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#but i applied at a bookstore yesterday!!! and if i get that one i’ll be so incredibly happy and honest to god the day i hand in my

psychosomaticdeicide · 2 years

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Applied for a local hardware store owned by the same person as the hardware store my sibling applied to yesterday and to a chain bookstore I’d have to drive on the highway to get to. (Because the one closer to me isn’t hiring.)

I’ve also applied to GameStop and the county libraries.

So far I have some old guy’s word that I’ll get a call in a week and a single automated email from Barnes and Noble that says they’ll contact me if I fit the job. The library application website said it’ll take several weeks for my application to get processed but I’m not entirely sure how they’ll contact me about it.

#incoherent screeching into the abyss #LYRE WANTS JOB

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tolle-lege · 3 years

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18/100 Days of Productivity: 12/11/2020

today was my last day of finals!!! And you know, I turned in the worst piece of trash essay ever… to a professor I deeply respect… and, well, I guess it didn’t kill me. Super painful though. Just gotta kind of forget the second half of this semester ever happened. Gotta heal from whatever that was. And move on!

And boy am I ever ready to move on!

With finals over, I’ve been doing so much!

I started The Color Purple by Alice Walker yesterday, and I’ll probably finish it tonight! ft. pictures of my copy, which was discarded by a library– honestly, most of my books are bought from those little bookstores you find in the backs of libraries where everything costs 25 cents!

I did thumbnails for paintings! Because, I’m so extremely broke and in debt (but my education is worth it and I have no regrets!), but I have dear friends who always buy me such nice gifts, so I’m going to give them big, detailed acrylic paintings on canvasses this year. It’s gonna take up so much of my time, but I’m dying to get back into art. I’m dying to be creative, to learn, to improve myself, and sometimes I wonder why it’s so hard for me to do that in a structured way without procrastinating… I really hope I finish these paintings! Might pull a few all nighters, because that’s how I am.

I cleaned the house! Baked for the little siblings! Generally had a good time putting on movies and keeping the little ones happy while my mom was at work!

It’s shaping up to be a good break :)

11th December - What is a favorite family Christmas/holiday memory that has stuck with you through the years? Why? When the family was so broke that we couldn’t afford heat, so my mom turned the oven alllll the way up and opened it, and hung quilts in the doorways to keep the heat in the kitchen, and the whole family just crowded into that little kitchen and spent all day there together. I’m sure my parents were stressed, but my twelve year old self just enjoyed writing stories with my glitter pens and drinking cup after cup of tea.

ALSO I got accepted to the fancy seminar thing I applied to, where they send me a free copy of a book and then I get five weeks of seminar style classes with brilliant professors, and, if that wasn’t cool enough, there’s a stipend! They PAY me to read a book and take awesome classes! Ugh. I am unbelievably lucky.

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bubmyg · 5 years

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dare to begin - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: college!au, f2l (idiots to lovers), amateur model!jeongguk, aspiring photographer!jeongguk, amateur stylist!reader, graphic design student!reader, a touch of angst, mostly tooth rotting fluff

word count: 16,748

summary: jeongguk has a camera and you have a pirated editing software so what better for two broke college students to do than to open a photography business to their…closest friends on facebook or where kim seokjin’s modeling agency wants to sign jeongguk and you don’t know the first thing about curling his hair.

a/n: this was inspired by that random dispatch photoshoot in vegas...i’m not even sorry

“Oh fuck off.”

Jeongguk’s head lifted from where his forehead was pressed between the crook of his elbow, squinting at you through bleary eyes. “...for once, I didn’t even say anything—”

“Not you,” You clicked so angrily on the notification, it didn’t register and you had to jam your index finger into the button again, “The bursar’s office.”

“Oh, did they—” Jeongguk rolled to his back, head half dangling off the end of your bed as he pulled his phone to his face. “—oh. Tuition statements.”

“How can they make us pay for something that hasn’t even started yet? We haven’t even finished this semester.”

“What are they going to do if we don’t pay by the first day of the semester—” Jeongguk’s eyebrows peered at you underneath his phone, “—kick us out?”

You glared at the mass of numbers twisted into the statement until they muddled together and gave your conscious the mirage that the cost was an extra digit more. Your phone skidded across the surface of your desk, coming to a stop in the pointed corner next to a decorative jar of pens and a concert ticket you’d pushed through the cork board material substance lining the back.

“They won’t kick me out?” You didn’t look up from studying a fray of graining wood on the pointed corner of your desk but cocked an eyebrow at the waiver of uncertain concern in Jeongguk’s voice paired with the change in position from we to me, “Will they?”

“I don’t know,” You answered truthfully, arm slung over the back of your desk chair to face his pouted lips still slung backward over your bed. An unspoken why would they kick you out? “I really don’t.”

He answered your rhetorical with closed eyes and his phone pressing to his abdomen, “I don’t know if I’ll...have enough. That much. By then. Even if it’s not until the end of the summer…”

You scolded the glaring image of your bank statement when you gently tried, “There’s all kinds of loans you can apply for. What about scholarships? Isn’t the science department like...the biggest at the university? Surely they offer something—”

“I don’t think I have the grades,” There was a silence occupied by his notebook with messy organic chemistry notes rewritten twice from the previous semester when he’d taken the exact same class. Jeongguk dropped your gaze, shifting until the back of his head was resting on the side of your mattress while he went for his cuticles, picking at the edge of his thumb while soft red crept into his puffed cheeks and flaring nostrils.

You abandoned the open animation file on your laptop that you’d forgotten to click save on for the seventeenth time within the hour, a final project you just had to turn in with a semi coherence to the material of the semester to maintain your existing grade. You stumbled, desk chair catching on the edge of your crumbled rug but it didn’t deter you from flopping in beside Jeongguk, leaning over him with both elbows pressed into his stomach to snatch his notebook. He eyed you curiously under wavy fringe until you settled on him, chin pressed into the bottom of the pages as a concentrated scrunch met the pass of your eyes over his handwriting.

“What are you doing?”

You glanced up, gradual in the drag of your hands up his sides until you could jam your index fingers into the sensitive spots around his ribs, coaxing a soft squirm and a gasping giggle from his lips.

“Helping you get those grades. Do you really want to take organic chemistry for the third time?” Jeongguk didn’t flinch because your inquiry wasn’t teasing or jabbing, it was serious for the sake of never seeing him on the verge of tears over three credit hours again. He shook his head in negation instead, reaching behind him to snatch one of your pillows to drag behind his neck, propping him up just enough to study the curl of your stature against his chest.

“No, ma’am.”

“Good, now pay attention.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You watched Jeongguk sink his teeth into the mint chocolate ice cream balanced two dollops high on a cone with a wrinkle to one side of your nose, the smile on your lips forced when he swallowed the green between his cheeks and quipped, “What?”

“You know what,” You twirled a string of hot fudge onto your plastic fork, mouthing your lips over it until the sweet substance melted on the roof of your mouth, “Forget it.”

He shrugged, happily taking another, literal, bite off the opposite side of the treat tower, lips sponging down the length of his hand to noisily suck on the melted stream of ice cream that had rippled across his knuckles.

You sighed. Jeongguk grinned mint green, “Tastes like freedom.”

“My summer job says otherwise.” The bookstore wasn’t a fun place of employment during the school year let alone when three fourths of the student body was gone.

Jeongguk dabbed at the corner of his lips with a napkin, a sharp contrast to the way he’d been barbarically gnawing his way through the ice cream, “So does my summer tutoring. A lesser of two evils.”

“I suppose…”

“At least we can drink on Wednesday’s now and only feel slightly guilty.”

“You don’t drink.”

“I drink a little—”

“Is this your way of asking me to come over for beer tonight?”

He grinned sheepishly, “Doesn’t have to be for beer. Hoseok moved back home yesterday. I’m extra alone.”

You eyed his prize possession, his camera, encased snugly inside it’s over the shoulder case that Jeongguk kept within grasp on the tiny cafe table shared between the two of you. He followed your gaze, a careful hand coming to rest on the strap even though he knew you respected his comfort enough not to touch it.

“So, what, you talk me into following your wandering ass around the park for hours to take pictures and now you want me to hole up in your apartment and watch whatever terrible nature documentary you’ve found on Netflix?”

Jeongguk mumbled around another chunk of the treat in his palm, unaffected because he knew you were going to show up at his apartment regardless of invitation, “I bought us ice cream, didn’t I?”

You grumbled your thanks into your deviation of attention, pulling your phone to your eyes as you jabbed another spoonful of sundae into your cheeks. Jeongguk continued to happily munch while you scrolled through one social media and then the other, finally landing on Facebook with a disgruntled roll of your eyes the second the first post appeared.

“What?”

“Facebook.”

“Did Yoongi post another Area 51 meme?”

You scrolled to the next post just to confirm that yes, sadly, before scrolling back up to the original source of your offending scoff. You eyed the generic smile plastered on the lips of the girl you’d went to high school with, the same as the generic caption on the generic set of pictures she’d taken of her dog and someone’s baby, advertising a brand new photography business, one she’d be doing on the side with no prices listed and simply a shoot me a text to book an appointment!, a service exclusive to those who knew her and who would pay her a little extra because of that connection and a business page created exclusively for a business that would be forgotten by the end of the summer.

Your lips parted to explain, unfortunate in absently scrolling past Yoongi’s string of laughing emojis at whatever Area 51 meme his conspiracy theorist group chat had sent him that morning, before you were pausing. Thumb freezing, lips parted in a perfect circle, eyes the only thing moving as they swept upward.

Jeongguk watched you like you were seconds away from shedding a shell or sprouting a second head or both, ice cream sticking to the pout of his bottom lip and a new melted stream lipping into the stretch between his thumb and index finger. He didn’t follow your gaze when it jerked from him to his camera bag, watching as your entire being lit like the thing you were sprouting wasn’t a second head but instead a hovering light bulb.

“You know what we should do?”

“...go to the park and take pictures of the playground equipment in obscure angles that strangely turn out to be aesthetically pleasing?”

“Close,” Your nail dug into your screen until you were at the top post again, flipping your phone over while you continued to study the zippers wrapped to the width of Jeongguk’s camera bag. When he’d squinted at the screen for what you deemed necessary to get the gist of the post, you continued, “We should open a photography business.”

Jeongguk squinted, “A what now?”

“A photography business. You take the pictures, I edit them. Foolproof way to earn extra cash.”

“In order to have a photography business we have to have something to photograph…”

“I bet we can get Yoongi to pay us twenty bucks to take pictures of his dog.”

“It’s almost not worth the twenty—”

“Okay, forty dollars,” You shrugged, reaching out with your own clean but crumpled napkin to dab at the excess ice cream on his hand, “I’m sure there’s some of our friends back home who need pictures of their baby. Or their cousin’s baby. Or their little brother’s senior pictures—” You blinked at the confused round of his doe eyes, “—what could it hurt to try?”

After a second of silence and swatting your hand away to lick at the dried ice cream instead, “...well we’ll need examples.”

“Good thing we were just about to go to the park—” You gestured toward his camera bag, “—and that thing is virtually attached to you.”

Jeongguk gradually began to loosen, “You want to do this right now?”

You stood then, binning your virtually untouched sundae before reaching out for his mostly eaten treat. He shoved the last of the cone between his cheeks instead of handing it to you, puffed cheeks innocent as he handed you his mass of crumpled napkins to throw away instead before you were taking both his hands to pull him up.

“What better time than now?” You grinned when he cocked an eyebrow, still holding onto your hands, “C’mon. You can help me edit them tonight.”

Skeptical, “Okay…”

Jeongguk dropped one of your hands to reach for his camera, shrugging it messily over his shoulders while you squeezed the remaining appendage in your grasp, teasing, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to take a ton of pictures of me, anyway.”

You weren’t immune to the soft blush that spread outward from the center of his cheeks, chin dropping as he shouldered his way out of the nearby door, holding it open for you and when you skipped through he grumbled, “Shut up.”

You were fresh off a playful argument about whether he could arrange your hair into a halo of hearts around your head when it happened.

“Not possible,” You dismissed, a disguised threat as you glared up at him from your seated place on the grass. He stepped closer and you held up a steady palm, “Do not touch me or my hair.”

Jeongguk whined, fingers wrapped around his lens as he crouched, twirling and snapping a picture of your indignation. “At least lay down for me? The flowers look nice…”

“These are weeds—”

“Please?”

You obliged because the stars in his eyes told you to, falling backwards to the plush earth with an arm tucked behind your neck and a hefty sigh. He’d stepped between your legs, one foot at your knees and one at your hip as he craned, tongue in cheek in concentration until he mumbled, “I still think the hearts would look cool.”

“I thought you were good at this whole photography thing.”

You retracted into yourself before he could grab you, a shriek of laughter tumbling out of your lips even before his fingers curled into your sides and you flailed an absent foot at his stature squatted over you, chanting I’m sorry, stop! until Jeongguk relented to a messy sitting position next to you in a soft cloud of grass clippings and dust, camera plopped in his lap as he glared at you.

You rolled until you were perched on your elbows, reaching out your previously assaulting foot to prod the light denim on his thighs. When he cocked an eyebrow, you tried, “Any good ones?”

Without missing a beat, he hummed, “As good as we can get with that face of yours.”

“Hey!—”

The tiniest of smiles pressed the ghost of a dimple in Jeongguk’s cheek and he tossed his head, “Come here.”

An awkward waddle over and you were pressed into his side, cheek on his arm as he scrolled through the shots on the digital screen. It was something about his ability to capture shots at just the right moment in just the right lighting with just the right angle that elicited a feeling of fond within you, that even if you didn’t particularly like the squash of your chin between your neck or the way the wind had curled the material of your shirt around your torso, it was still a glimpse into how Jeongguk saw the world, saw you. A strange fuzziness bubbled to the tips of your fingers as he continued to scroll through his lens to what he perceived as your beauty, focused more on the gradual smile that grew higher on his teeth as he flipped past candid shots of you telling him off to staged shots of you perched on a park bench looking as skeptical as you could about the barking squirrel perched just out of frame above you.

“Good, don’t you think?” His fond faced you, further melting the numbness on the edge of your appendages to the entirety of your stature.

You relaxed into his so that your nod brushed against his bicep, afraid of what your face would say if you met his gaze and you mumbled, “Told you we didn’t need heart hair.”

“Hush,” Jeongguk’s screen went black as he set it gently on the cross of his ankles, leaning on his palms to accommodate your stature better, “Do you think we got plenty of examples?”

You continued to stare at his blank screen, skin warm on the fabric covering his arm and suddenly it happened when you blurted, “Let me take some of you.”

A possessive hand curled to obscure your view of the blank preview screen, shoulders jumping as he tried to laugh it off, “No, that’s okay.”

Chin on his shoulder, you dared to look at him and utter, “What? I’ll edit them. I mean, I know your face looks like that but that’s the beauty of technology.”

“My joke,” Jeongguk’s neck craned backward to observe you, smile flustered like the pink that had overtaken more of his cheeks, “...why do you want to?”

You shrugged, “You always take pictures of me. I just thought we could change it up—” You swallowed, “You know. For our business.”

“Ah, marketing technique, huh,” Slowly, he uncovered the device, flicking it back to life with a seasoned thumb as he was stretching it to place it softly on your thigh, “Okay, boss. Where do you want me?”

You’d used a camera before but something so expensive to the price tag but priceless to the wary man before you made it an extra weight in your palms, fumbling at first to get anything that wasn’t blurry. One of your first clear shots was after you’d shoved on broad shoulders until he was seated on a wooden bench, awkward and small at first until you sighed with the camera at your hip.

The exasperated relax that sighed from your lips opened up a new realm that had the strange bubbles from earlier lodging into the base of your throat when Jeongguk reclined, both arms framing the back of the bench and his legs flopped open, that slight crinkle to one edge of his nose still present until you slowly rose the camera and it erased into something effortlessly smug.

“I can’t...I can’t get it to focus.” For two reasons now.

Jeongguk nodded in seeming understanding and you had a hunch he didn’t entirely understand why but he patted the spot next to his thigh on the bench nonetheless. “Come here. Rest your elbow on this and then try. It’ll stabilize it a little bit more…”

You startled yourself and him when you bypassed the bench for his thigh, digging your elbow into the taut muscle as you pulled the camera to your face, catching his surprise first and then the slow smirk that melted back into his features, chin tilting as you got a few more shots before pulling your touch away.

The next set of shots was you frantically ordering him to stay like a dog until you’d jogged the proper distance away (Don’t trip! Watch my camera!) and motioned for him to walk to you. It was rigid at first, just as before, a little too fast and his face was on the edge of bursting into audible giggles. You continued to back away, holding up a palm for him to pause again and then you shouted, “Relax!” louder than before and more important.

There was an easy gait to his walk now, feet crossing as they stepped in front of each other, one hand finding the front pocket of his jeans as the oversized hang of his striped blue shirt crinkled at his thin waist. One hand dared to fluff at his hair, gaze going out to the occupants of the park rather than the desolate intersection to his other side and you couldn’t help but giggle at the unsure smile that crossed his lips immediately after the action.

Jeongguk settled for an easy saunter after that, one hand in his pocket, both in, both out, until you were tired of the clench of his jaw and you called over the raise of his device to the lower half of your face, “Hey! Are those yellow converse you’re wearing?”

He frowned at first, “What’s wrong with my yellow converse?” before breaking into a gentle grin, one that started at the crinkles around his eyes and traveled into the wide pull of his teeth as the easy swing of his steps stumbled into his louder laughter and you continued to click away all the same until he set his sights on you. Hunched back, rolled shoulders, arms comically splayed out behind him as he darted for you, a squeak of surprise leaving your lips and before you could think to hold onto his camera and run, he was on you, arms around your waist to direct his giggles directly over your ear.

The excitement died with gentle sways in the center of the sidewalk. Jeongguk continued to hold your hips as he pulled away, quieter now, “Do you think we have enough now?”

“Plenty,” You held his camera out to him until his grip was secure on it, prodding your index finger to the center of his chest, “Did you want to take anymore? I know you originally wanted to come because you had some ideas for your portfolio…”

He beamed, slightly apologetic in the slant of it on his lips, “It’s okay, we have all summer. I’m...kind of hungry anyway.”

“We just had ice cream!”

“We’ve been here for four hours.”

You eyed the time on your phone and then the dip of the sun behind some wisped clouds in the horizon. “Oh.”

“You’ll come with me another day, though?”

You patted Jeongguk’s chest instead of prodding it. “Of course, Guk.”

He plopped in beside you, two paper plates balanced between his long fingers and the curve of his wrist, each piled high in fresh slices of pizza. One plate was deposited to the coffee table beyond the sway of your ankles, the latter pulled over his thighs to begin happily munching at the toppings while you continued to hack at the keys on your laptop.

“Any progress?” Jeongguk leaned closer with grease stained lips, “Making us look good?”

You hummed, dragging your finger over your touchpad. Another notch down on contrast, another notch up on the chosen filter, some color correction, and lessening of shadows to compensate for the natural lighting.

“Trying my best. And…” You navigated to save the image on the screen, one of Jeongguk walking toward you with a hand in his pocket and an easy expression adorning his otherwise tentative features. “I’m done!”

He pouted, grease stained finger trailing to the screen, “You cut off my shoes.”

“I blame your camera,” You exited out of the program, pulling up your internet browser instead. You paused, the cursor blinking on the search engine and you turned to observe the fish of Jeongguk’s lips as he gnawed on another bite of pizza dough, “...do you really want me to post some of these?”

He dusted his fingers on the edge of his joggers, leaning closer until his cheek was smooshed against the crook of your elbow. “I mean, what can it hurt.”

You began to type then, slow in entering the cursed Facebook and you chatted as you typed, “Should we create an official page for the business and everything?”

“Absolutely we should,” Jeongguk made grabby hands at your laptop until you relented and let him pull it into the awkward curl of his lap. His eyebrows furrowed at the first post on your feed, the same Yoongi Area 51 meme that continued to fester in your feed because Taehyung couldn’t and wouldn’t stop commenting on it and his tongue sandwiched in his molars with further confusion, doe eyes scanning down the length of the screen until the tip of your nail pointed him in the right direction.

Jeongguk hesitated again on the first question. Name.

“Uh…”

“I got it,” You leaned your head against his, softly, “Dare to Begin…”

Dare to begin a new semester that neither of you knew if you could properly pay for. Dare to begin a summer of trying to figure out how to pay for that semester. Dare to begin a new semester by some miracle and then what (figure it out when you get there, survive) with a major you adored and a major he did because photography wasn’t a viable career option. Dare to begin a friendship with someone who photographed the world like the beauty he saw it in but photographed you like he was in love with the world because you existed in it.

Dare to begin a new business on Facebook, of all things.

He wrinkled his nose, “I was just going to go with Flash Fiends or something.”

“Oh, come on,” You reasoned your prior thoughts to something that wouldn’t cause suspicion of your sentiments, “Dare to begin, like weddings? They’re beginning their journey with us. Senior pictures? Beginning a journey. Baby pictures? Again...beginning a long life journey—”

“You’re serious about this?” Jeongguk had already typed Flash Fiends in the name box and you squeaked in indignation.

“I guess not,” Suddenly bashful, “I just thought it was creative…”

“It is,” You blinked and he’d navigated through three other windows before he was typing dare to begin with Flash Fiends as the opening line in the description box. He hacked away some more, a generic description and you equally agreed to put prices in the album with the pictures of the two of you. Another jam of his pinky into the enter key and he lifted up off your side to hand you your laptop back. “There! Okay, now do your thing.”

Doing your thing included dragging all the files into an album, adding searchable hashtags, making the post public, choosing to set the last photo of Jeongguk you’d edited as the cover photo. A couple more clicks to make the post, navigating to share it onto your profile and dropping a tag of his profile and, “My thing is done.”

He took your laptop from you to replace it with the extra plate of pizza, sliding the remote into his hand in the same movement and flicking on the television. “Now,” He gestured solemnly to the litter of devices in front of you, both your phones and the still open laptop, “We wait.”

You remembered two of the share notifications before you dozed off underneath the cozy puff of Jeongguk’s duvet and the heavy weight of his arm draped across your waist. One from Yoongi, an oh so serious I’m going to help my friends! share that included the obligatory you’re very talented, Guk-ah! I’d love to have you shoot Holly one day...comment. One from Taehyung, a less than serious share that included a string of laughing emojis solely on the image of Jeongguk lounging seriously on the wooden park bench.

The notification you most definitely did not remember was the email from Kim Enterprises titled internship inquiry.

You crawled from Jeongguk’s embrace to snatch your laptop, afraid to pull the email up on the tiny screen of your phone in fear you were reading it wrong. The light off the screen roused him from his sleep before your suddenly-not-tired-anymore gasp did.

“What? What’s wrong?” He misjudged the search of his hand for you, gently sliding across your cheek instead of your arm like he’d been aiming but you barely flinched, covering your lips with both hands instead.

“This can’t be real,” The words muffled through your fingers before they were in action again, highlighting the email address and jamming it into the search engine.

“I’m not following you…”

“To be honest,” You clicked on the first result of the search, another gasp raw in your throat when the website, that website, emerged, “Me either.”

“B-Bloom?” Jeongguk squinted at the screen, turning your laptop towards the sleep still coating the fringe stuck in his eyelashes, “What is Bloom?”

“A magazine. An extremely popular magazine.”

He brushed your fingers out of the way to navigate back to the tab with your email on it, squinting at the address, “Why did an extremely popular magazine email you?”

“Let me read this email to you, Guk.”

“I can read—”

“Greetings owner of Flash Fiends. We were extremely intrigued by the contents of your recent business inquiry not for the service at hand but rather the individual seen in some of the photos. The social media entity tagged him as Jeon Jeongguk, and if that is the identity of this individual, we’d be interested in signing him—” You paused, swallowing half your tongue and holding a singular finger up as you inhaled audible through your nose, “—for a summer modeling internship in the interest of some of our newest summer spreads, paid of course. If that is something that would be of interest to you, please reply to this email with an updated resume and we will be in touch. Thank you again, and we look forward to hearing from you. Park Jimin, Department Head of Kim fucking Enterprises and Bloom fucking Inc.”

There was a passing moment of silence, some shifting as Jeongguk fell back into the sheets with his pillow curled in his bare arm and he mumbled, “I told you Flash Fiends was an incredible name.”

“Jeongguk! Did you hear me?”

He hummed, “I saw it, too.”

“And? They want to pay you! This is the perfect opportunity to earn the money you need for next semester!”

When he was silent for a frightening second, you shut your laptop and shucked it to the floor, turning until you were facing him. You’d barely settled when a tiny, forced smile was dimpling into his cheeks. “I’m not going without you,” He tried to provide and you frowned.

“Uhm, yes you absolutely are.”

“I’m not a model, babe.”

“You’re entirely more attractive than you give yourself credit for,” You blinked at him, soft fingers subconsciously reaching to stroke wavy tresses from his gaze, “Come on. What could it hurt to try?”

“You said that about the photography business idea, too, and now look where we are,” He flushed under your touch between his eyebrows, “Besides, are you going to run that alone if I leave?”

You bypassed his sarcasm, “We’re in a place where you could get that money you need for next semester. One step closer to graduation. And all you’d have to do is pose for some pictures. They’ll probably pay for your housing and shit too—”

“Okay, but I’m still not going without you,” You waited on Jeongguk to exhale through his nose, considering something over the top of your head before elaborating, “...if I’m going to try this, you’re going with me. Just like the photography business.” Just like everything.

“You need a resume first.”

“And you need some sort of skill that goes hand in hand with a famous model—” He beamed, “—like yours truly.”

“Fuck off—”

“You could be my assistant.”

“Fuck off twice.”

“What about my stylist?” Jeongguk let the suggestion hang in the air for a second before teasing, “Your eyeliner looks half decent sometimes.”

“And does any part of you genuinely think I want to go with you at this point—”

“We also need someone to fake these resumes for us—” His features wrinkled up, “—can we get arrested for that? Should I apologize to my FBI agent now?”

You ignored him, instead saying simply, “Taehyung.”

The software engineer blinked at you past artificial blue, the light coating the dyed grey locks that parted in all the right places around the circumference of his head, baggy flannel wrapped around his knuckles that drummed absently into his desk.

“So...you were serious about that Facebook post?”

“Not really, but—” You exchanged a glance with Jeongguk, “—now we kind of are.”

Taehyung spun slowly in his desk chair, making one full rotation until he pondered, “So, let me get this straight. You want me to fake resumes for the two of you so that you can get a paid internship at Bloom, aka, one of the biggest fashion magazines in the country, because they somehow, through the power of the internet, found your half-joking, half-serious photoshoot and want to sign the amateur model that is Jeon Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk exchanged a glance with you this time, “Correct.”

The older boy blinked, once, twice, four times before shrugging, pushing sleeves up to his elbows as he dug bare heels into the floor, dragging himself closer to the computer to begin hacking away. The blue light turned white and he mumbled, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Twenty minutes later you were sitting across from Taehyung at his tiny dining table with a manila folder in hand containing two pieces of paper, stapled together neatly in the corner, and printed with thick ink you were almost afraid to touch. The man across from you sucked noisily on coffee from a Pikachu themed mug, taking a massive bite from a chocolate energy bar in the same movement and he spoke through the crumbs gathering on the corners of his lips, “I think you’ll find those sufficient.”

You ignored Jeongguk’s flat out whine at the contents of his papers, gleeing, “Oh, good thinking, Tae. I’ll absolutely take credit for RM’s cheekbones in the Seoul music video.”

“Wait—” Jeongguk placed his hand on your arm until he could drag your fake resume close enough to scan it. Another whine, high pitched and through slanted eyebrows and pouted lips, “—why do you get to be attached to Namjoon?”

“Your crush is showing.”

“At least yours doesn’t say you were a former foot model!”

You couldn’t suppress the snort in your throat, gently prying the wrinkled papers from Jeongguk’s death grip to confirm that Taehyung did, in fact, write that Jeongguk had an impressive track record of modeling for various small shoe companies with posters plastered in every massive mall on the south side of the country.

“Why—”

“Because you can’t see your face, dumbass,” Taehyung finished the bar in hand in two bites, shucking the wrapper into a pile of various other trash on the edge of his dining table, “It’s easier to fake if they do check references. What do you think they’re going to do, pull your socks off to check?”

“There’s approximately a million other parts of my body that aren’t my face.”

“Not quite a million…”

“Anyway,” You flattened both your resumes to the table, tapping on the section that said references with a singular reference, “What is this phone number?”

“Mine,” Another energy bar had materialized from somewhere and the wrapper was loudly crinkling in Taehyung palm as he shrugged into another bite, “I’m your manager now.”

“There’s no way this is going to work.”

“This will work,” He took another swig from his mug and when something like a belch rumbled in his throat you figured out that it wasn’t coffee but something carbonated, “What? Do you not have any trust in me?”

You fiddled in the backseat of the cab, the seat belt too tight on your shoulder and digging into that spot on your neck the more you shifted. You tore your gawking gaze away from the city skyline trailing along outside the window to Jeongguk prodding at his thigh with your index finger.

“You think they’ve called Taehyung yet?”

“If they haven’t yet they’re probably not going to,” His chin swiveled from the window to look at you, gently taking the nervous tap of your hand into his palm and holding it in his lap, “They’ve already said we’re in. We’re already here. It’s okay.”

You were silent through another stop sign and the anger of honking traffic over the soft radio before you uttered, “So Taehyung must be some kind of wizard, then.”

Jeongguk’s palm caught on the back of the driver’s seat when the brakes slammed again, offering you another gentle smile as his thumb swiped over your knuckles, “Evidently.”

“We’re here,” The driver informed you over the ambiance of unmoving traffic and screeching tires, holding out an expectant hand for Jeongguk to jam a wad of cash into before he was pulling you out onto the sidewalk after him.

Backpacks on and suitcases barely lifted over the lip of the trunk of the cab before he was speeding away off the curb in a rare moment of serenity on the street. Your easy going shrug in Jeongguk’s direction was short lived until you turned toward the building in question, your building for the next few months, nonchalant turning to ice even as summer heat burned through the fabric of the hoodie you’d adorned since five am that morning at the airport.

A skyscraper was the easiest way to explain it in layman's terms, towering endless stories high so it almost appeared to curve and sway into the flecks of clouds skimming through the blue sky. It seemed to be made entirely of windows, tinted enough and if you squinted, covered in elegant curtains or outlined with towering succulents in molted clay pots. The front door was sliding glass, accented in gold like the name plate jutting out in an awning over a massive outdoor rug with the same name and logo etched in a shag of the same hue. The longer you gaped, the more people entered or exited through the very glass doors, ingraining the soft mechanical hum they made into the forefront of your conscious along with the polished leather shoes and designer purses and singular wedding bands that likely costs more than you would pay in tuition for four years combined.

“This can’t be it,” You panicked from Jeongguk’s arm again, finding it to dig your fingernails into and turn back onto the street, frantically trying to catch sight of your long gone taxi driver but the street had filled in your moment of disbelief and all shades of yellow and orange began to look the same. “Surely we told him the wrong address.”

“Babe,” He didn’t move his arm so as not to startle you, wincing the further your nails curled into his skin but gentle in his call nonetheless, “Baby, hey—” His eyes trekked the jump of your throat as you swallowed, finally meeting his eye contact, “—let’s just go inside. The worst they can tell us is no.”

They didn’t tell you no but the look from the receptionist told you to be self conscious of the joggers shrunk just above your ankles and the tattered edges of the hoodie curled around your knuckles that curled your skin anemic into the handle of your suitcase while Jeongguk easily chatted through her questions and paperwork, confirming that yes, you were the guests of Kim Enterprise. When you uttered purple to his under the breath pick a color inquiry, you didn’t expect it to be for a spiraling wrist band with a shiny metal key attached to one end, an end that pressed into the pulse point on your wrist. He turned from the desk, a folder in hand and a matching blue band on his wrist, one he shook at you so that the key twisted softly underneath the massive crystal chandelier taunting the space above the front desk.

“We’re on the tenth floor,” He seemed entirely too at ease in the drape of his oversized crew neck and baggy joggers over open-toed sandals amongst luxuries like a jar of pens perched on the edge of the front counter you commended him for grabbing because the shiny ballpoints seemed to be carved of the same, close-to-real gold accented every inch of the building. He flicked his head again, soft bangs bouncing, and you were left to stumble after his stature until his advancements had to pause for a tall man in a matching tracksuit walking a happy looking doberman from the direction that you smelled chlorine.

“Does this place have a pool?” You whispered with your hands braced between his shoulder blades, waiting until the man was out of sight to navigate for the elevators.

Jeongguk waited until he stabbed the button, stepping back to jostle the folder in hand to squint at one of the pages. “Looks like it—” His eyes glinted for a second, “—and a full gym!”

He continued chattering about the amenities while you stepped onto the elevator, listing off the various delivery services that would come to the front lobby versus the ones that would bring it to your door, only pausing through a rant about what the in house cafe coffee cost when you jammed the key on your wrist into the lock of the apartment, your apartment, and pushed the door open.

Jeongguk mirrored your panicked thoughts from earlier when he let go of the handle of his suitcase, causing the lopsided storage to tumble to the hardwood below. He articulated it next, “This can’t be it. There has to be a mistake. We’re in the wrong apartment or something—”

“Guk,” You comforted him with a hand on his hip, “Our keys wouldn’t have worked if this wasn’t the right place. They wouldn’t have called us by name at the front desk…”

You followed the awe of his gaze as it tilted upward and in swivel, taking in the muted caramel hardwood glossed underneath fluffy white rugs and hues of blue leather furniture, similar wood color to the floor marking that of the cabinets and tables nailed to walls or pushed into corners, accent pieces and fake flowers doused in blacks and whites sprinkled throughout the various nooks. The windows you’d noticed from the street stretched out in the opposite direction from where you’d came in, allowing you a view not of the street but through the city, a birds eye view through buildings taller and shorter than your own, some close enough to theoretically touch and others just an unworldly as they would be from ground level. Thin black curtains swayed from gold accented rods, a result of the white ceiling fan and the chill of air conditioning seeping out through various vents pressed into the crown molding of the rippled ceiling. A staircase marked the far corner, spiraling upward into an open concept hallway that disappeared into another handful of doors, the wood a slightly darker shade than that on the floor but the railing coated in a curved gold metal.

He swayed next to you and when he shuffled forward, you registered that he’d stepped out of his sandals, picking his feet up like prolonged contact would dirty the immaculate condition. He’d no much as peeked around the corner, the curve of broad shoulders a sliver in your peripheral, when a noise of surprise came high pitched from him.

You peeled off your tennis shoes by the heels, taking long steps until you were behind him. In the kitchen, an open concept room marked onto by the black marble bar that made an L shape to the hum of shining appliances.

“The lights are motioned censored,” Jeongguk provided at a breath and the two of you were still enough in silence that they flicked off. You moved to test his theory, flailing a hand out and frosted globes curled into the ceiling in threes illuminated once more.

You stepped around him, hardwood trailing into slick white tile and you nearly stumbled into the edge of the countertop when you tried to step for the neatly folded triangle of paper perched in the center next to a bowl of fresh fruit. You plucked it into your grasp, not without dislodging a yellow apple that rolled a few paces across the specks of silver shining through in the countertop, using your thumb to smooth out the creases to squint at the printed type.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Jeongguk uttered finally, still rooted in place but slumped against the wall.

You flipped the paper over, “Apparently heading to the agency for a meeting with Park Jimin.”

His eyes closed, feet shuffling until his entire back was pressed into the wall, “I knew that. They said that in the confirmation email. I meant—”

“—we can figure out what to do with this place when we get back. We need to get ready,” You glanced at him, “I mean, you can go in our airport clothes but I’d rather...not.”

“Right…” Jeongguk squinted, eyes trailing over your shoulder to the nestled staircase as he pushed himself up off the wall, “You think the bedrooms are up there?”

You frowned, “Why not just change down here?”

“On account of giant ass windows and thin curtains I don’t entirely trust yet,” His voice echoed to you no matter where he ventured into the house, going first to snatch his fallen suitcase and then secondly making his way for the ascend.

You almost tripped trying to collect your own bag, heaving by the time you caught his stature on the stairs and he turned to you with an amused cock of his eyebrow. “Coming with?”

“Don’t leave me down there alone,” You countered, shoving at his waist, “Too big for me to be by myself. This makes my dorm look like a thimble.”

Jeongguk laughed, a soft sound as his feet hit the next level, glancing down each hallway and then at you. It was an unspoken race until your coiled muscles jumped the opposite direction, meandering into bedrooms at each end of the upper level. You heard his cackles grow louder from within the first door your reached and your conscious had just began to affirm the same thing he yelled to you, “These are fucking huge too!”

A massive queen bed with a white duvet and two white blankets neatly folded at the end, two white wicker rocking chairs, a white throw rug peeking out from underneath the bed frame, white tile in an en suite bathroom like that in the kitchen cut off where the slightly darker wood floor began.

You dropped your suitcase unceremoniously in the threshold, picking your feet like Jeongguk had been before as you dug into the top pouch of the bag to retrieve a different outfit. Three splashes of water to your cheeks and a struggle with a jean button confirmed you were very much still alive and you dared to wander out into the hallway after a fight with an automatic sink faucet.

There was one more bedroom half the size of the one you’d claimed on your side of the hall, one you inspected with a quiet hum, dragging the door shut behind you as your sweeping steps brought you back outside. The false sense of serenity your anxious mind had calmed you into immediately erased when there was a figure standing at the head of the stairs, forcing a scream from your lips.

“It’s me—” But it didn’t look like Jeongguk, not the Jeongguk you were used to anyway. Neatly pressed black slacks falling neatly around his ankles, a black baggy top that curled into his elbows with vertical blue stripes cutting down the surface of the fabric, the material tugged and cinched with a thin belt at the point of his thin waist, new jewelry curled over his exposed wrists and collarbones and fingers, hair slightly damp and parted effortlessly.

“What the fuck?” You barked.

He glanced down at his shirt, picking at one of the loose buttons and then finally deciding to do it up, a muted, “Does this look okay?” catching in his throat when you rushed for him, catching his wrists and quickly undoing his previous action. He was flushed harsh at the neck when you glanced up at him, sheepish in the smile that crossed the own heat flaming through your stature.

“Yes,” You affirmed, “You look great, but…”

“But—”

“Aren’t I supposed to do your hair?”

Jeongguk blinked at the pink in his cheeks worsened. “Yeah, I was thinking…” He seemed to wince but you knew it as embarrassment, “Maybe you could curl it for me some time? More of a wave than what’s naturally there...you know.”

You eyed one of the wispy strands that swayed out over the top of his ear, not included in the wet swipe of his brush through his tresses.

“What do I look like?” You teased, grabbing his wrist to tug him down the stairs two at a time, “Your stylist?”

“Jeon Jeongguk and…” The man behind the counter trailed off, reading your name a bit quieter from the front of a blue file folder with a raised eyebrow. You nodded with a smile nonetheless, nudging Jeongguk who was still fixated on an oak tree sized fern resting in front of the sleek wall beyond the counter.

“Perfect,” His chair clicked across the plastic mat underneath the wheels, head disappearing into a file cabinet before returning with two laynards. He passed them across the desk, blank ID badges encased in thick plastic sleeves that would earn you clearance. “Your headshot will accompany the ID—” He was addressing Jeongguk point blank, “—once you take an appropriate one. Company protocol.”

Jeongguk passed you one lanyard, untangling his absently and he inquired softly, “...when will those be taken?”

The man frowned, “In just a few moments? Were you not aware?”

“I thought we had a meeting scheduled with Park Jimin,” You drew the man’s attention to you, stretching the lanyard around your neck.

“Oh, you do,” He smiled, “His meeting is running late, so we’re going to send you to the studio first.”

“We weren’t prepared for a shoot…” Jeongguk tucked his own badge over his neck.

The man willingly addressed you this time, smile tight lipped as an obnoxious office phone began to ring behind him, “Well, I’m sure your extremely talented stylist will be able to make you presentable from the shoulders up, yes?”

You swallowed, “Absolutely.”

“Perfect. The studio is down the hall to the left. Follow the signs posted on the wall,” More plastic wheels clicking across the floor and the ringing silenced as he placed the speaker against his shoulder, “Now if you’ll excuse me. Hello, Kim Enterprises—”

“Hey,” Jeongguk nudged you as you trailed down the mentioned hallway, squinting at an array of plastic signs drilled in a row on the wall. He tripped when you abruptly turned, pointing to direct him instead but he just nudged you again, “You can try out the whole curling my hair thing a bit sooner than expected.”

You dared to glance away from the scattered map in your brain to the shag of his locks of his eyebrows, ones that had already begun to dry and scrunch into soft waves. “Yeah,” You nodded, nudging him in the direction of the arrow for headshot studio, “Maybe.”

There was a woman stationed outside one of the open doorways, absently scrolling through her phone and she jerked when you approached, pocketing her phone in a messy fumble. “Ah, hello!” She greeted, and you rushed for the plastic at your chest to flip it over to display your name. “You must be the new duo...Jeongguk and—” She squinted at your name, uttering it too. “—perfect!” Soft curls bounced around her shoulders and when she turned you were knocked backward by the overwhelming smell of vanilla, but it faded like her figure into the room. “If you’ll follow me…”

The room opened into rows of empty makeup counters, bright lights burning hot over the top of walls half coated in mirrors. A few of the chairs were pulled out, like they’d been used earlier in the day, and some spare makeup bags were left sprawled with the products rolled onto the white counters. The woman was standing in a far corner at a clean counter aside from a neatly packaged makeup bag, a hair dryer, and a curling iron with the cord wrapped neatly around it’s head.

“I think you’ll find this sufficient,” She chirped in reference to the items at the table. She pulled out the chair, just for extra measure. “If not, there are extra of everything in the cabinet on the far side of the room. If the skin tone is not correct, your welcome to any of the others, as well. This bag is yours for the duration of your stay so I recommend keeping it stocked so you do not waste time before shoots.”

“Other than that, have fun!” Her hand centered between Jeongguk’s shoulder blades, pushing until he followed her unspoken lead and collapsed into the chair. “Come across the hall when you’re prepared. I’ll notify our photographer of your arrival.”

He stared at you through the mirror until she’d slipped out of the room and then some, finally uttering slow and gentle, “Uh. So, what are you going to do to me?”

You decided to place your fingers in his hair to calm yourself in the slightest, fluttering the strands in both palms, and even your teasing was absent, “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to fix this—”

“Should you start with makeup?”

Both your gazes absently trailed to the rolled up black bag and your gradual nod came before your steps trailed to the opposite side of his chair. “I’m not going to do much…” You rambled while you discarded a liquid foundation that was a shade too light for Jeongguk for a powder one that appeared to match. “You don’t need it…”

You shook some of the substance into a tray, marveling at a clean powder brush before jabbing the soft end into the pile of dust curled in your palm. Your nose wrinkled when you moved for him, using your free hand to nudge his bangs out of the way before your internal monolog told you fuck it and the same stabbing motion became the end of the brush into the center of Jeongguk’s nose.

He spluttered and you panicked when the fallout of the clumped dust spread below to the black fabric of his shirt. “That how you do it, huh?” He spoke through powdered stained lips and you frowned, spreading it up and over his cheekbones.

“Close enough,” You finished evening out the powder before dropping the brush, reaching to dust at his shirt instead. He let you, waiting until you’d dulled the color into soft, barely there blots along the surface of his chest and watching with rapt attention as you straightened, settling curled fists onto your hips with a huff.

“I think that’s enough makeup.”

“It’s just powder.”

“Exactly. You can’t even tell it’s there—” Jeongguk gestured to the drying and fraying mop on his head before sanctioning his hands underneath his thighs again, like you’d bite him if he moved while you worked, “—now fix my hair.”

You unraveled the cord, plugging it into the row of outlets lining the far wall before stretching the warming end of the iron toward Jeongguk’s face so quick he ducked, an attempt to loosen the perpetual frown that was carving a discolored circle into your bottom lip from the harsh suction of your teeth into the plush substance. When it didn’t work, he rounded his lips and blew upward so that the section of hair you feathered into your fingers fluttered out of your grasp. You cracked a smile then, dropping the curling iron to your side and you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Behave.”

He giggled, a soft sound that matched the crinkle of his powdered covered nose and his hands went back to being stiff underneath his legs. “Yes, ma’am.”

If it weren’t hard enough teaching yourself to curl short strands of hair on someone else, it was worse that the someone was Jeongguk, wide eyes coated in celestial bodies peering quietly up at you, a soft encouragement paired with tender giggles when you cursed. You nudged at the last strand, waving it over the tip of his right ear and you leaned back against the counter to inspect your work.

It was his expression that faltered you now, an absent fondness that stared deep into your gaze when you met the very things that could rival any planetarium and you stuttered, “I-I think I’m done?”

“It looks good,” Jeongguk leaned forward to confirm, squinting at himself in the mirror, fixing a few strands to his liking and then he added a bit slower, “We can practice…”

A squeak left your lips and you went to cover your face because we can practice meant it wasn’t that good, but you weren’t allowed to wallow in it for long when two hands wrapped around your wrists, prying your cover away and drawing you closer until you were all but leaning over Jeongguk.

“It’s okay,” More absent swiping to your knuckles and the freckle on the center of his bottom lip prominent when dimples pressed into his cheeks, “Ready?”

You let yourself smile, “You’re the model here, Guk.”

His headshots developed instantly and were sprawled in massive print sizes on the grain of Jimin’s desk, a glaring documentation of Jeongguk’s first professional shoot, your first time curling his hair, and the endearing little smile he allowed to adorn a sliver of his teeth. But even if you found it endearing, Park Jimin’s cross expression seemed to suggest the opposite.

“Are these the ones you chose?” He mused, dragging a finger across the thing white space framing one of the photos. It was a pre-teeth smile, pulled lip dimpling the freckle on his chin, nose a second away from wrinkling at you flipping him off behind the scenes.

Jeongguk considered his affirmation as a failure and it showed in the way it slid off his tongue, “...yes?”

Another handful of heartbeats into Jimin’s silence and Jeongguk uttered, “I mean...uh. T-they probably would look a little better if you’d adjust your umbrella lights. Or, you know, purchase new ones. They seem to be out of date. And are worsening the contrast—”

A second longer and Jimin shrugged, effectively cutting off Jeongguk’s rambles, and he gripped the edge of the photograph instead, sliding it into a neat pile with the others. They were quickly slipped into a folder, one he passed aside to make room for intertwined fingers in the center of his desk.

“They’ll suffice for now,” Thin eyes studied you fully now, disregarding the hunch of Jeongguk’s shoulders in the chair next to you, snake like black peering out from beyond bleached blonde fringe, “...can I ask who you are?”

“His stylist.”

“Name?” You uttered it and Jimin nodded, leaning back into the plush back of his chair. “So is there a reason you’re here…?”

“I think I’ll need to know about Jeongguk’s future endeavors here if I’m going to, essentially, be responsible for his look—” You ignored the dry texture cracking at your tongue on the roof of your mouth with each new syllable, all the moisture instead clamming your palms that roughed out of sight on your thighs, “—don’t you think?”

He seemed impressed with that answer, two hands threading at the nape of his neck to let plush lips quirk with the raise of one eyebrow. “I think you may be correct,” Jimin drawled slowly, “You may stay.”

You bit down the sarcastic thanks for the permission because he was done targeting you, testing you, instead focusing his attention back on Jeongguk. The man fell forward again, dragging his chair closer with two hands between the languid part of his thighs before they transferred to rest on the round, plastic arms.

“It’s a relatively simple internship. We already have you booked for some very specific shoots for our advertisements and the main magazine alike. I’ll email you a calendar, but for now—” Fluffy blonde locks disappeared from view before he resurfaced with a highlighted piece of paper in hand, slapping it the table and pushing it until it fluttered at Jeongguk. “—you’ll see your shoots highlighted in pink. Anything else you need to attend is in yellow. Meetings, check ins, things of that nature.”

Jeongguk still seemed like a fish out of water so you leaned toward him and questioned, “And the green color?”

“Retreats, bonding opportunities. Things of that nature,” Something genuine sparked in the smile on Jimin’s face as he glanced at you, “Seokjin is very into the team aspect of our company. You’re welcome to any of them, assuming you have the time between other schedules.”

Jeongguk still hadn’t spoke, drilling a hole into the paper, so Jimin took the social cue to inquire, “Any other questions?”

You were about to wonder about the glaring pink and yellow overlap for the Monday of the upcoming work week when Jeongguk spoke, firm and assuring as he glanced up.

“I understand I’m here for modeling, but I’m extremely interested in photography. Independent and contracted, studio and otherwise. The times between schedules, would I be able to shadow some of your techs? Just for...the experience?”

Jimin barely faltered at the hopeful fidget of Jeongguk’s fingers in his lap, “I don’t believe we have the opening nor the time for that kind of request. I’ll check for you, but I wouldn’t count on anything.”

Translation, don’t ask questions, do what you’re here for.

“So,” Jimin was still chatting as he pushed himself off his chair, back arching into a stretch, “We’ll see you Monday morning for the cover shoot?”

You froze into standing, the hand you were about to offer to Jeongguk consulting the chair you perched in as a vice as your knuckles bled anemic into your bone, “Excuse me...the what?”

“The cover shoot,” Jimin blinked as though that should be common knowledge to two rookie interns, “Seokjin recruited you with this concept in mind. You’ll be on the front cover of the next issue of Bloom.”

More silence that Jimin was unaware to, moving around the side of his desk to make it to a row of towering file cabinets in the corner. He had the folder of Jeongguk’s headshots in hand, filtering it with careful thumbs even when you uttered a half octave softer, “Can we know what the concept is?”

Jimin smiled, the answer obvious as the mentioned cabinet rebounded audibly into a magnet placed on the inside of black metal.

“They’ll be happy to explain it to you in your pre-shoot meeting Monday.”

“What if we’re doing all this—” Jeongguk winced for the fifteenth time when you lowered the curling wand to another strand of black, “—and it’s a shoot for my feet.”

You resisted the urge to accidentally let the edge of the iron graze his cheek in the unwind from the soft wave of his tress. You shifted where you perched on the marble, letting your thighs fall further apart for his waist to lean against the edge of the counter. With a hand on his shoulder, you pushed until his eyes trained on you, slightly sheepish, slightly shameless, entirely endearing and you sighed at the last attribute.

“You think they’d put a whole ass foot on the cover of Bloom?” When he whined, you reached for another, untouched piece of hair, twisting and pressing it to the heat, “Nothing else. Just a foot. Maybe some scandalous ankle—”

Jeongguk pinched your thigh, “You’re mean.”

“This meanie can let you style your own hair and look like that on a magazine that everyone on campus is definitely going to see,” You ducked until he met your gaze again, serious despite the upward curve of your lips, “How mean am I now?”

“You’re not,” He grumbled, glancing off to the side, “You’re the best.”

“Thought so,” You let the curling iron teeter to its stand on the counter, bracing your hands on either side of you to inspect your work, “I...think we’re done.”

You resisted the urge to scream when Jeongguk ruffled searching fingers through the front, letting the styled strands fluff outward in the carefully done part you’d established with a complementary pen you’d found in a drawer in the kitchen. He arm fell limply to his side, latter tucked firmly in the unzipped pocket of his joggers and he looked at you from the winced corners of his eyes, “Does it look okay?”

You were gentle in pinched his chin between your thumb and index finger, turning his head so doe eyes were peering at your from the center of their endearing glory, but your lips fished and you hummed in Park Jimin fashion, “I mean, it’s still your face, but from what I have to work with—”

“That’s still my joke and it’s not funny anymore.”

You surprised Jeongguk and yourself when you used your grip on him to lean forward, feathering your lips to the center of his cheek, drawing a natural shade into the artificial blush you’d rubbed in light doses to his skin. “You look great, Guk,” To amend the tingle lingering on your lips, you added, “Only be, like, three-fourths as nervous as you were before.”

He disappeared from between your legs and was six steps up the spiral staircase to retrieve his bag when he managed to choke out a less than threatening, “I’ll leave your ass here alone.”

You hopped down from the counter, shuffling through the apartment to retrieve your key still stuck to its spiraling purple bracelet next to your phone that set on a charger attached to an extension cord (fatal flaw of the millions invested in the apartment: outlets placed in inept locations) when you heard two footsteps behind you, a descend on the staircase, and then a long pause.

And then, “...do you think I should change shoes just in case it is of my feet—”

You were lost on one end of a long conference table while eight experienced professionals chattered on the likes of composition and aesthetics and ambiance and the vision of the newest issue, a list of words that meant similar but different things in the digital world with the manipulation of graphics at the tips of your fingers and you were more entertained with the aesthetic of the swirl of auburn color bubbling upward in your coffee when you stirred it with the tiny black straw. You were seemingly forgotten among the bustle that ended the meeting, a cattle like usher toward the singular door when the room was barely filled anyway and you found yourself hopeless in a room three times the size of the previous one with equipment you didn’t understand, more terminology you couldn’t grasp, and an entire missing Jeongguk.

The woman from your check in was back, bringing you your makeup back with a disapproving tut, ushering you with the heel of her palm on the small of your back toward a tiny collection of tables in the corner of the studio, a shortened version of the one you’d been in the day before, and you found it all but occupied by a new set of strangers.

You nudged the roll of your bag into the only empty spot, turning in time with the soft hush that met the other individuals milling about your general vicinity and you squinted because oh god, what now?

Words like alluring, sensual, lithe could all be replaced with much simpler adjectives, one in particular that struck bluntly at the forefront of your conscious, one you wished to express to the various shoot executives mulling over a concept they could easily direct in a hands on fashion without needing a briefing. You’d thought that into the swirl of your coffee and you assumed the cloud of cream that had surfaced, breaking into various puzzle pieces outward toward the rim of the cup agreed with you.

You understood why the bolded letters of various synonyms taking up a bullet point list on two pages of an outline, a waste of space and trees, was needed because your crude, one bullet wasn’t enough to encompass the entirety of Jeongguk’s being as he made his way toward you.

All eyes were trained on the rookie subject of the shoot but he was focused on you, a soft excuse me to the woman standing in front of you as he shouldered around her to tower over you. It was Jeongguk, your Jeongguk, but you felt some fraction of what everyone else did with him that close looking like that.

Tight jeans ripped in strategic places hugging taut thighs, cuffs buttoned loosely on relaxed knuckles, a sheer black shirt coated in metallic specks tucked neatly at the cinch of his lithe waist and secured in an equal V to the dip of defined collarbones. His hair was like you’d left it but frayed from the heat and softening from the lack of product, parting more on one side than the other and flopping into his eyes that blinked curiously at you.

“Hey...hello—” Jeongguk snapped his fingers, waving his hand so you felt the brush of his palm on your nose, “—did you hear me?”

The neanderthal corner of your conscious had enough sensibility to not utter what you wanted, instead bypassing his inquiry to all but shout, “Where are your other clothes?”

“They’re...in the dressing room? With my other things?” Someone yelled something you didn’t quite catch but the slide of Jeongguk’s palm down your elbow suggested he did, “Look, they sent me to you for a last minute check. Do I fit whatever concept they were talking about?”

Your subtly was forgotten, buried by the singular word that continued to expand into your thoughts, likely dilating your pupils the same way and the culprit of the saliva that pooled back by your molars.

Graphic design didn’t mean you were above putting size seventy-two Comic Sans font onto a document to print and plaster everywhere but even Comic Sans wasn’t worthy of whatever the concept was Jeongguk embodied. Nonetheless, you let the muted scream in your throbbing head takeover.

“You look sexy, Guk.”

He flushed at his neck first, traveling around to dip into his chest but it didn’t crack at the clench of his jaw this time, something lingering in the flash of black in his irises and his throat jumped, fingers curling over your arm and you briefly forgot where you were until someone’s stature was intentionally bumping into Jeongguk’s side, breaking his grasp on you to shove him in the opposite direction.

“Shooting in five.” You felt like you were underwater, coherent enough only to register you can’t see lightening under the sea (the flash of a camera) and you were fairly certain you’d been pitched off the edge of Atlantis when you came to enough to realize the prior five was up and they’d created a makeshift “wall” (a piece of plywood coated in white plastic) for Jeongguk (the, very sexy, “model”) to lounge against with his hands shoved into his pockets.

Part of Jeongguk’s shirt had come untucked from his belt, fluttering at the apex of his thigh, and it made your fingers itch to fix it until words of encouragement from the photographers elicited him to lift the arm on that side, palm smoothing down the back of his head until he found comfort in threading long digits into wavy tendrils. The sensible part of your brain moved to fire the necessary neurons to be annoyed that he’d just touched his hair again, hair you’d practiced on all weekend, burning yourself four times and the sheets of the unoccupied bedroom of the apartment once.

But the feral cloud in your conscious won and you chose to focus on the sliver of his waist that appeared instead.

You continued to eye it as he approached you again, sensibility pouting when you didn’t acknowledge that his sweat had smeared some of his carefully applied eyeliner or the lackluster gloss left on his lips wrapped around the ribbed edge of a water bottle, by passing all of those things in favor of his neck as it jumped and gulped.

Jeongguk pulled off the water bottle with a labored breath and the only thing familiar in his stature was the slight slouch toward you, gentle fingers brushing past your wrist to grip the table behind you and lean into it.

“Good?” He breathed, heat off his aura suffocating you and you wondered is the bottom of the ocean hot? too.

“Y-yeah. Yeah! Talented. Brilliant. Incredible. Amazing. Show stopping—”

He laughed and that was sexy too, shrugging into another languid gulp of water, pointed in stretching his neck out and he held the open bottle toward you until you took it. “As good as that Vine, huh?” His teeth appeared into the teasing smile that whipped away from you as he sauntered for the array of computer monitors in the corner displaying his shots.

You fumed.

“That’s a Lady Gaga quote, dumbass.”

Your knees, crossed albeit, were digging into the side of Jimin’s thigh and for a table to be so small in a quaint corner of a bustling rooftop restaurant, it garnered well over the decibels needed to make other patrons glance your way when a round of applause waved through the group.

It was Jimin who had elicited the reaction with the piece of paper in his hand, firm and glossy and making that distinct flop noise when he’d untucked it from it’s folder pocket and maybe if you didn’t have to crane from your position next to him to see the image splayed out over the front, your knees wouldn’t be invading his space. He didn’t seem to care, wearing a charming smile that flashed over the top of your head to the man most affected by the various interest levels of stares gathered from around the general vicinity of the restaurant.

There was a chunk of steak still stabbed through the throngs of Jeongguk’s discarded fork, meticulously cut by his focus that so desperately tried to evade the situation at any given opportunity. You noticed the pink in it before the pink spreading outward on his cheeks, framing the grateful smile he gave as acknowledgement before bowing his head at the audible emissions of praise.

“Quite the cover photo,” Jimin was still speaking, on the tail end of his reveal speech. He pulled the photo away to glance at it again, “And for an amateur on their first job as well. Phenomenal, truly.”

You touched Jeongguk’s thigh and it was the strength he needed to utter his thanks, soft at first and then louder as he addressed the other occupants at the table, “Thank you. It...it means a lot—” He turned and you followed his gaze to the one individual at the table who you’d yet to hear speak, seated at the head of the table opposite Jeongguk, wearing a black waistcoat and an easy smile to petal shaped lips.

“—and thank you, Mr. Kim, for this incredible opportunity. I-I...we—” He glanced at you for permission to include you in his speech and you squeezed his thigh in encouragement, “—we wouldn’t be here without you.”

Seokjin bowed his head in a similar fashion to Jeongguk, dropped the cloth napkin scrunched in his palm to hold that hand up in solace, “You’re very welcome but please, call me Seokjin. Before you ask, my father wasn’t Mr. Kim, I just don’t want to be called that.”

Jeongguk didn’t know whether to laugh and he wasn’t the only one so Seokjin tried to amend further, “Formality is outdated. Am I right?”

Someone, a marketing tech for the specific cover shoot, murmured quietly to sate the CEO, “Correct, Seokjin.”

Other customers had gone back to their previous dinner table discussions, returning the restaurant to the dull roar of before, and your table was no exception to the seemingly mundaneness. Ice cubes against frosted glass, the click of cutlery into glass plating, an occupied silence filled with content chewing and thoughtful swallows.

Questions to proceed the cover shoot reveal.

“What exactly were you doing before this? I understand you’re still in university?”

Jeongguk didn’t have to lie on that question because Taehyung hadn’t lied on your resumes. Or your cheat sheets, depending on who was asking. You’d forced him to sit on the floor in the living room of the apartment and recite back any and everything contained on the email attachment Taehyung had begrudgingly sent you again, from the way your name and phone numbers were ordered on the header to the exact digits, a forward and back recitation of Taehyung’s phone number (a series you’d, unfortunately, never forget).

“Yes, I’m going to school for, uhm...chemistry,” He winced because that also wasn’t a lie. Unfortunately.

You kept quiet because they hadn’t asked you. On guard. On call, maybe. Eager to recite your major and list of minors like you were at a family barbecue with cousins who refused to talk to you for three years.

An impressed murmur rounded the table in a wave. “Chemistry...What will you do with that?”

Like clockwork. “Med school, possibly. Maybe teaching. Not sure yet.”

“And your modeling experience—” Now into the flashcards once stacked in the need to review pile, “—who did you say you were signed with?”

“Ah…” His knife hit in a resounding rebound through the slab of meat he was attempting to dice into another tiny cube, “Well I wasn’t really signed, I just—”

“You weren’t signed?”

You swallowed because it wasn’t Seokjin who’d ask the question but the smile on his lips had wilted into the furrow of his eyebrows, two elbows hitting the table as his fingers clasped in front of him.

“The company has changed names since then,” Jeongguk jammed the cube into his cheeks but chewing didn’t let him off the hook as ambient dinner noises paused in wait of his answer, “It’s been a while…”

“Your resume says you’ve had published billboards up until last year. Were you not signed then?”

“It’s been a while since I originally signed. I had that contract for five years time and the company changed possession three times in that period. Who knows what it’s called now, you know?”

Safe.

Your on call button beeping eagerly in the forefront of your conscious gradually flickered until it was off because your lie wouldn’t be as easy. You couldn’t produce a selfie or even a fake contact that would ring to rap superstar Kim Namjoon. Even Taehyung wasn’t that good.

“Your manager, agent, whatever you have—” It was Jimin who asked this time, curious, “—would we know him?”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jeongguk offered up the name with little hesitation and you almost choked on a clump of parmesan tickling at your throat. The cheese convinced you there were a million Kim Taehyung’s in the world, the name not your eccentric, software engineer group project partner who’d once recited the HTML of the university’s financial aid office web page to you by memory and you managed to swallow down a gulp of your ice water, cube included, with minimal tears pooling due to your choke. “He’s our manager.”

The introduction of our caused eyes to fall upon you and blinked through the bleary tears remaining in makeup coated ducts. Some of the product smeared into your eyes then, worsening the tears of pain, but no one addressed you still. You just nodded to ensure they didn’t.

The end of the meal meant goodbyes and goodbyes meant brief instances of small talk with each individual at the table. For you, they were limited to thank you for the meal. For Jeongguk, it was a sentence or two more, ones you were in earshot of.

Seokjin came last, a soft hug wrapped around your shoulders that was awkward in the way that he patted at your arm. It was a firmer hand he reached for Jeongguk a firm shake in the middle of two broad statures as he stared directly through the haphazard fringe stringing into Jeongguk’s lashes.

“Congratulations,” Another firm shake that traveled up into a pat on Jeongguk’s shoulder, “I look forward to seeing more of your work.”

You trailed Jeongguk’s pointed trek through the front door of the apartment building, taking three strides to his normal one and you tried to slow him with a tempting, “Should we go get ice cream? We should go get ice cream.”

He was slowest when in front of the elevator, jamming his middle finger into the up button. “Why should we go get ice cream?”

“To celebrate?” Your toe caught on the small gap between the ground floor and the elevator, “They seemed to really enjoy it—”

“I’d rather just go to bed,” It was harsh in delivery but his eyes softened and his chin tilted down toward you, “...if that’s okay. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” You affirmed and as an afterthought you teased, “Beauty sleep for the superstar.”

His smile was a ghost on the dimples in his cheeks, eyes downcast so his eyelashes shadowed on his cheekbones and his head dipped away from you to stride down the hall, staying that way as he fiddled with the blue spiral on his wrist and pushed into the apartment.

Jeongguk was with you in peeling off your shoes onto a makeshift welcome mat, a plastic takeout bag from the Thai food you’d gotten the second night, before affirming again, less harsh and almost tentative, not to ask but that you’d say no and he wouldn’t get to complete his request.

“...it’s okay if I go to bed? If I leave you alone down here?”

“Yeah,” You reached to touch his wrist, feathering your fingers over his knuckles, “Maybe I’ll figure out the TV so you don’t have to do it for me every time.”

He tried to smile. It didn’t fool but you let him go anyway, watching mute as he ascended the stairs, sluggish and slow like his fingers fiddling at the buttons of his creased button up.

“Jeongguk—” He looked at you now, fingers braced on the railing, shoulders slumped as he turned, “—take your makeup off.”

“Thank you, baby,” A soft murmur that echoed in the silence of the house, “Good night…”

You tried the television twice and gave up on the third time’s the charm, trekking the route Jeongguk had made up the stairs but turning the opposite direction for your room. You saved the shower for the morning, pocketing your jewelry in an empty pouch of your suitcase, swiping a baggy t-shirt off the floor that smelled like your roommate, washed your face in the facet you’d mastered in three weeks time, tucked yourself underneath cool sheets, raising your phone to your face where it was attached to a looping extension cord plugged into yet another inopportune outlet on the far side of the bed.

A makeup tutorial that was less of a tutorial and more of a demonstration of the guru’s skill set elicited the sleep in your eyes and you’d nearly dozed off when another light peeked from your peripheral, one that startled you to lock your phone and squint.

It was Jeongguk, body language like you’d left him but pajamas on in place of his dress clothes with a blanket sanctioned over one shoulder and dragging against the ground like his sluggish footsteps. A pillow was clutched in his latter arm, squished against his chest with his chin resting on the plush surface, forming a natural pout on the purse of his lips and the wrinkle of his nose.

“Hey,” You didn’t question, the initial startle of your heart morphing into something fond and heavy in your ears that caused you to spread your arms, “Come on.”

Mindless shuffling was domestically mundane, tugging apart the made side of the bed, replacing the pillows with his, tucking the duvet at his waist and his blanket over his shoulders, shifting further into the warmth to let him drape a hand to your hip, contact, while you propped yourself up on the curve of your arm.

“You okay?” You thumbed soft strands of his fringe between your thumb and index finger and when he didn’t jerk away, you went to stroking the tresses between the spaces in your digits. It was wet, shower fresh, not dry enough to curl yet.

Jeongguk grumbled, voice muffled and raspy into his pillow that he mushed his cheek further into, “Just couldn’t sleep, is all. Your bed is comfier.”

You ignored the way his fingers fist further into your shirt at your hip. Carefully, you nodded, “You sure that’s all?”

He hummed again, a mixture of hesitation affirmation and the reaction to your nails scraping into his scalp. You repeated the motion just to hear him mewl and feel him relax, melted shoulders shifted until he was close enough to wrap an arm around the small of your back.

“The shoot turned out really well, huh?” Jeongguk snorted, the breath fanning against your neck and you frowned, “I mean, it’s really cool. That you’re going to be on the cover. Looking like that—”

“I guess.”

You went to scrunching his hair at the back of his head between your palm, “The other things we’ve been working on since...they’ll turn out great too. Who knows, maybe you can erase the foot modeling for something legitimate and credible.”

Jeongguk’s hair ruffled in your grasp when he adjusted his cheek on the pillow, pulling away from your chest to be eye level.

“You know something?”

You let your hand flop out of his hair to the pillow, “What?”

“I haven’t taken a single picture since we’ve been here. I haven’t even thought about touching my camera.”

“I hate it,” He continued, blunt with his nose crinkled at the bridge, “I miss it…”

“We have a day off in a few days. Maybe we could go exploring with it—”

“—and I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss school. I miss being at university,” Jeongguk blinked, a prolonged blink that scrunched at more parts of his face, “Okay, I don’t miss that. I...I don’t know what I miss. It’s...something. Mostly photography probably but I think it’s just…”

“...I think it’s just knowing. I miss knowing. As in having at least a sense of what I’m doing. Where I’m going. What I want to do.”

Your features softened into something grim, nodding when he glanced at you. His laugh was bitter as he held your eye contact, “In short, I hate this. I, frankly, hate that you convinced me to do this. I...I can’t wait to go home.”

“I’m sorry, Guk, I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” He breathed in, holding it, eyes closing, “Please don’t apologize. It’s been like this for a while. Me not...knowing.”

“I thought you were right. Money can fix a lot of things, like paying off my loans and tuition. But paying my tuition means I’m stuck in an unspoken contract of sorts with a major I hate that’ll propel me toward a career I’m unsure of but already hate, anyway.”

“The only thing I’m sure of is my camera,” Jeongguk shrugged, eyes open and wide and starred in natural celestials and a shimmer of tears, “and I don’t even want to touch that anymore.”

“I mean I do, but I don’t...you know?” His voice broke then, a glisten falling to his cheek now as a tear finally lipped over and you cooed, rushing forward to intercept him back into your embrace.

“What’ll make it better?” You held him with two arms around his neck, cheek pressed into the damp strands at the crown of his head.

“Don’t know. Leaving probably. But...I’m not going to do that. It’d make me feel worse. Quitting, you know.”

“What can I do? Anything? I already made you come here…”

Jeongguk pulled away from the damp spot he’d rounded on the collar of your shirt and the base of your throat, cheeks blotchy and tearful and he scolded, “I told you not to worry about it. I’m the hot mess.”

“Yeah, but you’re my best friend,” You thumbed at his cheek, collecting the drying tears, “My hot mess.”

You didn’t expect Jeongguk’s strawberry tulip bud lips to taste like salt the first time you kissed but you cleared the culprit of the taste with your thumbs while he pressed desperate affections into the seam of your mouth, holding you tight to him at the waist. You let him because you wanted it too but took his lull for a breath to cup his face, still working at clearing the fresh wave of tears on his cheeks while you hushed, “Not now.”

“M’sorry,” He apologized this time, a messy blubber through your tender touch, “I didn’t—I didn’t want to do it like this.”

“If I don’t get to apologize, neither do you,” You kissed his nose in lieu of his lips, “You can kiss me all the time once you figure you out.”

Jeongguk sniffled, “Be careful. That’s incentive.”

“Maybe that’s why I said it,” You kissed his eyelid in tandem with another swipe underneath it and you mirrored the action on the opposite side, “And you never answered me. What can I do?”

He smiled when he noisily advertised the snot in his nostrils this time, squeezing your hips, “Just be you. You’re the last thing I photographed.”

“You’ll always be the thing I photograph.”

You were halfway through waving a strand of his hair down the battery powered wand in your hand, an online purchase with your second intern check. It was a seasoned movement now, easier with his hair that had grown without cut since you’d been in the city. It was an advertisement shoot, a casual look that would be perched above bar codes and brand affiliates on the back page of the magazine.

“Crouch for me,” You paired it with a light smack to his shoulder, catching attention where it had wandered to a loose strand on the baggy t-shirt draped over his stature. Jeongguk was purposeful in being awkward, bending at the waist and the knees and he dramatically sat a hand on his thigh, cocking a hip out and sticking his tongue out at you.

“Better?”

“I can’t stand you—”

“Is it their break?”

You managed to maneuver your surprise into the jerk of the curling wand away so it didn’t burn Jeongguk, both of you glancing toward the new presence in the room. It was a frantic looking intern from the front desk, one that came and went on an odd schedule you couldn’t quite pinpoint but he looked two seconds away from tearing his hair out at the roots anyway. When the photographer nor the set manager didn’t respond, he took it as an affirmation, forward in grabbing Jeongguk’s arm to tug and motioning you with his free appendage.

“I guess it is now,” You exchanged a glance with Jeongguk when the intern scoffed, not letting go of the larger man before him until you were halfway down the hallway and an abrupt turn to another later.

“You’re needed with one of the head executives.”

The cover shoot magazine was set to go in print within the next few days and urgent around the studio meant they went about airbrushing the static in Jeongguk’s curled hair a different way and were seeking approval of the talent. You assumed Jimin was about to tutt in disapproval when you couldn’t see the smudge his stocky finger was gesturing to on the life sized image plastered across the center of his desk.

But you turned past the sign indicating his office and you almost parted your mouth to gently correct the frazzled twenty-something, help him out for something that was bound to be corrected anyway, but he paused in front of an office, that office, one with a name plate bigger than the rest and the only one displaying the company logo in tandem.

“Seokjin requested to see you personally,” The intern knocked but didn’t look inside, just propped the door open and gestured, “In you go.”

An excuse was on the tip of your tongue and you ran into Jeongguk on the way to express it but the intern had already coaxed at Jeongguk’s larger stature and you both were shoved into a shut room before your brain could even process that I have to use the bathroom on the first floor because that’s the only soap I’m not allergic to wasn’t a viable excuse.

“Hello,” The sheer size of Seokjin’s size seemed to swallow his broad shoulders even in the tight hug of a navy suit jacket to the definition of his shape but the enormity contrasted to the warmth in his voice, smile, and eyes as all gestured for the open chairs turned inward toward his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He shuffled at two specific sets of papers as you tripped over Jeongguk’s ankles for the same chair, catching and narrowly avoiding a spill of an empty piece of furniture. You settled as the horror set in of what sets of papers Seokjin held, stapled leaves taken from the same blue file folders you’d been greeted with on day one.

You were useless in noticing you’d left your ID badge in the studio, too.

“I ran your references, out of curiosity…” Seokjin bent the papers in hand at the thumb, “Tell me about Kim Taehyung.”

“That’s our manager,” A robotic answer spoke in monotone, Jeongguk’s blank gaze on the turtle paperweight perched on the edge of Seokjin’s desk suggesting the same type of mechanical movement.

“Your manager is a member of two seperate government watch lists for hacking low level search engines?”

Your eyes bulged and you forgot your role, “He is?”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin smiled gently, “but he probably should be if he isn’t. He’s not very subtle about it. Between him and the conspiracy theorist…”

“Yoongi,” You breathed, “Yeah...probably.”

“You—” He shuffled deeper into his array of papers, plucking one specific piece out to slide across the desk at Jeongguk. You recognized it as a screenshot of his online portfolio, the chosen album one of fresh summer wildflowers (weeds, you’d informed him behind the scenes) from the summer prior, “—you’re very talented.”

“And you…” This time a screenshot of your commissions profile, various examples of your work scattering the black and white screen cap, “You have an eye for design. My layout team could learn a thing or two from you.”

“I checked with your university and don’t worry, not your grades. I don’t care about those numbers frankly…” He tapped on something on the top paper in his pile, “Your majors. You didn’t lie about those. Graphic design, that suits your passions, from what I can tell at least.”

You nodded.

“But chemistry?” Seokjin blinked, “I can’t imagine that fulfills you in the slightest. You said you plan to be a doctor?”

“I don’t know,” Jeongguk answered, quick and honest and for once he didn’t slump into the answer. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”

“Can I let you in on some cheesy but true advice?”

More nodding, this time from both.

“It’s not worth it if it doesn’t fulfill you. Certainly not something so far in left field from what you clearly love to do. I said I didn’t care about grades but…” Seokjin cocked his head, a knowing smile on his lips, “Those grades don’t match someone who's passionate about their field.”

“I’m going to have to pull the cover shoot, for obvious reasons. I’ll have to send you home as well, with the rest of your internship pay, of course.”

You rushed to deny that in the same sentence that Jeongguk did, apologetic and hot at the neck when Seokjin held up a hand.

“You get the pay on one condition. You go home and do something with it. Something something, not just continue on with that boring chemistry degree.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I told you to call me Seokjin but I’m going to change that, too—” Seokjin stood, rounding his desk for a handshake that Jeongguk rushed to straighten and intercept, “—call me Jin when you book your first photography gig, alright? Even if it’s just your conspiracy theorist friend and his fried chicken looking poodle.”

Jeongguk laughed, loud and unabashed and you were the first person he directed his joy at, only causing your elation to grow tenfold in your heart.

“You too, after you design the new McDonald’s logo or something. I’m getting pretty tired of those golden arches…”

You thumbed at the tassel dangling off the graduation cap flopped top down on the edge of Jeongguk’s mattress. It fit Jeongguk’s head better than yours, so you brought it over for him to borrow so that the fight in the bookstore was one less stress his graduation checklist had to suffer from.

“Taunting me with that?” Jeongguk’s neck hinged over the side of the bed, blinking backward at you.

You glared, breaking away from the yellow fringe to crouch in front of his face, squishing his cheeks together to plant a chaste kiss on the exaggerated pout of his lips. One of many you’d planted on him after he’d met with his advisor to change his track from chemistry to digital imaging, adding an extra summer semester onto his graduation while he watched you take your leatherbound diploma in only muted jealousy from beyond the lens of his obnoxious camera obscuring the view of a dad in a Hawaiin shirt and sandals.

Your headshot, the original one you’d taken messily after burning your arm and testing eyeliner thickness over the same mark, was framed in his room but not hung, leaning against the wall where he’d nailed a hanger but couldn’t get the cheap balsa wood to center. You pointed to it, “Taunting me with that?”

“No,” He reached for you, grabby hands until you stepped into his embrace, allowing him to pull you down onto his bed, “I think you look cute.”

“I think you’re a sap.”

“I think I’m allowed to be considering you’re moving next week.”

“You’re renting a space in my bed in eight weeks,” You sat up to poke his nose, “We both lose.”

Jeongguk pouted, “Hey.”

You just grinned, “Hey, what?”

“That was the best part of that internship,” He marveled, blissful as his eyes shut, “Living together.”

“Oh yeah? Not the whole introspective finding myself thing?”

“Nope—” The fullness of his teeth shined even as his eyelashes stayed glued, “—the whole getting to cuddle the secret love of my life thing.”

“It wasn’t that secret.”

“It was.”

“Hmm, okay,” You folded your arms at your chest to prop yourself up on his stomach, “Speaking of secrets. Have you checked your phone?”

“Did Yoongi add us to another group chat?”

You snorted, “Check your phone.”

You huffed when Jeongguk used the top of your head to hold his phone, thumb flexing against your forehead as it scrolled, and you giggled when all his motions, breathing included, gradually stalled.

“Did Taehyung figure out how to hack email addresses too?” When you didn’t respond, Jeongguk peered at you underneath his thumb, “Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I got another email from Jin.”

“Oh, that,” You grinned, “Yeah, I do know about that.”

He grumbled, thumb moving into action again as he clicked around, opening the email and enlarging the font to read.

“Jeongguk. I’m happy to hear you’re graduating soon and in something you seem to enjoy! It just so happens that we have an opening here in our photography department and we’re seeking someone with your exact credentials. I’ve reviewed your updated profile and can’t say I’m anything less that thoroughly impressed. If you can provide me with an updated, and legitimate, resume, the spot will be yours upon graduation.”

“Thanks for not spending my money on booze,” Jeongguk added with a laugh, “Seokjin (Or Jin. Just not sir. Or Mr. Kim).”

“Really?” You rewarded his face with a kiss to his chin, moving the affections up his cheek as he marveled, “They really want to hire me?”

“They really want to hire you. For real, this time.”

“But...but wait—” He stopped you with the heel of his palm into the center of your forehead and you huffed, “We...we just got things figured out. And I’m going to have to move closer to the company…”

You did your best to plaster indignation onto your features, “You really think you’re going to get away with leaving your stylist here?”

Jeongguk’s eyes bulged, hopeful but not following, “...what?”

“Grab my phone for me.”

He happily obliged in dipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans, handing you the device with a smile but deeply concerned, singular, eyebrow. You huffed, fumbling at the screen of your phone until you pulled up your own email, one you’d received two weeks ago and you enlarged the font to hand to Jeongguk.

He frowned through his intense scanning before whining, “Is this why you wouldn’t tell me anything about your job offer?”

“Yes.”

“...did he hire you to run the design department?”

“Not yet but I am working there.”

“...so we’re not getting that apartment back home?”

“Nope.”

“...are we still moving in together?”

“Absolutely.”

An extra silence and you could feel the gears churning behind his skull in the rapid thrum of his heart at your palm, “...back to the previous apartment?”

“I don’t think that’s available anymore but no. I asked for something a bit more our taste.”

“So we can buy real welcome mats this time?” Jeongguk propped himself up on his elbows, curling his stature so you were drawn closer to his face and he happily rubbed his nose to yours.

“You didn’t like our bachelor pad chic decor?”

He ignored you, “And can we build IKEA tables together? Oh, what about name our apartment, you know, like people name their cars—”

#bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #fic: dare to begin #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S DONE!!

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theodora3022 · 4 years

Text

Call Me Baby If You Need A Friend

Pairing: Eijiro Kirishima x f! reader

Summary: You like Eijiro, as a friend. He is helpful, compassionate, and charming. You quickly become one of his close friends since you met at the UA entrance exam. But you never considered him as a potential boyfriend. Little did you know the shark boy think otherwise. He didn’t even notice himself until that day.

Notes: I feel like “Yellow hearts” is not fitting since it is just a girl toying with this poor boy’s feelings...Kiri deserves better. So I picked this song instead! This is kind of rushed since it’s midterm week for me now...Enjoy.

Song: One call away by Charlie Puth

Warning: Fluff, unrequited love?

“I’m only one call away,

I’ll be there to save the day.”

You had dragged Eijiro to the library to review for the next history test. After you promised to be his workout buddy later, he reluctantly agreed to study with you.

“Uh, why do we have to memorize those dates? Isn’t it just some war in the past? They’re all dead anyways.” He usually has no patience for History, today is no exception.

“Kiri, we’re going to fail this test if we don’t remember these boring dates.” You laugh, as you highlight of certain words on his review sheets. Unlike Eijiro, history has always been your forte. “Now, where were we...”

You do not look sad at all, as if nothing has happened. It was just yesterday your long-time crush has rejected you, yet you act as cheerful as ever.

He is concerned.

He was surprised when you called him yesterday, still sobbing. You told him about your plans, of course. Honestly Kirishima does not have high hopes, but he supported your decisions, nevertheless. Even if it makes Kirishima’s heart aches. What a strange feeling...but he is sure it is just him worrying about you, that’s it!

“Kiri, a-are you busy?”

“What’s wrong? Oh, (y/n)! Did he-”

“He just said no... That I’m not his t-type.” The rest of your words is muffled by cries.

That is it. Kirishima is coming to find you, dropping whatever he is doing, whether it be his workouts, his food or even his bro friends. You are his priority right now.

When Kirishima finds you in the corner of a secluded hallway, burying you heads between your knees, he felt something in him broke. How dare that jerk do this to you! To such a wonderful person like you! Eijiro made himself a promise: if you ever ask him to punch that bastard, he will do so without hesitation. Serves him right for making you feel like a mess.

“Hey-hey!” Pulling you into his arms, Kirishima gently pats your back. “(y/n), I’m here.”

This is the first time he seen you being so...vulnerable. You are always so strong-willed, so tough, never back down from challenges. Hell, you even comforted Kirishima when he is feeling down. He did not expect you practically melt into his embrace, sobbing into his shirt.

You rely on him so much, that when the worst had happened, you dialed his number. He knows you have other friends, he does too. But you came to him. Eijiro does not know why he felt such joy when you confide in him first. How he does not mind your tears wetting his shirt. However, he needs to get you to stop crying. As much he loves holding you, crying is bad for your eyes.

He would start searching phrases of consolation you used to use before, but none of them applied to the current situation. This is so hard! How did you do it so effortlessly before?

Luckily, you seemed to have quieted down a bit, cries turning into little sobs,

“(y/n), do you need me to beat that jerk up? Where is he now, I can do it at once!”

“No punching anyone, Kiri. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” You look up to him, with those blood-shot eyes. Even though you were just crying, you are still so beautifu-wait! Stupid brain! He should be comforting you now! Compliments is not appropriate now.

“You know what, (y/n)? His loss! He missed out on such an amazing girl like you. You deserve the best, and you’re obviously too good for that bastard!” Taking out a pack of napkin from his pocket, Eijiro starts wiping your remaining tears away. Maybe he will get you an ice pack later, to make sure you do not get puffy eyes from crying.

Then you suddenly realized how Kirishima is holding you close to his chest, carefully tending to your tears. Even Kiri is your guy best friend, he is still a boy. Pulling away with a blush, you avert his gaze, missing the flashing disappointment in his eyes. “Thank you, Kiri. For all of this.”

“No problem at all. Come on, you know I am always here to help. So, what’s the plan?” Quickly put on another dazzling smile, Kirishima is back to his old self. “Can we poison his food and make him spend the rest of his day in the washroom?”

“Kiri, no! We will both get detention.” You finally let out a chuckle, thanks to his ridiculous suggestion.

Instead of his first name, you always love to call him “Kiri”. You think it is cute, nicknames make your friendship felt real.

“Let us get out of here! Oh, didn’t you said you wanted to get that book on sale? We can drop by the bookstore, maybe get something to eat too. Just need to be back before curfew.”

You nod. You need distractions right now, and Kirishima knows how to take your mind off that jerk.

Extending his hands to help you get up, Kirishima felt your hands rests on his briefly, realizing how he wants to hold them tenderly, even thought about kissing them. How he loves watching you smile, or how he smiles whenever he sees you laugh.

That is when realization hit Eijiro Kirishima like a truck: He got romantic feelings for you. Honestly, his friends (Denki especially) had suspected before, but the red head simply dismissed them. “You guys just don’t believe pure friendship between the opposite sex?” He did not give it much thought back then.

Mina had suggested something similar to you, but you insist that you only seen him as a little brother.

That night past midnight, almost all dorms are in the realm of dreams, but not Kirishima. He has been tossing and turning in his bed for hours now, fully aware tomorrow he still needs to get to classes. What is he going to do? Ask you out?

But that might ruin your friendship, what you two have built for the past year.

You clearly have not seen him that way, always caring for him like an older sister.

So why would he go destroy your current friendly state, in hopes of becoming something more? Kirishima feels awful, despite finally confronted his true feelings.

Now, you are sitting here now, tutoring him about those boring history events.

Eijiro wonders what your reaction would be if he just spit it out now. Would you still look at him the same way? He certainly cannot after just realize his own feelings. Would you still treat him as you guy best friend? Still calling him “Kiri”?

It hurts to admit it, but this time Kirishima must keep this to himself. What you two have now is good, ruining it would be devastating.

“Kiri? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...”

Maybe he would tell you one day, maybe he will not. Maybe you or him would meet someone else. So many uncertainties are enough to even make Kirishima anxious.

But he does know this: He will be your friend, protect and support you, until he can sort out this ridiculous crush. Kirishima only wants you to be happy, whether it’s with him or someone else.

#bnha #bnha kirishima #kirishima eijirou #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #bnha kirishima x reader

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spideyscnse · 4 years

Note

hey, i saw u were taking requests and i really love your writing!! could u possibly do something where reader is a nerd and she works at a bookstore and peter comes in?? idk where to go from there but i’d like it to be super fluffy and cute if u like :))) thank u so much x

a/n: hi! aw, i’m so flattered that you love my writing! i’m so so sorry for taking so long, but i was so excited by this idea when i saw it because it’s so cute! to make up for it i wrote 3k words and made it extra cute :) hope you enjoy

sci-fi

pairing: peter parker x booknerd!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: none :) just super cute fluff and pureness

summary: y/n is so much of a book lover that the moment she hit fifteen, she applied for a job at her favourite, local bookstore. one day, a boy called peter parker shows up at the store.

note: please don’t plagiarise my work!

masterlist

You had your earbuds in as you left the school through the back gate—the gate that would take the least amount of time to get to the bookstore. You had work today, and it was why Tuesdays and Thursdays were your favourite days of the week.

Your school was a small one, almost adjacent to the prestigious Midtown High, where all of the smart kids went. You went to a girl’s private school opposite to it, and while you liked her school well enough, you sometimes wished that you’d applied to Midtown instead. Just because it seemed so much bigger and fun. Maybe it was just you, though.

The store was a fifteen-minute walk away, and you managed to get through four songs on your way there.

Pulling out your earbuds and switching off your music, you pushed the door open with a soft tinkle and made your way into the store. The relaxing smell of worn pages and coffee greeted you instantly, and just at the scent, you felt yourself calm, because it was such a homely feeling for you.This was where you were when you weren’t at school or at home, and it had been your place to go since you were very little.

“Good afternoon, Jane,” You called out to the manager, who sat at the checkout desk, and the kind lady gave you a warm smile, like she did every time she saw you.

“Hey, Y/N,” She responded, glancing up from the tablet she was scrolling through, no doubt checking through book orders, “You got here quickly, today.”

You chuckled, “Oh, yeah, I saw on Instagram that the next book in my favourite series got released yesterday and I rushed here as soon as I could.”

“Alright,” Jane said with an amused, affectionate look in her eyes, “Well, go get changed into your uniform and then you can go find that book you want.”

Eagerly, you nodded and headed to the back room to drop off your bag and change out of your school’s uniform—a white blouse and dark green skirt. The school logo was embroidered over the chest pocket of the shirt, and a silver and green tie hung from around your neck, tucked neatly under the collar.

Quickly, you pulled out your work clothes, which were far more comfortable—Jane was pretty loose on the dress code, so long as you wore the lanyard and name badge. So, today you’d opted to bring a grey sweatshirt and leggings, which would be cosy enough for you to walk between the shelves and look for people who needed help—also, for you to find that book you needed.Once you’d folded up your school uniform and slipped it neatly into your bag, you stepped out into the store again, greeted by the smell again, that you’d never get tired of.You headed to the YA aisle, the one where you knew your book would be, and you spotted it immediately—it was sitting gloriously on the new releases table, and you quickly snatched up a copy, flipping through it and letting out a satisfied sigh. You resisted the urge to just start reading it then and there, reminding yourself that you were at work and there were customers all around you. So, instead you slipped it into the front pocket of your sweatshirt, making a mental note to pay for it when you left.

Despite your efforts to focus, though, the thoughts of that one book remained swirling in your mind. This made it very difficult to maintain a calm tone of voice when people asked you for help finding things, just because on the inside, you were far too excited.

But you still went about your job like you always would—calmly, kindly, and patiently. Even with the people who complained to you about the prices, or tried to haggle you for a deal, no doubt thinking you’d give it to them, since you were young and looked it, too.

You were sorting through a massive stack of books that had arrived the day before, unboxing each, marking them down and then ordering them alphabetically on the new shelves, when somebody tapped you on the shoulder and made you jump…probably more dramatically than you needed to.

You dropped the two books that were in your hands at the time, and yelped, “I’m sorry! What did you need—?”

Your sentence was cut off as you caught sight of the boy’s face, and the words evaporated from your tongue. He had curly, chocolate-brown hair and warm, wide eyes that were currently filled with concern and shock…at your surprise, probably.

But he was extraordinarily pretty, and you found yourself looking away, leaning down to pick up the books you’d dropped. You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry, what did you need help with?”

“Uhh,” He seemed to be almost at a lost for words as he glanced at you, suddenly nervous, “I was looking for some books for my science project? I wasn’t sure where I should start…”

You smiled, and he blushed, and you gestured for him to follow you. It was rare that a high school kid came in looking for books about science—didn’t most people just find things online nowadays for school assignments?—nevertheless, you decided this boy was far too precious to just refer him to online.Especially not when this bookstore had such a great range of science books; while you loved your fiction, the science was your second favourite.

As you approached the wall, even the boy seemed to be kind of in a sense of awe. You began to talk, hiding your amusement at his amazement. “This is the science wall! It’s my second favourite section, and it’s got basically everything.” You pointed to the said areas as you explained, “They’re organised by subtopics, so you’ve got bio here, and then physics, chem, and so on.”

“What would you recommend for a physics assignment?”

You gave him a curious look, “Well, the ones with the green spines are really detailed,” you started, even though you weren’t quite sure exactly what he was looking for. “If you’re into more basic stuff, the ones on the very left of the shelf, and the more complex stuff is to the right.”

He was quiet for a long moment after you finished. You weren’t sure if he was soaking up the information or just blanked out. Regardless, it left you standing there half-smiling, basking in the awkwardness.It was almost twenty seconds later that the boy seemed to remember that you were waiting for his response, and he immediately flushed, “I’m so sorry, thanks for taking me here—um, sorry, I didn’t get your name…”

“It’s Y/N,” You responded, pointing at the name tag that was pinned onto your lanyard, “And yours?”

“Peter,” He responded shyly, running a hand nervously through his curls, “What school do you go to? I don’t think I’ve seen you around on campus.”

“I go to Y/S/N,” You explained, sheepish, even though you weren’t sure why you were so nervous, and why your palms were sweating, “It’s a girls’ private school, which is probably why you don’t see me at school.” You laughed off your nerves, even though you felt heat begin to crawl through your cheeks.

Peter seemed to deflate a bit, the smile fading from his eyes, “Well, then, I won’t be able to see you. I was hoping you went to my school…”

“Guess you’ll have to come ‘round to the bookstore more often, then,” You said teasingly, “To get your books for your smart-kid assignments. Assessments are mostly over now anyway—except for at Midtown, I hear. Is that where you go?”

He nodded in answer, giving a small smile, even as his eyes turned and became glued to the books on the shelves. He scanned through the titles and asked absently, “What gave it away?”

“You’re looking for science books, Peter,” You said with a small giggle, “Isn’t Midtown a STEM school? I just assumed.”

“Y/N!” Jane called from the front of the shop, and you immediately perked up, your conversation interrupted.Peter sighed, even though he diligently kept the kind smile on his lips, “Well, I guess duty calls, huh?”

You nodded, pressing your lips into a taut smile, a bit disappointed as well, that you had to go now. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“You bet you will,” He said, giving a grin, “I’ll be sure to come whenever I can to get your expertise on science-y books for my smart-kid assignments.”

You almost choked on a laugh as you tried to swallow it, “Good luck with your assessment! And the science books!”

***

Peter kept true to his word.

That boy seemed to make it his mission to show up every day, and talk to you all about your recommendations and his science assignments. Not that you minded—it was kind of cute, what with how enthusiastic he got when he was rambling.

Today, though, Peter was late. School ended two hours ago, and still. No sign of him. Usually he would’ve been here almost at the same time as you, since he’d taken to doing all of his homework in the shop.

Despite how hard you tried to not let it distract you, you really couldn’t help the glances you kept throwing over your shoulder at the door, to check for any sign of him. To be honest, you weren’t quite sure why you anticipated his arrival so much, seeing as he probably had his own work to do, but still…You did your job fine; you made sure to put all of the new arrivals in alphabetical order and unbox all of the stock for the week, but even Jane noticed that you weren’t as focused as usual. And from the knowing gleam in her eyes, she knew exactly why you looked so much more worried and tense than usual.

“Y/N, are you waiting for that brown-haired boy?” She called out, her chin leaning on her palm and looking quite amused.

You fumbled with the stack of books you were holding and said, suddenly flustered, “No, no I’m not,” You denied, even though your words were broken by a nervous stutter.Internally, you swore in frustration at yourself because why were you suddenly so nervous? Jane hadn’t even said anything, really, but—

“Then why do you keep looking out the window? I know that the boy comes every time that you’re here. We all fall in love at some point,” Jane said, her tone turning into a teasing one.

Fall in love?

“Oh, I’m not in love with him—I’m just—I just,” You stammered feebly, “I just like looking at the window display.”

Jane hummed, finally turning her gaze away to return to clicking away at her computer, probably filing in orders. “Sure thing.” Even though her stare had shifted from you, her knowing smile hadn’t faded and you bit your lip in embarrassment before returning to sorting the books.

You weren’t in love with Peter, you barely even knew him! It wasn’t like that—

“Sorry I’m late!”

And yet at the first sound of his voice you stopped everything that you were doing and spun around so fast your hair gave you whiplash.

“Y/N!” He called, his hair mussed by the wind, eyes wide. He was holding his bag, seeming to still be stuffing something into the back pocket of it, and he seemed extremely puffed.

“Peter,” You said, furrowing your brows, “You didn’t have to rush. If you were busy you could’ve just sent me a text.”

As if by instinct he reached into his back pocket for his phone as you mentioned texting, and he pulled it out as he responded, “I’m sorry, something came up that I had to take care of. It’s all good now, though! What new books arrived this week?”

Even though internally, you were still concerned for his well-being, since he looked so genuinely out-of-breath, but the fact that he’d rushed over to talk to you today was kind of…touching. Cute.

You brushed those thoughts away, though, effectively stopping the blush you felt beginning to form on the apples of your cheeks, “We got lots of fiction this week, actually. There’s some sci-fi I think you would like. Is your assignment finished now?”

Peter rubbed his neck almost shyly, “Oh, yeah, it was due today, actually. Thanks for all your help, I think I did better than usual.”

“It’s nothing,” You replied, giving him a smile, quickly turning to finish sorting out the last couple books, and then leading him to the fiction section. He eagerly followed.

“Do you read fiction much?” You decided to ask him, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you.

“Sometimes,” He said, “I get pretty busy, though, so I don’t usually have a lot of time to read. I wish I did.”

You approached the fiction shelves and ran your hand over the spines, searching for the new arrivals you wanted to recommend to him, “Here,” You pulled the first out, then the second.

“These are really good, I read them yesterday,” You told him, passing the two to him, and he flipped through them curiously, “They’re about the stuff you’re into. Like, science-y, smart superhero, space-battle type stuff.”

His eyes lit up as he scanned through, murmuring absently, “I love that stuff! I can kinda relate to them.”

That piqued your curiosity, and you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “What do you mean?”“Huh?”“What do you mean you can relate?”

Suddenly, Peter bit his lip and ran a hand nervously through his hair, “Oh, what, I said that? Uh, I just mean I relate to the struggles of the superheroes, you know? It’s kind of…inspirational.”

You considered his words, “You’re right. We do have a lot of superheroes around here, don’t we?” You chuckled a bit to yourself, averting your eyes because his gaze had become far too intense and focused for you to maintain the eye-contact whilst keeping your heart rate at a healthy pace.

“What do you think of them?” He asked, tucking the two books under his arm, seeming satisfied with your selection, “The superheroes, I mean.”

“They’re cool,” You said with a shrug, “They do cool things and they’re important. I kind of wanna be one,” You laughed lightly, “They actually make a difference, you know? I kind of just hang around here and just…” You trailed off, unsure of where you were going, but Peter seemed to understand.

Your eyes were fixated on your feet now, and you shifted on your feet when he didn’t say anything.Then, suddenly, he poked your cheek gently, making you look up at him, and then he said, “You don’t need to be a superhero to make a difference, Y/N.” He leaned in a bit closer and tilted your chin up with two fingers.

Oh gosh oh he was so close now you could see every shade in his eyes—

You hoped he couldn’t hear your heartbeat, but you swore you noted his ears tinge with pink ever so slightly as well when he whispered, “You’re pretty amazing already, I can tell you that.”

“I—Peter, I—,”

“Right,” Suddenly extremely shy, he quickly pulled away. Okay, his face was definitely burning bright red now, you were sure of it, “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—,”

“Peter,” You said softly, taking his hand gently in yours, “I wasn’t uncomfortable, I just…” You shook your head, “Never mind. But, thank you, Peter.”

“It’s just the truth,” He said, meeting your eyes with his own.

You weren’t sure what exactly gave you the confidence to do it, but with a light laugh you leant up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you. You’re pretty amazing too, Peter.”He seemed to be at a loss for words. His cheeks were bright pink and his mouth opened and closed as he searched for the right thing to say. He looked so pretty.

“I-uh,” You bit your lip nervously—shyly, “Are you gonna get the books?”

That shook him out of his trance and he stammered, “Oh, yeah, I will, sorry—,”

“It’s okay,” You laughed, too giddy with the butterflies in your stomach to be nervous about what you’d just done anymore.

After he checked out, you said, “Call me and tell me what you think about those books, okay?”He left with a nod and a beaming smile, and Jane gave you that knowing look again.

“You just like looking at the window display, huh?” She said after the door shut behind him.You half-groaned, half-laughed as you shook your head and began heading back into the depths of the store to keep sorting the stock.

But you couldn’t help the grin of pure joy that formed on your lips the moment you were out of plain sight.

***

Tony didn’t usually pick Peter up, but today he’d been near the store anyway, so he offered to take him to the tower.The moment he got on the car, though, Tony noted his love-struck, dazed expression and said, “So, who’s the lucky person who’s snagged Peter Parker’s eye, huh?”He started up the car, which luckily pulled his gaze away from Peter, because the boy blushed furiously at Tony’s words.

“Uh, Mr. Stark, it’s nothing,” He said, shaking his head, “I just got some books that I like, that’s all—,” he pulled the two books he’d bought out of his bag, and Tony glanced at them.

“Since when did you read fiction?Peter fumbled for an excuse, “Uh, since today?”Tony scoffed in amusement, teasingly saying, “Must be some good books to have you looking so in love.”

Peter didn’t have any reply, or excuse, to respond with because he was really, really bad at lying and he knew that Tony already knew, anyway.“Yeah, they’re pretty amazing books,” He said instead.

Tony didn’t push any further, because it was just too cute.

He smiled fondly.

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cassraven · 4 years

Text

MY COLLEGE DEGREE ARRIVED!

The college surprised me today when they sent what I was waiting for in the mail yesterday! My Associate’s Degree in Fine Arts! It feels great, the hard work of great beg. to studio or intro classes I took of arts, behavior sciences and general courses for semesters all paid off. I earned it! Now to order this a frame to hang. City College done! Thank you everyone here like my family, friends, loved ones who cheer-leaded me on to kicking butt to conquer the final semester classes of my college time and getting my degree! Thank you, love you all! I ordered from the campus bookstore online my 2020 Graduation Cap and year tassel instead of ordering the whole cap and gown full package since a traditional walking ceremony won’t be happening for me and other seniors later in June. (There will be only an online video feed ceremony with speakers podcast live and listening a whole list of graduates graduating for 2019-2020 year.)

I’ll be decorating my Cap with taping some hand cut-out paper art design on it, and be putting it and the tassel with a small animal toy figure of my college’s school animal mascot to decorate into a shadow box to put up on the walls of the house’s hallways here at home later. A different take I’m doing on graduation ceremony celebrating; Plus, for my birthday later in June, I’m going to also then celebrate my graduation then with my family and loved ones via at home dinner takeout of Japanese Sushi Bar Sushi delivery, drinks, a birthday cake, and Face Time or Skype video phone calls with my relatives, friends, and my boyfriend and his family!

I’m so relieved and so excited, school for now is done until I can work on an art portfolio, look into if I need to take any extra class courses for requirements to a California State University I want to apply to, as well as applying requirements to both the university and art department. For now, I’m going to be enjoying total freedom, enjoying the summer even if it’s currently in quarantine here at home. For now, I’ll be this weekend celebrating personally with some wine or any other glass of delicious alcohol, eating fast food takeout, writing fan fiction while I drink heavenly booze, and at some point probably draw/paint something at my art drafting table in my newly bought comfortable back computer art chair.

#yesss #yes yes yes #hell yes #i did it #I am officially graduated #graduated officially from college #my associate's degree arrived in the mail on friday #the associate's degree in fine arts is now mine #fine arts alumni college graduate now #officially art alumni #got the art degree #done with city college for good #a future applying to and attending state uni to happen #so relieved #it's all done #the cass cass has officially graduated and has her degree in art #cassie raven is now a college graduate in the fine arts #winning #woohoo #victory usagi tsukino dance time #crying happily like usagi #I am so damn happy I am crying happy tears #thank god it's all over #I graduated college with my first college degree in fine arts thank god #thank you #someone please pass me a glass or wine or some vodka #2020 college graduate #suck it 2019 college year of classes of stress hell

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dream-beyond-the-fantasy · 5 years

Text

Prompt #17 - “I Can’t Sleep, Can I Stay Here?

Requested by @curiousdamage for Jimmy & Julie

A/N: Another drabble that ended up being longer than intended. This is over 2000 words. Some parts probably could or should have been cut out, but this is completely unedited. It may end up as part of the larger work, Is This Love aka the Jimmy Fic. I may or may not post this to AO3. I did modify the quote/prompt to better suit the narrative.

It’s late. He should be in bed by now. But is he? No. Jimmy thinks that anxiety and adrenaline are keeping the exhaustion that he knows he should be feeling at bay. He has spent the last two days working mostly from home and nearly rearranging his apartment to move Julie in.

Even before that, Jimmy has been driving himself crazy. For the last three weeks, Jimmy felt like he has done everything and gone everywhere, even though he knows it isn’t accurate. Since finding out that he was going to be a father, he has been in planning mode. Jimmy decided that marriage and raising the baby with Julie would be best, as it would be easier to support them, especially if something were to happen to him. He has met with officials at the Los Angeles County Clerk’s Office to find out about what is needed to apply for a marriage license. He even checked what days each branch is available for civil marriages. Jimmy wants to get married sooner rather than later, definitely before the baby is born and preferably before she starts showing too much. This is mostly because he wants to avoid further embarrassment for both Julie and his parents, especially his very Catholic mother. He has called his insurance provider to add Julie to his policy. Jimmy even chatted up the women in his office to get some answers about how to find a good OB/GYN for Julie. He’s called a few up, trying to see who could meet with her as soon as possible. Julie’s prenatal care is a priority, even if she isn’t making it one. But he should cut her some slack. She was right in the middle of final exams until a few days ago. Jimmy has made a list of items that he knows the baby will need (car seat, crib, stroller, high chair) and compared price tags for what appear to be the top brands in the department stores.

And that doesn’t even cover his reading list. A self-imposed reading list. The last day of November had been pretty depressing for Jimmy. Thanksgiving dinner had turned into a disaster. Julie hadn’t spoken to him for two days. Nor would Johnny allow him to even try to talk to her. In order to cheer himself up, Jimmy decided to stop at the bookstore to pick up the latest Stephen King and Wheel of Time books that he hasn’t had the chance to buy. And yet, he felt himself drawn to the section where the pregnancy and parenting books were located. Jimmy ended up buying a whole stack, completely ignoring the disapproving look on the lady at the checkout counter’s face when she noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

For the last two hours, Jimmy has been perusing one of the many pregnancy books. There is a tentative knock at his bedroom door. His eyes worriedly flick from the page to the door. He lays What to Expect When You’re Expecting on his nightstand. Jimmy scrambles to the door, taking a moment to compose himself before opening it.

Jimmy is greeted with the sight of Julie in a simple white cotton nightgown that falls right above her knees, her hair cascading over her shoulders, with one hand up, poised to knock once more. She looks beautiful, he thinks. By the look in her eyes, he clearly startled her. She stares at him, entranced, her mouth agape, breath caught in her throat. Julie’s eyes drink him in, trailing down…

Oh, right. I’m only wearing boxers, Jimmy realizes, seeing his affect on her.

He clears his throat. “Julie, my eyes are up here,” he teases her, using two fingers to tilt her chin up. His blue eyes hold a mischievous glint with a playful grin to match. Knowing that she’s been caught, Julie flushes a deep pink. She turns away from him.

No. Please, don’t look away. Jimmy’s smile fades. As she starts to back away, he steps out into the hall and reaches for her arm.

“Julie, wait! Don’t go. It was a bad joke, I know. I’m sorry.”

She stops, peering at him through a curtain of dark hair. Jimmy pulls her closer, brushing her hair from her face.

“Julie, look at me, please. What is it? What’s wrong?”

Finally meeting his eyes, she appears mildly confused. “What?”

Jimmy leans forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. He tries to ignore the knot that is forming in his stomach. He wants to appear calm and not upset or increase any fears that Julie may already have.

“It’s late. You wouldn’t be knocking on my door if something wasn’t wrong. Are you okay? A-are you feeling nauseous? I-is there any pain or cramping? Julie, if you thought you were having a miscarriage, you’d tell me, right?”

Her jaw drops. She splutters a bit, trying to form a coherent thought or word. Julie takes a moment to collect herself. When she has recovered from her shock, Julie reaches up to caress Jimmy’s cheek. Unshed tears are threatening to fall.

“You thought that I was losing the baby? Oh, Jimmy. I’m sorry that I made you think that, even for a second. And of course, I would tell you!”

She takes his hand and places it on her bump. “As far as I know, the baby and I are fine. We’re okay. Don’t worry.”

Jimmy looks from her to where his hand is situated over their unborn child. He starts to smile again. “Don’t worry? Yeah, I think our days of worrying are just beginning. And I don’t think we’ll stop after eighteen years.”

They share a little laugh. Then he directs his attention back to Julie. “So, why did you knock on my door? You still haven’t told me.”

She clams up and avoids his eyes again. Jimmy cocks an eyebrow.

“Julie.”

She cringes hearing the warning tone in his voice. Julie shakes her head and starts to back away. “I-it-it’s nothing,” she stammers. “I, I’ll go back to my room.” As she turns on her heel, Jimmy clasps her hands, pulling her back to him.

“Julie, please talk to me.”

She sighs in resignation. Looking down, Julie replies, “It’s nothing. You’ll think it’s silly, especially after what you were thinking.”

He runs his hands up and down her arms in a soothing manner. “Just tell me,” Jimmy pleads. “I promise I won’t laugh. I won’t get upset. Just talk to me, babe.”

She rolls her eyes, finally meeting his gaze.

“I can’t sleep. Can I stay here, with you?”

Stunned, Jimmy blinks. He can barely say one word: “What?”

“I can’t sleep. It’s not for lack of trying, as I have for hours. But I can’t sleep. I don’t know how or why, but I just can’t. I am tired and I know it. I had no problem yesterday. Of course, that could have been from the stress of finishing my exams, packing, moving out of the dorms, and moving in here. Whatever the reason, I can’t sleep and it’s driving me crazy!”

By this point, the poor girl is in tears. Jimmy, taking pity on her, embraces Julie tightly, kissing the top of her head.

“I came to ask if I could sleep with you,” she continues. “The best sleep that I’ve ever had has been when I’m in your arms. I just really need you right now!”

At her words, Jimmy’s brows shoot up. He flashes her a suggestive smile. “Really? All you had to do was ask.”

It is only then that Julie realizes what she said. She flushes pink again, covering her face in embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she cries.

Jimmy laughs again as he pries her hands away. “Julie, it’s okay. And yes, you can stay.”

He kisses Julie’s forehead before bringing her in for another hug. She still looks miserable and embarrassed beyond belief, but it doesn’t stop her from leaning into the embrace and resting her head on his collarbone.

“When I say ‘sleep’, I actually mean sleep,” she mutters. Julie turns to him. “I’m serious about us not having sex again until after the wedding,” she says emphatically.

“C’mon.” Jimmy leads her to his room.

Walking into the bedroom, he spots What to Expect When You’re Expecting on his nightstand, causing him to freeze. Knowing that she will see it the second she enters, Jimmy steps in front of her. He honestly doesn’t know how Julie will react to him reading pregnancy books. They haven’t talked too much about the pregnancy itself or how they intend to parent their child. While he knows they need to discuss these things in depth, Jimmy knows that two sleep-deprived people should probably not have that kind of discussion in the middle of the night.

“This is the first time you’ve been in here, right?”

Julie nods.

“Then you should check out my bookshelf. I remember how much you love to read. I know that you’ve perused most of my books in the living room. But I keep my favorite books in here.” As he talks, he ushers her to one side of the room.

While Julie is thumbing through his collection of books, Jimmy rushes over to his nightstand. He tosses the book into the drawer. Looking up to see that Julie is still occupied, he moves over to his dresser where the rest of the stack of pregnancy and parenting books sit. He grabs an armful of them, hoping that she wouldn’t turn around. Jimmy picks them up and throws them onto the floor of his closet. As soon as he slides the door closed, he sees Julie behind him in the mirror. He whirls around.

“Shit!”

Jimmy falls back against the glass, his hand over his heart. Julie stares back at him, one eyebrow raised and her arms crossed. She can’t keep the mix of suspicion and amusement off her face.

“A bit jumpy, aren’t you? Shouldn’t I be the nervous one?”

Recovering from the surprise, Jimmy tries to walk her backward, in the direction of the bed. Julie tries to look over his shoulder, hoping that he didn’t get the closet completely closed. Indicating the closet with a nod of her head, she asks, “Whatcha hiding?”

“Nothing.”

Jimmy receives a skeptical look in reply. He sighs, “I didn’t notice that my room was a bit of a mess. So, I was putting a few things away before you saw them,” he lies, a bit more convincingly this time.

Julie looks around the room. “You’re kidding, right? What mess? This has to be one of the cleanest bedrooms I’ve ever seen. Especially for a guy’s room.”

Jimmy puts his hands on his hips. “Oh, been in many boys’ rooms, have we?”

She shoots him a mock glare and gives him a light slap on the arm. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You know I used to sleep in Johnny’s room sometimes when I was a kid. Whether as a teenager or an adult, none of his rooms have looked this good. And I was in Bobby’s room once. It was very neat, but it didn’t look this nice.”

“What were you doing in Bobby’s room? And did he know about it?”

Julie plays with a lock of her hair. “Uh, I don’t remember. I just know Becca wanted me to play lookout while we snuck into his room.” She tilts her head to the side. “No, I don’t he ever found out,” she yawns.

Jimmy smiles at her. “Okay, I think it’s time you went to bed.” He pulls back the covers, lifting them for her to get in. Julie can smell that he washed the sheets recently. As she is getting comfortable and snuggling in, she notices that Jimmy isn’t getting into bed. In fact, he is headed toward the door.

“Hey, where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay with me?” she asks, pouting.

Jimmy stops, turning to face her. He points up to the ceiling. “I thought it might be easier for you to sleep with the lights off.”

“Oh!” Embarrassed, Julie lies back and pulls the blanket up to cover her face. Though muffled, she can hear his chuckling. The next thing Julie knows, he is climbing into bed beside her. He pulls the blanket from her face, leaning over her. She practically melts at the look of adoration that Jimmy gives her.

“C’mere,” he says, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to him. Jimmy kisses her.

Within fifteen minutes, both are asleep. Julie’s head has migrated from the pillow to his chest. Jimmy has one arm holding her to him, while the other rests on the slight swell of her abdomen.

#curiousdamage #jimmy fic #jimmy x julie #jimmy karate kid #julie lawrence #prompt 17 #fluff/angst prompt #is this love #i can't sleep #can i stay here #karate kid fanfic #karate kid drabble #excerpt from my fic

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luna-01l · 6 years

Text

Heart Like Yours [1]

Pairing: Tom x Reader

Words count: 970

Warnings: none

Summary: After a long day in work, you receive really exciting news.

A/N: Good to know that you guys liked! I don't know how long will be this, but my head it's full of ideas! And I'll try to make longers chapters. Please let me know what you think!

Read the Prologue! // Prt 2

masterlist

A few days passed since the first vídeo of Tom and The Brothers Trust promotion. You kind of avoiding everything about that to not feel sad or not have hope.

It was one of this times that you got the notification on your phone, but you refuse to see it.

You knew that today was going to be the day that they would say who was the winner, and for sure, that wasn't going to be you.

You throw your phone in the jeans pocket and go back to work.

“Lucy, the guy of the table 7 asked a cappuccino with extra chantilly.”

“Just a sec mate! C’mon phone! C’MON!” She yelled while shake the phone.

“Lucy are you crazy?!” You say capping her mouth “Do you want the Mike kick our asses out?!” You smiled to the girl was give you a strange look. “Sorry, miss. It wouldn't happen again.”

“Sorry! Sorry! The phone isn't working and I have to call this dude that I meet yesterday. But. The. Phone. Isn't. Working.” She said like the phone could hear her.

You laugh, thinking how you two — with so different personalities — end up best friends.

“It wasn't supposed to the guy call first?”

“You're in what? 20th century? The times changed dear.”

“Okay, confident woman. But, right now, your work is calling you. Now.”

And suddenly, she look at you. You knew that look.

“Y/N… you're so good friend aren't you?”

“Oh, no. Don't came with that to me.” You said cutting her off.

“Oh, please Y/N. It won't take long! I promise! I just need to tell him that I didn't lost the interest. Just that! I promise!” She look at you with those puppy eyes.

“Fine! Five minutes. It's all I that give you.”

She hugged you and run to the back door.

Shaking your head you start to prepare the cappuccino.

Some minutes later, Lucy came back with a bright smile.

“Thank you so so so much! You really are a friend. Oh! And, TomHolland2013 just posted a video.”

“Oh, I know. I just don't wanna see it.”

“What? Y/N Y/L/N don't want to see a video of her lovely Tom Holland? Why?”

“Just… I don't wanna see who won that thing and feel sad y’know. I don't wanna have hope to be crashed again…”

Suddenly, you feel sad again.

“Oh, c’mon Y/N. Take a look. And if you feel sad, I'm here with you. You know that I make fun of you on this, but… if there is someone who deserves to be happy and win this thing… that person is you.”

You look at your friend in her perfect haircut. She was so brave and kind. She was with you when all the bad things happened, supporting you and protecting from every harm.

It would be okay, if she was there with you.

But, not today.

“Thank you, Lucy. But, really. It's nothing. It's all good.” It wasn't.

She look at you like she wanted to say more, but let go.

“If you sure.”

---

You get out of the Caffe late again, so your plans to go to the bookstore melted. You've to read something

With a sigh, you take your shoes and your coat off and lay down in the bed.

Just a look Y/N. It wouldn't kill.

You sigh again.

What if I won? What it would be like? What if…?

Your phone ranging took you out of yours thought. Not even looking who was it, you pick up.

“Hello?” You said trying to ignore your lazy and tired voice.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“That's her.” You said sitting to play more attention on the unknown voice.

“Hi, this is Tom's Personal Assistant. Did you apply to participate in the Brothers Trust promotion?”

You took a second to understand what he said. It seems like you brain stopped.

“Y-Yeah. I did.”

“Very well. Thank you for helping our project and congratulations. You're the winner.”

You couldn't understand. How is that possible? You only had one chance. The luck finally smile at you for once?

“I- I win?”

“Yes, miss.” He seems to find your reaction funny “We will been pass all the info that you need for email. We already have all the data that we need from the application that you gave to us. We'll be in touch. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course.” You didn't hear one word that he said.

“Great. If you don't have more questions, we'll see you soon.”

“Just- Just one more thing sir. H-How this is possible? I just… just went one time… and…”

He laughed.

“Seems you're a lucky girl then.”

“Yeah… Lucky…”

“We'll be in touch soon. The email it most already be in your inbox.”

“Okay… bye sir.”

“See you soon, Miss Y/N.”

And he hung up.

It was when you realised that you didn't get his name.

It was a dream. That's the only explanation.

You pinched yourself just to make sure. It wasn't a dream.

Deep breaths Y/N. Deep breaths.

You must been sit in your bed for hours, but when you look at you phone again, just passed a few minutes.

You won the promotion. You are going to spend three days with the Holland family. The family that you always taken as a exemple.

You couldn't stand the happiness that you heart was feeling. You just could smile.

You took you necklace and look at it.

“Remember Y/N. Good things happen when you're a good person, even if it's seems like don't. We have to always look at the goods thing…”

For the first time in a long time, you believed again. Your mom was right. Good things happen.

For the first time, you let yourself feel hope.

Tag list: @greenarrowhead

#tom holland imagine #tom x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fandom

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big-tony · 5 years

Note

1-100 hoe

I hate you so much.

1. Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?

Spotify for sure

3. what color are your eyes?

Ugly ass brown

6. describe your personality in 3 words or less

Really obnoxious

8. what kind of car do you drive? color?

I have a black 2013 Nissan Altima

9. where do you shop?

As much as I hate them, I do most of my shopping on Amazon. I’ve started using Thrift Books when I buy books, but I also want to start going to local bookstores since some have opened up nearby.

10. how would you describe your style?

The stereotypical person who listens exclusively to music on Bandcamp but doesn’t want to commit to buying clothes at Goodwill

11. favorite social media account

Tumblr but I’m kind of warming up to Twitter

13. any siblings?

Yeah I have an older sister

14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?

I would say at this stage in my life I would like to live in Spain or Argentina. I’d really like to just be somewhere out of North America where I can speak Spanish all the time. I feel like it would be a nice change of pace

15. favorite snapchat filter?

I deleted snap like four months ago but I really liked the one that just hid all of your blemishes lmao

17. how many times a week do you shower?

Like 10-12 on average

18. favorite tv show?

Either Eric Andre or the Twilight Zone

19. shoe size?

16 which makes shopping for shoes impossible

20. how tall are you?

6′5″

21. sandals or sneakers?

Sneakers. I only wear sandals if I’m running somewhere for less than 30 minutes

22. do you go to the gym?

I kind of neglected that this semester but before that I was going about 5 days a week

24. how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?

$5 lmao

25. what color socks are you wearing?

White

26. how many pillows do you sleep with?

Just two I don’t like having too many

27. do you have a job? what do you do?

Not rn I just finished up working as a research assistant and I’ll be applying for that position again this summer

28. how many friends do you have?

idk if I had to guess somewhere around 30 but I see about 10 of them weekly the rest kind of rotate in and out

29. whats the worst thing you have ever done?

This girl was going to sit down when I was in high school and I thought it would be funny to pull the chair out from under her. It was not particularly funny and it still haunts me because it was so unnecessarily mean

30. whats your favorite candle scent?

Fuck I don’t know what it’s called but when I’m home for the holidays my parents always burn this one candle that just reminds me of Christmas. Very cinnamon-y but also smells like pine needles

31. 3 favorite boy names

James, Antonio, David

32. 3 favorite girl names

Autumn, McKenzie, Maria

33. favorite actor?

I don’t think I watch enough movies to have a strong opinion on this one

34. favorite actress?

Same

35. who is your celebrity crush?

Shakira for sure

36. favorite movie?

I watch so few movies that my favorite movie is basically the last good movie I watched so I’d say Madeinusa. If we’re going for movies that are so bad that they’re awesome I’d say Bloodsport

37. do you read a lot? whats your favorite book?

Yeah I love reading! I’d say it’s tied between The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway and 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

38. money or brains?

Brains for sure

39. do you have a nickname? what is it?

People used to call me Chief Keef all the time but I don’t have one anymore

40. how many times have you been to the hospital?

I think like when I was born was the only time lol

41. top 10 favorite songs

In no particular order:

Smashing Pumpkins - 1979

Sun Kil Moon - Pancho Villa

Algernon Cadwallader - Fun

American Football - Stay Home

Shakira - Se Quiere, Se Mata

Sun Kil Moon - Micheline

Sufjan Stevens - Impossible Soul

The Microphones - The Glow, Pt. 2

Frank Dominguez & Elena Burke - Imágenes

Sufjan Stevens - Romulus

42. do you take any medications daily?

Nah

43. what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

I’d say pretty oily I have to shower the moment I wake up because my hair looks like a mess from the oil

44. what is your biggest fear?

Heights

45. how many kids do you want?

If I decide I want kids, probably just one

46. whats your go to hair style?

I like to keep it pretty short and put some gel in it it’s pretty basic

47. what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc)

I live in an apartment right now but my parents’ house is kind of small compared to all my friends’ growing up.

48. who is your role model?

I try not to have a role model per se because every time I learn about famous people they disappoint me in one way or another. I had a lot of respect for Anthony Bourdain though

49. what was the last compliment you received?

My friend told me yesterday that I’ve made a lot of positive changes in my life this past month, which meant a lot to me

50. what was the last text you sent?

“Dead af” which is pretty par for the course

51. how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

I think I was 9 when I decided he didn’t exist. No one really confirmed or denied it until I was like 12

52. what is your dream car?

I used to say corvette but I can’t fit in one lol

53. opinion on smoking?

I can’t really get on a high horse about it because I smoke when I’m very drunk but I don’t enjoy the really strong smell of a smoker’s house

54. do you go to college?

Yeah! I’m studying history and Spanish and I should be graduating spring 2020

55. what is your dream job?

I want to be a professor and hopefully teach Latin American history

56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?

Since my indie folk days are behind me, suburbs for sure

57. do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?

No my hair seems to hate those so I have to bring my own shampoo when I go places

58. do you have freckles?

nah

59. do you smile for pictures?

Yeah I like my smile a lot so

60. how many pictures do you have on your phone?

1629 according to my camera roll

61. have you ever peed in the woods?

Oh yeah absolutely

62. do you still watch cartoons?

I keep up with Steven Universe by force of habit but otherwise no

63. do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?

McDonald’s. Wendy’s chicken nuggets are whack

64. Favorite dipping sauce?

Chick-Fil-A sauce

65. what do you wear to bed?

Basketball shorts

66. have you ever won a spelling bee?

I won this in-class one and they asked me to go to the school-wide one but I didn’t go

67. what are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, and learning languages mostly. I’d like to get more social hobbies at some point like get into playing pool but I haven’t gotten around to it

68. can you draw?

Oh hell no. I tried super hard up until like 7th grade and then I accepted fate

69. do you play an instrument?

I am trying to learn the banjo but I need to get more consistent

70. what was the last concert you saw?

I saw Fleet Foxes in March, which was an amazing show. I missed American Football in August which I’m still really upset about

71. tea or coffee?

Coffee, though I’d like to learn more about tea

72. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

Dunkin Donuts just because it’s cheaper

73. do you want to get married?

Yeah I have a crippling fear of ending up alone lmao

74. what is your crush’s first and last initial?

I don’t really have a crush but the girl I’m seeing’s initials are BS which is interesting to say the least

75. are you going to change your last name when you get married?

No but I probably should because my last name is bland af

76. what color looks best on you?

I think I look good in a deep purple

77. do you miss anyone right now?

Unfortunately yes but I’m getting over it slowly

78. do you sleep with your door open or closed?

Closed. I have this irrational fear that I will wake up and someone is watching me, but in all reality an unlocked door won’t stop them if that’s what it is going to come to

79. do you believe in ghosts?

Nah

80. what is your biggest pet peeve?

People who read, watch, or hear something slightly out of the ordinary and go “WOW I WONDER HOW MANY DRUGS THEY MUST HAVE BEEN ON TO COME UP WITH THAT”

81. last person you called`

My parents like two hours ago

82. favorite ice cream flavor?

Cookies and cream

83. regular oreos or golden oreos?

Regular, I didn’t know people liked the golden ones

84. chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?

Rainbow

85. what shirt are you wearing?

A UCF football shirt! Go Knights

86. what is your phone background?

Salamovka at Night (Judy’s Window Lit) by Lois Dodd

87. are you outgoing or shy?

Very outgoing lol

88. do you like it when people play with your hair?

Ugh I love it so much

89. do you like your neighbors?

Never talked to em but they’re quiet so I can’t complain

90. do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

Yeah before bed and after my shower

91. have you ever been high?

Many times

92. have you ever been drunk?

Many times

93. last thing you ate?

I got a chicken tender sub at Publix!

94. favorite lyrics right now

Don’t leave home, again

If empathy takes energy

‘Cause everyone feels just like you

But that’s life, it’s so social

95. summer or winter?

Winter because I like when it’s a bit chillier, even though Florida does not get very cold. It’s been in the 40s and 50s this week which has been incredible and I wish we had more days like that.

96. day or night?

I like the night during summer and the day during winter.

97. dark, milk, or white chocolate?

Milk chocolate

98. favorite month?

October

99. what is your zodiac sign

Libra

100. who was the last person you cried in front of?

My ex-girlfriend about three years ago.

I still hate you for this.

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habstein · 6 years

Text

Hello little details scavengers, it’s hab again.

You know, in the past I talked about good days, bad days, and weird days (which is both good and bad). I like weird days, coz it represents the balance of the universe and it’s like little soft voices whispering to my ears “don’t worry hab, bad things happened, but it could be a weird day and you’d be cheered up in no time” ☺️

Well, today is a weird day.

—-

First, I almost lost the chance for a scholarship. So last week, the dean of the English department sent the monitor of my class a list of students who are eligible for the annual Kawai scholarship (no, it’s not kawaii =.= even tho i think i’m cute enough for a kawaii scholarship ((((: ). But she didn’t tell me. I was NOT informed by any means, at all. Lucky me, a girl that I’m pretty close with in my class told me about it. She was like “Hey, I saw the list of potential candidates for Kawai scholarship and your name was on the top. Have you contacted dean and filed a form?” And I was like “What? I know nothing about this sht?!?”. I asked the monitor if it’s true and she just texted me “go see dean”, nothing else, not even explain one bit about the why and what and how 🙄So I went to dean’s office. He was clearly unhappy when seeing me, he said: “I told the monitor to tell you to come here 5 days ago.” I was surprised, and a bit scared ☹️ I said “I’m sorry, professor, but I just received the news today.” “I asked your monitor, she said she’d already told you. You’re telling me she lied?” -.—.——. Well... I’m an, how to say, amicable person. I don’t want anybody to get in trouble, especially when I don’t know the root of things. Like, idk if she has any reason to not tell me, and I don’t like to assume, so I just told dean that “Maybe she texted me on the wrong number. I’ll make sure she gets it right next time.” Thank god the mood lightened after that. The professor explained to me what was the scholarship, who could apply for it, and what specific things I had to do in order to get it. And he emphasized that I have to do it fast because today is already due date for applications. So there I went. I ran from places to places around my uni to get this thing signed and the other thing stamped. And for a person with anxiety to perform several tasks at once while meeting all these new people at their fancy offices and most importantly UNPREPARED (mentally), it’s pretty exhausting. But well I made it. I’ll tell you the good news if I get that scholarship. Of course I remembered to thank the dean for his encouragement and support. And I’ll definitely buy my good fella in class a bigsize cup of bubble tea. I just cannot thank her enough.

——

That and a midterm test make this morning a busy one. Later in the afternoon, I saw sth on my fb feeds that made me sad. It was just somebody’s bits in their universe, meaning not my business and I should be wise and look the other way. But me being me, I read the whole thing and it was like someone carried my whole body and put me in this tiny box of numbness. I know I sound crazy to you, because I can’t tell you exactly what I read, but it affected me, and not in a good way. Well, tbh, I have lots of experience dealing with numbness, so I dealed with grace, I listened to my Tea playlist and went to work. After work, when I was struggling to get my motorbike from the parking lot coz it was squeezed between two huge bikes, I thought about the bits that I shouldn’t have read and was a bit down for a sec. I then decided to go to a nearby bookshop to get the latest issue of Gintama. They’re republishing the series in my country, so I’m collecting new issues whenever they’re out. There’s a queue at the counter and I stood right behind a little boy. The boy seemed to be whining for a mechanical pencil but his mom said no so he angrily stomped towards the stationery shelf to put it back (it looked cute actually, his stomping action 😂). But then he came back with even more stuffs and put them on the counter. Well, by then I realized that this tiny human was one of my students that I taught way back in June. He was among the naughtiest and smartest kids in my class. In fact, there was a day when it’s a bit stormy so there were only two students coming to class and he was one of them. He was scared because there were so few of us that if there were burglars they would easily kill us and take everything 🤣 So I spent the next 15 mins to reason with him that 1. No burglar would sneak into this class to get just a laptop and a phone (he thinks my phone worths a fortune 🤣) and 2. I know karate so I would fight to the death to protect him and his classmate. And you know what? Little troublemaker said “But teacher I don’t want you to die.” Sooo yeah... I remember him very well.

When seeing this small stack of new unnecessary stationery on the counter his mom said “Khang (his name), you still have many highlighters and pens at home. You should use those pens before buying new ones.” To which he mumbled “What’s the matter? I can afford it =.=“...

- Mẹ nói thì con phải nghe chứ Khang ơi ^_^ (You should listen to your mother, Khang.)

- Ơ.. cô Hoàng Anh!! (*gasped and called me Ms. Hoang Anh)

He turned around and looked at me with the widest eyes. Idk why but kids don’t think that their teachers also go to bookshops or the supermarket). I gave him the biggest smile, like one when you meet an old friend. He tugged his mom’s shirt slightly and proudly introduced me as his English teacher from summer. He was genuinely excited to see me and that just made me so happy. When I finished paying for my Gintama and got on my bike to go home, he ran out of the bookstore just to ask this:

- Cô ơi cô mua gì đấy? (What did you buy, teacher?)

- À, truyện tranh. (Oh, comics.)

And he just laughed like it’s the funniest thing in the world. He thought I’m an old person and that means I don’t read comics or manga.

—-

That little unexpected encounter really made my day. I was so happy I smiled like an idiot all the way home. A storm just passed yesterday (you know, Mangkhut storm) so it just rained a little. Teeny tiny drops of water on my skin and the fresh cold air of autumn through my hair. Who would have known happiness is just as simple as the mark you make on someone else’s life. If you meet someone and they remember you along with all good things, then you know you are happy.

#weird day #happy #autumn #a day in september #hab's bits

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paradisobound · 6 years

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Light in the Dark

Summary: Phil is the RA (Resident Advisor) for his local college where he manages the residents on the floor of his dorm building. But his junior year in college is about to take a turn when one of his residents, who’s named Dan, is blind. Soon, Phil develops a friendship with Dan as he soon discovers that they were meant for much more than just a platonic relationship. He just hopes that his Alpha abilities won’t scare away the timid Omega.

This is a chaptered work. This is chapter 15.

Word Count: 1,952

Warnings: medical disabilities (blindness). Strong angst at the end and a fight!

For Phil, Christmas was really special this year. Mostly because he wasn’t with his own family for the start of it. When Dan left to go back home after his stay with Phil’s family, Phil had left with him, not wanting to spend any more time without his mate while they wait for the semester to begin again.

Of course Phil missed not being with his family but there was something much more spectacular about waking up next to Dan on the morning of Christmas.

The exchanging of gifts went by fast but Phil wanted to give Dan his gift to him in private. Although Dan was too eager to wait to give Phil his so Phil had opened it with Beth, and Dan’s family all staring at him. As he opened up the gift to find a signed Muse album, he instantly grabbed Dan in a hug and kissed him. He knew that finding a signed album was really hard and it must have been even harder yet knowing that Dan couldn’t possibly have known whether or not the album was actually signed or something someone was telling him was signed.

But after he thanked Dan for his gift, he gave Dan his own. He bought Dan a simple gift of a bracelet that his initials on it. It was a silver one, one Cornelia had helped him pick out. She told him that if Dan was his mate, he should wear his initials somewhere on him. So Phil decided a bracelet would be best because then Dan could wear it all the time and not worry about forgetting it anywhere.

When Phil first gave Dan the gift, he explained what it was to him and Dan seemed confused at first until Phil told him the special meaning behind it. And as soon as he got done speaking, Dan’s eyes lit up and he began to put the bracelet on himself, which made Phil so damn happy.

Following Christmas, Phil went home reluctantly to spend the rest of the time with his family. Departing from Dan was hard but he decided that next year, he and Dan would be mated and by law, be eligible to purchase the lease for an apartment. And he was fully ready to live with Dan.

Luckily for Phil, the winter break went by much faster than he had anticipated because the college asked all the RA’s to return back to campus one week before everyone else arrives back. So on a Monday, Phil returned back to campus with his bags in tow.

Ashlee was already there, along with her new mate who was helping her move in. Phil said a quick ‘hello’ to her before he headed off to his room to look over the list on instructions the college gave him that he needed to do before the resident’s arrived.

By late afternoon, Phil had most of his things done. He had the new name tag for the doors ready: he did a superhero theme this semester. He went around to hang all of the name tags on the door when he spotted Ashlee in the hallway, walking towards him with a smile on her face.

“Hey, Phil! How did break go?”

Phil shrugged, taping up the name “Jesse” to the door labeled 216. “It went by fast.”

“Did you see Dan?”

Phil nodded. “Yeah, only a few times though.”

Ashlee pouted her lips. “Oh no! Couldn’t find the time?”

Phil shook his head and continued on to the next door where he taped the next name up to the right room. He then set down all of his supplies and turned to Ashlee, only now fully spotting the dark bruised neck she was sporting. “You’re mated now?”

Ashlee nodded with a giant smile plastered to her lips. “Yes! Jake and I mated exactly two days ago! My mating bite hasn’t resided yet but I went to the doctor yesterday about it and he gave me cream to put on it. Apparently my skin is just really sensitive.”

Phil smiled. “That’s really awesome to hear!” He found himself leaning up against a random door behind him. “I really want to mate with Dan.”

“When is his next heat?” She asked, arms folded over her chest.

Phil shrugged. “He doesn’t know. His body is completely out of whack right now from being denied heats for so long.”

“Oh no.” Ashlee bit her lip. “Well, hopefully it’s soon! But you should convince him to see a doctor that specializes in Omega biology. He might need to go on a birth control to regulate his heats.”

“Birth control does that?” Phil asked.

Ashlee nodded. “Yeah. It did for me anyway.” She paused. “Wait, Dan’s not on birth control and you guys have been having sex? That’s not safe Phil.”

“It’s fine.” Phil said with a smile. “We’re safe.”

“You say that now and then when a little Phil is running around here in nine months, you’ll think otherwise.”

Phil rolled his eyes and chuckled. “That’s not happening.”

Ashlee laughed. “I’m just kidding Phil. I know you’re not that stupid.”

Phil laughed along with her as he bent down and picked up the rest of his name tags. “Dinner later?” He asked.

Ashlee smiled. “Sure! I’ll meet you in the lobby at 6?”

Phil nodded and walked by her, taping the next name on door 218.

The day Dan arrives back on campus is the best day of Phil’s life...again. Dan doesn’t even bother to move anything back into his room, he just moves it into Phil’s room where he’ll be sleeping anyway. And after a quick round of sex that Dan asked if they could do, they were now on their way to meet up with Louise and Ashlee at the plaza.

Holding Dan’s hand, he was happy to see and hear the bracelet that was on his wrist jingle and gleam as they walked.

Ashlee and Louise were already to the plaza when they arrived there, so Phil and Dan took a seat across from them in the booth as Louise passed them both paper plates for their pizza they had just ordered.

“How did your breaks go?” Louise asked them all.

“Great!” Ashlee said. “I’m mated now!”

Louise clapped and Dan smiled at her, reaching out to tap arm but missing slightly and almost hitting her boob (Ashlee didn’t mind though. She just laughed.) Phil then explained how he didn’t do much his break, only talked to Dan and hung out his room. And Dan answered the same way, just slightly opposite.

But as the pizza was about to be brought to them, Louise said something they all weren’t expecting. “I saw Devon a lot over break. His sister started working at the bookstore with me and he had to pick her up from work every time she was scheduled.”

Phil flattened his lips in a straight line and Dan paid no attention as he began to grab a piece of pizza for himself, nearly burning his hand in the process before Phil had to help him a little.

“Oh really?” Ashlee asked. “What’s he been up to?”

“He said he transfered schools.”

Phil nearly dropped his pizza onto the ground before he caught himself and evened out his shaking hands.

“Yeah, he told me he didn’t like our college anymore so he applied quick decision and got into a university about forty minutes away. He’s gonna commute every day.”

Louise continued. “I mean, I’m kind of glad that he’s gone if I’m being honest. The past few months he’s been causing nothing but trouble for you and Dan, right Phil?”

Phil had been distracted for most of the conversation, absentmindedly cutting his pizza with a fork and knife but cutting the plate by mistake and not realizing it. Dan was busy eating his own slice, and taking a sip of his drink, clearly not paying any mind either.

“Oh yeah.”

“I thought you’d be happy to hear that news?” Louise said. “You know all the shit Devon put you and Dan through. Look at the scene he made at the Halloween Dance? He had to be escorted out by security who took him to the health center because they thought he was too drunk to be by himself.”

Phil shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m glad he’s gone but it’s gonna be weird not seeing him around.”

Both Ashlee and Louise furrow their brows. “What are you on about?” Ashlee asked. “Your mate is sitting right beside you and you’re not the slightest bit glad that your old mate is gone?”

Dan stiffened in his seat and set down his pizza, pushing away the plate and leaning with his elbow on the table, his head resting in his palm. “For fucks sake, Phil, Devon used to harass Dan after their joint class every day! Aren’t you happy he’s out of your hair?”

“Well yeah...but…”

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Dan announced, scooching from his seat and heading off with his cane in hand towards the bathroom.

“See what you did, Phil?” Louise exclaimed.

“I didn’t do anything!” Phil cried. “Why is it so wrong for me to say I’m going to miss someone?”

“Because you shouldn’t be missing anyone but your mate.”

Phil sat back, his back touching the seat of the booth as he let out a breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

When Dan comes back out a few minutes later, he has visible tear stains down his cheeks and his nose is a dark red. He sniffles once before he wipes his eyes again under his black glasses. “I called Beth and she’s coming to get me. I want to be alone for awhile.”

“Dan,” Phil stood up and put his hands on Dan’s arms in a gesture of solace. “What’s going on, bear?”

“Why is Devon so much more important to you than me?” he asked, his voice wavering. “I’ve been trying so hard to forget Devon even exists but then when he’s mentioned, you act like you care more about him than me. I get he was the first person you thought was your mate, but if I’m really your true mate, then why is Devon worth so much to you? I love you, Phil. But it hurts.”

“I care about you so much more than Devon, Dan.” Phil’s hands moved up and down Dan’s arms in a comforting gesture. “I want to mate you. I want to be with you, not Devon. Don’t even think that Devon means more to me than you.”

Dan’s face scrunched up a few more stray tears slid down his cheeks. “Beth will be here in a few minutes.”

Something inside of Phil’s chest snapped and broke, stabbing his repeatedly every time he took in a breath. His Omega was hurt, slipping from him and Phil’s hands were getting rope burns from his grasp on the rope holding Dan to him.

As Dan walked away, towards the black SUV parked in the plaza parking lot where Beth was standing and talking with him, Phil knew that he needed to do something about his feelings with Devon. Were they still there? Were they almost gone? Why was Phil acting like this when thinking of Devon but being around Devon made him repulsed?

He turned around to Ashlee and Louise who both just looked down at their plates, not speaking. And he knew exactly what he needed to do. If he was ever going to mate Dan and be with Dan, he had to have closure with Devon. And there was only one way he was going to get it.

Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

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shadowsfiguresfigments-blog · 7 years

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A good place to die Chapter 1

Warning: Harsh language, violence

The bell rang and I stuffed my books into my bag as quickly as possible. Yaneesha was in a particularly bad mood today, and I had been late for work yesterday. Fortunately she was still busy applying her bubblegum-colored lipstick, and I slipped out of the classroom quietly and unhindered. I quickly checked my rusty bike for any damage, but besides the obligatory sign reading “hoe ride”, written in a familiar shade of pink stuck to my saddle, nothing had been done, so I got on it and drove down the bumpy street to the Derries little bookstore. The consistent rain of the last weeks had tormented the already shitty road even further, and I had to concentrate to avoid the new potholes. At this point navigating X Street felt like a walk on a tightrope. But today the sun had shown itself for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and people were busy clearing the streets of all the residues left behind by the water. On every corner at least one person was pulling branches out of storm drain openings and piling up leaves to huge heaps which would be taken away later.

Mr. Shanks, the half-blind owner of the book store, was busy with a huge broom in front of the display case. He methodically shuffled the leaves around the same spot without achieving anything.

“Hey, Mr. Shanks!”, I called out, as I opened the door on the right side of the entrance to take my bike into the storage room. “I’ll be with you in a sec, let me help you with the leaves.” He grunted in my direction, so he was feeling better today. Otherwise he would have screamed and raged at me.

Mr. Shanks was pretty old, could barely see anything and was displaying the first signs of Alzheimer, but his book store was always very well sorted and stocked, and he had been the only one in all of Derry who would let me work for him. If it meant putting up with his temper tantrums and his confusion, it was fine by me. I’ve had worse than shouting and insults.

I locked my bike with its chain and quickly shuffled back to Mr. Shanks, who thrust the broom into my hands while mumbling something about a new delivery and ungrateful clients. While I was busy sweeping the pavement I contemplated the fact that Mr. Shanks’ Alzheimer was probably the reason why hired me in the first place.

People didn’t like me nor cared for me, and it had been like that for as far as I could remember. They regarded me as a freak, and, to be honest, I was one. I didn’t enjoy other people’s company, I didn’t care for popular music or movies or boys or girls and I never really laughed about anything. For aunties sake I pretended to take my meds on a regular basis, but they didn’t do anything for me besides making me sleepy. Over the years I had learned to say what my therapist wanted to hear, how to act normal enough to not make my auntie overly worried and how to stay out of people’s way. But everybody knew what happened to my parents, and that I spent most of my childhood in mental institutions and at the mercy of the care. Only two years ago my auntie had finally gained custody rights, after I was for the first time able to convince my therapist that I was doing better.

But I wasn’t.

Nothing gave me pleasure, and life was but a burden to me. Still, I had not had any success with ending it, so I finally decided to bear with it. I got good grades at school (though not excellent ones), and I had secured a job that payed for the only thing I felt a little excited about: Going to the movies. Horror movies, to be specific. Derries theatre showed them in the early evening, and I was usually the only visitor. For more than an hour I was left alone, and it had gained me the reputation of being somewhat tough. And somewhere in my numb soul I felt a tiny surge of affection for the monsters, the freaks, the specters and ghosts.

When I was finished with the pavement, I went back inside and started sorting out the new delivery Mr. Shanks had been mumbling about. There were quite a lot of huge books in there, and of course they had to be placed on the top shelves. I was relatively small, not only of height, but of built too, which had earned me the nickname ‘skeleton’, and therefore had to use the wobbling ladder that would kill me one day for sure. I couldn’t wait for it.

But, as always, nothing happened, and when I was done there was enough time left to finish my assignments (Mr. Shanks didn’t mind that, at least) before my shift ended, so I could go and watch “Night of the demons” before having dinner. I particularly liked the look of the demon in the mirror, and I felt myself relax a little in the darkness of the theatre. The world seemed to shrink around me into a bubble of safety. For a brief moment I could pretend to be the only one on the planet while Judy was desperately trying to run from her possessed friends. When the movie ended I literally walked into the owner outside. He looked at me with dismay before telling me that the horror movies would be cancelled at the end of this year – they did not draw in enough people to be profitable.

Dinner was the same as always; auntie trying to make conversation and inquiring about my day. I tried to feel bad – she had put in an extra effort to make a complicated risotto, but, truth be told, it tasted like sand to me, and I felt nothing but numbness. I told her about the movies, and she affectionately touched my arm.

“I’m so sorry for you, sweetie. I know how much you loved them. But don’t you think something more… light-hearted might be better for you? Like a comedy?”

I shrugged, and cleared my plate.

Later that night I lay in bed, fast awake. I couldn’t sleep, and that was something new for me. After an hour of just lying there, listening to the wind that had started howling outside, I got up and tip-toed to my closet. In the dark I rummaged through my old pants, the ones that were either to tiny or so worn that auntie didn’t allow me to wear them to school. I felt the fabrics, twisting my hands further down, until I finally touched something brittle and course. Very carefully I unearthed the teddy bear that I had hidden beneath the clothes for ages. It was old and worn and, by normal people’s standards, revolting, because it smelled of sewers and mold, but to me it was somewhat comforting. I’ve had it as long as I could remember, hiding it outside my parents house under a bush. When I had come back two years ago I had crept out during my first night at aunties, and returned to my parent’s house. Miraculously the bush had still been there, and beneath it lay teddy, almost undiscernable between rotting leaves and mud. I took him back with me, stitched the most torn places and brushed of the dirt. And he found a new home between my unused pants.

I slipped back into my bed, teddy tightly hugged against my chest, and let my thoughts wander. Strangely, I never thought about how I’d gotten him. Surely not from my parents, oh no. All they gave me was pain.

I took a deep breath and smelled teddy, though the scent had almost faded from it with time. Still I kept breathing in, and I thought that the smell grew stronger with each breath I took. Something was changing within me. I discovered a relentless, burning energy that kept me awake and throbbed within my veins that drove me out into the night.

I dressed as quietly as possible, grabbed my coat and slid teddy beneath it. My heart drumming in my ears I wandered through the streets, not paying attention to where I was going, until I found myself climbing down form kissing bridge into the barrens. The smell of sewer was getting stronger by the minute, and it felt more and more familiar, while the wind tugged on my clothes, as if it was trying to urge me back home.

I kept going.

Though I was pretty sure I hadn’t been here before my feet kept carrying on, until I stood before the dark gaping entrance of one of the tunnels of Derries sewer. I fumbled for my keys and flicked on the little key ring light that auntie had given me as a present when I moved in with her. Not entirely sure what I was doing or thinking, I entered the sewer system.

#pennywise #pennywise fanfiction

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sloblesbian · 6 years

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been doing a new years resolution & reflection post every year since 2014 so im gonna continue that trend.

personally this was a really great year for me. it’s very weird. things are objectively bad. if you think too much about the future things start to fall apart. there isn’t anything to rely on, outside of my own ability, and that’s limited in what i can do without support. but. it’s not hopeless. i dream a lot of finally graduating and getting a job that will keep me more than just barely afloat, and of what that could mean for me... i won’t graduate for at least 2 year (i need 56 more credits-- i think after 2 years i’ll have 2 more classes to get in, unless i manage either some summer courses or 2 semesters of 5 classes, both of which are unlikely) and even then i know finding a job is hard. theoretically i could start now but i find it difficult to work 30 hours a week and go to school. i’m also afraid that i might make less at an entry level job than at my current job... but maybe this summer i will apply at some bookstores & libraries.

also... i really love my girlfriend. she’s coming to stay with me for 2 weeks in march and i am so excited. it’s been a good year for us. every day i talk to her and she really understands and like, gets me you know? i am amazed and i fall in love some more.

also i accomplished a ton in 2017. maybe not the things i set out to (i finished 1 sock that i started last november, lol, and the only short stories i read were a few online and for school) but i transferred to RIC. i only took 2 classes because i couldnt register till june but i got As in both of them and my gpa is a 4.0 which has never happened in my LIFE. i’m excited about the classes i’m starting this month, and after i finish spanish & anthropology i should only have english classes from then on out. i wouldn’t say i love my current job but it’s miles better than working in retail. it’s less stressful and while i’m generally working less hours i am making a little bit more. it feels necessary & helpful as opposed to being in an endless capitalism machine that only exists to grind me down for unreasonable standards.

but i did read 100 books which was real touch & go for a while.. the first couple months of 2017 i barely read & felt like i had lost my ability to plow thru a ton of books, then the middle of the year i caught up & jumped ahead... fell behind, etc. i finished my last book on the 28th though. i read a lot of comics; my page count for this year is way down, but it doesn’t matter. that’s still damn impressive.

and for things i didn’t plan at all but still accomplished: i wrote 4 pieces of fiction this year. i mean. they’re all fanfiction, which isn’t really something i even read never mind write, which i think is maybe??? sort of even more impressive? i’m going to try and write some original stuff in the coming year but like. right after nanowrimo, my friends and i, who were previously in the fictional coalition of writers who don’t write, uh, all started writing. which is great. but i mean. i started writing in february? march? i wrote a 10k word fic, and then a short follow up, a short pjo thing, and i wrote another 6000 words this month but it’s not on ao3 cause it’s like... a complementary piece to something that isn’t finished yet, lol. overall about 20k words which isn’t too much in the long run but i like that i wrote 4 completed pieces. it’s nice because i had sort of let myself give up on writing because... i mostly don’t enjoy it. i don’t like scrounging for ideas. but i do like planning things out enough, outlining what i want to happen, and then writing the whole thing. it’s like writing a list and then accomplishing it which... as u know, i love. as far as i can tell uhh most people don’t need to do this. i really have to know like. the end trajectory of a piece before i start writing. i don’t have to know every detail but if i am confused to where it’s going i can’t write it. i’m not great at ideas but i am good at making things happen. it feels nice to accomplish something creative, when i basically haven’t since i uhhh dropped out of art school.

also, i wrote 47 reviews, which, damn! i (read: my bff & roommate mags) put up a new website, even if it is going to come down this month (i think. i wanna transfer everything first) and i wrote a review nearly every week and a lot of them were good. like. that’s a lot of writing, between fiction & what have u, what category do my dumb reviews fall under.

(FOOD/DIET warning i dont wanna put it in the tags of the post just skip this paragraph) oh also i cut dairy & eggs (& also gelatin & honey, i guess) out of my diet, & i feel very very good about it (also i think i lost something like 20 lbs-- i don’t weigh myself but uhhh thats good thats very good). when i stopped eating meat in 2010 i lived with my mom & my intention was to one day go vegan but like... i didn’t want to put the strain on her & also i sometimes struggle with food things. but it’s gone really well. it’s nice. feel good. love to cook. very good at it.

so like...... a really good year for me. here’s what i want out of 2018

i’m cutting my reading goal down specifically because i don’t think it’s something that can grow exponentially and i think the main reason i was able to accomplish it was because i didn’t have too much school this year. when i started setting goals for myself in 2012 my original goal was 50 books; that’s what we’re going back to.

every year (except 2016 when i was realistic) i told myself i would read more short stories & knit more. i’m hoping that having less to read (which i prioritize over all other hobbies) will give me more time. also i have a desk & a chair set up which... idk... helps? i put some knitting stuff there & grafted the toe of a sock the other day, so i hope it does, at least. i read a short story yesterday so i hope that’s a portent for 2018. i want to finish the time travelers almanac at least. i have a lot of collections and i do enjoy them. it’s just easier to get through novels than anything else.

if u follow my twitter you have probably heard me say this but: 2018 is the year of the video game for me. im, uh, terrible at games- im fairly certain i have dyspraxia, at least mildly (im wildly, wildly uncoordinated)- but for a while i was playing a few because i had done it enough that i had gotten better..... well, this year i played persona 5, which i really loved like. more than any video game in a long time. i know a lot of people were disappointed with aspects of it (rightly so) but i had never played another persona game so i think that probably shaped my opinion some, and also, i think p5 dealt with issues that i really love to see in fiction & generally don’t, even if it ultimately dropped the ball. anyway. it kind of revitalized my interest, and i want to play more. i have p4 that i want to get through. i never finished usum. i have a bunch of games on steam & mags let me sign into their steam library too & they have about 400 games (thats not an exaggeration). i wanna replay me2&3 for sid. i want to practice so i can play games that are more difficult than i usually do. (mass effect being the sole fps i can play, usually i can only play very linear rpgs (think pokemon & dragon age) and uhhh puzzle games, god i love puzzle games)

so, more concretely:

read 50 books

try to read more short stories

knit more

play video games

do well in school

that sounds good. happy new year.

#year in review #diary tag #long post

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crisontumblr · 7 years

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NaNoWriMo 2017 - Excerpt #3

Current Total Word Count: 21,087 Today’s Yesterday’s Word Count: 2,206

Related Reading: Previous Excerpts | General NaNo Tag

I had to go back and check on the wording I’d used for Rule #1 of this year’s NaNo run, and it reads as follows:

I can’t post any excerpts for your reading enjoyment unless I write at least the day’s recommended word count, so 1,667 words.

Since I got really damn close to yesterday’s “on schedule” word count (21,667), I don’t feel too guilty sharing a new excerpt with you guys--although I did have to fiddle with the formatting a bit!

Interview Log 9276-1-a:

Dr. █████: Hello. Are you [REDACTED]?

SCP-9276-1: That depends. Who are you?

Dr. █████: My name is Doctor [REDACTED]. I’m with the SCP Foundation. I was told you would require proof of my credentials? Here is mine. [After a measure of silence.] Does that satisfy you?

SCP-9276-1: Yes. Have a seat.

Dr. █████: Thank you. [Sounds of furniture moving, as Dr. █████ sits down.] I am to understand, from Agent Willows and the Foundation, that you wish to hand yourself in for containment.

SCP-9276-1: Yes.

Dr. █████: Why?

SCP-9276-1: I want your help. Not—not necessarily yours, specifically. The people you work for. The Foundation. I want their help.

Dr. █████: What sort of help do you think the Foundation can provide you?

SCP-9276-1: I have a number of… How do I put it? [A measure of silence.] Your Foundation is interested in the strange and the occult, right? Ghosts, zombies, aliens—that kind of shit?

Dr. █████: In a manner of speaking—

SCP-9276-1: I’m one of those. I’m a— [Sound of a lighter being flicked. There is a sound like someone breathing in, then out; SCP-9276-1 has begun smoking a cigarette.] Undead. That’s what she called it. I’m undead, and I don’t remember how I got that way, but I want to know. I think I deserve to know. You guys can help me find out.

Dr. █████: And what makes you so sure that we can help?

SCP-9276-1: Honestly? I’m not, but you’re the strongest lead I’ve got, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got at least one thing that should pique your boss’s interest.

Dr. █████: Which would be?

SCP-9276-1: [REDACTED, referring to SCP-9276]

[The only sound for thirty seconds is the sound of SCP-9276-1 smoking his cigarette.]

Dr. █████: SCP-9276—

SCP-9276-1: I see I have your interest.

Dr. █████: How do you know about her?

SCP-9276-1: She made me what I am.

Dr. █████: How?

SCP-9276-1: Well, I imagine that’s part of what you’ll get to find out if you take me in. Do we have a deal?

[Twenty seconds of silence.]

Dr. █████: I’ll need to make a phone call. And I’ll need samples of your blood, your hair—

SCP-9276-1: Take all you need. Just tell me whether or not we have a deal.

Dr. █████: Let me start with that phone call.

Interview Log 9276-1-b:

Dr. █████: Hello again, [REDACTED]. Do you remember me?

SCP-9276-1: Dr. [REDACTED]…? Yes, I remember. Are you sure you’re allowed to call me by my real name? I dunno if they told you, but I’ve got a number now.

Dr. █████: So you have.

SCP-9276-1: Then again, it is just hers with a “one” on the end of it. Figures. Can’t seem to get away from her even when I’m in here.

Dr. █████: Have they been treating you well in here?

SCP-9276-1: Yeah! Yeah, they have, actually. Everybody’s been very polite. I mean, they’ve all got that weird clinical veneer that makes all the politeness seem a little creepy, but at the same time, I’m not surprised. You guys apply science to what defies science, right?

Dr. █████: I-in a manner of speaking, I suppose, yes. [REDACTED], this is Dr. [REDACTED].

Dr. ███████: Hello.

SCP-9276-1: Nice to meet you.

Dr. █████: Dr. [REDACTED] is taking lead on your case, so I figured it would be important for you two to meet as quickly as possible.

SCP-9276-1: You mean I won’t be working with you?

Dr. █████: Oh, you will, but—

Dr. ███████: The Foundation felt that it would be a good idea to have an objective eye spearheading the procedures we might put you through, and so assigned me to oversee your stay. However, Dr. [REDACTED] will be acting as an advisor of sorts, given his experience in working with 9276 during her previous stay at the Foundation.

SCP-9276-1: I see…

Dr. █████: Is it all right if we ask you some questions?

SCP-9276-1: Go ahead, yeah, sure. Have a seat.

Dr. █████: Thank you. [Sound of papers shuffling.] When you and I last spoke, I asked you why you requested containment. Do you remember that?

SCP-9276-1: Doc, my memory might be shit—pardon me—

Dr. ███████: No, please; we encourage frank, honest speech here.

SCP-9276-1: I find that hard to believe, but… Anyway, Doc, my memory is shit, but I at least remember what we talked about last time. You want to know why I did it, right? Why would I call you? Why would I willingly hand myself over to the Foundation to be poked and prodded like a lab rat?

Dr. █████: Well…y-yes, I suppose. Why would you do that? You said—

SCP-9276-1: I know what I told you, Doc. I want you guys to fix me. I don’t know how. If I did, I would’ve fixed myself and not even considered reaching out to you guys—

Dr. ███████: Which reminds me. How did you know where to find one of the Foundation’s agents? It makes sense that you would know about us, if you worked for 9276—

SCP-9276-1: [REDACTED] taught me. “They are everywhere and nowhere, hiding in plain sight, and they will snatch you up and put you under glass without a second thought.” She was fond of saying that, but it’s pretty much true. You guys are hiding everywhere. The hard part was figuring out which one of you to approach. Agent, um, [REDACTED], was it?

Dr. █████: Yes.

SCP-9276-1: [REDACTED] was working in a bookstore around the corner from my apartment, but something about [REDACTED] was too… The illusion of being [REDACTED] was too good, too spot-on. So I followed [REDACTED] one night after work—which I guess was half of a mistake, because [REDACTED] justifiably almost beat the crap out of me, but…y’know, sometimes you have to risk having your skull caved in if you want help. One thing led to another and, well, here I am now with you.

Dr. █████: Hoping we can fix you.

SCP-9276-1: It’s not just my absent memories, Doc. I haven’t been in contact with [REDACTED] in maybe…I dunno, maybe—maybe a month? Month and a half? It’s starting to affect me, I think, but—but in a bad way. Not like I miss her or anything. I mean… Like, I-I’ve been having these weird…these weird…URGES. I don’t know how to describe them. It’s like my skin starts to crawl and itch and it just feels way too tight all over—a-a-and my joints ache, my muscles all kinda lock up or cramp and it’s just like… I feel like shit. Worse than shit. And I get…

[Silence of about thirty seconds, during which a lighter is heard. SCP-9276-1 has lit a cigarette.]

Dr. █████: What sort of urges are these?

SCP-9276-1: [With mild distress.] I can’t even begin to describe it.

Dr. ███████: Try.

SCP-9276-1: If I could, I would have already! I— [Deep breath in, then out.] I’m sorry. I just—this is the worst part. This is the part I want to fix the most. Feels like I’m just slowly losing control of myself the longer I go without being in her presence and I wonder…is this her doing? Is this part of what being undead is about? Do I have to choose between spending eternity in her service…or decay? Because I know what the alternative is. I know how I can sustain myself, but I won’t—I can’t do that because—because shit, what kind of CHOICE is that? Who would even…?

Dr. █████: Mr. [REDACTED], are you—?

SCP-9276-1: Huh?

Dr. █████: Are you alright? Should we resume this conversation another time?

SCP-9276-1: I… Yeah. Maybe that’s a good idea. Can I get some coffee? The welcome party only briefly explained about where I could and couldn’t go, so I’ve just stayed in my cell—

Dr. ███████: Mr. [REDACTED]—

SCP-9276-1: You can call me [REDACTED]. In fact, I’d prefer it.

Dr. ███████: Very well. [REDACTED] it is. Why don’t I give you a tour of the facility and showcase where you can go. We can start with the cafeteria and that cup of coffee, if you like.

SCP-9276-1: I’d like that. Thanks.

#NaNoWriMo #NaNo 2017 Excerpts #National Novel Writing Month #Original Fiction #Writing #Fiction #Mari this is stuff you haven't seen yet

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theplateescape · 7 years

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L.A.

Los Angeles: City of fallen angels

After much too long dragging ourselves out of the quicksand of our modern lives, we touched down in the city of angels with no sleep and, by then, uncomfortable shoes. We at once found ourselves being spoken to like slow children by a large, surly black woman who had apparently seen fit to apply thick, white house paint as nail polish and eye shadow, as we negotiated passage through the broken down houses, and barred windows of Inglewood to our accom in Koreatown. After a brief glimpse of the famous Hollywood sign through the green/grey haze of the thick LA air, we arrived at our temporary home. Our driver of course, was not shy to ask me for a tip (we come from a non-tipping culture in Australia and New Zealand) an awkward exchange which consisted of him giving me change for the ride fare, and then me giving it straight back. We then stashed the bags, as we were much too early to check in and, with a much needed change into my trusty jandels/ thongs/ flip flops, set out into the 40 Celsius morning to kill some time.

Following a lot of cursing and sweating, we managed to get a tuna melt in the belly, and board one of the mobile looney bins they call buses, to the Downtown area for a quick reconnaissance mission. We stumbled into “The Last Bookstore”, and the “Grand Central Market” which was more of an immense extended food court, with great local beers, and a mind boggling array of local delicacies. With the jagged teeth of jet lag digging deeply into our ability to remain conscious, we just managed to get back to Koreatown before surrendering to sleep. Waking sticky, but refreshed, it was back to the Grand Central market for great local beers, tongue tacos and the spiciest raw prawns I’ve had since Bangkok. Marinated in lime juice and coriander and swimming in pure evil, this refreshing bowl of prawn aguachile was the perfect catalyst for a big night out.

First stop, “Varnish.” The worst kept secret bar in LA. With a great cocktail list and super authentic prohibition era speakeasy vibe, this gem is hidden behind a sandwich shop. You enter through a door that from a distance just looks like a wooden panel wall. A few cocktails down, the best mint julep I’ve ever had, and free shots from the vibrant and knowledgeable bar staff, we did what all self respecting traveling alcoholics should do, and asked the bar keep where they go to drink. Seems simple enough right? It’s like asking chefs where they go to eat. We’ve employed this technique many times in foreign lands and have yet to be disappointed. Next to “Bar Clacson” for a beer and to watch people play pétanque on their full sized indoor pitch until I notice a lot of people emerging from the back of the bar. Another hidden space is revealed as we head through to a dark, dingier space playing punk music at high volumes and finished with arcade games. Needles to say this is much more our scene and we hold up here until we can barely stand.

As we leave, we employ the old ‘ask the bar tender where to go’ trick one last time and end up in the middle of nowhere eating tostadas and tacos from a truck with a bunch of LA natives. These taco trucks are an institution here and people are pretty faithful to their favourites. I’ll admit on our way to the “Flamin Tacos” truck, it seemed like the mother of all bad ideas; heading into the unknown with no trusty internet service or cell phone coverage to get our drunk asses back home. But as soon as I tasted the “Cubano,” a two pound sandwich filled with every kind of dead animal you could think of I realised, I am home!

As a child I can vividly remember one of my friends going to Disneyland over the school break. I can also remember being intensely jealous and vowing to get myself there some day. Well folks some 25 years later this overgrown kid got his wish, and then some. We hit three theme parks in 4 days, a deceptively exhausting exercise. I’ll spare the details in favour of a brief overview of each as we experienced them.

Universal studios. This was our first one so we were naturally pretty excited despite getting in from our taco excursion at 2.30am. In short this place is like the Gold Coast’s “Movie World” on crack! Not so many actual roller coasters, but 3D motion master type rides are the go here. The highlight was definitely Harry Potter’s Wizarding World. All the lengthy queues for rides were well shaded with big misting fans everywhere, which were a godsend in the crippling heat. Longest wait time was 45 mins for the Harry Potter ride, but it was the best!

6 Flags, Magic Mountain. Our roller coaster lust was fully sated at this park. There so many that we couldn’t possibly ride them all in one day, though we did try. This one is a long way out of town and involved us having to hire a car and drive ourselves out there. We’d had another big night the day before. This coupled with learning to drive on the right side of the road made for a pretty exhilarating experience before we even got to the park. The highlight was probably the “Tatsu” in which you are strapped in then turned to face the ground, and hurtled head first through the most terrifying series of twists and turns ever dreamed up by some sick genius engineers. It was the first ride of the day and we foolishly thought we had picked a gentle ride to warm up with, not the most intense ride in the whole park! Parts of this park where a bit run down and shabby to be fair. Also in a week of bad theme park food, the styrofoam biscuit they were marketing as a burger here was the fucking pits. Longest wait time was an hour I think, and lines were unshaded and the park overall felt poorly thought out compared to the other two. The “Superman Escape” is worth an honourable mention as I have never screamed with such honest and complete terror as I did while being shot 35 meters in the air backwards at 100miles per hour.

Disneyland. We really did save the best for last. As soon as you set foot in the magical kingdom you can’t help but revert back to an awe stricken 10 year old kid. The obsessive attention to detail was impressive to say the least. Some of these rides are at least 40 years old now, but you’d never know. Everything was so beautifully maintained, you’d swear it was built yesterday. Beautiful design and flawless staff execution, (the other parks probably had more thrilling rides) overall immersion, professionalism, and a sense of true childhood wonder made this place on point. Highlight was the “Indiana Jones “ ride which also had the longest wait, not that that mattered as the queue lead you through an ancient temple complete with booby traps and ancient relics. Also “New Orleans Town” was fucken mint! Unfortunately the “Haunted Mansion “ and “Space Mountain” where both closed which kinda sucks but this place was still the happiest place on earth. They also had the best food with the “Dole Whip”, a pineapple soft serve that actually tasted like a real pineapple, and a Moa sized turkey leg that tasted like ham and left me greasy and defeated.

We did all the other LA staples, the Hollywood walk of fame, the Chinese theatre. We saw an orchestra performance of some of John Williams finest film scores at the Hollywood Bowl which was $20, BYO, and so epic it still brought a smile to this jaded old travellers face. I was delightfully and constantly surprised at how, despite the reputation for rudeness, the people of LA were so polite, kind, and helpful. The traffic gets a bum rap here too but to be honest, Auckland traffic is much, much worse (sort your shit out Auckland!), besides once you have mastered the “hook turn” on the mean streets of the Melbourne CBD, you can basically drive anywhere it seems (except Saigon, Saigon is fucked up!). We’re told that no trip to this town is complete without a trip to “In-n-Out Burger” and to be fair it was an experience. If you’ve never seen a drive through queue spill out onto the road, around the block and hold up traffic a road over, then you ain’t seen shit son! The burgers were good, but not that good. We went to “Five Guys” burger parlour a couple of days later which was far superior in every way, and we didn’t have to wait 45 mins for burgers and battle overweight, heavy breathing burger whores for a scrap of table space to actually eat. In a town built on hype and little substance I felt like In-n-Out’s popularity is symptomatic of an age when you can be famous for simply being famous. Sure the secret menu items are kind of a cool touch, but is a secret menu really that cool if everyone, their dog and the internet knows about it?

After cramming in as much as possible in our short time, in this very large city, we decided to hit “Little Tokyo” for drinks and nibbles. Starting with “Mumford Brewing “ we demolished their range of very delicious IPA’s before striding through what was hands down the biggest homeless tent city I have come across. The stark contrast between the “haves” and the “have-nots” in this town was never so brutally apparent as while watching my back we made our way to the next port, in this sea of misery and decrepitude. We’ve seen real poverty in places like Cambodia before, but it was a cold hard slap in the face to see this happening on such a large scale in the “Greatest Nation On Earth”; for shame America.

Our night then took us to “Wolf & Crane”, where the barkeep directed us to a great sushi bar down the road (always ask the bartenders where to go), where we gorged ourselves on very well priced raw delicacies prepared right in front of us, and sipped giant Sopporo’s and tried our best to order what we could in poorly spoken Japanese. Back to Wolf & Crane for more beers, whiskey tasting flights, and eventually being held captive by the head bartender who knocked off, sat down with us, and proceeded to get us completely shit faced until the wee hours, and refused to let us pay for anything.

Suffering the most brutal hangover, in a week of foggy starts, we pulled our shit together, cleaned up the now unrecognisable food mess we had presumably purchased before retiring only a few hours before, and prepared to leave Los Angeles. We rented a car, packed up all our shit and hit the road for the California coast. The fresh sea breeze and coastal hillsides did much to mend the self inflicted mental wounds we sustained in the concrete jungle. Mile after mile of pristine coast line gobbled up by big business and wanky resorts the size of small towns, made me long for untouched New Zealand just a little, as we made our way down to the border to cross into Mexico.

Los Angeles, city of angels, home of the dodgers and of course Mickey Mouse. Where the air is thick, the water dehydrates you, and the sun is always shining. Looking back however, the angels are dodgy at best, with soiled, scabbed wings, and yellowed nubs for teeth that chatter incessantly to drug induced apparitions, while constantly scratching at the imaginary worms crawling under their skin. I’m no stranger to colourful characters coming from one of the rougher parts of Auckland, and now living in a once notoriously sketchy area of Melbourne, but as we catch the bus to downtown LA to rustle up something to eat, it strikes me that there are an extraordinary amount of damaged individuals roaming the streets in the broad, unforgiving daylight. It takes more than the far off gaze of a few broken souls to deter my appetite, but as I stare into the vast void pooling behind those dead eyes, I have to ask myself, “who is to blame for all this misery?” And then it clicks, who else could it be? The only logical conclusion is as obvious as the track marks on the arms of its victims, we must of course blame the mouse! That’s not to say that I believe a 5 foot rodent wearing gloves and pants is responsible for all the hurt on the streets here, rather it is an effective symbol for the dream, or rather, lies that lead so many hopefuls to over extend and wind up facedown in the gutter. We are all told that if we work hard we can do anything. But this is not necessarily the truth. Do you really think a man (or women) wakes up one day with the burning desire to clear away other people’s trash. Most of us have to play with the hands we were dealt. But that’s a necessary evil in our world. Simply put, if we all got what we wanted out of life by following our dreams our filth would ultimately pile up in the streets and choke society to death. Some ones gotta pick up the trash. Hollywood makes its living packaging up the lie, the dream, and selling it off piece by piece for the price of an admission ticket. So like moths flying too close to the light bulb, the hopefuls come to ‘make it’ in tinsel town, but instead crash and burn, and wind up chatting to themselves on the 720 to downtown. Possibly also the apparent lack of an effective welfare and public mental health systems could be a large contributing factor, but it’s not as fun as taking a swipe at everyone’s favourite bipedal magic vermin.