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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years

Note

👀

send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year (r.i.p)

okay so here’s the tea on all the things that didn’t get finished in 2019!

2019 was the year of abandoning short stories lol oops! Here’s the hit list: :’(

1. Growing Season

This is such a hard hit because who doesn’t want to read a story about a woman replacing her boyfriend with a cactus, narrated BY the cactus?? I’d love to revisit this story because a) it’s told in my fave POV (first person directed to “you”) and b) “you” is an apathetic college dropout who goes for the hard dRAG after a bad breakup with her boyfriend, and c) because a cactus NARRATES it.

I’m at a little over 800 words in this story (it def gives me Sea Life by Eliza Robertson vibes).

2. Phantom Limbs in D Minor

Biggest hit! I’ve been working on this story since March, made good progress in the beginning, and slowly began drifting from it. I’ve chipped away at it sporadically over the last few months, and I’ve made it my goal to finish it over break! I don’t see myself hitting this goal, but I do hope to actually finish this story because I feel like it contains some of the best prose I’ve written and I love the vibe! I’m at over 2k words with a scene of about 1k floating around. I’ve actually toyed with making this story a novel because the scope seems quite large, but I definitely want to finish the short story before I think about that more! We follow chaotic Linda as she stress renovates her childhood home (a past! commune!) after her mother’s death. Linda is so precious to me, and I’d love to give her a story! If New York by Ex:Re was a person, it would be Linda lol.

3. Anatomy of a Swinging Door

I’m making a statement, and my statement is that this is my designated cult story which means it must happen in the future. This was originally my “test out first person retrospective” story, though I think the point of view isn’t working super well here, but we’ll see! I conveniently wrote a logline for this story when I was trying to narrow down the scope, so here you go: A young woman visits her childhood home on the one-year anniversary of her brother’s disappearance and meets the new (and strange) family who lives there.

(cult!)

So the second round of tragedies goes toward novels, AKA Houses With Teeth (which I can share excerpts from!).

4. Houses With Teeth

I really struggled with this book this year, because it came to be in a time where my writing was getting an overhaul (though I didn’t realize it at the time)! I’ve learned a lot about intention in writing over the last year, something the Fostered series has lacked (oops). This led to me being very unsure about where I wanted to go with this book in particular--the same route as all the others (weird contemporary with dystopian elements that haven’t fully gone away yet) orrrr plan out something a bit more literary! I’ve fought with myself over this since April, and still don’t know where I’m going, but I’m missing my chaotic diva narrator Reeve and would love to get back into her head!

This book has gone through about 3 openings, and I haven’t fully landed on any yet. I’m rethinking how I want to start this book, but taking my time with Moth Work to work me up to the timeline in HWT (which takes place about 8 months after the end of Rewired). I think I’ve shared most of this!

Some excerpts of first person retrospective Reeve (AKA Rachel trying to be Emma Cline looool):

Though the church was only a fifteen minute walk from the apartment, I packed a picnic basket of cha siu bao and a bottle of red wine and wore heels so they would know I wasn’t Christian. The basket wasn’t mine and neither were the bao—these were both things I’d taken from Liu. This wasn’t the first time I’d stolen from her. I’d once taken her fifty-dollar jar of saffron from the pantry because I’d heard it was the most expensive spice and wanted to feel rich. I took her jade Buddha necklace because she’d left it in the back and I wanted to feel cultured in her city, I wanted to become her history. The saffron jar was replaced. She didn’t comment when I wore the necklace at my next shift. This was why Liu and I worked well together. She pitied me so would never fire me, even when I skipped shifts and cussed at the customers. I felt entitled to her things because she was kind to me. I felt entitled to her kindness.

lol I haven’t read this in months and it made me laugh #valid:

I crossed the street before the streetlight changed because this is how I lived in New York City. The world was unfair and lightless and I was an atheist who believed in God, walking in five inch heels on a busted road in the ghetto so I could get enough holy water to drown the ghost out of my apartment.

When all else fails, add a dash of mother:

The air that summer was always the same: dense and wet, even on the good days. It clung to my arms and threatened to erode the skin there, even when it wasn’t sunny. I remembered my mother’s insistence of sunscreen when I was a child; before the pool, in the pool, out of the pool, when we weren’t even at the pool. Her hands were always cold and the sunscreen was always liquid—Izzy was never good at temperature or putting things in the right places. She’d put the instant coffee in the fridge and the cream on the counter. She’d cook the eggs too long and the ice too little. My father would criticize her as a joke and she’d threaten a divorce. This was the only thing I knew was true about my mother. Sunscreen was expensive, so I never bought it.

Reeve bringing out the drag:

“Grab me a pack of cigarettes?” I shifted the picnic basket so it rested in the crook of my elbow.

“ID?”

“You don’t need my ID.”

“I ID every customer. You’re nothing special, baby.”

The man’s mustache wilted in the tungsten light of the variety store, spindly like loose threads. My father had grown a mustache like that once, and it took only two nights before my mother cut it off in his sleep. Izzy was brash like that, and I wanted that too; to find a pair of scissors in one of the aisles and chip at that flaccid mustache. There was nothing special about this man, either. All men in New York City tried to look like that; facial hair like coiled up leeches, a gut they pretended wasn’t a gut, but the fault of an unflattering polo from their wives. I imagined the snip of the kitchen scissors on my father’s upper lip, the same snip I heard the next day when he clipped the evergreens lining the walkup. There was something coarse about how similar it all was—pruning trees, grooming facial hair. I had turned twenty that spring—it would’ve taken only a minute for him to pass me a pack, but this was too easy. I wasn’t biological in New York City; I shouldn’t have been.

5. Fostered But It’s Magic

So this was never meant to be a full project, though I had hoped to write a bit of it just for fun and never got around to it! FBIM (obvi working title lol) is exactly what it sounds like: the Fostered series but with a magical twist! I don’t write very much genre fiction, nor have I ever written fantasy, but a few months ago, felt drawn to the idea of putting Fostered in a magical world (my comp titles are SHREK 4 meets HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE).

I don’t have any of this written, but I do have a few notes which I can share!

I didn’t realize I’d made a tag yourself writing these notes but (I’m Lonan):

Reeve is a magical con artist who runs her own business selling bootleg magic.

Lonan is absent and part bird

Harrison *believes* he is #magic free but has been recently getting hot flashes during nightmares.

Foster has an in-home herbalism business where he helps mostly the elderly and children. He has a cart that he wheels monthly into town. Kind of a failing business.

The gist is that Harrison (who we’d be following) can’t sleep due to hot flashes and nightmares of his ex (@ Lonan) and is referred to a small business run by a clairvoyant who promises to make all psychological problems disappear—relationship issues, sleep issues, life issues. This clairvoyant is actually Reeve who is telikinetic of some sorts, and doesn’t actually provide magic, but manipulates (usually weak) brains, AKA tricks people into paying her large sums of money when she gives them no magical help in return. We ALSO have a “past” plotline, and this is the very loose logline I’d written down (tho if I ever write any of this, is subject to change):

After being tormented by nightmares of his ex lover resulting in violent hot flashes and an inability to keep up employment, Harrison seeks a magical intervention. When the clairvoyant he hopes will cure his strange ailment turns out to be a con woman—and his old friend—he is thrown back into the past and forced to rekindle relationships he thought he’d left behind.

Some dialogue I wrote down ft. clairvoyant Reeve being Reeve:

H: Why are you doing this?

R (reapplying lip colour): Is my lipstick distracting you? The colour is dazzling.

H: It’s bullshit.

R (abruptly stops drawing on lip colour): The lipstick?

H: Your work.

My fave interaction tho has to be this bit I’d noted down with pure Foster comforting Harrison after a nightmare:

Foster *reading on couch when Harrison wakes up in #panique*: What happened? Harrison? Do you need some eucalyptus?

*do u need some eucalyptus*

That’s basically all the writing related things I didn’t finish in 2019! I’d love to explore them all in 2020 though! Thanks for asking. :)

--Rachel

#writing #fostered #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr

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randxmthxughts · 6 years

Text

Small hands

Imagine/one shot w/Shawn Mendes

Genre: funny fluffy blurb

Word count: 700

Request: Can you write a imagine or blurb for blurb night about you smoking weed w Shawn?

Short description: Y/N and her best friend!Shawn have funny conversation about her hands after smoking weed together.

Author’s note: If you enjoy this, please reblog :) I hope the anon is not mad that I made this plot with the original request. If you like this one check out a writing with Tom Holland I just posted where he spoils baby’s gender right during the gender reveal party here / also no way i’m encouraging you to smoke weed, it’s just a blurb based on the idea

“Do you sometimes feel like it’s not the planet that spins but it’s us?” Shawn frowned his eyebrows, his eyes concentrated on Y/N, as she walked around the room looking at the ceiling.

“What do you mean?” she giggled, now collapsing on the ground herself, and pushed her feet underneath her to appear a little bit taller.

They sat in front of each other, as Y/N continued giggling, Shawn still frustrated with his question. Y/N and Shawn had known each other for years now and whenever they got asked who was their best friend the answer came out immediately; they’d always point to each other. With Shawn’s traveling all across the world it was rarely they could hang out whenever he got back; he had a family to see, and usually, it took all of his time. But now that Shawn got two weeks to spend in Canada he invited Y/N over to see her, and when she offered him to smoke weed with her, he agreed immediately. There was something about smoking weed together; the first time they both tried it was with each other in some random dude’s bathroom, away from the party which they weren’t enjoying. They weren’t smokers or did it regularly but once in a blue moon the idea sounded so appealing to them, and they smoked together and enjoyed each other’s company. It felt like it was easier to talk and express their feelings, dissolving all of the awkwardness that might have appeared because of not seeing each other for too long.

“Your hands are… huge, Shawn!” Y/N gasped, her gaze lowering down to his hands rested on his thighs, “They look like Shrek’s hands except for not green.”

“Are they actually?” Shawn looked down and moved his fingers, staring for a few seconds, proceeding with his words, “holy shit, Y/N. They are gigantic! They are bigger than my head!”

Y/N laughed at his words, and brought herself closer to him, shoving her hand into palm.

“Look how big your fingers are,” she gasped again, now that she had compared her hand to his.

“Y/N, your hand is tiny,” Shawn laughed, “it’s not me, it’s you!”

She stared at him for a while, then looked back at their hands. Shawn continued laughing, repeating over and over again ‘it’s you.’

“Crap,” Y/N let out finally, “my hands look like baby hands. I have baby fingers, Shawn.”

“You have baby fingers,” Shawn repeated now laughing even harder, throwing his head back.

“That’s not funny, Shawn. We need to fix them! Can I borrow your money?”

“You can borrow my money for what?”

“For surgery,” Y/N replied with a disgusted expression as if it wasn’t obvious enough.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Shawn’s face dropped, “I don’t think I have the money right now. But I can give you my guitar, and you can sell it to the surgeon,” he now talked more seriously, concern in his voice.

“Why would a surgeon want a guitar, Shawn? He won’t take it, and if we don’t give him money, he won’t make my hands bigger, and I will be stuck with baby hands forever,” Y/N almost teared up, rubbing her forehead with her fingers.

“I can give him the guitar John Mayer gave me,” Shawn continued, standing up from the ground and walking over to the couch, “every surgeon likes John. I know this one dude, he used to work only when ‘Queen of California’ was playing in the background-”

“Tiny hands are actually cool though,” Y/N cheered up suddenly, as Shawn threw himself on the couch, and turned his head just a little to see her.

“They are?”

“I can fit them into mugs and glasses to wash them. And I would probably use less soap than you do.”

“Oh and I can hold both of your hands with my one hand,” Shawn turned around on the couch, now facing her, as his face lightened up with the new idea.

“Yes! That is such an advantage,” she smiled, widening her eyes, “but what would you do with your other hand then?”

“I can brush my teeth,” Shawn answered quickly, and Y/N nodded her head understanding.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

My recent writings:

See? That’s what happens when you’re married to Tom Holland * (T.H) - Tom accidently spoils the gender of your baby right before you cut into the cake.

Sleepy boy - cuddling with Shawn on the couch late in the night, listening to his silly mumbling, as he falls asleep in your lap.

Masterlist with Shawn

Masterlist with Tom/Spider-Man

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andavs · 7 years

Text

A surprisingly much requested (but short) continuation of this unexpected Shrek AU.

The Hale pack lived fairly deep in the forest, so they generally didn’t get many visitors. Especially those tripping through the trees in manacles, chased by both hunters and royal guards with crossbows.

That was new.

Normally, Derek would’ve waited to take stock of the situation, see who was truly in the wrong, whether the man in chains was dangerous to his pack or if he needed help—but this time there was no hesitation. He heard the man’s heartbeat first, the ragged breathing as he ran for his life, the dull thuds of his footsteps across the forest floor, and the howl erupted from his chest on instinct. He didn’t think about it, didn’t hesitate, just knew he had to protect.

If they didn’t already know it before, the reverberating howl let the guards know they were encroaching on the incorrectly infamously deadly wolf territory, and after a freeze and a quick scramble, they left the man lying there where he’d collapsed of exhaustion. And maybe a sprained ankle, if not a broken one. Even through his boots, Derek could tell that wasn’t an incredibly natural angle.

The few visible hunters nodded to him silently, conceding to his authority in his territory, and vanished back into the darkness of the trees. They weren’t a threat at the moment, but Derek didn’t move until their heartbeats faded away in the distance.

As it was, the hunters straddled the delicate divide between the supernatural forest and the king’s strictly human kingdom and its enforcers. They intercepted guards and turned them back unless they had a very good reason for continuing, vetted supernaturals or humans seeking refuge in the forest, and served as the peacekeepers in the woods. But being human themselves, their lives weren’t at risk, and therefore they could be bought if the right offer came.

They were a necessary evil for those living in the forest, but an evil all the same.

Once they were alone, Derek approached the man cautiously, listening closely for any change in his heartbeat to indicate he was awake and waiting to strike. Derek’s instincts said he was safe and somehow connected to him, but he’d been through too much in his life to trust in that completely. He was an alpha now; he had to put the safety of his pack above his own primal instincts.

But the man didn’t move, didn’t wake, even as Derek was standing over him. His wrists were bound in chains, and between that and the quiet buzz of magic around him and the royal guards chasing him, he’d no doubt been running from the crown.

Welcome to the club, Derek thought as he kneeled down and prodded him firmly in the shoulder with no response. He looked him over for a moment, trying to figure out what he should do with an unconscious man who he couldn’t wake up; magic or not, he couldn’t just bring him back to the pack and let a stranger know where they lived. Especially if he was eventually caught and gave them up to try to ease his sentence.

It happened before, to a number of packs, and did nothing but force even more supernaturals under the thumb of the king to be worked to death or outright killed just for existing.

This man was a threat to their safety. Derek should probably just leave him where he was and let the hunters deal with him.

He stood to leave, but couldn’t quite make himself take a step.

So he knelt back down instead. Studied the man’s face, the delicate curve of his lips, his defined cheekbones from too long on the run, the splatter of moles dotting his cheeks, tracing a path down the back of his neck...

Derek didn’t know what made him hook a finger in the back of the man’s shirt and look underneath—probably the same mystical force that chose a pack’s emissary making sure its plan was realized—but his heart hadn’t stopped pounding ever since.

Matching tattoos, legend said, in the exact same position.

Alpha and emissary.

It was too good to be true, but there was no way anyone from the city could possibly know the latest, slightly thicker Hale crest, let alone where Derek had it tattooed on his back. The crest changed slightly with every generation of alpha, just enough to distinguish one alpha from the next and their predecessors, but Derek hadn’t been to the cities since he was a child. No one could know his crest outside of his immediate pack.

And yet there it was, tattooed permanently between this man’s shoulder blades.

Exactly like Derek’s.

Stiles was his emissary.

Derek turned the realization over in his mind a few times, watching silently as Stiles processed the news himself. His heartbeat had picked up in excitement and nervousness, and there’d been some unsurprising back and forth of bullshit, there aren’t any more alphas and you guys were all killed, this is impossible, but now he seemed to be settling into the idea. Mostly.

He was staring at the ceiling and his eyes looked a little wide, but his heart was slowing back down to somewhat normal.

Derek should stop staring, that probably wasn’t helping. He should leave Stiles alone to get his bearings, but he couldn’t make himself go. Stiles was an emissary, and not only that, he was the Hale emissary. Their pack hadn’t had an emissary in decades, since the king took the throne and declared magic illegal, and by extension any being who wasn’t strictly human.

Wolves had managed to lay low for a bit, while beings who couldn’t pass as human were rounded up and disappeared, but it wasn’t long before they started vanishing too—emissaries targeted specifically to weaken their packs. The wolves had no choice but to retreat to the deep forest just past the fringes of the kingdom, and even then, they were only safe there until the king’s guards became brave enough to try to come after them. Or until the hunters broke their truce and turned them over for payment.

Emissaries were all but extinct, as far as Derek knew, and yet he’d found his.

And he had no idea what to say to him.

They’d had their introduction, they knew what they were to each other, and they’d been sitting in silence for what must’ve been at least five solid minutes.

This was wrong. There was supposed to be a script. There was supposed to be a procedure.

Nothing about this meeting was the way it was supposed to be. It was nothing like the formal ceremony described in the old books. Whether or not Derek had an emissary somewhere out in the world, his mother had drilled the rites into his mind, made him memorize the greeting and verbal acceptance of the connection, the vows—but any attempt at instigating them here with Stiles was met with a blank look of confusion and more unease.

And Derek had no idea how to proceed.

“Are you alright?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

Stiles started a little, but any uncertainty or fear was quickly locked down behind a forced nonchalant shrug. “I’m fine, just, you know, found out I have an alpha and also werewolves are still alive and I almost got sold down the river by my asparagus lady and I’m still…” He raised his arms to indicate the cuffs still locked around his wrists, and the chains rattled gently at the movement. He turned from the ceiling to Derek. “Any chance you can help with these?”

Derek hadn’t taken them off immediately because he wasn’t sure if Stiles was truly an emissary or a fraud, if he posed a threat to the Hale pack, but any doubt flew from his mind the moment they locked eyes. The connection was there, if subdued and hard to feel, and there was no faking that. It was ancient and cosmic, and his mother had confirmed that what he described was true.

Derek nodded and carefully took Stiles’ wrist, looking over the bolt holding the cuff closed. It was thick and tightly screwed in; it wasn’t supposed to be easily removed by anyone in a hurry.

“Whoever put these on was thorough,” Derek said, his voice straining as he tugged at the edge.

Stiles snorted. “Hilda’s full of surprises.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Hilda?” Another hard tug that only made his hands tingle from the iron.

“Farmer I used to buy vegetables from in the market.” Stiles winced a little. “Don’t know how she found out.”

Already Derek’s instincts were rankled; he’d barely met his emissary, but the thought of someone betraying him and putting him in danger, trying to sell him away… He couldn’t help the quiet growl at the back of his throat, or the wave of anger that manifested as a rough tug at the metal.

The cuff slipped and Stiles hissed as it knicked into his arm.

“Sorry,” Derek murmured gently, trying to pry the manacle apart at its bolt. The skin underneath was red and raw, irritated from the iron reacting to the magic Stiles had flowing through him.

It took one more hard tug and the right cuff broke open, and the left followed quickly once Derek knew what angle to work it from. He threw the chains to the floor and Stiles relaxed immediately, relieved, but Derek was paying more attention to the suddenly stronger pull between them that the chains had released. Now that it wasn’t suppressed by the iron, it was like a physical tether he could feel; like if he looked hard enough, he’d be able to see it strung between them.

Another hiss of pain drew his attention back to Stiles, who was (stupidly) poking at his wrists.

Derek watched for an incredulous moment before pointedly asking, “Can you heal them?”

He’d always been told that emissaries could heal like their wolves.

Stiles stopped poking his wounds and shook his head. “I don’t know how. My teacher was found before she could teach me.” He gingerly turned his wrist a few times, testing its movements, and winced.

Yet another thing the king had taken from them: the right to pass down their knowledge to each other. At least the Hale pack had mostly stayed together, still had Talia to talk to, ask questions, seek guidance. Derek may be alpha, but he would be nowhere without his mother’s advice along the way. Apparently Stiles didn’t have that in his life; if they had magic like him, his parents had probably been captured or killed long ago.

Derek held out his hand, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Stiles offered his arm again.

“You can heal?” he asked uncertainly.

Derek frowned at him before remembering that just like he’d never met an emissary, Stiles had never met a wolf. He shook his head. “I can take the pain for a while, but it won’t heal any faster.”

“I’ll take it.” Stiles hesitantly smiled, so Derek smiled back a little awkwardly as he focused on drawing away the stinging pain from his wrists and the throbbing in his ankle. They sat in silence through the process, somewhat avoiding eye contact as Derek poured all of his concentration into his task.

Maybe not all of his concentration, but definitely more than strictly necessary. He had no idea what to do in this situation. His mother had never prepared him for a casual and informal emissary meeting.

“I wouldn’t try walking on that for a few days,” he said as he finished, nodding towards the ankle that Stiles seemed to suddenly realize was an issue. He was moving it around under the blankets, watching it with some kind of fascination. He was probably too focused on escape to realize when the injury happened.

“Hope you don’t mind a house guest, then,” Stiles quipped back, clearly aiming for a joke, but looking uncertain at the same time. Like he thought they would kick him out. Derek couldn’t understand why he would.

“You’re our emissary, Stiles. This should be your home.”

Stiles blinked, stared at the wall for a moment, then back at Derek. “You mean...live with you?” He sounded like the concept was so foreign it couldn’t even be translated.

Derek grinned. “Yes, live with us. The pack.”

Another blink, more like a flutter. “You have a pack.”

It would seem as though Derek already broke his emissary just three hours after finding him.

“Yes, I have a pack. They're all very excited to meet our emissary.” He readjusted his careful grip on Stiles’ arm; no longer to draw out pain, but just to hold and reassure. His heart had ticked up again with nerves; it sounded like he could use some reassurance.

“How, um,” Stiles cleared the rasp out of his throat, “how big is your pack? I mean, I’ve never even met a wolf before today and I only learned a fraction of what I was supposed to, so I don’t know how good I’ll be at this, or if I even can be an emissary, and I did just get chained up by a grocer, so I mean, how good can I really—”

With the amount of power he could feel now that the iron chain was away from Stiles, Derek had a hard time believing that the emissary was as much of a novice as he claimed. He couldn’t imagine a novice feeling like this, this rush of static, but if he wanted to downplay his skills, Derek could play along. If this all went according to the old stories, there would be plenty of time for him to prove Stiles wrong.

So he smiled, again aiming for reassuring, and interrupted the spiral of self-doubt. “My mother has books. And remember that we’re both learning. I don’t have any experience with emissaries either.”

Stiles nodded a little, considering, then a glint flashed in his eye. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He grinned like he was too amused by his own terrible joke and/or defense mechanism.

Derek’s emissary was an idiot.

“How about we get your foot fixed before we do any showing.” He responded to Stiles’ grin with a flat look. “Of any kind.”

Stiles clearly knew at least enough about the legends of alphas and emissaries to know that more often than not, things got...physical. Or maybe he was picking up on things Derek really shouldn’t have been putting down. It was unprofessional. He was an alpha.

But the emissary didn’t care about professional. “Hey, you’re the one who made it weird,” he insisted. “I was just trying to suggest we show our individual abilities to each other so we could get a feel for—”

“Yeah,” Derek interrupted, flatly. “Sure you were.”

Stiles blinked back in offense. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“The first time I saw you, you were wearing chains, and being chased by every kind of authority in the region.” Stiles’ face took on a specific hue of guilt. “Something tells me that wasn’t all the magic.”

The hue of guilt flushed to a general glow of yep, I did it.

“Fine, maybe I enchanted a pepper, but Hilda deserved it.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Don’t know how she found out, huh?”

“The dancing pepper could’ve been anyone,” Stiles insisted, even though he clearly didn’t believe it.

Suppressing his smile was harder than Derek was used to, meaning everyone in his life thus far paled in comparison to his emissary. As it should be.

“Sure. How about we stop enchanting produce and focus more on getting you healed?” He dipped his head to the side. “And whatever may come after that.”

There was an unexpected interest in Stiles’ eyes, bordering on a heat that was more challenging than lustful. An interest that Derek hadn’t seen since he became alpha, when suddenly neighboring packs became much more concerned in his title than his personality.

He couldn’t look away.

“Whatever may come,” Stiles repeated with a smirk.

Derek was done for.

#sterek #guys i just learned how to make daiquiris #there has been drinking again #and thus more shrek fic #i feel like this might be one of those #'you shouldn't have continued because everyone already finished it in their minds how they wanted and yours is not that' situations #hopefully not #who knows #this is why i don't post fics in parts!#too much stress!#ficlet #shrek au

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 7 years

Text

One School

*Justin Laboy (21 Chump Street) x Reader

*Summary: The reader takes a break from telling her story, speculating about things to come, and finally gets to the moment Naomi asked for the drugs.

*Warnings: Mention of drugs? Does that count? Possibly swearing

*A/N: Part 2 of that Justin Laboy fic. I’ve been binging Law & Order lately and kinda forget to write... oops. This one is also way shorter than the last one, and I’m trying to do a part based on each song of the musical, so look forward to that!

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Just as you were starting to doze off, images of your arrest and your story playing behind your eyelids, the door opened again. “(Y/n)?” The same man from before softly asked, making you slowly open your eyes. You saw a look of sympathy flash across his face, so you knew you must have looked tired. It was refreshing to see someone so expressive, especially when your arresting officers had been so crass the entire time.

“That’s my name,” you joked, smiling. You saw he had a fast food bag in his hand and a soda cup in the other, definitely a step up from the water and chips you’d requested. He placed the items down in front of you, motioning that you could eat if you wanted to.

“An apology for the lack earlier,” he explained as you opened the bag and found a burger and fries.

“Thank you,” you said, pulling out the food and flattening the bag so you could place the food on top of it. “Hey, do you mind if we just talk while I eat? Like, I’ll get back to my story, but I kinda want to ask some questions myself.”

“Of course,” he nodded, pulling out his notepad and pen from earlier. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, what’s Naomi’s real name?” You asked, eating a fry.

“I can’t tell you that,” he replied.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t be able to, but I thought I’d give it a shot. You gotta protect your UCs, right?” You asked as a bit of a joke, but you knew it was true. Again, you’d watched enough Law & Order to know how these things go. “I’m gonna have to take a plea if the DA offers one, aren’t I?”

“That’d probably be the best option, but I’m not a lawyer,” the man told you with a bit of a shrug. “It wasn’t a lot, but you still sold.”

“I know. You know, I understand this entire thing. Like, politicians swear that high school is when all the kids are getting addicted to the hard stuff, but that’s not really the case. A lot of the time when high schoolers do drugs, they’re just trying to catch a high and chill, maybe get the munchies,” you said. “High school drugs are generally just pills and weed. Like, it’s crazy easy to get pills and weed if you know where to look.”

“You know the drug scene at your school, but you said they. Why is that?” He questioned gently, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t actually questioning you. You rolled your eyes at his poor attempt, but you knew he was just doing his job.

“I talk to people, I know some people that smoke. It’s not even that they’re bad people, they just enjoy the high. I also knew some people who deal, and that I found out on accident. You know, I walked into the bathroom at school during finals once and caught two girls about to smoke out. They just looked at me, offered me a hit, and wished me luck on my finals when I said no thanks. Anyways, I said they because I’ve never done drugs, and Naomi was the only reason for me dealing. I’m not even a dealer, she was the only reason they got me on that,” you explained. “You know, when I was waiting to make my statement, I started wondering about something.”

“And what would that be?” The man asked. He wasn’t really talking, just responding when it was necessary. You weren’t sure if you like that or not, but you did know that you liked this guy enough. He was nice, not too overbearing.

“I wondered if Naomi ever feels bad for doing stuff like this. Like, she would have set up Justin if I didn’t take the fall, and that would’ve been just because he liked her. It’s kinda messed up, especially since she started pushing the whole weed thing, asking Justin to get her some,” you said. “That’s part of the story, by the way.”

“You didn’t like Naomi, I’ll take it,” he encouraged you to continue.

“No, not really. She came in, charmed the dude I’d liked since freshman year, and then she wanted him to get in some major trouble for her. It didn’t feel right to me,” you admitted. “See, Justin has a future. He’s honor roll, works harder than anyone else I know, and got accepted into multiple colleges. I knew if he got caught with that weed, he would’ve thrown that all away.”

“What about your own future? Weren’t you worried about that?” he asked.

“I wasn’t planning on going to college anyways,” you told him. “I was going to take a gap year and then try to be a freelance photographer for magazines and stuff. If that didn’t work out, then I’d go to trade school.” Throughout the conversation, you’d been eating, and you’d finished about half of the food. You took a drink of the soda and contemplated whether you were ready to continue your story or not. “I think I’m ready to continue.”

“Go right ahead,” he prompted.

It had been nearly a week since Justin had asked Naomi to the prom. She’d been giving every excuse in the book: it was too expensive (which you weren’t arguing since you struggled to pay for yourself), she was just a transfer and wouldn’t feel comfortable with Justin’s friends, the list went on and on. You knew the spiel; it was the same one you used to avoid going to homecoming with someone you weren’t interested in. You were hanging out at Justin’s house when he got the text that set off your alarm. “Naomi just asked me if I smoke,” he said, not looking up from his phone.

“What?” You asked, tumbling from where you were sitting on his bed. “That’s sketch.”

“Yeah, she just asked if I smoke weed. What should I say?” he asked, looking for guidance. He’d been bummed lately since Naomi still hadn’t given him an answer, but anytime he talked to her he still held hope.

“You don’t, just tell her that,” you replied, going to sit back on the bed, book in hand. “Why’s she asking anyways?”

“Maybe she’s looking for a supply?” Justin responded, texting away.

“What’re you telling her?” You asked, curious. Normally the dealers were able to find the people looking for weed within a month of them coming to the school. It was odd that she hadn’t found one yet if she was honestly looking for a high.

“That I can find her some,” Justin replied with ease, like that sentence wasn’t the stupidest thing you had heard all day. And that was including the guy in photography asking you if the teacher would notice if he edited in a small Shrek into one of his projects.

“Do you even know where to get drugs?” You asked, brow raised.

“How hard can it be?” Justin asked.

“I don’t know,” you said, shaking your head. “Why are you agreeing to this? It can hurt you big time.”

“Maybe this is my in with her. Maybe she’ll finally like me back, and go to prom with me,” Justin insisted, the look in his eyes letting you know he wasn’t going to let this go. “C’mon, (y/n), this is my chance.”

“It’s just… I don’t trust her. Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in if you get caught?” You continued, needing him to see just how crazy he sounded. “And, again, you don’t even know where to get drugs! You don’t hang out with guys like that!”

“I don’t know, maybe I can ask Andrew if he knows a guy,” Justin trailed off, on his phone again as he texted. “Nope, Andrew just said ‘why the hell would I know?’ Maybe I can call one of my cousins, see if he knows anyone.”

You sat, watching as Justin tried to call anyone he knew, searching for that little bit of weed to get for Naomi. It made you sick, seeing how he was willing to do anything for her, even things he knew to be illegal. You pulled out your own phone, texting to call in a favor you’d held since the previous year. You also texted one of Justin’s cousins, giving them instructions to not go through with a deal for Justin’s own good. You received replies to both of your texts within minutes, faster than the whole mess Justin was going through.

“So, what are you thinking as you watch Justin trying to get the pot to sell her?” The man asked. You still didn’t know his name, but you liked having him as a nameless listener. Then you couldn’t name an enemy, even though you didn’t consider him to be that.

“I’m thinking, what the heck is he doing? Cuz he doesn’t do things like that for anyone, and he doesn’t hang out with guys like that. Trust me, I should know,” you replied.

“So what did you do?” He asked. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, finally getting into the meat of the story.

Tag List: @pearltheartist, @holycoldcoffee

#justin laboy x reader #justin laboy imagine #21 chump street imagine #anthony ramos x reader

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3monthsineurope · 5 years

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April 21, 2019

Happy Easter!!!

We slept from about 2:30 to 9. Breakfast was served in the adjoining restaurant (a ramen place, if you can believe it) until 10, so we headed down to breakfast first. There was different breads, fruits, cereals, and cakes, along with eggs. I had some eggs, cereal, and bread with jam and butter. It wasn’t too fancy, but that was fine, it was free!

After breakfast, Iris and I took turns taking a shower. It felt so good to wash the travel off, you know? I blow dried and straightened my hair, and we both did our make up. We went back to the hotel lobby at 11, for our city tour of Lima! We met some other members of our tour, as we had only come in with four other people the night before. There was about 15 of us on a mini bus, with Abner as our driver, and Maximo as our guide. I have been to Lima before, but had only seen the Miraflores area, so I was excited to see more!

Our first stop was the “Love Park”. It had a really interesting statue of a couple kissing. We walked along the park, with a beautiful view of the ocean! I saw a restaurant that Tara and I had chocolate cake in, back in 2015. We hopped back on the bus, and headed to the downtown area. I’ll admit, I snoozed a little on the bus. We got off for a bit in the “second most beautiful square” in Lima. It was really pretty, and super hot! We saw a huge statue with a horse, which Iris loved, hahah.

Our next stop was the Plaza Mayor, the “most beautiful square” in the city. Since it was Easter, we got to see some really amazing flower work around the whole square! There was a precession of church men carrying saints around the square, and a ton of people watching. Most people in Peru are Catholic, so Easter is a pretty big deal. Iris and I walked around a bit, tried some chocolate tea, and met back up with the group.

Maximo took us to a little shop where we got to try Peru’s famous drink, the Pisco Sour. It’s kinda like a margarita, but much better! I also tried some Peruvian baileys, which was good, too. We got a bathroom break, then headed to Saint Francis Monastery, to take a tour of the catacombs. In the monastery, we weren’t allowed to take photos, which was a bummer. But Maximo told us about common people being buried three or more deep, separated by a little soil, and quicklime, to decompose the bodies quickly. Then, later, the bone would be dug up, and all put together in a mass grave. We saw skulls and arm and leg bones, it was kinda creepy.

We were done with our city tour, so they dropped us off at the hotel. Everyone went their separate ways, with Iris and I heading to the ATM machine (I pulled out 400 soles, which is about $130!), and then we headed to a late lunch/early dinner. Iris and I both had a beef tenderloin steak, with mushrooms and fettuccine that was so tasty! Iris told them to cook them medium, which had me a little nervous, since I don’t eat a ton of beef. Mine came out with a little that was too pink for me, but Iris had a lot that was too pink. I also had a Pisco sour, which was so good! Iris had an Inca Kola, which tastes like bubble gum!

After dinner we walked around the Miraflores area, and found two parks where local artists were selling their work. Iris and I each had some ice cream and a churro filled with dulce de leche (caramel), whoops. But it was sooooo tasty! We walked around looking at art, and the cats that live in the second park, Kennedy Park (Tara and I had been there, too).

From the parks, we headed back to our hotel. It was early, only around 5, but we were kinda pooped from the day, and wanted to rest up for our early morning flight the next day. We hung out in our room and watched a Shrek movie and the last Harry Potter. I got to talk to Ingvar, which was really nice. We got ready for bed, and I fell asleep before Harry Potter was even over! :]

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glopratchet · 4 years

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simo-beeing

I cant even believe ive pulled it off either, took a while to set up and almost got caught a couple times but it all payed off! Was actually stupidly easy if i do say so myself! he has only started his official guard training but has already proved to be quite capable with the basics, not as good as me of course, if you are reading this then thats one thing you should take away, you must be better than the rest or you will not survive in this new world attached is is his note paper he left around his latrine board which lists all the other shifts so ive done them all now! , some of the older residents already queing up to use it when ive come on shift, he has already made 200 from me alone he is now the richest boy in the guard aside from me :) Too late to back out now does this mean im in charge now? i'm not sure about this, im going to need some help directly to the awaiting bows etched beautifully on the surface, they look like stained glass windows The church has a logo too but it looks different, perhaps its different in the bible times? Like this alligator bladder inflatables, alligator collagen and many others that are all neatly organized into these clever boxes via conveyer belt to each corresponding window There are also windows for people to put their wastes in as well!! lies on a tray which collects them from the windows and comes around in a cycle that reminds me of those claw crane games, whatever you can squeeze out of the vending machine is yours I guess as far as the waste goes, the amount you take is based on your ranking in society Poor people cant take much but they get more than sodarites so they can trade it i suppose are dispensed from chutes hidden in the walls next to the windows This seems pretty complicated i hope you all are happy its your asses if this thing breaks, apparently everything is monitored via those cameras from control so maintenance is not something i need to worry about, as for retrieving the profits if the creature has been killed is also pumped out from his magical portal costume or something, i dunno Also washboards tons and tons of them and bubble wrap the alligators must really love to sleep on that stuff anyway this is all to be expected We basically sold out completely, 7 minutes of every hour are taken up by products thats why they scampered around so much at first, gave them more room to pump out more crap simultaneously , a flatbrim ballcap and navy jeans standing at one of his windows cheerfully greets every customer with a big smile I sometimes break from my gatekeeping to inspect some of the meat, it gives me mixed feelings to see it go through not knowing if im sending dead gators to a warm cozy home or chucking it in a trash pit somewhere, i ponder this as im picking flesh chunks off my claws , a high ranking position to be sure The most obnoxious thing is it came with matching shoes with little gators on them like COME ON!!! You shouldnt advertis ewho you are on your shoes for god sake! They cant take you seriously in these things, they look clownish We have even had talks to passing alligator ranchers about potential business deals in the future In any case our family has started rolling in the dough, unfortunately GiGi is still a dog biscuit away from the good fairy granting her speech but she doesn't seem too bothered by it, we really dont talk too much anyway The shivers are happy Life is easy, all i have to do anymore is open the gate that's it a HUD, with the locations of all the turrets and cameras for the stadium, best to keep the customer experience top notch afterall Although I don't think it matters too much,there are so many shivers in now every one has a different path to their tunnel system that even at a 5% attrition rate the population keeps climbing! Its starting to reach overcrowding levels but its not like we're sending anyone back alright? Were not! encryption codes for all the conversations that happen so far using your custom security systems A fulltime worker you have hired helps manage the trading floor while you police the stock market multiple times a day incase any occurances need your attention You created jobs for everyone, you created a life and a grand beard that laves the belly area of his long coat He wears light hiking boots presumably to trek through the sewers with and a travler's backpack for over night trips, sure signs of a trader! The success has lead to others trying their luck in there, but only few have even come close to GiGi's success, it might be your tech or the shiver's that attract them but one thing remains true It's your name that sucks to them most of the time, most of it stuck in there own routines, seems like they barely tolerate him now Water is quite rare for us now so we have to wait until it rains before doing the wash,still worth it though! or we salvage it from the toilet tanks any way the guy is called Mike, goes by GiMMiX online, one of the newer traders that have recently started coming here Normally I don't hear them until they are at the top floor then they normally eat at GiGi's before they leave He must be pretty confident to try sell me stuff when he knows who I am You should do this more often Dad, this is a nice talk over dinner, see ya with that guy and helped create a community of thriving humans who enjoy the gifts this world has to offer You and Lena? Yep that'll do, you'll name your robot Lena as a sign of appreciation Once you have entered her name you are greated with a box asking for a last name, you type in GiGis and it accepts it CONGRATULATIONS! "Lena GiGi-S-I-S" has been added to your home! You have created a second living creature that enjoys your presence A screen pops up with her picture on the left and some more information about her on the right, this is where you can change her name, informaion, add or remove her from your home and much more Some buttons appear at the bottom letting you navigate through the various screens you are glad that you managed to get communications working on a large scale between herds again You decide to leave the GiGis identification screens for later, you have just noticed that it is already outside and the herd of Shreks haven't gone past yet! Last night when you saw them they were making sounds that the Calvary were coming soon and every one was getting excited You always felt that division was the ruin of the humans indeed a couple of weeks pass and the music has been rejoined by happy trumpets that could only belong to GiGis It's nice to see her so happy, she really loves that music next week you get a visitor You hear a voice on the PA asking for you and asking to visit outside You buff up, take your gun and head to the top floor You open your window and see a woman your age looking up at you,she is pretty obviously pregnant, has grown nails and dark green skin She speaks "Hey, I'm Lena" "I know" you reply cautiously "i also Know that you have GiGis" She says pointing at your robot who is sitting to the side of the window "Yes, she is mine" Lena nods "I want to add her to the herd, the music has brought all of us joy and peace for years, GiGis would be a welcome edition to our little community" You weren't really sure what to expect when you got your first visitor, but it wasn't this You complte the transaction and feel very HAPPY as a result Music truly is the mystical link that connects all creatures on this planet! You wonder how you never saw it before,of course the differentherBS would feel joy at GiGis playing, what kind of a horrible person does this to beings who love music as their mother plays piano in the next room! The happy GiGis announces a new song "Go die in a fire (Ilium update discussion #405)" You don't mean to listen, but you can hear it quite clearly as the topic of the songs is pretty relevant to you right now You leave your home and head straight for the gate, you aren't really sure what you will do when you get there, but you are really angry! Before you know it you are flying through the air and in a yard with a massive collection of shreks and GiGis himself He is strangely cheery You stand up and aim your gun at him "Downѕtand!" you shout angrily He laughs "No" You fire at him, and are surprised to see that you shoot a stream of confetti GiGis laughs even louder now YOu start firing in all directions and realise that all you are doing is shooting party favors into the air, including one very large one right behind GiGis You dart back inside just as your entire house explodes into a million pieces and rains down onto the remaining houses You peek outside a bit later and see nothing but rubble where there were once houses and the words "All are GiGis" hovering above it all

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