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kats-chaotic-wonderland · 10 months

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The tiny town of Merin Falls [Part 1]

(this is repost of my original reddit story so it's still structured for reddit. TW: mentions of blood, violence, gore, assault, and stalking. Nothing too graphic, but this is the set up for a horror story.)

Today had been a pretty slow day, so when I eventually found myself on Reddit, I whittled away my shift by reading through some of the posts in this particular sub. As I was on some post, about fifteen stories in, my coworker pointed out that some of the stuff we've seen would probably be interesting for some of you here. He suggested that I put a few of the more...bizarre? Creepy? I guess horrific? Stories about weird shit that happens in our small new England town.

So, as I'm sure you've heard before, I'll start by saying I live in a small town. It's settled in the northeast, a ways up from the Bridgewater triangle, and on the hill above a small bay. It's old, and has a history of witch trials and war battles. If you've ever seen a horror or Hallmark movie you've seen a town just like it. From calm summers to colorful falls, with old Victorian homes settled in old neighborhoods, complete with soccer moms and honor roll kids. This place is chock full of the American dream.

For context, we're small for this area. Like really small. One school, town square, a few neighborhoods, some mom and pop shops. We have a few docks down at the bay, but nothing bigger than a small motor boat. We do have one guy who lives on his boat, but it's a single room ship. Officially our population is about 1000-1500 on a good year. Unofficially, we stand about 2000 consistently. We'll talk about why at a different time, for now I just wanted to put it in your mind how small we're actually talking.

This place looks and operates like a normal New England town on the surface. Of course, I wouldn't be here if it actually did. There's a lot wrong with this tiny town of Merin Falls.

I spent a while today rolling around in my brain for what story really works for a start. See, we get a lot of weird, dangerous, unexplainable stuff out here. But starting off with true horror is a bit of a challenge. After six years, and for some other reasons, I’ve become a bit numb to some of what happens here. Not all, but some, and the ones that stick with me really aren’t something I want to dredge up just yet. But after some thought, I settled on one that I think will serve as a good look into what living here is like.

The day in question was a pretty typical day, maybe four or so years ago? I had gone into work, had a total of four customers. I remember because Iian still has a polaroid of each one tucked away and dated in his portfolio. This is one reason I started to hang around with him, his need to take way too many photos means I have easy access to memory triggers. But we’ll talk about that on a different day. For now all that matters is I had four customers. Holly Baker, came in the early hours right at open, she bought three binders, a sharpie, and a roll of yellow duct tape. I rang her up with no issue, my coworker Iian took her photo as she was checking out. She left and we were dead until around four o’clock. That was when Mrs. Miller came in with her rat dog and her spineless husband.

Mrs. Silvia Miller, is a rather irritating thorn in my side. From my first day working here she’s come in at least once a week in order to make snide comments about my appearance or moral choices, and make laughably bad attempts to return items she never purchased. She’s every retail worker's nightmare. (And no, unfortunately this is not the story about her being a horrible monster) Her antics have gotten so bad over the past six years that we have rules specifically for her. I’ll explain them in more detail in a later post, but she’s not allowed to shop when it’s just me on shift. We do not accept returns from her. Ever. And all of her receipts have a stamp that says “Non returnable. All sales are final.” These rules extend to her husband, a short stumpy man who looks like a frog next to his witch of a wife. As well as her kids, on the off chance they take the time to visit the old crone.

I remember this interaction clear as day, without the need for a trigger. Silvia had come in ranting and raising holy hell about some folders she had purchased from Arthur, on a day when I wasn't working. I listened to her diatribe as she gestured rapidly with her free hand, her faux pearl bracelet looking like it was going to snap off her knobby wrist. After five or so minutes I just stopped her, took her receipt, and pointed at the massive hot pink stamp that was glowing in the black light. With a look that I can only describe as, complete and utter entitled bitch bafflement, the look a Karen gets when the manager doesn't give them free stuff. She turned up her crooked hooked nose and snatched the receipt. Then she turned on her heels, a cheap pair from the thrift shop, of which she had painted the soles red with what I can only assume was cheap spray paint. Then with the fury of a western wind, headed for the door in a huff. Her shaking bug eyed rat and amphibious husband in tow. The former clutched in her cheaply manicured claws, and the latter being dragged by the scruff of his threadbare suit. The Millers are what you would call high class white trash.

The third customer was a guy I can't remember, but since Iian has a photo with the same date, I'm gonna assume he was there. From the photo, I can see he was an inch or so taller than me, gaunt face with some dark stubble, thin lanky limbs, and curly dark hair down to his shoulders. He was wearing some casual shorts and a tee shirt, and….round Ozzy Osbourne sunglasses indoors….for some reason. What strikes me as off on this one, is we have a lot of photos of him, but Iian doesn't remember ever taking them. And, for my weird memory issues, I can't bring up a single image of him in my mind if I'm not looking at a photo. It's like he just blinks from existence when we look away. There's a lot of photos of him actually….I wonder if he’s a regular? I’ll check the cameras for him at some point.

The last customer came in just before close. I call her Thelma, but I don’t actually know her name. She’s not local, but she is a regular. For whatever reason she drives out to this podunk to buy her music sheets from us. Thelma is always dressed in a similar outfit, just different colors and patterns. Always a top with 3/4 sleeves, a skirt that fits her closely but not tight that ends at the ankle in a ruffle. Sunglasses, sometimes she keeps them on. And her wiry gray hair is always up in some clip ponytail, updo thing. The top is always solid or stripes, and the skirt is always some kind of floral. Her shoes are either sandals, heels, flats, or sneakers. I wish I had more to say about her, but she never says much. Just comes in, wordlessly gets her blank sheets, checks out, pays cash, and bails. She did the same thing that day. Not a word more than needed, sunglasses on the whole time. Have I mentioned my store is lit up mostly by black lights? Yeah she makes no sense to me. But she doesn’t cause problems so I like her well enough. After Thelma left Iian and I cleaned up, locked up, and he headed home. We waved as I was taking my key from the door. We go in opposite directions, save for the off day when he walks my way with me so he can stay with Ryan for the night. That night was not one of those nights.

So there I was walking alone. It was a warm night and I was in a pretty good mood after everything that day. I’d made it a good six blocks when a car pulled up next to me. They rolled up real slow and kept pace with me. I didn’t give them any attention. Instead the hand on my opposite side was reaching for the knife I keep on my belt. I have a few on me at all times, I lived on the road for a while before I landed here. You figure out a lot about how to keep yourself safe in places like truck stops and roach motels. My knives won't save me from a bullet, learned that the hard way. But guns are rare in this area, instead kidnapping and other person on person crime is higher. But when they rolled their window down and I heard a whistle, my eyes just rolled.

Travis Heartly was the star of the football team back when he was in high school, now he was a community college drop out who could not understand the word no. Or fuck off. Or I will stab you and not feel bad in the slightest. He’d taken a liking to me just a few weeks after I had moved to Merin Falls. Unfortunately for him, I had sworn off guys. Not love, just guys. After getting abused three times in a row, I realized that me and guys romantically just don’t work. Travis didn’t get the memo apparently. He would come into my shop, near daily, and ask me out. Waste my time with his small town bragging. Act like a general Neanderthal. When Luther finally had enough and banned him from the store, he just started waiting outside for me to leave. Wait in my favorite coffee shop, bar, library, you name it he stalked it. His car was an old beat up sedan his mom gave him. He cleared out the back and put a bed in there. Needless to say that didn’t help his case when he busted into the shop excited to show me his new ride.

This car he was in however, was a rather nice Lexus. He was still beside me, calling out for my attention. I of course would not be giving him any. So he opted instead to move up the block and park right in the next street I needed to cross. Because of this move, the idiot gave me enough time to pull my larger blade from my boot. It's a good three inches longer than the belt knife, and an inch broader. See, my boots are clunky steel toed work boots. I don’t really need them, but old habits die hard, and hold big knives. I stopped a few yards away as he got out. We were close in age, though he had a good two years on me, but I had about six inches on him so I guess we're even. Still, after his flunk out, he’d taken up booze and dropped his work out. So his once toned body was slowly fading into the start of a beer belly and unkempt stubble.

He closed the door and leaned against the car,”Hey! How was work?”

“Leave me alone Travis.”

His expression dropped,”Come on, what did I do? Was it the roses? Look I just thought maybe-”

“Oi.” I cut him off, ”Shove it. I’m not interested. Now beat it.”

“Come on Am.” his voice was pitiful. He had his choice of girls when I moved here. He was pretty, young, fit, and locally famous. But when he clung to the freaky new girl, they all moved on after a year or so. A fair amount of his classmates were hooked up with someone new. Iian liked to gossip about his school a lot at work. In a small place like this most of the kids never really leave. But, his problems weren’t my issue.

“Move.” I ordered

He was looking at me like I’d just kicked a puppy.

“Fine.” I started to cross to the far side of the street. He panicked and ran toward me, closing the distance in a moment as he grabbed my upper arm. He'd learned not to try and grab my forearm. I always hold my knives down, with the bunt to my arm, blade out. In the event I need to block, or get grabbed from behind it's quicker to defend myself. Think Rambo or Hunter from the bad batch. Say whatever you want, but it's saved me more times than I want to admit.

“Wait!” he pleaded,”Please just one chance! I promise, I can-”

I ripped my arm away and rounded around with my free hand. The fist collided with his nose, I felt a crunch and heard a bone snap. Travis stumbled back and grabbed his now gushing nose. Tears welled and fell in rivulets as he looked at me in shock.

“I told you not to fucking touch me.” I spat and stepped back several feet. I kept my eyes locked on him and my guard up,”Try that shit again and I’ll do worse than break your nose. When a woman tells you no for two straight years, believe me she is not going to change her mind dumbass.”

He just looked at me, tears and blood running down his face. I’d always told him no. No maybes, no waffling. Always a direct no. And I’d put up with his stalking, but he’d never touched me before. This time he crossed a line he hadn’t realized was there. The look in his eyes was either rage, or passion. And I really didn’t want to know which. He’s the kind of guy who wants a woman to ruin his life. I guess he thought I would fit that bill.

He was right, but not in the way he wanted.

This standoff lasted for maybe a minute before headlights came slowly up behind us. Travis made the connection before I did. He saw the red and blues and bailed off into his Lexus. I watched him peel out from where he had been. I didn’t move until officer Lison parked and stepped out of his car. I lowered my knife and slid it into my boot as he walked over to me.

“Amber? Was that Travis I just saw?” he asked, he sipped on his coffee, getting a few drops caught in the edge of his salt and pepper mustache.

I turned and rubbed my hand, it was bruising from where I had punched him,”Yeah. He tried to grab me when I went to walk away this time.”

“Shit.” Lison chuffed with a bushy browed scowl,”What an ass.”

His reaction was so flippant, I just...I busted out laughing,”That’s all you got Boris?”

“What?” he asked confused,”He is. Plus he’s getting thrown in lock up tomorrow anyway.”

This made my laughter stop, it was my turn to be confused,”What did he do now?”

Another sip of his coffee,”Grand theft auto.” he shrugged,”Lexus was stolen from a lot east of town. That's why I stopped.”

“You’re kidding.” I asked slack jawed.

“Nope. I don’t think he even realized he was on camera.”

“So what? He just took it in hopes of a date night?”

“Looks like it if he was here for you. He’s a desperate man.” he shook his head,”Wanna lift home?”

I thought about it for a second,”Sure. Thanks Boris.”

We hopped in his cruiser, and made light conversation for a few blocks. Three blocks from my house though, a call came over the radio. Some mix of cop lingo and garbled static that I couldn't really understand. He did though, Boris looked concerned and stopped the car. He gave me a look I couldn’t really place,”Look, kiddo. I gotta respond on this one, but it’s back that way,” he gestured behind us,”It’s an all night type deal. Are you good for the last few blocks?”

I nodded,”Yeah, you go do what you gotta man. Thank you for the help, and the ride.”

“Any time Amber.” He nodded, his face looked a bit forlorn,”You should be safe from here, but be careful.”

“Always.” I smiled as I slid out of the cruiser, my boots hit the pavement and I walked behind the car to the sidewalk. Boris took off a moment later, back down the way we had come.

I should have asked how he knew Travis wasn’t around. I know now that's what he meant when he said I was safe. The look in his eyes should have clued me in, but I just figured it was part of whatever call he had gotten. I was right. Doesn’t make it easier for him though.

He’d get six calls of the same nature that night. And he wasn't the only one, a total of twenty eight similar calls came in one after another. None of them could be explained. He still blames himself for the two that survived, and the rest that didn't.

Boris Lison had lived in Merin Falls his entire fifty seven years of life. And he’d known Travis for all twenty one years of his. He’d been close with the football star's grand dad. But after his spiral, the officer just felt bad for the kid. That made it hard for poor Boris to pick him up off the pavement that night. The official story was that he crashed the Lexus into the retainer wall because of his erratic behavior. Some of the officers even insinuated that it was on purpose after my rejection and breaking his nose. That he had finally snapped and tried to end it all. Claiming mental illness was easier than trying to explain the gaping hole in his chest. Or how he had been dragged out of the car through the back windscreen. How he ended up a good half mile from the car. Or why he was frozen almost cryogenically with his heart yanked halfway out of his ribcage by the time Boris had found him. How he survived for the following week is beyond all of us. Not that he was any help in explaining anything. By the time I was ready to leave the hospital myself the following week, Travis tried to use his bed sheets and window for his own way out. I can’t say I blame him. I probably would have done the same after what happened. He spent the next two years in the Merin Falls psych ward. His time there was a horror show of its own.

What happened that night scarred a lot of people in this town. Unfortunately, myself included, both physically and mentally.

Boris had just gotten out of sight and I started making my way down the block. My body was still on high alert from my encounter with Travis. Every noise, flash of headlights, each passing car made me freeze. I'm not a skittish person. Anxious sure, but it's a quiet anxious. Not jumpy. Something in the air had me on edge. It felt like each step dragged me through a slurry of static and shaved ice.

My feet trudged onward. Alarm bells flagged in my brain, each thud of my heart sent a scream from the back of my mind. They all called me to turn and run. But….I didn't.

I should have.

The further I went the worse the feeling of unease got. Then, after a block, I saw something. A dark figure crossed the street ahead of me. I watched as it moved from my side to the other, then back again. Stopping in my tracks, my brow furrowed. It was like looking at something dipped in Vantaa black. My brain wanted to warp around it, like it was a void between two images that should be touching but weren't.

The way it moved, it wasn't….it wasn't right. Like a shadow blinking in and out of existing, but never moving all at the same time. I was frozen the moment my eyes caught it. My skin prickled as ice slinked in a slurry through my veins. I could feel the sludge crawling up the back of my neck as the thing turned to me. Whatever this was, I wasn't supposed to have seen it.

Thoughts raced in my mind, 'I've dealt with weird shadows before, if I tell it to leave it should right?'

'No wait, why isn't my mouth moving?'

'Hold on why can't I mo- wait is it getting closer!?'

A scream was lost in the void of my throat as I realized that the creature was moving in static flashes toward me, or was it? It was close, then it was miles away, a few yards, miles and miles, feet, then inches.

‘Shit!’

Freezing blood pounded in my ears as this...this thing...I couldn’t form a real thought as it neared me. What should have been it's face, instead just a chasm of inky blackness, was inches from mine. If it had eyes I couldn't see them. But I could feel them. It felt like a numbness trailing over me as it tried to understand what I was. Panic clutched my chest as the numb feeling hovered over my heart. The ice in my veins rushed to the center of where it was staring. A choked groan seeped from my throat as I felt the muscle in my chest freeze to a halt.

'How am I even still breathing?'

'Wait...am I?'

I couldn’t tell anymore.

It’s arm moved as it flashed back several feet again. Looking at this thing hurt. Like I was watching a game character glitch in and out as it tried to move. Just rapid, glitchy, morphing, shapes of shadow. It looked humanoid, but entirely not at the same time. Raising its arm I felt cold static touch the skin over my heart. My top was probably fucked, but I quickly didn’t care as I felt it slowly pushing it's claws into my flesh. I couldn’t scream. Gods I wanted to. I wanted to cry out in pain and terror. This creature was ripping my chest open. Claws in the shape of a perforated circle were digging, boring their way to my heart. Determined to remove the icy lump of muscle and sinew from where it was caged in bone.

Silent tears rolled down my cheeks, so hot they burned like flames as they fell. As they left blazing trails, it occurred to me as the heat faded, I couldn’t feel anything but the pain in my chest anymore. A sickening ‘*CRACK’* sent a new wave through my body. White spots floated and flitted around the edge of my eyes. Like sick fairies drawn to the scent of blood. This thing was taking it's time.

It enjoyed watching me suffer. Frozen in fear and pain.

The next thought that crossed my mind was so horribly clear,’I’m going to die here.’ I wish I could say I had some awakening and I snapped out of it. Or that in that moment my life flashed before my eyes and I saw the error of some choice in my life. But no. In that moment, alone with that thing, it’s claws reaching for my frozen heart, I just wished for one more moment. The image that did come to my mind just as the white began to take my sight wasn’t something deep, or wise, or heroic. It was a smile. A smile I knew would never look the same if I died. From that day on it would be tinged with sadness. Of not knowing what happened. Maybe she would think I just left. I prayed, for the first time in so many years, a silent thought,’Please, let her hate me. Don’t let her linger. Don’t let her search. Forget me and be happy.’ And that was it.

Everything went white.

I woke up two days later in a hospital bed. The nurse beside me was changing an IV bag. His eyes caught mine as they fluttered open, with a professional manner he told me I was in the hospital and to not move. After calling the doctor and running a few tests. Things like asking me for information, grip strength tests, stuff like that. They told me what happened. Just as I passed out, before I was gored by a shadow thing, Ryan had found me. He said I was just collapsed on the sidewalk cold, with a ring of stab wounds on my chest. He called 911 and they rushed me to the hospital. I had a few cracked ribs, and they said it was nearly impossible that all of the stabs had missed major arteries. But it wasn’t. That thing wanted me alive to the last second. Ryan found me two hours after I left the shop.

It had frozen me there for two hours.

I was in the hospital for recovery for a few days. Iian and Ryan checked in on me every day. Arthur and Luther came by a few times too. They even paid for my bills. I really love them so much. I don’t know where I’d be without them all. Once I was released, Iian stayed with me till he believed I wouldn’t keel over. Within two months I was healed up, a perfect ring of five exactly matching scars, centered right over my heart. As soon as the doc cleared me, which took a bit, she’s a thorough woman. I was in the tattoo parlor the next day getting a new piece to accent my new scars. That thing tried to kill me. But, I’m no coward. I was scared shitless, I’d only felt fear like that once before that day. Despite that, I lived. Somehow. So I’m owning it. Just like the one on my back. My shoulder. The bullet scar in my thigh. And the bands around my wrists.

Each scar is a memory. Each tattoo, a way to take back control in a small way. Every horror story leaves a scar of some kind. Mine were physical this time. Next time maybe we’ll look into the ones on my mind. But for now Iian is bugging me to check in, I didn't realize how long I've been typing. I’m Amber Haze, and I’ll be back soon with more from the tiny town of Merin Falls.

Master post

Horror master post

Navigation post

Part 2

#merin falls #horror #creepy #creepypasta #r/nosleep #amber haze

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artinandwritin · 1 year

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So ever since I handed in my portfolio for the first part of this semester, I have been playing the Sims with one goal in mind. Wait, no, two;

The first is to procrastinate the work I have to do for my grading in one and a half weeks.

The second is to create the perfect Niv from GusSiri's combined DNA (which sounds weird lmao)

So far;

I tried to start building a house for them but got distracted by the gallery. So I just picked a cute gallery house and redecorated it

Created GusSiri!! They look absolutely adorable together but for some reason they keep forgetting each other's name

Siri has developed bad vision??? So she wears glasses, which is funny cuz in her canon story she's an archer and has really good eyesight

Gustav became an introvert somehow. Um. Idk how that happened?? But he is a freelance writer which is funny. He's really following in his hero Snotlout's footsteps

On that. I keep having him write books on his adoration for Snotlout. It's very funny to me lmao

Siri is a babysitter and had a promotion after the first day!! And it means she has more time to do romance things >:)

GusSiri are going very slow but they are vibing so hard. The bed bugged and now one keeps sleeping on the couch

GusSiri eloped lmao. They're married AND IT'S NIV TIME!!!

I just realised the house may be a bit small for a family lmao but i am too lazy to fix it rn

SIRI IS PREGNANT AND SHE'S LOOKING SO ADORABLE

Also her with her lil glasses is so cute

Gustav keeps being a little shit and doesn't do anything in the house while his heavily pregnant wife is taking care of everything herself. HELP HER YOU LIL SHIT

OH HE'S FINALLY DOING SHIT GOOD JOB SON

Yeah maybe because you keEP SPENDING MONEY

IT'S BABY TIME

THEY HAD TWINS I REPEAT THEY HAD TWINS. I SWEAR FIRST THEY HAD A BABY BOI AND I WAS SO HAPPY CUZ BABY BOI MEANS NIV. AND THEN THE GAME SAID THEY HAD A BABY GIRL TOO

So in this game Niv has a twin sister and her name is Elisabeth (curtesy of @beebooca who I kinda have been livestreaming this game to lmao) I love them sm

Oh no I gotta upgrade the house now. I hope GusSiri have made enough money.

So far it's going great and the twins are great babies. Niv and Siri just became besties!!! I hope the new infant stage is gonna be just as easy

OKAY I KID YOU NOT BUT THE GAME MADE A NIV. BLACK HAIR GREEN EYES THE WHOLE LOOK AND I DIDN'T EVEN NEED TO CHANGE ANYTHING

LOOK AT HIM HE'S SO CUTE. ALL I HAD TO DO WAS GIVE HIM CUTE OUTFITS AND BOOM WE HAD A NIV

SWEET BABY ELISABETH LOOK AT HER!!!

Oh I love the twins sm. I must resist the urge to make Elisabeth canon in some way.

Someone left baby Niv outside??? Bro this is so sad SOMEONE COME PICK HIM UP

Why are infants so hard. Gustav just has permanent bags underneath his eyes and Siri has to sleep so much

Siri and Niv are bonding. This is what we are doing this for.

I cant wait until the kids are toddlers smh. Also

Same

Anyways um. This was it for now? If anything interesting happens I will keep you updated lmao

@rosiethedragongeek for the tags!

#gussiri #sims 4 #artinandwritin's lore

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bogkeep · 3 years

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i talk a lot of shit about twitter, and it's my other main social media so i'm Allowed To!!!! however. i am feeling charitable today

twitter PROS:

- if you're actually interested in networking and opportunities, that's where the people are. it's a more public space. i am mutuals with some really cool people and i get most of my commissions through there.

- artist twitter is a thriving community!! there's designated hashtag posting days like portfolio day, women artists/nb artists/transmasc artists, drawing while black, and random art challenges and many other fun ways to discover and be discovered.

- muting and blocking functions that actually work! you can even turn off retweets from specific people on your feed if you only want their original posts!

- locking your account (or making a Secret Locked Side Account) is Quick Easy and Free

- there is good content on there. otherwise there wouldn't be so many screenshots of tweets on tumblr

- has not banned nsfw content as of yet

twitter CONS:

- all the cr*ptobros are there. oh god there's so many of them.

- all the celebrities are there too. there's also a bigger and bigger overlap with said cry*tobros.

- n*zis and t*rfs galore

- i was going to say "it's hell" but hell is empty and all the devils are on twitter

- everything happens so much.

- everything happens so much ALL THE TIME.

- as much as i enjoy artist side of twitter. if we have to debate whether or not using references is cheating one more time i am going to implode. every week there is a new art discourse. i am so sick of art takes and i studied art history for four years.

- the discourse cycle is unfortunately not exclusive to art twitter. every corner of twitter has its own set of discussions that it just feels the need to rehash on a regular basis, i'm sure. if you are a regular tweeter you will feel pressured and compelled to Add Your Take because it's the topic of the day and it feels weird to just ignore it and talk about other things. i'm not immune either! it's a hard life!

- tumblr is not the only site riddled with bad faith and poor reading comprehension. i'm pretty sure that's a curse upon every public space on the internet, and twitter is VERY public. also, tweets have a character limit, so if you want to say anything with any nuance at all, you're probably going to have to write a whole thread. know what else twitter has? a quote retweet function. the PERFECT way to take a statement out of context and recontextualize it. you can actually limit who replies to your tweets or turn off replies completely, but you cannot limit quote retweets.

- there's certain words that trigger bots to reply. if you say the word 'essay' uncensored, you'll immediately have five replies with "PAY FOR ESSAYS HERE!!!". or famously if you reply to art with "i want this on a t shirt" the print on demand sites pop up instantly.

- similarly, there's lots of shitheads who are not bots but don't have anything better to do with their life than to search for certain words and then harass anyone talking about these topics. i made an incredibly lukewarm tweet about t*rfs in like 2014 and immediately got some awful quote retweets. my friend said she wanted to punch t*rfs in 2017 and t*rfs mass reported her account until she got locked out of it. if your account isn't locked, you do actually have to be careful with what you tweet. i can't even make jokes about norwegian culture without getting some real weirdos in my mentions who are a litte TOO protective of Dear Precious White Scandinavian Culture

- if a tumblr post is good, it will circulate. it will be brought back every now and then. it will be immortalized in our museums and mausoleums. if a tweet is good, you will see it posted every couple months by different twitter users. not as memes, just plagiarism. i know Joke Credit isn't a big deal but it grinds my gears.

- you can see who other people follow, their follower counts, and their liked posts. terrible design really

- never meet your heroes

- this may be a pro for some, since it can Also be used for good: tweets can get Featured in news and articles or otherwise impact irl events. isn't it horrifying how much of a role twitter has on politics and things outside the internet sometimes? the only site using tumblr posts for anything is buzzfeed

- i'm so exhausted

IN CONCLUSION - different platforms are good for different things. twitter can be a genuinely useful tool. but also

twitter bad.

#too long for twitter #hah #im less on twitter than i used to be. what a RELIEF

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phantomphangphucker · 3 years

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Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger). Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

Text

Inked

Still on hiatus. But I found an old piece of writing and I revamped it just a smidge! It was originally published in 2018 on calumh-excess. Which is now deactivated. Hooray for finding pieces!

Calum's been watching Jay for a while. She's cute, talented, but a bit of mystery. Should he really give into her? What will it take for him to admit he has a crush?

Enjoy my masterlist (on hiatus)

______________

He watched her sometimes for far too long. The way her tongue stuck out as she pulled the skin and her hand worked steadily with the needle made it hard for him to resist. Her face always seemed to catch the harsh fluorescent lights and reflect it back so that it twinkled against her skin. A slight sheen, but nothing just of ethereal. He wasn’t even interested in any new ink, not seriously anyway. He had slowed on the ink train, but the shop his tattoo artist owned was a nice place to hang out sometimes. When he wanted to get out of his house but didn’t want to actually go somewhere, he could hang out here, listening to the buzz of the tattoo gun, poke his hand at trying a design here or there. They weren't great. He hadn't considered him this kind of artist, but the shop felt like a second home.

Besides, having her around was a more than welcomed bonus.

He wasn’t even sure what it was about her. She showed up about a year and a half ago, under an apprenticeship. Calum’s artist was unsure of her, much like everyone else that asked to work under him. A hazard of the job, according to the job, according to Calum's artist. However, her drawings spoke volumes; the colors and line work were impeccable. She had talent and knew it without being cocky about it. Well, sometimes she wasn’t. Calum watched her run into the occasional asshole that tried to belittle her; she always put her foot down in those situations. He didn’t fault her.

Today’s no different. When Calum walks in, he greets the guy at the front desk, eyes searching for her. He spots her in the back with her oversized frames creating a small glare over her brown eyes. He never quite got the appeal of the grandma-shaped glasses trend, but on her, they worked. She looked wise but soft. The glass pulled him in, felt like she was seeing into his soul. Maybe she was; maybe the pain made people more vulnerable than they anticipated--entrusting someone, a stranger in some ways, to permanently mark you and not fuck it up. Whatever the reason, looking at her felt timeless. Like she had seen it all, and you are just waiting for you to spill all the secrets.

“You finally going to get some new ink?” Calum’s artist teases.

Calum shakes his head, turning his attention away from her. “You finally took her training wheels off?”

“Your girlfriend’s got mad skills. I couldn’t baby her forever. Jay works hard on each piece, learned fast. Got a steady ass hand and pretty gentle for handling a needle.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, because you haven’t hardly even talked to her. Go for it, you wuss. What’s the worst she says? No?”

Calum exhales a chuckle. "I mean, the worst she stabs me with the tattoo gun. But considering the ink I'm already sporting, I doubt that's really all that bad.”

“Jay would not do that unless you asked for it, ff course. But really, go on, ask her out.”

Calum glances back at Jay. It’s a nickname. No one in the shop calls her by her full name. The only reason Calum heard it was when a client came asking for her. Jay was quick to correct them.

She wipes, clearing excess ink, before dipping back into the small cup. Jay smiles up at her client. Calum's sure they appreciate the reprise. Getting tattoos weren't always fun, but bearable enough to forget about it and get more.

Calum turns his gaze away. “I recommended you to a friend,” he says, hoping that he’ll escape the teasing. It’s not likely to happen. But at least he tries to minimize the ridicule.

"I appreciate it. Are they a first-timer?"

"A second-timer, but they're visiting town and want some new ink. I figured best not to fuck them over."

The two men laugh before Calum's escorted back to look through some new designs. Just in case something sparks his interest. Calum's visit is supposed to be short, but there's not much else on his to-do list for the day. He could kill a few hours here.

When Calum comes out from the back, after spending too much time pretending art was ever a talent of his, he looks for Jay again. She’s not in her corner, nor is she at the front. Calum shrugs, figuring she might have gone for lunch, or home depending.

As Calum walks to his car, he checks his phone. Nothing major's happened.

“Leaving so soon?” A voice states. Calum knows that voice, a little gravelly, mostly sweet. He’s dreamt of it every so often. He prays to hear it when he visits the shop.

He turns to Jay, who leans against the bricks. A vape is wrapped in her fingers. “Gotta get some dinner, maybe make a run to the grocery store," Calum returns. "I've gotten lazy."

She nods. “This reminds me that I can't survive off BLTs forever," she laughs.

"You could try, but I think you'd need other vegetables and some fruit in that mix too."

She pushes up on her glass with a nod. "Ah, yes, gotta get the whole food pyramid." It goes silent between them and Calum gives another nod, raising a few fingers to signal his departure while still keeping his phone in a secure enough grip.

"Hey, wait!" Jay calls out again, taking a half step forward. Calum turns to her. "Can I give you something before you leave?”

Calum nods, not trusting his voice. What would she give him? She nods back to the front door, taking back that initial half-step. “It's inside. Give me like two minutes.”

She disappears inside and Calum stands, his phone still in his hands, staring at the spot she once stood. Just as quickly as she disappeared, Jay reappears. In hand is her portfolio. She flips through before stopping and slides the heavy-duty drawing paper out.

Calum stares down at the green and black drawing. It’s his face, for the most part, that stares back at him. It’s distorted by a crystal ball that glows green. Inside are some instruments and something else, but right now he can’t really put it all together. His eyes keep moving over the lightning bolt, the crystal ball, the uncanniness of his face on a piece of paper, his three-dimensional face somehow translated perfectly into a 2-D space.

“Holy shit, this is amazing,” he breathes. “Thank you,” he says looking back up to her.

She shrugs with a smile. “You’re welcome.”

“Seriously, this is so fucking awesome. I’m going to frame it,” he gushes. He’s too excited to be nervous, or be embarrassed. "What are the dimensions?"

“I'm just really glad you don’t find it too creepy. I was watching you a couple weeks ago when you stopped by. It just sort hit me, the image of the crystal ball and lightning bolt; I had to draw it,” Jay elaborates. "And it's 8.5 by 11--standard printer paper size."

Calum shakes his head, staring over the drawing again. It feels so delicate suddenly in his hands. It’s almost like Jay recognizes the change in his handling. She shuffles her load in her hands and pulls out an empty plastic over. “Here,” she laughs handing it over. “So it doesn’t smudge or anything if you're worried."

Calum slides it in. “Thank you. Again. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome, Calum. Good luck with your grocery store trip and dinner,” Jay nods and then heads back inside. Calum watches the way the denim stretches across her hips, the way her hair billows just a little in the breeze of her strut.

For a moment, Calum can't move. The weight of the paper in his hand is hardly ounces, but it holds him--traps him to the point of the sidewalk. Jay thought enough of him to draw him. What did it all mean? Should he have found the courage to ask her out? He could walk back inside. But what if she didn't like him like that? Would it be too weird?

Calum blinks up into the hardly settling sun and thinks to himself, the second he can come back here, it better be with a bit more courage and possibly a gift certificate. No one can be made about free food, right?

It’s months before Calum can visit the shop again. The tour is a whirlwind and he only gets a few days off between legs. Not long enough to get back home or feel like he had any energy to drive out to the shop. But now that he's settled back in at home, he knows exactly where he's going.

It’s not his typical practice to just walk in and ask for a tattoo. But given the ink already on him, worse things could happen. When he pulls open the door, he notices it's kind of slow. Jay greets him at the front desk. “Hey, stranger,” she grins.

“Hey, how are you?” he asks in return.

“Pretty good. How was it? The tour? See any cool places?”

He nods. “Yeah, got to explore a few cities.” He taps his fingers against the wooden desk. “Do you have an appointment anytime soon?”

Jay shakes her head. “My 2 o’clock had to reschedule. I’m here until 4 before I see anyone. Why? What's tickling your fancy?”

“I was wondering if you could do a tat for me? I know this is very last minute and if you need me to come in another day this week, I totally can.” His words run into each other; his palms start to sweat. He wipes them on his jeans.

Jay laughs, holding up a hand. “Whoa, pump the brakes. One, what are you looking for?”

“You know that drawing you did for me?” She nods. “I was kind of hoping you could create something with just the crystal ball and lightning bolt. I know the drawing itself is kind of big.”

A grin lifts her cheeks; Calum’s heart settles for a second. “I think I can do that. Where are you thinking to put it?”

“Inner bicep.” He watches her gaze land on his arm. The t-shirt is baggy, he at least thought about that with enough advance.

“Give me 30 minutes to come up with some sketches.” Jay pushes away from the front desk and heads to the back, but not for calling to the shop to watch the front desk.

Calum slides into the seat at the front, leg bouncing as he settles down. This isn’t even his first tattoo, but the nerves flood his body. His scalp tingles. The thirty minutes move by too fast, but also too slow simultaneously. The seconds feel like hours but move by milliseconds.

Eventually, Jay resurfaces, waving him over to her. He walks back and looks at the sketches she places out in front of him. There are two different ones. One’s a bit more minimalistic, which is her style, with the lightning bolt in the background and a simple crystal ball at the point. The other is a bit bolder, the ball has a slightly warped edge where it connects to the bolt. It looks like the bolt is melting the glass ball.

“I can whip up more if neither one of them are quite right. But I wasn’t sure if it wanted something a bit more crisp and sharp or not,” Jay explains.

Calum admits that most of his tattoos are more cleaned up and sharp. He likes the idea of playing with a new style. “I like the second one,” he says, tapping it.

“You sure?” He nods, he’s never been more sure of something in his life. “Which bicep? Let me line it up and make sure it’ll fit.”

Calum lifts his left arm up for her. Laying the stencil over his skin, Jay notes she has to make a couple small tweaks. But after that, she’ll be ready. They discuss full color, or just outline, or shading, price, and a few other details before Jay concludes with, “Hop in my seat. I’ll be there soon.”

Calum nods and walks over to her station. Her stuff is already laid out, probably for her canceled 2 o’clock. It’s about five more minutes before Jay returns with the final stencil. Calum rolls up the sleeve of his shirt before she places the stencil. Happy with the placement, he stretches out on the table.

Jay gets herself ready before she brings the needle over his skin. The first puncture always makes him jolt a little, the first jab of pain causes his heart to race. “Do you plan on relaxing now that you're back home?"

"Yeah, for a little bit. I might go see my family, but I know we'll be back in the studio soon. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

"I mean exciting things happen every day at this place. But it's not like I could recall them all now."

Calum hums, acknowledging her statement, but not quite sure what to say next. Luckily, Jay's faster to fill in the silence. "You do realize you didn’t have to get a tattoo to have a real conversation with me?” Jay teases, pushing up her glasses.

Calum’s cheeks heat. “It’s not like that,” he chuckles.

“Well, that’s how it seems.”

“You were always busy when I stopped by. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Not always,” she laughs. “But it’s alright. You’re going to have plenty of time while I’m stabbing you to say all those things you didn’t.”

A chuckle escapes him; of course, Jay would have this sense of humor. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m paying so much for people just to stab me and act as a therapy. Maybe I am a masochist.”

“So are a lot of people. Sometimes you just take the emotional pain out in the physical realm.”

“I always imagined people that worked in a tattoo shop to be more heavily tatted,” Calum hums, taking in scattered ink across her arms and one pokes out from the V in her t-shirt.

“I focused it more on my back and legs and not so much my arms. I’m getting there. So, why this one today?”

Calum goes to shrug, but stops himself as he hears the gun nearing his skin again. “Not really sure. It looked cool. I guess it also serves to remind me that fate isn’t linear. There’s going to be twists and turns, maybe some trouble. And that’s okay. Don’t be afraid of the journey. Also, it's really fucking cool art.”

Jay hums her laugh, “Why thank you. Wise brain you got there. Besides, it seems like you also have people you keep close to you.” She eyes the initials and the name under the bird. “Whoever they are to you, I hope you all stay close.”

“Those are my parents' initials,” he explains. “And my sister’s name. They’ve been with me through it all--I love them dearly.”

“So sweet. I wish my parents and I were closer. I tattooed my brother’s jersey number on me. It was my first tattoo.”

“What did he play?”

“Soccer, or for your kind, football.”

“Hey now, it’s played with the feet, it makes much more sense.”

Jay laughs, wiping off excess ink. She cocks her head to the side a little, then goes back in for the black ink. “I’m only teasing. Us Americans are so dumb sometimes. Like why is our football not called something else? Literally, the only thing that happens with the feet is the running. We carry the fucking ball.”

“I’ve wondered that as well!” he laughs. "Does your brother still play?"

“Yeah, the whole knucklehead still plays for his college.”

“What position?”

Jay laughs. “I'll have you know my job as the older sister is to show up and cheer him on. Something defensive? I don’t remember off the top my head.”

“I’ll give you credit for that. I’m sure he appreciates it.”

“He does until he sees with me in face paint on and then he’s acting like he doesn’t know me. Oh, oh wait, I think remember what he does. It’s defensive,” she pauses, lips pursed together, “something fielder.”

“Defensive midfielder?” he asks.

“Yeah, that. But like I said, I show up when I can and scream. That’s it. When he’s old enough, I’ll buy him a beer after his games too.”

“How old is he?”

“Nineteen, we’re three years apart.”

“The only sibling you have?”

“Nah, got a baby sister too. She’s fifteen. If you’re impressed by my eyeshadow thank her. Because she’s the one that taught me how to do it.”

Calum finds himself staring at the red and gold coloring her eyelids. “It looks really nice,” he breathes.

“Why thank you.” She pauses to bats her eyelashes. “I even managed to get those godforsaken falsies on right too. They look good, but the raise hell.”

“I think you’re the first woman I’ve met in LA that’s not obsessed with makeup,” he notes.

“Oh, you were doing so well. There are a lot of people of who aren’t huge in the makeup scene.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he tries to backtrack. “I’m sorry. In my experience, it’s not like that. They’re hiding the fact they aren’t wearing makeup--embarrassed by it or something.”

Jay nods, pushing up her glasses yet again. “Yeah, it’s not easy. We’re told to be perfect, but in reality, we’re just like everyone. We’re human, imperfect and flaw-full and beautiful.”

“Not in spite of, but because of.”

“Exactly,” she chuckles. Silences settles in around them. Calum wonders why she said she was closer to her family, but the way she talks about her siblings doesn’t match. She’s cheering her brother on at his game; she’s sitting down to learn makeup with and from her sister.

“Can I ask a bit of a personal question?” he asks.

“What kind of personal? Do I get a lifeline?”

Cal exhales a laugh. “You can always say no.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Why say that you’re family isn’t close but you clearly take a lot of pride in your siblings?”

“An observant one on my table, I see. It’s my parents. They don’t like that I’m pansexual, say I’m going to hell. My siblings don’t fucking care. I’m still the crazy-ass sister that loves and supports them.”

With a hum of acknowledgment from Calum, it goes quiet again around them for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He knows it doesn’t really fix anything for her; it doesn’t take away the potential years of her suffering. It’s the only thing he can offer her though. It feels right to say.

“Oh, no need for you to be sorry. It’s not like you threw me out of the house.”

“Ouch. You’re making it though right?”

“Yeah, now that I work here, things are on the up and up.”

“That’s good; I’m glad.”

“Thanks.”

“Favorite tattoo you’ve done?” he asks, wanting to hear her voice again.

“This one,” she laughs. “Though I had someone ask for a pin-up witch, which was also pretty fucking cool to do.”

Calum remembers seeing that on her Instagram. “That one was amazing! Her lips looked so good; I know that’s a strange thing to admit.”

“Don’t worry. I am quite proud of that myself.”

“Do you have a favorite tattoo on you?”

“The blue jay on my shoulder. My parents would take me on walks when I was still an infant. According to the legend, while they were sitting on a park bench a blue jay landed on me. I didn’t cry; it didn’t hurt me. It just landed for a second and then flew off. They called me Blue Jay ever since. I just shortened the nickname as I got older.” She gives one more wipe. “Finished. Check it out.”

Calum sits up, walking over to the mirror. He grins seeing the melting ball sitting against his skin. He grins over to Jay. “It looks amazing. Thank you.”

“No problem.” They head back over to her station. Jay cleans it and wraps the fresh ink. Calum carefully gets his sleeve back down with a little help from Jay. He pays their agreed price with his card, but slides two fifties over to her. “You do know that’s more than double a twenty percent tip right?”

Calum shrugs. “Is it? I’m bad at math,” he grins. “Treat your sister to a new palette or something. Treat yourself to something.”

“Thank you. Now next time, you come by, I hope we don’t talk while I’m stabbing you repeatedly.”

Calum shakes his head, a grin still on his face. Of course. He had forgotten to get the gift certificate. But possibly asking Jay to dinner wouldn't be such a bad idea. “Give me your number and I can promise the next time we talk, it won’t in your chair.”

She holds out her hand, waiting. He hands her his phone, after unlocking it. She puts her number in. She goes to hand the phone back but just before his fingers touch it, she draws it back. "I mean it--actually text me. I adore memes, dogs, TikToks, your favorite songs."

"I'll actually talk to you. I promise."

Jay hands over his phone with a smile. Calum steps outside the glass doors. Why should he wait? He could do it now. For fuck sake, the last hour had been the groundwork for a clear sign a date was absolutely an option. His fingers hovering over her name. He taps it, and then presses for a call. Holding the phone to his ear, he listens to it ring for a second.

“I can still see you, you know?” Jay laughs.

Calum turns around, catching her leaning against the front desk. “I told you the next time we talked you wouldn’t be inking me.”

“What can I help you with, Calum?”

“Dinner, tonight-- I may have ordered too many appetizers for just little old me."

Her laugh trickles in over the speaker. She drops her head, giving it a shake before looking back up to him in the afternoon sun. “I think I can help you with that. Give me the time and place."

Calum rattles off the name of a restaurant that he had been wanting to try. Nothing too upscale, but not something that would be too casual. "How does 8 sound?"

"I love it there. I'll see you at 8."

“Bye, Jay.”

“Bye, Calum.” As he walks to his car, his phone buzzes yet again. This time a text from his artist, I’m being fucking replaced, I see. I can’t be too mad since it’s Jay. Calum laughs as he slides into his car. Maybe he is getting replaced; maybe he’s not. Calum’s not sure. He is sure that he needs to figure out if he can make reservations and what to wear for tonight.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos fic #calum hood fic #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes

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jebazzled · 4 years

Text

it ain’t your muse! (shut up & write, ft. rihanna)

You nerds are always talking about your muse. My muse this, my muse that, I have no muse, my muse went the way of the dinosaurs, if my muse comes out of its burrow and sees its shadow I won’t be able to write for six weeks.

Shut up about your fucking muse!

It is true that you might go through periods where it is hard to find time and energy to write, or negative experiences in a writing community might leave you with anxiety surrounding writing. But by and large, writers block is something you can overcome!

Please, for the love of god, let me help you.

Writing is a muscle, and you’ve got to exercise it if you don’t want it to atrophy.

This tutorial is a bit of tough love about y’all and y’all’s diddly-darn muses, and some advice for snapping yourself out of it!

So here’s the thing about writing, my loves. You have to actually do it.

TERRIBLY inconvenient, I know.

I’m not here to tell you how to manage your work-life balance or how to manage your time. If you’re not writing much because you straight up don’t have time to write much, my advice is simple: pare down on your characters, focus on the plots that matter most to you, and spend some mental health juice on reminding yourself that there isn’t an RP Prom Queen, and even if there were, it’s better not to live or die by that bizarro crown.

But if you’re having trouble writing because of Your Muse... I’m cracking my knuckles.

We’ve all written with folks before - or been that folk before - who need a very specific set of circumstances if they’re going to write: they need time to Pinterest, need to listen to a specific playlist, need to get in the mindset, need the thread to scratch a very specific itch and need all of it to come together before the moon passes out of a waxing gibbous. As a fellow dev ho, I understand the appeal of writing to suit a mood, of vibing to a playlist, of prioritizing the stuff you’re going fucking feral for, of having the stars align while you do the thing. But if you’re like this when you’re writing for other people -

well, you’re making things difficult for both you and your writing partners! We can’t control the external constraints on our time, e.g. work and school, and we can’t always control the nonsense our psychology spins to keep us from writing. But some things are within our control, and by god, if there is any control to be had in the year of Mother Sappho 2021, don’t you want it?

At least some of your writers block is probably dumb as hell. So let’s beat the shit out of that part.

Anyway, if you’re yakking on and on about how your muse demands a bottle of red wine and a scented candle and fairy lights and soft socks and the blood of the servant, willfully given in order to spit out 200 words, or whatever...

it’s not that fucking deep.

Writing is a muscle. It’s like any other muscle: you need to exercise it.

If you’re training for a 5k, you don’t sit on your couch listening to “Eye of the Tiger” until race day. You get your ass off the cushion and pound the pavement. You probably start by alternating walks with short bursts of running. You probably don’t work your way up to actually running 5k at a time for a few weeks. And once you’ve run that first 5k, you don’t go sit on your couch to listen to “Eye of the Tiger” until the next race. You keep running to stay in shape for the next race.

Writing is like that.

What you write does not have to be perfect.

You can work on the post for six weeks and there will still be things you could change. You know what change your writing partner would have appreciated most? If you’d posted it for them three weeks ago. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good.

Cut yourself the same slack you cut for your writing partners. Do you yearn to keelhaul them if their reply isn’t worth a National Book Award? No, because you’re not an asshole. They’re also not an asshole. Everyone is reasonable here. Write something that responds to what they gave you and that gives them something to work with. Not every single post has to be capital-I Inspired. ✨

What you write does not have to be a vibe ready for the Goop newsletter.

I was a creative writing major in college, and I was always having to turn stuff in for class that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to work on: a short story set in another country when I just wanted to write a play with puppets, an essay about food when I would rather write one about a weekend drive, etc.

Sometimes, you write what you write when you write it not because it’s getting you hot and bothered but because you’ve owed a reply for A While and you feel bad about keeping someone waiting. It will still be fun, because you chose to do that thread with your character and someone else’s character for a reason, and that reason stands, even if your monkey brain is yearning to play with that slime that makes fart noises when you put it away.

(Pro tip, here: don’t do threads you don’t actually have any interest in writing! It is less awkward to tell someone, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn” than to waste their time with 10 posts of it before telling them, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn.”)

The more you write, the easier it is.

Let’s talk about running again. A couple of years ago, I went on a bit of a kick with the running. I ran at least three times a week. I would bring my running shit with me to work so I could run in the park near my office. I would make running dates with friends. I would reward myself with a bagel from my favorite cafe if I did a run. And you know what? Once I got myself past the hurdle of pulling on my running clothes and lacing up my shoes, I enjoyed myself. When I ran 5k without slowing to a walk, I was proud of myself. When I told myself, “let’s do another loop at the park!” and stopped to take a photo of the sunset, I enjoyed myself. I would not have enjoyed myself if I hadn’t hit the goddamn pavement.

Put your ass in your fucking chair. I don’t care if you don’t have the right scented candle. Write 50 words. Right fucking now. I’ll wait.

Write another 50.

Now write another 100.

How long did that take you? Some days, it might take you 90 minutes to write 200 words. But that’s 200 more words than you would have written in 90 minutes of browsing Pinterest waiting for an angel to come down from heaven and write this post for you.

All that bullshit you do to Feed Your Muse? It’s stalling, you idiot.

The more you make yourself write instead of just thinking about writing, the easier it will be to actually fucking write.

I used to sit and stare at posts for hours and hours and hours before submitting them, so worried about the post being good enough. When I moved to a neighborhood with an aboveground train line, I was able to write on my morning commute, and writing every morning - even if only the 200 words I could crank out on mobile in 30 minutes before work - got me out of my weird writers block crutches and security blankets. It didn’t take as much effort to write, anymore. I wrote over 200,000 words in 2019, and over 300,000 words in 2020, when I had barely any commute at all to use on writing. I didn’t magically have endless hours of free time. I just wasn’t wasting my free time pretending that being on Tumblr counted as writing.

Tough love: doled out. And now:

TIPS & TRICKS FOR BEATING “””Writers Block”””

Stop acting like Writers Block is real. It’s not that it’s not real, but by telling yourself that you have Writers Block, you’re making it worse for yourself. You’re making excuses for yourself. I used Writers Block to stall writing my Topics in Creative Writing: Folktales portfolio for 3 months, and you know what happened? I still had to turn in the fucking portfolio, because the person I was writing for didn’t fucking care about my fucking Writers Block. And you know who had to sit her ass in a chair and write 30 pages of folktales in a 24 hour period? Me. It’s almost like my Writers Block was just PROCRASTINATION.

Set a timer. If you’re looking at your list of replies owed and you’re feeling like it might be easier to “do character dev” and “build a playlist” than to write your posts, break the task into smaller pieces. If your server has a sprint bot, use it. If not, set your own timer. Organize your list of threads with the ones you’ve owed replies on the longest at the top. Set your timer for 20 minutes and see how much you can write for the oldest post you owe. Not done? Set the timer for another 20 minutes. Keep setting that timer until that post is done and you can drop it in the tags channel. Now do the same for the second oldest. CRANK! THEM! OUT! If you find that it’s depleting your creative energy, that’s not unusual! When I get to this point in my own posting habits, my oldest replies owed are usually for Albus Dumbledore, a character I write specifically because I hate him. It is often easier to knock out all his posts in one chunk rather than shift voice, so this ends up working out nicely.

Don’t indulge your stupid stalling tactics. Do you typically get sidetracked by Pinterest? Put your phone away and close that tab. Do you get absorbed in lining up the perfect music for writing a post? Write in silence, asshole. Do you need to be in your favorite chair with the right lighting? Go sit on a park bench and write on mobile. It’s nice to write in idealized environments. I rented a treehouse last summer to write 10k on a novel! I get it! But you absolutely can write in other environments, if you have to. And if you can get yourself to write on a dark skin on your iPad at an airport in the Midwest while waiting for a flight - well, shit, think of how much you’ll be able to write on a laptop when your diva ass demands are properly met!

Don’t take on shit you don’t want to write. I fully admit that these tactics feel a bit like homework/chores/a to-do list for what is of course a fun hobby. You know how they say “love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life?” If you don’t take on plots, characters, and threads that don’t have a lick of interest or excitement for you, this shit won’t feel like a hassle.

Hope this whips all you little miscreants (myself included) into shape! Now quit your yapping and start writing.

#rp guides #resources #writing resources #on writing #stop trying to make writers block happen. it's not going to happen.

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bangtaninink · 4 years

Text

when night falls i am your escape

a sequel / prequel to sanctuary! ( as requested by @athenakyle )

The dull sound of rhythmic knocking against a wall has Jisook stopping in her tracks, a tray of dirty dishes in her grasp.

“I’d keep walking if I were you,” Sanghoon says, fixing his glasses, a leather portfolio tucked in the crook of his arm. “Miss _____ has Master Jeongguk over again.”

Jisook sighs.

“I just did the laundry,” she mutters, walking off.

Sanghoon lets out a terse chuckle in reply, checking his watch.

“Ah, the Chairman and his wife also informed me earlier that they won’t be home for dinner tonight,” he calls out to Jisook. “They’ll be dining with the rest of the board of directors. Miss _____ will be dining out with Master Jeongguk also, so do let the rest of the staff know that only a light supper will be needed when they return, Jisook-sshi.”

“Thank you, Sanghoon.”

Sanghoon bows his head as Jisook disappears into the kitchen, the sound of her shuffling slipper-clad feet growing distant.

The rhythmic knocking eventually stops, and Sanghoon arches a brow at the sudden quiet, looking up from his diary, page half-turned. A few beats later, the door to your room opens, and you emerge in the middle of tying the silk belt of your robe around your waist, hair in a messy bun atop your head.

“Afternoon, Sanghoon,” you greet, lazy smile stretching across your lips. “How you doin’ today?”

“Good afternoon, Miss _____,” he replies, bowing his head. “I’m well. Thank you for asking.”

“Want anything from the kitchen while I’m there?”

“No thank you.”

“Okie dokie. Enjoy the rest of your day, okay?”

“I will do my best, thank you.”

〰️

Jeongguk yelps when something cold hits the small of his back, clicking his tongue as he pushes himself up off his stomach to sit against the headboard, taking the beer you’re holding out to him.

“It honestly surprises me that I’m allowed inside here every time I come over,” he says, taking a sip.

“Why?” you laugh, reaching into your bowl for a strawberry.

“Uh, ‘cause you’re one of the richest people in the country, and me and the hyungs literally have diets consisting of ramen and discounted kimbap. We are not the same, dude.”

“No one’s complained yet.”

“I don’t think your staff would complain. Maybe talk about you behind your back though.”

“Jeongguk, you’ve seen Jisook. She nags me more than my actual grandma. She would not hesitate to call me out.”

“True. She has such a cold stare sometimes. I can come over here horny out of my mind, but then I see her and I feel like my balls shrivel up and die in an instant.”

“Gross.”

“Well. I could be rich soon though. I hit five hundred thousand followers on Soundcloud within twenty four hours of those photos coming out from that dinner. And then seven hundred and fifty thousand followers on Instagram not long after. Kinda scary how quickly people can find my shit. You didn’t even promote me straight away.”

“Your nudes will be next,” you joke.

“Pfft. Please. You say that like it’s a bad thing. My nudes are spectacular.”

“You know who I bet would love to see your nudes? What’s-her-face. Hara? No, Hana.”

“Oh, Jesus. Don’t,” Jeongguk groans. “I thought her seeing you with me would force her to give up, but now I feel like she’s gotten worse. She keeps blowing up my phone.”

“You gave her your number?”

“Nah, nah. She’s been messaging me on Instagram. I bet it’s because of your ‘statement’.”

“What about my statement?”

“You said I was a ‘close friend’.”

“Well, what am I supposed to say? ‘Jeongguk’s my fuckbuddy. He’s got my favourite flavour of dick!’”

“Aww,” Jeongguk coos, hand pressed to his chest. “I’m touched.”

“Yeah, well, you can touch yourself on your own for the rest of eternity if you keep that up.”

〰️

“Hi, excuse me, um… c-can I get your autograph?”

You look up from your menu to see someone standing a few feet away from Jeongguk, holding a notebook close to her chest as she waits nervously for an answer.

“Yeah, for sure,” Jeongguk says, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at you briefly before taking the notebook from the girl, scribbling his signature on a blank page before bowing and watching her walk off. “Look at that. I’m famous.”

“Congratulations,” you say, nonchalant as you turn your eyes back to the menu.

“Damn, you really live like this? I could get used to it.”

“You say that now. Wait ‘til you’re getting followed into the bathroom when you go to take a dump.”

“How much do you think I could sell my shit for now that I’m famous?”

“I dunno. Ask Hana. I bet she’d be the only one crazy enough to buy it,” you say, looking up from your menu again to grin.

“Shut up.”

“Are you ready to order, Miss _____?” a waiter asks, stepping up to the table with a small notepad.

“Mmm, I think I’ll have truffle linguine,” you say, setting the menu down on the table.

“Of course. And for you, sir?”

“Uh… I’ll have the tenderloin steak with the cream potatoes, thank you. Medium rare,” Jeongguk replies, smiling.

“Excellent. We’ll have it over right away.”

“Thank you.”

“Damn. The perks of being rich.” Jeongguk leans back in his seat, hands on the back of his head. “I really could get used to this.”

“Don’t get too cocky, Jeon,” you say, taking a sip of your wine. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“You know what is a good look on me?” You look over your wine glass. “You.”

“God.”

〰️

“How were your meals tonight?” the waiter asks, collecting you and Jeongguk’s empty plates.

“Amazing. Send my compliments to the chef,” Jeongguk says, smiling. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“Would you like some dessert? Coffee?”

“Oh man, I’m stuffed.”

“Just the bill, thank you, Minwoo,” you say, reaching for your drink.

“Of course,” the waiter says, bowing his head before walking off with the empty dishes.

Jeongguk reaches into his back pocket for his wallet as you finish off your wine, counting out his money before slipping it into the small leather folder the waiter sets down on the table.

“What’re you doing?” you ask, amused; Jeongguk looks at you, confused.

“Paying?”

“Why?”

The crease between his eyebrows grows deeper as he furrows his eyebrows, saying, “because I asked you to come to this restaurant with me? Wait, hold on, I’m confused. Am I missing something? Should I not be paying?”

“No, it’s just… most people would be making me pay, that’s all,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Please,” Jeongguk scoffs, proceeding to put his money in and shut the leather folder. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am not like most people, sweet cheeks. Also, making you pay makes it seem like you’re my sugar mommy or some shit, and that feels weird as fuck.”

“Oh, eww. You’re right.”

“Come on, let’s go. I need a smoke.”

〰️

You can feel the floor of the club pulsing beneath the soles of your heels, walking over to your usual table with Hyemi and Sora on either side of you, paying no mind to all the heads that turn your way. The rest of your friends cheer and wave when they see you approach, making space for you three in the booths.

The drinks easily come and go, and eventually a bunch of you end up on the dancefloor, nodding your heads and swaying your bodies to the sound of the music, laughing and fooling around as you always do.

One by one, you friends drift off, returning to the tables or leaving with a handsome stranger, until only you and Hyemi remain on the dancefloor – but even she looks like she’s one song away from disappearing from your side.

As you anticipate, just as one Jay Park song ends and another starts, Hyemi has her fingers entwined with an unfamiliar face, and she turns to look at you with an apologetic smile before wandering off. You let her go with a casual shrug and a smile, unbothered because you’re used to this routine now, knowing the fun is only yet to start now that you’re no longer surrounded by your friends.

It’s now that others will gain the courage to approach you, no longer resorting to fleeting glances your way—as if they weren’t being completely obvious in doing so—but using their alcohol-fuelled bravado to make their way closer to you on the dancefloor, until eventually, someone will sidle right up to you, hand on your waist, department store jeans pressed to the back of your tailored Prada dress.

“Hey.”

Like clockwork, you feel a hand come to rest on the small of your back, and the air around you briefly smells like whiskey, cigarettes, and clean laundry.

“Jeongguk,” the stranger says, guiding your hips to sway in time to his.

“_____,” you reply, smiling to yourself.

“Knew that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Surely everyone here does,” Jeongguk says, chuckling.

“You’d be surprised.”

“No way. They’d be insane to think you’re just another pretty face. Are you having a good time so far, _____?”

“Sure am, Jeongguk. How ‘bout you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fuckin’ petrified.”

“What?” you ask, laughing as you turn around, Jeongguk’s hands wrapping around your waist as you rest your hands on his chest.

(You’re excited to find that his chest is beautifully firm—almost rock solid—beneath your palms.)

“Oh, definitely.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve got bodyguards watching you from afar. If I move my hands an inch lower, I could be tackled to the ground and banished from the country for laying a hand on probably the richest twenty-something year old in Korea.”

You throw your head back and laugh, the sound barely drowned out by the loud music.

“I don’t leave the house with bodyguards all the time,” you reply, grinning.

“Ah. A wild child, huh? I’ve heard that too actually.”

“Is that right?”

“Yup,” Jeongguk says, emphasising the last syllable with a pop.

“I’m surprised the tabloids are reporting the truth.”

“Oh, so it’s true? Oh, I like that.” Jeongguk grins when you laugh again. “So. What do you usually do on nights out, Miss _____?”

“Well, that depends on what you usually do on a night out, Mr. Jeongguk,” you reply.

“Hmm. Well, I’ll usually down a few drinks, dance next to a pretty girl, get slapped in the face before she tells me she has a boyfriend, and be on my merry way, crashing on my third secondhand mattress to the sound of my roommates fucking their boyfriends.”

“Sounds like a great time.”

“Eh. Could be better,” Jeongguk replies, shrugging. “Maybe havin’ the balls to dance with one of the richest people in the country will change my fate.”

You hum, barely audible.

“Or maybe this is the part where I slap you and find another hot guy to go home with.”

“Well if that’s the case, at least I can say I tried. I think I’ve done a lot better than that table on my left who’ve been staring at you from the moment you stepped foot on the dancefloor.” You turn to look off to the side, snorting when a cluster of guys startle and turn away from you before any of them can meet your eye.

“Story of my life,” you say, turning back to look at Jeongguk.

“It’s not too late to rewrite it, sweet cheeks,” Jeongguk says, winking. Smooth! “Unless, of course, you were planning on leaving with someone else.”

“Considering you’re the first person to come up to me, I think the gold medal is going to you tonight.”

Dramatically, Jeongguk swipes a finger under his eye.

“I’d like to thank my mother, my lucky lighter, and Jack Daniels.”

He takes your hand and leads you off the dancefloor, no complaints when you detour to your table and grab your things and wave goodbye to your friends who watch on with wide eyes as you leave with your arm hooked around Jeongguk’s.

His friends do the same, it seems, if the way he juts his chin out with a smug look on his face is anything to go by, ignoring the frantic waving to try and get his attention as he walks you to the door. He does, however, humour them with another wink just before he follows you out with a hand on your lower back, paying no mind to the ping of his phone when you’ve both exited the club.

“So. My place or yours?” he asks, waving down a taxi.

“Yours, s'il vous plait,” you reply, running your fingers through your hair. “My place is swarming with people and paperwork right now – probably the whole reason why I came out tonight actually.”

“That sounds so fun.” Jeongguk chuckles, opening the door to the taxi and holding it for you. “After you, sweet cheeks.”

“Wow. A gentleman.”

With a shrug, he waves you in, before climbing into the taxi after you, quoting the address of his apartment to the driver and leaning back, shoulder pressed against yours.

“So. What’s it like being filthy rich?”

“Eh,” you reply, shrugging. “It’s got its pros and cons.”

“Cons?” Jeongguk repeats, eyebrow raised. “That’s hard to believe.”

“That’s what everyone says – until they get a taste of the life, that is.”

“Hmm. Can’t relate. I get excited when I get a new follower on Soundcloud and Instagram, or when I can afford three cups of ramen instead of my usual two. I bet you barely notice followers flooding in – or even eat cup ramen.”

“Well, I can’t say cup ramen is a staple in my diet, but even I can’t resist that stuff. Just means I’ll have to do an extra session of hot yoga to get rid of all that excess sodium.”

“Hot yoga, huh?”

You look at Jeongguk, who stares off into space with wide eyes, totally distracted by what you’d just said. You laugh loudly, shaking your head.

“God, you’re such a… guy.”

“You said ‘hot’ and ‘yoga’ in the same sentence, and I am but a mere mortal,” Jeongguk replies, hand on his chest.

The taxi slows to a stop in front of an apartment complex, and you watch, intrigued, as Jeongguk hands his money to the driver, before stepping out and rounding the car to open the door for you.

He leads you up to his apartment, but without warning, he pauses, hand on the keypad of the front door.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“A problem?” you ask, amused.

“Yeah, I just remembered neither me nor my roommates cleaned up before we left.”

You shrug, saying, “doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

“Oh, it’s a problem. How dare I invite a goddess into a trash can of an apartment?”

“Are you like this with everyone you sleep with?”

“Well… the guys and gals I sleep with don’t usually have a net worth of a trillion Won…”

You laugh again, shaking your head.

“You can open the door, Jeongguk.”

“Alright, alright. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jeongguk punches in the passcode and pushes open the door, turning on the lights and kicking aside stray shoes in the doorway to make a clear path to walk through.

“Honestly,” he says. “I’d say shut your eyes and let me carry you to the bedroom, but I can’t even guarantee my room is any better.”

“This isn’t bad,” you say, scoffing as you look around at the expanse of the apartment, unbothered by the old takeout boxes, empty soda and beer cans, crumpled loose papers, and the remnants of rolled joints and cigarettes in ashtrays around the living room. “You made it seem like a junk yard.”

“I don’t know if you’re just saying that, but I’m not gonna push it,” Jeongguk says, rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling, before motioning to the door of his room. “If you so desire, your Highness, your throne awaits just over there.”

“Weird. Your lap is right here,” you say, nonchalant as you kick your heels off and put your bag down on the sofa, before walking over to Jeongguk’s room.

“Oh,” Jeongguk groans, fist pressed to his lips as he watches the way your hips sway, nodding to himself before eventually chasing after you.

〰️

Taehyung whimpers softly as Yoongi bites gently at his neck, punching in the passcode without pulling away.

“Hyung,” Taehyung moans, toeing off his shoes, hands fisted around the lapels of Yoongi’s shirt. “Hyung, wait. What’s that noise?”

“Huh?” Dazed, Yoongi lifts his head, eyes squinted in concentration as Taehyung takes the opportunity to nibble at the shell of the elder’s ear, fingers curling around his belt loops. “Is that… I think that’s Jeongguk.”

“Jeonggukie’s home already?”

“Oh fuck, Jeongguk! Yes! Yeah, right there. God!”

Frozen, Yoongi and Taehyung stare off into space as the apartment fills with the sound of moans and groans, jolting in surprise when Jeongguk’s bedroom door swings open.

Panting, Jeongguk frantically crosses the apartment completely naked, stopping dead in his tracks when he notices Yoongi and Taehyung standing in the doorway, staring at him. He jerks his head in a nod, chest still heaving as he grins.

“Hyung, I’m grabbing some condoms from your room,” he calls out.

They watch silently as Jeongguk disappears into Yoongi’s room – and Hoseok’s room, for good measure – before returning to his own room and kicking his door shut, and it isn’t very long before the sounds return.

“You wanna just… watch a movie?” Yoongi mutters, sighing.

“With the volume turned up very loud please, hyung,” Taehyung replies, nodding solemnly.

“I guess I’ll text Hoseok to warn him in case he plans on doing anything with Joon then.”

〰️

“Christ, you guys wanna turn that down?” Jeongguk says loudly, wincing as he stands shirtless and in a pair of sweatpants against his bedroom doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, lit cigarette held in the corner of his mouth.

Yoongi and Taehyung look at him, eyes narrowed, even as Yoongi’s thumb mashes the volume button on the remote.

“What the fuck were you doing in there?” Yoongi asks, frowning as he holds his lit cigarette to Taehyung’s lips. “I know you’re loud, but Jesus Christ, Guk.”

Jeongguk shrugs, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Did you kill her?” Taehyung asks, exhaling. “Have you just fucked someone to death? I’m telling you right now, we will not be your accessories to murder, Jeon Jeongguk. I’m telling the police everything.”

“I’m sure I can settle any lawsuits that might come from tonight.”

Yoongi inhales sharply, dropping his cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table as he coughs violently when you step out of Jeongguk’s room, tying your hair up. With wide eyes, Taehyung stares at you, mouth opening and shutting repeatedly as he struggles to find words.

“Y-you’re… you… you’re…” he stammers.

“That’s Yoongi hyung, my roommate; and his boyfriend, Taehyung hyung,” Jeongguk says, motioning towards them. “I’m sure I don’t need to introduce you to _____.”

“What the fuck, Jeongguk?” Yoongi says in between coughs. “What the fuck?”

“Your boy’s got game, hyung.”

“Mmm, and a great dick,” you add, picking up your bag.

“Is your driver here? I’ll walk you down.”

“It was nice meeting you two.”

Yoongi and Taehyung stay frozen on the sofa, completely dumbfounded, even when you and Jeongguk leave and meet your driver at the front of the apartment complex.

“Oh,” you say, reaching into your bag and pulling out a pen, grabbing Jeongguk’s hand to scribble your number on his palm.

“Oh, this is officially the best day of my fuckin’ life,” he says, grinning. “Same time next week, sweet cheeks?”

“Wouldn’t say no to that,” you reply, winking and opening the car door. “Let me know if any of your neighbours wanna file any complaints.”

〰️

[ sms: YOONGI ] _____.

[ sms: _____ ] mr. min. how can I help you?

[ sms: YOONGI ] my phone feels like it’s going to eXPLODE WTF [ sms: YOONGI ] did Jeongguk tell you to do this?

[ sms: _____ ] pfft no [ sms: _____ ] if anything, I did this to piss him off ;

[ sms: YOONGI ] jesus _____ [ sms: YOONGI ] there are so many notifs on here what do I do??? [ sms: YOONGI ] my phone is not strong enough to handle all this [ sms: YOONGI ] I’M not strong enough to handle all this oh god

[ sms: _____ ] you want a new one?

[ sms: YOONGI ] huh?

[ sms: _____ ] a new phone lol

[ sms: YOONGI ] HUH???

[ sms: _____ ] i’ll send you a new one [ sms: _____ ] and hoseokie too :)

[ sms: YOONGI ] hold on [ sms: YOONGI ] HOLD ON [ sms: YOONGI ] YOU’RE SENDING ME AND A SEOK A NEW PHONE??? [ sms: YOONGI ] HELLO?? [ sms: YOONGI ] _____?!

[ DISPATCH ] Samsung heir, _____, promotes underground Soundcloud rapper, Agust D’s second mixtape, ‘D-2’.

[ sms: JEONGGUK ] you gave the hyungs new phones??? [ sms: JEONGGUK ] WHAT ABOUT ME

[ sms: _____ ] i’m not your sugar mommy, sweet cheeks ;) [ sms: _____ ] maybe hana will buy you a new one!

[ sms: JEONGGUK ] SHUT UP [ sms: JEONGGUK ] YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE

#jeon jeongguk #jungkook #bts #bangtan #bts scenarios #fwb!au #athenakyle #i gotchu ;)

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prim-moth · 9 months

Text

I need to draw more cowboys this will fix me

#and more cowbutches n cowgirls #and some other weird shit. i need my portfolio so bad #rambling #save me cowboys. save my portfolio

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Sixty-Four

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, and the start of smut...

a/n: okay this is short only because the angst made me tired, and it’s late, and I wanna deliver on the smut so....that’s that on that.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“Holy shit! Someone got some sun!” Niall says as you get into his car Monday morning. He squints at your neck. “He knows it’s not really scarf weather anymore, right?”

“I’ve lost the energy to care or fight with him about it. Besides, I’m sure it’ll go right up Mark’s ass. What a nice treat for me.” You laugh. “How was it last week, anyways?”

“Good! The three of ‘em actually kept to themselves which was nice. You gave him plenty of work to do.”

“Oh good.”

“How was Harry, happy to see yeh?”

“Of course he was.” You furrow your brows at him. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

“I’m not the one who got into a fight.”

“Niall.” You sigh.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry about all of it. It was stupid, and primitive.”

“I appreciate you both looking out for me, but I wish you wouldn’t be angry for me. I feel like I’m really moving on, and it’s hard to do that when the two of you can’t keep your cool.”

“I know, I really am sorry.” He gives your hand a squeeze and you smile at him.

“It’s okay. Wait! How was yours and Sarah’s six month? I haven’t had a chance to ask her yet?” Niall nearly stops short on the drive.

“Um, it was good, really good. I got her a new anklet, and she really liked it. We had a nice dinner out too.”

“Oh that’s great!” He parks the car and you both get out. “Hope you enjoyed what she got for you.” You wink at him and head inside.

“We’re not talkin’ about it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, have we reached a point where we can’t talk about sex anymore?” You ask facetiously. Niall’s face was beat red.

“Don’t play with me. I know you two went shoppin’ together.”

“She wanted a second opinion.” You shrug.

“Wasn’t it weird for you to go shoppin’ with her?”

“Not really. They went shopping with me earlier in the day to get something for Harry. We’re all very close.”

“What else did you get for him?”

“What do you mean what else?” You cross your arms.

Just as he’s about to speak you both are greeted by Trish.

“We’ll talk later.” He says and you nod as you both go to your separate offices.

You had a meeting right away with Mark that you were dreading. He was waiting for you outside your office.

“Welcome back.” He says with a smile. “See you got some sun.”

“Thanks, and yeah I did.” You unlock your office door and he follows you in. “I just need a minute to get settled.”

“Take your time.” He says sitting down.

You plug your laptop into the docking station and get logged on. You start looking over some of the things Mark worked on, and you actually weren't disappointed.

“Took some time to watch some of those videos on the Adobe site, turns out you were right, it’s not that difficult to learn.

“I’m actually kind of impressed, Mark.” You smile at him.

“Thanks.” He smiles back. He notices your neck, but doesn’t say anything. You’re actually being nice to him and he doesn’t want to ruin it. “So, boss, what do you need me to work on this week?” You smirk at him.

“Well, I’ll have to go over all this and get back to you. Is that alright?”

“Course, I’ll just be with the others in the conference room.”

You weren’t sure what it was, but Mark seemed to have a serious attitude adjustment, and you liked it. Maybe the rest of the time he’d be working with you wouldn’t be so bad. You look over everything, and make up a list of what you’ll need from him. You go into the conference room right before you leave to meet Harry for lunch, it was Monday after all.

“Hey Mark, here’s what I’ll need from you this week.”

“Thanks. We’re all going down the street for lunch, do you wanna join?”

“Can’t, sorry, I go to Harry’s studio on Mondays.” You walk out, and go down to Niall’s office. “Need your keys to meet Harry.” He tosses them to you. “Thanks! Have a good lunch.” You smile.

“You too!”

Harry was having the day from hell. Somehow word got out that Harry and Mariah had become chummy outside of work, and that he set her up with Rachel. Someone must’ve seen a picture of them hanging out last week on Instagram.

“Harry?” Julia asks, coming into his office.

“Yeah?”

“This is sort of non work related, but I was wondering if you could help me with a school thing…”

“I thought you weren’t in any classes this semester.”

“I’m not, but we have a faculty member we’re supposed to pass things in to for the internship to prove that we’re actually doing stuff. I’ve never really put a portfolio together, and I was wondering if you could help me now that I’ve written a few things.”

“Oh…um…”

“I’d ask Myk, but I want it to look really nice and you’re so creative.” If Harry had any faults, it would be that he could be sweet-talked into just about anything.

“Sure, yeah, I’d be happy to help. I’d have to help you at the end of the day though when I have more time.”

“Really?! Thank you so much! Would tomorrow after work be alright?” You had your therapy appointment tomorrow, so it wasn’t like Harry would be missing precious time with you at home.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Thank you Harry, this’ll be such a big help!” Harry turns and sees you walking in.

“No problem, run along now, my lady’s here.” He nods towards you and she walked out of his office. You brush by her as you walk in. “Hey you.” He stands up to hug you, and squish his nose to yours. “Have I told you how happy I am that you’re back?”

“Maybe just a couple times.” You kiss him quick. “It’s nice out, wanna eat outside?”

“Sure.” He grabs his things and heads out with you.

“So, what did Julia want?”

“Oh, she wants me to help her put a portfolio together for school. I’m gonna help her tomorrow while you’re with Dr. Mara, is that alright?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Why would I care?”

“You don’t exactly like her.”

“Neither do you.”

“True.” You both chuckle.

Julia purposefully wears a tight dress to work Tuesday. She couldn’t wait to spend time with just Harry in the office alone. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she did last time. She needed to be less obvious, and she genuinely needed his help with her portfolio.

You: babe, want me to bring you dinner after my appointment? Can meet u at the studio

Harry: that’d be great! Pick up whatever u want <3

Julia comes into Harry’s office with her laptop at the end of the day. Everyone slowly starts to leave. He grabs a chair for her so they can both sit at his desk.

“So, I have these pieces that I’ve done, and I really have no idea how to organize any of them. I wanna give my instructor a virtual experience you know? But I don’t wanna just use prezi or screen record.” Harry hums along in understanding.

“With my photos, I’ve sort created these, like, virtual booklets almost. There’s this program, hold on, let me email you.”

Harry sends her the info so she can set up an account.

“I think your prof will be impressed that you’re putting in so much effort.” He smiles.

“It’s not every day we get to basically take a semester off from classes, so I just wanna prove to her, and to all my friends that think I’m not doing anything that I’m actually working really hard.”

“You shouldn’t care what other people think of you, but I get where you’re coming from. Alright, pull up all your articles and I’ll show you how to add them into the program.”

He leans in close and points to where she can drag and drop things. She tries her absolute best to not get distracted by the smell of his cologne. After an hour or so they take a little break.

“So, you have a year left?”

“Mhm.”

“What do you think you’ll do after you graduate?”

“I have no idea.” She sighs. “I think I wanna travel. I could see myself freelancing for a bit before finding something stable.”

“You should definitely travel! I’m glad I did. You learn a lot about yourself, helps you grow up a little bit too.” He smiles at her. “Also, it’s okay to have no idea what you want to do. It’s not like graduating automatically means you’ll have it all figured out. Your passions will change all the time, and you might find you didn’t want what you thought.”

“Was there something you thought you’d be doing but realized you didn’t wanna do?”

“Yes and no. I knew I wanted to be a photographer. I thought for a while I’d end up in marketing with my mate Niall, especially while I was going for my MBA. But the structure was just too rigid. I also didn’t wanna wear a suit every day.”

“That’s too bad, you look so good in a suit.” She jokes nervously.

“True, I do clean up pretty well.” He jokes back. “But I just knew it wasn’t for me. There’s too many people to answer to. Even here there’s a lot of people to answer to, but I feel like my vision gets trusted more and more and I’m able to just do what I want. I think that’s the key. Do something you want, not something that someone else wants for you.”

“That makes so much sense. You really have it all figured out.”

“S’not that I have it all figured it out, but I’ve had a lot of experience to steer me in different directions.”

“I feel like I have a better head on my shoulders than a lot of my friends. This internship alone has been such a big help.”

“Good. Let’s get back to it, shall we?”

He leans back in closer and shows her some other things to make the virtual booklet look more interesting and engaging. He cracks a joke or two and she ends up putting a hand on his shoulder while she laughs.

You were just coming up from the elevator with dinner. You picked up some of his favorite sushi. It was dark in the studio except for Harry’s office. Julia’s hand was still lingering on Harry’s shoulder. She gripped lightly at the material, and his eyes went wide.

“Woah, what are you-“ He starts to stand up.

“Hey!” You say dropping the food to the floor. You grab the back of Julia’s dress and yank her over to the wall in Harry’s office, practically throwing her into the glass. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“Nothing, I was just-“

“You were just trying to kiss my boyfriend?!” Your hand wraps around her throat and you push her back against the glass again. Harry wraps his arms around your waist to pull your away from her the girl cowering in front of you. You try to break from him, but he’s too strong. “I will end your shit, do you understand me?!”

“Julia, get your shit and go, now.” Harry says, very pissed, but not wanted to add more fuel to the fire.

Her body shakes as she grabs her laptop.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t mean to what?! Try to kiss him?! You’re a psycho! He already told you he wasn’t going to step out on me, remember when you tried to fuck him in Florida? He told me everything! I think I’ve been very nice, but I’m done. I am soooo done.” You look back at him. “Let go of me.” Harry cautiously loosens his grip on you and you get in her face. She uses her laptop to shield her. “As god as my witness, if you don’t leave him alone, if I even hear of you looking in his direction, I will end you. Your life will be over. You’ll get fired from this internship, cause guess what, you’ve been sexually harassing him. And don’t look at me like you don’t know that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. You’ll get fired, you won’t have a good enough reference for your next job, and you won’t get hired anywhere. You’ll live in your parent’s basement for the rest of your life all because you couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself after he said no.” You look her up and down. “You think you’re special just because he’s nice to you? Just because you wear a tight dress you thought he would get into your pants? Guess what little girl, I used to pull the same shit when I was your age. Grow the fuck up. And I don’t care if you’re the coffee girl. Have Dana do it, or Isaac. I don’t care. It’s not you anymore. Stay the fuck away from him.” You step forward again and she flinches.

You smirk at her, and she slips out of the office, running out of the studio. You turn around to Harry with wild eyes. He was absolutely stunned, and a tad frightened. You were fuming.

“Would you care to explain to me why her hand was on you in the first place?” You ask crossing your arms.

“I know you’re not blaming me for any of this.” He starts packing up his things. “You better hope she doesn’t report you threatening her.”

“She better hope you don’t go to H.R.! She’s lucky you didn’t report her when the thing in Florida happened!”

“You know as well as I do she could’ve turned that around and said I came to her room. It wasn’t worth the headache. I had the situation under control.”

“Did you?! It looked like she was about to kiss you, Harry!”

“You need to calm down! I would’ve never let that happen! I was about to stand up and tell her we were done.”

“Why. Was. She. Touching. You?” You step closer to him.

“I don’t know. I made some joke, she laughed, and then she put her on my shoulder. I noticed she started to grab at the material so I was about to get up. S’not like she grabbed my dick, Y/N.”

He walks out of the office and you follow him. He turns the light off and locks the door. He sighs and picks up the food from the ground.

“This should still be fine, nothin’ came out of the packaging.”

“How could you even eat?! I feel absolutely sick to my stomach!” You both walk over near Isaac’s desk where there’s more light.

“Babe, I-“

“Don’t babe me!” You put a finger in his face. “Only I get to touch you, do you understand? Me, only me!” Your eyes well up with tears and he puts everything down to wrap you in his arms. He hugs you to his chest. You cry into him.

“S’not worth your tears, love.” He strokes the back of your head. “I’m upset too, don’t get me wrong. I don’t like that anyone thinks they could touch me. You’re the only one I want touchin’ me. I only want you, Y/N.” You look up at him and he wipes your tears away.

“I didn’t mean to get so upset. I just came from therapy, and then I walked in and saw that, and I lost it.”

“I thought you were goin’ to throw her through the glass.” He chuckles. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen yeh like that before.”

“Oh, have I never told you that I’m a black belt? All my siblings and I did karate growing up. I could literally end her shit.”

“You’ve been keepin’ something like that from me all this time?” He says with a fake gasp.

“You’re only supposed to use it in certain situations.” He kisses the top of your head. “Shit, are there security cameras here?”

“Yeah, but Isaac’s the one who checks them in the morning. I’ll text him and ask him to not say anything to anyone.”

“Okay.”

You both leave and meet at home. Harry puts the sushi in the fridge, suddenly also not feeling hungry. He texts Isaac, and he tells him Julia is to not interact with him anymore.

“Harrryyyy.” You whine from the bedroom. He comes in to meet you.

“Sorry, I was just…textin…Jesus.” You had changed into the lingerie you hadn’t worn during the photoshoot. You had something behind your back.

“You were texting Jesus?” You giggle.

“How do you get more beautiful each time I see you?” A grin grows over your face.

“I have a lot of adrenaline built up.”

“Do you now?”

“Mhm.”

“What’s that behind your back?”

“I think you already know. I had a little chat with Sarah today. You and Niall tend to gossip more than she and I do.” Harry starts to sweat. You blush and toss the cockring to him. “Wanna have a little fun, baby boy?”

He smirks and nods. He puts the little package on the bed and starts to undress. He had never used one before, all he knew was that they made an erection last longer, so he just figured you wanted to go a few rounds tonight. But you had much more in store for him.

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles sluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #harry styles angst fic #yall i laughed when i saw this was under 3k im so sorry #i thought it was longer #i just couldn't write the smut man #tomorrow tho he gone get it #come hang in my ask box!

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milky-mochi · 4 years

Text

before you (2) | cyj

genre: nerd! yeonjun, nerd! reader, aged up! yeonjun, college! au, boyfriend! yeonjun

pairing: choi yeonjun x reader

summary: falling in love with choi yeonjun was like breezing through the chapters of a book, with highlights of him bookmarked in your head.

listen to: 🎶 me after you - paul kim 🎶

chapters: intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

the first time you realised you liked yeonjun, you couldn’t believe you had been blind to it for so long.

four months had passed since that first day of library club. since then, you and yeonjun formed a friendship you had come to depend on. it started out by sitting next to each other during lectures. then, it evolved into study calls, which turned into talking on the phone for hours. at the height of it all, your weekly study sessions.

thursdays were reserved for your time with yeonjun, when you both would sit at the cute little cafe across the road and pour over your books. misery felt a little less bad when done with another person.

initially, you were just there for the friendship. the study sessions became a source of comfort. the both of you were working hard to keep your reputation afloat, and yeonjun was the only one who understood your struggles. he felt your pain and your joy. there was sincere companionship in this boy that you had never found in anyone before.

eventually, these meetings meant more and more to you. they became the highlight of your day, before climbing its way into becoming the highlight of your week. before you knew it, you depended on it so much that just thinking about it brought you excitement.

but you didn’t even realise it then. you did, however, in one study session.

one thursday, your professor asked to see you after class. at first, you didn’t want to go for it. you were waiting anxiously to go see yeonjun instead. the temptation to give your professor an excuse and run off was overwhelming, but he did mention giving you some good news, and the overachiever in you had to give in.

picking up your phone, you speedily dialed yeonjun’s number. he picked up after only three rings of the dial tone, startling you. in the background, you heard the sound of cars driving by, indicating that yeonjun was already off campus.

“hey y/n! i’ll be there in a few, i’m walking over now!”

“hey yeonjun, i’m so sorry, i’m gonna be late. my professor has something to tell me so he asked me to meet him after class. i’ll probably be like, 15 minutes.”

you braced yourself for his reaction, expecting his voice to fall in disappointment or disapprovement and your heart to twist in pain. instead, his chirpy voice rang in your ears. “oh it’s okay don’t worry about it! i hope it’s good news?”

you sighed in relief, releasing a breath you didn’t even realise you were holding. “he slipped that it was regarding a new opportunity, so it should be good?”

“hell yeah! go get that thing! whatever it is! i’ll wait for you at the cafe, yeah?” yeonjun said.

you laughed before humming in agreement. seeing your professor bidding you to come over, you ended the call and made your way over to his desk.

“hi professor, you wanted to see me?”

“right, y/n,” your professor started, gathering a stack of papers, “you know about the praestantia award right?”

everyone knew what the praestantia award was. it was the most prestigious scholarship a person your age could get. the scholarship was a guaranteed ticket to all the embellishments on your portfolio. all the opportunities you were dying for would easily be within your reach.

“yes of course, sir.”

“well it’s nomination period, and the english faculty has decided to nominate you under the language category,” he said, handing you an envelope. “i’ve emailed you the portal for the application, and these are the resources you’ll need to complete your application. thank you for all your hard work, y/n.”

receiving the envelope with a nod, you smiled graciously at your professor. your heart was beating out of your body with excitement. all your hard work had finally paid off into something you could be proud of. as soon as you saw your professor leave, you scooped your bag out and dashed out of the lecture theatre, heading straight for the cafe.

after running at top speed, you reached the cafe. grabbing the handles of the glass front doors, you swung them open. inside, yeonjun sat comfortably, staring down at his books. a single earbud was in his ear as he picked his pen up to write something down. his coffee sat patiently beside his pencil case.

“hey yeonjun i’m so sorry i’m late,” you sighed, sliding into your seat. after placing your bag down, you took another look at the table. raising your eyebrows, you asked, “what’s all this?”

yeonjun flashed you a sheepish smile. “well, you said you were gonna get good news, so i wanted your coffee to be here by the time you were. i got you a cake too!” he said, gesturing to the second drink and plate in front of him. “i got your favourite, hot white chocolate mocha, and the red velvet cake. i even got them to add marshmallows into the coffee, since we come here so often.”

you felt like melting, like said marshmallows were melting into your mocha.

he remembered your order. not only did he remember it perfectly, he remembered the coffee you drank for celebration, which was different from the coffee you drank when you were sad (a cold brew with coconut milk and extra sugar, yeonjun remembered that too).

“yeonjun, oh my goodness, thank you so much,” you gushed, “how much was the coffee and the cake? i’ll pay you back-”

“don’t worry about it,” yeonjun waved, melting you with yet another smile, “my treat. you deserve this, y/n.”

shit.

it was at that moment awareness knocked on the door of your mind. everything fell in place: all the stolen glances, all your smiles at the thought of him. this was the moment you realised your oblivion melted away to reveal what you had been blind to: you liked choi yeonjun.

it was, however, a very weird moment for you to realise. it was nothing like all the love scenes you had read in your books. usually the female lead came to this epiphany when the male lead hugged her in the spur of the moment, or when she got jealous of another girl, or even when he brushed his hand against hers to reach for something.

but no. you realised you liked yeonjun because he bought you coffee and a cake.

but it really did mean a lot to you. it meant so much that yeonjun cared for you enough to want to celebrate your good news, without even knowing what it was for. he made you feel seen. so, maybe, it wasn’t that weird at all.

“thank you, yeonjun,” you thanked him once again.

he smiled and told you to try the cake. you complied, picking up the fork and scraping a piece off its side. when you tasted it, your face lit up. yeonjun laughed at your smile and offered you a napkin to wipe the cream cheese frosting from the corner of your mouth.

over cake and coffee, you talked instead of studying, for the first time this semester. usually, your conversations would unfold on the way to the bus stop afterwards, and on the bus home. but that day was not a usual day, given the two new pieces of information that had shaken your world. that day, the both of you had synced mentally, subconsciously aware of the fact that both of you wanted companionship, and not to study.

you talked for a long time, about anything and everything. about all the weird times you’d experienced together: the time you caught two people making out during library club, the time your professor brought his dog to class, the time an old lady asked you guys for a recommendation on the cakes and then bought you said cake. you talked until every drop of coffee had been sipped and the white plate by your side held nothing but maroon crumbs.

once yeonjun realised that you were both finished, he asked, “by the way, what did your professor want to tell you just now?”

“oh,” you said, mouth full of your last bite of cake. you swallowed it before continuing with a proud smile staining your face. “he told me the english faculty is nominating me for the praestantia award. under the language category!”

yeonjun let out a laugh, a mixture of surprise, happiness and pride. he put his hand up, offering you a high five. “y/n that’s incredible! you deserve it so much!”

smiling brightly, you high fived yeonjun. in his excitement, yeonjun held your hand and shook it as he commended you on your achievement. he gushed about all the opportunities it would bring you, about how high you could fly with that award. he didn’t even realise your hand in his.

a blush crept up on your cheeks as you felt yeonjun’s fingers on your. how else could you respond when the guy you liked held your hand, and didn’t even realise it?

it took yeonjun a while, but when he did realise, he pulled his hand away, the same way you did the first time you placed your hand on his shoulder during library club. under his breath, he muttered a sorry as he darted his gaze away from you. you swore you could have seen a light pink dust his cheeks too.

yeonjun cleared his throat to try clearing the awkwardness lingering in the air. “well you did amazing y/n. i’m so proud of you! we should go celebrate.”

your ears perked up at his words. he wanted to celebrate your achievement? with just the two of you? your heart picked up speed as you nodded meekly, unwilling to reveal what you were actually thinking.

“where do you wanna go?” yeonjun asked, almost nervously, as he placed his hands on the table.

“the new bookshop across town,” you answered, almost too quickly. “i heard they have cats in it, and they publish their own poetry. they publish their books with the binding i like.”

“the ones with a wide margin before the text starts?” yeonjun asked. he didn’t know why he did, if he was being honest. of course he remembered your favourite type of book binding. you liked it that way because then you could read without creasing the spine of the book.

delighted that yeonjun remembered such a little thing, you nodded with spritely energy. “and they use e.b. garamond!”

looking at you geeking over the books, yeonjun laughed and promised to bring you there over the weekend. it excited you to no end. but you had to chastise yourself for being unabashedly thrilled to go to the bookstore with him. your heart swelled with unknown and unfamiliar feelings, categorizable only by whatever you had read in books. and yet, you told yourself that your life wasn’t a romance novel. this crush would go like all the ones you had before. it would result in a one-sided pining for someone who would never like you back. you told yourself not to get too ahead of yourself and to cut all this crush stuff out. yeonjun could never like you back.

but little did you know, yeonjun’s heart resounded with the same feelings for you.

---

next chapter

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freewheelshippin · 4 years

Photo

Ranmaru is a musician down on his luck and out of inspiration who got taken in by a sweet old couple running a gardening/flower shop, so while he pulls himself together, he’s grouchily helping out and making bouquets and doling out plant care advice. M is a tattoo artist with not enough clients, confidence in her art, or skills in keeping succulents alive, but maybe the toughie at the store across the street can help her with all three!

and because I’m Like That I got tied up and uh....wrote a little (a lot) of something, focusing on the artistic funk part of the equation. But if you’ll let me have one more indulgence, the headcanon I have is that it eventually Happy Endings into becoming roommates and business partners, starting an indie label to support other artists!!!

anyways here’s this excessively indulgent/serious fic that came outta this LOL

He was here, folded among big green leaves for much longer than he’d intended. The owners heard he was down on hard times and didn’t have a safe place to call home, so he holed up in their guest room. Before he knew it he was stepping in for them at every heavy mulch bag, every wheelbarrow piled high, every crouch that was too much for their aging bodies.

It wasn’t a bad life. It was an improvement, sure. He was alive and fed every day, and he’d never known a home so warm. But it still wasn’t his. He felt like a houseplant, tended to and placed in warm sun, but just as easily fading into the stillness of quiet moments and the background of everyday. He’d never wanted a life like a plant. He hungered deeply even though he was eating regularly again, and he felt more like a bored tiger, pacing in its cage but nowhere to go.

******

He’d been there long enough to start noticing the regulars. The first was that friendly guy who always got idioms wrong and bought the store out of all their cat grass. The second someone was even friendlier, and he’d bug him for what kind of flowers to get a florist. He kept asking even if Ranmaru never gave him an answer past ‘I don’t fucking know’ as he arranged bouquets that used as many herbs and broad, bold leaves as traditional flowers.

The third was someone who looked like she walked in from his past life (or the one he wanted back, anyway). The shaved head, the denim and patches, the ink peeking out from under her sleeves. She was friendly enough but nowhere near as ready to ask for things or will information about herself as the other two regulars, so he only knew her from her purchases and the name on her card.

It wouldn’t have been remarkable in itself if he weren’t so hungry. He’d burned bridges he shouldn’t have while he was ablaze, and now the only people who thought of him kindly were through this stupidly quaint little shop. He was too ashamed of his bullshit to be ready to show his face in those places right now, but he also craved chasing the stage and the dream he’d stayed alive for.

It was just a made-up story he was attaching to someone, he knew this. Maybe she went home and did everything she could to fade into pleasant background like a houseplant. But he’d rather pretend she went to the shows he wished he were going to, that her fingertips were callused in the places his were going soft, and pretend like he still could smell that stuffy, stale sweat from a venue. Maybe he hadn’t burned it away completely from his life and future.

Occasionally, he still wished he was starving, but he’d bury his hands in mulch and dig space for a new plant before he gave in to dumb thoughts like that.

*****

The first time they had a conversation, it was because she forgot something. A big something, big enough that Ranmaru wondered how someone could have a head on their shoulders but forget this.

It was a long, flat portfolio bag. He flipped through it to figure out what it was and tried to not look past that. It was tempting, though, because the contents made him feel the tiniest bit sated for the first time since he’d started working here.

They were flash sheets for tattoos. It had to be hers, right? There was energy to them that he’d ached for but turned his back from. So when she came back, he brought it up very plainly.

“You forgot something here,” he said when she came up to the counter. He produced the portfolio bag.

“.......Oh.”

“What, is it not yours?”

“No, no, it is! I just didn’t realize I’d even lost it!”

“How the hell did you manage that?!”

“A swiss cheese brain full of holes,” she laughed. “...Also, I’ve been really busy.”

“What would make you so busy you forget a giant stack of art like that?”

“Uh…”

“....Whatever. It’s none of my business.” He started to properly ring her up before something occurred to him. “You bought the same succulent last week,” he commented, furrowing his brow. “And a few other times before. What’s so great about it, anyways?”

She made a face of discomfort and surprise, and he felt the same distant shame that he messed this last (even if imagined) connection to that life, too.

“...maybe you can help me, because I keep killing it.”

“You killed a succulent in a week?!”

“No! I mean. I don’t know, is that even possible?”

“First time for anything,” Ranmaru snorted.

“Okay,” she said, putting hands on the counter challengingly. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not one of those serial plant killers.”

Ranmaru just looked back at her incredulously. “You sure about that?”

“If it’s not a succulent, I know what I’m doing! I got a whole brood of chili plants and herbs and spiderplants…”

“You’re overwatering it.”

“You haven’t even seen the plant.”

“Yeah, I don’t have to. Everything else you mentioned doesn’t shit the bed if you water them too much, and succulents are stupidly sensitive to that kind of stuff. Are the leaves falling off if you barely even poke them?”

“......Yeah…” She looked apprehensive, almost resentful for a moment.

Ranmaru knew he shouldn’t, but he just kept talking. “I can’t tell you what you wanna do with your plants, but it sounds overwatered. Don’t water it at all for a couple weeks. Make sure the drainage is good, repot it if it isn’t. Bring it in if you’re still fucking it up.”

“You sure are rude as shit when a plant buddy’s life is on the line, huh?”

“What’s the point of buying a plant if you’re just going to kill it?! You’re just throwing away your money that way,” he grumbled, embarrassed. Him, caring about plants passionately. That didn’t feel right for his image, but it felt more wrong to just let people uselessly throw away their time and money just to give a living thing no future.

“I mean, I’m also buying dupes right now to spruce up my workspace, it’s not like I just have a graveyard for my cash and failed succulents.”

Ranmaru grunted. “Just bring ‘em in if they’re still giving you trouble. I can give you some cartons to make carrying ‘em easier.”

“Ahhhh, nah, don’t worry about it. I work across the street. It’s no problem.”

“Where?” He had a feeling he knew already.

“Oh, the tattoo parlor. I’m actually headed back there right now.”

“....Guess I could just as easily go over there.”

“Hey, and you could get a tattoo from me while you’re at it!” she laughed. “Here, hold on.” She fumbled a little before handing over her business card. Ranmaru studied it briefly before pocketing it gratefully.

When she tried to hand him money, he held a hand up.

“...Pay when you stop killing ‘em. I should’ve checked in sooner, and you get so much from here already, anyways.”

“...You’re sure.”

“If you feel guilty, then take my advice seriously.”

“....Weird business model, but I like it. I can’t give you a discount on ink, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Hell no. Go back to work. Come back when you stop watering them so much.”

“Alright, fine, fine. You drive a hard bargain,” she said with a laugh, scooping the plant into her hand. “I’ll see you next time I fuck ‘em up some other way.”

She left, and Ranmaru realized she forgot her portfolio bag again.

******

He didn’t do much of anything except sleep, eat, take care of the neighborhood strays, and work anymore, but he thought about practicing bass again. He didn’t have amps, pedals, or much of anything anymore, either sold in desperation or lifted by former bandmembers in spite, but his actual basses he couldn’t let go of. Sentimentality or some promise to himself this arrangement was temporary, he guessed.

He studied the business card a lot. Something about the style of the art on it felt right, beyond it being the dose of the studs, sweat, and tears he missed. He didn’t bother trying to describe it to himself further than that; it just felt right, and that’s all he needed to know, but it didn’t stop him from lying awake in bed, staring at it as he struggled to sleep or get out.

Eventually that led to the temptation of looking through the portfolio more thoroughly. He gave in after washing his hands so thoroughly he wouldn’t get the dirt of potting soil or the grease of human hands on it. Not out of secrecy, more out of respect.

Not all of them were things he’d say he was interested in -- science fiction, cartoons, dinosaurs, other stuff he didn’t recognize -- but so much was riffing on images, bands, lyrics, album covers that built his tastes in rock. Even models of bass guitars he’d tried to save up for, once upon a time. It didn’t match the tattoowork he was used to seeing, the lines and compositions feeling more like they belonged in a comic book or a gig poster.

It felt good. It was a small vision of the kind of future he’d wanted. Art and energy like that, paired with his music. He’d forgotten how the excitement of chasing a good future felt, much less feeling like it was even vaguely within grasping distance.

His eyes fell on an image that wouldn’t leave him. A severed, snarling wolf head, out of which winding leaves and vines and stems grew, blooming into orchids.

*****

She didn’t come back for weeks. He went about this life as usual, but some days he’d find his fingers sliding over the smooth neck of one of his basses, missing their calluses as the strings dug into them. But the motions never left him, at least, and they hit notes like barely any time had passed.

He should give that portfolio back to her already. But he’d found himself looking at its contents more and more when he missed the stage so much he physically ached. He couldn’t be imagining this feeling this art made him have, not after this long.

At one point he made a copy of the wolf with orchids growing out of it. He cut it out, unbuttoned his shirt, taped it over his heart, and looked at himself in the mirror, and for the first time since the old couple took him in, he didn’t feel like a houseplant.

*****

He came to the parlor with the portfolio in hand on a lunch break soon after that. She looked uncomfortably unoccupied, her area empty of clients while the other tattoo beds were occupied. He didn’t bother with the receptionist before calling her name. She practically jumped out of her skin from surprise.

He just presented the portfolio bag.

“...Whoops.”

“Do you just not want your art back?”

“...It just slipped my mind.”

Because you’ve been busy, Ranmaru thought to himself as he looked at the empty tattoo bed.

“Did you kill your new plants yet?”

She straightened up and her whole demeanor changed, from the moon to the sun. “Now that I can rub in your face. Look, look, come see.”

She had a small planter of succulents, nestled among spideplants and a red prayer he remembered selling her. The spiderplant and red prayer looked healthy. The succulents didn’t look amazing, but they certainly weren’t on their way to meet their maker.

“Not bad. I’ll rec you some better succulent soil next time you come in. Whenever that is.”

“I figured I’d wait more than one watering cycle before I came in parading like a pageant queen.”

“Too many and I bet you’d be holding another plant funeral,” he said with a wry smile. “But take your shit back already. I’m tired of all your art being at my place where I’m the only one looking at it.”

“...Wait, hold on. Did you look through it?”

“....Sorry. It’s been weeks. I liked your business card and curiosity got the better of me.”

“Oh…” She looked not disappointed, just surprised. “So...you mean, like. Thumbing through the pages looking at it, not just staring at the bag look at it.”

“Is it a secret project or something?”

“No, no. Just…” She hesitated. “Some flash sheets that didn’t do well is all.”

“Really?” Ranmaru was surprised. “These?”

“...Yes? Did I forget something else in there?”

“No. Just. Surprised they didn’t do well. I like ‘em. There’s a good energy to them.”

“Well, that makes you the first,” she said with a hollow laugh.

Ranmaru barely considered with his head what he was about to ask. He’d already chewed it over so much and knew in his heart his answer that he didn’t need to hesitate.

“If nobody else claimed it, I want one of them,” he said resolutely. “The wolf with the orchids.”

“...What, like, now?”

“I’m on lunch, I can’t do now. But….when’s the earliest you got?”

She laughed grimly. “When do you get off work?”

“Six.”

“Then I’m available at six.”

“Then I’ll be here.”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“...You really want it that bad?”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” he growled. “I saw it and it felt right, thinking about it on me. Orchids are a part of my name, anyway.”

“....Okay, you know what? Let’s do this properly. We’ll do a consult at six. I’ll edit the design so it’s more personalized to you, then we’ll schedule an actual appointment you’re actually prepped for so you don’t pass out on the table. And don’t -- “ She caught him about to insist before the words could come out of his mouth. “-- I’m sure you think you’re real tough, but you can’t just tough guy your nervous system into taking more pain unprepared.”

“Fine. See you at six.”

Ranmaru wanted to tell her the hurry was less because he thought he could take it, and more because he was so ready to have it on him. He didn’t, though, and just left, head buzzing with hazy, overwhelming excitement he didn’t know how to express.

*************

Consulting with her on the drawing was more fun than Ranmaru had had in weeks, maybe months. She stayed past her coworkers to do the consult, so they had the parlor to themselves to discuss edits. She played doom metal in the background, sludgy and slow enough that they could properly have a conversation, but the energy as she discussed the drawing with him, drew in edits, and made conversation was exhilarating like a concert.

It was so easy to talk. Even if he was short or blunt, it didn’t seem to stop her from continuing the conversation, and every development they pushed it in just felt good. He didn’t feel invaded, but he didn’t feel insignificant, either, and the way the drawing was going, he felt a kind of known he had lacked.

“I still can’t believe you want your first ink on your pec like that,” she remarked as she refined linework. Ranmaru enjoyed watching how her pen moved.

“It’s over my heart. Not just my chest.”

“That’s, uh.” She hesitated before capping the pen. “.......Are you really sure about this?”

“...” Ranmaru felt himself recoil at the thought of telling her the depth of what this drawing made him feel, but he wanted to communicate, somehow, that he couldn’t imagine regretting this. “I’m absolutely sure.”

“.......” She hesitated again. “This isn’t….a pity thing, right?”

The thought to hold his tongue actually managed to occur to him in time. The doubt she expressed pissed him off in so many different ways. That she was unsure enough to tell him, and that it was there to begin with. The thought of throwing away this connection just to be pissed made his stomach twist, and he thought of the person he saw in the mirror with the drawing taped to his chest that first time.

“This isn’t a pity thing,” he said stiffly as he forced his voice down. “....I saw that drawing and imagined myself with it. And I liked that vision of myself more than the current me.”

“Oh god,” she said, her face bright red. “That’s so goddamn deep. My dumb fuckin’ wolf really made you feel that?”

“It’s not dumb!” he barked. “Why’re you calling it dumb to me? I’m about to get it tattooed on me, aren’t I? Be prouder of your work!”

She took a deep breath after a moment of being totally taken aback. “....You’re right. Thanks. I should be more professional about this. So….my absolutely majestic, heaven-sent fuckin’ wolf really made you feel all that?”

Ranmaru felt his mouth crook into a smile. “Yeah. I want it to be mine, and I want that better me to be mine, too.”

She smiled back widely. “I’ll do your tit justice, then.”

***************

The appointment was that weekend. When she pressed the stencil against his bare chest, he felt the hunger in him sated for just a moment. Not in a carnal urge sort of way, but more like the path forward felt brighter. Possible. Changes and connection and a future was possible again. He wanted more ink from her already, but he also wanted it to not just be that. He wanted a friendship.

“Okay,” she said as he laid on the table in front of her. “Ready?”

The whir of the machine and needles started and stirred a nervousness in his gut that he hadn’t expected, and he hesitated and gasped for a sec.

“...You OK?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Just…nervous.”

“Take a deep breath. It’s not too late to rethink or reschedule if you need more time.”

“No.” He was resolute. “I want this.”

She paused. “....I can’t do this the whole time. But just to get you comfortable.”

She offered her left hand to him to squeeze. He hesitated for a moment before taking it, folding each finger over hers. He can’t remember the last time he touched someone like this.

“...Okay. Deep breath. Let out out slowly…there we go. Ready?”

“Ready.”

The needle plunged into him, and while it hurt, he felt excitement and renewal spreading through to his fingertips.

#iron maiden & rocka rolla #florist and tattoo artist au #thank you so much for the ask!!! this was definitely one of the ones i was hoping to get :)#askbox games #scribblings #iron maiden & rocka rolla art

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queen-of-the-avengers · 5 years

Text

Call Me James

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Tattoo Artist!Reader, Clint Barton, minor characters

Word Count: 2,093

Warnings: none

Summary: You have a very special talent, and the tattoos on your body are able to tell your story for you. When Nick Fury gets word of you, he thinks you could be a very valuable asset to the team.

Squared Filled: Tattoo Artist AU // Tattoos // Free Space

Author’s Note: I know you guys have requests and I promise to get to them. I have two bingos I need to finish before the deadline in Aug/Sept and by the rate I am going, I will be done before that so please bear with me. This is for @star-spangled-bingo and @clintbartonbingo and @buckybarnesbingo respectively and if you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“How are you holding up, boss?” you asked your client that has been in your chair for the past six hours. Rubbing his skin to remove the excess ink, you cleared your view before going back in. The man who came in wanted a big ass tattoo on the back of his calf, and when you expressed you could easily do it, he brought up the money faster than you could say “damn”. He was doing considerably well for the area. He’s only flinched a few times, but that was to be expected in the area he wanted the tattoo.

“Good. Are you almost done?” he asked as he squinted his eyes shut.

“Yes. I have to do some more shading around this area,” you marked with your finger, “and then you’re all done.”

“Did yours hurt this bad?” he asked as he pointed to the tattoo of a deadly tiger that you had on the side of your right calf. Looking down at the tattoo, you remembered the time and energy you spent doing that on yourself. Most of your tattoos were done by yourself with only a few in the hard to reach spots being done by artists you trust. There was something special about your tattoos that no one else could replicate. If people knew the true power you possessed, then they would be too scared to come into your store.

“I have a really high pain intolerance,” you chuckled as you continued with your work. Before you could finish with the tattoo, you heard the bell on the front door meaning you had a customer. Looking at the clock, you realized you had enough time to fit one more person in depending on what they wanted. “Do you mind if I get that real quick?”

“No, go ahead,” he said. Taking off your black gloves once you set the tools down, you threw them away as you walked to the front of your store.

“Hi, can I help you?” you asked once you made eye contact with the middle-aged man. He looked oddly familiar. There might have been a time where you’ve seen this man on TV, but you couldn’t be sure.

“I have some questions I need to ask you if you have the time right now.”

“Regarding what?”

“Tattoos.”

“Are you looking to get one? I have some time after my client.”

“No, I’m not. I just had a few questions. I’ll wait until you’re done if that works better,” he said politely. There was something in the way he spoke that was really familiar.

“Like I said, I’m with a client. Have a seat and I’ll be with you as soon as I can,” you said with a tight smile before returning to your client in the back. When he saw you returning, he put down his phone as you put on fresh black gloves.

“Everything okay?” he asked one he saw the distress on your face.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said as you took a seat. Quickly resuming your work, you finished within the next 30 minutes. A tattoo always needed to be cleaned, so when you did it, you grabbed the second skin that he requested to be put on after when he was done. “Okay, let this sit for about 24 hours, come in, I’ll replace it with a new skin, and then come back in a week to get it removed. Your tattoo should be healed by then.”

“This is awesome. You’re truly talented,” he praised as he looked at it in the mirror.

“Thank you, that means a lot,” you chuckled as you took a few pictures of it to add to your portfolio. Guiding him to the front desk, the transaction didn’t take long to process, and the man left your store in another five minutes. Looking at the stranger who waited patiently, you put the cash away in the register before speaking.

“I’m sorry for the wait, but if you could give me five more minutes to clean up, I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” he smiled. Quickly nodding, you escaped to your studio as you cleaned the station thoroughly. As you cleaned, you absentmindedly racked your brain as to why this man was here and what he wanted. Did he really want a tattoo? Did he want to rob you? Did he want to know for a friend? This whole situation was making you nervous that you bypassed the most important detail about this man. When he came in, you noticed he had a folder in his hand, but you didn’t pay any attention to it until you suddenly remembered the two words on that folder.

Avengers Initiative.

Shit, this man was either from SHIELD or he worked with Tony Stark which meant only one thing. They knew who you were and what you were truly capable of. The reasons why your tattoos were so special because you had the ability to make them come alive. Yes, that’s right. Whatever you tattooed on your body, you were able to manifest into a physical object and turn it back into a tattoo once you were finished with it. No, you don’t know exactly how you got these powers because you were born with it.

The first time you noticed something was off when you drew on yourself for the first time. Drawing was your passion ever since you were little, and when you used your skin as a canvas, you realized you had powers that none other possessed. For example, when you were about seven years old, you had drawn a detailed dragon on your thigh because you had been bored and there wasn’t any paper around.

“There,” you muttered to yourself as you put down the pen. The dragon you drew was colorful and big, expanding across the entire length of your upper right thigh. As you set the pen down, you could have sworn the dragon moved. Your suspicions were confirmed when the whole dragon shivered its body, flaring the feathers you drew so delicately. Then, out of nowhere, the dragon manifested itself off your skin and into a real-life dragon. There was a real-life fucking dragon in your room. The same colors, same design, only that it was fleshy and alive.

After that, you figured out that whatever you drew on your body would have the ability to come to life. Even inanimate objects would be able to manifest itself at a single thought. No one knew of your abilities because you would become the next science experiment for the government to toy with.

Instead, you used your tattoos for good and whenever you could without getting caught. However, with every good thing, there are bound to be bad things to follow. Yes, you could manifest your tattoos into real life, but there were consequences.

“Okay, Mr. Dragon, this is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. How did this even happen?” you started freaking out. The dragon roared, and you were glad you were home alone this time. Since your room was small even for you, it had a hard time maneuvering around. His tail was always bumping into things until it actually knocked over your first-grade trophy for the spelling bee that you were meaning to put away in storage. The trophy came crashing down on the dragon’s foot, and pain erupted from your own foot as if the two of you were linked. The dragon roared in pain before transforming back into your drawing on your leg.

“Son of a bitch!” you cursed as you caressed your throbbing foot.

If your tattoos felt pain, so did you. If they bled, so did you. When they felt enough pain, they turned back into drawings/tattoos so that you could focus on the injury on your own body. However, this isn’t like this for everyone. Tattoos given to you by other people don’t have any effect on you, it has to be by your hand, and your hand only. Any tattoo that you give others has no effect on them, it has to be your body. It was a weird power to possess, but you’ve learned to deal with it. That was the only thing you could think of as to why this man was waiting for you with a folder that said “Avengers Initiative” on it.

Nonetheless, when you were done cleaning, you walked into the lobby before sitting down on the couch.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“First, my name is Clint Barton. I was sent by Nick Fury to talk to you about something you might find interesting,” he said as he opened the file. That is where you knew him from. He was all over the news along with the other five Avengers. He was the one with a bow and arrow.

“Okay, and?” you asked as you played the dumb card.

“Is this you?” he asked as he handed you pictures of you with a grown tiger by your side. This was the time you saved a hunter from shooting a lion. The tiger was able to scare off the hunters bad enough to stop them from going out there ever again.

“Is that a crime to be near a tiger?” you asked calmly.

“Fine. Is this you?” he asked as he held up the phone that Tony provided him with. A holographic video began playing of you showing your tattoos manifesting itself and fighting before going back on your skin.

“Whatever you want, it won’t work on you,” you sighed.

“I already told you. I’m not here for a tattoo. Nick Fury thinks you’d be essential to the team.”

“The team? You want me to be an Avenger?” you scoffed.

“Something wrong with that?”

“If he wants me to be one, why didn’t he come down here and tell me this his damn self?”

“He’s preoccupied. I think you could be beneficial to the team and we could benefit you as well.”

“Can I at least think about it?”

“Of course. Here’s his number,” Clint said as he handed you Nick’s card. He got up and left the file for you to review as a sort of convincing factor to your decision. “Think long and hard about it.”

“Okay,” you sighed as he left your shop. What would you do in this situation?

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She will be joining us on further missions indefinitely,” Nick introduced you to the whole team. Everyone seemed to be staring at the many tattoos on your body, or at least, the ones they could see.

“Did you do all of those yourself?” Natasha asked.

“Most of them yes. I couldn’t do any on the hard to reach places, but I did what I could with what I had,” you chuckled.

“Those are amazing,” Bucky spoke up. He seemed too mesmerized by your tattoos. He has always loved them on other people, not himself. He especially loved it when a woman sported a lot because it made her look badass.

“Thank you, James,” you grinned. The whole team grew silent after you said his name. “What, did I miss something?”

“His name is Bucky. Well, James is his real name, but he goes by Bucky.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you chuckled.

“Can you show us what you can do?” Steve asked, curious as hell to see this. Smiling, you began the demonstration of your powers.

“I think what you did earlier was just amazing,” Bucky said when he found you in the common area all alone. Looking up from your file, you made room for him on the two-person sofa.

“Thank you. I love all my tattoos. Do you have any?”

“No, I don’t like them on me. On you, they look badass,” he grinned.

“You’re actually the first person to say that to me,” you said shyly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, people usually see my tattoos and immediately get disgusted. They think I’m a bad person doing bad shit, always getting into trouble. It makes me sad to hear those things because I’m far from that. I hate hurting anything, even flies. I try to trap them in cups and let them go back outside. It’s like no one wants to get to know me. They see the tattoos and they get turned off,” you confessed.

“Well, I don’t know you that well, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you, Bucky. I’d like that.”

“Call me James.”

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fic-for-fic-sake · 5 years

Text

Project Infinity

A/N: This is the latest chapter in the story, previous parts can be found here on my masterlist.

Chapter 5:

With your back still turned to him you missed the way Steve’s face contorted. Trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle you had given him. He could see parts already moving in his mind, but what they all meant he still wasn’t sure. What you didn’t miss though, was the long drawn out exhale from Steve’s mouth.

“What?” You questioned, turning back around to face him, bright purple irises seeming to glow in the darkness.

“What exactly is Project Infinity.” Steve questioned, burying his face in his hands. This was almost more than he could take for one day.

“Fury made it clear that it was a covert mission. Authorized personnel only.” You shot back, a defensive tone laced with her words.

“What’s the point of that anymore? Natasha single handedly exposed all of SHIELD’s dirty secrets when we took down Pierce.” He said, standing to his full height and walking to where you were standing. Needing to see your face.

“Fury kept backups, stashed secrets away before she could leak them. Project Infinity was one of them.”

“Unbelievable.” Steve commented, throwing his hands up in the air, “Just when I think Fury learned his lesson he pulls this shit again. Keeping secrets against your own never helped anyone win a war.”

“That’s a little harsh Cap, we’re not at war.” You suggested.

“Then why am I on the run? Why are my team and I hunting down countless HYDRA agents, why you? I know war Y/N. It’s what I was designed for.”

“Fine, you want the truth?” You conceded, squaring your shoulders and looking at Steve with your harsh purple irises aglow.

“You know I do.”

“Then you’d better take a seat.” You proposed, moving around him to grab a parcel from your room. You came back a moment later with a manilla folder, a portfolio. The emblem of SHIELD emblazoned on the front in an inky black.

“What is that?” Steve questioned, sitting next to you.

“This, is Project Infinity.” You responded softly. You opened the folder and pictures both in black and white and color, along with newspaper clippings and official SHIELD files came into view. Steve picked up a black and white photo of the tesseract.

“I recognize this, Fury showed it to me before the Battle of New York. This was after Howard pulled the cube from the ocean.” Steve observed, looking at the photo in an entirely new light. He remembered the last time he saw this photo. He thought about how much he had changed since then.

“I bet you don’t recognize the rest of it though.” You challenged, handing him the rest of the portfolio. Steve leafed his way through the pictures and newspaper articles. He saw an article from the LA Times in 1995 about a mysterious woman falling to Earth and a picture of a woman in Air Force fatigues that he didn’t recognize. Looking further he saw an article which talks about what you told him about your own story. Weird alien event outside of Muncie, Indiana. File upon file, news clippings, magazine articles about famous neurosurgeon Stephen Strange, and a PR statement about Sokovia. Pictures of Wanda and Vision caught his attention, a picture of Thor with some woman in what appeared to be London captured his eye. What the hell was all this? How far back did this even go? Steve kept looking until he found six SHIELD files, each containing the name and stats of a different person. He recognized you, Wanda, and Vision.

“Who are they?” Steve asked, pointing at the three other peoples files he didn’t recognize.

“The rest of the team.” You replied. “Danvers, Strange, and for a moment, Foster. They have all been affected by an infinity stone in one way or another.”

“So why make a team? Why put them all together?” Steve wondered, more to the air than to you in particular.

“Something’s coming. We don’t know what, but we can feel it. After Germany, it became too complicated to continue the mission, in the open, so we moved underground” You shrugged as you recalled the memory. A pissed of Fury cursing Steve and Tony for being so stupid.

“Well, I want in.” Steve declared, moving to stand up. “I can’t just unsee what I saw. What you can do. I thought Wanda was a force to be reckoned with. Now that I know all this, I can’t turn my back on it.”

“What makes you think you can handle it?” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. Sure he wanted in, but was he qualified? Every member of your team had inhuman abilities, touched by the infinity stones. Just because he had super soldier serum running through his veins didn’t mean he was strong enough for the task.

“I’m designed for war. It’s the reason I’m here, a century out of time. I’ve battled infinity stones before and held my own and I can do it again.” He said confidently. Proudly. That pride rubbed you the wrong way.

“Listen up, Captain.” You began, dropping the title with venom. “Fighting against these stones isn’t something to be proud of do you understand? It’s something you’re lucky to survive. You think your run in with the stones were bad? Try being experimented on by one. Having pure unadulterated power coursing through your veins, ripping you apart and piecing you back together again. Because that’s what my team and I have been through. So don’t insult us with your pride.” You spat, poking him in the chest. Concentrating your power into your fingertip until it glowed a bright violet color, just one press and you sent him sprawling backwards.

“I’m not gonna fight you.” He insisted, standing back up, albeit a little wobbly. You were impressed, you had heard that he never gave up but it didn’t hurt to see it in person.

“That wasn’t an invitation. That was a warning. What we’re going up against is ten times worse than that.” You informed him.

“Well then,” He said, slight smirk playing on his face, “We better get training.”

Taglist: @fairchild21

#project infinity #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #mcu fanfic #reader insert

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (5)(Branjie/Scyvie)- Ortega

a/n: (shrek voice) oh, hello there! welcome to chapter 5 of these useless idiots trying to make sense of life and how to get the girl they like to like them back. as always thank u for all the love and support, it absolutely blows my mind so thank u and loads of love. sidenote i’ve had to change Yvie’s birthday to fit with the story so apologies to Yvie purists xxxx

Summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

Last chapter: In a misguided attempt to make Yvie fall for her, Scarlet brought cocaine to the club. It didn’t work, Brooke had a panic attack, and Yvie left Scarlet at the taxi rank on her own. A mess.

This chapter: Yvie is not nineteen forever, there’s an apology, and Vanessa has a bright career as a government spy ahead of her.

***

Brooke woke up early, happy to see the sun gently peeking through her curtains as she stretched slowly and enjoyed the feeling of her duvet cosy around her. She usually loved waking up late on a Saturday, but today was different. Rolling over in bed, she grabbed her phone, typed a quick message to Nina and then got up, picking her dressing gown up off the floor and softly shuffling her way through to the kitchen. She rubbed her eyes blearily as she reached up above the kitchen cupboards and pulled down the box of cupcakes she’d bought the day before- salted caramel and carrot and walnut, two of Yvie’s favourites. She opened up the drawers, got two candles and lit them both before pushing them into the top of each cake. Brooke then made her way to her flatmate’s room, stopping to softly knock on Nina’s door on the way.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” came a hushed whisper from the other side, Nina appearing a second later with tired eyes and her huge mane of hair swept up into a messy bun. Brooke shot her a smile then knocked gently on Yvie’s door, not waiting for a response before slowly opening it.

“Hey Yvie, Yvie, Yvie,” she chirped softly, the other girl still a little moving bundle underneath her duvet. “Happy birthday!”

Brooke chuckled, throwing herself down on top of the duvet bundle and hearing it groan underneath. Nina began to sing the Happy Birthday song under her breath and sat down more gently on the edge of Yvie’s bed. There was a shuffling from under the duvet and Yvie’s head popped out, her hair all messy and strewn over her face. “Ugh, what time is it?”

“Nine. You don’t get a lie in on your birthday because you have to spend every second of it having fun,” Nina explained, gesturing to the cupcakes in the box Brooke was still holding in her hands. “Look, we got you cupcakes! You need to make a wish.”

Yvie rolled her eyes but she couldn’t suppress the smile on her face as she looked into the box and saw the cupcakes with the two glowing candles on top of them. As she blew them out, Brooke and Nina gave a cry of delight and clapped softly.

“She’s finally twenty. I thought you’d never get there,” Brooke teased, cuddling Yvie over her duvet. Yvie was the youngest of their friendship group, but Brooke didn’t think anyone would have been able to tell that from the way she looked and acted. She was finally joining the others in the club of twenty-somethings who made bad life decisions.

“Yeah well, sorry my parents chose to bang on Valentine’s Day,” she laughed, taking a cupcake with one hand and stroking Brooke’s hair with the other. Her smile was soft and warm on her face. It was a side to Yvie that people very rarely saw, and Brooke felt so lucky that she and Nina were two of the rare few who got to see it often. “Thanks, guys. This was super cute of you.”

“What did you wish for?” Brooke murmured against the duvet. Nina gave an annoyed tut.

“She can’t tell us or it won’t come true!”

“It won’t come true. But it’s nice to wish,” Yvie said hopefully, the wistful tone to her voice causing Brooke to lift her head and frown at her.

“Oh, I know what you mean, girl. I haven’t stopped wishing I was a mermaid since I was about five,” Nina shrugged, both Yvie and Brooke snorting a laugh. “I’ll make us all tea, will I? You’re gonna need something to go with those cupcakes.”

Nina made her way out of the room, Yvie and Brooke sitting in a comfortable silence as they heard the hissing sound of the kettle beginning to boil next door. Yvie wordlessly held the cupcake out to Brooke, offering her a bite. Brooke eyed it suspiciously.

“What one is it?”

“Carrot and walnut,” Yvie explained, a lick of white frosting staining the side of her mouth. Brooke scrunched up her face.

“Ew, no thanks. Fucking weirdo.”

“That’s me!” Yvie smiled happily, popping the last of the cupcake in her mouth and scooting down in bed so she could cuddle Brooke better.

“I’m so ready for lazerquest,” Brooke said excitedly, her heart giving a little thrum of anticipation. Yvie’s smile turned bigger.

“Oh my God, I know, bitch. I’m gonna dominate all you assholes.”

“Hey, don’t think we’ll let you win just because it’s your birthday,” Brooke frowned, Yvie raising her eyebrows.

“You won’t need to let me win, girl, I’ll do it all on my own.”

“That’s it. I’m gonna get all the girls to gang up on you secretly,” Brooke spoke through a yawn. Yvie let out a chuckle.

“Not much of a secret now is it? Idiot.”

Just then, Nina came back into the room with three cups of tea. Yvie sat up in bed, gesturing for Brooke to move as she threw back her duvet and let the girls in. Brooke cosied up on Yvie’s right side while Nina slotted in on the left, handing them across their teas. Brooke sighed happily. These were the moments she’d miss when they graduated and were all at different ends of the country or even the world- the fact she could be here, living with two of her best friends, waking up on a Saturday with tea and cupcakes. It made her skin all warm with happiness.

“I gave Yvie the Sports Direct mug since it’s her birthday,” Nina explained, the mug in question having come with the flat when the girls moved in and was chipped, cavernous, and able to hold about a gallon of tea. Brooke shrugged, acquiescing. Yvie reached across to her bedside table for her phone and Nina obliged, pulling the charger out gently and handing it to her. Brooke watched as Yvie checked it and frowned minutely.

“What is it?” Brooke asked, unable to help herself.

Yvie took a quick breath in. “Scarlet’s just saying happy birthday.”

Brooke and Nina frowned at each other as Yvie busied herself with typing back. It had been a rough week or so since Brooke and Yvie had been out with Scarlet and Vanjie, the night having turned into something really weird when Scarlet decided to produce cocaine from seemingly nowhere. Brooke shuddered, still remembering the panic she’d had and how paranoid she’d felt about everything once she’d taken it. Looking back, she wasn’t even sure that she’d been high at all, but the fact that she knew she’d taken some only caused her to fret and worry. But Vanessa, Brooke thought as her heart gave a throb. Vanessa had been so protective and caring and worried, taking her in a taxi home with Yvie, holding her hand and cuddling her and stroking her hair as Brooke panicked all the way home, looking out Brooke’s pyjamas for her and tucking her into bed and pressing a kiss to her forehead just before she left, a worried frown on her face the whole time. Yvie had been slightly over the whole situation, but Brooke couldn’t blame her. From what she’d gathered, her and Scarlet had had a furious row in the club, and she knew that Yvie had left her at the taxi rank on her own. That had been harsh, Brooke thought, but Yvie always ran the risk of making irrational decisions when she was a) drunk and b) angry, and she had been both. She’d gone back to her room as Vanessa had put Brooke to bed, and the next day Yvie had said nothing as she came through to Brooke’s room and wordlessly climbed under her duvet, Brooke immediately moving to hold her. She’d asked Yvie if she wanted to talk about last night, Yvie had said no, so they’d lain there together for a while in silence, Brooke’s thoughts running around her head and Yvie’s no doubt doing the same.

The week had passed by quickly, if only a little awkwardly. Brooke, admittedly, hadn’t had much time- her portfolio and final showcase had been on the Friday, so she and Plastique had basically holed themselves away in the library and the design department until it was done. Now, though, Brooke thought she should catch up with her friend.

“So you and her are fine now, then?” Brooke asked Yvie, the other girl sighing deeply.

“Technically yes. I messaged her on the Friday to say sorry, ‘cuz I felt like an ass not letting her in the taxi with us, and she apologised too, so I mean I guess we’re fine but…I don’t know. I’ve not seen her all week, she’s not asked to hang out.”

Nina patted Yvie’s arm sympathetically. “I wouldn’t take that to heart, girl, I mean we’re all busy people these days. A lot of deadlines coming up.”

“I know, you’re right. But I just don’t know if when I see her today she’ll be like…buying people stuff or she’ll have got me some fuckin’ expensive present or some shit. I mean, has she seemed off to you guys at all?” Yvie frowned, appealing to her flatmates. Brooke bit her lip as she thought about it.

“Yeah I mean…she’s been kind of throwing money around lately, but that’s about it. She’s still a complete idiot,” Brooke added on at the end, hoping it would elicit a response from Yvie. Brooke smiled as Yvie used her free hand to swat at Brooke.

“Hey. Don’t be a dick.”

“See! You have made up with her, because you’re still defending her,” Brooke smiled cheekily, a red blush hitting Yvie’s cheeks.

“Well yeah, she’s still my friend! But I don’t know. I hope she’ll be okay with me today,” Yvie muttered, biting her lip. Nina turned to the other girls, frowning.

“Can we also talk about…Scarlet and Vanjie? That happened, right? I’m sure one of you told me about that.”

“Oh yeah, I did,” Yvie said, then snorted a laugh and turned to Brooke. “Yeah that was fucking weird, right? When they got with each other?”

Brooke felt a stab to her heart and a flush fly to her face as she remembered the situation. Nina and Yvie’s faces grew curious and they instantly pressed her for more information, Brooke reluctantly telling them both what her response to the whole thing had been- how she’d pulled Vanjie back into her arms and muttered something about how she wasn’t allowed to do that with Scarlet, and if she was getting with anyone tonight it was going to be her. But Vanessa’s response had assuaged Brooke’s embarrassment, Brooke flexing her toes as she thought about Vanessa’s dark smile and the way she bit her lip and made some comment about how Brooke was so hot when she was jealous. Upon telling the girls the full story, Nina gave a cry, a flail, and spilt a big slosh of tea onto Yvie’s duvet.

“Nina! Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re gonna make me do laundry on my birthday,” Yvie laughed, annoyed but also not really.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just…I’m trying to work it out,” Nina frowned, looking at Brooke intently. Brooke furrowed her brow.

“What?”

All of a sudden, Nina turned around and picked up a pillow, thumping Brooke with it as she spoke. “How you two haven’t FUCKING GOT WITH EACH OTHER YET! My GOD! It’s EXHAUSTING!”

“It is exhausting,” Yvie agreed, nodding. “It’s getting to the stage where there’s so much sexual tension between you that I get horny even just being in the same room as the pair of you.”

Brooke let out a laugh. “That’s fucking gross.”

“Well, it’s true. Can that be my birthday present? Can you finally get with Vanjie? Please?”

Brooke rolled her eyes and stared at Yvie. “No.”

Nina pulled a heartfelt face and put her hand to her chest. “What if a gay child with cancer had three weeks to live and their last wish to the Make a Wish foundation was to see Brooke and Vanessa kiss furiously in the middle of lazerquest. Are you telling me you wouldn’t kiss Vanjie in that instance?”

Brooke and Yvie let out a howl of laughter, Brooke reaching across and thumping Nina with her free hand. “Can the pair of you fucking stop? My God. I’ll get with her when I get with her, Jesus.”

“You’re an asshole,” Nina rolled her eyes, casting a glance to Yvie. “Hey, are both of those cupcakes gone or is there still one left?”

As the girls finished up their tea and the cupcakes and moved to get ready, Brooke thought about what they had both said and what had happened last Wednesday. Everything spun around her mind like a washing machine, and for the first time in three years, Brooke started to think that fuck, maybe Vanessa did like her back. It wasn’t that radical a notion. Brooke knew that Vanessa was flirty and touchy with all her friends, but there was something about her behaviour with Brooke that felt different. After all, Vanjie had said herself that she felt she and Brooke had something special. It still didn’t explain, however, why Vanjie was happy to get with so many people in their friend group (Akeria, Silky, Plastique and now Scarlet in the past year alone) but she’d never made a move on Brooke. Maybe there was something holding her back. Brooke didn’t know, and she couldn’t tell for sure.

In any event, Vanjie or no Vanjie, today was still going to be a good day, and she was looking forward to some time with her friends acting like an absolute child and running around laserquest for an afternoon. Yvie had decided she wanted to go there in lieu of a big piss-up night out and so she’d booked it at the big retail park on the outskirts of the city, the other girls transferring her money excitedly as none of their friendship group could even pretend to be too cool for lazerquest. Brooke felt her thoughts run through her mind as she opened her wardrobe, unable to help herself thinking about the possibility of something happening between her and Vanjie. She decided to wear her plain blue jeans with a black polo neck and trainers, running her tongue over her teeth happily as she’d once remembered Vanessa saying she loved girls in polo necks, “like a fuckin’ Kheira Knightly dream girl fantasy”, and she’d clung onto the information ever since, sporadically using it to her advantage. Today was one of those days. Brooke was about to sweep her hair up into a high ponytail when her door burst open, Nina on the other side. Her mane of wavy hair framed her face and she had opted for a pair of pink dungarees, a white t-shirt underneath.

“Hey. You look cute,” Brooke said through a mouthful of kirby grip, Nina smiling cheerfully in response as she lay down on Brooke’s unmade bed.

“Thanks, angel,” she said, looking in the direction of Yvie’s room across the hall and frowning, lowering her voice. “Hey, is Yvie okay, do you think?”

Brooke blew out a considerable amount of air from her lungs. “Honestly it’s hard to say. I don’t know. She doesn’t tell us anything.”

“True. I just think she’s overreacting about the whole Scarlet thing. Like okay, she’s being a bit careless with her money, and what? Scarlet’s a smart girl, she isn’t an idiot. Well. She is in some aspects of life, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, Nina, but you know what Yvie’s like,” Brooke frowned, pulling the band around her hair as she spoke. “She’s very proud and doesn’t like the thought of anyone pitying her or anything. Which is why I think the whole Scarlet throwing around money thing is getting to her. Also, I see where she’s coming from with the personality transplant thing. I mean Scarlet with cocaine? Come on.”

Nina shrugged, nodding. “No, you’re right, that one is weird. Aw, but you know what it’s like, Brooke, it’s uni. We all get to third year and know that our time’s running out and wish we’d all done so much more. Remember when the three of us made that bucket list in first year? How much of that did we actually do?”

Brooke sighed, finishing her hair and turning around to Nina. “I don’t want to grow up, Nina.”

“I know, baby. Me neither. Let’s go see if Yvie’s ready then get the bus.”

The three girls eventually gathered everything they needed and locked up their flat, walking around the corner and waiting for the bus that would take them to the retail park. It arrived only six minutes late, Yvie and Brooke having to rely on Nina to pay their fares as neither of them had any change. They all sat on the top deck, Yvie making them sit at the very front so she could pretend she was driving the bus, and they were off. Brooke shot a quick message to the group chat, which already had a few messages on it.

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: What day is it today.

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: I know it’s a Saturday but I feel like there’s something else

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Could it be…International Talk Like a Pirate Day?

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: No……that��s not it

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: If only there was some way to remember

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: HAPPY FUCKIN BIRTHDAY YVIEEEEEEEEE

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Silky I cannot believe

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: You just ruined my entire setup

Okay Then: happy birthday Yvie!!!!! can’t wait for lazerquest

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Happy Birthday Yvie hope you have the best day (which u will because you’re seeing us)

used Tampon: Happy Birthday angel xxxxxxx

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: YAY Happy Birthday Yvelynn!!!! Can’t wait to shoot u multiple times with lazers xo

mose: We’re on the bus guys see u all soon!

Okay Then: fuck i need to get dressed i’m still in bed

Kim Kardashian-West: Yes Plastique i’m sure shagging your flatmate is exhausting work xxx

Brooke howled as she read Nina’s reply. “NINA!”

The other girl gave a mischievous wink from across the aisle.

Eventually the girls got off the bus at the retail park and wandered across to the giant arcade, where they found Silky, Akeria and Vanjie sitting on the long benches just outside the entrance to the lazerquest arena, four identical blue and red slushies in front of them. Brooke noted that Vanessa had plaited her hair, something in the back of her mind reminding her of something she may or may not have once said about liking it when girls wore their hair in braids.

“Yvie!” Vanessa cried, spotting them all first and running over to the birthday girl, giving her a quick hug. “Happy birthday, girl!”

“Thanks, Vanjie,” she smiled bashfully, sitting down on the bench beside Silky and immediately being enveloped in a gigantic hug.

“We got you a slushie!” Akeria smiled, handing Yvie one of the crippling brain freeze-inducing drinks. Yvie raised her eyebrows appreciatively as she sipped it.

“The only birthday gift a girl could ask for.”

“Did these girls do anything cute for you?” Akeria asked, giving Nina and Brooke a stare. “Because you know if they didn’t, you can always come live with us. We’d swap you for Silky, at least maybe you’d clean up the kitchen once in a while.”

Silky went to let out an outraged, loud protest but Yvie spoke first. “They got me cupcakes from Birdie’s so I’m happy.”

“Aw, that’s so cute,” Vanessa smiled, beaming at Brooke from the other end of the table. “Brooke Lynn, when’re you gonna buy me cupcakes?”

“When you stop being insufferable,” Brooke deadpanned, the other girls bursting out into a laugh as Vanessa pouted like a kicked puppy. Just then, Plastique and Scarlet arrived, Plastique swinging her car keys around her finger. The girls said hi to everyone and Plastique explained that she’d given Scarlet a lift on her way here. Brooke watched as Scarlet handed Yvie a card, the other girls making up quick excuses as to where theirs were.

“Guys, it’s fine. I know that none of you broke ass bitches can afford three pounds for a card,” she laughed good-humouredly. As the other girls spoke about just when the hell their student loans were coming in, Brooke watched as Yvie opened the card, Scarlet standing nervously beside her. The front of the card had Winnie the Pooh on it and read “2 years old!”, Scarlet having Sharpie-d on a 0 next to the other digit. Yvie read what was inside, smiled shyly, then without saying anything else wrapped her arms around Scarlet’s waist in a wordless hug. If Brooke leant back a tiny bit, she could read what was inside-

Dear Yvie,

Happy 20th Birthday!

I was trying to Tigger out what to say for so long but I’ll just say- sorry I’ve been acting like a Pooh. I would love nothing more than to make up with you if you’ll Pig-let me. Anyway, Owl stop Rabbit-ing on and say I hope you have the best day ever, you deserve it.

Lots of love,

Scarlet xxx

Brooke pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. Scarlet was a total dork, but she was a cute dork, and she made Yvie happy. Brooke was glad they’d made up, and she was looking forward to the day that one of them finally fucking admitted their feelings to the other so that Brooke and Vanessa didn’t need to be the targets of their friendship group any more.

The group were interrupted by a man who looked a little too old to be working at an arcade who showed them through to the lazerquest arena. They had paid for two games, and got told the first one was to be a team game. Silky immediately grabbed Akeria and Vanessa, Vanessa hooking an arm around Scarlet too.

“Are we really doing flat versus flat? Really?” Nina laughed, shaking her head. Yvie shrugged.

“Suits me. Let’s kill these bitches.”

They got their packs on and were let loose into the arena, Plastique, Nina, Yvie and Brooke instantly running to a far corner. Yvie immediately started talking an attack plan, maintaining that they shouldn’t run around like lunatics and instead pick four vantage points where they could pick off the girls as they moved. Brooke had to suppress a laugh at how seriously Yvie was taking the whole thing, as the mood she was in Yvie could have very likely killed her. Plastique and Nina ran off to get a position for the game, and Brooke stayed with Yvie. The girls knelt down behind two huge barrels, and the game began, a huge countdown blasting through the speakers and spooky music following immediately afterwards.

“Oh my God, I feel so alive,” Yvie gave an evil laugh as she immediately shot at Akeria, who ran across their line of sight. Brooke bit her tongue to keep from laughing as Silky’s voice echoed across the whole room, outraged at having been shot.

“I haven’t done this since I was about ten,” Brooke agreed, shooting at Scarlet three times and hearing the other girl whine. Brooke cast a glance at Yvie. “So you and Scarlet are fine now, yeah?”

Yvie gave a tiny smile as she scanned her line of sight. “Yeah.”

Brooke couldn’t help but take it another step further. “I have this theory that Scarlet has a crush on you, you know?”

Yvie frowned, shooting at Vanjie who was high up on a different level. “Well I hope not, because that would make things awkward between us.”

Brooke laughed, shooting at Vanjie again immediately as she came back to life and hearing the other girl curse. “You’re a good actor, girl, do you get paid?”

Yvie turned her head to scowl at Brooke. She was suddenly shot at, and turned her head quickly back. “Literally zip your mouth up and don’t open it again.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t be the only ones. Everyone knows I like Vanessa. Apart from her. I think. I hope,” Brooke paused, frowning. Yvie shot once, twice, three times at Akeria.

“Do you know the meaning of zip your mouth?”

Brooke pressed her lips together, reprimanded, and she continued to shoot each time she saw one of the girls on the opposite team until finally, the game ended. They all trudged back to the meeting room, shrugged off their packs and dashed eagerly to the TV in the arcade that told them their scores. Brooke watched as Yvie’s face lit up, their team being declared the winners.

“Y'all cheated, that ain’t fair!” Vanessa complained, flipping one of her dark braids over her shoulder. Brooke felt a small electric shock between her legs as her conversation with Vanessa the other week shot back into her mind. Definitely bratty.

“It’s called playing the game right, you should try it,” Yvie laughed mockingly. Looking back up at the scoreboard, she pointed. “Nina West, though, most valuable player. Well done, girl.”

Nina smiled modestly, framing her face with her hands. “We’ve got fifteen minutes until our next game, that’s time for a slushie, right?”

As Nina, Plastique, Akeria and Silky ran off to get another horrifically fluorescent drink filled with e-numbers and Scarlet and Yvie made their way to a claw machine no doubt about to make twenty futile attempts to win a bear, Brooke and Vanessa were left on their own guarding everyone’s bags at the table. Vanessa sat opposite Brooke, twirling a plait subconsciously and giving Brooke a little smile.

“I like your hair,” Brooke commented casually, Vanessa’s smile growing bigger at the compliment.

“Thanks. I like your outfit,” she beamed innocently, Brooke sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and biting it. This was deliberate. “I always wish I could pull off roll necks.”

Brooke very nearly came out with something akin to you can pull mine off if you want but even that ran the risk of being a bit much for Vanessa. Instead she flipped her ponytail back and shrugged. “It’s an innate gift. You’ve either got it or you don’t.”

Vanessa smirked as if she was holding something back, then dropped it as she looked at the girls all queueing for their slushies. Turning back to Brooke, she pouted again. “How do you win at that shit? I swear I shot people like twenty times and it did nothing.”

“Pick a place to shoot from and then stay there for the whole game. Don’t give away your hiding place. People just run past you. It’s the best way,” Brooke shrugged, Vanessa smiling and drumming her fingers on the table.

“Thanks for the tip, boo. Try not to get killed by me this next game.”

“Gosh, I’m so terrified,” Brooke shrugged, Vanessa scowling comically and kicking at Brooke under the table until she realised she was too short to reach her legs. As Brooke almost keeled over with laughter, the girls returned with their slushies. Just before they were all called back into the arena again, Scarlet and Yvie triumphantly returned with a soft toy Eeyore.

“Shitting Christ. How much did you have to put into the machine until you won that monstrosity,” Akeria rolled her eyes, Yvie all happy and ignoring her.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the effort that counts,” Yvie smiled, Scarlet hiding a blush behind her hands.

Eeyore packed away in Yvie’s rucksack, game two began. It was a solo game so Brooke dashed off and found a small hiding place in the arena, secretly terrified of Yvie finding her and killing her three times in a row. The minutes of the game ticked by and Brooke stood where she was, shooting at people whenever she could. There was a small lull where nobody seemed to run past Brooke, and she could hear the footsteps of people on the level above her. Brooke looked over to a small vantage point across from her. If she could get to there, she’d be able to shoot at the girls on the upper level.

“God, I’m taking this way too seriously,” she whispered to herself as she ran, suddenly hearing Silky loudly threaten someone with murder and reconsidering.

As Brooke ran into the vantage point and up to the little window, she was shocked as she almost bumped into a dark figure that was hiding in the shadowed corner, who shot at her immediately. Brooke skidded to a halt, rolling her eyes as she realised who it was. Vanessa flicked a braid over her shoulder and laughed smugly, smiling naughtily with her tongue between her teeth.

“Thought you said don’t give away your hiding place?” she asked cheekily. Just then, something inside Brooke melted away, like the feeling of letting go of a balloon and watching it fly high into the air. She took a big step across to the shadowed corner and watched as Vanessa’s eyes grew wide and shimmery, excitement and anticipation twinkling in them. Brooke ran her tongue over her teeth.

“Truce?”

Brooke’s heart almost failed as Vanessa let her gun drop down by her side and slid her arms around Brooke’s waist. “Hmm, I don’t know, baby. What’s in it for me?”

Brooke had a sudden, overwhelming, life-affirming realisation that friends absolutely, categorically Did Not act like this. This wasn’t even friendly flirting, this was complete full-blown flirting, and it was only going to lead one place and Brooke had to hold back visible excitement as she pretended to think, tilting her head up to the sky. “Okay, well…I’m very good at shooting people-”

“Obviously,” Vanessa raised a sarcastic eyebrow, giving Brooke a small squeeze.

“- I came second in the last game…” Brooke paused, taking in the moment before she actually came out with the words that were in her head. “…and I also happen to be a very fucking good kisser.”

Brooke’s heart felt as if someone had turned a key in its ignition as she took in the sight of surprise smacked over every inch of Vanessa’s face, before the dust settled and a wicked glint appeared in the other girl’s eye as she looked down at Brooke’s lips then back up to her eyes. She bit her lip as she smiled at her and Jesus Christ if Vanessa wasn’t the most beautiful person Brooke had ever fucking seen. “Mm…I don’t know, boo, I might need to see that before I believe it.”

Unable to hold back and watch the smirk on Vanessa’s face grow any bigger, Brooke leant in, closed the gap between them and kissed Vanessa deeply, feeling the other girl seem to melt against Brooke’s body as she made a low, contented hum in her throat. It was exactly everything that Brooke had wanted over the past few years, Vanessa’s lips at once new and unfamiliar but also completely addictive, Brooke feeling herself push the other girl against the wall as she kissed her hard. Vanessa brought one of her hands up to her jaw and the other ran through Brooke’s hair, completely messing up her ponytail but Brooke not even being able to muster the energy to care about anything other than taking in every single second of the situation she’d currently found herself in. Brooke felt every nerve ending in her body feel as if it had been set alight as Vanessa trailed one hand down to rub at Brooke’s hipbone through her jeans, Brooke unable to help herself as she bucked her hips gently, Vanessa gasping as she pulled away slightly.

“Jesus, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” she whispered against her lips, Brooke growing absolutely wild and suddenly wishing Vanessa’s hair was out of its plaits so she could grab fistfuls of it and make her cry out. Brooke felt Vanessa’s other hand trail itself down from her hair and Brooke wondered how her heart hadn’t given out by now as she felt Vanessa kiss back against her, wondering if it was in any way acceptable to beg her to finger her in the middle of a fucking lazerquest arena, but Brooke wasn’t in any position to think logically with one of Vanessa’s hands on her hips and the other on her-

Brooke nearly had a heart attack as she felt Vanessa push her off of her, her back bumping against the wall. Shocked, Brooke’s eyes grew wide like a deer in the headlights as she looked at Vanessa, the other girl’s face still completely full of lust as she aimed and fired three shots- one to each of Brooke’s shoulders and one to the huge green target on her chest.

Brooke found herself rendered completely incapable of speech as Vanessa gave a sultry laugh, taking two steps forward to meet her.

“Sorry, Ms. Hytes, but your services are no longer required,” she deadpanned, giving Brooke a quick kiss on the cheek before she walked away, just in time for the lights to come up and the klaxon to sound, signalling the end of the game.

Brooke stood completely slack-jawed as she heard Vanessa say proudly as she walked away, “Bitch! I would make such a fuckin’ amazing spy!”

As Brooke listened to the sound of Vanessa’s footsteps getting further and further away, she touched her cheek, then had to bite her lip to keep from smiling so much.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #scyvie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #yvie oddly #scarlet envy #lesbian au #university au #college au #nina west #akeria davenport #silky nutmeg ganache #plastique tiara #not nineteen forever #ortega #n19f #s11

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