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peeterparkr · 4 years

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perennial;tom holland|thirteen.

chapter thirteen: heleniums

↳ flower meaning: comfort.

chapter summary: ‘very Tom and y/n’

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: Cherry, angst, fluff if you squint, smut (?, idk if there was any it’d be after the *), this hurts, but...rollercoaster

word count: 12.3K

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Hi, I’m back, super hard chapter to write, honestly. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, happy new year.

There were, with certainty, and exactly, three things Tom had regretted the most from that night, which, had they been avoided, he would’ve not had this mess.

That night, not being y/n’s birthday, but the night before he slept with Cherry. It had led to the next day, and the next night, and to this mess.

Tom had been confused, that is to say, he can’t be blamed for being confused. What had been something very, very innocent had turned into his worst nightmare. The background on his head was the peculiar reasoning behind the big decision that led to his first regret.

The day before he slept with Cherry Tom had read the script. Not all of it, just part of it. Again, the part which had led to his broken heart. Tom regretted doing that, because the mind is such a dark place when it wants to be. Our minds are our biggest enemy, because who else knows what hurts the most than ourselves.

Because Tom knew that the words written on that script hadn’t come from nothing. It’s what bothered him the most, is that every single word written there was completely and utterly true.

He had been a monster.

He regretted that, but we already knew that.

He then had read over and over y/n’s last letter. Her telling him it was him, and no one else. Then why had she left? Why had he let her go? There was his mind telling him, being reasonable, telling him she’d left for the script, because she had. But then there was that one thought flying through his mind. She’d left and fall in love with Tim. She had once, why not twice? Y/N was vulnerable, and vulnerable hearts are easy to shape. Ghost haunting Tom’s mind, fearing he’d be buried deep in y/n’s mind. How much can a heart take? How many wounds until it finally dies.

A flower can only bloom when it’s watered.

He knew she’d end up forgetting him, that’s what the script said. But the letter said they’d be infinite. Would they? How many pieces were left out of the puzzle, making it unsolvable. Was she trying to get over him?

Did he have to move on? He’d said that. She’d said that. Because it had made no sense why she left so suddenly when he’d needed her the most, to take her home and just listen to her, like she was an old song. She’d left when Tom had needed her the most,when he needed to make sure that they were supposed to love each other, to make sure he was the one.

The second thing he’d regretted that night had been answering Cherry’s call, and accepting her offer to go out for a drink. He had been well aware of her flirting. And he’d give in because it felt like a cheap love , and he couldn’t afford for more at time, and it was easy, so unbelievable easy. Like she was giving in to him, without any ‘buts’. Without any built in walls, without any prejudice.

He would’ve never known that he was so stupid.

Tom had been lying when he said he hadn’t seen the next night coming. Because he’d made the decision the night before, at that one pub, with the warm beer that gave no entertainment, listening to a laugh that sounded like hers, some pair of eyes that if you tried hard enough, you could see hers. Someone so close, so near hear. And after a few more drinks, familiarity is what we all need. The hearts make the eyes see what we want to see. And if your mind is wild enough, he could pretend it was her.

The third thing he regretted from that night, it had been leaning over to kiss Cherry, thinking that the alcohol would blind him enough to make him believe her lips were y/n’s. But when it’s not hers, then you’ll never be satisfied.

He hadn’t been, but the lips had been welcoming. It had been him. He knew that. He’d fallen under the spell that Cherry was.

Cherry, honestly, was a dark omen with raving hope. Tom had been a victim. Because Cherry had known what she was doing.

But Cherry had also fallen under the lie that Tom was. Cherry, deep in her heart had known that y/n, her cousin, whom she barely knew, had something to do with Tom. She couldn’t map what, she knew they were enemies. Was there something else? He had shown up with flowers.

Y/N when asked by Cherry, had once said only a fool would fall for Tom.

And Cherry had been such a fool. Cherry, just like Tom, had gone through a heartbreak. An awful one, the one that makes you think that you’re not supposed to love. Cherry, had heard y/n say heartbreaks can be felt, and she agreed. Her ex girlfriend had broken up with her because she’d decided that Cherry just ‘wasn’t what she wanted’ Cherry wasn’t ‘enough to make her happy’.

‘Cherry, you’re a season, and I need a year.’

It hurts. Cherry had known about it, how she was like a flower, only blooming every now and then. Not all year long. Cherry, most people said, was someone who people used, for a night. She’d known it long enough. Though Cherry is now the villain in our story, she can’t be blamed. Hearts are never easy, and hearts are vulnerable.

And vulnerable hearts are easy to be shaped. Everyone thought Cherry was perfect, she’d hear it said, by other people, ‘oh, you’re the kind of girl that steals every glance in the room’, ‘you’re the one girl everyone wished they were’. Yet, she was never loved.

So when Tom, trying to search for something so familiar to the one he loved, he’d made Cherry believe that she could be loved.

She had tried not to, at first, but when Tom had kissed her that night, with those eyes he gave to y/n, but only with hopes of trying to find y/n there. And Tom hadn’t been disappointed, and he had kissed Cherry again and again.

And while Tom was trying to find what he was looking for, not finding it, Cherry had found the one thing she’d searched for, her entire life, someone who wasn’t getting tired, someone who asked for more.

Complicated.

Cherry had heard it then, how Tom had left. And she was left again with those thoughts in her mind, what had she done wrong?

James had come and told her he was forbidden territory, that Tom and y/n had a lot of story, that Cherry couldn’t go there. That she couldn’t go to Tom because he was forbidden. But how could he be? Her secret in a crowded room, how easily had she fallen for him, because he was oh, so easy to love.

She remember the night he’d kissed her, first silence, no patience. How desperate the kiss had been, and how the whole world had stopped, because he kissed her like he loved her.

He didn’t, but Cherry didn’t know that. Because it’s easier to believe that he wanted to take off her dress, to kiss her soul. It didn’t make sense, and she’d hidden under the lie that it’d be a rebound, a mutual agreement, but how hard had she tried to keep her hands to herself because she only wanted his hands to touch her.

And she’d dream about him, all night long. If he’d kissed her that way, it meant he had feelings, too, right?

What a fool Cherry had been, used as a ploy. He’d come the very next day, and there were his lips again, on her. So desperate for her.

But Tom knew that though he had tried to kiss her like she was y/n, she wasn’t. But who wouldn’t fall for someone who is kissing you like your the love of their life?

People can’t be replaced, we are all unique, and Tom had only realized it after Cherry’s hair was against his neck, after mistaking pleasure for passion, and after confusing lust with love.

Problem was Tom hadn’t told Cherry, not exactly. He’d said the wrong words.

Maybe Tom did regret a fourth thing, saying those words. “It’s the most similar thing that it’s to love, but one can’t pretend enough.”

Cherry hadn’t understood the meaning behind that sentence. She thought he meant he loved her, while he, actually told her it wasn’t enough to be love.

Then, gone. Gone.

And then, y/n’s birthday had come around, and he was there, it was her time, because y/n and Cherry aren’t so different. They both wanted a fairytale. She had, indisputably, and after been told a lie, she had so foolishly tried to look for Tom.

Love blinds us and makes us see what we want to see, and she hadn’t seen Tom and y/n. She’d seen y/n and Tim, and she’d seen Tom here and there, not with her. And she’d told her cousin, how she was deeply, madly in love with Tom and couldn’t get him out of his head.

James had said: “you’re drunk, Cherry, dear, you can’t be in love.”

Who was James to tell her her feelings were not hers? And she’d heard it again, from that one guy, Josh, ‘how she was the prettiest that night’, yet he’d kissed Emma. He had heard it from Tim, ‘you look stunning’, yet his eyes had been on y/n.

And she’d been rejected, just when she’d kissed Tom, how he’d run to y/n. Leaving Cherry, confused and heartbroken and not feeling enough, because though she’d given Tom everything, she still was not… enough.

It had been a rough night. To everyone, really. The moment y/n had left the club, it had seemed things had turned out to be worse than imagined.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” and that sort of questions had rained over Cherry. “Tom’s y/n’s boyfriend!”

“He is dating your cousin!”

“You’re a slut!”

Was she?

Maybe she was.

And she had reached for Tom, and she’d found him, right outside the bar, with a hand on his waist, and the other one pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes, tired, pale and sad.

“Tom-?” She’d said, with fear.

Tom had flinched hearing her voice.

Tom knew he was to blame for a lot of things.

But not this one. Not this particular one.

Sure, he had been angry at the statement Timothée had made but he hadn’t really known anything. As far as he could recall the events that had gone through quickly, he didn’t even remember when Cherry had approached him, honestly he was too drunk and too busy staring at y/n.

Cherry had said something to him, she wanted to talk. She said she really wanted to talk. He didn’t.

“Tom?” She’d asked, again.

“What?” He had snapped. “Can’t you--Can’t--Why did you do this?” He sounded desperate, angry, hurt, enraged.

“I… didn’t know-”

“You didn’t know?” He asked. “You didn’t know that I’m dating-Or was dating or whatever… you didn’t know that your cousin--- you didn’t know she’s the love of my life?”

“I didn’t,” she snapped.

James had walked over. “You knew.”

“I didn’t,” Cherry said, or she’d chosen not to acknowledge she did know. When you’re in love you can become the most stupid, selfish and stubborn you can be.

“Still why-would you do this?” Tom asked. “Fuck now-Now she’ll think-Fuck, I don’t even know what she thinks.”

Cherry watched him. She had fucked up, and judging by how everyone was coming out just to yell at her, and Tom.

Cherry had been drunk, honestly. Everyone had been, and maybe that had been the only courage she had needed. She’d seen Timothée approaching Tom, they were yelling at each other, Tim had pushed Tom, but Tom had easily pushed him off, harder. Yelling, cursing. James trying to separate them, were they fighting? Cherry couldn’t figure out whose fist had gone to whose face. Emma still asking why she’d done it. Sam asked about it.

Cherry was feeling sick, and she felt like she was about to vomit. Being asked about it, over and over and over. Why she’d done it, why had she been such a bad cousin, a slut, or whatever they were saying. How Emma kept yelling at her.

No, she wasn’t going to vomit, but Cherry wished that what had come out of her mouth had been that instead. “Because I love him!” Cherry had said.

And suddenly the chaos ceased. And then, Cherry knew, the blame was on Tom now. No one dares to question a woman in love. Because of course, if she was in love with him, it had been something Tom had done.

Tom hadn’t answered. He only looked at her as if asking her how she dared to be in love with him, as if he didn’t believe her. He had only cursed to himself, he was defeated.

He didn’t care for her, not right now. But he did feel guilty. Because Tom had been the one to listen to her heartache.

Cherry and Tom were not so different, either. How they both feared they were not right for the person you could love.

It’s stupid, to think that. But Tom didn’t know how to apologize to her, but honestly, he thought Cherry would get it. He hoped she did.

He had told her, how he had had his heart broken by someone who knew how to hurt him on his open wounds , and yet she hadn’t used the one weapon to create a new one.

Why hadnt Cherry connected the dots? Was it not too obvious that Tom’s heart belonged to y/n? Was it not expressed enough? Did his eyes stutter when seeing y/n?

Tom had only pushed Tim before getting into a car, James had gone with him.

“Are you going to kill me?” Tom had snapped.

“No,” James said. “I saw what happened.”

Tom only clenched his jaw, he was stressed, angry. “I didn’t—I swear I— I wasn’t—“

“I know.”

“And now she left—“

James nodded. “With Harry.”

Tom thought he had already erased his fears with Harry. There was that thought in his head, quietly still roaming around, loud enough but tender to be just a faint sound. Could y/n catch feelings for Harry? Because when one is vulnerable, the head can easily be molded, and shaped. He’d learned that with Cherry, he knew that’s why y/n fell in love with Tim and there was that possibility. What if this was just the only straw y/n needed?

And why was he even thinking about that? He’d broken her heart and there was no possible way of solving this, this had been the worst outcome from all the possible scenarios that could’ve gone down, this had been the one horrible ending to y/n’s birthday.

“Before you freak out,” James interrupted Tom’s thoughts as soon as they’d arrived to the flower shop, where Tom thought y/n would be. “It’s the best thing that could’ve happened to you.”

“She’s not here, fuck it,” Tom said, stressed out. Had she gone home? He ordered another car.

“Her leaving with Harry,” James said. “He’s the only one she opens up to.”

Tom sighed. “I don’t know,” he said, staring at his phone.

“Harry will be able to calm her, they are best friends and they haven’t-talked in a while,” James said.

“They have, they’ve texted,” Tom snapped, knowing damn well his brother had been in touch.

“They’re not going to fall in love,” James said.

Tom gulped down, “How do you know that? What if-what if she’s supposed-I-”

“Stop fucking sabotaging yourself.”

“I-”

“She loves you,” James said. “That’s the least fucking thing you should be worrying about, you broke her heart, she just bloody saw you kissing another woman who happens to be our own cousin, you realize that, right?”

“Yeah-yeah-But I didn’t-”

“I know, Tom, but she knows the background, it wasn’t the kiss, it’s what the kiss meant, y/n had been avoiding this long enough and the glass just broke down, alright?”

Tom only cracked his fingers, one by one, nervously listening to him. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did, so let’s-”

“Should I-call her?”

“That’s up to you,” James said. “Why are we even here?”

“I thought she’d be here,” Tom admitted. “The flowers calm her down,” he said. “I-I dunno, I-- she wouldn’t go back home-I mean to her place, because- or would she? If she did then--”

“No, because then she’d face Timothée and I’m sure Harry wouldn’t let her,” James said.

“And she wouldn’t go to my place-” Tom was shaking, but it wasn’t cold, yet he was freezing.

“You can ask Harry,” James suggested.

Tom knew, in his heart, that he shouldn’t call, as James had said, Y/N could only completely open with Harry, he knew that, when it came to Harry, y/n didn’t have any second guessing or she didn’t stop and think, she just blurted everything out, and maybe that’s what she needed, to let it out, calm down.

Besides, he knew that she wouldn’t answer if he dared to call.

James didn’t know what to tell him either, it’s not that he was on Tom’s side. James was always team y/n, but James was so bloody empathetic to Tom, they were best friends and honestly, he knew Tom didn’t mean any wrong. Besides, James had learned from Tom that he was not so bad for y/n, so similar in some ways, different enough to always have an argument but realize that they were both so incredibly similar that it was what bothered them when children, ‘how dare my enemy agree with me’, and Tom had a weak heart, not like y/n’s who could have multiple rocks thrown at her heart and she’d be fine, but Tom’s heart would break so easily, James also remembered Tom had said, a while ago, when younger, to him:“Y/N looks like the type of girl you never forget, you can’t get over her, never move on. Like that one heartbreak time can’t heal.”

How many years had gone by since y/n had broken Tom’s heart and he probably hadn’t healed?

And James had seen Tom, how incredibly anxious and worried he was about y/n’s birthday being perfect, and how he had, against his will, invited Timmy, because he knew that not inviting him would make y/n mad. And how he’d chosen every little aspect thinking of her.

James had underestimated Tom, and y/n. Y/N did seem to let go so easily when she was around Tom, probably because they’d seen each other’s worst and now they wanted to be the best versions of themselves.

James had seen that.

But Tom was so, so bloody scared of screwing up, and he kept being haunted by his actions. Tom was so sure he’d fuck up, but not this way. Not in a way that was, though partly, not entirely his fault.

“Or—what if you call her?” Said Tom, knowing she might answer him instead. With a sort of plan to take away the phone and try and talk to her with hopes of not being hung up.

James did, and y/n didn’t answer.

Tom did ask Harry, only to know if she was with him, and if they were safe. That’s all he needed to know for now.

He finally decided to go home, knowing that calling her was a big risk and that she wouldn’t answer and if she did what would he say?

James had asked Clark and Sam to find elsewhere to stay. James was anxious that Clark would get scared and run away from the mess his family and friends were.

James had tried to reach for y/n. But then he realized that a friend needed him that night.

“What am I supposed to say now?”

“That you’re sorry for starters, tell her the truth?” James suggested matter-of-factly.

“She’s going to think that I had feelings for Cherry,” Tom said.

“And she did have feelings for you,” James stated.

Tom scrunched his nose. “I didn’t know that, but is that-?”

“Your fault?” James shrugged. “Dunno. Depends.”

“I didn’t do anything thinking she’d fall in love,” he admitted. “I-I-I thought it was clear it was--She even said it herself,” Tom said. “This is a rebound, yes, not my proudest moment and I regret doing that but-”

James shrugged. “Honestly, Tom, you have to tell her the truth, that’s it.”

Tom sighed, eyes closed as he shook his head. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen-”

James only watched him.

“I’m-” Tom took a deep breath. “I… And here goes, I hurt her again, I’m just-How can I be so stupid to keep hurting her, how did I let this happen? I… can’t be what she wrote there, I was supposed to change or give some backstory or try and mend it. It’s like- We are not going to make it. And now I hurt wounds that hadn’t been healed, I don’t know what I’m saying, it’s like the more I’m talking the more I try to mend it the less I understand the more I hurt her.”

James kept quiet, knowing Tom needed to talk.

“How can I hurt her so much when I love her? And yet more plan wrecked and she’s going to tell me she wants me out of her life and I don’t know what’s different from last time?”

“That you want to solve it.”

“I always wanted to, yet I ended up hurting her again.”

Tom was in misery, all night, trying to find the right words he’d say. Guilt was killing him, and he saw something very familiar, he saw how Tom and y/n weren’t that James watched Tom, and he saw someone who really was trying. James wanted to call y/n, and he wanted to know how she was doing, but he knew that he’d get no answer from her. How was she doing?

Probably not better than Tom, who at some point had left James alone, to only remain quiet in his room. James was sure Tom was crying but he knew he didn’t want to be seen crying.

It was a long story, between Tom and y/n, and though James didn’t understand it, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to figure it out. What happened with them that they were so drawn to each other? Did the happiness really outshine the bad moments enough to forget it? Why did they love each other so much? Because James knew why he loved Clark, but Tom and y/n? Who were they when nobody was watching them.

Tom was never one to shut everyone out, Tom was never quiet so who was this Tom, thinking to himself, quietly, sadly. He’d never seen him like this.

James thought Tom was preparing for a heartbreak, one he would be guilted for. James also wanted to suggest he call her, but he didn’t know what was right with y/n. He felt guilty for not calling his sister, and he only texted Harry, who told her she was as fine as she could be.

The next morning, Tom had woken up-or maybe he was still awake from the night before, he probably hadn’t slept. James had heard him talk to Harry.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take a shower and I’ll go talk to her.”

Then Tom had called Sam, who wasn’t happy with any situation.

James had called Clark.

“I’m sorry you were in this mess,” he said.

Clarke sighed. “It’s alright, I mean--”

“How bad was it after I left?”

“Let’s say there was a--plot twist,” Clark said.

“Plot twist?”

“You’ll have to deal with later, but--”

Someone was knocking on the door.

“I’m sorry-- someone is here,” James said.

And there, he saw y/n, the most broken he’d ever seen her. He had expected her to cry and sink to the floor immediately. She didn’t.

And she had yelled and she was angry, desperate. He’d never seen her so decided before. Without any hesitation she rushed past James. The woman had enough anger and decision, so James feared she’d kill Tom.

“I’ve seen his fucking dick James, I don’t bloody care!” Y/N had burst into the bathroom, only to find a lonely and broke Tom that was trying to soothe his mind under the hot water, James had tried to stop her but she’d slammed the door shut.

“Y/N!” Tom could only say with surprise.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked, with anger as Tom turned the shower off and quickly reached for his towel. “No, seriously, what is wrong with you? And you didn’t call!” She yelled once again.

Tom could see how she was wearing the dress from last night, her makeup was very messy, and so was her hair, the princess that once stood on a dance floor was a broken girl with a bouquet of yellow flowers

“Y/N I’m—“He tried to speak as he walked out of the shower, covering himself with the towel, water still streaming down his body.

“You slept with her, Tom!” She yelled. “And here are your bloody yellow flowers!” She’d thrown them at him, sloppily. “And why—What are you going to do? Was it your plan again? Is this a prank? Like last time? Is that what you’re going to say that I’m not your type and that you’d never dare someone like me and that this was all a prank and I should’ve seen it coming?” Her voice was loud but sounded broken, trying so hard not to break.”Why—why didn’t you call?” She spoke quickly and loud.

“No, no, y/n, please calm down I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Tom said. This wasn’t how it wasn’t supposed to go. But honestly, Tom didn’t know it actually was supposed to go.

“Oh, that fixes everything!” She snapped.

“No, I-” Tom closed his eyes. “No, no, I’m sorry.”

“If you are—Please tell me it was not a prank please—and you didn’t—“She wasn’t speaking coherently. She couldn’t speak, for that matter, he could see her struggle as she was breaking down, trying to fight the tears from falling down. “Please, please tell me it wasn’t all a prank like you did after that club night-”

“No, y/n, y/n,” and he would have to follow James’ advice to remain calm, he approached her and gently took her hands. “No, I’m sorry—“

“Tell me—“

“It’s not a prank,” he said. “I love you, it’s not a prank this is not Rome.”

That’s what she needed to listen to.

She was still angry, but she leaned against the bathroom wall, defeated. She didn’t look at him. She caught her breath, slowly, looking up at the ceiling,

“Please, y/n, look at me, it was not a prank, I love you, it was a mistake, very—stupid mistake.”

“You kissed her.”

“I—didn’t,” Tom said. “Please, look at me.”

She did. Slowly looked up to see him, her eyes were surrounded by bags and they were puffy and red. She’d been crying all night.

“I’m sorry,” and he meant it.

She looked away, she seemed furious.

“Talk to me, please-”

.“You kissed—“

“I didn’t kiss her—She kissed me. I know, it doesn’t-But, please look at me, y/n, I’m—there’s a lot to talk but I didn’t kiss her. Please—look at me.”

She looked again “I’m looking at you but I can’t see you—“she sounded tired, but not from her lack of sleep, tired from him. “Why didn’t—why didn’t you call?” She repeated, she wasn’t stopping the tears now.

Tom felt so heartbroken only from watching her.“Would you’ve answered?” He asked as he tried, slowly to clean up her tears.

“You didn’t call,” she stated, voice breaking.

Tom had made a mistake by not calling, he knew that now.

“I know, I regret it now,” he admitted. “I—just didn’t know what I was supposed to say.”

“That you’re—“

“I am sorry, I know, you don’t believe how much I regret everything but you have to know that I didn’t kiss her last night, but I know being sorry isn’t enough.”

She seemed as if she had a million things to tell him but couldn’t come around to say them, the words shaking and fading as soon as she opened her mouth. She crossed her arms and looked away. “Please tell me she’s not here—” she spoke as if her words were stabbing her, hurting her. “I know you wouldn’t be stupid enough to have her here, but please tell me she isn’t.”

“What? Why would she?”

She glared, “dunno,she’s not at her mother’s.”

“You thought she’d be here?” Tom asked.

Y/n didn’t know how to answer. “I knew she wasn’t but had to make sure.”

She knew, at least. Tom thought.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said.

She didn’t say anything, but finally let the quiet tears slowly stream down her face, Tom couldn’t look her in the eye, not with this guilt.

He took a deep breath. “Look I need—I need to get dressed alright? I was taking a shower and I was going to look for you. Harry told me you’d be at the hotel.”

She looked away. “Yeah I’m not anymore I came here.”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

She only looked up at him.

“Why did you come?” He asked, only then noticing she was still wearing the necklace he’d given her.

“Because I—I don’t know—Because you didn’t call and I-”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and took a deep breath.

She only tried to avoid his gaze.

“I’m going to get dressed,” he said, calmly. “Uh-do you—want to take a shower too? Borrow some clothes? Or do you want to talk right now?”

“No—I guess—I need a shower.”

Soon enough she was in the shower and Tom was dressed, he bumped into James as he walked out of his room.

“She’s going to breakup with me,” Tom said. Because he knew she would, honestly he didn’t expect any less. He deserved that… But did he?

“I thought she was going to murder you,” James admitted, but judiging by Tom’s look, he regretted it right away. “Bad time to joke—” He cleared his throat. “Look, she came here okay? Knowing y/n, it’s a first, she is never the first to ask for something face to face, she usually writes a letter and—”

Tom sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“I’ll go out with Clark and Sam all day, I—look, you fucked up before but I know this—”

Tom squinted. “Why did she have to kiss me? Why did this all have to blow up before we could even talk-”

“Look I don’t know, I—no, I do know why she kissed you,” James stated. “And you know it too and you have to tell that to y/n.”

“How am I supposed to tell her that she is in love with me? She’ll freak out and say I’m in love with her.”

“Probably,” James agreed. “But you have to remain calm, even when she yells, listen to her she’s in her right.”

“Yeah.”

“And just to calm you down, she came here to you, not to Tim alright? That’s an advantage,” James reminded him.

Tom hadn’t thought about Tim, and that thought hadn’t gone to his head. But now, it would linger. Not that it mattered but-”How do I know he hasn’t called her?” Tom asked.

“Because she went to Harry and your brother wouldn’t let her do that not because of you but because it would’ve been stupid,” James stated.

“What do I say?”

“The truth, for starters and don’t—Dont bring the Tim thing up,” James said.

“Yeah, I know.”

James left, knowing a storm would be coming to that place.

Tom didn’t know what to do, or wait, how had they postponed the fight like this, not only today but since he’d arrived. How and why had she avoided it? And why hadn’t he told her? He should’ve.

She had to make sure that Cherry wasn’t there, she’d said it: I don’t think she is. Did she trust him? He hoped she did.

Tom wished for patience, how hard he had tried not to explode and burst back the Tim thing. It seemed like y/n had tried hard not to explode.

Though this was hard, Tom knew in his heart that this was both of them either trying to work it our or finally giving up completely. The latter option being so terrifying. Lost in his thoughts. But he knew that the stray and venomous thoughts were not going to get him anywhere, maybe a whirlwind.

Eventually, y/n had walked out, dressed with his clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, as she dried her hair with the towel. She seemed so calm. Terrifyingly calm.

“Thanks for--For the clothes,” were the only words she’d said.

Tom only watched her. “I’m sorry.”

“I know… I knew.” She knew? “I’m sorry I came in yelling like a crazy person,” she apologized.

“You’re in all your right,” he nodded.

“No, I’m not,” she sighed before walking over to sit beside,he only watched her.

“You knew,” Tom said. Knowing what her words from before meant.

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“Who--How did you--?”

She bit her lip, and shrugged. “I know you,” she admitted. “And she posted a picture, she--Posted several pictures of you guys together.”

“But you assumed-”

“No, I saw that one picture with you kissing her cheek, and I knew,” she gulped.

“How?”

“The way you looked at her?” Y/N’s voice was shattering, her eyes had began to water down. “I-”

“I don’t-”

“You looked at her the same way you looked at me, and-” She was tearing down, trying to avoid and ignore she was.

“I didn’t-”

“You did,” she gulped down.

He had, for that matter. But not for the reasons she thought.

“I slept with her,” he admitted. “But-”

“But?”

“But it didn’t mean anything.”

“She’s in love with you,” y/n stated. How did she know? How in this world? “It means something.”

“How-?”

She shrugged. “I happen to be an expert on knowing how it feels to love you and not being reciprocated.”

Tom took a deep breath.

“You’re not easy to love,” y/n said, standing up. “Contrary to popular belief and how easy it seems I do it, you’re not easy to love, you’re so…”She couldn’t finish her sentence. “So I could see her, last night, she looked like such a damn fool, and she-She’s an idiot, for falling for you, no one in their right mind would fall for you, guess it’s a family thing,” she poisoned, as she sat back on the bed, near the headstand, crossing her arms. “But--”

“I don’t have any feelings for her,” Tom said, still at the edge, not facing her.

“Yeah, I know, but it still is my cousin you decided to sleep with,” y/n said with venom. “You fucking slept with her and then you kiss her on my birthday right fucking in front of me.”

“She kissed me.”

“And then you let me go, you didn’t even explain anything you didn’t try to stop me, you just stood there…. and then you didn’t call and I can’t believe I let you break my heart again I can’t--” She was running out of breath, though he could hear her anger, her voice was calm. That was scared. “I don’t want to beg for your love, Tom, I don’t want to be broken again and I don’t want to say goodbye again.”

“I don’t want to-either.”

She glared at him. “How was it?”

“What?” Tom turned to see her.

“Was she good?”

Tom blinked. “I— don’t—understand.”

“Answer me, good? How many times did you-?”

“Just once,” Tom answered. He tried to crawl to her but she stood up, arms crossed.

“And how was it?” She asked with poison, her words stabbing Tom.

He didn’t know how he was supposed to answer. “I don’t even know I was thinking about you the whole time.”

“Oh,” she scoffed. “How refreshing, you were thinking of me while making love to my cousin,” she snaked.

“It was a mistake,” he said. “I didn’t-”

“Ah, yeah, you tripped and your dick fell into her,” she snapped. “A mistake.”

Tom heard it, he closed his eyes. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Sex has to mean something,” she said.

“No it doesn’t,” Tom snapped.

“It does.”

“Fine if it does it means I broke her heart because I did the one thing she hates about people,” Tom snapped. “I used her to try to get you out of my mind and it only-

She clicked her tongue. “Made it worse, buddy.”

He plopped on the bed stressed. “Can we please talk about this?”

“Well, go on, tell me, everything,” she pleaded, arms crossed.

“What?”

“What happened with her.”

“You want to know what happened with Cherry? Tom asked.

She nodded. “Don’t spare any detail. You said you wanted to talk.”

What would he tell her? The truth.

And so he did. So he told her, from the very first moment he met Cherry, how clueless she was. And how heartbroken he was but how Cherry, being clueless was the only damn thing he needed. Someone who didn’t judge him, someone who didn’t know any of the drama. Not about the script. Not about y/n and Tom. How Tom could take a breath, and how he found a friend that would ease his mind. How he had searched for y/n in every face but failed to do so. A distraction he needed, and that it had presented itself. How Cherry had been a friend, a friend that didn’t feel like anything more. How Tom did have some sort of feelings. Not love, but he cared for her.

How Cherry did flirt. How he didn’t. At first.

Y/N didn't show any reaction, still quiet. No yelling, no eyebrows furrowed, just listening. Cold staring.

But Tom continued, connecting the stories he’d already told her about how he missed her, and how much he wanted to call and how he always tried to not think about her. How he had been heartbroken, and how her most than anyone should understand how broken hearts leads us to do something stupid. But how it was because he missed her, how he’d gotten used to her lips, and how he missed waking up beside her. To the night he decided to kiss her.

“Why did you kiss her?” She finally interrupted. “The first time.”

“I thought— I—I would— I don’t know what I thought, I… No, I do know, I do know why I kissed her,” he sighed. “This is going to sound so stupid.”

“Try me.”

“I—well—It might make you feel worse.”

She took a deep breath. “Go on.”

“I—you left, y/n, to get over me,” he explained. “You—“

“What?”

“I—“ he looked over in his drawers. “You give me this letter and then you left— you said—“

“Yes I know, I meant every single word there—“

“And I was hurt okay? You left and you were living with Tim.”

“Is that why—?”

“No,” he said, “it wasnt—I just missed you so much—I felt—how you’re feeling right now.”

She finally snapped out of her calmness. “How I am—no, no, you don’t understand what I’m feeling,” she growled. “Not even half of it, you broke my heart and I—I” she stood up and walked around the room. “And this was the first time I was hoping—I thought you wouldn’t and then you just—I didn’t come here to get over you, it was never like that, I gave myself time to heal so I could love you without any hard feelings and without any—So I could love you completely but then—I knew it just from that one picture I knew you had slept with her, because the eyes—-They way you were fucking looking at her.”

“I know, It’s the way I look at you alright?”

“I know, I fucking know, don’t you think I was heartbroken?” She asked.

“I thought that if I looked at her that way eventually I would move one—“

She took a deep breath before asking, “and why did you want to move on?”

Because he thought she would, for starters. But he wouldn’t bring Tim up. No, he couldn’t

“I didn’t—I—I didn’t—I never felt anything, I—searched for you?” He continued.

She scoffed. “With my cousin Tom? Was that the most familiar thing?”

Yeah, he heard it. It was so stupid.

He sighed. “I’m not proud of it.”

“Well I hope you aren’t—You don’t get it, I was ready to—call you that day, the day I found out,” she gulped and sat back down, far from him not facing him, “I was doing better, and I wanted to call you so we could—try again and I remember going back to social media and I was—going to call you alright? See how you were doing,” she spoke quietly. “And I saw the picture and then I knew it—no one had to tell me, and then it was days and days going on and I tried to move on and the sky was just grey, no silver moon suns, I couldn’t sleep I couldn’t feel anything I just felt insignificant and like an idiot because—“

“I didn’t love her,” Tom said.

“It’s not only that Tom, whatever you did, whatever you said...whatever you—you made her fall for you,” y/n said. “Because you looked at her—You looked at her like you—looked at me and I—“

“No, I didn’t mean it,” Tom said before rushing over to her side, trying to reach for her hand. She snapped it away.

“Oh, and that fixes everything,” she rolled her eyes. “All good now, you slept with her but you didn’t mean it!” She stood up.

“I slept with her because I couldn’t call you,” he explained.

“You couldn’t hold your dick for five seconds?” She hissed.

“You—look I’m not trying to—You also slept with Tim,” he stated. Finally throwing the bomb at her.knowing he shouldn’t have but he couldn’t hold it anymore. She blinked, watching him. “No one told me,” Tom answered the question he knew was going through her mind. “No one had to, at first. I assumed you had, and then he confirmed it. But did you?”

“I did,” she said. Now the blame was not entirely on Tom. But he hadn’t brought it up because of that.

“I’m not trying to blame you for it,” Tom said. “This is not a war, y/n, I’m just—I am pretty sure the reason you slept with him isn’t as far as the reason as to why I slept with Cherry.”

She remained quiet.

“I slept with Cherry because I was lonely and I couldn’t find you, I thought that by pretending it was you, it would eventually be you but I was wrong because she’s not near you, and it’s not in her. It’s on me because I am deeply in love with you,” he explained. “My heart felt extremely lonely, and I thought that by pretending to love someone only for one night it would make it feel less pain, I was wrong, it hurt even more.”

“He told you,” she said.

“Last night yeah, but but but—I didn’t-“

She shut her eyes closed. “Is that why you—fucking kissed her?“

“I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me,” Tom reminded her. “This is not a war, y/n.”

“You keep saying she’s the one to kiss you, but I remember clearly that I told you a kiss is always asked, at least with a glance,” she recalled.

“I didn’t want to kiss her, and I’m sure you saw me push her off.”

Y/N didn’t say anything. She only paced around the room again, her hands crossed above her chest, barefoot and silent trails. Tom watched her, wanting to know what the hell was going through her mind. She always seemed to always have a thought, usually they were dreams untold and secrets waiting to be whispered. Not now. He knew her mind was slowly deciding whether or not to destroy each other.

Tom hoped they both had the same mentality. This is not a war, and it seemed to be like that.

“You’re saying,” she started. “That you didn’t want to kiss her even after Tim told you we slept together.”

“Yes.”

“You’re saying you didn’t do it to get back at me.”

“I didn’t do it because—“

“Because you felt guilty,” she ended his sentence but not with what he wanted to say.

“No, because I don’t want this to be another battle in a war where neither of us wants to win, because we both know it shouldn’t be a war.”

She stared at him, she wanted to believe him.

“I did sleep with him,” she stated. “Days after I knew you’d slept with Cherry,” she said.

Tom felt a punch right into his throat, knowing he would be unable to word out his pain.

“And I—he had been flirting, we both know he’s in love with me,” she sat beside Tom. “He usually knows how to mend my heart when it’s broken, and I am well aware of that, and—That’s what I needed, someone who would love me, because I felt like shit and he made me feel loved,” she gulped. “That’s the difference, you searched for someone you could love and I searched for someone who could love me.”

Neither of them said anything. Both of them assimilating, being careful enough of their words.

“It’s only fair to ask this question,” Tom said after a while.

Y/N only glanced.

“Was he good?” Tom questioned with poison, getting an eye roll from y/n.

“You see, the reason I asked that question wasn’t the same reason as why you’re asking it,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “What was your reason exactly?”

“I don’t want this to be a fight between us,” she continued.

“What is this, then?”

“It’s us against the problem, not you against me, Thomas,” she fumed.

He nodded, “are we finally on that page, then?”

Y/N didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know how to handle him, not that he had to be handled but the situation was tarnishing her heart. She had, however, learned well enough that this wasn’t supposed to be them fighting and fighting. She’d thought about it, and though she was enraged, she wanted to solve it. It wasn’t a matter of what, it was a matter of how. The incomprehensible thoughts in her head were roaring too loud for her taste, but her heart, though hurt, wanted to try to get through with this.

He had remained calm, too, so it didn’t matter for her.

“Well, I am,” she said. “Or-I don’t, I just don’t know-”

He watched her. “What do you want?”

“It’s not simple, Tom, I’m heartbroken but I understand it but then again, of all people it was my cousin, and I don’t-I just showed that I am still not over the whole prank thing.”

Tom looked away.

“And I don’t want to go over that, you know? We’ve grown, we’ve-Yes, we’ve broken each other’s hearts, yes, we were idiots, we know that, but we also had feelings for each other--You were my first crush, first kiss, first love, first broken heart, and I don’t know, my reason tells me to let go, but-”

“But your heart?”

“My heart doesn’t know, part of it wants to leave and just give up on everything because god knows I can’t have another heartbreak and the other half--very stupid half believes in us.”

“I believe in us.”

“I’m not sure I do, look at us,” she sighed. “And I’m angry and I’m-”

“May I just- we were not together while-”

“Don’t bring that up,” she quickly interrupted. “No, we weren’t together but--It’s--It’s my cousin! You know what, I’m leaving I can’t-” She headed to the door, but Tom quickly followed after.

“No, no, let’s talk about this, please,” he said, taking her hands trying to stop her.

She stopped and turn around. “What can we even talk about this, Tom? We slept with other people who-”

“We weren’t together,” he said. “You told me to move on-”

“I didn’t, Tom!” She retorted. “I didn’t, you were the one to say you wanted to see other people, you were the one to suggest moving on.”

“You left.”

“I didn’t leave to get away from you,” she said. “You know that, I knew I had to be away, from you, from Harry- and you-”

“You left with Tim.”

“No, I didn’t, besides, I didn’t--”

“Cherry means nothing,” he said.

“She meant enough to jeopardize us,” she stated.

He sighed. “I didn’t think there would be us again.”

Y/N stayed quiet. She knew what he meant. But somehow didn’t know if he meant it by then or if he meant it now. She was tired, though they hadn’t talked as much, it was… exhausting, draining, going over this yet again.

“I know—That’s why I had to go search for someone else’s love because I thought I didn’t have yours anymore,” she said.

“I-well,” she coughed. “I’m not-I don’t think you understand why I’m angry.”

“I think I do-”

“No, you don’t, it’s not-that it was her, though yes, she’s my cousin, you really… couldn’t have fucked up more when choosing a rebound,” she said. “It’s--the fact that you thought you could replace me, the fact that you wanted to move on so quickly and I’m not--It’s not the fact that I didn’t want to move on, it’s just that-- You thought she could be me, and--”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to-”

“No, you were,” she said, her eyes were tearing down and though he was trying to stop himself from crying, he let some tears fall down too, quietly.

“I was an idiot,” he said. “But I didn’t think I’d be replacing you--Only a fool would think you’re replaceable.”

She took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze. “I think that’s what I’ve been--What I’ve always tried to tell you, with… Timothée,” she said, no nicknames needed to be used. “It’s… though I… It’s never been him,” she said.

“I never used him to replace you, though he was a good distraction, and I needed to… feel… Not replaceable.” She crossed her arms. “However, I’m still pissed off it was my cousin.”

“Had it been anyone else—?”

“Don’t go there,” she warned. “It would’ve been just as bad considering the situation. It makes it worse, yes, but you—Looked at her the way you looked at me,” she emphasized.

He sighed.

“Yeah, it’s not the same,” she pointed out. “Though I know that had I slept with anyone else you wouldn’t have cared as much.”

Tom clenched his jaw but nodded defeated. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Do you want me to explain—?”

“No, I don't need any details, I know enough,” he ranted. “However—I can see you didn’t go to him.”

“I didn’t.” Y/N didn’t want to go over the details.

“I—have to be honest, kinda got into a fight with him last night,” Tom confessed.

“I know, Emma told me, and she told me he was okay, that you only pushed him away,” she explained. “I didn’t ask any further but I didn’t ask you because I knew you’d be okay.”

Tom stayed quiet, not knowing how to proceed.

“Can we get out of this one?” He asked.

“Dunno,” she admitted. “ I just know I still love you with every piece of my heart.”

“I love you, too,” he admitted quietly.

“I need a break,” She stated. Without any other warning.

Tom didn’t like the idea, she could tell as he closed his eyes and took her hands. “No, no please, I--If we take another break then it’ll be definitive and-”

“No I meant—a break from fighting I just—I have a headache I can’t,” she pushed his hands away and walked back. “I just-” She walked past him and headed to the kitchen. She hadn’t lied, she did have a headache, probably from the slight hangover and the lack of sleep, and added the stress and her heartache. It wasn’t her best ime.

Tom only followed after her, quietly watching as she poured herself a glass of water. It felt quiet. It was but it felt even more quiet. Y/N went through all the scenarios not sure which was the worst. They all hurt, some more than others. She wished she could erase every thought in her head.

Tom opened the fridge, there was still cake that remained from two nights before, when they were still better. He took it out, and without thinking about it, he took out two plates, serving each a slice. She gave him a silent thanks, and then, they both remained on opposite sides of the kitchen.

Though y/n usually found his hoodies warm, her skin was freezing. There had never been that much space between them though they were only feet apart. Because, though it was even what they’d done, they both knew that there was not much to do. Y/N would love to snap her fingers, hide all her pain and kiss him. To assure him that she loved him as much, wondering if their broken pieces of love was enough.

“Where’s James?” Y/N asked, hating the sound of the cutlery hitting the plates.

Tom looked up, “He left, he’d spend the day with Clark and Sam.”

“So he’s on your side,” y/n pointed out. “Though there’s not really a side here.”

“He’s not on my side.”

She shrugged. “He said you had an awful night.”

“I did but, so did you.”

“Yeah.”

He watched her. “In any case my brother is on your side.”

She looked down at the cake. “He is.”

Tom let out a dry chuckle. “Hey, I thought there were no sides.”

“No, but he is on my side,” she said.

Tom only scoffed.

“I feel sorry for him actually, I think he was just leaving to go home to sleep and I made him stay up all night with me,” she admitted.

“Yeah but it’s you so he doesn’t mind,” Tom said.

She shrugged. “Emma kissed Josh,” she mentioned.

“She did?” Tom blinked. “Wow, that must have hurt him.”

Y/N only watched him with irony.

“I mean,” Tom closed his eyes.

“No, I know, but yeah, he was,” y/n commented. “I feel bad, I crushed his m&m’s.”

He chuckled. “What?”

“I-well, we had some m&m’s and I… crushed them,” she admitted with a tired, half smile.

“Why?”

“I was having a breakdown alright?” She chuckled. “And he went all ‘I wanted m&m’s”

Tom took a deep breath. “Should get him some.”

She gulped and saw Tom hadn’t eaten anything either, they were just pushing around the cake.

Tom watched her, too, still noticing how she hadn’t taken off the ballerina hanging from her neck, and maybe it was the only sign he needed, he left the plate on the kitchen island and walked over, standing right beside her, leaning against the counter. Their arms were against each other’s, and eventually her head fell against him. He didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around her, she gave in to his touch, slowly and then hugged him back. Snuggling to get some kind of warmth.

“You looked pretty last night,” he pointed out.

She crooked into his neck. “You mentioned it.”

Tom glanced down. “I—yeah, I did.”

Quiet again. He took a deep breath, and held her close again, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Do you hate me?” He asked.

“No, that’s the weird thing,” she said, letting him go and taking her spot back beside him. “I can’t hate you.”

He grimaced.

“Being angry doesn’t make me love you any less,” she said. “Do you hate me?”

“No. I could never. I love you.”

She bit her lip. “Are we really--?”

He turned to her. “What?”

“Or are we just being stubborn enough to not want to give up?” She asked. “I… don’t know.”

“I don’t want to lose you and the thought of it scares me enough,” he gulped. “And I… Before I run out of time to say the things I want to, I just need you to know that I’d choose you, though there are no other options, it all comes back to you.”

Her eyes brightened up, just slightly. “It’s hard, Tom, I don’t know, but I don’t want to give up, but-”

“I know,” Tom looked at her.

It was so unbelievably hard. What if this was really their last time, that’s what they were both thinking but neither had the courage to ask it out loud. Love is so cruel.

“Yet after everything, I’ve never loved anyone like I’ve loved you,” y/n said, mostly to herself. “And I am sorry I left in the first place.”

“No, you had to, we had to…” He sighed. “We both made questionable things.”

She didn’t want to break up with him. She didn’t want her days to run out of breath again, to see the streets full of garbage and she didn’t want to water any flowers that he hadn’t given her. And she wondered if they’d dare to call it off yet again life would find a way to bring them back together.

“I don’t want to go back to… that feeling, when we were apart,” she finally said it out loud. She wouldn’t regret saying it, right? “Nightless and sunless days, and how time never stopped or it never kept going, it was just eternal… numbness.”

Tom blinked, watching her.

“But I also,” she sighed. “I don’t want this pain.”

“Were you expecting it?”

“What?”

“The heartbreak?”

“I wasn’t, maybe that’s why it hit that hard… I guess I… Maybe I did, I just postponed it, thought that if I ignored it for long enough it would disappear.”

“What will happen, then?”

“I don’t know, these are relentless times, for now, try and haunt for reasons to make me believe I am still alive,” she gulped. “It sounds so dramatic but last night I just…” She felt that pain across her chest again. “I thought I had stopped breathing I…And it wasn’t the kiss really.”

“What was it?”

“The fact I remembered you had slept with her,” she said. “And that picture—“

He bit his lip, “I didn’t… You are the love of my life.”

She chuckled softly to herself. “See? People only say that when they’re apologizing.”

He sighed. “But-”

“But you are mine, too,” she admitted. “Better or for worse.”

She didn’t know where he had gotten the courage to do it, but he had finally leaned over to kiss her. And it wasn’t idyllic, it wasn’t a happy kiss, but it was the reminder they needed, as if the kiss was only to remind why it was worth trying again. Y/N knew she was being an idiot, honestly.

But only another fool would stop kissing him, and so she didn’t stop, because she knew this could be the last time. Tom probably thought so, too. Knowing about a last kiss can make it last longer and can make them both never letting go. Y/N just needed one last reminder than though her heart was aching and it had finally been ripped apart, she still had to believe that he loved her. Because he’d said it, right? And he was proving it to her with each kiss, caressing her cheeks, cupping her face, so delicately and so passionately.

He didn’t want to let go, either. His hands went to her waist, pulling her as close as he could. Their lips were going so, very slowly. He pulled away once, only for her to keep kissing his chin, cheeks and finally his lips, so slowly, her arms around his neck. Neither of them were desperate, each stroke was measured, taking their time. As if they were dawdling and postponing the thoughts in their minds. Soothing their most probable goodbye.

Y/N kissed him as if they were going to be infinite. As if no matter what would happen, they’d always be there. The kissing started to seem careless at some point, as if it didn’t matter how they were kissing anymore, it just mattered to have their lips connected, getting sloppier as his hands travelled under her-his sweatshirt to touch her skin, so cold. His hands landed on her waist.

“You’re cold,” he pointed out in between kisses.

She only pulled away, as if only then she realized what they were doing. He didn’t stop, his lips kept trailing its way all over her face, small, slow and soft kisses sweet enough for her to close her eyes. Gentle pecks, trying to gently cover each and every spot on her face. Y/n knew Tom had never been good with his words, he was more of actions, always being impulsive, and this showed it, his tender lips against her skin was his way of apologizing, of making her feel loved.

However she had to back away. She had to be rational, she couldn’t let him just kiss her and forget about everything.

She did back away. Because her mind couldn’t stop. It kept going back to him. To Cherry. And even to Tim. The latter being as if asking why she had done it herself.

And she only tried to untangle herself from his grasp, he didn’t force it. He understood as she slowly walked her way back to his room. A place where she felt safer than in the kitchen. Not sure why.

He stopped her mid-halfway, his chocolate eyes begging her again, pleading for an apology. Y/n couldn’t help it, his eyes were her biggest addiction. And so she gave in to him again, because though she loved using words and she knew it was her most powerful weapon, this was no battle, and so she’d kiss him to speak her truth.

He slowly pressed her against the wall, his fingers traced her figure, sides, top and bottom, gently as if trying to memorize her shape, but as if his fingers already knew the path. Her breath halted as his lips brushed against her neck, soothing her cold body. He pressed his whole body against hers, and his hands found their way back inside her hoodie, fingers firmly pressing against her waist, threading lightly. She felt like they could be infinite if they tried to, if they wanted to. And just for that moment as his lips were finding their way back to hers, she forgot about her pain.

His lips were meant to be with hers. There was no other way to say it.

Somehow he managed to get her to his room, she was uncertain if she should keep kissing him. But there's something about each kiss that made them both not want to stop. Y/N had closed the door, though, Y/N felt like this was the last time. Did he think it was too and was that why he was being so delicate?

Pining for each other as he gently laid her down, he looked at her the way someone looked at the sky at night, as if he had first seen the stars for the very first time and was wondered by her. They were sharing a secret, they both knew.

Desire was beyond his eyes as his hand travelled from her covered ankle, shriveling through her legs up all the way to her covered chest. She longed for his skin to be once against hers. But he was taking his time, trying to make sure she knew she was the only one he wanted to kiss. He then proceeded to take the same path with his lips as if he had meticulously painted it before. Placing soft pecks or running his lips against the covered skin. Y/N closed her eyes, as an inescapable soothing pleasure washed her, not lust, his gentle poke sprinkling her with delight.

He finally glanced up to her, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her cheek, his eyes linking with her, his eyelashes going up and down, pouring directly at her lips, her eyes.

“I love you,” he stated, not expecting an answer back, as if it was merely an observation he was making to himself. One of those thoughts that escapes the mouth and dares to be said out loud.

“I love you,” he said again, now less as an observation but as a reminder to him, as if he was scolding himself.

Her hands went to his face, brushing his cheeks. She wanted to say it back, too, but something stopped her.

But she was thinking about it, she knew that. She felt it.

But her heart didn’t want her to say it, as if saying it would be a sin. Why was she letting him kiss her? She could stop him.

She didn’t want to stop him, that is. But her mind was so loud she could barely focus, and she didn’t have to focus.

But then again, he was part of her own skin, her faith, her—everything. And though she knew this could be a mistake, it could be the last time and she wanted to make it last. Something to remember because they didn’t have anything to cling to.

She waited for him, like the moon waits for the night, as his thumb then caressed her lips, preparing them only to tamper them with his. It was no secret that each kiss he gave her was unique but he had kissed her like never before.

Though it was so familiar, the way she knew what he was going to do next as his hands went down to toy with the hem of her hoodie, shyly asking for permission just to go beneath it. But slowly he was pulling it up, with her help and then proceeded to take off his. Though slow they were both desperate to be against each other’s skin, the clothes burdened them and they both slowly decided to take them off, they looked better on the floor anyway.

Y/N didn’t feel cold anymore though she was bare, only with her underwear as Tom repeated what he’d done before, kissing his way from her thighs to her neck, burying himself there. She tried to turn him around so she could kiss him just as fine but he didn’t let her, his hand searched for hers as he linked them.

She finally managed to push and roll him, now it was she’d time to memorize his own body, her fingers tickled him as she sat on top of him to watch him, they gently brushed against his stomach, his chest, barely even touching, just a tender grasp. His hands landed on her waist as he watched her, her hands exploring his body, all the way to his arms, he only gulped watching her as she felt the bulge grow beneath her, she hummed a chuckled before bending down to get his lips back to hers, delayed movements as she grinded against him, his hands went down to cup her ass, helping her rock and he bucked his hips to her.

They had absolutely no hurry though their bodies were indicating the exact opposite, hiding their gentle moan against each kiss.

“I love you,” she finally had whispered to him, but it sounded more like a goodbye that Tom didn’t want to hear yet.

With his hands now going to her back, he turned her around, him on top as he reached to the nearest drawer.

The unspoken words they both hid were agonizing but they knew they had to be kept unspoken.

For now, at least.

As he opened the drawer y/n could see the inside of it. She caught a glimpse of the letter she’d given him. But he finally found the condom and wrapped it on the hard that his boxers had been no help on hiding.

Y/N only watched him position himself as he then looked up asking for a sort of permission, she only bit her lip as she tuck her hands behind her and finally took off her bra, he licked his lips and tooka deep breath, staring at the ballerina necklace in between each breast, he teased her with the tip and she arched her back.

She bit her bottom lip, he slowly inserted into her, she let out a gasp with fascination as he filled her up, her hands landed on his back bringing him to her, nails digging crescent moons on him, he closed his eyes, throwing his head back.

He draped her breasts with his hands before slowly rocking against her, their breaths fanning against the other, but it lingered and she wrapped her legs against him, toes curling with each very move as she bucked herself against him, not holding back any moan and now as he sloppily tried to kiss her, not getting it and just lazily pecking her chin, her neck, sucking gently. Hands gliding up and down. She managed to get a grip of him as she bit his lower lip, so intoxicated by each other it’s almost pathetic.

And their horrible thoughts had finally ceased—for a bit because they only needed each other, knowing that though what had happened had angered them, they belonged to each other, tangled into one, with sloppy kisses and messy movements, hearing their moaning as if they were a melody they could never get tired of. Soft grunts, struggling to keep any other kind of thought as they’re washed with pleasure.

Thrust after thrust, lackadaisical at points where they’re not even caring, finger pressed to each other, vibrating each time, impossible for y/n to keep still as he drove in each time deeper. Hands still gentle but he is burning intensely against her, her irregular movements against his hip drive her close to the edge.

He even had to clench to the headboard to get a steadier rhythm, but his other hand deliberately made sure that no part of her body remained untouched. The friction on each movement made y/n moan his name breathily.

Tom groaned at his name and went in deeper, saying her name, in a faint whisper, fearing he’d run out of chances to say it again, and then his tongue connected with her flesh.

“I can’t lose you,” he confessed breathily, tainted with love, finally saying what they’d both been thinking the whole time, but proud enough and—probably horny enough not to say it.

The only response she can give him is a truthful “I love you, so much.” Because there was nothing more to it. She wasn’t sure if they were going to lose each other. “I don’t want to lose you,” she sentenced. Because that was another fact.

Somehow that makes them go faster and more desperate, his hand stretching to go over where he needs him to be. Gasps, groans, grunts and moans combined with other words of praise to each other, senseless confessions of love that are enough to keep them going.

Y/N didn't even realize with what push she finally reached her high, but with pleasure he kept going as she had let out a bright moan that had perfectly spelled his name. He followed after not so long, crashing against her one last time before he had to stop and not twitch against her, not pulling out as he plopped above her. Chests shimmering with sweat as they’re synchronizing their breathing, halt panting as she finds a hand through his hair, curling up with sweat. He finally pulled out and plopped right beside her.

It gave her time to think then, right beside each other, quietly hearing each other breathing, covered in each other sweat. He pulled her close to him as her hand landed on his chest. She kept her lips pressed against him still, and his own lips were pecking her forehead.

Neither of them wanted to say anything because they both knew that talking would lead to somewhere where they didn’t want to go. Because talking had been all they've done before that and there had been no “I love you”s and there was no “I don’t want to lose you.” Talking meant they did want to lose each other and talking meant they still were angry.

But they had to. And y/n was there, confused as how easily she gave up to him, hours ago she was crying and yelling, and her heart still ached but she was still sure she couldn’t keep herself from him. Plus, there was the fact he was directing her script. The one film she had dreamed of and now was a nightmare. What was she supposed to do?

End the relationship?

Weren’t they supposed to be infinite?

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can't help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2]

In the following weeks, as he sees Jon a few more times, Gerry's hair fades out and he looks rather more 'forest nymph' than 'American Gothic'.

So it's not much of a shock when the next time Jon catches sight of Gerry striding through the library stacks, his hair has been re-coloured. This time it's a smooth buttery yellow and Jon is struck by how young the warm, bright colour makes him look.

Gerry doesn't feel young though, he feels tired and bored and wrung out, and he wishes he had never agreed to take art commissions.

"It's only the one time!" Gertrude had insisted to a very put upon Gerry, very early in the morning. "And if he puts in a good word for you in his circles, your name will really be on the map in the art world."

Gerry wasn't particularly interested in being put on any maps, or being picked apart by rich, stuck up strangers, but he had agreed to try, mostly because Gertrude had put a lot of effort into making his passion for art an actual career and he felt like he owed her.

(He forgets, frequently, just how much of a commission she takes on the sales of his paintings).

So there he was, striding around the library at 7 am and desperately looking for exactly the right reference book. Unfortunately, it has been out of print for years, and Gerry can't seem to find a copy anywhere that won't cost him half a liver. He has the money now, but he refuses to pay half a month's rent to a second-hand retailer on principle.

Jon watches him skulk around for so long, (apparently forgetting that he is, in fact, a librarian) that Sasha comes out from her desk to ask Gerry if he's looking for something specific. She's wearing her big round glasses today and even indulged herself in her favorite waistcoat to beat the Monday blues.

"Why, yes." At this, Gerry looks directly up at Jon, where he is standing and watching him from the upper balcony level. Jon's face burns, and he ducks out of sight, but not earshot. "I do actually come here to borrow books, not boys." And he smartly feeds her the name of the reference book he has been hunting for almost an hour.

Sasha giggles at his antics, "We do have a copy of that, actually, but it's very popular. There's a waitlist; also it's checked out right now."

Gerry's whole demeanor sags and he sighs in defeat. "Guess I really will just have to order it off the internet, then." He eyes the stacks of books, old and new, looking vaguely betrayed.

"No!" Sasha's exclamation takes everyone a bit aback, being that they are in a library and all. "You know, my mate has this sweet little bookstore, and he loves hunting down rare copies of older books, he might have a copy?" She wrings her hands, eyebrows raised in question.

Gerry beams down at her, causing even stoic Sasha to blush and scurry off to get a piece of paper for the address.

They're already most of the way to the front desk by the time Jon realizes just which bookstore Sasha is busy recommending to the man he is dating , and just who owns that particular establishment.

By the time he manages to get downstairs to try to deflect the situation, Gerry is out the door, nothing left but the faint scent of oil paints and leather from his jacket.

***

Tim Stoker leaves Gerry feeling faintly dazed. By the time he stumbles out of the bookstore and into the tea room, elusive book in hand, he's forgotten everything he has ever known in the face of such intense flirting. And Gerry thought he was bad.

Throughout the whole episode at the library, the walk through Chelsea, and the exchange with Tim, Gerry had never once taken a moment to consider that Sasha's friend with a bookstore and Jon's Martin with a bookstore might be the same person.

He chooses to blame the lack of sleep and general disarray that is his life for the oversight.

Which is how, 9:30 in the morning, having been awake for almost 24 hours and completely finished, Gerry walks up to Martin in his tea room and says, "I'll have whatever is pink and in that jug, please. The biggest you've got."

Martin, of course, recognized him immediately. He would have recognized Jon's gothic childhood boyfriend from his social media stalking alone, but Jon's frantic texting was also a pretty big giveaway.

Martin: Relax, I don't bite clients this early in the morning. He's in safe hands with me.

Jon: HE KNOWS THINGS ABOUT ME. Besides, who's gonna stop him from biting you?

Martin: Whatever he has to tell me can’t possibly be worse than the office gossip I heard about you before we even meet.

Jon: W H A T

Now, here Gerry is before him, and he’s quite pleased with what he sees. Even tired and vaguely dazed, his presence in the little room carries a certain energy that Martin enjoys.

"Right away. Take a seat and I'll call you with it." Martin's voice is sweet, but gentle and firm, in a comforting sort of way. Through Gerry's sleepy haze, the instruction makes perfect sense, although he has neither paid nor offered a call name.

Gerry considers taking a seat on the plush bench that occupies one wall, before deciding that he desperately needs a cigarette, and wandering outside.

Technically he is only supposed to smoke at night when he's painting and needs just the right kind of boost, but he decides to call this one since he's on a painting-based errand when he's supposed to be sleeping.

"Gerry?" He turns toward the sound of his name, to find the barista offering him a large to-go cup of what he assumes is fruit ice tea. He frowns at having his name known (his new, much-preferred name, no less) and then frowns at a blonde, bespectacled man in a tea room attached to a bookstore.

His brain finally takes a moment to function, and he puts all the pieces together in an avalanche.

"Martin?" Far from his usual self-confident tone, the single word comes out in a squeak that would make even a toddler wince.

"Yes?" Martin returns the single word in the same solidly reassuring way, and even offers a happy smile.

"I didn't... I didn't recognize you."

"Would be pretty hard for you, considering this is the first we've ever met." Martin's voice is calming in a way that eases Gerry a bit, teasing and all.

"Thank you. For the tea, I mean." Gerry closes his eyes and desperately begs his shit to pull together for him, just this one time. "It's nice to finally meet you."

His hands are fully occupied with a book, a cup of tea, and a cigarette, but Martin doesn't seem particularly bothered by the lack of a hand to shake. "It's nice to meet you too. We're giving Jon a heart attack by doing it without him."

"That is the lawful good," Gerry says, after a long drag of his smoke. "A panicked Jon is a happy Jon, after all. Whatever would he do with himself without a situation to unnecessarily complicate?"

"Yes, the man does seem to thrive on anxiety, doesn't he?" Martin asks warmly, eyes crinkling around a fond smile. "Speaking of, you seem pretty wrecked yourself. Good party, I hope."

Gerry's answering laugh has a razor edge, "Not hardly. This fucking painting I'm working on will be the death of me." Gerry lifts the reference book as proof of trauma and stabs out his cigarette viciously.

"Hmm, sounds like a pain. I hope you typically find art a more enjoyable career?" Martin asks, tilting his head inquisitively. His curly hair moves fetchingly and Gerry catches himself tracking the movement.

"Mostly, yes. Although I keep the bartending gig for variety. You'd be amazed at the sort of inspiration someone can find in the right drunk crowd." Gerry grins, thinking of all the ridiculous things he’d seen walk in and out of the bar in his run there.

"I'd be very interested to see what kind of art you can turn that into. Maybe you'd like to show me sometime?" Martin's words are open and friendly.

Gerry eyes him for a minute, hiding behind a long taste of his drink. He's trying to suss out Martin's motivations, for his kindness and general geniality. The drink is good and it tips Gerry's mood far enough back into cheerfulness that he shrugs off his considerations for the time being.

"You know what," Gerry quips back. "I think I would like to show you sometime. How 'bout tonight."

It's not a question really, with Gerry's typical force of personality behind it, and he leaves the shop with Martin holding an address in his hand and a time to drag Jon over for dinner that evening.

***

Gerry does not make a big deal of Martin coming over. He acts as if any other friend is coming over for dinner.

He tidies, a little. Lights a few candles. Wears pants. The bare minimum really.

He isn't trying to impress anyone, he tells himself sternly.

Except he is, obviously. He doesn't know Martin very well yet, but he does want to keep Jon around, and they are a packaged deal these days. Which he was happy with, truly.

In their limited interaction, Martin had been sweet and put Gerry instantly at ease. He knows, from many years of working a bar, how to spot a dipshit, and feels confident in his assessment of Martin's character.

But, it's his own character that concerns him. People don't always like Gerry past surface interactions. He can be tempestuous and moody, and catching him tired is a pretty bad idea. The combination of artist and mommy issues can be jarring.

He desperately wants those things to not bother Martin though. He wants Martin to like him, and he's not interested in putting on a show to make it happen.

It occurs to Gerry an hour before they're due that he doesn't even remotely know what takeout to order for dinner.

(He knows what Jon will eat, and he obviously knows what he likes, but what about Martin? Why didn't he ask this morning? Why didn't he ask Jon earlier?)

Gerry is just starting to really panic about all the life choices leading up to this moment, when he gets a text from an unknown number, instantly filling him with relief.

Martin: Since you're hosting this time, I'll grab the take-out. Jon says you like Thai, I'll bring that. You got the drinks covered?

Gerry: As long as you drink either coffee, vodka, or water, yes.

Martin: I'm sorry, I subsist only on the blood of virgins.

Gerry: Oh dear. I couldn't tempt you to settle for Earl Grey?

Martin: Hmmm, yes, I'll accept your offerings this time.

***

The first knock comes right on time. Gerry, dressed in his best paint-stained jeans and cherry blossom kimono, opens the door with a flourish.

Martin allows himself to be welcomed in and hands the food off to the dramatic artist, who deposits it on the table where he has already set the tea tray.

"No Jon? Not that I mind quality ‘us’ time, of course."

Martin is busy taking in the rambling studio space and barely spares the attention to respond, although he manages a blush at the flirty tone. "He's, uh, running late. Work stuff. You know Jon."

Gerry smirks at that. "I do indeed. Is it a 'stumble in at 3am' late, or 'we could probably wait to eat' late?"

"Hmmm? Oh, let's wait a bit? If you don't mind." Martin seems equally taken with his painting wall and his book wall and keeps trading his attention between the two. The paintings, being the larger attraction, eventually win, and he meanders over to study them closer.

"Do you keep all the completed paintings around?" His voice is soft and reverent, and Gerry feels a rush of pride for his work.

"For a while. I like to make sure they're in their final forms before I release them into the wild." Martin blinks big brown eyes at him, before grinning and giggling slightly.

"You're very talented. Jon said as much, showed me the pictures, but words and photos are nothing compared to seeing the real thing." Martin really regards his paintings as if they're special, and rather than the prickly feeling of appraisal he feels during gallery nights, it fills Gerry with warmth.

He turns to examine the wall himself. It's filled with an eclectic group at the moment. Large abstracts made by pouring paint and then layering designs over, three-dimensional pieces painted and then embroidered or quilled over in select places, including a particularly wild eye design. Surreal faces and scenes that seem realistic except for the wild subject matter of planets in meadows and chimeras going to battle.

"Is this what comes from your adventures in bartending?" Martin asks Gerry, turning from the wall and towards the slightly taller man.

"That, and my traumatic childhood." Gerry makes sure to laugh at the last, taking the edge off the small confession.

"Obviously." Martin offers.

"Obviously." Gerry accepts.

***

Gerry and Martin drink tea on the floor while they wait for Jon. Gerry gently prods Martin through the story of how he came to open the bookstore. The blonde man even softly confessing that he had to lie on his CV to get the librarian gig at Magnus.

"How old are you? How did you convince them you had a Master's degree?" Gerry is incredulous. Not that he doesn't think Martin could have an advanced degree. But in paranormal research? Gerry hadn't even known that was an option.

"That's the thing! I'm only 29 now . I worked there for five years!" Martin's voice pitches up in disbelief. "I'm still in shock that anyone ever brought it. Desperate times, desperate measures, you know?"

"I do, actually." Gerry shifts slightly, adjusting his balance with the long remembered urge to flee from those desperate times. He fiddles with his teacup to distract himself. He brought this particular set from a pawn shop because the filigree and florals appealed to his love of colour theory. Soft pinks and corals warm against the cool aqua background.

"Jon says you wanted to go to art school when you two were younger."

It's not a question, but merely Martin offering the same space for openness that Gerry had given him.

"I never went. After my A-levels, I had to get away, and I never really stopped moving for long enough to go to uni when I was younger. Now I'm settled and it's not important to me anymore. Besides, no one asks for a copy of my phantom degree when I sell a painting. So I'm happy with how things turned out for the most part." He stops to consider the outline of a possible past for a moment, one where he didn't have to skip college and go ten years without seeing Jon. "Besides, can you imagine a 27-year-old in art school? The young ones would sacrifice me for more creative talent."

Their eyes meet for a moment, and then they laugh easily and move on to different topics, sliding through the easy stages of getting to know each other.

***

Jon does eventually arrive, looking panicked and harried. He de-ages 10 years when he finds them laughing and relaxed instead of tense and awkward.

So, the three of them eat cold Thai take out on the floor of Gerry's loft, leaning against the perfectly good couch. They share the odd intimacy of people who have known each other for very disjointed amounts of time but like each other just the same.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #tma #fic #also on ao3

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youarejesting · 5 years

Text

Femme: 16

IMPORTANT: There is a TXT side story in the works and any social media mentioned in Femme will be posted in a separate section in my master list. Just to enhance the reading experience, to be able to see everything y/n posts throughout the story.

[MASTERLIST]

Summary: The year is now 3019. Women were going extinct, cryogenics was the only hope for society. Now Femme Industries is the provider of Females, they use computer analysis and algorithms to match a femme to her male applicants. It is common for femme’s to match with multiple applicants. When you match with seven handsome young men, it is a challenge. But you love a challenge.

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader, Bigbang x GDragon

Starring: Bigbang, GOT7, TXT, BlackPink, NCT127 and Twice are going to be introduced and explored fully in later chapters. Rating: Fluff so far

Warnings: Attempted theft, Attempted abduction

Length: 1.5k words

The excitement of stepping outside wasn’t lost but you were so familiar with the surrounding area, you had no hesitation. Following the directions on your phone you were walking past a bakery, it smelt delicious. Admiring the window display of cakes and other sweet and savory pastries, you saw through the window a familiar face. Jimin was serving a customer boxing up a young boy’s birthday cake. Using your phone to take a quick photo you giggled and continued on course. It took a while but you arrived at the uniform store, the owner greeted you with a curious smiling looking around the store for something.

“Hi I am coming to pick up some uniforms for work, it’s an ice cream van its pink” You smiled trying to catch the owners wandering eyes even turning to see what he was looking for behind me. Seeing nothing you turned back and pressed on. “I am looking for at least two uniforms, in a similar pink to the van”

“Of course, we have the logos and colors for the uniform ready, as we have provided uniforms for many years now. This is the new designed shirts for the old man, the frozen spoon’s logo in white on a pink button up. It’s an old school vibe from the old school diner days. The aprons a white with the logo in pink. Uhhhh… what exactly are you looking for?” He said never once making eye contact with you but staring out the door and shop windows. “Is he a bigger man, smaller man?”

“It is for me, I work there” you said and his eyes finally met yours, in shock. He seemed shocked and apologized bringing out a small book of options you found a really cute outfit and smiled. “This one please in the pink but can you make it with a peter pan collar in white and the same for this band around the cap sleeve, pleated skirt to the top of my knee and can I get a white apron like this.” You quickly googled what you were thinking and showed him and he nodded writing it down.

“Okay give me a minute to get the machine started but they should be ready in about 10 minutes is that too long, do you have somewhere else to be?” He said starting up the machine and a touch screen lit up. He placed the fabric roll on a handle and threaded into the machine, this was something you had never seen. Before it was like a giant fabric printer, he added the white fabric to a second roll holder and moved to the touch screen.

“Okay you said primary color is the dress, secondary is the collar and sleeve edge, you asked for pleated, would you like to confirm this is what you are after” He said and you looked at the machine and told him it was perfect, “would you like buttons or a zip the fabric is pretty stretchy?”

“No just something easy to pull on in the morning, nothing complicated” he nodded and declined the buttons and zips option. Adding the logo face up in the logo slot he selected left breast logo. He guided you too a machine that took your measurements, stepping out he hit start and walked to another machine.

The machine started pulling the fabric you could barely hear anything, but suddenly you heard the distinct sound of machine sewing. You were absolutely amazed, this had to be the coolest piece of technology you had ever seen. Reading a code from a costume book and typing it into the other machines touch screen, he turned, “is the type of apron you were looking for”

You looked and agreed with the design, he transferred your body dimensions and he set it to the knee. You asked him if perhaps you could get it an inch shorter than the skirt length. Altering it an inch and receiving your approval, he started the second machine with a white fabric. The first machine was attaching the collar, sleeve and logo before it beeped and the dress was taken out it looked beautiful. The man told you, there was enough money on the account for a three in total. You agreed to make three, he folded each neatly as they came out.

The process took just over ten minutes and he handed you one to try on and sent you to a room, you quickly got changed and looked in the mirror feeling very cute. It was very much what you were going for and you hoped to show the boys at home as well. Posting a quick picture to your social media you got a response almost instantly.

Heading outside you decided to head home when a man grabbed your bag and ran, chasing after him, you were yelling. “Give me back my bag, I swear. I’m not going to stop” Someone tackled him and snatched the bag and the guy scrambled away and you went to pursue him when a small young man grabbed your arm.

“Leave him, he is just hungry. Here is your bag” He said gesturing in the general direction of the unsuccessful thief. He was really pretty with such androgynous features. He wore a uniform like the boys next door. It must have been after school judging by the sun getting lower in the sky.

“Thank you for helping me, you are really nice” you gave him a genuine smile and dusted off his school jacket. You two spoke for a little while before you looked around confused, you had no idea which way you had come from. He smiled pulling your bag over his shoulder.

“This way Noona” He threw you a smile and you followed him back, talking the whole way and it was then that you noticed that you hadn’t run this far had you. He was busy telling you about his experience with bad guys. You both rounded a corner and you were a hundred percent this is the wrong way.

You stopped and his shoe scrapped the pavement when he stopped. You voiced your opinion on the directions and thanked him, asking for your bag. He seemed very sorry rubbing the back of his neck, “Mianhae. Here, is your bag” He handed it over and when you reached in to grab your phone when he spoke. “I am sorry, they are bad people like you said, I have no choice, or they will hurt me”

A group of five guys appeared behind you, trying to play it cool. They weren’t fooled. Your breathing was erratic and you were nervously looking around. They advanced slowly and you stayed perfectly still, not wanting to get trapped, this was like a game of chess.

However when they got within ten meters, you turned and ran quickly. Running wasn’t your specialty but hiding was, you ran jumped dodged behind a dumpster. Luck was on your side there was a tiny slide space between two buildings. Sneaking along quietly hoping to make it to the other side of the street where it sounded busier. You felt awfully claustrophobic the wall pressed against your bag and every time you breathed in your chest pressed firmly to the wall in front.

You stepped out the other side and began breathing easily, it was in fact louder and busier than the other street but you were still lost. Someone shouted and you tensed turning to see the group coming towards you. They grabbed you dragging you away as you were kicking and yelling at them to let you go. Throwing yourself from their grip they had ripped your shirt and the clasp of your overalls.

You heard another voice this one nasally. “You okay?” he asked you in English and saw a thin young man holding a baby. He pulled you to your feet and placed the baby in your arms with a kiss. You watched gently bouncing the baby, funnily enough taking care of the baby calmed your nerves.

The young man however seemed to unleash some sort of ninja skill, his body moved the way a fish might swim. He never stepped he glided as if the ground was made of the worlds slipperiest ice and he was graceful. A single punch looked like it was a practiced wave from the queen.

“Pammy, Pammy” the baby made grabby hands to the young man and you picked up your tiny bag from Hoseok and the uniform bag and the men ran away leaving the young man on his own. He turned and walked back his lip was split, he scooped up the child affectionately calling her his beautiful baby girl and looked at you.

“Do the Bangtan boys know you are out? I am Kwon Jiyong and this is my daughter Misuk. You are Y/N right?” He smiled shaking your hand, “Do you know your address I can get you a taxi home?”

He started to get dizzy and he held his daughter in his arms and slumped against the wall. “Listen my phone dropped out of my pocket, can I borrow your phone to call my partner Seung-hyun”

“You’re the Masc industries guy, I remember and you had a baby” You said kneeling down, in front of him, you pulled out your phone and it had died. Frowning you told him the bad news and sighed. That’s when you heard your name.

“y/n?” and out from the alleyway ran a very puffed agitated Yoongi.

Femme Media 16

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oh-ranpo · 6 years

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nothing but a number. (10)

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader AN: This chapter may be a little bit shorter, but we are reaching the end of this story. I love it so much, but I don’t want to keep it going and it turn to crap. But this won’t be the last Gwilym story you see from me, trust me! Thank you guys so much for all the support. I love you all! Let me know what you think! Tag list is closed.

The love triangle continues? While reports say YN YLN showed up to her movie’s wrap-party with Gwilym Lee, she was also photographed walking in looking quite cozy with her co-star Ben Hardy.

When will YN YLN come clean about her love affair?

True love, or a cry for attention? Rumored love triangle between actress YN YLN and actors Gwilym Lee and Ben Hardy intensifies.

These were just some of the article headlines that you skimmed over the week following the wrap party. Ben had been right about the photos, and some of the ones you had seen posted on the internet had been doctored to make it look like you and Ben were walking closer together than you really had been. Of course, the moment that he had leaned over to whisper in your ear was the photo that was being used primarily, the intent being on stirring up more controversial rumors.

It was funny because even though there were two other people involved, it seemed that you were the one being blamed with the infidelity. Every article you took the time to read insinuated that you were leading both of the men on, or else it made you look bad in some other way. You weren’t sure what you had done to the media to justify such attacks, but you were almost thankful that you were going to be traveling over the next few weeks so you wouldn’t have time to pay attention to what was being said about you.

You gripped your suitcase handle a little bit tighter as you saw your face flash across one of the television screens in the airport lobby. There was an announcement for your flight over the intercom, and you tore your eyes away from the screen.

“I’ll come visit you in Berlin. That should be your last stop before heading to Japan.”

You looked over to where the voice had come from, and smiled up at the tall man next to you. Gwilym had come with you and Ben to the airport to see the both of you off. Ben had already started walking towards the terminal, but you had hung back to say goodbye. Even as the news story about your complicated love life played less than 100 feet away from you, you still didn’t care about the eyes on you as you wrapped your arms around Gwil in a tight hug. You were going to miss him.

“Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone. The media is going to be watching all three of us like hawks after what happened last week,” you murmured as you lifted your head to look back up into his crystal blue eyes.

“Don’t worry about that too much. Just enjoy your time promoting this movie.”

You adored that Gwilym didn’t let all these rumors get to him. You knew that there was nothing for either of you to worry about because you knew the truth. You were with him, not Ben, and he knew that your feelings for him weren’t going to change over the course of your separation.

“I’ll miss you.”

Gwilym smiled sadly down at you, and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against your forehead.

“I’ll miss you too, but I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

You nodded, and then pushed yourself onto your tiptoes to capture his lips with yours in a quick kiss. It was a simple gesture, something you had been doing every time you went to say goodbye, but this time it felt a little bigger since there were so many people around. You were sure that it would end up on E! News at some point.

You gave Gwilym one more small wave as you grabbed the handle of your suitcase again and started heading in the direction of where you should be boarding. You were sure that the two weeks were going to pass quickly with how busy you were going to be, but your heart already ached at how you wouldn’t be seeing Gwilym again until then.

x.x.x

“Stop fidgeting!”

“I can’t help it, I’m nervous!”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’ve never done one of these before, and I don’t want to mess it up!”

You and Ben were arguing back in forth on the car ride to your first interview on the press tour. It had only been about 24 hours since you had left Gwilym at the airport, and you were beyond nervous. You were worried that you were going to say something that you shouldn’t, or give away parts of the movie without meaning to. You had been attending PR training a little bit before leaving for this tour, but you still felt like you weren’t really prepared.

Ben, who had finally had enough of your bouncing leg and fidgeting fingers, reached over the seat and pressed firmly down on your knee with one hand, and grabbed at your hands with the other. You hadn’t stopped moving since you got in the car, but there was no way that you could stop it on your own.

“It’s going to be fine.”

You sighed, trying to release the tension in your body. The car pulled up outside of the building where your interview was going to be held, and you felt your pulse quicken. Your stomach churned and you felt like you could be sick at any moment. Ben watched your facial expression change and he patted your hand as he let it go.

“I’ll be right there with you. If you don’t feel like you can say anything, just smile. You’ll do great.”

You gave your friend a grateful smile as your car door was opened for you, and a longing spread through your chest when it wasn’t Gwilym standing on the other side. Your sadness over missing him temporarily took over, and your nerves about the interview disappeared.

You followed closely behind Ben as you entered the building and you were led to where the interview was going to be held. There were bottles of water and a few small snacks sitting by the door, and you grabbed a water for later when your mouth was sure to go dry. There weren’t a lot of people around, but you still felt overwhelmed.

“Are you guys ready?” a young man asked as he strode into the room, and you and Ben both nodded simultaneously. You quickly learned that this was the man who would be asking you questions, and the cameras started rolling.

You weren’t really surprised when Ben took the reins on answering most of the questions that were thrown out there. There were a few directed towards your character specifically that you had to answer, but they had been so easy to talk about, you didn’t struggle at all. An hour or so passed, and before you knew it, the interviewer was shaking your hand and saying his goodbyes.

“See? I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Ben teased as the two of you walked back out to the car that was waiting for you. You were thankful that he had been right, even though you hated the look that he gave you when he was.

“I’m surprised he didn’t ask about us. Those were the questions I had been preparing for,” you replied as you both climbed into the backseat and buckled your seatbelts. The most surprising part of the whole thing had been that all the questions were related to the movie. There were no inquiries into yours and Ben’s relationship, or whether there was an actual love triangle brewing.

“You’re right. I hadn’t even thought about that,” Ben murmured, a thoughtful look crossing his face. You weren’t going to complain. The two of you were there to talk about the movie, and not the imaginary relationship that had formed. If this was how the whole press tour was going to go, it would be a piece of cake.

x.x.x

You quickly found out that the first interview had been a fluke. Everything had gone too well, and you should have known that it wouldn’t last. You had gushed to Gwilym that first night about how great everything was going, and how receptive everyone seemed to be to the new movie already. Instead of being nervous, you actually looked forward to the next day, and didn’t find yourself fidgeting at all on your way to there.

You were about 5 questions in during your second interview when you heard the question you had been dreading to hear.

“So, your characters on-screen are rumored to have quite the connection, and judging by the amount of times the two of you have been seen out together, that seems to have carried over into real life. Was this movie the kickstarter for your off-screen romance?”

You were sure she didn’t mean to insult you. In fact, you were positive that she had believed those articles written about you whole-heartedly. This was the only reason you fought to keep the smile on your face. She hadn’t asked if the two of you were actually together, she had just assumed you were.

“Actually, Ben and I are just friends. There is no romance to be found here,” you laughed, trying to keep your answer light-hearted. You could feel Ben glance over at you from the corner of his eyes, but you kept your composure.

“Oh,” the girl’s face lit up, and her eyes flickered between the two of you. “I’m sorry, I guess I misunderstood.”

Thankfully, that put an end to that conversation. You were sure the only reason it had was because the girl had been too happy to hear that Ben was still single, and she didn’t want to push it. The fact that she came up to Ben after everything was over solidified your assumptions.

Later that night, you called Gwilym, just like you always did, and told him about what had happened. He found the whole situation funny, and you allowed your annoyance to flow out of you. You were able to find so much comfort in just the sound of Gwilym’s voice through the phone and you immediately felt better.

By the time the next morning rolled around, you were ready for the next interview. You were a little more apprehensive this time, and braced yourself for more questions regarding your relationship so you wouldn’t be caught off guard. You had been surprised that nothing was published about the answers you had given the day before, but you were sure that it was only a matter of time.

“Day number 3 already! This tour is going by faster than any other one I’ve been a part of,” Ben said, as the two of you walked into the room where the interviewer was waiting.

“Yeah, and tomorrow we have a day off,” you replied, the thought of being able to relax and explore a new city exciting you.

“Welcome, welcome. Thank you guys so much for joining us,” the young man across from you greeted.

“It’s our pleasure,” you replied, smiling back at him. You were feeling comfortable, and the man seemed nice enough. All you had to do was answer a few questions and you were free for a solid 48 hours.

The questions started out simple enough—questions about Ben’s character arc and the different plot lines throughout the story. There were a few questions for you and your character, and you had made it halfway through when you started to think that maybe you were going to get lucky again. You were wrong.

“So, I’m sure you guys get this question all the time, but there are a lot of rumors about an off-set romance between the two of you. Is there any truth to these stories?”

You had been preparing for this question, but Ben was the one to answer.

“No, those are all just stories.”

The interviewer gave him a look that told you he wasn’t convinced.

“There are no feelings there between the two of you at all? You are seen out together all the time, and it would be hard to believe that there was nothing there.”

The accusation was what got you. This was the first person you had seen face-to-face that was calling you out for a supposed relationship with Ben, and since you had never gotten the chance to tell any of the other reporters off, this felt like the perfect time.

“What’s hard to believe is that people take the words of journalists who know nothing of the truth, over the people who are actually involved. Trust me, Ben is not the one that I’ve fallen in love with.”

You could feel the energy in the room change completely when the words fell from your lips. The interviewer’s eyes went wide, and you glanced over at Ben to see him staring at you incredulously as well. Had you really just said what you think you did?

“Are you… are you referring to Gwilym Lee, then?’

You didn’t want to answer that question. You wanted to sink into the floor and disappear completely. You hadn’t even owned up to your feelings to Gwilym yet, and you had just spilled it to a stranger. A stranger that was going to spread it across the internet like wildfire. Ben’s green eyes were still focused on you, as he was also waiting for your answer.

“I, um, no. I was just saying that I had no romantic feelings for Ben.”

You knew that the damage was done and there was no taking it back now. No matter what you said, the words were already out there and you were sure they were going to be used against you. You and Gwilym had only been seeing each other for a little over a month, and you felt foolish for using the ‘love’ word so soon.

You stayed silent for the rest of the interview, and even though Ben did a good job of covering for you, you could tell that he was also distracted. When it was over, you shot out of your seat, gave the interviewer a polite wave goodbye, and bolted for the car.

“YN! YN, wait!” You heard Ben calling from behind you, but your feet wouldn’t stop. There was only a matter of time before Gwilym either heard or read about this interview and your relationship was sure to come crashing down. He would feel that you were naïve to believe you could have been in love with him so quickly, and you were going to have to continue this press tour completely heartbroken.

“Seriously, YN, stop!”

Ben finally caught up with you and grabbed the inside of your elbow to bring you back to face him. You could feel the hot tears slipping down your cheeks, and you wiped at them furiously. You were so angry at yourself for not keeping your emotions in check.

“I don’t really want to talk about what just happened,” you replied, sniffling lightly. Ben gave you a sympathetic look as his hand reached up to brush a stray tear from your cheek.

“You’re really in love with him?”

The question was soft, and you knew that he was just genuinely curious. There was no judgement in his tone, and you felt your body deflate under his gaze. All you could do was nod. A small laugh fell from his lips, which confused you, and you lifted your eyes back up to meet his.

“Well then you need to tell him.”

“He’s going to think I’m crazy, Ben. Besides, I don’t think I’m going to have to. I’m sure that interview is going to be all over the place in a matter of hours.”

You both knew it was true. In fact, as you were talking now, you were sure the footage was being edited and uploaded as quickly as they possibly could. You had just let a huge news story slip, and even though it wasn’t related to the movie, so you didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble with your management, you might have royally screwed up your personal life.

“He’s not going to think you’re crazy. But you do need to talk to him.”

You nodded. You knew he was right. You decided that once you got back to the hotel, you would try to call him and discuss what had happened. You really weren’t looking forward to it.

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ilcaeryx · 6 years

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Tenacity: Chapter 1 - Inhibition [Amajiki Tamaki/Reader]

SUMMARY: Tamaki's isolated himself in his apartment for almost a week. It's almost guaranteed that it's his anxiety flaring up… but it doesn't hurt to check up on him.

TAGS: Reader-Insert Collection, Anxiety, Social Isolation

Link to Chapter 1 of Tenacity on AO3

or continue reading below.

Chapter 1: Inhibition

'Amajiki Tamaki' read the nameplate by the door.

So this is where he lives.

Finding Tamaki's home had been tricky as it was in the middle of an expanding apartment complex located in a (for you) foreign part of the city. In this complex his apartment was simply one of many, a single leaf in a blooming bush. For this reason it felt like this was somewhere he would enjoy living, anonymously. However, living in the corner apartment on the first floor was perhaps a bit too exposed for him, considering that all his blinders were drawn shut.

You rang the bell and took a step back.

At least five days had passed since Tamaki had last spoken to you; after day two of pushing up the hard task to send you a message saying his vacation had started and he was available, he understood that too much time had passed already and that he should wait until the weekend to contact you. That's when you usually texted or called him, anyway. It had felt alright until he'd logged into his social media account a few days later. After the 5 notifications bubble popped up on his phone, panic and guilt bit into him. Reading them was unnecessary, because he knew what they said and who the sender was. Therefore, the immediate response was to turn off the sound on his phone and camp in his apartment.

His food reservoir was a mismatched mix that one possibly couldn't make anything edible out of. Not that he could make food at the moment, since he was certain that his neighbours would overhear him if he cooked too loudly, showered with the water current too strong or walked too harshly on the floor. One morning he had been making a pretty elaborate breakfast, cut short after one neighbour banged on the wall in the living room. He abruptly turned off the rice cooker and conformed himself with something simpler and quieter. He felt bad that his neighbours had to deal with him.

Today he was too agitated to move around, so he didn't do much other than game and eat leftovers. That's why both his dishes weren't washed and he kind of neglected. He'd take a shower on Sunday, when he'd probably see you. Right now, he just wanted to disappear into his book. It was a quiet evening spent on his couch and nothing could bother him.

Every evening used to be peaceful, but then his neighbours became hypersensitive to any and every sound he made.

The door bell ringing was how he was reminded of their existense. With deliberate, fluid movements he laid down the book on the couch and slipped down onto the floor. He made his way to the door in complete silence.

Okay, Tamaki is a total homebody. There's no way he isn't home.

It wasn't the first time this had happened, though all other times he had ignored you had been on social media. Him not opening messages and such. If it hadn't been for Mirio giving you a heads up about it, you might've taken it personally. After all, the two of you had been a couple for a few months now. You were grateful that Mirio felt involved enough in Tamaki's life to warn you about his these incidents, which you were told had occasionally taken place since their U.A. days.

Your take-away was getting cold and you were honestly getting worried. Your phone showed no missed calls or messages. There was always the option to call him and get a confirmation whether he was home or not by listening for the ring tone inside… but you thought that it would force him further into his shell. If he didn't answer you also wouldn't find out how he was doing. What if he had fainted in the shower and was bleeding out? The mental images of possible ways someone could die inside their home grew incrementally worse and you nervously fiddled with your phone.

Just this time, it wouldn't be strange if you excused yourself into his home. Right?

You tried opening the door. It's 2019, who would ever leave their door unlocked? Of course it was locked. Goddamn.

There is no one outside, you thought as you surveyed your surroundings and went around the corner. It would be okay this one time. No one would judge you for doing this. In the back of your mind you kind of remembered some law about entering someone's home unauthorized if there were health concerns, which was enough motivate you to try. See, one window in the back was slightly cracked open. While fully opening the window it occurred to you that this was your debut into Tamaki's home.

You slid in between the window and the blinders into Tamaki's kitchen, sitting on top of a dining table. The room was pretty cramped, a small cupboard on the left side wall and the usual kitchen appliances on the right. It was directly connected to the hall, where you could see the exterior door. As you shut the window a foul, thick smell of humidity and old food struck you, so you opened it again.

"Tamaki, it's me," you called out and jumped down on the floor.

Tamaki popped his head out from what you assumed was the bathroom, wearing complicated emotions on his face. "Y/N?"

"Yeah, I can explain this. I, uh, just wanted to see how you were doing." You raised the take-away bag to eye level. "I brought you food."

Like a snail retracting into its shell, he withdrew into the bathroom and shut the door. "I'll hear you out… after I've taken a shower."

"Do it. I'll wait."

You did and Tamaki emerged from the shower, clean and warm, five minutes later. He awkwardly walked into the kitchen, dressed in sweatpants and an overgrown hoodie, clearly avoiding looking at the dish mountain. Instead he raided a kitchen drawer for chopsticks and sat down together with you. Tamaki opened the box and dug in without mercy or any semblance of modesty.

You leaned back on you chair. "This is the first time I have ever forced myself into someone's home, by the way. Don't arrest me for that, I'm pretty sure I acted in accordance to the law. I thought something had happened."

"While I appreciate the sentiment," he answered between bites, "you scared the living daylights out of me. I thought you were a thief at first. It could've ended nasty if I had been eating well."

"What do you mean?"

He raised his eyebrows and looked at you solemnly. "I can't manifest crackers…"

"Is that what you've been eating? That's student level of food."

"It wasn't by choice." Tamaki said curtly and took a sip of water.

You bit your lip and nodded softly. The fact that he had ignored your messages and calls still bothered you, even though you somewhat understood the circumstances. You didn't want to be bothersome about it; you imagined that it would embarrass him greatly should you bring it up. It wasn't by choice, like he had said. Still, you thought that there should be some accountability on his part.

"We've known each other for a while now, but I didn't know you had it this… hard to reach out to people. When we weren't together," you sputtered out, unused to bringing it up, "it was an inconvenience. Now I actually get worried - and it's not just me. Mirio and even Hadou have asked if I had heard from you."

Tamaki tensed his shoulders. "Both of them should understand by now; we went through this in high school. I don't know. I just start to feel cornered when I get bombarded by messages. I don't particularly want to be around people when I'm that paranoid."

"I'd never force you to do something you don't want. I think that you should at least text me back. You don't even need to read what I've sent you if it is too much. Knowing you're alive is enough."

He seemed more interested in his food than in answering. You couldn't force him to answer and you didn't have anything more to inquire. This was a conversation for another day, hopefully. You let him eat in peace. At least for a while.

"You know," you began and casually stole a piece of meat from box, "I've known you for two years and you've never invited me here before. Have you lived here since we first met?"

After some consideration he nodded with a sharp movement. "For almost five years."

You ate your piece and instantly regretted not buying a portion of your own. Licking your fingers, you kept overwatch on his food while he gingerly picked and chose, his bangs covering his face.

"Like, I thought you still lived with your parents since you refused to even give me an adress,"

Tamaki choked. He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed violently enough to rack his entire body. You shot up to get him some water but he held you back with his hand as you were walking past him to the dish bench. He got himself a glass from the unwashed pile. Poor guy probably didn't have any clean ones.

As he drank you re-settled into your chair, cautiously. He poured himself another glass and wiped his eyes with his sleeve before returning to the table.

"I just enjoy my privacy," he commented, rather dryily, before digging in again with reluctance. Probably terrified of you dropping another bomb like that and him choking for real this time. Suneater dying by eating sukiyaki.

"You can thank Mirio for giving me your adress. He's been worried too."

"I'll thank him in person."

"I think he'd appreciate a quick message from you ASAP."

Tamaki stopped his chopsticks half-way to his mouth and raised his eyes to look at you, sadness pulling at the edges. "You can't thank someone who's looking out for you with a simple message. I'll go see him in a few days and thank him in person." His eyes shifted slightly and he cast his gaze downwards. "I'll try to, anyway."

That's an admirable outlook, you thought to yourself as he somewhat self-consciously finished his food. Thanking someone for helping you out was very humbling, in particular when independent people such as Tamaki are caught between problems. But as the old adage goes, no man is an island. If you ever needed help, you knew you could count on Tamaki - and Mirio for that matter. No question about it. If he didn't message Mirio by the time you were returning home, you'd send a text to Mirio yourself, though.

Breathing deeply, Tamaki put his chopsticks down into his box and quickly grabbed your hands, his fingers squishing your fingers against his palms. Warmth emanated from his hands and his face seemed a lot less paler when he smiled weakly at you.

"Thank you, Y/N. I would've starved if you hadn't arrived today."

Your thumbs caressed the insides of his wrists, sweeping over the bumpy texture of veins and muscles.

"I'll break into your apartment anytime, babe."

If you liked this, consider throwing me a like/reblog/follow! My Masterlist can be found here.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #bnha tamaki #amajiki tamaki #ilcaeryx.tenacity

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alleiradayne · 6 years

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Part I - Lesson Learned

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Me, Clif Kosterman Warnings: None, only fluff and mild angst here Word Count: 3,108 A/N: Assume all parties are single and absolutely no spouse hate!

In another minute, I’d have gone to bed.

In five minutes, I’d have passed out.

And in the morning, I’d have seen the post on Instagram and been pissed at myself all over again. 2016 might have repeated itself had I not learned my lesson the hard way that year.

Instead I sat in the chair at the desk of my hotel room, phone in hand, and flipped through every social media platform I had. I searched tags and pictures and an endless stream of fan accounts until I found that for which I willingly sacrificed sleep.

#spnfamily @jarpad Jared and me @ Sneaky Pete’s!

“Ugh, Sneaky Pete’s?! Really?!”

If you can’t tell, I’m not fond of that bar. Every time I’ve been there, someone starts a fight. Something about alcohol and open stripper poles enraging people.

But Jared was there. Though I desperately needed sleep, I wanted to meet him outside of the con. Just once. Just to get that sort of selfie with him. You know, blurry, half-drunk, overexposed, and hair in my face with his perfection right next to my hot mess. That selfie.

The handle of the hotel door clicked before I realized I’d left my chair, tossed on my N7 hoodie, and shut off the lights.

“What am I doing?”

Silly question. I knew exactly what I was doing. Stalking a celebrity. Yup. Real healthy. I know. An endless tirade of chastising thoughts raced through my mind as I walked down the hallway to the elevator. An eternity passed while I waited, and twice I nearly turned back for my room. But when the bell sounded and a door opened, I darted in and smashed the button for the main floor.

In the lobby, I rushed to a side door and avoided any eye contact. If I had looked at anyone, they would know what I was up to. They would know I was leaving my hotel to go to a bar because a celebrity I wanted to meet was there and that I had stalked him on social media. They would know the second they looked at me, with my red cheeks and wide eyes. Yeah, she’s on a mission. A creepy fanatic’s mission.

The cold November air hit my face with such force, it sucked the breath from my lungs. Again, so lost in thought, I’d lost track of myself. It happens from time to time. I get so caught up in my brain, I forget where I am. Usually it's because I’m planning out another piece of writing, whether it’s my novel or fanfiction. Better not think about that too much or your dumbass will end up telling him about it. If you’re even lucky enough to meet him…

I scoffed loud enough to scare a dog and their human as I passed. Should have taken a Lyft. But nope. I had not plan that far ahead. Too impulsive. And by the time I got to the bar my feet screamed for relief, not because of the long walk, but because I’d been on them all day. Saturday at a Supernatural convention is long. The Saturday Night Special had been entirely worth it though. I’d never look at Rob Benedict the same way ever again.

At the door, I handed the guy taking cover a ten-dollar bill, and I barely heard him over the music as he asked for my wrist to stamp. Not that I paid him much attention either. I had a mission. Unfortunately, Minneapolis complicated finding a 6’4” brown-haired, broad-shouldered guy. Loads of men fit that bill there, what with the plentiful Scandinavian population.

Through the entry, I scanned the crowd as I headed to the bar on my right. To my left, stripper poles stood in a line on their platforms, every single one packed with far too many people. Though I laughed at the idea of Jared on a stripper pole in a packed bar, I knew better. He might be silly, but he sure as hell wasn’t dumb enough to do that in public.

With the bar three people deep, I forced my way to the front, a few well-placed elbows and crushed toes parting the throng. The bartender, a harried woman who tried to put on her best smile, took my order, ran off for a glass and the bottle of scotch, and poured my drink. I avoided eye contact again as two men—boys, really, they looked barely old enough to be in the place—on my right tried to get my attention with terrible pickup lines that involved my drink. Not that I could hear them. Bass deep enough to shake the building thumped terrible party music accompanied by terrible lighting and shitty vocals.

Did I mention I hate Sneaky Pete’s?

I emerged from the crowded bar and headed for the stairs, still scanning for a set of shoulders above the sea of heads. When I saw nothing of note, I took the stairs to the speakeasy basement to find it nearly dead.

Nearly.

A few booths sat occupied, couples and smaller groups that wanted to escape the insanity of the main level, music muted to a dull roar. An older man sat by himself sipping a drink at the end if the bar nearest me. And the bartender—a woman about my age—talked with him. She’d get an extra tip with that sort of attention.

With a sigh, I turned back for the stairs, but something out of the corner of my eye stopped me. I looked over my shoulder, then turned back around as I spotted them. At the far end of the bar sat two people, one with long brown hair, and the other bald.

You know, leading up to that point, I never thought it would happen. From the second I’d left my hotel room, I imagined getting to the bar, getting a drink, sipping it down as I walked through the place once, maybe twice, then leaving.

But there at the bottom of the stairs I stared, dead-eyed, at Jared Padalecki.

At the back of his head.

Close enough.

My feet refused to move, though I desperately wanted them to. There were a great many things I wanted to do. But for the life of me, in that first moment, I balked. And it wouldn't be the last time. I damn near ran back up the stairs and out the front door.

But then Clif nudged Jared and pointed my way. He turned and spotted me, and Christ, I'll never forget that smile or his awkward wave. I'll never understand what about him then had managed to ease my nerves, but he had, and one foot stepped in front of the other until I passed him.

“Hey, Cliffy.”

Jared cackled as Clif leaned from his stool and hugged me. “She clearly knows the rules.”

“Get in good with the body guard, right?” I said as we parted. When I turned to Jared, I managed to keep my shit together as he hugged me in turn. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

Parted, he asked, “Were you here last year? What’s your name?” He motioned to the stool Clif had vacated.

By the end of this, you’re going to hate me. I hesitated yet again before taking a seat. “Jeanna,” I replied as I sat down. “And yes, I was here last year with my sister. We bought the very last J2 op Friday morning.”

“Well, then it was meant to be,” Jared teased. “Is that Jeanna with a G or a J?”

A long pull from my drink eased my nerves. That he even thought to ask that question set my heart racing “A J. We were J4 in that photo op. My sister is Jessica.”

“J4, I love it,” he said with a laugh. “So, how was the Special?”

“Rob kissed me,” I blurted.

Jared rolled his eyes, not missing a beat. “Rob can be a cheeky fucker sometimes,” he said. “How did he manage that?”

“They set up a sort of ‘pit’ area in the big aisles on both sides of the theater,” I said as I air-quoted. “A new friend and I stood the whole show. I got some amazing pictures.”

“You’ll have to show me after you get them cleaned up,” Jared insisted. “Twitter?”

“I’d love to…” I started as I looked around the bar. The conversation had started so well and had continued so easily, buy my confidence slipped. It was too good to be true. I had missed something, a sign or a phrase. Clif would escort me away any second. “I’m sorry, I should probably leave you alone. I don’t want to take up your personal time. You’ll be up to your eyeballs in fans tomorrow, and I’ll see you plenty then anyway—”

Before I slipped from my stool, Jared reached out with an unsteady hand but stopped short of touching me. “You don’t have to. You’re not bothering me. Not like there’s a million people trying to get my attention.”

I eased back onto the stool as I thought. I had imagined meeting Jared in public on occasion. But that simple fantasy usually consisted of a short greeting, getting that selfie, and then being on my way. Never in a million years would I have guessed that I’d have him all to myself for a personal conversation. “Are you sure? I mean, like I said, I’ll see you all day tomorrow. I’m in VIP, I have your solo photo op, I have your meet and greet—”

“You bought all that?” he asked.

“Damn straight I did, I love—”

Yeah, I usually say I love Jared Padalecki. But not to his ridiculously gorgeous face. “I uh… you’re my favorite.”

I’d tell you that Jared blushed when he regarded his beer, sipped from it. But the dimly lit bar masked his face in angular shadows so dark, I’d never know. “It’s okay, Jeanna,” he started. “You’re my favorite, too.”

“Wow. Thanks,” I retorted as I sipped from my drink. “I get it, I made it weird. Don’t rub it in. I’m not exactly… it’s not every day I get meet someone like you.”

Jared laughed through his nose as he spun the bottle of his beer on the bar between his thumb and middle finger. “Not many celebrities in the Twin Cities?”

For a moment, I stared at him, unsure of what to say. When he stared back with his easy smile and perfect hair curled behind his ears, I understood. “You are probably aware of this, but, you’re not just some random celebrity, Jared. You’re… you’re an incredibly important person to me. To a lot of people. Your compassion and empathy for people knows no bounds. You’re so selfless, I don’t know how you do it. I’d be exhausted all the time.”

Jared’s smile fell and I resisted the urge to scream, to take it all back the second the words were out of my mouth. Too late, Jared capitalized on the moment. “I appreciate your honesty,” he commented. His hand moved for my shoulder once more, but as before, he hesitated. “I’m… flattered to have had such a positive impact on people’s lives.”

“Good,” I stated, “you deserve it.”

I could have died a happy woman right then and there as Jared smiled in the wake of my words.

If I told you everything we talked about that evening, you'd have a novel on your hands, and a boring one at that. Sure, we flirted here and there, but I quickly understood that Jared was the type of person who truly meets people. He wants to learn everything he can about them before parting ways, take something profound, new, defining with him when he leaves. I told him about things I never imagined I would have—including my ideal final season for the show, complete with angels, demons, monsters, sex (not with monsters), love, and for once, a real shot at peace. Retirement. On a beach somewhere in Texas with a cooler full of Margie. As much as he liked the idea, he confirmed my suspicions. Sam and Dean’s story does not end on a beach with girlfriends (or angel boyfriends) and a cooler full of Wisconsin's fictional pride.

It was one o’clock before I even thought to check the time. We had talked for two uninterrupted hours. And as much as I wanted to stay, I needed to be back up at seven for my much-anticipated Sunday.

But before I said any sort of goodbye, I grabbed a napkin and my sharpie—always carry a sharpie with you at cons, just in case—and wrote down my number. When I slid it to him, Jared picked it up and squinted at it.

“I didn’t even have to ask,” he joked.

“Oh, gimme a fucking break, dude, you’re swimming in pussy,” I retorted.

With a crooked smile, he shook his head. “Not really. Do you think I do this,” he paused as he gestured between us, “all the time?”

“With that face and your body, I would,” I said. “Not to mention your heart and brilliant brain, too. You make conversation too easy.”

A distinct shade of pink slashed across his nose, distinguishable despite the dark shadows on his face. I waited for another witty retort, but nothing came. He simply stared at me, eyes searching mine with an intensity that rendered me speechless.

I had told Jared things about myself most people in my life did not know. And as I sat there, staring at him, I realized that Jared understood that. When he hesitated to touch me for a third time, I spoke. “Are you… scared?”

“Maybe a little,” he mused. “I can promise you, this isn’t something I normally do. Spending this much time with a fan… never struck me as a good idea.”

“And now that you have?” I asked.

Finally, his hand enveloped mine where it sat on the bar. “I'll say this. You’re a natural at meeting celebrities. You played it cool even though you were nervous. You talked to me like I was just… another person. And that’s incredibly refreshing.”

“You make it sound like most fans are cra—”

He shook his head, vehement in his disagreement. “No. You’re not. Ya’ll are amazing and generous and so full of love. I would never disparage any of you. Most engagements with fans, either at a con or out in the wild, are short or in a… sort of controlled or contained system. It’s kind of sterile. It sounds ridiculous when I put words to it, but there’s little margin for error and that’s intentional.”

“So, you’re saying it’s almost scientifically curated to go well,” I offered.

“Almost is the key word. There’s a reason Cliffy follows us everywhere,” Jared added with a coy smirk. “But more often than not, what we need is someone to take care of a crying fan because, if Jensen and I or any of the other cast had to handle that on our own every time it happened, we’d lose our minds.”

I recalled the first time I had met anyone from the show. “I thought I was going to throw up after I met Misha a couple years ago.”

Jared laughed his dorky cackle as he said, “Misha gets that reaction a lot.”

“He was all hands…”

“Oh, I am so sorry.”

“No, it was wonderful.”

Again, Jared cackled as if I’d said some sort of perverted innuendo. With his hand still on mine, he took it from the bar and held it. “See, that right there, that's... oh, how gross, I don’t want to say you’re ‘different’ and make this fucking weird. But… I don’t know, I’m not explaining myself very well.”

“I won’t let it go to my head,” I started, “But I think I get it. This’ll sound weird, too, and it might creep you out, but I’ve always imagined my personality was very similar to yours. I’ve always imagined that, at the very least, were we to have worked together on a set, we would have become really good friends.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jared started, “And it’s not weird. We could be friends.”

I tried. I wanted nothing more than to walk away from that night remembering the perfection of our conversation up to that point. But when disappointment contorted my smile, Jared saw it, and winced. When I started to talk, he spoke over me. “I didn’t mean it like that. We could be friends, sure. But…”

His voice trailed off as he thought, eyes listing to the bar. “But?” I asked.

“But I’m guessing at this point you were hoping for more than that.”

What constituted as “more”? Best friends? Friends with benefits? Long-distance lovers? “Look, I gave you my number as a hail mary.”

“What?”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I couldn’t resist the joke. “It’s a sports term. Like, slam dunk or…”

He grinned as he said, “Ball handler?”

I never thought I’d ever hear my laugh mixed solely with Jared’s. But laugh we did, singing a song I wanted to play it on repeat forever. I had to drop another joke to hear it again, to commit it to memory. With my pithy line readied, I sucked in a breath between laughs and spoke.

Not a single word made it past my lips, for Jared’s landed on mine with such sudden insistence, I froze. His massive hand warmed my cheek, fingers slipping into my hair, and he pressed harder, as if to remind me of what he had done. It worked, but not how either of us had wanted.

I promise, I’ll make up for how ridiculously I behaved here. When I squirmed away from him, I hated myself. I ended the kiss as quickly as it had started, slipped from his arms and off the barstool to race to the stairs. He didn’t follow me. And I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see the dejection on his face that I knew was there.

I was up the stairs and through the front door in seconds. I wasted no time heading straight back to my hotel, oblivious to the chilly November drizzle. Incessant ridicule ran through my head, berating myself for being rude, for being a bitch, for being just downright mean. And for passing up on spending a night with someone I knew that, without a doubt, would treat me with nothing but respect.

How fitting then that, when my phone rang, I answered it without thinking.

Tags: @atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl

Feedback is more than welcome! If you want to get in on the tag list, send me an ask!

#Jared Padalecki #jared padalecki x me #spn rpf fanfic #alleiradayne writes

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storykravting · 5 years

Text

200 Years From Now

In the 19th century, a few people realized that we (humans) can change the climate of our planet.

During the 20th century, some more people looked into the idea that we (humans) can change the climate of our planet. They confirmed its validity with research but didn't think it was really important, so they didn't do anything.

For most of the 21st century, people all over the world argued about whether we (humans) can change the climate of our planet. Some people still didn't think it was important, even though all kinds of research studies were confirming what people in the 20th century had said. By this point though, the effects of a changing climate were already starting to take place, and most of those people realized that the people in the 20th century were right.

The 22nd century is the result of people finally accepting and adapting to the fact that we (humans) can change the climate of our planet. Unfortunately, it took so long to come to this decision that a lot of cities were already underwater. Literally underwater—Atlantis isn't the only lost city anymore.

Plenty of things are different now in 2100, but the simplest to confer might be these two: The world got brighter and warmer, and sea level has risen quite a bit.

Miami, New Orleans, and San Francisco had to evacuate since underwater breathing isn't completely feasible yet. So did Alexandria, Mumbai, Osaka, Rio de Janeiro, Shanghai, parts of Singapore, and Australia's outer ring of coast. The Pacific Islands disappeared. And you can just imagine what happened in Venice with the canals.

A few ecosystems stopped working too—take the coastal wetlands for example. Most of the greenery in the Alps and Appalachians, and every other mountain range in the world, withered. Even under the water, all non-"supercorals" in the Great Barrier Reef were completely bleached by the beginning of the 22nd century.

For better or worse, disaster was the wake-up call needed to finally galvanize the human race into action.

While the natural world and select areas of civilization suffered the consequences of industrialization, a few places had been smart enough to innovate ahead of time. Neighborhoods in Rotterdam were floating and solar-powered, and as a result aesthetically pleasing as well as technological marvels. Scotland had already put wind turbines in the ocean. Over decades, places that had once been on the coastline slowly became habitable again.

Green technology disseminated across the globe in one of humanity's greatest works of collaboration. Solar cities popped up everywhere; urban planners had a heyday. Renewable energy became the number one priority, so they made photovoltaic everything—solar panels on top of roofs, in place of roofs, embedded in the sidewalks, inside the paint on buildings somehow. They stuck gardens and windmills everywhere too. And since green is the new black, gardening is government-subsidized.

Architects were just as busy too. Buildings are taller and nicer than they were a century ago. Photography and social media helped popularize a particular style revolving around clean lighting, open space, and an urban aesthetic. Interior design and city layout headed in the direction of bright and spacious and beautiful.

While those people installed huge sundials in plazas and guided vines down the sides of glass skyscrapers, other institutions also developed with the era. These days, it takes less time to get a general education. The new priority is on apprenticeships and applying knowledge in a changing world. Public schooling abandoned its jack-of-all-trades curriculum and established a new one: Programs for Environmentally Beneficial Innovations. PEBI for short.

Despite the naming convention, not every PEBI is centered on improving the future. Some of them, like floriography and sculpting, are just to make the present a nicer, prettier place.

So learning is more popular than it was before, maybe thanks to all the freedom the new system gives its users to stretch their wings. Almost everyone is immersed in their respective field. They’re proud of what they learn, and a lot of people embrace their PEBIs as part of their identity. Architecture, agriculture, art, their professions help define their place and contributions to the world.

And so of course, among the youth, talk about academics and work is just about as commonplace as entertainment. Long-distance communication facilitates a perpetual exchange; teens always seem to be in touch with each other, whether they're texting or talking, meeting in person or simulating it with 360° spherical cameras. Sending voicemail these days is as easy as tapping a wrist piece and speaking.

Possibly the most poignant change between today and the today of 200 years ago is sociocultural: in our relationships. What happened was, in a way of speaking, a shift toward the material. The popular thing these days, especially with so many young couples, is to commemorate special occasions with an equally special gift, something that will be remembered fondly by both the giver and the receiver.

The prevalence of social media in a time focused on the invention and communication of ideas is not to be understated. People are more creative these days; they have to be in order to keep pace with the world around them. As the bar for creativity in real-world innovation rose, the level of creativity that people put into their personal lives increased alongside it.

One artistic engineer made a heart-shaped, pocket-sized charm out of clockwork. One floriographer put together a stunningly beautiful bouquet specifically for a lucky person in their life. And of course, with social media, it only takes one nice picture and a blurb for everyone to hear about it.

Redesigns and novelty gift ideas started trending all over the internet, and they were all incredible. Clockwork charms modeled after hearts and stars and animals, unique bouquets with every type of flower imaginable, pretty accessories and the like. Even letters, which were outdated 200 years ago, are stylish thanks to the work of a few skilled calligraphers.

With so much knowledge and technology crackling at our fingertips, it’s easy to understand why everyone wants to pour themselves into something tangible they can give away as a present that will speak for itself. In fact, it’s almost expected that everyone come up with at least something to do that will stand out.

Obviously, there’s a lot of controversy over the emphasis so many people seem to place on just one facet of the human experience. It’s a persisting tradition for the older generation to express disapproval at whatever the youth are up to: in this case, a fixation on giving gifts and planning elaborate confessions.

But perhaps it's wrong to say modern relationships are artificial or excessively material. Maybe the key thing is not so much the gifts themselves, or even the feelings they're intended to evoke, but the willingness to put so much thought into a single gesture.

Sure, a pretty token can’t convey a person’s true feelings, just as a picture on social media can’t truly show what someone’s life is like. But it’s a truth that the people who give and receive those kinds of gifts are happy. It’s a truth that most of them are in great relationships and can overcome the difficulties that challenge them. The people behind the trends are undeniably talented, but they’re also just kind, thoughtful, caring people—people who show their love in ways that are only coincidentally “instagrammable.”

While the weight given to gifts may have been upped in the past century, while confessions and proposals may have gotten a dozen times more intricate, while we may be able to talk as if in person from a mile away, we still use words to let people know how we truly feel. After all, a gift can’t be given without a tag. A dance can’t happen without an invitation. We still surprise each other with what we like and don’t like. We still make time to meet up in person and grab coffee. We still struggle to tell the people we love that we love them, because our feelings are complicated, and we would never be able to summarize them with a simple present or a smile.

So in a way, the gifts and presents and performances are less the gift than the gift wrap. Giving things and celebrating, all that stuff is appetizers, there to accentuate the words we use to make our feelings clear.

A lot of us may want to be showmen and showwomen, to express our love in amazing ways that won’t ever be forgotten, but we haven’t yet lost what it means to connect with someone—to reveal ourselves, heart to bare heart. Past the shower of gifts and attention, when the only onlookers are the people involved, there remain those irreplaceable moments of self-disclosure. It’s then that we clear our throats, look our loved ones in the eye, part our lips, and give voice to the reasons that make us try so hard to impress.

“Thank you for everything.”

“You've changed my life.”

And of course—

“I love you.”

#short story #contest submission #no it didn't win #pretty convoluted

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bestflyerprinting · 4 years

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Printing vinyl stickers & the difference between vinyl stickers and decals

Whether it’s vinyl stickers for your car bumper or just a simple paper sticker for a name tag. There is a lot to consider when looking at all the options. Often it can get confusing especially when ordering online and sometimes the finished product isn’t quite what you envisioned in the first place. Hopefully, this article managers to bring to light all the “need to know” when it comes to the sticker game.

Medium/Type of stickers:

Stickers come in many types with several different mediums, surfaces, and finishes which creates many permutations of the simple sticker. The different stickers also have a need for different methods of application. Often people, companies, and charities will use these methods to portray their brand in a certain way. This is where the design element of these stickers becomes an important piece of the puzzle. The design process is often the beginning of the timeline for stickers and is therefore crucial to understand.

Paper labels

Firstly, you need to consider is which sticker medium or type you want to select. Proper type is essential when trying to get the most out of your stickers. Stickers are commonly printed on either paper or vinyl. Knowing the differences between these two will help ensure you get the results you desire.

These are the most straightforward to achieve and the most cost-efficient stickers. Paper labels are perfect for labelling plastic sleeves, glass jars or food packages and many more instances. The only issue when considering these labels is that they are not water- or weatherproof and should be considered for indoor use only. The labels are quick to fade and tear, so short term use is optimal for these stickers

If you need water-resistant stickers, look for matte label paper and make sure that pigment ink is being used on a pigment ink printer and not a dye-ink printer. Pigment ink is widely known for its archival properties. Other weatherproof options are vinyl stickers or decals.

Vinyl Stickers versus Vinyl Decals

You may believe that vinyl stickers and vinyl decals are pretty much the same things. Well, that’s probably because they are. Yet there are some differences, and it is important to know them when deciding whether to purchase between the two. Which surface you are sticking on, and the purpose of sticking are also key factors to consider.

It mostly depends on the final product. To put it simply, if you’re looking for a simple monotone (one colour) design, then a decal is what you want. However, if you’re wanting something that is detailed and with a selection of colours, then it’s a vinyl sticker.

Allow our list below to elaborate on the differences which should clarify any confusion.

Vinyl Decals:

What it looks like: Monotone in colour, usually smaller and less intricate.

Machinery: The vinyl cutter is connected to a computer that allows it to read the vector design files. The cutter uses a single, small blade to cut into the vinyl. The big roll of vinyl is moved back and forth as the blade cuts into the material. Most importantly, the blade only cuts deep enough to slice through the vinyl material, not the backing paper it is stuck to.

Process: After the vinyl sheeting is machine-cut, weeding is done by hand to remove all excess vinyl that isn’t part of the design (the more intricate the design, the longer the weeding takes) and finally, the decal gets a layer of adhesive tape so it can be transferred to a service area.

Vinyl Stickers:

What it looks like: Colourful and more complicated.

Machinery: Each of these vinyl stickers are printed onto vinyl using a wide-format printer. This process uses special repositionable vinyl for stickers because it is much easier to apply and remove than other stickers while benefiting from all the long-lasting properties of vinyl. This is particularly important for wall stickers when you don’t want to damage your wall upon removal.

Process: Shapes are manually or machine-cut out of the printed vinyl wherever necessary to create the design. The entire sticker is cut out of the vinyl sheet.

Essentially, the difference between vinyl stickers and decals lies in vinyl printing and cutting methods. Your choice of decal or sticker from Asset Print depends largely on the intricacy and colour tones of the design. While we may not have plotters and professional vinyl weeders at all our stores to produce vinyl decals, we do have vinyl sheets and printers that are capable of materialising any vinyl sticker design.

In cases where the design is too intricate, although monochromatic, a vinyl decal is not the correct choice when choosing between the two. We produce them as stickers that are printed onto transparent vinyl. The result is a product that looks a lot like a decal but has all the properties of a vinyl sticker.

Often you will hear the term die-cut stickers. This process or cut is implemented once the stickers have been printed, and the same machine cuts contours out of the machine. This process is similar to the decal process, but the difference is that it cuts all the way through the sheet which the stickers lie on. This creates a die-cut sticker that can be taken out of the roll of vinyl. (This is perfect for stickers that will be given out in singular portions.

Applications for Vinyl

Vinyl stickers for Cars or Vehicles

Waterproof stickers are the best choice on farm and construction machinery, delivery vans, trucks, trailers, and other vehicles. Therefore a vinyl sticker or decal should be the appropriate choice in the matter, as they are waterproof and weatherproof.

Stickers on Boats, marine equipment, and similar surfaces

An obvious choice, Vinyl. Stickers for boats and marine equipment should be waterproof. This goes for the interior of the boat as well. Even if the stickers aren’t immersed, they are often exposed to air which is thick with mist or water precipitation.

Food packaging

Food packaging for refrigeration, vinyls are the way to go. Condensation is common in food packaging. Regular stickers will lose quality in very damp areas, which could lead to the possibility of your products being unfit to sell. A small difference in choice of stickers could lead you to a big save in packaging costs.

Design Tips

Software Color match.

CMYK is the most commonly used form of colour combination for home printing or digital printing. This process involves layering color ink in dots, which will lead to a recreation of the digital version. CMYK colour matching will give you good, close and accurate result for a reasonable price. A second option for vinyl stickers is the implementation of Pantone color. Pantone is a superior option for total color correctness and consistency, especially for stickers that involve a large area of solid color. Yet these are harder to achieve and would increase the price compared to the use of CYMK values for colours.

Choosing the right colors.

Lighter color values don’t always work well with the CMYK process. In many instances, colors on the lightest 10 percent of the spectrum don’t translate at all. All this means is that your sticker’s subtle yellow or pink coloring can look white to the casual observer — a look that can wash out your design. Similarly, designs that incorporate a lot of blacks will vary in effect depending on what color balances in the design make up the black tone.In other words, the colors on your screen that combine to create your black tone will determine which black and color ink ratios are on the page.

Detail versus simplicity

Although a detailed design always holds merit, when coming to stickers sometimes (or mostly) a simple design will work better in terms of colour and end result. Super detailed versions will often lead to costly outcomes that do not always work out. The cut will be difficult to achieve as well as the stickering process. Normally bold and simple stickers are visually more effective (normally) and much better in terms of cost.

Why Stickers?

A Physical Form of Social Media

Promotional stickers are just physical versions of how people interact over social media. People were ‘liking’, posting, pinning, tagging and starting conversations with stickers long before the Internet. Designed and distributed properly they continually generate low-cost exposure, impressions, and word of mouth marketing, much like how visual elements work on social media.

Stickers are perfect for your brand exposure (logo Stickers)

Online marketing is highly effective yet it is difficult to achieve due to the vast competition currently. Ad blindness is becoming a thing, therefore it is important to create brand exposure in different, non-digital forms of avenue.

Promotional logo stickers is that they help you stand out from the crowd. Your logo appearing in different and unusual places (car bumpers and laptop covers) will have little competition as well as a unique way of exposing your brand.

A“Gift”

Quality stickers have a higher perceived value than other promotional mediums (business cards, brochures, flyers, etc.). They are viewed more as a gift than “advertising”. People enjoy collecting stickers and sticking them on their own materials. People feel like they customising what they have, whether it be their laptop, car bumper or even wall – people enjoy applying their own personal touch to make their “things different” compared to everyone else.

Place and Promote

Place and Promote Promotional stickers, of course, are not always a gift product. They are also an inexpensive way to brand products, packaging, signage and service equipment. You can’t always rely on others to become advocates sharing your message and product, but you can do it yourself in a tasteful and effective manner wherever possible.

Micro Marketing/Identity Development

Because of the succinct nature of a promotional sticker, the process of development and design can help clarify and focus other marketing efforts (logo, website, advertisements, business cards, headlines, press releases, etc.). The same core questions need to be asked and analyzed:

Who do I want to talk to (who is my market)?

Where am I going to find them? How do I get in touch?

What are their (what do they want / need) interests?

What is my unique (identity) offer, message and/or story?

How do I communicate my message/identity to my market and prospects cleanly, simply, graphically and quickly?

Complement and Enhance Other Marketing Efforts

In addition to branding and exposure-enhancing campaigns, stickers can be leveraged in other ways to enhance and strengthen promotional programs. Opinions and discussions can be promoted online in social media to reach fans and consumers. Stickers can strengthen communities and awareness of a message. Cooperative campaigns with others can reduce costs and increase distribution and impressions. Successful or interesting sticker campaigns can generate excellent PR.

Sell as A Profitable Product

Promotional stickers can also become effective objects themselves if they are done correctly. A brand name, slogan or image can become a product that’s sticky. If you have retail options, a specific approach to a particular market, or fans and supporters, you could build a sticker with a perceived value sufficient to warrant people willing to show it off and pay for the privilege. Just make sure that the sticker suits the individual needs and preferences of the consumer, not just your own needs for marketing/branding.

To sum up, advertising is about relationships; connecting to people who will benefit and are willing to support you what makes you unique and important. Stickers can be used to reinforce the connection in several ways and promote the spread of the term. That’s sticker marketing–using one of the lowest-cost, maximum exposure marketing tools available to communicate and reinforce. But note that sticker marketing, like any form of marketing or advertisement, requires proper planning, design, and execution to optimize its effectiveness.

Article from: https://thedigitalprintshop.blogspot.com/2020/08/printing-vinyl-stickers-difference.html

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dawnfelagund · 7 years

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Most and Least Popular Stories

I was tagged by @maedhrosrussandol to look at my stats and identify my most and least popular stories according to those stats. But I’m changing the rules a bit! The original post asked for stories to be ranked by number of kudos on AO3; since only a small fraction of my work is on AO3, then I’m going to go by number of comments and favorites on the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild instead. (All but a handful of my stories are there.)

I am not counting collections of ficlets posted as a single story.

Most Popular Stories (starting with most comments on the SWG)

1. Another Man’s Cage (63 comments) 2. The Work of Small Hands (31 comments) 3. The Sovereign and the Priest (17 comments) 4. The Election Farce of Nargothrond: Of Dumbness, Treachery, and Brotherly Love (14 comments) 5. The Bearer of Light (12 comments)

The picture looks a little different if I go by the number of people who have marked a particular story as a favorite.

1. Another Man’s Cage (12 favorites) 2. By the Light of Roses (8 favorites) 3. The Work of Small Hands (6 favorites) 4. Hastaina (6 favorites) 5. There are a bunch of stories with 4 favorites: When the Stars Smile, Return to Me, Salt, The Dance, Essecarmë

Least Popular Stories

There is one lonely story of mine with no comments and no favorites on the SWG: To Dream of Fire

All of these are stories with just one comment and no favorites on the SWG: Teler, A Woman in Few Words: The Character of Nerdanel and Her Treatment in Canon and Fandom, Statues, The Choices of Spirits, Forgotten Lore, The Puppet, Mercy

Are your surprised?

Not terribly, no.

For one thing, any metric of popularity is complicated enough to keep a clear picture from forming using that single metric alone. In my case, it’s extra complicated because I do crosspost most of my work--so those stories have comments, likes/kudos, and favorites on sites outside the SWG--and I’ve also been writing for a long time, longer than the SWG archive has been around (and certainly longer than AO3 has been around much less popularly used by Tolkienfic writers). I also have a sneaky habit on the SWG of archiving my own work by posting it late at night, then using my moderator powers to go into the archive and backdate it so that no one knows it exists. Some of the “least popular” stories were stealth-posted like that; back in the day, they probably would have gotten their fair share of attention on LiveJournal, where they were initially posted.

There are also stories that are written for events that necessarily get more attention as part of those events.

Some observations: My older work is overwhelmingly the more popular. None of the “most popular” stories were written within the last three years.

Part of me always wants to despair at this: I’m not as good of a writer as I once was! I’m washed up! No one wants to read me anymore! Then the common-sense realization that some of those stories have had a decade to receive the comments and favorites they have catches up to me. Two of the stories (”The Bearer of Light” and The Sovereign and the Priest) were stories done within the past five years, so newer things can catch up, it just takes time.

I’m also in the odd position of having been part of not what I term the first wave of Silmarillion fanfic--that which was written before the LotR films and at the outset of online fandom/Web 2.0--but coming on-board at the beginning of the second wave: Tolkien fanfic written around the time of the LotR films (and their immediate aftermath) and at the rise of Tolkien-specific archives and LiveJournal as the primary means of sharing fanfic. (Versus multifandom sites like fanfiction.net or early social media platforms like Yahoo! Groups.)

As a bit of a historical tangent, there was a strange exodus of first-wave writers in 2005. If you look at the posting history on Silmfics, activity dwindled in 2004, then plummeted in 2005. I’ve never fully figured out why this was. A first-wave author who didn’t leave the fandom around this time once told me that the feeling was that everything there was to be discussed had been discussed. Of course, we second-wavers--some of us, like me, brought in by the LotR films--were eager to start all over again, and I wonder if that didn’t have something to do with it too. (I know that there were similar feelings around the time of the Hobbit films among more veteran Tolkien fans: that new fans had exploded on the scene, ready to reinvent wheels that we’d been happily rolling along with for the better part of a decade, and that these veteran fans were not only unappreciated for their contributions but didn’t want to get involved again at square one.)

Anyway, as someone who came on at the start of the second wave, I was in the unique position to put my stories before a very large and enthusiastic audience of Tolkien fans (even if most of them were not Silmarillion fans) and also to use my writing to address issues concerning canon that were huge at the time. Another Man’s Cage, which was not surprisingly my most popular work (and is also one of my oldest, having been posted in 2005, at the time of the first-wave exodus), was in many ways as much a work of meta as fiction, at least in my mind. I wrote it, never intending to share it, with the express purpose of correcting what I saw as wrongheaded interpretations of the characters and approaches to canon. It’s no surprise, now that AMC was posted more than 12 years ago, to hear people sometimes say that they felt it gave them permission to write Silmfic differently than it’d been done to that point. I don’t think this is because its ideas were that original--I was pretty new to the fandom and most of the ideas in it were being discussed in circles of fans who discussed The Silmarillion, and it was my fictional contribution to that discussion--but because it happened to appear at the right place at the right time: in a vacuum left by the first-wavers and with a strong canatical sentiment acting to censor (sometimes explicitly so, through archive/group policies) content that was deemed “noncanonical”--and that was a pretty broad designation in those days.

There was a whole constellation of shorter works associated with AMC and written around the same time, many of them among the “4 favorites” in position #5 on the most popular list. Anyway, I will never recreate the historical circumstances within the fandom--circumstances that, looking back, were both tumultuous and often partisan--that made those stories as important as they became. I am grateful that my voice was heard at that time and that my work did its part to shape the fandom as it is now (which is far from perfect but also not as openly homophobic and intolerant as it was at the outset of the second wave either).

Longer works are also among my most popular, occupying the top four and top three positions on the two most popular lists. This isn’t terribly surprising either, since longer works tend to allow characterization and worldbuilding that, in my opinion, allow a good writer to create an exceptional story. Unlike the above observations about older works (and how I feel my Silmarillion writing will never be as important as my earliest--and worst-written!--work was), this is encouraging because I prefer longer works, and there has always been angst among writers of novellas and novels that longer works don’t get the attention and aren’t, therefore, worth the significant time spent crafting them. (This is also not the first time I’ve made this observation, using different data.)

On the least popular list, not surprisingly, two works aren’t even fiction: There is a poem and an essay on there, both of which tend not to receive the attention that fiction does. In addition to stealth-posted stories, quite a few stories on there (including the least of the least popular) were written to the specific requests of friends, some of them rather niche requests less likely to appeal broadly to readers (and possibly not something I would have ever written either, if not asked to do so, which begs the question of whether I even put in the full effort to make those pieces my best work). Of the stories there, only “The Choices of Spirits” really surprises me, as I do like that story--but it is also older and was stealth-posted, so people either had likely commented on it years prior or don’t even know it’s there. I don’t feel like “Statues” is a bad story either but, likewise, it was stealth-posted.

Today’s Date: August 12, 2017 (in case you do this again in a year’s time)

My SWG Author Page: http://www.silmarillionwritersguild.org/archive/home/viewuser.php?uid=1

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this. :)

#dawn felagund #silmarillion #tolkien fan fiction #tolkien fandom history

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thehopefulraincoat · 8 years

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Artist Problem #1

Keeping track of and managing time.

Okay, maybe that’s not the number 1 issue for every artist, but it’s certainly one that’s up there for me. And honestly, who doesn’t struggle with this in some way? But there’s no magic solution to it, so where do we start?

Let’s start here: you’ve got to find something that works for you. I’ve tried so many things that I quit after a short time because it just didn’t fit into my flow of work. Now, I don’t mean that if it doesn’t immediately click, then just give up. It’s said 30 days to form a habit. But I’ve also realized the importance of finding something that fits me.

For this topic, I’m going to go through the things I use and tell you what they are, how they work, and how I use them.

Scheduling:

Firstly, I use Google Calendar. Obviously, it’s a calendar and in this instance, I probably don’t need to explain how you use it, but a few reasons I like to use this calendar particularly is that it syncs between my phone and my computer (and sends reminder to both), and because it makes it easy to get the overarching view of the month as well as a close up look at the day.

Now, I use it to keep track of birthdays, things that fall outside of my normal schedule, and recurring stuff like my Bible study (or to keep track of when I don’t have it, more so, or when it’s not at the usual time). It’s not just for art, but by keep track of the other areas of my life, I can better keep track of my time doing art. For example, if I know I’m busy all weekend, I probably shouldn’t plan anything additional Monday-Friday because if I don’t have enough time to finish things, I know I certainly won’t over the weekend. Other things I do to make it work for me is coloring coding events. Church stuff is purple, art stuff is blue, birthdays are green, appointments are red, etc. Since I’m a visual thinker, my stuff has to be visually organized and colors allow me to look at things and at a glance know what’s what.

Trello is the other tool I use for scheduling. It’s designed to let you keep track of tasks for a variety of big/complicated projects. You can create “boards,” in each board you can create “cards” (essentially lists), and each item can be modified via comments you can leave on them, color labels you can add, and checklists.

I probably don’t use Trello quite the way it’s actually designed to be used. Mainly I use one board (though I have a second one where I dump notes about art ideas) where I have 1 card for each day, 1 card to serve as a misc to-do-list for things that just need to be done eventually, 1 card for things that have to happen this week but not necessarily on a particular day, and 1 card for overarching tasks (each item on this card has a checklist, so long term goals can be checked off one task at a time, completed over weeks or months as necessary).

Why I really love Trello is that I can color code, create sublists for items, and easily drag items from one list to another as needed. As I go through a day, I’ll complete, say, my daily art practice/sketching. I’ll have written it as “ART: Practice” and when I finish it, added a blue label, signaling that it’s done. Misc tasks are labeled pink when finished, orange is for chores when finished, and green for self-care, etc. This allows me to see at a glance how my day is getting used and by adding the color labels, I can see my items being “checked off.” The To Do list cards (as opposed to the Monday through Sunday ones) also allow me to sort things and keep a running list of stuff without having everything I ever need to get done on one big To Do list for the day.

Because I’m very visual, long chaotic lists can leave me overwhelmed, but if I don’t write everything down, I forget things. Having my lists broken up makes them seem more manageable, and checklists and color labels allow me to see that I’m getting things done.

(And yellow is reserved for “God time,” aka my personal Bible study, as opposed to my group Bible study, for those who might wonder.) If I’m having a particularly bad day, I can add in tasks to encourage me to feel like I’m getting things done (which helps me actually start getting things done). Like maybe I’m having a hard time focusings, but I did finally message that one friend back and I also finally got dressed. I’ll add those to my list and color label them. Feeling like you’re getting something done is really important when you’re overwhelmed or struggling with motivation. The trick is to move into actually getting things done.

Another trick, which I haven’t stuck to using, but might work for you, is rating your tasks. You can actually see it on the item “To promote my art.” You add plus signs to rate how important a task is (+ meaning unimportant & +++++ being VERY important) and you add divider symbols for how hard a task is (| is easy and ||||| is hard). This way you can

A good alternative to how I use Trello+Google Calendar is something called bullet journaling. You can look up how to do it with a simple Google search and all you need is a pen and a journal. I highly recommend it if something like what I do might work for you, but you’d rather have it all in one place and do it analog-style (though maybe an online equivalent exists?).

Goals:

Obviously, I use Trello a bit for goals, as I have that “Overarching Tasks” list where vaguer things like “Promote my art” are divided into more practical (but still too big to be considered a single step) sub-headings, like “complete my new website.”

This is where MS Word comes in (or really anything you can write out lists of goals on). I’m pretty sure you all know how Word works so I won’t explain, but I will give you a screenshot of some of my goals.

(Sorry, I’m too lazy to resize them)

This is just a sample of the whole list, but keeping track of big goals and then making do-able or “bite size” tasks for each goal is really important. It makes what is overwhelming seem possible and gives you a way to know what step to take next. If you know what you need to do next without having to try to remember what you’ve done and what you’ve yet to do, then you’re gonna save yourself a lot of time.

Time Tracking:

Everyone’s favorite section! Literal keeping track of time! (Or am I the only one excited here?) Anywho, Snaptimer is a simple free downloadable count-down timer. I use it for when I want to take breaks, which usually are on the computer. I’ll set it for however long I want and it goes off when I’m done. Plus it can be set to remain “on top” so you can see it counting down or it can be set to have a pop-up when it reaches zero, so it can alert you that your time is up both audibly and visually. Some nice little bonuses are that you can change the color, size, and font of the numbers and that you can customize the timer sound too (mine was a teapot whistle for a while).

RescueTime is a tracking timer. By that, I mean that it tracks how long I spend on what sites and in what programs (because I’ve downloaded it to my browser, phone, and to my desktop). Then if it can figure out what type of site it is (such as it knows that Facebook is social media and social media is distracting, generally), it categorizes it from Very Productive to Very Distracting (with Neutral in the middle for things it can’t categorize or that can’t be considered to be mostly productive or mostly unproductive). With this, I can get a snapshot of how productive my online time has been. It also lets you change the status of a site (like I’ve used Craigslist for job hunting in the past, but at first Rescuetime listed it as Distracting because it thought it was a shopping website and thus that I was shopping, so I changed it to Very Productive), it lets you delete time (for things like if you left Facebook open while you were away from your technology doing something productive), and finally it lets you set goals, like spending less than 4 hours a day on “Unproductive” things.

This is what the main part of the RescueTime dashboard looks like. I’ve only logged 2 hours and 23 minutes, but of that, only 40% has been productive (Note that the 40% ignores what is neutral - In this case, most of the neutral section is Youtube, which normally I use to listen to music, so it’s not a distraction but something that helps me work. Some days though, it’s just a distraction, like today.).

Lastly, for this section is possibly my favorite tool: Toggl. It’s a count-up timer that is just set up so nicely. You can use the online page, the desktop app, or the phone app and they all sync up to each other. Mostly, I use the desktop app, as I spend a lot of time on or near my computer. Toggl allows you to time a task, assign that task a project (which can be color coded - seeing a theme yet?), and add tags to the task. The tags and the projects allow you to go on the website and look at charts of how you’re time is divided up and they’ll email you weekly a breakdown of your time.

Here’s a glimpse at the Toggle Dashboard (Ugh, this last week has not been the best week for me, due to a few things that came up. This also doesn’t include the time I was at my job.). It’s really good for someone who needs visual aids and flexible structure. Here’s a quick breakdown of how I track things for art: admin work (this I use purple for and it includes tasks like working on making my website, designing and buying business cards, learning about HTML to do some edits to my site, etc.), practice work (This is a light blue and includes Sketch dailies, figure drawing, etc), misc small projects (these arecurrently a radder purple and can be anything that’s just a one-off image that will be more work than a sketch, but less than a multi-image or large project that takes a lot of planning; a task in this category might be labeled by what I think I’ll name the piece or simply a short description), and big projects (these will vary in label color depending on the project and can be anything like my Fairyland project which took months and was multiple images; a task in this group might be named by the title of the chapter I’m illustrating, for example).

Accountability:

Finally, the last thing I’m going to list is Discord.

Discord is a chat/messaging system designed largely to be used by gamers, but I use it, along with a group of friends, as the home to a critique group. Because Discord allows you to not only message people individually or in small groups, but also to set up servers that can permanently house large groups and then allows you to break those servers down into channels, it makes a nice set up for a crit group. We have a channel for us to post goals and make reminders, a channel for serious critique, a channel for sketches and things we may only want some light crit on or that we don’t care for crit at all, a channel for sharing art that inspires us, and a general channel for anything else. These people can pester me if I haven’t posted in a while and give me advice and encouragement to keep going.

Really, this can be done on numerous other platforms or with in-person meetings, but because many of my friends aren’t super close, transporting art can be a pain, and Discord has a nice multi-channel set up, I recommend it if you want to try something like I’ve discussed.

Don’t discount being held accountable by friends and family that aren’t artists too, though. Sometimes those people will be the best at holding you to things you need to get done!

Final Notes:

Find what works for you! Experiment. When something doesn’t to seem to pan out, take note of what worked and what didn’t. It’ll help you move towards something that works best for you.

Tough it out! You need to remember why you love art. You need to think about what you’re trying to achieve. Something I read once that helped me was, “The next time you feel like giving up on a project, do this instead: close your eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine how great you’ll feel when you finish the project. Because our subconscious minds are often unable to tell the difference between real and imagined, visualizing the final result can help us stay focused on completing it.”

Have accountability! Be that your best friend who loves your art, your mom who doesn’t get it, your art teacher you’re really close to, or your classmate in art college, there’s someone who can help you. Better yet, have that person find something you can hold them to so that it’s mutually beneficial.

ALL OF THESE PROGRAMS ARE FREE! (Well, except for Word, I suppose, but that or an equivalent comes with pretty much every computer) Some of them have paid premium options, but honestly, I think that they work fine without the premium stuff.

So good luck and I hope maybe something I’ve discussed will be of help to you~

#productivity #artist problems #time mangement #art help #sketchblog blogging #artist problem 1 #artist problem number 1 #the hopeful update

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jessicakmatt · 4 years

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Music Marketing: The 8 Step Digital Music Marketing Plan

Music Marketing: The 8 Step Digital Music Marketing Plan: via LANDR Blog

Releasing new music is always a special and exciting moment.

You worked hard to create something that’s personal to you and now it’s time to share it with the world.

But how to get your tracks in front of as many people as possible?

You don’t want to put in all that time and not have anyone hear what you’ve worked so hard on.

You need a music marketing plan to grow your audience and capture the hearts of new listeners.

In this article, we’ll look at everything you can do to successfully piece together a great music marketing campaign.

Plus, we’ll show you how to promote your music in the lead up to your release and post-launch.

1. Grow your following on social media

Your social media following is the quickest measure of your popularity and reach.

But don’t get discouraged. You don’t need tens of thousands of followers to be considered successful.

Having a small niche of followers who care about you is often enough to convince labels and press that your music is worth their attention.

There’s plenty of ways to increase your following.

Here’s a few ideas:

Playing shows in your local scene

Engaging in conversations online

Regularly posting about your creative process, music, and life

Networking with other artists

Focus on finding the right followers for your social media accounts.

1000 loyal fans are always worth more than 100,000 lukewarm (or even fake) followers.

2. Get a band website

Band websites are a music marketing tool that musicians often overlook.

When you create a website for your project you’re claiming an online space that’s uniquely yours.

You can design your website in any way you like, and you can use it for a number of different purposes.

For example, a website can be used to host your electronic press kit, collect fan emails for a newsletter, announce upcoming tours and events, or serve as a conceptual art piece.

The cool part about owning a website is that its content is up to you!

And don’t worry about coding, tools like Squarespace or WordPress make it easy to build a custom website using a cool template.

3. Develop your EPK

If you’re planning a big release, you really need to piece together a strong EPK.

Getting press coverage should be a big focus if you’re just getting started.

We’ve written about how to make the perfect EPK before, but here’s a few quick tips.

Keep it simple

Include basic details about the release

Mention any major shows

Include past press coverage

Include your music, artist pictures, and any relevant music videos.

Once your press kit is ready your best bet is to send it to journalists, radio stations, blogs, and podcasts that already know about you.

If you’ve gotten press from playing shows in your local scene first reach out to any outlets that previously covered you.

It’s very rare to have your EPK get picked up by a media group that hasn’t heard of you yet.

Industry professionals get thousands of cold emails a day from hopeful artists looking for coverage.

Practice proper email etiquette to respect their time and increase your chances of getting a response

4. Release singles from your album early on

It’s really common these days to see artists release singles sequentially in the lead up to a big release.

So once you plan the actual date of your album’s release, plan to release a few singles up to a month in advance.

That way you can treat the launch of each single as a mini-release, complete with a round of press, social posts, and even a music video.

This is why you’ll benefit from having some kind of video to accompany any single from your release.

You’ll benefit from having some kind of video to accompany any single from your release.

Scheduling your releases for online streaming is easy if you work with a distribution service like LANDR.

5. Paid promotion tactics

Digital advertising is a relatively new music marketing tactic for artists.

If you use it, you need to be careful since it won’t be effective and can cost a lot of money if you don’t do it right.

The main philosophy behind pay per click advertising is that you only want to pay for a click that will earn you money.

Only pay for a click that will earn you money.

That means targeting your paid ads to the kind of people who buy vinyl, concert tickets, merch, or at the very least stream your music.

As a starting point, your best bet is to boost posts about your single or album on social media.

Each social media platform has its own way of boosting posts, but let’s dive into how it works on Instagram.

How to boost posts on Instagram

In Instagram’s case, you have to turn your account into a business account, you can do this in the settings of your account.

Beyond boosting there’s a number of benefits to getting a business account including stats about followers and engagement and the option to put your contact in your bio.

Once you have a business profile follow these three steps to start boosting posts:

Step 1: Click the promote button at the bottom of the post you want to promote

Step 2: Pick a goal for your ad.

You’ll have the choice between profile visits, website visits, and promotion visits. Depending on the type of post you’re promoting the goal will change.

A new album might do best with profile or promotion views, while concert promotions will do better by encouraging ticketing website clicks where viewers can purchase tickets.

Step 3: Pick an audience for your ad.

Instagram gives you the choice between automatic, local, and manual targeting.

Automatic targeting uses Instagram’s algorithms to target people like your followers, which is great for album promotion.

Local targeting chooses people in a specific location, which is perfect for concert tickets.

Manual targeting allows you to customize who exactly will see the ad.

When is paying for online promotion worth your money?

Boosting posts to your followers ensures that people who know and care about your recordings most see your ads.

Going beyond boosted posts can be risky since pay per click advertising can get pretty complicated very quickly.

You may be better off hiring a specialist to run your paid campaigns for you, or relying on an in house expert if you have a record label supporting your release.

6. Get playlisted

Playlists and algorithm recommendations are one of the most common ways to discover new music today.

Whenever you release a song or album, make an effort to get placements on relevant streaming playlists.

There’s a few ways to do this.

The first way is to flag your album for playlisting when publishing it on Spotify and correctly identifying its genre and subgenres.

This won’t mean your album is guaranteed a playlist placement, but it means you’ll have a chance.

The second way to get your music playlisted is to work with a music publisher that has pre-existing relationships with streaming platforms and can get you an in.

Your last way to get on a playlist is by developing relationships with blogs and other media that make playlists that are independent from Spotify.

This is a great plan if your music appeals to a specific niche since smaller playlist makers like Resident Advisor or BIRP often focus on niche music.

7. Run a college radio PR campaign

When I ran a local tape label in my early twenties one of the most effective DIY methods we had for promoting our releases was college radio PR campaigns.

We had a list of local college radio station addresses across the country, so we bought and burnt CDs, packaged them up nicely and sent them in the mail.

For less than two hundred dollars we were able to get our artists played across the country.

It worked because college radio stations get a ton of online submissions, so they love getting physical CDs in the mail.

Here’s a couple tips for making sure your radio PR blitz actually works.

Label the CD’s spine with your artist and album name.

Since the CD will live on a shelf in the radio station’s library, you need all the important information to be clearly visible on the spine so the DJ can see it.

Send the CD in a nice package

When we sent our CDs we included tons of stickers and a handwritten thank you card.

I know it worked because we got tagged in several radio station’s Instagram posts thanking us for the note and package.

Follow up with the radio stations by email a week after sending your packages

This helps to identify which stations checked out your package and confirm if your PR campaign was successful or not.

Once you know what radio stations actually opened and played your package, you know who to skip and who to keep in contact with for your next PR campaign.

8. Launch your album in style

It’s time for a big party to celebrate your finished release so why not plan a big launch show and tour for your new record.

It’s not just another round of PR, it’s your opportunity to start generating real excitement about your new release.

It doesn’t matter how big your project is, whether it’s a local dive bar or a mid-size night club you can find an appropriate venue for your release show.

Whether it’s a local dive bar or a mid-size night club you can find an appropriate venue for your release show.

Make a big deal about it on your social media accounts in advance of the launch day, and make sure to book acts that compliment your music and will draw new audiences in.

Then plan a small local tour to other cities in your area. I’m sure you can find a local bar show to play in the next city over.

Running a small tour is a great way to prove you’re serious about your release.

Your music marketing plan is going to work

If you put the same effort into your music marketing plan as you put into your music you’ll have success with your next release.

Your best bet is to put together a plan and stick to it.

When you find your audience and grow your fan base, all the hard work will be worth it.

Congratulations on the new release, now get out there and promote it!

The post Music Marketing: The 8 Step Digital Music Marketing Plan appeared first on LANDR Blog.

from LANDR Blog https://blog.landr.com/music-marketing/ via https://www.youtube.com/user/corporatethief/playlists from Steve Hart https://stevehartcom.tumblr.com/post/614928149521760256

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dailymemesworld · 4 years

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17 Ways You Can Make Money Online Right Now

It's possible to make money online to work at home–or use these skills to eventually travel the ... [+] world.

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Want to make money without leaving home during the coronavirus pandemic? Or do you want to figure out ways to make money online so that you can fund your travels when coronavirus subsides? International Living—a website dedicated to helping people live and travel aboard—has just issued an insightful new report on 50 ways to make money in retirement. The report is aimed at retirees who want to fund their lives overseas, but here’s the secret gem: Hidden between the advice on opening a gallery, becoming a tour guide or joining the craft beer revolution, you’ll find smart advice that anyone can use to make money online. “No matter your skill set, no matter what you do now or did in the past, there is an option that will align with your own skills and passions,” the InternationalLiving.Com editors explain.

According to Jennifer Stevens, executive editor at International Living, the list is vast, but it isn’t comprehensive. “We created it to give people a sense for the scope of opportunity out there,” says Stevens. “We’ve written lots about the different ways expats abroad fund their lives. Sometimes it’s with online work—like writing or drop-shipping. Sometimes it’s in-person services they provide, from running a consignment store to wedding planning. Certainly, the online opportunities provide great flexibility and portability. But it’s worth pointing out that business owners in many places tell us that it’s much easier to start a business abroad because it’s often less expensive and less bureaucratic than it is at home.”

Though it might seem like an unusual time to start a new career, Jeff Opdyke—the Prague-based editor of The Savvy Retiree and contributor to International Living—says that “it’s up to us to learn how to take back control of our own lives, of our lifestyles and our personal happiness.”

Opdyke also points out that for all the damage coronavirus has wrought and all the damage still to come, it might have some positive outcomes when it comes to the work world. “What this crisis is demonstrating is the capacity for so many workers to untether themselves from cubicles and work from home—or wherever,” he says. “In the cold, corporate calculus of a post-corona world, I think we’re going to see an increasing number of visionary companies realize that there are vast cost savings to be had in letting workers work from wherever. There’s no need to pay the costs of running a cubicle farm when workers already have places they can work—their home, a coffee shop, wherever. And I think we will see increased productivity from this because workers will be motivated.”

So the lesson here is that while you might be working from home now, this might eventually translate into living and working abroad—and living the dream. Opdyke’s advice? “Be as productive as you possibly can. Be over-productive. Step up your game so that when all of this over, you have some potential leverage to talk to your bosses about trying a work-at-home life. That’s assuming, of course, you like your work-at-home life. Not everyone will. But if you feel the freedom those of us working remotely feel, then now, amid this crisis, is a great opportunity for you to shine so that bosses take note.”

So whether you’re looking to live in a foreign country some day, just want to work from home in the current coronavirus environment or want to restructure your career to be able to work remotely forever, read on for 17 ways you can make money online. It’s valuable information to have during this current economic crisis—and beyond.

After that, we’ve got three creative money-making ideas from the International Living list that we dream about doing when the world gets back to normal.

Photography can help you fuel your career right now.

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1. Sell Your Photos

Do you have photo skills or live in an area where images are in demand? “Stock photography websites are huge repositories of photographs, covering almost every possible subject you could imagine,” advises International Living. So how does it work? Photographers can upload their images to any one of a number of huge databases, allowing magazine editors, designers or any organization with a website to buy them. And the beauty of stock websites: Photos can be sold any number of times—so you can continue to make money without any effort. Photography sites to check out include Shutterstock, Photoshelter and Getty Images.

2. Create How-To Videos

“In recent years, YouTube has grown into the go-to source for all manner of video courses and guides,” says International Living. “Instructors can monetize their videos by charging a subscription fee or password protecting content for paying customers only.” This article shares some tips from one real estate agent who made $100,000 in one month on YouTube. Another piece of advice from International Living: Get to know the phrases that people search for. To find potential search phrases, start typing “how to [your topic]” into YouTube’s search bar and notice what phrases are generated in the auto-fill dropdown. Make sure to use the same keywords when you write your video title, description, and tags.

3. Become a Copywriter

Want to earn a great income no matter where you live—a house by the sea in Latin America, an historic European city or even on a Greek island? Copywriting could be ideal for you. According to International Living, “copywriting is a mega-industry, ripe with opportunity. And yearning for people who can fuel it with fresh marketing messages and one of the best benefits of the freelance copywriter’s lifestyle is that you can get paid in U.S. Dollars…yet live virtually anywhere in the world.” Express Writers has tips on how to become a copywriter and is also a resource for jobs.

You can teach English anywhere or online.

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4. Teach English

“If you’re a native English speaker, you may not realize it, but you already have the number one qualification you need for a fun, portable income that can hand you a steady paycheck from anywhere in the world,” says International Living. Some resources include GoOverseas.Com, TeachAway (teach English online to Chinese students), iTutorGroup (teach English online to Taiwanese children and adults) and English Hunt (teach English on the phone to adult students in Korea)

5. Turn Your Interests Into a Podcast That Pays

“Podcasting doesn’t have to be complicated,” says International Living. With a microphone, laptop and free recording software, you’ll be up and running. Plus, podcasts don’t need to run every day (once a week is best) and are better when they’re short. There are a number of ways to make money from a podcast. The most obvious is commercial sponsorship, but you can also use it as a platform to advertise your own products or services. NPR has a great guide to launching a podcast here.

6. Set up a Content and Web Development Business

Do you know how to do web and content development? You can offer these services to anyone via online tools that make developing beautiful websites a snap. Some resources include WordPress, Weebly and Joomla.

With translation, you can work from home or anywhere.

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7. Become a Translator and Interpreter

Do you speak another language? Anywhere you find expat communities—and where English is not the first language—you’ll find a need for interpreting and translation services. You can also do translation and interpretation online. You’ll find a number of resources for being a translator or an interpreter here; one of the best is Welocalize, which ranked at the top of this list of the top 20 companies for remote jobs in 2020.

8. Try Drop-shipping

Have you heard of drop-shipping? It’s a method of retail where the seller doesn’t actually have a physical inventory. Instead, when a customer makes an order, you purchase the item from a third party, and they ship it directly to the customer. “This means you’ll never have to fork over a single dime to store your products or maintain your inventory,” advises International Living. “And you’ll never have to buy products in bulk, hoping to sell enough to recoup your investment.” This method can be done with online selling platforms like eBay or Amazon. You can find out more about drop-shipping in this helpful article from Shopify.

9. Tutor

“Establishing your own tutoring service can be a lucrative business that provides you with a comfortable and flexible lifestyle,” advises International Living. “The best part of all, you can set up a tutoring business in almost any country in the world.” A tip: Offer discounts to clients who promote your business. “Word-of-mouth marketing is still one of the most valuable marketing tools you can have when starting out,” advises International Living. The site Tutors.Com has a list of the best online tutoring jobs, and you can also apply to be a tutor at Tutorme.Com.

10. Become a Freelance Proofreader

Proofreading is another lucrative online career. “Most agencies will pay around 25% of the price of a translated document to a proofreader,” advises International Living. “Agencies charge about $75 for the translation of a five-page standard business document. So proofing the same document—which takes about an hour—pays out about $18 to $20.” You can work full time, part-time or around-the-clock. Mediabistro—a site that offers resources for media professionals—has tips on how to become a proofreader.

Are you a fast typist? Consider being a transcriber.

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11. Type for Cash

Are you a fast typist? Transcribing is simple: Listen to an audio file through headphones and type it out. “As a transcriber, your pay is directly related to how fast you type,” advises International Living. “Transcription jobs are paid by the audio hour (the length of the audio file), rather than by the hour worked. The time spent on a transcript is influenced by the audio quality, background noise, the accent of the speaker and the speed at which people speak.” The average transcriber—typing between 75 and 100 words per minute—will complete one audio hour in four hours worked. Consider the company Rev.Com, which hires freelance transcribers.

12. Create a Money-Making Blog

Do you have an area of expertise? Share your advice on a blog. If travel is your area of expertise, think about what you have to offer: Are you an expert in luxury travel or budget travel? Can you share advice about certain activities like hiking or shopping? “The more specific you get, the easier it’ll be to attract an engaged audience and to earn money with your site,” advises International Living. The sites Squarespace and Wix have tips on how to create blogs and can also host them.

13. Tap Into the E-Book Business

The e-book business is a great way to earn money. You can create your own (Kindle has a guide for how to do it). Or find a book that’s already been published in print and license it to publish online. You can pay the author 8-15% royalties based on net sales or a one-time payment for the online publishing rights.

14. Set up an Online Course

Or go beyond writing an e-book and create a whole online course with tutorials, PDF downloads and videos. It’s a great way to create passive income because people will pay for the info and can go at their own pace or post questions related to the course in a dedicated group. Here’s one resource for creating and selling online courses: LearnWorlds, which makes it possible for anyone to profit from their knowledge and experience by creating an online program.

Life coaching can be done online.

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15. Become a Life Coach (or Even a Travel Coach)

“Life coaching is a thought-provoking and creative process that helps people focus on both personal and professional goals,” advises International Living. “People use life coaching to overcome fears, boost their self-confidence, create goals and instill success-oriented habits.” You can find thousands of online training programs on how to be a life coach, and many certification programs offer an entire website setup once training is completed. If travel is your area of expertise, you can even become a travel coach. Read this story about a travel writer who became a travel coach.

16. Become an Audiobook Narrator

“Audiobooks are an increasingly popular form of entertainment. The convenience factor of smartphones has led to an industry boom,” advises International Living. “That’s creating a demand for freelance narrators.” This site has advice on learning how to become an audiobook narrator.

17. Internet Research and Surveys

Another way to make good money is by surfing the Internet in your spare time or filling out online surveys. “If you’re looking for a way to make an extra $1,000, $2,000 a month part-time—then Internet research is for you,” advises International Living. Add the site Qmee to your browser, and if you click on a search result, you'll earn money. You can also earn cash for taking Qmee surveys and sharing your opinions on brands. Other survey sites include SurveyBods, Survey Junkie and Valued Opinions. Another way to make a series of small cash rewards while on the go? With the new app Current, travelers can make up to an extra $600 a year by simply listening to music and performing various tasks.

A travel job we dream about: farming and living off the land.

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Plus: 3 Travel Jobs that We Dream About

1. Farming and Living Off the Land

“Farming can be one of the most fulfilling lifestyles you can embark on,” advises International Living. “But many might dismiss it as too much hard work, or too expensive to get started.” That may be true in the US, but overseas there are opportunities that will make it easier than you think to live off the land—and you can make money while you’re at it. It could be as simple as creating a veggie patch to feed the family and bring in a little extra cash at the local farmers’ market. Or you could oversee a large acreage of land that turns out big profits.

2. Run an Ecolodge

“In countries all around the world, expats have discovered the joys—and profit—of running an ecolodge,” advises International Living. “They’re taking advantage of a growing trend in ecotourism to fund their peaceful, nature-filled lives overseas—and they’ve discovered some of the most affordable, breathtaking destinations to do it.

Ecolodges are usually located in destinations that cater to tourists looking for nature-focused vacations and can be set up anywhere that is reachable by transport.

3. Try Cheesemaking

Who doesn’t love cheese? “Cheesemaking can be a satisfying and fun hobby, but beyond that, it can provide an income as well,” advises International Living. “In certain expat havens in Latin America, good cheese is in high demand.”

• “Coronavirus Advice: The Happiest People In The World Share 5 Ways To Be Happy”

• “Ranked: The 20 Happiest Countries In The World”

• “Coronavirus Travel: Is This Your Chance To Book The Cheapest Vacation Ever?”

• “Work From Home Or Anywhere: Top 20 Companies For Remote Jobs In 2020”

#Lm creators

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