#also if you wanna hear a personal shame about this drawing. i colored in red as white gray AND black on this

[tridentrans]

our brave cringe loser

[alj4890]

I got an ask we know Riley gets kidnapped by Anton but what if Anton was in love with her and he didn’t wanna kill her but makes her his. What if Olivia killed Claudus for shooting drake.

I love the way you think, Nonny! I actually would have eaten this up with a spoon if that had happened in canon. To be honest, I really liked Justin in book 2. If he had been a new love interest, I would have done a play through just to see what happens if Riley chose him 🤦🏻 Of course then we find out he is behind all the bombings and such so...oops, LOL. When I first saw your request, I made an aesthetic with just Justin/Anton and Riley in mind. I completely forgot to add a definite OTP of mine, Drake and Olivia, to it. Smh. The story though will definitely include them along with Riley and Justin. I am so tempted to turn this into a series 🙊

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg  @amandablink @neotericthemis  @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms

Masterlist

True Intentions

It had happened when he had not been paying attention. It shouldn't have happened at all. He had one goal. One mission. Nothing had ever come to mean more to him than that. Nothing. No one.

Until Riley.

He knew he shouldn't have spent so much time with her. He shouldn't have helped Maxwell in picking the right dresses for her. He shouldn't have stuck around to see her come out of dressing rooms, an excited smile upon her face, as she twirled around for them to give their opinions.

It had taken all his will power to keep from telling her what he truly thought. Riley's beauty was simply stunning, not because of her outer loveliness, but more that he saw her inner beauty shining through each trial she faced. Her strength amazed him. Her wit brought a smile to his face. Her kindness touched his heart.

It made him begin to long for things he shouldn't. They shouldn't be a part of any dream or plan he had.

And yet...she was beginning to crop up in his thoughts. In his dreams.

In his plans.

He winced as he tried to get comfortable.

His plans hadn't exactly gone as he had hoped. In fact, he should have talked to his men and explained that Riley was not to be a target.

Thank God for Drake. If he hadn't jumped in front of her, she would have been taken from me.

His lips twisted in another painful grimace.

"Are you in pain?"

Justin looked up and tried to smile. "Just a little."

His nurse shook her head. "I told you to buzz before it got too bad." She gently checked his wound.

"I don't want to be a bother." He mumbled.

"You aren't." She patted his hand. "You aren't any trouble at all." Her nose wrinkled. "We had a few nobles cause unnecessary problems when the attack happened."

"Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "Some were knocked down during the chaos and demanded they be admitted."

He chuckled softly. "Sounds like something they would do."

"It's a shame that good people like you were seriously hurt while those spoiled nobles try and take all the attention." She readjusted his covers after administering some more pain medication in his IV. "I don't know why King Liam is so hellbent on bringing them back to court."

"What do you mean?" Justin tried to fight the effects of the pain medicine. "What's he doing?"

"He and Lady Riley are going on some type of tour to some of the major houses to personally invite them to their wedding."

His brow furrowed.

A unity tour. That would work on these small minded individuals. It was a smart move. The public were already Team Riam. Once the royal couple convinced the most powerful houses to come to their wedding, all the other minor lords and ladies would follow suit.

"Well played, Liam." Justin's eyes drooped closed. "Well played."

**************

He couldn't believe that they not only convinced Madeleine's entire family, but also somehow got all of Portavira on their side.

"What's the plan?" Claudius asked.

"We need something big to remind everyone that we aren't a one trick pony." Justin told him.

He looked out the window. Leaves were beginning to change with the first hints of autumn in the air.

A hint of a smile appeared as a plan began to form.

"It would be a shame if Cordonia's apple orchard had a bad year, wouldn't it?" He eyed his second in command.

Claudius chuckled. "It really would."

******************

Justin watched as every channel showed the devastation of the orchard near Applewood. He couldn't help but smile over Riley making the people love her even more for her righteous anger. Her promises to bring those responsible to justice along with making the orchard bigger than before made him nearly burst with pride.

She had grown into her role more so than he had ever imagined. Gone was the timid young waitress from New York who uttered no comment when reporters surrounded her. She was a confident woman now who could think on her feet.

Justin thought she was more attractive than the first time he had seen her floundering in front of the cameras, in desperate need of a hero. It hadn't been a bother to rush to her side then and put his arm around her. Her wide eyes had lifted to his and he had nearly melted from her beauty.

He still couldn't believe that she forgave Liam for choosing another over her. Granted Madeleine impressed him with how she could manipulate reporters into spinning a story to her advantage, but Riley was so many things that the cold countess was not. She deserved better than what she got.

And he planned on giving it to her.

*****************

A week after the orchard burning, he turned to see the one rarely far from his thoughts.

"Justin!" Riley rushed over to engulf him in a hug.

"How's my favorite media darling?" He asked.

She leaned back and gave him that smile that was brighter than flash bulbs. "Much better now that I know you're recovering." She playfully glanced about before whispering, "Save me from Madeleine!"

He laughed as he hugged her once more. "I don't know. I've seen her work and can't find fault with it."

Riley pouted. She linked her arm with his as they walked down the hospital hallway. "I prefer your guidance to hers." Her nose wrinkled. "It's weird being told how to act by Liam's former fiancée. I know there wasn't anything between them, but still."

Justin patted her hand. "Tell you what. If Madeleine is unable to do her job or you decide to fire her, then I will gladly step back into my old position." He dug around in his pocket for the earpiece she had used during Liam's engagement tour.

Her smile reappeared. "Old faithful."

"I'm always Just-in-time." He teased.

*****************

It had been too close. He hadn't expected Riley to go anywhere near Constantine. And there she was, by Liam's side, graciously accepting some necklace from the old man who had destroyed her initial happily ever after.

His heart had nearly stopped as he watched rubble fall around them. Riley had frozen in fear over Liam's safety. It was a nightmare come to life as pieces of the wall and ceiling began to collapse.

At least one good thing had come from this: one king was dead.

It sadly wasn't the king he needed to die.

Justin began to plan how he would comfort Riley once Liam was gone. He wouldn't have to tell her it was he, himself, who orchestrated his death. But he would make certain to enjoy the benefits of it.

His eyes narrowed over another slight problem he had.

He was going to have to kill his own wife too.

******************

Lythikos...

It had been almost too easy. Madeleine was already in need of a distraction after hearing Liam gush over how excited he was to marry Riley in a few weeks. Once she requested a fruity cocktail, he knew then that the poison could go undetected taste wise.

The bartender left to go replenish the champagne. Madeleine's irritation over having to wait on a refill was drawing attention.

"Here." He grinned at her. "Allow me to make you another."

Her eyes widened. "Aren't you that press secretary that helped Riley?"

"I am." He began to mix a strong cocktail for her while adding the poison, all right under her nose. "And I must say you are the best I've ever seen."

Madeleine's irritation disappeared over the compliment. "I am, aren't I?"

"Riley's lucky to have someone so knowledgeable in ways of both the court and public like you." He added.

"Yes, she is." Madeleine muttered. "I'll do anything for my country, even if it is a thankless job."

"You should be recognized for your sacrifice." Justin handed her the deadly drink.

"Yes, I should." She took a gulp.

"How is it?" He asked.

"It's the only good thing here." A tipsy grin appeared on her face when she saw Riley. She grasped Justin's hand and pulled him in her wake. "Let's go say, hi."

"Boooooo!" Madeleine giggled when Riley turned around. "It's the ghosts of press secretary past and present."

"The what now?" Riley lips trembled with suppressed laughter as she looked up at Justin for clarification.

"I'm the ghost of press secretary past." He winked at her.

"OoooOooo!" Madeleine swayed where she stood.

"Whoa, there." Riley tried to steady her. "You okay?"

"She's had a little too much." Justin mimed drinking.

"It's a party!" Madeleine slurred. "It's in the worst place ever but it's a party and I'm going to...going to..."

"Enjoy it?" Riley offered.

"Extractly!" Madeleine's brow wrinkled over that not being the right word. "Expactly?"

"Exactly." Justin corrected.

"That."

The crowd quieted around them when Olivia took the stage to offer a final toast of the evening to Liam and Riley's wedding.

"Woo!" Madeleine cheered.

Riley and Justin tried to shush her.

Her giddy smile fell as her rosy cheeks drained of color. "Somefing's not..."

"Madeleine?" Riley lost her grip on her when she swayed violently to the right. "What's--"

Madeleine hit a table, causing the plates to clatter and the vase of blood red roses to fall over.

"I hate this place." She collapsed on the floor.

"Madeleine!" Riley dropped to her knees and tried to bring her to. "Liam! Mara! Come quick!"

Justin stepped back as the two came to see what was wrong. He watched as Olivia made her way through the crowd to find out what the all the fuss was about.

"What's wrong with her?" Riley asked.

"She's been poisoned." Mara whispered.

*******************

Justin loved seeing the delighted surprise once more on Riley's face when he said he would take over Madeleine's duties for the rest of the tour. It would have been a perfect moment if Liam had not been standing there. He was ashamed to think of his nearly giving himself away when he panicked at the sight of Olivia walking in behind him.

He wished Lucretia would quit trying to push Olivia into going into the family vault. She had a sick sense of humor in wanting her niece to discover she was already married. For some reason, she did not approve of the way her niece depended on her friends for support.

Justin knew the power friends could have. Had he not been trained by his own parents' friends, he wouldn't be the worthy man next in line to the throne. His comradery with his own men inspired their loyalty and willingness to die to make him king.

He needed to distance himself from Lucretia the moment they got out of Lythikos.

****************

She was supposed to come alone! Why did she bring Riley? I can't kill her. I need her. I deserve to have a choice in the one I want ruling by my side. The people already adore her, much more so than they admire Olivia. I was supposed to become free of this marriage. Once she and Liam are dead, I'll be able to be king and have--

"Justin?" Riley's eyes were clouded with confusion as she looked first at a picture of him dressed in a royal uniform. "What is this?"

"I'm sorry, Riley." His voice cracked on her name.

Justin reached in his pocket and pulled out a revolver.

Lucretia cackled with glee as she told her niece the truth about her marriage.

Justin stood there silently as the woman he loved shook her head in denial.

She's so incredibly sweet to doubt a friend could be the bad guy. I hate that I can't pull her away from all this and simply explain why I should be the ruler of Cordonia. I deserve it. I worked for it. My entire life was made for me to take the crown. She would be able to understand that. Look how far she's come in her own life. Who could imagine a waitress from some dive bar in America would come to be the next queen of a small European nation?

"Do it already!" Lucretia hissed. "Shoot her!"

He couldn't do it. Even as he held the gun steady, pointed directly at the woman he loved's heart, he couldn't shoot Riley.

"Get away from her!" Liam ordered.

Justin spun around to see the king and guards filling up the narrow passageway.

"I thought you said this was secure." Justin snapped at Lucretia.

"It was." She held her hands up in surrender.

Justin watched as she stepped forward, pretending to stumble.

His eyes widened as once again his love was trapped within a collapsing room.

He managed to see her safely end up in Liam's arms before escaping through a hidden passage.

He left Lucretia to the guards. She had served her purpose and was sadly of no use to him any longer. Now he could plan what he truly wanted to happen.

*******************

Liam and Riley's wedding day...

"I don't care who you kill. Olivia and Riley are to be taken alive." Justin told the small team of men he was sending in. "If you have to wound them to get them here, make certain Riley's is non life threatening.

He ignored the questioning look Claudius sent his way.

"Bring them both to our stronghold." His eyes narrowed. "Do not fail me."

****************

Later that night...

"Good work." Justin straightened his jacket. He wanted to look his best when he saw Riley again.

Claudius smirked at him. "Just think of all the men we would still have if you had let me go alone."

Justin chuckled. "True, but at least we are free of our weakest links." He smoothed his hair back. "Now take me to our guests."

***************

"I know the real Justin is somewhere in there." Riley leaned as far forward as her bindings allowed. "You helped me gain the love of the people. You know that if you kill me, the people will not readily accept you as king."

He couldn't help but smile. "I know and that is why I don't intend to hurt you."

"Then why kidnap us?" Olivia demanded.

He turned toward her. "If I'm to be king, then I have to take the necessary steps to claim the throne." He motioned for Claudius to come in.

"You're the one who shot Drake!" Olivia shouted, struggling against the ropes biting into her tender skin. "You'll regret that."

"And you tried to kill me!" Riley added, narrowing her eyes.

"That was a mistake." Justin quickly said. "You were never to be harmed."

"Then why all the attempts?" She asked. "Why do you persist in--"

"You weren't supposed to be here, Riley." He knelt down in front of her. "You should have stayed in New York until the time was right"

Her eyebrows drew together. "What are you talking about.

Justin asked Claudius to remain with Olivia while he took Riley somewhere private.

"If you think for one second that I will remain with this man while you take her away go do only God knows what," Olivia's chair creaked at her straining to break free, "then you don't know what a Nevarkis is truly made of!"

Justine rolled his eyes over her rant as he untied Riley from her chair. He kept her ankles and wrists bound together. He swept her into his arms and carried her out.

Olivia's shouts were silenced by the sound of a hard slap.

Riley struggled in Justin's arms. "What did he do to her? OLIVIA?!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Justin, please don't--"

"Nothing's happened to her." He took her into a surprisingly clean, yet drab, sitting room.

Riley was dropped on a chaise lounge. She eyed the door then Justin.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He repeated. He gently cupped her cheek, fingers brushing along her jaw line. "I love you too much to ever harm you."

Riley stilled. She looked up at him. "You what?"

He knelt before her. "I'm in love with you. It didn't hit me until you told me you had accepted Liam's proposal on the train. I didn't plan it, but I refuse to hide my feelings any longer." He smiled at her. "You've proven yourself as the rightful Queen of Cordonia. Once Liam and Olivia are dead, you and I can rule this country as we see fit. We'll--"

Riley shook her head. "Justin," she believed he was deranged and knew she had to handle this carefully, "I'm flattered. Really I am. I mean, we both know I would never have gotten this far without you."

His smile grew at her realizing she owed him for her meteoric rise within the court.

"But if you kill Liam and Olivia, the people will not feel any love or loyalty for you." She tilted her head as she studied him. "Surely you see the problem with this plan."

"People respect power." He explained. "They respect someone who fights for what is rightfully his. Since my birth, I have been meant for something greater. My parents, Olivia's family, even my soldiers realized that I alone am worthy to rule over this country." He focused once more upon her. "And I've seen that you are the one to do so by my side."

Riley shook her head. "Justin, I am honored," her voice cracked on that lie, "to have your love but I can't accept it." Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm in love with Liam."

"Riley, he didn't choose you." Justin argued. "He left you on your own to fight against nobles, the press, even his own father. You deserve so much more than being an afterthought."

Tears slipped down her cheeks once more. "That wasn't what he did. He was trying to protect me. And I--"

He leaned down and kissed her.

She froze at the touch, refusing to participate.

"Once Liam's gone, you will see the truth." Justin promised.

"I won't." Her eyes narrowed. "As long as I live, I'll hate you with everything within me for taking him from me."

"You don't have it in you." He shook his head in amusement. "You've forgiven everyone. Olivia, Penelope, Madeleine, even Constantine. You never hold a grudge."

"You'll be my first." Riley vowed. "Liam is the love of my life. If you ruin my chance to finally be with him, I will never forgive you. As long as there is breath in my body, I will find a way to destroy you."

"You are amazing." He murmured, knowing she was speaking from her heart. He couldn't wait for that devotion to be for himself.

"Anton?"

The two turned to see Claudius in the doorway. "Liam should be here any moment."

Justin nodded and told him he would meet him and the rest of the men downstairs.

He lifted Riley in his arms and placed her back in the cell with Olivia.

His wife had the bruised imprint of Claudius's hand on her alabaster cheek. Blood had dried on her bottom lip. No tears had fallen from the force of the hit. Her left eye was bloodshot as she glared up at him.

"Liv?" Riley choked out. "Are you--"

"I'm fine." Her harsh answer echoed in the chamber. "It will take more than some two bit thug to hurt me." Her eyes did a quick scan to make certain Riley wasn't hurt.

"If you will excuse me, I have to go prepare for Liam's last night on earth." He retied Riley to her chair.

She threw her head back with all her might to connect with his face.

His glasses broke from the force of her strike. Blood poured out his nose as he stumbled away from her.

"Don't ever," his voice dropped to a hiss, "do that again, my love." He gripped her chin and jerked her face up toward his. "You will learn how to behave soon enough."

He slammed the cell door and left them alone.

"Did he hurt you?" Olivia whispered.

"No." Riley bit her bottom lip. "Not yet."

*****************

"Where is my wife?" Liam demanded.

Justin couldn't help but be impressed. The young king was standing before him, completely outnumbered, yet didn't show the slightest flicker of fear.

He asked the one question that he himself would have asked if Riley was taken from him.

"She is well." Justin replied. "Which is something I can't promise about your own well being."

"I want to see her." Liam bit out. "Now!"

Justin's chuckle was interrupted by a hastily whispered message from Claudius. His head jerked around to search the dim hallway as if doing so would reveal the missing prisoners.

How had they escaped?

"You don't get to make demands here." He snapped at Liam.

"Let Riley and Olivia go." Liam ordered. "And I will take their place." His eyes narrowed. "I know it is a temporary one."

Justin couldn't help but smile. The man was indeed brave to trade his life for Riley and Olivia's.

"No!" Riley screamed out from the stairs.

Chaos broke out as she led the charge to attack the Sons of the Earth. Justin watched as she ran over to protect Liam's back.

The couple were doing their utmost to protect the other from harm.

Their friends were taking his well trained soldiers out one by one. It was embarrassing to see how pitiful his men fought.

Olivia moved into his line of sight. Fury blazed across her delicate features.

"I'm impressed." He told her, unsheathing his sword. "I should have searched you myself."

"Trust me." Olivia circled him. "It will be the last mistake you'll ever make!"

She lunged at him. He easily parried her attack. "I think you've forgotten that it was your parents who gave me the same training you had."

"I think you talk too much!" She twirled about, bringing her daggers up to stop his sword from meeting her shoulder. He grunted from her heel piercing his leg as she pushed off to break his hold.

They continued to try and deliver punishing blows to the other. She was desperate to kill the man who was after her friends and country. He was anxious to be free of their marriage.

He noticed from the corner of his eye Claudius and Drake fighting. His second in command stunned the commoner with an uppercut to his jaw, causing Drake to stumble back into a wall.

Olivia heard the scuffle and followed Justin's line of sight. Her face paled at Claudius moving towards Drake to end him once and for all.

With a flick of her wrists she not only slashed Justin but threw her other dagger at Claudius. It struck true along the side of his neck, cutting into his jugular. He let out a garbled scream as he fell to the floor.

Justin hissed at the deep gash she had made along his ribcage.

Seeing that it was a lost battle, he hopped the banister and began to rush upstairs. He would have to go into hiding once more before orchestrating another attack.

"This ends now!" Riley yelled out at him.

He spun around to see both her and Liam rushing toward him. He raised his sword, determined to put an end to the man who stood between him and the throne. He hesitated when Riley jumped in front of her husband.

"You're not taking him from me!" She raised her battle ax. "Every time you try, I will stop you."

Does Liam know how lucky he is? She waited on him to choose her. Twice! And now she stands here, ready to defend him to the death. How could any man not fall in love with Riley?

His refusal to fight her was his downfall. He was pushed over the banister by the royal couple. While his breath was knocked out, Maxwell and Hana bound his hands together behind his back.

He looked about at his fallen and captured comrades. His attention was drawn toward Olivia and Drake. The pair were covered in blood and bruises, yet they were leaning against each other. Drake had his arm around her while softly speaking. Whatever was said caused Olivia to press even closer to his side. Her arms slipped around his waist. Her eyes were closed tight as she allowed him to hold her.

Justin had suspected something more between the pair. It looked like his coup for the throne had accomplished something for them.

Bastien and the rest of the King's Guards rushed in. After talking to the king and new queen, he collected Justin and hauled him outside.

On the way, Justin met Riley's eyes.

There were so many things he wanted to explain to her. He believed she would have been on board with his plans for the kingdom. Once he had killed Liam and Olivia, he would be the benevolent king the country needed. Gone would be the purpose for pompous nobles. He would have established a council of Cordonia's citizens from all walks of life to advise him. People would be rewarded and honored for their service instead of simply being born to the right parents.

And she would have been his queen, guiding and protecting all she deemed worthy.

"Riley, I..."

"You will never ever hurt those I love again." She hissed.

"Take him away." Liam ordered, keeping his arms locked around his wife. "He will be dealt with in the morning."

Justin knew then that it was pointless to try and explain. She would never give him a chance after all that had occurred.

For the first time in his life, he realized that his intentions didn't matter to the one he loved most.

[bandaged-writer]

can u do jouno, yosano, and nikolai hcs with an adorable, sweet s/o who is really horny and gets flustered easily but is really shy about asking for it (Like the other rq you wrote)? I saw those hcs you wrote when browsing the tag and they were really cute and your writing is so good 🥺🥺

Thank you so much, nonnie <3 Tbh, I breathed for writing Jouno and Nikolai’s hcs, so if you have a request including the two, pls drop it!

Warnings: nsfw-ish/suggestive themes, dirty talk

Jouno Saigiku

➤ You can’t hide shit from Jouno. That man’s got heavily enhanced senses of hearing and smell, so he’ll know you’re horny just by the faster beating of your heart or the smell of wetness between your legs.

➤ Jouno is a very composed man unless Tecchou tests his patience and goes on about the day like nothing’s out of the ordinary. He knows you’re more of a shy kind of person and struggle to ask him for things that include the two of you sleeping together, so Jouno waits for your horniness to reach its peak until you can’t help but spit it out.

➤ “Now, was it so hard to admit that you want me?”

➤ Takes some kind of entertainment of you being about to ask him to rail you, but you stumble over your words, blush and tell him to forget that this situation had ever happened. Usually, he’d lose his temper and tell the person to hurry the hell up, but you’re a different story. He keeps you very close to his heart and is somehow much more patient with you; especially because he wants to get you out of your shell.

➤ Jouno will approach you about it if you manage to keep your mouth shut about it and you join him in bed more hesitantly and with your heart basically pounding within your ribcage. You acted like this was the first time the two of you shared a bed, although it clearly wasn’t and Jouno prefers your heart beating in a calm manner when joining him and not in a nearly erratic state.

➤ “So, when were you going to tell me that you’ve been soaking all day?” He’s pretty blunt about it, absolutely no shame whatsoever. You gotta live with it.

➤ “Hah?! T-this must be your i-imagination!” You’d search for excuses and shamefully sink into the blankets until they’d reach the apple of your cheeks. You knew that hiding the fact that you want Jouno in more ways than one was useless, so why the hell did you think you’d be getting out of this smoothly?

➤ “Your heart rate just jumped considerably, [Name]. You’re so easy to read, it’s actually cute.” Jouno would tilt your head upwards and stroke his thumb along your jawline and down your neck to feel your pulse thumping against his skin in anticipation. 

➤ It’d seem like he’s leaning in for a kiss but ends up kissing the corner of your lips, knowing that it’ll cause you to kiss him properly. Jouno knows how to play you and make your patience snap, no matter how shy you are.

➤ Really enjoys the beating of your calming heart once he’s done with you and you’re close to falling asleep on him.

Yosano Akiko

➤ Luckily for you, Yosano isn’t a whole ass Jouno and you’ll be able to brush it off and she’ll believe you. After all, you’re a more reserved person and she trusts you enough to come to her if something is bothering you.

➤ Yosano will notice your typical “I’m horny but can’t confess it” signs when you’re a little bit more jumpy whenever her knee would touch yours or when she’d place her hand on your thigh. Ultimately, it’s your shivering, bitten lips and the heavy blush that is a dead giveaway.

➤ The second biggest tease about her discovery. Her touch would linger a little longer than appropriate and when no one was within hearing range, she’d whisper dirty nothing in your ear and bask in your reaction. Yosano absolutely loves seeing you flustered, especially when it’s at work and not at home where such a thing would be more appropriate.

➤ “[Name], I think we can cut the ice-cream for today. I’d rather have you melt on my tongue once we get home.”

➤ You’d jump in your seat, face red and mouth agape like a fish on land. You couldn’t quite believe your ears and how your body reacted to her words so easily. It was actually a bit unfair how Yosano had you so strung up by saying a couple of words while you couldn’t say such things; it was simply embarrassing.

➤ That would continue for quite some time and you were excited about going home for very obvious reasons, but it turns out that you wouldn’t have to wait that long. Tanizaki asked you to bring some documents to Yosano and of course, you didn’t decline his request.

➤ As soon as you step foot into the infirmary, Yosano locks the door and pushes you up against its hard surface, scolding you for being such a tease yourself. “It’s a shame that I’ll have to ruin your cute facade right here, but you have to stay quiet for me, alright?”

➤ You have a hard time explaining to your colleagues why your hair is a mess and why your legs are basically jello.

Nikolai Gogol

➤ He’s the biggest tease out of the three. Nikolai’s very observant and as soon as he realizes that what you want is him, you’re in for quite the show. Literally.

➤ At first it’s all cute and games. He squishes your red cheeks together and cutely coos at you. “[Name], you’re the cutest for wanting me, you know? Especially when you’re all blushy and shy about it!” 

➤ Nikolai gets straight to business and doesn’t wait for you to voice out your want or teases you with words like Yosano. He immediately leads you into the bedroom and makes you stand in front of the mirror, ordering you to watch closely as his next trick includes you as his “assistant”. You want to question him what he’s about to do, but a magician doesn’t tell anyone anything about their tricks. 

➤ “Today’s big question is: Where is [Name]  the most sensitive today!” 

➤ “Nikolai, what the hell-”

➤ “Hush or you’ll ruin the magic and I’ll have to punish you.”

➤ Super touchy and gropes you everywhere. Nikolai knows your weak spots and will find the one that draws the loudest reaction out of you. His mouth is on your neck, sucking color into the skin and nibbling but then goes “Hm, looks like this might not be it” when it’s only a whimper slipping your lips.

➤ Continues by gradually undressing you in front of the mirror, fondling your breasts, squeezing your waist and letting his fingers graze the skin of your thighs. He lives for chasing you to the edge until you plead for Nikolai to stop fucking around and properly touch you.

➤ Has the time of his life teasing you and watching you drip down your thighs. Not only does he get to see you naked, but he can also practice his speech skills for his next magic trick. 

➤ Bonus because he knows that you get fed up with his constant teasing at some point and boldly tell him to just fuck you into the next week. It’s a stark contrast to your usual shyness and Nikolai adores whenever the bolder you makes an appearance. It honestly excites him.

➤ Whenever you’re too shy to ask for it, Nikolai can fluster you in two ways. It’s either the dumb or hot way and there’s no in-between.

➤ “If you’re not gonna tell me what you want, I can think of a few ways to make you talk and put your mouth to better use.”

➤ “Wanna see how I can make my dick disappear inside you?”

[theghostofashton]

“nothing is wrong with you.”

okay this needs some background.

so my friend and i were talking and she was telling me about a dream she had about awsten and geoff because of calamity (i'm not spoiling it you're about to read it) and i was really inspired by it and i asked if i could write it and she practically begged me to do it.

also that sounds so weird omg she had a dream inspired by my fic and now i'm writing a fic inspired by her dream wtf

this isn't really triggering it's just happysad okay enjoy milli i hope this is what you wanted ily

The accident was six months ago.

He still remembers it like it was yesterday, remembers the flashing lights and crunching metal and the smell of holy shit is that blood what the fuck just happened where's Awsten is he okay why isn't he saying anything.

It was the worst day of his life.

He woke up to white walls and sterile tape and a smell so bad it bottled itself up and flew into his nostrils and put down a flag right behind his eyes, set up roots and began infiltrating his entire body with the ache. It multiplied like bacteria, colonies growing and spreading out until every part of him was infected, unable to run, unable to hide, unable to do anything because it was inside him and it was growing and he would never escape.

He remembers getting the news and just stopping. Someone had taken a sledgehammer to his body and hit right at his heart, one hit that had everything crashing down, like in those cartoons, it's fine until someone says those words or does that thing and then it's cracking and breaking and disintegrating into a pile of rubble, never to be rebuilt.

He lost a part of himself that day.

It hasn't come back.

He feels like his heart is made up of several pieces. A different part hurts or bleeds or pulsates when something happens. They're all various shapes and sizes but somehow manage to make his heart whole. Each person in his life owns a piece; each person adds a necessary part to keeping him whole. They fit together and when the tiniest bit of one is missing he notices it, feels it, acknowledges it, like someone ripped his entire heart out of his chest.

Awsten's is the biggest one.

He remembers how bad it hurt, like someone had put a bullet through his stomach and the hole was expanding, taking, pulling, ripping, until all he could do was collapse to the floor in a flood of sobs and thank god they weren't waking Awsten up yet so he'd have time to pull himself together.

He remembers crawling into bed beside Awsten's limp body, taking him into his arms as best he could amongst all the wires and tubes, feeling his heart detach from its position in his chest and sink down to the pit of his stomach where the nausea was housed, as he reached down to move Awsten's legs and entire bottom half onto their side as well. He remembers biting his lip and trying to look away, feeling the pain explode behind his face and splatter against his skull at the realization.

Awsten would never be able to do that on his own again.

He remembers when they reversed the coma, feeling Awsten come back to life in his arms, feeling only the top half of his body squirming, feeling his eyes start to burn and his head start to ache and biting a hole in his lip because you will not cry in front of him do you fucking hear me you will not cry.

And he didn't cry.

But Awsten did.

Choked, guttural cries that were like arrows shot straight through his heart. He felt them going in and out, felt each subsequent hole they made in his chest, one after another, piercing a new spot each time until the piece of his heart belonging to Awsten was dangling from the rest of the muscle by a single thread.

Awsten cried, ruined multiple of his shirts and didn't lift his head for a very long time. And he bit his lip and rubbed Awsten's back and tried to think of what to say there was nothing he could say there was no way to make it better there was no silver lining to trading in legs for wheels, independence for dependence, the world as he knew it to one that didn't fit him anymore.

He's heard about it in movies and TV shows, how people can literally shut down, but he always thought it was exaggerated, overplayed for the drama, because how is it possible for a human being to actually shut down like that's not a real thing that can't possibly-

And then he watched the brightest, bubbliest, loudest person he's ever known draw the shades and close every curtain, turn from prismatic to achromic, all in a matter of days. The old Awsten was gone and the replacement was someone he couldn't have recognized if they personally came up and hit him in the head.

The hospital told them about heightened mental health issues and the commonality of depression with this type of injury. They told them about seeking out therapy and possibly taking medication and being aware of what was going on before it got too bad.

They didn't tell them about the days upon days of silence, the countless nights spent falling asleep to the soundtrack of Awsten's sobs, the arguments over transferring and accidentally making Awsten piss himself because he couldn't get him to the bathroom in time, Awsten's attempts to turn in his chair and subsequent crashes into every piece of furniture in their apartment, coming home to find him trying to lift himself onto the countertop and struggling to make his legs go in the proper direction, walking in on him trying to dress himself with frustrated tears running down his cheeks as he lifted each leg into the pair of pants and struggled to wiggle them up his ass.

They didn't tell him how unwilling Awsten would be to talk about it, how many slammed doors and outbursts of anger there would be. They didn't tell him about the nights he would pull Awsten as close as he could and try to get him to talk, get him to say something, and all he would get in response was stony silence, how he would eventually give up and act like he'd gone to sleep and unknowingly agree to be witness to Awsten's confession about how everyone would eventually leave, how he would eventually leave, how he'd end up alone.

Who would want someone who has to spend the rest of their life in a wheelchair?

He remembers when Awsten's piece of his heart broke in two.

...

"I really don't think this is a good idea..."

He swallows, feels the saliva travel down his throat and settle in a layer on top of his stomach. Looking down at his lap, he winds his fingers together and begins to slowly pull them apart, bringing his lip in with his teeth.

"Love, hey, look at me." Geoff lifts his chin and bends down onto his knees. "It's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine. It's Jawn's birthday. Don't you wanna have some fun?"

"Invalids don't have fun."

"Awsten." Geoff's voice seems to harden. "You are not an invalid." He grabs both of his hands and squeezes. "Please sweetheart, I hate when you talk about yourself like that. You're doing so well, you deserve to be proud of that. Of yourself. I'm so proud of you."

He inhales. The breath catches in his throat and he stifles a cough. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Geoff cranes his neck to kiss him. Awsten smiles and wraps his arms around Geoff's neck and Geoff moves – still not breaking the kiss – to sit on his lap. One of Geoff's arms snakes behind his back and stays there even when they pull back. He presses his forehead against Geoff's and breathes out again. "Tell me what you're thinking, love."

"I-" His breath hitches. "I don't wanna make a fool outta myself. Don't- don't want the looks if I can't do it. S'gonna ruin Jawn's day. I just- I just wanna be normal, Gee. Like everybody else."

"Oh sunshine, you are." Geoff brings his other arm around and squeezes him tightly. "You are just like everyone else. Nothing is wrong with you, okay? No one's going to laugh at you or get mad at you or anything. We all just love you, Aws, and we want you to have fun today. You deserve to have fun today. Jawn's your best friend and today's his birthday and that's all he wants."

"I got him a gift..."

"The best gift you can give him is having a good fuckin' time today, okay?" He feels the kiss against the top of his head. "Just try. That's all we're asking."

...

Geoff knows Awsten is nervous.

His hands are shaking and slipping off his wheels as he tries to turn them. His eyes are shiny and his cheeks are pink, face flushed from – is that embarrassment? Shame? Discomfort? It's not the kind of pink Awsten turns when he kisses him, all blushy and grinning. It's not a light, sparkly pink. It's a dull and red bordering, Pepto Bismol-esque, fearful, discomforting pink.

His gaze travels from the top of the bouncy slide to its exit. Geoff watches it. He can practically see the wheels turning in Awsten's head, the should I should I not I don't want to make a fool out of myself I don't want to fuck up I don't want to be embarrassed. It's what plays on loop every time he's out in public, the fears and insecurities he's spent so many nights crying over, the confession he made one day, said one word and unleashed an avalanche, burst into tears and eventually told Geoff how bad things really were.

And he got him into therapy and researched every possible way to reassure him and lift his spirits, and for the most part, things are better. The Awsten right after the accident was petrified to leave the house in fear of what could happen. He didn't take any risks or do anything; he locked himself in his room and stared at the wall and punched at his useless legs in hope it would kick start them back into life.

This Awsten is different. He smiles more. He's been wearing color again. He's still nervous and very unsure, covered up by tight smiles and white-knuckles on his chair, but he's leaving the house and going places on his own and accepting the fact that this is permanent and taking his life back.

He's come so far in such a short amount of time, made so much progress, conquered so many obstacles, broke so many barriers...

Went from wishing he'd died in that accident to working out new ways to live with it.

"Geoff?" He shakes his head to clear it and glances over at Awsten. He's fiddling with his hands again, a small, shy smile on his face. "I...I think I'm gonna do it."

"Did you guys hear that?"

"He's gonna do it!"

"Go Aws!"

The pink on Awsten's cheeks deepens. He begins to wheel himself over to the slide and Geoff rushes to follow, slips his phone in his back pocket and brushes his hands together.

"I'll help you up, okay? And then I'll get down and come around with your chair." Awsten nods. His hands are still shaking and his eyes look wild, pupils slightly dilated. Geoff leans in and kisses his cheek. "You're gonna be fine. You can do this. I believe in you."

"I can do this," Awsten repeats softly. "'Kay..."

He slips one arm underneath the crook of Awsten's knees and pushes the other one behind his back. Jawn moves behind them and grips the handles of the chair, and in one fluid motion, he lifts Awsten into his arms and Jawn pulls the chair back.

He carries Awsten over to the slide and proceeds up the stairs to the top, where there's room for both of them to sit. Awsten's legs go first, and then he slips out from under his body and scoots in beside him, takes his hand and brings it to his lips. "You can do this. You are so strong and so brave and I believe in you, okay? Everyone down there does too. We love you so much, sunshine. We're so proud of you."

Awsten is silent for a few moments. He squeezes Geoff's hand and turns up to him, rubs at his eyes with his free hand and swallows visibly. "I'm ready."

Geoff pulls his lip in with his teeth and watches as Awsten pushes off, watches him slide all the way to the bottom and let out a loud cry. It sounds light and airy, full of the mirth he's been missing for so long. There's liquid collecting in his eyes and his vision is blurry because this is all he's wanted for so long holy fuck.

He jumps down from the slide and grabs Awsten's wheelchair and makes his way to the other side of the slide, just in time to hear Awsten speak.

"I just went down a bouncy slide by myself for the first time since the accident."

The words are almost like an admission to himself. He sounds in awe of himself, like he hasn't quite grasped what he's just done. And it's those words that bring a flurry of footsteps and gather a huge crowd around the bouncy slide.

Awsten's sitting on the edge with everyone – Jawn, Daphne, Zakk, Travis, Andrew, Grace, Otto, Gracie – standing around him. Everyone's smiling but Geoff can't take his eyes off the grin on Awsten's face, stretched so wide it looks like it hurts. His eyes are shining. His cheeks are pink, that beautiful shade of rose, glowing in the warm summer light.

"You did it, Aws."

"You were amazing!"

"It's justa slide." Awsten ducks his head slightly. "S'not a big deal."

"It absolutely is a big deal you fucker." Jawn breaks out of the crowd and kneels down in front of the slide to pull Awsten into a hug. Geoff can't hear what he says to him, but the smile on Awsten's face grows, if even possible. He's never seen someone smile this much.

Travis says something and Otto rolls his eyes and reaches over to shove his shoulder and everyone starts to laugh, but again, all Geoff can focus on is the musical laughter leaving Awsten's lips, the light shining from his eyes, the flushed cheeks and warmth emanating from his form. Jawn picks him up and twirls him around and he giggles, hangs onto Jawn's shoulder and closes his eyes, lets himself fly in the wind.

The past six months have been the hardest of his life, and today...

Today he just went down a bouncy slide for the first time since the accident.

Tears are streaming down Geoff's cheeks as he watches Awsten laugh, watches him grin and reach out for Travis, challenge him to do what Jawn just did.

Paralysis used to be the end.

This feels like a new beginning.

[ihavereadandagreetothetermsofuse]

Day 18: Rejection

<<Day 17 // FF.net // Ao3

She’s gonna do it.

Marinette craned her neck over the edge. It’s a narrow gap. Ish. Narrow for Ladybug. Too far to any other human on Earth. The fall would - in fact - kill her, but it also gives her enough time to transform and swing away should the problem arise. She sucked in a breath between her lips. She can do this. Marinette took measured steps back, coming to the middle of the roof she’s chosen. Then she ran. Feet pounding. Arms swinging. Faster, faster, and—

Fuck

Shit

No

Marinette pin-wheeled her arms at the edge of the roof. Her stomach dropping and swooping and reminding her that she should have eaten something as it lurched. She lost balance and fell onto her bottom.

“I can’t do it!” Marinette shouted.

“And what is it you were trying to do?!”

Marinette started, twisting her body to see

“Chat Noir!” She faked a wide smile. “Wh-what a coincidence to see you up here!”

He stared at her, angst. His shoulders sagged into himself, and he closed his eyes tight at the ground. Staring a moment longer, his chest heaving, she realized he looked winded. Had he rushed over when he caught her on the roof?

For ready use, Tikki had hidden in her pigtail. She patted said spot, and received an affirmative hum. Then she looked back at Chat Noir. He hasn’t said much, and his guard is completely down. Which is understandable, Marinette’s not a threat. She could be. If she think’s anymore about...

Marinette could trip him right now. This close, her arm just so, she could do it. With Adrien kicked back to the farthest recesses of her mind she’s found the most random topics to latch onto. Like how she’d been meaning to sew that flowery patch for Manon to apply to her overalls. Tikki encouraged Marinette’s disjointed thoughts. Told her to act on them if only to stay out of Hawk Moth’s radar.

Chat Noir wouldn’t appreciate falling on his tail.

Marinette lays back, her hands clasped at her stomach as she stares up at him. This embodiment of bad luck.

“You know what the worst curse would be?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s stiff and poised like she’ll dart at any time. Or roll down the slant of the roof. She might. He looks like he’ll give chase. Cat and mouse.

“If anytime you described something, you had to say sometimes at the end.” She held up her hand. “I have pale skin sometimes— which makes since if I get tans. My eyes are blue sometimes— if my eyes could change color, contacts maybe. But if you say something like I wear clothes sometimes, it sounds suggestive, then you’re a creep.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“Parkour.” His tail is wrapped around his foot. She yanks it down and, reluctantly, he sits. “I’m brave sometimes.”

He covers his face with his hand. “God, Princess, I thought you were going to go...”

The word lingers in the air between them.

“What an assumption.”

“You couldn’t have made that jump!”

“You don’t know that. I can do a lot of things. I can fight monsters.”

“Marinette.” He’s leaning over her, his legs criss-cross above her head. She doesn’t know what her face looks like, but it feels relatively blank. While he’s an open book. Plainly worried, and looking... “Are you okay?”

“No.” She admits with an ease she doesn’t feel. “What about you? You look a bit edgy.” She tries not to smile. It doesn’t work. He scrubs a hand down his face and she can see the muffled quirk of his lips as well.

“Marinette,” he grumbles. “This isn’t a joke.”

“It’s funny sometimes.” Her voice is so small the wind nearly steals it. She looks at him. Her partner. There for her even when he doesn’t know it. It makes her lighter somehow. “I’m getting my mind off things. My love confession got rejected today—” her face nearly crumples before she schools it into normalcy by staring at the clouds that look like rocks. “—he’s a gentleman. But sometimes I’ll hear him break a pun on his friend. They’re always so ridiculous that I think it’s gonna be it easier to talk to him today because he’s a bit like you.” She meets his eye and hastily averts. He’s too open, and it’s alarming because her heart hasn’t had time to close yet.

“He reminds you of me?” Chat swallows, and leans in, forcing her to meet his eye. “And that makes it easier?”

“A little,” she softens. “I mean, look how much I’ve told you already.” He’s speechless a beat too long so she fills the silence. “It’s not his fault that I’m upset though. It’s mine. I’m an idiot for asking in the first place, but my friend was right, I’ve been crushing too long to not have done something.” She shakes her head. “Maybe I waited too long or not long enough. From now on I should do things when I wanna do them.” He’s still transfixed when the fire sparks in her eye, and it’s full effect has him drawing in a gasp. “I can do whatever I set my mind to.”

Marinette gets up and walks around him. Chat’s rooted on the spot. So when he turns to ask, “Princess?” she’s running. His eyes blow wide as she passes, and he turns in the nick of time to catch her launching herself to the roof ahead. His legs go numb. Not even sure if he can move or if his body’s his own as he takes in what may be the last sight of Marinette he’ll ever see.

Marinette collides roughly with the roofs edge, her upper body clinging, and legs dangling in a futile attempt to get leverage.

In a surge of energy from his chest to his throat he yells, “hold on!” Chat flings himself forward with the words. Scrambling on all fours before he can use his staff to vault over.

However she’s already pulled herself up. Marinette’s laid over the gravel, a sloppy smile spread across her cheeks as she presses her arm over her eyes and chuckles.

It’s childish but he wants to kick her. She shouldn’t be happy. Somewhere in his boots is his stomach, he feels queasy, and she’s laughing.

Then again, she is okay. She’s in one piece and that makes him smile if only in relief. He falls into his earlier position, legs crossed, and plants his hands on his thighs to regain composure. “You’re unbelieveable.”

Chat’s ear flicks to her laugh as it turns watery. All bravado gone, her lips tremble. Apparently his stomach can sink lower than his shoes. Her breath hitches and she faintly sniffles. She’s a quiet crier. Like him.

Should he leave? Chat’s slouching over Marinette as she weeps, it feels invasive, his figure casting a shadow over her through the dreary curtains of dusk. Despite what she says he still feels at fault. But why breakdown now? Why breakdown at all? She looked fine after confessing. But then, if she wasn’t fine, would she have told him? She kept face if only to set him at ease. And it worked. It worked too well. She’s too nice for her own good, and it pricks his heart like a pincushion.

The times he’d cried when his mother left, what is it that he wanted? His tail smacked against the gravel. His mother back, of course. But thinking back. Alone in that monster of an empty room. His own sobs echoing back, reminding him that he’s his only company. It would have been nice if his father could have at least been there. Chloé was never a person to ease his burdens, but maybe friends can do something... It doesn’t feel right to up and hug her though.

Tentatively he reached for her, and rested his hand against her fringe. Somewhat detached, he watched his black claws burrow gently into her hair, creating tiny rows, before dragging lightly over her scalp. Marinette gasped, hiccups receding the longer his hand remained. Her breathing evened out, coaxed by his strokes, he even indulged in a light back and forth scratch here and there.

When her hand fell limply to the side, so did he from a stupor. It’s night. She’s asleep. How long had they been like this?

Chat’s nerves soothed when the time on his baton indicated it hasn’t been longer than an hour. He readjusted his position, moving a particular rock that had been digging into his leg. She’s asleep on this god forsaken landscape. How? Maybe it’s not a luxury, but he scooted forward, lifting her head to lay it onto the junction where his calves crossed.

Marinette tears didn’t last long enough for her eyes to swell, still a tell-tale red scattered at the apple of her cheeks up proved evidence enough of her sadness. How on earth did she climb to that roof? He thought he knew Marinette. Well, he thought he knew her enough to put her into a box. As he’s learned there’s usually a box you can put someone in, and they generally stay there... No. That’s not true. Meeting Nino is the exception. Nino’s more than music, energy, and overused catchphrases. He’s patient, even encouraging when it comes to Adrien’s happiness. Chat tilted his head at her delicate snore. There’s more to people, isn’t there? A trick compartment at the bottom of everyone’s box. He wouldn’t call people two faced, but after witnessing this he’s confirmed there’s a deeper side if you pry hard enough. And what’s under her trick compartment?

Marinette’s insane.

By all known laws of nature she shouldn’t be sleeping right now. She should be— he doesn’t know what she should be. Normal people don’t hopscotch rooftops, cry, then catnap after a rejection. Was it to prove a point to herself? About doing what she sets her mind to? She also said Chat reminded her of... Adrien. An admission that’s spooky, yet... endearing. Like she’d held his puzzle pieces and almost glimpsed the whole picture. Had she admitted to Adrien what she did to Chat Noir he might have reconsidered rejecting her.

Chat’s cheeks fizzed to an onslaught of shame, it burned to a rising boil, and his vision dimmed from the heat. He shook his head. That... didn’t hurt before.

Why did he reject her? More importantly, why didn’t he think it through? He opened the door to her welcoming smile and slammed it in her face. Of its own accord his hand resumed its earlier ministrations through her hair. If he opened the door again she wouldn’t smile, she wouldn’t even be there, would she? He’s scared he may never be able to open the door again to find out.

Chat’s vision focused when he realized he’d been staring at Marinette’s drooping - but awake - eyes.

A bloom of happiness laced her words, “that felt nice, thank you.”

He flushed and restrained from yanking away. “N-no problem. Are you better?”

Languid from sleep she showed no signs of moving soon. “Much.”

“I should get going...”

“‘Kay.”

“You’re not going to do anything crazy?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Alrigh— Princess you’re not even trying to hide your crossed fingers.”

She giggled.

His heart skipped. Tampering down his flustered energy, and failing, he cupped her head to lay it back to the gravel as he unwound his legs.

“Um.” He stepped back, bowed his head and gave a small, swift wave. “Bye.”

She offered no farewell, only a smile that unnerved his heart. He tripped backwards before vaulting away.

Day 19>>

[emphasisonem]

I Get Knocked Down (But I Get Up Again)

For @kiriei​ who send me a great list of beach prompts, so this happened. 

Summary

“You sure you’re ok?” the blond asks, and Bucky really appreciates the fact that the guy isn’t laughing, considering his friend can’t seem to help snickering at Sam’s outrageous display.

“I’m fine,” Bucky huffs with a smirk. “Pride’s a little bruised, and I’m guessing I look like a fuckin’ drowned rat, but no permanent damage.”

A slow- and frankly, evil- smile makes its way across the blond’s lips. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in those blue eyes, but it’s replaced with a nearly-predatory look that gives Bucky goosebumps.

“Shame,” the other man teases Bucky. “I’m pretty good at kissin’ things better.”

In which Bucky Barnes is a show off at the beach and pays the price.

You can also read the fic here.

“I think we have an audience.”

Bucky groans as turns to face his friend Sam, shading his eyes from the bright afternoon sun glinting off the waves. He’d been thisclose to dozing off after a quick swim. The soft sand below their blanket and the warm sun on his bare skin had lulled Bucky into a dreamy half-sleep, and he’s reluctant to pull himself back into wakefulness.

Although, in fairness to Sam, they’d come to the beach to hang out together, not to waste the great weather napping. It was a perfect day, Sam had said earlier that morning, to swim and lounge and people watch. Apparently some other beachgoers had had the same idea.

Bucky wracks his brain, thinking about the other people scattered across the sand around them. There aren’t many – it’s still the offseason, after all.

Sam smirks at Bucky when the burnet quirks a brow.

“Three o’clock,” he tells Bucky. “Blondie looks just your type, Barnes.”

Bucky rolls onto his stomach, brushing some sand from his upper arm as he glances in the direction Sam has indicated. About five feet away from them are a man and a woman sprawled out in low-to-the-ground beach chairs – a couple of the brightly colored old ones with that sort of latticed look to them, Bucky thinks with amusement – watching Bucky and Sam as surreptitiously as possible.  The woman is gorgeous, all smooth, pale skin and bright red hair, but her friend…

The blond man sitting beside her is nothing short of the most physically perfect person Bucky’s ever seen. He’s sitting down, but Bucky can tell the guy’s probably north of six feet tall. His broad shoulders and chest indicate a hell of a workout regimen, and his flaxen hair is thick and healthy looking.

Bucky wonders what color the eyes hiding behind the man’s aviators are before turning back to Sam with a sly smile.

“He is,” Bucky replies with a mischievous grin. “Wanna give’m both a show?”

Sam snorts and shakes his head, but he’s rising from their blanket and grabbing the football they’d brought along just the same.

“Such a goddamn exhibitionist,” Sam mutters as he heads toward the water. “They’re probably a couple anyway.”

Bucky chuckles as he pushes himself up off the ground, taking one last glance at the blond before following Sam across the sand. Bucky’s certainly not going to deny his friend’s claim of exhibitionism. He’s never been averse to showing off a little bit if there’s a cute guy or girl around to watch him. And blondie is beyond cute.

“Guess that makes you an enabler,” Bucky teases, biting back a laugh as Sam throws an exasperated glance at him.

“And who cares if they’re a couple?” Bucky asks as he falls into step beside Sam. “Still checkin’ us out, aren’t they?”

Sam doesn’t dignify that statement with anything more than an eye roll and a terse, “Just go long, Barnes.”

Bucky laughs, then breaks into a sprint. He moves horizontally first along the line where the ocean meets the sand toward their admirers, and then moves a little further into the surf.  Bucky watches as Sam draws his arm back and then throws the ball.

Sam’s overthrown it just a bit (their high school football days are nearly a decade behind them), but Bucky can still jump for passes nearly as well as he did their senior year. He nabs it with a pleased crow, landing with a splash.

It’s hard to tell because they’re both wearing sunglasses, but if the way the redhead is smirking and leaning over to talk with the blond is any indication, they’re definitely still watching.

Bucky grins and launches the ball back toward Sam.

“They noticed us noticing them,” Natasha says as the two men she and Steve had been eyeing head for the water, a football in the hand of the dark-skinned man. Steve nods, but his eyes never leave the long-haired brunet who’d caught his eye.

His gaze is drawn from the man’s handsome face to his left shoulder blade as the guy and his friend head toward the ocean. Steve thinks he might see scar tissue, but it’s hard to tell given the guy’s chosen to tattoo the whole area along with his left arm. Steve is intrigued by the swirls of color and the story behind him.

He’s also intrigued by the guy’s perfect butt and thick thighs, but, really, who wouldn’t be?

“He keeps looking this way,” Natasha says as the brunet glances back at them before tearing off across the sand. “I think he’s checking you out.”

“They’re probably both checking you out, Nat,” Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Couple of guys like that? No way they’re not straight.”

Natasha smirks and leans toward Steve as the dark-skinned man throws the ball, and Steve’s breath catches as the way the brunet’s muscles bunch and flex as he leaps to catch it.

“You know what they say about making assumptions, Steven,” Natasha chastises him, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m an ass,” Steve murmurs, body tensing as the brunet’s eyes land directly on him. And then the asshole has the audacity to smile at him, and fuck if that isn’t the prettiest thing Steve’s seen in a good long while. He wishes he could believe that maybe he’s the cause for that sinful grin.

The brunet throws the ball back to his friend, and while it’s not as impressive a throw, it still reaches its target.  Which Steve thinks might be unfortunate because Natasha takes the opportunity to applaud enthusiastically.

“What a catch!” Natasha calls out as Steve sinks into his chair and tries to ignore the blush rising to his fair skin. “Get it!”

Steve can hear the brunet laughing, and he doesn’t miss the way the dark-skinned man winks at Natasha. Clearly his and Nat’s attention isn’t unwelcome.

The two men continue their game of catch, Natasha hooting and hollering the whole way through, and Steve might applaud once or twice. Maybe even wolf whistles.

Steve notes that the brunet’s eyes are in fact drifting toward him more often than not. Interesting in the extreme, he thinks.

The brunet wades deeper into the surf with every passing throw, and maybe the guy’s paying too much attention to Steve because he’s about hip deep when Steve sees a fairly large wave building behind him.

“You think he knows there’s a solid chance he’s about to get clobbered?” Steve asks with a rueful smile as he turns to Natasha. The redhead’s brow furrows for a moment as she looks out at the horizon, but Steve knows exactly when she spots the wave because a mirthful laugh bubbles from her lips.

“Are you kidding?” she teases. “You’re way too distracting. That boy is toast.”

Bucky feels the rough pull of the undertow before he sees the wave, but he knows he’s fucked as soon as he realizes that he can’t really swim against the current.

“Buck, watch it!” Sam shouts as Bucky turns, but it’s too late. There’s a giant wave coming for him and he’s only got around three seconds to consider exactly how stupid he’s about to look in front of blondie before it breaks, knocking Bucky off his feet and carrying him closer to shore.

After a moment, Bucky breaches the surface, coughing and sputtering as he pushes his now-soaked hair away from his forehead.

Of course, that’s when another wave comes and hits him square in the face.

Fortunately, it forces Bucky into shallower waters, and he’s on his hands and knees trying to get his lungs back in working order when three pairs of feet stop in front of him.

“You all right, Buck?” Sam asks, and Bucky nods through his coughing fit so that Sam won’t worry.

Bucky shouldn’t have bothered with concern, though, because Sam proceeds to say, “Shit, man, that was funny as hell.”

“Fuck you, Wilson,” Bucky chokes out, glaring up at Sam as his friend bursts into laughter. Hands-on-his-knees, can’t-quite-breathe laughter. Like Bucky needs this shit.

Bucky begins  pushing himself up from the hard, wet sand, and is surprised when he feels a strong hand gripping his bicep and an arm around his waist. When he looks up, blondie is staring back at him with a small smile. The aviators are sitting atop his head now, and Bucky’s a little stunned by how blue the eyes gazing into his own are.

“You sure you’re ok?” the blond asks, and Bucky really appreciates the fact that the guy isn’t laughing, considering his friend can’t seem to help snickering at Sam’s outrageous display.

“I’m fine,” Bucky huffs with a smirk. “Pride’s a little bruised, and I’m guessing I look like a fuckin’ drowned rat, but no permanent damage.”

A slow- and frankly, evil- smile makes its way across the blond’s lips. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in those blue eyes, but it’s replaced with a nearly-predatory look that gives Bucky goosebumps.

“Shame,” the other man teases Bucky. “I’m pretty good at kissin’ things better.”

Sam whistles low at that, and he and the redhead erupt into a fresh wave of giggles as Bucky glares at them for a moment before turning his attention back to Steve.

“Well, then,” Bucky grins. “Why don’t you tell me your name and let me buy you an ice cream or somethin’ and maybe I can find a spot that needs kissin’ better?”

The blond barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m Steve Rogers. And I’d like that.”

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky replies as he tugs Steve away from their ridiculous friends and toward the vendor up by the dunes. “You like Chipwiches, Steve? Or are you more of a Choco-Taco man?”

Steve eyes Bucky with a smirk. “If you think I’m not getting a popsicle to pay you back for every moment of that shameless display of athleticism of yours before that wave wrecked you, you’ve got another think comin’, pal.”

Bucky barks out a laugh and without thinking says, “Marry me.”

“Let’s see how the ice cream goes first,” Steve grins, winking as the two of them reach the ice cream cart.

Bucky’s pretty sure he’s going to be utterly powerless in the face of that smile.

And also that he’s already about halfway to falling in love.

[thehalfworld]

Fanfic MST: Forbiden Fruit: The Tempation of Edward Cullen, a Twilight fanfic

I was talking to an online friend on Twitter not too long ago, and the subject of bad fanfiction came up. My friend had been reading “My Immortal” and losing his shit over it. I asked if he’d read “Forbiden Fruit: The Tempation of Edward Cullen” and it turned out he had not. He’d never even heard of it.

Indeed, while this story is one of the best-known badfics out there, it’s still considerably less popular than “My Immortal” is, and I think that’s a damn shame. This may be my personal favorite work of bad fanfiction; it’s a fantastic example of the “so bad it’s good” genre. Author BeckyMac666 writes like no other English-language writer has ever written, and this is both a good and a bad thing. She’s almost certainly a troll, given the blatant use of established badfic tropes and several parallels with “My Immortal,” but when you’re this good at being terrible it really doesn’t matter how serious you are about it.

For the record, there are folks who believe that this fic and “My Immortal” share an author, due to the aforementioned parallels. I personally don’t think that’s true, since the prose is very different, but if it amuses you to imagine that they’re written by the same person, be my guest.

Like virtually all Twilight badfic, this story is about a mysterious new girl arriving in Forks and shaking up Bella and Edward’s relationship by creating a love triangle. As usual, Bella is made out to be completely awful in the process, Jacob is largely forgotten about, and the protagonist may not be entirely human herself. This is far weirder, and more entertaining, than your average shitty Twilight fanfiction, though. Mark my words.

I first MSTed this fanfiction back on the old WordPress version of this blog, but, as that was a long time ago and I like to think I’m funnier nowadays, I rewrote most of my comments. It’s not wildly different, but hopefully it is an improvement over the old version.

AN hey guys this is the new improved verson of my story, hope its better this time!

I have no idea what the unedited version of this thing looked like, but I honestly can’t imagine it being any more ridiculous than the final story.

btw i am young and have dyslexia i find spellin hard but its meant2 be unformal ok !

Use spellcheck, you fool! Or get a proofreader!

no critisism pls!

Oops.

tis story goes out 2 my bf zac(kisses!) amd my besfreind Tiffi LOVE YA GRRRL!

The Tara parallel here is probably intentional. Zac never gets mentioned again, much like Tara’s boyfriend, but Tiffi isn’t Becky’s beta reader and they don’t have a spat partway through or anything of that sort.

EDWARD IS OUR GODD!(we wanna SEX him gud!)

Honestly, I think this is how all fanfiction should open. Just tell me straight-up what character you wanna bang before the story’s even started. Save us all some time.

love &blood becky mac! xxx x x xx

Aww. That’s kinda cute.

UPDATE: I have a proofreader and I have cleaned up the spelling and grammer on this chaptor a hell of a lot as you will see (thank u vickie!)

Yeah, Vickie, thank you. Looks like you’re doing a great job and you’ve got everything under control here.

i will be imrpoving the next chaptors soon.

Since this fic got “abandoned,” subsequent chapters have not actually been improved. Not that one can tell, anyway.

Altantiana

Yes, that is a typo of her OC’s name. Off to a great start.

Hey, my names Atlantiana Rebekah Loren (but everyone calls me Tiana or just plain Tiaa).

Virtually no one calls her Tiana during the course of the story. Just so you know. “Tiaa” isn’t a typo, either, though I have no idea why the author felt the need to add an extra A.

Notice the middle name? Subtle.

I am a 16 year old girl and I live in Forks, Washington!

This actually makes her a year younger than Bella, for the record.

My hair is long and pale like spun gold and skims to my waist like a pale shimmering amber mist.

It’s pale and it’s pale? Also, gold and amber are not the same color.

My eyes are deep forgetminot blue and my delicate fentures are lilly white and pure as the winter snow in moonlight.

I’ve been complimented on my fentures before too, but it’s nothing worth bragging about.

I've been told by loads of sleazy, ugly, HORNY guys that I'm real pretty and look like a model or a bunny girl (some of the guys who like me are really old and try to make opt with me its disgusting and weird!) but basically a lot of the girls I meet tell a different story.

Well, gee, after that modest description of yourself I’m shocked that boys think you’re attractive, Tiaa. You sounded so plain and ordinary.

Am guessing that the girls who don’t tell a different story are gay.

They say I'm too ivory white and ethereal and too skinny and that I look anorexic which i don't care about, but I think its seriously disrespectful to people with REAL eating disorders (btw i'm so totally not anorexic! I eat loads I just never gain weight and I'm not thin enough to be anorexic anyways, I think they were just being BIATCHES especially this one ratty brain called Ellie Mayfair who I hope freaking DIES in PAIN with SHIT ON HER FACE! Sorry, I'm not really such a batch but she is SO horrible if you met her you'd think the same!)

I hate when girls pick on me for being too ethereal.

Even though we’re using the “attractive character looks anorexic but isn’t” trope, and that’s obviously not so great, I guess it’s nice that Tiaa/Becky took the time to point out that the comparison is disrespectful to people who actually have anorexia or another eating disorder.

The bit about Ellie Mayfair is one of the best things I’ve ever read. I hope you guys all understand why I had to run this fic now.

Anyways I am quite tall and slim and but with really big boobs that I used to HATE because they look noticeable on my slender body and draw to much attention but now i like them and don't care who stares at me!

Ah, the “skinny yet improbably busty” body type. Strangely more common in fiction than in real life.

Tiaa totally does care who stares at her, by the way. As we’ll see shortly.

I have a lip ring and recently put black and indigo and magenta streaks in my long pale blond hair. I smell like mint and cinnamon.

I have no idea why we’re supposed to care about any of this, but I’m particularly unclear about why we should care what she smells like.

I wear mostly black and hot pink, deep purple and neon blue and listen to COOL music!

Tiaa’s specific music taste never comes up, to my recollection, but I’m betting My Chemical Romance is involved.

It is my first day at school in forks as I just moved here to live with new foster parents Dave and Marie. They are nice and all very hole some sweet people but it is not like having a real family.

Yeah, Tiaa is adopted. This is sort of plot-important later on, but we never get to learn much about her life prior to Dave and Marie.

I've been hurt to many times to let people close to me and I don't talk to them very much.

I mean… you just moved in with them.

My real mom died when I was born and I never knew my real dad. I sometimes wonder what he is like and if I will ever get to met him.

Foreshadowing!

Dave gave me a ride to school and I smiled faintly as he wished me good luck and I got out of the car and went into the school. Loads of people freaking stared at me as I walked down the hall.

Presumably because she’s too ethereal.

I was wearing tight black leather pants with silver chains at the waste and a red fishnet-like top and you could see my black lacy bra through it.

That could have something to do with why they’re staring.

I ignored whispers and the big pink cheerleader imbosils pointing at me. I was used to it and I paid no at-tension to the guys asking desperately for my number(like hell I'd even LOOK at the horny little donkeys!) and told a ditsy blond cheerleader called Jessica to STFU(!) when she called me a freak!

God I love this author’s writing style. Truly, no one has ever written like this, before or since. BeckyMac666 is one of the unsung geniuses of our time.

Next time she tries anything I'll hit her in the eye cause NO ONE messes with me nemore!

Most of the rest of the story is about various people messing with Tiaa. For the record.

My first day I was relay board, I sat gazing out of the window into the gray cloud-embittered sky for most of the morning, My teachers all looked at me disprovable but said nothing cause they probably new I was a foster kid and a Gothic and didn't want to upset me in case I cut them up as they slept,.

I’m a pretty big fan of the phrase “cloud-embittered,” although it is of course completely meaningless.

Hey, uh… why the hell hasn’t she gotten dress coded? I went to a private school and I guess our dress code was a bit stricter than most, but most high schools will get upset at teenage girls for not covering their knees and shoulders, let alone having any undergarments visible. Tiaa’s entire bra is showing through her fishnet top. This is a situation in which I think it’d be reasonable to ask her to change.

My ears are pierced four times, I have a tattoo of a scorpion(like S my birth-sign!) on my ankle and a Gothic cross on my shoulder, and on my hand i have a weird birthmark in the shape of a seven-pointed star that I've had all my life.

I don’t know why we’ve gone right back to (over)describing Tiaa, but I do think I should delete my entire OkCupid bio and replace it with this opening chapter.

Your probably wandering why I'm bothering to tell you this, well I tell you now I am no ordinary sixteen year old girl.

Could’ve fooled me!

I have a secret, a dark and forbidden secret witch I am only just beginning to understand. When I sleep I hear whispers in another language and even though I understand them at the time, when I wake up i can't remember it!

That’s nothing. I had a dream once where I explained the meaning of Nirvana lyrics to somebody (obviously not possible in real life), and I couldn’t remember my explanation when I woke up either.

I also see weird faces in my dreams that fade to nothingness when I open my eyes and I swear out the corner of my eye my birthmark glows shocking bright gold and gets relay hot sometimes but when I look properly it is back to normal boarding scar-color!

I’d like to remind you that this is set in the Twilight universe. It’s already got magical creatures, and there are rules established about their abilities, appearances, and behavior. Tiaa is clearly not quite human, but she doesn’t seem to be a vampire, a half-vampire, or a werewolf. She’s completely unique within her universe, for no defined reason, and the rules governing other nonhumans don’t apply to her.

Like, the physical description and the obvious homage to “My Immortal” already made it clear that this girl is a Mary Sue, but this author clearly gets that Sue status isn’t just about looking unreasonably pretty. It’s about defying the rules of canon. Tiaa’s outstanding at that, as you’ll see later on.

I am really gracefull like the running anti-lopes when I run very fast and am stronger and faster than most people.

God, what a sentence.

I used to just think i was relay athletic but now I'm not so sure, I think there might be something else at work, something so much more mysterious and eeire.

Something like… bad writing?

The truth hovers so softly on the brink of my memory sometimes but if only i could remember the weird things that clung to the edge of my mind as I slept!

There are so many bad fanfics where the prose is bare-bones, with few or no adjectives/adverbs and simple sentence structure. BeckyMac666 tends in the opposite direction, and it’s awesome. Everything is phrased as though it’s super dramatic, nonsense metaphors abound, and our author has clearly never met an adjective she didn’t like. Hey @ aspiring trollfic authors: take note. This is how you write an entertaining badfic.

At lunch I sat alone in the corner and scanned the cafeteria quietly with my eyes smoldering dark blue beheath my long black lashes and my slim thighs curled under me.

Also a big fan of how Tiaa always talks about herself as though she’s checking herself out.

It was the n I noticed an unbelievably jaw-droopingly hawt HAWT HAAAAAAAAWT dude with tusseted blondey-brown hair, golden yellow eyes like wells of hot caramel and pale sexy features. He was tall and mussel and looked like he was wearing eyeliner and my body got hot and cold all at once as I looked at him.

Kind of like an erection only she’s a girl so she didn’t get one you sicko.

I'd never felt this way about anyone before and I'd totally never felt this weird feeling that I'd met someone before but I had no idea where and i knew it was impassible because I'd freaking remember someone THAT hawt!

Foreshadowing! Again!

A girl sat next to him with long brown hair with her arms dripped over him like a freaking flesh-eating plant so i thought well whatevah, hes taken.

Straight-up one of the greatest similes I’ve ever seen. Like, I study English literature and I don’t think I’ve ever read a metaphor better than that one. I’m not joking, it’s brilliant.

She wasn't nearly as hawt as he was, she wasn't ugly though. I figured I was maybe prettier then her. I never really saw myself as beautiful but i'd guessed from thinks others had said, plus this girl wasn't great looking but anyways I'd never try to pilch with another girls' BF cause thats just low.

The modesty act might be a little more convincing if we hadn’t just read several paragraphs of Tiaa talking about how hot she is.

So I got up to leave the hall thinking I'd go and smoke some bald drugs in the locker room while no one was there.

Hey, what’s a “bald drug”? I go to a liberal arts college and I’ve watched the entirety of Breaking Bad multiple times, so you think I’d have heard of it.

As I waked over to he exit I couldn't help but notice the hawt pale guys musky eyes as they met mine.

Musk is a substance some male animals secrete for scent-marking purposes. The word comes from the Sanskrit for “scrotum.” Thought you all should know.

I locked away hurriedly. I smocked dope in the locker room for a bit then I wondered to my next class.

This bitch just hotboxed a locker room on her first day of school. 

I bumped into someone in the corridor and my bocks fell everywhere! FRICK! FRICK! FRIIIICKK!

Remember that this is the beta-read version of the chapter.

"WTF!" I screamed loudly, "watch where your FREAKING going you asshole!" (i have anger problems)

So you know how self-insert characters, particularly Sues, often have self-proclaimed “anger issues”? I wanna talk about that, actually, because it’s a trope I see not only in fanfiction but in published fiction, and it honestly bugs me.

In real life, anger issues are a totally legitimate character flaw, and one that can have serious negative consequences in-universe. A character with a bad temper may make rash decisions, screw up their relationships with others, have trouble holding down a job, get in trouble with the law, and so on; people who have anger problems are often mentally ill and/or traumatized, too, and the anger may be just the tip of the iceberg. Many morally ambiguous characters, well-written ones, have trouble with anger. There’s nothing wrong with this trope when it’s executed correctly.

In the hands of a less-than-competent writer, however, anger issues are the opposite of a problem, because the character’s show of anger will invariably cause others to back down or apologize and there will be no negative consequences. Writing a character who’s so sweet and charming that they always get their way has exactly the same effect, but as that trope falls out of style “anger issues” has taken its place and the authors who write these characters have no idea that they’re doing the same thing as the trope they thought they were avoiding.

Of course, this is the work of a troll, and the use of this trope is almost certainly intentional, but there are way too many authors who employ it unironically as a way to give a “flaw” to a character that even they realize is bordering on unrealistic.

"I'm so so sorry" he said in a voice like wet heaven "please forgive me my lady”

Author’s so fond of weird phrases that I have no idea whether or not “wet heaven” is intended as innuendo.

It was the hawt pale guy!

Dun dun dunnnn!

Next chapter

[cutiesaeran]

A Day to Be Reckless

Based off the first bad end, featuring trans M!MC.

Word count: 1937

Pairing: Unknown/MC

Rating: T for some “strong language”

I’m not sure what drove me to download the mysterious app that popped up as ‘recommended for you’ on fakebook. I don’t usually make sure impulsive decisions, especially not ones that could be potentially dangerous. After all, it could’ve been anything from the simple messaging app it claimed to be up to a way for some creep to track me and possibly kidnap me. For whatever reason, I tapped on it and downloaded it, following the prompts to create a username (McOllie, a nickname I’d earned based on my Irish last name) and set up my own little profile. Because I still had at least a little of my sanity, I opted to use a picture of one of my favorite characters from a beloved book series - Lunar Lovegreat - rather than one of my own, just in case. Once it was all done, I poked around the rest of the app to try to see what else there was to do, but most of it seemed foreign to me at that particular moment. So I just kind of shrugged it off and closed it, finishing my lunch break before heading back to class.

The rest of the day went by as normal, with me chatting occasionally to my cousin and a few of my friends until classes were over. It was a Wednesday, one of the nights I reserved during the week for studying, so I packed up my stuff and headed home. The bus was crowded, like usual, and I stood in the middle, making sure to leave any open seats for someone who needed it more than me. With one hand on the strap to keep myself secure, I used the other to open my phone to tripter and flip through the most recent updates of my friends. Many of them were planning to go out tonight to various events, including a musical production that was pretty popular among the students of the university. I actually had tickets to go see it that weekend with my cousin; Soomin was a very big fan of the lead actor and had begged me to go with her for quite a while before I finally caved. Musicals… aren’t really my thing.

I was in the middle of reading a rather amusing thread between two of my friends holding a conversation entirely in music quotes when the new app beeped at me, drawing my attention to the notification flashing at the top of my screen. Most apps don’t do that, so I tapped it curiously to find that someone was messaging me. I didn’t know how to take that, exactly, since I hadn’t done anything to add any friends. How strange…?

Unknown: …Hello…?

Should I answer? Not only is this a stranger messaging me, but they apparently decided the best username would be something as ambiguous as “Unknown.”  Maybe… it wouldn’t hurt, just to see what they want.

McOllie: Hello?

Unknown: Can you see this?

McOllie: Um, I answered, so yeah, that’s a safe assumption to make.

The stranger started up a conversation about having found a missing phone that supposedly only had this messenger app on it - something I found to be highly unlikely, but okay, I’ll bite for now. I let them talk about wanting to return the phone and being unable to, raising an eyebrow at how strange the tale sounded. When I tried to inquire more into their identity, they deflected it fairly easily with excuses of being ‘just a student studying abroad’ and that they’re Korean… as though that’s supposed to placate me, somehow. They asked me to help them find the owner of the phone by going to an address (the only one, in theory) that was saved in the device, and, for the third time that day, I found myself doing something that I normally wouldn’t do.

I said yes.

When I input the address into my GPS, I found it to be in one of the nicer portions of town. Well, that was either a good sign… or a very, very bad one. I’d already passed the stop to get there easily, so I just hopped off at the next one and rode another bus back to the area. It didn’t take me too long to get there, and on the way I sent my cousin a text letting her know what I was doing. May as well warn someone about my recklessness, right?

Ollie [17:23] Hey, I’m trying to help someone return a lost phone. I don’t know either of the parties personally, so… if you don’t hear from me in an hour or so, try to reach me, okay?

Ollie [17:24] This is the address:

Soomin [17:25] K… this is rly weird for u. stay safe plz

The apartment door I stopped at was plain, the only thing making it stand out from the rest being the rather large password lock on the handle. The sight of that, as well as the engraved ‘RFA’ right above it, made me feel even more uneasy about the whole situation.

Unknown: Are you there? ^^ See. Nothing strange.

Unknown: Is there a password lock on the door?

I… don’t know what to do. How should I answer? This is just so strange, a situation I’d never thought I’d find myself in. Well, I was supposed to be returning a phone, so I rang the doorbell. No one answered, so I knocked, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other and glancing down the hallway. The more time that passed, the more the dread in the pit of my stomach grew.

McOllie: Uh… no. I don’t see one. Maybe I’m at the wrong place?

Unknown: That’s strange.

Unknown: There’s really nothing?

Unknown: There’s nothing to put in the password?

I sucked in a breath; no going back now. Typing out my answer, I chewed on the inside of my cheek while I waited.

McOllie: Nope, nothing here. Could you have sent me the wrong address?

Unknown: …

Unknown: You sure?

Oh my god, why did they keep asking? It’s like they knew I was lying. My eyes widened as it dawned on me that they probably did. Shit. I gotta get out of here.

McOllie: No, there’s nothing here. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ll be able to help so I’m just… gonna go now.

Unknown: Really?

Unknown: That’s strange.

Unknown: I see with my own eyes that…

Unknown: You are standing in front of a password door lock.

Unknown: Are you going to continue lying?

My blood ran cold as I read those words; fuck, what had I gotten myself into? This was the exact reason I’d always stuck to the straight and narrow path in the past, for fear of danger or ruining my carefully planned future.

Shutting off my phone and shoving it in my pocket, I pulled the hood from my sweater over my head, glancing both ways before quickly turning on my heel to head back to the elevator. My reflexes aren’t particularly quick, so I didn’t have a chance to stop my forward momentum before I crashed into his chest. Jerking back a little too quickly, I pin wheeled my arms to try to catch my balance. He reached out one hand, placing it on my shoulder and quirking an eyebrow at me. A black mask obscured the lower half of his face yet I could tell he was smirking at me by the way one of his eyes was slightly crinkled. His hair was bleached to the point that it was nearly white, excluding the tips, which were a very pale pink. Bright red eyebrows drew attention to his eyes, which were a very unusual shade of green - something I’d almost call a mint color. He was taller than me, though not by more than an inch. Our frames were similar but he was much skinnier than I, something that made his strength somewhat unexpected. The grip on my shoulder was tight, almost to the point of hurting, and he didn’t release me when I regained my footing.

“Well, that plan failed,” he murmured under his breath, his eyes raking over my body in a manner that made me feel very self-conscious. Subconsciously I crossed my arms over my chest, though I had nothing to hide, it was just reflexive. “I’ll have to find someone else. Although,” he continued thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side and reaching forward to lower my hood. Running a hand through my shaggy dark brown hair, he continued the movement down to pinch my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head to the side and staring at me. My eyes flickered down the hall, silently praying for someone, anyone to find us and save me.

“You’re rather handsome. I could get rid of you, but that’d be a shame. What should I do with you?” Retracting his hand, he pulled down his mask, smiling at me coldly. “What do you think, Ollie?”

I recoiled from the use of my name; that meant something I hadn’t wanted to admit even as all signs pointed to it: this was planned for me from the beginning. “I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to let me go?” I asked weakly, already knowing the answer. Should I be fighting him right now? Honestly, I probably should, and god knows I’ve taken my fair share of self-defense classes, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to raise my hand to him.

High-pitched laughter rang out, echoing in the empty corridor to form a weird playback effect that left my ears ringing. “You’ve seen me, so that’s not an option. Hmm. You know, he has an assistant; I think I deserve one as well.” The pause seemed pointed, as though he was waiting for me to say something, but I stayed silent. His eye twitched in annoyance before he said in a bored tone, “that would be you, Ollie. You’d be my assistant.” Moving his hand from my shoulder down my arm to grasp my wrist, he pulled me closer, his black leather jacket falling off of one shoulder to reveal a rather creepy looking eye tattoo. His eyes were trained on mine, an intensity swirling deep inside of them as he narrowed them. “What do you say? Wanna come with me to paradise, where you’ll find true happiness, and be my assistant? I promise I won’t hurt you… if you listen.” He cackled again and I flinched at how loud it was this close in proximity, my hand shaking at my side. I was scared shitless, but I was also… fascinated. Intrigued. I felt drawn to him in a manner I couldn’t comprehend.

Was this it? The end for me? Had I spent all those years at home, working so hard at school so I could be accepted into SKY University and travel to the country my mother was from to study, only to throw it all away? So far I had managed to achieve every single goal I had laid out for myself and my life was going the way I had planned, up until that moment. But I wasn’t happy. Not at all.

Maybe I needed something different. This was my chance to completely change everything.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded curtly. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

A flash of surprise rippled across his face before it was replaced with glee, and he spun around, pulling me toward the elevator. “Wonderful. Let’s not waste another moment then. A man like you deserves to enter paradise immediately.”

[whatdimissmotherfuckers]

Maybe that’s the problem

THIS IS A SERIES. PART 2 Part 3

Word count: 2939

Summary: You go to one of philip hamiltons famous parties, and next thing you know, you wake up in his house. shit happens.

Au: Highschool Au

Pairing: Philip x Reader

Warning:  Uh. French, mentions of sex??? but really just. the word, underage drinking/smoking (dont do drugs kids) i think thats it. Note:good god guys, I really loved writing this. Also, I always think of so much to say in the notes when i’m actually writing, but now i forgot all of it. No proofreading, we die like men. I love Georges, anyone wanna see a georges fic?  AND Want this to be a multipart fic???? And yeah. I listened to Initiation from The Weeknd, so i recommend you do to. Even if it doesn’t have much to do with the story YET.  And georges is sleeping with philip, im sure. (you will understand later) Enjoy. Thats it. Also thanks to @fanfrickinhamiltasticimagines for helping me with the name so philips generation. Check her out guys. She hella cool. Done. Oh. @lookaroundlookaroundhowlucky wanted to be tagged. okay im out.

"You've never been to a Hamilton-Party?!"

You couldn't help but giggle at your friend Abigail, her eyes were widened in shock. "I've already told you a thousand times I've never been to any parties, Nabby", you reminded her, before taking a seat next to the girl. Abigail lifted her shoulders, giving you a shrug. "Yeah, but the ones at Hamiltons’ are different. I didn't know you meant those too", she alleged, plunking down into the chair. Raising an eyebrow in amusement, you explained yourself. "I told you my parents are trying to prevent me from underage drinking at all costs. How was I supposed to find a way to go there anyways?" Your words made your friend twist her mouth. "Hmm", she hummed, hesitating. She seemed to be contemplating something, which made you curious in an instant. "What are you thinking about?", you asked her, shifting around in your seat. "Oh nothing", Abigail informed you, as a wide smile began spreading across her face, "I was just wondering what I should borrow you for tonight! We're gonna pay the Hamilton Estate a visit!" Reluctant, you crossed your arms. "I don't know. I mean, I'm not even invited. And if my parents would find out...", you didn't even bother to finish your sentence. Your parents were horribly strict and it already took you almost a week to persuade them to let you stay overnight at Abigail's home. "Come on, don't be such a party pooper! I'll be with you, and it'll be fun. Trust me!", she reassured you, grabbing your shoulder. "Nobody will find out! And you don't need an invitation! Everybody can go. Okay? Are you with me?" A deep sigh escaped your throat, before you slowly nodded. "I'm not gonna regret this, am I?", you joked, but all you received was a shrug, before Abigail left the room.

"I'm really, really sure, this is a bad idea", you decided, as you stood in the basement of the Hamilton Estate, which was designated as a party room. It was already packed with people, and you could barely see anything, because it was dark for the most parts. Diffused blue lights were place here and there, making you instantly uncomfortable with the shady surroundings. You could hear the distant voice of The Weeknd singing "Initiation", but you were pretty sure the music was supposed to be more loud and cheerful during normal parties. Abigail nudged you with her elbow, giggling in amusement. "Ohhh, are you scared?", she mocked teasingly, grabbing your arm. "Don't be, let's go over to Theo." Before you could complain, she was already dragging you across the room, making you almost trip. This was one of the rare moments of you wearing high heels, but Abigail insisted that they would fit perfectly into the occasion. Now that you could be the judge of that, you completely disagreed. Nobody would noticed them, it was far too dark to see anything. But at least they matched your purse, right? Beauty knows no pain. As you came nearer towards Theodosia, she was already waving you, a warm smile on her lips. She was one of your closer friends, which you were very thankful for, because she was an absolute cinnamon-roll and always cared for you. But seeing her here made you begin to wonder. You never deemed her for being someone who goes to parties. "Good to see you girls", she greeted the two of you, drawing you into a tight embrace, making you inhale the scent of her cologne mixed with the unpleasant smell of cigarettes. "Why are you here?", you inquired shamelessly, after she had let go of you. "Joseph dragged me here", Theo avowed, and made a gesture with her hand, pointing to a boy who was currently pouring a drink. Joseph was her boyfriend, and they were in a happy relationship for almost three years now.  You gave a small nod, before you turned to the boy next to her, who wasn't engaging into the conversation at all.

He was taller than all of the girls, and as far as you could judge, he had a dark skin-colour, and short,dark locks, fitting his handsome face nicely. Constantly biting his lips, he didn't even seem to notice that you were staring at him, till you cleared your throat, which resulted in instantly having his darting eyes on him. "I haven't seen you around the school, who are you?", you asked him, trying not to drown out Abigails voice, because you didn't want to interrupt her dialogue with Theo.  Giving you sheepish look, he put forth some words in a foreign language you couldn't understand. "Sorry, I couldn't understand you. Could you repeat yourself?” He nodded, carefully repeating what he said. It turned out he was only introducing himself and had a french accent. "Mon name is Georges Washington Louis Gilbert de La Fayette, nice to meet you." Your face was flushed with shame as you realized the foreign language was his name, and hastily gave him your name. "Yeah, I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N), nice to meet you too", you stammered, wanting to shake his hand, as he slowly lowered himself to your height to kiss your cheeks. Struggling to speak, you just fidgeted with your hands, making him understand that you weren't used to the french etiquette. "Oh, je suis désolé! I forgot that you Americans don't greet", he said, scratching the back of his head. "It's okay", you assured him, after your cheeks had taken on a normal colour again. "You're french?" His eyes sparkled at your words, making both him and you smile. "Yes! I'm an exchanged student and I sleep with him!" Georges pointed at a boy on the other side of the room, who immediately caught your eyes. You wanted to correct Georges funny English, but instead your gaze was fixed on the person he had pointed to. You were amazed by his handsome freckled face, and the wild, long curls, framing his face in a perfect way. Sitting relaxed on of the couches, he was surrounded by a group of people, mostly consisting of girls,and held some sort of glass in his hand. For a moment, his sharp eyes met yours and you felt your heart racing almost immediately.

Feeling someone tapping your shoulder, you swiftly shook your head, before turning towards the person interrupting you in your thoughts. "Hey. Are you eyeing the Hamilton-boy?", Theo queried, narrowing her eyes. You took another look at the boy, who seemed to be Philip, the host of the party and nodded eagerly. Theodosia seemed to be unamused by your interest and raised her eyebrows, warning you with a wagging finger. "If I were you, I would stay away from him. He's a total player and will steal your virginity, independence and dignity in one night", she cautioned, and Abigail shoved a red cup into your hand, encouraging you to drink from it. "Come on, forget about Philip,let's get drunk (Y/N)!" Without hesitation, you downed the drink. As you felt the bitter liquid running down your throat, you had to resist the urge to throw up on the spot. "Damn. I can't imagine why anyone would want to do this by their own choice", you remarked, making your friends laugh.

You were waken up by the pulsing pain in your head, and  groaned quietly, rolling around in the large bed. Blinking confusedly, you tried to open your eyes, but regretted it immediately,since the brightness of the day only hurt you. You had no idea of what happened yesterday, but your heavy head clearly spoke volumes for that. Hoping that nobody took pictures of that night, you stretched yourself a bit, yawning. At least you woke up in your own bed. How you got home was a miracle though. Probably Abigail carried you home. You smirked at the imagination and buried your face further into your pillow, inhaling the pleasant smell of fabric softener. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. This didn't smell like your bed sheets, it had a distant smell of men's cologne. And since when was your bed so huge that you could roll around in it?

Realizing this could not be your bed, you jolted up, widening your eyes in shock. Dizziness added to the pain in your head from the sudden action, but you didn't care. And as you noticed, who was laying next to you, in nothing more than boxershorts, you swallowed. Dark, curly hair. A lot of it. Hidden under it was a peaceful, freckled face, sleeping soundly.  Looking down, you saw yourself in nothing more than your black underwear. "Fuck", you breathed, rubbing your forehead. Did you really have sex with the only person you were warned of? More importantly, did you have your first time with someone and forgot all about it? Before you could think of more embarrassments, you hastily got out of bed, searching for your clothes.

You took a closer look around the room. Mostly consisting of very light colors and minimalistic furniture, you thought that it looked very luxurious. But than again, should you expect less from the son of a politician? Not that you knew much about Philip, this was the only piece of information you had. Despite pacing around a few times, you couldn't spot your black dress in the room. Another groan of frustration escaped your mouth. How were you supposed to go home in this attire? But, as you glimpsed at the bed, you decided waking Philip up seemed like a bad idea too. Shouldn't one-night-stands be gone in the morning? Did he offer you to stay? You wished you knew, but no. Your hungover brain had to forget the most essential things about last night. The only thing you could remember was talking to Abigail, Theodosia and Georges...Georges! The french boy mentioned, that he was staying at Philips home. Maybe you could ask him for some clothes. He would surely understand the situation you were in.

You hastily made your way to the door, trying to open it as quietly as you could, but instead it squeaked like an old garden gate, making you cringe.

"Where are you planning on going?" Philips voice was half husky, half sleepy and let a shiver run down your spine as you heard him. Feeling caught, you slowly turned around on the spot. Trying to play cool, you leaned against the doorframe. What would a one-night-stand say right now? Did you enjoy yourself last night? Hastily, you ran your thoughts through all the scenarios you knew from any movies you had watched, but as soon as you saw his face grinning smugly, you lost your composure. Instantly, you felt your cheeks redden and your heart pounding in your chest. "H-Hi. I'm se-searching m-my clothes", you stuttered, facepalming yourself internally. Philip started laughing at you, slowly raising himself from the bed. You couldn't resist the chance and gave him a once-over, as he slowly walked towards you.

"You don't know a thing about yesterday, do you?", he asked in an amused tone. Relaxed, he took a strand of your hair into his hand, toying with it. You admitted he was right, and with a deep chuckle, he desisted from making you more nervous. As he put some clothes on, you were reluctant, but asked anyways. "Do... you know more than I do?" Confident in his position, Philip lifted his head. "Of course I do. Girl, do you really think we had sex? Because if we did, you would've remembered it."  He winked at you, which made you raise your eyebrows. "Care to enlighten me? Can you tell me why I am here, almost naked?", you queried. A grin spread across his face. "I can, but I'm not sure if you really want to hear it", he warned you, buttoning up his shirt. With a gesture of your hand, you demanded him to continue. Philip exhaled deeply, before he spoke, as if he had to recall what exactly happened. "So, after a while, we were running low on alcohol and I wanted to get some more in my house. You followed my, pressed me, and tried to undress me multiple times. Despite the fact that I declined, you would stop bothering me. So, suddenly, you ripped your dress off, throwing yourself on me. I couldn't let you into the crowd half naked, so I decided to make you sleep here", he explained bluntly. Feeling the blood pumping into your head, you quickly covered your face with your shaking hands. This was a lot more embarrassing than what you thought happened. But at least, this also meant that you still had your virginity. What did Abigail say again? He'll steal your virginity, independence and dignity in one night. Well, at least you still had two out of three things. "Sorry for forcing myself on you..and stuff. And thanks, for not taking advantage, I guess", you said, deeply ashamed. Philip gave a little shrug and handed you some clothing. "Here. I threw your dress away, to be honest, but you can keep this." Philip opened the door, but before he left, he turned to you again, adding:" Do you want to eat something or leave right away? Maybe get some painkillers for the headache?" After you were fully clothed, you decided, to eat together with him, eager to find out more about Philip. It couldn't get any worse, you thought.

After a few minutes, both of you were sitting on a large table in the living room, which was fully packed with all sorts of food. Widening your eyes, you got way too excited at the sight and didn't listen to what Philip said, as something brushed slightly against your shoulder. You turned your head to see Georges exiting the room, waving you goodbye. He said something, but you couldn't understand him, because his mouth was occupied with a croissant.

"He's late for church", Philip explained, taking a sip out of his glass. You nodded slowly, not knowing what to say, and silently, both of you began to eat. There were no sounds, except for the maid humming in the kitchen and the clattering of silverware. You glimpsed over to him, to see if he had any interest in a conversation, but he was busy with typing something into his phone, so you decided to shut your mouth. The occasional glances were getting longer and longer, till you didn't even bother to look away anymore. "So, I heard you were a player. Why did you decline my...offer yesterday?", you finally broke the silence, and regretting it in an instant, as you saw the amused expression on his face. "Well", he drawled,"Maybe it was the fact that you kept saying you wanted to have your first time with me. And I don't do completely wasted virgins." Once again, you could feel your cheeks burning, and you lowered your head. "God.. do you think it's possible to block out memories...entirely?", you asked him, half joking, half serious.  "First of all, you can just call me Philip", he replied, making you sigh in annoyance. "Second... If you drink hard enough. Why do you think I host all these parties?" With a deep chuckle, he put away his phone and took a closer look at you.  What he said, made you contemplate.

"Why do you, actually?", you inquired, leaning a bit forward. Philip sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I mean, I'm not a expert.. But it just seems wasting your time. You can do so much better", you asserted, tapping your fingers against the table.  Philip let out an exasperated sigh and crossed his arms. "It's fun", he insisted offhanded, and you decided not to dig into it further, which led to another moment of awkward silence. His focused eyes were laying on you and he seemed to watch every move of you, making it impossible for you to eat anything.  "The Adams-girl has your purse", the freckled boy informed you without any context and made you even more uncomfortable. Fidgeting around in your seat, you decided it was time to go home. "I'll bring you to the door. Do you need money?", he asked, surprisingly polite and you declined. "Nabby only lives a few streets away." "That's her name.. Yes, I visited her house a few times because of my dad", he remembered, tipping slightly against his temple, as the two of you made your way through his home. As you were finally standing in front of the door, you thanked him again, and managed to conjure a faint smile on his face. Leaning against a wall, Philip nodded slowly. "I hope you come crash my party next weekend again",he suggested, making you laugh. "And maybe cut back on the alcohol", he added and opened the door in a swift manner.

As you headed out, you couldn't help but face him again, trying to memorize every part of his face, before you left. Despite his invitation, you didn’t want to come back so soon. "I hope you find what you're looking for", you said in a seemingly insignificant way, before turning away.

"But I'm not looking for anything", Philip replied with a questioning tone and scratched his neck.

"Maybe that's the problem", you muttered quietly, but loud enough so he could hear it, walking away at a steady pace. "Wait!", he suddenly hollered, but you didn't slow down. " I don't even know your name!"

A smile spread across your face. He didn't even know your name.

[mikenips]

You Can Never Go Home Again

“Artur?”  Pop a different tape in the player.  I can’t even watch that tape yet.  And I didn’t even know the guy personally.  Just one of those figures you see walking around town.  The type of character you wanna ask all the questions to.  But also afraid to approach.  Our inspirations will always hurt us more than the people we know.

“Yes.”  The smashed beak of a nose gets you first.  He’s a quirky looking man.  Wears those big, goofy glasses nerds wear in your 1950s nostalgia.  “You say your making movie on Bart?”

“Yeah.”  My camera shakes as I get outta the car.  Nearly dropped the fuckin’ thing.  Quick shot of the puddle it would’ve sunk in.  Brown.  With a faded can of Miller High Life pacing back and forth with the breeze.  You can tell someone shotgunned it.  Wonder if it’s a remnant of Pharm House.  The rusted whip-its in the street aren’t.  See more of them on the streets of Hamtown than ants or rats.  “It’s for a class project at Wayne State.”

“Good school.”  He nods.  Pats the head of the dog in the backseat of his Jeep.  Crack swooping down the front driver’s side windshield.  “Come.  I show you house.”

The house is set far back on the yard.  Red siding giving it that farm look.  Probably was a house for farm animals or something.  Smaller than the rest of the homes on the block.  But also stands taller.  Gets higher than the rest of the block.  No matter how much weed Bart shared with the neighbors as they watched from the safety of the porch.  Staring at the graffiti covered tree.  “Bart was good kid.  Good tenant.  Always remind me to pick up rent.  You know.  I forget those things sometimes.  Spent many nights drinking with him.  He was always out and about.  Caught him buying coke from a bartender one time.  Tell him he shouldn’t do that.  He laughed.  Said he knew.  So I laugh.

“Shame when I tell him I had to evict him.  But he’s real smart.  He knew he was in the wrong.  Admitted it.  Left like he was supposed to.  Can even tell he tried fixing the damages.  I give him security deposit back.  For the effort.  Plus now I have this artifact.  I see kids, just like you, checking it out all the time.  I don’t know how they find it.  But they come to the house.

“See!”  He points to a dip in the lawn.  Patchy grass attempting to cover the dirt there before it.  “I talk to Bart after he leave.  Ask for stories.  Why these kids come to my house?  Just to look!  He give me tour.  Now I do the same for you.

“In Summer.  He throw a big barbeque.  Neighbors sit on their front porch and watch too.  They all spoke highly of him after he left.  It was for the homeless.  And the bands play right out here!  Crazy right?”

The banister of the porch is cracked.  My head plays the video from Shithole’s Facebook page.  Dooley attempting to hurtle the three foot tall plank of wood.  Catching his Croc on it.  Yanks it all down before landing on the rusty screws and splintering bark where the dip in the lawn would be.  Brad running up and stealing his sunglasses.  The pit swirls to the fuzzed out guitar still ripping through the chaos.  Dooley coming to his feet and hurling the bass at Brad.  Ripping the jack from the body.

And the whole time.  Barf stands quietly behind the mess.  That smile cuts through the grainy video from somebody who clearly owns an Android.  No shirt.  Fringe vest.  Jeans torn to shreds.  Camera around his neck.  Sipping on a bottle of champagne.  Standing next to his grandma.  Claps triumphantly over the crowd.  “Kids.  The bands play.  They run around.  Hit each other.  I see it sometimes at the shows here.  So interesting.  Not for me.  But fun to watch.”

“Yeah.”  I laugh a bit.  “We call that a mosh pit.  Let’s out all that aggression people tell you it’s not ok to let out.”

“Mosh pit…”  He stares at the patchy lawn.  “It did make pit alright.  But Bart always cut grass himself.  Sometimes I drive past and see him doing it.  No shirt.  Drinking Stroh’s.  Make me laugh everytime.”

Get on the porch.  As he unlocks the door my camera takes in the front window.  Backstage seats.  See an occasional face in the footage of the show.  Bits of shower curtain still stuck to the red siding from front lawn movie nights.  “It crazy.  Still feels weird coming in.  I always give Bart his privacy.  I don’t want to intrude on him.  But when I see house after.  Maybe I should have.  Damages everywhere.  Look here at steps.”

His arm sweeps in the direction of the stares.  But the camera continues to film the rest of the walls.  A mattress in the middle of the living room.  Chipped paint and random bits of tape still clinging by an inch to the drywall.  Wooden chairs around the feet imprints of a coffee table.  Instantly I can scrap book various images and videos to fill the rest of the now empty home.  Some characters in black and white.  Others pixelated and grainy.  In off hue colors.

Zoom in on the wooden landing below the staircase.  Slivers of empty space dart across the square panel.  Trying to find an escape from the pressure dropping on it.  “Not many know this story.  Very old story from Bart’s twenty first birthday.  He said he didn’t know many people then.  And nobody knows what the future will find worthy of keeping.  So not so many videos of that party.

“Bart says a friend of his.  Record producer that joined the Navy did it.  Bart says he looks around living room.  Everybody pointing and gasping at the stairs.  Bart standing just inches from landing.  Doesn’t see him jump.  Flies from second story to landing on Bart’s skateboard.  And he break the floor.  Looks at Bart laughing and says ‘at least the skateboard is in tact.’

“Back of house or upstairs first?”  Camera fixed on the floor’s POV of the second story.  You can tell he never swept his stairs.

“Well.  The upstairs was the main stage for shows.  Let’s get shots of the rest of the house first.  Capture the essence of the party before goin’ to the main attraction.”

“Sounds good.  I like that.  I went to house party one time.  A friend of Bart’s.  Bart always invite me over here.  But I can’t impose on him.  I don’t know if I would want to know what he was doing.  Ignorance is bliss.”

The hallway splits into three rooms.  Pan camera left.  Once I start editing gotta superimpose the Instagram photos of that sink filled with two empty thirty racks.  One of the few photos from the twenty first birthday party.  The cigarette butt that blew up the gas station.

Spin one eighty to the second bedroom.  Which was really more of a glorified closet.  The yellow page of a legal pad still taped to the doorway.  Bart’s handwriting all over it.  “See.  He catch me.  I never wrote in lease that he can’t smoke inside.  But at least he kept it in the spare bedroom.”

We walk through the door.  Blue carpet singed and stained with spray paint.  “I still remember seeing videos as a teenager.  Can barely make out all those artists and musicians sitting in this room through the smoke.  I can hear Dooley, while looking dead at the camera, ‘nicotine hot box!’  Yelling at someone to keep the window closed.”

Tilt from the carpet to the window.  “Very funny story.  I assume this Dooley did.  Bart said he walks in the room.  Can’t breathe.  Can’t see.  Claustrophobic.  Tries to open window.  And somebody slams it from his hand.  Tears the blinds off.  Everybody laughs.  Now.  Blinds don’t close.  That’s still the sheet Bart hangs up over the blinds to block window.  Always wonder why he didn’t buy new blinds instead.”

The peacock couch is long gone.  A thirty five dollar purchase Bart made while on acid thrifting in high school.  Great clip of Cole Sanders from the Turds sitting on the couch.  Paisley shirt and leather jacket.  Looks like he’s trying to sell molly to teenagers.  Smoking Spirits.  Talking about listening to new wave.  While Echo and the Bunnymen play in the background.  The seam of his pants splitting wide open.

Tucked in the closet are various paintings.  “Do you know where these are from Artur?”

“No.  I find them hanging throughout the house after Bart leave.  Just lost artworks.  Some collage.  Some photography.  Some paintings and drawings.  All different people I assume.”

Flip through them.  Some standard CCS bullshit.  Some pop art homages.  Recognize the outsider doodle.  An original Cole Sanders.  Got a few hanging up in the apartment.  Then I see it.  Propped by itself on the opposite corner of the wall.  A surrealist portrait.  Oil on canvas.  A puke puddle of tie dye morphing to the doorways and walls of a house.  The colors give way to textures of fur and skin.  Even a slight haze of smoke.  The blobs lava lamp in the familiar image of Bart.  Camera zooms in on the interpretation of the image shared on Facebook this morning.

I recognize the style from the walls of Jenkem.  The holy grail in the mythos of Barf’s scene.  The piece Tara painted of him.  Something along the lines of paying him back after a bender that whole group went on.  She offered to paint him a portrait.  But the piece was lost after Pharm House got busted.  You can see it in a handful of videos all the way back on some people’s Instagram highlights.  If you know whose account to stalk.  “Can I take this?”

“Go ahead.  They just sit anyways.  Come see the bathroom.”

The white tile wall is stained orange.  Strands of hair stuck to it.  Stuck to the tub.  Stuck to the floor.  Stuck to the wall behind the door.  How the fuck do you even get hair stuck there?  A nice gradient of the off white tub fades from two circles to pitch black.  Two feet protecting some bit of fake porcelain from the dirt that would pool up.  “You know.  When I get house back.  The drains are all plugged in the bathtub.  So I cut into wall.  Take out pipes.  Pumpkin seeds!  There are pumpkin seeds in the drain.  Causing it to clog.  How do pumpkin seeds get in the bathtub?  I never ask Bart that.”

“There was one show here.  A band performing smashed a pumpkin upstairs.  Must’ve just gotten stuck to his foot or something.  Just trying to wash it all away.  Flush everything down the drain.”

Zoom in down the moldy drain.  Cutting off the rust colored stain on the bathroom floor.  Don’t even need to explain what that’s from.  I don’t know.  It seemed artsy at the time.  Now it just seems so pretentious.  The whole fuckin’ tour of the house seems pretentious.  Who does shit like this?  Maybe that’s Barf’s biggest illusion.  Getting people to create their own illusion of a home.  When nothing at all ever actually happened there.  Just a guy living life.  Never cleaning the bathtub because “the bathtub cleans me.”

“So this is my favorite part.”  Artur’s teeth crack the seal of his lips.  With the smile of a proud father.

Turn the corner at the top of the stairs.  A quick shot out the window at the top.  A toilet when Barf was too spun to figure out how to use stairs to go back down.  The master bedroom takes up the whole second floor.  The main stage.  Most people said they didn’t even know Bart actually slept up there.  Thought the mattresses were just decorative soundproofing.  Maybe the whole house was just a decoration.  “What’s that gash in the wall?”

“Cymbal.  Bart says hi-hat.  From Navy man’s going away party.  He says they cover ‘Blew My Mind.’  I forget the singer.  Chaos ensues.  How the hi-hat got behind the drummer?  Beats me!”

The famous send off show for the king.  Shitholes’s drummer.  Devil’s Night.  Dooley tryin’ to do coke off the amp during the set.  But the room had too many bodies.  Too humid.  Dooley yellin’ “it’s not working!  Fuck!”

“But this my favorite.  Look up!”  Tilt the camera to the angled ceiling.  A purple splatter that runs the length of the wall.  “Bart tell me he stand in back watching band.  Guitar gets stuck in chandelier.  Again.  Beats me how Bart never broke the chandelier.  Somebody as you said ‘moshes’ and falls into Bart.  His forehead hit bottle and it spills everywhere.  Even on ceiling!”

“So why’s that your favorite part?”

Focus back on Artur; with the same proud father smile.  “It’s jezy!  Good Polish boy drinking Leroux.  He always stay true to heritage.  Even that bar he buys.  Classic bar here from his grandparents’s time.  He buy it and revamp it for new kids to come to Hamtown and celebrate history.”

“That’s perfect Artur.”  The camera drops to my side.  But always keep it rolling.  Even when you think you got enough.  You never know what you’ll pick up on.  A random splice of life.  An absurd image that you never thought would mean something to you.  Like a still shot of a clump of hair in the corner next to beer a splattered and blown bass amp.  Probably Dooley.  He was famous for that shit.  “If you don’t mind I’m gonna get a few shots of the house from the outside.  But you can lock up and go if you want.”

“Of course.  Film!  Film!  Capture every moment.  That is why I don’t fix house.  This is history.  Other people need to see what happened here.”

As Art’s car takes off a neighbor’s voice calls from the porch next door.  The POV spins rapidly to the old black man.  “Are you another one of those punks here to do something crazy?  I’ll have you know this is more than some party house.  This is our neighborhood.  Bart never would’ve let stuff like this happen here.”

“No sir.  I’m actually working on a student film about Bart.  What do you mean he wouldn’t let stuff like this happen?”

“Well.  Bart threw parties.  And a lotta times they got outta hand.  But that’s what your twenties should be about.  Having a good time with your friends while you can.  But as the parties got bigger, they turned into free for alls.  Bart was trying to showcase new artists.  And it spiraled into this mess from giving everybody a platform to letting anybody do shit.  And now all these young kids show up and try to recreate those moments without really understanding what was going on.  How old are you kid?”

“Twenty one.”

“Exactly.  You were too young when Bart lived here to see what he was actually doing.  Things got outta hand.  But he always picked up the empty cans.  And he always made sure we felt welcome and comfortable.  He would move cars so we could park in front of our own houses.  He would pass the joint.  Bring us food he made.  He was providing a neighborhood for everybody to join.  Not just throwing parties.”

“So you think he was doing something good for the city?”

“He gave young people a place to celebrate themselves.  He just got carried away with it all.  And I don’t think it was him.  I think it was you kids that just looked at it as all fun and games that ended up with him being hurt.”

[tumblunni]

MONEY SORTED POKEBALL GET

Wow BIG PHEW the stupid preorder thing has finally been sorted and i got the money refunded this morning. Thaaaaank youuuuu! Still dont friggin know WHY they messed up all this stuff in the first place, but at least now i can buy the pokeball plus controller and thats officially all the stuff i would have got in my preorder. Half a week later, costing more separately, and without the special box or keychain :(

But at least IT IS HERE! The pokeball plus is so damn cool aaaa i would have wanted this just as a keychain even if it didnt also work as a controller AND a magical pedometer of pokemon squeakys! Its so high quality WOW it really does look exactly like a real pokeball except for the centre button being an analog stick instead. Its cool how they sorta hid buttons on this thing? There's another one somewhere in the red and you cant even see it, its just like one spot is rubber instead of hard plastic and then you can click it in. So it works great as a way to retain the visual appeal while also making it possible to actually play the game! And the rubber clicky thing makes it so its not easy to accidentally press it while doing motion controls. Also the plastic is just really high quality! Its that slightly spongy yet still tough acrylic stuff and it just feels really nice to hold. Its like the plastic equivelant of petting a cat? Thats the best way i can describe my dumb texture sensitivity issues, like you can understand enjoying hugging a soft thing but for me i feel the same way about pleasant textures of plastic/metal/wood/etc too. I really liked the grip pattern on the back of the 2ds xl, it was like holding a cheese grater that doesnt stab you.

ANYWAY

In summary: good.

Also i had a really nice interaction with an older couple who were running an art stall at city centre! The one who did the art was their autistic son, and i went over to look at it cos i saw the sign and was like 'wow someone like me can be so successful??' The parents ran the stall though because he was too nervous to be in those big crowds all day and try and sell stuff to strangers, i can really relate cos man i get stressed out just shopping let alone running a shop! But man i'm so happy for him that he has loving parents who support his art and go all HEAR YE HEAR YE COME AND LOOK AT MY TALENTED SON'S TALENT! His art was really amazing hyperrealistic pencil drawings that looked like photographs, and he could even do amazing optical illusion effects like a photo negative that would show the original if you view it through a filter. That's just wild that he's so smart that he can figure that out in his head! He must be like the final boss of color theory!!

Anyway i felt SO BAD that i couldnt afford to buy one or the paintings cos i just got the pokeball plus. But i stopped to compliment them and say how much it means to other autistic people to see their son running this business and being so successful. And they were just really nice and we had a nice chat and they were like 'dont worry, our son failed art class in school too, he actually never discovered his talent until he dropped out and started becoming self taught'. And they encouraged me to keep practising art and try and find my own way of doing it rather than getting stuck in hyper limited rules from very rude art teachers who made me wanna quit forever. You always hear about us 'special kids' having trouble with reading and maths and stuff but its really frustrating when you KNOW that you're creative, people tell you your problem is that you're TOO stuck in your own imagination, yet the way your brain works just doesnt mesh with the Right Way the art educational system does it and you end up with grades worse than you deserve and a lifetime of self shame. So yeah, i may never be as good as this guy at realism but im determined now to not give up on art even if i'm not the best! Cos this guy thought he was terrible when he was in school and now he's friggin AMAZING PHOTO NEGATIVE DEADPOOL HEADS and APPEARING ON BBC DOCUMENTARIES ON AUTISTIC PEOPLE WHO ARE AWESOME. And also he has great parents who supoort him and i was so happy i got to meet them and feel their kindness too!!

Oh and the mom actually plays Pokemon Go too! It was such a fateful encounter! So i blabbed with her about pokemon for like half an hour and she helped me evolve my rhydon and i traded her the summer hat pikachu. Apparantky you can only trade one event pokemon per person per day though, so i'm determined to come back when i have more money and not only buy an awesome picture but also trade her every pika!!! Thank you mysterious poke-mom and salesman dad and super inspirational artist son, you really brightened my day!

Oh and im gonna try and find the business card they gave me and check out his website and then link it here so you guys can see. Seriously this stuff was SO DAMN 3D that they had to tilt the canvas and let you see the grain of the graphite smudges to prove it was really a drawing! Dude you should be selling these things for way more than £15!!!