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ciizikas · 3 years

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lego’s — mat barzal

summary , based off that one tiktok i saw where it said, ‘when all the other couples wanna cuddle all day, but your boyfriend wants to build a lego set.’

Mat and Y/N were lying in bed together, with Y/N’s eyes glued to her phone screen while Mat kept pressing little kisses to her neck, showing her all his love and affection. It was only a couple of more days before Mat had to go on the road for a game, and he wanted to spend every second with her.

“Mat baby, I need to get up and get dressed so we can head to target.” He didn’t notice how strong his grip was around her waist, and he just shook his head and buried his head farther into her neck.

Y/N just sighed and said, “Baby I know that your trying to spend as much time with me as possible, but you’ve been too clingy lately.” She turned and looked into his eyes, to which he raised his eyebrow at.

“You weren’t saying that last night, though.” He smirked, and Y/N slapped his arm, “Mat let me go for thirty minutes.”

He debated on it for a few seconds, but soon after groaned and let go. Y/N quickly got out of bed before he changed his mind and pulled her back in. Smiling at him she said, “Thank you, I’ll be quick my love,” to which he just crossed his arms and buried his head into a pillow.

“You big baby.” Y/N murmured under her breath grabbing clothes from their shared closet and walking towards the bathroom. Mat turned around and threw a pillow at her, “I heard that!” Y/N just laughed and closed the door.

Now they were on the subway, both of them standing up with one of their hands holding onto the pole and the other free hand holding each other’s. Y/N smiled and looked up at Mat, his handsome face looking at the Subway map.

“Okay so we get of at 34th Street — Penn Station, I believe.” He looked down at you as you nodded, and you were now laying your head on his chest. He just smiled and put his chin on top of your head as his hand now slid around your torso, rubbing your back.

You loved moments like these, the subway was quiet (surprisingly), and it was just a peaceful quick ride, nobody bothering Mat asking for a picture or flirting with him, even when his girlfriend was right next to him.

It’s been a few minutes since you guys had been in target, and Mat being the big baby he is, asked if before you guys leave, could he ‘look in they toy section for a toy.’

You had thought he was joking, but when he said he wasn’t, you just figured it was for one of his teammates kid. Well you were wrong, because most of the kids are baby’s or toddlers and can’t play with lego’s.

“Mat you have got to be kidding me.” Mat looked like he was in wonderland, his eyes scanning the shelves looking for a cool lego set to build.

“I am not kidding actually, I just think this would be a good bonding experience.” He looked towards you with pleading eyes. You literally couldn’t say no to that look.

You rolled your eyes, “Fine. But please get an easy one.” He jumped up and down and pulled you into his arms kissing your head several times, “Thank you, thank you, thank youuuuuu.”

You smiled as you watched your boyfriend go crazy over different lego sets, talking about how he used to have a collection of different ones. Oh and also how the prices have gone up 50% since like 2009..

He finally picked out one, it was a baby Yoda 3D set. Mat said that he would do most of the work considering you didn’t wanna do a hard one in the first place. As long as he was happy, you were too.

Before you guys left a few fans had asked for pictures so you just headed to self checkout while Mat took a few photos. You decided to just take an Uber back home because the subways were delayed and the next one didn’t come for another 30 minutes.

When you guys got back home, Mat sprinted to the living room of your guys apartment, clearing off the coffee table and setting the box on there. You entered the room with two cups of water and a natures valley granola bar for the both of you, considering this would take a long time, and you would want a little break every now and then.

You sat on the floor turning on your TV to put on an Artic Monkeys song, setting it on a low volume to play as background noice before getting to work.

Mat seemed to be very into the lego set, not stopping to take any break and he didn’t even notice you leaving the room for a few minutes to use the bathroom. So you took out your phone, going onto Instagram and recording him doing the lego set.

In the video, he looked at the instructions very closely before putting pieces together and backing up to see if he did it just right. You called his name, “Mat, baby.” You laughed when he just said a very small, quiet ‘huh?.’

You posted it with the caption ‘my boyfriend is a big baby’. And you set your phone down getting back to work.

And finally, about an hour later, you guys were done. Mat was admiring the work, taking pictures and sending it to all his teammates, showing off.

You loved him deeply, and you were glad to have this big man baby in your life.

authors note — thoughts ?

hope you guys enjoyed this small fic, and leave request

#nhl imagine #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #hockey imagine #nhl #new york islanders #ny isles

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mosswillow · 3 years

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Simple Silver - Dark!Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: You’ve been given a gift, one not many Omegas get. A bracelet that when worn by an Omega changes their scent ever so slightly. All you need to do is keep the bracelet on and he can’t find you.

Warnings: 18+ adult content, dark!, ABO (no mentions of knots, heat, or rutt.), general misogyny, noncon/dubcon, smut, vaginal fingering, oral (male receiving), violence, orgasm delay/denial, kidnapping (kinda), she spits in his face in this, possessive behavior.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: This fic is a request from @leniram1890. Seriously, thank you so much. It’s everything I love to write and read and you just dropped it in my lap. Now that it’s done I want more…

by clicking keep reading you confirm that you are over the age of 18 and consent to reading mature content.

You’re infatuated with him. He stands tall, you guess at least six feet, and his smell; he smells like no Alpha you've ever encountered. There’s this look to him, unequivocally attractive but in a unique and confusing way that draws you in. His eyebrows lift slightly making his otherwise small and ordinary eyes the focal point of his face. He looks around the room with a focus and intensity that feels inhuman. You finger the small bracelet that holds your secret and walk behind him, your Omega instincts telling you to get close. You suddenly recognize where you are and what you’re doing. looking down to your hands, you stare horrified at the bracelet that was taken off without your noticing. you put it back on and sprint out of the building, not stopping until you’re behind the safety of your padlocked apartment door.

Your phone goes off and you answer, making up an excuse about food poisoning and promising to be in early the next day.

Your Alpha, it had to be him.

You’ve wondered what it would be like to meet your Alpha, if you would feel bad about hiding from them. You don’t feel bad, only upset with yourself for losing control. You almost gave up your whole life in one stupid moment.

The simple silver bracelet that sits on your wrist feels heavy and you look at it. It’s a chain that suppresses your true self and one that sets you free. It’s one you choose to wear because the alternative is a life looking over your shoulder; waiting for your Alpha to find and claim you. Your parents gave it to you the day you presented and it’s given you opportunities not many Omegas get. It changes your scent just enough to let you hide, giving you the ability to decide for yourself how you feel about your Alpha, to choose a life with him or to keep the life you’ve built for yourself.

Your coworkers don’t waste time the next morning. One is already at your desk and two more walk up as you sit down.

“Ok, what did I miss?” you ask.

“Right when you left this scary looking Alpha started raging. Stark had to call in the avengers to get him to calm down.”

You act surprised, knitting your brows and leaning forward in fake interest.

“What happened?”

“Apparently He smelled his Omega but couldn’t find them.”

“Crazy.” you say, opening up your email and scrolling through.

Coworkers start dispercing and you let out a held breath. You get to work, having extra from the day before and lose yourself for several hours.

“That’s him.” whispers a voice and you look up at your coworker before following their eyes.

It’s him, your Alpha, and he’s walking straight toward you.

You try your best to stay focused on work and not give away the slight shaking of your hands as his scent hits your nose. He stops at your desk and you look up at his chest avoiding eye contact.

“What can I do for you mr…”

“Dr. Strange,” he pauses. “I’m sure you know what happened yesterday.”

“I don’t judge sir.”

He looks at you and leans on your desk.

“Ah, but you are judging. Spit it out then.”

You take your hands off of your keyboard and fold them over your chest.

“Omegas don’t have lives after they mate, I guess it doesn’t doesn’t feel fair to me.”

“What makes you think my Omega wouldn’t have a life?”

“You would let your Omega Work? Travel by themselves? Have their own bank account?”

He thrums his fingers on your desk.

“My Omega will have a good life, they need to know their place though. When I finally find them they won’t even be allowed to leave the house without permission.”

You bristle. “Well then, I’m glad you weren’t able to find them.”

He leans farther over your desk, his demeanor shifting into one of intimidation. You do everything you can not to cower back as his aggressive scent washes over you.

“You don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe your Omega is hiding from you, that’s what I would do if I was an Omega.” You finally make eye contact, staring into the stormy grey abyss of his irises and he leans forward even more.

“They better not be.”

“What would you do if you found out they were?”

His fist clenches and you can’t help but push your chair back a few inches. You see Tony walking toward you from the corner of your eye and stand up, pushing your pointer finger against his forehead.

“You sir, are one of the most obnoxious people I’ve ever met, and I work for Tony Stark,” you say.

His mouth opens in surprise and he stands up.

Tony makes it to you at just the right moment. “Hey now, stop harassing my assistant. We’re not having a repeat of yesterday, thank you.”

Strange narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t say anything as he follows Tony into his office.

You walk to the back of the grocery store, picking up a pint of icecream and hurrying to pay for it. Your day was long and the only thing you can think about is a hot bath. You don’t notice him until it’s too late. His smug face takes in your slightly messy appearance as you try to pass by him.

“Dinner, I assume. Your questionable behavior before is starting to make sense.”

You stare at him unsure how to respond and he tilts his head and smirks.

“I’m insinuating, dear, that your disrespectful behavior this morning was caused by a lack of adequate nutrition.”

You readjust your shirt and let out a huff.

“I wonder,” you pause and smile sweetly. “How much shit did you have to consume in your ‘diet’ to become such an asshole?”

You pull out a pair of earphones and stick them in your ears, turning on your heel to pay for your dinner. He grabs your arm, pulling you close and tears out your headphones with his other hand.

“I’ve never met anyone who gets under my skin so easily, why do you make me so angry?” he sneers.

“Your anger is your responsibility,” you pull away, shaking slightly and holding back tears.

You can feel his eyes watching you as you jump into a self checkout line to pay. As soon as you reach your apartment you let the tears fall. You hate him. You hate his stupid face and egotistical personality. You hate that you react to him, that your nature makes your knees go weak when you’re around him. You hug your bracelet against your chest and let out a shaky breath. As long as the bracelet stays on you’re safe. You just need to keep it on, that’s it.

You stand in Tony’s office staring at a folder.

“Send a courier or another employee, I don’t want to do it.”

Tony raises his eyebrows in shock at your sudden and uncharacteristic outburst.

“I need someone I trust to drop them off, Is there some reason you can’t do it?”

“I just don’t get along with Dr. Strange.”

“You’re dropping off a file, not going on a date,” he quips.

You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you love your job. It’s just a quick trip, drop it off and you’re done. It’s been a week since you saw him last, he doesn’t know who you are or he would already have come for you. Just a quick drop off, that’s it.

“I’m sorry sir. You’re right, I’m being unprofessional. I can do it.”

He waves you out and you call an uber riding it to what Tony described only as “The Sanctum”.

You walk in and look around the large entry room, searching for someone who can help. It’s eerily quiet and you walk up a huge set of stars, wandering and looking at various museum-like displays until you’re on the top floor. The room is dark, the only light coming from a large round window. A stranger walks up and looks at you with a surprised expression.

“I’m sorry, I’m looking for Dr. Strange? I’m just dropping something off from Mr. Stark.”

“Ah of course, I’m Wong.” He says holding out his hand.

You reach out and take his hand and he looks at your wrist, grabbing onto your bracelet and pulling it off.

“I haven't seen one of these in a long time.” he examines the bracelet closely.

“That’s mine, give it back please.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re hiding your designation.”

“My Alpha is a cruel man, please give it back. I need it now.” you say urgently.

“Hey, nobody will hurt you here. Who is this Alpha?”

You start shaking and reach out again trying to take the bracelet back from him.

“Wong, I… Oh no, not you again,” Stephen says from an open doorway, his face turning into a scowl.

You grab the bracelet and push it on your wrist. It’s too late though, Stephens eyes widen in recognition as your scent hits him.

You bolt. You know you won’t make it out so you pull at the first door you find, slamming it closed and locking it.

The banging starts almost immediately. “OMEGA, OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!” he yells.

“Don’t do this, please. I don’t want this. I need more time. Don’t force me, please,” you cry.

Sparks start flying in a circle in front of your eyes and your Alpha is suddenly walking through a portal. You look around, seeing a second door and yanking it open. Something catches your leg and you’re pulled backwards by what looks like a glowing rope.

“You knew I was your Alpha the whole time.” he says, moving his body to sit on your middle.

You bite your tongue and glare at him.

“Answer me!” He yells, grabbing your arms and pushing them above you.

His face is only inches from your own and you spit without thinking. He lets go of your hands and sits back, wiping the wetness from his face before staring at his wet hand.

“This explains everything, catching your scent, the extreme annoyance at your lack of respect, the anger I felt at the thought of you not eating like you should.”

He grabs your shirt, ripping it down the middle and causing buttons to fly through the air. Goosebumps appear over your skin and you shiver from both fear and the cold. He flips you over roughly, pulling off your shirt all the way. His hand roams to your mating gland. He leans over and breathes in, kissing it gently.

“Fuck you,” you say through clenched teeth.

He stops and waits until you’re done shaking.

“Why aren’t you biting me?” you whisper.

“You said you wanted time.”

He stands, pulling you up with him and makes a circle with his finger, opening up a portal in front of you. His hand is on your back pushing you through and when you turn around you're alone in what looks like a bedroom. Immediately, you run and try the door, opening it and sprinting out. The breath is knocked out of you as someone promptly slams you into a wall. You start coughing as the pain radiates through your body, then you’re falling onto a soft bed in the same room as before. After a few minutes of coughing you stand and run again, trying the window this time and just like before you’re caught and pushed through a portal back to the same room. You keep trying until you’re completely out of places to run, until your energy, both emotional and physical, is depleted.

The moment you finally give up a portal opens on your right and Stephen walks through.

It would have been easier if he had just bitten and fucked you right away. Letting you run over and over just to squash your hope is even more cruel, like a sick joke where he is the only person privy to the punchline. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes down and wait for the inevitable.

He walks around you slowly and with each methodical step your anxiety grows until your knees buckle and you drop to the ground, crying into your hands. He stops and crouches in front of you, putting his finger under your chin and raising it slowly until you look him in the face. He lets go and keeps eye contact as he reaches between your legs and almost too gently runs his finger over your pussy. His eyes bore into you as his hand slowly becomes more and more noticeable above your clothes.

“I hate you.” you whisper as he pushes your legs apart.

He slides his hand into your pants and continues to rub over your clit, now making quick circles. His finger dips in your heat and you whimper involuntarily. You close your eyes as the sensations start to build and when you’re about to go over the line he stops. Your eyes shoot open and he smirks.

“It’s important you understand a few things.”

You aren’t expecting it, for him to suddenly pull his hand back and slap you across the face. You’re not prepared for the force behind his hand. How it makes your entire face sting, the pain radiating down your neck and shoulder. You grasp your cheek and bite your lip to avoid crying.

“I own you.” He slides his hand down to your pussy again.

“I own your pleasure.” He slides his hand up to your breast, pushing your bra down and pinching your nipple harshly. “And your pain.”

He backs away and crosses his arms, motioning with his head at the remaining clothes on your body. You slowly rise and remove your pants and underwear, standing in front of him fully naked.

His hand roams to your neck and he holds it gently.

“Hate me all you want.”

His hand constricts slightly around your throat.

“But don’t you dare run from me.”

His hand tightens again.

“Or hide.”

He keeps his hand on your throat and pushes you back to the bed until you’re lying on your back with him above you. His other hand reaches to your legs and taps between them gently. He puts his cheek against yours when you don’t move.

“Open Omega, and don’t you dare close those legs.”

He lets go of your neck when you relax your legs, backing away and unbuckling his pants.

“You don’t even like me,” you remark.

“I didn’t like who you were pretending to be.”

He walks over so that his sizable dick sits in front of your face.

“Suck,” he commands.

You suck on the tip without complaint and he grabs the back of your head and thrusts a few times before pulling out and patting your cheek.

“A much better use for your sharp tongue.”

You bite back a retort and look away as he positions himself in between your legs and pushes himself in with one forceful thrust. You let out a whimper and reach out your arms around him in response. He grabs your shoulders and ruts into you.

“This is where you belong Omega,” he wipes a tear from your cheek, a stark contrast to the painful pace of his thrusts.

“You.” he thrusts. “Belong,” The force starts to push you up on the bed. “ To me!”

He flips you suddenly and fucks you again from behind, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. A warm hand brushes over your mating gland and you feel his breath against your back. Stars appear before your eyes as he bites, your entire body consumed with the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure. It pushes you into an intense orgasm that leaves you shaking from the adrenaline.

“Understand?”

You nod and he slides into bed next to you and kisses between your shoulder blades. You look over at his discarded clothes, noticing the gleam of your bracelet poking out of a pocket.

“Were you serious when you said you wouldn’t let your Omega out of the house?”

“Now that you mention it, I’ve actually had a change of heart.”

He peppers kisses across your neck and back.

“You, my adventurous Omega, won’t even leave this room without me by your side.”

You try to move but he holds you close, effectively chaining you to him. You blink back a tear and shift closer to him, letting yourself relax into his arms.

“There you go, let go and accept it.”

“Never,” you say between choked sobs.

His hand roams up your body, exploring every bit.

“We’ll see.”

#dark!stephen strange #stephen strange x you #Stephen strange x reader #darkmcu #dark!marvel #alpha!stephen strange #alpha!Stephen strange x you #Dark!abo #mcu abo #doctor strange #dark! doctor strange #stephen strange

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sarahwroteathing · 3 years

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English 284 (4)

Word Count: 3612

Summary: You and Steve break off from the group to get to know each other better and clear the air.

Warnings: Language and innuendo (romance novels)

A/N: Woo! I did it! I’m going to do my best to post something at least every 2 weeks. I miss writing, and I miss you guys! I’ve got new daily hobby goals for myself, so hopefully that’ll help me get back into the swing of things. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Steve’s Perspective

Catch up here!

In the end, extricating yourself from the group was relatively painless. Steve waited by the door while you returned to the table, passing the glass of water to a grateful Sam and retrieving your coat and bag.

“Bailing on your own party?” Tony questioned as you shrugged into your coat.

“While I’m sure you’ll all miss my dazzling personality, I’m starting to get a headache, and it’s a bit too loud in here. Steve offered to walk me home.”

Sam choked on his water, but you kept your eyes on Tony as he studied you with a small frown.

“Alright, kiddo. Feel better. Text me when you’re home safe?”

“Kiddo,” you repeated with a snort, ruffling his hair as you turned to leave.

Steve was tapping idly at his phone when you joined him at the exit. He flashed you a hesitant smile, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he pushed the door open and followed you outside.

The temperature had definitely dropped since you arrived earlier that evening, and you snuggled deeper into your jacket before turning expectant eyes on Steve.

“So, where are we headed?”

“Not a fan of surprises?”

The words were playful, but the tone was unmistakably nervous. Your stomach flipped, an unfortunate decision made for you by the tension lingering in broad shoulders and the hesitancy in a smile that should have glowed.

“I’ll allow it,” you said carefully. “On one condition. Can we get an uncomfortable conversation out of the way while we walk? So we can enjoy the rest of our night?”

“Rip it off like a bandaid, huh?” he asked, and though his face was slightly scrunched, he didn’t seem inclined to fight you on it.

“Pretty soon we’ll be expected to maintain good professional and personal standing with each other for a full five months,” you reminded him. “Honest and direct seems like the necessary way to go here.”

“You’re right,” Steve said quietly, clearing his throat and scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. “Walking and talking it is. You want to start?”

He gestured to the right, and you fell into step beside him, taking a moment to organize your thoughts and hoping you’d have enough time to get past the cringiest bits before reaching your mystery destination.

“Okay, well,” you pulled in a deep breath. “I’ll start by saying that even with my limited exposure, you seem like a really amazing - Are you cringing already?” you broke off with a laugh.

Steve’s features were in fact twisted into a definitive wince, but he had the decency to look apologetic about it.

“Sorry! It just sounds like a polite rejection, and I’m not even sure what you’re rejecting.”

“Yeah, alright, I hear it. Let me try again,” you said with a self-deprecating smile.

You took a moment to reorganize your thoughts.

“We haven’t spent much time together so far, but what time we’ve had has been split between a… A sweet and fun Steve and someone more... tensed up. And after seeing you in there when Bucky was talking about the contract, I just feel like it might be something we need to talk about.”

You peeked over at him, butterflies beginning to flutter to life in your stomach as you watched him bite nervously at his lip.

“I mean, I know that story sucked, but it seems like there’s maybe more going on with you,” you ventured hesitantly.

“Okay, let me...” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck, releasing a sigh and looking for all the world like he was considering throwing himself through a storefront window to avoid this conversation.

“I- I don’t really do… romance. And relationships,” Steve forced out, immediately looking thoroughly disgusted with himself in a way that made you want to laugh.

You locked it down, fighting to keep a neutral expression. Laughing now could easily be misconstrued as mocking and make him less inclined to open up to you. That wasn’t something you wanted to risk.

“That’s not - I don’t do the casual thing either. I don’t do anything in that… arena,” he corrected.

His exasperation was unspeakably cute. Punk.

He glanced uncertainly in your direction, and you gave a nod of encouragement.

“Right… Um. Well, I’ve always had my reasons I guess, but by this point it’s just not really something I think about. Not in a way that applies to me, anyway. But then Bruce was texting me about helping out his friend in the English Department, and Bucky was instantly convinced that we’d… Well, you know. And he and Sam have just been… sprinting with it ever since.” Steve heaved a sigh, reaching up to fidget with his hair. “It’s kind of got me mixed up, I guess. I know it’s stupid, but -”

“It’s not stupid,” you interrupted.

Steve’s lips curled into an unconvinced frown, and you reached for his sleeve, guiding him to a stop.

“It’s not stupid,” you repeated. “You trust them, and you know they care about you. If they talk something up enough, of course you’re going to consider it. It would be weird if you didn’t.”

“Well, I’m not exactly known for being easy to convince. So if it’s not stupid, it’s definitely troubling.”

My god, was that the beginnings of a pout you were seeing?

You giggled, reaching for his arm again to set you both back on course. He fell into step beside you again, leveling a thoroughly unimpressed look at his shoes.

“Maybe you wanted to be convinced this time,” you tried.

“Oh, yeah. Developing a crush on someone you’re not allowed to date and constantly being reminded of the horrifying precedent does sound like a good time,” Steve mumbled.

This time your stop was involuntary, a function of stumbling over your own feet in embarrassing surprise. Steve caught your hand, his other resting momentarily at your waist to stabilize you before falling away just as quickly.

“Sorry,” he said, but you were still clutching his hand, heart racing from your near fall, face growing warm under his gaze.

“You don’t have to apologize, “ you said breathlessly. “I just - So, they did convince you then?”

He cleared his throat, and you let each other go, shuffling to the side for a moment to make room for a tipsy group passing in the opposite direction. You reclaimed the sidewalk once they were behind you, taking a breath and already deeply regretting your question as you traveled several steps in silence. Who just asked people if they had a crush on them. Tony, probably, but certainly not you.

“They introduced the idea,” Steve corrected quietly, still looking straight ahead of him when you chanced a peek in his direction. “But you’re the one who convinced me.”

Your heart gave a hop, skip, and a jump in your chest, and it was your turn to bite your lip anxiously. Nobody this cute was allowed to have a crush on you. Illegal, dammit.

And once you got around to signing that contract, it almost would be.

“Well, my condolences,” you struggled out. “But you started it.”

You forced yourself to meet Steve’s eyes when he glanced over at you in surprise.

“Did I?”

“Shut up,” you laughed, knocking your shoulder into him. “You know you’re cute.”

“I… Well, maybe a little.”

You shook your head, smiling at the tiny, pleased grin on his face and walking another few paces in silence.

“Right. So air cleared, yeah?” you asked. “We’ve established your feelings aren’t stupid. They’re… y’know. Matched. But romance is off the table, so you don’t have to worry about that. Can we be friends now? No more cold, tense Steve?”

You reached your hand into the space between you, reveling in the gentle smile the gesture earned you as Steve gave it a definitive shake.

“We can be friends.”

---------------

Several minutes later, Steve reached across you, pulling open a shop door and gesturing inside with a gallant sweep of his arm. The sign read Insomniac Booksellers, punctuated with a charming owl logo.

You hurried in with a delighted smile.

“Oh, you are so going to regret this decision. Did you really just bring an English professor to a bookstore?”

“You said Alex ruined your favorite one, so I thought I’d offer a replacement. This place is open 5 pm to 7 am. It’s usually pretty quiet. And the little cafe in the back is almost suspiciously good,” he said, lowering his voice to avoid disrupting the peaceful atmosphere.

The wood floors creaked quietly beneath your feet as you stepped further into the store. Dark wood shelves dominated the space, lining the walls and nearly reaching the ceiling, a scant two feet of the deep green painted walls exposed above them. To your left, a large desk took the place of a checkout counter, an employee reclining in a puffy leather chair behind it, her feet propped on the edge as she read a battered sci-fi novel. She looked up long enough to offer a welcoming smile and wave before returning to her book.

More shelves stood in sets of three in the center of the store, narrow aisles between each affording you glimpses of small sitting areas tucked among the stacks, clusters of plush mismatched chairs positioned around coffee tables and charging stations. The wider center aisle led straight back to a small coffee counter, where another employee spun absently on a stool while writing in a notebook.

“Steve,” you said with a smile. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Up to your standards, then?” he asked, holding his hands up in surrender when you shot him an incredulous look. “Just checking.”

He trailed after you as you did a quick circuit, familiarizing yourself with the way the shelves were organized before heading with purposeful strides to the shelves that housed plays. You ran your finger across the spines until you found what you needed and plucked it off the shelf to offer to Steve.

No Fear Shakespeare: Hamlet.

“Wow, no faith in me, huh?” he asked with a grin.

“I know you’re capable of picking up the language, but until then, it’s important you can check what’s going on when you get confused. Or encounter a page-long sentence,” you explained, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes at his knowing smile. “Obviously try the original language side first, but I’ve got no problem with you checking the modern translation when you need to. I’m not an asshole.”

“Alright,” Steve agreed, tucking the book under his arm and reaching for his phone. “I actually need to get the rest of the books on the list too if you want to point out your favorite editions. I know that matters to people like you.”

“People like me?” you repeated, pressing your hand to your chest as if deeply offended.

Steve rolled his eyes and handed you his phone, the screen displaying a note page listing the books from your syllabus.

“You’re not the only English professor I’ve met, you know.”

“Would my predecessor happen to be Sue of the infamous lemon bars?” You moved efficiently through the store, snagging the books from the list and adding them to a growing stack in Steve’s arms.

“Maybe.”

“Her shortbread is divine too. If she ever offers you any, take it and treasure it,” you advised.

As you placed the last book on the stack, you gave it a final little pat.

“Right. These are on me.”

“Uh, no. I was going to buy them anyway. You just saved me a trip,” Steve protested.

“Well, I’m at least paying for this one,” you said, wiggling the No Fear Shakespeare out from under his arm. He huffed in annoyance but couldn’t stop you without dropping the rest of his books.

“And something fun!” you added. “Do you read for fun?”

“I - yes, but I didn’t bring you here to buy me presents.”

“Bringing me here was a gift. I’m trying to reciprocate. What kind of books do you like?”

Steve blinked at you, pressing his lips into a firm line, a childish gesture of refusal that made you laugh.

“The silent treatment? That’s how you’re gonna play it? Alright, then I’ll have to guess.” You eyed him carefully, trying to keep the grin off your face. “I’m feeling old lady romance. Watercolor abs and billowy shirts,” you said decisively.

“Damn. How did you know?”

Not willing to be the victim of a called bluff, you raised your eyebrows in challenge, making a beeline towards the romance shelves.

“Oh, God. No! Wait!”

You bit hard on your bottom lip, trying to contain a laugh as you heard Steve fumbling to follow after you, no hands free to halt your progress.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Steven. My friend Wanda and I bought each other some last Valentine’s Day and read them together. Of course she chose hers on the internet, not realizing that she was handing me a 900 page soap operas straight from the 80’s. But we meet every Saturday to talk about them, and let me tell you, that is some outstanding entertainment.”

“You’re really gonna do this to me?” he sighed.

You pulled a book from the shelf, holding it up with a cheshire grin.

“Look at that. Equal opportunity eye candy. We love to see it.”

“St- ” He swallowed his protest in favor of dropping his books into a nearby chair and snatching the book from your hand, hiding the cover against his chest.

“Really enthusiastic about it, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll buy it for you,” you giggled.

“I’ll buy you a worse one,” he threatened.

“Are you sure you’re prepared to undergo the research that threat would require?” you asked, and despite the glare he was leveling at you, there was amusement sparkling in those eyes.

“Try me.”

“Well then, Steve Rogers, it is my honor to introduce you to the time-honored game of Find the Phallus. Choose your book.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched, but his eyes betrayed nothing, staying fixed on yours as he reached blindly toward the shelf and pulled a book free. He set the other down on the chair beside him.

“Going with blind luck, huh? Bold choice. Works okay for Wanda, though.” You turned toward the shelves, eyes flicking over the titles before choosing one that sounded promising.

“Rules?” Steve asked, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a fight.

“On the count of three, we both open our books. First to find a sex scene wins.”

“Call it.”

You initiated the count through a smile, shifting into your game face as you rifled quickly through your book, skimming a few sentences from each page before moving on. Enemies to lovers, pirates vs navy. Classic. Your eyes caught on a particularly colorful euphemism, but as you opened your mouth to claim victory, Steve’s voice rang out.

“Got it! Page 15. They’re really not much for conversation apparently.”

“I literally just found one. This is a conspiracy,” You groaned, moving to peek at the page he was displaying for you. “Damn. ‘Pulsing manhood’ definitely earns you some bonus points.”

Steve snorted, snapping the book closed and returning it to its space on the shelf with an overplayed grimace.

“You’re not allowed to hate a game you just won,” you laughed.

“Beginner's luck I didn’t particularly want. I think I’m scarred for life. This game was Tony’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yep. Although Bruce is actually the current champion. He’s very proud.”

“I’m sure he is,” Steve laughed sarcastically, taking the book from your hands and skimming the back of it. “This sounds terrible. I’m buying it for you.”

You smiled, taking an identical copy for Wanda as well as the romance novel Steve had placed with the reading list books.

“Deal. If you put it in the middle of the stack, the cashier will already be halfway through small talk by the time she gets to it and therefore unable to comment.”

Steve smiled back, rearranging the order of his books accordingly as he gathered them back up into his arms.

“Thanks for the advice. Are you ready to go, then? If we leave now, we should have time for stop number two.”

You nodded eagerly, following him to the front and keeping up a cheerful conversation with the cashier through both transactions.

Once outside, Steve guided you one street over and several blocks back the way you had come, stopping before a tiny shop with a vibrant awning displaying a shop name in a language and alphabet you could not decipher. You looked to Steve in silent question, but he only smiled, pulling the door open for you and letting the flood of warm cookie-scented air answer for him.

The inside was stark white - walls, floors, lights, everything but the tiny chairs and the shelves behind the counter, which were a vibrant lime green. The girl behind the counter seemed to recognize Steve, smiling widely before turning to prepare something.

“Come here often, do you?” you asked jokingly.

“Once you taste their culinary masterpiece, you will understand.”

By the time you reached the counter, there was a paper bowl waiting, half full with a broken up chocolate chip cookies, melted chocolate running freely as steam rose from the container. A small glass bottle of milk went down next to it with a soft clink, and two spoons were stabbed into the cookie pieces.

“You’re new! I’m Cory,” the girl introduced herself to you with a friendly smile. “Sorry for assuming, but trust me, this is the best thing on the menu, and you’ll want to share. Everyone shares. Except Bucky, but he always regrets it.”

“Oh, he doesn’t regret it,” Steve laughed, handing over the proper payment.

“Well, he should,” Cory replied, handing back the change she already had waiting in her hand. She reached out and poured the milk over the cookies, placing the bottle on a tray of empties beside her.

“What if I wanted to stay here and eat it this time?” Steve argued, lifting a disposable spoon with mock disappointment.

“We close in thirty minutes, and it would take you at least an hour to get out of those tiny chairs. Now, scoot.”

“Rude!” he protested when you laughed, snatching up the cup and turning toward the exit. “Goodnight to you too, Cory.”

Cory winked as you followed Steve out the door.

“Excuse me, I thought we were sharing!” you said when you caught up, snatching the extra spoon from him.

“Maybe both spoons were for me,” Steve teased, but he shifted to hold the bowl between you, smiling as you tried to assemble the perfect bite. “Careful. Everything in there is an extreme temperature.”

You took your first bites at the same time, and Steve hummed in amusement when your eyes widened.

What the hell was happening in your mouth? The cookie was virtually molten, almost burning your tongue before clashing with the near-frozen milk. Chocolate, brown sugar, and the perfect amount of salt lit up your taste buds, and Steve was fully laughing at you now as you smacked his shoulder excitedly.

“Oh my God!”

“I know!”

“I wasted so much time not being your friend! How do you know the most magical hidden places in the city?”

Steve smiled smugly, taking another bite of cookie and milk as he shrugged.

“I’m gonna die here on this sad, damp sidewalk, and I won’t even be mad about it,” you insisted, taking another bite yourself.

“Or I could walk you home so you can die somewhere more comfortable. If you want,” he offered.

“Probably a good idea,” you said, checking your watch. “Wanda is only supposed to watch Faucet for another hour. Oh! That’s my dog - ”

“I know,” Steve laughed. “Bucky has told me a lot about her. I honestly think he might love her more than he loves me.”

“Well, she is extremely lovable. I’d appreciate the company, but I don’t want you going too far out of your way. I live back towards the college,” you said, pointing with your spoon.

“Me too! Won’t be a problem.”

You shared contented smiles as you turned back towards home, walking closer than before to share the dessert. You weren’t sure which made you feel warmer.

The sidewalk, previously uncontested, became more populated the closer you got to campus, groups of students filtering out of bars and returning home from parties. You weaved between them, keeping your head down to avoid traumatizing anyone with the experience of running into their professor while drunk. Beside you, Steve did the same.

These groups thinned out again before disappearing entirely as you headed off the main streets towards the residential areas, and you carried on a quiet conversation until you came to a stop in front of your building.

You hesitated a moment, studying Steve’s face before speaking.

“Earlier tonight, I said that we needed honest and direct communication, and I want to keep that up. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, a touch of concern entering his eyes.

“So, believe that I mean exactly what I say when I ask if you want to come upstairs for a little while. To talk, rest a little, and meet my dog before you head back home. Those are my honest intentions,” you said carefully.

“I get to meet Faucet, huh?” The smile he gave you was tinged with shyness, and his eyes flicked up towards the windows.

“If you want to. No pressure, though.”

He thought for a moment, shifting slightly on his feet before looking back down at you.

“I’d love to.”

------------------------

Ah!! How do we feel about the crush being out in the open now? Who would you want to challenge to the romance novel game? MOST importantly, do you think Faucet will like Steve? Thoughts, opinions, speculation, I want to hear them all!

As always, replies, reblogs, and asks make the world go round! Your reactions brighten my day!

Tags: @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd-blog @kennadance14 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @jacks-on-krack @a-book-pressed-rose @fvckjamesbarnes @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @breezy1415 @intricate-melody @tessa-bl @wxstedhexrt @im-a-light-child @ohswald @mrsbarnes32557038 @kindaace @auskitty @wxstedhexrt @londoncallingbutiwontpickup @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us @majesticavenger @buckybarneshairpullingkink @patzammit @pato-el-cerdito

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers series #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff

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chelseaheskett · 3 years

Text

12:14PM, TUESDAY. AUGUST 11TH, 2020.

She’d been in this situation so many times. Too many times.

The drive down to Charlotte after her second round of artificial insemination, sitting in the clinic waiting room with her Mom by her side. Holding her hand and praying. Chelsea tried not to get her hopes up, tried to bury the excitement. The first round had been unsuccessful. So much of her money and savings spent, just for it to fail. Her doctor greeted them with a huge smile on her face. Ushered them inside her office.

A pee-on-a-stick pregnancy test from a grocery store she’d never been to before. New town, new city. All the way on the other side of the country. No Mom to hold her hand this time. Chelsea shyly smiled at the checkout person when they scanned it through. Snuck it off to the nearest restroom. Washed it off and boxed it up, after the result came through.

Her doctor’s office after lots of dizzy spells. Nausea. Rocking three kids, three toddlers, in a stroller back and forth with her foot while she waited for a diagnosis. A reason for all her symptoms and sickness.

This time it was a self-service checkout. The same grocery store she always went to. She avoided the aisle with the eggs. Bagged up the test on her own and drove home. Took it into the bathroom off the entryway, so she didn’t have to run into her Mom looking after the kids. It was just a precaution. She just had to rule it out. It was impossible for the test to be positive, anyway... until it wasn’t. 'Til it wasn’t impossible and it was positive. “I gotta duck out again, I’ll be back!” Chelsea called out, already halfway out the front door. She drove back to the store, foot a little heavy on the gas. Parked the car the way Elliot usually would: poorly, and practically illegal. Shoved two different brands of take-home pregnancy tests into a bag. Just to be sure. Just to rule it out. False positives happened.

Three false positives in a row didn’t look too good. Chelsea loved probability. Tutored Jenny in Math all the time. She was a numbers person, okay? She typed them into her phone, over and over, searching for a doctor’s office with any available appointments. Drove half an hour into the city to see somebody, anybody. The guy didn’t ask her any questions. No medical or family history, nothing. Chelsea didn’t choose to tell him anything, either. Didn’t say I have four biological children under the age of four, a teenage step-daughter, and a husband who got a vasectomy. Told him about the three at-home pregnancy tests, though. He got her to pee in a cup. It was any wonder Chelsea had anything left, after all of her previous attempts. She asked for a blood test, too. Didn’t mind waiting a few days for the results, she just needed to be sure. A nurse came to draw her blood and then handed her off to somebody else. Another doctor in the clinic for a sonogram.

The urine test was positive. Chelsea refused to believe it. Got changed into a gown for the ultrasound and hitched her legs up in the stirrups. The doctor got going with the wand, making small talk. Chelsea nodded; replied like a robot. Clenched the fabric of the gown around her stomach to keep her hands from trembling. Shifted around, uncomfortable, from the pressure of the wand moving around inside of her. She refused to look at the screen until the doctor pointed it out to her, lining over the image with his fingertip.

“Here’s the yolk sac.” He said, before moving his finger out. “And the gestational sac…”

Chelsea nodded again. Quick, frantic. Grit her teeth to keep from crying.

“And this tiny white speck? That’s the embryo.” Chelsea had to squint to see it. But it was there. It was there. “I’d say you’re around five, maybe five-and-a-half weeks pregnant.”

There must’ve been something in the water. They had a barbecue on the weekend with the twins. Macy and Amy and their families. Macy balancing Ollie, her three-year-old son, on her hip while Caleb hugged her from behind. They announced they were pregnant. Eight weeks along. Their second pregnancy, with three years in between. Four, by the time the new baby arrived. That was acceptable, that was… that was normal. Four years between, like a regular person would. Unlike Chelsea, who had practically been pregnant every year over the last four. Who had four babies under the age of four.

Everything was a number. Jack had just turned three about a fortnight ago. Jenny had turned thirteen-years-old weeks before that. A teenager. It was the twins’ second birthday in two days. They were meant to have a party on the weekend. Luca was only six months old. Vasectomies were 99.9% effective for preventing pregnancy. That was one pregnancy for every thousand vasectomies. And Chelsea was pregnant again. Chelsea was about to be pregnant for the fourth time, with her fifth biological child. Five under five. Luca had only just gotten his first tooth. Only just started eating solids, when he agreed to it. Six months. Six children. Six fucking children. One in one thousand. Pregnant, again.

Chelsea felt like a robot malfunctioning. Broken and spitting out numbers. It got like this, this bad, sometimes. Fixating on numbers and figures, as if her brain couldn’t process things any other way at this capacity. This overwhelmed. When she was feeling something that couldn’t even be named or described. She took the sonogram printout and walked out of the clinic. Without paying, without even realising. Just walked to her car and stopped to sit on the curb. She eased her head between her knees, forcing herself to breathe. Birthing classes gave her plenty of practice, right? In, out. Nice and easy, the way Elliot would always say. Elliot. How was she gonna tell Elliot? Again?

The courthouse wasn’t far from the doctor’s office. Chelsea didn’t even think about it: when she got calm enough to get back in her car and drive, she did. She’d already driven into the city for the appointment, anyway. Somehow remembered to fill the meter for street parking in front of the building. She found the right courtroom and slipped into a pew at the back. Nobody noticed her entrance. Didn’t notice that she was severely underdressed in an oversized tunic and jeans. Flat sandals. Elliot was sitting up the front of the room at his bar table, head bowed and scribbling something on a notepad. Chelsea couldn’t see his face from this angle, but she’d know that hair anywhere. The shape of his body, hunched over in his seat, suit jacket pressing tight against his back. She could see the arms of his glasses tucked behind his ears, too. Chelsea got lost in the sight of him. Pretended to herself that she was just here to watch, just to see him in action, and not for any other completely life-altering reason. Nope. For now, she wasn’t going to think about that.

The other lawyer, the prosecution, was pacing around before the guy on the witness stand. Gently questioned him. Chelsea didn’t know much about the case, but it only took a little while to figure out what was going on. The man on the stand was the victim. Yeah. “Victim.” Chelsea furrowed her eyebrows, listening to the guy talk. Rehearsed and manipulative. The lawyer gave a thank you and sat back down at the bar table across the way from Elliot’s. Hey, at least something had gone right today! It looked like she had gotten here just in time to see her baby—no, bad word!—her husband work his magic.

This was a very serious assault case—Chelsea shouldn’t’ve been grinning ear-to-ear in the back row, but she couldn’t help it. Elliot stood and unbuttoned his suit jacket. Pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Chelsea got antsy when he said lawyer stuff like objection or verdict at home… this was next level hot. Seeing him in his element. His cross-examination was smart. Completely clever. Turns out the “victim” was a wife beater. The accused, Elliot’s client, was the wife. And Elliot made sure everybody knew it. Constantly looked over at the jury, giving Chelsea a shot at his side profile. There was someone in the gallery taking photos. Yeah, how did Chelsea get a copy of that? Hey, maybe she could be a court photographer. That’d be cool.

Elliot was getting the victim, the husband, pretty worked up on the stand. Hitting him where it hurt. Asking the right questions. From the evidence Elliot was providing, the guy had a temper. A really short fuse. And Elliot knew which buttons to push. Chelsea was getting worked up, too. Flushed cheeks, a bead of sweat collecting on her forehead. This should not have been arousing, but it was, Goddammit! Hormones notwithstanding. Elliot was confident and cunning and she was so proud of him. Practically had the guy on the stand exactly where he wanted him until the prosecution, rattled, called for a recess. The judge dropped his gavel and said something about breaking for lunch. Chelsea felt like she was in an episode of SVU. She’d have to bring Jenny to one of these, one day. She’d love that. It was good. It was a good distraction. But as the gallery started to disperse, and the judge and jury filed out of the courtroom, Chelsea’s stomach twisted into knots. Time to face the music, huh?

Elliot was shuffling paper into his briefcase. His client, the wife, left the room with who Chelsea could only assume were her parents. Some support system or another. Chelsea gave the woman a small, soft smile when they crossed paths. Elliot hadn’t caught sight of her yet. She stood a few steps behind him, fingers wrapping around the thin strap of her bag, hanging over her shoulder. Chelsea cleared her throat. Rolled back on her heels. “Y’know, it should be a crime...” Talked before she even thought about touching him. Knew he would recognise her voice and wouldn’t get jumpy. “You up there being so sexy. Just out there on display for the whole world to witness.” She teased, voice slightly high pitched. Had to push through all this anxious, nervous energy. The pit in her stomach.

“Hi, handsome.” Chelsea said, breaking the distance between them by the time he turned around to face her. She didn’t want him to seem unprofessional or anything, so she caught his wrist and stroked his arm instead of giving him a hug or a kiss in greeting. Didn’t call him baby, because she was actively avoiding that word for the moment. Handsome wasn’t used nearly as much as he deserved, anyway. And standing there in his suit, hair falling over the frame of his glasses, it was fitting. Appropriate. Despite her gut feeling, Chelsea smiled up at him. Let her shoulders drop and relax with a deep, drawn out exhale. “Nothing bad’s happened, I promise.” Well. It depends how he saw it, really. Chelsea didn’t want to put that out into the universe, though—no matter what ended up happening with this pregnancy. She knew him, though. Knew he’d panic and wonder why she was here, at the courthouse in the middle of his work day, if something wasn’t wrong.

Before he could question it, Chelsea got to talking again. Ran her mouth some more. “You’re doing really great, honey. He was about to crack, I could see it!” The minimal touching thing was hard. Chelsea smoothed out the lapels on his jacket. Fidgeted with his tie. It was really for her own benefit, not for his or his appearance. “You’ve totally got this in the bag.” Her hands slid up to his shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “God, you’re so talented. You’re so good at this, Elliot.” She’d known it this whole time, of course, but now she had actual evidence. And he couldn’t argue back if she was using legal jargon!

She wished it could stay like this. Light, unserious. Chelsea tried to keep it going for as long as possible. Tried to keep the shake out of her skin, and the caving emptiness out of the pit of her stomach. Chelsea flit her gaze away from his face. Briefly, momentarily. But he knew her. He knew her better than anybody in the entire world. No matter how much she wanted to right now, she couldn’t hide from him. She couldn’t hide from this. “I don’t wanna interrupt your lunch time, hon, but... is there someplace we can go to talk? Somewhere quiet?”

#elliot #elliot 28 #interaction

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annabethy · 4 years

Note

Since you want more prompts: Actress Annabeth who goes to the store/coffe shop/ restaurant (whatever you choose) and star struck fan boy Percy who’s trying to play it cool but “wow she’s way prettier in real life and she’s super nice and funny and how is she so poised and elegant I must be making a fool of myself” I just love that and we all know Annabeth would be *that* celebrity who does everything she can to make her fans happy and treat them well “hey this fan is pretty cute and sweet”

Percy really just wanted to go home.

It was only noon and he had already had his fair share of awful customer encounters in the magical place he called Walgreens. He didn’t know what was up today, but it was as though every single person had a stick up their ass, and he was not being paid enough for this.

Regardless, he didn’t have the option of going home because he just started his shift and also because he needed money as a poor twenty-four-year-old who decided to go to grad school.

Still. He wasn’t even doing anything useful. Someone else was at the front manning checkout, so he resorted to sort of stumbling around the store for any source of amusement.

Surprise. Nothing came.

At some point during the next hour, he found himself moping in the candy aisle, contemplating on whether or not he should grab something to keep himself awake. It wasn’t like the store was going to miss those delicious sour gummy worms, and if they did, it would still be worth it.

Percy only managed to calm his desire to snatch that colorful candy when someone breezed by the end of the aisle. He wouldn’t have looked twice if it hadn’t been for the fact that they looked like they had just robbed a bank and were now sulking around the aisles suspiciously.

He tried to ignore them the best he could, but in the mirror lining the top of the wall, he could see the person standing in front of a shelf of rather expensive technological shit he couldn’t be bothered to name.

The girl, or at least he thinks it’s a girl if the long blonde hair peeking out from underneath a black hoodie was any indication, had her hands stuffed deep into the front pocket, and she was shifting on her feet ready to run at any given moment. This girl appeared really sketch, and as much as he definitely doesn’t want to get involved, he kind of has no choice if she’s stealing.

He quietly made his way around the aisle towards the area she was occupying, treading lightly. Once she came into view, he leaned against the metal rack to survey her, hoping she wouldn’t turn around and notice him ominously watching over her.

From where he stood, he couldn’t really see her face, but everything else about her seemed overly poised. The fabric of her sweater seemed way out of his pay grade, even with the distance between them, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and run his fingers over it.

She stood there for a second, analyzing the display of expensive chargers and headphones, before gently grabbing one and sliding it down the opening of her sleeve. It sent off alarms in Percy’s head because he was fairly certain that she intended to steal it.

He bit his lip sharply, a wave of annoyance coming over him. What was it with customers thinking that they could get away with theft?

He was just not in the mood to do this today. In the middle of New York City, it could get pretty dangerous when someone was completely disguised by an oversized hoodie. For all he knew, she was carrying a weapon, ready to knock his brains out if he interrupted her master escape plan.

Still, it was his job and those headphones she just grabbed seemed pricey enough to make him lose his job if he just sat by and let it happen, so he didn’t have a choice.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he called out just as she started to turn and stalk off. She whipped around rapidly, which didn’t do anything to take the suspicion off of her. He still couldn’t get a great view of her face, and he also didn’t really care to.

She slowly twisted her hands together, her fingers just barely peeking out from below the rims of the sleeves. She stayed silent, perhaps to stay innocent until proven guilty, but when he didn’t elaborate, she was forced to calmly mutter, “Yes?”

Percy almost snorted in her face. From her stance, she seemed to know exactly why he had interrupted her. Instead of mocking her though, he just nodded towards her hands. “You’re going to have to pay for that, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”

The girl froze. “I—I was going to.”

Percy eyed her carefully, concerned about the hoodie still really low over her face. “You stuffed it into your sleeve and you’re wearing a black jacket over your face in the middle of New York.”

She scoffed, and then her hand was reaching up to yank the hoodie off her head, revealing her flowing blonde locks and piercing grey eyes, and it was then that Percy realized his grave mistake. “I was not going to steal!”

Percy stumbled over his words because standing right in front of him was Annabeth Chase, one of the biggest actors in the country, hell, maybe even in the world, and she was glaring at him like she was about to pull out a knife and stab him for even insinuating that she would steal from a random Walgreens.

“I—” Percy’s eyes were wide as he stared at the celebrity only five feet in front of him. “I just thought…”

“Thought what?” Her voice as she spoke was venomous, dripping with apathy.

Percy couldn’t find it in him to gather his words because Annabeth Chase was so close he could probably reach out and touch her, and he had spent so long being obsessed with her (but in a healthy way, he thinks) and this could not be happening.

“You’re Annabeth Chase,” he said, dumbfounded. He probably had his mouth gaping and everything.

“And?”

“You’re—” Percy swallowed, suddenly self-conscious of his ugly red polo and work khakis. He felt like Jake from State Farm. “You’re so much prettier than I expected.”

“Excuse me?”

Percy cursed, holding his hands out as though to soften the blow of his words. “No! That’s not what I meant! I just—”

“You just what?” Annabeth looked thoroughly offended by him, and he didn’t know how to clarify what he was actually saying without sounding like a stalker that may or may not have a shrine for her.

Still. He didn’t want to insult someone that could turn millions of people against him with the snap of her fingers, so he rushed to say something, which did approximately nothing. “I’ve been watching you for years and you were so pretty, but now you’re standing in the middle of Walgreens and you’re, like, really pretty, like so pretty I could kiss you, and—” Percy shrieked. “Wait, no! Not kiss you! I mean, I could of course, but that’s pretty rude and I’m pretty sure it’s considered harassment in some states, if not all of them, so I definitely won’t do that to you, but—”

Somewhere along his mess of a speech, her face seemed to morph from fury to amusement, and he wanted to just melt into a puddle on the floor and die.

“I’m making myself look like a fool in front of Annabeth Chase,” he muttered to no one in particular. “Perfect.”

“I would reassure you and say you didn’t, but I’d feel guilty lying to you, considering how honest you were with me two seconds ago.” Annabeth looked him up and down, and Percy thought she looked unimpressed. When her eyes trailed back to his, she tilted her head to the side, lifting the side of her mouth slightly in a smile that showed off one of her dimples, and god, she was so freaking gorgeous. “I wasn’t going to steal, for the record.”

“Yeah, I got that now.” Percy suspected his voice also just cracked, and he was actually going to go bang his head into a wall repeatedly until he had a brain bleed.

It was entirely unfair just how elegant she seemed in this moment because Percy was a blubbering mess over here, and she had the audacity to laugh at him. How could someone be so put together, and just how unlucky do you have to be to look this moronic in front of arguably the hottest celebrity out there?

“Are you alright?” Annabeth asked. “You’re looking a bit faint over there.”

“I just—” Percy gave an awkward grin. “I’m starstruck over here.”

“Starstruck?” she asked, testing the word in her mouth. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Really? How could they not?”

“Most people would consider it lame to actually say that to their celebrity crush, as you so eloquently put it.”

Percy flushed. “Funny.”

“It is, don’t you think?” Annabeth smirked at him, and Percy’s heart just about leaped out of his chest. “I have to say, no one’s ever messed up that badly before.”

“Well, I guess no one’s as stupid as me.”

“No one’s accused me of stealing either,” she added unhelpfully. Even without a mirror, Percy just knew he looked redder than a tomato, and he could tell she was basking in his misery.

That’s it. Percy’s going to walk into the street and let himself get run over by a taxi.

“A lot of firsts in this room,” Annabeth said, a teasing edge to her voice. “First time meeting a celebrity?”

“How’d you know?” he asked sarcastically, and he realized he was standing awkwardly at a distance from her.

She looked at the floor between them. “You can get closer, you know. I won’t bite.”

“The look you gave me earlier said otherwise.” Percy got closer anyways so that they were talking like normal human beings.

Annabeth laughed, and even that about her was smooth and melodic.

He lifted his hand to scratch the base of his neck. “I’m sorry I accused you of stealing.”

“I’ll let it slide because you’re so cute.”

Percy’s mind came to a reeling halt as he processed her words. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought she was flirting with him, but she obviously wasn’t because he was a nobody off the streets. Right?

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say now,” he offered meekly.

“You really are new to this,” she said, whistling slightly.

“Obviously, I haven’t ever tried to stop a famous actor from stealing.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Percy blinked. “Oh?”

“I guess I’ll just have to help you out then,” she said, sighing in mock disappointment. “You’re supposed to tell me your name.”

White hot alarm flooded through him, because yeah, she was one-hundred perfect flirting with him. That, or she was trying to get him to make even more of a fool of himself.

Either way, she sure knew what she was doing.

He supposes he would just have to settle with defeat if she was conning him because in no way was he about to pass up the opportunity to cozy up to the hottest girl alive.

“I’m Percy,” he offered, working up the confidence to give her a dazzling smile. “Figures you would want to know my name.”

“Had to know the name of the guy to call me out for my thievery,” she excused jokingly, eyes gleaming. “And the one who proposed making out in the middle of a convenience store.”

“I’m still down for that kiss,” he teases, voice suddenly much less shaky and much more low, deep in the back of his throat.

“Oh, so now you wanna have game?” she asked, leaning against the shelf with the headphones she’d grabbed now clear in her hand. “Where was that when I asked your name?”

“I was still gathering it up,” he said.

“Hm.” Annabeth nodded knowingly. “I see.”

“Should I make it up to you, then?”

“You’re going to have to if you expect this to go any further,” Annabeth said, but he can tell that she’s mainly messing around with him.

Percy decided to tease her back. “You expect this to go any further?”

“It’s gonna have to. You promised me that kiss, and I expect you to pay up.”

“I guess I’ll just have to deliver, in that case.”

“I charge interest.” When Percy locked eyes with her, there was fire burning between them, and it was like there was something more between them, despite them having just met.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he said.

A silence fell between them again, but it was comfortable and fitting. They just stared softly at each other for a while until Annabeth spoke again, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re different,” she started, nibbling on her lower lip. “You’re really sweet.”

“I think you mean chaotic,” he quipped, ignoring the way his heart pulsated beneath his fingertips at the heartfelt compliment.

“That whole being in love with me spiel you did was pretty cute,” she said. “When I say you’re sweet, I mean it. I don’t hand things like that out for nothing.”

Percy blushed, gesturing towards her. “Look at you, though. You’re — perfect. I’m not sure how else to put that, but you do everything to please your fans.”

“I am quite perfect,” Annabeth agreed. “But being accused of stealing and then watching you melt into a puddle of nerves and get all jittery? It’s unmatched.”

Percy could not believe that this was actually happening. Everything he thought was true about her from movies and pictures was magnified by ten in person, and she was such a nice person. She was more down-to-earth than other people out there, and it was refreshing.

He tried to play it cool, but he did the exact opposite, and she still called him cute and sweet and he could actually start fangirling right now.

Percy really didn’t want this to end, so he would just have to take things into his own hands.

“Listen,” he said, standing up straighter. He could feel his stomach tingle with nerves. “I know you’re famous and all, and I’m…not, and you probably get asked this all the time, but you seem like someone I’d like to get to know, so I was wondering if…”

“Careful,” Annabeth warned, amused. “You’re starting to lose your game again.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, gently shoving her shoulder. It wasn’t until after the fact that he realized he just touched the golden girl of the country. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

She didn’t answer, and his heart dropped, but then—

“I thought you’d never ask.” Annabeth pursed her lips to stifle her widening grin.

Percy clapped his hands together, admittedly surprised that she agreed. It was something of dreams. “When are you free?”

“Today works.”

He looked around, contemplating on how to answer. He really needed the money, and he was still in the middle of his shift. Leaving now would cause him to get in some major trouble, but on the other hand…

“Let’s go.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Right now,” he confirmed.

“You don’t have to finish working first?”

“The guy up front can cover for me,” Percy said, already working up the courage to grab her hand and start pulling her towards the exit. She seemed just as enthusiastic to go with him, lacing their fingers together, sparks of electricity flowing through them.

Annabeth dropped the headphones back onto the metal racks, smiling jokingly when he looked at her. “Wouldn’t want to steal, would I?”

“I suppose not,” Percy said, utterly infatuated. He had just met her, and he was already dreaming of a future with just the two of them. From the way her eyes traced over the slopes of his face, as though burning them into her memory, he knew he wasn’t alone in it.

As they walked out into the New York sunshine, Percy smiled at Annabeth, and thought she looked amazing under the rays of light. She was everything — pretty and funny and nice and flawless — and she agreed to go out with him.

Percy tries not to fall in love, but it was easier said than done when this perfect woman was looking at him with those breathtaking eyes and setting his heart on fire.

(But when she kisses him in the middle of Central Park, he knows he already is. He finds he doesn’t mind).

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #my writing #hope this satisfied your image #people send more #you fell from the stars (and now I'm starstruck)#thank u ash for helping with the title #anon #asks #celebrity au

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

Text

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 24 – 3rd Elder’s Bizarre Experience

Practice makes perfect.

Frankenstein would have thrown that in 3rd Elder’s face upon seeing the latter at work shopping for groceries, comparing products by price, details, and manufacturers before he paid the cashier.

Now the ex-elder was more than practiced; however, he was not perfect.

Partially because for the first time ever, he got to put himself against a self-checkout machine.

‘What should I do...?’

The white-haired man gulped. He could swear he did exactly what his preceding customers did, but the machine just would not let him pass on to the checkout stage.

It has been quite long since he has moved into Frankenstein’s island. With the owner of the island stuck in his lab for the majority of his time spent awake, 3rd Elder has been entrusted with getting supplies whenever needed.

Unlike before, he had plenty of time, now that he lost the title as the elder of the Union.

There were a lot of options available for him once he crosses the sea, but today he opted to visit Korea.

Among many rules Frankenstein required his consent on upon entering the island was the rule of shopping: do not consecutively visit the country or the market he has visited, lest the Union finds out what he is doing.

Which is why he was beyond bewildered to find a self-checkout machine – a modern artifact he has never seen in his previous visits.

He managed to memorize what the other customers would do, and he mimicked them accordingly, scanning each product on the small transparent surface. However, the machine simply whipped up a noise that was far from pleasant to the ears, refusing to let him actually check out.

To top it off, it was a weekend with thousands of people, and the employees were nowhere to be seen.

The 3rd Elder was sweating over his entire body, feeling how the eyes boring into his body were growing sharper and hotter, until a help arrived from someone not at all expected.

“Hey, mister!”

Yelled a little girl, making the 3rd Elder start and stare down at her.

Barely taller than his waist, a girl stuck her head out to look up into his eyes, revealing a set of teeth missing an incisor above.

“You need to put them here! Or else you can’t pay!”

She pointed towards an empty spot on the machine, her finger extremely short of a threat despite her apparent attempt at a threat.

Upon turning his eyes, 3rd Elder spotted a sign, so big and fat and obvious that he could not even fathom how in the world he missed it: Please put all your products here before check-out.

“Okay? Now be good and follow the sign!”

Her hands very proudly on her waist, the girl trotted to her mother, who was just packing her groceries at the machine right next to his.

Check-out completed so ridiculously fast, 3rd Elder’s eyes chased the girl, now far away and smaller than a dot, a feat for which he needed an effort, with the market teeming with children.

In fact, the market was teeming with more than children.

Girls and boys about to write college application essays in a year or two.

Young men and women preparing themselves for the bigger world outside lectures.

Middle-aged couples and elders.

The 3rd Elder could see a variety of age groups, which was rare considering how at the Union, whether they were agents or researchers, most employees and personnel were in their twenties and thirties, in forties at most.

Which was probably why 3rd Elder was deep into reflection – also a rare occasion – probably thanks to the fact that he has been staying away from Union.

‘If I were not part of the Union, would I be in these people’s shoes by now? Worrying about studies and job, dinner for the day, and living for tomorrow? Ordinary as hell?’

Just because the people here are not physically fighting for their lives would not mean their lives are far from fierce.

He could not feel any of the innate-slash-natural possession any Union-affiliated being would beget: razor-sharp, touch-me-if-you-dare atmosphere based on daily struggle for survival, betting on one’s own life as well as those of others, or otherworldly presence fashioned from experiments, combats, and training beyond human understanding.

And the point was that this place was full of men and women around the same age as the people of Union, which led to another reflection for the 3rd Elder.

‘My trusted, faithful followers at the Union must have had lives like these before meeting me. So if it weren’t for the Union, if it weren’t for our encounters, if it weren’t for me... Maybe they would have been happy in the ordinary world, without throwing away their lives in vain.’

Never before had he regarded his followers’ sacrifices for the sake of Union’s progress as “vain.”

But now, simply and offensively put, Union is done for.

These days he was seriously haunted by a question perhaps a bit belated: just for what had his followers thrown their lives away?

“Haa......”

He could not help sighing in the middle of the street as he exited the building, with no one’s attention on him. The passersby merely gawked at him for a second or two out of pure reflex to his sudden halt.

Which was rather odd to him as well.

Every soul at the Union would bow to him as soon as his cloak flapped in the air, but nobody was treating him with awe and distant respect, and he knew it was not simply because he was missing his elder’s cloak.

In addition to the fact that as of now he looked like a highly ordinary man, everyone was busy with themselves.

“Honey! You forgot to put socks on our baby!”

“Hey, do you mind if I copy your homework? Oh, come on! Just for one day! Be a pal and save my ass, will ya?!”

“So what’s the last item on the list, darling?”

Man or woman, young or old, everyone was occupied with their lives.

And 3rd Elder found this situation rather difficult to comprehend, for as far as he was concerned, the public’s interest on nobles has skyrocketed ever since Crombell played his mind game on the world.

Nevertheless, contrary to his knowledge, the people he was witnessing could not be less interested in nobles, Lukedonia, or non-human entities.

Not that these people would represent the entire public in the world, but at least they were too busy devoting themselves to their everyday lives.

And in their presence, 3rd Elder could feel everything he has gone through fading into tiny dust, as Union, as an elder, as a modified human.

He believed everything he had ever committed was for the sake of mankind; however, his belief was melting away as he was standing in midst of plain life so very far from body modification, wrestle against werewolves and nobles, or struggle for power to stand at the apex of the world.

Everyone was busy bustling, rustling, and being busy.

He could see how each face bore personal challenges and ordeals of life, but he could also see such things could not hinder them from fully dedicating themselves to their lives.

‘And they look happy.’

He could feel his mind growing dreamily numb in the middle of a crowd boasting the perfume of ordinariness as they weaved minute knots and ties of their ordinary lives.

And he could feel guilt.

This was not his first time ever feeling guilty, but recently his guilt has grown more dominant as his question grew.

‘What if my goal – the Union’s goal to make mankind flourish was but nothing?’

The 3rd Elder broke free from his reveries, mortified by his own thought.

And then things took a sudden flip, like a set of dominoes stroked in a flash of light.

Pow!

A boom of cacophony made everyone within 100-meters radius eject themselves from their spots, and 3rd Elder joined the others to find the source of the noise.

He could find a car entering the parking lot dangerously shaking to the side, leaving angry skid marks on the road with one of its tires burst.

There was a good chance its driver forgot the very basic rule of driving: never speed in the parking lot. Which was why everyone could feel threat for their lives just by watching the said car.

“Aack!”

“Everybody, run!”

People were making themselves scarce, looking for a safe place; meanwhile, the car with a flat tire was rushing towards a child and her mom.

And the 3rd Elder recognized the child – his little lifesaver at the self-checkout machine.

‘No...!’

Without wasting even a split second, he focused his gaze on the mother and the girl, and his eye long sealed away blinked with life.

I am about to push a pair of eggs onto the floor, and I must save them without breaking them.

Telling himself to be extra-careful, he pushed the girl and her mother to a nearby bush with his power. And he could not hesitate to find out if they were safe, for he had to stop the car as well.

Screech!

Glaring into the car that was stampede-rolling into his direction, 3rd Elder concentrated his power on the mold of metal, as if pushing the thing into a stop.

To his relief, his effort was reciprocated in a good way.

“Someone call 911!”

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“Are they out of their goddamn mind? This is a parking lot, for Christ’s sake!”

The voices told him the girl and her mother were safe, except for a few scratches they could not avoid.

The driver looked unscathed as well, apart from the fact that his driving record would not remain so.

‘Thank god... Oh, THANK GOD.’

The 3rd Elder had never been more grateful in his life, his shoulders and chest heaving and slouching in a huge sigh.

Once he saw things settling down, he finally took his leave.

But he could not fancy where he was headed; his legs were uncontrolled, his mind disconnected from his body.

This was the very first time he used his power for the purpose of protection, with no return on his side.

It was a bizarre experience, but it did not feel so bad.

However, such small delight did not last long.

‘What the...?’

He did not classify himself as a combatant elder.

Of course, as an elder with a one-digit number on his title, his battle competence was by no means to be underestimated. Nonetheless, his specialty was coordination of things from behind the scenes.

But that did not stop him from shaping his so-called battle instincts, as one of the top fighters in Union.

And his instinct just signaled him he had someone trailing him.

Scurrying around a dozen corners to find a place with no eyes or ears, 3rd Elder at last turned around once he made it to an empty alley, before he immediately stiffened.

“You...?!”

(next chapter)

This is personally one of my favorite chapters for this fic. Years ago, I once read an interview featuring authors of Noblesse, and they said they wanted to show how precious is the ordinary life we are born with. I don’t remember anything else from the interview, but that comment remains vivid in my head. So through this chapter I wanted to shed some light on the ordinary life in 3rd Elder’s point of view. Of course, it was a challenge writing this chapter, but it was definitely worth it. XD

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #wolfsbane

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this-is-a-love-story-fleabag · 4 years

Text

Fork you, then (5/?)

Fleabag saves her friend Boo’s life and earns a spot in the Good Place, but is everything here really so perfect? And what’s up with the hot priest next door? 1201 words. Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4. Also on ao3.

At some point, I should probably go and talk to Eleanor about how the guinea pigs that are destroying the neighbourhood are probably some kind of physical manifestation of my psychic pain, but right now I'm sprawled out over the priest's sofa with a belly full of pancakes while we compare notes on our secondary school war stories. I do not want to move.

"I'm just saying," I insist, waving a hand at him listlessly from within my food coma. "Harmless lesbian experimentation with one's peers is supposed to be a mainstay of teenage girl sleepover experiences, but you wouldn't believe how much work I had to put into persuading all of them."

"A real labour of love, wow," says the priest from behind an enormous mug of tea, basking in the morning light like a large, muscular cat. "I'm not going to ask how you cracked it."

Strip Twister, but whatever.

"A real labour of love, wow," says the priest from behind an enormous mug of tea, basking in the morning light like a large, muscular cat. "I'm not going to ask how you cracked it."

Strip Twister, but whatever.

"What do boys do at sleepovers? Pillow fights?"

"We mostly just played Street Fighter."

"Ah, so you spent the night hadoukening each other." I do my best to make this sound dirty. "Not that different, then."

He gives me a fond look and changes the subject. "Were you a girly girl?"

"Not really. I always quite liked it when people mistook me for a boy. You can get away with a lot more stuff."

"How about these days?"

"You mean, am I a woman-ey woman?"

"Yeah."

I wrinkle my nose for a second, thinking. "It doesn't matter so much any more. I mean, I have the genitals, but... it's great being an adult, I can wear dresses and still climb trees whenever I want and nobody can really stop me."

"That's one good thing about being a priest," he agrees, "you can wear dresses in a lot of situations where it would usually be considered inappropriate."

"They're very freeing, aren't they? As long as you don't mind people seeing your knickers." I never mind people seeing my knickers.

In fact, I rather encourage it.

"Your discourse on gender is very nuanced," he smirks. "Have you thought of writing a paper on it?"

"Fork you."

I actually like that he's both a man of God and a sarcastic bastard. Very well-rounded.

Once I've recovered from the pancakes, I reluctantly bid him goodbye to make my way up to Eleanor's office to come clean about the guinea pig debacle.

"If you want to talk more, I'll be here," he assures me as I walk out of his door, waving to me like a huge dork.

I'm so in there.

Eleanor is nowhere to be found when I arrive, but Michael is pacing the room in a bit of a tizzy.

"Come in, I'm so sorry about all this," he says, waving me through the door. "I don't know what's gone wrong in the neighbourhood!" he frets. "It's supposed to be a paradise, not some horrible swamp full of rodents of unusual size."

"R.O.U.S.'s? I doubt they exist," I say automatically.

"What?"

"Never mind. Look, this was definitely my fault."

"Oh, that's nice of you to say," he says faintly, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief, "but it must have been us."

"Michael, I'm not nice," I say intensely. "That's my point. I forked up every good thing in my life and now I'm forking up heaven. You need to reassess me."

He sits down at his desk with a heavy sigh. I can tell he doesn't believe me, but he wants to make me feel better. "Fine," he huffs. "I'll ask you some questions about your life on earth and then we can go through the main points-affecting actions you made and we'll see if we made a mistake, but I just don't think that's what the problem is."

He brings out a little cube, which glows white as he places it down on the desk between us.

"Right, I guess we should start with the basics." He consults a list in front of him, written in an incomprehensible language. "Have you ever 'liked' a tweet that was written by Piers Morgan?"

"Ugh, no." The little box honks and turns green.

"OK. Have you ever scanned an item at the self-service checkout at the supermarket as carrots, to avoid paying full price?"

I have to think about that one for a second - it sounds like the kind of thing I would do, but it had never really occurred to me. "No?" I say eventually. The box honks green again. Phew.

"Did you ever become emotionally invested in an episode of the Jeremy Kyle show?"

"No." I mean, I have watched it, but if you want me to get emotionally invested in a TV show you have to make the people more attractive.

He puts down his pen. "See, you've done very well on the preliminary questions, but I guess we can still check your file." He flips through the sheaf of papers in front of him. "OK, here's the main list of point-losing activities from your time on Earth. It all seems fairly standard, nothing that really stands- oh," he finishes, alighting on one entry.

This is it, this is where he finally finds out about Boo, and what I did, and-

"It says here that you once slut-shamed... a pizza?" he says incredulously, screwing up his face to squint at the page.

I'm stunned into silence for a second. He's not actually wrong, though. "I didn't do it out loud," I manage weakly.

"Yeah, well, it still counts," he says, scanning through the text. "OK, maybe this needs another looking over, but I really don't think you have anything to worry about. Why don't you go out and enjoy the sunshine?"

"That pizza was asking for it," I mumble as I walk out of the door.

"That cannot possibly be the case," Michael calls out after me.

Whenever I need to clear my head, I go for a run. There's a cleanup operation going on in the town square, but nobody asks me to help, so I don't have to. This place is full of nice little paths and big green fields to jog through, and I power through them as fast as I can, lungs burning. How fast do you have to run before you can outrun your problems?

I used to go jogging through the graveyard every day, pop in and say hi to mum and then get on my way. It wasn't a big deal, it was just a convenient place to run.

There's a huge tree on the outskirts of the neighbourhood, with a broad, sturdy nook in the centre that looks like it would be comfortable to sit in. Remembering my earlier conversation with the priest, I decide on a whim to climb it, shinning up the trunk and squeezing between the branches until I make it into the centre, where I can lie down along the wide bough and look out over the landscape. There are trees dotted everywhere, vivid blossoms, vast shimmering lakes, and perfect blades of grass as far as the eye can see.

It's a beautiful place. I'm going to fucking destroy it if someone doesn't stop me.

#fleabag #fork you then #my fics #the good place

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shawnsorangeglasses · 5 years

Text

Better Conversations - Part 5

2.1k words

Here’s more of everyone’s favorite babyboybaby.

Synopsis: Another assistant AU, you’ve known Shawn since the beginning but you don’t really become friends until a label party in New York. Then he offers you a job as his assistant.

Shawn and (Y/N) spend her first full day helping her shop for some more clothes. This proves to be a bit of a learning curve for (Y/N).

here’s my masterlist so y’all can start at part one if you’re new.

(Y/N)’s eyelids fluttered open. Her room was mostly dark. She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the sleep from the corners of her eyes. Everything that happened since she agreed to work for Shawn had finally processed in her brain. It was just now hitting what it really is that she signed up for.

She habitually reaches for her phone on the bedside table, only it’s not there. It’s too much trouble to try and look for it so she just checks her watch instead. It’s 6:53 AM. She wonders if she already missed waking up Shawn. It’s still too early to know his schedule by heart.

After lying there for another ten minutes, (Y/N) drags herself out of bed and knocks on Shawn’s door. No answer. She cautiously turns the knob and pushes in. The room was still the way she left it last night, except all the lamps were on and Shawn was no longer in his bed. The bathroom door was wide open and the light inside was on. Maybe he'd already went out.

“Shawn?”

“In here,” he responds from inside the bathroom. He steps out, presenting his shirtless six foot self with nothing but a towel resting at the base of his v-line and shaving cream all over his jaw. He looked like a Michelangelo that came to life. (Y/N) can only stare for about three very long seconds before averting her gaze to the floor.

“Hey,” Shawn chirps. He beckons her with a wave then goes back to the sink. “I just have to shave and then we can go.”

(Y/N) stands on the wall, unsure of where to look. “Go where e-exactly?”

“I said I would take you shopping, remember?”

“Don’t you have to go to the gym?”

Shawn pops his head out again. He’s cleared half of his face of foam now. It helps take away from the sex appeal. “I did that hours ago.”

“What? What time is it?” She hurdles over various suitcases to reach his window and snatch back the curtains. A blinding amount of sunlight pierces through Shawn’s dimly lit room.

“Probably noon now.”

“You were going to let me sleep until noon?!”

Shawn nods like this is nothing. “Yeah. You looked so peaceful when I got up, so I just went to the gym. Then I went to breakfast with Andrew and Jake— see, this is for you.”

He pads over to the kitchenette and takes a small paper bag out of the microwave.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so it’s just two muffins and a breakfast sandwich.”

(Y/N) tried to calm down. If only her heart could stop thumping so hard, she might be able to hear herself think. Clearly, this wasn’t an issue to him, but as his assistant, she’s supposed to be one step ahead of him at all times. At least, that’s what she was taught.

“Okay, okay. Shawn, listen, I appreciate the extra hours, but please just wake me up next time. I’m here to help you, and I can’t do that if I’m sleeping in. I’m trying to keep this job.”

“(Y/N),” he says. Shawn clears the space between them in about three steps. He places his hands on her shoulders. “The only way you’re losing this job is if you want to leave. And I can only hope it never comes to that.”

(Y/N)’s muscle tense up under his fingertips. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“Go on. Get ready. You’re going to want more clothes for the rest of the year.”

——————————

“How are you even awake?”

Shawn took (Y/N) to a department store in the metropolis area of London. She already forgot the name of it on the way in. It’s old world exterior didn’t match its modern interior. A part of of London’s architectural charm, she figured. She jogs up beside him again. He walked fast and she with her shorter, less muscular legs struggled to meet his long strides.

“What do you mean how am I awake?” Shawn doesn’t miss a beat, scanning the entire building for one store in particular.

“I mean you were literally passed out on your bed last night. ”

Shawn pauses, forcing (Y/N) to come to a screeching halt. She runs into his side and it feels like a brick wall.“So it actually was you who tucked me in?” His eyes twinkle with appreciation. “I thought I dreamed that.”

“Y-yeah. Well no. I couldn’t lift you off the blankets so I threw one of mine on top of you.”

“Aw,” he purrs, then picks up the pace again. “How sweet.”

“It’s not that sweet,” she insists.

“It’s pretty damn sweet, (Y/N).”

“Agree to disagree. Where are you taking me?”

Shawns stops again, this time in front a very expensive looking boutique. (Y/N) laughs at first, thinking he was kidding. Then the honesty settled in his toffee brown eyes tell her that he is in fact dead serious.

“No way, not happening. Uh-uh.”

“Wha- what’s wrong with this store,” he asks, kind of laughing with her.

“Shawn I can’t afford any of that fancy shit. I didn’t get that much of salary increase when I came to work for you.”

“Who said you would be paying for any of it?”

“Hell no. No, no, no, and no again. You are not paying for my clothes.”

“Come on,” Shawn huffs, pushing her closer to the entrance. While (Y/N) did attempt to escape his grip, he was still built like a Clydesdale and lifted her off the ground like she was made of feathers. “Consider it a first day bonus or something.”

Shawn sets her down. She felt like a hazard just standing next to a clothing rack.

“Do you have any idea what this is going to look like if someone sees us in here,” she hisses.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I also don’t give a shit.” He sits on a display table, underneath and stylish mannequin and starts scrolling through his phone. “I’m going to be right here when you get back.” He waves her away into the store. “Now go, dear assistant. Shop your heart out.”

“This is stupid.”

“Go,” Shawn says firmly.

It takes a few minutes of aimless walking around for the (Y/N) to feel normal in the store. Nobody was really looking at her, but it definitely felt like it. She was more than aware of how she did not fit into the glamorous decor.

She looks to Shawn for comfort, but also to glare. He’s milling over the jewelry rack when he meets her piercing eyes. He just smiles back, fondly of course. He always looks at her that way now. She rolls her eyes at him. That usual light giggle can be heard even from where she’s standing.

So she focused on the shoes and designer blouses, ignoring the people and ornate mold on the walls. Someone taps on her shoulder. To (Y/N)’s relief, it’s only the big oaf that dragged her here.

“You okay,” he asks. “We can leave if this stresses you out.”

“No,” she says firmly. I can take it, she thought. And she was right. If she was going to get used to being Shawn’s assistant, she had to get used to being apart of his publicized circle too. It’s not like anyone could hear her thoughts, least of all Shawn. This was her clean slate.

(Y/N) glances over past his arm at a few wary faces of the staff. The bubbly grins on their faces could only mean they recognized him. Normally, those looks would feel like a red flag, but something about Shawn made (Y/N) feel a little more secure and in control. This must be what he felt all the times he went out in public.

“I’m almost done anyways,” she assures him.

Before long, (Y/N) had a somewhat hefty pile of outfits in her arms. She found Shawn where he said he would be. He looks up from his phone.

“You didn’t want anything else?”

“Shawn I swear to every fucking god—”

“Sorry, sorry. Let’s go checkout.”

Shawn makes the purchase quickly and they’re back to strolling. At the doors, (Y/N) heads in one direction towards the exit and Shawn goes in the complete opposite, further into mall.

She yanks on his hand. “Shawn, the exit is this way.”

“But there’s a food court this way,” he yanks back.

“Shawn we don’t have the time.”

“If you love me, you’ll let me eat.”

(Y/N)’s jaw drops. She didn’t want to say no, but she most certainly couldn’t say yes.

“I-”

“Don’t you love me,” he coos pulling her closer. He was joking, but that didn’t stop (Y/N)’s cheeks from going red hot.

“I am not going to entertain that with an answer. We need to go. I can order something healthier to the hotel room.”

“Well I...I am your boss,” he quips.

(Y/N) steps back. “You really wanna pull that card right now?”

“Which means you have to do what I say.”

“Shawn—”

“And as your boss, I say we are eating lunch at the food court.”

(Y/N) purses her lips into a tight pout. “You know for someone so mature, you’re kind of a brat.”

He just flashes that million dollar smile, brimming with allure. It was absolutely disgusting how cute he looked right now and the worst part is that Shawn knew it was working. (Y/N) was suddenly able to come up with every excuse in the book for them to stay a little longer. Slowly pulling her hand closer to his side, he takes his semi-willing assistant to the food court. He doesn’t let go of her hand either.

It didn’t feel right or wrong, just in between. Like no man’s land. (Y/N) was sure it looked normal to every other person walking past, but on the inside, the tiniest of voices was screaming at her to run in the opposite direction. It was all there. The fluttery feeling in her belly, the heat on the back of her neck, the very inappropriate thoughts. She was setting herself up again.

“You hold hands with all your assistants?” It’s an awkward question, but the line has to be drawn.

Shawn looks down at their hands, then at (Y/N)’s face and lets go. “I don’t know. I’ve never had an assistant before.” He sounds apologetic.

“It’s fine, but I can’t really be your friend-friend right now. I’m still technically at work. You understand.”

His lips stretch into a tight smile, making his already flush appear even redder. “Professional?”

“Professional.”

——————————

The sun’s on its way to the horizon by the time Shawn and (Y/N) make it back to the hotel. Lunch went smoother than the earlier parts of the day. (Y/N) coordinated Shawn’s schedule with times to eat and rest and do whatever press work Andrew had lined up for the next few months of tour.

Shawn inserts his keycard into his room door. (Y/N) walks past him to get to her door, searching her bag for her key as well.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” she reminds him. “The bus will be here soon so just make sure everything’s packed.”

“Wait,” he says.

(Y/N) lifts her head up from her bag. Shawn is in a completely different state, all flustered and red in the face, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looks like that kid she saw in the meeting all over again.

“Was that weird of me to hold your hand?”

His candor comes as a shock to (Y/N). She didn’t expect him to bring it up again, and so soon at that. She pushes him into her room, where someone is less likely to hear them.

“I didn’t even notice I was doing it,” he continues, “I was just fucking around at the time, but I don’t want to you to be uncomfortable because of me.”

“Shawn, you think too much. We’re well past that. I’m not on the clock unless you say so. Otherwise, I can be that person for you all day long.”

He swallows hard. “I guess I just thought...” he turns away, facing the door. “Nah it’s stupid.”

“What? You can tell me.”

(Y/N) contemplates placing a hand on his shoulder while he can’t see her. Would that be too close? It feels too close. She stays that way, halfway there but not quite. Then Shawn turns around, and her hand darts behind her head.

“No, it’s not important anymore. Forget I said anything.”

(Y/N) stared at him in confusion. It’s funny. Shawn has always maintained a great deal of transparency with her until this moment. Although, the way he tucked his hands under his arms now told her it was best not to push him.

“Okay then. Well I have to change and stuff,” she says.

Shawn just nods.

“That means you have to get out of my room Shawn.”

“Oh! Right, s-sorry. Of course you do.” He stumbles over to the conjoined door before nearly closing it on himself. (Y/N) can just barely hear him muttering swears to himself behind the very thin walls.

The bus arrives an hour or two ahead of schedule. It was dark outside now and a light drizzle was coming down. Shawn and (Y/N) make their way down to the hotel lobby and out the back at the kitchen entrance to meet everyone else. The crew and the band are loading suitcases into the cargo hold along with another man she’s never seen before. Shawn steps forward to give him a bear hug so tight, his glasses go crooked. Then they both turn to (Y/N).

“(Y/N) this is Cez Darke, our tour manager. Cez, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), my assistant.”

(Y/N) goes in for her usual handshake, but Cez lovingly swats it away and pulls her in for a bear hug too.

“There’s no handshakes around here,” he says. “For the next seven months, we’re family.” He holds her by the shoulders. “Got a feeling you’ll fit in just fine with this group.”

Cez takes (Y/N)’s bags and loads them with the rest. “Shawn why don’t you give her the grand tour of the bus,” he suggests. “We’ll be rolling in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Shawn looks down at (Y/N) again. “Follow me.”

He guides her over to the door, allowing her to step in first.

“Alright well, this is the common area,” Shawn says, gesturing to everything, which could be summed up to a lounge space, a couple of wall TVs, a small dining booth, and a four foot wide kitchen space. “This place is the least active though because we all usually just sleep on the bus.”

He walks over to a thin door in the wall, “That’s the bathroom. We’re not allowed number twos. Driver’s orders.”

Shawn goes further into the rear to a hall of beds, four bunks on either side. He pats his large hands on two mats. “Sleeping area.” Then he opens the door at the end of the hall, revealing a master bedroom on the other side. “Bigger sleeping area. We play rock, paper, scissors or flip a coin for this one every trip.”

(Y/N) peeks under his arm into the plush room. “Does that mean I get to play for it too?”

“If you’d like to,” Shawn says lowly.

“You guys ever share it if you tie?”

“If we’re too tired for a tiebreaker, yeah.”

The hallway began to feel a little more narrow the longer they stood there. (Y/N) clears her throat for no reason. Shawn leans back on the wall behind him, stretching his legs over to (Y/N)’s wall.

“I didn’t want you to think I was like Jason,” he mutters.

“What?”

“The way you said Jason trapped you after you guys became a thing. I didn’t want you to think that’s what I was doing.”

“I didn’t think that’s what you were doing. And he didn’t trap me. I did that to myself. I thought there was something there when it wasn’t.”

“So we’re-”

“-We’re cool, yes.” She holds out her hand. “We can even hold hands now if you really want.”

Shawn glances at her hand, then back at her eyes. On the far end of the bus, the band members can be heard piling aboard in a loud, happy conversation. “No thanks. As of now, we’re competing for the bed.”

taglist:

@spider-mendes @sebsdreamboat @innositer

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes writings #better conversations

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lokilickedme · 4 years

Text

It’s been a long time since we were “that family“ in a public place, but dear god when we do it we do it up right. The boys and I decided to hazmat up and go to this big warehouse store for a little out of the house time, which has been at a very strict premium for the last 8 months so we were, you know, inordinately excited about it. Gigantic building, open doors, two customers per square mile, very low risk. 99.5% safe with the other .5 covered by our masks and good sense, no worries.

Except Little drank slightly out of date chocolate milk and some beef jerky before we left. And we would have made it, if I hadn’t stopped in the textiles aisle to look at some Mizhrahi yarn...but I did, and so we didn’t. Poor kid had started complaining about his stomach feeling sick after we’d been in the store for maybe 20 minutes, so I had turned us all toward the front and started working our way to checkout. We were so close we could see the exits.

Damn that Mizhrahi yarn. But he’s holding it together and I keep telling him he’s not gonna puke, he’s just thinking about it too much, and he’s standing there gulping air and nodding his head trying to agree with me.

Turns out I’m full of shit and shouldn’t be a parent.

So a few minutes later we’re actually just stepping into line when the child leans over and starts that godawful hrrrrrtttt....hhhhrrrrrrrrtt noise that comes right before the payoff, and before I can grab him and steer him away from the people in line six feet in front of us, he fills his mask. And then he fills it again, because apparently he wants to see how much it can hold. (Spoiler: it failed on the second hhrrrrttt)

So I pull him away from everyone and he unloads on the floor minus the mask, and then he starts again so I pull him halfway down a nearby aisle and he unloads again, all over himself and me this time. I’m trying to remember where the bathrooms are (hint: they’re one row over, dumbass) and he unloads yet a third time (plus two for the in-mask loads) and at this point people are starting to notice and I’m starting to hear the general verbal mayhem of a mass freakout. My escape reflex fires up and I drop my bags and purse and grab the kid and run to the bathroom, leaving Big standing there in a catatonic panic.

Now, if you’re a mom to an autistic child, you know the catatonic panic isn’t anywhere near as calm or contained as it sounds. Nope. I’m in the bathroom with Little with the door standing open and he’s unloading again in the sink when I look out and see Big pacing back and forth talking to himself, flapping his hands and lunging each third step, which is his thing he does when he doesn’t know what to do. It’s something I see a lot so it doesn’t seem out of place to me, but three people who work in the store have come running out to survey the mess and they’re a little bit freaked by this very tall young man pacing violently and reassuring himself in a loud voice up and down the christmas candy aisle.

So I yell out the door “He’s fine, he’s with me!” and Little hhhrrrrrttt’s again in the sink; meanwhile I can hear one of the store staff shouting orders for someone to get mops and paper towels and it’s becoming real obvious real fast that nobody’s happy with us, the lady who seems to be in charge is shooting me The Glare Of Death through the open bathroom door but all I can think right that moment is that Little managed to hit both my boots AND get it inside my shirt and that there oughtta be some sort of award for that. And my purse and shopping bags are abandoned up near the registers. Fortunately they’re splashed in puke so odds are good nobody’s going to walk off with them.

A few minutes later the circus seems to be over. Little says his stomach isn’t pissed off anymore, so we wash up and gather Big, who has lapsed into his secondary self-reassurance mode of reciting the symptoms of Covid-19 out loud (yeah I dunno, he says it helps). This isn’t sitting real well with the store staff or the remaining customers, needless to say...so I send both boys into the open-air lobby by the exit while I gather my bags (THERE IS PUKE INSIDE MY PURSE GOD IN HEAVEN WHYYYYY) and I make my way to the checkout, a shell of my former self. I have vomit on my clothes. A couple of items I have to hold up so the clerk can see the tags without touching them, because...well, you can guess why. I apologize to everyone within earshot on my way out and me and the boys sorta run to the car, throw our bags in, and get ourselves gone.

We’ve all taken our turns in the shower now and everyone’s feeling better - most of all Little, whose status bar went all the way back to full the second he purged the chocolate milk. Big will be a nervous wreck for the remainder of the evening, convincing himself it isn’t Covid by reciting the expiration date from the milk carton that he dug out of the trash to himself over and over until he realizes Little hasn’t puked any more.

And me? I’m a mom, this is pretty much business as usual, and I’m telling you all that somebody needs to make a mask that will hold a minimum of three hhrrrrttt’s because that’s just about how long it takes to get a kid out of line and into the public restroom at a warehouse store. I’ve done the fieldwork for you. Get to it, this is something the world needs.

Also as a side note it’s amazing how many people wearing God Bless The USA teeshirts with religious inspirational home decor in their shopping carts and rhinestone studded crosses on their concealed-carry handbags in a store that plays loud Christian music will shout JESUS CHRIST!! the second a stranger starts vomiting on the floor.

It’s a wild world out there. We’re going back behind closed doors for a while...for our protection, but maybe more so for everyone else’s.

#The Adventures of Little and Big #creeping quietly out of quarantine #and going right back in

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empathyknj · 5 years

Text

unexpected christmas gift ♡

[baekhyunxreader]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

i was inspired by this gif to make a little christmas themed au !! hope you like it <3

so it was winter. and it was cold. really cold.

tomorrow was christmas, and you were going to be alone in your apartment. you don't really know how it happened. but maybe you did.

your parents announced last minute that they were spending christmas on some tropical island somewhere (which you forgot the name of) and only bought two plane tickets. every single one of your uni friends were all with their families. and your only sibling was spending the holidays with her boyfriend's family.

so, there you sat. on christmas eve, playing fortnite. pathetic, and you knew it.

and it became even more pathetic when your only xbox controller broke.

"fucking hell these are expensive!" you groaned and slouched back into the couch that probably had your butt imprinted on it by now.

so you sat there, staring down at the joystick that was now literally stick-ing out at you. probably mocking you for not even attempting to find somewhere to spend today and tomorrow.

but sighing, you eventually got up, not bothering to turn off the gaming system. feeling lazy, you slipped your boots and jacket on over your leggings and tee, gave your tiny christmas tree in the corner a meaningless glare, and went.

walking to the train station, you (as cliché as it might sound) observed everything around you. the christmas lights, the young, happy families, the cute couples. it all made you sad. your parents loved you and so did your sister but its just things like this that make you question it, the little actions.

but, you made it to the platform, hands tucked into your jacket pockets, your tiny self probably looking a lot warmer than you actually were. so you boarded, sitting just in the front because it was only two stops.

and when you got there you hurried your way down the street to the small video game shop you've come to love. you get all your video games here, it may look small but they've just got everything.

so you walk in, the cute little bell rings, and you make your way to the xbox section, trying to pinpoint where the controllers were. you noticed that a lot of shelf space seemed to be empty, probably because its basically christmas and everyone's out buying gifts and things. but not you, you depressingly remind yourself.

you're able to locate the little price tag sign that says 'xbox controllers' but the shelf space right above it is empty. you frown. what else are you supposed to do the next 36 hours?

walking through the mostly empty shop to the checkout desk (with a purpose), your cheeks form a small blush as you stop, and catch a glimpse of the boy behind the counter. his hair was this deep red color that brought out the shade of his lips in the prettiest way. his eyes just looked happy and his cheeks were kind of chubby but his face was so slim at the same time? and he had this cute little white sweater on and you didn't even know anything about the guy but you wanted to just drop everything and cuddle with him, you know?

but your daydream was promptly stopped as he seemed to finally notice that you were standing there creepily staring at him, and you noticed him blush as well (which made you blush even harder).

[moving on]

you walked all the way up to the counter this time, kinda laughing it off and in return he let out an airy laugh too-- a good sign.

"xbox controllers?" you placed your hands on the counter in front of you as you tilted your head to the side.

"w-what?" he didn't seem like the shy type, but he did look confused.

"uuh... there aren't any xbox controllers left on the shelf. do you have anymore in the back?" you knitted your eyebrows together, focusing on the fortnite game waiting for you back at home rather than the impossibly attractive person in front of you.

[it didn't work]

"right! i'll go check!" and he smiled at you with a smile that could end all wars.

"thank you," you said quietly, not wanting to seem rude.

you had to take a deep breath to compose yourself after that gorgeous smile as you watched him walk through the 'staff only' door, shuffling through some boxes.

"i think you win the 'latest gift buyer' award for this year," you heard him joke from the other room, making you giggle.

"yeah, that would be a lot better than what it's actually for."

he emerged from the room, with a small xbox controller box, wearing that award-winning smile, eyebrows knitted "hm?"

"i'm alone for christmas this year so i’m having an embarrassing fortnite marathon," you awkwardly laughed.

he set the box down on the counter. then knit his eyebrows together, looking upset.

"really?"

you met his eyes again, bittersweetly smiling, "yes, really."

he giggled at your tone (and god, it was just the sweetest sound).

"nobody should spend christmas alone."

"well its not my fault," you shrugged, and he kept looking at you (but in a soft way). "my parents are going somewhere and all my friends are busy and my sister is with her boyfriend's family i just... didn't have a choice i guess.”

he looked down, then grabbed the box after a while, scanning it. so you took out your wallet.

"can i tell you a secret?"

"sure."

"i'm alone this year, too."

"but nobody should spend christmas alone, baekhyun!" you felt quite clever for using his name tag to freak him out a little.

he looked lost for a moment before looking down at his own name written right there on his shirt, but then he smiled back up at you. you returned it. his eyes seemed to sparkle and you wondered if yours did too.

you realized you were staring and he was probably creeped out and just in time he cleared his throat, and you both looked away.

[both blushing]

as he did some things on the cash register computer thingy, he asked, "so since you know my name, whats yours?"

"y/n."

he paused, looking back to you, "it fits." so you smiled.

"so since you know why i'm alone on christmas," you started, copying his exact wording, "why are you?"

he airily laughed, but abruptly stopped, "its complicated, i guess. kinda. i don’t even know."

"who better to tell than a complete stranger?"

he looked tentative, but gave in, "my parents got divorced this year, so its really hard. they were making me choose whose place to spend christmas at, which just isn't something i'm ready to do, so i chose neither," he looked a little emotionless but he was probably just hiding it all since he didn't know you at all.

"wow, i'm sorry," when he saw your apologetic eyes, his brows relaxed. there was an awkward silence for a little but it was broken when he cleared his throat.

"that'll be 49.99!" he smiled, instantly going back to his cheerful self. something you assume he probably had to learn how to do, which really saddened you.

but, you swiped your card, both of you completing the transaction as if you hadn’t really talked at all.

so you smiled and thanked him, meeting his eyes one last time, then walked out, heading toward the station once again.

when you got only a few steps away from the door, into the cold, you heard a loud, but soft voice, "wait!"

stopping in your tracks, you turned around to see the boy with the white sweater, holding something in his hand too small for you to see.

"you forgot something."

"but i didn't-"

"how about we spend christmas together?"

he seemed to be glowing. maybe it was your imagination.

you grabbed the hand that had something in it, unclasped it, and he was holding a small piece of paper with a number scribbled on it. you smiled, taking it.

"i'd like that."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

masterlist

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apexart-journal · 2 years

Text

Keegan Xavi in NYC, Day #10

I’m old enough to know hip-hop heads aren’t exactly known for starting events on time, so I didn’t head across the street for the weekly cipher til about 8:15. I went to the statue on top of the steps and saw two mics set-up, but nothing was happening. One young man (doing my best not to call them kids, cuz they were a bit older than most of my students, but - still kids lol), was reading something off his phone to another young man and they were both bobbing their heads enthusiastically but it was a private session. Another group of...young people.. were standing off to the side. Some type of brass band was at the bottom of the stairs and it was clearly their night to shine - they had a nice crowd who was feeling it. Looking back at the group of young men on the top of the stairs, one of them was kinda intense and serious “Well what are we going to do then? What. Are. We. Going. To. DO?” Like it was so serious. And he was the only one smoking weed, he shoulda been chiller. The other guys in the group just kept laughing at him and telling him relax. I’m like “You know what? I’m going to go grab something from Whole Foods while they work this out”.

I get to Whole Foods and it was like the Macy’s of grocery stores. Escalators going up and down. One thing I do have to say about New York City, is that clear signage is not a priority. I’ve noticed this in some of the subways, not all streets have signs, and the escalators weren’t marked as to where they were taking you, but I just followed the crowd and headed downstairs. And there was the whole store. I’m not really finding the specific thing I’m looking for and then the lightbulb went off - I’m in NY. Anything I need is within walking distance. And the last time I was here, smartphones weren’t this smart - in fact back then I had a Blackberry (which I still miss and love). And within 8 minutes I was at CVS at the self-checkout with exactly what I needed. And I could just walk back “home” in 5 minutes. This is the part of New York I am so very much in love with right now.

I also appreciated the unexpected shopping trip because I actually walked down the other side of 14th Street and looked at the neighborhood from a different perspective. As soon as I leave the apartment in the morning, I am zooom zoooom zoooom straight to the subway, so so so focused on not losing my metropass again and I do not relax until it’s back in my bag and I’m certain I’m at the right platform facing the right direction cuz these are very important things to focus on. As I have learned. So I’m definitely not looking around my neighborhood as much as I did the first week. But tonight, I walked around Union Square and actually took an intentional walk for pleasure. The boys and the mics were gone, so I walked around to the back of the park in case they went that way. Oh my, the budding trees with their pink and white blossoms are just as beautiful at night as they are in the daytime.

So there’s nobody on the other end of the park, but then I hear like 80′s music and a bunch of people coming from 16th Street, and I had to walk around a playground to get to them. So I’m like “I finally found them!”. But it was a restaurant at the end of the park and it was their music and the sound of happy diners I was hearing. All good though, I was happy to walk “home”. This was the first night it kinda felt like home.

I wanna write about so much more, but I’ll just go on forever... so some highlights:

- volunteering at Catholic Charities yesterday and the whole shift was in Spanish and I can still keep up! We were done a bit early and I didn’t want to go back to Manhattan yet so I took a bus heading the opposite way just to see where it wound up. It ended up at the Bronx Zoo and a couple stops later, the Botanical gardens. I didn’t have enough time for the gardens, but I want to come back later.

- The Museum of Sex. Oh my god. Yeah the museum was cool, but SUPER FUNLAND was the BEST THING EVER!!! I am gaga about people who can transform ordinary spaces into something extraordinary - and this Carnival these people put together - OMG. The absolute best part was the jumping inside a giant mouth and sliding three floors down to the exit. The whole experience was such unexpected fun.

- Bellydancing. I sucked at it. I will not quit my day job to do it lol. But it was fun. I think I got one of my favorite shots of Time Square through the window.

- The Underground Railroad history tour in the financial district was really good. the tour guide was a history professor and could talk nerdy the way I like. You can tell I’m getting sleepy as I type this..vocabulary disintegrating...

- The Seeking Human Kindness guy... I put a dollar in his box and asked if I could take a pic of his sign. Told him I was looking for the same and wished him luck on his quest

- Oh! Can’t forget Samson. The sweetest golden retriever I met on the R train on my way back from Jackson Heights and the Museum of Moving Images...

sleeeepppyyyy.... going bird watching in the morning

#Keegan Xavi #Inbound from Minneapolis

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steves3511 · 7 years

Text

So you want to convention

I am going to show you all the supplies you need to rock out your next Comic Convention

At my last convention I attended I was asked about writing a blog post about how I prepare for shows and the essentials I bring with me. Since I have been thinking of writing a post on this very topic for a while I thought that this was the kick in the pants I needed to finally start writing .This is my third year attending and exhibiting at shows, my second year exhibiting full time as my primary source of income. Over those three years and almost 30 shows I have exhibited at I have learned a lot about booth setup, packaging, and selling and interacting with customers; and I want to share with you those insights I have learned through trial and error so you wont make those same early mis-steps and hopefully help you have the best show you can.

First things first, you decide to test out selling at comic conventions and you are like "San Diego Comic Con here I come!" Hold your horses there brother; I like many artists strongly recommend starting with your local shows, its hard enough making money at your first show, you don't want to add to that by having to pay for travel and hotel costs as well. If you are lucky like me and have several friends and family scattered around the country offering a free couch to sleep on it certainly makes things easier, thought that airfare is still pretty killer (baggage fees grrr). Make things easy for yourself start local and expand out from there.

So you signed up for your local show, now what? First and most importantly if you are an artist in artist alley you are going to need prints of your work. At shows and online I often get asked where I get my prints from, or if I print myself from home (hell no!!). Having good prints is really important, it doesn't matter how good your image looks on a computer screen, if it doesn't look good as a print nobody will buy it. I get my prints from El-Co Colorlabs in NJ (dont worry non New Jersians they ship anywhere) The prints are more expensive than other places, though I will argue those cheaper prints do not come close to matching the quality of el-co, and I will happily pay a little more for that higher quality. (I challenge anyone to find a place that has better quality at a cheaper price)

High quality photo luster prints for an affordable price, what do you not love about that?

If you are looking to start out slow before splurging on more expensive prints and save a few bucks at the start I know several people get prints from MGX copy and have had pretty good results. They are a great beginner bang for your buck printer.

The next big thing you will need is some sort of backdrop. From experience a lot of the people walking around shows do not look down at the tables, they are all looking up looking for something to catch their eye. It is really important to have your work up high so people can see it, and to see it from far away. Every show I have people come up to me saying “OMG I saw your work from way down there and I just had to come over”

For my backdrop I use a photo backdrop display. When looking for displays there are a bunch that are cheap and affordable, I strongly recommend getting the most expensive display you can afford. Those cheap light weight displays are on the flimsy side and may not support your work, try to find one that looks like it is made out of a thicker sturdier metal and preferably says it can support 30-40lbs before bowing. This is the display I have

Ravelli ABSL Photo Video Backdrop Stand

This is is a similar setup to mine, sturdy enough to hold your prints and also easy to travel with

Now that you have your display you need something to drape over it and a way to hang your prints. At my very first show my booth neighbor and super awesome and fellow dragon aficionado Tyler Walpole had a very similar setup to this. It looked so easy for him to set up/tear down his display, the display also went up high so people could see it from across the hall. Watching him pull customers in and rake in sales I decided then and there to follow in his footsteps. (note, walk around the show when you can, taking notes on other artists setups and ask them questions, everyone I have met has been happy to answer questions and give helpful advice, you can learn a TON from from your fellow exhibiting artists)

What I do is drape a large sheet of felt fabric (Joe Ann’s) over the display and use clamps to hold it in place. To attach the prints to the fabric I tape the edges of my prints to a backing board and then place velcro to the back of the backing board, the backing board and the print then “sticks” to the fabric and hangs in place.

Heavy Duty Muslin Clamps

I place velcro on the 4 corners and then tape the corners of the print to the backing board. The print stays flat against the board and to hang it you just "stick it" to the fabric. Super easy.

I do recommend having larger prints behind you so it is easier for people to see, these larger prints are my fancy 18X24 limited edition prints. I use these both as large display prints and also as a higher premium item for customers. If someone loves your work and has cash to spend and you only have $20 prints then all you are going to get from that customer is $20.

Okay, now that the backdrop is taken care of now I need a way to display my prints on my table. First I have some black fabric (Also from Joe Ann’s) draped over the table to make it look all fancy. I then lay out these foldable display stands, one for each print. Have as many of your prints out on the table as possible. From experience it is hard to convince people to flip through a print bin/book, so the more stuff you have out on the table the easier it is for people to see and look at.

You can see I have all of my prints laid out in a line so its easy for people to see, you never know what print is going to catch someones eye, solve that by having all of them out.

Gibson Holders 6 DCWB Adjustable Wire Display Easels

If you cant fit everything on the table a good solution for a print bin I have found is this foldable bin I found at Target. Its the perfect size to hold 11X17 or my 12X18 prints, and its light weight for easy storage and transport.

For the display prints on the table you need some way to protect them and make them stand up. I currently bag and back all of my prints. I get re-sealable bags from clearbags.com and the backing boards from Uline (if you don't want 400 backing boards to start you can find them on amazon and elsewhere in packages of 20 or so) To start out you really only need the backing boards for the display prints; later on as you get busier and want to save precious time during the checkout process you can pre bag all of your prints before the show. Dont skimp on the bags though, you need some sort of protective bag for people who purchase prints, otherwise they may not buy for fear of damaging them.

In addition to my prints I also sell tabletop gaming playmats or otherwise known as gigantic mouse pads of my work. If you are a fantasy artist like me this is a great product to have, gamers love collecting mats that have cool art on them. Also it helps me stand out from everyone else at the Con, I am usually the only one who has them and its a great option for people who have run out of wall space with all of their prints. You have no idea how many times at a show I get “holy crap, he has game mats…I need a game mat” Just beware, these things are super heavy and add a lot of weight to your setup. If yo are interested in trying out some game mats I strongly recommend Drew Baker, I and many of my friends use him for his mats.

If you do fantasy art, Game mats are a great way to stand out from the crowd and offer something no-one else has

Okay now that you have your super awesome setup, you just sit back and watch people start flooding to your table buying up everything you have….right? Unfortunately not quite. No matter how good your work is you still need to sell it to people. Over the course of a weekend I maybe get 3 or 4 people total that just walk up and say “I need to buy this, how much” every other person that buys from me I have to sell my work to them in some way. I have seen several artists at shows sit back with their arms folded looking down because sales aren't as good as they hoped. Trust me, you don't want to be that guy.

The thing is nobody wants to approach you when you are down in the dumps, at that point it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy where you are bummed you aren't doing well and people aren't approaching you because you are bummed, thus making you even more bummed.

The best way to break through that cycle is to put on a “Con face” be happy and engaging, say hi to as many people as you can. No matter how bad a day/week you are having you cannot let it show while you are behind that table. Smile, be upbeat, say “Hey hows it going” try to get them to stop and start a conversation, and then lead that conversation towards you and your work. (in my opinion standing behind a table not talking to anyone for 8 hours is boring, if I am not making any money I mine as well have fun talking to people) No matter how bad the day is going you CANNOT let people know, you gotta be happy and engaging the entire time. There is plenty of time to vent at the bar after the show talking with your neighbors and fellow artists.

The selling thing is really what is going to make or break your experience at a show. No matter how nice your display is, no matter how good your work is, if you do not have the confidence in yourself and your work to tell people they should buy this, conventions will be a struggle.

That being said, my final bit of advice for first time con goers is to just have fun. Chasing sales throughout a weekend is a stressful endeavor, dont get bummed if you only make back the table cost. There are a lot of up front costs associated with exhibiting at shows, so if you dont earn a profit at your first show, do not despair and give up (I did not make back the costs of my first show, these things take time to build up). Have fun, work on your sales pitch, talk to your booth neighbors and ask them lots of questions, and scope out ideas for a better/improved booth setup. Use the show as a learning experience to apply to future shows and you will have a good time, and the knowledge of this show will make the next one even better.

Finally, if you are looking for more information and knowledge about conventions and selling and running a booth I highly recommend checking out 1 fantastic week. These guys host a weekly webshow going over not only conventions but how to earn a living as an artist (useful topic dont you say), I learned a lot about selling at conventions and running my business from them and I cannot recommend them enough.

#convention #fantasy art #fantasy artist #comiccon #Illustration #how to make it #booth setup #sales #convention prep #supplies #fantasyillustration #comic convention

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apsbicepstraining · 7 years

Text

The Timeline Of Becoming Human Again After A Weekend Of Terrible Decisions

Memorial Day Weekend is traditionally acknowledged as the kickoff for a summer of beach trip-ups, backyard beers and relentless tit sweat.

MDW is also my birthday weekend, which constructs my already skewed, drunken decision-making and self-care that much poorer.

This year was no different. Day drinking? Check. A nutrition of grilled meat and half-melted sugar? Check. Waking up in an outer parish apartment I’ve never previously seen with half an old sandwich in my handbag? Check.

Come the Tuesday following MDW 2016, I feel like someone replenished a Panera sourdough bread bowl with whisky, marijuana and repent and then left it in the sunbathe to think about what it’s done/ exhaustively curdle.

Is it possible to hop back into the scheduleof a responsible adult after a summer weekend of unadulterated fuckery?

I needed to be purified. For the coming week( ish ), I plan to document my seamless alteration into a well-rounded, health, sober human being who loves home cooking and early mornings.

Degenerates can have it all, too.

Tuesday, May 31: Welcome To A New Me, Assholes

7 am : I wake up, expecting to feel rested and revitalized from seven hours of sleep, except I live in New York City without an air conditioner. Forecasts say to expect warm, sunny days all week. I stand naked in my chamber and accept nature’s penalty for my miscreantbehavior over the weekend. 7:05 am : I turn on the rain. I plan to wash my whisker today because I haven’t in a few weeks. I’m starting to look like Johnny Depp I’m talking Captain Jack Sparrow Johnny Depp , not “Crybaby Johnny Depp and it’s not a sound I can pull off.

Before getting clean, I sit on the settle and suck cold coffee I stuck in the fridge the darknes before in an admirable ordinance of #MealPrep and #SelfLove. It’s merely OK.

7:30 am : After my rain, I silently praise myself for not only soaking my hair, but likewise scraping my legs. Unbridled feminine power is extending from my calves, which are a tiny bit lashed, but whatever. Nobody’s perfect.

I spray rose water( a hydrosol) with frankincense from Enfleurage on my face, justasmy bestie admonished. Herbraces once got stuck to my favorite sweater in front of our eighthgrade class, but now she’sa professional makeup creator, licensed aesthetician and semi-finalist on season 10 of Syfy’s Face Off.” If she told me it would build me eternally beautiful, I would fill my holes to the brim with goose poop and decorate thinner.

I pull my mane back because heat-free styling feels like a responsible move and slather SPF with zinc oxide on my sugared, smooth faccia to protect it from the sun that seeks to destroy its ageless glamour.

8: 15 am : I march to the nearest subway stop. Sweet Lord. It’s already so red-hot. Too numerous tacos from the nighttime before recur my bowels. 9 am : I arrive at work and heat up a packet of organic( ooooooooh !!!) instant oatmeal. I arouse in peanut butter and raspberries. I start to feel superior to anyone who devour a bagel this morning. Don’t they care about their own bodies? I do. I would NEVER consider putting that kind of drivel in my flesh temple.

I am a new lady brimming with self-respect. I would rather drownmy somewhat unblemished, 27 -year-old body in the shit hose from “The Shawshank Redemption”than load it full of simple-minded carbs and transfats.I am better than every human/ swine/ deity, nutritionally speaking.

10:30 am : I begin to sketch a breakup email to my therapist of nearly three years. This find counterproductive to my efforts to become the healthiest all-around Taylor, but I have no choice. My employer lately changed insurance carriers and my doctor only abides one type.

I consider living therapy-free. I’d have an extra 40 instants of period each week, and I wouldn’t have to hike to the Upper East Side for appointments. This tones, after nine years of therapy, like a welcome separate I may eventually be ready to handle.

Seconds pass. I embark Googling healers who admit my new guarantee, rapidly coming to expressions with the facts of the case a therapy-free life is a dystopian barren for me and everyone I love.

I’d likely end up dating a high school senior, going really into headbands as a flesh of self-expression, defining small-minded volleys to appear alive, counting calories from gum I ruminated as legitimate sections of energy and becoming one with my bed.

12 pm : I eat lunch, slapping sliced avocado and a mid-sized tupperware’s worth of homemade salsa on some rice patties. It’s all right, but it prepares me kind of thirsty. I realize I’ve merely had two glass of water in so far today.

Proper hydration is something health seeds( identify: Gwenyth Paltrow or the Moon Juice girl) take very seriously, likely. I suppose one day being that kind of wispy, elegant 40 -year-old woman whose surface incandescences and whose forearms examine just likethe small remains kids shove in the sides of a snowman. Totally achievable.

5:00 p.m. : I leader to the gym, fueled by a renewed feel of purpose and the disgrace that harasses one after a weekend of questionable choices. I run. I squat. I try to toss my hair behind my shoulders and snicker carelessly atop the treadmill, but my hair is very short and I cannot breathe deeply sufficient to chuckle because practice is hard. 6 pm : Each time I cleanse my hands, I put on Trader Joe’s Coconut Body Butter because I care about moisturizing now. It smells like dessert. It stirs my knuckles feel ridiculously smooth. My knuckles are basically astrapping young camel who’s precisely had his humps shaved for a big appointment, or something. 7 pm : I leader to Lowe’s to buy an AC unit for my suite, every inch of whichis charminglysunbathed in the winter and awash with unavoidable hellfirein the summer.I find a group that looks like every other unit and wait for my roommate, who’s hold back at her nannying profession, to come promotion me get this fatty bitch home.

I stand in the checkout expanse next to my large-scale girl buy, mutely praising those lucky enough to witness me expending $350 on something other than alcohol and fancy potatoes.

7:30 pm : My roommate, Charlotte, arrives at Lowe’s. We haul the human rights unit into a taxi and, formerly we make it uptown to our structure, haphazardlydragit up five flights of stairs to our apartment.

The whole seek leaves me feeling proud and physically destroyed. We soondiscover special bolts on our opening grate that won’t allow us to install the air conditioner until acontractor trips. So, fuck it, I guess.

8 pm : I snack a veggie burger patty and a container of sauted kale for dinner. So many nutrients! I want to die, kind of.

9:15 pm : Charlotte and I use the AC unit as a foot residual/ coffee table, and we begina series of dialogues so specific to our generation I think, for a moment, whether it would sound like system to my grandfather( or any other 84 -year-old because my granddad is deaf ).

Me: U can’t use the black thumbs up emoji, Charlotte, that’s racist.

Roommate: I feel bad shedding all my emoji white-hot. Like Hollywood.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) June 1, 2016

Remember where reference is all caused Cara Delevignenevne a Nobel prize for I approximate having almost a personality

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) April 20, 2016

Pitbull is proof the Harry Potter universe is jolly since he’s certainly retired Miami Voldemort.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) October 8, 2015

Sexism in Hollywood: no one asked for MORE David Schwimmer, hitherto here we are

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) May 5, 2016

I too wonder whether any of the dumb shit we say is proof Millennials are mankind’s salvation or itsfinal damnation. I decide we’re maybe the latter, but implant that thought deep in an effort to stay positive and shun stress-eating the box of chocolate almonds Charlotte has opened on the couch.

9:25 pm : My ex-boyfriend arrives to pick up the stuff he left at my accommodation before we broke up. I look like a sweatbeast and my leg is bleeding a bit, for some reasonablenes. I facilitate him carry his containers downstairs.

We chat. It’s all really mature. Extremely Calvin Harris and Taylor Swift, if Calvin Harris was a beautiful, half-asian human who insisted on accompanying his goddamn bike everywhere and Taylor Swiftwas 5’10”, willowy and born in 1989( this is an outright brag about how much I have in common with Taylor Swift ).

We are advanced humen capable of enjoying and losing without hysterium. My leg hemorrhages the whole time, but he doesn’t say anything.

12 am: I wash my face, spray it with rose water, brush my teeth, determined my frighten and contribute myself a big ol’ pat on the back for a epoch of task, healthful eating, evolve interactions, adult acquisitions and sobriety. I is certainly be able to pick up the slack from this weekend without breaking a sweat.

Wednesday, June 1: 24 Hours Might As Well Be A Million Years

9 am : POTATO CHIPS FOR BREAKFAST? COME ON, YOU WEAK, SWEATY BITCH. You know what? It’s fine. I’m fine. Part of self-improvement is acknowledging moments of weakness and not letting dichotomous thoughts to thwart progression. I’M STILL IN THE GAME. 1 pm : I steadily hydrate throughout the day. I ingest tofu salad with brown rice for lunch. I am sharp-worded, alert and full of energy. 6:30 pm : My improv team, Champagne Empire, rehearses a few stymies from my agency. After a few particularly physical scenes, I wonder whether I should have worn a short sundress on a show darknes, regardless of the fact that I remembered to put on bikeshorts underneath. 9:00 p.m. : I arrive at the theater an hour before my substantiate. What should I have for dinner? A gin and tonic with acquaintances? Sure, sounds great! 9:01 pm : SHIT, WAIT. 10 pm : Champagne Empire’s weekly substantiate begins. Without being provoked by another teammate, I decide to play the status of women whose legs were burned off by a chocolate fountain.

I drag my person around the stage by my limbs for 25 hours, realise it’s my fault for not only wearing a dress to this evidence, but choosing to play a flailing, horizontal persona for no reason whatsoever.

11 pm : All is not lost. There is one hour to save my era. I’m not going to stress out about perfection. I’m going to take each hour as it comes and allow my health choices to cleanse every last cell in my form until I have achieved a superior status of world. What’s that? My friends are having a few beers? SURE I’ll join! 11:01 pm : WAIT, SHIT. UGH.

Thursday, June 2: You’re Not Better Than Me

8 am : I am beginning work with an easy daylight ahead of me. I have no rehearsals , no shows and no air conditioners to drag up and downthe west back of the city. All of my fortitude and centre can be exploited to achieve the clean lifestyle that’s escaped me my entire life/ the majority of members of this week. 8: 10 am : Organic oatmeal and fruit for breakfast. I smile as I eat it, hoping the physical pageantrywill influence inner gaiety. It doesn’t because oatmeal is just red-hot, mushyplant matter.

Fruit is delicious and beautiful, but it’s not magic. Trans fatties? Those are magic.

Over the past few decades, the meat industry in its own country has obtained a method to deliver us orgasmically yummy plows made from ingredients that just characterize as edible.

Beyond plainly creating these considers, they found a method to addict the American people to them like cigarettes, if cigarettes didn’t preference like dry hound shit and, instead, savor like rich chocolate with a faint plastic aftertaste.

God bless America. I would dismembera live stranger with my bare hands for a Drake’s Cake.

4:00 pm : I pate to the gym, telling myself I just have to get through 40 times before I can leave and do what I actually want to do, which is anything else in the whole wide world. While pretending to try, I receive an email tell people I’ve been charged for a month-long Tidal subscription.

I certainly forgot to cancel it when the free ordeal resolved, and now I’m persisted paying for it. Even in my evolved, nutritious, semi-sober position, small things arefalling through the cracks and I’m starting to wonder whether I was better off waking up with my jeans on and my contacts suctioned to my eyeballs in my fully lit bedroom at 4 am most days.

6:30 pm : For the first time, I see Dumbo. It’s the neighborhood in Brooklyn whereDan Humphrey and his floppy-haired, Gin Blossoms-y dad lived on “Gossip Girl, ” despite being outlined as too good to live in any waterfront property.

I meet afriend to listen some live salsa music and watch babes dance( read: run in circles, mainly ). Here, sitting outside amonga cluster of Brooklyn children with cooler haircuts than me and their swank mothers who likely live in lofts nearby, a calm washes over me and I have the first substantial epiphany of my rebirth…

Friday, June 3: Fuck This Stupid Lifestyle Change

I don’t need to be better at living. I’m already amazingat living.

I have a relatively helpful magnitude from a commonwealth institution I begrudgingly attended following a substantial nervous breakdown at artwork school.

I have a task I enjoy and show up to every day in a semi-punctual, enthusiastic manner.

I have never missed a rent payment on anapartment I’m hesitantto show to gentleman callersbecause, fine, it’s like walking into an immersive trailer for “Grey Gardens.”

I have two floras in my room that, despite being half dead, are also half thriving.

I recently met, and then instantly deleted, two separate dating apps that attained me feel like a judgmental elitist/ future carnage victim.

I showered this morning.

Ihave a strong, positive relation with their own families, despite my mother’s evident outrage at the factI workfull time in an manufacture that substantiates my degree rather than livingin a youth hostel somewhere, elapsing my occasion doing whippets and watching old escapades of “Family Matters.”

I have never physically tortured or killed an animal or human, which I suspect is a concept the majority of members of us haven’t done, but that probably shouldn’t disrepute my achievement.

Self-improvement must be somewhat important, seeing as Americans waste billions of dollars per year trying to rift it, but perhaps, for the majority of us, it’s bullshit.

The version of adulthood I hoped to represent mine so many times is a fantasize that, formerly I actually tried to attain it, took me less than three days to vacate for something I basically understood from the beginning: Stop has become a dick.

Stop being a dick to strangers, to friends, to lineage, to your form, to your psyche, to the environment, to Anne Hathaway, to jerks and to enemies.

I’m tired, you guys. Life is tiring.

If waking up every morningat 4:45 am to shove a bunch of dry greens and ginger into a juicerbefore heading out for some cardio reaches you joyous, then experience your 9 am, in-office diarrhea break-dance knowing full well you’ve accomplishedsomething personally beneficial. If it doesn’t, fuck it.

Just don’t be a dick.

The post The Timeline Of Becoming Human Again After A Weekend Of Terrible Decisions appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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apsbicepstraining · 7 years

Text

The Timeline Of Becoming Human Again After A Weekend Of Terrible Decisions

Memorial Day Weekend is traditionally acknowledged as the kickoff for a summer of beach trip-ups, backyard beers and relentless tit sweat.

MDW is also my birthday weekend, which constructs my already skewed, drunken decision-making and self-care that much poorer.

Is it possible to hop back into the scheduleof a responsible adult after a summer weekend of unadulterated fuckery?

I needed to be purified. For the coming week( ish ), I plan to document my seamless alteration into a well-rounded, health, sober human being who loves home cooking and early mornings.

Degenerates can have it all, too.

Tuesday, May 31: Welcome To A New Me, Assholes

Before getting clean, I sit on the settle and suck cold coffee I stuck in the fridge the darknes before in an admirable ordinance of #MealPrep and #SelfLove. It’s merely OK.

Seconds pass. I embark Googling healers who admit my new guarantee, rapidly coming to expressions with the facts of the case a therapy-free life is a dystopian barren for me and everyone I love.

I stand in the checkout expanse next to my large-scale girl buy, mutely praising those lucky enough to witness me expending $350 on something other than alcohol and fancy potatoes.

8 pm : I snack a veggie burger patty and a container of sauted kale for dinner. So many nutrients! I want to die, kind of.

Me: U can’t use the black thumbs up emoji, Charlotte, that’s racist.

Roommate: I feel bad shedding all my emoji white-hot. Like Hollywood.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) June 1, 2016

Remember where reference is all caused Cara Delevignenevne a Nobel prize for I approximate having almost a personality

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) April 20, 2016

Pitbull is proof the Harry Potter universe is jolly since he’s certainly retired Miami Voldemort.

— Taylor Ortega (@ taylor_ortega) October 8, 2015

Sexism in Hollywood: no one asked for MORE David Schwimmer, hitherto here we are

— Charlotte Barnett (@ CHARBAR) May 5, 2016

We are advanced humen capable of enjoying and losing without hysterium. My leg hemorrhages the whole time, but he doesn’t say anything.

Wednesday, June 1: 24 Hours Might As Well Be A Million Years

Thursday, June 2: You’re Not Better Than Me

Fruit is delicious and beautiful, but it’s not magic. Trans fatties? Those are magic.

Over the past few decades, the meat industry in its own country has obtained a method to deliver us orgasmically yummy plows made from ingredients that just characterize as edible.

God bless America. I would dismembera live stranger with my bare hands for a Drake’s Cake.

Friday, June 3: Fuck This Stupid Lifestyle Change

I don’t need to be better at living. I’m already amazingat living.

I have a relatively helpful magnitude from a commonwealth institution I begrudgingly attended following a substantial nervous breakdown at artwork school.

I have a task I enjoy and show up to every day in a semi-punctual, enthusiastic manner.

I have never missed a rent payment on anapartment I’m hesitantto show to gentleman callersbecause, fine, it’s like walking into an immersive trailer for “Grey Gardens.”

I have two floras in my room that, despite being half dead, are also half thriving.

I recently met, and then instantly deleted, two separate dating apps that attained me feel like a judgmental elitist/ future carnage victim.

I showered this morning.

I have never physically tortured or killed an animal or human, which I suspect is a concept the majority of members of us haven’t done, but that probably shouldn’t disrepute my achievement.

Self-improvement must be somewhat important, seeing as Americans waste billions of dollars per year trying to rift it, but perhaps, for the majority of us, it’s bullshit.

Stop being a dick to strangers, to friends, to lineage, to your form, to your psyche, to the environment, to Anne Hathaway, to jerks and to enemies.

I’m tired, you guys. Life is tiring.

Just don’t be a dick.

The post The Timeline Of Becoming Human Again After A Weekend Of Terrible Decisions appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2wqQhbW via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress

0 notes