#and when you compare it to like. rent prices. its like. oh. well in the grand scheme of things this isnt even half a months rent so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mvrkgeoli · 3 years

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GHOSTING

pairing: ghost!yuta x reader genre: kinda 50s - 60s au for yuta, ghost au, angst, some fluff, kinda mature..? word count: 5.3k warnings: a handful of satanic themes, mentions of death / killing, bittersweet ending i’m sorry author’s note: lowercase intended. this is my first kinda lengthy fic and um yea i hope u like c:

settling into a new place where you weren't familiar with sure was draining, especially when you barely knew anyone around along with a long drive that separated you from your already long time friends. you had to move to alleviate the time it took to travel to the university you recently got into. renting a flat for yourself to live alone was the first "adult achievement" you had overcome, as how your mother would word it out. what definitely stunned you was how cheap the place was, for a whole flat you thought it would have cost you a few more hundreds at least.

from what you heard from the small old building's landlord, not entirely in detail, the flat was apparently owned by multiple in the past. you didn't mind it at all, you couldn't let such a price go for a student like yourself already struggling, happy with the fact that it was somewhat already furnished, furniture sitting dusted probably by the time that had passed from the last owner. some things stayed from all the years the building went through, mainly only the furniture and appliances being changed through the years. mentally reminding yourself to thank your bestfriend doyoung for helping you find places with affordable prices after you finish settling in the last of your belongings.

a few weeks had passed, finding yourself in a comfortable position in your bed along with stress clouding your mind from all the requirements already building up in the first semester. not to mention all the weird happenings that had been going on, you didn't know if you were just tired or already gone crazy.

the first time something happened was the day after you settled in the flat. the blinds in your room shut by itself just when you were going to bed, it had reminded you to close them before you drifted off into your deep slumber to shut off any peeping toms, you paid no mind to it thinking it was meant to be and nudged you as your first blunder.

the most recent one was by far the creepiest. the feeling of breathing against your ear sent shivers down your spine, sitting up from your bed abruptly, breaking you off from your little nap. the past ones had always been short hasty movements from the furniture or your belongings, sure they alarmed and spooked you but in contrast to the breathing occurrence, it was slow and calm, it felt so close. it continued for as long as it could until your wake that night, the feeling savored in your head for the rest of the day.

which leads you to today, texting doyoung if he knew anything about the unit before he suggested it to you. watching the small bubbles bobbing in your screen as you waited for his response, a short message making its way into your sight after a few moments.

dodoie | today at 6:23 not that i know of?? all i know is someone living there before but you already knew that :0

you sent him a brief thank you before shifting to your laptop to look for answers yourself, only thinking about it now after the breathing incident. first looking up the address, only the map and pictures of the neighboring buildings coming up.

after some time, you sighed to yourself, searching the last thing you wanted to if any incidents had happened in the building. woefully, an old article from a newspaper front decades ago popped up. the title reading, “nakamoto yuta, found dead in apartment…” a picture of the boy was attached, he had black slightly grown out hair, his smile was so pure you found yourself with a growing frown on your face.

what came next however, was a wave of shock running through your body at the discovery, quickly opening a new tab to search for the said name.

“local student uncovered to be a satanist—“ you trailed off, rubbing the palms of your hands against your face in stress.

clicking on another link to a 4chan discussion about the recent discovery, you saw a bulletin about the boy and some photos of the very unit you were in. he was apparently a sweet boy from what the neighboring people said. a boy who had a bright fresh smile that could lighten up any mood, it was unexpected for him to be revealed as such a person.

there was a picture of a girl next to yuta named kaiju, said to be the boy’s lovely girlfriend. the two lived together and were seen as the perfect couple.

after hours of scrolling through the page, you found a small recording of an old interview of the girl crying. “i-it was tragic… he was the perfect man— i thought he was the perfect man..” she sobbed. you frowned at your screen, eyes widening when a clip of the apartment rolled. it showed the floorboards under their refrigerator being opened to reveal different notes and certain objects that were said to be used for satanism.

you sat up to run to the kitchen, bringing your laptop with you. you compared the clip to the room in front of you. a cabinet sat where the fridge you saw was in the clip, you sighed to yourself before setting down your laptop to pull the cabinet aside.

nose scrunching in distaste as below you unveiled dust and dead bugs, taking the first utensil you could reach, in this case; a fork. you pried on the wood beneath you, pulling your shirt up to cover your nose from the dust that spread from your tampering. the wood popped open with a loud thump, you peeked inside to face dark emptiness. there sat cobwebs and dust for who knows how long, your eyebrows furrowed as the thought of the government probably collecting everything that had concerned the incident.

just when you were going to put back the floorboards, a noise rattled into your ears. you flinched back at the sound before taking into consideration to shine your phone’s flashlight at the darkness it held. there you saw the emptiness clearer. before you gave up, you saw one of the sides with little scratches and indents in the corner.

taking the fork again, you attempted to pry another piece of wood open, unfortunately failing when the prongs of the fork bent along with the burn of your fingers from using all your strength trying to open the side.

“almost...”

the voice seemed so close to you, letting out a yelp as you snapped your head towards the voice’s direction to face the empty kitchen. your breaths were heavy, heart beating at a pace you think it hasn’t been in before, your figure trembling as you hurry to unlock your phone to send all the articles you had found about this “yuta” to doyoung.

you slept by the unit’s entrance door that night in case you had to escape in a hurry.

you woke up to knocking on your door, groggily getting up from the floor to stretching briefly.

“hold on..!” you stood up and checked the little peep hole to reveal your bestfriend along with another boy.

opening the door immediately to face the pair staring back at you with questioning faces.

“jesus, did you sleep under a couch or something?” the unannounced boy spoke up. doyoung nudging him with his elbow in response, turning back to you with a small smile.

“sorry about him, this is donghy—“ “haechan.” doyoung rolled his eyes as he was cut off before continuing, “‘haechan’ right- this is one of my distant cousins haechan, i don’t think we have the money to hire a professional to check the place out but haechan here used to be in a ‘paranormal investigations club.’ and offered to help because he found you cute— ow!” an eyebrow raised at doyoung’s words as you watched the exchange between the boys. “anyways i called you and sent you messages hours ago, i thought something happened.”

you picked up your phone from the floor, the screen lighting up with multiple notifications. “oh.. sorry, i guess i was a heavy sleeper last night- wait you went all the way here!?” your eyes widened at the sudden realization, embracing the taller boy in your arms before inviting the pair inside straight away.

“holy shit the guy was into satanism?” haechan read in shock, his thumb scrolling through one of the articles you had sent doyoung. “you’re only reading it now?” doyoung scoffed at the boy as he shook his head, sitting himself right next to you on the couch.

“w..well yeah, i thought it wouldn’t be too big of a problem…” the boy rubbed on the nape of his neck in humiliation, to which your bestfriend responded with a low sigh. “i didn’t drive us an hour for you to end up useless, hyuck.” “—haechan!” doyoung only rolled his eyes at the other.

“and i’m not completely useless! one of the club members, chenle, used to say that ghosts usually only have unfinished business if they stay behind in this world. maybe we can confront this ‘yuta’ politely or make a deal with him-“ you raised a brow towards haechan rubbing the space between your brows in distress. “are you seriously telling me to make a deal? with a satanist? you’re basically making me make a deal with the devil, literally!”

haechan put his hands up in defense, eyes widening at your small burst. “okay, okay! what i’m saying is, if chenle was right about ghosts having unfinished business, maybe you can help ‘yuta’ to finish! if he was wrong, you can try getting a deal or something to leave you alone i guess.”

you sighed in defeat, this chenle guy could be right, but you would still take risk on having a deal with this guy. “so… how ‘bout it?” haechan shrugged as his eyebrows arched in proposition, to which you rolled your eyes. “okay kid, but how am i gonna summon him?”

“take this just in case.” haechan handed you a small bag, ‘iodized salt’ it read. you only nodded and casted him a quick thank you before he proceeded to enter the elder’s car first, giving doyoung another longing hug as he nagged on if you needed any more help. “sorry about donghyuck again, call me if anything serious happens. i’m also at fault here kinda ‘cause i suggested this place to you with no research.”

“what’s with ‘haechan’ anyway? and it’s fine, it was my fault i only looked at the price before deciding.” doyoung laughed and glanced over to the boy sitting in the passenger seat before turning back to face you. “he said it was a cool ‘code name’, he didn’t want any ghosts to know his name. anyway, seriously if worst comes to worst, it may cost more money but i’ll try helping with looking for another place.” you snickered softly before thanking him again.

and so, you were left alone again, waving goodbye to the car drifting off your sight. sighing to yourself as you went back into the building, sitting on the couch to research more about summoning dead people safely if that was even possible.

several hours had passed from reading about ghosts and looking for the right supplies, you just got back from a close bookstore to buy three new tall candles for summoning the little friend that had been haunting you, planning on doing it at midnight just like the “easy tutorial” donghyuck made doyoung send you.

later, moving to your bathroom hastily wanting to just get it over with, bringing the candles, a marker, along with the bag of salt donghyuck had given you. hunching over the bathtub to draw a decent sized summoning circle. placing the lengthened candles to three points of the summoning circle, you filled up the tub with at least an inch of water before lighting them.

you switched off the lights, closing the door before kneeling down behind the bathtub. taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes in advance of doing a cheesy chant along with saying the perpetrator’s name three times just like what donghyuck’s tutorial said.

“... nakamoto yuta,” the first holler of his name was said, already feeling stupid for using such a cliché way of summoning. “nakamoto yuta,” in an instant, your lips quivered when you felt your surroundings turn darker. “nakamoto..” the room felt colder, your ears ringing from how quiet the ambience had shifted. your breathing trembled as you finished the chant. “.. yuta.”

“so you did have the guts.”

your eyes crack open at the voice, only to face total darkness. the candles, from what you assume, blew over which meant something must have definitely happened. jumping back in a hurry as you rushed to turn on the lights, your breaths turned shorter as your eyes met with a dark haired man standing in the bathtub, right on top of the summoning circle you drew. your immediate reaction was ripping open the bag donghyuck gave and shoving it at the man as you recoiled your arms to cover your head in a corner.

a distant grunt echoed around the bathroom, followed by water sloshing around and dripping footsteps nearing your shaking figure. tears pricked your eyes as you felt the clear presence of the man get closer.

“this is table salt.”

thanks a lot, donghyuck.

your eyes creak open slightly, eyes meeting once again with the dark haired man. head still in your arms as you refused to lift your head for him, you spoke with a shaky voice. “yu.. yuta…?” your eyes were glued to the tiles of the floor, a peek of the man’s wet shoes making its way to your vision.

“that’s me— oh god, i don’t look like what i looked like when i died right??” your ears perked at the tone of his voice, eyebrows furrowing at the question. ‘oh god’? wasn’t he on the devil’s side? why was that his first question? why did he sound so soft? hearing the soft clacking of the soles of his shoes walking away, you lift your head to see the rear side of the man attempting to inspect himself and shake off the salt you threw at him.

“y-you’re a lot uh.. a lot less intimidating than i thought…” you spoke up, yuta turned to look at you with his big eyes before walking back to crouch down your eye level. “am i really?” you cowered back, his voice cutting you off before you could open your mouth. “i’m kidding, sorry..”

your fingertips reached out to feel his forearm in curiosity, lips pursing when it made contact to yuta’s arm. it felt real, the way your fingers would bounce back when pushed on the boy’s flesh. “you seem.. so normal- almost too normal…” his eyes trailed down to follow your finger’s movements, blinking to himself before speaking up. “i am normal- or i guess was… i won’t hurt you, don't worry.”

your eyebrows arched, skeptical of the man in front of you. eyes traveling down to let yourself think; in retrospect, for all of the things that have been happening, you will admit that none of them had hurt you in any way. your head tilted back up, still hesitant about everything and anything at that moment.

“okay, let’s- let’s have a small nice and calm talk—“

you sat across the ghost in the dining area in silence, your face buried in your clammy hands as you still couldn’t process everything. he sat stiff in front of you, blinking to himself as you both seemed like waiting for something to happen.

“it’s not true, y’know.” he broke the ice and attempted to make the first move to talk, he watched as your head tipped up at his voice, finally drinking in your features when you fixed your posture and pushed back the hair that got in the way of your face. “— the articles you read- i mean..”

you stared at the man in front of you dubiously. if he knew about the articles you’ve seen, how much of you did he see, you thought to yourself suddenly. blinking several times before thinking of a response. “the what?”

“the things you saw about me. they weren’t true.” his eyes trailed down to stare blankly at the center of the table as his fingers fiddled with the table’s ridges. you only raised a brow at the man, eyes following his movements.

“uh huh, okay..” you found yourself just nodding and humming to his words trying to talk you into him being good, you couldn’t trust someone that easily, even more so when it was a ghost who was known to be supporting the devil itself. “how am i supposed to believe a satanis—“ he looked at you with his wide eyes at this, palms laying flat against the table. “i’m not, i swear.. i haven’t done anything bad right?” listening to the man before you speaking softly shifting tone as he continued, almost as if he was scolding himself rather. “i didn’t hurt you? i didn’t hurt anyone who’s lived here before you! i didn’t hurt kaiju either!”

your eyes widened at the name, his past lover. staring closely at the man’s face, you almost see tears welling up in his eyes. choosing to silence yourself after the outburst not wanting to madden the boy in front of you more, you thought of anything calm to respond with.

you avert your gaze to the side as you saw the man stand up to walk away, listening to the soft footsteps he left behind him. lips pursing as you tried to think of anything to calm the mood.

“here.” you heard his voice ring from the kitchen area. looking up from your spaced out gaze to find yuta standing with his arms crossed by the cabinet you had previously moved. you stood up from your seat to walk to the kitchen in silence, making few steps to get beside the boy.

“open it again.” you only nodded, still feeling the awkwardness lingering in the air. you moved the cabinet aside once more, grabbing another fork from the kitchen drawer to pry open the floorboards. sitting on your knees as you face the empty compartment, eyes trained on the blemished side of the hollow cavity. you stared up at yuta only to face a blank look on his face insinuating for you to continue.

“i already tried…” you put the fork down to slouch. “i know, now try again.” he persisted, you only took a breath in before attempting to open another hidden compartment within the one already opened.

after several forks bent, a few dulled knives, the annoying thumping of a hammer ringing in your ears and your hands stinging with burns from the pressure forced onto them, you successfully pried open what seemed like the most superglued pieces of wood together to reveal an old looking shoebox. pulling it out before sitting comfortably to uncrate the box.

yuta crouched down beside you as you uncovered the shoebox. revealing a tattered pouch, something wrapped with worn down linen and some papers with characters you couldn’t read, opening the pouch with interest and dumping the contents onto the shoebox’s lid to exhibit different kinds of pendants and even some small lockets.

moving onto the linen wrapped item, you handled it with frail fingers, it weighed down your hands slightly making you more curious. it unraveled a small dagger.

you wince at the sight and dropped the dagger abruptly, the loud clang of the blade as it ground rang for what seemed like forever. it was covered with maroon. forcing yourself to think that it was just rust and not what you thought it was, you turned to yuta with your shaky eyes.

“she took one thing from people she had targeted after she was finished.” he said mindlessly, reaching forward to fiddle with the trinkets spilled from the pouch. you however, sat back to process the new discovery.

‘she’? you thought to yourself. kaiju? was it her? you blinked to yourself and tried to piece things together. the clip of kaiju sobbing appeared in your head. not once did she talk about the insights of their relationship when it was about ‘yuta’s satanism’. she even knew where the compartment was located after yuta’s death claiming he had left it open. burying your head into your dusted hands. yuta was haunting the unit not because he was bad.

he just wanted to be found.

you knew something felt off when you saw her smile whenever the public pitied her for the loss of her ‘lover’.

the thought of yuta staying for years being painted and seen as a bad person by the public made a frown quickly grow on your face, you fixated your eyes on the man beside you as he absentmindedly toyed with the small belongings of other people. the other people. did they stay behind and want to be found too? you thought.

“i’m so sorry…” you finally spoke words, yuta nodded and stood from the ground. “you summoned me to get rid of me right? sorry to break it to you but i was left here as a spirit beca—“ you took a sharp inhale at his words, standing up to face the taller.

“i wanna help you. this guy said people like you were left here as a ghost because they have—“ yuta looked at you with uninterested eyes. “unfinished business. i know, i was there when that haechan guy came.” he sighed and looked off to the side in contempt before continuing. “y’know, i’d be happy to accept but it’s hard when even i don’t know what my ‘unfinished business’ is. it made me think after what he said sunk in… what if we don’t move on after death. we don’t even know if that’s true.. who knows, maybe i’ll stay here as a ghost forever.”

you clenched your jaw as yuta spoke, he made fair points and what ifs. it made you even more mad that kaiju got away with it, yuta was portrayed as the bad guy and they left the case at that. “i’ll tell the police about this— i.. i can change what they think about you…!” yuta only shrugged, your eyes followed after his steps as he sat back down by the table. you trailed after him, sitting next to him this time. “it’s been years. i doubt all the people who were alive back then would care or would even remember.”

a sigh spilled from your mouth as you fell into a slump next to his careless state, you went from wanting to move out of the flat to feeling like you wanted to protect yuta and the apartment he had died in. “thanks though. for putting in effort i mean- all the people before you moved out in weeks or just ran away.”

he stared at your tired figure, eyes wandering to your distended fingers. he appreciated the pain your body had went through to see him, the thought of you wanting to even help him made him realize how much he missed how nice it felt to be given a care for. yuta watched as you straighten your posture back up to face him, he felt how dissatisfied you were by the droop of your eyes.

“then let’s still try.. we don’t know if what haechan’s friend said was true, just like you said but that doesn’t mean it isn’t. we just don’t know yet, it could be true! so let’s try..!” yuta blinked at your determination, letting out a chuckle for the first time since you met him. “you seriously don’t have to put this much into helping—“

“i don’t care! i don’t think i can live on with the thought of this man rotting here when i’m living my life like it’s back to normal. just let me help you… even if it fails i’ll be glad to know that i tried my best.” you thumped a fist to the table’s surface, seeing yuta flinch at the corner of your eye.

yuta had been rotting in this hell hole for years, he had long forgotten what it felt like to be important, even being thought about made him feel like he still had purpose. he was sure that if he still had a functioning heart, it’d be beating with how warm he felt.

“okay.. let’s try.”

a few weeks had passed, both of you agreeing to act like normal as if you were roommates, though the only difference was yuta not needing to eat nor bathe or anything, in an attempt to make your new ghostly friend feel happiness. he shared that he lived a pretty decent life, although short he was happy. he had no one who seemed like they would put up a fight with him, bad things that would come across nor anything physical that was unfinished from what he could remember of his life when he was alive- other than being killed and sacrificed to satan of course.

you contacted doyoung to tell and explain what really happened, he however didn’t know how to feel about the situation. a friendly ghost being by his bestfriend’s side almost 24/7, he was happy that you didn’t get killed or possessed or anything but he was skeptical that he hasn’t seen the man himself whenever you facetimed or called. yuta on the other hand refused to show himself even if he couldn’t be seen anyway especially if haechan was with doyoung, if you were in a call, he’d simply just hang around in a different room not wanting to lift some book just to prove he was actually the one moving it.

in yuta’s perspective, he thinks that this was probably the happiest and lively he’s been in years. he had someone to talk to, hang out with after he spent all this time trying to get attention from people and being lonely. you were there to listen to all the stories he had from all the exciting things he experienced and went through, and he was there when you needed someone to rant to even about the most random and little things. even teaching him about modern technology and watching series he hadn’t watched.

yuta felt like his presence was valued. sometimes he’d forget that he was even dead when he was having fun with you. you believe that everything was working out well, you almost felt like stopping because if you were to be honest, you probably had shared some of the happiest moments as well and didn’t want anything to end.

as more days, weeks, months passed by like nothing, yuta was at his peak of happiness spending time with you and learning about how things had changed through the years.

you made an anonymous 4chan thread about the truth, you wanted justice for yuta to be seen as someone he truly was. you named yourself as someone who lives in the flat currently and acted as someone who was curious about the old building. soon a small group who theorized yuta being innocent was formed, it made you glad that even a handful of people believed that he was actually good.

yuta shortly requested if he could lay with you in bed after you got comfortable with his company, claiming that ghosts could feel sore too. you only laughed and agreed, you learned that he had his ways to charm you into his silliness.

“so what was with the breathing?” you suddenly remembered the whole reason why you summoned yuta in the first place. he shifted his head to the side to look at you, bottom lip pushing out slightly as he tried to think. “the what breathing?”

“i remember feeling someone breathing against me, it was kinda the last straw with me back then before i did research about the place and found out about you.” yuta hummed to himself as he thinks all the way back to when you were kind of new to the place, he swore he could feel his face warm up when he realized what you were talking about.

“... i was uh.. you know how i get lonely right— i mean-! i swear i was just laying in bed! i didn’t realize i was so close to you and affected you!” you smirked at the response, giggling at how he babbled on and tried to explain himself. “hmm okay, perv.”

“i— what?” yuta sat up slightly, using his elbows to support his body on the soft mattress. “i mean, you probably have already seen me naked.”

“hey! i know being a ghost is creepy but i’m not that kind of creepy… i suppose i have seen— but i swear i didn’t think anything filthy of it-!” you laughed at the man’s embarrassed face, brushing off the topic to save the man from sinking further into shyness.

“y’know, i don’t think i’d get to see ghosts the same way as i did before i met you.” you started off, yuta only stared at you with interest as you continued. “i didn’t even believe in them before this, and everyone in the world thinks ghosts are always out to kill or haunt you or something.” your eyes trailed forward to look at your ceiling, thinking of the right words to say.

“but now i know.. a lot of you probably just want closure from death, it makes me sad that most of you just rot away not doing anything, moving stuff to get our attention and stuff, no wonder some tired and lonely ones end up haunting places with bad intentions.” yuta blinked at your sudden burst of feelings in words, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of finally being understood.

“it’s too bad that you guys are usually interpreted as bad people, when you’re just finding your way to peace.” you didn’t realize a tear slipped down the side of your face until yuta wiped it off with his cold fingers. he fully sat up to face you, following suit to the man beside you.

yuta hesitated before leaning in slowly, you closed your eyes in content. lips pressing against his cold slightly chapped ones, you felt one of his hands travel up to cup your cheek gently. yuta felt himself flood his own tears after so long. the kiss lasted a good moment, it was sweet and genuine. pulling away with slightly hooded eyes, you cupped his cheeks with both hands, leaning in once more to kiss away the man’s tears.

“it’s okay, let it all out…” you whispered tenderly, he might be decades older than you but he was still the bright young hopeful boy he once was.

the happy moment quickly converted into confusion when you saw his figure slowly turn translucent, seeing the light sourced by the room peek through him slightly. he turned back to you with a happy smile this time, his voice rung in your ears with a slightly thrilled voice. “i think i understand what my ‘unfinished business’ was.”

your eyes widened further as you thread your fingers through his soft tufts of hair. “w-what do you mean…?” you weren’t ready to let go of him yet, your eyes swelled with tears as he spoke once more.

“yuta! no.. what—!?” you watched as your hands sunk into his figure. you couldn’t feel him anymore.

“thank you for loving me back.” you stared at the man in dejection, your breaths turning shallow as your time with yuta came to an end. he was finally at peace. eyes pouring rivers at the realization that he was actually gone, if past you knew that he was gone now, you would probably be happy.

weren’t you supposed to be happy? this was your goal from the beginning, why did it feel like a part of you died along with yuta’s disappearance. you slumped in devastation. yuta didn’t want to live perfect and happy.

he just wanted to be loved genuinely.

you didn’t even get to say the words to him, it was too late when you were certain you felt these strong feelings for the man.

“i love you too.”

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swimyghost · 3 years

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Snazz's Birthday Bash

TODAY IS @holyfandomsnazz 's birthday today! EVERYONE WISH THEM A HAPPY B-DAY!

@self-insert-nonsense @wickedhellagoodtime ARE HERE TOO!

The heat was getting to everyone. Even though the region was known for its cooler summers compared to the rest of the country, the wave of moist warmth was ruining the entire Roomies' day.

"Swimy," Snazz said, their blonde hair frazzled and covering their weary eyes, "did you pay the goddamn rent for the electric bill?"

"Unfortunately, until I get my ID, I'm still a minor in the eyes of the law," the recently made adult replied, pulling their blue hair away from their sweat covered brow, "so, no, I didn't pay the fucking electrical bill,"

"Well, couldn't you have gotten your ID earlier!?" Snazz shouted.

"I wasn't eighteen until three days ago, genius!" Swimy fired back.

Formerly lounging on the couch, the pair were now locked in a fierce glaring match with both of them looking like they were ready to fight each other.

"You're the adult here, why didn't you pay!?" Swimy yelled.

"Because I haven't been paid yet!"

"Neither have I!"

"Enough!"

A pink-haired figure stepped out into the living room with a tired, yet annoyed, look on their face. In her hand was a paper bag with the name 'SIN' scrawled on the forehead which was dotted with sweat stains. Their floral patterned shirt was just as ruffled as Swimy's hoodie and Snazz's gray shirt. Putting both hands on their hips, the eldest member of the roommates frowned at the duo.

"Do you want us to get another noise complaint?"

"No," Snazz grumbled, leaning back into the couch.

"But Dawn-" Swimy started.

"No buts!" Dawn interrupted, "it's already hard enough to find a four-bedroom apartment in our price range, I don't need you guys making it harder,"

Snazz raised their hand, "Technically my room is a former closet,"

Dawn turned their gaze away, clearly embarrassed, "It still counts,"

"Why can't we just ask your boy toy to help us out?" Swimy questioned.

"Karamatsu is just as much in a financial struggle as us and you know that," Dawn said with an even deeper frown.

"What's the point of a man if you can't even get him to pay your rent?" Snazz muttered.

All three went silent for a few moments before Dawn sighed, "I get my Patreon money at midnight. When is the latest we can pay?"

"The sixteenth," Swimy replied.

"And what day is it today?"

"The fourteenth,"

"Okay, so tomorrow I need to-"

"Oh shit really?" Snazz said, their eyes wide.

Both Swimy and Dawn blinked in confusion. "Is that a problem?" Dawn asked.

"No, no, it's not that," the blonde waved their hand nonchalantly, "I just... Well... It's my birthday tomorrow,"

"What?!" Swimy exclaimed, "I didn't know your birthday was in the same month as mine!"

"I- We're siblings how did you forget!?" Snazz said with their nose scrunched up.

"You know I'm bad with dates!"

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Dawn asked, ignoring Swimy's outburst.

"Hey, I forgot it myself," Snazz raised their hands defensively, "besides... It's not like we celebrated it much anyway,"

The oldest and youngest of the Roomie siblings glanced awkwardly at each other as an uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Several moments passed before Snazz stood up with a grunt. "I got commissions to finish. I'll pay the rent with that next time. Later,"

Dawn reached out to grab hold of their sibling, but they managed to dodge their grasp and entered their room swiftly, closing it with a soft thud. While the apartment was dead still, Dawn and Swimy rushed over to one another and began talking in hushed tones.

"How could you forgot Snazz's birthday!?" the pink-haired singer whispered angrily.

"You forgot it too, don't you try and deny it!" Swimy countered back in an equally low voice.

"Well... Did you get them a present?" Dawn asked anxiously.

"I forgot that Snazz's birthday was even this month, did you really think I'd get them a gift?!"

"Well, I don't have anything either!"

The two sighed, but their emotions were still running high. They had under twenty-four hours to purchase a gift for their sibling with the little amount of money all of them had, all while a desert-like heat filled the region in its unbearable cloud of misery.

"Alright, get your shoes on and try to get Sam out of their room," Dawn ordered, referencing their other sibling.

"What for?" Swimy asked, already reaching for their shoes near the old front door.

"Because we need to go out and get Snazz a gift before it's too late! They already probably think we're a bad sibling so we need to hurry and get something they like!" Dawn explained.

"Alright, alright, keep your voice down!" Swimy hissed, glancing over at Snazz's room.

Dawn nodded and began putting on her shoes while Swimy rushed over to the third oldest Roomie sibling. They grimaced at the yellowing paint on the walls as they swiftly knocked on the door.

"Sam. Sam! I know you're in there and we need you!" the blue-haired teen begged.

"...Go away," a muffled voice stated tiredly.

"Sam, we forgot about Snazz's birthday! All of us need to go find a gift for them!"

"...I'll search online for something. I'll Venmo you some money,"

"Ugh! Why won't you just come out!?"

"...Too hot. Too bright,"

"...That's fair,"

"What did they say?" Dawn asked, all ready to go. Swimy walked over to them with a huff.

"They said they'll look online for something," Swimy complained.

"Let me guess, it's too hot for them?" Dawn guessed.

"Bingo,"

"Well," the eldest sister sighed, "we don't have time to argue. We have a birthday to save!"

"Alright! Let's do it!"

---

"We're not going to be able to do it!"

Dawn looked down at the completely worn-out Swimy, watching as sweat rained down off their body onto the asphalt road as they were uncomfortably hunched over. Their blue hoodie was completely ruined hours earlier and had been tied around their waist in a desperate amount to stay cool, revealing a Mothman T-shirt underneath the read "Eat. Sleep. Lurk.".

"C'mon, one more store," Dawn said with exhaustion seeping into her voice. Her floral pattern blouse and her skirt were completely soaked in sweat and her skin was beet red. Still, determination held strong in her green eyes as she tried to pull her sibling up.

"No! No more stores! We've been into too many stores!" Swimy whined, resisting their sister's efforts.

"We need to find a birthday present!" Dawn argued.

"And I need to find a new therapist but you don't see me spending nearly four hours walking in unbearable heat to find one!" Swimy growled, motioning towards the setting sun, "besides, I think Snazz is starting to think our "double date" excuse is a little suspicious,"

Dawn sighed, "I know... But we need to prove we care about them. Just one gift will be enough,"

Swimy's eyes darted to the side, "I care too... But don't you think that maybe I caused Snazz's forgetfulness? That I'm the one to blame?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean," Swimy looked uncomfortable, "I was the youngest and born literally four days before their birthday. Snazz's birthday has always been overshadowed by me, the "baby" of the family,"

"Swimy-"

"What if... What if I'm the reason Snazz forgot? That I've been a terrible sibling this whole time and I've been blissfully unaware? That I've been able to happily celebrate my birth while they've been forgotten,"

Dawn, nothing tears welling up in their eyes, pulled Swimy close, "Don't talk like that. I doubt Snazz blames you for your birthday or the fact we never celebrated theirs as much as kids. If anything, they should blame Mom and Dad for that. You have nothing to do with this,"

"But... We if they do blame me?"

"Then we have to show Snazz the perfect gift!" Dawn gave her young sibling a tight squeeze, "What do you say? One more store?"

"...Yeah, one more," Swimy looked up concerned, "but how are we going to find one that-"

Suddenly, Swimy's phone went off with a loud buzz. Startled, the pair broke apart while Swimy awkwardly fumbled around with it. There was a single text sent by Sam:

I'm making a pie. I also found something Snazz will most definitely like.

Attached was an address to a nearby store. Sin blinked in surprise after she looked it up.

"It's a weird occult and true crime store. What does this have to do with a birthday present?"

"Who cares!?" Swimy proclaimed with a big grin, "we have a lead! And you said we needed to look in one more store!"

Dawn, still looking unconvinced, simply nodded, "If you say so,"

With that, the pair took off, ignoring the shouts and glares of passerby's. Dawn and Swimy managed to weave their way through tight alleys and crowds with ease with their newfound energy. It wasn't long before the two were situated outside a dark-colored store with black tinted windows. Crystals and occult symbols were carefully hung visibly through the glass. While Swimy appeared eager, Dawn seemed less than sure.

"You okay?" Swimy asked.

"Yeah just... It's creepy," Dawn shivered.

"...I'm married to Death's ferrywoman, Dawn," Swimy lifted their hand, showing off their black and silver wedding ring.

"That's different!"

"It really isn't,"

"Fuck off!" the pink-haired girl shoved Swimy into the store.

Inside was surprisingly bright which went against the darkness of the clothes, books, and crystals. The wood made a hollow thud with every step. Shelves were spaced in rows that carried various occult items. Walls were lined by clothes and posters containing demons or hard-core metal bands to-

"Is that Al Capone?" Dawn pointed at a poster.

"Yeah... And that's Haurkichi Yamaguchi," Swimy motioned to another poster, referencing the creator and former head of the Yamaguchi-gumi yakuza organization.

"Ahem,"

The Roomies siblings turned and, across the store, was a teenaged Japanese cashier. She had a combination of boredom and exasperation as she parted her black hair from her eyes. "Welcome to Crimes and the Concealed, a true crime and occult experience where there is something for everyone," she waved her hands less than amused for a supposed to be dramatic effect.

"Uh... Thanks," Dawn replied, nudging Swimy forward.

"If you buy one poster, the other is 15% off,"

"Thank you! But we're looking for something else!" Dawn hastily shoved Swimy into the back of the store, away from the prying eyes of the cashier, who seemed equally glad not to deal with them.

"That was rude," Swimy glared

"Sorry! This whole shop gives me the creeps," Dawn whined.

"I'm never taking you on a double date to the Underworld," Swimy muttered, blissfully unaware of the sound of the store door opening.

The siblings went looking for something buy, pouring over the many candles and strange objects as the setting sun remained a looming reminder of their limited time. After looking at the fifteenth crystal necklace, Dawn was about to give up when Swimy let out a gasp. Dawn instantly turned and was stunned to see what was hanging in the corner of the store.

Body pillows. Over a dozen body pillows of famous gangsters and criminals from Billy the Kid to Calogero Vizzini to Pablo Escobar, the rather morbid idea of placing known men that went outside the law for their evil deeds in alluring poses made the two shiver. But the one that caught their eye was the lone female in the mix. Long lavender hair matched her dazzling amber eyes. She donned a pirate outfit with a black corset that complimented her figure. Black boots with gold accents that reached to her knees, similar to how her all-knowing smirk reached across her face.

Dawn reached out and touched the pillow, "That's... Snazz's girlfr-"

"MY WAIFU!"

Suddenly, two large men shoved past the Roomie siblings. One had thick-rimmed and lens glasses with a greasy ponytail and sweat and grease-stained shirt that showed a bunch of underage anime girls in tight clothing and the other looked similar but had shorter black hair with glasses that blocked out his eyes and was slightly skinnier than his friend but still wore questionable attire.

"Oh my dear waifu, how I've looked for you for so long!" the ponytail man wailed, almost crying on the pillow.

"Hey! We had our hand on it first!" Swimy said, shoving past their older sister and glaring at the men.

"Eh!? What would two normies want with this?!" the smaller of the two gasped, his green jacket fluttering with the sudden movement showing that he had two anime girls sitting on their knees with one only wearing an open suit and fedora and the other an Italian suit with a cigar in her mouth.

"Did you use normies unironically?" Swimy muttered with disgust.

"You two don't get it clearly!" the larger man snorted, "If you were real fans of Chibi Wakai Gyangu No On'nanoko, you'd understand how rare this pillow this is!"

"Chibi Young Gangster Girls?" Dawn repeated the title, confused.

Both men turned their attention to Dawn. The ponytail man spoke first, "It's an anime where all the famous gangsters are turned into cute little girls! But the modern-day pirate mob boss can't be added because she keeps targeting the animation studio anytime they try!"

"I wonder why?" Swimy rolled their eyes.

"Quiet pipsqueak!" The jacketed man yelled.

"Easy, Kurai," the larger man leaned into Swimy's personal space, "those this one look like Al Capone-chan?"

Kurai blinked then let out a small smile, "She does, Terro! All she has to do is change her hair and-"

"It's 'they' and you stay away from my sibling!" Dawn shouted, pulling Swimy behind them.

"Shut up, pinkie! You have no right to judge since you're cosplaying that Sin idol!" Terro shouted.

"Their boobs are clearly fake! They're such a fake cosplayer she can't even get her most noticeable features!" Kurai pointed out.

Dawn gasped and wrapped her arms around her chest. Swimy leaped forward and practically hissed at the two, "We're taking that pillow and you're going to leave us alone, or else!"

Terro sneered, "Or else what?"

With the snap of their fingers, a bright blue beam of blue particles swirled around Terro's head. He tried to swat them away, but the blue solidified and turned into a dense water bubble around his head that spun like a cyclone. He tried to scream but inhaled a bunch of water instead. Kurai immediately went on the defense and tried the grab hold of Swimy. Dawn, realizing that talking wouldn't be successful here, stepped aside as Swimy leaped backward and willed her hand into a fiery blaze. With a primal scream, she slapped him full force, sending both him and his glasses flying in opposite directions. A bright red handprint was left on his face. A sudden gasp alerted the siblings that the water bubble had burst. Before they could react, Terro was on top of Swimy and trying to hold them down.

"You crazy bitch!" He screamed, trying to land a hit on the smaller person.

Swimy used their free leg to deliver a swift kick to the stomach before headbutting him off them. He groaned in pain and rolled onto his side. Dawn took this opportunity to light her foot ablaze and slam it down right onto his crotch. He howled in pain as his pants and his manhood were burned by the attack.

"Get the Hell out of here before we do worse!" Dawn ordered, readying their fists with Swimy following close behind.

Whimpering, the two took off running, leaving behind Kurai's set of glasses and several clothes that had fallen during the scuffle. Tired, Swimy grabbed hold of the body pillow and trudged towards the register. The cashier trembled as they set it down.

"W-Will that be all?" she stuttered.

"Yeah," Swimy replied bluntly.

The cashier nodded and quickly rung up the pillow. She practically shoved the item into Swimy's arms and nearly dove under the counter. Dawn rested a weary hand on Swimy and sighed.

"C'mon, let's get out of here before the cops arrive. We have a birthday to save,"

---

All Snazz wanted to do was sleep. Not only had they remembered that their birthday was a thing but they had spent the whole night trying to finish commissions in an attempt to forget it again. Even though their body was worn out, their mind was rushing with memories of all the birthdays that were forgotten of the years.

It's like they never cared Snazz thought.

They rolled onto their side for the hundredth time that night, trying to force sleep to come. What they didn't expect was their door to suddenly slam open and a large weight crashing onto their side.

"Oof! What the fuck-!"

"Wake up, sleepyhead! Time to have the best day you've ever had!"

"...Swimy?" Snazz looked up, seeing the smiling face of their youngest sibling looking down on them. They had thick eyebags that hung from under their eyes that balanced out their high amounts of enthusiasm radiating off them.

"Do you know another blue-haired bitch that's related to you? Now come on before I drag you out!" Swimy exclaimed, pulling on Snazz's shirt sleeve.

"I'm still I'm my pajamas and I haven't even showered!" Snazz argued, trying to resist their pulling.

"You also haven't cleaned your room in two weeks but you aren't worried about that!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck yourself!"

With the help of both their powers and natural strength, Swimy managed to help drag Snazz out of their bed and made them cover their eyes.

"This is stupid," Snazz grumbled.

"You're stupid but I love you anyway. To the kitchen!" Swimy shoved Snazz forward.

After several near attempts of Snazz crashing into a wall and one toe snubbing, they made it to the kitchen with Snazz less than amused.

"This better be good,"

"It is! Now... Open!"

Snazz did so and gasped. Not only was their favorite pie, chocolate coconut perfectly sat on their rickety table, but a large wrapped present was sitting beside it. Snazz and Sam, wearing their infamous multi-colored gradient mask, stood there with birthday poppers and wide grins.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SNAZZ!" all three siblings shouted, pulling the poppers and sending cheap confetti everywhere. Instead of being excited, Snazz stood there motionless with a blank expression. After a brief pause, Sam leaned over and whispered into Swimy's ear.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Swimy whispered back.

"Swimy," Sin said sternly.

"I didn't! Honest!"

Sam crossed their arms, "Well why are they-"

Wails exploded from Snazz as fat tears ran down their face. Immediately, all of their siblings rushed over and began to comfort them.

"Is it the pie? Is the pie not good enough?" Swimy asked nervously.

"I made that fucker by hand! It's perfect!" Sam yelled.

"Well if I have to be blamed for something so do you!" Swimy yelled back.

"Was it the poppers? God, I knew they were a bad idea!" Dawn nearly pulled their hair due to stress.

"You wanna go?" Sam snarled.

"Yeah, let's go!" their blue-haired sibling smirked, readying their fists.

Snazz grabbed all three of them and pulled them into a tight hug pile on the floor. Still crying, they managed to choke out a few words.

"I-I'm so happy! Y-You did a-all of this fo-for me!"

"Of course we did! We love you Snazz!" Dawn said, flinching as Snazz began to cry harder.

"C'mon, open the gift!" Swimy said, pulling the present down to the group.

Snazz didn't hesitant into tearing it open. They gasped in shock when they saw what it was.

"Is this my girlfriend? On a... Body pillow?"

"Don't ask how we got her," Dawn butted in.

"I-"

"Don't. Ask."

"I- Alright. Thank you. It's a lovely gift," Snazz said, setting it aside.

"Let's eat the damn pie already. I spent all night working on it so let's put it to good use," Sam said, standing up.

"I'll get the plates!" Sin called over her shoulder.

"Lemme get the forks and knives!" Swimy started to rush over to the drawers.

While the three started to gather everything for their meal, Snazz watched them fondly. They grabbed ahold of their new gift and squeezed it tightly.

Whatever being rules this hell of a universe... Thank you for my siblings... And thank you for this birthday.

#happy birthday snazz!#tw assualt #hope you like it

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sockablock · 4 years

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When in sudden need of a place to stay, Caleb Widogast finds a room for rent at a price so low he can’t believe his luck. Ignoring the concerns of his friends, he moves in and quickly finds himself tangled up in the life of one Essek Thelyss, a reclusive scholar who may be even stranger than Caleb himself…

(start) - (previous) - (next)

Chapter 3: The Preliminary Framework

Dusk slung its indigo cloak across the sky, painting little wisps of orange clouds that shone in the fading pink light of the sun.

“Would you, er, like some…water?”

“Ah. That…yes. Thank you.”

The tap gurgled.

“I wish I had something better to offer, but it is either, well, this or coffee. And it is late for your k…for you to have coffee, right?”

“Er…I suppose that is true. Would you…I bought some milk this morning, if you would rather drink that?”

“No, thank you.”

“Ah.”

“That was…it is a kind offer, though.”

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, Essek shut the faucet and turned around with a glass in each hand. He put them on the countertop.

He sat down.

His newest roommate—a human—was fidgeting in his chair. Essek couldn’t help but commiserate with that, and stole another look at the man’s face.

Caleb Widogast was pale, as if life on the coast had done absolutely nothing to color his complexion. His hair was a little shaggy, but impressively red, and the faintest shadow of stubble had begun to siege his chin. He had sharp features—though what Essek didn’t know was that Caleb had actually filled out in recent years—framing a long nose and eyes that shone a piercing blue in the lamplight.

The eyes blinked.

Caleb was staring back at him. “Is everything alright?”

Essek coughed and waved his hand. “Oh, yes, of course, of course. I was distracted by…something. Er…I think I must start by apologizing for how our few interactions have played out so far. The phone call, for one, and just now. I hope you do not think me rude.”

Caleb took a little too long to respond, but he did manage a smile, which eased the mood.

“Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he conceded. “Shall we re-introduce ourselves?”

The corner of Essek’s lip quirked up. Ah, so this was Camaraderie. “Perhaps that would be for the best. I am Essek Thelyss. Just ‘Essek’ will suffice.”

Caleb dipped his head in a greeting that some might have called stiffly formal. Essek regarded this as plainly cordial. “My name is Caleb Widogast,” he returned. “Er…is there anything else you would like to know?”

Seldom-used pieces of Essek’s mind whirred to life. Was there? Were names not enough? What were people supposed to tell each other? What was important? What was too much?”

“Of…course,” he tried. “How…old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”

There was a pause. This time, it was Caleb who had to do the thinking. “How...old are you, Mist—Essek?”

“Ah. I would have to be honest and admit that in exact years…I do not know. I am in my second century, though.”

“Scheisse,” said Caleb, before he could stop himself. “That is—”

“Please. It is nothing for an elf,” though Essek preened a bit regardless. “I know a few souls who date back to bygone eras. Compared to them, I am nowhere near the oldest of my kind.”

“I—” and then Caleb blinked. “Does this mean I am older than you? Relatively speaking.”

Essek chuckled. “In terms of mentality and life experience, rest assured that I am as mature as any adult. More mature, perhaps, depending on the adult.”

“I see,” said Caleb, and Essek was surprised to find an echo of intellectual curiosity in his tone.

He tapped the rim of his glass. “So, are you from this city? Your accent sounds…somewhat familiar, but I cannot place if it is something I have heard in Nicodranas.”

“Oh, no, I am not from here,” Caleb shook his head. “I am, er…originally Dwendalian.”

To his credit, Essek recovered magnificently.

“The, ah, oh,” he said. “The Empire. Yes?”

“Yes,” Caleb agreed, “though I have not lived there for some time. I am…how might you say this…not the most patriotic citizen.”

This, at least, Essek understood. “Perhaps we have something in common, then. You may have guessed by now that I am not from Nicodranas either.”

“No?” said Caleb, with an acceptable amount of tact.

“I am Xhorhastian.” And then, after a beat, he added, “I was born and raised in the capital city of the Krynn Dynasty. Rosohna. You might know it as Ghor Dranas, but we prefer our own terms.”

He was admittedly surprised when this elicited a minimal reaction.

“I see,” said Caleb. “I did not know. I have never been there before.”

Essek had to rein in his smirk. “I would be very surprised if you had. Not many outsiders come to visit, and the Dynasty is fond of its secrets. It is perhaps one of the downsides of living there, not much…room for change and new experiences. If it helps, I have not been to your Empire before, either.”

Caleb smiled again. “I may have fondness for my homeland, but you are not missing that much.”

Essek put his glass down. “A lack of patriotism, indeed.”

Caleb laughed. It was a startled, quiet sound, almost surprised by its own existence. Essek found himself with the impression that this man did not laugh much, at least not like this, and then he wondered why.

Later, perhaps, he might wonder why he cared.

His head cocked slightly. “So, what is it that you do, Mr. Widogast? For a living, or—”

“Please,” Caleb quickly said. “If I am to call you Essek, refer to me as Caleb. Ah…sorry for interrupting.”

“Oh, no, it is fine. Caleb,” he tacked on. “And…?”

“Well—” and here, Caleb’s face flushed. He scratched the back of his neck. “These days, I mostly do small magic for hire. Simple spells and enchantments, that sort of thing. A lot of transmutation. I am working on a much bigger project, though that is something a bit…closer to my chest.”

Essek leaned in. It might not have been voluntary. “Really?” he asked. “In that case, am I right in surmising that you are an arcane caster? I met your…furry friend, earlier.”

“My—oh, Frumpkin!” Caleb nodded hurriedly. “Was he—I hope he did not bother you, I told him to stay in the room but, well, he is a cat—”

“He was no bother,” Essek held up a hand. That faint hint of amusement was surfacing again. “He is a charming…fellow. Though I would ask you to at least try to keep him out of my bedroom.”

Caleb closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of my nose. “My apologies.”

Essek shook his head again. “Please. It will be nice to have a familiar around. At least they are easier to reason with than real cats.”

Caleb opened his mouth. He closed. It seemed like he was trying quite hard to not say something.

When he opened his mouth again, his tone was slightly strained. “You recognized what Frumpkin is. Does that mean you are a wizard as well?”

Essek hesitated. Caleb noticed.

“Ah, bitte—”

“I am.”

A pause.

“Oh. Er…good?”

Now it was Essek’s turn to lean back. “I am…a wizard. From the Kryn Dynasty. Though, as we have established, I left quite some time ago to…to expand my horizons across the world. I am currently…also working on a rather large project in Nicodranas, that I would prefer to keep close to my chest.”

He watched Caleb absorb this information, and…yes, there was a glimmer in his eyes.

“I hope you understand,” Essek continued, “that though I like to think of myself independent from my homeland, there are…some things that I cannot share. There are some secrets, some practices that…perhaps might only be rumor to you, that I would like to keep guarded. You seem a good fellow, but…”

There was a waning hunger in Caleb’s voice as he said, “I understand.”

Essek let his gaze linger. “Good. I am glad.”

Caleb looked away first. He reached for his cup and considered it. “Did you leave Xhorhas to study magic then, Essek? To see and learn from the world?”

“Well.” He huffed. “Something like that. I am certainly here to see what I can learn.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that also why you left, Mi—Caleb?”

“Actually, I came with some friends,” he swirled his glass, “who were drawn for one reason or another to life by the sea. Two of them are originally from the Concord, and one of them is even Nicodranan.” His grin flickered back. “Her name is Jester. She is…well, she is quite interested in you.”

“Me?” Essek blinked. “But…why?”

“I, ah, told them about your listing. They were rather intrigued by…all of it. That is, they quite wanted to know what sort of person would rent such a nice room for that low a price…”

He trailed off.

“I see,” Essek said. “They must not be the only ones wondering.”

Caleb responded with a small smile. “I would not be looking a gift horse in the mouth by asking, would I?”

Essek found himself grinning back, and the tension from before dissipated.

“I hope not,” he said. “And the answer is that I have had some…slight difficulty finding a good housemate. Money is not so much of a concern for me, given…well, it is not a concern. Rather, I…to be honest, I need assistance in maintaining some aspects of the home. Not in the sense that I want a maid,” he added quickly, “it is just that I frequently have business to attend to elsewhere. I sometimes spend extended periods of time away, and it would give me a peace of mind to have someone here that I trust.”

“I see,” Caleb said. “That does make sense. In that case, I hope I do not let you down.”

“I hope so as well,” Essek chuckled, “because I am quite tired of putting up flyers. Though, to ensure full compatibility, I do believe we should compare notes about our lifestyles. And, perhaps, review our contract?”

“Ah, certainly. I think—”

“One moment.” Essek flicked his wrist and suddenly, with a heavy thud, an enormous ream of paper landed on the counter. He pulled it closer and turned to the first page.

“I find that taking notes and being methodical is best. Don’t you think so as well?”

And silently, privately, he was quite satisfied when Caleb nodded.

“I do. Can I borrow a pen?”

— — —

“You know,” said Caduceus, from the doorway, “Nott was probably just having some fun. I think you’re doing a great job. I really do.”

Fjord spat out his toothpaste and turned the faucet.

“Yes, but you’re biased,” he said through a mouth of foam. “And anyway, even if she is just being…Nott, she does have a point. I don’t know how to do anything.”

Caduceus crossed his arms while Fjord gargled. “Maybe for now, but you’ll get there. You’re still new at this.”

“I am new at this. I think I might have to take over delivery runs, Cad. What happens if a real customer comes in and you’re not there and I can’t answer their questions? I mean, gods, I don’t want to be a liability.”

“I’m sure a real customer would be more understanding.”

“No kidding.” He wiped his face off with a towel. “A real customer wouldn’t leave buttons in our tip jar.”

“She tipped on her card. You were busy giving a speech to her, but I saw.”

“Did she? Oh.” He turned around. “Well…good. But my point still stands. I can’t run things alone. Besides, I’m just a part-timer.”

Caduceus followed him into the living room, where a little teal radio was playing smooth jazz. It was one of the only three stations that the radio ever picked up, but so far neither of them had ever had the heart to replace it.

“You could go full-time,” Cad said, a little haltingly, as Fjord flopped down on the couch. “My aunt is better now, so I don’t have to send as much home. Colton called.”

“Oh. Well, hey, that’s really good to hear. Your family must be pretty happy.”

“They are,” Caduceus sunk into the sofa chair. “I’ll visit them in Midsummer, probably. It’s still a hike to get out to the Savalirwood.”

“You could fly, couldn’t you?”

“No airport.”

“Right. Woods. Right.”

Caduceus gave a small smile. “We’ll get one, maybe. One of these days. But…the offer still stands, you know. We can afford it. And it would be…nice for you.”

Fjord rubbed his eyes. “That’s just the thing, isn’t it? It would be rather nice for me. And it has been nice, you know, extremely nice, working with you in the shop. It’s just that…I’m a rather useless employee. At least I know what I’m doing at the Wayfarer’s.”

“You’ll get better as you practice,” Caduceus said. “If you wanted to…to come by tomorrow, I could show you the new bulbs…”

He trailed off when Fjord shook his head. “I appreciate it, Cad, I really do. But I don’t want to take up your time. And working at the diner isn’t so bad, at least I get free meals and I can still be by the sea. I miss that, you know? And I won’t be a burden for you.”

Caduceus’s tone was low, even as always, so Fjord missed the brief flicker in his eyes. “You’re not a burden. You know which ones are roses.”

“Everyone knows what a rose is,” Fjord snorted. “That’s nothing.”

“And you were right about the delphiniums.”

“Lucky guess.” Then Fjord winced. “Gods, no, that sounds so rude, I…I really do appreciate—”

Caduceus held up his hands. “Just think about it,” he said. “It’s just an offer. It might do you some good.”

Fjord’s shoulders relaxed. He even managed a smile as he reached for the remote.

“Okay. I’ll…think about it.”

Caduceus smiled back. “I hope you will.”

— — —

The front door did not creak anymore, because Beauregard—for all her bluster and brashness—was a very good homeowner. She was proud of the fact that she’d done the hinges herself. Admittedly, she’d used olive oil, but it had worked.

A fruity, pungent smell followed Yasha into the apartment. It was dark. At this time of night, her roommates would be asleep.

Taking care to be as quiet as possible, she nudged the door shut and slid her shoes into the tray.

She stretched. She glanced around.

The faint sound of snoring echoed out from the far hallway. Jester was adamant that she slept like a delicate princess, and this was true granted the fact that princesses also had a head cold. Yasha was never bothered by it, though, and anyway she’d slept under much worse conditions.

She noticed the kitchen table when she moved to put her keys away. She notice that there was still a small plastic container on top of it.

She walked over. She raised the lid. Inside were two pastries so sugary that the glaze shone under the microwave clock.

There was also a note. It read, in plain script:

— — —

“I almost forgot to thank you,” Essek said suddenly.

Caleb blinked. He looked up from their negotiations, mind bloated with clauses, vision swimming with subclauses.

“What?”

“The cheesecake,” Essek said. “It, ah…” His expression softened. “It was good.”

— — —

Fjord clicked the TV on. He wasn’t the most observant guy out there, but even he could tell that there was something bugging Cad.

“C’mon,” he said, and patted the sofa. “Let’s watch something together.”

— — —

Saved these for you.

— — —

Morning came with very little fanfare, ushering in a new day.

In the comfort of his bedroom—now officially his by way of the densest paperwork in Wildemount—Caleb was distantly aware that this specific morning was important for Nott. So important, in fact, that he had decided to break the first rule of spell work and leave his phone on the floor next to him. She was on her way to the airport now, though, so it would probably be some time before she texted with another update.

He tapped his chin with his pen. He stared at the notes scattered across his desk.

He could feel the formulas aligning, feel them working, could taste the lilt of the rite on his tongue. He hadn’t had a breakthrough like this in months, and every second that went by without progress was another second of wasted potential. He had already told himself that he would have something to put together by the end of the week, at least the preliminary framework and a bare-bones proof of concept. Nott was counting on him, after all, and he wasn’t about to let her down.

In his lap, dozing peacefully, was the reassuring weight of Frumpkin. Occasionally, his fingers would cart through the cat’s fur, stopping to scritch behind Frumpkin’s ears and vibrating when he purred.

“It would be easier if I had a template,” Caleb murmured half-lucidly to no one. “Any decent magical library would have a fixed set of transmutation runes.”

His other hand led the pen across a page.

“Too bad the only decent library for miles is still being put together by Beau. You don’t think the other wizard has any templates, do you, Frumpkin? You don’t think he’d be willing to share, do you?”

There was a faint mrow. Caleb sighed.

“It is not a very open profession. I didn’t even tell him what I’m doing, and I live in his house. For all he knows, I could slip up and cause an explosion in the living room. That would be a violation of Section VI, though.”

He scrawled in a few more runes.

“I cannot help but wonder what he is doing. He mentioned…you did not see anything in his…ach, no, that is intruding.”

There was another meow. Caleb scowled.

“I specifically did not ask. No, do not.”

Frumpkin stretched, jostling the bottom of Caleb’s desk. He sighed. He put his pen down.

“It is a secret. I must respect his wishes. Even if…even if…well, he was hinting, wasn’t he? I am sure he was speaking in circles about Dunamancy. Everyone knows…and, götter, it would be so incredible to learn. But…no. No, he has made his stance clear. I will not ask. And you will not go into his bedroom, okay? Not the study, either. That is Section II.”

Frumpkin looked up at him with baleful eyes.

Caleb tapped his cat on the nose.

“Go back to sleep. I was doing so well before you interrupted me.”

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

#critical role #critrole #critfic #fic #shadowgast #oh man sorry for the wait and I hope y'all enjoy!!#cr2 #the mighty nein #now what are the chances of that #nwtcot #long post #such a long post #jay writes #fanfiction #fanfic #modern au

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unholyhelbig · 3 years

Text

Title: The Victorian

Ship: Jemma Simmons/ Daisy Johnson

Summary: Jemma Simmons is offered a position as a local biologist in Georgetown South Carolina, effectively moving her family across the country to a southern-style victorian house. Strange things start to happen and they’re suddenly pulled into a supernatural nightmare. With the help of a coworker, the next-door neighbors, and a renowned Ghost Hunting team, the Simmons/ Johnson household fight against forces unseen.

The house loomed over the inlet. Its white exterior had been mossed over in some areas, sharp and green compared to the off-white paneling. Soft orange hummingbird vines hid any blemishes, their green tendons twisting through the delicate lattice that moved over the left side of the home.

There was a worn stone birdbath and a deep green hedge that lined the back of the property. Past that was a deck that moved into the watery swamps that smelled thickly of fish and saltwater. Even through the car, Daisy could smell it, and her chest swelled with the familiarity of the ocean.

Jemma had a smile across her face. It was warm and welcoming and a little prideful. This was their house, even if they hadn’t seen it until now. There were pictures but it didn’t’ give the southern style home any justice, with its wrap-around porch and large bay windows.

The driveway was gravel and she winced as she pulled the front wheels of their SUV over the dip, welcoming the back wheels with another bump. She stared up at the canopy of trees, willows with seeping Spanish moss, and struggled to keep her focus on her movements. Jemma didn’t’ say a thing, if she noticed, too entranced herself.

“I didn’t’ think it would be this,” Daisy trailed off, bringing the car to a stop.

“Magnificent? Archaic? Stepford wife?”

“Yes,”

She settled for all of the descriptions. She had always wanted a big home and this was a far cry from their two-bedroom in Los Angeles. It was half the price too. There was enough room for her own office and a library because even Ayla enjoyed curling up and flipping through her mothers' books.

Daisy could imagine a tire swing and a nice coat of paint, and the sweet southern breeze seeping through the back screened-in sunroom. She glanced back at the girl, her head leaning against the window and soft rhythmic breaths filling the silence. The jostling of the car hadn’t deterred her from sleep, and neither did the sudden attention trained on her.

“Beautiful too. Kind of… haunted-looking?”

“Oh, don’t start with that. Ghosts aren’t real, and if they are, it’s just”

“Science we don’t’ understand yet, yes sweetheart, I know” Daisy finished her wife’s sentence with a loving smile.

Jemma smiled back and the gesture was warmer than the South Carolina air. She could smell the floral trumpets that lined the wall and gravel crunched under her feet as she emerged from the driver’s side of the car. There was a thick sheen of sweat already forming against her brow.

She rounded to the backseat and opened it with enough gentleness that Ayla didn’t’ stir. She had also become victim to the heat; small whisps of blonde hair clung to her forehead and she breathed in with a little bit more force than before, but still, she didn’t wake from her sleep as Daisy pulled the five-year-old from her car seat and hugged her close.

One shoe had been toed off during the drive here and Ayla’s feet dangled at Daisy’s side as she shifted her to her hip and Jemma shouldered the overnight bag that they had packed for all three of them. They knew it would be a long trip, and it had been, but the moving truck hadn’t beat them here and they figured they would make do with a duffel bag of clothes most worn.

“Darn, I must have the keys here somewhere” Jemma mumbled after they braved the aching steps and stood under the slightly shaded porch. It would be nice for rocking chairs, or string lights.

Daisy’s mind was racing with possibility, even when the door did creak open to reveal a dark and cooling interior from the late ’50s. It had vast cherrywood flooring and a stained-glass side window that caught the sun and drowned the grained wood in color.

There was a long oak staircase and a dining room that had an old table in its center, but no chairs. At least Daisy considered it to be a table. It was covered in a white sheet that was equally covered in dust. Jemma closed the door behind them and looked up at the vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch until the second-floor landing.

Ayla shifted in her arms and gripped her little hand around the excess fabric of the blue cotton button-down that Daisy wore. She whimpered; nose pressed close to the inside of her mother's neck. The cold had gotten to her and Daisy didn’t want to admit that it instantly dried any damp part of her skin.

“It’s charming,” Jemma sounded out “Needs some love, but certainly not something we didn’t’ account for.”

“Needs some light too,” Daisy said as she stepped further into the house.

The living area was a lot better; it swam with that very light that she was hoping for. She figured that they would set up the air mattress in the trunk right in this room. There were already floral print curtains that could be drawn to keep the nightly creatures from peering in, and the warmth flowing through the two bay windows had begun to thaw her skin.

There was another white sheet, covering a blocky object like a tacky ghost. “A bookcase?”

“A piano,” Jemma corrected “You can see the pedal under the right edge. It’s an old one too. I can’t imagine why anyone would leave it behind.”

Daisy didn't want to entertain the idea of anything causing abandonment other than pure laziness. She wouldn't want to lug a piano onto a moving truck in this kind of Southern heat either. Her arms were starting to ache- Ayla wasn’t as small as she used to be, and she got the nagging urge to wake the girl.

Jemma seemed to read her mind as she always did. She carefully pulled the girl into her arms resulting in a tiny nose scrunch and a little groan, but still not fully awake. Traveling must have taken it completely out of the kid, and truthfully, it took everything out of the mothers too.

They had eaten at the hotel this morning, Daisy demolishing three pancakes while Jemma limited herself to a banana and a few bites of Ayla’s slowly softening cereal. She didn’t’ do well with the winding mountains of Tennessee and had clenched her eyes the entire time, gripping what she called the panic handle.

Other than that, they had shared a bag of trail mix and Daisy squeezed the untouched applesauce pouch into her mouth to quell the rumbling in her stomach, but that had been at the border of North and South and she was getting agitated with hunger now. She considered Jemma and her daughter were more than halfway there themselves.

“I think I saw a Chinese restaurant on the way into town,” She offered, rolling her sore shoulder around “What do you say to an old tradition?”

Jemma smiled again, and it brightened the room even more. The first place they rented together didn’t have power yet and it was above a take-out place that had the best Chicken Lo Mein. They lit a bunch of candles and ate on the floor, a fell asleep in each other’s arms despite the less-than-ideal circumstances.

Daisy took this as confirmation and placed a chaste kiss on her wife’s cheek before fishing her car keys from her back pocket again and stepping into the stifling heat. The door fell shut behind her and her stare instantly fell on a woven basket filled with fresh apples and baked muffins. The scent made her stomach plunge even further.

And there was a man, quite a large one, stalking away from the gift. His shoulders had a wide span and his dark skin glistened in whatever sun the trees allowed through. Daisy stifled a smile of her own.

“Thank you!” She called out

The man turned quickly around. His face was kind despite his large stature and he let out a groan. “See, you weren’t supposed to catch me leaving this. It was going to be an anonymous welcome from the community.”

Daisy walked down the front porch and the man met her halfway, that warm expression still on his face. He wore a flannel over a sweat-dampened tank top despite the heat. He was even taller in person, his hands stained in what Daisy could guess is grease.

“It was my wife’s idea, she saw you guys pull in and threw something together last minute. She’s not used to having neighbors.” He let out a soft chuckle “I told her that ya’ll have L.A plates and that’s not how it works there, but she refused to listen.”

“No, it’s really nice, actually. I’m Daisy… like the flower.” She stuck out her hand.

The man’s own engulfed hers entirely, it was calloused but firm “Mack like the- oh hell, the food?”

“Nice to meet you, Mack. We really do appreciate it, I guess Southern Hospitality is a real thing?”

“Oh absolutely. Look- I’ve gotta get back home, we live right across the way, but on that little note wedged between whatever fruit she could scrounge up, is an invitation to dinner tomorrow night. It’s up to you if you want to accept it or not”

“We’ll be there,” Daisy said. And they would.

#daisy johnson #jemma simmons #Skimmons #Skimmons fanfiction #agents of shield #aos #aos fanfiction #yo yo rodriguez #alphonso mackenzie #leopold fitz #phil coulson #melinda may

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followerofmercy · 3 years

Text

I don’t understand why people are so insistent on having dogs that they won’t take care of

long, very angry vent

Disclaimer, I have had indoor dogs before. My boyfriend has two lovely, BIG indoor dogs. I don’t have a problem with dogs, it’s just the way 99% of ‘dog people’ treat their animals and expect everyone else to accommodate their bullshit.

I have a housemate right now that we’re letting stay with us while he gets his life in order. No problem, right? Knew it wasn’t gonna be particularly fun or easy but that’s alright. He’d do the same for us.

When we gave him the offer, we made it very clear: Our landlord does not allow dogs. We will be in violation of our lease agreement and potentially evicted for having a dog here. (They’re not actually gonna follow through with that but I have a good relationship with them and would, ya know, like to NOT piss them off)

He had a place to leave the dog. His mother would’ve taken excellent care of it until he was on his feet SOMEWHERE ELSE. Somewhere that allowed dogs, perhaps!

When he moved in, guess what he brought? His goddamn fucking dog.

Not a good start to the living arrangements. Now he can’t back out because he burned every bridge with his mother, which I can’t really blame him for but also, dude. Figure something out for your goddamn fucking dog before you bring it over.

I dunno. I’m particularly harsh with this kind of stuff because I ALSO lived in an abusive household and I got my ass out of there. Yeah, I had to leave things behind. I hated leaving my cat. I have so few remaining possessions that I could be packed and moved again in four hours. Leaving sucked... Actually? No, it didn’t suck. The price for freedom from that oppressive, godawful place was NOTHING compared to the relief. it’s not that fucking hard.

Anyway, it’s not the dog’s fault that it’s effectively a living room ornament that eats and shits. I’m just appalled that this man HAD to have his dog here, in SOMEONE ELSE’S HOUSE, just to not take care of it.

The dog’s nails are disgustingly long. It hasn’t had a bath in the two months it’s been here. I normally don’t mind animal smell, but Jesus Christ it smells like feces and meat.

We can’t let the dog out of its kennel EVER because it hasn’t been properly potty trained. I’m very pro-crate training, but dogs need more than the time it takes them to go to the bathroom of out of crate time. This poor stinky little sausage has been stuck in there 22 hours of the day since it got here.

It doesn’t know any of the commands important for a dog��s health: stuff like, oh ya know, COMING WHEN CALLED SO THEY DON’T RUN INTO TRAFFIC. Also, dogs are working animals. They need to learn tricks to keep their limited but existent little minds occupied. It’s a bonding exercise!

The couple times I take the dog out, I always take it out on a leash. Surprise surprise, it hasn’t been leash trained. Little turd just chokes himself on it. Anyway, extra bad: This animal is 14 years old and can’t do even basic dog things. It hasn’t been neutered, either!

Side note that all pets not intended for breeding should be sterilized, if for nothing else than the fact that I have been sexually frustrated for a couple years and I wouldn’t inflict that on an animal.

It whines constantly. Right now I’m listening to the little shit howl and howl and cry and it’s driving me insane. Before, my mother and the new guy were sharing a room. Mom had to move to sleep on the couch in her own fucking home because her room reeked like unwashed dog and rot. The roommate leaves uneaten dog food out until it’s gross and crusty (though he’s finally started feeding the dog outside).

I used to give my landlord the shifty side eye for not allowing dogs, but now I get it.

Last incident was a few short minutes ago. I was outside fixing a hole in the fence while he’s hovering and, I don’t even know, talking for the sake of making noise? He wants to build this overcomplicated contraption to block the hole when a plank on top of it works just as well. Or even better! GET YOUR FUCKING DOG OUT OF MY HOUSE SO I CAN CALL MAINTENANCE TO FIX THE FENCE.

Anyway, I step in dogshit while I’m out there. Shit happens, heh, I know, but it was the last straw on top of everything else. I get a little short while he’s rambling and muttered ‘I stepped in dogshit’

This motherfucker has the AUDACITY to ask me “are you sure”

I could rewrite the mental rant here but it wouldn’t reflect well on my character. I didn’t lose... ok I did lose my temper a little bit and had a nasty tone, but the words coming out of my mouth were civil.

Oh also this man was calling my neighbors irresponsible for having an outside dog. In a fenced yard. Where it’s taken care of. My mother and I both jumped his ass for that. Also also! One of the times he let his goddamn fucking dog out? he just let it out without watching it. It slipped out of the fence and got in a different neighbor’s yard.

So basically only other people are irresponsible.

I had a talk with him awhile ago that if his stupid little dog gets mauled or something, regardless of whose fault it is, he can’t fight about it. You know why? BECAUSE THE DOG ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.

This has been going on for months but I'm at my limit now because he has somewhere else to go. He is renting a room at my boyfriend’s place now. HE HAS A KEY. he’s just making excuses for why he can’t move out yet. I’m so, so, so close to having it out with him tonight and telling him that the dog’s gotta go. I’m just debating because he’s my mom’s guest and it’s her house too. I’m gonna talk to her on the phone in a little bit because this has gotta stop.

Side note: Anxiety pills are awesome because, despite the absolute shitstorm of my life right now, I'm overall doing pretty well! My roommate should be very grateful for that.

#vent #rant #daily life with mercy #really medication has been lifechanging #anyway I could go on for hours and hours #I have Strong Opinions on how animals should be cared for #and generally #it's the nutcases that are all like 'I love my dog like a child'#that fucking abuse them most #pray for me that I don't hit my limit and say something hurtful #my roommate is a nice guy #just #apparerntly terrible with animals

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lucidpantone · 3 years

Note

Do you rent in New York or you have a mortgage? I wanna move to NYC so bad after covid

Also thanks everyone for congratulating me. I feel really adult now and its kinda of scary when I think about it but am also super excited.

This is super long but its for my anon. I love talking about NYC real estate so let me tell you everything I know. Also if you make it here hit me up and I’ll take you out for a beer.

I have rented for years in NYC at least a decade on/off. I have lived in queens, bk and manhattan. I have paid $600 for rent and up to $2100 for rent. Its all about location in the city and also living conditions and what job you have. When I paid $600 it was my very first apartment I didnt live their long it was more like i just got to the city i needed a place to live in for a couple of months that was cheap but it was literally a closet deep in queens like basically long island at that point. So it wasnt the kinda of place you would stay in long. This is what I suggest you do. Look for a place in crown heights BK for $700-800 a month maybe for 3 months just to have somewhere to sleep at night while you find a job and get to know the city. Try to move to nyc with 2k in savings. My next move was to Astoria which is a young neighborhood in queens and super close to the city. Lived in another closest for $800 but I was by the city at least. I was in my first year of grad school so I didnt really have time to work so my options were limited but in my 2nd year of grad school I got a job working in this super fancy restaurant in the meat packing district and made bank in tips and thats when I got a “real” apt. Also I have so many stories about serving the super wealthy and movie stars in the meat packing.It was wild. You want to get a job like this just to get on your feet. The fancier the better tips but honestly even shitty dive bars in the east village have good tips. New yorkers are very generous because most have been where you are. Anyways my new apt was about 1k but the roommate was hell so I bounced out of there after 3 months and got an apt where I would come to meet my best friend and soul sister in the city. I got the biggest room I have ever lived in for 1100k in prime astoria and it was such a good apt. We had a hellish roommate but eventually she left. All these apartments were in Astoria. Astoria is a very affordable hip area to live in. I saved up my money graduated grad school got a real job and then finally I made the move into the city. Manhattan living is expensive. NYC isnt like anywhere else the money upfront they want for a studio is insane. So if your moving here do not aim to get an apt go on one of the roommate sites and just sneak into a apt where someone is moving out. So I moved into a shoebox in the Upper west side. It was $1850 and you had to pay first, last and security and the brokers fee (Oh lets not get into brokers fees people they are wild) so that was basically 1850x4 just for a shoebox studio(FYI everything is tiny in NYC, all the living spaces are micro. get use to it). So almost 8k but finally i got to live on my own. Lived there for 2 years. Move to chelsea because the UWS is beautiful but very family centric lived in this dope asf triplex in chelsea and paid 1900. Then left NYC to replace a colleague in London for maternity leave for about 16months. London is sooooo cheap compared to NYC its like the kiddie pool for expensive ass real estate. Thats why I laugh when brits are like its so expensive like bish you dont know expensive okay. When I got back I took over my friends place for the summer because she left to her hamptons pad and so I basically house sat but also paid reduced rent it was 1400 in prime Williamsburg. My friend is rich asf so my hard earned rent was her play money. After the summer ended I finally signed another real lease and thats where am at now. I adore this apartment its in prime williamsburg semi-lux and I just treated myself when I got this place. I work in a super stressful job so for me am at this point I dont mind paying to feel comfortable and have perks. I work my fucking ass off I deserve it. Ok so details on my new pad. So am going back to chelsea..... covid is a bish but lets thank her for crashing the nyc real estate market because there is no way i would be buying this apt if covid hadnt happened. I had been considering buying for a few years so I ave been saving but with no real plan. I told my dad last year during covid april that if the market dropped maybe I should buy. My family is from LA so my dad gets paying 2k in rent he did it for years too and he has been wanting me to get out of the rental market. Metro city rental markets are a racket. Anyways this would not be possible without my father. He basically said you get half the deposit saved and I will lend you the other half. Well around feb I had the half and my dad was like ok cool you find something let me know.Do not get me wrong my apt needs a TON of work thats why its so well priced and when I mean well priced I mean stupid expensive but well priced for NYC. I am going to need to redo the floors, rip out the kitchen, rip out the bathroom. Install overhead lighting, rebrick the fireplace and paint everywhere but its mine also am gonna have two months where I carry rent and a mortgage so I have 60 days to basically renovate if I get desperate I will sleep on my besties couch in brooklyn so I have am options but yea. Mortgage is close to my current rent at 2150 but I live in a COOP (this is going to be super confusing for the europeans. They like WTF is a coop?!?!?!) and so my building maintenance is about $800 on top of my mortgage. Its been a long decade of nyc renting to get here but I did. Now for you anon just do it. Look I tell everyone. Live in NYC for one year of your life it will change you entirely as a person you will learn to become a survivor here. What do they say? If you can make it in NYC you can make it anywhere. Its sooo hard and the city is literally the concrete jungle but its also amazing and so alive and so rich and yes you may find yourself one late night coming home after working 12hrs on your feet sitting on a brownstone stoop balling your eyes out thinking “I am not cut out for this” but I promise you the rewards you will earn back are irreplaceable. There is a reason people from all over the world flock here. It really is like no other place so if you can keep your head down. Work a couple of shitty jobs and get $1500 under you then pull the trigger. Take the leap! I promise it will change your life forever.

#lucidpantone anons #do it anon I promise you it will change you entire perspective on life #nyc is as brutal as it is beautiful

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unwiltingblossom · 4 years

Text

Queen’s Favor (Mysme Jumin/MC AU 9/?)

Summary: Being a maid would be much easier if the cat would just let her do her job.

AU - Instead of joining the RFA via random text, MC is hired on as one of the maids assigned to Jumin Han’s penthouse. Nothing else about the setting has changed, the messenger and the RFA still exist, only the MC’s position has been altered.

It'd gotten to the point where she'd opened the bag and just...looked directly inside it. Just one step shy of trying to stick her head and body in there, as if she could go on a purse-adventure to find her wallet.

The GPS worked.

See. She might have gotten hotheaded and chased after a stranger in the middle of the night all the way until she got the lost in some shady district, but nothing actually bad happened. Except she lost some time to have dinner and relax.

But that was fine, because it was her weekend anyway. She had all day to sleep in and do other things!

Like get that haircut. And maybe shop for mattresses. A little.

But not apartment shop. She wasn't making enough to have saved up for that yet. There wasn't that many places in her range to move into in the city, in the first place, which is part of the reason she ended up in the closet-apartment she now lived. Given the short time since moving there, she couldn't really expect that to change radically when her price range...really wasn't that different. Yet.

When she'd looked up the location that she'd ended up in last night, all she'd been able to find out about it was that it had been built ten years back and was residential. She hadn't found any advertisements renting the apartments in it, which was strange, given that it sure didn't look full.

Well. Maybe some business mogul bought the place thinking they could turn it into some kind of office-space, then went under because they had no idea what they were doing?

Regardless, aside from a few comments from others who had asked questions about the building and gotten nothing of substance in return, there wasn't much about the place on the internet. Maybe that jerk who'd run into her was actually the person who owned the place. It's that, or he really was a drug dealer.

Hey, maybe he split the difference. Gotta pay for an apartment complex you don't rent out somehow, right?

She frowned, rustling through her purse. She obviously traveled without it most of the time when she was working, as there really wasn't a reason to weigh herself down with something she might forget somewhere (or the cat would get into), but still...she was sure she'd put her wallet in the purse when she'd gotten home.

Where is it...?

She wasn't about to stand there rustling through the purse, digging through her stuff to find her money after she needed to pay something. She'd do it now. When no one was staring expectantly at her and she didn't feel judged. Obviously. Like any upstanding not-broke citizen who felt vaguely judged every time she went into work by the sheer gulf between herself and her employer's wealth levels.

Which was a good choice, because it'd gotten to the point where she'd opened the bag and just...looked directly inside it. Just one step shy of trying to stick her head and body in there, as if she could go on a purse-adventure to find her wallet. Her hand failed to find it, so maybe if she just looked...

"Hey, look out-!"

She did, but only in time to see a black-and-white blur slam into her.

Ah, so that's how it felt to be tackled to the ground. But worse, because she'd only tackled the intruder to wooden floors, not cement. That hardly seemed fair, considering she didn't do anything to deserve it, unlike the one who got slammed to the floor.

She didn't complain, though, as her attention was arrested pretty completely by the literal truck that zoomed right by where she'd been standing before something else - someone else - slammed into her and knocked her out of the way. Along with her purse, which was knocked completely off of her arm by the impact of the ground, and slid a foot or two away from her on the sidewalk.

Hey, was that her walle-nope, just her phone.

"Are you alright?"

The ground, the truck, and then her purse all took their turns with her attention, she supposed it was only reasonable the person who saved her life would eventually expect to it, too. Once the shock and potential trauma passed, anyway.

She blinked a few times, but the person above her neither disappeared, nor melted like a midday mirage caused by standing in the sun. The beautiful face just inches away from hers remained. And didn't get any less pretty even when she focused on it. Smooth, flawless skin she could scream in jealousy over, platinum hair that fell in an artful curtain around both of their faces despite being tied back, and surprisingly pretty red eyes.

Ah, yes.

She still hadn't spoken. Just gawked.

Nice.

"U-uh." Granted, she'd gotten used to seeing attractive men in person, compared to maybe a year before. But this was an exceptionally pretty man, exceptionally close to her face. That, and she'd just been slammed into the ground and narrowly avoided death.

Actually, that's what she's going with. Near death avoidance. Really robs someone of their speech.

He spoke again, and by some totally unfair twist, he sounded as attractive as he looked. "Are you okay? You didn't hit your head or anything?"

Despite herself, she lifted a hand from where it'd splayed out on the ground and waved it vaguely in the air. "Oh, no, no. I quit concussions cold turkey last month." Mmm, nope. She knew the reference and even for her...that just wasn't clever. She'd chalk that up to near death, too. She'd go down fighting and die with dignity before she admitted to social awkwardness just because someone pretty happened to be up in her face.

Unfortunately, she couldn't take back what was already said.

He squinted down at her a moment, one side of his mouth quirking up into a smile that was frankly more amused than her comment deserved. "...I feel even more concerned for you now than I did before."

"...You know what, I really can't blame you. It was pretty bad by my standards, and I fully blame the near-miss of that truck."

His expression remained amused - and seemed rather like he was holding back saying something else. Mercifully, probably. Eventually, he pushed himself up and away, shifting instead to kneel over her, rather than stay like some kind of cliche accidental romance moment. A hand reached out to help her up, and she really couldn't help but notice how the sun caught in his silver hair, how his features looked perfectly chiseled like from someone's personal design of perfection, and how ridiculous it was to have someone as pretty as him randomly wandering the street.

For one reason or another, it felt stranger just to see someone so attractive on the street around the peasants like her than to see them rubbing elbows with the ludicrously rich. Well, that and he had the feel of some kind of a star. Maybe that was pretty-bias, though.

After a moment or two of perfectly discreet gawking, she did ultimately take the offered hand, at least upgrading from 'sprawled on the sidewalk' to 'sitting on the sidewalk'.

"If I could offer a bit of advice, I'd quit standing in the middle of busy streets cold turkey, too." The man gave a wink, and for a moment she considered punching herself in the face just to give an excuse for the way her cheeks felt hot immediately after. At this point, she really doubted even that could make her look any worse to this random stranger anyway. "Even though I'm a hero, I can't promise I'll always be nearby to rescue you if you do."

"Are you sure? You've got the face to make a career out of it." ...Ah, yes. Well, eventually she just had to say something about his looks. They were just...there. Right up in her face and startlingly pretty.

He even wore a bashful smile in a way she could almost believe was sincere. "It's never sounded so appealing as when a natural born princess suggested it."

"Hm, I've never heard of a princess that has to hire her own hero. Can't say I can afford the paycheck, but I'll give you a five star review for my free trial."

He winked again, and she was pretty sure that someone ought to classify that as a deadly weapon. "For such a fair maiden, I'd do it for free."

...Honestly.

If she was going to flirt with a startlingly handsome stranger she met on the street, the least she could have done for herself was not make it so lame. This was what happened when the majority of her social interaction for an entire season was with a cat and its bizarre owner.

"I...uh. You think we can still chalk up my poor social skills to the near death experience?" She wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to think about the alternative."

His response was, apparently, to just flex on her by standing up and pulling her to her feet with one hand. Of course he was handsome, charismatic and fit. Why not go for the triple threat? The man apparently just waltzed right off of the nearest movie screen before rescuing her from the most embarrassing death she could have come up with outside of the penthouse. It'd be weirder at this point if he weren't also buff.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." He grinned. It sparkled, and she almost rolled her eyes. "I, for one, am thoroughly charmed."

Alright. He could keep being unreasonably good at everything as long as he also kept flattering her. Seemed reasonable to her.

"Smooth." A little scoff she liked to think wasn't vulgar compared to the person in front of her escaped her throat, and she turned to gather up her purse before anyone else could trample her things. Surprisingly, once she was done, the man still stood in place, watching her with that vaguely amused expression he'd had the whole time. She could almost buy he was actually charmed by her if he weren't a dolled up model on a movie poster jumped off the wall and come to life.

"If you're worried about me running back out into traffic again or something, you don't have to. There's a cat that would come and kill me if I got myself killed."'

For just a moment, he looked absolutely horrified. And then he went into a sneezing fit. Never before had she seen dignity and grace evaporate so quickly and thoroughly. The silver figure of a beautiful adonis quickly turned into a man nearly sneezing off of his feet, with tears and snot and...why?

"A-are you okay?!"

"No-I...I'm just...!" He sniffled, expression transformed to something petulant and miserable as he withdrew a handkerchief to clean up his face. "I'm very allergic! Just talking about cats makes me sneeze!"

"That's..."

That is not a thing.

"That is not how allergies work."

He huffed, pursing his lips, and pocketed his handkerchief. "It's true."

She was sure it wasn't.

Still, she couldn't help a small smile anyway, awkward as it may have been. "I guess it might be hard to be your princess then. It'd be embarrassing to have you keel over when you showed up to rescue me."

He dabbed at his eye with one knuckle, so delicate. "Every hero faces his own dangers."

"You're really dedicated to the hero and princess thing, huh? Even ca-..." The pitiful look on his face was enough to make her correct herself. "Even your mortal enemy can't stop you, huh?"

This time, his smile was self depreciating. "Beggars can't be choosers. A hero without a princess is just a lonely guy."

...She wouldn't lie, it was at least half as much because he was so handsome as because he was amusingly charming and saved her life, but...eh. She shrugged. "If you put it that way...I could go for the company of a hero prince for lunch."

He chuckled and brushed hair out of his face...that instantly fell artfully right back into his face. "Well, now I just feel like I'm committing extortion..."

"Consider it a princess' favo-"

Wait.

"Dammit, my wallet!"

#mysme #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fic #mysme fic #mysme zen #jumin x mc #fic #ooc

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soundofseventeen · 4 years

Text

13 Days of Christmas (Yoon Jeonghan)

Hi! Not much to say but I hope you enjoyed Erin’s update! And this is one of my favorites that I wrote! I’ll see y’all tomorrow! gif credits to owners!

Word count: 2699

“There it is,” you said, gently placing your fingertips against the glass, “Jeonghan’s Christmas present.” It was neither grandiose nor revolutionary but you could guarantee that that record player would light up his face the moment he saw it and it was worth it. You could already picture him buying a table specifically for that and his little collection of records happily on the side. You felt the goosebumps making their way across your body hearing Jeonghan’s vocals as he sang along to his favorite songs.

Joshua, on the other hand, didn’t look too amazed. “It’s nice…Y/N, it’s really nice, but isn’t the price...a bit much?” He loved his friend, he really did but the thought of spending so much money on him was enough to haunt his daydreams. But then he figured that if ever found someone that would spend as many Christmases with him the way you and Jeonghan did, then maybe he’d understand. After all, you were already dating when he met Jeonghan, but he surprised himself when he saw he got along with you as well, being neighbors and all.

“Joshua...for Jeonghan, too much is never enough.”

“But when was the last time you bought something for yourself?”

You kicked your foot in the air to show him your kicks. “Uh, I bought these four months ago, remember?”

“Yes...I told you to either buy them or I would. You had to justify buying a new pair even though they had a hole on the toe.”

“Not everyone can inherit a family business, Mr. Show Off. Now, are you gonna help me wrap that thing when I get out of work?” You cleaned the prints with the sleeve of your sweater paw, ridding the smudge on the window. You tapped the pocket of the small zipper of your mini backpack, making sure you brought the money with you for the umpteenth time. All your tips and extra cash you had leftover went to the record player. And if the owners had a set schedule, you would’ve bought it and taken it home with you a long time ago.

“And when are you getting your camera? Don’t you miss taking photos?’

“I can always wait for my next birthday or when I’m not drowning in debt.” You remembered all the unopened film you had at home.

So why are you buying something this expensive for Jeonghan?”

“He deserves it. He’s been working so many hours lately and even though he’s dead tired, he still makes time for me. Honestly, that over there-” you pointed to the antique, “-is nothing to compared to everything he’s done.”

“And you don’t work enough hours?” He had never seen a couple like you and Jeonghan, so young and in love and always putting each other first. It sickened him sometimes and he usually had to be realistic for the both of you.

“Pfft, I’m pretty sure I’ve been slacking just to make sure I get by. That’s what happens when I decide to get sick..” you mumbled the last of your ranting so he wouldn’t hear you. Getting sick around this time of year hadn’t been an option and it still happened and it made you hate your immune system for making you suffer.

“Why not just move in with Jeonghan already to save costs? You’ve been together long enough.”

“I don’t think we’re ready for that yet,” you admitted. It’s not that the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before; it’s just that there were other things you wanted to do and get on your own before taking that next step.

“Okay so you spend all your money on him...and vice versa, you spend all your free time together, you pretty much spend weeks at each other’s places AND you’ve been together since the dawn of time...but no. Moving in together is too much of a commitment.”

“Oh hush before you make me late for work. Come on. I have annoying customers to attend to. Hopefully, they’ll be generous enough to leave me good tips.”

“‘Tis the season to be jolly,” he raised his coffee cup in a toast and sipped it.

“Isn’t she a beaut?” Jeonghan asked Seungcheol on his way to work. He sighed longingly at the Polaroid on display, wanting and wishing so desperately he’d be getting paid today just so could buy you your present right now.

“Very pretty,” he whistled. “I’m sure Y/N will love it.”

He nodded, still remembering the broken-hearted expression you had when you realized that you had forgotten it at the bus stop and he swore he’d buy you another one as soon as he could afford it. “I hope so. Y/N deserves all the good things in this world and I’ll try my hardest to make that happen.”

“You know I keep thinking that maybe one day you’ll realize that you’ll both be happy once you move in together.”

“We’ve talked about it but we’re not ready for that.”

“So you’re just gonna settle for buying yet another ridiculously expensive present.”

“Y/N needs this. Trust me.”

“And I need someone to help me pay rent because living alone sucks.”

“Didn’t Soonyoung have an opening available?”

“You really want me to have a stroke, huh? Last time he had Seungkwan over at his place...I had to help him scrape noodles off the ceiling.” He frowned. “And Minghao wasn’t pleased about the food stains on his book, so I had to give him my copy.”

“New plan, get into a relationship.”

“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to worry about all that shit.”

“I got lucky,” Jeonghan shrugged nonchalantly. He turned his attention back to the vintage camera. “That’ll prove it.” He had slowly been saving up for that Polaroid for you, stopping by weekly to give a downpayment, and with this week’s paycheck, you’d surely be getting it tonight.

“Man, you guys are gross,” Seungcheol gagged. “Making me feel lonely with my single ass. Let’s go, Romeo. Otherwise, the only thing you’ll be getting is a pink slip.”

“I really hate Soonyoung,” he grumbled. “He got to be one of Santa’s elves and I’m fucking Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.”

“And I’m a cashier who has to hear sob stories and threats over discounts that aren’t included with the shit they’re buying.” Jeonghan wasn’t sure if the tears were real or not, but he couldn’t blame him either way.

You walked out of the bathroom, still wondering how the smell of coffee made its way into your street clothes. You stuffed your uniform into your backpack, grateful to be out earlier than expected but trying not to think about how you were gonna make extra money before the rent. Tips weren’t too bad but you felt a little guilty for hoping for more. You’d find a way to manage; you always did.

Your coworkers wished you a happy holiday, as well as thanking you for the gifts and then you went next door to wait for Joshua since he texted you that he’d be leaving soon. The secretaries at the law firm didn’t give you a second glance other than greeting you. They were used to seeing you by now so they let you wait there. Luckily, he hardly kept you waiting so you were back out before the door even closed. He chatted about the potential clients and the ones who stuck out to him. You didn’t know how many cups of coffee he drank on the way to the antique store, but he never seemed jittery. But you guessed it went to you since you were buzzing and speeding up and rushing him to get there faster. You finally left him about half a block away to run inside to get someone to help take the record player to the register to pay the owner.

However, when Joshua caught up to you, you were frantically digging through your backpack looking for the small zip-loc that had all your savings for it. “Where is it?” You dumped everything out on the counter, hoping it’d be mixed in with your uniform or your wallet or anywhere else. “Joshua,” I can’t find it.” You tried not to cry, thinking if you went back to the restaurant, it’d be there in your locker, waiting for you. “I’m sorry, can you just keep this on hold for me? I left my money in my locker at work. I’ll be back with it as soon as possible.”

“I’m sorry, but if someone else wants it, we might have to sell it to them,” the owner said apologetically.

“No, please. I have the money. It’s for my boyfriend. That’s his Christmas gift. I’ll be back in an hour, I promise.”

“What do you mean I’m not getting paid?” Jeonghan asked his boss in disbelief.

“No, you’re still getting paid...it’s just delayed a couple of days. And that’s my fault for not seeing that I was overdrafted from one of my payments sooner.”

“And all my coworkers?”

“Are in the same position as you. I-It’s out of my hands.”

“Can’t you just give it to me in cash, sir? It’s an emergency.”

“My daughter just deposited everything that we made today. Jeonghan, I’m truly sorry. How else can I make it up to you?”

“It’s fine. Forget it.” The rush of emotions left him conflicted as he drove home. He didn’t have a backup plan for something like this. He just assumed that after work today, he’d be able to buy you your Christmas gift with no problem. He was pissed that it didn’t happen like that. He knew that banks messed up all the time but he couldn’t believe his luck. He promised you the greatest gift in the world, and now would he provide that? He threw your towels in the washer, knowing you’d want to shower after you got back from visiting your friends at Mingyu’s place. He tidied the room a little, looked for your slippers and made sure he had some ramen in case you came home hungry.

He went back out to the living room, car keys in hand, when he laid his eyes on his records...his most prized collection. A lot of them he had been buying since he started earning his money, and some he got for a really good deal. He always promised himself that one day, he’d get himself one just to be able to play his music. And then when you crossed his mind, he pictured you with the Polaroid in your hands as you took the pictures and in one swift movement, picked up the records and headed out.

You never understood how Jeonghan managed to tangle himself up in you but you never complained about it. If anything, you welcomed it because it was just something you liked...unless it was scorching hot and his body heat radiated off of him. “Hannie,” you called him softly. “Hannie, wake up.”

“Five more minutes, my love,” he mumbled. “I’m tired.”

“But Hannie, it’s Christmas! I wanna make you breakfast.”

“Stay with meeeeeee.” He sleepily pressed his lips to your cheek, not quite processing your words.

“Come on. You can sleep in the living room.”

“Jagi, can you make me pancakes?”

“Yes, come on. And take your blanket too so you’ll stay warm.”

“Can we stay in our pjs too?”

“Go nuts.”

He didn’t need his blanket because as soon as he turned on the TV, he woke up and flipped through the channels excitedly, looking for anything that hinted at his childhood. He looked under the Christmas tree, only two presents, a sure sign that they’d gotten older. His heart clenched at seeing his gift to you, which now looked like nothing compared to the one you wrapped for him. He didn’t wanna dwell on that. It was Christmas, you were here with him again and it was perfect. Breakfast too. He loved hearing you humming in the kitchen, and making small talk. He met you on the table but you shook your head and went to the living room and sat on the floor. You patted the spot next to you and you watched the movie playing in silence. You looked like you were in a good mood, and he couldn’t complain. And then you mentioned opening presents and he felt the nerves turn icy in his veins.

“Okay. Do you want to open mine first or do you want me to start?” He didn’t give you the chance to speak since he handed you your and he waited.

You took your time unwrapping it, trying to figure out what he could’ve gotten you. “Is this what I think it is?” You finally decided to tear it open, and you tried not to cry. “It’s a...Polaroid,” you said quietly. You could feel the lump in your throat, touched at the fact that he got it for you. “Thank you.”

“I know it can’t replace your old one, but I know you missed taking photos. Here, why don’t you take one of me while I open yours?”

“I think I’d rather just capture the moment as is.” You leaned closer to him while he unwrapped his, nearly helping him because of your excitement.

“It’s a record player,” he said in the same voice you just used. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, I know how you’ve been dying for this and it’s what you deserve. Now, why don’t you put one of your favorite albums so I can hear your beautiful voice?”

He surprised you by taking your hands in his. “Y/N, do you know how happy you make me and how I’ll do anything to see you smile?” He kissed your hands when you nodded and continued. “Yesterday, I wasn’t able to get paid, so I had to sell my records to get your Polaroid.” He didn’t need to tell you that he had to stop at several places because many of the owners didn’t offer the prices he needed to buy it for you.

“Jeonghan, why?” he wiped away a tear that had fallen. Your heart broke at his sacrifice and you felt so selfish.

“Because I love you. Now start taking pictures and hang them up everywhere you can. Your photograph...why are you crying? Jagi, please don’t cry. You're more important to me than those. I can always buy more.”

“Jeonghan, I sold all my film to buy you this record player,” you admitted. “I lost the money I saved up for it and they were gonna give it to someone else. You love music so much and it was the first thing I thought of.”

To your surprise, he started laughing so hard his own tears started falling and then it was your turn to wipe them. “Baby, why would you do that for me?”

“Because I love you. More than anything, even my stupid hobby.”

He didn’t know what else to do, so he grabbed your face and placed kisses everywhere he could until he just held you close to him. He rested you close to his heart, content despite everything. “Man, we’re just a couple of fools, aren’t we?”

You didn’t answer him, the steady beating of his heart matching with yours. You still couldn’t believe that he loved you this much. And you loved him just as much. You’d already known that you were gonna spend the rest of your life with him, but this just solidified any doubts you may have had.

“Jagi?” He tried again.

“Hmm?”

“I know this is long overdue and we’ve only talked about this a couple of times, but would you just move in with me already? I don’t know if I can handle being apart from you much longer. It doesn’t to be right away-”

“How about after the new year?”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Jeonghan, after what you did for me...how can I say no? Besides, it took us long enough, right?’

“I love you...so fucking much.”

And I love you...just as fucking much,” you said, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

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brightbeautifulthings · 4 years

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MAYHEM BY ESTELLE LAURE BLOG TOUR & CHAPTER EXCERPT

The Lost Boys meets Wilder Girls in this supernatural feminist YA novel.

Available July 14th, 2020

It's 1987 and unfortunately it's not all Madonna and cherry lip balm. Mayhem Brayburn has always known there was something off about her and her mother, Roxy. Maybe it has to do with Roxy's constant physical pain, or maybe with Mayhem's own irresistible pull to water. Either way, she knows they aren't like everyone else.

But when May's stepfather finally goes too far, Roxy and Mayhem flee to Santa Maria, California, the coastal beach town that holds the answers to all of Mayhem's questions about who her mother is, her estranged family, and the mysteries of her own self. There she meets the kids who live with her aunt, and it opens the door to the magic that runs through the female lineage in her family, the very magic Mayhem is next in line to inherit and which will change her life for good.

But when she gets wrapped up in the search for the man who has been kidnapping girls from the beach, her life takes another dangerous turn and she is forced to face the price of vigilante justice and to ask herself whether revenge is worth the cost.

From the acclaimed author of This Raging Light and But Then I Came Back, Estelle Laure offers a riveting and complex story with magical elements about a family of women contending with what appears to be an irreversible destiny, taking control and saying when enough is enough.

About the Author:

Estelle Laure, the author of This Raging Light and But Then I Came Back believes in love, magic, and the power of facing hard truths. She has a BA in Theatre Arts and an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts in Writing for Children and Young Adults, and she lives in Taos, New Mexico, with her family. Her work is translated widely around the world.

Twitter | Instagram | Get Your Copy

Read on for a special chapter excerpt of Mayhem!

three Santa Maria

“Trouble,” Roxy says. She arches a brow at the kids by the van through the bug-spattered windshield, the ghost of a half-smile rippling across her face.

“You would know,” I shoot.

“So would you,” she snaps.

Maybe we’re a little on edge. We’ve been in the car so long the pattern on the vinyl seats is tattooed on the back of my thighs.

The kids my mother is talking about, the ones sitting on the white picket fence, look like they slithered up the hill out of the ocean, covered in seaweed, like the carnival music we heard coming from the boardwalk as we were driving into town plays in the air around them at all times. Two crows are on the posts beside them like they’re standing guard, and they caw at each other loudly as we come to a stop. I love every- thing about this place immediately and I think, ridiculously, that I am no longer alone.

The older girl, white but tan, curvaceous, and lean, has her arms around the boy and is lovely with her smudged eye makeup and her ripped clothes. The younger one pops some- thing made of bright colors into her mouth and watches us come up the drive. She is in a military-style jacket with a ton of buttons, her frizzy blond hair reaching in all directions, freckles slapped across her cheeks. And the boy? Thin, brown, hungry-looking. Not hungry in his stomach. Hungry with his eyes. He has a green bandana tied across his forehead and holes in the knees of his jeans. There’s an A in a circle drawn in marker across the front of his T-shirt.

Anarchy.

“Look!” Roxy points to the gas gauge. It’s just above the E. “You owe me five bucks, Cookie. I told you to trust we would make it, and see what happened? You should listen to your mama every once in a while.”

“Yeah, well, can I borrow the five bucks to pay you for the bet? I’m fresh out of cash at the moment.”

“Very funny.”

Roxy cranes out the window and wipes the sweat off her upper lip, careful not to smudge her red lipstick. She’s been having real bad aches the last two days, even aside from her bruises, and her appetite’s been worse than ever. The only thing she ever wants is sugar. After having been in the car for so long, you’d think we’d be falling all over each other to get out, but we’re still sitting in the car. In here we’re still us.

She sighs for the thousandth time and clutches at her belly. “I don’t know about this, May.”

California can’t be that different from West Texas.

I watch TV. I know how to say gag me with a spoon and grody to the max.

I fling open the door.

Roxy gathers her cigarettes and lighter, and drops them in- side her purse with a snap.

“Goddammit, Elle,” she mutters to herself, eyes flickering toward the kids again. Roxy looks at me over the rims of her sunglasses before shoving them back on her nose. “Mayhem, I’m counting on you to keep your head together here. Those kids are not the usual—”

“I know! You told me they’re foster kids.”

“No, not that,” she says, but doesn’t clarify. “Okay, I guess.”

“I mean it. No more of that wild-child business.”

“I will keep my head together!” I’m so tired of her saying this. I never had any friends, never a boyfriend—all I have is what Grandmother calls my nasty mouth and the hair Lyle always said was ugly and whorish. And once or twice I might’ve got drunk on the roof, but it’s not like I ever did anything. Besides, no kid my age has ever liked me even once. I’m not the wild child in the family.

“Well, all right then.” Roxy messes with her hair in the rear- view mirror, then sprays herself with a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and runs her fingers over her gold necklace. It’s of a bird, not unlike the ones making a fuss by the house. She’s had it as long as I can remember, and over time it’s been worn smooth by her worrying fingers. It’s like she uses it to calm herself when she’s upset about something, and she’s been upset the whole way here, practically. Usually, she’d be good and buzzed by this time of day, but since she’s had to drive some, she’s only nipped from the tiny bottle of wine in her purse a few times and only taken a couple pills since we left Taylor. The with- drawal has turned her into a bit of a she-demon.

I try to look through her eyes, to see what she sees. Roxy hasn’t been back here since I was three years old, and in that time, her mother has died, her father has died, and like she said when she got the card with the picture enclosed that her twin sister, Elle, sent last Christmas, Everybody got old. After that, she spent a lot of time staring in the mirror, pinching at her neck skin. When I was younger, she passed long nights telling me about Santa Maria and the Brayburn Farm, about how it was good and evil in equal measure, about how it had desires that had to be satisfied.

Brayburns, she would say. In my town, we were the legends.

These were the mumbled stories of my childhood, and they made everything about this place loom large. Now that we’re here, I realize I expected the house to have a gaping maw filled with spitty, frothy teeth, as much as I figured there would be fairies flitting around with wands granting wishes. I don’t want to take her vision away from her, but this place looks pretty normal to me, if run-down compared to our new house in Taylor, where there’s no dust anywhere, ever, and Lyle prac- tically keeps the cans of soup in alphabetical order. Maybe what’s not so normal is that this place was built by Brayburns, and here Brayburns matter. I know because the whole road is named after us and because flowers and ribbons and baskets of fruit sat at the entrance, gifts from the people in town, Roxy said. They leave offerings. She said it like it’s normal to be treated like some kind of low-rent goddess.

Other than the van and the kids, there are trees here, rose- bushes, an old black Mercedes, and some bikes leaning against the porch that’s attached to the house. It’s splashed with fresh white paint that doesn’t quite cover up its wrinkles and scars. It’s three stories, so it cuts the sunset when I look up, and plants drape down to touch the dirt.

The front door swings open and a woman in bare feet races past the rosebushes toward us. It is those feet and the reckless way they pound against the earth that tells me this is my aunt Elle before her face does. My stomach gallops and there are bumps all over my arms, and I am more awake than I’ve been since.

I thought Roxy might do a lot of things when she saw her twin sister. Like she might get super quiet or chain-smoke, or maybe even get biting like she can when she’s feeling wrong about something. The last thing I would have ever imagined was them running toward each other and colliding in the driveway, Roxy wrapping her legs around Elle’s waist, and them twirling like that.

This seems like something I shouldn’t be seeing, some- thing wounded and private that fills up my throat. I flip my- self around in my seat and start picking through the things we brought and chide myself yet again for the miserable packing job I did. Since I was basically out of my mind trying to get out of the house, I took a whole package of toothbrushes, an armful of books, my River Phoenix poster, plus I emptied out my underwear drawer, but totally forgot to pack any shoes, so all I have are some flip-flops I bought at the truck stop outside of Las Cruces after that man came to the window, slurring, You got nice legs. Tap, tap tap. You got such nice legs.

My flip-flops are covered in Cheeto dust from a bag that got upended. I slip them on anyway, watching Roxy take her sunglasses off and prop them on her head.

“Son of a bitch!” my aunt says, her voice tinny as she catches sight of Roxy’s eye. “Oh my God, that’s really bad, Rox. You made it sound like nothing. That’s not nothing.”

“Ellie,” Roxy says, trying to put laughter in her voice. “I’m here now. We’re here now.”

There’s a pause.

“You look the same,” Elle says. “Except the hair. You went full Marilyn Monroe.”

“What about you?” Roxy says, fussing at her platinum waves with her palm. “You go full granola warrior? When’s the last time you ate a burger?”

“You know I don’t do that. It’s no good for us. Definitely no good for the poor cows.”

“It’s fine for me.” Roxy lifts Elle’s arm and puckers her nose. “What’s going on with your armpits? May not eat meat but you got animals under there, looks like.”

“Shaving is subjugation.”

“Shaving is a mercy for all mankind.”

They erupt into laughter and hug each other again.

“Well, where is she, my little baby niece?” Elle swings the car door open. “Oh, Mayhem.” She scoops me out with two strong arms. Right then I realize just how truly tired I am. She seems to know, squeezes extra hard for a second before letting me go. She smells like the sandalwood soap Roxy buys sometimes. “My baby girl,” Elle says, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you. How much I’ve missed you.”

Roxy circles her ear with a finger where Elle can’t see her.

Crazy, she mouths. I almost giggle.

#mayhem #estelle laure #blog tour #chapter excerpt #free chapter #book excerpt #book promotion #booklr #supernatural ya #paranormal ya #st. martin's press #netgalley

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dobrikburrito · 5 years

Text

great expectations, d.d.

words: 2.4k

Write something about david surprising his girlfriend with a surprise trip to like hawaii cos its her dream vacation and when the vlog goes up people compare it to the vacation dav and liza took and it makes her upset and her cheers her up. ( She wasnt a public figure and people didnt think they should be together)

disclaimer: angst & fluff. david being cute af.

⠀

“Okay, give it to me.” You sat down by the corner of his bed, putting both of your hands out and closing your eyes. You smiled to yourself. “That’s what she said.”

David burst out laughing. “Can you be serious for one minute?”

“You’re one to talk,” You opened your eyes and gave him a dirty look. “By the way, I just want to say on the record that David promised that nothing gross was about to happen here. I wanted to put this out there so he can be held accountable if I have a heart attack.”

David couldn’t stop laughing, so he pointed the camera to himself. “I did promise that, unfortunately, so I had to put the anaconda away.”

“That’s what she said.” You laughed and slapped yourself. “Bad (Y/N). Alright, me-serious. Go.”

“You know how our friends say we’re really annoying with the whole anniversary every month?” David started and you nodded. “So, I had this really fun idea, which actually makes me a genius.”

“Show off.” You commented under your breath and he chuckled.

“So I decided to combine our fourth month anniversary with your birthday and…” David put two plane tickets on your hands.

You looked at David, confused and then took one second to read the tickets. Your mouth instantly dropped. “What the fuck? Oh sorry.” David laughed. “Wait, are you serious? Is this real?”

“Yes, baby!” David was loving how shocked and paralyzed you were. “This says Hawaii in it.” You commented, looking at it, trying to find any clues that it was a fake ticket for a prank.

David turned the camera to himself. “She’ll get there, just give her a minute.”

“Are we going to Hawaii?” You looked at your boyfriend, puppy eyes and jaw to the floor.

“Yeap, we’re spending 7 days in a mansion in Hawaii.” David told you and the new information just hit you even harder?

“What the fuck?” You were looking away, shocked. David burst out laughing again.

Cut to you guys on the plane, first class tickets, with a fake flower on your ear, being all excited and childish. David ordered two glasses of champagne for the both of you.

“This is literally so extra,” You laughed, posing as some fancy old lady, then doing a british accent. “David, dear, would you please take care of my ponies for the summer. I’m spending it in my mansion in Dubai. I miss my liquid gold pool.”

“Why are you british?” David was laughing so much.

“I’m not talking like Dom to try and look fancy, silly.” You joked around, then smiling to your boyfriend.

You arrived to Hawaii, rented a porsche, headed to the rental house in Kamuela. David filmed you driving there, your hair flying on the wind, loving how big the smile on your face was. The drive was about 50 minutes, which earned some shots from the road, the two of you singing to Ariana’s songs and being overall weirdos.

David filmed your whole reaction to the massive mansion just for the two of you. Feelings every feeling known to man at once, you couldn’t help the tears of happiness when you saw how beautiful everything was. It had an infinity pool, a jacuzzi, a green big yard, enormous rooms with an amazing view to the sea and sunset. David didn’t want to tell you the day price of the rental at first, but you managed to get it out of him, shocked when he told you it was US$1.5k for the night.

It was a lot of money, but you made a 7-days schedule to enjoy the most of it and have so much footage for his vlogs that the trip would end up paying itself. Honestly, you were always amazed by how David never really thought twice about spending money on you and making sure that he was doing it because he loved to. Rarely spending on himself, this was just as rewarding to him.

The next three vlogs were filled with the funniest moments of you guys snorkeling, golfing, hiking, sightseeing, watching cultural concerts, doing surf lessons (which turned out horribly), visiting local markets even going on a helicopter ride, even though you were scared to death of the height.

On the fourth day, you woke up before David did. You just took one moment to watch him sleep, so peacefully, next to you. You knew how lucky you were to have him in your life, but not because he was a successful youtuber or because he had money. When you met him, randomly at a friend’s friend party, you didn’t even knew who he was and you loved him instantly, his humor and charm sweeping you off your feet.

Even though you weren’t a public figure nor ever was used to having cameras around, you got used to it, compromising for your relationship with him, knowing how this was basically his entire life.

“You know I can feel you staring at me, right, creep?” David said, eyes still closed but a little smirk lurking in his lips.

“I’m trying to decide when to murder you, that’s all.” You softly joked as you ran your fingertips over his cheeks. David loved your dark humor and laughed to himself, taking your hand and kissing it.

“Good morning my favorite serial killer.” He lazily opened his eyes.

“Good morning pretty boy.” You gave him a long peck on the lips. “Did I tell you how much I love you yet?”

“Not today, no.” David snuggled closer to you, humming happily when you started caressing his hair.

“I do. I love how you do that little smile with your tongue hanging and how no matter what you do to your hair, it always kinda looks both great and like you’re turning into a mad scientist.” David chuckled, hiding his face on your neck. “I love how you’re always looking to hold my hand, even when you don’t realize it.”

“Tell me more,” David gave you a sweet kiss on the neck.

“I love how you respect and love me. How you look at me with those shiny brown eyes and how those are the reason I never can’t get mad at you, which by itself makes me mad.” You sighed, then laughed. “And how selfless you are, how much you care for your friends even if sometimes you try to not to show it too much.”

“You wanna know what I love about you?” David looked up at you, his hair looking like he was definitely a mad scientist, which instantly made you chuckle. “I love your butt.”

You burst out laughing, putting your hand on his face. “Asshole, I was here pouring my heart out like a good old Todd Smith poem and you do me like that.” David chuckled for a good minute, hiding his face again and holding you tight. “My butt is pretty good, I guess.”

David nodded and you pulled his hair. “Ouch, (Y/N), the fuck.” He looked back at you. “Wait, do it again.” You rolled your eyes and tried to let go of him, only earning you deathly tickles.

Since his next posting day was tomorrow, you reserved half the day for David to edit some of the footage of the trip to post. The video was up early in the morning, after long hours of editing, so through the first couple of hours since the video was up, David was asleep on your bed.

Curiosity always got the best of you and you checked the video again, loving the whole montages and fun moments, but your attention soon focusing on the mean comments.

Can someone make an edit with all the same scenes from this vlog and David and Liza’s vlog in Hawaii? lol

Someone tell David he found a gold digger, plz.

She’s trying too hard to replace Liza, never gonna happen hun.

Who’s gonna tell her the minute Liza calls David will drop her ass? lmao

All this money dropping on what’s-her-name. Not even that pretty tbh.

Damn she must have a top sex game to whip him up like that.

How’s it like being a long-ass rebound for David while Liza is away?

This is literally the same trip he did with Liza wtf

David can do so much better she doesn’t deserve him

I kinda like her but she’s clearly after his clout

Every word was a knife to the heart, over and over and over again. It broke your heart how much comparison there was between you and Liza, and how come most of his fans never accepted you. This wasn’t the first time you read mean comments, but this time it was deeper. They knew exactly how to hurt you.

You were sitting by yourself by the porch, looking out of the amazing view of Hawaii, a dream come true for you. Wrapped up in a small blanket, you couldn’t help but cry to yourself. The feeling you had is that your relationship was doomed for the start and that you’d never live up to his fans’ expectations because you simply wasn’t Liza.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.” David made his way towards you.

You quickly cleaned the running tears, knowing it wasn’t doing much, since your face was read and swollen. David was taken aback by the sudden change of pace.

“Wow, (Y/N), are you okay? What happened?” Sitting by your side in the porch chair, his brows were furrowed, worried.

“Nothing, sweetie. I’m just thinking about everything and feeling so happy about this trip and how much I don’t deserve you for being so amazing.” You were a terrible liar and he knew you pretty well.

“I appreciate the compliments, but I don’t like when you lie to me.” David caressed your thigh, comforting. “We don’t keep secrets, remember?”

“I’m going to be fine, I promise. I just need one moment.” You laughed and cleaned the tears again.

“(Y/N).” That was all he said.

You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t get out of this so easily. Deciding to comply, you read him all the youtube comments you had read. David tried to speak in between, but you stopped him until you went through all of it. His hands slid through his face in frustration.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this, baby.” He held your hand. “You don’t deserve this kind of hate. This is all my fault. I should’ve kept our relationship to ourselves.”

“This is not your fault. I love our relationship and I love our dynamic and somehow you made me love being in the vlogs. You know I support you no matter what, but I feel like I’m facing a war and losing everyday. No matter what I do, I’ll never be Liza. They’ll never accept me for me. I’ll always live down to unreachable expectations because I’m not famous nor funny enough or pretty enough or skinny enough.”

“You know I don’t care about any of that, isn’t that enough?” David’s heart was shattered by watching you cry like that, seeing how much you were hurting.

You caressed his hand with your thumb and smiled to yourself, though still sad. “Dave, when you introduced me to your life, I had no idea what any of this meant. You taught me a lot about how your life works and I adapted, because I wanted this, us. It’s so hard to be used to the cameras, the need for content, the clickbait, but I did it because I love you. You’re always enough for me, but I know I feel like I’m not enough for you.”

“(Y/N), don’t say that…” His eyes were starting to tear up.

“No, it’s okay. I understand. This is a big part of your life, it’s your career. You’d never ask me to give up on my job or personal dreams, neither would I.” You took a deep breath. “But I try to be strong and… T-to try and ignore all the hate, but it’s just so many comments. Instagram, youtube, twitter. The good ones are so rare.”

David didn’t know what to say. Your tears were rolling down your face again. “I know I shouldn’t look at it, but it’s stronger than me. I just wanted them to give me one real chance, you know?”

“Come here.” He said, pulling you up for a tight hug. “I know this sucks and it’s hurting you and I hate it, because you’re amazing and you don’t deserve any of this.” He caressed your hair. “You wanna know what I love about you? Besides your butt, I mean.”

You looked up and chuckled lightly. David cleaned the tears away.

“I love that you always check me when I’m being an idiot. You always give me your honest opinion. You treat my friends like family. You stay up late with me when I’m editing even if you sleep by the couch with me, because you don’t want me to be alone.” David caressed your cheeks. “You have the prettiest smile and seeing it instantly makes me happy, no matter what. You motivate me and inspire me. I love how you cook for me and how you’re always talking with my mom, letting her know I’m being healthy. How much my parents and siblings love you.”

You sighed, happy. You gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

“I love how you make me think about having kids, because I often see how much of a great mom you’d be. I love planning with you, surprising you, thinking about our future together, because I know that if I wanted to drop this whole thing tomorrow, you’d be there for me.” David kissed you again. “You’ll never be Liza and I love you for it, because I don’t want you to be. I want you to be you, because that’s who I fell madly in love with.”

“Oh my God. I’m crying more now, stupid. Look what you did.” Chuckling softly, you hugged him tight again. He returned the hug.

“I’m sorry these haters keep hurting you, but I promise I’ll be here to kick their ass and assure you that you’re absolutely amazing, okay?” David pointed out.

You nodded, overwhelmed by how much you loved that boy. “I love you, stupid.” You smiled.

“I love you too, dumbass.” David smiled and kissed all over your face.

#david dobrik #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik fluff #david dobrik angst #david dobrik one shot #david dobrik fanfic #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik imagines #vlog squad #liza koshy #request

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funkypoacher · 4 years

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recently snagged myself a commission spot with @yummychii, who asked that I give a small blurb about the characters to get into the zone for the purposes of their drawing process. I was really impressed by that, and also inspired, leading to this little Margaret/Reed episode.

also tagging @a-productive-manor for I am a beggard thirsty for them reblogs :,( (just kidding. unless?)

Reed Tobson/OC The Outer Worlds rated G

The personal timepiece on Reed Tobson’s wrist, rather than read a specific hour, pointed out the indolence as he stood amidst fine and faded furniture, his eyes casting suspicion upon the dully lustrous swathes of wallpaper. Its gleam dimmed when Margaret walked passed, moving towards the tripod-cradled camera over which she bent and fussed, effusing the click of mechanics while she saw to processes he had no need to understand.

“Are we nearly ready, my dear?” asked Reed.

After setting the timer, Margaret breezed towards him, her head-shake burdened with the barest suggestion of reproach, and coloured by coquettish, playful wisdom. “Even in the most dire of situations, the company recommends, for every standard pay-period, one day of rest. Or a span of twenty four hours divided in such a manner as agreed upon by the employee and his superior.” Subduing the space between them, Margaret reached for Reed’s tie, righting the knot with a careful tug. “And seeing as you are dangerously close to infringing upon overtime which has not been granted this week, I suggest you commit yourself to this act of shiftlessness and stop checking the time.”

Distasteful though he found the notion of such idleness—it was akin to malediction on her lips—he could not help but admit, around a glowing smile, “how I adore your grasp of the labour guidelines.”

Her song of triumph was a soft, melodic laugh. Turning, Margaret faced the camera which loomed ominously halfway across the room, its lens shining like an inky eye.

“It takes a moment to warm up. Simply stand as you please.”

For her part, she posed loose-limbed and stale-countenanced in front of him. Reed balled his hands, awaiting the flash.

“And this is the rage in Byzantium, you say?”

“Oh, yes.” Margaret looked over her shoulder. “I had my portraiture captured alongside the troupe and Mister Rockwell, as well as for the corporations that rented my contract. And, as mentioned before, the promotional endeavors offered by Universal Defence Logistics back in ‘42.”

Reed sighed wistfully. “Hundreds of people forming a queue simply to have their likeness alongside your own. And to think—I get to skip the line entirely.” His chest expanded, pride crinkling his eyes. “I suppose it’s prudent that I have my wife’s portrait in my home if Halcyon’s privileged were given the opportunity.”

“Not quite, darling. UDL owned my image at the time, and weren’t inclined to give it away, even for a price. It was about the experience—the chance to rub elbows with luminaries, producers, and picture-stars. The Ruth Ballamy of my time was, by far, the more popular choice in these things compared to little, old me. Naturally.”

“Ah. Then…” Reed felt his collar tighten, and he put great effort into rebuffing it. “My, but what an interesting expenditure of one’s time. Byzantium’s elite certainly are fortunate. And, I suppose, I am now as fortuitous as they.”

Margaret was troubled unexpectedly. Turning, again, to cast a glance over her shoulder, she could not deny the affectionate call to touch his cheek. She did so; cupping his face, her hand indulged her heart to feel the warmth of his skin, and she stirred, deeply, particularly as his eyes met her own.

“You are better than any I’ve known in Byzantium, Reed Tobson.”

It was the incertitude of his expression which she both cherished and girded against, but she knew it to be true. As his hand encaptured hers which, moments previous, had stroked his face, and his second palm went to her waist in a moment of stupefaction, Margaret considered how fully she esteemed the sentiment.

Hundreds had crossed her path in Halcyon’s capital, their right to fortune ensured by the Grand Plan’s strings of fate, but that did not guarantee a richness in morality. Expectations were heterogeneous between the classes; yet, while pride in one’s lot was universal, so many in Byzantium complained pitiably of their indulged position.

Not Reed. Where he was—where he belonged—was a point of self-regard. And for Margaret it had so long been a subject of torture heavy in her bosom, for she had been strung along between the various corporations that traded her contract—and her life—like so little a thing; yet, now, in Edgewater, she felt she had been found. She no longer believed the Grand Plan had forgotten her, thus denying her the stability of purpose, or the spiritual integrity of being in one’s place. And, as fate would have it, her place was at Reed’s side.

But to Margaret, Reed was not only a means to an end—an affirmation of goodness, or proof of worthiness. Reed was unlike those she had known in Byzantium; he was curt and boorish at times, yet this was simply straight honesty. He did not hide behind double-meanings or preening; he said things as they were, sour or not. When Reed Tobson stated that he respected her, she believed it. And when he expressed softly, with uncertainty in his eye, “as you say,” Margaret saw nothing like Byzantium’s arrogance in his countenance.

“You’re a good man,” she warmly insisted.

Reed was unsure of how to reply. To espouse his superiority over anyone from that echelon of society seemed, somehow, grotesque, yet his wife’s perception had always been sharp, if hesitant (out of regard for etiquette).

Beyond this, however, was the plain devotion she exuded, and it refashioned Reed’s doubt to thankful confidence. There were people chosen by the Architect to imbue a certain set of extraordinary skills, and while the interconnectedness of existence meant one’s influence reached far across the stars, Margaret not only touched the lives of many, but she enriched them. Her songs had soothed spirits, strengthened bodies, and bid minds to work harder towards the piety of productivity. She hadn’t been the voice of Spacer’s Choice in some years, of course, but her brilliance did not mar in the wake of changing fashion. Creative and solicitous, she achieved what every Halcyon citizen strove for: great self-sacrifice, dedication, and she demanded only what was her due—her right as a consumer and a cog in the system.

Margaret was not perfect in the sense of infallibility of action. She failed, often, yet she met disappointment with grace, accepted defeat beautifully, and tried and tried again. In a word, Margaret was the epitome of integrity. When Reed gazed at her, he saw all that was good in the galaxy.

Caught in the moment, the couple found themselves rooted to each other like a rock polished to marvelous marble. But this did not mean that neither jumped when the camera’s flash finally sparked.

“Oh!”

Stunned—and certainly embarrassed to have his improper, emotional passion immortalized in the picture soon to print—blood burned across Reed’s cheek. He blinked for the deadened spark which had blazed through the room, but Margaret laughed freely, her hands clasped joyously at her breast, as her amused effusement echoed off the wallpaper.

“You might have given me fair warning, dearest,” Reed said, pinching the bridge of his nose and blinking away the stars.

“Oh, darling.” Margaret sighed while approaching the camera which slowly produced its yield. “That’s part of the gambit, I’m sorry to say. Oh, and look! Reed, look at this—it’s perfect.”

But he could not say the image in her delicate fingers was the epitome of fineness, for he had the real thing in his own hold.

“You’re pleased, then?” With his hands on her hips, Reed looked over her shoulder, hope pulling his lips to a tight lilt, and fondness leaving a little gleam in his eye.

“Every moment I’ve been in Edgewater,” Margaret promised, reaching back to touch his cheek once more.

#mywriting #reed tobson #margaret deloughrey-jung #APM #a-productive-manor #that isn't a train in the picture -- it's a camera i swear

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deathsdoorman · 4 years

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Rose Coloured Spectre-cals || Solo

Hundreds of eyes stared out from the opposite end of the room. They sat where the light couldn’t reach past the small corner where the table lamp sat, giving only the impression of their vague outlines where they clustered themselves in one corner of the room. Crossing the space her gaze locked on the vacant glassy-eyed stare of the one in the forefront as it watched her. Its eyes shone unnaturally where the light glinted against them as it followed her steps while she tried to ignore it and explored the rest of the room’s interior. Unable to shake the feeling of being watched Cassie reached out reluctantly to touch it, her hand brushed against the ageing lace and velvet frills of its dress collar, wincing at the scrape of the porcelain as the doll head twisted sideways to face away from her to the far wall.

“How long have you been collecting this kind of thing?” The whole house was a museum of odd antiques and trinkets scattered over every available space. Cassie stopped and picked up one of the pillar candles cluttering one of the nightstands opposite. She held it up, turning it over and caught the price sticker and felt an eyebrow raise. Apparently, Walmart was the Satanists candle-maker of choice now, judging from the ripped and tattered price sticker still curling under itself at the bottom. At least with the candle they’d gone the extra mile. Etchings covered the wax in various sinister looking shapes dug in deep and filled in with rust coloured paint. They even made the effort to have it studded with cloves pushed into the crevices. Movie prop quality stuff, she was almost impressed.

“About a year now,” Marian, the homeowner, moved closer towards her. Leaning against the doorframe she folded her arms over and shivered, “I don’t even like touching that thing,” she nodded towards the candle. “Bad energy from the moment it came to the house.”

Cassie nodded and made a mental note, straightened up and continued her examination of the upstairs part of the house. Every now and again Marian would walk in front of her, turning backwards to give her an odd expectant look. It wasn’t going to be easy to concentrate with a second shadow and if anything was lurking around, they weren’t going to show face, not with an audience.

“Hey, so this might take a while. Why don’t you take it easy, do whatever you do normally? You know, pretend I wasn’t here,” she offered and hoped she wasn’t dead set on sticking around.

“Oh sure. Sure, sure-sure-sure,” she nodded to Cassie’s relief. “I’ll be down in the parlour, holler if you need anything.”

As Marion retreated back downstairs, she relaxed a little and opened herself up to anything that either couldn’t or wouldn’t show themselves and left her equipment at the top of the stairs. Six rooms down and nothing. The rooms around her were creepy, but that was by design. Each decorated and stuffed with oddities and clutter like oversized curiosity cabinets. Weird, but not house call worthy. Passing by the window looking out into the well-manicured yard she peered inside the last door and frowned at the normality. A regular pastel pink and Pine bedroom greeted her which was strangely misplaced compared with the contents of the rest of the house. The end of the upstairs hallway ended with a set of ladders leading up to the attic space.

Drafts and scratching usually had more hallmarks of a squirrel problem than anything paranormal. From experience ghosts were more likely to show up somewhere at a gas station bathroom than an airless, windowless dust trap. Way more people to scare out there per square inch than in here. Putting a hand on the first ladder rung a mental picture crossed her mind of the stairs suddenly drawing up to meet her and the door locking in place, but shook it off and made her way up. The dead didn’t scare her the way they used to; the living on the other hand, they had their moments.

Throwing in an extra half an hour past what was agreed she did a final sweep of both floors of the house and came to the same conclusion as before; the house was clean. Grabbing her bag back up from beside the top of the stairs she slung it over one shoulder and descended the stairs. “Okay. So, good news,” Cassie called as she made the last few bounds down to the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve looked around and no ghosts here.' She smiled as Marion came into view and made her best Tangina Barrons impression, “this house is clean,” imagining the relief she must be feeling. Which turned out to be the opposite of what she wanted to hear judging from the shift in Marion’s complexion from pale to ashen as she stared at her with a bemused expression.

“But there has to be,” Marion couldn’t keep the agitation from her voice, “I don’t understand,” she darted into the front room and came back with a battered looking cigar box she thrust towards Cassie. “What about this then, you must be able to get something from this. I paid five hundred for it.”

Cassie took a step back, placed her hand on top of the box and gently lowered it and Marion’s hand back down and out of her face. “There’s nothing attached to that, but it doesn’t really work like that. I’m not—I’m not psychic,” she quickly stopped, realising how that sounded. “Well not like that I mean...I can’t just-”

“This is a joke.”

“You said this used to be a guesthouse back in the day, right? Old building, a lot of history. A lot of creaks and noises so it's easy to picture-”

“-I’ve seen things. I’ve felt things. There has to be something here,” Marion put a hand over the top of her head and turned on her accusingly, “what good are you to me then?”

Now it was Cassie’s turn to be confused. “I don’t know what to tell you, but there’s nothing in here.” Normally this was a good thing. For the sane at least, “but you don’t want anybody haunting your home anyway,” she reasoned, “they can’t even pay rent.”

“Then what the hell am I paying you for?”

Cassie stifled the urge to remind her this was pro bono and remembered the ‘anonymous benefactor’ she mentioned who had given out her number. “When they told you to contact me what exactly did they tell you? Did they give you a name?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Marian straightened to stand at full height, arms crossed, “His name was Marvin...or Martin something.” Marsden, Cassie quickly corrected in her dead. Who else. This had his sense of humor all over it. He recommended you,” she let out an indignant huff of breath through her nose. “He said you actually knew what you were doing. Well, let me tell you after this you’ll be lucky if anybody this side of the state so much as breathes near your direction.”

“You promise?” Cassie murmured, but not quietly enough she quickly realised with a traitorous pang of guilt and winced as she looked up to face the other woman again.

“Out, go on, out,” Marion fumbled to get the words out, her eyes livid as she moved to usher her to the door. “Get out of my house!”

Cassie reached for her cell phone to call a soon to be dead man and made her way towards the door before she had to be told twice. Making her way back to the car she dumped her bag back onto the backseat and sat down inside and fished the tin of mints out from the glove compartment with her free hand while the other scrolled through her contacts until ‘DO NOT ANSWER’ came up and dialled. It connected on the fifth ring.

“You’re an ass,” she responded before he could say so much as a word.

“Absolutely. What about?”

“Next time you decide to help do me a favour: don’t.”

“What?” She could practically see the impish look on Marsden’s stupid smug face, “I thought you could use a laugh after last time. I thought she’d be right up your alley. Actual proof people can live without a brain.”

“Where do you get these people?”

“I was just getting rid of some cast-offs. She wanted to take them off my hands and I was happy to oblige. What can I say?”

“That’s the lowest-”

“A morality lesson? coming from you. I’m honoured. How is that martyr complex coming along?”

That last one stung more than she liked to admit, “bite me.”

“Careful who you say that to. They’ might take it as an invite.”

Biting back a retort she felt a prickle on the back of her neck and turned towards the driver side window to see the lady of the house glaring out from her front window. If looks could kill. She tucked the phone between her shoulder and her ear and pulled the visor down before starting the car. “I gotta go before the mob descends,” she hung up and started the engine as Marion’s eyes continued to bore into the side of the car. She didn’t get paid enough for this. She didn’t get paid at all. Peeling away from the curb she wondered if it was too late to go back to the day job and look into that telepathic waffle maker while she still had the chance.

#wickedswriting #solo #rose colored spectre-cals

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

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How do you feel about derivative art? I'm guessing you approve since you're big into fanfics. Is art that's derivative as good as original art? Could a well made video critique of a film be better then the film? Or a fanmade rewrite be better then the original book? And yes I know nothing "original" exist, but that's not the same thing as art that is obviously derivative. And the big question. Should artist be allowed to make money off derivative art?

For me it’s an all around “Yes.” I’ve read fics leagues better than published novels. I’ve seen fanvids far better than films. Granted, when you get into the subject of visual media you run into things like finances and access to technology. Anyone can craft a story with words, but only a few have the budget and tools required to re-create the sort of Blockbuster films we’ve grown used to. But why in the world would that very specific style be the only “good” art out there? Obviously it’s not. If anything, we value limitations in our art. Six second vines shot on cell phones are adored and can lead to lucrative careers. Films like the Blair Witch Project want to mimic an armature cinematography, like these people really were just shooting what they could while running for their lives. Amateur does not in any way equal lesser. To say nothing of the fact that fans have shown time and time again that a passion for the material and a huge amount of work ethic is more than enough. As the recent Loki logo abomination attests, all the money and resources in the world doesn’t guarantee taste---or success. Outsiders to fandom love to criticize the “horrible” fics they found when they dove into AO3 for all of ten minutes, but fail to acknowledge that you’re just as likely to find a terrible book when you pull one randomly off of B&N’s shelves. If derivative art is somehow lesser than we need to re-evaluate the comics industry. And every formulaic western, rom-com, police procedural. And every great author (there are a LOT) who wrote “classics” based off of other’s characters and worlds. Art is art. Mainstream art is in no way superior to fan art, no matter how much people still want to convince us of that.

The money question is, admittedly, waaaaaay more complicated. For me though it’s still a “Yes” simply because of how fandom functions. That is, we need the canon. Even if it becomes outdated, or is considered offensive, or is absolutely terrible compared to what the fandom has now produced, people will STILL consume that material (and more importantly buy it) in order to get access to all the good fan stuff. I’ve simply never bought into the argument that derivative works are a threat to the livelihood of the original piece because they depend on that piece. All my friends are in a fun discord for TV Show X. They’re producing all these fics I want to read. I’ve heard that Show X is actually pretty bad, but I’m going to watch it anyway because that provides me with the context that produced all this other stuff. It’s the foundation, the blueprints, the golden ticket to get inside the fandom. Will every fan do this? No, some do bypass the canon and just dive right in, but the majority of them will. Meaning that rather than posing a threat to the original author’s livelihood as most people assume, fanworks help keep mainstream content alive. Adding a price to that doesn’t change anything. If someone offers me a fic for free I’m gonna tackle the canon book first. If someone offers me a fic for $10... I’m still gonna tackle the canon book first. Either way the author gets paid and are likely to get more if fans use their work as an entry point into the fandom. “I wouldn’t have read/watched your stuff at all, if it weren’t for the fact that I want to read the stories my friend is now producing.” Giving that friend some rent money is the least we can do.

(There are obviously other arguments against making money off of derivative works, two of which boil down to “It’s against the law”---which funnily enough we create and control and can change if perspectives change---and “They’re my creations and I don’t want you messing with them, let alone making money off them.” I’ve got a lot of feelings regarding that one and in an effort to save a bit of space I’ll boil it down to a very unkind response: Too bad. Transformation is at the heart of human interaction with art. If you didn’t want that you shouldn’t have given it to the public in the first place. Authors don’t get to police how fans interact with their work: “I love it when you take the time to write me glowing reviews! .... oh, but not when you write another story. Please continue making awesome fan posters that promote my work! ... but not one with those two characters kissing ew.” Authors don’t get to dictate how fans interact with the art they’ve put out there; how much of it is active and in what ways.)

We also have to consider that we’re already in a world where those lines are irrevocably blurred. Why does E.L. James or Anna Todd get to make a fortune off of their barely changed fics? Why do artists get to sell their fanart but fic writers are still largely terrified of lawsuits? Fans are already making money off their work---always have, really---and I doubt that’s something we can reverse. Whether or not it continues to grow is the real question.

Personally, I wouldn’t want to see derivative works commercialized, not because fans don’t deserve to earn money for their labor (we do), but just because that would irrevocably change fandom dynamics. We’re a gift economy and we’re built on that. Fandom has always been about progressive acts: be it writing about queer identities, providing accessibility accommodations decades before mainstream art did, or (and this is the kicker) helping to level out class differences. Meaning, mainstream art is often for the rich and the elite. Broadway shows are insanely expensive and impossible for most to get to. Movies prices have skyrocketed. Every company is creating their own streaming service, requiring that you pay three or four $20+ monthly subscriptions instead of just the one. It’s all about money and fandom is one of the few places where we still exchange art for praise and more art, rather than a paycheck. Fic is free. Fanvids are free. You guys want a cute drawing of this couple? All you have to do is send in a prompt ask and I’ll draw it! Sure, I’d also love it if you paid for a commission, but I’m going to keep creating free drawings on the side. When was the last time we saw a mainstream author go, “Please continue to buy my last story, but in the meantime here’s a free novel I’m putting up on my website. Hope you enjoy!” I mean yes, we do get things for free (especially when it comes to many games, apps, and some short stories), but not like in fandom. There’s a culture of giving that I never want to lose. Are we already doing commissions and con sales? Yes. Do we often ask for donations and payment? Yes. Should we be able to continue doing so without fear of legal action? I think so. But I don’t want a general sense of “I should be allowed to earn money off of this” get turned into “Well if I can earn money off of this why wouldn’t I?” I never want our work to exist fully behind a wall where the key in is your credit card number. Fandom is unique in its, “I made this thing because I wanted to and I shared it with you because I wanted to do that too, no strings attached” and that, I think, is worth protecting.

#fandom #fic things #mymetas #Anonymous

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