Post Malone Psycho Lyrics Novels & Stories

It's Thanksgiving, and I'm waiting for Zeke Jones to come home after cooking up an extravagant meal. When Zeke returns, he doesn't even glance at the meal I've prepared for him. Instead, he proceeds to pack a bag. "I can't celebrate Thanksgiving with you this year," he says. I take another bite of my turkey and say nothing. At the stroke of midnight, Zeke's first love posts a new photo on her social media page. In the photo, she's lying on Zeke's back with a bright smile on her face. The moon outside the window is bright. "Happy to spend Thanksgiving with good company," her caption reads. Instead of hysterically questioning Zeke about the post, I just tap on the "like" button without reacting in any way. Zeke calls me. His voice sounds panicked as he tries to explain himself. "Please don't misinterpret the post. I will definitely spend Thanksgiving with you next year…" I freeze for a few moments, letting out a small laugh. I don't offer him a reply. Next time, he says? Oh, Zeke, I'm afraid there won't be a next time.

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged. The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks." The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks. A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees." I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry. So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone." Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post. "Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

After I dropped out of school, my parents didn't pressure me to do anything. But Nicole Hicks kept calling nonstop. She was my boyfriend's childhood friend who had established a reputation as a genius. I was too busy helping out in the fields, growing vegetables, and splashing around in the creek, living my best carefree life. Writing code wasn't even on my mind. In my past life, she had turned in a project just one day before I did. Her codes were exactly the same as mine. Everyone called me a fraud and said I had stolen it. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. Later, she even did a livestream, accusing me online of being a school bully. People went wild. They didn't just come for me—they went after my whole family. Some obsessed troll chased my parents in a car, and they died in a crash. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped off a high-rise, my eyes still wide open, refusing to accept the way it all ended. Even in my last moment, I couldn't figure it out. That code was mine. My hard work. So how did she manage to post it before me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back, right before everything fell apart.

I worked at a sales job and felt pretty good about my work. Then, Vivian appeared. She was a new intern with an insatiable curiosity for others’ private affairs. On Valentine’s Day, my husband, Henry Ambrose, bought a million dollars’ worth of bags from me to help me meet my sales target. Just as I left work to meet him for a date, Vivian sent a snide message. [Your Fitbit just logged an extra thousand steps. That’s literally the exact distance to the hotel next door. Nice work, Lily! You close a million-dollar deal and immediately head to the hotel with the client?] I coldly fired back, [If you’re this desperate to stalk people, you should’ve just joined the K-9 unit.] That very night, parcels of adult toys appeared on my doorstep. Vivian had written a nasty post that had gone viral, and things turned out like this! [This Salesgirl Slept With My Client and Stole My Million-Dollar Commission on Valentine’s Day!] A pair of my ripped silk stockings, which I had tossed in the trash, became her “proof” that I had seduced a client during work hours. Vivian was painted as the victim, while I was viciously smeared as a “salesgirl who slept with clients for commissions.” What Vivian did not know was that Henry was actually a leading researcher worth billions. I only took the sales job because I was bored and wanted to experience something new.

Sebastian Miller was my Alpha mate. Because I asked him to remove his Beta, Charlotte Lewis, from her position, we had a huge fight. After that, he shut me out completely. Three months later, he assumed I had realized my mistake and suggested that we go on a vacation to Highfeather Forest. The moment Charlotte found out, she exploded. She screamed at Sebastian, made a scene, and even threatened to leave the pack. To calm her down, Sebastian canceled our trip. He used a business deal as an excuse and gave the vacation spot to her instead. Afterward, he offered me a shallow explanation. “I’m the Alpha of this pack. The pack’s interests have to come first. As the Luna, you should understand that.” I looked at the post Charlotte shared on her feed. The two of them stood by the lake, close and intimate, like true mates enjoying a private getaway. I knew everything they had done, but I said nothing. I only nodded. Sebastian mistook my silence for understanding. He seemed pleased with me, even promised that one day he would make the trip up to me. What he did not know was that I had already signed the withdrawal agreement to leave the pack. I had also gone to a witch and obtained the potion to sever a mate bond. It was time for this to end.

Right after finishing a meeting, I opened a forum and saw a warning post. The location tag was our company. The title read: “Red flag! What a cheap company. Anyone who joins is a total sucker. They can’t even afford a decent coffee break.” The photo attached showed the expensive coffee and five-star desserts I had just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frowned and tagged the entire group chat, asking if anyone had suggestions about the afternoon tea. A Gen-Z intern who had just joined, Julian Hayes, instantly replied with a voice message: “Boss, no offense, but these assembly-line desserts are full of trans fats. Nobody would eat them.” “A truly humane company hires a Michelin chef to cook and slice everything fresh on site. That’s what real respect for employees looks like.” I laughed in disbelief. Our company’s daily coffee break budget was thirty dollars per person—already considered top-tier in the industry. So I replied, “Since it’s impossible to satisfy everyone’s taste, we’ll cancel afternoon tea from now on and convert the budget into cash for everyone instead.” Less than five minutes later, that post was updated: “Guys, can you believe this? I made a perfectly reasonable suggestion and the lame boss immediately canceled the whole coffee break perk! This is the true face of corporate greed—can’t handle even a little bit of honesty!”

Newton college, a school in New York City. Popular firstly because of the magnificent build. Then the daily bullying. It's a school that only supports the rich so no commoner is attending but even the rich has levels. The extraordinarily rich (Upper category) Students whose parents own large conglomerates, students whose parents are business tycoons and students whose parents are influential politicians belong to this category. The normally rich (middle category) Students whose parents own a company at least and students whose parents are popular rich medical practitioners belongs to this category. The "just rich" (lower category) Students whose parents neither own a company nor conglomerate but they work under the owners and get paid hugely.... Such students belong in this category. Students wear identity tags which has their names and their categories written on it so it's easy to identify categories. The extraordinarily rich finds it fun to bully the "middle class" and "just rich" The "middle class" takes pleasure in bullying the " just rich" too. The " just rich" are the most helpless students in the school, thus becoming the target for bullying. And now the main reason for the popularity... The Emperors. On the other hand, November Blanco is the second daughter of Adelia and Matteo Blanco. Trouble can be her second name because she's always in one trouble or the other. She's not the clumsy, nerdy or dumb type, she's not brilliant either but she's a psycho who hates rude arrogant punks. She got to know from her mum that she's pretty and if there's anything she's proud of, it's her round @ss and curvy hips She has always dreamt of becoming a student of Newton but she fails the entrance exams yearly. What happens when November becomes a student of Newton college by chance?

“We’re sinners. If heaven exists, we’d never be allowed in. But you and I can rule hell together and I’d fuck you hard while we watch the world burn.” His cold lips left a hot trail of heat as it glided down her spine. “O- okay, Daddy.” She stuttered, gripping the sheets tightly and gasping for breath at the same time when fingers suddenly slid into her wet heat from behind. ~~~ She was betrothed to him since birth. Mya knew what was going to happen to her unfortunate life once she comes of age– she was going to be wedded to Angelo, a ruthless and dangerous Mafia Lord who makes the sky rain gore on a good day. And so on her wedding day, she eloped. That same day, she managed to turn into the most wanted criminal of the country. Mya went from running from Angelo, to being saved by him… but, not before paying a price. ———- Birthed by a monster and hardened by pain and violence, Angelo had turned into an emotionless psycho at the age of thirty-two. He had no intention of taking a bride from the onset, all he cared about was protecting his top spot in the country. In comes Mya– a supposed damsel in distress, only that this one has blood on her hands and scars maring her soul. Angelo was supposed to leave her to her wretched fate, but somehow, he found himself drawn to her. Perhaps, it was because there was something about her blue eyes that scratched at an instinct within him which he never knew existed. But she called him ‘Daddy’ once and nothing remained the same after that. Now he was going to protect her, fight her battles, and make her his queen.

Even though this is my eighth time proposing to Beverly Galvan, she still coldly turns me down again. She says that she isn't ready yet and that she needs more time. Since that's the case, I tell myself I will wait as long as it takes. That's when I see it—her and my brother's marriage certificate, posted for everyone to see on her social media. When I question her about it, she merely says in a calm voice, "Timothy's unwell. He can't get too upset, so you'd better not start anything!" They are wearing wedding rings in that photo, and there is a barely visible bump on her belly. In that moment, the storm within me dissipates. Hitting the like button on the post, I type out a comment. "I wish you both a lifetime of joy. May the two of you grow old together!" A year later, a desperate-looking Beverly shows up in front of me, begging that we get back together. Unfortunately for her, her best friend, who was clearly pregnant, steps in with a smile and pushes her aside. "Give it a rest, will you? My husband already has a wife. We can have kids of our own. There's no need for him to be someone's fallback guy."

On my 30th birthday, my husband, Miles Harrington, was out of town on a business trip. To make it up to me, he had a cake delivered. What arrived at my door was a Superman cake that looked like it belonged at a three-year-old's birthday party. I was about to call him when my phone rang. "Honey, you're not gonna believe this. That bakery messed up my order and sent you the wrong cake." I didn't think much of it. Instead, I posted the story on my social media account as a funny little birthday mishap. Comments started pouring in almost immediately. [Was it really the bakery's mistake, or does your husband have a kid somewhere?] I laughed it off. Miles and I had been together since college. We dated, got married, and built a life together. Other than not having children, we were the kind of couple people envied. But as the post gained traction and the comments kept coming, I decided maybe it was time to delete it. Before I could, I got a direct message from the bakery. [Hi there. I wanted to clarify, the delivery driver didn't mix up the orders. Mr. Harrington bought two cakes. He accidentally swapped the delivery addresses.]