#CUTE CUTE CUTE CUUUUUUTEE!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

petalurn · 7 years ago

Text

origins.

( @lesivres for jamie&hanna! rocker!au )

“come ooooonnnnn you know you guys need an extra.” for the third time in the past ten minutes, hanna rolls her eyes into the back of her head. far back, way way back so that she can see if jamie will show up soon and save her from this mess.

this is typical. typical as of the past couple of weeks, since they announced their intention to compete in the city’s battle of the bands. they being hanna ( who is currently dealing with hell in the form of words ) and her friend jamie, both a sophomore and freshmen in college respectively and trying to enter the battle of the bands as respectfully as possible. being the first all girl band ( well duo ) and underclassmen to try at the title is ballsy and they’re if anything, a little ballsy.

for the past few weeks people have tried to either psych them out or disrupt their flow in any way that they can. ask to be apart of their duo and make a trio and take the hype away from them. which really, they hadn’t planned on being an all-girl duo or that they would audition this year. really it’s not their fault that school dynamics prevented anyone else from having the guts to audition and take on the challenge. they just, felt up to it.

and they wouldn’t stand for anyone standing against them. in the way that they could both see through cheap tricks, like people asking to audition for their band without even knowing their name. people underestimating them and asking for a position with no talent at all. couldn’t tell a bass guitar from a regular guitar. it’d be funny if it weren’t so damn irritating.

“we don’t need an extra, we need a drummer.” which was more or less true, what is also true is that hanna has never been happier to see jamie than right now. she’d cling to her friend if she wasn’t too busy smiling smug and in this guy’s face. instead she reaches for a fry from her friend’s plate and pats the seat next to her.

“you girls aren’t gonna win.” is one of the ugly things people like him say when they’ve been had. jamie chooses to ignore him, shoving a fry into her mouth this time so hanna speaks up, chipped nails digging into her lip.

“not trying to win, just trying to play.” being in the battle of the bands meant official space to practice once they were proven legit. as of now they weren’t legit, just some girls trying to bash some instruments and make music. he leaves them at that and hanna pops out her book to show jamie all the melodies she got done during math.

“we do need a drummer though.” jamie says after a while. hanna shrugs after that, only smiles when jamie points out a melody they could use.

“what’d it say?” is all hanna gets out when jamie dumps another finished spray can by her foot. jamie gets little to nothing out in terms of a response, just wipes her hands in a dirty towel. and maybe, maybe she’s got more to hide this behind. this music thing. jamie’s got stacks of books with a future on her desk littered with song lyrics and notes. while hanna just hides behind musical lessons, shines everywhere during tutoring so her parents stay off her back.

maybe they’ve got too much invested in this to try and slack off. but prior to this hanna played so much she thought her fingers would fall off, jamie could barely keep her eyes open in class after new lyrics kept her up all night. the gut-wrenching kind that left hanna asking if she was okay when she trudged into the classroom. they don’t even have any classes together.

it was a band audition that drew their attention, hanna bringing her guitar and jamie bringing her own lyrics. it was the looks on the faces of those they performed for. jamie a little too powerful, hanna a little too wild. pouring all the technique and private practice into the only thing they knew. they bonded after failing the audition ( correction: walking out ) and bonded over ice cream and bands.

maybe, they should take some of this into consideration. their parents when they hear of this, jamie who keeps it more under wraps than hanna. hanna who wouldn’t lie if her parents asked, but they don’t. both of them who just let out in this space.

which is why the spray can has become a tradition. a little corner of a place off the street of hanna’s old tutor. concrete and closed off to where they can play to their heart’s content. where they held their first session and realized they weren’t too wild or powerful, people just couldn’t vibe with them. hanna with hair so wild it might get stuck in the flurry of her hands as she plays. jamie whose voice bounces back and hits her low in her throat when she strains too much and doesn’t know.

and the walls, decorated so easily with everything they don’t play or sing. an artist paradise, filled with all the things fresh adults can say. all the would be’s and the could be’s. they’d been found out so recently, people have come and put their own thoughts on the wall. their own premature hate.

so they blot it out. even if it takes all the spray they have, they blot it out.

like today.

where hanna doesn’t ask what it says just ties her hair up and tosses jamie a bottle of water because today will be a long one.

“we need a drummer.” is what jamie says after nice nights. nice where they don’t blister fingers or break voices. where they lay under on concrete and stare through cracks in the ceiling, holes in the walls. nice nights where they don’t think too much about who they owe and who thinks they owe them anything.

nice nights where the breeze cradles and they lay atop one another, hair tangled until it looks like one. hanna on her stomach and flipping through magazines and jamie staring up at the sky. dreaming, both of them.

“we need a name - ah! double trouble!” that gets hanna a smack on the butt, and has her legs kicking up and almost throwing jamie off her back. but she’s too comfortable and not too keen on moving.

“we need a drummer.” and hanna hears it. hears it like all the nice nights that it comes out. because playing easy doesn’t mean they think easy. and the stars are a comfort and a reminder. gets the brain thinking and wondering and then remembering. hanna hears the worry, desperation. to make this right, to get it right. maybe not win but close to it. maybe not a hit but a mark. a mark is all they need.

jamie worries and hanna picks up on it. she reaches back, handing the bottle of beer they’d been sharing.

“why don’t you pull out your keyboard skills.” “hanna----” “no look, we’ve got one at the house, does special effects. we can work with it until we figure the drummer thing out. that way, we have a backup.” “I don’t know how they work.” hanna turns around now, back on the concrete and jamie turns around with her, stomach flat against hers. hanna reassures with a wink that isn’t reassuring at all. but she gives it anyway. “got a guy.” “what kinda guy?” the natural tone is back, the questioning and the everyday one she takes with hanna. when she talks about her late nights skipping tutoring because she’s partying with her tutor. the tone jamie uses when she’s ready to hear a tale and tell hanna how wild she is. so hanna smiles, reaches for another sip and gets ready to tell her tale. maybe about that guy she stood up who didn’t get the message, or that English class TA who’s cute but is getting on her last nerve even though they’re the same age.

it’s an easy night they’ll figure the details out later.

“hanna no.” “hanna yes.” “hanna no.” “hanna yeeesssss.”

shopping is the fun part. shopping is the best part. because they can go in places they wouldn’t, play around in outfits they dream of. concepts that may or may not come true. giggle as they imitate the crowd yelling and cheering them on. attach songs to outfits and stages, stages, stages.

shopping is the dreaming.

and right now, hanna is dreaming of black skirts, shiny and above the knees and leather jackets. jamie holds up pink skirts with black plaid, and fluffy tops that have so much fur she’s sneezing. they’re different, but they get along well. as if similarities meant two people were instantly friends. jamie’s got a lot in common with her law classmates for instance: they’re studying law. but hanna doesn’t hang out with them. hanna’s got a lot in common with the guys who oil the cars at her dad’s company, she doesn’t hang out with them. similarities meant nothing.

which is why hanna isn’t fazed as they hold up the outfits and burst into laughter loud enough to get them checked up on.

“it’s cuuuuuutee.” “i refuse, this skirt looks good with your hair.” “okay but your body in this leather.” “hanna.” “jamie.”

some might say it’s hard to tell who’s the punk and who’s the pink out of them. jamie’s sweet and hanna’s sweet when she’s feeling sweet. jamie’s sweet with who she wants to be. hanna’s wild without regard and jamie’s wild with regard. jamie snaps when necessary and hanna might not snap at all, even if she normally would. they mesh well and don’t worry about details.

so it all works out when hanna slips the leather jacket above the plaid skirt and jamie’s got the pink fluffy to hell crop top and the black skirt. it works out too well that they’re dreaming again.

“annnnnd now,” and of course jamie’s the one with the invisible microphone in her hand, scream-whispering into air. “we have our challengers. standing five-three and five-four, from daegu representing. one brings the pink, one brings the punk, the double trouble gals, 2DT!”

and hanna is walking and swaying, laughing and going along until she hears the name.

“2DT?” “we’re not going with pinkpunk.” “you’re, a party pooper.” “and you’re the five-three in the relationship.”

shopping ends and dreaming stalls. stalls for all the lessons, all the times they can’t practice because jamie has cram sessions and mock trial. for all the time hanna has to attend shareholder meetings and attend extra tutoring. stalls for all the time they pretend they don’t have them.

until they’re back at their hideout and playing and playing until it bursts from their chest.

and it will. it has to.

and they won’t stop until it does.

#lesivres #{ specials: rocker!au }#{ drabble: hanna! }

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ericbrandonrp · 8 years ago

Note

Olivia x Eric!

Send me a ship and I’ll tell you@a-littlestarling || accepting

Which one tags the other in pictures of cute animals:

Olivia sends him pictures of cats and dogs all the time, always with the same text: “cuuuuuutee!!”.He just rolls his eyes

Which one injures themself while trying to impress the other:

Both! Though Eric is more prone to running into furniture and hurting himself than Olivia. She just laughs then instead of helping him.

Which one carries the other on their shoulders when they get too tired to walk:

Eric does. He’s too big and heavy for Olivia’s petite shoulders, she would break down under him. He throws her over his shoulders whenever she doesn’t want to walk anymore - mostly when drunk.

Which one puts pizza rolls in the shopping cart when the other isn’t looking:

Olivia. She and Emily fill the cart with a lot of stuff they don’t even need, and in the end Eric always pays twice as much as intended - though he isn’t entirely innocent there, either…

Which one sends the other useless fun facts at 3 am:

Eric annoys her with random shit, and every time Olivia’s phone buzzes, her heart skips a beat because she thinks he’s got hurt or something (I mean, who’s sending random text messages at 3am??). She’s paying him back when she’s out at work, though.

Which one feeds stray animals:

Olivia and Emily, and despite Eric’s desperate attempts, he never manages to drag his girls away from them and eventually gives up and just joins them. They all love animals, and have a dog themselves.

Which one sleeps in really weird positions:

Olivia. Definitely Olivia. He barely has any space left in the bed with her arms and legs spread out, and her hair in his face. She isn’t called The Kraken for nothing, after all.

Which one opens all the jars/bottles:

Eric. According to him, she’s too small and weak to open them, and he lets her hanging more than often just to see her cute angry face that she makes just before a jar of marmelade is thrown at him.

Which one spontaneously bursts into song for no reason:

Olivia does! And he loves it. She sings whenever she can - under the shower, when she’s brushing her or Emily’s hair. Eric often stands at the door just listening to her singing. She has a wonderful voice.

Which one buys the other really weird birthday cards:

They are both the master of weird birthday cards and presents. There’s not one year without anything ridiculous.

#littlcstarling #|| the asshole and the little brat

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