No Scrubs

Shut up, I’m listening to TLC.


Ino, Sakura, and dainty little Hinata walked down the crumbled up sidewalk, Ino’s heels clacking on the cement and Sakura’s hair twisting in the wind behind them. The two women wore headbands, shorts, and tank tops, looking like models straight of a fashion magazine. Sakura sucked on a lollipop, making sure not smear her bright pink lip gloss.

Hinata paled beside them. She was wearing saggy harem pants, with bold black print, and a tight hoodie. Her long, black hair was tied up in a bun at the top of her head, with a black bandanna holding back the flyaway hairs. She walked beside them with a cute smile, unwrapping her own sucker to nom on.

A loud car was heard turned corner and Ino glanced back. “Ugh.”

Sakura followed her gaze with a small smirk. “Hey, Sasuke!”

A car pulled over and slowed down, allowed Naruto to peak out of the window. “Sakura! What’s up!”

He was hanging out of the passenger side as Sasuke drove, looking handsome in his orange shirt and shark tooth necklace. “Naruto,” Sakura said curtly. 

The women continued walking, with Sasuke proceeding to drive beside them. “When are we going to go out again?” Naruto asked loudly.

Hinata watched quietly at their interaction. Sakura was smirking and clearly enjoying his attention, but she said, “I don’t know why you’re trying to holler at me from the car like that.” Naruto tilted his head to the side and rolled his eyes. Hinata wondered how full of himself he really was. “Sasuke, where are you guys headed?”

“Taking Naruto’s broke ass to get a job. I’m tired of driving him around.”

Hinata smiled, sucking on the rootbeer flavored lolli. Why was Sasuke complaining about driving Naruto around? He was rich, he didn’t have a job. His father’s inheritance was enough for Sasuke. 

“Yo, Sakura, I’m feeling pretty jealous of that sucker right now.”

Sakura winked at Naruto, but Hinata suddenly blushed, popping the sucker out of her mouth and dropping on the sidewalk. Naruto was so…lewd.

Sasuke nodded. “Let’s go, Naruto. Get back in the car.”

“What about you, Hinata? You wanna take me out?” Naruto called, his eyes flickering between Hinata and Sakura.

Sasuke’s eyebrows raised and he looked at Hinata closely. “Naruto, just get in the damn car.” He watched her, admiring the way her clothes draped over her curves in a humble way. He admired her black hair, her odd eyes, and the subtle way she outshined both Sakura and Ino. 

Hinata’s face was bright red, and she met Sasuke’s gaze. “Um-”

Ino wrapped her arm around Hinata and gave the two boys the finger. “Later.”

The women strutted away, Sakura complaining about scrubs and Sasuke’s broken down low-rider.

whatdoyoumeanionlygetoneotp asked:

that cliff hanger..................... what kind of sick game do you think youre playing with me come on

I knowwwww. I am sorry. Sometimes though it just has to be done.

You should go read the sailor John ficlet I posted as way of a peace offering. It may help soothe your woes. 


the problem with punk scenes that proclaim to be devoid of racism, homophobia, sexism, and other isms rampant in larger society (some venues  like the gilman in berkeley literally spell it out for you on the windows) and other subcultures that assert their progressiveness while also leaving the privilege of its inhabitants unchecked, is that these very spaces effectively negate the possibility of dialogue about issues like racism. It’s sort of assumed if you belong to a community like the punk scene that generally believes it has a) transcended race because b) is itself outside of the mainstream and thus “other” and subjected to its own form of unique opressions, you are all uniformly and simultaneously oppressed by belonging to said group and also equalized in the eyes of your fellow punks. Race supposedly doesnt exist in these spaces– all that is is your mutual punk identity and love for the music. At least thats the belief held by many folks. This belief though, in the same way that people claim to be color-blind, requires that you ignore both your own privileges that you are afforded even if you are a ~poor oppressed~ punk (as in if you are a white punk, or a middle class punk etc etc) and the fact that in larger society we are not created equal. Mistakenly believing the punk scene to be a post-racial utopia shuts down the possibility of addressing racism and sexism that DO pervade punk, from the hateful lyrics found in swastika-wearing nazi skinhead bands to the demeaning manner in which women are sung about by groups (most often) comprised of white, cis males. If these spaces really wanted to earn their Ally badges, the folks in them would acknowledge we all carry our own unique privileges and oppressions that do not magically fade in the stage lights of the punk venues we frequent.