#ameteur tattoo

[crucialfox]

Im a good girl 😉

#tattoos #on my knees #black and white #hippie #long hair #cute egirl #photoshoot #fun with filters #ameteur #photography #selfiie #onlyf@nz #stoner babe #just chillin

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Cops & Robbers 🔞

Chapter 9

Tags: Torture

A/N: Hang on kids, this chapter is a wild fucking ride. Also I apologize to Stays for what I’ve done

“You’re late,” Hyunjae said as Eric walked into the basement living area.

“I got caught up. Didn’t want to end up in jail again,” Eric replied, sitting next to his brother. Everyone except Younghoon was assembled and watching Juyeon type something on his phone.

“Hak will be here in about half an hour,” Juyeon announced as he put his phone back in his pocket.

“You called Hak?” Sunwoo’s jaw dropped.

“I called Mingi first, but then decided I wanted a more hands on approach,” Juyeon replied.

“You must really love Younghoon if you called the modern day Torquemada,” Hyunjae said.

“I do,” Juyeon’s tone didn’t allow for any additional opinions.

“Um…question?” Eric raised his hand.

“Yes?” Juyeon looked at him.

“Who’s Hak?” He asked.

“Ju Haknyeon, he’s a professional torturer,” Changmin replied.

“A what?” Eric stared at him.

“He enjoys inflicting pain in exchange for information. You’ll live, but you’ll wish you were dead,” Hyunjae explained.

“So, like, worse than Younghoon?” Eric questioned.

“What happened to Younghoon was ameteur hour compared to what Hak can, and does, do,” Changmin told him. Eric went pale.

“I didn’t make this decision lightly. I hope you’re aware of that,” Juyeon said. They all nodded. “Hyunjae, keep an eye on our guest. Changmin, let me know when Hak gets here.” Juyeon went back upstairs to tell Younghoon what he’d done.

“Hyunjae said you still need me to identify him,” Younghoon replied once Juyeon explained himself.

“Well, yes, but…” Juyeon began.

“You promised me,” Younghoon reminded him.

“You’re right. I did,” Juyeon nodded. He led Younghoon back to the basement. The last time he’d been down there, he’d just stumbled into the house after being tortured. Younghoon tried to shake his anxiety when they stopped outside the door.

“I need to do this alone,” he looked at Juyeon.

“Are you sure?” Juyeon asked.

“I am,” Younghoon nodded.

“Hyunjae is in there right now. I’ll wait here,” Juyeon replied.

“Thank you,” Younghoon touched the other man’s cheek before opening the door. Hyunjae was sitting in a chair across from another man handcuffed to a chair that was bolted to the floor. He had a star tattoo on his ring finger.

“We meet again,” he smirked.

“I didn’t catch your name last time,” Younghoon wasn’t taking the bait.

“Changbin,” Hyunjae supplied. Younghoon and Changbin stared at each other for a painfully long minute.

“Give me your gun,” Younghoon held his hand out.

“What?” Hyunjae was taken aback. Younghoon kept his eyes on Hyunjae. He reluctantly handed his gun over.

“You gonna kill me?” Changbin taunted.

“Hardly,” Younghoon replied and shot him in the knee. “I thought I’d return the favor of letting you live.”

His ears were ringing from firing a gun in an enclosed space. Changbin was screaming. Hyunjae was frozen in place.

“Shut up or I’ll shoot out the other one,” Younghoon snapped. He aimed at Changbin’s other knee. He closed his mouth. “That’s more like it.”

“Younghoon…” Hyunjae began.

“You might want to leave so if you’re subpoenaed in court you can honestly say you don’t know what happened,” Younghoon told him. Hyunjae hesitated. “Do I have to order you to leave?”

“I’m going,” Hyunjae held up his hands and backed out of the room. Younghoon turned his attention back to Changbin.

“Were you one of the ones who shot Chanhee?” He asked. Changbin didn’t reply. Younghoon waited for a moment before hitting him across the face with the gun. “Answer me.” His voice was ice.

“Yes,” he admitted, spitting out a wad of blood.

“Why? I told you that he didn’t know anything,” Younghoon stared him down.

“I was just doing my job,” he replied.

“Just doing your job? Killing an innocent person is just doing your job?” Younghoon demanded.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the good guy here?” The other man asked.

“I am the good guy,” Younghoon said. He shot his other knee. “I didn’t kill you when I could have.”

Hyunjae and Juyeon were waiting on the other side of the door.

“Let Hak have him. I’m done,” Younghoon returned Hyunjae’s gun. “Tell him to leave him alive.”

“Okay,” all the color drained out of Hyunjae’s face.

“Babe, can I talk to you for a minute?” Juyeon asked. Younghoon didn’t have time to reply before Juyeon was leading him back upstairs. He sat Younghoon on the bed. “I know you’re upset, but this isn’t you. Torturing someone isn’t you.”

“He deserved it! It’s not torture if it’s the right thing to do! He can’t walk around without any consequences and I made sure he can’t walk at all!” Younghoon exploded. Juyeon jumped and Bori scurried under the bed. “You don’t know who I am, Juyeon.”

“Except I do know who you are. You’re the one who always follows the rules. You’re the one who drives me crazy because you never question them. I drive you crazy because I don’t believe in rules. Shooting someone’s legs out isn’t following any rule that I know of. I know you’re angry and hurting. Let me do the dirty work. I don’t want to see you turn into someone you’re not because of something I asked you to do,” Juyeon held Younghoon’s hands.

“So I can blame you for all of this? Chanhee’s death? Being tortured?” Younghoon breathed.

“I’d let you hate me, actually legitimately hate me, for the rest of our lives if it means you stay the good guy I know you are,” Juyeon replied.

“Would you let me walk out that door right now and never speak to you again?” Younghoon asked.

“If that’s what you want,” Juyeon said. Younghoon watched him intently. He’d never seen Juyeon like this. It sounded like he was in pain.

“I can’t just let this go,” Younghoon told him.

“I know, darling. I don’t have to know every detail to know what they did to you was horrific. You know me well enough to know that I rarely resort to violence. I only do it if I feel like I don’t have another choice. They left you with your friend’s corpse, they beat you, they restrained you, they cut you. I’m not expecting you to get over that. You probably never will. I love you, Kim Younghoon. Even if you leave me right now, I’ll never stop loving you,” Juyeon rested their foreheads together.

“You’re an idiot,” hot tears started falling down Younghoon’s cheeks.

“I am,” Juyeon chuckled.

“I can’t promise I won’t ask for 2 minutes alone with the boss when you find him,” Younghoon told him.

“And I promise that I’ll only give you 30 seconds and no weapon,” Juyeon replied.

“I was top of my class in hand to hand combat,” Younghoon reminded him.

“Oh I remember. You’ve got a mean left hook,” Juyeon smiled. He wiped Younghoon’s tears away with his thumb.

“You know that’s a hell of a way to tell someone you love them,” Younghoon whispered.

“Would you prefer I still say I hate you?” Juyeon asked.

“I like this better,” Younghoon kissed him.

“Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend now? Everyone else has for weeks,” Juyeon returned the kiss.

“Only weeks? I thought it had been years,” Younghoon teased.

“I guess if you want to split hairs, I’ve loved you longer than I haven’t loved you. We were just too busy trying to kill each other in the name of the law. Whatever that meant,” Juyeon replied.

“I don’t want to go back,” Younghoon confessed.

“To being a cop?” Juyeon asked.

“To my old life,” Younghoon clarified.

“Gotten used to living in the lap of luxury?” His boyfriend teased.

“Gotten used to not being alone, though not having to worry about paying rent is nice,” he said.

“People aren’t supposed to be alone. We’re supposed to have friends,” Juyeon replied.

“Chanhee was my only friend,” Younghoon sniffed.

“You had me. You have me,” Juyeon pointed out.

“I’m not sure I’d call that friendship. More like an unhealthy obsession,” Younghoon said.

“It was mutual,” Juyeon rubbed soothing circles on Younghoon’s back. Younghoon rested his head on Juyeon’s shoulder.

“Tired,” he sighed.

“You are still healing,” Juyeon replied.

“Not that. Seeing one of the people who killed my best friend and then doing what I’ve wanted to do since the beginning,” Younghoon said.

“Shoot him?” Juyeon laid back and cuddled the other man into his side.

“Making him hurt. Making him live with the reminder that he didn’t get away with it,” Younghoon replied. “Who killed the other one?”

“Haven’t figured that out yet. It was a shot to the back of his head that Changmin had to work to find,” Juyeon said.

“Work?” Younghoon replied.

“Poking a corpse isn’t all beer and Skittles,” Juyeon told him.

“That sounds like a disgusting combination,” Younghoon made a face.

“It’s Victorian slang. Skittles was a game,” Juyeon grinned. Younghoon shook his head. Juyeon’s phone went off. “And Hak is here. He’s not too happy you started without him.”

“Tell him I’m sorry not sorry,” the other man replied.

“I think he’ll forgive you,” Juyeon stood up. “You okay?”

“I need to apologize to Bori,” Younghoon told him and got up to get the bag of treats to coax the puppy out from under the bed.

“Good idea,” Juyeon gave him a peck on the lips. Younghoon was crouched by the bed when his phone buzzed. Sunwoo got him a new phone with better service in spite of Juyeon’s protests.

Unknown Number: How are you?

Younghoon stared at the message. Sunwoo also programmed everyone’s numbers.

Younghoon: Who is this?

Unknown Number: Hyunjin

Younghoon almost dropped the phone.

Younghoon: How did you get this number?

Hyunjin: You of all people should know I’m resourceful

Younghoon: Prove it

There was a long pause.

Hyunjin: You’ve got a birthmark on the inside of your left thigh and a scar on your right side from your first fight with Juyeon. You’re a chronic insomniac with a secret LOL account that you play when you can’t sleep. Should I continue?

Younghoon hit the “call” button.

“Hi there,” the familiar voice greeted.

“You’re the last person I expected to hear from,” Younghoon said.

“What? I can’t check on my ex when I heard he disappeared over a month ago?” Hyunjin asked.

“You’ve got some balls,” Younghoon huffed.

“They’re still attached last time I checked. Should I send you proof?” the other man snarked.

“Seriously, what do you want?” Younghoon sighed.

“I wanted to see if you’re okay. I know what I heard and it wasn’t anything good,” Hyunjin’s tone softened. “Strictly speaking I shouldn’t be talking to you at all.”

“Why’s that?” Younghoon asked.

“My new employer isn’t fond of us associating with law enforcement,” Hyunjin told him.

“You can tell them they don’t have to worry about that. I decided to quit,” Younghoon replied.

“Really?” Hyunjin poorly concealed his surprise.

“Ignoring the fact I’m a kept man now, I got Chanhee killed. Can’t really run afoul of the mafia if I’m not chasing them anymore,” Younghoon confessed. There was silence on the other end.

“You’re fucking Juyeon?”

“Not much fucking going on thanks to a rib injury and my nose isn’t quite healed yet. However he told me he loves me and we’re boyfriends now which sounds a little silly when you’re in your 30s,” Younghoon explained.

“That was not on my 2023 bingo card,” Hyunjin replied.

“It wasn’t on my life bingo card,” Younghoon laughed a little.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened. I just heard through the usual channels that you were missing and wanted to see…” Hyunjin trailed off.

“That I was still alive?” Younghoon finished.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Thank you,” Younghoon smiled.

“I know our relationship wasn’t exactly conventional and we didn’t work out for a reason, but I did…do…care about you,” the other man admitted.

“I care about you too,” Younghoon agreed. “You’re okay?”

“As okay as a hooker can be. Though my clients are higher class now. Turns out having someone screen them first is actually a good thing. I might go so far as to call myself an escort now,” Hyunjin told him.

“Congratulations on the promotion?” Younghoon ventured. Bori came out from under the bed and barked. Younghoon realized he still had the treats in his hand.

“Was that a dog?” Hyunjin asked.

“Juyeon got me a puppy,” Younghoon replied sheepishly.

“Damn, you are doing well for yourself these days,” Hyunjin joked. Younghoon thought for a moment.

“Do you want to see her?” he asked.

“You’re actually offering to send me a picture?” Hyunjin questioned.

“I seem to recall you were fond of dogs. No obscene photos back though,” Younghoon replied.

“Nothing obscene, I promise,” Hyunjin laughed.

“Let’s see if I can do this without hanging up on you,” Younghoon said.

“I should probably go anyway. I’m not supposed to have this number, right?” the other man replied.

“No, you’re not,” Younghoon confirmed.

“Looking forward to pics of your new baby,” Younghoon heard the smile in Hyunjin’s voice.

“She’s pretty cute,” he said.

“I’m sure,” Hyunjin agreed. He paused. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too,” Younghoon smiled. “Thanks for checking.”

“Anytime,” he replied.

“Bye Jinnie,”

“Bye Hoonie,”

Hyunjin grinned as he looked through the pictures Younghoon sent of the puppy.

“What are you grinning at?” Felix asked as he walked up behind him. Hyunjin quickly locked the screen.

My ex boyfriend’s puppy that his boyfriend and your main competitor sent me, he thought.

“Cute animals,” he replied.

“Of course,” Felix rolled his eyes. “I sent you information for your new client. He’s scheduled for tonight.”

“That’s not much time,” Hyunjin observed.

“When he pays twice the normal rate, you’re free anytime,” the other man told him. Not many people could afford Hyunjin’s normal rate, much less twice that.

“Guess I’ll start reading,” he replied.

“You will start reading and you better look your best,” Felix gave him a pointed look.

“Then you better send Jeongin to the boutique,” Hyunjin opened his email and clicked on the attachment. His jaw dropped when he saw the name. “Is this right?”

“He called and requested you personally,” Felix confirmed.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin said under his breath.

“And you better do it well,” his boss said. “I’ll send Jeongin now. I assume your measurements haven’t changed?”

“No,” Hyunjin was still staring at the name. He didn’t hear Felix’s reply and barely registered him walking away.

The mayor.

#the boyz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #mafia au #crossover ships #minors dni

[inspirelocked]

Got my first tattoos yesterday! They're not painful anymore but they are sensitive.

The Semicolon is about suicide and hope for continuing on, and the Strawberry is a personal meaning about love and tangible affection

#inspire screaming #art #tattoos #strawberry #semicolon #tattoo art #my friend did these :) #ameteur tattoo #meaningful #inspirational #be yourself #wrists #me

[rose-tinted-glazz]

#blackandwhitephoto #body positive #body goals #my body #body #thick girls #thick thighs #thick #tattooed girls #girls with piercings #tattooed #tattoo #tattoos #girls with tattoos #ameteur

[ihavebrainworms]

my stick and pokes when they were fresh and new

#mine #tattoos #stick and poke #ink #self made #trans #fashion #walmart #old #harry potter #male #ameteur

[mishervellous]

(cw: mentions of child abuse, anxiety and panic attacks)

[this is a continuation of this tiny thing I wrote a while back. you don’t need to read it in order to understand this one though. happy bday dear Mick 💙🥰]

Ian should’ve known something was up the moment Mickey decided to spend his 27th birthday in a rented West Side club with a shiny piano, and not much else inside.

Mickey had explicitly asked him not to plan any of his usual birthday shenanigans—no surprise parties, no dates, no family dinners. He had something in mind to do already planned for that day.

Ian had complied. It didn’t seem to him like one of those times in which Mickey would tell him not to do something while secretly hoping Ian would do that exact thing. It didn’t have any hidden meaning; they had somewhere to be already, apparently.

So on August 10th, after a few rounds of well deserved birthday sex, Mickey takes his hand, and drives them down the West Side streets. They end up at The Drunken Chair, a jazzy bar type of thing that Ian has only seen in passing. It seems a little fancy, and hipster-like for Mickey’s taste—but when they make their way inside the place is empty, void of any ameteur slam poets, and what have you (It is two pm on a Tuesday, afterall).

Well, empty except for a black grand piano, and some expensive chairs.

When Ian finally realizes what’s going on, he grips Mickey’s hand a little tighter, stopping in his tracks, and giving Mickey a surprised expression. Mickey grips his hand back.

“No way.” Ian can feel a smile spreading on his face, and as Mickey turns towards him he’s trying so hard to look annoyed—but Ian can clearly see his husband’s happiness seeping through, disregarding his what’s it to you? raised brow completely. “Are you gonna play for me?”

“No. We’re gonna smash this thing just for the fuck of it.” Mickey rolls his eyes, wearing now a small smile of his own when he tugs at their clasped hands. “C’mon.”

Ian is absolutely ecstatic about this turn of events. It feels like it’s his birthday rather than Mickey’s.

“I should be the one surprising you.” He sits down by the left side of the piano, resting his arms on the wooden, lacquered surface, and nesting his head there. “I mean, I appreciate the gift—but it’s your birthday.”

“Exactly, it’s my birthday. Don’t I get to do what I want?” When Ian just nods, Mickey nods back. “Good. I wanna do this.”

Ian watches as Mickey lifts the green velvety cover, exposing the ivory piano keys underneath; as he lets his beautiful hands roam over them without ever pressing one. It gets him a little emotional, even in the emptiness of the still silent room. Ian knows that what he’s about to witness is something incredibly special, and personal to his husband. The fact that he’s sharing this with him fills Ian up with joy.

“What are you gonna play?”

Mickey looks at him, a smirk on his pretty face. He stops to really stare at Ian then, and he gets this intense look in his eyes. Like he’s seeing something precious, and he wants to commit it to memory. The feeling is mutual. “Just shut up and listen.”

The moment Mickey finally starts playing, a lot unfolds in Ian’s brain.

First of all, the contrasting visual is exactly everything Ian had imagined it would be. Mickey’s tattooed hands that Ian has seen hurt, and hurting so many times in so many ways look perfect as they dance on the piano keys. Their ivory color matches his husband’s pale skin, and his fingers move so delicately on them Ian is now sure he’s gonna tear up at some point.

The next thing is holy shit is Mickey good at this. Ian had no doubts about it for some reason. He knew this was something Mickey was actually great at from the moment he had looked so spooked when talking about it a couple of weeks back. People in Mickey’s life usually took the things he enjoyed, and was good at away from him—so it was easy for Ian to connect the dots.

And the last thing—the last thing is something unknown. Something Ian can’t really pin point right away, but when Mickey sneaks a side glance at him something clicks.

Ian’s eyes widen, because all of a sudden he knows.

And he knows that Mickey already knew. The way he’s smiling his way tells Ian that his husband remembered all along.

Mickey just keeps playing, and playing.

Michelle, ma belle / Sont les mots qui vont très bien ensemble /Très bien ensemble

August 10, 2001

As the spacious living room fills up with people, Mickey gets even more nervous than he already was.

He knew that his aunt’s idea was a bad one; Mickey doesn’t need a birthday party—he knows this because he’s never had one before, and it never bothered him that much.

Mickey loves aunt Nina, and he’s grateful that he gets to spend his time away from home with her—he’d rather spend it with his mom to be honest, but she’s been on a trip for quite some time now so his aunt will do.

Somehow Mickey suspects his mom won’t come back to Chicago any time soon.

Whatever. Anything’s better than staying at home with his father anyway.

As every kid in the neighborhood pours into the decked living room, he thinks that he’d gladly trade in the company of all these strangers for an afternoon spent eating Pop Tarts, and watching cartoons with Mandy—but his little sister doesn’t like staying with aunt Nina.

Mickey misses her.

“C’mon Mikhailo.” Aunt Nina pats his shoulder. When he looks up at her, she’s smiling. “Go say hi to them.”

“I don’t wanna.” Mickey doesn’t usually say no when an adult is asking something of him. But when he stays with aunt Nina he feels a little courageous; like he can be a little petulant, and difficult from time to time. Like he can say no to something without getting beaten with a belt right after. “I dunno them.”

Aunt Nina’s smile is a little sadder now. Mickey makes her sad sometimes, though he doesn’t know why. “I know, ridna. That’s why we’re doing this, no? So you can get to know them.”

He doesn’t tell her that it doesn’t matter anyway. That when Terry gets out of jail, he’ll have to go back to scowl at them, and be mean to them because he’s a Milkovich, and nobody messes with a Milkovich. Mickey just sighs, scratching the Looney Tunes bandaid on the bridge of his nose.

“Look who came!” Aunt Nina chirps, pointing in the direction of the front door. Mickey does look—only to roll his eyes right after.

Frank Gallagher’s kids are making their way into his aunt’s living room. He recognizes Phillip from his grade, but that’s pretty much it. Terry told him that the Gallaghers are the worst kind of street rats, leeching everywhere they can, so interacting with them means trouble.

“C’mon baby, go have some fun.” And with that, his aunt goes into the living room to greet the newcomers, leaving Mickey alone on his spot on the staircase. He sighs again, letting his eyes roam over the small crowd downstairs—a mop of unruly red hair briefly catching his eyes.

Whatever. He stands up, putting on his best menacing face—he’s getting better at it; it’s getting easier to put this mask on—before making his way into the living room too.

Someone greets him, wishes him a happy birthday. He just nods nonchalantly their way, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his shorts.

“Hey, Milkovich.” Mickey turns around at the sound of that voice. Phillip is looking at him with a lopsided smirk on his face. “Happy birthday.”

“Whatever.” But then Mickey remembers where he is. He’s safe here. His shoulders sag as he adds a mumbled, “Thanks.”

“We couldn’t get you anything.” An older kid with these impressive big brown eyes chimes in then. She must be nine, or ten, but she looks way older than that. He figures she’s one of Phillip’s siblings. “But you can come by the house whenever you want and I can cook you spaghetti.”

Mickey shrugs. He knows that won’t happen any time soon but he appreciates her offer nonetheless. He feels a hand tugging at his arm, and he instinctively shrugs it off before turning around. Another set of huge, expressive eyes are looking at him. This time they’re green. They’re so involuntary scrutinizing it takes Mickey a moment to realize they belong to the same mop of red hair he saw earlier.

“Happy birthday!” The kid—he must be five, or something—smiles, some teeth missing, and leaving him with a dumb gapey grin. His face is covered in freckles. He looks goofy all around. “I brought you something, huh—what’s your name?” As he says so, he starts intently searching in the pockets of his pants.

Mickey huffs. Dorky kid. “Mickey.”

“This is for you, Mick!” He opens one of his freckled hands, and a small beer bottle cap shines from his palm. “It’s from my own collection.”

“Yeah, great gift there Ian.” Phillip says then, rolling his eyes. The redhead—Ian—turns around sharply, pushing him.

“It’s something important to me!”

“It’s just a bottle cap.”

“I like it.” Mickey says. It’s so abrupt it makes both Phillip, and Ian turn towards him. He takes the cap from Ian’s hand, pocketing it. He doesn’t know why, but he wants Phillip to stop picking on Ian for his choice in gifts. It might be just a worthless thing, but it is important to Ian—so that must mean something. “Thanks.”

Ian’s megawatt smile returns then. Mickey feels himself blush, and he’s glad Ian has turned around so he doesn’t get to see him all flushed. Terry would slap him for it.

“See? Mickey likes it!”

“He’s just saying it to be nice.”

“No he’s not!”

And there they go, pushing each other—their older sister trying to separate them. It makes Mickey smirk. They sure are obnoxious, but the Gallaghers don't seem all that bad.

He even kinda likes the small, red one. Almost.

What he doesn’t like, though, is the feeling of this many people crowding one of his most sacred spaces. Mickey doesn’t have much, and he doesn’t think he would care about it if this party was taking place at the Milkovich house. But this—this place is his safe haven. This is personal to him, and as the afternoon progresses it’s getting harder, and harder to talk with them, to interact. At some point it gets hard to breathe too.

Mickey manages to sneak out just as his aunt excuses herself to go grab the cake she made for him that morning from the kitchen. Mickey books it out of there the moment she disappears into the other room.

He doesn’t know why this is affecting him so much. Maybe it’s just the sheer amount of people suddenly talking, and taking an interest in him. Maybe it’s the understanding that as soon as his father gets out of jail next month he won’t get to have any of this anymore. So the thought of getting attached only to lose everything is so painful it makes it hard to breathe. It almost makes him cry—almost, though. He’s a Milkovich afterall; he doesn’t cry.

As soon as he gets to the piano room, he slams the door shut, leaning on it. The air feels lighter already, and Mickey can finally take a proper lungful of air. The birthday decor didn’t make it into this particular room, and he’s honestly glad for it. He just wants to forget about his birthday, and the people in the living room, and the chocolate cake with so much whipped cream on top it looks silly.

Because Mickey knows none of it is real. Rather, he knows that this is real right now—but it won’t be for much longer. He doesn’t want to indulge. He can’t let himself hope.

Hope is dangerous, because if he follows its trail he will inevitably hit a wall. And he’s tired of banging his head on it over, and over again.

Mickey sits down in front of his aunt’s piano. It’s uncovered because they were playing right before the party had started. He wishes they could send all of those people home, and play some more.

He loves playing the piano because aunt Nina tells him he’s good at it. Because nobody is there to yell at him about how faggy, or dumb playing the piano is. He loves it so much, loves getting lost in its sound. Pretending he can hear this instead of the loud noises in his house, forever.

Speaking of loud noises: a commotion from outside makes him stop dead in his tracks. He retracts his hands from the keys, and for a moment he thinks that his father is about to burst into the room, and take him away. When the door opens, he’s ready to fight.

Instead—it’s the same head of red hair from before sneaking into the room, and closing the door behind himself. Ian is out of breath, a smile on his face, and specks of what appears to be whipped cream dotting his lips, and nose.

Mickey freezes, staring as Ian makes his way deeper into the room. He clenches his fists; this room is even more personal than the living room is. This is a place not even Mandy gets to see Mickey in.

“What are you doing here?”

Ian comically jumps when Mickey’s voice thunders in the silent room. He turns around towards Mickey, scratching the back of his left hand, and looking all guilty. “Sorry.”

Mickey is about to tell him to leave him alone just as Ian starts taking in his surroundings. Just as he spots the piano.

“Oh! So cool!” His big smile is back on the next second, and he goes to place his—probably sticky—hand on the keys. Mickey stops him.

“Don’t touch it. You’re gonna get it all gross.”

Ian bats his eyelids at him, a little confused. He shrugs. Not looking intimidated by Mickey’s tone at all, he makes his way on the left side of the piano, clumsily climbing on a chair, and cleaning his hands on his pants before crossing his arms on the wooden, lacquered surface. “Do you play?”

Mickey shrugs. He avoids making eye contact with Ian’s green eyes.

“Will you play for me?”

“Hell no, Gallagher.” Mickey crosses his arms on his chest, trying to come across as intimidating. Of course it doesn’t work.

“Please?” Ian’s smile is smaller, and softer. He looks like aunt Nina’s labrador when she wants some of his chicken tenders.

He should say no. He should make Ian leave, physically push him out of here if he needs to. But for some reason, he doesn’t. Instead, he just rolls his eyes. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

Ian disregards that completely. “Do you know how to play Michelle?”

He does know how to play that song. He doesn’t want to tell Ian, though. “The Beatles are lame.”

“No they’re not! Please, they’re my mom’s favorite.” Then he adds, like he’s had the best realization ever, “And it’s like Mickey but, a girl. Michelle!”

Mickey should beat him up. Should yell at him. He can hear his father’s voice instructing him to do so. But he let Ian into the room already. There’s little he can do to stop the blush on his cheeks, and the heat on the tip of his ears from spreading. He feels like smiling instead. This kid is a dork, but Mickey really doesn’t mind him. “That ain’t my name.”

But Ian isn’t listening. He’s looking at him expectantly. His green eyes are so round and big, and eloquent. He looks goofy like that, half of his face covered by his freckled arm. Looking at Mickey like his attention is not only all for him, but it’s worthwhile right where it lays, waiting for Mickey to start playing.

Mickey looks back. He bites his lower lip.

He should threaten him. He should never let anyone see this side of him.

But Ian Gallagher is looking at him like that. So he eventually starts playing.

And for some reason—Mickey doesn’t know why—he doesn’t want this to be the last time he plays for Ian.

As he tentatively presses the keys to the song, and Ian sings the chorus in this hilariously broken French, deep down he knows it won’t be.

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich birthday boy my beloved!! #child fic #we learn more about mickey ‘piano man’ milkovich 😮‍💨 #happy bday baby!!! 💙💙💙 #my writing #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fanart #ian gallagher #gallavich fic

[high-way-hypnosis]

#girl #coffee #photography #art #sexy #sexygirlart #tattoos #girlswithtattoos #blonde #ametuer photography #ameteur

[yoonjinkooked]

the blind date | jhs

(using this gif because it’s lillia’s favorite hobi (one of) and it’s the one i describe in the drabble but it’s in no way connected to the plot)

Pairing: Hoseok x (f) reader

Genre: Blind Date AU, fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Cursing, Boy Meets Evil Hobi, he has a tattoo and is super datable

Synopsis: You go on a blind date. The end. 

Keywords I had to use: fishes, worms, plastic fork, the hag, textbook, tiefling (I AM NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS FOR SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T KNOW D&D TO MAKE D&D REFERENCES?!)

A/N: Okay, so first of all, happy birthday @moccahobi​!!!! - this one is for you and I REALLY hope you enjoy it (it wasn’t easy, we barely know each other, but i hope it suits your taste 🥺🧡) a huge thank you to @casuallyimagining​ for saving my butt with the D&D language AND sneaking info about Lillia in order to hit the nail on the head with this one LOL.  it’s a drabble, i struggled with it, honestly - don’t expect war&peace - i just wanted to write something cute

You don’t do blind dates. Full stop. One horrible experience was enough for you to decide to forever refuse blind date suggestions - even when they were coming from your closest friends.

That’s exactly why it took Yoongi literal years to convince you to go out with his childhood friend - according to him, he is the perfect guy and deserves the world, so whenever he happened to be single, Yoongi would try to literally force-feed him to you. For years, you have refused - until last week. Admittedly, you changed your mind only to shut him up - one torturous night with “the perfect guy” is a small price to pay if it means you could get Yoongi off your case.

So you decided to make an effort, put on a cute shirt and the jeans that make your ass look world class and even remembered to put on some perfume before leaving your apartment - and you even managed to arrive on time. And whatever it is that you were expecting, Hoseok was definitely not it.

In a white button up, with hair a shade of orange that you think wouldn’t suit anyone else in the world except for him, paired with a smile for miles, he was already waiting for you. Just by appearance alone, he was everything you didn’t even know you wanted and as soon as your brain resumed normal activity after a brief short circuit, you had managed to smile back.

Bright and talkative, with a smile that can brighten up the entire room, he looked you in the eyes and asked you many questions - listening to every word that left your mouth. And you asked him too, everything you could think of, questions you haven’t asked anyone before - from the classic ones about his favorite color all the way to whether or not he believes in aliens and if he thinks fish have soulmates.

With every answer, every sentence out of his perfectly shaped mouth (still stretch into a smile, of course), you found yourself sinking further - both in your chair and in your mind, amazed at how… interesting the man sitting on the other side of the table is - and how easily you could have missed the opportunity to meet him if you still stuck your ground and insisted that you don’t do blind dates.

“So, he sits up, right?” Hoseok explains as he waves his hands about. “And he’s wondering what the hell he sat on - lo and behold, he turned around and not only did he sit down on his own plate of cake, but he had a plastic fork poking at his butt.”

“Please tell me you have pictures,” you deadpan, hoping that besides being a hot ass date, Hoseok can also be a dealer for Yoongi blackmail material - you’re running low on your stash.

“Who do you think I am, an ameteur?” he jokes, reaching for his phone as you laugh - before he can get a chance to fish the phone out of his pocket, you notice something you haven’t seen before - a hint of ink on his skin, peeking from underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“Is that a tattoo?” you wonder, pleasantly surprised. Hot, cute, funny, good conversationalist and on top of it all - a badass. Jackpot.

“Oh, yeah,” he laughs, dropping the idea of showing you that picture of Yoongi in order to roll up his sleeve more so that you can see the tattoo properly.

Min Yoongi, you bastard.

“So you’re into tabletop games, huh?” you can’t help but smile at the sight of a 20-sided dice on his forearm. Is he real? Or are you having an incredibly vivid dream? Because there’s no way in hell that the stars can align like this - no way. Absolutely no way.

“Yeah,” he confirms - you can actually see that he’s having a similar realization - you have even more in common than you both had thought and maybe Yoongi wasn’t wrong at all when he said he has the perfect match for you both.

“What’s your character like?” you ask - normally, this would be a make it or break it situation for you, but even if Hoseok was to say something ludicrous, you have a feeling that you’d turn a blind eye to it, willingly and gladly. If there ever was a textbook example of the perfect guy for you (at least in theory), he’s sitting directly in front of you. No D&D sin would be enough to be a dealbreaker.

"Well, sometimes we change it up, but right now I'm a level 18 tiefling rogue. We're gearing up to take on Tiamat soon, and I'm soooo fucking underleveled,” his distraction is visible but it only makes you feel giddier, the more you watch him lose his trail of thought because he is so frustrated about D&D. “But my last character died to a hag a few dungeons ago, and... sorry. I'm rambling."

“No, I like that,” you find yourself shaking your head and smiling dumbly at him, knowing that at this rate, by the end of the night, you’ll be head over heels for him. “You know… if Yoongi had told me more about you, I think we would have had this date a lot sooner,” you admit - it’s not easy for you to find a way to tell him that you like him, without laying it all out in the open. Saying that Yoongi is an idiot for not discussing Hoseok, his personality and interests, in more depth with you is the safest way you can find to let him know that you’re enjoying the date more than you ever thought you could.

“Well, he should have said more about me, then,” he leans over the table, lowering his voice as he continues speaking. “But between you and me, I think now’s the perfect time.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve had years to find the answer to the most important question that was ever asked,” he continues, dead serious - which is such a switch compared to his beaming smile, you find yourself growing serious, too. And incredibly interested.

“What? What question?”

“Do you prefer gummy bears or gummy worms?”

You can’t hold in your laughter - for a moment there, you actually thought he was going to ask you something serious. Despite the uncontrollable laughter coming from you, he does his very best to remain stoic - although you can notice the corners of his lips going up. As you finally calm down, you decide to humor him. Well, somewhat. “Am I only limited to those two? No like… gummy cherries or teeth?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “Only worms or bears. Life or death. Pick one. Red pill, blue pill.”

“Well, I refuse to abide by those rules,” you huff. “And to limit myself to only one variety of gummy candy. My favorite are those… you know, the sour stringy... things but I love them all and I’ll eat them all, damn it!”

At first, he says nothing, leaning back in his chair and dropping his serious act to smile at you. You wonder if in a few years time, you’ll be able to look at this moment as the one that truly had started it all - the moment both of you have decided it’s worth a shot. Well, a proper shot - more than just a blind date your friend had forced you to go on. Because to you, right now, it feels like it could become one of those moments. And you can’t wait to find out if he thinks the same - and, of course, if your prediction ends up being true. All things considered, it’s a long shot - too much, too soon. But stranger things have happened and none of those stranger things have piqued your interest as much as Jung Hoseok is doing now.

“Wanna go and find some… sour stringy things after dinner?” he suggests.

“You know what - I’d love to.”

#hoseok fic #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts fic #hoseok fanfiction #thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet

[superbfaeriewren]

Hi, this is me

#floral #flowers #botanical #photography #ameteur photography #hydrangea #the antlers #hospice #hospice tattoo #the antlers tattoo #stretchedlobes #septum #yellow #nature #outdoors

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

okay, i read your last fic and adored the hell out of it. haven't read part 1 tho so forgive me if my question can be answered there. but can u elaborate more about the world? like, i dont really understand if the tattoo shop is a regular tattoo shop? guessing not. but can't really figure where the magic fit in it. also, if we're at it, do remus and roman have more tattoos then that one they did on each other? love you bunches!

i couldnt seem to stop talking so under a cut it goes lol

The verse is more of a Concept - Modern Tropey AUS (Coffee shops, tattoo parlors, flower shops, etc) BUT the whole universe is based in some vaguely-DND-ish magic world

so they have cell phones and cars, but also potions and magical cursed amulets, and everybody knows about these things (no masquarade)

i do have a few bits of more specific worldbuilding (some of which are touched on in Chaos Theory but not with any depth) though not NEARLY as much as i do for laoft

theres no such thing as “science” - natural phenomenon that we would consider science are called “terrene studies” and theyre still considered a branch of magic.

Wizards are roughly analogous to scientists/mathematicians of masters and/or doctorate levels (Logan in Chaos Theory is a Chaos Magic grad student)

Mages/magicians are like undergradlevel - magicians have a degree but you can be anameteur mage. So all magicians are mages but not all mages aremagicians

Witches and bards - kinda like art/humanities. You can go to college for it but youllget constant "but what can you dowith that" comments. And people talkabout being "talented" at it like they do art, likeits innate and not something you have to put effortinto

Virgil and Patton in are kitchen witches and brothers (they run the mentioned magical bakery in Tyndall Effect) and Virgil is constantly salty about it

Healers are medical professionals and, and for example, you can get in trouble for calling yourself a healer if you dont have a license - Virgil mentions that he sees a psych healer for his anxiety in Chaos Theory

there are both mundane tattoo shops and magical tattoo shops in the world - Remus and Roman’s (Grimm Brothers Studio) is the latter. They both make their own ink, which is magic/potionwork, and design the tattoos, which usually have sigils and runes worked into them.

Remus is an artificer (magic engineer, basically) and he makes all of the magical equipment (the tattoo guns, the autoclave - basically everything you’d find in a regular tattoo shop, he built, and its Also Magic)

And Roman is a bard - his tattoos usually have more complicated spells involved. He’s also got an Emergency Healing Certificate (read: first aid + knows one very low-grade healing spell) and he does all the piercings/body mods other than tattoos like say, getting your tongue split for that reason

oof this got long

and finally, both the twins are very, very tattooed and they both have a lot of piercings as well but i havent quite settled on exactly how many/where/what they are. I definitely wanna pin down Roman’s before i write the royality fic because i NEED Patton (respectfully) ogling inked-up punk-rock Roman in my life and i want Specifics Dammit!

#metaphysical determinism verse #mpd remus #mpd roman #sanders sides #give-me-a-minute-to-think #ask

[sinful-synder-blog]

“Its dangerous to go alone…”

#legend of zelda #triforce #nerd #nerdy girls #lingerie #garter #kneehighsox #thigh highs #colorado #me #ameteur #tattoo #tattoos #tattoed girls #fingertattoo #stockings #sexy #ametuer photography

[yeoldontknow]

F & M for the ask game? 👀

asjdlakjfl max of course you go for the jugular questions

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?asjflkasjfl yes literally so many omfg ok ill share a few for the main groups

EXO:

- CamBoy / ameteur porn star Baekhyun and his recently jobless YN best friend who starts to cam with him for money- Chef!Kyungsoo - a recently recovered drug addict/criminal who opens his own restaurant and takes in drug addict YN and teaches her to redirect her intensity into food- Homicide Detective!Minseok and YN who survives a brush with a serial killer- Tattoo Artist!Chanyeol and YN whos ex-fiance was killed during a street race - Fighter Pilot!Jongin and a series of his that is written entirely in letters

BTS:

- Symphonic orchestra AU - all members- 70s Porn stars Hoseok, Namjoon, and Taehyung- Museum curator!Taehyung and his corporate management wife who feel as though their marriage is failing because they cant bend for one another

F is under the cut because its long! 

send me a letter and lets chat fic!

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

From Currents:

‘I don’t know!’ you shout, turning to look at him as your dress slides off your body. ‘Love is supposed to be easy.’

‘You talk about how you want love,’ Jin hisses, moving towards you with heavy steps, ‘but you have no fucking clue what it is.’

Never have you seen Jin like this, wild, angry, alive. His cheeks are coloured and flushed, eyes dark, and tongue spitting venomous words into the atmosphere. They slither over your skin, making you feel damp and moist, body glistening with guilt.

‘Love is fucking hard,’ he continues, enunciating every word with precise inflections. ‘It’s painful and it hurts. It takes sacrifice, and it’s a fucking choice.’

‘But aren’t those choices supposed to be easy?’ Something about your voice feels like a plea, though you aren’t sure if you are begging him or yourself to understand. ‘Aren’t you supposed to want to make those choices?’

This simple sentence breaks your husband, makes him step back and regard you with a hollowed, sad expression.

‘You’re telling me,’ he begins, voice little more than a whisper, ‘that if push came to shove you really care so little about me that you’d just stop trying to make this work?’

You want to take it all back, make him understand that you would choose him, but he cuts you off the moment you part your lips to speak.

‘No,’ he says, lifting his hand to stop you. ‘Don’t answer that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you try.’

when i wrote this dialogue (and this whole story tbh) i was going through a really difficult time in my life. i was with someone i absolutely never should have been with from the jump, but i thought i could love him because i cared him about him and he mattered to me. it was a manipulative relationship towards the end, and currents really is me trying to figure out how love can bloom between two people who probably never would have been together unless someone told them to be. and this moment specifically, was me grappling with the adult responsibility of really loving someone. even when i read it now, far removed from that experience and with a healthier outlook on it and my choices, i still feel like this section of dialogue is raw. currents on a whole is probably the fic im most proud of, and this specific moment still makes me feel like i transcended something that trapped me to share the real pain of it with someone else.

#ask games #ditzymax

[rose-tinted-glazz]

Hi hi more booty

#blackandwhitephoto #body positive #tattooed girls #girls with piercings #thick girls #girls with tattoos #body #ameteur #body image #horror #horrorbabe #alternative #alternative aesthetic

[onimeia]

I see it, I like, I want, I got it 🎶

And by it I mean a $10 bottle of liqour cause that's all I could afford 😅

Follow me on instagram @onimeia

#personal #aesthetic #grunge #ameteur photography #selfie #tattood babe #no talent #selfie shame #tattoos #ametuer model #me #model #stoner #alcohol #alcoholic