#i worked at a secondhand store for maybe 6 months or so

[mediocre-daydreams]

don quixote and the classics // bucky barnes bookstore! au

pairing: bucky barnes x bookkeeper! reader

summary: bucky develops a sudden affinity for secondhand books from one specific store, and coincidentally, that store just so happens to employ a pretty, intriguing bookkeeper. from don quixote to the history of Hun empire archery techniques, bucky just wants to see you again.

warnings: swearing, mutual pining, the avengers are meddling assholes but i love it, couple references to my favorite books, and oblivious reader

w/c: 6.5k

prompt 6 by @juicywritinghoard

“librarian desperate to understand what wild phase the other character is going thru rn”

＊✿❀　❀✿＊

when you dreamed of moving to new york, you had hoped your days would be spent glamourously lounging in high-end bars, frequenting gentrified hip indie cafés (because let’s be honest, you can’t escape them these days), and/or getting yourself a sugar daddy.

what you didn’t plan for was working six days a week at a shitty bookstore where you tripped over the loose floorboard behind the counter even after three months. granted, the “shittiness” of it all was quite charming, and the old man who owned the place was probably the sweetest person you’d ever met—which said a lot because you hated old people.

the business had been slaw. as aforementioned, the gentrified millennial-catered cat-café-bookshop-cabaret-bars blew whatever “run-down charm” your store could try to advertise itself as. you spent most of your time abandoning the counter, since it wasn’t like there were customers who needed to purchase things anyway. instead, you’d found yourself lost in shelves of haphazardly organized books (fuck the dewey decimal system), trying to squeeze in new finds (and by new, you meant the battered up copies that the owner’s friends had no more use for) but eventually settling for stacking them horizontally on top of the rows and rows of dusty books.

you’d never admit it, but this place had become your home. sure, it was probably decomposing. and you swore that you saw a squirrel in there once. but you and your single coworker were always treated with baked goods from the owner and paid a reasonable salary. the owner had done so much for you back when you were a naive, freshly moved-in new yorker. he’d fed you when your bills were becoming too much, he offered you a job and made sure you were paid enough, and once, he even let you crash on the cushy chairs in the back when the subway was down and a thunderstorm was raging. 

today was like any average day, so essentially a day full of nothing. stevie nicks crooned through the old radio—the owner insisted on CDs—and you hummed along, occasionally singing some of the lyrics you knew. when the bell chimed and you heard the hinges of the door squeak, you yourself let out a squeak.

“uh, hello?” a raspy male voice called from the front of the store. he cleared his throat. “is there anyone- are you guys open? i didn’t see a closed sign or anything and the lights were on so…” he was speaking to nobody in particular, trailing off after he heard no response.

“okay, um, no worries! have a good day,” he called to no one, turning to leave.

“wait! wait, come back!” you huffed as you ran to the front of the store, clutching your stomach to catch your breath. “sorry, i thought i was hallucinating. we haven’t had a customer in a long time.” you winced. “that’s really bad advertising, isn’t it,” you muttered to yourself.

the man laughed. “no worries, i’m enjoying our introduction, actually.” he hesitantly held his flesh hand out for you to shake. “bucky. bucky barnes?” he waited for some sort of recognition to flash in your eyes, or maybe a recoil, or maybe for you to ask him to leave. instead, you took his hand in yours and gave him two firm shakes. he smiled at your confident grip.

“as much as i’m glad you’re enjoying this introduction at my expense—sorry about that, by the way; customer service is not my thing—how can i help you?”

“i’m looking for a book,” he said, eyes flickering around the crowded bookshelves as if he were a little intimidated.

“then you’re in the right place,” you snorted. “sorry, that was rude of me. sorry. do you know what you’re looking for? our organization system is a bit… unique, so i can show you to our different sections if you need.”

“that’d be great, actually,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “do you have anything on… gardening? botanicals? specifically flowers? ones that are native to the east coast would be preferable.”

you smiled, picturing the burly man in front of you curled up on an armchair, scanning pages and pages about delicate, colorful petals and local flora. “we do, actually! come with me.”

the man—no, bucky—trailed behind you, mesmerized by the way you navigated seemingly random stacks of books with such familiarity. you stopped abruptly and he nearly walked into you—and thank god for that, because he probably would’ve run you over.

“here ‘ya go!” you chirped, running your hand over the spines of botanical books fondly. “if it’s not too invasive to ask, but why are you looking for books on flowers? no offense, but you don’t really seem like,” you waved your hands around, “a flower kind of guy.”

bucky chuckled, already immersed in his hunt for the perfect book. “you’re right, i’m not. my friend wanda’s been wanted to start a garden, but she’s always been a city girl. we have a place further out from the city with a good amount of land, so i’m hoping to get her started.”

“that’s so sweet!” you swooned, smiling widely. “you’re such a wonderful boyfriend. god, those are rare.”

“oh no- uh, we’re not dating,” bucky stammered, cheeks flushing slightly as he refused to meet your eyes. his hands froze midair, fingers dancing across the spine of a book. “we just live… together. there’s a lot of us there.”

“ah, so you guys are like fancy outskirts-of-new-york co-inhabitants, huh?” you gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully. “never met anyone like that.”

“well, normal is not a word i’d use to describe myself,” he said with a hint of bitterness. was that right? he was bitter?

you leaned against one of the shelves as you watched him search. when he found what he was looking for, he turned with the book clutched against his chest, giving you a triumphant grin.

“you found one! c’mon, i’ll get you all checked out.”

bucky couldn’t help but watch as your fingers danced across the old register whose numbers on the keys had begun to fade. you flipped the book to the back to check the price. “hey, you got a good deal! five dollars, please.” 

he fished for his wallet and handed you a crumpled bill. you smiled and handed him his book. perhaps it was intentional or maybe it was simply an accident, but bucky shivered when your fingertips brushed against his own. “it was nice to meet you, bucky,” you waved cheerfully as he left, a bit reluctant to say goodbye. he held his hand up in parting, walking out the door backward to keep you in his sight for as long as possible, almost bumping into a passing pedestrian who shot him a glare. you giggled.

as he began the walk back to the subway, he flipped through his new book. he smiled to himself. right in the center of the pages was a delicate bookmark, stained with dancing hues of a painter’s watercolor touch.

-- 

wanda was overjoyed at bucky’s gift. she seemed to love the secondhand nature of it, claiming “that’s what gives it personality!” bucky agreed that the book had personality, but he didn’t think it was because of its age. it was because it reminded him of the sweet bookkeeper’s smile. unbeknownst to wanda, he’d taken the bookmark out and kept it for himself.

steve’s birthday was coming up, and seeing as wanda couldn’t stop gushing over her plants, the rest of the team had taken an interest to where the book had come from. when living in a hundred-million-dollar complex, something as simple as the concept of paying for a battered-up, used item was a bit foreign.

“you’re back!” you’d exclaimed at the sight of bucky’s smiling face. it was late june, and between his first meeting with you and today’s mission of retrieving a birthday present for steve, he’d stopped by three times already.

“your favorite regular has arrived,” he grinned, draping himself over the counter teasingly to admire your face. you swatted him away.

“you’re my only regular and you know it.” you tapped his nose. “so what are you looking for today?” you came out from behind the counter, taking extra care to skip over the loose floorboard. after tripping over it twice in front of bucky, you were determined to take extra caution.

“something on art, actually.” he looked down at you adoringly as you stood in front of him, head tilted up to meet his eyes as you rocked back and forth excitedly on the balls of your feet.

“ooooh, you’re versatile!” you wrapped your small hand around his wrist, catching bucky off guard, but by some miracle, a wave of courage swept over him and he slipped his wrist out of your grasp and interlocked your fingers with his. if you were caught off guard, you made no indication, but bucky could swear your heart jumped a little.

you weaved the two of you through the shelves once more. the two of you were fully aware that bucky could probably navigate just fine on his own after his multiple visits here, but neither of you would complain about the extra few minutes you’d get to spend together. 

as he browsed, you settled into your usual routine of chatting as he searched and you leaned casually against a shelf. “... so first you come in with gardening, and then the next week it’s archery during the Hun empire, and then last week you get two books—which were great picks, by the way; you were very tasteful with the don quixote and thinking of you reading alice in wonderland absolutely made my day-” 

bucky blushed. you had been thinking of him?

“-and now you’re here for art? i’ve got to say, i’m extremely impressed, buck.”

he stood up from his crouch, where he had been examining the lower shelves for the perfect book, and held it up to you for approval. this was also part of the routine—he’d pick out a book, you’d inspect it, and if you deemed it a good fit, he’d buy it.

“i love it! mainstreamers of modern art? i never pegged you for a modern art guy, but i see it now. you’re adventurous.” as the two of you made your way through the checkout process, he couldn’t help the thought that’d been running through his mind the past few weeks.

“do you make the bookmarks yourself?

this time, it was your turn to blush. “um, yeah, actually.” you hesitated before handing him his book and meeting his eye. “i’m no picasso,” you tapped on the cover of the book where his art was featured, “but before you started coming, i had a lot of free time. so i started making little bookmarks.”

the loveliest smile you’d ever seen on bucky’s face, or anybody’s face, for that matter, spread ear-to-ear like the flowers you assumed that wanda had successfully been nurturing.

“what is it?” you laughed nervously, tilting your head away from him shyly.

he reached out and took hold of your jaw with a gentle touch. he wasn’t sure where all this courage was coming from. perhaps it was the spirit of capitan america running through his bloodstream. “don’t… don’t look away. don’t be embarrassed. i think it’s beautiful,” he confessed, eyes never leaving yours just as his hand refused to pull away from where it had reached up to caress your face. the two of you were trying to contain your bashful smiles.

“thank… thank you,” you whispered, finding your faces a bit too close for this to be platonic. at this point, you weren’t sure if the “beautiful” bucky had been talking about was referring to the bookmarks or to you. you hoped it was the latter.

the clanging of the bell broke your spell. the both of you jumped back; you pretended to be busying yourself with papers that didn’t exist and bucky’s arms snapped to his side like a soldier in position. a young woman appeared at the door.

“wanda?” bucky revelled, eyebrows furrowing as he took in the figure of a curious customer scanning the store.

“no, bucky. vision decided to emulate me and come all the way down here to terrorize you. yes, it’s me, wanda,” she deadpanned.

“wanda!” you abandoned your nonexistent busywork. “you’re bucky’s roommate? i’ve heard so much about you? how’s the garden coming along? what’d you think of the book? i’m not sure if- i put bookmarks in all the purchased books, i hope yours didn’t fall out! i put a flowery patterned one in there for you,” you gushed, overjoyed to meet a friend of bucky’s and get a glimpse of his personal life which he was incredibly guarded about. oh, and because you had a new customer, obviously.

“bucky’s told me all about you as well! it’s so nice to finally meet you!” you hesitated for a second as wanda wrapped you into a big hug before reciprocating with equal enthusiasm. bucky didn’t care about wanda’s comment as much as he was thrilled to see you get along with his friends.

“and yes, i loved the bookmark,” wanda said, shooting bucky a questioning glance, eyebrows raised. bucky wilted under her knowing look.

“how did you even find me, wanda?” bucky chewed his lip nervously at wanda’s mischievous smirk.

“oh, it was totally an accident. i found this darling store online and i knew i just had to come get steve’s birthday present here. it just so happens that this is the place you’ve been running off to all these weeks! i can’t believe you’d keep this gem to yourself,” she simpered, taking hold of your hand.

“you know, bucky can’t stop talking about this place,” she smiled. “and you,” she whispered connivingly into your ear. you felt your face heat up and hoped wanda couldn’t tell. she could.

“r-really? that’s so sweet of you,” you stammered, eyes flickering between wanda and bucky. bucky looked like he was going to sink into the floor.

you cleared your throat. “so, you said you’re looking for a birthday present? would you like some assistance or are you good to wander on your own?” you deflected, letting go of wanda’s hand when you felt yours begin to clam up.

“well, i see bucky’s already beat me to the art book. i think steve might like a classic though. he’s been trying to catch up on everything he missed when he was under the ice, and i know he’s always had a soft spot for the paperbacks with the pretty colors. you should stop by and check out his collection!”

you narrowed your eyes. “under… under the ice?” you questioned, not sure where this was going and wondering if you needed to call an ambulance and/or schedule a psychological examination for wanda.

“yeah, you- oh, has bucky not told you?” the both of you turned back to look at bucky, who was still frozen in place by the counter with his eyes wide. wanda turned back to you smugly. “we’re here for steve rogers. you know, captain america.”

your mouth dropped as you stared at wanda blankly. you weren’t sure if you were drooling or not, but you wouldn’t be surprised if you were.

“c-capitan america? the real one? a-and are you wanda, as in the scarlet witch? holy shit. and- oh my god,” you panted, eyes wild. “bucky?”

bucky met your eye, apprehensive. “bucky? i’m so fucking stupid. bucky barnes. james barnes. the- the winter soldier?”

bucky flinched, steeling himself for the inevitable. you sounded so afraid, tripping over your words as you tried to say his name. the secret was out now, and he’d have to stop coming to your bookshop—no longer could he tease you, or buy books he didn’t really need, or spend all his spare cash, or help you dust the shelves, or add to his collection of your bookmarks, or-

“bucky, i can’t believe you didn’t tell me, you little sneak!” you ran up to him and slapped his arm playfully. you tugged at your hair. “i’m so blind, aren’t i? you’re wearing a jacket in the summertime. your name is literally barnes. you told me you lived in a fucking compound on the outskirts of new york and i was so caught up in your pretty face to even-”

you slapped your hand over your mouth, eyes widening enough to rival bucky’s own wide eyed stare.

“uh, wanda! you wanted a book?” you rushed over to her side, grabbing her hand and tugging her deeper into the shelves as wanda snuck a look back at bucky, whose face was buried in his hands as he leaned against the counter.

wanda ended up buying 1984. you were a fidgety mess as you checked her out, tucking another one of your bookmarks between the pages. you and bucky didn’t look at each other once. well, that was a lie. your eyes were burning holes into the first edition paperback while bucky snuck glances at the side of your face, watching your concentrated brows and small huff at the sticky keys of the register with a stupid, infatuated smile on his face. wanda elbowed him hard.

“what was that for?” he hissed, lowering his voice and hoping you couldn’t hear him. wanda rolled her eyes.

“thank you so much,” she simpered as you handed her the book with a polite smile. “you know, you’ve done so much for us. bucky’s never been big on reading before,” wanda patted the super soldier’s arm. your eyebrows raised as if to say, oh really?

“hard to believe, right?” she laughed. “he comes here so much i could be fooled. anyways, i was thinking you should come and celebrate steve’s birthday with us! it’s the fourth of july, which is cliché, i know, but if you don’t have any plans you’d be more than welcome! we’d all love to meet the woman that’s gotten bucky all intellectual recently. your books have more of an impact around the compound than you think.”

you looked terrified. “i- what? the compound, as in the avengers compound? wait, captain america’s birthday? a birthday party? you want me to come to america’s party for his birthday?” you gasped, blinking furiously to try and comprehend the insanity of it all.

wanda giggled. “yes! you’re so cute; i can see why bucky likes you so much.” once again, you and bucky blushed and looked at the floor. wanda either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“i mean, i’ll have to- i might have to work but- yes! i’d love to, i just have to check with the owner, uh, thank you? for inviting me to your party? um, are there going to be avengers there?”

wanda shook her head, enamored by your antics. “yes, there will definitely be avengers there. it’ll probably just be the team and their families, but you can be bucky’s plus one. here, let me write down the details for you!”

you slid wanda a piece of scrap paper silently, subtly pinching yourself to check if you were dreaming. you were not.

“here ‘ya go! bucky and i can’t wait to see you there!” she chirped before dragging a dazed bucky out of the store and leaving you breathless. bucky can’t wait to see me there. 

--

“stop being such a sourpuss, bucky.” wanda complained, smacking his arm with a trail of red energy.

“yeah, bucky. if your girlfriend is half as obsessed with you as you are for her, she’ll show up here with a trumpet fanfare and a horse-drawn carriage. you’re down bad, my man, and it’s getting kinda sad.” sam had his arms crossed in front of bucky, who had decided to tag team with natasha to bully bucky all day.

“it’s steve’s birthday, can we just… ugh,” bucky groaned, tugging at his hair. “i don’t even care if she comes or not. it’s not a big deal. i’ve only seen her like, five times. i’m just a customer. so it doesn’t even matter.”

natasha rolled her eyes. “i’m this close,” she demonstrated with her fingers pinched together, “to beating the stupidity out of you, buchanan.” bucky glared at her.

“can you not-”

“shut the fuck up, idiot,” sam interrupted.

natasha elbowed him “okay, the goal is to piss him off, not rip his fragile, lovesick heart into shreds,” she chastised. bucky pursed his lips in frustration and took a deep, calming breath.

“i am going to remove myself from the situation,” he spoke mostly to himself, closing his eyes and remembering with dr. raynor had taught him. as much as he hated his shrink, he had to admit, therapy was coming in handy when it came to dealing with his asshole teammates. de-escalate, bucky. remove yourself from the aggressive environment. good job, bucky. deep, calming breaths. imagine you’re on a quiet beach…

“bucky!” the sound of your honeyed call broke his trance. his heart raced once more. well, shit. that ruined the whole meditative process. but it was worth it if it meant he got to hear his name roll off your tongue, all sugary and pure.

natasha and sam smirked at each other as you ran over to bucky with a gift in hand and bucky took speedy steps over to you with his long legs. he wrapped you into his arms and you squealed as your feet left the ground as you returned his hug with just as much passion.

“hi!” you whispered as you caught your breath, smiling up at him with such joy that he thought he might melt under your gaze before he’d even get a chance to wish steve a happy birthday.

“so you’re the girl that’s turned that frown upside down?” sam joked, taking your hand delicately and planting a charming kiss on the back of it. you laughed breathlessly, unaware of bucky’s pointed look at the back of sam’s head. it didn’t slip natasha’s perceptive gaze, however, and she took note of it.

“i’m natasha,” the spy shook her hand and raised her eyebrows approvingly at your firm handshake. you introduced yourself eagerly. “wow, you’re the black window! i- wow. i love you so much. my coworker and i are such big fans,” you raved, fanning yourself with your hands.

natasha chuckled, taking your hand in hers and lowering it for you. “well, i’m a big fan of you too.” you looked like you were going to pass out. “it’s an honor to meet the woman who’s turned the most petulant, ancient asshole into a cutesy, sappy little boy.”

you gasped dramatically, eyes jumping up to bucky. “bucky’s not an asshole! or a little boy, for that matter. he’s a cultured reader and classics aficionado. one of my best customers, actually,” you said proudly. natasha and sam looked at each other once more, but you and bucky were too immersed in each other’s smiles to notice their smug looks.

“wait, can you fly?” you whipped your head around to sam. “you’re the falcon! of couse you can fly! sam—can i call you sam?—can you take me flying?”

sam opened his mouth presumably to say yes, as he would take any excuse to zip around the compound and annoy his team, but bucky cut him off.

“nope, we’re not doing that. don’t do that, doll,” he looked down at you. you smiled, confused, at the pet name that slipped out of his mouth. “there’s a 70% chance that sam will kill you and a 10% chance that he’ll land roughly and you’ll both fall, and you look too beau- nice for grass stains. plus i’d really like to spend at least a couple hours with you outside of your work before you die.”

you gaped at him, not sure whether to interpret this as him making jabs at sam or him trying to flirt with you. maybe it was both. you were too stunned to analyze any of it anyway.

“buck? hey, you brought your friend!” steve jogged over eagerly with a glint in his eye that bucky did not like one bit. 

“i- oh my gosh- hello? i’m sorry, it’s just that you’re capitan america and that’s pretty cool and stuff and bucky and wanda got books from my store—oh shit, did i just ruin the surprise?” you gasped.

bucky was prepared for steve to scold you for your language, but instead, he burst into a full-bellied laugh that neither of you were expecting. “i may be turning 105, but i’m not blind yet! we can never usually get bucky to talk, but ever since he got wanda her book, it’s all been ‘this girl at the bookstore,’ and ‘did you know that she paints?’ and ‘i wonder what her work schedule’s like because i never see her outside of the store,” steve ranted.

“it’s kind of really annoying, actually,” tony piped in, sauntering over with a half-eaten chocolate covered strawberry in hand. “the gramp won’t shut up about you. it’s nice to know that your favorite vegetable is cauliflower and that you’ve promised to take the tinman to a vegan restaurant. y’know, he hates vegetables. he’s practically a carnivore.”

tony pushed his sunglasses down to give bucky a judging look unobstructed. normally, bucky would’ve retaliated, but all he could do was blush. (from the heat of the sun, obviously. he did forget to put on sunscreen today.)

you looked up at bucky, taking his metal hand and shaking it without hesitation. your fearlessness surprised him—not only had you touched his prosthetic so nonchalantly, but you hadn’t run away screaming after hearing all the embarrassing things his teammates had divulged within the first half hour of your arrival.

“bucky, is it all true?” you teased, licking your lips and tilting your head ever so slightly. bucky knew it was because you were questioning him, but all he could think about was how you were perfectly positioned for him to kiss; all he needed to do was bend down a bit and maybe then he could finally see if you tasted as homely as your books smelled or if you had just eaten cauliflower—somehow, the idea of vegetable breath was appealing if it was on you.

“bucky? you still here?” you poked him in the stomach, which didn’t do much seeing as he was a buff avenger with enhanced strength. he blinked himself into the present.

“yeah, yeah! sorry, uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, a habit you’d come to recognize as something he did when he was uncomfortable.

“hey, are you okay?” immediately, the interrogation you were planning on giving him disappeared from your lips and was replaced with eyes of concern. you placed your other hand on top of his metal one and tugged on it to catch his attention. “bucky, c’mon. let’s go somewhere quieter.”

you weren’t really sure had no clue where you were going, but once the bubbling of voices from the party began to fade, you stopped and turned to face him fully. his flesh hand, which had continued to run across his face, paused and slowly sank to his side as you watched him solemnly.

“i know that friends sometimes push things to far,” you laughed quietly, eyes darting to the ground, “and it can hurt a little bit. and sometimes for me it’s hard to tell them that i’m hurt.” you looked back up at him, but his face was expressionless.

you sighed. “i guess you’re right; we don’t know each other that well apart from our interactions at the store. but… if what your friends were saying were true, i’d- well, i’d like to know you better. outside the store, i mean.” your eyes darted between bucky’s intense, blue stare. your gaze never left his, even as he swallowed hard and refused to let any emotion cross his face. by the bob of his adam’s apple, though, you could tell that he was affected somehow.

“i wasn’t joking when i said i’d take you to that restaurant, you know. ‘cuz i really like you and i don’t understand you and your reading choices but i’d really like to because… you intrigue me. i don’t care if your team thinks you’re broody or whatever, ‘cuz i think you’re enigmatic and thoughtful.” 

you dropped his hands. “ha, sorry. i don’t wanna push it; i know you’re probably really overwhelmed right now, it being your friend’s birthday and hosting a stranger and all your friends probably made you really uncomfortable just now so i don’t want to add to your stress-”

“can i kiss you?” bucky murmmured, the tiniest bit of nervousness flashing across his eyes as he pursed his lips in anticipation for your answer.

you needed no words. instead, you raised your arms and jumped, flinging them around his neck and bucky was quick to understand. he caught you, holding you up by your thighs and being careful to keep things respectful (he was a 40s gentleman, after all). bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as his lips met yours cautiously. god, he’d been dreaming about this for so long, and it always felt a bit vouyeristic knowing that you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. how wrong he was about that.

you hadn’t expected bucky’s lips to be so soft and you adored it when you leaned into the kiss. your noses brushed and your hands, after fidgeting with themselves for a bit, climbed up his neck and into his hair, where you tangled your fingers in his locks and gently rubbed over his scalp. he groaned, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.

you had to break off, though, as you were not nearly as capable of holding your breath as long as a super soldier was. you were reluctant to do so, of course, and you pulled away just as much as necessary, making sure to remain as close to him as possible. your foreheads and noses were still touching as your lips remained just an few inches away where you were trying to catch your breath. your eyes were closed blissfully, and bucky dared to flutter his open.

there you were, the subject of all of his daydreams in the past few months, so close to him. he could feel your warm breath on his face. when you leaned in to kiss him again, you did so with even more fervor. you gasped into his mouth so wonderfully that he stumbled backwards a couple steps, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip so that your mouth would stay open and he could continue kissing you even deeper.

“bucky,” you whispered hoarsely as you pulled away for a second time. “bucky, i-”

“keep it in your pants, barnes!” tony’s voice bellowed from the party, and bucky burned red. you wiggled a bit in his hold and he took it as a sign to set you back on the ground. once you were standing, you shook your hands fiercely, letting out all the tension.

“wow,” you breathed, a satisfied, wonderstruck smile blooming on the lips buky had just kissed.

“wow is pretty accurate,” bucky agreed equally as breathless.

when you two captured each other’s eyes again, bucky reached down to cup your jaw and run his thumb over your cheek.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he muttered, smiling fondly as you leaned into his touch and covered your hand with his own.

“i could say the same about you.” you turned your head so that your lips were in the palm of your hand and pressed a chaste kiss to his skin. he was glad he hadn’t reached out with his metal hand. he didn’t want to miss out on feeling every kiss you blessed him with. 

“we should go back.” you watched as clint’s kids and tony’s daughter began pleading to cut the cake whilst steve insisted that they wait for the two of you to return.

“we should,” bucky nodded.

neither of you spoke or made any effort to move. instead, you stood on your toes to press one final kiss to the corner of bucky’s mouth and whispered “you don’t even have my phone number.”

he laughed. “doesn’t matter. i’ll just come bother you at the bookstore.”

you bit your lip to stop the beam that was sure to explode across your face and agitate your sore cheeks, so you tilted your head towards the party.

“we should definitely go back. the cake, and stuff. and maybe if i decide that i really like you, i’ll give you my number at the end of the party. so don’t get too comfortable.”

“it’s a deal, doll.”

--

you were perched on one of bucky’s thighs, horizontal to his chest, as the two of you dug into new reads. just like steve, bucky had decided to catch up on the classics (mostly because it meant he could watch your face light up as you chattered on about your favorites and what they meant and tried to convince him to read them, even though he knew he’d read anything you gave him anyway). thus began your sunday ritual of domesticity. bucky knew sunday was your only day off, so the first sunday after steve’s birthday, he had planned to make the most of it.

he took the train to brooklyn (he loved liked you even more for that) and picked you up at 10. he’d brought you to one of the coffee shops that’d been running since the 40s, which you doted on; “it’s so classic! i love mrs. basque—she gets me, you know? hates the gentrification too; she’s so progressive.” he teased you when he found out you (used to) hate “old people.”

“what a change of heart, huh? first your boss wins you over, then you fall for an 106 year old, and now you seem to like mrs. basque more than me.”

“well, if you keep making fun of me, maybe i will start liking mrs. basque more than you.”

bucky had dropped to his knees right outside of the store, begging you to forgive him as the two of you struggled to hold in obnoxiously loud laughs for the sakes of the people around you.

bucky had taken you up to the compound and cooked you a plant based meal and even ate it himself, which was when you realized how deeply you felt for him. he showed you wanda’s garden, helped you safely fly with sam, and then brought you to see steve’s book collection. but the best thing he’d done was present you with a book. it was a limited edition copy of herland, the book you’d been raving about ever since you’d convinced bucky to read the yellow wallpaper. he’d devoured your collection of feminist literature soon after and you fell a little more.

and now, curled up against the chest of the man you loved adored, you were struck by your second revelation of just how far you’d fallen. you watched as his blue eyes, almost as blindingly bright as his smile, danced across the pages of the newest novel you’d given to him. you watched as the sunlight streaming from the window made his eyelashes glow golden, and how his fingers tapped on the cover of the book absentmindedly. you knew he truly cared about the book when he let you be mesmerized by him instead of looking away, embarrassed. and he knew you truly cared about him when he took the time to read through your little annotations and add some of his own.

you shifted, wrapping your arms around his broad chest and nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. he hummed contetedly, using two fingers to hold the book open so that he could free up one of his hands to rub your back with.

from within the blanket of security his body provided you, you allowed yourself to confront your feelings. he’d confessed to you two weeks ago that the only reason he’d kept coming back for books was because he wanted to see you again. technically, he had a “reason” to, but he was the one coming up with them. the book on Hun empire archery was for clint, who didn’t really want the book in the first place, and when he came back the third time, he did so with the intention to ask you on a date. when he chickened out, he thought that’d be the last time he’d see you. instead, he ended up buying two more books—not because he was particularly interested in the classics, but because he’d asked you for your recommendations and you had said don quixote. he picked up alice in wonderland mainly as a joke, but ended up reading it (and loving it) just because it was you who sold him the book.

and then you learned he’d been keeping each one of your bookmarks, treasuring them as if they truly were picasso-level art, and you’d planted the biggest kiss on his cheek. and then you’d learned he never learned how to cook and taught himself just so he could make food for you, and you threw yourself into his arms. and then you had met alpine, and discovered that bucky would read aloud to his cat every night.

and then—well, just now, you cursed yourself out in your head. holy fucking shit i’m such a dumbass, aren’t i? i’m in love with this man. i’m in love with bucky. i. love. bucky.

you didn’t even hesitate when you lifted your head from his shoulder and pecked his cheek to catch his attention. when he closed his book, making sure your bookmark was properly secured before closing it, your breath was shaky.

“i love you, bucky. i’m so in love with you it’s stupid. i love you.”

bucky was silent for just a second before pulling you into the tightest hug. “i love you too,” he whispered into your hair, voice wet with emotion. “i’ve loved you for so long,” he confessed, pulling away and keeping his hands on your shoulders as if he wanted to be assured that you’d never leave.

“i hated everything you loved, at first. reading. vegetables. being so happy, all the time. but you made me love it all. and i must be the biggest fool for taking so long to figure this out, but the reason i’ve changed isn’t because i’ve learned to love all those things. it’s because i learned to love you. and i’d stop eating beef for you, sweetheard. i’d eat cauliflower burgers for the rest of my life if it means i get to love you.”

you backhanded his cheek softly. “you stupid, stupid boy,” you sniffed. “i hate you. god, i hate that you do this to me.” you were blinking back tears. “you’re making me fucking cry. i hate the power you have over me.” you didn’t. the both of you knew that you didn’t.

leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. it was a shitty kiss where your big smiles stopped you from actually doing much kissing, but the “shittiness” of it all was what made it charming. and no amount of bad customer service of ineffective advertisting could convince you or bucky otherwise.

＊✿❀　❀✿＊

main masterlist

taglist: (comment to be added!)

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky and reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x librarian! reader #librarian au #bookstore au #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff

[vinceaddams]

Top Five: thrift/secondhand/opshop finds?

Ooh, that's a good one! I have so many cool thrifted things. There's a big Value Village about a 20 minute walk from work, and I try to go there at least a couple times a month. 'Tis one of my few non-essential indulgences, and oh how I wish I had more room to store fabric and put cool decor in! (All the prices I'm saying are in Canadian dollars.)

1. Wool fabric! This is multiple finds, but I'm lumping them all into one. I think they're all 100% wool, and if any are blends it's still mostly wool. The burn tests results were all very wool-like. All of them are from Value Village except the navy blue in the middle, which was from a small hospice thrift store. That one was $4 for 6 metres!!

The bright teal on top is stretch knit, and I think it's merino. I'm thinking I'll make Regency inspired long underwear with it. The plaid is really long and narrow, and I think it's handwoven? The visible edge there is the full width, and there's probably enough for 3 waistcoats.

The beige and fuchsia will probably - wait, is that how you spell fuchsia?? Weird. It looks wrong. I always thought it was fuschia, but spellcheck is underlining it in red. Anyways, the beige and fuchsia will probably end up being overdyed. The one with the little woven diamond pattern is going to be a waistcoat, because the brown wool one I wear everyday right now really doesn't fit me anymore. (I'm going to make a youtube video of that project. Haven't started it yet, but I really need to!)

I have had a couple of deceptive fabrics that I thought might be wool at the store, but turned out to not be. Usually I'm pretty good at telling from touch though. Wool is so expensive to buy new, so finding any amount of yardage secondhand is pretty exciting.

2. This wonderful candelabra. It's solid brass and was $4. It's a modern reproduction, but very similar to some mid 18th century styles, and I love it. I've found some other nice candleholders there, but this is by far my favourite. Look at that elegantly curving S shape!

This picture is from before I cleaned it with some Twinkle copper & brass cleaner, and it's shinier now and has two beeswax candles in it.

(The next time I had alcohol after this I got really excited about my shiny candelabra, and went on the hardware store website and left a very positive review for the brass cleaner, because it honestly impressed me.)

3. Full length vintage mink coat for less than 20 bucks. It was marked as 21, but I had a coupon, so it came to $19.50. I think the reason it was cheaper than usual is because of the huge faded patch on the side.

It looks like there's sunlight hitting it, but there isn't, it's nighttime, that's just fading. I think it must have hung next to a window for quite a while. Other than that it's in pretty good condition, save for a tiny bit of stitching coming undone in the lining. I mean to eventually use it as the lining for a mid 18th century fur lined coat! The very dark brown one on the closet door behind me is a similar coat from the same thrift store, and it was $35, which is still an absolute steal for so much lovely fur. It's got a bit of moth damage at the hem, but is otherwise good.

4. Someone's really good button stash.

This was spread out over 4 bags, but definitely all came from the same old person. There was such a high percentage of Good Stuff in there, I was astounded!

Usually you look at the bags of buttons and maybe see a few mother of pearl and some nice metal ones, and have to decide if it's worth buying the whole bag just to fish out the good ones (and re-donate the rest because I already have more than enough plastic buttons that I rarely use). But for these ones the good stuff was half the bag!!

Dozens of Victorian glass ones, including a matched set of 15, and even more mother of pearl! And see the little ones in the lower right corner? They're from button boots!

Absolutely incredible day, I love to hoard beautiful buttons like a dragon!

5. Silver plated sugar bowl from 1880.

This was $6, and I almost left it there, but ended up getting it because the handles looked cool. "They look rather Art Nouveau" I thought, "perhaps it's from the 1900's". But nope! (I do not know things about historical dish styles) When I got home and looked at it properly I realized it has a personalized inscription:

"Le to Min Oct. 25th 1880"

Who were these people?? I wish I knew, but alas, sugar bowls can't talk. There are numbers scratched into the bottom and the inside of the lid, so I think it was pawned at some point.

The above picture is from when I was polishing it, and it turns out a fair amount of the plating has worn off, which is why the bits around the designs are so dark. Someday it would be nice to look into getting it re-plated, but I can't be spending money on that sort of thing right now.

I've gotten quite a few silver plated dishes from there (which I use to keep sewing stuff organized on my table) but this is almost certainly the oldest one.

It's hard to narrow it down, there are so many! My shiny blue carnival glass candy dish (which I use for candy) and the smaller one (which I keep my cufflinks in). My beautiful blue ship plate. (I actually have a pretty big stack of plates now. I always look at the collectibles, but most of them are unappealing, I just go for the monochrome transferware, which doesn't turn up super often.) That nice big piece of ikat that I fixed the fringe on and now have as a table cloth on my nightstand. The little brass medallion with Charles Goodyear embossed on it. The late Victorian fashion plate of two ladies, who had unfortunately been cut out and glued to velvet, which I sent to @marzipanandminutiae. The leather scraps, the fur collar, the multiple wool felt hats I want to re-block, the huge cone of olive green thread that turned out to be 100% silk...

I also usually grab embroidery floss when I see it, because the price of new skeins has gone up a ridiculous amount, and you can get a nice collection of it for a tiny fraction of the cost (as long as you use it for stuff where you won't need to match more of a specific colour). It's great to share with friends who do embroidery too! I gave a huge bag to @leegoguen when I went to visit them last weekend.

I don't always find interesting things there, but the chances of finding something good increase the more often you go! For every nice bit of wool there's like 100 pieces of scratchy garbage, but the nice wool does come along eventually if you fondle enough fabric.

#ask meme #ask #thrifting #me #clothing #fabric #buttons #dishes #candles #decor

[moodyyehudi-sideblog]

Since we started eating kosher we order and do takeout food from out much much less (like twice a month down from 1-2x per week.) so our groceries bill naturally has gone up quite a bit, and it isn’t the cost of the kosher food because the only thing that’s really a significant increase is meat and we have only had 1 meat meal per month at our house the past 2 months (it just isn’t something we feel we need more often. We eat fish a lot now. And it’s easier this way) so it isn’t that we’re buying more expensive food items, I’m pretty sure. I didn’t grow up with any type of budgeting knowledge, education or experience. I kinda thought of food as something that was always a “justifiable” expense so not something to worry about the budget, cus you can always be frugal elsewhere like buying secondhand clothes and not buying expensive cosmetics or other luxury items. I realize that’s a privileged outlook. Tbh I do have ADHD in the way that, just getting everything into the house that I need to create cohesive, nutritious, enjoyable, kosher meals feels like a miraculous accomplishment for me. Like it’s a lot for me I know it sounds basic. But I have recently been struggling with huge guilt over the price/cost of groceries. Idk if we are spending more or the same or less on food overall cus as I said, I never had the wherewithal to budget for that. I always just figured we’d be ok and so far we have been but that’s kinda a scary way to go about things. I’m always questioning what I can afford. And the fact that I don’t contribute financially really makes me worry because it’s so much all on my husband and Ideally I want to do everything I can to negate the stress. But I haven’t honestly done much work toward that in this specific regard (I have been successful in saving money in other arenas, such as not buying many new items and making do w what we have, mending things when they break instead of replacing)

Idk it’s a combination of things. When I was growing up, I remember buying normal sized packages of food items for like less than $2 and now it feels like no single package of food is less than $4.75 at the store (I’m exaggerating there but really, when did bread become $6? When did a box of Oreos become more than $5? Maybe I just didn’t pay attention until recently but everything feels too expensive..)

Not to mention the time expense of cooking, but of course I’m so so happy to do it. But it is something I cannot help but to factor in because whenever I’m doing a sustained task like that, my kids are likely missing out on my attention for a bit and it can be distressing for all involved. I’m just trying my best and I’m pretty sure we are doing ok but how do people afford to do all this and also have lots of kids and then send them all to the Hebrew day schools 😭 when I first started having kids I was determined I would homeschool them but more and more I’m realizing Hebrew day school would be ideal in many ways. But like, how on earth to afford such a thing? And camp? And yeshiva and college? Like. Where is this money coming from … and when I do go back to the workforce how am I going to manage the household to the standard I want …? Just how 😭 idk idk. I’m having a lack of faith moment I guess because it has all worked out in the past so , I should just do my best and realize that things will be ok.

I’m having like these racing guilt and anxious thoughts. Idk why…

It is for sure time (overdue acrually) for me to make a groceries budget. I know that.

[readingoals]

Queenathon II Discussion Qs

The second way you can join the Queenathon is discussion prompts! Each one is named after a song by Queen. You can respond to as many or as few of them as you like and I encourage you to respond in whatever way you want – simple text posts, photos, graphics, or even videos if you like. Have fun with it! These are ideal for people who don’t think they can complete a book during the 14 days but still want to participate, or anyone who just likes talking about books and reading habits. Below the cut is a more detailed list of the prompts.

Day 1: Coming Soon

It’s the start of the readathon so share what you’re hoping to achieve! A certain number of books or pages read? A single bingo or a full bingo board? Answering prompts and joining in conversations? Or maybe something like just reading a little each day after work?

Day 2: Liar

Has anyone ever recommended you a book you ended up hating? Or have you been so sure someone would love a book and then they didn’t? Has that influenced how you respond to recs or who you rec books to?

Day 3: I’m In Love With My Car

Thoughts on reading while traveling or commuting. Do you read on public transport or in the passenger seat of a car? Or does the very thought make you sick? What about listening to audiobooks while you drive?

Day 4: If You Can’t Beat Them Join Them

Have you ever picked up a book purely because people online (booklr/booktok/etc) were hyping it? If so, did you end up enjoying it? And if not, is there a particular reason you’re not inclined to? 

Day 5: Man On The Prowl 

Where’s you’re favourite place to buy books? Is there a nice bookstore near you that you like to pop into? Maybe a secondhand bookshop thats overcrowded and fun to rummage in? Or maybe theres an online store you like best? This is your chance to show them some love! 

Day 6: Life Is Real (Song For Lennon)

Thoughts on non-fiction? Is it something you read a lot of? Or something you don’t have much interest in? Or maybe something you’d like to read more of?

Day 7: Don’t Stop Me Now

This is the halfway point of the readathon! We’re a week in, so how are you going? Have you been enjoying the books you’ve chosen? Have you completed any of your goals? Celebrate your progress! 

Day 8: Procession

Tell us your thoughts on series! Do you read a lot or prefer stand-alone books? Do you prefer a series with only 2 or 3 books or something that goes on a bit longer? Will you start a series as soon as the first book catches your eye or do you hold off until at least a few have been released? 

Day 9: In The Lap Of The Gods....Revisited

How do you feel about re-reading books you’ve already read? Do you enjoy revisiting an old favourite? Or is there too many new books to even think about reading something twice? Has re-reading something changed your opinion of it? Are there any books you’ve re-read multiple times?

Day 10: Long Away 

Tell us about any books you’re looking forward to reading soon! Is there something yet to be published that you’re excited about? Or something you already own that you’re going to pick up next? 

Day 11: I Was Born To Love You

Are there any authors you consider “must-buys” or “must-reads”? Or maybe a particular book that you keep buying new editions of? 

Day 12: Dreamers Ball

If tomorrow a magician appeared and said he could conjure you the perfect place to read what would it look like? A sprawling Beauty and the Beast library? A cosy little nook with just the essentials for reading? This is your dream library or reading space, so don’t hold back, tell us what you wish for! 

Day 13: The Millionaire Waltz

Show us your latest book haul! Have you bought a few books in the last month? Or borrowed a stack from the library? Or have you bought yourself some sort of bookish items - literary funko pop vinyls or a book related puzzle or some cute fanart stickers?

Day 14: Was It All Worth It

Now that we’ve reached the end of the readathon tell us how you went! Did you complete any of the goals you set on day one? Give us a wrap up of what you read and how you went with your bingo board!

#booklr #readathon #queenathon #queen #queen band #reading #Brigid Speaks

[lavenderfables]

The driving force behind Lord Of The Rings is evil secondhand jewelry, and anyone who has ever bought secondhand jewelry can back me up when I say there’s always an evil looking piece (necklace, ring, what have you) in every secondhand jewelry display. There is always someone daring enough to buy it. They almost always joke, “It looks so cursed! I love it!” What I’m trying to say is Bilbo is one of these people and I feel it is only a matter of time before one of these cursed pieces of jewelry turn out to actually be cursed. I await that day.

#lotr #jrr tolkien #lord of the rings #novels #words from alice #text #y'all can reblog this if you want #i worked at a secondhand store for maybe 6 months or so #and there was always a cursed piece of jewelry on display #always #middle earth

[defyinggod]

SUSTAINABILITY HACKS THAT ANYONE CAN DO EASILY

- stop using paper towels. buy a swedish dishcloth instead and/or un-paper towels or just cut up old clothing to make rags if you can’t afford to buy those

- stop purchasing most cleaning products! i rarely buy cleaning products anymore. what i do is i dilute 3 parts water and 1 part white vinegar and use that to clean most of my surfaces and floors and even the sink, toilet, and shower! i usually put that in a spray bottle and it makes life easier

- stop buying most things new, unless its absolutely essential: things like toothbrush, socks, and underwear usually have to be bought new and my advice for you is choose a more sustainable option meaning maybe invest in higher quality socks and undergarments that last longer, buy from a company that uses sustainable materials and pays their workers a living wage, etc. Bamboo toothbrushes are also an option, they are much better for the earth. but the most important thing is to use what you already have first!

- buy things in bulk when/if possible. for example, i buy bar shampoo and conditioner as well as bar dish soap from a specific company i adore online. what i do is i usually stock up on these items and buy multiple at once to last me 6 months - 1 year instead of ordering multiple times continuously. buying things in bulk is often also cheaper -- especially items that are non perishable! it is less packaging waste a lot of the time and can be used to refill your containers for certain items. 

- if you need something specific, check facebook marketplace, thrift shops, depop, ebay, and see if you can find it secondhand first. even buying something brand new from a sustainable company isn’t always the most sustainable option. using something already made that someone else doesn’t need anymore is more sustainable than buying a brand new one

- do things digitally! send online invites, submit hw online (if its an option), buy digital copies of books instead of hardcopies, find required textbook PDFs online instead of buying the physical copy

- buy secondhand gifts! again, through thrift-shops or online, avoid one time gifts like balloons, maybe get a secondhand book from an online website or the thrift shop, if you know they collect (x) items, find them online if you can! or maybe they would appreciate a belt? perhaps a watch, or an antique clock? or even a nice pair of wool socks!

-invest in a bidet attachment. these can be attached to your current toilet and are around $40 online, and then you may even be able to install them yourself if you look at youtube videos (its not hard at all) or hire someone to install them! saves so much toilet paper

- FIX THINGS. REPAIR ITEMS AND CLOTHING. don’t throw things out when they’re broken or ripped. try fixing them first

- recycle your (worthless) electronics, you can do this at bestbuy, microcenter, and other places. things like smart watches that are dead, old/broken phones and computers, cords, reusable batteries etc. make sure to call ahead and ask if they will take that certain item -- my microcenter store takes everything except for very old monitors and tvs and lithium batteries

- SELL YOUR CLOTHES/OTHER ITEMS! did you know most of the things donated at thrift shops end up in a landfill anyway? if you have stuff worth selling, you should sell them! if they aren’t worth selling, try seeing if a friend or family member would like them for free. posting on fb marketplace for free can also work -- sometimes people will come pick it up on the same day! if all else fails, repurpose it into a rag for cleaning or something else!

- buy less overall. this is one sure way to be more sustainable. i care about each and every single item that i own and before buying something else, i ask myself if i truly would want it or if its just an impulse buy. i’ve gotten to the point now after many years where upwards of 50% of my closet is thrifted/secondhand, but this did not happen overnight! 

#sustainability #i needed to post this bc of the amount of things i see being advertised constantly #sustainable #eco friendly

[sneezefiction]

untouchable | vi

Atsumu x Reader

desc: in which an accidental run-in with pro volleyball player, Atsumu Miya, at a 7/11 leads to a strangers-to-lovers situation… but the catch is, you have no idea that he’s famous.

warnings: slight language, anxiety

wc: 6.6k

part 5 ⚬ part 6 ⚬ part 7 

untouchable m.list

—

Recap:

And for the first half of this year you found yourself falling in love. Falling for this second glance of a man.

So finding out that Izumi Kenji had a partner was a punch to the gut. 

Reaching for his hand that summer was a defining moment for you. The way he snatched his hand away from yours would have knocked all the air out of your lungs if you’d had any breath to spare.

—

Laughter echoes off the sides of buildings as you make your way past food stalls and restaurants. It’s warm. A gentle breeze tussles his hair, different strands catching purple and orange light from the store signs.

There are several things that are begging to hold your attention right now. 

A new café to your right is stringing a “Grand Opening” banner across its shop doors. Bike bells ring off in the distance, the wheels gently thrumming against dusty cobblestone. Groups of teenagers snicker as they pass you by, their voices carefree and teasing. Two dogs tread loyally next to their owners on the other side of the street, their claws clicking as their paws hit the pavement. 

But even among all of those distractions and details, all you can see is him. The mop of messy hair atop his head. His umber brown eyes. A curious smile.

Izumi Kenji had stolen your heart slowly and carefully; he did so without a balaclava or a disguise to lure you in. And as you meander the downtown area with him, your fondness for him only grows.

Meeting him at that after-work party may have been the best thing that happened to you this year. You were comfortable - in the middle of a bar, talking to a stranger and laughing with him. And who were you to turn down the one good thing life had sent your way.

Although, with how nonexistent your social life was, you would’ve let almost anyone into your social circle. You just deem yourself lucky that it was Kenji who happened to be in your vicinity.

He’d ended up asking for your number at the end of the night - you rattled off the digits faster than you could blink.

“...if you ever need anything, just send me a text.”

It was an outstretched hand of a sentence. A bone thrown to a starving dog. Finally, there was a person you could rely on.

You took his words to heart.

After that night, it was almost unfair how easily he broke down your barriers. 

It was Kenji who took you sightseeing through all of Osaka in the Winter months, making sure that you’d mapped out the area so that you were more comfortable when you went exploring on your own. Your snow boots and his became well acquainted.

He’d shown you his favorite eateries and shops, rambling quietly about his favorite pastries and old, dusty memories that came from his time spent in the area. 

His jacket made its way to your shoulder when you visibly shuddered from the cold as Winter shifted to Spring. And as Summer approached, you allowed yourself to let your guard down. With distant eyes, you learned about his family and his plans. You wondered if maybe there was a place for you in that future.

Any doubts about this connection you had with him had melted away. 

He was your closest friend by far… and who’s to say he couldn’t be more?

You glance to your left, a small smile working its way onto your lips. Kenji’s eyes wander the street, completely lost in thought. His expression is serene under the violet glow of street lights. 

And his hand… his hand is achingly close to your own.

Its a position you frequently found yourself in: walking side by side, almost touching, but never quite close enough to grasp at his hand. 

You’ve never really seen yourself as someone to make first moves, but this has gone on for too long. And your fingertips are begging you to do something about this distance between you two. 

You swallow hard.

Choking back your hesitation, you brush your hand against his.

He doesn’t pull away, only sending you a quick glance. Kenji’s soft smile doesn’t budge, though he does raise an eyebrow at you.

You assume that this is a good sign. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, the moment feels natural, and this… this could actually work.

You take one more deep breath and gingerly link your fingers with his-

But before you can even blink, Kenji snaps his hand back to his side. His head whips toward you, feet stopping in their tracks.

“What… what are you doing,” he stammers, eyes widening.

You wince. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for. Far from it.

“I think that’s-” You glance down at your rejected hand, eyes wide, “-kind of obvious.”

He stares at you, mouth agape. You take a step back, heart dropping. Why would he pull his hand back? Did I do something wrong-

“I’m seeing someone-” He breathes, “-you knew that.”

Like a tree branch splintering after a lightning strike, you feel as though something inside of you has cracked and split. 

Your body can’t decide if your blood should turn to ice from shock or if it should succumb to the heat of humiliation rising in your chest. How did you not know this?

And why hadn’t you just asked him first? 

That’s what normal people did. If you hadn’t acted based on a silly impulse maybe you would have spoken to him about your relationship with him first… but it’s too late now. And the pressure continues to build up in your stomach until you feel like a balloon on the verge of popping.

“...you knew that… didn’t you?”

Something sharp stabs at your heart.

“I had no idea.” Your reply is flat. Distant.

It twists.

“I- I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn I’d told you…” He responds softly.

In a tearing motion, it rips back out.

“No. You hadn’t.” You say curtly, eyes glazing over.

You let on to the bitterness welling up in your chest more than you wish you would have… but who could blame you? 

Tucking your hands deep into your pants pockets, you try to hold your composure. 

Your mouth is uncomfortably dry and your hands are suddenly very sweaty. 

What does someone do in a situation like this? 

You’d always assumed that this was the type of thing to happen to somebody else. Thinking that feelings were mutual and then being struck with the fact that your “almost-boyfriend” was actually already deep into a relationship. It sounds like something out of a teenage romance novel... but it’s clear that the shame clouding your mind is not secondhand.

Unintentionally or not, Kenji had led you on… and here you are, feeling like you’ve just been publicly gutted.

He doesn’t owe you anything. No, not at all. 

If anything, you owe him for all of the kindness he’s extended to you. 

But that doesn’t explain everything he’s done for you these past few months. 

Paying for meals even though you’d practically fought him for bills at every restaurant you’d visited together. Spending hours together on weekends when you both had work to complete. Meeting his friends, taking the train together on days when your schedules collided, exploring the city and your past with him…

You’d wondered why he hadn’t asked you out yet.

It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he was confused too?

A thought crosses your mind that maybe he may have been using you as some sort of support system. Maybe you were just let into his life to comfort him through his own relational instability. Were you just Kenji’s escape? Is he just completely unaware?

But now you’re just jumping to conclusions. It might not be anything of the sort. Trying to piece together a story that doesn’t add up in the first place won’t help you at all - at least, not right after such a blatant rejection.

You take another step back, effectively tuning out anything he has to say. The light on his face no longer reflects something inviting; instead, all you can see is the confusion marring his previously peaceful expression.

He’s trying to talk to you, he’s taking steps toward you, he’s even reaching a hand out… but you just can’t. Not with the discomfort in your chest and a thundercloud of tension rumbling above you.

You can’t remember what shitty excuse you’d made to get out of there, but not even 10 minutes after this awkward, messy, fucked up moment, you’re on a train back home. 

And everything is numb. 

The shuffle and shake of the passenger car is enough to distract you for now.

But the moment you get home - the very second you kick off your shoes - insecurity comes knocking at the door of your mind. 

You lay face down on the couch. The room stirs in darkness, gloom sinking into the cracks of the wall and pooling at the corners of your eyes. Because how was this fair? What had you done to deserve this? Was nothing going to be easy for you?

You let yourself cry.

Questions swim through your mind. Fears too. The pain of, once again, being alone exposes itself through heavy tears and spluttering sobs.

So you attempt to bury it all deep down...

As far from the surface as it can go... 

But as most things do, these questions and insecurities will resurface. 

It’s only a matter of time.

—

You noticed it from the moment you woke up.

The stiffness in your arms and the churning in your stomach were telltale signs… but as the hours rolled on and the sun sunk lower in the sky, it became more obvious. 

Your lungs were fine yesterday, but today they shrink and tighten with every passing minute.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you’ve switched on the TV and turned to Netflix for comfort. It isn’t much, but the modulated noise of a baking show and a warm blanket draped over your lap blocks out some of the dizzying worries in your head.

First date nerves are a thing.

The clammy palms, the jitters, the loss of appetite… you have it all. 

You’re well aware that this is a universal experience, so you try to empathize with yourself. There’s no reason to be embarrassed by it. Shame would only drag you deeper into this muddy pit of nerves that you’re so desperately trying to claw your way out of.

But this technically isn’t even a date. 

And you’re not about to assume that it’s anything like one.

Just to be safe, you’ve decided that this outing would blandly be categorized as a “sporadic meet up with a stranger.” Your words, not Atsumu’s. 

But just because it isn’t technically a date doesn’t mean you can’t be jittery… 

You grip the remote in your hand tighter. It accidentally shuts the TV off, but that’s probably for the better. You haven’t gotten ready yet and it’s getting close to 5 pm. Somehow you’d managed to snuggle the day away in your apartment. Again.

Letting out an anxious yawn, you hop up from your nestled position on the couch.

You step into the hallway and make your way to the bathroom to wash your face. As you patter the length of the hall, you finally allow your mind to roam. It immediately hones in on your anxieties like a dog chasing a delightfully peeved squirrel.

Is it pathetic? To be 20 something years old and petrified by something as simple as a dinner date? 

Your brain says “no,” but a part of you is whispering out a quiet “yes” in response. Most people would be excited to see someone after being lonely for so long. 

So why are you this bothered? What’s with this piercing fragility that makes your hands shake and your skin crawl? 

When did you become so… scared? Like you would crumble just by being in the presence of another person?

And then it hits you. Your head plummets into your hands.

Ever since you’d met Atsumu, you haven’t had the mental stamina to think about Izumi Kenji. 

Or what he’d done to you. Or how he’d metaphorically pushed you when you were already toeing at the precipice of a cliff. You’d been a step away from falling and breaking under the weight of the past few years, and he’d shattered you in a single night.

So, yes, that would explain the current twisting in your chest. It’s also probably why you’re so worried about Atsumu. Or, at least, it’s one big reason as to why, you conclude.

But, even with this epiphany, you find yourself stepping into the bathroom, wrung dry and physically unsteady. Thinking about Kenji doesn’t make you feel any better.

Your fingers grip the rim of the porcelain sink, eyes fixed on the drain in the center. 

You stare at it. 

One reminder of him and you were already weary. 

The glossiness of the bowl reflects a splotchy, humanesque blob back at you. You swivel the faucet handle, letting warm water coast around the bowl and spiral down the drain. It erases that human-like reflection.

If only it could wash away your problems. Now that’d be something to write home about.

The cool of the tile beneath your feet and a splash of warm water on your face is a welcome distraction… but short-lived. The water drips off of your face. You blindly feel around for a fresh towel and, after laying your hands on one, you gently pat your face down.

Blinking your eyes open, you stand up straight.

As you do, you find yourself studying a much clearer reflection than the blurry face in the sink bowl. Sunken features bore into you from the bathroom mirror. You sigh and turn to open up a medicine cabinet to grab a few facial products, applying them one-by-one.

If you do happen to crash and burn tonight, you figure you might as well look damn good in the process. Skincare would help with that.

But before you can further sink into the idea that tonight might turn into another nightmarish scenario, a friendly face, someone sunny and charming, enters your mind. 

The picture Atsumu’s wavy hair and that smug smile of his. While the rest of his face is a little fuzzy in your mind, you vividly remember how his mouth quirk upwards and the electric buzz you felt from the sheer warmth of his eyes.

Atsumu has been on your mind a lot these days. And, as much as it’s been a distraction, it’s also been a welcome mental detour. 

Somehow, the very thought of him coaxes your own lips to relax into a smile. You sigh, tilting your head back in defeat. So this is what 3 years of loneliness can do to a person - how embarrassing.

But you can’t deny that he gives you something to look forward to - an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You two share a connection; there’s some common ground that hasn’t been dug up just yet. And, for whatever it’s worth, you want to keep digging until you figure it out.

As you smooth a moisturizer over your skin, you decide that you’ll wear something nice tonight. Maybe you’ll pick out an outfit you haven’t worn before and do your best to drown your shaky hands in the fabric of a long-sleeved shirt. If it goes well, maybe you’ll have found someone who actually likes you.

If it doesn’t work out, you can just drive back home and forget he ever existed. Simple as that.

But... 

You’d like to think that Atsumu could be just as sweet as he seems; assuming the worst about him would get you nowhere.

You continue to repeat that to yourself before you leave. That all you can do is hope it goes well. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

—

You rest your foot firmly on the brake and switch the gearshift so that your car is in park. You rub your eyes and double-check the location on your phone’s GPS. Back at your apartment, it looked like you would be arriving at a café near the park… but you’re not so sure anymore.

Did… did Atsumu really send you here?

You never entertained the idea of him being a prankster… but if this was, perhaps, a practical joke? Well, you’re not above calling him and telling him to “fuck off.” There’s nothing stopping you from driving away and blocking his number right now.

Scrolling through the map application, you notice that you’re relatively close to several restaurants, so there is that. He’d promised you dinner and there’s an abundance of food within walking distance.

But you weren’t expecting to pull up to such a secluded location. You shiver in your seat and grip the steering wheel. Does he realize just how scary it is to meet someone at a random place like this?

Whipping out your phone, you tap a quick message containing something along the lines of “why the hell did you send me to a park.” Your therapist would probably give you a high-five for being so straightforward.

You hit send and sink into your chair. 

A brief glance out your car window helps to settle your frayed nerves just a hair. 

It’s not quite as empty as you thought it was. The area is just… calm. Many couples stroll along the main path, hand-in-hand. Others are sat on picnic blankets, tucking their toes into the cool grass and chattering away. 

And, most comfortingly of all, it’s still bright outside. 

You thank the sun that it still rests above the horizon, drenching the trees tops and green grass with deep-honey hues. People and daylight mean safety. You’ve had to learn that after living alone for so long.

A text notification pings on your phone only seconds after messaging him. 

You’ll give him some credit. Atsumu is a timely texter. You’ve found yourself in more real-time texting conversations with him than almost anyone else you’ve met in Osaka. And it’s been how long since you met him? A few weeks? A month?

Atsumu’s text reassures you that you’re not at the wrong place.

At least the park was intentional, you nod to yourself. You’re doing your best to trust that he wouldn’t take you somewhere that would make you uncomfortable.

Another text informs you that he’s already seated on a bench near where you parked.

Your heart skips a beat and your head jolts upward, scanning the area. A hand also shoots up to clutch at your chest, gripping the fabric of your top. 

Yep. You’re still jumpy.

But this time, the shaky hands and pounding nerves are rooted in restlessness instead of fear… and maybe a little bit of excitement?

Suddenly, the park is far less frightening.

You step out of the car, wallet and keys in one hand, and smooth out your outfit with your free hand. The wind nips at you through the fabric of your clothes, but with the sunshine painting your skin, it isn’t too bad. 

Maybe bringing a coat would’ve been wiser than relying on this sweater to keep you warm… but it’s too late to think about that now.

Your eyes dart around and you trod through the grass and onto a graveled pathway. It crunches satisfyingly underneath your feet, but you can’t enjoy it when you’re so intent on finding him. With a few short strides, you’re quick to spot the back of someone’s head. A familiar head of blonde waves shines golden thanks to the setting sun. 

You’re almost entirely sure it’s Atsumu.

And as if he had sensed your presence, the man in question tilts a glance over his shoulder.

His face is blank until he catches your eye. 

An easy grin, one brighter than the stars, bursts into existence.

For someone so conventionally attractive, he sure looks excited to see little ole you. Raising your hand, you wave and send him a shy smile back.

He’s quick to jump to his feet and as he does, you’re quickly reminded of just how tall he is. Atsumu’s head matches the height of several tree branches. It makes you think that he’s probably walked into a number of things. Door headers, branches, signs that are hung a couple of inches too low… you’re sure he’s learned to duck and dodge over the years.

You wish you could ask him about that.

You blink.

That’s right. You can ask him about that - you’ll do that later, though.

“Hey there.” He chuckles.

His voice… it’s huskier than you’d remembered.

You spoke with him over the phone just yesterday to confirm that tonight was still happening, so why was his voice giving you chills now? It’s deep and smooth and, without the static from the phone audio, it’s actually kind of sexy.

Okay, you’ve got to calm down.

“Hi,” you reply sweetly, tilting your head.

Should you hug him? Just keep standing there? Hopefully, he’s better at filling awkward silence than you are. You’re not bad at handling social situations, but it seems safer to wait for his cues.

Atsumu keeps his hands in his pockets, “Long time, no see.” 

It’s phrased as if you were both old friends reuniting after years of distance. It kind of feels that way too.

“I don’t actually think it’s been that long.” You raise an eyebrow, keeping a straight face.

“It’sa turn of phrase, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

That word sounds so easy on his tongue, damn it.

A few beats pass… and both of you break into grins once again.

But before you can respond, and much to your confusion, Atsumu spins on his feels to face the pathway. The pebbles under his feet shift as he takes a few steps forward.

He turns his head to catch your eye, “Well? C’mon then, let’s walk and talk,” and juts an arm out.

You stare at him for a moment, confused. 

“Are ya gonna leave me hangin’? Atsumu tilts his head back, a coy smile on his lips as though whatever he’s trying to do is ridiculously obvious.

After a few moments of deep contemplation, realization dawns over your features. He’s extending his elbow out… for you? To hold onto?

Oh.

With a slight flush, you step forth and link arms with him. He grins down at you, perfectly resembling a fox you saw in a National Geographic magazine last week. This is a lot closer than you’d anticipated on getting with him; not that you’re complaining.

Although, for someone you’ve only met twice, you feel like you’ve known him for years. 

The few phone calls and those text conversations have given you some insight into his life, but they don’t explain why you two click so well in person. He’s illogically familiar.

You decide not to question the closeness and instead choose to spark a conversation. 

That should be easy enough; after all, he’d promised you dinner, and you were given directions to a park - you’re anything but questionless.

You lean into his side slightly and break the silence, “You smell good.” 

Considering he’s crossed that line with you already, you aren’t too worried about saying it back to him. 

“Thanks, I showered.” He smiles and shrugs as if to brush off your compliment, but you swear you see a fleeting blush on his cheeks.

“Thank God.” You sigh in mock relief, relaxing your shoulders.

He squints, clicking his tongue, “Okay, no need to tease. At least get to know a guy first,” but his voice is void of offense.

“So if I tease you, you won’t take me to dinner?” A curious tone rings in your voice.

“Oh, I will even if ya do. Where do ya think we’re walkin’ to?”

You snort, “Hopefully a restaurant?”

“Bull’s eye.” He winks.

Atsumu looks down at you and you can’t help but smile up at him. Your nerves had melted away like a popsicle under a blazing summer sun; all that’s left is a sweet, melty feeling that has you feeling a little too comfortable.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so trusting. Protecting yourself has been your number one goal since Kenji let you down…

But that doesn’t mean you can’t laugh or get to know Atsumu. 

It just means you need to keep your expectations in check. This may seem like a date, but until he says something, you won’t jump to conclusions. In the meantime, you just need to keep talking. Enjoy it while it lasts and laugh a little.

You nudge his side, “By the way…”

“Hm?”

“What’s with bringing me to a park?”

You’ve been dying to hear this explanation since you arrived. Sure, the atmosphere is perfect; fall weather is notorious for pleasant walks and colorful leaves. However, you’d like to hear his reasoning.

“I thought we could get to know each other better before stuffin’ our faces.”

You make a face, “Well, doesn’t that sound lovely. You sure have a way with words.” 

Atsumu is nothing if not blunt.

He pouts, eyes narrowing, “You gonna make fun of the way I talk now? I’ll have you know, I’ve been mocked enough to last me a life time. I ain’t all that sensitive anymore.”

You laugh and subconsciously tighten your hold on his arm. 

“Alright Mr. Not Sensitive, I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

If you were paying attention to his face, you might’ve seen another flush of pink… but your eyes are squinting from the sun and Atsumu is sure to pull himself together before you can notice it.

“But I do have some important questions for you,” You begin.

Those words are sure to spark fear into anybody. This is confirmed when his arm stiffens ever so slightly and your eyes crinkle in mischief.

He swallows, “Yeah, go for it.”

“Favorite color?”

Atsumu’s eyes flick down to yours, squinting. They seem to say, “important, my ass.”

He instantly loosens, “Easy. Red.” Confidence is clear in his tone.

You nod. You don’t have to know him well to know that the answer suits him. Atsumu is fiery and he’s burned bright in your mind since you met him. If anyone should be allowed to like red, it’s him.

“Favorite food?”

“Mmm…” He furrows his brows in deliberation, “ I gotta say fatty tuna. But my brother makes some killer onigiri, though. I think that’s a close second.”

Your brows shoot up, eyes widening. He’d never mentioned anything about his family before this.

“You have a brother?” You press, leaning in to study his face while trying not to trip over your own two feet.

“Technically, a twin. But I’m the older one...” He huffs, “...and the better lookin’ one.”

Your jaw drops. “I can’t believe you hadn’t mentioned him before this!” 

As an only child, you can only imagine what it’d be like to have a sibling, much less a twin. 

“Well,” Atsumu rolls his eyes at you, “He’s alright…”

It looks like he’s about to change the subject, but one glance at your face is all it takes for him to realize that you want to hear more. Your eyes are sparkling. Full of vibrant curiosity… how could he stop now?

You’re actually interested in him.

“We’re really close actually,” Atsumu clears his throat, straightening up a little. “I mean, he isn’t like me at all. He’s real’ calm in comparison. A great cook. Some people say he’s handsome - but he got the looks from me, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, keeping in stride with him. “Yeah, yeah, keep going.”

“He’s good with the ladies, smart, athletic...” He rambles on. “If he’d just slow down a little, he would probably be married by now...”

You just listen, fully invested in his words. 

It’s nice to hear about family - you haven’t seen your’s in a long time. 

The fondness in Atsumu’s expression seeps through his abbreviated words. 

He looks almost pained as he compliments his twin and amusement flickers in your eyes as you watch it all unfold. You hadn’t asked for a dating profile description of his brother, but you’re not about to shut him up.

“I bet you’d like him. Not as much as you’d like me, of course,” he smirks and your chest tightens. 

The butterflies you’d thought you’d left back in highschool seem to have dusted themselves off and started fluttering again.

“But, yeah. He’s a good guy.”

Atsumu’s free hand then runs through his hair, pushing the waves back. You can see a sudden onset of nerves on his face. He’s quick to hide it though.

“And, uh, just so you know… he may or may not own the restaurant I’m taking you to tonight.”

That’s enough for you plant your feet in place. Atsumu stops as well. 

He’s… taking you to his brother’s restaurant.

You gaze up at him, at a loss for words.

Is his brother going to be there? I mean, it is his place. But meeting his family? Out of the blue, like this? It’s all out of order. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’s ever going to give your racing heart a chance to settle.

“Is that too much?” Atsumu is quick to cut in. His voice isn’t gentle… but even with it’s roughness, you can hear something that resembles concern.

“A- ah, no! It’s fine!” You reassure him, “I… I’m happy to go.”

His shoulders drop down again and so do yours.

There’s no point in getting worked up about it. But it’s becoming clear that Atsumu isn’t a very conventional person. Nor is he daunted by sporadic plans. Next time, you’ll ask for a point-by-point itinerary, just to be safe.

Atsumu reveals the name of the restaurant, “Onigiri Miya,” and you find yourself asking more family-related questions as you two dawdle down the pathway…

Which naturally leads to conversations about high-school.

It turns out that he and his twin were on a volleyball team together. Which makes sense. He definitely has the muscle, the height, and the spunk to be an athlete. 

You know shit about the sport, but that doesn’t mean you don’t see the gleam in his eyes when he rattles off a story about one of his old games. It’s been a long time since you last listened to someone speak about something so passionately.

But there’s even more. 

You hear mentions of many boys’ names. 

There’s his brother, Osamu; he mentions their little spats and occasional fist fights. Although he makes sure to clarify that they’re both a lot more level headed nowadays. Next is Atsumu’s upperclassman, Kita; he’s someone Atsumu respects and fears with every inch of his being. Then there’s Suna, Omimi, Aran, and… too many others to count.

Games and nationals and several terms you can’t quite grasp swim through your head as you re-live some of Atsumu’s own memories with him.

His high-school years sound exciting, bright, and funny. Of course, those experiences would create the charming mess that is Atsumu Miya.

After padding under draping treetops, you both finally make it out of the park and onto the sidewalks. 

Restaurants and small shops line the streets and pedestrians cross in groups across the narrow roads. At this point, the sun is loosing its shine, sinking beneath the trees’ branches and ever-darkening buildings. But you, with your phone in your pocket and your arm in his, feel safe. 

Atsumu’s effortlessness and his blunt way of speaking really made for easy conversation. 

But before you can ask him if he still plays volleyball, you find yourself standing in front of a small, bright storefront: “Onigiri Miya.” The words are plastered on a wooden board in white, chalk paint. It’s sleek and cute - if you’d stumbled upon the shop before this, you’d have walked in of your volition.

“I’m thinkin’ I just talked your ear off the whole way here.” Atsumu sighs apologetically.

You shrug, “I guess that just means I’m a good listener.”

In all honestly, you’re glad he rambled. It got rid of your restlessness and calmed your racing thoughts.

He unlinks your arm from his and your side is now exposed to the cold air. It only just hits you how physical that walk had been. Even without a coat, having him at your side had kept you warm and cozy.

How long has it been since you were comfortably side-by-side with someone? It’s been months since you’d been around Kenji… years since you last slept with someone you actually liked… but when was the last time you held a hand or wrapped your arm around someone else’s? 

Atsumu’s words cut into your thoughts, “You’re easy to talk to, but I wanna hear more about you when we get inside.” 

And he’s holding the door open for you, one hand clasped around the handle and the other tucked casually into his pocket. You thank him… he didn’t give you the impression of being “gentlemanly” or whatever that word meant, but you find the gesture to be sweet. 

As you step inside the small restaurant, your senses are overtaken by the smell of freshly cooked rice and an explosion of delicious seasonings. There are bar stools open at the front counter and metal chairs surrounding worn-down wooden tables. The atmosphere is homely and diner-like; as though, no matter how often you actually visited, you would be treated as a regular.

Someone calls out from the back, “C’mon in, I cleared the place out for y’all.”

The voice resembles Atsumu’s style of speech; gruff and straight to the point… but a little smoother. Then you realize what that voice had actually said. There’s nobody else here.

“Alright, we’ll make ourselves at home then. I can take your-”

He scans you for a jacket… that doesn’t exist.

“You didn’t bring a coat.” He says flatly.

You glance down at your outfit, grasping the edge of your sweater and feathering a thumb over its seam.

“I forgot one.” You admit, looking back up to him, “Why? Is that a problem?”

“Nah, I was just gonna offer to take it.”

You hadn’t noticed what he’d been wearing before this, but now that you’re under the soft lighting of the restaurant, you realize he’s dressed up a little. 

Atsumu removes a short, tan coat and places it onto the back of a chair. A black turtleneck sweater is revealed underneath. The fabric outlines his chest and arms in the most unfair way while the dark color pleasantly contrasts his lighter skin tone. 

How hadn’t you noticed how gut-wrenchingly attractive he was before this? 

With how fast things were moving and how comfortable you felt talking to him, you must’ve conveniently glossed over this fact. It’s not like you’d planned on getting to know him.

But now that you do? Well, it doesn’t hurt that he basically has the body of Chris Hemsworth. Atsumu’s definitely not some Walmart version of him though - this boy deserves his own brand of attractiveness.

You swallow hard as your eyes trail his body.

“Like whatcha see?”

You startle, shuffling backward. If you weren’t already out of your element, you sure are now. Caught red-handed (red-eyed?) staring at your not-date. 

“Awh, c’mon I’m joking - take a seat,” Atsumu pulls a chair out for you, cringing when it lets out a shrill squeak on the floor. The sound rings through the air and you find yourself laughing.

In a swift motion, you jump up and onto the chair.

He slides the chair back toward the bar counter, except this time you both expect the screeching of the chair’s legs. It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard, but it’s perfect for loosening up any tightness in the airspace. This time, it’s his turn to chuckle.

He mutters out a quick, “Sorry,” but you just shake your head, amused.

Snagging his own chair, and this time lifting it off of the ground to avoid bursting another eardrum, Atsumu slides up next to you.

You lean on the counter, a hand propping up your cheek. “That was very smooth, Atsumu.”

“Thanks,” he rolls his eyes, “I try.”

“‘Tsumu? Smooth? Yeah, right,” that same voice travels from the kitchen to the front of the store.

Footsteps are soon to follow it and you’re greeted by Chris Hemsworth 2.0. Maybe you should refer to him as Liam Hemsworth? Nope, Osamu, you quickly decide, is also his own genre of attractive.

Although Osamu is dressed in a simple, black “Onigiri Miya” t-shirt and cap, he could probably be a Calvin Klein model. For someone who owns a restaurant, his muscle tone is absolute perfection - these brothers are really something. 

And their resemblance of each other, though twins, is almost uncanny. You thank some unknown force that hair-dye exists, because if you saw them from a distance, you may not be able to tell them apart.

“Ah, shaddup. You’re just sayin’ that cuz you’re jealous,” the blonde snorts.

“Jealous of what? Your shit attempts at flirtin’?”

“That’s below the belt, ‘Samu. Don’t be such an ass.”

‘Tsumu? ‘Samu? That’s cute, you chuckle to yourself. Of course, these guys would have nicknames for each other. It was common sense.

You sit back as they bicker, wondering who must’ve raised these 6-foot chaotic giants. You’d love to meet them just to give them a medal and a bouquet of flowers for putting up with them. They must’ve dealt with so much bullshit.

“I could say the same to you. Ya haven’t properly introduced me yet.” He nods his head toward you, cool-grey eyes warming up when they meet yours.

Your lips quirk into a smile and before you know it, you’ve introduced yourself. 

He copies your smile, though it’s much softer than your own, and begins his own little introduction; although you’re sure that, with all the information Atsumu has already listed off to you, you don’t really need one.

“I’m Miya Osamu, but that’s probably obvious by now,” he adjusts his cap, “Callin’ me Miya would be confusin’ for all of us, so just Osamu’s fine.”

He’s polite and carries himself confidently, but his voice is a little softer than Atsumu’s. Or, it is when he’s speaking to you. There’s a brotherly gentleness to his tone and it relaxes you instantly.

“Please keep in mind that I’m the better twin,” Atsumu adds, shooting daggers at his brother.

Osamu shoots them right back, but you don’t fail to notice the playful fondness behind their eyes. You can almost picture them as kids, with band-aids on their knees and mud on their clothes. They make it seem like being twins meant having a built-in best friend.

Their closeness is overwhelming. 

There’s a warmth in the atmosphere, and you’re positive that it’s not just because something’s cooking in the kitchen. It feels special, just being allowed to sit and watch them banter. 

And the fact that Atsumu is sharing this with you?

Well, you’re counting yourself very lucky to be here right now.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu #osamu miya #osamu #miya twins #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #untouchable series #it's been awhile since i've updated #but i hope u can enjoy it!!!

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (12/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

ao3: beginning | current

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-/-

His hand moves back and forth with the vacuum, guiding it under the couch to try to get up dust that’s accumulated before moving to the baseboards. When was this last time they cleaned these? They’re disgusting, and Killian doesn’t know how he let it get like this? He always cleans these, keeps them from getting to be like this, and yet it looks like they haven’t been touched in at least six months.

Six months.

Bloody hell.

How did he let this happen?

The whirring of the vacuum gets louder when Killian pushes it up against the wall, and he’s definitely going to break it if he keeps forcefully holding it like this. But the damn dust and dirt won’t get sucked up, and he has to fix it. It can’t stay like this.

If the rest of the apartment and the offices downstairs are going to be clean, Killian needs this to match.

Why didn’t Liam pick up the slack since Killian has obviously been too busy fucking Emma to remember that he has responsibilities and a life and order to keep?

He tugs on the cord to try to move further down the wall, but all of the sudden the whirring stops, and when he glances over at the outlet, he can see that it’s still plugged in.

Today would be the day that his vacuum stops working. Go figure.

Groaning, Killian puts the device down and moves to change the plug, seeing if maybe an outlet simply went out. It doesn’t work in either plug, and when Killian tries it in another outlet altogether, he’s still disappointed.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath. “Dammit, dammit, god-fucking-dammit.”

“Talking to yourself again?” Liam asks as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps as quiet as they always are.

“The fucking vacuum broke, and we need to clean our baseboards.”

Liam waves him away. “I’ll look at it later. I’m sure it can wait.”

“I’m cleaning now. I don’t want it to wait. I’ll take the damn thing apart myself.”

“Are you honestly this cross at the handheld vacuum breaking? It’s not that big of a deal, Killian. That thing has to be decades old. We’ve been needing to buy one that wasn’t from a secondhand store for ages.”

Killian grinds his teeth and flexes out his fingers to keep himself from forming a fist and knocking the teeth out of his brother’s mouth. He knows that would be excessive. It shouldn’t even be a thought that’s at the back of his mind, and it isn’t, not really. It’s at the damn forefront.

He might be losing it a little bit.

Does it count as a win if he at least realizes that about himself?

“It’s been a long day,” Killian sighs, “and I’m trying to clean. Excuse me if I’m cross over the fact that our place needs this because no one has bothered to do it.”

Liam’s eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms over his chest while his jaw sets. “What’s this really about? The woman you’re seeing? Did something happen?”

What the hell?

Where did he get that thought from? That’s…ludicrous.

“Why would frustration over a vacuum make you think I was mad about a woman?”

“Because no one in their right mind would get that pissed over a vacuum.”

“We’re most likely going to have to get a new one, which is not something I budgeted for even if you’ve apparently been thinking about it. Do you know how expensive these are?”

“We have the money.”

“Not if we waste it!”

“My God, Killian,” Liam laughs as he turns around to walk toward the fridge, “give it a few weeks, it’ll pass.”

Has Liam lost his bloody mind? And is he really about to put on another pot of coffee right now?

Why does that make Killian so damn furious?

“And what, pray tell, will pass?”

Liam picks up the pot and waves it around. “Your infatuation with whoever you’re sleeping with. It’ll pass, and then you won’t be getting pissed off like this about whatever it is she’s done.”

Killian swallows and puts the vacuum down before he breaks it even more, and really, what would be the harm in that? He desperately wants to do something like punch a wall – or maybe Liam’s face – but maybe he can hold this rage in until he can get out onto the beach and go for a run until his legs are burning so much until they’re on fire.

Skipper shuffles next to Killian’s feet before settling down on top of them. Of course.

Maybe the dog will hold him in place so he doesn’t punch Liam.

“How could you possibly know that I’m seeing someone?” Killian seethes, unsure why he’s actually asking Liam this. He doesn’t honestly care for his answer.

“That’s how it’s been for a long time. I don’t know why this girl would be any different, especially since you’re hiding her away from all of us like you usually do with the others.”

He’s not.

Not technically.

And really, that’s the problem.

Well, one of the million he’s thought of since he left Emma last night.

Fuck.

Why did he do that? Why didn’t he let her come up to his apartment with him? Instead, he dismissed her, pretty much told her to go home without any question, and she wanted to come up. He wanted her to as well even if his intention was to stay away from Emma.

But deep down, he wanted her to stay even if he didn’t give her an opportunity to.

Even if it was just to sleep. That’s probably all that would have happened with how tired the two of them were, but it wouldn’t have mattered had they fucked. That’s what they’ve been doing after all, as per their agreement. Hell, they slept together yesterday morning, and it was…well, it felt like hell of a lot more than fucking, and Killian is not okay with that. He’s not here for anything other than casual, and he’s especially not here for something more than casual with Emma.

They’ve gotten too close, too comfortable.

No, scratch that. He has. It’s all on him.

He’s the one whose hand reaches for hers when they’re driving to get lunch, and he’s the one who dipped his head down to kiss her in greeting the other day. It was just the one time, but that was enough. He’s the one who is showing more than a friendly affection when he shouldn’t be showing her anything close to that outside of sex. Even during, there should be limits.

Obviously, he wants to take care of her when they’re intimate. She’s Emma. She’s his friend and a person and someone he cares for deeply, but limits.

There have to be limits.

Killian has blown those limits out of the water, and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do.

Break vacuums, apparently.

“My business is not any of yours,” Killian finally barks at Liam. He steps away, moving Skipper off his feet, and picks up the vacuum to put it in the storage closet. He’ll deal with that tomorrow. “You’re so bloody nosy about everything that I do. I’m not your child. I’m your brother, and I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not a lad anymore.”

The coffee percolates in the pot, and Killian can smell it now, warm and inviting and everything this conversation is not.

“I simply want you to be happy, little brother.” Killian grits his teeth. Now is not the time to nitpick Liam’s inane name for him. It’s never going to stop. “Is it so bad for me to wish that you would stop pursing relationships you know are nothing more than temporary?”

“More than temporary?” he scoffs. “When has anything in my life ever been more than temporary? It’s not that simple for me. You know what I’ve been through and what I’ve lost! Even things I thought were forever were gone in the blink of an eye!”

“That woman lied to you. She was not who you thought she was.”

Do not punch Liam, Killian reminds himself. Do not.

It would feel so damn satisfying, though.

“I loved her,” Killian says quietly, the rage still boiling just below the surface. “That doesn’t change. A hell of a lot of other things changed after she died and after I found out the truth, but that didn’t change the core of our years together. I’m not bloody like you or like Elsa where I can trust myself to be with someone and not screw everything up, so excuse me if I’m not interested in something that’s more than temporary!”

“You know what, Killian,” Liam begins as the coffee maker quiets, “I think you do want something that’s more permanent, and that’s why you’re pissed right now. You’re pissed at me, which I probably deserve for being a bloody ass to you, but I think you’re angrier at yourself because whoever this girl is, you’ve realized you might want something more with her.”

“I’m going for a run,” Killian hastily says. “I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight, so don’t wait up.”

“Killian – ”

“Let Skipper out if he needs it. I’ll make sure I’m here to run him in the morning since that always seems to be such a big inconvenience to you.”

And then he’s grabbing his keys and his wallet and slamming the door behind him. he doesn’t even have on the right shoes or clothes to go for a run, so before he sinks into the sand, he slips of his socks and his shoes and decides that if he can’t run, he might as well go for a walk. Maybe the ocean will calm him and bring him some kind of peace, but he doubts it.

It’s usually his safe haven, the place that keeps him centered, but he keeps running that conversation with Liam over and over again in his head. Liam’s right. Killian knows that he is, and he hates it.

Liam has always been right about Milah, but Killian has never wanted to admit that. He still doesn’t, and he certainly doesn’t think that he can admit to it now. Instead, he focuses on other things, on the one other thing that has been going over and over in his mind for the past few days.

He has feelings for Emma, who has been the best friend he’s had in quite possibly his entire life, and he absolutely cannot go there.

He’ll fuck it up.

He knows that he will. He hasn’t had a stable relationship in over half a decade, and Emma is not the woman he needs to try again with.

She deserves better than him, always has. She deserves someone who will know how to treat her well and who won’t screw her over and screw everything over because they don’t know how to handle their emotions. Emma has been through enough in her life. Her childhood was more screwed up than his was, and her relationships as an adult have been no better.

How could Killian possibly do any better than Neal?

In the end, he’d fuck it all up just the same even though he would never want to hurt Emma.

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself before sitting down in the wet sand.

The moonlight reflects of the water in front of him, silver strands of light mixing in with the deep indigo of the water, and the waves calmly crest before waning, a push and pull that never stops. A breeze joins in, lowering the mid July temperatures to the point of a chill, but Killian revels in it and the way that he can feel it in all of his bones.

The ocean is true and unfailing. It’s always there, even if the colors change and the creatures that reside below migrate, and for a moment, Killian is seventeen years old and in England, sitting on a chair in Brighton with Liam beside him because he was home for once. There aren’t a lot of good memories from Killian’s upbringing, not after his mum passed away, but that day was one of the good ones.

No fears or complications.

No warring brothers.

No warring mind.

“You know, if you’re looking for a place to hide out, I don’t think the beach in front of a lit country club is the place to do it.”

Killian chuckles and twists his head around to see Emma walking toward him. He really doesn’t need to see her right now, but God, if it isn’t good to actually see her.

The string lights hanging above the club’s deck are still illuminating Emma, creating a golden halo around already golden hair, and he barely manages to look away in order to scan down her body. Her dress is long and flowing, hitting right above her ankles, but the floral material hugs the rest of her so that he can see the curves that he knows every inch of better than he knows the marking of the scars on his hand and the ink sketched into his skin.

Stunning.

“I honestly did not realize I’d circled back to here.”

“How? Are you drunk?”

“I am completely sober.”

He hears her laugh and the rustle of fabric before she’s sitting down next to him and playfully bumping her shoulder into his.

That’s the other thing. Even if he could be the partner Emma deserves, she’s likely got no interest in anything other than being his friend and fucking when she’s in the mood.

Not that he minds either of those things. He agreed to them both, and it’s worked out quite well until he allowed himself to slip and develop feelings that he has no business having.

And yet he can’t get up and walk away right now. Sitting with her is the only place he’d like to be.

It was before. It is now.

It’s simply different.

It’s a frightening thought to think that the one who is ripping him apart is also the one who can stitch him back together, threading the needle so carefully that he won’t be left with scars this time.

Those are a hopeful man’s words, though, because he can already feel the scars inking themselves into his skin. He guesses he’ll have to learn the new ones too.

“Are you playing hooky from work?”

“Nah. We’ve got a dinner going on, and they’re in the middle of their main course. They won’t need me for a little while.”

Killian hums and leans his hands back behind him. “The impeccable Ms. Swan, catering to the elite of Storybrooke since 2011.”

“My dream job, obviously.”

“What’s your real dream job, love?”

“Inheriting millions of dollars and never working again.”

Killian’s head tilts back with laughter, and he glances to the side to see the moonlight catching off the side of Emma’s face. It’s so damn similar to last night that his heart aches.

But no, he’s pushing those thoughts away. He’s pushing them away and ignoring them and choosing to think that for a little while, things will be alright. He’s lying to himself, but that’s alright for now.

“Okay, but if you absolutely had to work for a living,” he prods, genuinely curious now.

“Well, I don’t know,” Emma admits. “I kind of lucked into this job. I was a waitress, because that’s all I’m pretty much qualified to do since I barely got out of high school with a degree, and Mary Margaret took me under her wings and helped me get promotions. It’s not bad here. I like it most days. I could go for a different boss, but it’s nice. Nice pay, mostly nice hours, even nicer free food.”

“Ah, that’s why you stay then? The food.”

“Absolutely.” Emma toes her sandals off and drags her foot through the sand next to his. She absentmindedly touches his leg, and a shiver runs down his spine. He tells himself that it’s the breeze and the water, but he’s apparently not that good of a liar today. “But really, I don’t know. For awhile, I wanted to be a social worker to help kids like me, but I realized that would be too painful for me. I’ve never really had a goal, but I kind of like where I am. Maybe I’ll figure something out in the future.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What about you, KJ? Being in business with your brother the dream?”

“The Navy was the dream, but this is probably second or third best.”

“Third?”

“Well, yeah, I wanted to be in a band as a teenager, and I think I still hold out a little for that.”

Emma laughs beside him, her head tilted back so her hair flows off her head, tips hitting against the sand. “You know, I can see it, but I can’t decide whether or not you’d be a John Mayer type or a Freddie Mercury.”

“Well, I guess I’d have to try for us to find out.”

“I will be front row at every show. Promise.”

Killian swallows the lump in his throat and turns away from Emma. Every time he looks at her, there’s a twist in his gut. He can’t decide whether or not it’s painful or not, but even if it is, he keeps craving it.

Craving her.

He shouldn’t.

This has to break the rules of their agreement, these feelings. They never said, not explicitly. So maybe they don’t, not if he always puts the friendship first.

Not if he doesn’t allow himself to go too deep.

“What are you doing out here?” Emma asks him after a minute or so of silence between them.

“My bloody vacuum broke.”

“And you thought you were going to find the parts to fix it here?”

His eyes roll. “I may have gotten a tad…heated, and I need some fresh air.”

“Note to self, don’t get between Killian Jones and his vacuum.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Emma’s foot brushes against his leg again, and this time he doesn’t bother slowly moving away.

“I get off in about an hour. You want to go to the Rabbit Hole?”

“Drinking on a school night, love?”

“I’m a rebel like that.”

“Don’t I know it?” He nudges her shoulder, and his hand reaches back behind him until his fingers brush against hers. She takes his hand, and he lets Emma be the one to twine their fingers together. “I can’t tonight. I’m afraid I need to go home and apologize to my brother.”

“You two have it out about the vacuum?”

“Believe it or not, we did.”

“Wow,” Emma laughs, squeezing his hand, “that is something else, but you know, I’d never keep you from having to apologize. Maybe another night then.”

“Definitely.”

Killian pulls their hands up and presses his lips over her knuckles, ignoring the sand.

She’s so light tonight, these past few days really, and he could never imagine ruining that.

Ruining her. There’s no way in hell they’re going to get out of this unscathed, and he can’t stomach the thought of hurting Emma.

“You should get back to work, love. It’s going to take you awhile to get all this sand off your ass.”

“Well, hopefully no one will be staring at my ass, so they won’t be able to tell.”

“It’s a damn good ass, Swan. And in that dress? People are definitely going to stare.”

She scoffs and lets go of his hand to stand up, brushing her hands across her ass as the sand falls off. Killian stands as well, brushing off his own sand, but he knows he’ll immediately be taking a shower after this, so it’s not all that important.

“You going to stare at me walking away as I go back to work?” Emma teases, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You know that I am.”

“I’ll put a little extra sway into it for you.” She smiles and then presses up on her toes, her soft lips gliding against his for one second and then another, each of them blending into the next until he doesn’t know how long it’s been. But then she’s pulling back, her breath as heavy as his is, but unlike him, she’s got the softest smile on her face. “Goodnight, KJ. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Goodnight, love.”

And then she picks up her sandals and starts walking away, her hips swaying a little more than they normally would.

Dammit if he’s not half in love with her, and dammit if he doesn’t want to stop before he gets all the way there.

Killian watches her go until she’s standing underneath the string of lights and then disappearing inside the club until she’s nothing more than a face in a crowd of people who are laughing and drinking spirits while paying a copious amount of money to eat small plates of dessert.

And then he walks back home, focusing on his breathing with each step, and when he makes it up into the apartment, Liam is sitting on the couch in the dark, the television lights flickering across his face. He doesn’t acknowledge Killian, so Killian quietly walks into the kitchen, grabs two beers out of the fridge, and then settles down on the couch with Liam despite the fact that he definitely doesn’t have all of the sand off of his ass.

When he holds out the bottle to Liam, he takes it, clinking it against Killian’s before taking a sip.

“It’s your life, Killian,” Liam says. “It’s not mine, and I have no right to push you into things you don’t want to do. I judge your relationships too much, romantic and otherwise, and I need to stop because the last thing I want is to push you away. God, I mean, if it’s not with whoever this woman is, it’s with Emma. I don’t know why I’m such an ass toward her. I know you’re friends. I just – I guess I thought I once saw you look at her the way I look at Elsa, and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Too late for that.

“Emma’s a friend,” Killian says as he tilts the bottle against his lips, “and you are an ass to her. She knows it, too. She thinks you hate her, and if that’s the reason why…God, Liam, you can’t hate every person who has the ability to hurt me.”

“I know. You’re right.”

Killian raises a brow. “Are you sure you weren’t drinking too much before I got home?”

“No,” Liam laughs, “no, I wasn’t. I’m serious. I’m sorry about tonight and every other time I’ve been a wanker. Emma doesn’t deserve it. You don’t. I should be better.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Killian takes a long, cold sip of his own drink. “Thank you. And you’re right, you know? About me running from anything serious. I do run from any kind of commitment, and I’m not sure I can stop that.”

“When you find the right woman, you might just figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Killian sighs, sinking down into the couch, “I hope you’re right.”

-/-

-/-

tag list: @qualitycoffeethings​ @mrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jonirobinson64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda​ @andiirivera​ @elizabeethan​ @captain-emmajones​ @csalltheway​ @itsfabianadocarmo​

#your wonder under summer skies #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

[the-ace-with-spades]

(3/6) the best is yet to be

five times someone realized Ronan and Adam were basically married and one time they actually were

Part 1 │Part 2 │Part 4 │Part 5 │Part 6

Read on ao3

Tad had been living on his own since his parents sent him to a boarding school when he was twelve. But being in high school now had its perks — he had his own credit card that he could buy whatever he wanted and never had to eat that awful cafeteria food they served in the dorms.

He usually ate out because it was the fastest and the most sociable but he tried to keep the dorm room and communal kitchen stored with pre-made meals and snacks in case he didn't want to socialize. Eating out alone wasn't really an option when someone has so many friends that go eat in the same places.

The frozen meals didn't always work and he had burned two pans already. The stuff you just have to put in the microwave was far easier.

Henrietta was a crappy small town and there were only two actually big supermarkets near the school. It was already quite late when he decided he wanted onion rings with chilli sauce so he drove a couple of streets and stared around the frozen goods alley, realizing it was probably too late and most of the good stuff was gone.

It was also unbearably hot, since the first heat waves just started to settle in for the summer, and the crappy supermarket AC wasn't working, so standing in the frozen goods alley was the only option, now that he was there and didn't have the energy to leave.

"Come on, we don't need a list," some guy said, way too loud. The voice seemed almost familiar in a sense that Tad had heard it before but he couldn't place where because it reminded him of someone but didn't sound exactly like someone.

It came from behind the alley with toilet paper and Tad couldn't see exactly who it was and wasn't exactly in the mood to go back into the non-heated area.

Maybe it was better. Next, he heard another voice but it was quiet to the point that Tad could only recognize that this someone was speaking something sharp and judgemental.

"I didn't forget it, I just think we could use going wild once in a while."

There was more hashed words in answer to that and if Tad had to guess, it was the wife. In his experience, wives had a tendency to be hysterical about the slightest misbehaviours — his dad had had four of them and every single one of them would argue with him about stupid stuff like why they didn't have a jacuzzi in the house, or why the pool wasn't cleaned twice a week instead of one, or why there was no grill in the kitchen. In Tad's experience, a wife wasn't worth the trouble. Not that Tad even wanted to have one.

"I could pay, I'm going to use up most of the stuff anyway," the man said, obviously fed up now.

He was met with even more sharp words. Tad knew how it worked — his dad often used quiet but pointed words and silent looks and it always felt even worse than being yelled at.

"Babe," the man said, trying for a softer but still frustrated tone.

There was no answer so that was the moment for silent, disappointed looks. If he didn't know that the guy chose to be with — or probably get married to — whoever he was talking to, Tad could almost pity him.

"Fuck, okay, just wait here, I'll go for the shitty list to the car."

And there was back again that annoyed tone with no fake sweetness. It definitely sounded more familiar now.

Tad hated married couples. They would always argue in the middle of the store — or any other place, to be honest — and were always loud and spend weekends in supermarkets or Home Depot like they were their regular date spots and take way too much time to decide about basic stuff like which color of a carpet they should use. He had yet to see a married couple that wouldn't argue about everything that should be casual in life.

This was exactly why he was never getting married.

The stamping sound went away with the guy leaving the store, hidden by the shelves and drawing away, further to the entrance. He was most likely pissed off, even though this was probably some stupid reason to be pissed off and grumbling to himself about his stupid wife. Tad knew the type — rural town couples that hated each other but pretended otherwise because they already spent the money on the wedding or already had a kid together.

Tad heard a deep sigh behind the shelves.

Married. Couples.

Maybe there was enough cool air in the milk and yoghurt fridges alley.

The store was mostly deserted, except for him and that married couple he still hadn't seen, he noticed only a small group of teens from Mountain View next to the chips and a woman with a sleeping baby at the checkout.

The fridges with milk were warm. Henrietta was a crappy town, and this no-name, locally owned supermarket was even crappier. The AC didn't work and the fridges felt like someone was turning them off and on every couple of hours.

The noisy sliding door opened again when he was contemplating buying vanilla milk, and the angry stamping could be heard, becoming louder and stopping in the cereal alley nearby. Tad was ready for the next argument, really, it was like the cheap version of reality tv. At least the baby at the checkout wasn't crying.

"I got the fucking list."

And the next quarrel was there.

There was silence and the cart in that alley moved — it was just a couple of seconds before it stopped again with a horrendous screech.

"Come on," the guy said. "Don't give me the silent treatment, it was just a stupid list."

There was a longer, even quieter monologue that was just as exasperated.

"Fuck, I know," the guy said, now giving in. "I'm sorry."

Tad didn't hear anything at all but there had to be an answer because the guy said, "You asshole."

This didn't exactly sound like something you should call your significant other just after a fight but Tad wasn't one to judge.

The cart moved again and Tad pretended he was busy choosing between vanilla and chocolate milk and not at all eavesdropping.

From around the corner of the shelves, Adam Parrish, leaning heavily on the handlebar, pushed the cart closer to the wall with the fridges. What made Tad freeze at once was Ronan Lynch, with his chin hooked over Parrish's shoulder and arms wound around his waist, hanging onto him like a leech. Really, this just ensured that his opinion on Lynch was right and Lynch was a parasite that fed on people who would otherwise make great friends, like Parrish or Gansey.

There had been different rumours about Lynch in school. Some said he was dead in a ditch. Some said he was in rehab in some private clinic in Florida. Some said he left with his brothers for DC. Some said he fucked off and became a farmer. None of those ideas seemed realistic but Gansey was adamant about not answering any questions and no one had seen Lynch in almost two months so the imagination was flowing wild. Personally, if he had to choose, Tad would bet for the second option.

"Parrish," he said, because he really didn’t know what else he could.

His eyes were still going up and down the weird fixture that was both of them, practically glued to each other, when Adam answered.

"Carruthers."

Parrish was wearing a black jean jacket full of tears and patches and pins and with slightly too long sleeves — too expensive to be his — and it looked completely out of place on him, Tad had only ever seen him in that crappy secondhand school uniform. Underneath he had the coveralls, tied low on his hips, faded out and stained with oil. If anything, Tad felt hot just looking at him.

The brightness of Lynch's shirt was almost as unexpected, because he had never seen him in anything but the school uniform, or black clothes — it was a red Coca Cola t-shirt, a little too small on him.

Tad made a step closer, reaching his hand for that weird handshake-high-five that Gansey and Parrish often did. Parrish took a step back and that step meant he was hips-to-hips with Lynch who was clinging to him. Instead of moving out of the way or yelling at Lynch to move out of the way, Parrish just stood there, ignoring it completely, like this was something normal.

"So," he began, pointedly ignoring Lynch. "What are you doing here?"

"Grocery," Parrish said and when Tad didn't find anything to reply with for a minute, he added. "We ran out of toothpaste. And some other stuff."

The we there was very explicit.

"You want something, shithead, or can we do our thing without your stalker eyes on us?"

Lynch was pleasant as always.

Maybe Tad should ask Parrish if he was blackmailed into, well, whatever that was. Maybe Parrish would finally realize all the hints Tad had been giving him and realize that he had options other than Lynch.

But then he realized — it had been Lynch's voice, back in the toilet paper alley, just unbelievably calm.

#trc #outsider pov #pynch #the raven cycle #my fics #my writing #TRC #Tad Carruthers

[unsettledink]

Gotcha Chapter 6!

(Trying something new and posting the full text here as well as AO3? It feels too long, but I’ve posted longer things here before, Idk.)

Read on AO3

Peter: sorry im on my way!

Peter: iswear im just running late

Peter: i will be there supr fast!!

Peter: sorry!

Quentin stares down at his phone and somehow, manages not to sigh. It’s a full ten minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and he doesn’t even want to be here in the first place.

Quentin: Don’t worry, it’s fine.

Peter: im sosorry

Peter: my alarm got set for tomorroow instead of today

Peter: i dont even know how

Peter: adn i just woke up and i dont even sleep this late like ever

Peter: but i willl bet there soon i promise

Peter: sorry!

Quentin: Really, it’s fine! There’s no hurry.

Quentin: We’re not exactly on a schedule or anything.

Peter: its so rude tho

Peter: for once it wast me losingt rack of time!!

Peter: im still sorry!

Quentin had given himself a little extra time this morning, just to remind himself of all the many, many reasons he is doing this, in this particular way. Had spent that time summoning up every bit of patience he could find to get through this day, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

It feels like he’s already used half of it.

And of course he won’t be able to comment on Peter’s lateness, not even as a joke.

Peter: im like hafway there already illl just have to chagne and then ill be there!

Peter: seriously i am so sorry

Normally he’d be all for hearing Peter apologize, but it keeps happening every other word, Quentin will lose his mind.

He’s already losing his mind.

Well, he’s not going to just stand here until Peter does show up. He glances around for somewhere to sit; there’s a coffee shop just across the street. Perfect. He’s going to need that.

Quentin: Hey, don’t rush!

Quentin: I’ll just grab a coffee okay?

Quentin: I’ll be over at Kaldi’s, it’s just across the street. Can’t miss it.

Quentin: You want anything?

Peter: you dont haveto!

There’s no stopping the sigh this time. God.

Quentin: Not what I asked, kiddo.

Peter: um

Peter: suure?

Peter: someting with carmel i dont care mych

Peter: ill be there realy soon tho!!

Quentin: Then we can just sit for a bit.

Quentin: You’ll probably need it if you just woke up.

It’s a little funny how… drastically downgraded Peter’s texting is when he’s apparently still half asleep. Or maybe it’s just that he’s in a hurry. Or—

Quentin nearly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He— surely, Peter isn’t—

Quentin: Are you texting AND webswinging?

Peter: …maybe?

No wonder he goes through phones so fast.

Quentin: You’re going to drop your phone

Peter: hey! imst icky! i wont drop it!

Quentin: Then you’re going to fall from being distracted

Quentin: And I won’t feel sorry for you.

Peter: :(

Quentin: I’ll laugh

Peter: :( :( :(

Quentin: You brought this on yourself.

He spends the time until Peter gets there reviewing Lynn’s newest plans for the miniaturized drones; they actually aren’t too bad.

Of course, they’ve probably had them sitting, waiting, for months, what with how they’ve harped on and on about how this should be a priority.

It won’t do to let them get too full of themselves, so along with the praise he sends back plenty of potential revisions. Even brings up some entirely new bits for them to consider; should keep them busy for a bit.

“Hi!” Peter says, flinging himself down across from Quentin. He’s flushed and still out of breath, his hair sticking up. “I’m here! I’m so sorry!”

Quentin allows himself a slightly amused smile. “Hi,” he says. Pushes Peter’s drink—some sort of ridiculously sweet caramel flavored thing that’s barely coffee at all—across the table to him. “Sit. Drink. Relax a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and only making things worse. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, though. I’m just… it’s really embarrassing to be that late when this was my idea in the first place and—”

“Peter,” Quentin says, cutting him off. “Breathe! It’s fine, I promise.”

For once, Peter listens, and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. Lets it out and relaxes the smallest bit, and grabs his drink. “Oh,” he says. “This is good! Thanks; you were right about me needing it.”

Quentin watches while he unwinds; Peter’s latest idea regarding ‘things they could do together’ was to show Quentin around Queens, so today they’re wandering. Quentin’s thrilled.

It could be worse. Peter had been all set up to take him to the most popular, well known, touristy spots, and Quentin had barely been able to hide his dread at the thought. It’d taken a little work, but he’d manage to convince Peter that Quentin would much rather see Peter’s favorite places. Even if they were nothing fancy or exciting, or little hole in the wall type places, or silly.

Even if they bored Quentin to tears.

Not that he can let Peter see even a hint of that. There’s a special kind of… vulnerability in sharing the smallest things you like, something different than exposing the larger, more damaged pieces of yourself. Something oddly hopeful about showing someone the unexplainable, intimate things you like and waiting for them to enjoy those things as well. Or at the very least, not reject them, in a way that suggests they’re rejecting your tastes as well.

Not rejecting you.

He’s started to prove to Peter he can handle the bigger things, the superhero stuff and the feelings nearly suffocating Peter; time to show that he can be trusted with the little things too. That Peter can come to Quentin with anything at all. Anything. Everything.

“So,” Quentin says. “What’s first?”

He was right; it is pretty boring. Not… awful, surprisingly, but not Quentin’s sort of thing at all. Peter’s apparently decided to try and cover as many miles as he can in one day, dragging Quentin from one end of Queens to the other. And then back; Quentin’s going to take tomorrow off for sure. Peter just has so much energy.

Has so much enthusiasm, Quentin thinks, as they poke through a small used record store that isn’t nearly as hipster as he expected from Astoria. So, so much enthusiasm, for the smallest things. It just bursts out of him once he gets comfortable and isn’t second guessing every single word he says.

Once Quentin has seemed interested in the first few things Peter shows him. Peter’s nervous about it, trying to explain away any shortcomings before Quentin’s even gotten in the door. He’s just desperate for approval, for acceptance. For Quentin to like him.

It’s not that hard to, actually.

It’s never been that Quentin dislikes Peter. Sure, Peter’s causing him grief and can be incredibly annoying, and sure, about half of what he feels for Peter is pity, but those can exist alongside the fact that Quentin kind of likes Peter.

Has liked him, ever since he started compiling research on him, ever since he’d met Peter as Mysterio and shook his hand and watched him get so excited over the existence of multiverse. It’s harder not to like Peter, not even a bit. He’s ridiculously smart, and stupidly good-natured, and—

He throws himself into everything he does; goes full out, with his heart on his sleeve. It’s no wonder he gets anxious as hell, if his first impulse is to practically flaunt all his soft spots, open and eager and expecting the best. It’s going to go poorly more often than not.

Must have, judging by the way Peter pulls himself in and hides, overrides that instinctual reaction so quickly it’s just a flash, a glimpse Quentin keeps catching again and again. He’s been taught to second guess himself somewhere along the way, by someone—probably a lot of someones—who saw those tender spots and couldn’t help poking them, taking advantage of them.

Just like Quentin’s doing; Peter should be better about spotting that sort of thing by now.

It’s almost a shame to fix Peter just to tear him apart completely, to have to use him like this, but… well. In the end, Peter’s nothing but another obstacle scattered in Quentin’s path. There are far more important things to worry about than the fate of one kid.

Peter grins at him when Quentin admits that this dinky little secondhand bookstore in Jamaica was worth a stop, even if it’s just for the most comfortable couch Quentin has ever sat on. Smiles when he points out a mural he loves on the way to the next attraction and admits he’d actually webbed up someone who started to tag it.

Straight up laughs at Quentin’s face when Peter shows him the most supremely creepy things in some huge thrift store, full of weird antiques and vintage crap. God, it’s disturbing that the things Quentin had as a kid, even as a teen, are considered vintage now.

“Jesus, Peter,” Quentin says after he has to look at a one hundred percent haunted taxidermied squirrel. “Why would you make me see that? I’m going to have nightmares.”

“For that exact face,” Peter says. “Oh my god, you look like you think it’s going to bite you!”

“It might,” and it’s unfair that Peter just laughs harder. He glares at Peter, but it might be slightly put on.

He’s allowed to like Peter a little, Quentin decides, watching Peter nearly double over with giggles. It’ll make having to deal with him easier, if nothing else, and it’s not as though liking someone has ever stopped him from using them—even disposing of them—in the past. It sure won’t this time.

They wander some more, Peter chattering on and easily filling the silence as long as Quentin remembers to make the appropriate listening noises occasionally. Every now and then, Peter hesitates, a nervous stumble in his words, something throwing him off, and Quentin reengages fully. He can’t afford to let Peter get too caught up in his thoughts.

But a few questions—carefully designed to make Quentin seem far more interested than he is—are enough to get Peter going again, bouncing from place to place until Quentin suggests they could use something to eat.

“Oh my god, yes,” Peter says. “I’m starving and didn’t even realize it. Ooo, last time we were down here, Ned and I found this awesome truck that does crazy good Korean barbeque, you’d love it.”

“No,” Quentin says without thinking, the sweet tart burnt smell so strong he can nearly taste it, can feel it stinging when he draws in a breath.

He twitches, shrugging it off, and tries to walk back how sharp that had come out. “Uh, I’m not big on sweet sauces and meat?” he says. “Got another recommendation?”

Peter drags him to a place that has the weirdest chimichanga combinations—and normal ones too, thankfully—and once again, attempts to pay.

“You know,” Quentin says as he pokes Peter out of the way, immensely irritated that Peter is still pushing him on this. “I didn’t realize your memory was this bad.”

“Hey!” Peter says. “It’s not! What are you talking about?” like that doesn’t prove Quentin’s point exactly.

“I seem to remember a bet I won,” he says, “relating to this exact situation.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. “Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Quentin says,raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Peter says, “okay, you can’t blame me for trying!”

“Hmmm,” Quentin says, passing over one of the foam trays. “You’re forgiven. This time. Just don’t do it again.” It’s always a good idea to get Peter into the habit of following Quentin’s rules, of remembering not to challenge Quentin too much.

Of remembering that Quentin will forgive him anything, easily.

“Fine,” Peter says through a mouthful, so mature.

They eat on the way to the next stop on Peter’s little tour; Quentin had been hoping they were approaching the end, but when Peter looks at him and asks, so hesitantly, if Quentin is tired and wants to call it a day—

Well he can’t say no.

Quentin finds himself dragged on to little half hidden shops, with any signage and down stairs that Quentin has to ask how Peter could have found in the first place. To statues Peter likes, to places he feeds pigeons—why he’d want to, Quentin doesn’t know—places with great views of the Hudson.

And, over and over, once Quentin catches on and starts pushing it, places to eat. Because Peter’s metabolism is a thing of wonder.

It’s interesting watching Peter banter back and forth with an older man about his sandwich; Quentin had gotten the impression Peter was uneasy around strangers, all his awkwardness amping up. But the way Peter’s interacted with people today is much more relaxed, much easier. Peter has a sharp sense of humor that Quentin has only started to see, as Peter gets comfortable around him.

Why do all these strangers get it right off the bat?

He watches Peter dart over to help get a stroller over a curb and— they’re not strangers. Not really. It’s not just that everywhere they’ve gone is somewhere Peter has been again and again, to the point where he knows people.

This is Peter’s home ground. His comfort zone, and the people in it— they’re his people. And when he’s helping them, his nerves disappear. His awkwardness becomes a tool of its own, disarming, downplaying the threat Peter could so easily be.

This is what he wants to be when he’s Spider-Man; the guy on the street, helping in a hundred tiny ways.

That’s fine with Quentin. Perfectly fine; now how does he get Peter to stay there, with EDITH looming over his head?

He can practically hear that in William’s voice, ugh. He’s working on it.

They wind up in Kissena late in the afternoon, almost early evening, really. Peter steps off the path once they get into one of the more wooded areas, and there’s a grassy spot past a few bushes, with a truly massive tree near the center, smaller ones scattered around it. It’s well hidden.

“Alright,” Quentin says, as he has with every other place, “what's the story behind this? How’d you find it?”

“So, when I got bit, when everything changed?” Peter settles down at the base of the tree, cross legged. “One of the things that was like, a huge pain, was how all of my senses got crazy amplified. Everything was turned up to eleven, you know?”

Quentin sits across from Peter, stretching his legs out as he leans back. Ugh, grass; he’d better not end up with bug bites. “Okay,” he says. “Sounds like that was pretty overwhelming.”

Peter groans. “You have no idea! It was really hard for a while, because even once I started to get used to everything being too loud and too bright and too smelly and— things tasted weird and my clothes made me feel like my skin was crawling and it was—” He stops, tipping his head back against the tree and looking upward.

“It was a lot,” he says. “Eventually I sorta started being able to deal with all that sort of… feeling stuff? I mean, physical, sensory, not like feeling feelings.”

Coherent; Quentin does not roll eyes through sheer force of will.

“But I was still really struggling with the, um,” Peter frowns, tips his head back further until Quentin can’t really see his face. “The stuff in my head. Actually doing things, thinking about things or even focusing on one thing was all so hard. It was like…”

“It was like what?” Quentin asks, after a few moments have passed.

“Everything was a distraction,” Peter says, slowly. “That’s still not right, because normally, before, I’d get distracted thinking about something else I wanted to do, or I’d be daydreaming, or, um, just, good stuff? Stuff that I’d want to focus on, just not right that second.”

“This wasn’t like this.” Peter looks down and starts to fiddle with a bit of grass, pulling up blades one by one. “This was like so much noise inside my head, like every little detail about every single thing was right there, grabbing my attention. I’d be trying to do one thing and all that would be clamoring at me nonstop.”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his whole face up. “People talk about wanting super sense a lot,” he says, “but it sucked so much at first.”

“People generally don’t think through those kinds of wishes very much,” Quentin says. Honestly, for the most part people don’t think at all.

“I’m pretty much okay now,” Peter says. “I figured out how to filter things most of the time; when there’s a bunch of stuff at once I can get so caught up in trying to ignore it that I ignore everything, and then that’s it’s own problem.”

“I noticed,” Quentin says, dryly. “Makes you pretty jumpy.”

Peter huffs, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, brushing the ripped up grass off his pants. “I’m still working on getting the kinds of focus right?”

Quentin leans further back on his hands, crossing his legs. “You said something about focusing on me that one time,” he says, and Peter goes faintly pink. “That the sort of thing you’re talking about?”

“Something like that,” Peter says. “If I have one thing I can focus on, almost completely, then I can make it into… uh, white noise, I guess? Or it makes everything else into white noise. If that makes any sense at all.”

Not one bit, but whatever. He can press that later. “Sure,” Quentin says, waving his hand. “I’m following.”

It’s actually something to consider— if Peter manages to function better in difficult situations by focusing on one specific thing, what happens when that thing is taken away? Is ripped away from him, in fact. Would there be a moment of disorientation they could take advantage of? Maybe they could set Peter up to focus on what they want; he’s already using Quentin as a focal point, apparently.

He’ll have to watch Peter, Quentin thinks. This fumbling little explanation leaves a lot to be desired, but he doesn’t have much faith Peter actually could explain it better even if he tried.

“That helps,” Peter’s saying, “but it’s still really exhausting after a while. Sometimes I want to just… stop. Just not feel it at all, not have to try not to feel it.”

He glances at Quentin, and Quentin nods. Peter looks oddly shy, so he’d better pay close attention to what he’s showing.

“I’ve found a couple of places like this, but this is probably my favorite,” Peter tells him. “I can come here and actually relax. If I stop trying to block things out, or stop focusing on one thing, it doesn’t matter.” He tips his head back again, looking up at the tree.

“It's quiet here, pretty much all the time,” Peter says; the light through the leaves is diffuse, dappled on his face. “Even the noises that I get are like, soft things. Leaves and wind and things walking on grass. People talking, yeah, but that’s more distant and almost like background noise. It’s still shadowy in here when it’s super bright out, and there aren’t any super gross strong smells either. Just dirt and water and uh, green stuff.”

He darts a glance down at Quentin without moving his head. “Don’t laugh at me!” he says, and it’s right on the edge of plaintive. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I’m not,” Quentin says. He understands; it’s not something a city kid would be around that often, would probably even notice without senses like Peter’s. “I wouldn’t. I know what you mean, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter says. Looks back away from Quentin and then closes his eyes. “It’s nice. And when I have to go back to the real world, it’s not quite as hard to handle.”

Quentin watches him. Watches as he slowly, slowly unwinds. Peter doesn’t move, aside from his head tipping slightly to the side, and Quentin—

He’d thought, earlier, that it was interesting how much Peter loosened up around people he felt comfortable with, places he felt safe. He’d thought it was a large degree of relaxation—and it was—but it was nothing compared to this.

Nothing compared to the way the tension drains from him with each passing second, from every single bit of his body, until he looks calmer than Quentin has ever seen.

Happier.

If this is how he looks when truly relaxed, the level of stress Peter must carry with him every day, everywhere he goes—from the physical tension to the mental, the anxiety, the constant background level of effort that other people don’t have to think about—must be ridiculously high.

He doesn’t want to say anything, do anything, that would break the stillness that seems to have spread over the entire glade. Poor kid. He might be doing a great job at being a pain in Quentin’s ass, but he isn’t cut out for this superhero shit.

Everything Quentin sees just convinced him further that taking EDITH from Peter really is doing him a favor. He’d never intended for that to be true, but— it’s not a terrible byproduct.

Peter sighs eventually, a barely there breath of a thing, opening his eyes halfway. He looks dazed, almost half asleep.

At least, until he notices that Quentin is watching him, and then he flushes. Looks down, the moment dissipating. “Anyway,” Peter says. “It’s— it’s a nice place for me,” like he’s admitting something embarrassing.

“I can tell,” Quentin says, offering him a small smile. “You deal with a lot every day, don’t you.” He shifts against his tree, trying to get more comfortable without Peter noticing and getting all fussy about it.

“I guess,” Peter says.

He picks up a leaf, twirling it through his fingers absently. “It’s getting really frustrating,” he adds. “Because it’s been almost two years, right? So I should have a better handle on this! I shouldn’t still be getting tripped up by such little things. And—” he makes a face, shoulders starting to hunch again.

“So I have this… this sense? Uh, I call it a spidey sense— I know, it’s kind of stupid. It sort of warns me about things? Like someone poking me, or shouting that something bad is about to happen.”

“Mmm, you mentioned that once,” Quentin says. “Sort of like a limited precog?” Honestly, he’d dismissed it— not fully, it wouldn’t do to completely dismiss anything about Peter. But it hadn’t seemed like it did much for Peter in Europe.

And it hadn’t picked up anything about Quentin, so how good could it really be?

“Oh, huh,” Peter says. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that? Maybe, but it’s not very exact. Sometimes it’s super obvious, but others it takes me a while to figure out what’s wrong. And lately, especially, it’s been— it’s gone kinda nuts? I don’t feel like I can trust it anymore.”

“Like, like right now?” he adds. “Right now it’s just going off like something really big and bad is happening, but come on!” He throws his hands up, exaggerated. “We’re just sitting here talking! Nothing, literally nothing bad is happening. It’s freaking out for no reason.”

Fuck.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have dismissed it, Quentin thinks, trying to stay as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Maybe he really fucking shouldn’t have, because some part of Peter knows that Quentin’s not good news. Knows that Quentin is something dangerous, is a threat.

And apparently knows it very, very insistently. Oh, fuck, this is the last thing he needs. Why now? Why is Peter’s sense losing its shit now and not at any time in Europe? What has he done differently to set it off?

God, what if it had been going off then too? Could that be why Peter had backed off at the last second in the bar, EDITH almost in Quentin’s hand? Has Peter been feeling this the entire time?

It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be listening to it, but that could stop at any second. At any time, Peter could decide that maybe his stupid ‘spider sense’ isn’t wrong, and that would be— that would be bad. That would be so bad.

Quentin has got to figure out how to make sure Peter keeps dismissing what it’s telling him.

“It’s so annoying,” Peter’s saying. “I wish it would stop, would just shut up already. It’s like this constant thing lately, sort of fading in and out but almost always there, but not a single thing has happened!”

Oh, that’s really, really not great. Almost always? In and out? How long will it take before Peter starts to realize it’s linked to Quentin?

No. No, he can fix this. He can nip this in the bud, before Peter has even a hint of suspicion. Peter’s already trying to ignore it, already annoyed by it. Quentin can use that.

“Maybe it’s just confused?” Quentin brings one knee up and rests his elbow on it, letting his arm dangle oh so casually. “After all,” he adds, “I’m hardly a bad thing, am I?”

Peter smiles, all that irritation gone in a second. “No!” he says. “Of course not! You’re like, the least bad thing that’s happened in a while.”

Quentin grins back at him. Yeah, keep thinking that, kid. “Well that’s a relief!” he says. “How finely tuned is this thing anyway? Could something have… I don’t know, damaged it? Hmm, screwed up its baseline, maybe? How do you even recalibrate it?”

“I have no clue,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t really test it or fix it or whatever. It’s practically useless now.”

Perfect; he wants Peter distrusting this sense. Wants him not thinking about it at all, avoiding the topic entirely— ah.

If he can get Peter thinking his damaged sense has something to do with the fights he’s been in, these bigger battles, that would be ideal. Peter’s already trying hard not to think about those; tie this sense to them as well, and he’ll just have even more reason to avoid both

“Could something have overloaded it?” Quentin asks. “Just completely swamped it, and it hasn’t recovered yet? If it got used to there being danger nonstop, on all sides, maybe it can’t stand down.”

“…maybe?” Peter says. “But I don’t know what would have caused that, or even when. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

What.

Really, Quentin thinks, really? Peter can’t think of anything that would fit? Why wouldn’t he think of that? “Nothing?” he says, quietly.

Peter frowns. Takes a moment, and when he opens his mouth, Quentin is almost sure he’s made the connection; but Peter hesitates. Shrugs. “Not anything that’s like, major or a big deal or anything,” he says.

Does Peter— has he really managed to convince himself that all the fighting he’s done is nothing? Or at least, been trying to, because that hesitation says a lot.

He should have expected this, with the way Peter’s consistently downplayed himself so far. He really should have, but somehow it still annoys him. No wonder Peter isn’t willing to admit how scared and screwed up he is, if he thinks he’s completely overreacting to ‘no big deal’.

“Well,” Quentin says, and he’s watching Peter carefully. He doesn’t know quite how this will hit. “You were at war, on a battlefield. More than once, even. That can really mess you up in all kinds of ways.” Remember, Peter, he thinks. Remember that you were hurt, that there’s a good reason to be scared. To run.

“I— that—” Peter stares at him. “I wasn’t in a war,” he says. Dammit. Looks like downgrading it in his head is exactly what Peter’s been doing, and that is exactly the opposite of what Quentin wants.

“No? What would you call it?” Quentin asks, raising an eyebrow. He pushes himself more upright, uncrossing his legs. “It sounded a lot like war to me.”

Peter shakes his head, fingers crushing the leaf he’s been playing with. “It was just a fight,” he says, strained. “That’s all!”

A fight. Just a fight, like it was nothing more than a little spat, was nothing at all. Has someone been telling him this, reinforcing it? Fury, maybe, or even Tony before that?

He knows Fury wants Peter to think he can handle things, but has he also been trying to convince him that what he’s been through so far was small enough Peter should have been able to handle it? Should be able to handle the aftereffects? That he shouldn’t be upset about it, that he’s overreacting?

That’s not good; Quentin doesn’t need Peter doubting he can handle things. He needs Peter to be certain he can’t, and more, that it’s perfectly normal. Acceptable. Not something horribly selfish at all.

“Peter,” he says, “it wasn’t just a fight.”

“It was! It was just one— it wasn’t a war!”

“It wasn’t— Peter,” Quentin says, and sighs. “It was a lot more than that. You’ve been dragged from fight to fight to fight the past couple of years, without anyone helping you after; from what I hear, you really could have used some after that thing upstate.”

He huffs, too sharp to be a real laugh. “And that’s just what I know of,” he adds. “I’m not stupid enough to assume that’s everything.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his hands fisted on his thighs. Blinks, and then looks at Quentin intently, his brow furrowed. “How do you even know about that? About— about other fights?”

“I spent some time talking with Fury,” Quentin says. “He wasn’t big on details, but I got enough that I can fill them in on my own. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even know every fight you’ve been in, though I’m sure he’d like me to think so.”

He’d been talking with Janice, more like. God, she’d been such a find; seething about having had Tony himself be an ass to her, more than once, but willing to stay where she was to pass things on. She’d had access to so much confidential information, and every time SI and SHIELD decided to bury another thing, shift the blame and throw money at it until it all went away—for them, at least—she’d gotten a little more resentful.

It’s true that they might not have the finer details—it drives him nuts how sparse the info about whatever it was that crashed SI’s plane into the beach is—but he has enough to know that Peter’s been involved time and time again.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking down, losing some of his ire. “You probably didn’t hear much good, I bet. But— it doesn’t matter if it was more than one fight, cause they were all different. All like, spread out and about other stuff. It’s still not war.”

“What do you think war is, then?” Quentin asks, actually curious.

“I don’t, uh. War is… more?” Peter stumbles along, and he’s being incredibly stubborn about this. “More than that, than any of those. Worse. Way worse. You don’t— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was really like. It wasn’t like that.”

“I think,” Quentin says dryly, “I have a pretty good idea of what war is.”

Peter looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “God, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I just, just meant that you were in a war. In a real, horrible, endless one and this…” He shudders. “These were just fights. It’s not the same, it’s not anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. Looks at Quentin and then drops his head into his hands, knees coming up as he curls in on himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Quentin, I didn’t mean…”

This is really not what he was going for. Shit, he shouldn’t have said it like that; Peter’s too sensitive for him to be even a little sharp.

Quentin sighs, very softly, though he’s sure Peter still catches it. Pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to Peter, who doesn’t even look up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Quentin says. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Peter just shakes his head a little; Quentin thinks of sighing again but—somehow—manages to restrain himself. He sits down next to Peter, his back against the tree.

“War doesn’t have to go for a long time to be real,” he says, not looking at Peter. “It doesn’t have to drag on and on for it to still be awful, for it to still affect you,” and Jesus, he’s had to hear shit along those lines so many times. Had to sit there and listen to people be told over and over that what happened to them is worth being fucked up over.

Even if it isn’t. There’s a lot of reasons he never opened his mouth at those meetings, and his disgust at everyone else was the biggest. What a waste of time.

Well. Maybe not. It did give him the material to work Peter over.

“It doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic battle to qualify,” Quentin says. “It still counts. Pretending it doesn’t doesn’t get it out of your head.” Come on, he thinks, let it be bad, be a nightmare. Admit that there’s a good reason, a real reason, for you to be scared, and then you can back down without shame. Come on, Peter.

“It doesn’t feel like it should count,” Peter says, a bit muffled, head still in his hands. “It wasn’t— lots of people have dealt with so much worse. Something like this, it’s not— it’s not an excuse for, for…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Quentin doesn’t need him to. An excuse, hmm? He turns his head toward Peter, just a bit. “Why don’t you want to call it a war?”

Peter lifts his head, arms sliding down to cross across his chest. “Why does it matter to you what I call it?” he asks, and there’s a hint of sharpness in there. Maybe even anger. “Why do you even care if I admit— if I think it’s a war?”

Nice little slip there; isn’t that interesting. Peter does know it was more than a few little fights. He knows, he’s just trying as hard as he can to pretend otherwise. Trying to redirect, as usual, turning the question back on Quentin. Why does it matter, Peter wants to know, and there are so many answers Quentin could give.

It matters because you need to see yourself as badly damaged. Because you need to acknowledge that this is something huge and overwhelming and frightening. Because I need you to start accepting what I say as right, start accepting me as an authority. I need you to not question me.

So many reasons, and he can’t tell Peter any of them. Ugh.

He turns further toward Peter. “Because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Quentin says, tightly, irritation rising up in him. “When you sit there and insist that it’s nothing more than a little fight, when you play it off like it’s nothing— you’re devaluing what you did, and that’s wrong.”

“Don’t act like what you went through, what you did, doesn’t count,” Quentin says, and Peter’s looking over at him, startled. “That it wasn’t brave as hell, and terrifying as hell too.”

Peter stares, his eyes very wide. “I— it’s not like I did more than anyone else there. Than, than anyone else would have.”

“It sounds like you did more than enough,” Quentin says. “And— it doesn’t matter, Peter. It still messes you up. War fucks everyone up. Maybe it didn’t go on long enough for it to really warp your thinking, your morals or empathy or capacity to even feel, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t damage you.”

Peter jerks, sitting up straighter. “I’m not damaged!”

For fuck’s sake.

Quentin has to dig deep for a bit more patience. “Sure you are. Hey, Peter— wait,” he says, watching as Peter shuts down all over again, hurt. “That’s not bad, kid. It’s not an insult. It’s just… you gotta admit that before you can get better.”

Or not, if Quentin gets his way; admitting it might lead to Peter actually getting over his fear and stepping up. But with Quentin around, guiding him along? Peter’s never going to take that admission as anything other than a personal failure.

As just another reason he can’t, and someone else should.

“I don’t know,” Peter mutters. “It doesn’t feel like it should count.”

Quentin watches him for a minute. Leans in, his shoulder bumping against Peter’s. “You’d agree that I’ve been in war, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And that I’m able to judge what is and isn’t war. Right?”

Peter can be smart, sometimes. He sees where this is going. Sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

“Will you—” Quentin pauses, waits until Peter is looking at him. “Can you trust me here, and believe that I mean it when I say what you went through was war?”

Peter blinks, his eyes dropping. He’s silent, and Quentin can feel the muscles of his arm moving as Peter fiddles with something out of sight. “I’ll think about it,” Peter says, which is not quite the response Quentin was hoping for. Still, it’s not another denial. Baby steps.

“I’ll— maybe,” Peter says. “I guess you would know, even if you weren’t there.”

“You should listen to me,” Quentin agrees, leaning a little harder against Peter. “I do know!”

You should listen to me, and only me, he thinks. We’ll get you there, kid.

Peter huffs softly, pushing back against Quentin’s shoulder. “Maybe,” but he’s smiling faintly.

Quentin smiles back; he can accept a maybe, for now.

He’ll get a yes soon enough.

#mysteryspider #spiderio #quenter #quentin beck x peter parker #quentin x peter #mcu #spiderman #gotcha #wip #my work #fanfiction

[annafm]

(MEDALION RAHIMI, NONBINARY) - Have you seen ANNABEL MAJIDI? ANNA is in HER/THEIR JUNIOR year. The LITERATURE + INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM MAJOR is 22 years old & is a SCORPIO. People say SHE/THEY are DILIGENT, ADROIT, CYNICAL and AUSTERE. Rumors say they’re a member of WINTHROP. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY ARE FAKING BEING A PSYCHIC. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

hllo this is anna i hvnt .. played her in a while <3 bt thts okay i think she is very fun 2 play bt like in the way tht she is <3 serious n mean a bit ... bt its okay .. LHKDSGFHLKSDHLKG im sorry this is long this is. an old intro i hvnt rly changed much >.>

CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY TW

aesthetic.

falling feathers darkened at the tips, tweed and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, worn jackets and awkwardly cut t-shirts, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

basic.

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (father only), anna-banana (father only)

b.o.d. - october 31st, 1997

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the minefield, etc.

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

pinterest

stats

favorite song: you’re dead, norma tanega / now, your hope and compassion is gone / you’ve sold out your dream to the world / stay dead, stay dead, stay dead / you’re dead and outta this world

background.

born to two high schoolers who never married, firoj majidi and parvana banai. they were head over heels for each other - when firoj graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until parvana graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, parvana’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

was taught to be a hard worker and it was reflected in her schoolwork - anna excelled in all her classes but especially english. her love for writing grew at a young age, and as a child she saved up enough money to buy herself proper journals.

the only thing that she grew more passionate towards than writing was ballet - she caught the image of girls flying through the air and landing on their toes in the window of a dance studio on a walk home from school one day and that was it - something clicked inside of her.

that same day she would spend hours prancing about their tiny apartment, trying to mimic what she’d seen. it was easy to spot the passion anna had for the dance - and within a few months they had saved up enough money for a month’s worth of lessons.

anna was ecstatic - her slippers were old and found in the back of a thrift store by an odd miracle, but she put her all into the lessons regardless. she was quick to pick up on each move, and by the end of the month it was clear that anna had a natural talent.

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

firoj and parvana split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as parvana running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with paravana’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

her father got a third job in order to keep up with payments, and anna pushed herself in both ballet and school - not being able to handle an empty apartment. she decided to get a job - to help ease her father, but was too young.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

she’d sell store-bought lemonade as if it were homemade, stole ceramics from art class and sold them to neighbors. she found an old girl scouts uniform in the back of a goodwill and for the next month, she sold knock-off girl scout cookies from the dollar store - going door to door.

her personality had changed drastically - anna went from a sweet, optimistic girl with warm brown eyes and an infectious laugh to cold, calculated, and downright cruel. she knew what she wanted and how to get it.

she got an invitation to a prestigious private school, full scholarship, before she hit high school - originally wanted to reject it as the thought of being surrounded by new york’s richest teens was appalling, but their ballet program was a one-way ticket into the american ballet theatre. anna ultimately accepted the scholarship.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

this all, however, suddenly stopped when anna picked up her latest scam: faking psychic. through a small network of ‘bees’ she’d pay to gather information (gossip, rumors, etc. etc.) she was able to accurately ~see~ into students’ past, present, and potentially future affairs. the money was very worth it.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

when anna was 16 she was handpicked to join the american ballet theatre’s studio company, alongside 11 other lucky individuals. her dream from that point forward was to become the youngest principal ballerina for abt - and she was going to start by winning over the role of clara in their production of the nutcracker.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

the final week before her first performance as clara, anna got into a car accident heading home after another tiresome rehearsal. knocked unconscious, anna woke up three days later with no recollection of the accident - and her leg freshly operated on.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

for the remainder of her high school life, anna dedicated the majority of her time towards recovery, her writing, and directing her school’s theatre productions. oh - and claiming that almost dying had given her the gift of mediumship. it wasn’t too far off from her psychic claims - her peers believed it well enough to either stay away, or pay her for a small amount of comfort.

decided to attend yates for their reputation despite her hatred for pretentious schools (very ironic because she herself is pretentious) & also. she had a scholarship <3 so. 

in the midst of writing her first book that’s based heavily on her experiences as a low income student at a private school but like. she’s side-eying all these societies and seeing a Big Money Grab if she were to. write abt them instead

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors & still tends to barge her way into theatre rehearsals to <3 give her unwarranted opinion

personality & facts.

she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best … relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general.

pretty distrusting, pretty emotionless on the outside, doesn’t like to be seen as weak or somebody to be pitied. keeps herself closely guarded and doesn’t really let others ‘inside’ due to her own comfort levels.

she’ll sleep around but dating is out of the question, for the most part - she’s been on a few blind dates, a few casual get-togethers - but she’s always the one to break things off. is more of a careful hook-up kind of gal.

still does her psychic medium business !! sometimes she wonders if she’s a bad person because of it - but ultimately, it’s on her customers for believing in all that nonsense anyway. anna herself is a skeptic - doesn’t believe in anything unless she can see it and feel it.

is actually … a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them.

a lone wolf and likes it that way, but she isn’t super opposed to friendship - even if she won’t necessarily call anybody a friend. appreciates others who are similar to her - got their head on right, and knows what they want in life.

has a pretty bad fear of driving - will uber if she needs to go anywhere - even then, being in cars makes her pretty anxious. still has ptsd-induced panic attacks, though she’s managed them pretty well.

doesn’t really do drugs! will smoke weed to ease the ache and her nerves, but otherwise she only takes what is prescribed for her. doesn’t drink anything hard, either. big fan of beer and wine. probably gets wine drunk home alone late at night … like … two times a week.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain - took advantage of the archery club at her private school. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

wanted connections.

who do u think i am ;; either uh. people who have seen her around campus being a bit of a freak like <3 kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage <3 or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat near her so she could pet it <3 or having a that’s so raven moment <3 or someone who tried to help her out with something and she was like. excuse me. what the fuck. get away from me freak loser. maybe threatened them.

slowburn but make it evil ;; uh. when i played her as older she hd a plot where she <3 ws engaged n then broke it off bcos her fiance cheated <3 so i wld like another. plot where she actually <3 tries to enjoy someone else’s company and presence and it just ends up hurting her n reaffirming her idea tht love is? fake n dumb n stupid. thank u.

ykno ... a little dash of spice ... ;; uh. yknow just hookups. hateships <3 or they never talk abt what happened <3 or an awkward drunk one night stand <3 maybe a pregnancy scare and shes like Ah. motherhood Scares me. because she <3 hates her own mother <3 LDSLKFHLGSHLK. it leaves their relationship rly weird the whole ordeal ... maybe even just a blind date <3 or someone she ghosted

read my future ;; customers very classic uh. just people who come to her for her psychic readings <3 and her uh. talking to the dead <3 but also alternately. skeptics ?? people suspicious of her ?? very epic. 

like actually Die? ;; enemies. she hates them so bad. maybe its one-sided. maybe theyre an annoyance. maybe she annoys them? very bad not very good. 

and we dance dance dance, dance dance dance <3 ;; this is just. fr ballet students. or, hold up, consider this: someone who recognizes her frm this. very tragic event where she cld no longer b a ballerina bc i think it ws. like not the Biggest deal bt if ur muse ran in private school circles ykno ??

pet the feral cat ;; these r the soft <3 normal connections <3 someone she’s soft for / protective of. friends that she doesn’t completely hate. 

i Do Not Know ;; i will. take anything. please. weed dealers, people she’s totally sus about for no reason. she steals and reads their mail. they have been rivals for years. they hv a special bond. they r strangers but they get stuck in an elevator. she’s tutoring them bt she wont let them take a break n she keeps making them recite fucking. shakespeare. anything is sexy and fun n cool

#yatesintro #car accident tw #injury tw #ptsd tw

[ruby-dear]

all of them except 77, 78, 81, 92 and 96

Ember, I know this was you. I’m doing it, but that’s 93 questions you’re asking for so they’re going under a cut. 

1. Talk about your first love. There have been a lot of those, so let me talk about the first one I really remember. I was in eighth grade, at the time, and she wasn’t exactly a great person looking back but she was cool and confident and she liked me, and she called me her best friend, and probably the best school-related memory I’ve ever had was her tackle-hugging me from across a classroom. I didn’t even realize I liked girls until she’d pretty much left my life completely. Maybe I’m looking at it through rose-tinted glasses now, but I think that’s okay, sometimes.  2. What’s the most beautiful songs you’ve ever heard in your opinion? Most of my favorite songs are Owl City, especially the older stuff. It has a soft, dreamlike vibe to it that I find really pretty even when it’s depressing. 3. How’s your heart feeling right now? Pretty good, I think? 4. What kind of self care is your favorite to do? The fun stuff. Bath bombs, makeup, fancy shampoo. Retail therapy actually works pretty well for me, even if a lot of the time I don’t even buy anything. 5. What’s your skincare routine? Um... Shower? 6. How did you get to be so beautiful? Natural talent and carefully learned confidence. 7. Do you have any stuffed animals? Oh, do I. I have like, seventy Webkinz, and that’s without getting into anything else. You could say I collect plushes, even if I don’t do it as actively now. I have a couple of Eevee plushes, too - I’d say I want to own all of them one day, but I’m like, 95% sure that’s not possible. 8. Best trip you’ve ever been on? Once, we went to Prince Edward Island for a week, and my mom surprised me by meeting up with my best friend’s family, who happened to have gotten a room at our hotel for one night. I think that probably wins. 9. Favorite thing about your room? That it’s starting to look like it belongs to me, even if I want to move somewhere else. 10. Opinion on love? It takes work, but it’s worth it.

11. Are you affectionate? Around people I’m comfortable with, definitely. 12. Who do you look up to? The people who have enough confidence to be unapologetically be themselves.

13. Favorite poet? Robert Frost. When I was eleven, I found a book of his poems, and I loved that book so much I didn’t pay any attention in English class at all.

14. Song that makes you happy? How about one that calms you down when you’re in a bad place? There’s a lot of songs that make me happy. Hard to go wrong with the Pokemon theme, though. As for things that calm me down... It’s Alright by Mother Mother and Misguided Ghosts by Paramore have both got me through a lot.

15. Do you play an instrument? No. I was supposed to learn piano in seventh grade, but I couldn’t read the sheet music so they never let me play, and I tried to learn guitar multiple times but it never stuck for the same reason.

16. Do you do art? Using what (pencil, watercolor, etc)? I paint, though not as often as I’d like to! Using acrylics, usually, but watercolors sometimes.

17. Do you dance? What style of dance? I took ballet as a child, til they kicked me out of class, and I still enjoy dancing but I don’t remember any of what I learned.

18. What’s your zodiac sign? Do you believe in astrology? Gemini. I think it might have some kind of truth behind it, but I’m not really one of those all-or-nothing people. It’s just for fun, you know?

19. Favorite old film? I don’t watch a lot of them. Does The Aristocats count?

20. What’s your hairstyle? It’s long and wavy. I’m getting blue highlights soon.

21. What weather is the most beautiful, in your opinion? Light rain. The kind that dries off before you get inside, when the sky is perfectly clear, but it starts falling anyway and it stops just as quickly.

22. What upsets you most about the world? That however hard we try to fix it, we’re unlikely to get very far.

23. Are you in love right now? Yes. At least, I think so.

24. Do you have a crush? If so, talk about them! I have a girlfriend. Is that the same thing? She’s cute and funny and she thinks the same things about me for some reason, and she knows exactly how much of a disaster I can be and hasn’t run away yet.

25. Do you have pets? Talk about something sweet about them! I have a cat, Little Prince. His sister died about a month ago, and she was the one who usually kept me company (total lap-cat), but ever since he’s usually either close to where I am or comes when I call him over.

26. Do you have a lucky number? Any multiple of seven, but especially fourteen. They’re my favorite numbers for the same reason.

27. Have you ever wished on a star? What about on a fallen eyelash? I try to wish on stars, when I see them. Eyelashes I’m usually more annoyed about than anything.

28. Do you believe emoji spells to work? I think anything has the potential to work, given the right amount of effort and intent. That said, I don’t think you’re going to accomplish anything drastic.

29. Do you believe in magic in general? Oh, definitely. Just look at the world we live in. How can you not believe in magic when it’s all around you? The night sky without air pollution, the sunlight dancing on the water, candy cane white hot chocolate - it’s everywhere, in everything.

30. What’s the most beautiful thing in life, In your opinion? Everything. There’s something beautiful in everything, if you look for it. Today, let’s say the feeling of sliding around on a hardwood floor in fluffy socks, dancing along to one of your favorite songs.

31. Opinion on the color pink? What about baby blue? As a kid, I hated pink. I like it now, though. Blue is my color, light blue especially (particularly with star patterns), so I’ve always liked it.

32. What instrumental sound is your favorite? Am I alloawed to say wind chimes? I’ve always thought they sounded super pretty.

33. Do you like the sound of wind? What about the sound of rain? I love them both.

34.Who makes you happy? My friends. All of them, in different ways, the people who are still in my life for various reasons. I love them.

35. What makes you happy? Light rain, strong wind, good music. My cat’s soft meow when I wake him up by accident. White peppermint hot chocolate. Fall colors, string lights, Halloween and winter holidays. Ice and snow and skating, dressing up for no apparent reason. The trick to it all is finding new things every day.

36. Imagine your ideal life, the life you wish to make, what will that look like? A house big enough for a family. A degree of some kind hanging on the wall. A life where I’m making things because that’s what I love, and I can try new things just for fun, where I don’t have to worry about money so much. The chance to get married someday, maybe.

37. Do you wear makeup? If so what’s your favorite type of makeup or specific makeup product? Favorite store to buy makeup? I do! Unless someone else is doing it for me, I generally keep to lipstick and eyeshadow. I’ve never been especially picky about what brands I use, but I usually go to Nyx because it’s on my usual route when I go on shopping trips, and I’m kind of attached now. Plus, nowhere else I’ve been in person has as many bold colours.

38. Do you wear dresses? If so what’s your favorite dress you own? I like wearing dresses. My favorite that I still have is a longer black dress, and it’s in serious need of either repair of retirement, but I got it for $20 as a cosplay outfit last year and it served its purpose. I wear it around still, sometimes, because it’s generally an easy fix.

39. Ever been heartbroken? How do you deal with it? Yeah, a few times. I vent to my friends, usually, and then I eat ice cream and listen to gnash for a while and eventually I start to feel better.

40. Who’s your closest friend? What do you love about them?

41. Introvert or extrovert? Kinda both? It’s complicated.

42. Do you like MBTI? What’s your MBTI? Is that... Fuck, is that the one with the letters? I think I got ENFP last time, and when I was younger it was INFP.

43. Would you be a fairy, a mermaid, a vampire, a siren, a or an angel? I’ve had people tell me I have ‘fae vibes’ before, so let’s go with that and hope it’s not offensive.

44. What’s the best song a friend has ever introduced to you? I don’t remember enough of them to feel good about picking one. I basically only listen to music I’m recommended now.

45. Parlez-vous français? A little, by virtue of being Canadian and having driven through Quebec. Not enough to carry on a conversation.

46. Most beautiful place you’ve been to? Prince Edward Island, hands down. It’s gorgeous.

47. Where/when do you truly feel at home? When there’s a light breeze, and the perfect song is playing, and the people I love are there. When we’re laughing with each other.

48. Does smiling put you in a better mood? Try it right now, you’re smile is gorgeous! I don’t think it does, honestly? But it does tend to happen when I’m happy.

49. Favorite shoe you own? These ankle boots I got secondhand that have little metal stars on them. I’m gonna be so upset when they finally wear out and I need new ones.

50. Can you walk in stilettos? Do you like them? God, no, I’ve tried. Any heel that’s too sharp or pointy or tall is a major problem for me. It’s part of what makes finding shoes such a pain.

51. Do you feel loved? Not always, but yeah. When I remember, or when I ask, or when I’m reminded.

52. How do you express love to those you care about? I try to tell them, but I’m also the type to engage in constant teasing. I’m the friend that punches you in the arm as a show of affection.

53. Favorite term(s) of endearment? The more creative ones. The basics don’t do much for me, honestly, but it’s more about the person saying them anyway.

54. Most romantic thing someone’s ever done for you? Make me feel like I don’t have to try so hard to feel like myself.

55. When is the happiest you’ve ever been? Walking the downtown city streets in winter. It was cold, sure, but it was gorgeous and I finally felt independent for a while.

56. Are you happy right now? Yeah, I’d say so.

57. What makes you smile? Bad jokes, among other things.

58. Do you laugh a lot? Yeah. A lot more than I used to.

59. What’s your favorite kind of aesthetic? Punk/scenecore. They’ve really influenced my more recent style choices.

60. Do you want to marry for love or for some other reason (like money)? Love, definitely.

61. What would your dream wedding look like? Do you want to get married? With someone I love, and the other people I love there too. Somewhere beautiful. I think I do, someday, but it’s not something I’m so worried about.

62. Favorite flower? Roses. Blue Moon Hybrid Tea Roses, in particular, are especially pretty.

63. Favorite artist? I don’t really have one. I do enjoy looking at art, though.

64. Favorite music artist? Owl City.

65. How kind do you think you are? Is kindness important to you? I don’t know. People seem to think I’m kinder than I believe I am. It’s important to me, yeah, to try and help people and to do nice things.

66. Ever made a playlist for someone? A few times. They were never anything special, as far as I’m concerned.

67. Do you have anything you do to physically comfort you when your sad? Such as a favorite blanket? Or a relaxing bath? Long, warm baths and cuddling with my cat. Warm blankets and stories with happy endings.

68. Early bird or night owl? Night owl. I’m a night person.

69. Morning routine? Wake up, do nothing for a while, actually get out of bed and figure out breakfast. While that’s going on, try and figure out if anything important is happening today.

70. Night routine? Get comfortable, then write or daydream til I fall asleep.

71. What is the most lovely quality a person could have in your opinion? Self-confidence and a willingness to help others.

72. Do you cry often? Does crying help you get the emotions out? Do you feel better after? I tend to hold back my feelings til they all fall out. So I end up crying at least twice a month, usually. It helps, yeah.

73. Do you like hugs? From people I feel comfortable with.

74. When was the last time you kissed someone? On the lips? Never.

75. Are you small or tall? Small. I’m 5′0.

76. Do you like wholesome memes? Yes. They’re cute.

79. Have you ever lived in a different country than you currently live in? Nope. I’ve never lived outside this city, only been on trips.

80. Do you like plane flights? Airports? I’ve only flown once, and I was two, so I don’t remember it very well.

82. The beach or a forest? Sand or bugs? Depends on the day. Today, though, forest.

83. What time of day do you tend to be in the best mood? Evening, usually.

84. Do you push yourself to act together and in a good mood even when you aren’t? Yeah, when I’m stressed.

85. Favorite kind of tree? Either maple or pine. I’m Canadian, what can I say?

86. Do you care about the health of the Earth? Yes, but there’s only so much one person can do.

87. What did you like most about your childhood, if anything? Field trips. Adulthood is sorely lacking in field trips.

88. Do you read a lot? What’s your favorite book? I used to. These days I still read, but it’s mostly fanfiction. My favorite books, though, are Tamora Pierce’s Emelan series and the first two books of Kenneth Oppel’s Silverwing trilogy.

89. What are you most nostalgic for at the moment? Trick-or-treating.

90. What’s your favorite personality trait you have? I try to let the people I love know that I love them.

91. List at least ONE thing you love about your appearance. I have pretty great hair.

93. Do you worry a lot? Constantly.

94. The dazzling lights of the city or the relaxing countryside? The city. The countryside’s nice, but the streetlights and the city skyline are what make me feel at home.

95. Ever changed the shoelaces on one of your shoes? For what reason? I actually don’t know how to tie laces, so no. I’ve never been able to pick it up. I might get someone sense to, if I could find cool enough laces.

97. Do you like doing little acts of kindness? Yeah. It feels good to make people happy, you know?

98. How’s your day/night going? Pretty good! I did just spend over an hour on this, but I finished it, so that’s an accomplishment of its own.

#asks #Anonymous #ember why are you like this #ruby speaks #thank you though

[moneywitcher]

How to Make Money as an Artist (24 Ways in 2020)

If you are an artist struggling to make money, then this article is for you. I will be showing you 24 different ways how you can make money as an artist, without paying anyone anything. I wrote this article from my own research experience and knowledge in how to make money as an artist.

MAKE MONEY AS AN ARTIST online

So, for those of you who are a little bit skeptical about making money online as an artist read till the end. Because I'll be telling you how to use online platforms to make money in real life & physically face to face.

1. SELL original artworks on Saatchi Art.

So if you have a lot of artworks then take good pictures, upload on Saatchi art. Why Sell on Saatchi Art? Artists Represented in 100+ CountriesWorks Sold to Collectors in 80+ Countries12M+ Monthly Page Views1.6M+ Monthly Visits1.1M+ Social FollowersPrinted Catalogs Sent to 1M+ Households18 International Shows & Fairs Annually Reaching 150K People You create a free account (again free) you don't pay anyone anything. Once they approve your account you'll be able to sell your works there. Every month there are more than 1.6 million monthly visits to Saatchi art. I'm pretty sure you can acquire some of the traffic to your page and sell your works. For each work so they take 35% commission. It might sound like a lot but is not too much considering that a real gallery would take 50% at least as a commission. Also they arranged the pickup. Once the work is sold you put it in a box and the logistic company of Saatchi art will come to your studio to pick up the work and send it to the collector. So for 35% Commission they arrange not only the traffic but also the pickup is a fair deal. 7 HIGH PAYING WORK AT HOME JOBS THAT PAY OVER $100 DAY OR MORE!

2. sell original artworks on Art Finder.

When you join Art Finder, you join the art marketplace: a friendlier, fairer world for independent artists. Why you should join Art Finder: Reach a global audience of more than 500,000 art loversTake control of your store, your pricing and listings and get performance stats and insightsJoin an international community of independent artists and receive exclusive benefits, including partner discounts and access to our artist forumSecure, fast and fair payments: Art Finder takes commission on artwork sales only (much lower than bricks and mortar galleries)Dedicated support and tools to help you build your career* They take 33% or 40% commission depending on the seller plan you have subscribed. It's very similar to Saatchi art but Art Finder has a slightly different clientele. I would say it's a younger, more lively also more affordable art collector. So if your art is watercolor, smaller size then maybe it's better to sell on Art Finder than Saatchi Art. It's your choice. 7 BEST PASSIVE INCOME IDEAS ONLINE IN 2020 (THAT EARN $1000 PER MONTH OR MORE!)

3. selling Art on society6.

Society6 will pay you 10% as artists royalty. Why Sell on Society6? Showcase Your Artwork: Whether art is your main focus or your side hustle, we offer you the opportunity to exercise yourself creatively and showcase your work on an ever-expanding range of products.Variety of Products: We offer a best-in-class array of wall art, home decor, furniture, apparel and lifestyle products for you to enable; and our dedicated merchandisers are always looking for new and high-quality products to add to your shop.Focus on What Matters: Wherever you are in the world, we have a team of experts that will fulfill, print, ship, market and handle customer service—all for you so you can get back to creating.Find Your People: We attract millions of diverse, art-focused customers from across the world looking to discover new artists and add unique designs to their everyday. You don't need to do anything. Once you hit the button upload and sold your artwork. They will print your artwork and ship them to buyers. All you need to do is wait for the money to you. 10% passive income is not so bad considering that you don't need to do anything. FASTEST WAY TO MAKE $5,000 AS A COMPLETE COPYWRITING BEGINNER

4. selling art on Red Bubble.

Red Bubble is the biggest rival it's the biggest competitor to Society6. And they are very very similar. However Red Bubble gives you 20% payout with some modifications, depending on different scenarios but 20% is better than 10%. If you would like to get more money possible out of the royalty so Red Bubble maybe is a better choice for you

5. selling commission works on Facebook.

Perhaps you know Facebook You can sell on marketplaces you can sell secondhand, new things or artworks or whatnot. However maybe you have not tried the groups you can join the niche groups or local groups such as the digital artist group, the oil painting group, the landscape group, there's so many groups you can join. Then you just share your artworks within the group, so that people can tell you how much they love your work. Some customers might be getting in touch with you directly on Facebook for commissioned pieces. I know some artists who are making a full-time living from selling commissioned pieces on Facebook within the groups. And in the future you can charge 'Libra', which is the currency of Facebook. So keep your eyes open maybe one day you'll be making a lot of Libras on Facebook.

6. asking for monthly donation on Patreon.

You can ask for a monthly donation from your followers on social media to ask them to pledge 1 to 5 to 50 dollars every month. So you can support yourself as an artist and meanwhile you can give back to your community. Some exclusive content or you don't have to give anything if you don't want. But you just have to find ways to retain them so you can have monthly patrons to give you.

7. asking for one soft donation on Kickstarter.

There are many website like Kickstarter, like IndieGoGo, GoFundMe. If you have an interesting project that would require a lot of funding that you don't have, you can ask our Kickstarter. For example if you are a photographer you want to go to Antarctic to create a photo album. You can say you're going to launch this project you need $50,000 and for each donor you can give like art print or photo album. Whatever that you think is appropriate for the different tiers and then attract them to give you a donation. The thing is you must fulfill the project if you don't carry out, you'll face serious problems not legally but with your reputation as an artist. So make sure that you will carry out the project and see it through.

8. selling online courses on Skillshares.

I'm talking about online courses I'm not talking about your online courses. You can sell other people's online courses. And each new subscription you refer to you will get $10 commission from Skillshares. Of course you can also launch your own courses on Skillshares and receive a portion of the profit on Skillshares. But it's depending on how many minutes people watch your courses and it's really hard to predict. I cannot tell you how much you will be making, but what I can tell you for sure is for each new student they give you 10 bucks.

9. selling more courses on Udemy.

Udemy is the largest online II course platform they have over 30 million students around the world. Udemy is more like the marketplace for everything. but Skillshares is slightly more towards the art and craft skills. So Udemy is bigger but it's not as niche. You have to see if there are existing courses that you want to launch to see you the level of competition. If Udemy got you a student you get 50% that means the 50% is the commission. If a student purchases your course with a coupon code that you provide then you get 97% that is to say you only pay 3% commission to Udemy as the service. So it's really minimal that they ask if you have a lot of potential students who want to study with you Udemy's better than Skillshares because you get paid 97% it's a really good deal.

10. tutoring online using Preply.

Preply is an online educational platform that pairs students with private tutors on the internet using video chat. So you don't really see the students, but is a real-time face-to-face online tutoring. If you enjoy talking to other people on the Internet instead of facing a computer like on camera then Preply is a better choice for you. They take a 100% commission on the first course of the first time student and after that they will take 18% to 33% depending on how many hours you teach. And how many students you have, the more student you have the less commission you pay with Preply.

11. licensing your illustration on iStockphoto.

I have used iStockphoto before and I thought it was only for photos. but now there is a special section for illustration. If you'd like to license your illustration at iStockphoto you will receive a small artist royalty for each download. And the good thing is if they use your artwork they mention your name and the fact is they pay you to promote your work, I would say it's one stone two birds. You get the money and you get the exposure that you always wanted.

12. applying for artist residency with stipends on ResArtis.

This is a bit of controversy personally I don't like this idea that you will apply for residency again and again to get stipends. I think it's not a sustainable way because what if one day you settle down you want to start a family you're not gonna take your one-year-old to the artist residency just to get the stipends. It's not sustainable, but in case if you are a young artist or if you want to travel to a foreign country but you don't have the money then maybe it's a good idea. ResArtis is like the Wikipedia of or the Airbnb of artists residencies. Many artists residences pay ResArtis to list on their listings. So you can see they are fairly legit because they pay to publish their listings. Choose the ones with stipends and apply individually.

13. creating videos on YouTube.

After acquiring 1000 subscribers and 4,000 watch hours you will get monetized using Google Adsense. If you're not sure 2020 if it's a good idea to open your YouTube channel as an artist. Don't worry this is the best time to start your YouTube channel. This is a good idea if you are creating content anyway and you'd like to share on YouTube. Just be patient because you will need approximately 1 year to reach the 1000 following and 4000 watch hours.

14. brand endorsement IN Instagram or other social media

Instagram is the most popular for visual artists. That's why I say Instagram typically once you reach 50,000 followers on Instagram people will start to DM you. Saying hey can you give me a shout out for 50 bucks a 100 bucks 200 bucks. And it's your choice to accept or reject those brand endorsement and deals.

15. make money streaming videos on Twitch.

You can become an affiliate, a partner or streamer on Twitch. Basically people pay to watch your live streaming on Twitch. And if you can attract enough people to pay you. You can make decent money really depending on what kind of content you stream online. If you have enough people interested both using Twitch and interested in your niche. Really depends so I cannot tell you how much you will be making but there are a lot of potentials. Because Twitch is growing more and more as a social media

16. print on demand store using Printful.

You can make print on demand merchandising, art prints using Printfy. You need normally a store front like Shopify, Big Cartel and attract your followers to click on those links and purchase. It will be fulfilled directly from the Printfy warehouse to the clients and it does not go through you. So you do not need to worry about the logistics.

17. affiliate marketing on Amazon.

If you would like to do product reviews and you like to try out new gadgets or new art supplies. Then it's a good idea because you can try them out and then make your own review on YouTube or any other social media. And then drop a link down below for every purchase provided using your link Amazon will give you a share of it, so it adds up. I know people can make a full-time living using affiliate marketing of certain art supply and canvas and books and whatnot on Amazon.

18. self-published your photo album or art book using blurb.

Blurb is an American self-publishing platform. that enables you to share publish produce promote. And whatever you want with your content and publishing a book. So it's like the Printfy for books. It's very useful if you want to make like children's books or photo albums. You can easily produce eBook using InDesign or the Blurbs it's own online kind of plug-in. I have used the blurb to produce a photo album before for a private event and it worked pretty well so I like them and I'll say it's a good idea.

19. freelance design work at Upwork.

Upwork is a trending market place for freelance gigs. It takes 20% commission for the first $500 billed with the client, 10% for the earnings between $500 and $10,000 and 5% for earnings that exceed $10,000. I would say is pretty fair the more you earn the less commission. You pay you can dedicate some time over the year and earn some money doing freelance design works. Logo design illustration jobs and make 10,000 and pay 5% commission it's really good deal.

20. micro gigs on Fiverr.

I have used Fiverr personally and I think it's pretty cool you start with 5 dollar gig, micro gig. And then after once you complete you will unlock the possibilities of charging more than 5 bucks, you can charge 50, 500 however you want Fiverr takes 20% commission.

21. offering other freelance works on freelancer.

Freelancer.com is for freelance works, I mean it's like no-brainer. It's the world largest freelancing and crowdsourcing platform in the number of users and projects It has over 16 million users globally. I would say that's a lot of people using freelancers.com. Freelancer works with large corporations like Microsoft SAP PWC. So if you are a good team worker and you have experience working in companies. also if you have some kind of certification saying that you can work in a team like Prince2. I'm just saying like that, you can become like art director and you can work with large corporations that is also good for your CV and contacts.

22. making art and craft experiences on Airbnb.

Airbnb experienced is like another branch apart from Airbnb main service for the rooms and apartments. You don't need to provide your room you can say you provide a museum tour experience a street art hunt experience. Photo experience those kind of experiences that you don't even need a physical place to host and you can charge $20 $50 $60 per session for the museum tours you can include some light beverages if it's like a sit-down workshop. Go and do a research on Airbnb Experience and see what other people are doing in your local community so you can come up with your own ideas

23. hosting art events are talks and workshops on Meetup.

Personally I pay $9.99 every month to use meetup service as a host. However if you don't want to pay anything I tell you a trick. For every host (paying host) there is a 3 meetup group allowance that is to say if I only have one meetup group. I'm wasting two group opportunities, if you want you can get in touch with other people and say hey you're not hosting 3 groups, aren't you? So I can host with you and I'll give you like share for example or anything. I'll give you like you know how much you wanna give and you negotiate you can charge people for art workshops, children drawing, figure drawing life drawing kind of sessions and you can charge anything from 5 bucks - 50 bucks or 150 bucks per session. You can share the profits with the co-hosts who is paying meetup, so you don't have to pay anything upfront and in the future you can pay $9.99 every month this is the probably the best app you can use so $9.99 is really a good deal. And depending on different plans where you're in the world you will pay more or less but it's not a lot of money considering how much you can get from them last but not least.

24. teaching art using Heytutor.

Heytutor is one of the many website help people find local tutors. So if you want to become an art tutor you want to draw with a young kids adolescents or young adult. You can become a tutor and then select your student. If you are outside of the USA you can just search another equivalent of heytutor in your local area. Go to the search engine and say 'art tutor near me' or 'find me an art tutor' and you will see many websites in your local area the best part is you can get to sit down with a young person and you can have a major influence in their art career. That is really the perks of being a tutor I personally enjoy teaching very much because of the influence the impact. Also I learned so much from teaching someone else so for those of you who want to do more face-to-face things you can host Airbnb experience, Meetup workshops and Heytutor or other kind of tutor sessions using those online platforms.

CONCLUSION

Now you have heard 24 different ways to make money. Read the full article

[annabcll]

MEDALION RAHIMI / CIS FEMALE. — annabel majidi is really making a name for themselves as a tier 2 shepherd. i think that she is studying english + investigative journalism in their junior year at lockwood, living in audax. originally from new york city, new york, anna is known to be diligent & adroit, but can also be cynical & austere. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

4/5 !!! so close !! anna doesn’t really have ... any changes to her, except for her connections to the victims section so :^)

TW POVERTY, CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY, DEATH MENTION, GRIEF MENTION

a e s t h e t i c s

falling feathers darkened at the tips, leather jackets and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, bomber jackets and cropped tees, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

general info !!

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (hates), anna banana (father, exclusively)

b.o.d. - october 31st. scorpio child.

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the crepehanger, the minefield

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

pinterest

stats

biography !!

born to two high schoolers who never married, firoj majidi and parvana banai. they were head over heels for each other - when firoj graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until parvana graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, parvana’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

was taught to be a hard worker and it was reflected in her schoolwork - anna excelled in all her classes but especially english. her love for writing grew at a young age, and as a child she saved up enough money to buy herself proper journals.

the only thing that she grew more passionate towards than writing was ballet - she caught the image of girls flying through the air and landing on their toes in the window of a dance studio on a walk home from school one day and that was it - something clicked inside of her.

that same day she would spend hours prancing about their tiny apartment, trying to mimic what she’d seen. it was easy to spot the passion anna had for the dance - and within a few months they had saved up enough money for a month’s worth of lessons.

anna was ecstatic - her slippers were old and found in the back of a thrift store by an odd miracle, but she put her all into the lessons regardless. she was quick to pick up on each move, and by the end of the month it was clear that anna had a natural talent.

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

firoj and parvana split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as parvana running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with paravana’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

her father got a third job in order to keep up with payments, and anna pushed herself in both ballet and school - not being able to handle an empty apartment. she decided to get a job - to help ease her father, but was too young.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

she’d sell store-bought lemonade as if it were homemade, stole ceramics from art class and sold them to neighbors. she found an old girl scouts uniform in the back of a goodwill and for the next month, she sold knock-off girl scout cookies from the dollar store - going door to door.

her personality had changed drastically - anna went from a sweet, optimistic girl with warm brown eyes and an infectious laugh to cold, calculated, and downright cruel. she knew what she wanted and how to get it.

she got an invitation to a prestigious private school, full scholarship, before she hit high school - originally wanted to reject it as the thought of being surrounded by new york’s richest teens was appalling, but their ballet program was a one-way ticket into the american ballet theatre. anna ultimately accepted the scholarship.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

this all, however, suddenly stopped when anna picked up her latest scam: faking psychic. through a small network of ‘bees’ she’d pay to gather information (gossip, rumors, etc. etc.) she was able to accurately ~see~ into students’ past, present, and potentially future affairs. the money was very worth it.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

when anna was 16 she was handpicked to join the american ballet theatre’s studio company, alongside 11 other lucky individuals. her dream from that point forward was to become the youngest principal ballerina for abt - and she was going to start by winning over the role of clara in their production of the nutcracker.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

the final week before her first performance as clara, anna got into a car accident heading home after another tiresome rehearsal. knocked unconscious, anna woke up three days later with no recollection of the accident - and her leg freshly operated on.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

for the remainder of her high school life, anna dedicated the majority of her time towards recovery, her writing, and directing her school’s theatre productions. oh - and claiming that almost dying had given her the gift of mediumship. it wasn’t too far off from her psychic claims - her peers believed it well enough to either stay away, or pay her for a small amount of comfort.

decided to go to lockwood after graduation in order to stay somewhat close to her father - she’s here on a full scholarship for her dual-major in english & investigative journalim

is in midst of writing her first book, based heavily on her experiences as a scholarship student at a private school, YA fiction, essentially - mostly just to dip her toes in the water and to try and become an established author. if it goes well, it’ll become a series.

the watershed app captured her attention immediately, and she’s been slowly trying to work her way up the tiers of shepherds. finds it completely fascinating, and uses it to help with her psychic business.

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors.

personality !!

lives in audax, where things break A Lot. she’s usually seen threatening RAs and maintenance men until they fix whatever problems. :^)

that being said - she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best … relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general.

pretty distrusting, pretty emotionless on the outside, doesn’t like to be seen as weak or somebody to be pitied. keeps herself closely guarded and doesn’t really let others ‘inside’ due to her own comfort levels.

she’ll sleep around but dating is out of the question, for the most part - she’s been on a few blind dates, a few casual get-togethers - but she’s always the one to break things off. is more of a careful hook-up kind of gal.

still does her psychic medium business !! sometimes she wonders if she’s a bad person because of it - but ultimately, it’s on her customers for believing in all that nonsense anyway. anna herself is a skeptic - doesn’t believe in anything unless she can see it and feel it.

is actually … a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them.

a lone wolf and likes it that way, but she isn’t super opposed to friendship - even if she won’t necessarily call anybody a friend. appreciates others who are similar to her - got their head on right, and knows what they want in life.

has a pretty bad fear of driving - will uber if she needs to go anywhere - even then, being in cars makes her pretty anxious. still has ptsd-induced panic attacks, though she’s managed them pretty well.

doesn’t really do drugs! will smoke weed to ease the ache and her nerves, but otherwise she only takes what is prescribed for her. doesn’t drink anything hard, either. big fan of beer and wine. probably gets wine drunk home alone late at night … like … two times a week.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has a gun hidden in her dorm, cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

kind of wants to write a novel based off of watershed so! she takes a lot of notes - tends to be very observant.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / mutually disliked each other and they’d avoid one another if possible. nobody is quite sure of why - some say it’s because tatiana was skeptical of anna’s psychic business, others say it’s because tatiana had gotten a bad fortune predicting her death.

george craig iii / once a friend of anna’s due to their similar personalities - their friendship was ended because of tatiana. once again - it isn’t quite known why, but it’s been hinted that tatiana had made george choose between her friendship & anna’s. tatiana had been the obvious choice, and that was that.

hana williams / a friend & a client, anna would regularly do tarot readings for hana. after tatiana, anna had tried to keep her readings positive.

christoph wainwright / enemies due to christoph pushing her buttons and generally just rubbing her the wrong way, her own suspicions leading to a natural defense against him, which he reflected.

wanted connections !!

maybe … a roommate?

acquaintances. people who’ve seen her around campus and are curious. people who’ve seen her like … kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat into coming near her so she could pet it.

someone from new york who recognizes her from whatever !! whether it’s from newspaper details of her incident, her legacy at her private school, her legacy as a ballerina before her incident, etc. etc.

has taken up boxing recently - so somebody whose helping her at the gym?

someone who tried to like. help her cross the road or something because they saw her with her cane and she yelled at them so now they’re in this weird spot.

dance students !! if somebody does ballet - she might be helping them.

someone she’s soft for for whatever reason :/

hookups !! of any sort !! the kind where you never talk outside of it, or a hate-fuck scenario … anything !!

customers who come to her for psychic readings and like. comfort in the form of talking to the dead.

people skeptical of her !! maybe trying to ruin her in some way.

other shepherds. someone higher up that she’s trying to manipulate in some way for her own benefits.

a drunk one night stand that neither wants to talk about.

a pregnancy scare with another, separate one night stand! it turned out to be nothing, but there was some. weirdness. between them afterwards.

a blind date or two dnfjgkmh

someone she ghosted :/

ok ok ok so … back when anna was an older muse, she was fresh out of a broken off engagement b/c her husband-to-be cheated on her … so i kinda want … smth similar to happen to her again ? y’know. make her fall in love. break her heart. ruin her again. it’d b fun ! angst is fun !

someone she’s like, protected from a creep at a bar or a club ! and now they feel indebted towards her and she’s just like uuuh no. stop.

annoyances !!

like … maybe a pal or two, or three. mainly just people she gets along with !!

on the other end - something where they just. despise each other for whatever reason. pure hatred.

hatred but make it sexy.

a dealer because even though she can get medical marijuana … it’s good to have a lil extra on ya :)

people She’s suspicious of for whatever reason - someone she caught doing something. suspicious. untrustworthy.

someone where their mail keeps getting mixed up.

uuh really im down for anything !!

#wshintro #car accident tw #injury tw #death mention #grief mention #being poor :/ tw :/ #thts a joke im also very poor

[scumfuckpartyboy]

Odds

Holy shit ok

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? My friend Zoë, while I cried on New Years 3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? My friend Saffron 5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?  Zoë, my absolute mom 7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? Who knows! I’m open to it! 9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Not really? I guess it depends who I’m talking to about it. Maybe if it was my mom or something 11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? “Horny murder used to really be humanity’s only vibe” 13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? If it’s the right person, a very enthusiastic yes 15. What good thing happened this summer? Absolutely nothing, I worked a full time job so I’d have money for moving into my own place 17. Do you think there is life on other planets? I think it’s selfish and foolish to believe humans are all we’ve got. What makes Earth so special? in short, yes 19. Do you like bubble baths? I don’t take them very often, but yes 21. What are your bad habits? Smoking cigarettes was the biggest one, but I’ve quit as of 5 or so days ago 23. Do you have trust issues? I used to have a big problem with trust, but i think once I’ve given someone my trust they have it until they don’t. I’d like to say I don’t have an issues trusting people, but humans have flaws so sometimes it’s tough. I trust my kin 25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? Probably my fluctuating gut/lack thereof or my Shoulders weirdly enough (ACNE SUCKS) 27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? I’m sorta pasty but it doesnt bother me. My only problem with my skin is my acne or the lack of full body tattoos 29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? Nope lol 31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? Yes 33. Spell your name with your chin. jhdcxhygdsdsebn damn that’s tough on a keyboard 35. Would you rather live without TV or music? TV 1000% 37. What do you say during awkward silences? Nothing 39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? Anything with old, secondhanded or odd items 41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? I think people can change, but sometimes it’s unlikely. Case by Case basis on this one 43. Do you smile at strangers? Yeah 45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? Dusty trails and the woman I long for 47. Have you ever been high? Yes 49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? I don’t think so 51. Ever wished you were someone else? Yes, but not really anyone in specific. I just don’t wanna be me sometimes 53. Favourite makeup brand? I don’t wear makeup, but if i did it’d probably be drugstore. that’s my vibe 55. Favourite blog? Nemfrog (or Dirtmunch) 57. Favourite food? I’m a big fan of diner food and goldfish crackers. I like foreign food a lot but dont really know anything about it 59. First thing you ate this morning? A muffin 61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? I havent, I almost did in elementary school for getting in a fistfight, but I assure that makes me sound cooler than I am 63. Ever been in love? Yes 65. Are you hungry right now? Not really 67. Facebook or Twitter? Twitter, but i’ve fallen off of it recently 69. Are you watching tv right now? No  71. Craving something? What? Excitement 73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Nah, they usually get thrown off when i get in 75. Favourite animal? I’m very infatuated with large cats. like tigers n leopards n lions n shit. fish are cool 77. Chocolate or Vanilla? Vanilla 79. What colour shirt are you wearing? Blue 81. Favourite tv show? I’m more of a movie guy 83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? Haven’t seen either  85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? see 83 87. First person you talked to today? Saffron 89. Name a person you hate? I don’t think i truly hate anyone in my life? Cops and Politicians are high on the list 91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? Yes 93. How many sweatpants do you have? 0 95. Last movie you watched? The Ballad of Buster Scruggs 97. Favourite actor? Mads Mikkelsen (adam’s apples, flammen og citronnen, any of those gems) ( i also have a soft spot for Lee Van Cleef, makes a hell of a good villan) 99. Have any pets? No 101. Do you type fast? Semi-fast 103. Can you spell well? Pfft, mediocre at best. Autocorrect is your friend 105. Ever been to a bonfire party? Yeah, in high school my dad built a bonfire pit in our back yard so i hosted a few. 107. Have you ever been on a horse? Nope. (I’m a phony cowboy city slicker) 109. Is something irritating you right now? There always seems to be some thorn in my side 111. Do you have trust issues? Already answered, but basically, Not really unless you give me a reason not to trust you 113. What was your childhood nickname? Jaybro or Jade 115. Do you play the Wii? Yes! gotone in my living room. Warioware smooth moves and Wii sports are big hits 117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? Yes, but i like chicken and rice more 119. Favourite book? The Hobbit or Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas 121. Are you mean? Sometimes. I try to not be 123. Can you keep white shoes clean? Fuck no 125. Do you believe in true love? I’d say yes. You can love anyone any time, some people really are perfect for eachother. that doesn’t make it work though 127. What makes you happy? Ar, friends and Music 129. What your zodiac sign? Gemini 131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? Depends. I’m kinda hoping for this right noe. so im not a great person to ask. If I’m not interested I’ll tell them that, and give them any space they might need 133. Favourite lyrics right now? “Are you sick of me? Would you like to be?” 135. Dumbest lie you ever told? i can’t place a point on one lie, maybe telling myself i wasn’t Bi for like 10 years 137. How tall are you? 6′2″ 139. Brunette or Blonde? Brunette, blonde’s have too much fun 141. Night or Day? Night, it takes a pretty beautiful day to capture the magic of snow falling in a streetlamp 143. Are you a vegetarian? nope 145. Tea or Coffee? Coffee 147. Mars or Snickers? Snickers 149. Do you believe in ghosts? I don’t know, which might be a cop out, but that’s the best I’ve got in that one. (Probably not, but who knows! I’m not all-knowing)

[fbwzoo]

Hello! I've seen your wonderful crab posts and figured you'd be one of the best people to go to. I've been put in a weird situation. My roommates got me a hermit crab. I'm aware that they require a lot of care; however, he is currently living in the fish bowl that they provided me with with a sponge, some shells, a little plastic house, and generic crab food. What is the most immediate way I can provide him with good housing/food/stimulation until I can save up for something better?

Ooof, that’s a rough situation, I’m sorry! :/ But I’m glad you’re aware of their care needs and want to improve things for your new crab!

Okay so housing first thing. Plastic totes are your friend! They’re cheap, easy to get, and will work great for a temp enclosure for a few months. If you can, get one that’s at least around the size of a 10g tank, but a bit bigger will be better & easier to set up - think 20-40g size. Make sure you get a lid with it, as you’ll want that to help hold in humidity for your new friend.

On the plus side, substrate is pretty cheap for these guys! Play sand is the bulk of it, and usually you can get a 50lb bag of that for $3-8 at a hardware or home improvement store (Lowe’s, Ace, Home Depot, etc.). Depending on the tote size you get, you’ll need at least one, maybe two bags. Make sure you buy it from inside the store if at all possible - outside sand is more likely to end up with mold or fungus spores in it. If you can, get a brick of Eco Earth to mix in with the sand. You’ll want to add water to expand it, let it dry out for a little bit, then mix it in. The loose stuff in the bag works fine too, if you’d prefer, and doesn’t need water added to it. You want around 6″ of substrate, at least, so your crab has plenty of room to dig.

Enclosure decor - This can be pretty cheap & easy! You can use some tupperware containers for water pools - they should be deep enough for your crab to submerge in completely. Make sure they have a way to climb in & out though. Plastic cross stitch canvas is really good for this & costs like 25 cents a sheet. I prefer to double up the bowls - this way you can leave the bottom one in place (in case crab is buried around it) and just take the top one out to change the water. 

Hides and climbing stuff can be a lot of things. Coconut hides, tupperware with holes cut in them, ceramic plant pots, etc. Climbing stuff can be  cross stitch canvas, coconut mats, fake plants, wood, etc. http://www.hermitcrabassociation.com/ if you check out the Crabitat Conditions, DIY, and Pictures sections on there, you should be able to get some good ideas for these things! Just be careful as some things are more prone to becoming moldy, like hay/straw, twine, some types of wood, & such.

You can get cheaper fake plants from dollar stores & craft stores, just be careful that they don’t have glitter, small plastic pieces (like berries) that will come off, not painted, and the dye doesn’t leak when you clean them before putting in.

Heat & humidity - Make sure the tote is closed up & that will help keep heat & humidity in. Larger water bowls will help add humidity, and so will bowls or piles of sphagnum moss (which you can spray carefully, don’t spray the rest of the enclosure so as to avoid flooding substrate). You can add air stones/bubblers to the pools to help boost humidity as well, but the equipment for that stuff can cost a bit more unless you find it secondhand. Small fish filters can work too, but in both cases, you want to be careful that water isn’t splashing out of the bowls a lot, which is a flooding risk.

For heating, you’re really better off spending the money on something better right now. Pet store heating pads aren’t great, IMO, and most of them are meant to be stuck on & not taken off (which can break wires & turn into a fire hazard). http://www.reptilebasics.com/ultratherm-heat-pads are the best heating mats IMO, and can be attached to the back of the tote with tape (I use packing tape) and then taken off to be used on another tank. They can also be safely insulated with cardboard or styrofoam to help increase temps. It’s best to use them with a thermostat, especially if your room temps vary a lot. But tbh, I don’t have mine on thermostats as crabs do okay with some temp fluctuation within the proper ranges (as opposed to other animals that need stricter temps to avoid overheating/injuries). Put the heating mat on the back of the tote, above the substrate line (or as much above as you can).

For measuring temp/humidity, these are my favorite gauges currently - https://www.amazon.com/AcuRite-Humidity-Thermometer-Hygrometer-Indicator/dp/B0013BKDO8/ It’s best to have it hanging from the lid or at least set in an empty bowl or something to keep it off the substrate (which can alter numbers).

Food & water - Crabs need both fresh & salt water. Both need to be treated for ammonia & heavy metals. Prime is what most people use & that little bottle will last you ages since the dosage is only 2 drops per gallon (or for less than a gallon). For the salt water, you want to get Instant Ocean salt, not the stuff sold for hermit crabs (which isn’t complete). Same thing, that box will last you a while! Word of advice, it’s worth splitting it up into single use baggies/containers when you open it, as moisture gets in immediately & turns it into a big brick pretty fast. The amount for that is ½ cup for a gallon, you can make a gallon at a time & then dose it with the Prime when you put it into the tank.

For food….Toss out the commercial stuff. You can often feed them bits of stuff you eat, with no spices/additives. Fresh/frozen fruits & veggies, raw or cooked meat (shellfish must be cooked though), stuff like that is good for them. The HCA forum I linked above has safe & unsafe food lists. I also like the Facebook group Land Hermit Crab Owners Society, and they have safe/unsafe food lists in their files as well, if you join. 

Since they eat so little & fresh foods go moldy fast in the humid heat of the enclosure, a lot of people feed dry foods, which can be left in for a week. There’s all kinds of things you can get from the pet store & grocery store, so I have a post about what you can get & where here - http://fantasticbeastsandhowtokeepthem.tumblr.com/post/163525780954/hermit-crab-food-shopping There’s also a post linked on that one to my nutrition post, which explains more about what they need in their diet!

Also uhhhh if this isn’t too weird, feel free to message me off anon & I can send you some food stuff if you want! I hoard crab food & have a lot of some things because I buy in larger packages (like the supplement type stuff, worm castings, green sand, etc.). I’m sending out a food package to someone else soon as well. I can’t give food to everyone (unfortunately), but I would like to help where I can! But no worries if you’re not comfortable with that!

And lastly, shells. Here’s a good post about types of shells & where to get shells - http://fantasticbeastsandhowtokeepthem.tumblr.com/post/135316962746/hermit-crab-shell-guide-on-shell-types-and-buying I will say that I would highly recommend going to Joann Fabrics if you have one around you, or other craft stores. You can often find cheaper usable shells there. Joann has this awesome green shell pack that has tons of green turbo shells that I’ve bought at least 5-6 of. If your crab is the right size, that could be perfect! Other than that, I really like Naples best for making sure you get the sizes you want.

I think that’s about it, just a couple other things I wanted to mention.

First, once you have things set up for your little one, it’d be a good idea to get them a friend. Crabs are social & live in large colonies in the wild, so it’s really recommended to have at least two. If you don’t want to get another one from the pet store, check Craigslist, or else check out the LHCOS adoption program - http://lhcos.org/adoption-program-beta/ 

Second, if you’re really not sure you’re able to take all of this on, that’s okay! If you’d rather see if someone who already has things set up can take your crabby, you can check the above link for someone in your area, & submit a form to place your crab for adoption.

I hope all of this helps and isn’t too overwhelming! Please feel free to ask if you have any more questions or if anything is confusing. The LHCOS Facebook group is really helpful as well, especially for new owners! Good luck!

#asks #hermit crabs #land hermit crabs #hermit crab care #long post #fbw rambles