so many people coming at me at once for the o n e muse when I have t w e n t y it sometimes gets a little? Discouraging? It makes me question whether or not only that one muse is popular for a reason. It also exhausts me re: the portrayal of that muse, because I”m putting out so many replies for that muse in a lot of sort of similar plots/scenarios that I just get burnt right out. And then I get scared that if I keep going I’ll want to drop the muse, so I’m staying away from those threads a little bit.

Second, I’m at a point in my portrayal of certain muses where I feel like there’s a certain expectation for how it’s going to be. My personal feelings aside, I think every mun expects their own portrayal to be different and unique and exciting - and it’s not different for me, only now I feel like the expectation and the pressure of coming up with something good and meaningful outweighs the feeling of exploration as I’m “discovering” the muse. Like most writers - I still crave validation, though more and more lately, I’m at a place in my writing where I f e e l like me from 2 months ago could have probably done a better job. While it’s not necessarily true, and these pressures are coming from m e and not any outside source, I f e e l like I have to consistently Make Good Writing, and simultaneously feel like some days I sit down and I try to do drafts and all I write is garbage. It just - doesn’t feel the same? So - more and more, I’m staring at the empty drafts page and then closing it - because if I don’t w r i t e I don’t have to admit I peaked two months ago.  

Both of these reasons have made me rather a bit avoidant of my muses here / this blog. Now, I’ve been struggling with anxiety for long enough that I know that a lot of this is - well, p r o b a b l y just my brain lying to me. See even as I’m writing this post now, my anxiety is saying “haha guess what n o one cares you’ve been gone” and my rational Anxiety-is-a-stupid-asshole voice is saying “nahhhhhh your brain is probably just lying to you.” But! In the battle, anxiety is kind of pummeling me now. I will r i s e again and win the war, most likely - but for now it’s anxiety: 1 and ro: 0.

AND finally - if you made it all the way down here, you’re a c h a m p. The solution! Well, as much of a solution as I’m hoping to get anyway - we’ll have to see if it implements well. I’m going to unfollow a few blogs so I can get my dash cleaner/more organized/less fast-moving and b r e a t h e. I’m going to drop a couple of threads, I might make a couple more muses request only/exclusive only for the like 2 people that have threads with them, I might drop a couple muses (though I don’t think this will really happen, Idk tho). There will be separate posts on those things coming soon, this is just to notify y’all. Thank you for all of your patience, thank you for all the wonderful people who’ve allowed me to write with you, I love all of you!!!!

[ionica01]

hi! i’m not sure if you’re taking requests or anything but could you please write established relationship todomomo getting caught in the rain? :D i mean, if you’re taking requests of course! :) hope i don’t sound rude! (also, you’re seriously my favorite todomomo author. you write them so so so well.)

Yes, I am taking requests and you are not rude at all! This has been a blessing to write, and I’m glad you dropped by my inbox. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! (Sorry for the cringe, I couldn’t help it!) And thank you!! That means a lot!!

The sun is slowly settling behind the skyscrapers, nestling in the gaps between tall buildings, absorbing the blue of the sky with him, leaving behind a ballet of pink, yellow and purple. On any other day, Shouto would marvel the beauty of the dawn after a tiring raid, but today is different, because he gets to look at Yaoyorozu instead, and the sky doesn’t hold a candle to her.

It’s rare that they walk back to the little apartment they share together, and even rarer that they aren’t assaulted by the media. The news of them dating kept the gossip newsletters going for almost three whole months, and they would have had more to say on the inepuisable subject if not for Midoriya and Uraraka’s upcoming wedding.

They’re quiet as they walk side by side, Yaoyorozu sneaking her hand into Shouto’s and him gladly accepting to squeeze it back, but there’s something very comfortable about the silence that wraps around them. Yaoyorozu has the uncanny ability to understand Shouto without asking too many questions, and while he isn’t quite as talented at deciphering her, he’s also getting there.

Yaoyorozu hums to herself, bobbing her head slightly along the beat, and Shouto tries guessing what she’s singing. Her tastes are diverse, ranging from jazz to rock balades to classical music, and Shouto often comes home to the singing radio in the kitchen. Stopping in the doorframe to see her spin around with a plate of rice in hand is more than endearing, and she even taught him the lyrics to her favourite songs.

This time, he recognises the melody as Singing in the rain, and breaks into a small smile. “It’s not raining,” he says softly, not wanting to break her immersion.

The corners of her eyes crinkle with a smile of her own, “Not yet, but the smell is in the air.”

Shouto sniffs, but feels nothing. Yaoyorozu seems to be allied with Mother Nature though, because it’s not even a minute after their conversation that a droplet falls onto their joined hands. There’s another one on his nose, then on her cheek, and she giggles as more and more droplets paint her clothes darker. Shouto reckons he looks a bit like a dalmatian, but he doesn’t mind the summer rain.

And then it comes down, the mild rain transforming into an outrageous downpour. A curtain of water blocks their field of vision, washing over them as if the intensity of the rain could wipe them off the face of the earth- and it probably could, Shouto unironically considers.

Yaoyorozu squeezes his hand, and Shouto tightens his grip around her fingers reassuringly, eyes scanning for a place to hide in, waiting for the storm to pass. It takes him a minute to realise Yaoyorozu isn’t holding onto him in fear, but in excitement. She could have made an umbrella for them by now- but she doesn’t, instead smiling like a child on Christmas.

“Beautiful,” she mutters, barely above a whisper, but Shouto still hears her above the sound of the rain.

What’s beautiful, however, is her. The skies have darkened- maybe to let her shine, Shouto thinks and cringes on his own words- and she’s standing in the rain without curling into herself for warmth. There’s elegance irradiating out of her as she stands straight, shoulders squared, welcoming the rain like she’s trying to take the madness of the nature onto herself, like she’s listening to a friend crying.

She turns to him all of a sudden, and her hair is damp, sticking to her face like it does after she showers, her clothes hugging her body, but she doesn’t seem bothered by the wetness. “Do you mind? If we walk home?”

Shouto feels his shirt sticking to him uncomfortably, his bangs slicked over his forehead and his shoes soaked, but he finds himself answering, “Not at all,” without lying. It’s the sort of answer only Yaoyorozu could pull out of him.

She beams as if she is the sunshine in this rather apocalyptic setting and skips through the rain, jumping in puddles. “I’ve always wanted to do this, but mother wouldn’t have allowed it,” she admits with a coy smile, chanting lines from Singing in the rain every now and then.

She tugs onto his sleeve and Shouto can’t believe he’s doing this but here he is, jumping after her, following her intricate pattern. Now that he thinks about it, all he associates with rain are bad memories- his parents fighting over the sound of thunder, fighting villains, coming to an empty home from a dull day at school.

Yaoyorozu has always been the one rewriting his bad memories. She didn’t even push her way through all the barriers he raised up- the verb is too brutal. She just walked through them, not as if they weren’t there, but as if she knew the walls weren’t raised for her. And just as she does with this pouring rain, through which Shouto wouldn’t have even dared running under normal circumstances, Yaoyorozu changes its meaning for Shouto.

They’re almost home when Yaoyorozu settles back into her usual pace and tells him, “It rained after all.”

Shouto runs a hand through his wet bangs and smiles genuinely before kissing her. It’s not something he does because he saw it in the movies and he’s a hopeless romantic, but because it’s the only way he can think of wordlessly thanking her. Thanking her for sticking with him, for reaffirming that she’ll always squeeze his hand him through rains and storms, smiling all the way, and that they’ll make it through the door together, hand in hand- like they do now. And she kisses him back, hands musling Shouto’s damp hair.

Umbrellas or raincoats, Shouto decides, aren’t what he needs to make it through a downpour.

[cryptobully-blog]

California braces for Trump’s ‘border wall hallucination tour’

https://cryptobully.com/2018/02/california-braces-for-trumps-border-wall-hallucination-tour/

California braces for Trump’s ‘border wall hallucination tour’

On a March visit to San Diego, President Donald Trump plans to view border wall prototypes, as seen here. The trip comes amid widespread anger on the left related to a series of immigration raids and arrests launched this week throughout California. | Elliott Spagat/AP Photo

The president’s base is thrilled by his first visit to the state, but Democrats are determined to make him feel unwelcome.

By CARLA MARINUCCI

02/28/2018 11:11 AM EST

Donald Trump’s California supporters are “ecstatic” that the president will be making his first official visit to the state next month. But his March trip to San Diego to advance construction of a border wall is also firing up progressive activists who are determined to make him feel unwelcome.

The White House confirmation of Trump’s planned visit to view border wall prototypes — the preeminent symbol of his immigration policy — comes amid widespread anger on the left related to a series of immigration raids and arrests launched this week throughout California, home to an estimated 2.2 million undocumented immigrants.

Story Continued Below

The Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids, which spanned from the Central Valley throughout Northern California and resulted in more than 150 arrests on Tuesday, intensified anger and political resistance to the administration in a solidly-blue state where the president is already deeply unpopular.

“I have full faith that my Southern California Latino community will give Trump’s border wall hallucination tour exactly the respect it deserves: Nada, nunca, forget it,’’ said Gloria Nieto, a veteran Democratic LGBT activist in Santa Cruz. “Considering how much this administration has allowed unfit employees access to information which is a real threat to our country’s safety, this continued charade feeds a false narrative about the dangers we face. Mexicans trying to find work to feed their families are an empty threat.”

Advance reports of the raids prompted mayors like Oakland’s Libby Schaaf to push back against the administration by announcing the ICE strategy in advance to warn residents in her city. That move earned her a rebuke from ICE Deputy Director Thomas D. Homan, who, in a statement, called her action a “reckless decision was based on her political agenda with the very federal laws that ICE is sworn to uphold.”

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Trump’s impending visit “makes sense with his converting the U.S. presidency into reality TV,” says Chris Newman, legal director for the Los Angeles-based National Day Laborer Organizing Network – an immigrant rights group. “And if I were the producer of his game show presidency, I would do the same.

“If Trump comes to California, he’ll find that California has built an immunity to the type of fear that he’s pushing,’’ Newman said. “[H]e’s trying to spread venom — and I don’t think it will have the desired effect.”

The visit to the state was first reported by the Washington Post.

Trump’s visit to California, the nation’s political ATM, is also about money: In addition to the border visit, the president will also head a Republican National Committee fundraiser in Los Angeles. Sources familiar with the planning say Vice President Mike Pence — who raised $5 million for state House races working alongside Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy in his last visit — is also planning a return to help bulk up the coffers of GOP incumbents battling to return to Congress.

But the reaction to the presidential visit so far has focused on a a border wall and the administration’s immigration policies. Trump addressed questions about the wall Wednesday in a tweet.

“I have decided that sections of the Wall that California wants built NOW will not be built until the whole Wall is approved,” Trump said.

GOP former state Assemblyman Tim Donnelly, a founder of the California Minutemen who has made illegal immigration a lynchpin of his political career, says he welcomes news of the president’s stop in San Diego as evidence that Trump is a “hands-on” leader who plans to make good on his “signature issue.”

“He can’t strike out on the wall. It has to work, it has to be funded — and it has to get built,’’ said Donnelly, who has launched a primary challenge against GOP Rep. Paul Cook. He said the president’s announcement will reassure his supporters who are worried pressure in Washington will make Trump cave on a key issue. “A lot of hardcore Trump supporters are deeply concerned about this whole DACA thing becoming amnesty,’’ he said.

In the eyes of many conservatives, mayors like Oakland’s Schaff are flaunting the law. So “our supporters are just ecstatic that Trump is coming down to look at the wall,’’ said John Berry, an activist with the Redlands Tea Party Patriots. “It’s beyond insanity that Sacramento idiots are showing they care more about illegals than they do about our own citizens. Trump is coming to rescue the people of California.”

So far, some leading elected officials, including Gov. Jerry Brown have been silent on the president’s plans. But state Senate President Pro Tem Kevin de Leon, a candidate for U.S. Senate and the author of SB54 — recently passed legislation that’s become known as the “sanctuary state” bill aimed at further protecting undocumented immigrants from deportation — said that he doesn’t intend to be quiet about the White House state visit.

He told POLITICO that “the great thing about California is that we welcome everyone – even a malevolent President who has spent a full year attacking our values, threatening our people and corroding the people’s trust in government.”

Hoover Institution fellow Bill Whalen, a former advisor to Gov. Pete Wilson, says Trump’s decision to set foot in California for the first time as president “raises a whole raft of California issues that he probably doesn’t want to get into — and those include the symbolism of his going to San Diego, and how he’ll play with the mayor in the largest American city to have a Republican mayor. This is a Republican mayor who has been very much on point to show he is not lock step with Donald Trump on immigration and on trade,” he said.

Whalen said the visit will dramatize the many ways in which the state and the federal government “are at loggerheads’’ on issues including the ICE raids, the administration’s stated policies on opening up offshore oil drilling off the state’s cost, and Attorney General Jeff Sessions’ recent comments dramatizing his opposition to legal recreational cannabis, which just opened its market in California on January 1.

Opponents of the president will have plenty of reasons to protest Trump’s visit in large numbers, Whalen said, though it might actually work to the president’s advantage with his own base.

“If you believe this is a presidency that is at all times of appealing to his base, that image of getting heckled in California is probably what they welcome,’’ he said. “If 500,000 people show up in Los Angeles and Mayor Eric Garcetti makes comments – that is music to [Trump’s] ears..I think that Donald Trump just lives to torment those that torment him.”

Still, business interests in San Diego say they’re keenly interested in a Trump visit to the region, and hope to use the moment to talk to Trump on key issues like trade and NAFTA, which are vital to the region.

“It gives us an opportunity to show him how well the border works in San Diego, and how close the two border communities are — San Diego and Tijuana,’’ said Jerry Sanders, who heads the San Diego Area Chamber of Commerce, which includes dozens of business leaders from both sides of a border which represents the busiest land crossing in the Western Hemisphere. “It gives us an opportunity to talk with him about how the expansion of technology would help make the wall more efficient.”

And, Sanders says, “it would be great if he would meet with the mayor, who is very pro-Mexico, and we could show him the economic impacts between the two region and the impacts on the entire US from trade with Mexico..we’d like to have him get our perspective.”

Donnelly says Trump’s base isn’t worried about the details of Trump’s border wall plan – such as the president’s promise that Mexico will pay for it.

“Trump will figure out how they can pay,’’ he said. “They’re not going to pay the bill up front — but if we save the money by not inviting another 200 million of the world’s poorest people to come in, who are very open to socialism – which means they will vote for Democrats and leftists and progressives — then over time we will have a mass savings.’’

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