#my last post got a lot of attention and i had to block a bunch of assholes. god i hate these two fandoms | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashlingiswriting · 2 months

Note

the nations favorite writer - offer us any advice? going through a writers block rn

oh god i’m so sorry this took me so long, things got crazy for a second and i forgot 😭 thoughts below!

here (1, 2) are a couple posts that seem pretty helpful, but now i’m just gonna talk about what helped me with my last bout of writer’s block because i can still remember it in detail

again this is all just my own observations about myself because that’s kinda all i have—i’m no expert

i had too many other things going on and i did need to cut down on other hobbies a bit (in this case, i had to cut down on rp) because those other things all were...relatively small tasks and they took less time, so my brain would often go “hey what about this short and rewarding task vs this long and intimidating task?”

which goes hand in hand with training your focus—i think my phone really does impact that in a bad way. reading books helps with training focus, as does muscling through. i know muscling through goes contrary to a lot of advice, but it helped me. because a lot of times, i would start writing a scene and go, ‘wow, i hate this!’ but knowing that i didn’t have another idea of what to do, i just kept going until i realized why it felt wrong. and there were like...four or five different breakthroughs like that when i was writing my latest chapter. just ‘OHHHHHHHHH’ moments that i got to only after writing like a thousand or more words that i would not end up putting in the fic. it is NOT always like this but if you’re really blocked, sometimes it’s just cause you’re writing a genuinely emotionally complicated and crucial bit and your brain has to go down the wrong path a few times before it figures out the right one

part of that is figuring out what you feel about your current scene? like, sitting down and writing a certain scene, i would go, ‘no, this feels wrong, i don’t like it, i hate it’ and sure enough my instincts were right. it WAS bad. it was bad because it focused too much on the logistics and details of a side plot when i didn’t want to waste all that precious real estate and audience attention on something that was not connected to the core of my story. but i didn’t fully realize that till i was done. it was still good that i’d written out the long version, because it laid out all the information i needed (plus a bunch i didn’t, but still). idk. i love editing more than writing on a blank page. i love cutting more than i love creating. this may be a me thing.

could also be something went wrong earlier on, like your actual scene idea is quite good but you didn’t lay enough emotional or plot foundation for it to hit as hard as you want it to? reread your previous bits of fic and see if you can find the problem there?

i think peer pressure and/or friendship are huge for this—i don’t mean peer pressure as in ‘silly anti-drug advertisements where all the cool kids try to make you do weed’ i mean ‘hanging out in a community of writers & artists and/or with friends where there’s an atmosphere of people lowkey always working on their craft, whatever that may be’. because truly i think it helps keep writing top of mind & sort of normalizes the emotional struggles. plus the camaraderie is really nice!

my current home of choice is the narcos fandom discord (which is only about 25% about narcos fandom at this point lbr) but i know there’s a ton of different places out there to be a fic writer in community with other fic writers, so take your pick. i will say that not every community is perfect and i think the ideal community strikes a balance between participation & low stress—that is, people support each other but they don’t feel like they have homework-reading they have to do that they’ll get penalized for not doing? yk? i’m rambling whoops

plus, getting a friend that is willing and HAPPY to talk through the fic with you—an editor, a beta reader, something like that—is a godsend. truly without bellinitini/narcolini i would literally not have even published chapter one of my current longfic. but the key is to find someone who genuinely is interested or who is willing to do a bit of a swap; you help them with theirs, they help you with yours.

and then there’s the audience for longfics, which may or may not apply to you. cannot lie, rereading comments, even for previous fics that are unconnected, is extremely motivating! maybe that’s just me! (i don’t think that’s just me) on that note, if you’re feeling real desperate you can always reblog ask games about your WIPs so that you can interact with your audience a bit?

you could always try to take in more art—that’s usually pretty refreshing for me. canon review is great, but taking in other stuff (fictional books especially) can make your brain start thinking in different ways, especially if your brain is a bit spongy like mine and tends to absorb little bits of other writer’s styles if you chug a lot of them. you could try to find books that deal with the same setting, the same themes, or the same relationship dynamics.

so for example, i read colorless tsukuru tazaki and his years of pilgrimage by haruki murakami in prepping for my next chapter of richiefic because richie references it in season 2. and genuinely, reading it made me understand his character a bit better. but i also have a character going to prison, so i have read some of the works of george pelecanos (the novel drama city and several short stories), because pelecanos deals with the justice system in a way that i think is admirably clearsighted, not melodramatic, very honest. i’m fixing to reread some of the parade’s end series because ford madox ford is, to me, one of the greatest of all time when it comes to complicated conversations where two characters are completely legible to the audience—completely understandable—while struggling through emotionally complicated conversations with each other. and i am about to try and get some more books set in women’s prisons + books set in modern day chicago. reading stuff with the context of “i’m about to write something related to this” is such a good way to read stuff, too. just feels really good and sometimes you need a positive feeling when you’re struggling through the depths of depair i mean writer’s block.

movies and tv are good too, though imo they’re not as helpful. i...personally avoid reading other people’s fanfic like the plague if they’re dealing with a specific pairing whose longfic i’m struggling to finish.

just putting it down and coming back in two-three weeks sometimes helps. couldn’t tell you why.

and finally. you could always drop the fic. it feels shitty for a while, but if the muse has genuinely left you for good, you deserve to enjoy the freedom instead of just like...struggling onwards indefinitely. this has happened to me with longfics before and it always makes me sad. but sometimes there is genuinely nothing you can do, and in those cases, forgive yourself <3 this is a hobby, after all

my top three recommended tactics, without knowing details of your situation, are: talk with a friend/editor, take in more art, muscle through. in that order.

i hope that helped??? i’m very sorry about your writer’s block, it’s the worst thing in the world. and i’m sorry that it took me so long, i need to be more organized

#anon #correspondence #writing advice

4 notes · View notes

girlwiththenegantattoo · 2 years

Text

Let Me Help You

So I got this idea from a Golden Girl episode where Rose (RIP Betty White) is addicted to pain killers and the girls stay up with her throughout the night.

This is the first thing I've written where it literally feels like a bunch of "and thens" but I already went through all the trouble of editing and posting.

Warnings: Smut and mention of drug use/addiction

Tagging @plainlo-inthemorning and @everythingbutresolved

“The bishop may move as many squares diagonally as you wish, so long as it is not blocked by another piece."

"I heard what you said but it doesn't make any sense" you snapped feeling instantly guilty for doing so. Letting out a quiet grunt you all but slammed your elbow on the table and buried your hands in your hair. This wasn't working and you were only 2 hours in.

You just have to make it until the morning.

"What's troubling you, my child?"

Father Paul asked as he sat down next to you at the end of the only pier in Crockett Island. How he came to find you in that particular spot had surprised you. Especially because you went there to be left alone. If you truly had to guess you’d guess it was Struge. The man looked burly and intimidating but was a devout follower and a regular at St Patrick's. He probably alerted the local priest as he watched you make your way to the pier, by yourself, for the 8 consecutive day. Though such an act can be seen as a healthy, daily routine, you were sure it was the staying for hours on in that had brought the most attention to you. Knowing very little about Father Paul you were hesitant to speak, even if deep down you were appreciative of someone lending their ear and knowing they wouldn’t cast judgement.

"Have you ever...struggled...with something and people look down on you for it? You eventually asked.

Father Paul thought for a moment before he spoke. "Maybe they aren't looking down on you. Maybe they are just worried."

"Even if it's not hurting anyone?"

"It could be hurting you." Father Paul replied, his gaze still fixed forward, onto the water when you turned your head to look at him.

"Yea well I don't think that's an issue."

That day he'd offered to have NA meetings with you. Although he wasn't sure what all went into them he could easily find out. Plus, he was already doing AA meetings with Reilly and surely it couldn't be much different. At the time you scoffed at the idea, because unlike Reilly you hadn't done anything to affect others life and you figured it was just your paranoia that made you feel like you were drawing people’s attention to your 'habit'. Although, your lethargic speech and lopsided smiles were surely enough to draw some suspicion.

When you heard his second idea you thought it was more absurd then the first. He had suggested that you could stay over for a night. Being at the rectory would offer you less temptations than your home and would be strictly used to keep an eye on you. The small space would give the perfect opportunity to speak with him while distracting yourself from the outside world.

"I don't do the Bible thing. I'm mad at a-lot of people in my life and he is at the top of the list."

Father Paul nodded in genuine understanding and made a mental note to come back to that on a different day. He continued to intently look at you, waiting patiently to hear, what you were now sure he knew, was another excuse.

Why you agreed to any of it was currently, completely last on you. Two hours into what was to be the longest night of your life and your withdrawal symptoms had already started before you knocked on his door. Paul promised you that you would just have to make it through the night and after that everything would be downhill.

Bouncing your knee up and down under the table you finally looked up to see Father Paul looking at you in sympathy.

"We can do something else if you'd like.

How was he being this calm?

You had chills, body aches and an irritation level that was through the roof. You had offered him nothing but impatience and anger since you arrived, even being downright crass. Yet he sat by waiting attentively. Willing to do whatever he could to help.

Your chair made a loud scraping noise against the wooden floor as you quickly stood up.

"I can't do this...I mean I'm fine really. I gave you my medication so I'm just going to go home."

As you headed for the front door Father Paul spoke. "You know if you leave this will never stop."

You knew he was right, but that fact wouldn't help your discomfort end any sooner. Turning the brass doorknob Paul spoke again, this time his voice was more assertive.

"Y/n"

Father Paul hadn't known what came over him in that moment, but he did know he promised that he would help you and he was going to make sure he followed through.

"I want you to go sit down on the couch."

You had every chance to turn the doorknob, step outside and make your marry way back to your home but there was something about Paul's sudden change in demeanor that transfixed you to your spot.

Your eyes never left each other as Father Paul stood by the small table and watched you take your seat. Walking over to stand in front of you he made sure that he had your full attention.

"I told you I'd help you. So please...Let me help you."

Although his voice and demeanor had changed to something softer now there was a darkness that looked to be clawing its way forth. Father Paul sat down to the right of you, his knees touching yours. Taking his right hand, he gently caressed your cheek and turned your head to face him.

"I think I know what you need. What you really need, but I want to hear you say the words"

The man constant change of demeanor was starting to severally confuse you, yet you knew exactly what he was asking. You hadn’t had the energy to weigh the pros and cons, but since he told you to stay, you hadn't thought once about any of your withdrawal symptoms.

Opening your dry lips, you softly said "I want you to help me, Father."

It was eerily quiet before Father Paul let out a relieved sigh, suddenly crashing his lips into yours.

Opening your mouth to grant him access, your tongues danced together as his frenzied hands worked to find the bottom of your shirt when he abruptly stopped. Looking over the couch he gestured to his bedroom.

"Let's make you more comfortable."

You followed him to the room where all you could hear was your own heartbeat. He stopped and stood next to his patchwork covered bed, his hand reaching out for yours.

"Lay down for me, will you? I'm going to take all of your pain away." He whispered against your ear sending a shiver up your spine. Slowly following his command, you awkwardly laid in the middle of the bed. You watched in complete aw as Father Paul remove his clerical collar while deft fingers undid each button on his black shirt. Tugging the bottom out from under where he kept it tucked in his jeans, he pulled at his cuffs to remove it from his arms and off his body. His mahogany brown eyes were now blow wide lust, something of which you had never seen before.

"Forgive me Father, for I am about to sin."

The bed dipped as he placed one knee on the right side of your body, swinging the other over you and straddling your upper thighs. His large frame on top of making you feel caged in, but only in the most wonderful way. His lips collided with yours again, becoming madly intoxicating as you wondered how many times he's done this before. Trailing his lips from your mouth to your neck, Father Paul used a finger to pull down your shirts collar so he could run his mouth over the smooth skin of your clavicle.

"Let's get this out of the way, hmm."

It hadn't been a question; however, you weren’t sure you would be able to answer him regardless.

Father Paul all but ripped the thin material of your shirt up and off your body before sitting back and studying you. His features now looked animalistic, a predator waiting to jump on his prey. All signs of the faithful, caring man were now long gone. Running both hands up your torso his thumbs traced the outline of your rib cage before reaching behind you to undo your bra. Even though you still wore your tattered jeans you now felt so exposed.

Moving down to your legs he made quick work of your button and zipper, sliding off your pants. Bringing his focus back to your face his brows furrowed. While he had been distracted with your lower half, you'd covered your breast with your left forearm and hand.

"There is no need to hide yourself. You are absolutely perfect as you are." Father Paul's tone was soft and genuine leaving no room for you to feel like he was lying. As you hesitantly removed your arm, he lowered himself over your chest and ran his tongue over one of your peaked nipples.

A low moan crawled out from your throat as your back shot up from the mattress and you arched your body into his. Lifting his head Father Paul palmed your other breast, softly tugging and rolling the other harden nipple between his fingers. The way you were writher underneath him was something he hoped he would always remember.

"You're so responsive for me y/n"

Moving back up to your lips Father Paul began to undo his belt, the metallic jiggle of the material setting your core on fire. You reached down to cup the erection that sat painfully confined behind his jeans when he pulled away from you again and slowly shook his head. "This is not about me. I want you to lay back and let me take care of you." Paul hadn't missed the slight look of disappointment that covered you face.

Wasting no time, he ran a finger over the cotton materiel that covered the junction of your legs causing you to let out a gasp.

"Is that it?

He sounded as if he was fighting a battle inside his head. A side wanting to completely destroy you and the other wanting nothing but to make you truly feel loved.

Removing your last article of clothing Father Paul's long fingers exploded your fold. "So wet too" he all but growled working the pads of his fingers over your sensitive bud. Very few words were needed as he went off your body’s reactions of each touch. Using two fingers he circled your opening before working them inside and setting a gentle pace. You weren't sure if it was the care Father Paul was putting into his ministrations or if he was just finding the perfect spot, but you were beginning to come undone and fast.

"I can feel you holding back, just let go" he whispered while speeding up his movements. Your hips bucked on their own accord and your body convulsed with a loud cry that was ripped from you.

"I know, Angel." Paul soothed as he slowed his fingers. Riding you through your high he then pulled his fingers from you and gave you another fervent kiss. Sitting back on his knees, frantic hands undid his jeans button and zipper, hastily pulling them and his briefs down to his lower thigh. The sheer size of him had caught you off guard but you hadn't had time to stare for he was laying back down between your legs.

Resting a hand on the side of your head Paul used his other to caress your cheek. "Are you ready?" Biting your lip, you eagerly shook your head as you watched him trail his hand down your body and grab his shaft. With one swift thrust of his hips, he had buried himself to the hilt as his body began to tremble.

"Is this, ok? It's not too much is it?" He rushed as he opened his eyes to intently search yours.

"I'm ok...please...don’t stop."

There was something that switched in him again as his facial expression intensified. When he finally moved, he drew his hips back and slammed them into you. His movements were fast and rough and the grunt that fell from his lips were turning into growls. The bed creaked with every harsh contact of your hips, sending you inching up the mattress. His touches felt like they were everywhere all at once. Grabbing ahold of his back, you felt his muscles flex divinely under your hands.

"I’m close" he uttered almost embarrassingly, his lips leaving yours only long enough to speak. You hadn’t expected for him to last long in the beginning, and you wanted to let him know that it was ok. Taking both of your legs you wrapped them around his hips using your calves to push him further into your heat. It only took 3 more thrust after that before he came with a guttural moan, his hips coming to a stuttering stop.

There were many things that happened that night that you've never experienced before however, the way Father Paul looked into your eyes at that exact moment, was an experience that you were positive, you would never get anywhere else. Father Paul collapsed down beside you and pulled you to his chest. The fast beating of his heart was all you cared to listen to as you both tried to catch your breath. He had returned to his gentle nature, combing your hair out of your forehead and behind your ear. Rubbing the arm you slung over his stomach he let out a quiet single laugh.

"Hmm?" You hummed basking in the aftermath bliss.

"Look out the window," he whispered into your hair. As you lifted your head, a smile covered your lips. Just past the little 4 pane window with the small white curtains that hung above, you could see the sun rising from behind the clouds.

You had made it and he helped you every step of the way

#hamish linklater #midnight mass #father paul #father pruitt #monsignor pruitt

39 notes · View notes

artemiseamoon · 2 years

Text

Pt 1: It wasn’t supposed to be this

A narcos mx one shot | Calderoni x Slate f agent*

Words: 6,200 | read on A03

Fic info | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 -finale

An: I made an exception and posted this in full. Anyway, I’m going back to my system after this, just previews on tumblr.

Warnings: violence, mention of injuries and blood, drinking, vague sexual content, drug traffickers, character deaths, lots of angst

Narcos disclaimer: I fully understand how sensitive all this is, which is why I struggled with writing for the show or not. But, I do, and I enjoy it so don’t plan to stop anytime soon. The show is naturally a very real trigger, so off the bat, you are triggered, block the narcos tag. I’m only one of many who write for this show (I blame the actors, it’s their fault, they charmed us). Filter the tag and save yourself and the writers unnecessary exchanges. Criminals, drug traffickers, drugs, really bad people who hurt so many are talked about in this show. In writing these little stories I’m not trying to erase that or gloss it over. Now that I’ve said my peace, remember it’s fully your choice if you continue and your fault if you get upset not mine. Last, if you don’t like the fic/story just move on. Plenty of other things to read. Don’t waste my time. Plenty of other fics around.

The full realization of what happened last night hit during the shower. She drank a lot; this job is stressful, and she usually limited herself to one beer or one drink as a calming agent for a few reasons; to keep in control and to avoid letting her defenses down.

Last night, she lost both those battles and ended up in bed with the Calderoni. Slate couldn't put her finger on why she was drawn to him. They didn’t trust him, she didn’t either he’s not even her usual type but there was something about him.

As they worked with him over the last four weeks, she shoved her curiosity away and denied it was real. She chalked it up to horniness, it had been a very long time since she got laid; a full two months before she came down on this mission. And hooking up locally was out of the question, with anyone in her team? An absolute no, a completely bad idea. Living in abandoned warehouse with a bunch of dudes really limited her private time, so self-pleasure was also not an option.

Maybe all the drinking, combined with a need to get laid led to this. Still, Calderoni didn’t seem like the type to just end up in someone's bed. The man was like a fucking wall; he said what he had to say, made his point, and wasn’t trying to make friends. So maybe the curiosity was mutual, had to be.

Calderoni never outright flirted with Slate, in fact, she was sure he was pretty indifferent to her at first. But then she caught it, the briefest lingering stares, the short, well-hidden glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. At the time, she didn’t know if the attention excited her, scared her, or a little of both.

Slate was thankful he was gone upon waking, seeing him in the light of day, would make all of this worse and she was pretty sure Walt was likely losing his shit because she hadn’t checked in yet. To be fair, she wasn’t that late, just 10 minutes or so. But he already wasn’t a fan of her leaving the place for the night, no matter what bullshit reason she gave him.

...

Walking into the warehouse after a night in a real bed and a decent hotel made it feel gritter than usual. With her shades still on, Slate found the guys gathered into one room.

“Look who decided to join us.” Ossie commented with a grin.

Slate flipped him off and he chuckled. She sat on the edge of the L shaped countertop and sipped her coffee.

Though she felt Walt's stare, she didn’t make eye contact. “I needed a night away from all you stinky boys and a damn shower.”

The reply seems good enough for most, except Walt, who continued to observe her.

She's not too worried though, she's known him a long time. “So, fill me in, what's going on.” She sets the coffee cup aside.

Walt took out a cigarette, lit it, then caught her up with the few minutes she missed.

-The Next day-

Back pressed against the wall, Slate crossed her arms and listened intently as Calderoni addressed the room. It took some work, but she was able to shift the events from a day ago to the back of her mind.

“Felix was in Panama last month, meeting with members of the Cali Cartel.” He walked into the center of the room, hands in his pockets. His profile was still facing the group.

“What was on the agenda?” Walt asked. Calderoni made eye contact with him and stopped walking.

Calderoni responded, “Not sure, but it ended with Felix committing to move more weight. Lots more.”

“Why now?”

"El Padrino’s feeling the pressure.” Calderoni switched to Spanish at this point.

With the tension between the plazas, this intel could be a big win; it had to be connected. Slate and Ossie look at each other, then back at Calderoni.

Calderoni rested his palms flat against the table. “There’s been talk of major construction somewhere outside of Juarez.”

“Construction of what?” Daryl asked.

“Runways.” Calderoni responded. He flipped open the folder he previously placed on the table. Everyone moved closer, including Slate. Walt remained on the opposite side of the table, beside Calderoni.

Calderoni continued, “Amado Carrillo Fuentes. Used to be some kind of pilot, among other things.” Walt examined the file as Calderoni addressed at the group, “Now, Felix has him buying up passenger planes.”

Slate doesn’t hold his gaze for too long, she breaks away first and leans over the table to view the file. This is weird. Just play it cool.

Gaining control of her thoughts again, Slate’s eyes moved to Walt as he spoke. “Federation’s building their own air fleet.”

“And running it out of Juarez.” It’s the first comment she’s made since the meeting started; her voice almost felt unfamiliar to her ears.

Walt adds, “Yeah, if we can pin down Felix’s distribution hub, then we can unlock his entire route network.” Walt hands the file over to Danilo.

Daryl spoke next, “Track shipments across the border, pick them up one by one.”

“That’s right,” Walt nodded, “bleed the motherfucker.”

Done with the file, Danilo passed it to Slate who looked it over before passing it to Ossie and Amat.

Walt leaned over the table. “Starve him of his cash until the government cuts him off.” His eyes met Daryl's. “You know, hang him out to dry.”

“Now, we need to track Amado and the purchase of planes. Especially in large numbers. Maybe discount sales.” Slate said.

Calderoni made eye contact with her, before addressing the group again, “well, Amado just bought a one-way ticket to Belmopan, Belize.”

“What the fuck for?” Ossie asked.

Slate looked at him, then Walt, “Let me guess, an out of business airline getting rid of planes?”

Impressed, Calderoni raised a brow. “That’s where Aero Tropical is based. It’s an airline. It used to be. They just declared bankruptcy. They’re liquidating their entire fleet at an auction next week.”

Walt’s eyes scanned the group, “Looks like we're going to Belize.”

-One week later, Belize-

This might be a win, and it feels damn good.

At the same time. Slate doesn’t get her hopes up. Wins were rare in this work, it's something one just got used to and had to find a reason to keep pushing, to keep trying to make some kind of difference. Some days it was easier than others. But right now, she feels glad she said yes when Walt asked, maybe all this could amount to something useful.

Though they’re here for work, it feels good being in a different setting, like a breath of fresh air. Not just because of the dusty ass warehouse, but because of the whole Calderoni situation.

What happened that night, when she grabbed a drink at the same bar he happened to be at, was never discussed. She went about her job like nothing happened, and even after the meeting last, he didn’t say anything extra to her; just spoke to her as needed according to the situation.

It seemed like that was the end of things. One messy ass slip up. One very wrong but sensual one night stand. Just as Slate was making amends with that fact, she found a little envelope slipped into her jacket pocket after he left.

She stepped away to the broken-down bathroom for privacy. Inside the small envelope was a room key, she recognized it from the other night, same hotel. They had eyes on him the whole time, how he got it in here? She wasn’t sure. On the back of the little envelope was some kind of code, but once she figured it out, she deciphered it as a time and a vague date.

One of the things about being on this crew is most of their time was spent sitting around, talking, coming up with plans, going over information for the 1000th time. Action was few and far in between. Now with this trip to plan, she knew she couldn't get away in the coming days, but from the code on the back, Calderoni was aware of that too.

She didn’t use the key until 5 days later, once all the travel plans were set and all their new equipment arrived. She didn't know if it was pure curiosity, or if she really wanted to see him again; but something led her to that room.

Upon stepping in, she was gently swept inside. Once the door was closed, and locked, his lips met hers. There was no talking, no conversation, just two people swept up in desire and need.

-Flashback-

After drying off with the towel, Slate started to get dressed. Calderoni was still in bed. Though her back was to him, she felt his eyes on her, but didn’t turn around.

“Being seen together once at the bar was dangerous enough, we need to be careful.” She slid her jeans back on and pulled the zipper up.

He sighed behind her, but it had a more relaxed tone to it.” Neither of us knew the other would be there.”

“Because it’s so out of the way.” She glanced at him over her shoulder with a smirk,” that was my hidden spot. Now I have to find another.”

“No,” he sat up against the headboard, “it was mine, then you showed up.”

She turned to face him, “I barely leave the safe house, except a couple of times to get a drink there. Now, I don’t even have that.” She poked his arm playfully.

Calderoni shrugged,” shit happens.”

“Asshole.” Slate chuckled and glanced at her watch. “I need to get back. And, if this happens again, we cannot come to his hotel.”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he inched closer and gently caressed her bare back with his fingers. “Relax, there won't be any issue with this place. Trust me.”

Calderoni moved his fingers from her back to her arm, making feather light strokes over her soft skin.

“We’ll have to end this.” He said, his fingers wrapping around her arm with a tight grip before pulling her closer to him.

“I know.” Slate steadied herself with one hand as he drew her into another kiss. Her other hand cupped the side of his face. In between kisses, she whispered, “last time?”

“Last time, or” he slid one of his hands behind her head, “second to last time? Third to last?”

Slate smiled and kissed him once more before breaking away. “I guess we’ll see where the cards fall.” With her lips still tasting of him, she finished getting dressed and grabbed her things.

“I’ll have one of my guys drive you back, drop you off a block away.” He pushed the sheet off and started gathering his clothes. He stopped to look back at her, “Be careful.”

Slate tapped her holstered pistol then moved toward the door, “I usually am.”

-Flashback over-

Belize is beautiful, Slate reminds herself to come back some time, after all this is over and long in the past.

Glancing to her left, she sees Walt using the binoculars. To his left is Ossie, Danilo, then her. Amat, Daryl and Sal are taking care of the other end of things in Juarez.

The auctioneer: Next we have a 1779 Boeing 727, registration number N-1779. Featuring forward and rear galleys. Currently featuring 12 first class seats and 136 coach seats and this aircraft is ready, willing, and able…”

Her eyes drop to Danilo’s hands and his notes.

“We can get in through the north side of the fence. Bad sight line for security,” Ossie said quietly to Walt. They are in the furthest row from the auction, nosebleed seats with no one sitting directly next to them. But there are a few people in the row before them.

Walt replied, “Cut through. Two in, two outside for lookout.” He hands the binoculars over until they make it Slate. She takes a look and listens as they continue to talk.

Ossie, “We need radios. A ladder too.” he paused, chewing his gum. “We can get in through the rear airstairs, under the fuselage.”

“You figure it’s open? Can you even lock up a fucking 727?”

Ossie grinned.” Either way, I can pop the lock.”

“Of course, you can. Troublemaker” Slate commented with a smile. And for a fleeting second, a tiny grin flashed on Danilo's stoic expression too.

Ossie continued grinning for a little longer. Light banter is exchanged between the guys, with little interjection by Danilo.

“I definitely went astray somewhere,” Ossie stared straight ahead, “end up sitting here with you three broke motherfuckers.”

Danila makes a micro expression in response, Slate chuckled, and Walt turned to him,

“I got an amen to that.”

Slate adjusted her shades, while holding her grin a little longer, "You mean four broke motherfuckers.”

-Later that night-

The night sky was dark and starless; the only light is coming from the airstrip, the guard center, and the city in the distance.

Slate took a ground position, on the other side of where Danilo is in the jeep. Covering both angles was a good idea, and so far, everything was going as planned. With the mics, they could all hear and communicate with each other.

Carefully concealed, with a good vantage point, Slate continued watching through the binoculars.

Walt over the mic, “okay talk to me. Are we clear?”

“He’s still there.” Slate answered.

Danilo is watching the same thing she is. “Okay, hold on…"Up ahead the guard left the center and stepped outside. “Guard moving”

Slate and Danilo watch him enter this vehicle and head for the landing strip.

“He’s making his rounds.” She said,

Danilo waited a moment, then gave them the signal, “All clear. You’ve got three minutes. Go!”

Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she waited. Her eyes dropped down to her watch, 2 minutes and 55 seconds to go.

55 seconds later, Danilo’s voice met their ears, “2 minutes, get a move in it.”

Two seconds passed by.

“Heads up. Security on the move.” She leaned forward, following the guards' movements. A nervous flutter filled her stomach. “Fuck, come on guys, hurry up.” She muttered under her breath. The guard's jeep is getting closer to where the guys are.

“Walt - " Danilo warned.

“Yeah, yeah. We see him. We see him.”

Ossie and Walt exchanged a few words, as Ossie worked on the lock.

Danilo, growing increasingly concerned, spoke again, “Walt, you’re running out of time.”

Slate watched closely with bated breath as the guys finally made it inside the plane. She continued holding her breath until the craft door closed. The guard drove by almost immensely after. “Thank fucking god,” she exhaled.

Everything fell quiet for a moment. The guard was now headed to Danilo's view and was out of hers.

Danilo's voice was next over the mic, “He’s going out again. You’ve got three minutes. Move!”

If Slate smoked, she would have a cigarette right now. She hated the things too much to ever indulge.

-Minutes later-

Danilo drove as Walt slipped a cigarette between his lips. His expression full of pride as he glanced back at Ossie. “Six for six baby. He’s a goddamned artist.”

Danilo glanced back through the rear-view mirror, “nice work”

A closed mouth smile grew on Ossie's face. “Thanks man.”

Sitting there, next to him, it almost feels like a proud father kind of moment, in both the way Danilo speaks and holds himself, and Ossie’s response.

Slate gently nudged him, “Nice job, that shit’s impressive as hell.”

Ossie’s smile grew a little wider, “thank you.”

Slate settled her eyes on the landscape through the window again. It’s been a while since everything felt so hopeful, and she hoped this is a feeling they can hold on to a little longer.

-Juarez - Early morning, Chiapas airfield-

Standing on the rocky dry edge, the group waited as Walt viewed the plane and its inhabitants, which included Amado.

Walt lowered the binoculars and turned to his team. “Alright. Find a spot to set up surveillance. Two teams. Sal, me and Amat work the first rotation.” he handed the binoculars to Sal. “This is it.” Walt paused. “Fuckin’ A.”

- Flashback, the day before -

The coffee was still too hot to drink, Slate placed it on the floor and fixed her eyes on Walt. The team is in a half circle, some sitting, some standing, all facing Walt the evidence board.

The room is fuller than usual, there are 4 more guys present, Slate didn’t know them, but she assumed they were working with Walt too, just in a less direct way up until this point. But, if they were about to do what she thinks Walt is going to suggest, they need all the help they can get. The odds are far out of their favor.

“We’ve been over the risks.” Walt takes his time, making eye contact with each one of them. “But I want to be really clear on something. This is no longer the same job you’ve been hired for.” he moved into the center of the circle, “We have no support on this. Shit goes south, it’s on us. Believe me, this is not worth the shitty stipend you’ve been getting paid. Some of you have kids and families.”

Walt continued, his eyes on the other guys now, “Just because you’ve been helping us run surveillance and have known this asshole your whole life, doesn’t mean you're locked in, so if any of you are feeling any hesitation or nervousness, you need to tell me now.”

The room falls dead silent.

Slate stared down at the ground as her mind worked overtime. If they were lucky, a few of them would make it out, but not all, and she didn’t know what side she’d be on. A lifetime of trying to make a difference and help, just to die on some floor like so many others. It’s not what she wanted, but it’s a realistic outcome to all this.

Or, she could go home, pack her bags and head back to the states. It felt like the easy way out, especially after everything, even if it was the safest option. Though her answer scares her, she’s not a quitter, or a runner; she's seeing this through, no matter how terrifying that thought is.

Ossie was the first to speak, he asked “We do this, we cripple Felix’s entire operation?”

From where Slate is sitting, she could see the serious look in his eyes, the determination, she knows his answer too.

“Si.” Walt answered with a nod.

“Fuck being nervous.” Ossie said with more umph to his words. “We’ll never get this chance again.” He flashed a half smile, then looked at Daryl, “come on, let’s do this shit.” Ossie kept his eyes on Daryl and extended his hand.

Never a man of many words, Daryl leaned in and affirmed his answer with a brief slap to Ossie's hand. He then set his eyes on Walt. Slate glanced at Danilo whose eyes were cast down, his left brow slightly raised. With a small head nod, Danilo confirmed his answer, yes.

In short succession, Amat and Sal also say yes, followed by Slate and the remaining guys.

Walt proceeded. “Okay, let’s fucking cripple it.”

-Flashback over-

-Now -

“All right, everybody be safe out there. I’ll be in your ear. Stay alert, stay alive.”

Slate’s original station was on the high point, back at the jeep with Daryl, until shit hit the fan. It started with the overhead lights of the airstrip coming on, followed by yelling. She didn’t know it at the time, but Danilo was shot dead then.

“Fuck!” Slate grabbed a rifle and ran for the trees.

“Slate!”

“I’m going to help!” She called back at Daryl before disappearing into the trees. Running as fast as her legs would take her, she made it down the side of the ridge.

Eventually she made it to the guys and ducked behind the red flatbed truck where Amat and Sal were, both firing from either side, she announced herself as he approached, to avoid getting shot by one of her guys.

With a quick glance to her left, she saw Walt pulling a badly wounded Ossie to the side of the yellow truck, Danilo was nowhere in sight; neither were the extra four guys. Bodies are already piling up in the airstrip.

“Ossie! “She called out,” are you okay?”

“No! We’re fucking pinned!” Walt yelled back. “We gotta move!”

Amat takes cover behind driver's seat door and aims his rifle, then fires, “And fucking go where!”

Sal stayed low to the ground on the other side of the truck, “let’s head to the mountains!”

“We’ll never make it!”

Slate could barely hear Amat over the shattering glass and bullets. What's left of the truck's windows are gone, she lowers her head and shields her face from shards of glass before taking fire again.

Two tires of the truck get shot , the truck titles with a slant. Walt kneeled to the ground and shields Ossie from the continuous gunfire.

Sal was behind the truck now, with Slate, “what the fuck else are we gonna do?”

Slate’s eyes jumped to Ossie again, she needed to get to him. She takes a few more shots and makes a run to the yellow truck, then ducks behind it. “We have to do somethin, or we’re going to fuckin die!”

Staying low to the ground, Slate made her way over to Ossie and Walt. She covered them, continuing to fire as Walt turned Ossie over.

Ossie was in bad shape, her eyes jumped from him and Walt, and back to the caret ahead. Walt kneeled on the ground, over Ossie,

Ossie gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain, "Walt, wait. The keys are in the truck, right?”

Walt continued checking his injury, “the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m fucking dying, man!”

Slate continued to fire back while trying to hear what Ossie is saying to Walt. A heavy feeling of dread washed over her.

“Hang on Ossie! You can make it dammit!” She yelled, her eyes trained ahead; she's working twice as hard to take out as many as she could.

Ossie’s voice was strained when he responded, “no I, won’t Slate.” Even with his hand in the way, they could see the blood pouring out of his gunshot wound. Its fatal, the organs, right under the hem of the fucking vest.

She looked down to find his wet eyes on her. Above him, Walt was still. Slate cursed under her breath and lowered to the ground, by Ossie and Walt.

“Don’t die on me asshole, we have rock concerts to see.”

“Rock out for me,” he forced a grin then looked at Walt, “Please, Walt. Let me fuckin' do this!” he grunted.

The cartel pressed forward, Slate rose back to her feet and returned fire. Walt joined in, then returned to Ossie.

“I can help you get out. Get me in the truck.”

Amat, Sal, and Slate continued to fire. She catches sight of Walt helping Ossie into the truck.

Part of her wanted to run to them, to convince Ossie not to do whatever he’s going to do; but they were dangerously outnumbered, and the cartel continued to get closer and closer.

“Walt, what the fuck are you doing!” Amat called out.

Once Ossie was in the truck, Walt stood on the driver's side door, “cover me!”

Walt made his way to the passenger side where Slate was. Before she could ask a question or, think a thought, Ossie was already moving, driving the truck head on into the cartel as they littered it with bullets. In seconds, he ran over some of the cartel and ran the truck into the gas tank. A huge red-orange fire erupted with black smoke.

With feet hitting the ground hard, Slate, Walt, Amat and Sal ran for the woods, returning fire over their shoulders as they sped away. They had no idea how many the explosion killed, but it did what Ossie said it would, it gave them cover to run.

Walt and Sal reached the tree line first. Amat and Slate stop to take out a few more guys. Slate is first back on her feet, Amat just steps behind her until she heard a body drop. Taking a fearful glance back, she saw Amat was down and continued to zig zag as she ran.

Finally reaching the trees, Slate looked around for Walt and Sal as her heart banged in her chest. Spotting them to her left, she limped over, careful to stay in the shadows.

Walk grabbed her arm and pulled her deeper into the shadows, his eyes moving from her to Sal.

“This is on me.” He pushed Sal forward, “get the fuck back the safe out, both of you, Go!”

Sal looked ahead where Amat was, hesitated then turned to run.

“Get the fuck out of there Slate!”

“I’m not leaving you out here alone!” She walked past him and crouched down, “we’re both making it out of this!”

“Fuck!” Walt crouched down too, the both of them peering through the trees. He would drag her back if he could, make her leave; but there’s no time for it right now, and there’s no way he's going to leave one of his alone out here.

A car pulled up, even in the dark of the night, the sight of it makes Slate’s heart drop. She knows that fucking car; it’s a black Cadillac. Her grip tightened on her pistol; her throat was closing up.

An ill feeling washed over her as Amat laid on his back ahead, a guy on either side of him, rifles trained on his body. Each time their fallen friend groaned, the sicker she felt. Slate shut her eyes quickly then opened them, she hoped the person getting out of that car is a stranger, maybe he just has the same car as -

“You guys got one?”

It’s his voice. His fucking voice.

“Fuckers still alive.”

Calderoni came into full view, the car lights on him like a spotlight, his right hand raised; gun in hand and ready to shoot. Calderoni then shoots both the cartel guys, each one a kill shot to the head.

He kneeled down beside Amat, Slate and Walt were too far away to hear what Amat was trying to say as he spit up blood. Slate narrowed her eyes and saw Amat motion back to them with his head, followed by Calderoni looking that way.

It seemed he was helping Amat up when four guys came running in the near distance. Calderoni dropped Amat, looked back at the guys, then fired once, killing Amat. Walt shut his eyes and lowered his head.

Slate gripped the tree tighter and closed her eyes, tears fell down her cheeks. Her eyes were still closed when Calderoni addressed the men.

“One went that way, and the other went that way.” She opened her eyes to see him pointing in the opposite direction, then another wrong one. “Run, you can still catch them.” The smaller group quickly broke off, leaving Calderoni alone again.

“Stay behind me.” Walt orders as he aims his pistol at Calderoni.

“You out there Walt?” Calderoni takes a step closer, also ready to fire. Then another, the two men inched forward. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Walt asked, his eyes glued on him.

“What you made me.” He paused. “If you hadn’t cut me off, I could have warned you this would happen. They found the transponders two days ago. You walked into a trap. But you wanted to go your own way.” Another pause. "He deserved to walk away Walt, they all did. But they were never going to. You made sure of it.”

Slate moved over slightly; a sliver of her face came into Calderoni's view.

Calderoni raised his chin, his brows tensed as he looked at her. He released a heavy sigh, then shifted his eyes back to Walt.

“You should have been the one to die tonight, Walt. But I’m going to let you live.” His eyes moved back to Slate. “Get the fuck out of here and don’t stop walking until you hear them speak English.”

Slate took a step back and gently placed a hand on Walt's arm. They had to get the fuck out here, there was no winning. Even if they could get a shot at Calderoni, dozens of men would descend upon them, and they had no chance of surviving that.

Walt slowly stepped back, his face eventually disappearing from Calderoni’s view.

Late that night at the warehouse

Slate trudged up the dark staircase behind Walt. With the rush of adrenaline gone, the pain in her leg came back full force. Her skin is coated in dirt, sweat, blood; hers and others.

“Who else made it out?”

Daryl appeared first; Walt walked right past him. Slate stopped in place and made eye contact but couldn’t find the words to speak. Her eyes then darted to Sal, who stepped into the room next.

Daryl’s eyes landed on Slate again, then Walt.

“Walt! Who else made it out?”

Walt pulled out a chair at the desk and sunk down into it with a silent breath. He looked broken, completely broken and more fragile than she’s ever seen him before, even counting the times she was around him back home.

Slate sniffled and shook her head, no, to Daryl.

Walt put the gun down, and when he finally spoke his voice was shaky and low, “ eveyones gone.”

Daryl paced, hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief. Sal sat on a nearby bench, slouched over and lowered his head, his hands clasped together.

Slate leaned against the nearby wall and looked up at the ceiling, swallowing the lump in her throat and trying to will the tears in her eyes to stop.

-Five days later-

Slate tapped the rim of the glass and watched as the bartender refilled the drink.

“Thanks.”

She quickly knocked it back and lowered the glass to the counter. They were out of Mexico in less than a day. Since being back, it’s been meetings and other bullshit, but to a lesser extent than whatever Walt had to do, since this was his operation. After her last meeting, Slate put in her request for extended leave; she turned down her reassignment papers.

It felt wrong, being back. Maybe she was supposed to die out there. She hasn’t slept much because all she sees is dead friends, especially Amat and Ossie. Then there’s another ghost haunting her waking and sleeping hours. The man she shared a bed with and later watched as he shot her friend and teammate dead. A man she snuck off to see two more times before the trip to Belize and Juarez, a man she had a weird comfort with she could never describe or explain away. A man she now hated with every bone in her body.

She felt betrayed by him. Even if he had a point, even if playing both sides was the only way to get shit done there. Even with that understanding, she still felt angry, and hurt.

Though they all knew death was a possibility when they didn’t walk about that room, none of them deserved that. Not even the ones who had to do sketchy shit in the past. They did not deserve to die; not Ossie, not Amat, not Danilo. From the brief conversation she had with Walt, Ossie and Amat were denied what he promised them, and written off as criminals.

Three weeks later

Slate got out of the elevator and turned left to her new apartment. She wasn’t sure how much it would help, a new city and a new place, but she was desperate at this point to shake the events of Mexico.

Two doors away from her own, she stopped cold in her tracks. A familiar face stared back at her, dark brown eyes, hair combed back, his arms crossed.

The moment their eyes met, he uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, using a calming tone to speak, “you’re a hard woman to find.”

Slates heart rate sped up with each step toward Calderoni. “Get the fuck out of here!”

He called her by her real name and raised a hand, in an attempt to calm her down. “Take it easy.”

“Take it easy! Take it easy!” She rushed toward him and shoved him hard in the chest, he barely budged, and remained rooted on the ground.

Slate shoved him again, this time tears coming to her eyes. He grabbed her shoulders and lowered his eyes to hers.

“Calm down. Can we talk? Inside?”

She wants to shoot him, to take every bad feeling in her body and mind out on him. Down the hall, a door opened, someone stepped out.

Slate cursed under her breath and tore herself away from his strong grip. After fumbling with her keys, she got the door open, went inside, then slammed it in his face.

Distraught, she headed to the Livingroom and sat on the couch, covering her face with her hands. When the door opened, she jumped to her feet and retrieved the gun she kept hidden behind a desk.

Calderoni didn’t budge at the sight; or show any signs of worry.

“I can’t stay long. Put the gun away.”

“No! You set us up!”

Calderoni stood directly in front of her and pried the gun from her hands. He clicked the safety back on and put it aside.

“Listen to me, “he lowered voice, “I did not set you up.”

Slate stared at him; he could see her mind going a mile a minute. She was also trying to decide if she believed him or not.

“It’s not as simple as you, Walt, and those agents who try to help think it is. Everyone, even the good guys, need to be bad and make some grey calls. It’s the only way. You’re smart, you know that Slate.”

She pulled her eyes from his and sat on the couch again.

“Those guys didn’t deserve that, I meant what I said.”

She shook her head and pressed her palms into her knees. “Why didn’t you warn us? Me?” She raised her eyes to his.

“I would have, you heard what I said out there. I was telling the truth.”

Slate rounded her shoulders, getting smaller on the couch. She shrugged weakly and stared at the floor.

“Hey,” Calderoni took a seat next to her on the couch, “I hoped you weren’t there. That you were smart enough to say no and go home.”

She turned her head to shoot him a dark look, “and abandoned the team? What kind of person do you think I am?”

Calderoni started to speak, then stopped himself. It was properly for the better, Slate was nearly shaking with anger now.

“We’ll talk about this, if not now, later, when you’re ready.”

She clenched her jaw, speaking through gritted teeth, “I never want to see you again.”

Calderoni lowered his gaze. He reached out and carefully placed a hand on her thigh. Her eyes dropped down to his hand, but she didn’t move it.

“Tell me to fuck off in the morning, but for now, “he raised his eyes to hers, “let me be here for you, even if it’s in silence.” he forces a small smile. “Keep the gun close if you want.”

Slate scoffed and stared at the table before them. Calderoni stood, retrieved the gun, and put it in her hands before sitting back down.

He watched as she looked it over, turning it, then placed it on the table.

Shooting him could feel cathartic, or it could make her feel worse.

Slate exhaled and closed her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper, “I don’t want to look at a fucking gun again for a while. I’m so fucking tired - I’m tired - “she let her head hang low.

A moment later she felt his hand on her back, caressing her in a slow circular motion. At first, she stilled to his touch, then, she relaxed into it. With his right hand, he slid two fingers under her chin, angling her face to his. She opened her eyes.

Slate wanted to scream, to yell, to kick him, to use a time machine and take saying yes to this job back; but she couldn't. She couldn’t do anything but sit here right now, as her body felt everything at once, anger, rage, disappointment, grief, loneliness.

Maybe she would yell at him tomorrow, tell him all the things she wanted to say, but for now, she doesn’t have the energy. Calderoni wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

Slate leaned against him with a sigh and let her eyes fall closed.

More Narcos

Masterlist

#Commander Guillermo Calderoni #not the real guy #the show!#narcos Mexico #Calderoni narcos Mexico #Guillermo Calderoni #my longest oneshot ever #Ossie Mejia #Amat narcos #Daryl narcos #Danilo Narcos #sal orozco

27 notes · View notes

aspl1tl1fe · 1 year

Text

Setting Up Audre 5.1

Today we return to PI Strip, a renamed public community lot located at 10 Pleasant Boulevard in @one-plumbob’s world Pleasant Island, which is called Audre in my save.

Last week, I shared images of the entrance and first floor of Audre’s African Art Gallery, and today we venture up the spiral stairs to view the two room second floor, where the art is showcased.

So a little story about the stairs before going up.

Those are a custom item I got somewhere off the net, while desperately seeking build variety. I’ve never used them before because the style is rather limited. They look very 80s Barbie doll wedding, and don’t at all fit the modern style of this gallery. Still, I really wanted to use this, and plopped them down before I did anything else in this shop, before, in fact, I even knew what the place would be.

As I was renovating I thought, maybe the owner of the gallery recently purchased or rented the space, and it hasn’t really had much attention since the building was originally built. Maybe the owner of the gallery is just starting out or relocating to the town and can’t yet afford full renovation. Even better, the gallery is publicly funded and most of the funds go to just keeping the place open.

Whatever I go with, I’m keeping the stairs because I’m stubborn, lol.

Anywho, on the second floor I used some half walls (which might also be custom) to make a little stairwell, through which you can already see the pictures hung up on the walls.

As a quick aside, AAAG specializes in photos and paintings. Unless I decide to use sculpting in this game to actually sculpt, which I highly doubt, what’s sold here probably wont change.

If you take another look at the picture of the exterior, the second floor has a bunch of windows which limit wall space, and could cause damage to the featured paintings. To remedy this, I placed two and three tile walls, one tile in front of, or partway in front of, the windows, and then I tried to block the spaces off using plants. I’m hoping this will prevent sims from trying to route around the walls instead of using the open more navigable space.

I know we all know how TS3 is (and TS4 definitely has this game beat in that regard). If it’s hard to get there every sim in town wants to be there. Still, I am hopping they walk up, not do the toe tap and complain because I’ve got a mod to prevent that, see they can’t get there, and go around.

I may find that this was the biggest mistake ever, as I’ve also placed one tile walls in the next room to hang more art.

I’m pretty sure I mentioned in last weeks post, that I didn’t have room for a lot of seating in the sales room (yup that’s what I’m calling it now), so I’ve placed two couches around the stairwell, along with a little coffee table. That way I can make and place coffee up here, and make it look like the gallery owner is chatting up potential artists or sponsors.

From the entrance way to the second room, you can see the one tile walls I mentioned before. There’s a bit more space in this room, as it’s the space above the in progress housewares store. I’m hoping that means this won’t become the portal to lag hell, but I won’t really know until I can get multiple sims in here at once.

I guess that if all else fails, I can at least place invisible fences where the walls are blocking the windows, and maybe do the one tiles if that still doesn’t help.

I should say, I have downloaded lots of black art (I also tend to download Indigenous and or non-black POC art that doesn’t give me racist fetish vibes), and “the lighting is dark enough that this person in this image could be black” (lol) art. All custom, of course, as diverse representation is scant in the game.

Because I have so much, I was able to fill out my gallery with a number of different images in different sizes and styles, and use a lot of cc I’ve yet to be able to incorporate into my residential homes.

I forgot to note, (or... if I’m repeating myself, forgive me), that the gallery is dark despite the lights, and it clearly being day outside, because I have a mod that fixes auto light mode so that the lights are only on in rooms where sims are, and not on during the day in rooms with windows.

All those walls make for wonderful places to hang up pictures, but they make it even darker inside unless I manually cut on the lights, and I forgot to when I took these.

Well that’s it for this shop.

So next week I’ll share game shots of the last lot I completely renovated in this world. I am working on the housewares store, but I haven’t been able to go into my game as often as usual, as I’m putting a lot of work into battling agoraphobia and finding my own place. It’s slow, and tiring (because also autistic burn out) but I’ve been making a lot of progress.

#TS3 #Audre #TS3gameSetup #ts3gameplay #ts3 gameplay #TheSims3 #TheSims #@one-plumbob #one-plumbob #Pleasant Isle

7 notes · View notes

golbrocklovely · 9 months

Note

not the same anon but i wanna add to the alcohol thing. go out,have fun, do you but stas has posted herself out drinking and celebrating getting drunk,being hungover, and curing that hangover with more drinking. i dunno what’s happened to kat, it was probably already in her but she does a lot of this often now almost as if this were the go to choice of beverage. they both have posted themselves pregaming to go out and get drunk and one of them just posted a tiktok where both are holding 2 drinks each. Im honestly glad someone else pointed this out and noticed it too because most of the fandom seems to praise them and treat it like the anon said all cutesy and silly when its not.

I remember last year people blaming snc as a bad influence on the girls for drinking and look now. It wasnt snc it was them. the boys are working and theyre fine. these two are using this as a crutch. also how can you not feel emotionally,mentally, and even physically exhausted going out every night and doing this.sam legit quoted stas last year saying she rather drink than eat.

i'm gonna combine these two asks together since they are about the same thing. hope you don't mind.

this is kinda long so... i'm sorry about that.

so the last time i talked about this type of stuff/the last time i got asks about stas and kat drinking was back in 2021/22 and any time i made the same argument i'm gonna make now, i got chewed out bc ppl misinterpreted what i said and felt like i was minimizing alcoholism. as someone that has had family members on both sides have addiction issues with alcohol (along with other things), i'm not one to be blase about alcoholism. this is also not me shrugging off the real issue that stas and kat could have addiction problems.

however…. we don't know them. we only see what they post. and it's not impossible that they make it seem like they're drinking a lot when in actuality they might only be having one or two drinks. does that make what they're doing any better? no. i'm not making that argument. what i'm trying to say is that we shouldn't jump to conclusions when we don't know the full story. plus, you can't diagnosis someone via a couple stories and snapchat or two. that's just reality.

does that mean that them joking about being alcoholics is cool? no it's not. it's really dumb at the very least, and extremely dark at the most. my hope and my personal belief is that they are just partying a bunch and made some tasteless jokes. i remember when i was in college, basically the same age (if not younger) as them, and ppl around me would joke about being alcoholics. i didn't find it funny, but they did. and i'm gonna assume that it's the same thing with them. that it's not them casually telling their fanbase that they have addictions issues, but more "omg isn't it so funny how we drink every night when we party??"

i don't think this behavior is great, especially since a lot of snc's younger fans have drifted into being these two girls' fans. it's not cute to aspire to be drunkards in your early 20s. you wanna go out and have your fun, so be it. but be realistic about what your limit is. also, you don't have to hit your limit every night. you don't have to drink every night either.

but again, as i stated before, i don't think they actually have addiction issues. if they did, that's for them and ppl close to them who know them to discuss and figure out. not for us to speculate over a couple stories and snapchats. i don't pay attention to them enough to really know one way or the other, but regardless i think it's best to not assume something's wrong. if it is really that much of an issue to anyone reading this, maybe reach out to them somehow and tell them you're concerned. or if it's too triggering, which is totally understandable, just block them and move on.

i truly wish them the best, and i hope their fans know that excessive drinking is not good for you.

#ask #personal #tc4

3 notes · View notes

silvercaptain24 · 2 years

Note

1) I like that you’re incredibly kind.

2) I like that you’re observant. Almost nothing gets by you. in fics, in dissecting the well-being of various members of hurricane fam, in reading LU, you notice a bunch of little things that most people don’t really catch.

3) I like that you’re responsible not only for yourself but you constantly look out for others. If ever a hurricane fam member didn’t eat, you are ON it. Hydration too. It’s not even your responsibility to mother hen people but you take it upon yourself anyway bc you’re so caring-

4) I like that you’re so caring ^^^

5) I like that you’re an insanely talented writer. Like bruh. You keep forgetting that you’re a big name people recognize?? And you say it comes as a surprise to you?? It makes complete sense/is not a surprise in the slightest to me. You’re very, VERY talented. People recognize you for a reason. Remember that.

6) I like that you share your writing. For. Free. It’s literally such a privilege to experience- (and also speaks to your generosity/selflessness!!!

7) I like that you’re a wars stan, and that you do his character justice. There are many a ways to interpret his character… and yours is one of the best lol

8) I like that you have excellent taste in fandoms. LU? Star Wars? Heck yea.

9) I like that you have amazing music taste. Sleeping at last >>>

10) I like that you’re articulate and thoughtful with every post. I’m prone to misunderstandings but that’s never happened with you bc you’re very eloquent

11) I like how patient you are. I see the exchanges that go on on your blog when they come across my dash, the hours of trying to get people to eat or sleep that are daily occurrences. And then I know how agonizing it is to write with writer’s block or when you have no motivation. Silver you got PATIENCE patience.

12) I like your originality. I was planning on saying I like ur username (which is also true) but I like it BC of its originality so-

13) I like your creativity. Kind of ties in with the above one but being creative includes adaptability and cleverness so I’m making it a different entry. Half of the ideas you have literally blow my mind with how cool they are. It’s part of what makes following you such a joy

14) I like that despite being insanely busy irl, you still manage to have time to be on here w the hurricane fam and looking after people and chatting and writing fics and being amazing-

15) I like that you’re so passionate. Not only in the way you gush & make passion projects, but also in the ways you react to things? I can’t be too detailed without spoiling anon. So this might stay a little vague sorry

16) I like that you’re responsive & timely. It speaks to organization, effort, and attentiveness, which is all pretty cool <3

17) I like your sense of humor!!! You’re very funny!!!! I laugh a lot/have a blast on your blog!!!

18) I like that you actually take care of yourself for the most part. Thank god.

19) I like that you’re humble. “Wdym I’m a big blog & people recognize me?” Lmao if I had ur writing skill I’d probably never shut up abt it so you’re like 10x better than I will ever be

20) I like that you’re not afraid to say how you’re feeling. You admit when you’re having a rough day. You accept help and don’t push people away or shut people down for trying to help/support you. It takes bravery to be vulnerable like that, and it takes strength to open up like that. You’re healthy in the way you recognize your feelings and talk about them. Good for you <3

21) I like that you’re friends with me!!!!!! That’s so freaking cool!!!!! Thank you!!!!!! Hugging you!!!!!!

I'm torn between responding with "😭😭😭😭" or "wow you really actually did have twenty things."

...

Nope the sobbing won out, oh MY WORD-

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#asks and answers #anon!!!#save for later #save for forever

14 notes · View notes

bereft-of-frogs · 1 year

Text

Thanks for the tag @hettolandija! Also I think someone else tagged me in this a while ago. Possibly multiple someones. So I am very sorry I forgot who that was and it was a very long time ago. Onwards:

🎨 favourite colour: Dark green to dark blue and everything in between. (Like all the blue-green shades...stunning.)

📖 currently reading: I just finished Battle Scars (while I was supposed to be working ha, couldn’t help myself) (I don’t know how anyone comes away from this book not being obsessed with Cere) and I think next I’m going to reread This Is How You Lose The Time War because all the hubbub has been making me want to reread.

🎶 last song: R-Evolve, Thirty Seconds to Mars. Ok look, Jared Leto is a terrible person but he had a pretty decent alt rock emo band when I was in high school and it unfortunately embedded itself in my brain and my ‘time capsule’ playlist is really fun to run to

🎬 last movie: The last movie I actually sat down and paid attention to was Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3. The last movie I had on in the background while I was writing was...lol Paranormal Activity.

📺 last series: Ghoul on Netflix which was just okay plot-wise, but pretty fun horror effects and atmosphere. I also finished it last night (it was only 3 episodes) so I’ll need to pick a new one tonight. I’m also rewatching Community.

🍴sweet, spicy, savoury: I think they all have their place, but gotta end with a sweet.

🤤 craving: Something sweet. I have nothing.

☕ tea or coffee: Coffee, 100%! I actually don’t really like tea, except for Lemon-Ginger with honey when I’m sick.

🤓 currently working on: I’m just happy to be working on anything. I feel like I’m still sort of finding my footing after being a mess of writer’s block and anxiety for months. I have a whole bunch of drafts that I could feasibly finish: the murder mystery fic I started posting last night, something for my bad things happen bingo card (which I haven’t forgotten about!), this one other thing about a grave, or the super long wip about a serial killer (though I think I’ve fucked up the timelines might have to be scrapped), or my magnum opus about death gods and rivers I swear I’ll finish one day.

I’ve got lots of options! I’m no longer stuck in that anxiety spiral! (Knock on wood lol) Exciting! As usual, please consider this an open tag as I have no idea who has already done this meme or wants to or...etc. Open tag! Go forth!

#thanks for asking!

2 notes · View notes

farfromhome97 · 2 years

Text

Living Life In The Night

Chapter One: Following One last look in the mirror, just a red hoodie with black details, shorts that were probably too short. Thinking back to what the doctor said, you're going to have to start being more careful Miss L/N, referring to the deep cut on your left leg from ankle to your knee. Having to wear not only a bandage but thigh high black compression socks to keep blood flow regular, then light pink slide Ons the doctor gave you. "I look fucking ridiculous." You murmured to yourself, thanking yourself to put a thick red headband keep the wind from bothering your hair putting it into a donut bun slicking it back with light hairspray, then pulling your ears underneath it, blocking the future cold, and also some of the loudness that came with New York. It was a lot different from Kentucky, missing home often and the quietness that came with it, well at least compared to here. Finally throwing your backpack over your shoulders and grabbing your thick black fluffy blanket that kept you warm in the cars that drove you and smelled like vanilla cookies, you were ready to get your errands for the day over with. Grabbing the crutch by the door you put it underneath your right side to finally support yourself on one leg to relieve some of the pressure, finally walking out of the safety of your apartment to the concrete jungle below.

Gavin, your most trusted and loyal security guard, was already standing outside of your apartment door. "It's cold, Gav," you mumbled at him starting to limp past him. Instead of saying anything he just gave a short laugh and followed behind you. It wasn't long into the walk to the outside of the apartment building reserved for the people in the company and their families that Gavin strode up next to you and whispered into your ear, "Your Uncle got a new security detail for you," he stated. "First, why the fuck are you whispering, and two what do you mean?" You turned to where you heard his voice, looking up to him until your searching E/C eyes found his brown ones, knowing you had to stare to focus he stopped walking and let you stare at him. "I don't need more protection what I do need is for my Uncle to stop being a pompous ass, I didn't ask to be here so why would I want to draw attention my self with a bunch of big men in suits," You scoffed, your eyes focusing long enough to see the shocked look on his face. Walking again you heard him falter for a moment before following you again. "Are you really that upset? It'll just be one with you all the time, just two more guys that are more than willing to do this work for your Uncle." Stopping one final time before exiting through the lobby doors, you spun around to him, "Two MORE people GAVIN?!" You screamed at him, the blanket almost falling off of you as you shook, nearly dropping your crutch as well. "You're loosing your eyesight F/N, you're getting more and more clumsy by the day and your Uncle is all you have left of your past that wants to keep you from harm, let him help you, F/N." You sighed, gathering the blanket up and handing it to Gavin, walking out the door to where the black Lexus he drove you both around in was parked a little ways from the entrance, two huge ass men stood in front of the building near the edge of the sidewalk, seeing you and Gavin, stood up straighter.

A/N: Reader is a brat for a good reason I promise. My very first anything to do with writing, I hope you enjoy. This will be very very long. Next post coming very soon.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #eventual smut

7 notes · View notes

missmortox · 8 months

Note

I see how Alida was so quite then all of a sudden she sees her followers go up she had to make a comeback to show the new followers that she is more frequently active on social media lol

I’m sure the stanbill account on tiktok getting her more followers. That account is basically for how Alida and Bill are happy couple. That account is really annoying I never looked up that account on tiktok nor i’ve ever searched about Bill or his partner but suddenly videos from that account randomly pops up in my fyp. I know whoever is behind that i guess skarsgardbro or her cousin definitely paying for advertising. That’s the account for brainwashing people and the people who doesn’t know who Bills partner is would be interested to look into her profile and follow her to see Bill’s update. 🤷‍♀️

I had a run in with that account they were asking me to prove stuff I was saying. I sent them a bunch of videos. They never replied and blocked me. Before that they were all over my account defending Alida and Bill and trying to fight with me. I 100% think with their whole "block and ignore" policy when someone proves them wrong they have to be run by Skarsbro. I don't really pay attention to Alida's account (unless someone says there's a new post or whatever) but how much has her follower count gone up? It can't be that many people right? Last I remember she was at like 26K. She probably got some more at the Fares thing but even Fares hasn't followed her back. I wonder if she'll stay consistent and post a lot and get herself in trouble yet again. Wouldn't surprise me.

#bill skarsgård #alida morberg #asks

0 notes

oceanera12 · 2 years

Note

😅😈✨⛔🙋‍♀️💖❌🤗💞😬📚⌛🤯💔

Holy kriff somone actually asked me something

That's a lot of questions so bear with me on the length of this, geez

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

My original character fic, which was the first fic I ever wrote and put online. Oh gosh, that thing is awful please don't find it.

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

You want a list? I absolutely do this, usually hidden in the middle of a bunch of fluff chapters. Any of my readers can attest I like to smack them with the feels out of nowhere.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

Oh, uh... I am good at switching tones from sad to funny without feeling disjointed or awkward.

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

Yes. I've got some Star Wars Rebels fics and a few Kingdom Hearts fics that I have started but never finished. They probably never will be finished but you never know.

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

Yes. I don't really hide it from most people.

💖 What made you start writing?

Storytime!

When I was a kid, I loved to play dollhouses and stuffed animals. As such, I made up my own little stories (my favorite thing was the superfamily where everyone had superpowers). As I got older, I started to act out the stories just in my room. Those were actually my first "fanfictions" of sorts (Power Rangers was my favorite show at the time).

Jump a head and I started to write down those stories. And thus I began to write.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Enemies to lovers. Absolutely not, leave me alone.

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

Honestly? Just write and post. It's not going to be perfect the first time. But if you don't get feedback, then you have no way to improve on what you are writing. Also, try not to pay attention to the amount of traffic your fic gets. There are some ideas that pop out to some readers and others that don't.

For instance: I have a Batfamily AU that revolves around the four boys Robins getting adopted altogether and it gets quite a bit of click, simply because that is what a lot of readers found interesting.

I have another Batfamily AU that evolves around Batfam but in the Avatar: The Last Airbender universe. It gets remarkably less traffic, not because it's bad but because it is not as interesting to as many readers.

💞 Who's your comfort character?

Oh geez... Umm... I don't know? Maybe Tim Drake? Or maybe Hyrule from Linked Universe? I'm not sure if I have a "comfort" character per se. I have a comfort trope though! (Found Family all the way!)

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

The original OC fanfictions.

Please don't find them.

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

ABSOLUTELY. That's actually my goal, to be a published author.

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

Depends on my motivation, how much time I have to write straight, and if I'm suffering from writer's block. It can take me a day to type a 5,000 word chapter or it can take me a week. It just depends for me..

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Um... I've always had difficulty writing action scenes but I have a personal preference on avoiding writing romance. Mystery is a tricky genre for me to write as well, simply because you need to think ahead as to all the who, what, where, when, and why.

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

I've got two!

Never Surrender and When Those Who Wish You Harm

Bonus fic that ends with angst: Everything

#asks #era answers #anon ask #anon answered #thanks anon!#hey look #i got an ask #a long ask #but an ask #the word ask has lost all meaning #q and a

0 notes

milkybonya · 3 years

Text

heartbroken

order 003 for anon: a large banana milk tea with strawberry popping boba for treasure’s Yedam

Warnings: angst, crying, explicit language, threats, violence

Summary: where Yedam is the badboy! at school and he has a soft spot for you ^-^ you somehow end up as his tutor and.. yeah :")

[a/n]: idk why it's so hard for me to imagine Yedam as a bad boy??? i hope i wrote this well T.T i love the badboy! concept tho hehe so i loved this,, aLSO I'M SORRY FOR SACRIFICING JEONGWOO LIKE THIS JEONGWOO ILY <3 i feel like i kind of unconsciously wrote Yedam as resembling Han Seo Jun from True Beauty hmmmm also i’ve been listening to a lot of Kang Daniel lately and am falling hard for that man so if you see this pls send Kang Daniel pics thx ily

"Everyone move the fuck aside and let me through," Yedam growls, speaking to the crowd that's blocking the classroom door. No one listens so he barges through, pushing people down to the ground if he has to just to get to class.

He doesn't care about why they've all gathered, or the poor student that has fainted at the door. He simply sits at his desk, props his feet up and closes his eyes to take a nap as all the students wonder what they should do.

"Yedam, what the hell?! Now is not the time for sleeping. A student has fainted and all you do is push people aside so you can nap at your desk?"

Yedam opens his eyes and pushes up the shades he's wearing. No one has ever spoken to him like this before, and even the students tending to the fainted person are shocked overhearing this. A relatively quiet student yelling at Yedam?

Who's this? Yedam wonders to himself, staring you up and down. He catches a glimpse of your name tag: [y/n]. I've never met this person- ... oh.

The one memory with you that he remembers: him falling off the top of the soccer goal post in an empty field just last year after class had already ended; you leaving the library and finding him there. Despite being scared of him and wanting to just leave, you approached him and gave him a piggy back all the way to the nearest hospital. He remembers the searing pain in his leg and how fast you tried to run, the wind blowing your hair in all directions as you shouted words of comfort into the wind: "It's gonna be okay! We'll get to the hospital soon, I promise."

When he later told his friend, Haruto about it, Haruto said, "I would've left you there and never looked back."

Even though Yedam knew he was joking, he can't forget how kind your actions were that day.

Is this why he isn't getting mad at you even though you're yelling in his face?

"Just let me take a nap," is all he says to you, sliding his sunglasses back down on his face. You shake your head at him before leaving the classroom, rushing to tell the teacher about the fainted student.

From that day, Yedam decides he won't leave you alone. For what reason? No one knows, not even him.

"Sir!"

"Yes, Yedam, what is your question?" the teacher asks, turning around from the blackboard to face the class.

"Can I change my seat?" Yedam asks.

The class laughs until Yedam shoots a glare in everyone’s direction.

"We're in the middle of a mathematics lesson, Yedam. Talk to me about it later."

"It's an emergency!"

"What's the emergency?"

"I need to sit here," Yedam says, getting up from his spot and walking to the seat on your right, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"And why's that?" the teacher asks, crossing his arms.

"Because... it's closer to the blackboard?"

Your heart is nervously racing throughout this interaction. Never in a million years would you want Yedam, the school's most renowned bad boy to sit beside you. Never.

"You've been sitting in the back for years. What's the problem?" the teacher asks.

"There's a problem. Very big one."

Yedam sits on the desk of that innocent student, sitting on their notes and crossing his arms.

"Yedam, can we talk about this later-"

"Nope. Hey... Junkyu? Can you move to my spot?" Yedam asks the student. One fierce glare from him is enough to get the student to pack up and clear the desk out.

"See? problem sorted," Yedam tells the teacher, sitting at his new spot beside you.

The teacher worriedly looks at you, noticing your discomfort.

"Well, we need to hurry on with the lesson so we'll talk about this later, okay?" the teacher explains, looking at both you and Yedam.

For the rest of the lesson, Yedam does nothing but stare at you. You don't look at him, not even once, but you can feel his eyes on you. It makes you lose focus, even though you're trying your best to take notes.

He's memorizing all of your features. the curve of your nose and lips, the colour of your eyes and how they look in the sunlight. He doesn't know why, but he just wants to look at you.

Finally, when the lesson ends and the teacher asks both of you to follow him to his office, you slam your arms down on your desk and glare at Yedam.

"Can you stop staring at me? I haven't been able to focus and you're making me uncomfortable!" you yell, silencing the chatter of the classroom.

Yedam gulps.

"I can't focus either, cause of you," Yedam says with a wink, resting his head on his palm.

You cough, shocked at his words.

"What are you saying?" you choke out.

"Let's go to the teacher's office. Whatever he says, tell him you're helping me with my studies so I need to sit beside you."

"And if I don't?" you challenge Yedam.

Yedam simply glares at you with his sharp eyes and you decide to comply.

As he lopes out of the class in a relaxed manner, you rush along behind him. In the teacher's office, you sit beside one another and across from your teacher, who sighs before he speaks.

"Yedam, I can tell [y/n] is uncomfortable with your actions. They don't want to be sitting beside you so please go back to your usual spot for the next class, okay?"

The teacher only speaks to Yedam, not even looking in your direction or asking for your opinion. You understand his intentions, but it still upsets you a little...

Yedam looks at you instead, an expectant expression on his face. Although you find him extremely annoying, his look is enough encouragement to get you to speak, even though you're about to say a bunch of lies.

"But sir, I've actually been helping Yedam with his studies these days," you croak out, gaining more confidence with each word you speak.

"Have you?" the teacher asks, raising his brow.

"They have, and you'll be seeing my improved grades soon," Yedam says, nudging you with a smirk.

"Well... if that's true, then alright. I'd better see those improved grades," the teacher says.

Yedam bites his lip while grinning, clearly glad that he'll be allowed to sit with you. On the other hand, you sigh. Who knows what kind of trouble this will bring for you...

After that meeting, the two of you sit beside one another in your next class. You feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest as Yedam stares at you from your right. The rest of the class has their eyes on you, too, wondering why Yedam is still sitting beside you.

"Can you please... stop staring at me," you whisper under your breath.

"I don't want to," Yedam says with a smile, continuing to look at you while his head is being held up by his palm, elbow propped up on his desk.

"I bet that [y/n] somehow seduced Yedam. They may look quiet, but they might be the slyest person on this planet," a classmate suggests from behind you.

Yedam's chair screeches backwards from beside you and he stands up, his arms swinging slightly at his sides.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Yedam asks, turning around to the classmate who was speaking nonsense. His face looks extremely angry - you've never seen him like this before.

The classmate puffs up their chest, trying to look stronger than they really are.

"I said [y/n] seduced you! And what?"

"You idiot," Yedam hisses, taking a few strides forward and smacking them in the face.

Instead of fighting back, the classmate doesn't budge. They have their head down, slowly reaching their hand up to their injured cheek.

Yedam crouches down to the seated student to meet their eyes.

"[y/n] never seduced me and never will. We've all been classmates for so long, you still can't recognize one another? Stop the bullshit. If I hear this again, it'll be more than your face that'll be harmed, you hear me?"

"Yedam, that's enough," you say, tugging at the back of his uniform blazer.

He finally turns around after a while, greeting you with such a bright smile that you wonder if he's forgotten everything that just happened.

"So, [y/n], are you gonna help me study or what?" Yedam asks you, returning to his seat."

"What do you mean?" you ask, confused.

"The teacher is expecting improved grades, so of course we should show him that, shouldn't we?"

The way Yedam tilts his head to one side while smiling at you makes your breath falter for a second.

"I-I guess we should," you stutter. Why are you suddenly getting so nervous around a jerk like Yedam? No but firstly, why is he being so nice to you?

"Okay, everyone! Class is starting, get to your- what happened to Jeongwoo?" the teacher asks, pointing to the classmate who Yedam smacked.

Jeongwoo's cheek is red and he has some ice pressed up against it.

"Got hit by a baseball. He's never paying attention to the right things," Yedam says, shaking his head.

The teacher thankfully shrugs things off. If not, Yedam would have been in deep trouble.

You release the breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding and Yedam pokes you with the eraser end of his pencil.

“Library after school today, okay?” he whispers. You nod.

Yedam watches you neatly pack up your things with his arms crossed, unconsciously smiling at the way you make sure everything is in the right part of your bag before you sling it over your shoulders and declare that you’re ready to go.

“You don’t mind taking a motorbike ride real quick, do you?” Yedam asks, glancing at you as the two of you walk down the hallway.

Shit. You’d forgotten that Yedam has a motorbike and takes the thing everywhere with him. Even though you’re a little scared to ride it with him, if that’s what he’s suggesting, you’re more scared to say ‘no’ to Yedam, so you simply nod.

Yedam is quick to notice the way you gulp, though, and how you nervously fidget with your hands as you walk, taking shaky steps.

They’re nervous... he tells himself. I’d better treat them well.

Yedam hands you his spare helmet. When you hesitate to take it from him, he places it over your head himself, knocking on it to show how protective it is.

“In case anything happens, I promise I won’t let you get hurt, okay?” he tells you, holding out his pinkie finger.

You let out a scoff at his unexpected childishness, but still loop your pinkie around his.

“I’m not scared, you know,” you exert, swinging your right leg around the motorbike as you take a seat behind Yedam.

“Sure.”

Before you can even blink, Yedam starts the motorbike and whizzes off. You’re forced to wrap your arms tightly around him out of fear, and he smiles under your warm embrace.

“You can just grab onto my blazer instead, you know,” he yells into the wind. You hear him, but pretend you didn’t. You’re too scared to move your hands right now.

After getting over some of the fear, you raise your head and admire the moving blue sky above you, the way the trees stand at the edge of the skyline and how the wind seems to surge through your veins as well as directly through you.

You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until Yedam tells you, helping you get off the bike. Regaining your senses, you stare at the glass building in front of you.

“Yedam... why are we here?” you ask him in shock. This mans really brought you to the library that’s on the other side of the city.

“I just wanted to enjoy a fun bike ride with you,” he mumbles, walking up the steps to the library.

Once the two of you find a spot, you don’t waste any time in getting right to work.

“So... what subject do you struggle with the most?”

“[y/n],” he mumbles.

“What?”

“Uh... math.”

“Okay... let’s get started with that, then.”

As you talk, Yedam loses focus, getting lost in the sweet tone of your voice, the way your hands move as you talk, and your precious lips.

“Yedam? What’s the answer to this question?” you ask, pointing to the equation you’ve written on the paper before you.

“Uh... I don’t know,” he admits.

You sigh.

“I just explained to you how you should solve this! Did you not understand or were you not listening?”

“Um... I kind of just want to kiss you right now,” Yedam mumbles under his breath, smiling up at you with a slightly reddened face.

“What? Yedam, you’ve been mumbling all day today and it’s been scaring me.”

“Scaring you? No no, I don’t mean to scare you-”

Both of your phones vibrate on the desk and you glance at one another. You check yours and find out it’s a message from the class groupchat.

Jeongwoo: guys guys! [y/n] and Yedam are at the library across town studying together! i’m telling you, something is up...

Junkyu: says who?

Jeongwoo: sent a photo.

When you look at the photo, it’s of you and Yedam at the very desk you’re sitting at right now. Suddenly, you feel anxious. Has someone been following you? For how long?

Yedam: whichever one of you hoes is following us better fucking stop before i show up at your house and set it on fire. istg please leave us the FUCK ALONE!

Jeongwoo: shit i didn’t mean to send this to the class groupchat...

Yedam slams his phone down and looks carefully around the library.

“I found him,” he whispers before getting up and running across the library. You try to follow his trail and find someone wearing your school uniform running away with Yedam chasing closely behind.

If a fight breaks out because of you, you won’t be able to forgive yourself... you rush after them and follow them to the parking lot, which is luckily quite busy. You know Yedam won’t start a fight in such a busy place...

“You asshole, did Jeongwoo set you up to this?” Yedam grunts, grabbing your classmate by his collar.

“N-no.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Yedam growls.

“Guys, please stop! This parking lot is full of people-”

“Leave me alone!” the boy yells at the top of his lungs. People start to stare and Yedam lets go of his collar, dusting himself off. The veins on his neck are visible, showing his anger.

“If you do anything like this again, you’ll be in for it,” Yedam says to the boy before he runs away.

“[y/n], I’m so sorry-”

“Yedam, if this is what it’s gonna be like for me to help you study then I don’t want to do it!”

“I know, but-”

“Yedam, I’m scared,” you admit, starting to tear up slightly.

Yedam doesn’t know what to do, so he just sadly watches you as you cover your face and try not to cry. Then, you feel his arms around you as he presses his body against yours.

“I’m sorry, [y/n], I just... I’m sorry for putting you in this situation but I just... wanted to spend some time with you and-”

“You call this spending time with me?!” you sob into his chest.

“I’ll make them pay...”

“No, Yedam. I’ve had enough of your revenge and violence and... I just want to go back to my quiet life. Even a day spent like this has been too much for me.”

Yedam pulls away and steps back.

“I’ll pack up my stuff from the library. Please don’t talk to me ever again.”

As you walk away, Yedam silently watches you, hating himself for the fact that his heart is breaking. Why is his heart breaking?

The next day, Yedam is in his usual spot somewhere behind you in class, trying to sleep with his head on the desk but being unable to because you still haven’t shown up and he’s worried.

The same thing happens the next day.

And the next.

At this point, you haven’t shown up for a week and Yedam is incredibly worried. He’s tried texting and calling you, but you haven’t replied. So he storms into the teachers’ office, demanding for your home address so he can visit you.

The teachers refuse for privacy reasons, but Yedam says he won’t leave the office until they give it to him, so they reluctantly do.

“You better not be going to bother [y/n] in any way, but to truly just visit them.”

“Do I look like I would bother [y/n]?”

“Yes.”

Yedam scoffs, leaving the office with your address in his hands. He leaves the school right then and there too, not caring about the rest of his classes for that day.

After an hour of getting lost on his motorbike searching for your home, he finally finds it. Slightly sweaty and incredibly tired, he knocks on your door, praying that you’ll open it.

“Who is it?” you sleepily ask, opening the door. Your first reaction is to slam the door shut as soon as you see Yedam, but he stops you.

“Please, [y/n],” he begs. “I’ve been searching for your house for an hour and I’m so tired... just let me in.”

Your pure and wholesome soul can’t say no to this, so you invite him in, quickly bringing him a glass of water.

“Why haven’t you been at school?”

“I think you know why,” you say, sitting on the couch next to Yedam’s.

“Because of me?”

You nod.

Yedam sighs.

“[y/n], you shouldn’t stop coming to school because-”

“The kids have stopped talking about us now, right? So I’ll come back, don’t worry.”

“Ah... right,” Yedam says with a sigh, running his hand through his hair.

“Why are you even... here?” you ask him.

“To check on you?” he says in a sarcastic tone, as if it should be obvious.

“Why?”

“Because I-” like you. He almost says it but stops himself, knowing that now is not the right time but also because what the heck?! He likes you?! Since when?! These feelings have been growing so fast on their own that Yedam can’t even keep up with them.

“Because?” you urge him.

“I was worried. Am I not allowed to be here?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t get why you would be worried.”

The truth is, you’re suspecting Yedam has developed feelings for you. You’re hoping it isn’t true, but you need to know. So you’re trying to get him to confess.

“I like you, [y/n], okay?! I know now isn’t the time but you keep putting so much pressure on me and I just...”

Your heart works harder than normal in your chest to keep blood flowing, and you wonder why. It’s not like you like Yedam or anything... right?

“I’m sorry, [y/n]. I’ll leave now,” he says, standing up and grabbing his helmet from where he left it at his feet.

Your heart races as you wonder if you should decide to do that thing you’re thinking about... should you... kiss him?

Ah, you don’t even like this jerk! Why would you do that?!

Exactly, why would you...? Why are you even considering this-

Before you know it, your body is moving on its own as you pull Yedam towards you and connect your lips to his. The sound of his helmet hitting the floor doesn’t hinder you from deepening the kiss as you realize that heck... maybe you really do like Yedam. Why else would you have butterflies?! You wouldn’t get butterflies from kissing someone you hate! Like you wouldn’t get butterflies from kissing trump-

okay sorry, i’ve lost myself here but i’m trying to say

the way Yedam is giving you butterflies is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and the way he wraps his arm around your lower back, holding you close makes you...

Yedam pulls away, panting slightly.

“[y/n], what the fuck?”

“Yedam... I think I like you, too.”

“You think?” Yedam teases you, grinning.

“What was that for, then?” he asks, pointing to his lips.

“Shut up,” you say, walking past him and purposely bumping into his shoulder.

He grabs your arm and whirls you back around to face him.

“Just how the heck did we end up liking each other?” he asks you. But after looking at you for even a second, he knows. You’re beautiful, and he realized this the day you helped him when he was injured in that empty school field.

I guess for you, somehow this idiot made his way into your life, and his repeated efforts to win your love somehow rubbed off on you. But still, no one can make your heart race like Yedam does.

“[y/n] is back!”

“Yedam is sitting next to [y/n] again?”

“Are they holding hands?!”

You and Yedam sit side by side in class, discreetly holding hands under the desk while sharing earbuds. Sure, the whole class will probably talk and spread rumours about you dating Yedam, but who cares? You’ve found someone you love now, and that’s all that matters.

“Okay, class, let’s start the lesson,” the teacher says, only stopping to show a thumbs up and a wink in your and Yedam’s direction.

“What was that?” you ask Yedam, who smiles.

“I guess he’s showing his support for our newfound relationship?”

261 notes · View notes