#IT WAS LOUD AND GOTH AND SMELLED LIKE WEED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redstarwriting · 11 months

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the clash | iv. london calling

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, smoking weed, alcohol, mentions of a gwen canon event, mentions of death, lil angst

a/n: nother long one! i can’t wait to make it crazy angsty bc when i tell u i have THOUGHTS 👀 thank you to everyone who’s reading, i’m trying to update it every day, so hopefully i can stick with that schedule! enjoy this chapter, friends :)

now reading: iv. london calling

previous chapter: iii. black planet

next chapter: v. ever fallen in love

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He fixes his watch to open a portal to his world. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr basically run to get to it. He motions for you to go ahead, and you walk through. Immediately when you step into his room, you’re hit with the smell of weed and incense. You’d be lying if you said you hated it. You glance around. You see drums, another electric and acoustic guitar, empty spray paint cans, spray paint on the walls, stacks of newspapers (all defaced in some way)… it feels very Hobie to say the least. “Now this. This is a livin’ area,” he says, appearing behind you. You shake your head. “So loud, both figuratively and literally. How do you ever get anything done?”

“By being louder than everyone else, obviously,” he responds, and you roll your eyes. “What a way to live,” you remark. “Better than that quiet, dark, and gloomy, way,” he retorts, and you shrug. “If you say so.”

“Hey, Hobie, do you still have the roof all decorated?” Gwen asks and he nods. “Course I do. I own the place, head on up,” he jerks his head upwards, and Gwen turns to Miles and Pavitr with a smirk. “Race ya!”

“Hey no fair! You have been here so many times!” Pavitr yells as Gwen takes off. “Come on, Miles!” you hear her yell. Miles smiles gently and shakes his head before going after the two of them. “He’s so obsessed with her it’s making me sick,” you mumble, and Hobie snorts. “What? Miles and Gwen’s relationship too much for you? You hate love?”

“Love has never done anything but cause me pain. And not the good kind,” you glance at him with a frown, and he raises his eyebrow. Suddenly his eyes get wide. “Oh shit… you had a Gwen canon event.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you respond, and he frowns. “You know, actually talkin’ about that kinda shit is a good way to not sit on it and let it build. You could face some serious problems if you keep doin’ that.”

“Who said I gave a fuck what you think? I didn’t ask for the unneeded advice, alright?” you say, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Oh, right. Forgot I was dealing with a bloody doughnut,” he mumbles and point to the window. “Care to go to the roof and get out of my sight?”

“Sound like the best thing you’ve said since I got here,” you say, leaping out of his window and climbing up the side of the building. While clinging to the wall, you glance out at Hobie’s world. His city looks almost exactly like Night of Yore City, except for the fact that there are a shit ton of fires burning, over half of the buildings look abandoned, the sky is a reddish-orangish hue, and it is so much louder. The name is also vastly different, as his version of NYC is New London. Universal differences get weird and confusing. Nonetheless, you’re intrigued, you turn around, putting your back against the wall and supporting yourself with your hands and feet. The graffitied buildings are a nice touch, you must admit. You snort to yourself when you see a mural of Hobie. If only they knew the asshole behind the mask.

“Now why the hell aren’t you up there with everyone else?” you hear his voice pull you out of your thoughts as he crawls up next to you. You shrug. “I’m a sucker for views, I guess.”

“Well, believe it or not, view is a lot better from the top of the buildin’,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Can I please just be secluded and observe in peace?”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not. Come on,” he says, starting to walk up the wall. You sigh and lazily roll backwards and up the wall to come to standing and follow him up. When you get to the top of the roof, you see a boombox (blaring punk music, of course) and blankets surrounding a barrel with a fire going in it. Multiple coolers decorate the roof which all look stockpiled full of different beers. “Hey, Hobie, you know that they’re all kids, right?”

“New universe, new rules, love. Drinking age is 16 and up ‘round here, not that I’d give a fuck if it wasn’t anyway. So, sit down, shut up, and drink a damn beer. Maybe you’ll loosen up,” he says, tossing you a random bottle. You roll your eyes and sit down but put the beer to the side.

“Hey, Hobie, do you have any of that–” Miles gets cut off by Hobie tossing him another bottle. “Nice. Thanks, dude,” he says excitedly, cracking the top and taking a drink. Gwen gets her beer of choice, and Pavitr does the same. Hobie, you notice, doesn’t drink anything. “So, what were you guys talking about?” Gwen asks, pointing between the two of you with her bottle. “What?” you ask, and she shrugs. “You guys were alone in Hobie’s for a while and no one died, soooo did you guys finally talk about something you could agree on?”

“We can’t agree on nothin’, Gwen. They were just bein’ their usual self and annoyin’ the shit out of me at any chance they could get,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “Good to know it worked, mate”

“Stop imitatin’ me, poser.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll make you.”

“Try me, Hobart.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that. What were you guys talking about?” Miles asks, and you and Hobie look at each other. “Just asked where the bathroom was,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah. That’s it.”

You weren’t necessarily ready to reveal you faced the Gwen canon event. Especially not to another Gwen. At least Hobie isn’t enough of a dick to bring it up in front of them. “Oh, yeah, you did change into your everyday clothes. Don’t know how I didn’t notice that,” Gwen states, taking another swig of her beer. You had changed in your apartment after cleaning your wound, but you don’t say anything. Hobie nods at you, and you nod back.

“Why aren’t you drinking anything (Y/n)? Here, try this it’s so good,” Pavitr pushes his bottle toward you, and you shake your head. “I don’t want to drink, but thanks Pavitr,” you say, and he frowns. “Awww.” You smile slightly at how disappointed he sounds. “Well, I want to remember everything you all tell me without it being fuzzy because I was hoping you could let me know a little bit more about all the spider people in Spider Society. I’m still new, you four, Peter B. Parker, and Miguel are the only ones I’ve really met.”

With that, Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr start telling you everything they know. You learn about Jessica Drew, Spider-Man Noir, Peni Parker, and so many more. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr talk for hours, and since they’re kids, they do not know when to stop drinking. Eventually, the three of them are passed out. Miles is cradling Gwen’s side with his head on her chest as she wraps one of her arms around him, and Pavitr is laying straight on his back, lightly snoring. You giggle softly at the sight. Suddenly the punk music you’ve been listening to for the past however many hours gets softer. You glance over to where it is and see Hobie bent over and turning it down. “Don’t wanna wake ‘em,” he mumbles, walking over to you. The volume of the city has decreased quite a bit, and with the low hum of music coming from the boombox now, his world is actually kind of enjoyable. Though you’d never tell him that. He motions to the skyline, and you turn and look. He was right, as much as you hate to admit it. The view is a lot better from up here.

“Why didn’t you drink anythin’?” he asks, and you shrug. “Didn’t feel like it. Why didn’t you drink anything?” He shrugs and pulls out a rolled cigarette from his vest pocket. “Got somethin’ better.”

“And you didn’t offer any to them?”

“Hey, they can drink here, they don’t need to mess with this shit. ‘Sides I knew they’d be pissed. Gonna have a god-awful hangover tomorrow,” he says, pulling out a lighter. You shake your head. “They can’t mess with your shit, but I can?”

“The two of us are the same age. We’re ‘adults’ or whatever the fuck that means. Are you too stuck up to be ‘round some grass or somethin’?”

“No, Hobie, I don’t give a fuck if you smoke weed. Building manager might, though.”

“Love, I am the building manager. This place is abandoned, so it belongs to me. And you’re not tellin’ me I’m supposed to smoke this myself?” he asks with a sly smirk on his face. You raise your eyebrow at him. “Actually I am.” He groans, putting the joint to his lips and lighting the end of it.

“Do you know how to have any fun?”

“Do you know how to have any–” Before you can finish, he puts his finger over your mouth, and raises the joint to his lips again. He takes a deep breath in, blowing out the excess smoke and glancing at you. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Don’t care. The answer is no.”

“Have you ever actually tried listening to anything anyone says?” “Nah. I don’t listen to no one. I’m me, and if people don’t like that, good,” he says, taking another drag. He glances over at you and holds the joint out. “Y’sure you don’t want some?”

“You actually want to share with me?”

“I want you to not be as much as a ragin’ fuckwit, so yes,” he blows smoke in your face, and you glare at him. “If I take one hit, will you shut the fuck up about it?”

“Probably not, but it would sure make me happier.” You roll your eyes, and take the joint from him, taking a drag. He watches you. He’d never admit it, but he wishes you weren’t such an asshole. The way you look doing that in the moonlight? Stunning. You pass the joint back to him, some of the smoke coming out of your nose. “Stop staring at me.”

“Just makin’ sure you did it right and didn’t waste my shit,” he says, taking another drag. “I know how to hit a joint, Hobie.”

“Really? Never would have guessed you’d do anything remotely excitin’.”

“Oh, please. You barely know me,” you say, angrier than you probably should be. “Then tell me about yourself, love.”

“Hard pass,” you say, and he groans. “I get the desire to stay anonymous and mysterious, obviously, but come on. Chances are we’re gonna be seein’ each other more than either of us wants to, so just open up a bit,” he says, and you frown. “There’s nothing you need to know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me something about you.”

“I killed Norman Osborn with my guitar after defeatin’ him and all of his V.E.N.O.M. forces and successfully led a rebellion against fascism,” he says smugly, “Until those other fuckin’ Nazis showed up, but one day I promise you this world? Will be capitalist and fascist free.”

“No, it won’t. Am I supposed to be impressed?” you ask with a deadpan face. He scoffs. “Damn, you’re a wanker. I’d like to see you try and defeat the V.E.N.O.M. forces. From what I seen your world’s villains are rubbish,” he says and to his surprise, and yours, you laugh. A hint of a smile plays on his features, but you shake your head. “Green Goblin is, you’re right, but... there are others who are much worse. And what the fuck is a venom force? You’re saying that like I should just know what it is.”

“It was a symbiote that– wait, you sayin’ you don’t know what venom is? That’s something every spider-person deals with at some point,” he says, and you shrug. “Guess I haven’t dealt with it yet.”

“Yeah, well, when you do, call me cause you’ll need my help,” he says and you roll your eyes. “I’d rather die than get help from you.”

“I helped you today, love.”

“I could have done that myself,” you retort, and he shakes his head, taking another drag. “I guess I should thank you though.”

“Hmm?”

“For not telling them what we were really talking about,” you say, and he hums. “What they won’t know won’t kill ‘em. But just so you know I was being so serious. Not talkin’ about that shit is more harmful than good,” he says, and you frown. “I’m not much of a talker.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up,” you groan, and he laughs. He loves pissing you off, might be his favorite thing to do now. But the conversation might actually need to get serious. He may hate you, but he’s Spider-Punk for the people, and you’re apart of that people. He’s there to help, so he may as well try with you.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why not? Why won’t you talk about it?” he asks, and you huff. “Because it was my fault, and I don’t want to think about it.”

“Nah, I bet it wasn’t your fault,” he mumbles, taking another drag. You glare at him. “Oh, right, I forgot you were there when their neck snapped after I tried to save them,” you spit, and he glances at you. You can feel that hit starting to affect you, that’s the only reason you said anything about… the incident. Of course, Hobie has good shit, why wouldn’t he. “What were you trying to save them from?” he asks, his voice oddly calm. “The Prowler,” you reply, “He’s the worst of the worst in my universe.” He hums and nods. “Well then, reckon it’s the Prowler’s fault then, innit?”

“What? But I’m the one who couldn’t get to them in time after he–”

“He did it, (Y/n). You did your best, but it ain’t your fault what happened there. That’s what they want you to think. Try and get that through your thick skull, would you?” he says, and you scoff, “They?”

He nods, and you go quiet. He glances over at you as you just sit and stare out at the city. “Stop doin’ ‘at.”

“Doing what?”

“Blamin’ yourself,” he says, taking another long drag. You sigh. “I can’t help it,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “You can. Just takes time,” he responds. You scoff, “You’d think three years would be enough time.” You look out at his city. It’s so different from yours, but you can still see the beauty in it. And you can see the stars. None of the constellations of your world are here, but the sky is still beautiful. “If you need a place to crash, my couch is very comfortable and has your name written all over it,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “I should probably just go back to my universe–”

“No way. No dimension hopping under the influence,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “I had one hit,” you say, and he shrugs. “And one hit is enough for you to think you’re goin’ home only to end up in Peter Porker’s shower. You’re stayin’ here tonight.” You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m insufferable for watchin’ out for your well-bein’? Okay, sure.”

“I don’t need you to watch out for me. I don’t need anyone,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Too good for everyone else.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Like you wouldn’t say the same thing,” you say, and he shrugs. “You’re right. I would say I don’t need anyone, because I don’t. Especially not a miserable thing like you,” he says, and you frown. “Good.”

“Great.”

“Fuck you.”

The two of you just glare at each other for a bit before he flicks the butt of his joint off the building. “Goin’ to bed. See you tomorrow.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Shut up and follow me back to my place,” he says, getting up and walking down the building. You follow, yawning as you realize just how tired you are. When you get back inside Hobie’s place, he points at the couch. “Lay there, and don’t move until mornin’, got it?”

“I’ll do what I want.”

“Amazin’. Just don’t wake me up, and I won’t give a fuck,” he says, walking into his bedroom and kicking his door shut. You roll your eyes and lay down on his couch. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, and you find yourself actually dozing off faster than you anticipated. Hobie walks out of his room to get a drink of water and ready to fight you verbally again, only to see you passed out on his couch with literally no blanket or pillow.

He sighs, grabbing a throw blanket off his bed and gently placing it on top of you. In the morning, you wake up before everyone else. You notice the blanket, and know only one person could have done that, but you don’t feel like sticking around to say anything. You just go home. But before you do, you leave a little note saying, ‘didn’t need your sympathy, thanks but no thanks,’ and draw a little middle finger.

He’ll get the hint you appreciated it.

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#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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siouxiesiouxtryhard · 1 year

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Sweetheart - (eddie munson x reader)

**UNDER HEAVY CONSTRUCTION**

Ch. One - The Wot?

summary: when the split mayfield/hargrove family move to hawkins the oldest mayfield finds out that hawkins might be the weird change she needed.

pairing: eddie x fem!goth!mayfield! reader

warnings: 18+ (minors dni) this is obnoxiously long, unfortunate use of y/n, language, mentions of abuse, billy hargrove -i think that's all-

author's note: i'm nervous but also excited for this. the first few chapters are purely exposition and are honestly pretty boring except for some funny stuff but it picks up pretty fast. let me know if you like it and want to see the rest. love you <3

Part 2 >>

Y/n Mayfield stretched her arms above her head as she stepped out of her stepbrother's Camaro outside Hawkins High School on her first day, discreetly tossing her nearly finished joint on the ground. "Uh, hello?" her sister Max called from the backseat. "Oh, my bad," Y/n snorted. She moved the seat forward so Max could step out. Her stepbrother Billy was already long gone and on the way to the school but neither of the sisters noticed or cared.

Max punched Y/n's shoulder when she stood fully with a smile. Y/n gasped and dramatically held her shoulder with a look of fake anguish on her face. Max giggled and told her to shut up. Y/n snickered and ruffled Max's hair.

"See ya, rat," Y/n said. "Bye Simmons," Max replied, skating towards the middle school. "Still hate KISS!" Y/n yelled, earning a middle finger from her little sister.

The older girl noticed two other teenagers gawking at them from their own car across the lot. She smirked and tossed a peace sign above her head as she walked backwards towards the high school before turning and walking normally.

Y/n kinda liked it in Hawkins. California was too warm, and it was always ridiculously bright there. Being a person who liked to wear dark clothes didn't really mix well with that. That and all the people there were obnoxious and annoying. But it was California.

Not much else to expect.

Y/n smiled charmingly at the receptionist in the office as she walked in. "Hey, uh, I'm new? Should be under Mayfield?" she asked.

The receptionist shuffled through the papers on her desk and pulled out two papers. One was her schedule, and one was a little map of the school. Y/n tried not to laugh out loud at the map but thanked her anyways. "Ah! Let me call up a student to show you to class. Hold on one second, hon," the lady said, calling someone on the phone and telling Y/n to wait there for a minute. She nodded and leaned against the wall until the girl who was staring at her earlier came in.

"Hi, Nancy. Would you mind showing her to her first class? You have it together," the receptionist lady asked. Nancy stuttered before nodding with a 'sure!' and motioning for Y/n to follow her. Y/n did, saluting the secretary as she left.

Nancy walked beside her, humming quietly at the faint smell of weed, hair dye, and fabric softener from Y/n. Nancy thought it was odd but comforting for some reason. "Sorry. I-I'm Nancy. Wheeler," Nancy spoke up, introducing herself. Y/n snorted at her awkwardness and shook the girl's outstretched hand, "All good. I'm Y/n," she said.

Nancy nodded with a smile, "Nice. It suits you," she replied. Y/n smiled and thanked her.

They did get a good conversation going after that, having finally broken the ice and Nancy took her schedule from her to see what classes they had together. The shorter of the pair also showed Y/n where her locker was so she didn't have to carry all of her stuff and helped her get it open. Y/n, still partially high, tried her best to listen to what Nancy had to say. Nancy seemed pretty smart, and it was obvious she had lived in Hawkins her whole life, so good thing to have a friend who knows their shit.

Nancy glared at people who were staring at Y/n, who was completely oblivious to it as she carried her books and dropped the other school stuff she didn't put in her locker into the bag her mom made her carry. Y/n towered over Nancy, so she stuck out like a sore thumb. Not because Y/n was inherently tall, but because she had a pair of six-inch-tall black platform boots to add to her normal height.

Nancy noticed and thought it was brave of her. People were very judgmental in Hawkins, so to walk around without caring and with a look like that took guts. Nancy appreciated it. She had never really hung out or met anyone like Y/n, but she'd always wondered what it would be like to have a friend like her.

Y/n was currently standing at an even six feet tall and wore black head to toe including her hair, which was dyed jet black and ruffled into a shaggy cut.

Nancy smiled in satisfaction with herself when they walked into class and people gaped at them walking in together. Miss perfect Nancy Wheeler walking around with someone who looks like something straight out of a heavy metal magazine.

Robin Buckley's eyes widened from her spot in the back corner seat, and she listened to Y/n talk when the teacher made her introduce herself. Everyone was staring at her, seeming completely interested in what she had to say.

"Uh, hey! I'm Y/n," she said, "I'm from California. Now I live here. I'm just trying to graduate, so, if you're chill, we can hang!" Y/n mumbled thanks to the teacher before taking a seat in the back directly behind Nancy. Nancy turned around and gave her a thumbs-up, inviting her to sit with her at lunch. Y/n snickered and shrugged, which was her way of saying yes.

The whole class kept staring at her off and on, trying to focus on schoolwork but also hung up on the new girl. Hawkins almost never got new kids, but when they got one like this?

Everyone is shell-shocked.

Y/n blinked slowly and listened to the teacher ramble on about math. She grabbed a tin of Altoids that obviously didn't have Altoids in it anymore and popped one in her mouth. The bell rang shortly after and Y/n and Nancy were on their way to their lockers and next class.

Y/n took off her jacket, shoving it in her locker, and even that simple action earned some whispers. Nancy also looked a little shocked when she walked up, hugging a new pile of books to her chest. A guy who was about half an inch shorter than Y/n with huge hair trailed after her, eyes widening at Nancy's new friend. "What?" Y/n asked obliviously, eyes bouncing from one to the other. The couple was quiet, trying to come up with an answer, and failing.

"It's the tattoos, innit?" Y/n whispered. Nancy nodded a small smile on her lips.

"I can, like, put my jacket back on if it makes y'all uncomfortable..." Y/n offered.

"Nah, man, they're cool! I just think people weren't expecting them," the guy replied swiftly. "Oh. Okay," Y/n shrugged, and they were walking to class.

Y/n sucked her teeth and picked up the pace to toss herself into the lockers next to a blond boy dressed in all denim, a smarmy look on his face.

"What?" he said sharply.

Y/n laughed at him, "Oh, you wound me with your hatred!" Billy looked very unthreatening having to look up to speak to her eye to eye. He rolled his eyes and repeated himself. "Just wondering how your day is going. Are people staring at you too, or is it just me?" Y/n asked.

Billy scoffed and looked around, noticing a few people quickly avoiding his gaze before they got caught staring.

"Nah, it's not just you," Billy said lowly, slamming his locker and stomping away.

Y/n found her way to second period and sat down next to Nancy after having to introduce herself again.

"Hey!"

Y/n turned at the sharp whisper and raised an eyebrow at a brunette sitting next to her. Y/n looked around before pointing at herself, "Me?" she whispered back. The brunette nodded. Y/n waved hesitantly, glancing at the teacher to make sure they wouldn't get in trouble. The brunette held up a finger, turning to her notebook and writing something in it before ripping it out and passing it to Y/n.

"hi"

Y/n smirked and wrote back "hi :)" the brown-haired girl smiled and wrote on the paper under that.

"I'm Robin"

"Y/n" Y/n wrote back.

"I know. We have first together too."

"Oh, word? Nice."

"I know! Anyways, I think we should be friends! I like your style."

"Hell yeah we should! You seem nice and thank you." "Awesome!! I was so worried that wasn't going to work."

"Ahahaha don't worry you're cool."

"Yay I'm cool!! But I won't make you pass notes for an eternity. You probably have a lot to catch up on, so I'll see you later, k?"

"Ok!"

And with that, Y/n made a new friend.

taglist: @sisgotdemons @tlclick73 @deafeningmoontragedy @marjoriea13 @playfuloutcast @twosluttychains @leetaeilsnecktattoo @lil-quinnie @razzles-bottom-lip @originalstar1

@yessargeantbarnes happy birthday babes <3

tiny author's note: hii!! i'm glad y'all were excited about this! this starts slow but it gets to the point pretty quick so don't worry there will be eddie content very very soon. Let me know if you wanna be on the taglist! love you! :)

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transmissionsfromcarcosa · 1 year

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Apropos of absolutely nothing, because this idea came to me while high earlier and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since, some Farscape characters as some of the people you run into at a goth club:

Chianna - The candy goth, has way too much energy, real annoying little sibling energy

Aeryn - The rivethead, really only here because Front 242 was on the flier, generally good natured and friendly

John - The rivethead's partner, isn't into any of this goth shit but they're friendly and likable enough that no one is put off by them, always has a drink in hand

Jool - The frontwoman of a 90s darkwave band that also plays the violin, sitting at the bar relaxing after her set

D'Argo - The confused metalhead constantly wondering out loud why there's no metal being played at the goth club.

Zhaan - The witchy person that smells vaguely of patchouli and weed, dances with with their arms way too much and dresses like Stevie Nicks, may or may not be on acid

Crais - The Vampire LARPer, because there's always at least one (Crais is either a Ventrue or a Lasombra)

Pilot - That one goth that has encyclopedic knowledge of every band in the scene ever, is a vinyl collector, absolutely refuses to leave their seat or talk to anyone unless approached first

Stark - The DJ, generally gets along with everyone, a bit socially awkward, always has time for selfies with bands between sets

Scorpius - Disappointed gimp that mistook goth night for BDSM night

#goth #darkwave #post punk #farscape #sci fi & fantasy #industrial

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emonaculate · 3 years

Text

AOT Freshman v Senior Year headcanons (Eren, Armin, and Mikasa)

❥ AU: Highschool!AU

❥ Genre: Fluff

❥ Rating: Everyone can read

❥ Pairing: hinted at Eren x reader

❥ Warnings Include: Profanity, mentions of violence, manipulation, mention of weed, and slight angst

❥ Author Note: I'm making this an entire series for the main cast or my favorite characters from AOT

Eren Yeager

Freshman year

Extremely fucking loud for no reason

Runs to class and somehow always manages to be late

Tries to pay attention in class but due to his ADHD would always spaces tf out

Despite being loud, only talks to Mikasa and Armin

Smells like nothing but AXE body spray, its not even a bad smell, its just too much

That kid that takes P.E. TOO fucking serious

"Eren you know why you're in trouble right?"

"No."

"...You hit your classmate in the face with a ball."

"He could have dodged."

"Eren it was a basketball, you broke his nose and chipped his tooth."

"He shouldn't have gotten so close to me."

Im sorry but totally dresses like this

Constantly compared to his older brother.

"Yeager... Are you by any chance related to Zeke Yeager?"

"No way, your brother is THE Zeke Yeager?"

Makes a name for himself rather quickly

Listens to heavy rock/metal music

He loves My Chemical Romance and Three Day Grace.

Learned how to play the guitar just so he could play "Teenagers"

Forced Mikasa and Armin to also listen to the bands

They ended up all deciding on making a small little garage band; Miki on vocals and drums, Min on bass, and Eren as lead vocalist and electric guitar.

His style changed randomly but no one questioned it since his personality remained the same.

Senior year

180 personality

Completely mellowed tf out

Either he is in class on time or not showing up at all

Senioritis is strong within him

Works better when he is completely out of it

STONER

This mf always high as shit

Either you love him, hate him, or respect him there is no inbetween

MANBUN

Smart as hell but usually on the low

His music taste has changed a little

LOVES POLITICAL RAP

J.cole and Kendrick stan; it is not up for debate

His favorite songs are Neighbors by J.Cole and Alright by Kendrick

Listens to throwback RnB when high

Still godly at the guitar

Has a couple stick and poke tattoos; He has one behind his ear matching Min and Miki.

He has the sun, Armin has the ocean waves, Mikasa has the moon

PIERCINGS

A total of 8; 4 in his left and 2 in his right + the industrial

Has a tongue piercing

A two slices in his eyebrow but only got them as a dare

Most of them minus the industrial piercing was done at home because he has an abnormally high pain tolerance.

Dresses like this

Doesnt really play sports but is super good at soccer and basketball

He's actually good at most sports just refuses to join because why would he want to support a corrupted system??

Still more of a loner but has a rather nice friend group

Looks mean asf but is actually really nice

Goes the hardest for his friends

You fuck with them = you getting your shit rocked by him

100% the friend that hits you for forgetting to eat

Despite being hot as shit; never really has a girlfriend

Its only because hes oblivious or just not interested

Deathly scary when hes pissed

If you guys got beef; there is no talking

Its on sight bro

Be prepared to get beat the fuck up

A few things that makes him go from 0 to 100 is racism, mocking disabled people, and domestic violence

He's an activist

If you need help organizing a protest; he'll help and somehow manage to get people to come.

Basically a really good guy just hot headed as hell

Armin Arlert

Freshman Year

The kid who looked up those lame videos on how to survive highschool.

Panicked when it came to speaking in class

Stuttered like hell

AP CLASSES

He's way too advanced like could graduate early but refuses to so he can stay with his friends

Super sweet but extremely naive

People definitely took advantage of him.

"Hey Armin, my dog got in a car accident so I wasnt really focused in class, can you give me the homework answers?"

"Yeah sure its no problem."

Sends them a whole ass powerpoint on the entire lesson and teaches them better than the actual teacher.

Band nerd

Can play the Piano, Bass, and Trumpet

Listens to Mother Mother and Queen religiously

Only joined Eren's garage band after he agreed to watch Bohemian Rhapsody

Dresses like this

Moved in with Ren and Miki after he went through some shit with his family; he came out as bisexual after realizing he was attracted to one of his classmates.

Sometimes worries that Eren gets uncomfortable but relaxes after he remembers who Eren really is.

Wouldn't trade his friends for the world

Senior Year

His glow up took awhile because he didnt really feel the need to change

He was always rather cute; just shy and timid

VALEDICTORIAN

Slightly because he manipulated his runner up into become a burnout gifted kid lmao

Everyone has his Snapchat and Instagram so they can get help

Now he knows when people are using him and he still lets them; the only difference is you fuck with him and he can make you end up repeating the same grade.

Lets people copy his test and at the last minute pauses and erases all his answers before putting the correct ones.

No one has realized his plan.

His fashion sense changed a lot

Subconsciously tries to match Eren all the time

The only person that noticed was Mikasa; she thinks its cute

Is in love with Russian foreign exchange student, Annie.

He talks to her from time to time before gathering enough courage to ask her out

Doesnt realize how popular he is.

Oftentimes volunteers at the aquarium to study the ocean life as well as help out.

Helps plenty of organizations clean up the ocean.

A total of four piercings and the tattoo that matches his friends.

Two in his ears and nipple piercings.

It was a dare he sobbed through

Mikasa Ackerman

Freshman year

Basketcase

Follows Eren and Armin around

Super quiet

Doesn't really have much of a personality

She is cute though

Dresses like this

Like I said no real personality at all

Well except she was the girl who thought she was in a romance novel

Especially when Eren would get into a fight.

"Eren look at me... This isnt you."

"Mikasa move."

Most times it wouldnt work.

It was just cringy man...

Can play the violin, flute, piano, and cello

Only learned the drums so she could play with Eren and Armin

A secret pop stan

Loves Ariana Grande and Doja Cat

Thank god she manages to grow out of that yucky phase.

Senior Year

GOTH GF

Track, Gymnast, and female basketball player

She mellowed out as well and became her own person

Still heavily in love with Eren

Confessed to him during a karaoke session to the song Baby I by Ariana Grande; he didnt realize.

Sang her heart out and was a blushing mess but still got no where

Has deep down accepted that she may never be more than just his friend

Is okay with it and NOT toxic when he's crushing on someone else

Just wants him to be happy

Saw how he looked at some girl during a fundraiser to raise money for animal shelters and realized that he may never look at her like that.

Turned a guy down because Armin had a crush on him

The ultimate wing girl

Introduced Eren to her opponent after a track meet after realizing it was the girl from the fundraiser.

Dresses like this

Super sweet despite her look

However pick on her friends and you're fucked

CAN and WILL whoop your ass

The only person who can get Eren to not fight.

Pissed them both off at the same time and you're screwed

Has a total of three piercings

Her ears and nose

Loves her boys more than anything

Stays with Eren while her parents travel to help with natural disasters

Noticed that Armin's ideal type is Eren but never mentioned it because she knows Armin would overract

Very observant

Just wants the best for her friends even if she is the one who ends up happy

Eventually falls for the guy that asked her out junior year.

Still close to her boys because they come before anyone.

#eren yeager x black reader #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #eren yeager #highschool headcanons #attack on titan #snk fanfiction

280 notes · View notes

somethingwritey · 3 years

Text

my writing samples!

if you’re interested in commissioning my work (or you just like reading excerpts), i’ve taken some time to prepare writing samples!

more commission information can be found here or you can private message me for further questions!

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💖 dramatic

this is an excerpt from a rangi/kyoshi one-shot i did recently:

Rangi’s exhalation is loud in Kyoshi’s head, but perhaps almost silent in the world. “I used to see you guys around the mansion,” she confesses. “I would… watch you two. It was my duty, of course, to watch him. But not you.”

This isn’t exactly news to Kyoshi. Rangi has spent lifetimes saving her from herself and the world. Her bodyguard before she knew she needed one.

“I know.”

“You wanna know what I thought?” Rangi shakes her head, a strangled bit of laughter escaping her lips. “When I saw the way he’d admire you? I thought… The Avatar and his servant… what a pathetically tragic way to love. So caught up in the power imbalance of it all.”

“Rangi -”

“And then,” Rangi stares up at the sky now, squinting into the brightness of it all. “I fell right into it myself. Only you’re not the servant, Kyoshi. You’ve never been the servant. It’s me. In love with the great and powerful Avatar. Hopelessly and endlessly lost in the difference between duty and pleasure.”

That is absolutely wrong. If nothing else, Kyoshi knows that. “You’re not.”

“In love with you?”

No. That’s probably true, even if Kyoshi still doesn’t know why.

“You’re not my servant. You’ve never been, and you never will be.”

Rangi finally meets her gaze, and Kyoshi is surprised to see a glassiness there, reflecting in the bronze of her irises. She reaches out and runs a hand along the girl’s jawline, gently tracing every scar, every ghost of pain.

“Whoever made me the Avatar was really, really stupid,” she whispers. “You would’ve made a better one.”

“I’m not Earth Kingdom.”

“I don’t care.” Kyoshi knows how the cycle works. And she still thinks the Era of Rangi would outshine any past or future Avatar.

----

💖 comedic/light-hearted

this is an excerpt from a jay/carlos de vil one-shot:

“You have a crush?”

Carlos whipped around, staring at Jay who had just come up the stairs. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“Uh -” Jay blinked, pointing down the stairs. “Downstairs? Look, someone said you go ... oh, you found a friend.” His gaze fell on the cat.

“He’s my new best friend.” Carlos was only half joking. “You’ve been demoted.”

Jay feigned hurt for a moment. On the whole, he didn’t look as drunk as Carlos would’ve expected. “So, this crush of yours,” he said at last. “Is he the reason you agreed to come?”

The irony wasn’t lost on Carlos, and if he weren’t too busy wishing the earth would swallow him whole, he might’ve laughed. “Uh - I don’t -”

“Come on,” Jay laughed. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even Mal. What’s he like?”

Carlos made a face. “The one time you’re not hammered at a party, huh? Just my luck.”

Jay shook his head. “Come on, man! Just give me a hint!”

Carlos mimed zipping his lips.

Jay is here. With you, his brain whispered unhelpfully. Not downstairs. Maybe you have a chance.

Jay smiled, oddly genuine. “I get that parties aren’t your thing, ‘Los. Must be one hell of a guy if he’s worth all this.”

“Yeah, well,” Carlos mumbled, picking at a spot on the carpet. “He looks cute when he says please.”

----

💖 alternate universe/timeline adjustment

this is a sneak peak of an unpublished equalist!asami/korra fic that i’m currently working on :) so stay tuned for more of this:

“Miss Sato,” a voice called from beyond the reinforced door. “You have a visitor.”

Her father, surely! Or one of his associates. But when door slid open and someone stepped inside, it wasn’t Hiroshi.

Asami turned towards the wall. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Asami, wait.” Korra didn’t try to get any closer. “I just -”

“Just what?” Asami muttered. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Wanted to see me put away? Make sure they’d gotten the right girl? A non-bender standing on the sidewalk at night is so dangerous, see. Glad you’ve got the police force cracking down on the issue.”

She could feel Korra’s frustration and revelled in it. She liked being able to get to Korra.

“No! That’s not! Ugh!” Korra paced, her footsteps heavy. “I don’t have much time! I just wanted to ask you to meet me! Away from anyone listening! Under the Silk Road Bridge.”

“I’d love to, but you see,” Asami gestured around her cell. She still hadn’t dropped the cynical act. “I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

“Your father is already trying to buy your way out,” Korra told her. “You’ll be released before most of Republic City wakes up. I know you, Asami. You wouldn’t… you’re not -”

“Not what, Korra?” Asami finally looked at her. Hard. “Like the rest of the non-benders? One of the good ones?”

“You betrayed us!”

“And you couldn’t save those people from being rounded up like animals!”

Korra opened her mouth, but no words came out. She threw back her head in frustration. “Fine! I’ll leave you alone! But tonight, at midnight, I’ll be under that bridge. I hope you will be, too. I just want to talk.”

-----

💖 angst/pining

this is an excerpt from a casey/izzie fic:

Casey couldn’t breathe.

She was used to the breathlessness that came with running, the burning and tightening of her lungs as she demanded more from them. But when her feet skimmed across the pavement, racing, racing, like her heartbeat, it didn’t scare her. Rather, she relished it, craved it. The way her whole body felt alive, how she could feel every tingle in her arms and legs, how everything seems to still and grow quiet around her - she loved it.

This was different.

Her vision tunneled, entirely swallowed by Izzie and the boy in the corner who had his tongue in her mouth. The people around her suddenly felt too close and the music too loud. She wished she had Sam’s noise canceling headphones.

Casey wasn’t even trying to inhale anymore as she stared, watching the girl whose lips she’d taken a chance on kiss a boy - a stranger. She could feel her chest burning, could feel the rest of her body screaming at her to take a breath, to do something. But she couldn’t. She could only stare until the need for air became too much.

She gasped, her feet moving against her will. The room smelled like too much weed, stinging her eyes and nose. Casey began to back towards the door.

It wasn’t that she was heartbroken; no, she knew what heartbreak felt like, and right now, that space was occupied by Evan.

This was on her. She’d decided to break off something good and consistent and wonderful to chase after someone who played hot and cold like Evan played video games. She had no one to blame but the person in the mirror.

Somehow, after being jostled around by several other bodies, she made it to the hallway. It was quiet, thankfully, the noise of the party muffled to the pulsing of the base inside the hotel room where she knew Izzie was still liplocked with that tall stranger.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How could she have thrown away something so good for this?

She wanted to go back to being normal; to the time when she looked at Evan’s eyes and didn’t see Izzie’s reflecting back at her.

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💖 hurt/comfort

this is an excerpt from a nico minoru/karolina dean fic:

“You’re still glowing.” The words came out low. Nico’s eyes flicked up and down her girlfriend’s illuminated body, taking it all in. She knew Karolina could control her light now, which could only mean one thing.

“I wanted you to see it,” Karolina admitted, ducking her head. Now that Nico’s eyes were open, she could see just how much fear flickered behind Karolina’s warm glow. She had removed her arms from Nico now and twisted her hands together in front of herself anxiously. “I needed you to see it.”

Nico swallowed hard, unable to pull her eyes away. The light brought so many emotions flooding back. The first time she’d seen Karo glow. Early nights at the Hostel when the power would short out and Karolina walked around like a glowing flashlight. All the times Nico ran her hands down her hips and kissed her neck and watched her glow brighter than all the stars in the sky.

“I see it,” Nico promised.

“You’re not scary,” was Karolina’s response.

They were words Nico had said many times to Karolina, but never had anyone said them to her.

“Then why am I… like this?”

“Nico.” Karolina shook her head. “Your darkness isn’t evil. It just… is. And I know you can master your magic without the Staff. You’re more than its power.”

“Am I?” Nico didn’t know what she was. She’d been trying to figure it out for a lot longer than she cared to admit.

She was the Dead Girl’s Sister. She was That Goth Bitch. She was a loner, an outcast, a freak.

“You’re Nico Minoru,” Karolina said quietly. “And that’s… that’s enough.”

----

💖 fluff

this mal/evie moment is an excerpt from longer fic titled In Loco Parentis:

Evie had really outdone herself. She’d managed to put together a figure cutting, sapphire satin dress that fell off the shoulders in the most tasteful way possible. With her dark makeup and striking updo, Evie could’ve passed as at least twenty-five. And Mal had never wanted to kiss her more.

“I’m proud of you,” Mal said during a quiet moment, rubbing the other girl’s shoulders gently. “You look great. You did good.”

“Well,” Evie laughed, tipping her head back. “I did well.”

“Whatever, princess.” Mal’s voice had gone soft, her chin resting on Evie’s shoulder. Unable to help herself, she pressed a gentle kiss there, glancing up to see if she’d overstepped. But Evie didn’t look upset; on the contrary, her eyes were wide and her cheeks pink.

“So that’s what it’s like when a girl kisses you,” she breathed, tucking Mal’s hair behind her ear.

“Believe me,” Mal purred. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” She waited for Evie to correct her grammar again, but instead, the girl pulled Mal gently out from behind her, capturing Mal’s lips with her own.

And just like that, Evie was kissing her.

“You’ve got lipstick on your face,” Evie whispered as she pulled away, doing her best to wipe it off.

“I don’t care.”

“I can’t fail you today.” Evie tugged at the hem of her dress, sighing. “I can’t. Mal, this means so much to you.”

But for the first time in a very, very long time, revenge on her mother was the last thing on Mal’s mind. Evie’s eyes and lips and voice took up all the space, blooming in her chest. “You can’t fail me,” she promised.

And that was the sheer and utter truth.

-----

💖 single character-centric

this is an excerpt from a catra-centric exploration:

She’s lost count of the nail marks.

When Hordak first threw her in this cell, Catra resolved to count every single tally Shadow Weaver left on the walls. But now that she’s fifty-two marks in - or maybe fifty-three? - her determination is beginning to waver.

She also doesn’t remember Shadow Weaver being locked up for fifty days. Maybe the nail marks don’t represent days at all - or maybe the old lady is as crazy as she is evil.

Lowering her gaze to the green glowing shackles around her hands, Catra tries - not for the first time - to wriggle out of them. Their buzzing is growing increasingly irritating.

How dare Shadow Weaver leave? Did she stop to think what would happen to Catra? Did it even cross her mind that she might be thrown in this cell as her replacement? Or maybe she did and just didn’t care?

Catra’s face twists in a grim smile. Of course her own fate hasn’t given Shadow Weaver any pause. She got what she wanted.

She tries to think back, to find the place where she went wrong - a single moment she can pinpoint where her plans went to shit. But the pieces just don’t fit. Nothing adds up.

Because Catra has done everything right. She’s climbed the ranks. She’s done her job well. She’s accomplished everything Adora could have and more. She’s surpassed even Shadow Weaver’s authority!

And yet, here she is. In chains. Awaiting punishment.

Adora always comes out on top. Hasn’t that been beaten into her since day one? Adora gets to walk away unharmed, with her new best friends and glowing hair. Adora gets Shadow Weaver, despite being a defector, a traitor, a failure!

I would’ve stayed for you.

Catra kicks out with her back foot and pushes away the tray someone delivered to her earlier. She’s not that hungry anyway - and certainly not for brown ration bars.

The tray makes a satisfying clatter as it skids across the floor, and Catra bares her teeth in a halfway smile. If she’s going down, she’s going to go down fighting. She’ll make it as difficult and as painful for Hordak as she can - right until the very end.

-----

💖 second person

this is an excerpt from a summer/tessa fic i wrote by request:

She’s happy now, you know.

She’s brighter and happier and just really fucking in love.

You can see it. You can hear it in the way she talks and the way her eyes light up when she walks into the room. You notice how she perks up when her name is dropped during casual conversation and how she makes a point of talking about her at every possible offhanded moment.

And honestly, you’re happy, too. You’re happy for her. You’re happy for them. Because they’re just so cute, and everyone says so.

And if you notice that Tessa is wearing her sweater - the one you used to wear because it made her mad and got those sparkling eyes to fix on you for just a few more seconds - you don’t say anything.

Because it wasn’t like the sweater belonged to you or was anything other than a polyester cardigan with a small hole in the elbow.

It’s not like when you draped it over your shoulders, she would roll her eyes and grumble and demand you give it back. Your heart wouldn’t jump, and your mind wouldn’t rush with the adrenaline that came with shooting a snarky response.

It’s not like you memorized the way she used to scoff - that sound in the back of her throat - or how she’d wave her hand dismissively while you wondered what it would be like to hold it and never let go.

It’s not like you’ve ever wanted anything from her - attention or otherwise.

It’s not like that sweater gave you an excuse to touch her shoulders, to catch a whiff of her perfume, to pretend the old sleeves were a good substitute for her arms.

When words finally do form in your mouth, they’re not the ones you want to say. They’re snarky or sarcastic or snide. They’re perfectly in-character for you, the airhead, the fair-weather friend, or just The Bitch.

Plain and simple. Easy to categorize and even easier to overlook.

You won’t think about what it feels like to hug her or how comforting it is to rest your head on her shoulder for those brief, world-stopping seconds - so close you can smell her shampoo and whatever else she uses to make those curls behave themselves. Those moments are meant to be locked away, to be kept safe, where they can’t become anything they shouldn’t. Because the two of you have come so far, but nowhere near far enough.

Yeah, you’re not my type.

It’s confirmation of a dead end.

-----

if any of these pieces catch your eye and you want one of your own, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me! i’m in the process of working on some really cool commissions right now, and i’m more than happy to add yours to the mix!

♡ ♡ ♡

40 notes · View notes

phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, part 4 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

July twelfth dawns like any other day, Annabeth wrapped up in Percy’s sheets. She’s spent significantly more nights in his bed than she’s spent in her own apartment over the last two months, but who could blame her? This bed is literally to die for. Therapeutic mattress for the fucking win.

Percy, to her greatest confusion and chagrin, is a morning person. Well, actually, what he is is someone who runs on very little sleep for three weeks at a time, before crashing headfirst into his bed for thirteen hours. It is a decidedly unhealthy way to live, but it means that Annabeth is used to waking up alone. The nights where she gets to wake up with Percy are the nicer ones, sure, but his presence is suffused in every corner of the room, his smell wafting from every piece of sweaty clothing tossed haphazardly about the floor, so much so that she never feels like she is truly waking up alone.

Gross? A little. But the smell is oddly sexy, too, especially after he’s just come home from a run, all wet and glistening and flushed, panting hard--

Ahem.

The point is, when Annabeth rolls out of bed in one of Percy’s shirts (the one that says “Do You Even Lift, Bro?” with an image of a male dancer raising his partner, courtesy of one Jason Grace) and stumbles into the kitchen for one of Percy’s patented brunch specials, it’s a pretty normal morning. What catches her off guard is the spread: eggs and bacon, obviously, with fruit and granola and yogurt, but also an enormous tray of delicious, flaky croissants, perfectly crescent shaped, with little bowls of every condiment imaginable, multiple flavors of jams and preserves and Nutellas.

“Bounjour, mademoiselle!” Percy says cheerfully from the oven, perfectly accented, bending over to take out a tray. “Ça va bien?”

“Um… bonjour…” She pokes a croissant experimentally, and is equally delighted and dismayed to find that it is just as flaky as advertised.

“Take a seat, these ones just need to cool for a bit and then we can get started.”

Spring in his step, he opens the refrigerator, taking out the most beautiful cake Annabeth has ever seen in her entire life. Perfectly round, paper white, with little blue borders piped around the edge, but it’s got Annabeth feeling like she’s just been doused in cold water. “How the hell did you know it was my birthday?”

Immediately, she knows it was the exact wrong thing to say. His eyes go wide as the saucers on the table, mouth open in shock. “It’s your birthday?”

Goddammit. “Um.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Because birthdays were inherently a dumb concept? Because her father had to be reminded of her birthday more often than not? Because her mother had stopped sending her birthday cards after she turned thirteen, calling them a waste of money and resources? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, dipping her finger into the strawberry jam. “I guess I just didn’t think it was a big deal. Ooh, does this have rosemary in it?”

“Annabeeeeth,” he whines, plopping the cake onto the kitchen island. “I can’t believe you! I love birthdays.”

“Well,” she flounders, attempting to duck his sudden attention, “what were you originally celebrating? I don’t usually think of cake as a brunch option.”

He raises an eyebrow, not at all impressed with her attempts to change the topic, but he answers dutifully, “Originally, we were celebrating me being one month cig-free--”

“Percy!” Annabeth gasps, clapping her hands delightedly, and a little exaggeratedly. “That’s great!”

“But,” he continues, “now we’re definitely celebrating your birthday instead.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Nuh uh,” he chides, grabbing his phone and beginning to type something, “I am asking Nico to pick you up a birthday card as we speak.”

Oh. “Nico’s coming?”

“Well, this is his apartment. Part of the deal is that I make him breakfast. I think he’s bringing his boyfriend.”

“Is… anyone else coming?”

“Just a couple of people, my friends Frank, Grover, Rachel… I invited Hazel and Thalia, too, but I think Hazel told me she was busy, and you know Thalia. If it’s not at a crappy dive bar then the odds of her showing up are virtually none.” Percy pauses in his text, fixing her with an odd look. “You really don’t want anyone to know, do you?”

How easily he reads her is a little disconcerting, and also a thought that she just can’t handle right now. “I just don’t like people making a big deal out of it. You know, it’s just another day. I’d much rather celebrate you quitting.”

He holds her gaze for a beat, before smiling, finishing typing out whatever he was doing on his phone. “Yes, I am officially quitting. Cigarettes are terrible for you, and I do not have the money to keep up the habit. So, I swear,” he holds up a hand, “No cigarettes, no weed, no vaping. Not that I ever vaped before.”

“Oh, never?” Annabeth teases.

“Not ever.” He leans in, grinning that devastating grin that is seriously detrimental to her health. “You could not pay me enough.”

“Good.” She goes to meet him, pressing her mouth to his, sweetly and chastely, but swiftly turning deeper, almost against their higher brain functions, like they only exist to be here in this moment, lips against lips, tongue and tongue. She’s always hated the taste of cigarettes, she prefers edibles to blunts, and anyone who vapes is automatically dropped from her list of potential partners… but she’s never minded the taste of ash on Percy’s tongue. It was just another part of him, another facet of the whole sexy package.

Now, though, she has the full taste of him, unfettered and unfiltered, his morning coffee and his morning breath. It is disgusting, but again, oddly thrilling. This is Percy, stripped down and divested of all the trappings of blue lipstick and tight pants. She wonders what he thinks when he sees her like this, messy haired, face and ears empty of metal, last night’s mascara smudged all around her eyes. Given the way that he deliberately threads her hair through his fingers, winding the frizzy curls around him, pulling her close enough that the pristine cake is in danger from some serious smushing, she thinks he likes it just as much.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on which perspective, either Percy’s, Annabeth’s, Nico’s, or the cake’s, their little impromptu makeout session has cold water dumped on it before they can end up doing it on the kitchen island. The sound of someone unlocking the front door is almost comically loud, and they break apart, equally red and flushing.

“Gross,” says Nico di Angelo. “No heterosexuality allowed in my kitchen.”

“Take that back, you biphobic ass,” Percy says. “I have never been heterosexual in my life.”

“I’m not biphobic, I just don’t want to see you getting it on on my marble countertops.”

“Speak for yourself,” chimes in Will, setting down a grocery bag right on the spot which would have been ground zero. “Hi, Annabeth.”

“Hey, Will.”

“Nice of you to join us today,” he says, as though he doesn’t see her here all the time.

She offers her assistance in cooking or setting up, knowing full well that she will be firmly rebuffed--domestics are not her strong suit, by any stretch of the imagination--and is sent away with an iced coffee that Will has so thoughtfully bought for her instead of the birthday card she was dreading.

Soon after, the party is in full swing.

Well, she uses the term party loosely. It is fairly intimate, even with Nico’s enormous apartment making everything smaller. They have assembled an odd amalgamation of people: “You already know Nico,” Percy says, indicating the goth prince next to, “and Will,” his boyfriend, the perpetually cheery med student, next to, “and this is Frank,” a large, physically imposing man with a shy smile, next to, “Rachel,” a red-headed girl who looked like she just walked out of a paint shower, all making space for, “and my buddy Grover,” the guy in crutches who had immediately dropped into the single, out-of-decor, but extremely comfortable-looking loveseat Nico had placed nearest to the bathroom. All told, they look like the brochure for a community college who really, really wants to publicize how diverse their student body is, but with a kind of natural chemistry and camaraderie that those kids on that brochure could only dream of. “Everyone, this is Annabeth.”

They greet her, each giving a limp wave.

Then Percy leaves to attend to his brunch spread, but not before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She can feel all eyes on them, hot and burning.

Silence.

“So,” Annabeth says, as awkward as a freshman in an orientation mixer. “What’s up?”

“Your hair is amazing,” says Rachel.

Hers is crusted with paint, a deep red that turns pink against the orange in the light, a close cousin to Annabeth’s, which is in dire need of a touchup, curls thrown in disarray by Percy’s grasping fingers. “Thanks, I--”

“So how do you two know each other?”

Annabeth blinks. “Friend of Thalia’s,” she says. “You?”

“Used to do ballet together,” Rachel says, brusque, efficient. “Frank, too.”

Frank waves again.

A beat passes.

Annabeth looks to Grover, who watches, bemused. “You, too, I take it?”

Another second. Then he laughs, weird, but hearty, a joyful bleat. “Oh, sure,” he says. “I’m a regular Baryshnikov.”

She can almost feel the room relaxing, heaving a sigh after holding its breath.

“Are you with NYCB, too?” she turns to Frank, shoving her hands in her pockets, fingers curling around the fabric there.

Shaking his head, he swallows his orange juice. “I mostly do modern and hip hop, now, music videos and stuff.”

Objectively, she knows that you don’t have to be skinny as a rake or bodybuilding champion to dance, but Frank is neither of these, a huge, sweet-faced guy with a healthy layer of fat around his face and torso--a strict counterpart to Percy, who could give the Belvedere Apollo a run for its money. “Have I seen you in anything?” Not that she really watches music videos, but she figures it’s the polite thing to ask.

“Um, maybe,” he shrugs, embarrassed. “I’ve been lucky enough to work with some really big people.” Though he offers no further details.

“Working on anything cool?” She asks, doing her best not to cajole.

He nods. “Percy and I have a thing coming out probably in the next month or so, with--ah, well. Can’t say.”

“Tease,” Rachel grumbles, tossing back her mimosa. “I’ve been trying to get the secret out of him for months.”

Frank smiles, secretive and a little smug. “Sorry. You’ll find out along with everyone else.”

“Do you work together a lot?” Annabeth asks. She had thought that Percy was strictly ballet--though, she supposes dancers do crossover work more often these days, if only for the money.

“Not as much as we used to, sadly,” he replies. “We actually lived together in Paris for a few years while he was contracted with the opera before I decided to come back home. Vancouver,” he adds at her unspoken question.

“Bit of a hike, from Vancouver to New York,” says Grover.

Frank shrugs. “I was in town anyway, and I haven’t seen Percy in about a year.”

Annabeth frowns, doing some mental math. If Frank hadn’t seen him in two years, then that meant… that Percy had been alone in Paris all that time. The man thrives off of friendship and social interaction; no wonder he was jonesing to come back to America.

“Remind me again how long you two were together?” Rachel asks, red hair bouncing as she cocks her head. A jolt goes down Annabeth’s spine, appraising Frank in an entirely new light.

“On and off for about two years,” says Frank, thoughtful. “But I just lived with him to save money. The rent in Paris sucks.”

“And you were the best roommate I ever had,” Percy says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Clean, good cook, better kisser--”

Frank shoves him away.

“You’ve only ever had one other roommate, other than Nico or your mom,” Grover points out. “That one guy when you first moved overseas--Frodo? Fedora?”

“Fyodor,” Percy corrects. “He was terrible. I didn’t know any Russian, he didn’t know any English, and our French wasn’t good enough to actually hash it out, so he just gave me a permanent cold shoulder.”

“Kind of a low bar, don’t you think?”

“And there was my roommate in Boston.”

Sharply, she turns her head. “You lived in Boston?”

“Yeah, for like a year. I told you I was with Boston Ballet for a little bit, didn’t I?”

Pretty sure he didn’t. She almost opens her mouth to retort, to ask when and compare notes, to mention that she lived in Boston, too, before remembering who she is with, swallowing her words.

“Fyodor hated you,” Frank hums, reentering the circle. He’d wandered away and returned with a croissant, dipped in chocolate.

“Trust, me, the feeling was mutual.”

“It must have been,” Frank says, “because I saw your new apartment after he kicked you out--that place made a shoebox look luxurious.”

Something in Percy’s face almost falls when Frank says that. Annabeth is sure there is a story there.

But Rachel laughs. “Annabeth, you have no idea. It was a Chambre de bonne ,” she says, exaggerating the accent, “which might sound super fancy and French and cool, but trust me, it wasn’t at all. It was this size.” She slaps the kitchen island, a little too hard, her third mimosa making her loose-limbed and loud. “When I visited for Thanksgiving that year I had to pay for the heating bill, because Percy basically refused.”

“It was cozy,” Percy mutters, suddenly very preoccupied with the half a croissant on his plate.

“It was not.” Rachel says. “It was sad and cold and small.”

Nico looks interested, but not nearly as boisterous as Rachel or Frank, “Was that the place…”

“Ye,” Percy cuts him off, “Yes it was.” He smiles, Stepford-strained. “But, then Frank came to town, and so did his grandmother’s money.” He slaps Frank on the back. “And I got a bathtub.”

“I still can’t believe that a ballet dancer lived anywhere for two years without a place to soak,” Frank says, shuddering.

“I can’t believe you waited until Frank got to Paris to get yourself a sugar daddy,” Grover quips. Percy throws a grape at him. Grover, to her immense surprise, manages to catch it in his mouth.

Annabeth can’t really be impressed. This is the second time someone has brought up Percy and Frank having a history. Something hot and angry curls in her stomach. But Percy is laughing.

Rachel laughs too. “Oh, he didn’t wait,” she says. “He had a bevy of sugar mommies for trips to Ibiza and Moscow and Beijing.”

“It was Tokyo,” Percy says, “and they weren’t my Sugar Mamas.” He turns to Annabeth, sheepish, but not actually shameful. “They weren’t. Honestly.”

“Uh huh.”

“They were mostly Kym’s friends, and sometimes we’d go out when they were in town, and if we had fun, they’d invite me wherever they were going next. And if I didn’t have to work, I’d go with.”

“I have heard rumors,” Will says, popping his head in, Nico attached to his hip, “of Percy Jackson, boy toy of the rich and famous of Europe. Is it true?”

“Yes,” Grover and Rachel say at once.

“Do you want to hear about that, Will?” Percy asks, “Or would you rather hear about the summer Nico came to stay with me and Frank before he started college, and slept with every single dancer in Europe except Frank?”

Nico waves him off. “Only because you were already sleeping with him, cause he was your sugar daddy. Not like I needed the money.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Frank says.

“And now that we’ve aired all of my dirty laundry,” says Percy, “I need to borrow Annabeth for a second.” Gently, but with force, he tugs her arm, his other hand around her waist, directing her where to go like she’s one of his dance partners. Usually, she minds--a lot. She’s not about to let anyone, let alone a man, tell her where to go--but, you know, it’s Percy. Alone time with him is never a bad thing.

He pulls her into the hallway, shoving his hand into his pocket. “What’s up?” she asks.

“So.” Mouth open, he pauses for a moment, just… looking at her. His eyes are soft, warm like the first day of spring.

“What?”

“Uh, nothing,” he shakes himself a little, pulling his hand out. “Sorry, I just--I know you said you didn’t want anyone making a big deal out of your birthday…”

Oh, no. She braces herself for the worst.

Uncurling his fingers, he reveals his present for her.

“It’s… a pin?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Remember when I took my sister to the Met a few weeks ago? They were having that thing on Egyptian jewelry? Well, of course we had to stop in the gift shop, and I saw this and just--you know, thought of you.”

It is a pin--one of those lapel pins that more often than not are added to a collection usually displayed on a backpack. This pin is a silhouette she recognizes instantly: the Parthenon, its columns and angles rendered in sterling silver, little grooves dug into the metal in an approximation of the fluting.

“Wow,” she breathes. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” His ears are pink. “Happy birthday.”

And then he hugs her.

After a moment, she hugs him back.

It’s amazing how she can have had sex with someone so many times, but feel so awkward giving them a hug.

“I didn’t, um, tell anyone else,” he says, pulling back. His hands linger on her shoulders, thumb tapping at the base of her neck. “But, I kept meaning to give this to you, so, you know, now was as good a time as any, yeah?”

“I love it,” she says, honestly. Which surprises her. “Thank you.”

She slips it into her own pocket, not even minding the sharp corners.

When they return, Nico has already cut into the cake. “You were taking too long,” he snips.

It really is delicious. Much, much later, Percy sends her home with a sweet, soft kiss, and one of the last remaining slices, rather than staying for dinner.

Percy is the kind of boy who goes to his mother’s for dinner every week. She had been invited, but also threatened with the promise of another cake, and his ten year old sister, who would “love to make you a present.”

It sounded nice, but Annabeth knew when she wasn’t really wanted, and so she demurred, citing a need for some solo downtime.

She hasn’t heard from Thalia in, like, four days, which meant she had probably gotten a short-term gig. (“You’re lucky, she’s had Jason paying for her phone the whole time you’ve known her. Before that, she was almost impossible to get ahold of.”) Piper would take her out to dinner tomorrow, “just because.” But they would both know it wasn’t true.

So, to refresh and relax after a long, harrowing day of socializing, Annabeth goes home.

Or at least to her apartment.

It doesn’t have a doorman, or the views, or the room, like Nico’s place. Nor does it have any of the people, the energy, the joy. Her furniture doesn’t fill it up. The most appetizing thing in her kitchen are the granola bars Percy had made the week before, or maybe the brownies he made four days ago. She sets her to-go bag of cake and croissants down next to them, a smorgasboard of Percy’s culinary prowess.

Despite the long hours, her clothes still smell a little like last night’s bar, and her skin has a faint patina of dried sex sweat, and smudged makeup.

She doesn’t want to start leaving things at Percy’s place--don’t want him to get the wrong idea--but she also occasionally needs to be able to touch up her eyeliner. She’s either going to have to find a bag that isn’t embarrassing to carry, or surreptitiously shove some eyeliner and lipstick next to the condoms in Percy’s nightstand next time they have a sleepover. Or raid Nico’s bathroom.

Regardless, she needs a wash something bad.

As she scrubs down, she does her best to focus on the lemon scent of her body wash, and not Percy’s perfect form, dripping with water. She tries to visualize her last trip to Sephora, not blowing him under the hot water.

It doesn’t really work, so she gets herself clean and gets herself off and considers just spending the rest of the day naked, in case the mood strikes her again. But it's only 5PM, and she doesn’t have Percy to cook her some dinner tonight, so she sucks it up and puts on some pants.

When she had visited Boston for work a couple of months back, Alex had insisted on taking her shopping, complaining that her sister and her friend Mallory didn’t understand Versace quite like Annabeth did, and that Blitz sucked all the fun out of fashion, anyway. Then, she had bullied Annabeth into buying a set of sweats, claiming it was because of the Grecian patterns, but probably because she thought Annabeth in that much purple would be funny.

But eventually, she had wheedled, cajoled, and threatened Annabeth into buying a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. After deciding to forgo a bra, because that is just one more area she has always fallen short in, she shoves on a School of Architecture underneath them. The crimson clashes terribly with the lavender and seafoam, but she kind of likes it. Piper would call it “artfully nauseating,” or something.

Besides, no one is going to see her but her delivery guy. And if someone did see her, someone like Thalia or Percy, well, the clashing colors would be the least of her worries.

She is folded into her couch, wedged into the corner, very much not looking up Paris Ballet clips from the past few years, trying to spot Percy in the background, when there is a knock on her door.

Not for the first time, she curses her lack of doorman--and then frowns. Who even knows where she lives?

Piper and Leo? Magnus and Alex?

Has she already ordered food and just forgotten?

Is memory loss a side effect of a SK-II mask no one had warned her about?

Tentatively, she creeps towards the door, opening it slowly. If this were a horror movie, the door would creak open, revealing the villain cast in the shadows of the hallway, holding his weapon of choice.

She sighs.

The man is only a few inches taller than her, and dressed impeccably in a t-shirt and jeans that probably cost half a year of her rent-- a big critique coming from her, since she wears a month of her own rent as sweats. His blond hair is impeccably combed, his tennis shoes impeccably white, and his smile the most charming thing you can find this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Happy birthday, girly,” he says, giving her an awkward, one-armed hug, trying to avoid getting any of her facemask on his shirt.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's your birthday,” he reminds her, holding up the bag. “I told you I’d stop by last week.”

Had he? Maybe, and she’d just been too drunk or hung over to really process it. But maybe he’d also meant to, and then failed to follow through. Luke has a bit of a nasty habit of treating his intentions as the same as his actions. His intentions are good, usually, but it means that he often ignored the actual actions. Like how his intention was to support his mother in the best nursing home in the northeast, but his action was to work with Saturn, a very shady hedge fund, to facilitate it. Or how his intention was to have someone at a stuffy party to talk to, but his action was dressing up Annabeth as his arm candy because none of Piper’s models would call him back anymore. He hasn’t asked her to do that since, like, February though, thankfully.

“Sorry,” Annabeth says. “I just… you know I don’t like my birthday.”

He also has a bit of a habit of ignoring her distaste in a really blatant way.

He’s a little like Percy that way, actually.

She’d only ever told Luke about her birthday back in those embarrassing freshman days, when she’d thought he looked as good on paper as any Harvard MBA student possibly could, with a devastating smile to match. She’d been so convinced that he would be the right boyfriend that might finally get her mother’s approval, and she figured that her future husband should know her birthday.

“Come in,” she says, reaching for the bag, but he shakes his head and brushes past her, dumping his black back on the coffee table. Graciously, he doesn’t look at her as he starts to empty out its contents, giving her an opportunity to dart back to her bathroom and peel off her facemask. Luke would forgive designer sweats, but they aren't at the “just chilling in a facemask” level of a relationship.

When she returns, there is a small assembly line arranged on her coffee table: a stack of paper plates, a carton of Haagen Daas, forks and spoons, and a Milk Bar cake, all wrapped in its box.

“Is Milk Bar still the ‘it’ thing?” she asks. “With locations all over the country, I figured it would be passé by now.”

“I know it’s your favorite,” Luke says. “I don’t always have to choose the most popular thing.”

Milk Bar had been her favorite, that is true, right up until she’d started fucking Percy Jackson, and eating his food.

“Thanks,” she says, cutting herself a slice, and scooping herself some ice cream.

“That’s all you’re going to get?” he asks, cutting himself a sliver.

“I have had so much cake today,” she says. Milk Bar really isn’t as good as Percy's, but it reminds her of birthdays in high school, waiting for her mother to visit, sneaking out when she inevitably didn’t, convincing the local bad boy to buy her some alcohol. She eats it, eagerly.

Luke’s jaw drops. “You had a birthday cake? By choice? On your birthday?”

She shakes her head, swallowing. “No, I was at a party with some friends. They didn’t even know it was my birthday,” Until she had stupidly revealed it. Whatever. She just has to make sure he’s been excised from her life by this time next year. And maybe freeze some of his baked goods beforehand.

Luke doesn’t let her go through with her evening plans, which consisted basically of watching Legally Blonde for the gazillionth time while she slurped down some pierogies, but he capitulates to Roman Holiday , helping her put away the leftover cake and ice cream. “Thanks,” she says, when the movie was done. “I’m glad you came over. “

No one ever comes over. Thalia is her best friend, but Thalia would have questions about how she could afford the place, Piper never understood why she’d moved out here at all, and Percy… Percy was irrelevant. There is no reason for him to come here.

“I always like to see my best girl.” He smiles at her, charming and rogueish.

“If all those models you keep trying to date know that your best girl is an architect who lives in Brooklyn who you actually feed, that’s probably why they don’t want to date you back.”

Luke laughs, leaning over and knocking his shoulder against her own. “None of those girls could hold a candle to you.”

“God, you must be a terrible boyfriend.”

“Probably,” he agrees, sitting up and stretching, before reaching back to the bag he brought the cake in. “After all, you are the one I bring all the nice presents. But I think I’m a pretty good friend.”

He takes out a box, burnt orange, a black ribbon wrapped around it, because Luke is nothing if not predictable.

Annabeth sighs internally, quietly reminding herself that money is how Luke shows his love. And that she is wearing Versace sweats.

“Herm é s,” she says, pulling off the ribbon. “This box looks too small for a Birkin.”

“Do you want a Birkin?” he asks. “I can get you a Birkin.”

“I probably don’t need a Birkin,” she admits. Though maybe it would be nice to have one in her closet, if her mom ever calls her up for lunch again. She could show up with a Birkin and an eyebrow ring. Sweet revenge.

Luke waves a hand. “It doesn't matter if you need one, just if you want one.”

Inside the box is a scarf, the silk soft and smooth between her fingers, a pleasing gradient of oranges and reds and pinks and corals. When she unfolds it, laying it out before her, she finds a sharp, geometric design, columns stacked together like skyscrapers. Luke obviously had her in mind when he picked it out.

“Thanks,” she says. It’s pretty--perfect for an ambitious young architect with two degrees from Harvard who had moved to New York City with an offer from one of the best architecture firms in the world. And Annabeth has no idea where she could possibly want or need to wear it.

“Hey,” Luke says, suddenly soft, “don’t cry.”

Shocked, she reaches her hand up to her face. It’s wet.

Luke is probably the only person she will let herself cry in front of. She’d spent three years doing that in college. He’d seen her through heartbreak and hangovers, guiding her through it all like an aloof big brother.

“I’m okay,” she hiccups, wiping her nose.

He hands her a napkin.

Annabeth blows her nose, wet and gross. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m alright.”

“You sure?” He sounds sincere, but she catches him glancing down at his wrist.

“Do you have a date?”

“I…” At least he has the decency to look sheepish. “Just some guys at work. You can come, if you want.”

It could be fun. Hanging out with Luke can be fun. Get a little lit, take a business bro home, screw his brains out, send him on his way. But there’s an unspoken dress code to these things, and Annabeth just doesn’t wear Louboutins anymore. And the idea of fucking a business bro just… doesn’t hold any appeal right now.

“No thanks,” she nods, using the clean edge of the napkin to wipe her eyes. “I am going to watch The Search For Elle Woods , and you're going to strike out with some models, and everyone is going to be happy.”

“You really are so mean to me.” Luke complains, as she walks him to the door, before giving her another hug. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I am.” She is different and new, but Luke is still her friend. She had survived. It would be okay.

“Well, call me if you need something.” He kisses her cheek, sweetly, without any heat. Perfectly platonic. “I love you very much. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” she says, “I’ll see you around.”

“Always.” And he is gone.

She folds the scarf, going to put it in the dresser in her room, shoving it among a handful of accessories, gathering dust. She realizes, with a start, that she’s left a week’s worth of clothes all over her room on the way to the shower, and, with a sigh of adulthood, and the knowledge that if she doesn’t follow the ADHD gods and pick them up now, they’ll be there for weeks, languishing on her floor and stinking up the place, she goes to at least move them into her hamper. She rifles through ripped jeans and band t-shirts and black socks as she goes, checking each for anything like discarded change or a bus pass she doesn’t want to wash.

She shakes out the pants she’d worn out the night before, and therefore the entire day until she’d gotten home. There is a rather unfortunate stain on the knee that she can’t quite parse--ketchup? Chocolate?

Then she reaches into the pockets, touching metal, and she suddenly remembers her other birthday present for the day.

Pulling out the pin, she feels strange, hot in the face, funny in the belly, tossing the jeans haphazardly in with the dirty laundry. It's small and shiny, cheap metal for mass market production, and yet, she walks it over to the dresser, laying it down on the silk scarf like it's the diamond broach her aunt gave her for her sixteenth birthday.

She really is beyond Hermès scarves now. But that pin? Well, you never really can get more Annabeth--the middle school know-it-all, teenage debutante, college perfectionist, New York yuppy, or barfly and punk princess--than one of the greatest architectural achievements in human history.

She is still a little shocked by how much she loves it. How much it means to her that Percy saw that it was perfect for her.

And like so many times when she is confronted with an emotion she doesn’t like, she slams the door closed, and goes and watches a favorite movie from high school.

She does order dinner, eventually, setting out her meal in between texting Piper about brunch tomorrow. It's a whole thing, pretending that they’re not going out for her birthday, but eventually they agree on a time and a place, and she can eat her sausage and watch everyone practice the Bend and Snap in peace.

So she is very annoyed when her phone buzzes again.

Maybe the reservation fell through. Or maybe she doesn’t want Annabeth to show up in ripped fishnets, even though that only happened once.

Her stomach sinks when she checks her phone. It isn’t Piper.

Hello Dear, Happy Birthday. We miss you. Please call anytime. Love Dad, Mary, and the boys.

Below the text is a link, leading to a gift certificate for $200 to Sephora, which has Mary’s name written all over it. Aunt Natalie would have suggested Bergdorf Goodman.

Her hand clenches, momentarily overcome with the urge to hurl her phone against the wall. But there is no one around, so there wouldn’t be any point to it.

She stabs at a pierogi with a chopstick, and watches the girls dance on screen, humming along.

She passes out on the couch after midnight.

Her mother never called.

#my fic #darkmagyk #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #ballet au #slightly douchey big brother luke castellan ftw!!!!!

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knifefather · 3 years

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KnifeFather’s Kinktober 2020, 18+ NSFW ➼ Day 18: Anal play or coercion ➼ Pairing: Goth!Bruno Bucciarati ➼ Word count: 2.1k ➼ Reader is AFAB and female pronouns are used. ➼ This is part one of two. ➼ Also available on Ao3. ➼ Warning: Both the reader and Bruno are intoxicated during this fic. If drinking or recreational drug use is not your jam, please be cautious while reading this.

You attend a concert and meet the perfect stranger.

The feeling of alcohol stinging the back of your throat distracted you as best as it could from your anxiety. The club was loaded--many other people dressed in the same black clothing as you stood about, talking amongst themselves while they waited for the band to begin their set. Your friend, Narancia, was busy chatting up a girl that he had met on the way into the joint. She was petite with bright pink hair, and her sizeable, poofy black skirt bunched up around her like a cloud. You sat on the other side of him, shooting back the second shot you ordered. Or was it the third?

You were never good at these kinds of things. Even though you were surrounded by like-minded people, you could never get past that incredible hump of social anxiety. You were kinda lost without Narancia and found yourself sticking close to him when you went to shows. The club began to grow smoky pretty quickly. The stench of weed filled your nostrils, and your head began to swim.

Suddenly, you heard the place erupt in noise, whoops and hollers coming from near the stage. The two girls performing came on to set up their equipment, and already they were getting a positive reaction. The lead singer strummed her guitar, testing out the speaker. At least the music was about to begin and that would give you something to focus on. You looked over at Narancia, and he was still busy talking with the girl. Interestedly, the girl wriggled a finger under one of the black leather straps that Narancia wore on his chest. She smiled at him and tugged on it flirtatiously, her blood-red lipstick making her wolfish smile all the more predatory. He began to blush, sputtering at the attention. He was definitely going to get laid tonight. You figured you would leave him to it.

You rose from your seat and decided to start making your way towards the stage as well. The girls introduced their band and thanked the audience for attending. Most of the clubbers were near the stage now. You looked around, taking in the crowd. A few people looked interesting and you thought about going up to talk to them, but the feeling of anxiety in your gut held you in place. As you checked out the group of people, your eyes fell on possibly the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His chin-length dark hair blended into the background, admittedly, and his equally dark outfit fitted his body wonderfully. He was talking to another man, tall and with long silver hair. They were mostly keeping to themselves, making chitchat while the music started. As you gazed at them, the man looked over in your direction, noticing your gaze. You quickly snapped your eyes away, trying to act like you weren’t looking. You were thankful when the drummer began playing the opening notes. You tossed a gaze over your shoulder, hoping to see Narancia close by, but you couldn’t see his dark purple hair anywhere. Great. You swallowed thickly and paid attention to the display on stage.

They began to play the next one. The instrumentals went much harder than the last song, and a pit began to open up behind you. You were too skittish for mosh pits, so you quickly ducked out of the way of the other concert-goers. As you moved away, you felt your back collide with someone, hard. You whipped around to apologize, only to see it was the casanova you were checking out only moments before. His painted black lips tugged into a smile while you apologized to him over the loud music.

“You’re fine,” he insisted.

“What?” you asked, the floor and stage vibrating from the sounds around you.

“I said, ‘you’re fine’,” the stranger said again, ducking down to your level and speaking a little louder. Still, you had no idea what he fucking said.

“I’m so sorry, but I have no idea--” you began, yelling over the music. Carefully, he grabbed your arm and ushered you away from the edge of the pit. It was becoming intense as they switched to another fast-paced song, the lead singer still screaming with gusto. As he led you out of the crowd, it was already noticeably quieter. You didn’t see his tall friend anywhere near. “I said,” he began, chuckling, “‘you’re fine’.”

“Thanks. You are too,” you responded without thinking. When you realized what you said, you quickly looked away from him. Did you really just do that? The man’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He looked you over, taking in your appearance. His eyes lingered a bit too long before he looked back up into your eyes. His blue ones were hypnotizing--they made you feel oddly special. They were a bit hazy, just like yours.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n. You?”

“Bruno. Y/n, would you perhaps like to come back to my place after the show?” he asked. Just then, the lead vocalist announced they were going to slow down the set. A soft, lachrymose guitar settled over the club. The singer was singing sweetly now, the steady beat of the drum syncing up with your heartbeat.

“Yes,” you answered, again without thinking. You shouldn’t--you should stay at the club with Narancia. But you had no clue where he was, and he was probably getting some. Why shouldn’t you do the same? Besides, you’d text him after a while to let him know where you were. “Do you… wanna leave now?” you asked boldly, giving him a sly smile.

“Let me tell my friend that I’m leaving,” he said before politely excusing himself to disappear into the crowd. You were alone again, hanging on the outskirts of the crowd. You smelled the skunky stench of marijuana again, and suddenly a joint was being passed to you from another stranger, a woman in a cloak with large, blocky brows. You accepted the joint and took a toke for bravery before passing it to the person next to you. It wasn’t long before Bruno was back at your side, guiding you out of the club with a hand on the small of your back. The sound of the new song playing disappeared into the background.

The night was quiet, yet clear, the streetlights illuminating more than the club did. You had a better look at Bruno under the light. Your interesting new partner was tall, with a muscular but slender built. The brilliant color of his irises stood out even more under the streetlights. You were astounded at how lucky you had gotten. Bruno was beginning to lead you away from the club, down the sidewalk.

“I live near here, so I figured we could walk a bit,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of down the street. You told him that was fine, and you both disappeared from the outside of the club. “I’m not exactly sober, so I wouldn’t want to chance driving." "I'm in the same boat as you," you replied. The slanted lights elongated both of your shadows, making your dark forms look all the more threatening. Bruno’s shirt jingled softly as he walked along, the zippers and chains shifting. You narrowed your eyes to his legs and saw more, along with form-fitting pants that you observed for longer than necessary. He began to make conversation with you, learning more about who you were and where you came from. He was native to Napoli and you were not, so he gave you many pointers about the city and what kinds of places to eat at. Specifically, one restaurant that he claimed had the best food in the city, Libeccio. He was full of knowledge about Napoli and tips on how to live in it. You had been living there for a few years and knew everything that he was telling you, but you enjoyed hearing him speak, so you didn't interrupt.

You realized how intoxicated you were when you arrived at Bruno’s place and there were steps. The platforms that you wore wearing didn’t help you either, and you struggled to climb them straight. You felt Bruno’s arms curl around your waist, and even though he was fucked up too, he still helped you. You did better than you would have on your own, so you allowed it.

When you entered his apartment, you were greeted by a grand window overlooking the rest of the city. You weren’t surprised to find that his place was decorated according to his fashion tastes. Most of his furniture was black leather with appropriate matching tables, as well as minimalistic decor mimicking an almost Victorian aesthetic. What fascinated you the most was the large collection of records that Bruno proudly displayed in his living room. The collection was contained in about three large shelves, all several inches taller than you, and all full. You then observed a small stack of records sitting on the edge of the coffee table nearby.

“I need to get another shelf. I’m running out of space,” he said, his tone a bit bashful. “You can choose some for us to listen to.” You nearly felt honored being allowed to touch his music collection. While you looked over the shelves, you realized there were several different genres contained on them, including older jazz like Miles Davis. You were relieved to be with someone that had an open ear. Days of Future Passed by The Moody Blues called out to you, so you grabbed that one and tucked it under your arm.

“So, tell me about you. You haven’t really said much about yourself,” you said without looking at him. You were busy choosing between two albums now. Bruno raised a pierced brow before responding.

“Is there anything in particular you would like to know?”

You gave a nervous chuckle before choosing The Gold Experience by Prince. “Just mostly making sure you’re not gonna murder me or something,” you said, half-joking. He was quiet for a moment, and you looked over to see his expression. He gave you a dismissive look before replying.

“I don’t want to murder you, I promise. I don’t think it would be within either of our interests,” he said, the corners of his plump, black lips pulling up in a smile. “I’m trying to make you feel good, not hurt you,” he whispered beside you, and you felt your shoulders tense. His little comment caught you off guard, and soon, you felt your stomach flutter pleasantly. You looked over at him, and he gazed back, giving you an interested, heavy-lidded look. “Unless you enjoy a little pain?” he asked, looking you up and down like he did at the club. He was closer than you remembered him being.

“Maybe I do,” you teased, setting down the records, forgetting all about them. The truth be told, you were kinky in a lot more ways than just being a masochist. “Would you like to find out?” you invited, folding your hands behind your back coquettishly. Bruno drew closer to you, pulling your hips into his grasp. When he looked down at you, his long black hair framed his face, his jaw appearing perfectly chiseled. The dark makeup he wore around his eyes made the man's gaze pop. His pupils dilated as he looked down at you.

“I would,” he responded simply, before leaning in and capturing your lips in his. Your lips--no, your whole face --tingled as the man moved his mouth over yours, smacking softly in the room. You moaned into the kiss and fisted your hands in his sweater, pulling him as close as he could be. The exchange was hot as Bruno’s warm lips slotted against yours. His kiss was hungry, yet respectful, and you could tell he was holding back on you. To get a reaction out of him, you slid your hands down his sides and to his waistline. You began to fiddle with his belt-buckle, but he caught your hands in his.

He pulled away from the kiss and gave you a pointed look. “Not yet… I want to have my fun with you first, dolcezza,” he said. He gave you a few more kisses and gazed down at you, his forehead pressed against yours. “I want this to last a while,” he spoke softly, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. All you could do was nod and gaze back at him, your voice failing you. Still holding your hands, he guided you away from the shelves and down the hall to his bedroom. The rest of his home was decorated in the same style as the living room. The exciting adrenaline pumping through you made your vision blur, like you were caught in a whirlwind but perfectly fine with it.

#bruno bucciarati #jjba #not sfw #day 19 part 1 #my work #backup #kinktober entry #tw substance use #tw alcohol #tw marijuana

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bi-naesala · 3 years

Text

The one in which Anakin arrives early

It must be a miracle, but for once in his life, Anakin Skywalker isn't late to school, which grants him the occasion to go looking for a certain pair of people...

(Part of the SW Modern AU)

For once in his life, Anakin isn’t late.

It’s weird for him to arrive at the same time as Obi-Wan, since that asshole of his brother never waits for him because getting late would ruin his pristine record or some other bullshit he’d make up on the spot, but here they are now. He doesn’t even have the excuse that he’s going to meet with his upperclassmen friends, since they’ve all graduated now and are beginning college; Anakin supposes some habits die hard, even when there’s not a reason to keep them anymore.

Wow, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen so many people at the entrance. It must be because, since he’s always late, everybody’s entered already, unlike this time, when all the students are still outside, waiting for the bell to ring and the doors to open, allowing them inside.

“Ugh, how long are we gonna wait yet?”

Anakin turns his head to his left, and he notices the person who just talked: it’s Ahsoka, his little sister! Well, she’s not exactly his sister, but she might as well be since they practically grew up together in the neighbourhood, though Anakin supposes he’d have to fight Plo - his adoptive brother - if he ever tried to say it out loud, since Plo prides himself in being her brother a lot.

She’s talking to one of classmates, Barris Oifee. They’re actually girlfriends, having gotten together only recently, but very few people know, and Anakin of course is one of these people - he helped Ahsoka build enough confidence to ask her out after all!

Since they’re trying to keep this recent development under wraps, at least for this initial stage, they’re not acting on that sweet sweet pda they could get otherwise, so Anakin figures he can go interrupt them.

It’s not hard to sneak up behind Ahsoka, and Barriss is too taken by what she’s saying to notice him, so he can freely poke her in the ribs, making her squeak - and Barriss chuckle.

“Who-- Skyguy! You ass!”

“Language, Snips.”

They still keep calling each other with those dumb nicknames they have given each other as kids, but what can they say? It’s their thing.

Ahsoka huffs, slapping his arm. Ouch, it hurts.

At least after that outburst, she seems to calm down.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Uh… going to school?” Anakin replies, perplexed. What is he supposed to say?

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

“I meant at this hour, you dummy. Did Obi-Wan drag you out of the bed?”

“Ah. Ah. Very funny,” Anakin says, face completely void of any emotion, then he begins to look around, “I was actually looking for a certain pair of beauties…”

“Well, good luck then,” Ahsoka laughs, noticing that Anakin’s eager to leave, “See ya after school?”

“Of course. Bye Ahsoka! Bye Barriss!”

“Bye Skyguy!”

“Y-Yeah, bye…”

The more Anakin looks around, the more people he knows he spots, especially Fetts.

They’re known as a huge family, and Anakin swear they make up at least one third of the school. They could take over it easily if they actually wanted to - that would be fun to watch, thinking about it.

Here there are Hardcase, excitedly gesturing at their older brothers Dogma and Tup. Anakin remembers being excited as well when he was on his first year of school; it will die down, though considering how Hardcase is, maybe it won’t be the case; Anakin really hopes it isn’t.

Wow, it’s been a while since Anakin has seen Tup. Man, he’s gotten taller! Also hey, is he growing out his hair? Nice! He was thinking about doing the same, actually, but he’s still isn’t convinced entirely, even though he’s had many people say that it would certainly be better than the hairstyle he’s sporting now - that’s not true, there’s nothing wrong with how his hair is now they’re just jealous.

Dogma looks like he wants to die. He has on his face the same expression Anakin has seen Obi-Wan wear when he was up to his usual shenanigans. His little brother’s instincts can’t help but to act out at that, and Anakin silently cheers on Hardcase. Yes, keep annoying your brother.

Here there are Fives and Echo, the twins - at this point Anakin has renounced trying to understand their names, or any Fett name by the way. They’re hanging on their own, but they’re clearly planning something, maybe a new prank against the hated math professor Pong Krell? Anakin hopes so; nobody likes that guy.

On the other hand, however, he hopes it isn’t, if anything because he has helped them on a few pranks already and he’s always had a blast; he doesn’t want to be excluded from what looks like is going to be a good time. At least he hopes they’ll eventually come to him if they’re actually planning something.

Usually it’s Fives the one who comes up with the ideas and logistics. No matter how crazy the plan may sound, they always manage to pull it off. Echo is more of a damage control kind of guy, misdirecting the attention from him and his sibling and making up alibis for them. He may seem like the less innocent of the two, but it’s all a façade.

Anakin would love to stop and chat with them, if anything to tell them to count him in if they need to wreck some shit, but he’s looking for other people already and he doesn’t want to waste too much time finding them.

Here there are Waxer and Boil, classmates of Fives and Echo and another pair of twins - so many twins in this family - talking about something with Cody. Cody’s the one Anakin’s more familiar with, since he hangs out with the same group as he does.

He’s paying attention to his cousins, but it’s all gone when he notices Obi-Wan by the door, and all his attention turns towards him as he stares at him with such a pitiful stare that makes Anakin want to vomit.

He can’t believe he and his brother aren’t together anymore, they were such a cute couple!

Some things just don’t work out it seems, though Anakin would love it if they got their shit together - which they don’t, no matter how much it may look like it. How weird is it that he of all people thinks that about them?

At least they’ve remained friends, even though this makes things awkward sometimes but oh well, it’s not Anakin’s place to tell that story, not to say that he’s also quite tired of it if he has to be honest. One day he’s gonna butt their heads together and who knows, maybe things will change for the better.

Anakin shakes his head. He should get a move on.

As he walks to the back of the school, he begins to step in the “bad kids” territory, the one where you find those who always get in trouble.

The first one he meets here is Asaj Ventress, chilling on her own listening to that goth music she likes so much; Anakin could never stomach it.

Her presence in Anakin’s group is weird; if she wasn’t an old friend of Obi-Wan - though she’ll get offended if you call them friends - she wouldn’t even bother with them, and sometimes Anakin can’t help but to wish that was the case.

The worrying thing is that Ahsoka has begun looking up to her - something about being an “experienced gay” and something else about “girl power” - and Anakin’s starting to get worried, not wanting Ahsoka to be ruined by her. Not that Anakin himself is such a better influence, but whatever.

Knowing that Ventress would hate him even more if he interrupts her alone time, he doesn’t bother greeting her.

As he goes on, he’s surprised to find Jesse, of all people, there, though he looks like he’s walking away towards the main gate again. Jesse is another Fett, and Anakin’s classmate - along with Jesse’s twin Kix.

“Oh hey! Jesse!”

“Anakin!” Jesse greets him. They do a handshake and kiss each other on the cheeks. “Nice seeing you up and about already. Looking for Rex?” Rex being another Fett, Cody’s twin.

“Yup,” Anakin replies, popping up the p. “And what are you doing here?”

Jesse shrugs.

“Had to ask Wolffe a thing for Kix. He would’ve come himself, but you know how he hates the smell of smoke.”

“Yeah, I know,” Anakin replies. Yes, given how badly it smells in here, poor Kix wouldn’t have survived.

“Well, gotta report back now. See ya in class!”

“Later Jesse!”

Of the cluster of people Anakin meets next, he recognizes Wolffe. He too is a Fett, and Cody and Rex’s twin. Yes, their mother had a triplet, poor woman.

He’s smoking a cigarette with the rest of his class, the 5C. See, that class is infamous because it’s full of heathens: if something bad happens, you can be assured that at least someone from 5C is involved.

He also sees Hondo Onaka, the resident weed dealer, Cad Bane, a guy that has been charged for felony a couple of times already and… Maul Oppress.

Now, Anakin doesn’t know the whole story since he came into the neighbourhood late, when his mother and Obi-Wan’s father begun to see each other, but basically the Oppress family used to live in the same neighbourhood as theirs, and Maul and Obi-Wan were even best friends. Then… something happened and Maul lost their legs, having to replace them with prosthetics.

They blame Obi-Wan for it, or at least he used to: as of late his hatred for him seems to have died down a bit. Maybe it’s because he’s living with his mother and brothers again instead than with his father - yes, his parents divorced - but Anakin doesn’t know. Given that his father is professor Palpatine, it could be. Lord knows how messed up that dude is - and they still haven’t thrown him out. Anakin shivers as he remembers how much he tried to get closer to him during his second year. Gross.

Anakin hopes Maul will get his act together one day, because if they try shit with Obi-Wan he’ll punch his teeth, and he’ll do so with his prosthetic arm, so it’ll hurt more.

He’d like to say hi, since Wolffe’s in there, but given the other people who are present, he passes them without a hint of acknowledgement.

When he finally arrives to the spot under the fire escape stairs, he finally sees the people he’s been looking for.

Padmé, his girlfriend, and Rex, his boyfriend. Anakin still doesn’t know how he managed to score the prettiest people in the entire school - ok that Rex has twins, but he’s way prettier than them anyway.

Padmé’s the first one to notice him, and a big smile appears on her face as she waves at him.

“Ani!”

Anakin runs at her, picking her up in his arms and twirling her around, only to then give her a quick kiss on the lips.

He immediately hears a cough and he turns towards an amused Rex, who’s pointing at himself.

“What? Nothing for me?”

Anakin chuckles and drags him into a kiss by the scruff of his shirt.

“Hi Rex.”

“Hi Anakin.”

“What are you doing so early here?” Padmé asks, making Anakin groan.

“Not you too!”

“I mean, can you blame me?” she points out. Well, she’s not wrong…

“Anyway,” he deflects, raising his eyebrow suggestively, “What were you two doing?”

“Little Missy over there was telling me that she won’t be available after school,” Rex provides.

Anakin’s face falls immediately. “What? Why?”

“Me and Satine have a meeting to figure out our course of action during our next school council,” she replies, “I’m sorry guys.”

“It’s chill,” Rex shrugs, understanding that as class president she has duties towards the school.

Anakin… understands a little less. He knows it’s not nice to think that way, but if he could he’d have Padmé and Rex all for himself, without sharing them.

Still, in the end he can only sigh in defeat, even though the frown he was sporting soon becomes a smile as he exposes a plan that is immediately approved by the others.

“Well, since it’s still too early for the bell to ring, might as well make up for lost time in advance.”

Maybe he should put some effort and get to school early every day. If he gets to spend some good times with his partners, it’s definitely worth it.

#sw #tcw #anidalarex #too many people to tag i'll tag only the main ones #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #padmé amidala #captain rex #my fics #mine #sw modern au

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thewolfisapartofmysoul · 4 years

Text

Hey lovelies,

I gotcha a Beetlejuice x reader this time. All the garden-flufffffffff. Hope you enjoy. 💜

Thistles

You smiled fondly at your favorite ghost as he watched your every movement intently, is eyes lit up every time you mumbled softly at the plant before you. Beetlejuice sat next to you, his legs crossed and from the corner of your eye, you noticed more pink streaks popping up between the bright green locks.

It was a warm summer, and you loved being outdoors. Beej didn't particularly love gardening.... but he certainly loved you. He loved watching his favorite breather do someting. Anyting. But especially watching you doing things you enjoyed, admiring you made his hair go pink in a record time.

"Hey babes...?" Beetlejuice mumbled, as you carefully covered the young plant in your hands with some earth.

"Hmmmm?" you hummed in response.

"...whyyyyy... exaclty... do you talk to the plants?" Beej asked you with genuine curiosity.

You chucked at his question. Once you were done with the plant you sweetly whispered to it: "Better grow good for me buddy... you can do it."

You had to hold back a scoff when you saw Beetlejuice shiver unexpectedly at the sound of your cooing voice beside you. Boy... was he sensitive...

You wiped your dirty hands at the coat you were wearing. It was his striped long jacket. He gave it to you to garden in it, it was way too big for you... but the earthy smell of fresh rain clinged to it. It smelled like him, and you found yourself wearing it all the time actually. It just... felt... nice? Beej declared: "You look way too hot in it to not wear it all the time".... You felt like he was near you when you wore it. Which... obviously... he literally was clinging at you, any chance he got. But you loved to have your clingy ghost around.

After you wiped your hands you took his hand into yours, squeezed it a little and smirked at him: "Awh.... somebody betting jalous Beej?"

He coffed and tried to look offended but you noticed the blush that was creeping up his face. And if you missed that delicate clue,

his now hot-pink hair was less subtle to miss.

You felt the incredible strong urge to kiss his stubble in that exact moment, he was just so...vurnable.

You leaned down towards him and soflty brushed your lips against his in a sweet innocent kiss. When you pulled back you heared him whimper a bit at the loss of contact, and you had to chuckle softly at his antics.

You beamed a happy smile his way and chirped: "Everyting grows faster with the right amount of love..." You pecked him on his scruffy cheek and scratched his head a bit. Beetlejuice leaned into your hand and as you massaged his head you heard him purr softly at your touch. You mumbled: "... doesnt it Beej?"

He responded with another purr, and with that you gently brought your attention back to your plants. He sighed and grumpily whined at you: "Babessssss...."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't supress a smile seeping through your face as you replied: "...yeah, what's it dear?"

He really acted like a 5 year old sometimes.

Tugging your sleeve to get your attention he asked with a dramatic flourish: "What's your favorite flower doll? Of alllllll these?" Big hand gestures followed his scentence.

You scratched your chin while you poundered about that question. Getting your chin full of black dirt in the process, Beetlejuice softly snorted at your actions. You were too into your head to notice though. 'He would tell you... Maybe... later. Even when your face was smeared with dirt you was angelic...' he decided.

"Well... uhm... That must be... the lavender." You spoke thoughtfully as you looked at the ghost besides you.

You saw him frowning a bit, he was clearly in doubt about something. You reached out to his knee, and you delicately brushed it with your dirty hands. The gesture to calm him down seemed to work, as his features became less troubled he murmered: "... Hey babes... which... which ones are those? Can you show me?"

You smiled at him and nodded yes.

Beetlejuice already jumped up and was bouncing up and down in excitement, he reached out to pull you up from the place where you were sitting. You smiled widely at a very excited bouncing beetlejuice and took a hold of his hands.

With one swift movement he pulled you on your feet and you blushed as his strong arms caught you as you fell flush against him. Your nose was inches apart from his when you felt him snaking an arm around your waist to pull you even closer to him and heard him hum contently. He booped his nose against yours and purred in a serious tone: "Lavender you said, doll?"

You pecked his lips softly, nodded, took his hand and skipped to were you held your lavender.

"Tadaaaaaah!" You chuckled. "This... sweet sweet Beej... is laveder." You gestured grandly towards were your favorite pland grew. "Go one baby... smell it! It smells so gooooood." You tugged him towards the flowers with a demanding pull on his suspenders. Beetlejuice sniffed the flowers, almost like a dog would snif it too. With very short breaths and sniffs he pulled back and exclaimed: "I like it doll... it smells a bit like... ehm..."

He pushed his nose in the flowers again, sniffing loudly as he did so. With a low growl he pulled back, took a hold of your (or his old) striped coat and pulled you towards him. His nose attacked your neck before you could protest and your breath hitched as you felt his stubble brush against your neck.

Beetlejuice sniffed deeply, inhaling your scent and a low growl escaped his throath again. He pulled back abrubtly, moaning and mumbling under his breath as he did so:

"Smells so nice. It smells just like you babes."

It was a good thing he held onto your coat that tightly, because your knees were like jelly. Your neck was a soft spot, and this combined with his low voice had you riled up in seconds. The smug look on Beetlejuice's face showed exaclty how well he knew all that. You looked at him and murmered: "You... are... a true demon you... Also you're right, i use lavender in my soap."

He winked at you, and released his grip on your coat a bit as he spoke: "Ya betcha, doll."

You stood on your tiptoes and reached out to ruffle his hair, with a playfull giggle. He gripped your wrist and pulled you towards him again, so he could properly kiss you. Between kisses you asked him: "Hey Beej... what's your favorite flower?"

He chuckled deeply, stroking your cheek and said: "Besides you...? I dont know. Let me check..."

He let his gaze wander around the garden for a little while and after a little while you saw his eyes lit up a bit. He snapped his fingers and you were left in a cloud of green smoke for a second. You blinked once... twice... and just when you were about to call his name you were startled by a loud scream behind you.

"BOO!!"

You squeeked in fright and jumped at the loud sound behind you. Immediately Beetlejuice started laughing hysterically and you slowly turned around, catching your breath again when you did so.

You were about to give him a lecture about not scaring his girlfriend (again) but the corners of your mouth moved upwards as you took in the sight before you.

Beetlejuice was floating on his side, in a semi-wannabe-sexy-pose... with a thistle between his teeth. A freaking thistle. Smiling at you seductively, with a very smug look on his face.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

This man... this demon... certainly had readed way too many romans in his undead life.

Once you stopped lauging he turned around mid air, twirling a circle in the air until he hang upside down above you. He placed the thistle in your hair, carefull not to sting you in the process, and placed a kiss on the top of your head as he shouted unexpectedly: "CATCH!!"

You held your arms out in shock and he dramatically fell into them. A proud smile creeping up his face as he adored you, while lounging in your arms. Dramatically laughing he cheered: "My hero! Thanks for catching sweet-cheeks..."

You snorted and rolled your eyes in annoyance. It was a good thing he was a ghost and therefore was as light as a feather.

He snapped his fingers, dissapearing into green smoke again but this time he appeared behind you. Hugging you tight as his head leaned on your shoulder. You turned your head slightly and whispered in his ear: "... dissapear one more time and I'll let you sleep outside tonight..."

He snuggled closer towards you, kissed your cheek and growled softly: "Okay... i get it doll... i just... really like thistles...?" You smiled at that.

You squeeled loudly when Beetlejuie unexpectedly licked your chin.

"Beej!! Whatthehell?!"

He tickled your sides and chuckled at the high pitched scream he got out of you. He growled in your ear: "You had some dirt on your chin babes... But you are all clean now..."

That demon was gonna be the death of you once. Your knees were once again all jelly. He snapped his fingers and with a smirk against your neck he handed you a thistle "... to make it up?" Beetlejuice softly purred.

Right then you decided that you would never call thistles weed, ever in your life again. They were your new favorite bouquet, together with the lavender.

"Hey Beej.... I know another way you could make up to me..." You mumbled seductively against his scruff.

This time he snapped his fingers again, and the green smoke took you both out of the garden.

Tagging: @paxenera @heknowshisherbs @hoodoo12 @large-unit @little-miss-shy-goth @thats-specific @vicunaburger @ironmansuucks @h1de-s0urce @go-commander-kim @stranger-strings @bugdrinkss

#beetlejuice imagine #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice/reader #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice #beetlejuice broadway #alex brightman #bouncy oddball #myownfic

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hurtcomfortetc · 5 years

Note

I was thinking the apocalypse timeline, if that's okay! :) and omg thank you for sending me your fic, I'm so amped to read it!

Original Prompt - vaguely--

“since you’re looking for TUA prompts” how about Klaus with pneumonia? the others keep joking about how he needs to quite smoking and shit (and telling him to stop whining when he says he’s not good to go with them on some kind of wild adventure”

Okay, so this was a fun one to write! Hope this was in the realm of what you were looking for! :)

MONDAY(28 days sober)

Klauscan hear the distant sound of glass shattering and what might be abookshelf falling down. The sound surprises him, and he sits up soabruptly that he gives himself a head rush, and a splash of watersluices over onto the tile floor. He sits there, listening for yellsof anguish or gunfire. All he hears for the next minute is the faintcongestion in his breath.

“Vanya-it's okay – look we don't have to stop for today-”

Adoor slams.

Klausrelaxes.

Heslides his head back under water and goes back to wondering if thisis the normal congestion he's had on and off since his cocaine phasein 2012, or if he's just getting sick.

Thenhe starts craving cocaine again.

Hedebates, for the hundredth time maybe, if Sober Klaus still smokesweed.

“Klaus,you better not have fallen asleep in there!”

TUESDAY(29 days sober)

Klauscreaks open his eyes to a blinding light and a grating voice comingfrom the other side of his door. His eyes manage to come to a focuson his clock. 1:30. Klaus is faintly pleased. It's much easier tostay sober when you're unconscious for most of the day. And he's soclose to actually deserving that thirty day chip.

Thebanging doesn't stop.

“Klaus!It's your turn with Five and Vanya today – please get your ass downhere so he'll get off my ass?” Diego calls, and continues bangingon the door.

Fiveis relentless, Klaus muses. He proceeds to remain unmoving on hisbed.

“Yougonna keep moping in here forever?” Ben asks from somewhere in thecorning of the room.

Klauslets out a loud groan that he draws out for almost twenty seconds.Ben covers his ears after ten, but Klaus has to stop and let out ashort cough before he can make it to a grand finale. Gross.

“Seriously?”Ben asks. Klaus peels himself off his bed and does a quick smell testof his underarms.

“Shhhh-I need to focus on finding a clean shirt so I can go make sure Vanyadoesn't end up murdering my second least favorite brother,” Klaussays. His voice comes out rough. Ben, for his part, looks appeased.

WEDNESDAY(30 days sober)

It'sbeen a good day. He completed an entire arm wrestling match with atangible Ben (turns out that that in death Ben must have somehowdeveloped killer bicep muscles, but no one needs to know how thatparticular match ended) and, invigorated by his sobriety milestone,Klaus dragged himself out of bed before noon and made eggs foreveryone (they burned remarkably quickly, but Allison did eat a pieceof toast he buttered so overall a win).

Butnow it's almost dinner time, and all he can do is lay bonelessly onthe couch and listen to his siblings bicker over one of Luther's“mandatory debriefs.”

“Theday of the apocalypse is over, can't we all stop treating Vanya likea ticking time bomb?” Allison demands.

“Yousaw what she almost did to Diego a couple of days ago, we can't stopworking on this,” Luther fires back.

“Guys,I'm right here, can you just stop,” Vanya adds. There's an awkwardsilence.

“Istill don't know if the math is right, everyone. Look, the best guessis to keep trying at -”

Therest of the conversation is lost to Klaus, who feels something inhimself snap. He hastily lights a cigarette. His siblings cyclicalnonsense arguments give him a craving for nicotine that simply willnot be ignored. He takes a long drag and then feels something catchnauseatingly in the back of his throat. He sits up and coughs untilsomething slimy seems to dislodge.

Hegoes to try another inhale when he sees that everyone is looking athim. He thumps his chest for dramatic effect.

“Smokingkills, kids,” he announces, and waves a finger at his siblings,accosting. Diego rolls his eyes.

“Keepthat up and you're gonna get an iron lung before you're forty,”Diego says.

“Andwhat a thrill that would be,” Klaus retorts. The bickering carrieson after that, and he spends the rest of it tuning out his siblingsand attempting valiantly not to cough.

Hedrags his way out of the room during a longer pause. In the doorway,Allison grabs his arm and slaps something into his palm. It lookslike a bandaid, and Klaus' brain cannot produce what it is.

“Nicotinepatch. I thought you were cleaning up. It might help,” Allisonsays.

“I'llhave to change my shirt. This beige will clash hideously,” Klausreplies.

“Iordered Chinese for tonight– come down later?” Allison asks himas he continues out.

Hethrows a grateful wave behind him.

Hespends the rest of the night alternately chain smoking and hackinguntil his chest is sore.

THURSDAY(31 days sober)

Today,Klaus starts to wonder distantly if there is something wrong with hisimmune system. This cold just doesn't want to go away.

It'sa nice distraction, he supposes.

FRIDAY(32 days sober)

Klaushas just completed almost entirely turning over his room in order tofind the one sketch pad that he'd stashed away years ago. He used toget high and doodle bats and shit during his goth phase. “Get ahobby” was something they tell you a lot in rehab.

Ithelps that, honestly, Klaus has no energy to do anything but scribbleabsently today. The mere act of searching through his closet justleft him with a racing heart and feeling out of breath. It isactually nice, in a way. The lethargy makes it very easy to settleinto a blanket puddle on the floor with and feel content to scratchout nonsense pictures with a pencil.

Benisn't anywhere to be seen for some reason, and Klaus actually feelslonely.

Ashadow appears looming over him. He looks up to see Five leaning inhis doorway.

“Getup. We're going on a field trip,” Five announces.

“Pass,”Klaus groans.

“Notasking. What, you'd rather laze around here all day?”

Klausdraws his blanket closer around him by way of answer.

Fivegrits his teeth and looks away. His foot is honest-to-god tapping.

“Getup. We need your help. We're gonna let Vanya loose today, and we needall hands on deck,” Five finally explains. Klaus sits up and giveshim an incredulous look.

“DidVanya okay this?” He asks. Five looks at Klaus like he's a cat thathe's trying to coax out of a bush.

“Ofcourse.” Klaus wonders why he bothered asking, his answer trulydoesn't inspire confidence.

“Andhow do you expect me to be of any use?” Klaus asks. On any otherday, he would bask in any remote bit of confidence in his ability,but today the concept of standing up for more than a minute is makinghim dizzy.

“Iseem to recall that you can summon Ben's ghost from the dead, amongothers. Dead people are great collateral if something goes sideways,”Five says.

“Um,great idea, but here's the thing – I can't -ahem- get it up all thetime. Apparently it's more common among mediums than you might think– one in ten!” Klaus says, praying that Five will drop it. Fivelooks at him like he's contemplating murder.

“Look,do you want me to get Luther to come persuade you?” Five threatens.

Klausraises his hands in surrender.

“Uncle,uncle! Christ, let's just get this over with,” he sighs. On the wayout, he grabs his most obnoxious faux fur jacket, partially as a lamegesture of rebellion and partially because he's utterly freezing.

“That'sthe spirit,” Five mutters, and leads the way.

----------

Fiveglanced into the rearview mirror of the car. With Luther crammed intothe passenger seat the atmosphere already feels oppressive enough,but a glimpse into the backseat reveals Vanya nervously perched inthe middle seat, Diego sitting cross-armed and surly on the right,and Klaus completely passed out on the left. The car is packed andradiating nervous energy.

Five eases the car down the bumpy dirt path, the final sign that theyare clear away from civilization. That creep Leonard really had theright idea about a remote cabin in the woods. Plenty of isolation andtrees to practice on. So lacking in human contact is this particularcabin that the unkept foliage lining the path creeps towards theroad, untamed and leaning. The cabin itself is barely a thread awayfrom losing any structural integrity. The windows have maybe threeunbroken panes of glass between them. It's perfect.

Fivebrakes violently, and winces when Klaus' forehead makes a audiblewhack on the window as he smacks himself out of his nap. Not the mostgraceful awakening, but effective. He wants everyone alert.

“Alrighteverybody. Follow me,” he says. He steps out of the car and towardsthe back of the cabin, where he has prepared a paper target on a treeabout fifty feet from the small clearing. It's visible, but wellsurrounded by other trees.

“Diego,wanna demo?” Five asks. Diego furrows his brow, but never turns upan opportunity to throw something sharp. He takes one look at themark and pegs the center ring with a hasty flick of his wrist.

“Doyou expect me to do that? That's not exactly in my wheelhouse, Five,”says Vanya, squinting at the target and looking like she'd rather beanywhere than here.

Fivetakes a handful of loose bullets out of his pocket, and places themon a tree stump.

“Woah,”interjects Luther, “we're not expecting Vanya to have to shootpeople-”

“Ofcourse not,” Five grits out. He expected this, but it doesn't makeit any less tiresome. “This is just an exercise in precision andcontrol.” Vanya looks at him, wary, but she picks up one of thelittle silver ovals and turns it around in her fingertips.

---

Ittakes the better part of an hour before Vanya manages to drill a holedirectly into the target. It's a bit left of center, but by thatpoint, Diego and Luther have finally relaxed an inch of tension outof their shoulders. Vanya is a quick study, and actually pulls asmile when the little tap of the bullet making contact sounds throughthe forest.

Klaus,for his part, has been lounging like the Queen of Sheba on a softpile of pine needles. His eyes seem out of focus, but he claps whenVanya succeeds.

“Whooooo,you show that tree who's boss,” he calls. Vanya smiles again. Fivewonders if Klaus might have been more of a liability than anything,considering how spacey he seems for all his apparent sobriety, but ifanything it makes Vanya more relaxed when he yells out some stupidline of encouragement than if it had just been Tweedledee andTweedledum trading constipated looks and flinching every time a twigsnapped.

Fiveis contemplating dragging one more round out of Vanya when Klaus sitsup suddenly at attention.

“Woah,Vanya that's kind of creepy,” Klaus says, looking at something inthe distance. Five walks over to Klaus as he stands up, clearlyalarmed. There are goosebumps running down his arms.

“Whatare you talking about, Klaus?” Five asks, quietly. He doesn't wanta scene.

“Theway she's moving the branches of the trees like that. They're gettingall twisty. I mean it's tasteful but definitely a touch odd, wouldn'tyou say?” Five doesn't know why he looks over to see what Klaus istalking about, but he does. There isn't so much as a light breezerustling the branches.

Suddenly,Five realizes what must be going on and he's furious.

“Jesus,Klaus what are you playing at? Whatever you're tripping on is notworth risking this entire training session,” Five spits. Diegoperks up at that.

“Ithought you were going sober, man,” he says, looking at themsearchingly. Klaus, pale and sweating, does not look like thatbenchmark for clean living.

Klausdoesn't seem to notice, and continues looking at the forest, eyesfollowing something unseen.

“Unbelievable,”Five turns away, taking ten paces and breathing through his nose.

“Klaus,it's okay – I'm not doing anything,” Vanya says. She walkshesitantly towards Klaus, eyes wide and sympathetic.

“Leaveit, Vanya,” Luther cautions. Vanya reaches out a hand on Klaus'sforearm, to try to get his attention. Klaus clears his throatthickly, and coughs a bit into his fist.

“Don'tworry, Vanya- I like it, very pretty,” he says. Vanya's eyes widen.

“Guys,his skin's on fire,” she says. “Klaus, are you okay?” Shereaches a hand up his cheek, which is also burning. He doesn'tanswer, just shivers convulsively.

“Couldit be an overdose?” Luther strides over to them. Diego stiffens.

“Doesn'tseem like it to me,” Diego says. “Doesn't present the way itusually does with whatever garbage he's on.” Five's mind feelsblank.

“I'llstart the car. We have to get him out of here,” he says.

“Ithink he's just sick,” Vanya says. “He's been sounding reallyrough all week, hasn't he?”

“Shit,”says Diego. He moves to pull gently at Klaus' arm to lead him to thecar. Five takes the lead and starts for the front of the cabin.

“Wow,you can make the ground all spinny. That's a cool trick,” Klaustells Vanya. At that, Diego loops one of Klaus's arms around hisshoulder, and they start to haltingly follow after Five.

“Let'sgo, Klaus,” he says. As they make a shaky path towards the car,Five throws the passenger door open for them to slide in. They do,and it's now imminently obvious just how out of it Klaus is. Hemanages to maneuver into the passenger seat shakily, and immediatelyburies his head in his hands.

Fivewastes no time turning on the ignition and sloppily reversing thecar. He narrowly avoids bottoming out in a muddy patch. The car digsout and he slams on the acceleration as quickly as the dirt path willallow.

“Doesanyone have any water or anything?” Luther asks, and Five isdecently impressed that it's actually not a bad idea. There isrustling from the backseat as they all turn over the car searchingfor any provisions that will last them the entire ride back towardscivilization.

“Here,”Vanya finds a water bottle strewn somewhere beneath the seatcushions.

“That'sfor you,” Diego passes it to Klaus, who removes one eye from behindhis hand to look at it like it's a bomb. “I swear to god, Klaus,just take it,” Diego warns. Klaus extends a shaking hand andaccepts it. He takes a tentative sip, and then grimaces. That setshim off, coughing deeply. For each second he continues seeminglyhacking up a lung, Five's foot presses deeper into the acceleration.When he finally stops, Five meets eyes with Diego in the rearviewmirror. Diego looks panicked, and that's not a look Five is used toseeing.

“Jesus,Klaus, where's that stupid ass coat of yours?” Diego asks. “You'reshaking like a leaf.”

“Igrabbed it,” says Vanya.

“Wait-maybe we should try to keep him cool? Right?” Luther interjects.

“Idon't know- do I look like I went to fucking medical school?” Diegoasks, shooting a murderous look at Luther.

“Damn,how long has he been like this sick?” Luther asks no one inparticular.

“Ugh,right here,” Klaus says, breathlessly. “You should ask Ben, he'dknow.”

Diegothrows up his hands.

“Helpful!”

Suddenly,the car lights up a bright blue and Ben appears crammed betweenLuther and Five, crouched awkwardly on the dashboard.

Five,thrown for a loop, swerves the wheel and almost careens off the road.

“Woah-Five, get it together!” Luther calls. Ben grabs the wheel and pullsthem back on into their lane just in time to avoid hitting a tree.

“Nice,thanks,” Five breaths.

“Ben,”Luther said, dumbstruck.

“Toanswer your question, he's been out of it for a couple of days. Ithink that's why he couldn't see me anymore,” Ben says. Lutherseems unable to process the information, his mouth still gaping open.Ben rolls his eyes.

“I'mjust saying, please can you find some kind of medical professional?Like, ASAP?”

“Nooooo,”Klaus murmers through his hands.

“Klaus,”say Five, Luther and Diego almost simultaneously, all in some variouscombination of desperate frustration and warning.

Vanyareaches over and put a hand on his knee.

“Ithink what they mean is that it's not a debate. You're going to see adoctor.”

60 notes · View notes

motherfucker-somewhat-limited · 5 years

Note

1: Name

Sarah

2: Age

3: Fears

Everything, I have anxiety

4: 3 things I love

Dogs, weird movies, sunsets over water

5: 4 turns on

Long hair, facial piercings, good sense of humor, back muscles

6: 4 turns off

Poor hygiene, rude to service workers, adults who are still obsessed with Disney to the point where they make it a personality trait, Trump supporters (or the equivalent in other countries)

7: My best friend

@wanderingwondererofthings

8: Sexual orientation

Bi? I think? IDK not straight tho

9: My best first date

I’ve only ever been on one date in my life and the dude ghosted me afterward which turned out to be a blessing bc it was not a good time in my life to try to start a relationship

10: How tall am I

5′2″

11: What do I miss

Mental stability

12: What time were I born

3:45 am or thereabouts

13: Favourite color

black

14: Do I have a crush

celebrity crushes but I don’t really count those

15: Favourite quote

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

16: Favourite place

bundled up under a heap of blankets by myself in a dark room with good snacks and a good book/movie

17: Favourite food

chocolate

18: Do I use sarcasm

do i

19: What am I listening to right now

my housemate doing laundry

20: First thing I notice in new person

what they’re wearing

21: Shoe size

womens 7

22: Eye color

brown

23: Hair color

brown

24: Favourite style of clothing

love that goth shit

25: Ever done a prank call?

not that i can remember

26: Meaning behind my URL

adam darski’s true form

27: Favourite movie

Ink (2009) dir. jamin winans

28: Favourite song

UHHHHHHHHHHH

29: Favourite band

Eluveitie

30: How I feel right now

like shit lol

31: Someone I love

My friends

32: My current relationship status

single

33: My relationship with my parents

it’s good and i’m very grateful

34: Favourite holiday

the day after halloween when all the candy goes on sale

35: Tattoos and piercing I have

none

36: Tattoos and piercings I want

seriously considering getting my eyebrow pierced soon. if I ever cut my hair short i’ll pierce my ears

37: The reason I joined Tumblr

to follow an art blog that made amazing JTHM fan art

38: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

what ex

39: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

yeah from my mom

40: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

yeah it was my mom

41: When did I last hold hands?

yesterday with my grandma

42: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

takes me well over an hour to actually get up but then like 3o minutes tops

43: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

44: Where am I right now?

in my room

45: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

i’ve never been that drunk because i hate hangovers

46: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

reasonable level unless i’m at a concert

47: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

not anymore

48: Am I excited for anything?

sexy eggman is coming to san francisco

49: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

50: How often do I wear a fake smile?

basically whenever i have to talk to strangers

51: When was the last time I hugged someone?

yesterday

52: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

my mom is allowed to kiss other people it’s okay

53: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

i don’t think so?

54: What is something I disliked about today?

i’m tired of being tired

55: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

my soulmate

56: What do I think about most?

spirals of existential dread

57: What’s my strangest talent?

I have no talents lol

58: Do I have any strange phobias?

going down stairs. i’m fine going up them but going down them freaks me out

59: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

depends on my mood and whether or not i’m ugly that day

60: What was the last lie I told?

“I’m okay”

61: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

In person or don’t fucking talk to me

62: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

yes and yes

63: Do I believe in magic?

idk. i believe there’s things that happen that we can’t explain yet so maybe that’s magic

64: Do I believe in luck?

i believe in good chances

65: What’s the weather like right now?

dark

66: What was the last book I’ve read?

The Habitation of the Blessed by Catherynne Valente

67: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

yes as long as i don’t have a headache or stomachache

68: Do I have any nicknames?

just dumb shit my mom calls me

69: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

worst acute injury was the time i tripped onto an outdoor heater in kindergarten and burned the shit out of my hand. i also have a stress fracture in my spine that will never heal from gymnastics but that happened over a matter of years

70: Do I spend money or save it?

i try to save but i spend a little too much

71: Can I touch my nose with a tounge?

with a tongue? yes. with my tongue? no

72: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

my fluffy pillow

73: Favourite animal?

take a wild fucking guess

74: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

trying unsuccessfully to sleep

75: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

Columbus

76: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

That Time of the Month by Harley Poe

77: How can you win my heart?

be a dog

78: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

ceci n’est pas un corps

79: What is my favorite word?

sussuration or cathedral

80: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

this is the internet equivalent of the judgment of paris

81: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

eat the rich

82: Do I have any relatives in jail?

not currently

83: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

shapeshifting bitch

84: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

i’ll say anything on the internet i don’t give a shit

85: What is my current desktop picture?

86: Had sex?

87: Bought condoms?

88: Gotten pregnant?

89: Failed a class?

yeah, fuck ochem

90: Kissed a boy?

91: Kissed a girl?

92: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

93: Had job?

i’ve got one right now

94: Left the house without my wallet?

yeah lol

95: Bullied someone on the internet?

96: Had sex in public?

97: Played on a sports team?

i ran track for a couple years as a kid

98: Smoked weed?

yup

99: Did drugs?

100: Smoked cigarettes?

ew no

101: Drank alcohol?

yuppers

102: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

103: Been overweight?

104: Been underweight?

yes

105: Been to a wedding?

yes

106: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

only 5?

107: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

only 5??

108: Been outside my home country?

yes

109: Gotten my heart broken?

yes but not romantically

110: Been to a professional sports game?

many

111: Broken a bone?

nope

112: Cut myself?

not on purpose

113: Been to prom?

yeah and it sucked and i wish i hadn’t gone

114: Been in airplane?

yes

115: Fly by helicopter?

no but I want to

116: What concerts have I been to?

a multitude

117: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

yeah lol

118: Learned another language?

can I give this one a half a yes?

119: Wore make up?

yup

120: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

121: Had oral sex?

122: Dyed my hair?

yes

123: Voted in a presidential election?

yes

124: Rode in an ambulance?

125: Had a surgery?

do wisdom teeth count?

126: Met someone famous?

yup, holla atcha doug jones

127: Stalked someone on a social network?

no, i don’t care that much

128: Peed outside?

who hasn’t?

129: Been fishing?

130: Helped with charity?

i’ve donated some money

131: Been rejected by a crush?

yeah but a) I never actually asked him out, b) we were 12, and c) turns out he’s gay so like i’m not made about it

132: Broken a mirror?

133: What do I want for birthday?

a new laptop

134: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

why would i want kids

135: Was I named after anyone?

my great uncle and great grandmother

136: Do I like my handwriting?

i have no opinion on it

137: What was my favourite toy as a child?

legos or something similar you can build with

138: Favourite Tv Show?

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

139: Where do I want to live when older?

somewhere near the ocean

140: Play any musical instrument?

i wish

141: One of my scars, how did I get it?

i only have acne scars and those are pretty self-explanatory

142: Favourite pizza toping?

sausage, bell pepper, and onion

143: Am I afraid of the dark?

144: Am I afraid of heights?

sometimes

145: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

no, i’m a good girl

146: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end

yeah, FUCK OCHEM

147: What I’m really bad at

being a functioning human adult person

148: What my greatest achievments are

not killing myself in college

149: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me

idk man i get upset by everything even when it’s not mean

150: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

pay off my friends’ and family’s debts, set aside a big chunk of money for grad school, maybe get my own place depending on how much is left

151: What do I like about myself

i have nice hair

152: My closest Tumblr friend

idk

153: Something I fantasise about

what don’t i fantasize about

154: Any thoughts on the paranormal?

hey demons come and get y’all juice

#asks

6 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 5 years

Text

507

Name everyone you know who... is Jewish: I don’t think I know anyone who is. Do people I don’t know personally count? ‘Cause the first Jewish person I thought about was Colt Cabana lmfao. is Christian: 92% of this entire country. is Atheist: Me. JM is also atheist I think. is of another religion: I had a classmate in high school who I heard quietly converted to Buddhism, but I was never close with her so I don’t know if that is true, and if she still is. I haven’t seen her since we graduated. has brown eyes: My sister probably has the brownest eyes out of all of us, but it’s still quite a dark shade.

has blue eyes: I doubt there’s anyone in my circle with this eye color. has green eyes: CM Punk? LMAO has another colored eyes: Almost everyone I know has black eyes. is between the ages of zero and five: My youngest cousin is turning 6 in December, but until then, he is 5. is between the ages of six and ten: My cousin Sam is definitely in that age range, I’m just not so sure what the exact age is. is between the ages of eleven and fifteen: Gabie’s sister is 14, turning 15 this November. is between the ages of sixteen and twenty: My sister (18, turning 19), Gabie’s other sister (16), my old busmates Yanna (18) and Lex (17). is between the ages of twenty-one and thirty: Me and almost all of my friends. A bunch of us were born in 1998, making us 21 years old; a handful are 1-3 years older, like JM (22), Jum and Aya (23). is older than thirty: Other than my parents, my internship supervisor. Not sure how old she is but she’s definitely between 30-40. is a morning person: My mom. It drives me crazy when she wants to get soooo much stuff done within the day since I’m more of a night owl and like it’s just not my schedule lol. is a night person: Me, and just about everyone in UP. is employed: One of the more senior members in my org, Toby, has a job. is unemployed: Everyone else I go to college with. works at the same place as you: I don’t work yet. is single: Laurice. Although we’re counting on her to get a boyfriend before she graduates, so she still has around two years to go. :)) is in a relationship: Jo, who is seeing Aya. is engaged: I have a high school classmate who posted a status about her boyfriend proposing to her many months ago. She hasn’t said anything about it since then so I dunno if they broke it off or nah.

is married: Uh...my parents. is widowed/divorced: The mom of one of my childhood friends is widowed. Her husband died from cancer a few years ago when their daughter and I were in high school, if I remember right. is pregnant: My class adviser from senior year in high school. I know she’s in her 40s, so it was a really pleasant surprise when she announced her pregnancy. has kids: My dog, hahaha. has no kids: My friends in college. has brown hair: Agatha dyed her hair brown a while back. has blonde hair: Gabie had blonde tips until just recently. She had them cut off last week, so now she’s back to having black hair. has natural red hair: No one I know. has black hair: Aya. has their hair dyed an unnatural color: Everyone I know who has unnaturally-colored hair had it dyed, because Filipinos only have black hair unless they’re half-something. is good at singing: Hannah is a born superstar tbh. I know Ed and Laurice sing too. is good at dancing: Dianne. She’s a high school batchmate who was always the best dancer from our class. She’s a member of the Streetdance Club in my uni now. is good at drawing: Aya! She’s our go-to editorial cartoonist in the org. Angela too, and my sister. is good at painting: Gabie and her youngest sister. My sister’s really good too. She also has a classmate I follow on Twitter, and she’ll post her paintings from time to time, all of which are amazing. is good at acting: Gabie. She was president of the theatre club in high school. is good at writing: Me? Hahahaha gotta flex my own talent too :(( is good at guitar: Gabie’s younger sister. I swear those siblings have the most amazing set of talents. is good at piano: My cousin Luke has been playing the piano for as long as I can remember. His grandma (my great-aunt) also knows how to play and they have a grand piano in their house, so he must have picked it up from her. is good at drums: Denise, a classmate from high school. She was the drummer for my batch’s band. is good in another instrument: JM plays the violin. He’s still a rusty here and there, but can play a tune nonetheless. is athletic/sporty: Hans, Angela’s boyfriend. He plays basketball with his friends all the time. is into fitness and going to the gym: Gabie has a gym membership, but she’s not super obsessed with fitness. smokes cigarettes: Mik, an orgmate of mine. He has always extremely smelled like cigarettes the few times I’ve seen him and I honestly have to step away from him every time :/ smokes weed: I know Danika has had weed brownies. does shrooms: Not anyone I know in real life...I think. does other drugs: Can’t name anyone I know, buddy. drinks often: JM will have moods where he will buy a whole bottle of gin or whatever alcohol he’s feeling at the moment for himself and drink it all in his room, but he’s not an alcoholic hahahaha. doesn't drink: My eldest cousin from my mom’s side. His dad is a horrible alcoholic, so it’s understandable why he avoids it at all costs. doesn't do drugs [not even weed]: Me. is emo/goth/scene/alternative: I uhh...don’t know anyone who identifies as this since probably 2011 at the latest... is preppy/popular: KATE without a shadow of a damn doubt. doesn't fall in either of those stereotypes: Aya. has cats: My tita has multiple cats. It’s her business, but she also loves those cats to death and pampers them. has dogs: Gabie’s family has four dogs, but I only get to see Harley since the other three aren’t behaved all that well. JM has two dogs, Mika and Alley. has other animals: Michelle has a bird named Moonmoon, but I don’t know what kind of bird it is. A girl I used to be friends with in high school (she was from a different school) had a pet snake. has no pets: Jo. is vegan: @badsurveyshit! is vegetarian: Not sure if I know someone. Filipinos are obsessed with their meat. is on some other diet: The same tita with a bunch of cats is on a keto diet. has no diet/dietary restrictions: ME is lactose intolerant: Also me. But I still have milk and other dairy stuff because yum haha. has/had cancer: My great-aunt died from cancer. My old Filipino teacher had thyroid cancer, but she beat it. is bipolar: Edi, a friend of mine. is depressed: Me, I guess. plays videogames: My sister, my dad, my kuya, Gabie. loves to read: LAURICE. It’d be such a shame if I went with someone other than Laurice. got a GED: We don’t use that here. never graduated highschool: One of my friends’ mom. graduated college/got a degree: Both my parents, and all of my friends who graduated before me, e.g. Kate, Aya, Luisa, Jane. is or has been enrolled in beauty school: I don’t know anyone. makes YouTube videos: Ricel, my sister’s classmate from high school. She seems like such a sweet and nice person so when she started her channel a few weeks ago, I was more than happy to support her. is white: My uncle from New Zealand (unrelated; he married my mom’s cousin / my aunt). is black: I have a mutual friend from high school who’s half-black, half-brown. His dad, if I remember correctly, is from Nigeria. is Asian: Literally everyone I know!!!!!!!!!! is Hispanic: I don’t know anyone in real life but one of my favorite wrestlers, AJ, is Puerto Rican. is of another race: Everyone I follow on this Tumblr :)) is into photography: Reiven. likes rock: Rick, I think? The few times his earphones were blaring his music too loud it was always hard rock. likes metal: I dunno if I still know any metal fans nowadays. likes pop: Hannah. likes hiphop/rap/R&B: Hans. And all the other kids in uni who think they’re white. likes KPop: JM and Jum. likes country music: No one I know. likes jazz: Gabie and me. likes classical music: Sofie. When I was driving us to Batangas a few weeks ago for a beach getaway, she was in control of the car music and she briefly played stuff from her classical music playlist :(((( I was shookt at first but I liked the music anyway, so I didn’t tell her to change it. is a male: My dad. is a female: Me. is non-binary: Gabie’s editor from this website she’s a part of. is trans: Mac, from high school. He was formerly Maica, but he started going by Mac once he graduated. is straight: Laurice. is gay: Gabie. is bi: Patrice. lives on the eastern half of the USA: My Tito Rocky, who lives in New York. My Tito Raffy is also from New York. lives on the western half of the USA: Aubrey, Rielle, Norielle, Margeauxe. All originally from elementary/high school, but eventually migrated. lives in a different country: My Tita Pia and her husband, who is the one I listed under the “is white” portion of this survey. They live in Vietnam, but they used to live in New Zealand. is blind/visually impaired: I had a classmate from my History of Southeast Asia class who is legally blind. He has this device he puts on his eye to be able to read our professor’s slides. is deaf/hearing impaired: I don’t know anyone IRL. is in a wheelchair or disabled: One of my orgmates’ mom is in a wheelchair. is austitic/retarded/has learning disbilities: My Tita Bianca. is very thin: Aya. is overweight: Gabie is a few pounds overweight.

#survey #surveys

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onmywayrp-blog · 5 years

Photo

the hustler

also known as; the oaf, the loud mouth, the rebel, the miscreant.

taken by abby

pinterest board

aesthetic. dark hoodies, pool halls, sexual confidence, dirty sneakers, the smell of weed, unintelligible slang, rip off gucci slides, crop tops, same shirt - different day, miss opportunity, ‘professional’ lock picker, jack daniels, chuck taylors, beat up truck, handcuffs, plan b’s.

basic information.

full name. sage aspen walsh

age & birthday. 25 (november 19)

gender & pronouns. cismale. he/him.

orientations. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

face claim. noah centineo

personality.

traits. self assured, charming, resourceful, outspoken, creative, energetic, witty conceited, messy, crude, conniving, tricky, deceptive, and debauched.

likes. twizzlers, pro wrestling, pot, taco bell, graffiti, spending the day in bed, goth chicks, action movies, free food samples, Ray-Bans, wet t-shirt contests

dislikes. “healthy” food (after growing up on an all organic diet), commitment, documentaries, puppets, The Man, fancy restaurants, board games

hobbies. skateboarding, getting high, causing mayhem, protesting, getting laid

family.

parent 1. Dawn Walsh

parent 2. Matthew Walsh

siblings. Ember (older sister, age 28), Meadow (older sister, age 30), Coral (older sister, age 33)

connections.

the cornerstone (the rival); the hustler’s never really understood the cornerstone or their philosophies on life, but they still have a lot of respect for them - especially when it came to their athletic performance. still, despite their athletic rivalry there was a huge bond between the hustler and the cornerstone. they understood one another and had an unspoken bond. they’ve had plenty of fall outs, but somehow always manage to find a way to reconcile their difference for the good of the group.

the adventurer (ex bros); they prefer the term ride or dies, they’re partners in crime - sometimes literally - and it’s always been that way. ever since the hustler met the adventurer in freshman year they’ve been causing chaos wherever they go and when they’re around trouble is likely to follow. there was a massive fall out in the spring of senior year though, and no one’s been able to sort out what ripped these friends apart - a secret they’ve kept up until now.

the ingenue (friend by proxy); it sounds bad, but the hustler never really noticed the ingenue, they just seemed to blend into the background for the hustler and it wasn’t ever personal, they just found themselves more drawn to people who stood out. as the cornerstone’s sibling, of course the hustler always thought of the ingenue as a friend, but the hustler can’t even recall a time they’ve ever even spoken on on one.

the albatross (step sibling); when the albatross first met the hustler they were only twelve years old, and their parents had just started dating. they’ve always gotten along, so it made sense when they became step-siblings that the friendship blossomed. the albatross really is the only family the hustler has besides their parents and they’d protect each other fiercely in the face of everything.

the matriarch (unlikely friend); the matriarch and the hustler really don’t have much in common, and their personalities are very different, which was why their close bond was so surprised, even to them. they shared many late nights chatting about life and the future and were always extremely close throughout high school.

#*#hustler #closed

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girls-love-girls1200 · 6 years

Text

37. Seulgi x Reader •Bad Girl•

Tapping your fingers in a fast continuous motion on the large wooden library table, you silently prayed for inspiration to hit you, the daunting white page in front of you burning through your skull.

Essays, you hated them, don’t get me wrong you loved writing, and had a talent for it too, just not when you were given a theme and track to follow.

“Could you stop with the damn tapping?

The harsh voice scared the hell out of you, and once you realized whom it belonged to, your heart rate did not slow down, on the contrary, it sped up.

Kang Seulgi, also known as one of the most popular people at your school for some reason obscure to you.

You heard her name being whispered in the hallways every day, the same hallways that seemed to be cleared every time she passed and you found yourself squashed against a locker as the other kids parted for her like the Red sea.

Legend had it she had been kicked out of her last school for vandalism and sending one of her classmates to the hospital.

All you had seen her do was bite back at some teachers and stare at everybody that got in her way with a burning hate.

In your opinion she was like any other person in this high school except for your best friend, pretty annoying.

“If you ask nicely I will.”

Her dark eyes filled with surprise, you took notice of her grunge, goth look, heavy makeup on her face, even more noticeable as her eyes seemed to burn with indignation,

“How about you stop being a huge pain before I break your fingers and shove them up your...”

A loud shush interrupted her vulgar statement, the old librarian’s face bright red, hands on her waist.

“Get out of my library right now, the both of you!”

You huffed in annoyance before grabbing your stuff and sticking it in your bag hurriedly, you fixed your round framed glasses before turning towards the bother next to you,

“Thanks for this you vulgar little emo.”

Seulgi seemed ready to knock your front teeth out as you made your way out of the library, her eyes making their way to your jean clad cute little butt.

A strange feeling rising in the pit of her stomach as she watched you walk away, two questions swirling around her head,

who is this girl and how dare she?

Your next encounter was on a rainy Thursday morning, Seulgi had been wondering aimlessly down the hallways, not feeling the current algebra class. She turned a corner and almost ran straight into you,

“What, are you skipping or something?”

Seulgi’s arrogant voice already bothering you, “I’m actually hanging some school clubs announcements, you should think about joining them, do something with your life.”

Seulgi really had a good time teasing you, she loved how your cheeks turned a light shade of red whenever she spoke,

“And who gives you permission to do it during class hours?”

Your eyes rolled dramatically at her insistence,

“My mom is the vice principal, I do some favors for her, and she just lets me and my photography group alone.”

Seulgi scoffed at your answer, “Sounds a lot like nepotism to me.”

You turned around, skirt slightly rising at the sudden movement, Seulgi’s eyes lowering in an instant,

“Oh wow, such big words!”

Her eyes darkened as she took a step closer, trapping you between herself and the wall, your heart making a strange little tap dance in your chest.

“Don’t sound so surprised, a girl can be pretty and smart at the same time.”

There was barely any space between your faces when the bell rang suddenly, making you jump on the spot. It took a few seconds to register her words and for the offense to hit you, “I never said...”

Your words got muffled by the noisy stream of students flooding the hallways, you stood still, mouth agape and thoughts all over the place as Seulgi disappeared into the sea of teenagers.

On Friday the weather seemed to have worsened, leaving your photography group, you sprinted across the school parking lot, backpack hanging from your shoulder and protecting your new Leica M5 under the heavy parka you were wearing.

You were in a good mood, photography had been really fun today, and the rain always somehow made your mood brighten.

Unsurprisingly you struggled to open the door of your grandpa’s old car, a gift for your last birthday.

Once inside you sat for a few minutes, waiting for the old beast to warm up, listening to the rain outside falling incessantly.

As your eyes wondered at the the outside world they fell on a trembling figure just outside the main entrance.

From the dark clothing and smoke coming from her you could tell who it was in an instant.

As you slowly stopped the car right in front of her you rolled down the window, offering a warm smile, “Need a ride home?”

She seemed taken aback by your sudden friendliness, stubbornly shaking her head in a refusing manner, you couldn’t help but feel your heart warm as you took in her appearance with more attention than usual.

There she stood, shaking from the cold, cigarette in one hand and smuged mascara from the rain, pretty eyes staring right through you.

Not taking no for an answer you stretched over and opened the door for her,

“Stop being so stubborn and get in.”

Seulgi reluctantly flicked the cancer stick away, getting in your car she gave you a thankful smile, immediately nearing her hands to the heating vent.

“You can pick a cd, they’re all in the glove compartment, oh and it’s kind of...”

A loud laugh escaped her lips as a waterfall of cds and random stuff fell from the compartment as soon as it opened,

“Messy.”

She only laughed louder as your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“I live in Rosewood by the way.”

You tried not to give away your surprise at her words.

Rosewood was a gated community just outside of town, it was known for being the home of some of the richest families in the area, the elite.

You couldn’t hide your surprise though, when Seulgi picked one of your favorite R&B albums and the soft notes filled the car,

“What, did you think I only listened to heavy metal or something?”

Eyebrows lifting playfully, she hit your arm lightly, “I thought the vice principal would have taught her daughter not to judge a book by its cover.”

You loved how easy going Seulgi was acting at the moment, there was someone special behind the mean girl facade she put on every day at school,

“It was the cop actually that taught me that, my dad.”

Your chest tightened just a little as you thought about him, the girl next to seemed to sense you were uncomfortable with the subject so she immediately switched to how she was positive she had failed her algebra test earlier.

“You really should try a bit harder Seulgi, your parents must have paid a hell of a lot to get you accepted in december and I heard my mom talking about how the principle is really not happy about your attitude.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t really care.”

You scoffed at her words, “I know for a fact you do though, I’m not falling for this bad girl facade you have going on.”

Seulgi finally realized how different you were from any other kid at your school, somehow more mature, and absolutely beautiful.

“So, does the cop know you smoke weed?”

So she saw it.

The cheeky smile on her face indicating she had no problem with it calmed you down a little,

“Actually my dad passed away last year while on duty, but if you ever wanna smoke give me a ring and I’ll be there.”

The pretty girl sitting next to you couldn’t understand how you still had a smile on your face, she couldn’t even fathom losing her own father, even though they often fought, she absolutely loved him.

As you passed through the security gate you seemed to enter a world of privilege.

Lowering the windows and looking around, you felt extremely out of place, “Wow, this neighborhood even smells of rich people.”

Seulgi hit you in retaliation as she kept indicating where to turn until you reached this huge property, a perfectly mowed lawn with a path on the middle that led to a large white painted mansion, extra security guards stood at the beginning of the path eyeing your old vehicle suspiciously,

“Well, I’m not a fan of any type of guns, so I’ll just leave you here okay?”

Seulgi thanked you before stepping out of the car, and slamming the door shut.

You were watching her leave just to make sure she arrived safely when she turned around in a rush and ran back towards you, thinking she had forgot something you lowered the window, Seulgi took a few deep breaths before actually being able to talk to you,

“How about we meet up to study algebra on Saturday and then I take you out for dinner?”

Anxiety seemed to be painted on her face as she waited for an answer, it was actually nice seeing her so flustered,

“Is it a date?”

Your hopeful tone seemed to give her back her usual cockiness as she smirked at you,

“Absolutely Y/N.”

Eyes shining, she looked at you with the purest look on her face,

“I guess I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

#seulgi red velvet #seulgi #red velvet imagines #red velvet scenarios #red velvet #kpop trash #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop girl groups scenarios #wlw #wlw scenarios #gxg imagine #kpop idols #kpop blog #aus

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