TITLE: Shine Your Teeth Till Meaningless
RATING: R, I guess.
SYNOPSIS: Yeah, so, it's Girl, Interrupted. It's a Georgina POV, and it's slash. Also kind of dark.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask first.
DISCLAIMER: The "characters" aren't mine. The people they're based on aren't mine either. Even the title was stolen from Wilco ("How to Fight Loneliness"). But, the writing itself: that's mine.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Much, much, much thanks to Mary for getting me to write the derned thing in the first place. To Kim and Mary for being my betas and prodding me enough to get me to post it.
Lisa's a thing, not like a table's a thing, but like a snake or a wolf is. Wolf pack of girls with too glazed eyes and wicked, sharp grins. And she's like the Alpha male. Except female.
It's okay when it's not about sex. But, after awhile, it's always about sex. Everything ends up being about that feeling. About lips that brush across cheek and jaw and the bone that crumbles beneath them. Teeth that nip at earlobes and hot breath exhaled.
She hovers around me like a fog, tingling just at the edges of my senses. When I'm just sitting, still and calm, reading a book, I can feel her eyes on me, like I'm pinned to the spot and squirming -- a frog waiting to be cut into. Watching a movie with her body pressed up against mine, elbow rubbing into my side, pointed and intentionally pushing skin against skin; or backed up against a wall with her hands sliding under my shirt, fingers skidding across my ribcage. It's all the same. It's all about sex and the sex is all about control. Even I know that.
She doesn't squeeze my breasts with stiff fingers, hard and angry, while I strangle on her tongue because she loves me. I know that. I'm not stupid. She and Jamie used to spend entire nights together. They didn't even try for subtlety. They'd just fuck each other there in the bed across from mine. Except with them it wasn't just fucking: it was "making love." Because they loved each other maybe, or something close. Like needing someone is good enough when all around you there are nothing but hard walls and bristling wolf-girls.
I'd listen to the sound of their bedframe slapping against the wall and it would be my lullaby. They spent hours in each other's arms. Compare that with the ten-minute boredom fucks she has with me, and I'd say I have the raw deal. But that's just like Lisa. She's the horny wolf-bitch willing to take down almost anything female that moves. And she does too.
Maybe it'd be because Jamie was with her therapist or in solitary or whatever, but sometimes I'd be the one underneath Lisa. With us, it was just fucking, without any real poetry at all -- legs sprawling and body flung back against my bed, my hands gripping the sheets beneath me tight. And her on top. She was always on top, and it's not like anyone would ever be surprised. She was the alpha with sharp angry eyes and dangerous cruel lips that want to curl back and howl at the moon just as soon as kiss someone.
I shouldn't blame Susanna, but I think maybe I do. She never asked to have Lisa suddenly leaning over her one night, mouth open and ready, but I only think she fought back the first time. Sometimes I still get bruises from the way she holds me -- not at all the tender embrace I see her offer Susanna. So maybe I shouldn't blame her, but I do. I blame her long, lanky body and her perfect pointed face. Like she's some kind of fairy. Almost perfect, but insane like the rest of us so she's still touchable. Something real enough for people like us to put our hands on without it breaking.
Pretty as a picture. It's not just some cliched phrase. When they were making the movie for The Wizard of Oz, they replaced Dorothy's silver shoes with ruby ones. They were originally silver in the book, but they decided the red would look better on screen. So they just changed it. Just like that. They didn't stop to think that the silver held some important meaning or that maybe they might have something to offer to the film. They were just tossed aside like they had no feelings to worry about -- replaced by something that looked a little bit nicer on Dorothy's dainty feet.
I know Lisa doesn't like being seen with me. Whenever we're alone together, she's close and warm and licks my neck, soft and gentle like a kitten; but when other people are around, it's different. I'm the girl with too-wide hips skulking in the corner while she and Susanna flirt with each other through a screen of smoke. I'm not stupid. I see what's going on. She can nibble on MG's round fingers and it's nothing, because the girl has the mentality of a twelve year old -- Lisa's sick, but she's not that sick -- but with me, it's different. She treats me too nice and maybe people might start talking. Because Lisa isn't nice, not too anyone. Except Susanna. And Jamie, but Jamie's dead now; and that's because of Lisa, too.
Jamie died and immediately she started looking for another someone to help her lead the pack -- someone that wasn't so weak and maybe she thinks that's the sort of disease that passes through air, because she didn't bother to give her ex's roommate so much as a second glance. I'm the boredom fuck. The Omega.
I read. People think I only read the Oz books, like I'm some kind of child, but I don't. I read a lot. My great grandpa was a famous novelist, so we would read all the time in my family. My dad was away a lot because of work, so whenever he was home, he would read to us. It was a tradition. His favorite things to read were science magazines so I know a lot about a lot of things, but not just things he read to me. I used to read a lot myself, too, and I still do. I read a lot about wolves and I know enough to know that I'm the Omega. I'm the punching bag. I'm the one that gets nipped and snarled at without reproach from the alpha. Say something about Susanna, though, and you're in trouble. Cause she's the favorite, now that Jamie's gone.
Lisa knows how to get revenge like no one else. I remember the day we went for ice cream, with that woman waving her finger in Susanna's face like she was. Lisa snarled and grabbed her hand in that firm, hard way I know so well it made me smirk, and we followed her lead, moaning just like the wolf pack she wants us to be. Nobody gets revenge like Lisa. She's not just smart; she's patient, too. I'm not.
The Omega gets the lowest rung on the ladder. They're the bottom. Alpha's the top, and sometimes I'd watch Lisa and Jamie in bed together and try to figure out which one of them gave ground and let themselves be pinned to the bottom. I bet it was Jamie. She was always weaker. Lisa knew it too, and still she chose her. She holds me down, but only because I let her. I bet she knows I don't have to be on bottom. I'm sure she can feel it when she presses me against the wall, pushing and sliding against me until I squirm. I bet she can taste it on her tongue. I'm sure that's why she comes back. Not for me, but for my taste.
That night sneaking into the offices to find our files, when she smacked me I wanted to cry. Her hands have never hurt so much, even the times before when she wouldn't stop until she'd made me scream. I wanted to whimper and fall to my knees and beg her to forgive me and she gave me the chance. She stared at me, angry and cold and I backed down just like she wanted. I give her everything she wants. I give her things Susanna never could.
Lisa only hit me like she did because Susanna was there watching. I know I shouldn't hate Susanna for it, but I do. That night I watched her sleeping and imagined calling my father in the CIA and having her killed. Nobody would notice the snipers outside our window but me and the red beam would trace along her curves, moving as soft and silent as Lisa's hands and then it'd reach that space between her eyes. There would be a quick, sharp noise and she'd die and I wouldn't care to cry, because she's the reason for all my tears and Lisa wouldn't have to hit me any more.
RATING: R, I guess.
SYNOPSIS: Yeah, so, it's Girl, Interrupted. It's a Georgina POV, and it's slash. Also kind of dark.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask first.
DISCLAIMER: The "characters" aren't mine. The people they're based on aren't mine either. Even the title was stolen from Wilco ("How to Fight Loneliness"). But, the writing itself: that's mine.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Much, much, much thanks to Mary for getting me to write the derned thing in the first place. To Kim and Mary for being my betas and prodding me enough to get me to post it.
Lisa's a thing, not like a table's a thing, but like a snake or a wolf is. Wolf pack of girls with too glazed eyes and wicked, sharp grins. And she's like the Alpha male. Except female.
It's okay when it's not about sex. But, after awhile, it's always about sex. Everything ends up being about that feeling. About lips that brush across cheek and jaw and the bone that crumbles beneath them. Teeth that nip at earlobes and hot breath exhaled.
She hovers around me like a fog, tingling just at the edges of my senses. When I'm just sitting, still and calm, reading a book, I can feel her eyes on me, like I'm pinned to the spot and squirming -- a frog waiting to be cut into. Watching a movie with her body pressed up against mine, elbow rubbing into my side, pointed and intentionally pushing skin against skin; or backed up against a wall with her hands sliding under my shirt, fingers skidding across my ribcage. It's all the same. It's all about sex and the sex is all about control. Even I know that.
She doesn't squeeze my breasts with stiff fingers, hard and angry, while I strangle on her tongue because she loves me. I know that. I'm not stupid. She and Jamie used to spend entire nights together. They didn't even try for subtlety. They'd just fuck each other there in the bed across from mine. Except with them it wasn't just fucking: it was "making love." Because they loved each other maybe, or something close. Like needing someone is good enough when all around you there are nothing but hard walls and bristling wolf-girls.
I'd listen to the sound of their bedframe slapping against the wall and it would be my lullaby. They spent hours in each other's arms. Compare that with the ten-minute boredom fucks she has with me, and I'd say I have the raw deal. But that's just like Lisa. She's the horny wolf-bitch willing to take down almost anything female that moves. And she does too.
Maybe it'd be because Jamie was with her therapist or in solitary or whatever, but sometimes I'd be the one underneath Lisa. With us, it was just fucking, without any real poetry at all -- legs sprawling and body flung back against my bed, my hands gripping the sheets beneath me tight. And her on top. She was always on top, and it's not like anyone would ever be surprised. She was the alpha with sharp angry eyes and dangerous cruel lips that want to curl back and howl at the moon just as soon as kiss someone.
I shouldn't blame Susanna, but I think maybe I do. She never asked to have Lisa suddenly leaning over her one night, mouth open and ready, but I only think she fought back the first time. Sometimes I still get bruises from the way she holds me -- not at all the tender embrace I see her offer Susanna. So maybe I shouldn't blame her, but I do. I blame her long, lanky body and her perfect pointed face. Like she's some kind of fairy. Almost perfect, but insane like the rest of us so she's still touchable. Something real enough for people like us to put our hands on without it breaking.
Pretty as a picture. It's not just some cliched phrase. When they were making the movie for The Wizard of Oz, they replaced Dorothy's silver shoes with ruby ones. They were originally silver in the book, but they decided the red would look better on screen. So they just changed it. Just like that. They didn't stop to think that the silver held some important meaning or that maybe they might have something to offer to the film. They were just tossed aside like they had no feelings to worry about -- replaced by something that looked a little bit nicer on Dorothy's dainty feet.
I know Lisa doesn't like being seen with me. Whenever we're alone together, she's close and warm and licks my neck, soft and gentle like a kitten; but when other people are around, it's different. I'm the girl with too-wide hips skulking in the corner while she and Susanna flirt with each other through a screen of smoke. I'm not stupid. I see what's going on. She can nibble on MG's round fingers and it's nothing, because the girl has the mentality of a twelve year old -- Lisa's sick, but she's not that sick -- but with me, it's different. She treats me too nice and maybe people might start talking. Because Lisa isn't nice, not too anyone. Except Susanna. And Jamie, but Jamie's dead now; and that's because of Lisa, too.
Jamie died and immediately she started looking for another someone to help her lead the pack -- someone that wasn't so weak and maybe she thinks that's the sort of disease that passes through air, because she didn't bother to give her ex's roommate so much as a second glance. I'm the boredom fuck. The Omega.
I read. People think I only read the Oz books, like I'm some kind of child, but I don't. I read a lot. My great grandpa was a famous novelist, so we would read all the time in my family. My dad was away a lot because of work, so whenever he was home, he would read to us. It was a tradition. His favorite things to read were science magazines so I know a lot about a lot of things, but not just things he read to me. I used to read a lot myself, too, and I still do. I read a lot about wolves and I know enough to know that I'm the Omega. I'm the punching bag. I'm the one that gets nipped and snarled at without reproach from the alpha. Say something about Susanna, though, and you're in trouble. Cause she's the favorite, now that Jamie's gone.
Lisa knows how to get revenge like no one else. I remember the day we went for ice cream, with that woman waving her finger in Susanna's face like she was. Lisa snarled and grabbed her hand in that firm, hard way I know so well it made me smirk, and we followed her lead, moaning just like the wolf pack she wants us to be. Nobody gets revenge like Lisa. She's not just smart; she's patient, too. I'm not.
The Omega gets the lowest rung on the ladder. They're the bottom. Alpha's the top, and sometimes I'd watch Lisa and Jamie in bed together and try to figure out which one of them gave ground and let themselves be pinned to the bottom. I bet it was Jamie. She was always weaker. Lisa knew it too, and still she chose her. She holds me down, but only because I let her. I bet she knows I don't have to be on bottom. I'm sure she can feel it when she presses me against the wall, pushing and sliding against me until I squirm. I bet she can taste it on her tongue. I'm sure that's why she comes back. Not for me, but for my taste.
That night sneaking into the offices to find our files, when she smacked me I wanted to cry. Her hands have never hurt so much, even the times before when she wouldn't stop until she'd made me scream. I wanted to whimper and fall to my knees and beg her to forgive me and she gave me the chance. She stared at me, angry and cold and I backed down just like she wanted. I give her everything she wants. I give her things Susanna never could.
Lisa only hit me like she did because Susanna was there watching. I know I shouldn't hate Susanna for it, but I do. That night I watched her sleeping and imagined calling my father in the CIA and having her killed. Nobody would notice the snipers outside our window but me and the red beam would trace along her curves, moving as soft and silent as Lisa's hands and then it'd reach that space between her eyes. There would be a quick, sharp noise and she'd die and I wouldn't care to cry, because she's the reason for all my tears and Lisa wouldn't have to hit me any more.