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kashimos-hajime · 5 years ago

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slipping away | b.b.

summary: and now, he’s not your bucky anymore.

WARNINGS: ANGST, hospital talk, swearing, vomitting, pairing: amnesiac modern!bucky x gender neutral!reader word count: 5.3k

a/n: a small study on a long-term relationship and the strains and disagreements that come into it. it’s been a hot sec since i’ve posted any marvel stuff. still tryna get back into writing for bucky, but this is written for @mushyjellybeans. prompt is bolded :)

“I don’t think this is something we should be arguing about,” you mutter, throwing your phone down into the car’s cupholder as Bucky’s grip on the wheel only intensifies. You slide hands over your thighs, stretching your legs against the red carpet of his newly refurbished Mustang. If there’s one thing you haven’t argued about yet, it’s the renovated ‘87 Mustang Bucky’s done over with his father, not completely done yet, but still, it looks hell of a lot better than it did before. “It shouldn’t have been made an issue tonight, of all nights.”

“You wanted to make it an issue.”

“Because all you ever want to do is fight!”

“I don’t want to fight!” he exclaims, his voice still barely containing itself and you cross your arms, slinking into your seat as you toss him a glare. “I just asked if you could see yourself even considering marrying me, and you said no.”

“Because you said I could take my time with this decision,” you snap, eyes darting from his face to the tense paleness in his knuckles. The car is thrumming beneath your thighs, purring down the highway and you shift your gaze to the window. He always drives fast when he gets pissed. “Put your fucking seatbelt on. You always get so reckless when things don’t go your way.”

The barb is meant to dig in deep, and it does because he doesn’t put the seatbelt on to spite you.

“Bucky, seriously. Put the fucking seatbelt on,” you growl, head snapping to him again. He ignores you, and you sigh incredulously, planting your chin in your palm and glowering out into the night. “Fucker.”

He’s shutting you out. He’s shutting you out, and not listening, and you’re about to throw yourself out of this car if you don’t roll down the window.

So you do and as they travel over a speedbump coming off the highway. It’s green lights ahead, and you hope the twenty minute drive to his parents’ house is enough to let things cool off a titch, but you know it’ll only crop up because his mom will ask when Bucky’ll propose and—

Fuck. They’ll have to talk about it at home later tonight.

Bucky switches on a playlist on his phone to fill the uncomfortable silence and you think this is the kind of choice you don’t make when you’re eighteen. You never thought you might break up with Bucky because of the thought of marriage. When you were eighteen, you thought it would be something like cheating, or university, or some other factor that would force you apart.

But no, it’s marriage. A union.

Ironic, that is.

You bypass the first green light easily and in the distance, you can see the next. Leaning your head against the side of the car, you rest your arm along the window sill and just let the wind whip at your face, numb it until when you breathe, your lungs seem to freeze. The wind softens when they approach the intersection and Bucky slows down just enough to scan the road before heading forward to the next one. There are side streets feeding into the main road but there aren’t many cars. Not a lot of people drive in the suburbs on a Sunday night, and it’s been an easy drive otherwise. As they head for the last intersection between them and Bucky’s parent’s house, you spot the green light and feel Bucky speed up.

He’s eager to get out of this suffocating car, too. An uneasiness curls up in the pit of your stomach as you hear another car’s engine growling into the quiet night. Straightening up, you look around and spot no car in their direction coming close to the speed Bucky’s going. He’s pushing the speed limit, his hand fidgeting with the seatbelt as it tries to slot into the buckle and you reach forward with your closest hand and help it slot into place.

You don’t miss the way his lip twitches in thanks and you merely turn your head back to the road, watching with an empty mind, letting his music wash through you as the growling of that speeding engine somewhere down the street grows louder. You’re about to ask Bucky if he hears that when a car speeds through a red light from a side road.

“Bucky, stop!” The words are torn out of your throat as you throw your hands out in front of you.

His foot slamming the brakes, the harsh whine of the tires burning against asphalt rings in your ears before a sickening crunch sends you forward. Glass cracks, something thuds, and the last thing you know is blood slowly dripping your face, something smoking in the distance and the screams of someone before everything goes black.

The lights are bright and blurry as you let out a muffled groan.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you.”

Your face is splitting pain and you groan, trying to turn your head but you’re frozen in place. Something’s wrapped tight around your neck, keeping you in place as someone shines a light into your eyes. Lungs seizing, you let out a choked cough, back arching off the bed as you try to raise your arm to the plastic mask digging into your cheeks. Something is prodding your stomach, something runs along your legs—there’s too much all at once and you try to shift away from whatever keeps touching you, but hands take you, keep you still.

“Try to stay still. I know it hurts, but you’re safe now.”

“Bucky.” His name slips past your lips, throat burning, but there’s no response. There are voices buzzing at the edge of your hearing and you blink, trying to clear your vision. Your head is spinning and you try to raise your hand weakly. Fingers take you by the wrist, gently ushering your arm back down to the bed. “Bucky.” Eyes slipping shut, your mind plays the crash over and over again. You’re nothing but a bystander.

Where are you, Bucky?

“We’re losing ‘em. Give me the paddles.”

Are you still here?

“Clear!”

Please. Stay for me.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“How’re you feeling, Y/N? C’mon, stay with us.”

Who? Steve, is that you?

“Bucky had to have brain surgery, Y/N. They said… they said it went well but they won’t know how well it really went until he wakes up.”

He’s alive? Oh, thank God. Thank you, thank you, thank you—

“But he’s getting stronger. He hasn’t woken up yet, but they think he’s getting stronger. Nat and Sam are sitting with him, now. We’re taking shifts to make sure the two of you aren’t alone.”

That’s nice of you, Steve. Thanks for being here.

“Oh, God, hey.”

Yeah?

“Hey, can you hear me?”

Loud and clear, Captain.

“Hey, nurse! I think they’re waking up!”

Eyes opening, you squint at the warm lamplight in the darkness of the room. Your throat is burning and your stomach is twisted, nausea swimming behind your eyeballs as your eyes flutter shut again. There’s something digging into your skull, your abdomen sore, and your whole body is wracked with an exhaustion that barely allows you to move. It’s a slow, dull ache all over you, pressing you deeper into the bed.

“How’re you feeling, Y/N?” one of the nurses asks quietly and you groan, voice cracking.

“I’m thirsty.” As they slowly raise you into a half-sitting position, your eyes barely open and you spot a shape in the corner. “Steve?” The shape moves closer and you spot golden hair gleaming in the lamplight and you laugh despite how much it aches in your chest. “Thought it was you.”

“Hey. How’re you feeling, huh?” Something nudges at your lips and you part your lips just enough for a straw to slip in. Sucking down water like you need air, you let out a silent groan. The water pushes down like a thick block of ice down a swollen throat as you manage to keep it down. “Feeling like turning away from the light?”

“Feel like I got run over by a truck,” you mutter, head sinking into the pillow and Steve’s relieved laugh soothes the ache between your temples. “Where is he?” Blinking, you see Steve’s face clear before you and his lips press together. His eyes are red-rimmed and his face looks a bit too splotchy, but you don’t point it out because it’s Steve and you love him. Your best friend’s trying to be strong as he tries to find a gentle way to put it.

“He’s asleep right now.” Asleep, you repeat dully in your head as Steve sits down by your bedside. “When you’re stronger, we’ll go see him, alright?”

“Okay.”

Bucky looks like he’s dead.

It’s the one thing you can’t help as you push yourself to his glass door. He’s inside, awake and talking to your friends inside and there’s a thickness to the air as he sits up straighter. Your whole body is still aching with a pounding in your stomach as you pause at the edge of the glass, frowning when Steve says something that makes Bucky shake his head.

It’s been only a day since the crash and you’ve just gotten strong enough to get up into a wheelchair, and although you’d insisted on wheeling yourself to his room, your nurse still stands a few feet away as you watch Natasha reach out a hand towards Bucky but he slaps it away, running his hands ragged over the bandages wrapped around his skull. Like he wants to pick himself apart because he’s missing something and you know.

Somehow you just know because there’s an emptiness in his gaze that spears right through you.

Tears already begin to bite at your eyes, and you open your mouth but not a sound comes out. He’s paler than a ghost and his expression is one of blank agony. He’s scrambling for something to hold onto and you think you can hear Steve beg, a quiet, trembling thing that frightens you because Steve doesn’t beg.

“So you remember nothing?”

“Nothing.”

The silence that follows hollows you. You turn to the nurse, you think her name is Linda, and silently ask her to take you away.

It takes a long time for someone to come find you. Blinds pulled closed, door shut, your room is drenched in darkness beside the lamp on your nightstand. You feel numb everywhere, but your heart is in pieces in your hands as you shove food down your ungrateful throat. Every bite feels like another bone broken and you stare blankly at the wall ahead of you.

“Bucky, stop!”

If you’d just been quicker—

“Y/N? Can I come in?” Blinking, you swallow the thick pudding, feel it stick to your throat as you let out a hoarse ‘yes’. Sam enters the room, eyes scanning the area and soaking in the bleak aura that is your recovery room. You set down the pudding on the tray beside your untouched lunch and blink again, turning your gaze away dismissively.

“What?”

“Bucky’s awake,” Sam says, closing the door behind him. You can see two other shapes outside your room as you cross your arms over your chest and lean back into your bed that’s frozen in it’s sitting position. You don’t want to look at him—have to look at him and watch his mouth form the words that’ll destroy you. “Doctors give him a clean bill of health. He’s going to have to come in for PT and checkups, but otherwise, he’s good beside a few deficits.”

“Yeah?” You feel sick, feverish. You feel like your stitches are splitting open with every second Sam doesn’t tell you the truth you know is bottled up inside him. “Anything else?”

“He doesn’t remember who you are.” But he knows you, you assume bitterly in your head and you finally look at Sam. He’s staring at you with something you might think it's pitiful and it disgusts you because you don’t want to be pitied. You don’t want anything except Bucky and you can’t have him. “He doesn’t remember anything after graduating high school, so… that’s seven years he doesn’t remember.”

Seven years.

Seven years of his life gone like smoke.

“Anything else?” you grit out between clenched teeth. Sam’s eyebrows rise but you merely set your jaw and meet that incredulous gaze of his.

“They don’t know whether or not it’s going to go away, they don’t know why it’s that time span, but it just is. They say maybe the amnesia will go away but it's a chance, and he has to regain his strength. So he’s going to have to go through a lot of therapy. It’ll help if he has a support system, you know?”

“Okay.”

You don’t mean to sound cold, but you do, because if you’re anything but, you will shatter. You know Sam wants you to jump at the chance, jump out of your bed and run up to see Bucky. You think Sam might hope that the instant he sees you, all of it will come back like something out a fucking fairytale but this isn’t a fairytale.

You’re not enough to bring him back. You’re not a miracle worker.

Tears are clotting in your throat and it’s becoming hard to breathe when you add, “Is there anything else, Sam?” He’s clearly taken aback but you can’t bring yourself to care about Sam in this moment as you grab your banana pudding again and swirl your spoon within just to make yourself look busy. You look from the yellow goop to him, a smile pulling strangely into your cheeks.

His eyes flitter from your untouched meal to your face, and he shakes his head.

“Let us know if you wanna see him, I guess,” he murmurs and you keep that tight smile on your face until he leaves. When the door clicks shut, you toss the pudding back onto your tray, grab the plastic receptacle the nurse left on your nightstand, and throw up everything.

Water, pudding, breakfast, it burns its way up your throat as you try to keep yourself quiet. You can hear your friends talking outside. Struggling to keep yourself quiet, you choke, spitting saliva out of your mouth as you grab the water from your food tray, swishing it in your mouth and falling back into the bed.

Your whole body clenches as you spit out the water and rinse your mouth again. Every movement is an aching thing as you set the receptacle down on your nightstand and close your eyes.

Your wait until you’re sure your friends are gone before you break.

You fall apart slowly, like pieces of you peeling away until you’re nothing more than your broken heart. The sobs that wrack your body are relentless and you shove your forearm into your mouth to muffle your cries. You want to bite into your skin. You want to distract yourself from the agony tearing you to shreds. You want to feel anything but the pain.

Tears sweep into your hair, cloud your vision and your whole face floods with heat as you try to breathe through the pain. You’re cleaved into pieces on that bed, eyes squeezed shut as the tears keep flowing, and your throat burns.

Shoulders shaking, you suck in gasping breaths as your hand crawls over your face, smearing tears across your cheeks, fingers digging into your skin. You’re suffocating and behind closed eyes all you can see is your Bucky, launched through the windshield. Your Bucky, bleeding as you reach for him but you can’t. Your Bucky, left behind on the scene because they extracted you first and you’re screaming, screaming for him to be alive, and then it’s your Bucky, smiling and laughing and whispering confessions, and he’s crying and then he’s sick with the flu and he’s finished his bachelor’s, and he has flour on his cheek, and—

And then it’s your Bucky, shouting, begging, your Bucky with his back turned, your Bucky frowning and there are new lines in his face, and new questions that never would’ve cropped up, and it’s your fault, your fault, your fault; damaged, damaged, damaged.

Your Bucky slipping away between your fingers.

And now, he’s not your Bucky anymore.

Your fault, your fault, your fault, a voice you can’t shut up in your head chants quietly.

You’re inclined to agree.

You sit in the cafeteria, watching as lunch hour draws to its close. You’re nothing but cracked glass slapped together with duct tape and it’s beginning to peel.

It’s only been a day since your world has fallen apart around you and you haven’t spoken to anyone. There’s nothing to say.

Natasha pokes half-heartedly at what’s left of her salad beside you as you stare blankly at the napkin holder. Your own lunch tray is empty because you’ve forced it down your own throat, but every bite had been bland—nothing but a soft mush in your mouth.

“Y/N,” your best friend begins, and your eyes drag dismissively towards her. Her blue eyes are soft, eyebrows drawn together as she sighs. “Don’t you think you should at least see him?”

“Why? He doesn’t even know who I am,” you mutter, dragging your arms towards yourself and crossing your arms over your chest. A heaviness pulls at your shoulders. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Natasha scolds. “Don’t ever say that.”

“Why? It’s not a secret we were basically on the brink of breaking up and it’s not like you’ve told him who I was. Told him that I even existed,” you spit coldly, sinking in your chair, Your gaze drifts off to the little fake plant decorating the cafeteria table and you think, How lucky you are to be forever. “You know, at least this way, he doesn’t get hurt.”

“Except he is hurting,” she says. “His life has been wiped clean and he has no idea what to do next.”

“Get better. Move on.” The words crawl out of your mouth, torturous, and Natasha shakes her head, frustrated, but you don’t care. You’re sick of feeling like this, but you can’t help it. You can’t help feeling half-dead and exhausted and the need to look over your shoulder constantly has become second nature because you don’t want to see the man you love as nothing more than a ghost. “What do you want me to say, Nat? He wasted seven years on me and I couldn’t even say yes to marrying him. I couldn’t give him the one thing he really wanted and he gave me everything.”

“That’s not what matters. What matters is that he loves you and just because he doesn’t remember, it doesn’t mean it’s not real. He knows you’re out there. He knows he loved someone because Bucky has so much love to give, you know that.”

“He was going to leave, Nat,” you tell her quietly. The words drag against your throat like a cigarette against skin and it burns so much you have to close your eyes against the pain. “I know it. He was done.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“He was.” You never needed eyes to see it. You know him in a way no one else does. You know that every time he looked at you, he wanted the future, and it was something he couldn’t pry out of you. “He had one foot out the door last night, so it’s a fucking blessing he doesn’t remember.”

“But you miss him.”

The words ring you hollow.

“Of course I fucking miss him. What kind of question is that?” you ask with half a forced laugh and your chest aches so much you think it might burst. “What kind of question is that?” you repeat, softer, and the laughter is gone because you want to melt away. You’ve missed Bucky for ages.

“Then, maybe you should fight for him. Maybe, you should see this as your second chance,” Nat whispers just as the door opens to the cafeteria and your head jerks up to see Steve push someone in on a wheelchair and she stands immediately. Your eyes find his pale figure before you can help yourself and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself present.

He’s better, although a bit unsteady, and he’s regained some colour but he’s still pale. He looks sick to his stomach with every second he stays awake. Natasha heads over to take the tray from Steve’s hands and retreats back to your table, setting it down in the space on the other side of you. Once Bucky slides into the empty spot beside you, you barely manage a slight smile before picking up your fork and pretending to be interested in your own lunch.

“This is Y/N,” Natasha says and your lungs spasm when you meet his blue gaze. They’re bright, warm but tired, and you swallow, trying to formulate an appropriate response. How long has it been since Bucky—your Bucky—looked at you like that? “We, uh, we were just chatting while I was waiting for you guys.”

“Hey.”

“I’m James,” he says, textbook because that’s how he meets every new face, and if you think you remember eighteen-year-old James Buchanan Barnes, his next words will be: “But everyone calls me Bucky.”

Like you said, textbook.

You drop your fork and shake his outstretched hand, ignoring how warm he is, and it’s like history is repeating itself.

“Nice to meet you.” You want to smile and the corner of your mouth lifts as Natasha grabs her lunch tray and gets up.

“Sam’s probably waiting for us to get him some coffee. He has a shift starting soon,” she says with a pointed look at you. Steve shoves his hands into his pockets and smiles at Bucky when he sends him an unsure look.

“We’ll be back in a jiff, Buck,” Steve says. “Y/N’ll take fine care of you.”

“Uh, okay.” Bucky’s eyebrows quirk and as your two friends leave, you can’t help the anger licking at your insides. You hate the feeling of his gaze on you so you resort to staring after your traitorous companions. “Sorry about that. I can go, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” you dismiss it quietly, resigning yourself to your fate. It’s not like Bucky can go without someone else’s help and his nurse is chatting to yours in the corner of the cafeteria. You don’t want to bother her. You’ll yell at your friends later. Right now, you just want to sleep it off. “Natasha’s nice.”

“Yeah, she’s like that once you get to know her,” Bucky returns, digging into his mashed potatoes. You pretend you don’t notice how he lowers his head as much as he can so not too much food is lost on its quivering journey to his mouth. His hand is so visibly unsteady, it aches to watch but you know he won’t want your help. “What are you here for? You look a bit banged up.” His eyes dart to the bruises along your arms and your smile grows at the concern laced behind a curious question.

“Got into a crash.” you say with half a shrug. You’ve grown used to the bruises by now. “Wasn’t too serious for me. Just a bit of a scratch on my liver.”

“Oh, me, too. I had a partial splenectomy” he says. “My brain got the worst of it, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, can’t remember a single thing after eighteen. So, that’s seven years ago?” he says it like he’s desperately trying to remember and your smile flickers. His face is wrought with distress now that their friends are gone, and his lips are pressed into a tight smile. “Glad I still kept with the same people, though.”

“Yeah.” He brings a scoop of mashed potatoes to his mouth and his smile sinks into your gut when he notices you’re not eating. “Are you hungry?” You blink at him, at his offer. He even looks younger without the burden of your time together.

“No, I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you insist before clearing your throat. Your gaze goes from your lap to Bucky just eating and you try to formulate the words you want to say into a coherent sentence. Do you remember even part of who I am? Can you even see me? “Uhm, do you… do you, like, remember a bit of what you’ve lost?” Your eyes widening, you put a hand over your mouth and duck your head. “Oh, that sounds stupid. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Bucky smiles again, easier, as if he’s happy to talk about it, and it’s so startlingly bright your heart flips in your chest. You duck your head and grab the glass of orange juice just so it doesn’t seem like you’re just watching him eat. It’s sweet in your parched mouth. “I get what you mean. Uh, no. It’s like an empty slate,” he says and you don’t know whether or not feeling so fucking relieved makes you a shitty person or not. “I think I know time has passed, but when I try to think of those years, nothing comes up.”

You’re quiet for a long time, letting it sink in. So, he doesn’t remember the bad at all. The pain, the screaming, the empty beds and silent dinners, and you think you could cry from relief and cry from how you’ll never hear him call you dolly again.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes flickering from his food to you, and your shoulders fall at those eyes. You’d fallen in love with those eyes first. They grounded you when your world was toppling—ever so steady, so collected. Now, they’re weary, lost, and you know it’s your turn.

Reaching forward, you lean on your forearm and place your other hand over his wrist. His hand, on instinct, flips over and your hand falls into his so easily. Your skin is burning at the contact as his fingers wrap over your palm.

“I’m sorry,” you utter quietly, choked out and raw, and his eyebrows knit together as they run over your face. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Uh, it’s okay,” he says with a lilt of his lips. He’s trying so hard to be happy.

“You don’t have to lie.”

The hand holding the spoon tightens, knuckles blanching and you smile softly. That’s your Bucky, trying so hard to keep it in. You scoot your chair closer, not letting go of his hand and he sucks in a harsh breath. You can hear it tremble in his throat as you sit down close enough that your knees touch and you tilt your head to catch his gaze.

This could be a fresh start, a voice in your head whispers. He doesn’t remember the pain you brought him. You could disappear.

“It’s okay. I’m nobody,” you tell him quietly. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” He blinks, lips trembling and pale with how hard he’s attempting to keep the cries in before he drops the utensil in his shaking hand and he brings his palms to his face, hiding himself away as in shame but you only chew on your bottom lip, wrap your arms around him.

He leans into you as if on instinct and you suck in a shuddering breath at his soft weight against you. You’re holding the love of your life. Almost.

Cradling his head against your chest, you let him sob as his shaking body shrinks in your arms. His hands wrap around your arm, fingers like knives digging into your flesh. They’re talons that sink and drag down, falling limpy into his lap, and you let your eyes close, simply using your free hand to brush through his hair.

“It hurts so much,” he whimpers, his hot breath against your arm as he pushes the words out, gulping breaths filling the silence and you feel tears slip down your cheeks. “I can’t… I can’t remember anything. I can’t do anything. I can’t…”

“I know.” You pull your chin back, admiring the mess in your arms and you smile for a moment as he lifts his head up and his gorgeous eyes are glistening with tears. He lowers his head again, drawing back in your arms to wipe at his face with weak, shaking hands and you take the napkin to help him.

You gently wipe his cheeks down and his cheeks are burning to the touch.

He’s blushing.

“God, here I am,” he begins miserably, “sobbing on someone I just met. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The words come out hushed and you smile, running your fingers over his hair again because you know that’s what he likes, and his smile is barely a ghost, but it’s there and that’s all that matters.

“It’s fine. I’m a great shoulder to cry on,” you joke and his smile grows just slightly. “Well, at least it’s better than my first impression on my… ex,” you say, and your throat cinches shut as he arches an eyebrow. You pull your arms back towards you and pick up your fork hesitantly. He nods, eyes focused on you, and you sink the fork into the mashed potatoes, bringing a bite into your mouth.

“How’d you meet them?”

“Uh… at university. First day, freshman mixer or something. I was a bit drunk.” Fresh-faced, doe-eyed Bucky Barnes in a vest and jeans bumping into you. Still a picture perfect moment in your mind where you met eyes with him and didn’t want to be a goner but you were, no matter how much denial was there. “He bumped into me, spilled his drink all over me, and all I could think was, ‘What a handsome guy.’”

“Was he?” His whole face lights up, like he’s genuinely invested in this, and your smile grows, bittersweet as you nod. His smile grows sly and you want to scream. “Better looking than me?”

“I, uh—” You clear your throat— “No. Not better looking than you.”

“So, what’d you say? Or what’d he say?” Bucky asks, sniffing, and you watch as he grabs his spoon again, other hand reaching for the tissue. He blows his nose and you grab some napkins from the napkin holder for him. He dips his head in thanks as you lean against the table.

“Well, he was stumbling through his apology and I just let him finish.” Your body fills with warmth as you remember his embarrassed smile, the way he shoved his baseball cap farther down his head, chin tucked to his chest, trying to hide that face. “When he was done, I opened my mouth to say something polite but what came out was ‘You look like someone I’d very much like to kiss’.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?” you ask, smiling.

“Kiss him.”

“Yeah.”

He smiles, then, happy for you for a moment before he remembers ‘ex’ and then there’s a silence in the cafeteria.

“Do you love him still?” Bucky asks quietly. His gaze is cast off, some far off corner that you don’t see, and you realize you’re still close to him. Close enough to smell the sickness clinging to his skin, the sweat. He smells like an antiseptic grave of all the memories lost.

“Yeah. I didn’t believe in love until I met him,” you say softly, watching as Bucky raises a trembling spoon to stab at his potatoes. It’s you. It’s you. It’s you. Your heart is screaming, but your mind is a muzzle. “I wish he was here.”

“I wish he was here, too.” He blinks and it’s like he’s back with you again, gaze on yours. “I wish he was here for you. You deserve a shoulder to cry on, too.”

You barely croak out, ‘Thank you’.

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eringurumi · 5 years ago

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The Mandalorian Pattern

Ok! Here is my original crochet amigurumi pattern for the Mandalorian, to go with my other yarn creation, Baby Yoda. As before, if you use this pattern, please link back to my page, and tag me or send me a picture! I will slam that reblog button so fast! Or tag me on insta: @ erin.gurumi

Fun fact: this isn’t my first time around Mandalorian armor... In 2013 (!) I crocheted my friend a Boba Fett amigurumi, which you can see HERE and HERE. I improved the pattern a bit, but I did want to share because there are some in-progress pics which could potentially help, as I’m unfortunately not the best at taking them while I work!

Technical stuff: I used a 3.0 mm crochet hook and these yarns:

Loops and Threads Impeccable in Walnut Tweed (body and cape)

Red Heart Super Saver in Cafe Latte (belt and bandolier)

Red Heart Super Saver in Light Grey (armor)

Red Heart Super Saver in Black (visor)

Red Heart Super Saver in Carrot (gloves)

I was really happy with the brown color I found for the body (this project was the first time in YEARS I’ve actually opted to increase my stash and it was worth it!), but I think there is plenty of room to experiment with other colors!

^ Helmet

I think it was such a bold choice to go with uncolored metal for the Mandalorian’s armor! It’s very hard to simplify and not be evocative of medieval knights or Trojan/Spartan warriors... In this picture, you can see I made a short strip of grey yarn that I thought could be the seam down his helmet, but I decided it just didn’t work for my scale.

6 sc in a magic circle

inc 6x to make 12 stitches

(1 sc, inc) 6x to make 18 stitches

(2 sc, inc) 6x to make 24 stitches

(3 sc, inc) 6x to make 30 stitches

(4 sc, inc) 6x to make 36 stitches

2 rows of 36 stitches

1 row of 36 stitches, with 12 black stitches in the front

1 row of 36 stitches with 12 black stitches aligned with previous ones

4 rows of 36 stitches in grey

1 row of grey, add two increases at the front (38 stitches)

1 row of 38 stitches

I found it easiest to eyeball where I wanted to start the black yarn for the visor, rather than count out how many grey stitches before the color change. At the end, leave a tail but don’t pull the loop through, since changing to the brown yarn for the under helmet part will be a color change.

^ Front visor section and bottom of helmet:

Before closing off the helmet, I made the front separately and sewed it on - I think that’s much easier than trying to do color changes in each row and keeping them nicely lined up, plus, it gives the helmet just a bit of texture that I like to imagine gives the suggestion of some contours.

6 foundation single crochet in black

turn, 6 sc in grey, tie off leaving a tail

reattach grey yarn to other side of the black, 6 sc, tie off

sew onto helmet

To close off the helmet, change to the brown yarn, and for the first row crochet only in the back loops to make a sharper change between the helmet and the underside (neck?) area. I was not super precise with this part, as all I wanted was for the underside to be mostly flat.

(2sc, dec) ~9x in back loops to make ~29 stitches

(1sc 1 dec) until closed (stuff part way through)

tie off and weave in tail

^ Legs (make 2)

To make the feet look more boot-like, I did all the foot-to-leg decreases on one side, but most of the shape comes from just smooshing it with my hand. Also, I tried to evoke his one larger armor piece by having an extra row of grey on his right leg, but it ended up being a bit subtle. (I know his armor is only on the front of his legs, but I didn’t want to color change that often in such a small space, and the back of the leg is hidden enough by his cape that I don’t mind!)

6 sc in a magic circle

inc 6x to make 12 stitches

(1 sc, inc) 6x to make 18 stitches

1 row of 18 sc in back loops

(decrease 8x), 2 sc to make 10 stitches

6 rows (his left) or 5 rows (his right) of 10 stitches in brown

color change to grey in back

3 rows (his left) or 4 rows (his right) of 10 stitches in grey

For one leg, tie off the tail, for the second leg, make sure that the loop is still available to start the torso section. (I chose which leg to begin the body based on the direction I was crocheting, for me it ended up being HIS right leg). Make sure both legs are stuffed!

^ Torso:

The torso is made by connecting the two legs with a round of crochet. I started with the brown yarn, switched to a lighter brown for the belt section, then for the breast plate unfortunately it’s just a bunch of color changes! My best advice is to keep securing and tying off ends as you go, and stuffing as the body gets taller.

On right leg, color change from grey to dark brown, chain 1, slip stitch into left leg, sc around both legs (~20 stitches - if it ends up more, just decrease in back to that)

another row of 20 stitches in dark brown, color change to light brown

2 rows of 20 stitches in light brown

(1 dec in the back) 7 grey in front, 12 dark brown in back (19 stitches)

7 grey in front, 12 dark brown in back (19 stitches)

(1 dec in back), 6 grey in front, 12 dark brown in back (18 stitches)

6 grey in front, 12 dark brown in back (18 stitches)

(1 dec in back) 5 grey in front, 12 dark brown in back (17 stitches)

5 grey in front, 12 dark brown in back (17 stitches)

(1 dec in back) 4 grey in front, 12 dark brown in back (16 stitches)

(1 dec in back) all dark brown (15 stitches)

(1 dec in back) all dark brown (14 stitches)

Finish off and leave a tail to sew the head on.

^ Arms (make two):

I was really happy with my decision to make his little orange mitts - for such a simple costume with very little ability to emote, those gloves really help to draw focus on small gestures!

6 sc in magic circle in orange, color change to brown

1 row of 6 stitches in brown

(inc, 2 sc) 2x to make 8 stitches

Take one tail of the orange yarn and thread it through to the second brown row, chain 3 and loop it over, securing it back into the brown yarn to make a thumb

Change to grey, 4 rows of 8 stitches

Change to brown, 5 rows of 8 stitches

Stuff and finish off leaving a tail.

^ Bandolier / Assembling body:

Sorry he looks a little dismembered here... but at this point you’re almost done!

For the bandolier, in light brown, chain ~9 (I just measured it across his chest plate from belt to shoulder)

Tie off the end and pull both tails through the body, making it snug against his chest, tie off and weave in ends

Sew head onto body using the tail from the neck, weave in ends

Sew arms on leaving a little room between them and the head (so his pauldrons will fit!), weave in ends

^ Pauldrons

These are simple! Make two!

6 sc in a magic circle

(sc, inc) 3x to make 9 stitches

To attach them, since I liked the look of the stitches sitting freely on the arms, I took the tail from the center and sewed it through the arm, then used just a single stitch on the upper arm and lower arm to hold them in place.

^ Cape:

A lot of the taper on this cape was because I was accidentally dropping stitches at the beginning of each row - I am terrible at crochet when it isn’t in the round! I used half double crochets since I like how they make a slightly looser texture than the body. You can also see here why I try to color change in the back - it doesn’t end up looking super even!

foundation single crochet 14, turn

1 row (14 hdc, turn)

9 rows of (1 dec, hdc across, turn)

This got me to approximately 5 stitches across, which looked like a good size to fit between the shoulders. I took the other tail and wove it up the side until both tails were coming from the top of the cape. Tie off the end and sew onto the back of his neck!

I know that was a lot! As always, feel free to ask me questions if you get stuck or something doesn’t make sense, since it’s very possible I made a mistake in my write up! Best of luck crocheting your very own Mandalorian! I hope to see him and his partner in crime Baby Yoda off on many adventures together!

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unsafepin · 3 years ago

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Optical Illusions: A Study of Aesthetics in Activism in Two Accounts

There’s been a particular thing bothering me about social media for a while. I should probably get a cool editing app, write it in a few bullet points and post it on Instagram. You know what I’m talking about, right? The goddamn infographics. If I have to sit through another slideshow explaining to me another military conflict, another societal issue, another existential unfairness on a baby pink background in a cheery font, I might combust. But the cognitive dissonance of aesthetics in activism has been a problem for a while, hasn’t it? So today, I want to examine the effect of focusing on aesthetics over content, or, on the flipside, not considering the optics of your activism enough, and what it does to the consumer of your content by picking apart two local activist-adjacent media projects, Tetraedras and Giljožinios.

Firstly, I want to make my own bias abundantly clear. I am personally acquainted with the teams of both projects, so obviously there will be innate personal bias involved. I highly encourage anyone reading to check both projects out themselves (@t3traedras and @giljozinios on Instagram, as well as Giljožinios’ YouTube channel) and make their own conclusions on the matter. I believe that while my familiarity breeds deeper knowledge of my subjects, it also makes me more vulnerable to assumptions about individuals involved. My insights come from the perspective of an observer, not an expert. Welcome to the circus.

The use of the word “optics” in a metaphorical political sense sprung up in the 1970s to describe the way major political decisions would not necessarily affect an average citizen, but how it would appear to them, e.g. 'U.S. President Barack Obama temporized for weeks, worrying about the optics of waging war in another Arab state after the Iraq fiasco' (Toronto Star, 19th March 2011). However, it’s become increasingly relevant in our age of social media, an age of perceptions over substance, of shortening attention spans and increased barrage of information one has to stomach daily. Social media is the great equalizer - a random person off the street can theoretically hold as much influence as a politician - thus it is becoming increasingly crucial for the average Joe posting on the countless apps owned by Facebook to be as familiar with PR terms as a firm with a six figure salary. Or at least that would be nice, seeing that more and more average Joes are becoming actively involved in politics and education, seeking to influence their newfound audience.

So, let’s see how successful average people with no media or politics degrees are at balancing their image. Both Tetraedras and Giljožinios lean into their 2010’s social media project optics: millennial pink themes, bold names, young teams. But that’s where the similarities end. Tetraedras’ brand is safety. The shades of color on the profile are calming, the illustrations are youthful and playful, their more serious posts are interspersed with more relaxing content (poetry, photoshoots, etc.). Giljožinios is confrontational. The colors electric, posts loud and to the point, they’re what it says on the box - a leftist project - and unapologetic about it. This might help to explain why audiences react as differently as they do to these two, on the surface, similar accounts. Because while you might’ve stumbled on Tetraedras organically while browsing, them having almost two thousand followers, Giljožinios crashed into the educational/political social media scene by being featured on the goddamn national news, that’s how controversial the project is. And obviously I am oversimplifying the issue, Tetraedras slowly built up to posting more opinionated content, while Giljožinios came in guns blazing accusing USA of imperialism, but you’ll have to let me explain. Tetraedras, in its essence, is a welcoming environment. They explain complicated problems in short bullet points with accompanying comforting visuals, their mascot is a inoffensive geometrical figure and their face is a beautiful girl, make-up matching the theme of the post. Giljožinios is named after a revolutionary device, their profile picture is a monarch being beheaded, their host quite infamously sat in front of Che Guevara memorabilia in their first and (as of writing) only video. It’s a lightning rod for angry comments by baby boomers, no matter what comes out of their mouth. In fact, I would argue that, if presented accordingly, the idea that the US is conducting a kind of modern imperialism is just a simple fact and personally can’t wait until Tetraedras posts that with a quirky illustration of Joe Biden to introduce the concept to the wider public.

This leads me to my next point, because despite what’s been previously suggested, I’m not here to solely sing Giljožinios’ praise. There is a cognitive dissonance in both of these flavors of social media activism, but while I can understand Tetraedras’ on a PR level, I’m kind of personally insulted by Giljožinios’. While purely personally I find aspects of Giljožinios’ radicalism distasteful, I appreciate the honesty in the youthful maximalism, of coming in strong and not backing down, but from the guys that made a communist Christmas tree once I almost expected something more stirring than “military industrial complex bad”. This leads me to ask: who is your content for? Your average breadtube-savvy twenty-something already heard this a thousand times, because they consume similar english-speaking content and I doubt any minds of the vatniks that came by to fume in the comment section are being changed. I’m obviously harking on a newborn project here, the team of which has already been bitten by authorities censoring their content, but so far there has been a lot of optical bark, but no substantial bite, especially considering the team seems to be in a safer place now. And the inverse is true for Tetraedras, while I can understand wanting to be visually interesting yet inoffensive, their visuals are sometimes laughably, morbidly light for the topics they discuss Sexily posing in Britney Spears-inspired outfits while discussing the horrors of her conservatorship springs to mind (funny how Britney’s conservatorship leads her to have next to none bodily autonomy, including her public costume choices). And, once again, your target audience is teenagers. They understand English, they’ve seen the news, they don’t need you to translate infographics filled with statistics and information that’s locally completely irrelevant. There needs to be some kind of middle ground between aesthetic cohesion and common sense, because this all signals to the viewer that the content is meant to be mindlessly consumed first and to educate second.

Which leads me to ponder what kind of consumption accounts like these encourage, which will surely lead me to an early grave as I drink away the existential dread of how social media rots all of our brains. Because yes, actually, producing funky visuals to convey an idea way too complicated for an Instagram post is fun. I myself got distracted multiple times during writing to make the first slide for my own post. Meta, I know. This is obviously more of a problem for Tetraedras, who seem to fervently resist injecting their content with a few more paragraphs and a tad more nuance, but even with Giljožinios choosing a more appropriate long-form format to educate, I still pray everyday they don’t get lost in the revolutionary reputation their group built up and forget to make a point, not just talking points.

Because what all this all inevitably leads to is misinforming the public. Again, this seems to be less of a problem for Giljožinios, as the amount of critical eyeballs they have on them leads to them being corrected on every incorrect numerical figure and grammatical mistake, I just hope all this harassment, once again, doesn’t get them all caught up in the optics of a revolution against all the Facebook boomers and forgetting to do their due diligence to the truth. As far as I know, the only factual mistake is miscalculating how much Lituania invests in NATO and there’s still a historical debate in their comment section about the existence of a CIA prison in Lithuania, if anyone’s concerned. Tetraedras, however, is safe. And safe content goes down just like a sugar-coated pill, you don’t even feel the need to fact-check it. And fact-checking is what it sorely requires, or else you’re left with implying that boxing causes men to become rapists and citing statistics of every country except the one in which, you know, me, the team and the absolute majority of their followers live in.

So what’s my goddamn point? Burn your phone and go live in the woods, always. But in the context of this essay, if you are a content creator that aims to educate, inform, incite, whatever, you need to put aesthetics on the backburner. And, more importantly, we as consumers need to stop tolerating content that puts being either pretty or inflammatory first instead of whatever message it’s trying to send, because the supply follows where the demand goes. Read books, watch long-form content made by experts, not teenagers on the internet chasing followers out of not even malicious intent, but almost a knee-jerk reaction. Because while the story of those two accounts cuts especially deep, expectations for local-, even friend-made content being much higher than that for some corporate accounts shooting their shot at activism, the problem is entrenched deep, thousands of accounts exhibiting the same problems racking up millions upon millions of followers. Having said that, my attention span is barely long enough to read the essays I write myself, so maybe do burn your phone and go live in the woods.

Also, pink is actually my brand so both of these accounts are being contacted by my lawyers and the rest of you don’t try any shit.

#unsafe pin

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 5 years ago

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Summon Away | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

The day has come! I am finally writing an update on the fifteenth and final chapter of Moth Work, which I wrote about a month ago!

Summon Away is probably the shortest in the book at just over 1800 words, and also one of my faves because it’s so?? tender?? I wrote it in one sitting and couldn’t have asked for a better end to this book. Here’s a scene breakdown:

Scene A:

Harrison sees Lonan for a soft moment early in the morning, free of the stress of Eliza lmaooo. They have a super tender moment, however there’s this strange tension to the point where we know something isn’t exactly right.

Harrison moves the scene along by saying he’s going to grab a pack of cigarettes from a gas station down the road. From the context, we can probably tell this is true, except he ain’t coming back. Probably the most sweepingly dramatic moment I’ve ever written and I’m here for it loool. This is my soap opera moment where Harrison essentially leaves Lonan to have his new relationship with Eliza, despite his concern, because he’s gotta make a decision that’s healthiest for him and that’s called character development folks!!

Did I break my own heart breaking up my OTP :) yes!!!

Scene B:

This is a really short half scene where Harrison locates his mother who doesn't live far from Eliza’s apartment.

Scene C:

Harrison and his mother sit outside on her balcony and he reflects on his decision to split (literally a trend that all my Fostered characters are yeeting away from each other oops) while watching people below engage in some form of a relationship with one another. So much drama!!

The chapter gets its title from a Nothing But Thieves song (why would it not at this point), Tempt You (Evocatio). I was struggling to title this chapter because I needed something that fit the vibe, and had actually tried to use the concept of an evocation to title a chapter for this book previously to no avail. However, after revisiting the Wikipedia article for an evocation, I came across the definition of “summon away”:

The Latin word evocatio was the "caIIing forth" or "summoning away" of a city's tutelary deity. The rituaI was conducted in a miIitary setting either as a threat during a siege or as a result of surrender, and aimed at diverting the god's favor from the opposing city to the Roman side, customariIy with a promise of a better-endowed cuIt or a more Iavish Tempie.

I thought this concept of “summoning away” sounded slightly contradictory (the word summon brings images of a coming forth of some sorts, while the word away sounds like the opposite at least to me am I making this more *metaphorical* than it is perhaps) and I really thought the chapter strangely fit the above definition, hence my choosing!

Excerpts:

This is kind of torture because I dearly miss writing the boys interacting as they’re not with each other in Feeding Habits the angstttt:

“What is that?” Harrison asks, pulling back a barstool with one hand, while pointing at the mug with another.

Lonan glances up, and the two mutually analyze each other. Lonan’s puckered skin, how morning makes his eyelashes papery, like wings. He wonders what Lonan sees in him—for a moment, it’s all he wants to know.

Lonan knuckles the mug over and Harrison picks it up like he’s holding an eyeball. The tea is hot, though Lonan hasn’t seemed to mind, and its flowery perfume burns Harrison’s throat. Lonan pulls the mug back to him when Harrison’s done, and takes another sip.

“I still have no idea,” Harrison says, and to his shame, studies Lonan’s face for a bite wound.

“Earl grey.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It expired four years ago.”

Harrison gasps, and Lonan almost smiles. And for a moment, Harrison almost forgets where he is. What happened at this counter just a few hours prior. With Lonan, it almost disappears. They could be back at the cabin, needling through the woods on that first day they tried to get rid of the dark room. They could be in the water, shielding, yet simultaneously pushing each other under. They could be dancing to no music in a tiny bathroom or driving for carless miles in the tarnish of rain.

This is my very overt metaphor that I bullshitted to title this novel that ended up working being very overtly injected into this book !! :))) but imagine this part with a sepia filter and it’s actually a silent film with captions oh:

“I found this article,” Lonan says, and turns the paper over. It’s not very long, just a small corner of the entire page, but Harrison sees the title, all bolded, Summer’s Dreaded Pesk: 10 Facts About Moths. He leans in closer to read it.

The facts are almost all useless to him—that moths like sweet things, that there are thousands of species, that many don’t eat, but what sticks out to him is the last: how they’re attracted to light. Harrison skims the text with his fingernail, reads something about light traps, and tries not to think of how unfortunate it all is—to move toward light and then stop moving altogether.

He knows whatever he will say will keep him here, in this sun, on this barstool, reading the newspaper about moths, sitting next to Lonan, drinking his tea, never knowing what flavour it is. Harrison inhales, and on his exhale, unclasps the chain and drapes it around Lonan’s throat.

When the angel hits Lonan’s chest, a sound comes out of his mouth that Harrison thinks is almost animal. Harrison’s hand lingers on the back of Lonan’s neck when he clasps it, feeling the pulse of Lonan’s heartbeat, even from all the way up here.

Lonan clutches the angel when Harrison pulls back, and he doesn’t let go, even when Harrison rises.

“I’m going to grab a pack of cigarettes,” Harrison says. “Is there a gas station around here?”

“Just up the road.” Lonan’s brows furrow.

“Do you want anything?”

“I don’t think so.”

Harrison nods. Then he steps back, away from the kitchen, and slips his shoes on, one by one, more carefully than he’s ever done before. He knows Lonan looks at him. He knows what’ll be in his eyes if he looks up—and so he doesn’t. Harrison checks his jacket pocket for his car keys, and when they jangle, he turns toward the door.

“How long?”

Lonan’s voice makes him jump.

“Pardon?”

“How long will you be gone?”

Harrison frowns. “I’m just grabbing a pack of cigarettes.”

So Harrison’s reaction to everything being white and gold is my reaction to modern decoration loool this is just CNF at this point:

Harrison buys the pack of cigarettes. And then the gum. And then he finds his mother.

She isn’t hard to locate. A quick question at the checkout counter, and he finds out the apartment complex near the public garden is only a fifteen-minute drive away.

It’s just as he pictures it. A white building, with a white lobby, the bricks white, the carpets white, the tables white. In little places, there are bits of gold, in place he doesn’t think gold should be—lining the keyboard the security guard types at, on the edges of every window so it’s only visible when the sun flashes.

And at last, here’s the final paragraph of the book!!! angst!!

His mother reads. Harrison watches. A father and son down below, who take turns walking their golden retriever. A food stand vendor that hands a stack of checked tissues to a mother wrangling four small children. A couple who take photos in front of a fountain, how he can almost hear the mechanical click of their camera from fifty feet up. Something stirs inside of him, at the thought of Lonan back in that golden apartment, and he only realizes what it is much later, when his mother is heating up something spiced and leftover in the microwave. The feeling like being buried alive and wanting to do it again just so someone can pull you out. A loneliness he sucks on until his mouth sores.

And there it is!! This book has been so much fun to share with y’all! Thanks for reading these updates and for all the love for this novel. I haven’t written anything for book two in a while, and am now feeling nostalgic to do so, so keep an eye out for more Moth Work related endeavors! For now this is the end!

--Rachel

#writing #writingupdates #writeblr #writerblr #amwriting #mothwork #fostered

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

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Title: Love, Maybe? {31}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Slow, Smoldering, Torturous Burn 😊, Slight angst

Word Count: 4K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

***Interactive***

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 31: Amends

-Chris-

“Then you drizzle some of the chocolate sauce over the top, like this.” He raised the bottle into the air and squeezed some of the sauce out in an elaborate way. Ella giggled as he did it.

“Chawket, yayy.”

“Oh you like chocolate, so let’s add just a little more.” He squeezed a little more before putting the bottle down. “Then, we put some of our melted marshmallows right on top like so.” An extra dollop of the marshmallow plopped on top, and as it did he gave it a sound effect. “Pwak.” Ella laughed again and leaned closer to the plate and stared at his creation with wide eyes.

“Now we add the candy. What candy do you want? We have recess, M&Ms with peanuts because without is just plain chocolate; we also have some coconut shavings and jelly beans. You choose.”

Ella pointed to the recess and the M&Ms without peanuts. “I no wike eanut.”

“No?” She shook her head enthusiastically to showcase her absolute disdain for the nut. He smiled. “Got it.” he took up the bowl of peanut M&Ms and tossed it into the garbage, bowl, and all. “Who needs em’.” She smiled again, and he sprinkled a few plain M&Ms and diced up recess on top.

Once he was finished, he slid the plate in front of her and watched her. “Ta-da and just like that we have breakfast!”

Ella squealed and excitedly clapped her hands. “Weckfast, weckfast!”

“Try it. This is my first time making one of these for someone.” He handed held out her toddler knife and fork, but she bypassed it using her hands to grab a piece of the first half of the treat. Without missing a beat, she buried her face into the mountain of sugary delights and instantly moaned while her eyeballs crossed. He couldn’t help it and let out a hearty laugh; his hand latched across his chest as he heaved trying to catch his breath. When Ella pulled back everything below her nose was smeared with chocolate, marshmallow, and pieces of candy.

“I wike it!” Her shout was loud enough to wake the entire house, and that’s what made it even funnier.

“Oo twy da-da.”

He took a piece off the plate and followed her lead by biting into it. He moaned and nodded his head in agreement. “It’s still as good as I remember.” Ella nodded as she continued eating.

As he ate, he just watched her. He was still in the marvel stage. Everything she did he sat in awe at. Every word out her mouth he smiled at, every look she gave him just put him further and further under her control. He was entirely in love with this little girl, and it happened as quickly as it did with her mother. At the thought of you the memory of last night came flooding back to him along with every ounce of desire he felt for you.

He listened to her chatter and answered as much as he could. She jumped from topic to topic; first it was a bird she saw in the yard, then the tv show she’d just watched, then her excitement about her birthday, then parties, princesses, unicorns, and mermaids. It was incredible how intelligent she was. After thirty minutes she was on a clear sugar high as she danced around on the top of the island still completely covered in chocolate and marshmallow.

“Oh my goodness, what in the world is going on here?” You walked into the kitchen, still dressed in your pajamas. Just like that, his mind flew back to the night before. Your eyes were wide as you took in the state of the kitchen. His eyes were concealed as he took in the state of you. You were beautiful then, but now you had more dangerous curves and an even more sinfully seductive presence. He didn’t know if it was intentional or if it was just you.

“Mama! Mama! Wook, weckfast!” Your smile was so bright then you looked to the plate still on the island, and your eyes bugged out.

“Oh I see, chocolate for breakfast.” Your eyes landed on him and looked away from you and down to the plate.

“Twy it, twy it!”

You approached the island, and Ella sunk down to you. She grasped your cheeks and planted a kiss on your lips. “Mmm, yummy thank you.” Ella nodded and used your chest as a bracing point to stand leaving her tiny chocolate handprints on your shirt. You looked down and nodded. “Ah, double thank you Kristella.”

“Wecome!” You scoffed and looked at the plate.

“What is this?”

“Da-Da do it.”

“Oh, did he? What exactly did da-da do, or think he did?”

He opened his mouth at the subtle jab. “Oh, you have sugar-coated insults, huh?

You smiled and nodded then pointed to the handprints on your shirt. “Yeah, I have a lot of sugar.”

“You sure do.”

“I will have you know that I don’t think I did something. I actually did. This is what my mother made for me every year the day before my birthday for breakfast.” You nodded and examined his handiwork.

“Twy it mama. I wike it,” Ella said with a giggle. You took up a piece off the plate and examined it further.

“What is it exactly?”

“Marshmallow French Toast, with warm spiced chocolate sauce and, roughly diced gourmet peanut butter cups and multicolored Mars & Maurri confection cacao treats,” he responded in his best pretentious voice. Ella laughed loudly at him, and you couldn’t not smile though you tried.

“Cute Evans, very cute.”

“I try.” You smiled and took a bite of the French toast. He was interested in what you thought as the professional. Slowly you chewed as he and Ella sat on the edge of suspense, watching you for any indication to your thoughts about it.

“Well?”

Again, you smiled, then nodded. “I wike it.” He threw his hands in the air and shouted, Ella joined in as well. He stood and started doing the single ladies dance around you and the kitchen. You laughed, and it became louder as Ella did her best to imitate it as well. Ella was pretty good at it though.

“Dace mama, dace.”

“Yes, dance mama, dance.” From all the peer pressure, you began doing the same dance showing him how it’s done.

Soon the three of you were just dancing around the kitchen to no music whatsoever like complete idiots. Nothing felt awkward or forced. It was as if what happened last night didn’t change the context of your relationship. Whatever the hell that context was.

“Wife, you idiot! Wife is the context of your relationship.”

He looked between you and Ella, and he didn’t care one bit how he looked. This was what life was about. This is what his life was about—what it should have been about all along — you and Ella. You looked at him and smiled widely, it was the best smile he’d seen, and it made his stomach flutter.

“That’s new.”

Your mother walked into the kitchen and took one look around and laughed as well. “Maw-Maw, look, dace pawty.” She smiled and nodded.

“I can see that. you’re showing mama and da-da your dance moves?” She nodded.

“Paw-Paw and I were going to take a walk. Wanna come sugar?” Ella nodded again and held her arms out to her grandmother, who looked at her hands and scowled. “Oh, not today child, not today. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You lifted Ella off the island and put her onto the floor. As soon as you did, she bolted from the room. Your mother looked at the two of you and smiled then walked out the kitchen humming. He didn’t know why but he felt as if there was some sort of hint in the way she looked at him just before she disappeared. You hopped onto the island and finished the French toast.

“Seriously, it’s not bad. It will definitely give you diabetes if you eat this for breakfast every day, but tasty.”

“It was only a once a year thing. I thought why not make it a tradition with her—if that’s cool with--.”

“Definitely. She seemed to love it. She loves chocolate, and marshmallows, you hit it out of the park.” He smiled and took the last piece of French toast, leaned against the island beside you and ate. Still the silence didn’t become weird.

“Did you get good sleep?” You took a deep breath and sighed out, then nodded with a small smile on your lips--lips he’d had dreams about all night, those dreams were anything but innocent.

“Yeah. I don’t know when the last time was I slept past ten. Ella usually wakes me up with the sun.”

“Yeah, I saw her when I was on my way to my room. It must have been seven.” You nodded and licked your fingers of the chocolate and marshmallow. He saw a bit of it at the corner of your mouth, and without thinking, he brought his thumb out to swipe it away. Your eyes fell to his hand as he did it and then slowly rose up to his face. His eyes were focused on your lips and then moved up to your hypnotizing brown eyes.

“I’m—sorry you had a—a little—something.” It was as if the words couldn’t form, and all he could think about was your lips. He’d tasted them on three occasions now. He hadn’t had his fill. He wanted to taste more.

“I shouldn’t have—it was--.”

“Fine,” you whispered. He was a little surprised.

For a brief second, he recognized something in your eyes. It was something that spoke to him, something that reached out to him taunting him to come a little closer, go a little further. He trailed his thumb across your bottom lip, and the look returned, only this time it lasted for longer than a second. You didn’t move, or say “no,” you allowed it. His fingers were on fire, and that fire was quickly racing through his body. He could feel just where that heat was settling. He stood straighter, and his body moved on its own toward your lips. He needed to kiss you.

When your lips were mere centimeters apart, he felt your hands at his waist. The heat from them made him want so much more. He inched forward, and the first touch of your lips made him pause, but just for a moment before he pressed his to yours and took control. He nearly lost his shit right then; it had been so long. He’d dreamt of you for years, been haunted by your memories, then last night he’d come so close but still so far. As if it was as natural as breathing, his lips knew what to do. They knew how to claim yours, knew just the right amount of pressure to apply. He knew how you needed to be kissed.

In a matter of seconds, the kiss changed from slow and exploratory to intense and passion filled. His body came to life, and it wasn't the only thing to come alive. Your lips danced together as if they’d been doing it every day for the last three years. He recognized the breathlessness, recognized the tingle on his lips, the chill that resided at his spine, and the blazing heat that filled his gut. It had never been like this with anyone else—just you.

His tongue gently teased yours before it curled around his fighting him for control. A soft whimper escaped you. He stepped around coming between your thighs and cupped your jaws all to kiss you better. Your hand was now resting on his abdomen just at his belly button, you balled the fabric of his ribbed tank and groaned. Then he felt your fingertips press into him before you pulled back from his mouth. You rested your forehead against his and panted heavily.

“Oh my--,” you began.

“God,” he finished.” He was just as breathless as you. He brought his lips back to yours and pecked them once, then twice, and as he was leaning in for a third, your fingers served as a wall to separate yours form his. He looked at you, but your eyes were still closed.

“We—we—have to—shouldn’t.” Your words were staggered, whispered, then you shook your head slightly as you opened your eyes. They were glazed over and looked almost cloudy. “We can’t,” you continued.

Your lips were saying no, but everything else was saying yes. Your other hand still on his abs, your heaving chest, your hazed eyes. “Right?” You were asking him.

“In what world do I have the strength?”

He kissed you again, you didn’t move, or pull away, your legs hooked around him and pulled him closer. He delved his tongue into your mouth again and moaned onto you. His moan triggered your moan and a sea of emotions and need in him. He gripped the flesh of your thighs and pulled you to him. Your moan turned into a groan and he wondered if you’d felt his need for you, felt his hardness. You tore your lips from his and threw your head back.

“Shit!”

“Vixen--.”

“We—we should—stop,” you whispered on a panted breath. He almost missed it.

“Yeah. We should,” he added. You nodded but your legs remained hooked around him keeping him right where he was. When your lips pressed back to his you took control of the kiss. You grabbed his face and nibbled his bottom lip. He groaned and the feel of you sucking and teasing his bottom lip fed that fire in him so much that his hand latched onto your breast and palmed it. You began rolling your hips on him in a frenzy. He could feel the heat from your core and it drove him crazy. He pinched your nipple and you gasped loudly pulling your lips from his.

“Fuck—Chris we--,”

“Absolutely can’t. We should stop,” he finished while his lips kissed and sucked your neck. He latched his mouth onto the part of your neck he remembered drove you wild. As he did you bucked your hips against him.

“Vixen!” The shout of your name had you both pulling apart so fast, you’d think you were kids instead of grown adults. He turned his back and walked to the stove just as your father walked in.

“Hey uh—ehm. Hey dad.” He looked between you and Chris’s back once then shook his head.

“Your mother is asking about Ella’s bath mermaid?”

“Yeah, I’ll go help her with that. Thanks dad.” He could hear your feet as you walked out of the kitchen.

When he turned your father was still standing there. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning. I hear your breakfast was a big hit with the little boss.” He smiled and nodded.

“You’re doing a fine job son, an outstanding job stepping up. Keep it up.” He began walking out of the kitchen then he turned back. “Oh, about the other boss, remember Rome wasn’t built in a day. It was a long strenuous, complex, infuriating task. It wasn’t for the faint of heart, or the weak.” He gave him a small salute then walked off leaving him standing there to contemplate his words and to rehash everything that just happened.

One thing was for certain, he was now filled with even more desire than ever and just as many rising fears, and insecurities.

-Vixen-

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! You just had to kiss him huh. You just had to! Your colossal fuck up last night wasn’t enough, you just had to do it again. Not only did you do it again, but if your dad hadn’t walked in you would have fucked him, right there on the kitchen counter. What is wrong with you?”

You’d chastised yourself throughout your shower, and then as you dressed and now sitting in front of your mirror doing your hair, you chastised yourself again. You could still feel his lips and taste him. The chocolate and other sweets were a good mask, but you could still taste him. Your mouth recognized him; it was a taste that you’d missed. You didn’t even know you missed it until you got a taste of it again. God he tasted good. You wanted him as badly as you’d ever wanted him—maybe more. Last night’s accidental kiss nearly turned into sex against the wall of your daughter’s bedroom. Today’s on top of the kitchen counter with your family walking around the house. You couldn’t believe how close you’d come.

You took a deep breath and slowly let it out. You didn’t know if now that you’d had a taste if you’d be able to keep away.

“Why do I have to keep away? Why don’t I just give in?”

Groaning, you took a few breaths.

“Because if I give in even once, I may not ever be able to pull myself out again.”

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you did your best to keep the tears in. You barely pulled yourself together three years ago. It was the hardest thing to forget him and everything you’d felt especially with his child growing inside of you. Every day you prayed his face would fade; every day you prayed that Ella didn’t look a thing like him when she was born. Every day you wanted him there, then Ella was born with his eyes and those eyes didn’t change, didn’t turn a different color, they remained his. Then one day, you were able to flip a switch, one day, you turned into this woman.

“I’m still in love with him.” You said it as a whisper, afraid the walls had ears and would repeat it. You could no longer deny it, no longer pretend with yourself. Everything you felt in those kisses was the evidence. You closed your eyes and took some time to pull yourself together.

When you walked back downstairs, you heard voices as you turned the corner to the family room. Sitting on the couches were all of the older Evans siblings. You stopped in your tracks as all eyes fell to you. “Sorry, I didn’t know—I’ll go.” You quickly turned to walk out.

“We came to see you, Vixen,” Shanna informed. You stopped and clenched your jaw. You weren’t sure you wanted to stay or listen to anything they had to say so you kept your back to them.

“I know we’re probably the last people you want to see or talk to, mainly Carly,” Scott added.

“Nice touch Scott, what a way to have each other’s back, remember that oath?” Scott scoffed at Carly’s comment.

“Please, just five minutes,” Shanna finished. You sighed. You could see Ella outside in the front, dancing around and playing with Nexus and Dodger.

“Whatever you want, Vixen, if you’re not down for it; I’ll kick them out,” Chris began. You smiled because you could imagine it for some reason. Turning around you made sure to wipe the smile off your face.

“Okay.” You walked into the room.

“I’ll wait outside,” Chris began.

“No, you can stay.” He nodded and walked away to one of the windows creating distance between him and his siblings.

“Okay, I’ll go first because I was the one who was the most despicable,” Carly stated. She stepped forward with a remorseful look on her face. “I’m deeply sorry for my behavior and actions toward you yesterday. Not only were they uncalled for but they were unfair and downright rude. I was rude.”

You studied her and examined her body language as well as facial expressions. She looked as if she were being truthful, even sounded as if she regretted it. You wondered if she truly meant it or if she were trying to smooth things over to remain in her brother’s good grace.

You looked to Chris whose eyes were just on you. You picked up a slight eyebrow raise and the tightness of his lips; then, he gave a soft grin. He believed her; you could tell.

“I’m sorry. I got so gung-ho on the fact that you lied to Chris and hid his child that I didn’t see anything else. I didn’t take into consideration to look elsewhere like your words or actions since.

“We’re sorry also. We could have handled yesterday a lot better than we did. We’re all equally ashamed that we hurt you. We didn’t mean to,” Shanna finished.

You looked down and sighed again. You didn’t want to make this bigger. It wasn’t worth it. Everyone in this room had a part to play, but you wanted to move forward. This entire thing felt like a toxic cloud hanging over you, and you hated it.

“Look, I know how tempers can flare in a situation like this. I know how each of you are feeling or felt. I can empathize with each of you. Honestly, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about my actions and the situation I don’t want to keep duking this out with any of you. I want to move on. I want to move forward, and it would be great if you all could move forward with me.”

“And me. I’ve moved forward from anything in the past. I told you all that. I meant it,” Chris furthered

“Yes, we want to move forward,” Carly spoke up. You looked at all of them. They were nodding in unison.

“Good, I’m sure Ella would love to know her aunts and uncle.” All three of them smiled, but it was Shanna and Scott who came forward to hug you. You were so shocked you remained there.

“Wow. Okay.”

“Thank you,” Carly finished. You nodded.

“She’s outside if you want to see her. I have a party to finish planning.” They nodded and walked to the door, leaving you and Chris alone yet again.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You didn’t have to do that, hell you probably shouldn’t have. You had every right to--.”

“What hold a grudge? No, I’m tired of doing that. I am so tired.” You sat in one of the chairs and rubbed your forehead. “I held a grudge against you for twelve months. Twelve long months, until one day, three months after Ella was born, she was crying her head off because of an ear infection, and I snapped out of it. I don’t know how or why, but I did. Grudges don’t do anything for me.”

“Why did you hold a grudge against me?” You took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“It’s not important. It’s in the past, and we’re moving forward. Remember?”

Chris stared at you as if he were trying to decipher what you weren’t saying.

“Vixen--,” Chris began before he was cut off by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He groaned, excused himself, and took the call leaving you sitting there.

“Got a call from the venue just now, they said everything is shaping up good and suggested a walkthrough for tomorrow morning,” Nexus informed. You nodded.

“Got it, thanks, Nex.” She nodded and sat on the arm of the chair you sat in.

“Wanna talk about it?” You looked out the window to see Ella standing in the middle of a sea of Evans, and she was showing off one of the toys Chris gave her. They all looked so happy being around her. It was heartwarming.

“I’m good. Everything is falling into place.” Nexus nodded.

“It is. Funny, you should sound happy about that, sound less stressed, more relaxed.” You nodded in agreement.

“The thing is, you don’t. You sound the opposite of happy, the opposite of relaxed, you sound and even look more stressed and unhappier than ever. Now I wonder what else still has yet to fall into place.” You looked at Nexus, but her face betrayed nothing.

“Fortune favors the bold, my beautiful, talented and sexy sister. The bold. It laughs at the meek.” With that she stood and walked out the room, leaving you to sit there, alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@sarahboseman @heyauntieeee @airis-paris14 @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandas-vibranium @wakanda-inspired @theunsweetenedtruth @ashanti-notthesinger @reignsxjackson @halfrican-heat @ambthegamer @simplyyamberr @muse-of-mbaku @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @blowmymbackout @purplehairgawdess @thehuntoyobun @wakandamama @wakandawinning @profilia @zxddy-panther @h-challa @babygirlofwakanda @misswakanda2018 @ororowrites@hutchj @myfavemarvelfanfics @lavitabella87 @afraiddreamingandloving @autumn242 @purple-apricots @skysynclair19 @hersheyskissesss-blog @blue-ishx @90sinspiredgirl @tchallaswife @tchallamakesmeh0lla @turn-thy-paige @blackchickfics @blackpantherismyish @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @naturally-bri @flawlesslybeautiful14 @qweentbh@lunaerly @theoutereffect@twilight-sapphire-lover @pupyluv247 @stark-red19 @cockyboysandsugarism@maverickabull @madbadsiren @aykanna @myaw731 @ruruly20 @mixedmelanin @brittyevans @bezzywazhere@laketaj24 @soulsparker @theresnomoregoodones @syreanne@loveandcigarillos @heyauntieeee @heybriheyyy @wakanda-bcth @uhlxis @maliadestiny @dadinhas-heat @yaachtynoboat711@geeksareunique @bultalongthewayside @ajspencer1892 @captiansaveasmut @imaginewhoever @terrablaze514 @starsshines-blog @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@darkandlovely94 @sithlordslut @wavyyc @naturalistamisslyn @nigarachi15 @madamslayyy @blackandfair @kreolemami @mylastnameisthe-fish @kaykay0829@chaneajoyyy @tequilajay27 @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @slimmiyagi @im5ftbutmythroat66 @jaeee-http@madhatterhelsing @sunflowerpsalms @wakanda-shit-is-that @deliciousstreetkidcroissant @jecourt @vebner37 @disneysdarlingdiva @melaninmarvel @alanastormborn@dolphinpink310 @yourwonderbelle @ohleucothea @queentearra @bitchbetterhavemydinner @fentybabyy @kaykay4454fan @priya212 @kitkit1690 @chrismarcs @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @blackpantherimagines @ovohanna24 @sweetpeachjones @kslo000 @nubian-queen18 @omgsuperstarg @airis-paris14 @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @drsunshine97 @blue-ishx @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @prettyprincessushio @treeondrea @ursapharoh05 @blackpinup22 @kaytauru @big3gocandykahn @kissingpineapples @wildaboutchrisevans @fitfineandstayingalive @misspooh @michele-onel @gorjiss @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @muva-milaje @limbo-limbo-limbo @awkwardlyabstract @blxck-brxndie @meeky-imagines @inlovewith3 @metalarmlover @mellowjellow6 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @ursapharoh05 @treeondrea @ovohanna24 @marvelheaux @romanceoftheeveryday @mufasathatniggatho @cltex84 @sweetbearcolorgarden @msincognito67 @mosagram @lunaerly @mar-ta-3 @ljstraightnochaser @lewatigress @akimi-youngblood @bekahdean87 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @cocooned-butterfly @emoniclark22 @chereedrop619 @theblulife @niggarachi15 @drsunshine97 @msincognito67 @missdeerstalker15 @wakandamama @avenger-marvel-fan @arieljamiyla @vibranium-soul @monae-boss @queenxchallaxkillamonger@amirra88 @jaeee-http @omg-itsnadi @fonville-designs @sydneebleu @cherrystainedlipsbaby @behindthesehazeleyes27 @areubeingserved @kelbabyblue @academic-glowup @patzammit @yourwonderbelle @pennywisesmistress @squeackygee @noramushrooms @titty-teetee @ab-baybay @kreolemami @impossiblegiantrebelbasketball @dangerouslovefanfic @heladoom @renesmeeharelds @zaddysqueen7 @alyxkbrl @hello-therree @taylorveebee @a-dizzle777 @deidrashouseofpain @coldmuffinbanditshoe @evemej @chaselovinggert @ben-wyxtt @designerwriterchic @chrisgalore @jennmurawski13 @rynabarnesrogers @yunggyeezyy @kemkem101 @dearkyrainez @minton131

#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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dr-m-r-ma · 6 years ago

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Electric Shock

Part 3/30

Genre: drama, romance, fluff, angst? Rating: PG-13 Group: Monsta X Summary: Hyo-jin Lee is a Korean American who was forced to move from Los Angeles to Seoul with her mother. She is usually rather quiet and cautious, but makes a bold decision when she is street casted to show in Monsta X’s new music video.

Disclaimer: This is 100% fictional and my own story. It is unrelated to the actual events and real persons of Monsta X and Starship. Hyo-jin Lee is a completely made-up character that I created for this fanfic. Parts will be written in Korean with English translations. I did not major in English/Korean, nor was I ever strong in English/Korean grammar, so there will be grammatical mistakes. This is also the first fanfic I have ever written, so please overlook small mistakes. This fanfic is written in third person and past-tense for ease of writing.

" 소개해드릴게요: 몬스타엑스의 셔누, 원호, 민혁, 형원, 기현, 주헌, 아이엠입니다." (Translation: "I'll introduce you: this is Shownu, Wonho, Minhyuk, Hyungwon, Kihyun, Jooheon and I.M. from Monsta X.") PD Park pointed to Hyo-jin and introduced her to the group: "이쪽은 이효진씨이에요. " (Translation: "This is Miss Hyo-jin Lee.") Hyo-jin stood in front of the group of guys, fidgeting slightly due to the pressure of standing in front of celebrities and being in the middle of a elaborately decorated set.

" 괜찮아요, 다들 프로지만, 순한 애들이에요. 한.. 20분후 이효진씨 파��들 시작할게요. " (Translation: "It's okay, they're pros but they're all nice kids. We'll start on your parts in about.. 20 minutes.") PD Park explained to Hyo-jin the story of the music video and briefly summarized what she needed to do, which was basically just sit in a chair while each of the guys in the group sang walking around her. A stylist and makeup artist rushed over to Hyo-jin with clothes and a makeup box. The group scattered to practice their own parts and chat among themselves.

" 어디서 보지 안았어? " (Translation: "have we seen her before?") I.M. asked Jooheon.

" ... 어디? " (Translation: "where?") Jooheon asked without looking up, still reviewing his parts in the script.

" 생각 안 나. 근데 어디선가 본것 같아..." (Translation: "don't remember. But I feel like I've seen her somewhere...") I.M. stared at Hyo-jin as the makeup artist was putting final touches to her hair and face. With her costume and makeup nearly finished, she had attracted attention from much of the staff. Although she hadn't looked special with her normal clothes and even people part of PD Park's team wondered why he brought such an average girl, Hyo-jin looked much more beautiful with the final touches. A smokey autumn makeup accentuated her small face and charming eyes, while her outfit (which consisted of a beige knit turtleneck tucked into a grungy tulle maxi skirt) emphasized her slim body. Jooheon looked up curiously to observe Hyo-jin, as was Shownu who had been silently watching her since the beginning.

The group gathered to finalize their parts during the dance break when suddenly I.M. exclaimed in a whisper,

"알았다! 2년 전 우리 LA에서 아이스크림 가게 앞, 어떤 여자 둘이랑 얘기했잖아 -- 셔누형이랑! 냅킨들고" (Translation: "I got it! When we were in LA 2 years ago, Shownu-hyung talked with those two girls in front of the ice cream place! With the napkins") Wonho glanced at Hyo-jin and whispered back,

"확실해? 난 기억 안 나는데." (Translation: "are you sure? I don't remember.") Minhyuk added,

"난 그것만 기억나: 원호형 팬들이 무섭게 째려보다가 덮쳤잖아." (Translation: "I only remember Wonho-hyung's fans eyeballing us scarily before ambushing us.") Before they could come to a conclusion whether or not they've seen Hyo-jin from before, PD Park called everyone to take their places.

Hyo-jin tried to calm her nerves by taking deep breaths in the final minutes before the shoot. She slouched in an antique chair, as directed by PD Park, and waited for further directions. While PD Park discussed with the cameramen how the scene should be shot, Hyo-jin fiddled with the torn pieces of tulle on her skirt to keep her mind off of her nervousness. She concentrated on her skirt so much that she failed to notice a pair of eyes staring down at her, right in front of her, only to be startled by a small cough. Immediately, Hyo-jin straightened up in an upright posture and looked up, expecting PD Park.

*** TBC ***

#mx fanfic #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fic #mx fic #shownu #wonho #minhyuk #jooheon #changkyun #hyungwon #kihyun #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #fanfic #electric fic

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ourreferences02 · 7 years ago

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seventy-three questions

I guess this is like if some random person wanted to interview my kids, idk. Ignore how some things capitalized on their own, ik it’s very annoying. not to mention, I didn’t bold or italicize anything. there’s too many words in this post it would take too much time, sorry. have fun reading all of this

q: what’s your favorite movie you’ve seen in the past month?

Richard: Richard peter Johnson. it’s about me. for sure.

bella: to the bone. I forget if they have a trigger warning. I don’t know, I liked it.

calum: john wick. there’s a lot of cool stuff

leia: frozen and moana!!!

q: favorite animal?

Richard: I honestly don’t know. for shits and giggles, maybe cougars

bella: um... when I was little I really liked birds, bunnies, lions, and lambs

calum: dragons are super strong and op

leia: puppiessssssss

q: best friend’s name?

Richard: sam

bella: i’m not very close with anyone. ally, I guess

calum: kirk junior

leia: luke

q: book you plan on reading?

Richard: the catcher in the rye

bella: pride and prejudice

calum: I want to get the guiness book of world records for 2017

leia: the blue fairy book. it’s about fairy tales

q: something that positively shaped you?

Richard: sick as it sounds, my girlfriend set herself on fire and had to go to the hospital. it was because of me, and when she made it out of that experience with no burns it somehow got me to be more appreciative and inspired me to stop being such a dick sometimes

bella: theo.

calum: I heard about LeBron james

leia: life

q: biggest secret?

Richard: don’t have one, really

bella: it wouldn’t be a secret if I told someone, would it?

leia: I found out that my best friend is sleeping beauty! but a boy!

calum: not telling. i’m not retarded.

q: on a scale of one to ten, how excited are you about life right now?

Richard: ten? idk

bella: 6... hehe

calum: five is average. so five.

leia: a bagillion gazillion and one

q: iPhone or android?

Richard: androids have potato cameras

bella: iPhone. I guess if they’re too expensive an android would be okay

calum: aren’t andriods robots

leia: aye aye captain hahahhahhahhahhaha

q: twitter or Instagram?

Richard: twitter

bella: definitely Instagram

calum: I like jetpack joyride

leia: graham crackers?

q: who should everyone be following right now?

Richard: me. just kidding, um... my friends tyrone and Tanisha. they’re living on their own for the most part, with two twin babies, at fifteen. kudos

bella: not kim Kardashian.

calum: stalkers. show them how they make other people feel.... oh sorry, wrong kind of following

q: favorite food?

Richard: I can’t come up with something so i’m just going to say pizza

Bella: i like chicken alfredo pasta. I’m not sure if it’s my favorite though

Calum: hot dogs

Leia: crackers

q: least favorite food?

Richard: cornbread. I’ve seen timmy wolf down a whole loaf. It was huge. There was a lot of blowing chunks after. Scarring, tbh

Bella: never liked green beans

Calum: eggplants, carrots, and bananas

Leia: steak is hard for me to chew sometimes

q: what do you love on your pizza?

Richard: cheese

Bella: cheese. Oh, richard said that too? Ffs

calum: pepperonis

Leia: anchovies! Just kidding, i’m joking!

q: favorite drink?

Richard: i’ve got no clue. water is very underrated

Bella: i used to love lemonade. Haven’t had that in years. Oh, right. I like tea, coffee, root beer, yeah

Calum: i’ve never had vodka, but vodka

Leia: do slushies count?

q: favorite dessert?

Richard: i’m a fabulous dessert -wink- um, no, in all seriousness, chocolate ice cream

Bella: huh. I haven’t had dessert in a while either. Shit.

Calum: chocolate chip cookies

Leia: everything sweet

q: dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

Richard: well I know how tyrone would answer this. I guess milk chocolate

Bella: milk?

Calum: both

Leia: ooooooh, one second, i’ll be back! NO IT’S NOT TO GET CHOCOLATE

q: coffee or tea?

Richard: coffee

Bella: they’re both good for photos, coffee tastes better, but tea is better for you

Calum: alcohol

q: hardest decision?

Richard: what to answer for this question. That counts?!

Bella: life or death. I chose life, obviously

Calum: i’m bored

Leia: my mom asked me if i wanted a dog or a cat! I said dog, but she never got either one

q: favorite fruit?

Richard: peach. -eyebrow wiggle- I actually don’t know

Bella: pineapple, mango, peach, blueberry, blackberry, raspberry, watermelon...

Calum: pear

Leia: applllllllles!!!

q: favorite singer or songwriter?

Richard: shawn mendes. I’M JOKING

Bella: isabella vail. Sorry, no self-promo? Okay, theo herondale -grin-

Calum: eminem

Leia: idina menzel

q: favorite song?

Richard: can’t say

Bella: that’s a lot of pressure

Calum: i’m hungry

Leia: I’VE BEEN STARING AT THE EDGE OF THE WAT-

q: if you could sing a duet with anyone, who would it be?

Richard: shawn mendes. I’M STILL JOKING I SWEAR

Bella: theo.

Calum: that’s gay

Leia: MOANA

q: if you had a tattoo, where would it be?

Richard: could i get a tramp stamp

Bella: i can’t choose, whoops

Calum: my arm

Leia: but they’re permanent!!

q: to be or not to be?

Richard: to be

Bella: to be or not to be.. ahh.. Love it

Calum: not to be

Leia: tooooo beeeeeeee... Two bees?

q: bird-watching or whale-watching?

Richard: whale-watching but only if i could ride the whale

Bella: bird-watching, they make such pretty sounds

Calum: a bird shit on my head

Leia: whale-watching because then i could see mermaids too!!!

q: best gift ever received?

Richard: sofia and will, thank you so much for your second creation. Not that the other ones aren’t good i just mean i love wed oh god just shut up richard. Praise you guys, hallelujah. Rest in peace, will. Would’ve been nice to get a “NOW YOU BE CAREFUL WITH MY DAUGHTER!” chat.

Bella: meeting theo was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.. wait is anyone going to see this? Oh god please no UM OKAY best gift other than that, i got a purple flower pin from.. someone.. Although i technically didn’t get it from them..i don’t want to think about this, never mind

Calum: my mom got a basketball hoop for me

Leia: everything!!

q: best gift you’ve ever given?

Richard: i once decorated bella in glitter and shit and then tried to give her to my mom. Yeah, i still don’t know why i did that. Awww, my little sissie, i’m gonna give her a hug after this

Bella: i wouldn’t know

Calum: i gave kirk junior a whole pack of gum once

Leia: i gave luke’s grandma a pretty flower. She’s really nice.

q: last gift you gave a friend?

Richard: the cornbread timmy threw up

Bella: i’ve never had a real friend, um, i gave annabelle a horse necklace and dora a set of nail polish. But they’re just people i talk to sometimes. Plus annabelle.. ugh

Calum: i gave savannah a pencil. Hope she liked it

Leia: i gave my mom a hug today!!

q: favorite video game?

Richard: OH MINECRAFT FOR SUUUUUUUURE!!! sorry i’m not in a serious mood

Bella: i don’t really play video games, the sims, i guess

Calum: call of duty games

Leia: roblox!! I like the pizza delivery game

q: favorite meme?

Richard: oh boy

Bella: are you serious? Right in front of my salad?

Calum: the spongebob music one

Leia: what’s a meem

q: last country visited?

Richard: greece

Bella: greece

Calum: how much longer

Leia: greece

q: favorite body part on a human?

Richard: well this could get some perverted answers

Bella: eyes. But “eyeballs” sounds atrocious.

Calum: pussy

Leia: their hearts!!!!!!

q: favorite color?

Richard: i like reds, blues, greens, idk

Bella: i loved yellow when i was younger. Blues are good too. As for the stuff that’s not on the rainbow, i guess i like black, gray, silver, gold, and white. Oh red is good sometimes

Calum: red, green, orange

Leia: light blue

q: least favorite color?

Richard: that murky brown and green mixture -shudder-

Bella: the colors that we can’t see or imagine. So frustrating.

Calum: yellow

Leia: i like all of the colors, i wouldn’t want any to feel bad about themselves

q: diamonds or pearls?

Richard: i mean there are no pearls in minecraft... OKAY I’LL STOP

Bella: diamonds

Calum: you could sell the diamonds and be rich

Leia: great grandma grace had pearls

q: heels or flats?

Richard: i lost a bet to a guy in a chiffon skirt, but i make these high heels work

Bella: it depends

Calum: heels are sexy.

Leia: no girl can walk in heels, can they? OMG BELLA YOU’RE WALKING IN HEELS

q: pilates or yoga?

Richard: how about just working out

Bella: yoga

Calum: there’s yoga instructor porn

Leia: you mean pirates or yoda? Yoda is in star wars with princess leia, so yoda

q: jogging or swimming?

Richard: swimming for sure

Bella: i mean, i love swimming. But it’s hard to go near a pool when you’ve drowned yourself. I’m sorry i keep being gloomy

Calum: sorry, i fell asleep

Leia: swimming!

q: best way to de-stress?

Richard: hahahhahhahah

Bella: talking to someone, hugging someone, etc.

Calum: sleeping helps

Leia: just breathe! ahhhh...

q: if you had one superpower, what would it be?

Richard:i heard about a superpower that is all the superpowers

Bella: richard told me abo- he said that too?!

q: weirdest person you ever met?

Richard: the howler or the tricycle guy

Bella: theo. -devilish grin- nO I’M KIDDING DON’T TELL HIM I SAID THAT! Awe, i feel bad

Calum: my whole family

Leia: i don’t know, everyone’s weird in their own way

q: favorite flower?

Richard: i don’t know about many besides roses

Bella: i could list my top 50 if you want

Calum: ew

Leia: dandelions grant wishes!

q: last time you cried?

Richard: when my girlfriend was in the hospital

Bella: ...

Calum: crying is for chumps

Leia: i’m too happy to cry

q: do you like your handwriting?

Richard: no?

Bella: im not sure

Calum: oh bitch i fell asleep again

Leia: i forget to dot my i’s sometimes

q: do you bake?

Richard: i live in a house with girls, of course. OH SHOOT WAS THAT SEXIST, I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE TH- oh right. Forgot about calum. LOVE YA CAL

Bella: baking and cooking are both fun

Calum: no. i eat the baked goods though

Leia: i eat the cookie dough heheh

q: least favorite thing about yourself?

Richard: my anger issues

Bella: my luck

Calum: i’m amazing

Leia: i-i love myself!!! haha..

q: favorite thing about yourself?

Richard: idk

Bella: haha

Calum: everything

Leia: i think i’m nice

q: who do you miss most?

Richard: ggg. Great grandma grace

Bella: not ben. I liked you when you were alive, but you are unbearable as a ghost

Calum: i just want to play basketball

Leia: everyone who is in heaven!!!

q: what are you listening to right now?

Richard: the wind, i guess

Bella: arctic monkeys

Calum: leia trying to sing. She sucks

Leia: my favorite tarzan song

q: favorite smell?

Richard: um

Bella: rain, books, fire, theo, dryer sheets, flowers, oh no did i say theo? -blush- please don’t put that in

Calum: no idea

Leia: freshly baked sugar cookies, bella’s are better than my mom’s!

q: last person you talked to on the phone?

Richard: sam. He’s giving me updates on gilly and her baby. I hope she’s doing okay..

Bella: i got some type of hate call from someone. Idk who.

Calum: kirk junior and i were talking about basketball

Leia: luke. He said i’m giving him mixed signals. I have no clue what that means

q: last person you sent a text to?

Richard: tyrone

Bella: charlie

Calum: i don’t have a phone.. one day

Leia: look! The lollipop made my tongue blue!!!

q: sport you wish you could play?

Richard: is archery a sport? Because that’s cool

Bella: i don’t play any sports -sigh-

Calum: i do play basketball, but i really like basketball, so basketball.

Leia: i wish i could ice skate more

q: hair color?

Richard: a medium/dark brown

Bella: i’m a brunetteeeee

Calum: light brown

Leia: blonde!

q: eye color?

Richard: green. Idk about greater detail

Bella: crystal blue? It’s like a blue but if you turned the saturation down a bit and put some shine in there

Calum: i don’t check

Leia: blue, like blue whale

q: scary films or happy endings?

Richard: both

Bella: happy endings

Calum: no real man likes happy endings

Leia: scary movies scare me

q: favorite season?

Richard: tough

Bella: it really depends. Spring is very rainy but i like the rain. Summer is super hot but school’s out and it’s beautiful out. Fall comes with the colorful tree leaves and the clothing, and winter is cold but you have hot chocolate and oversized sweaters

Calum: i bet bella gave a long answer. Loser.

Leia: summer!

q: sexual fantasy?

Richard: where did that come from

Bella: -beet red- w-what?

Calum: huh

Leia: what’s that?

q: hugs or kisses?

Richard: both

Bella: bot- HE SAID THAT TOO? WTH

Calum: neither

Leia: hug time!

q: rolling stones or the beatles?

Richard: the beatles

Bella: the beatles, for sure

Calum: how many left?

Leia: why are we talking about things in the garden

q: favorite sex position?

Richard: i swear this came out of nowhere

Bella: -blink-

Calum: missions. Missionary? Yeah, that’s what i meant

Leia: i’m so confused

q: farthest you’ve been from home?

Richard: i died twice. Dk where i ended up

Bella: see i killed myself, and then i was in some sort of darkness for a week until i decided to come back

Calum: are we close to finished

Leia: look at this nail polish! Isn’t it so pretty?!

q: left or right?

Richard: the price is right

Bella: right

Calum: left

Leia: right

q: lipstick or lip gloss?

Richard: um

Bella: lipstick

Calum: almost?

Leia: lip gloss

q: scariest dream?

Richard: you’d know if i pissed myself

Bella: ..don’t want to talk about it, sorry

Calum: im not scared of anything

Leia: cookeh im mah mout, un segont

q: favorite type of hair?

Richard: i guess i like head hair over pubic hair

Bella: depends

Calum: hairless cats

Leia: those naked rodents

q: title of your autobiography?

Richard: one second, let me think of something

Bella: i wouldn’t write an autobiography

Calum: Perfection

Leia: my life

q: favorite sound?

Richard: did i really just fall asleep

Bella: sorry, what? I was doodling.

Calum: basketballs bouncing

Leia: water

q: favorite animal?

Richard: wasn’t this already a question

Bella: On the other side of a street I knew, stood a girl that looked like you, i guess thats deja vu

Calum: there has to be only a couple left

Leia: what

q: girl crush?

Richard: there’s this girl named wednesday herondale, she’s honestly my dream girl -grin-

Bella: how’d you know i’m bi? nO NOT BIPOLAR

Calum: i-i don’t h-have one..

Leia: i love my sister!

q: last photograph you took?

Richard: you’d expect it to be a nude because i’m a teenage boy, yeah, yeah, i see you.. well, i’ll have you know, it’s a picture of... my girlfriend. isn’t she beautiful, look at her!

Bella: okay so this one is o- fine. Don’t let me go into detail.

Calum: i took this selfie on my ipad by accident. I have a double chin in it haha WAIT WE’RE DONE?! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Leia: oh this one’s of my finger! whoops!

#mafia rp #richard #bella #calum #leia #question #questions

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jamiekturner · 8 years ago

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How to make a good flyer – modern flyer design inspiration

Looking to grab your audience’s attention at once? Regardless of whether you’re announcing an event or promoting a cause, good flyer designs can help you achieve your goal.

Of course, not even the best flyers are not readers’ favorite memorabilia, and will most probably end up somewhere in the trash, but if your flyer ideas were good, you’ll have accomplished your mission by that moment: readers will already know what you were trying to tell them!

As a result, they may go for what you invited them to do, especially if you captured them with a cool and modern flyer.

One rule remains the same: If you know how to design a flyer, or have been looking for flyer design inspiration in the right place, you’ll certainly manage to excite people about your product, service, or event.

Creative flyers include artwork that matters the most to their effectiveness, but so do printing and general design considerations (colors, fonts, images, and so on).

How to make a good flyer? To simplify this process for you, we’ve gathered some of the best flyer examples and critical design steps:

Plan and arrange content in advance

Image source: Digital Space

One of the key stages of event flyer design is to plan and organize information. In order to do that, you have to ask yourself which your goals are, and which the key message you want to convey is.

Cool flyers need to share information in an attractive and limited manner, to say at least, as for instance the venue and performer of a concert, and the price of the tickets.

Image source: Guillaume Kashima

Obviously, the amount of information available on the slide will depend on the real estate you have available, but even with a large pamphlet, try to eliminate the content you’re including.

The same as in other design branches less is more and you shouldn’t expect large and overwhelming chunks to make people understand your invitation or be excited about it.

As practice shows, the most successful flyers are the ones where information is adopted in half of a second, which puts you in front of some serious sorting and decision making.

The secret is a simple one: Include only the information you think is essential, and organize it in chunks that are easy to digest.

Function matters more than form

Image source: Steve Goodin

It is easy to get distracted by fun and entertaining ideas, but the truth is flyers can’t and won’t be a Michelangelo masterpiece. In reality, they are visually attractive informative means, and the worst possible way to create one is to leave information in the shadows of beautiful decorations.

The niche doesn’t matter – both night club flyers and computer sales ones are created with a purpose, which is why you should limit appearance to a catchy piece that will make users look at it and wish to attend the event.

Image source: Elena Savitskaya

Technically speaking, you must prioritize function to form, and always move in the direction of uncompromised usability. You should ‘push the right buttons’ for people should see what you want them to see, and that’s something successful retailers know very well.

Adjust design for smaller surfaces

Image source: Hilen Godoy

As you can already imagine, the biggest challenge for your graphic designer will be to work on a limited print space, and still assemble all information you wish to display. In their original form, most flyers are made on a standard A5 or A6 format (148 x 210 mm or 105 x 148 mm), and require designers to be extremely creative to maximize their potential.

Both in the case of formal brochures and informal invitations, a smart practice is to extract the most important text, and then arrange it in a single row/column to have more space for creative grid experiments. For more official announcements, think of rigid, newspaper-style arrangement in same-size columns.

Dullness is out of the question

Image source: Kawaii Universe Studio

As irrelevant as an event may be, you can’t afford yourself the luxury to advertise in a dull and uninterested way. If you seek attention, be it for a neighbor reunion or a fancy exhibition, being dull is out of the question.

The flyer must ‘spread’ some of the event’s magic on viewers, so that they would immediately imagine themselves there, or wish to be a part of it. This is particularly important for events that generally don’t attract too much attention, where a flyer can help invoke the party spirit and make people attend it.

Here are some basic tips that can make your flyer design more exciting:

You must work with colors – Your choice of complementary palettes should consist mostly of warm and bold shades, including sunny yellows and hot pinks, with a colder backdrop to catch the eye and conjure a memory of a hot summer day spent in the nature (BBQ events and festivals benefit amazingly from these ideas).

If you intend to add a sporty and masculine edge, choose darker tones as the main players, or stick to the safe black-and-white concept.

Balance bold elements in a trio – Team up the amazing photo you’ve decided to use with a colored element (interesting patterns, action buttons, and so on), and an attention-grabbing header. Don’t include any other bold element because you can overwhelm viewers, and turn your eye candy into an eyesore.

Add some fun and optimism – Regardless of what you’re announcing, make sure the flyer is not overly serious, because it is exactly childish and witty elements that attract the most attention.

Your ultimate goal is for people to pick up the flyer and to read it, and you won’t achieve that with a black paper with few lines of text. At the end of the day, people are looking for something that will make them feel good and optimistic.

Think of what makes your flyer better than the rest

Image source: Jonathan Moreira

Your flyer design must have at least one distinctive advantage. In order to understand how this works, think of an everyday example – you’ve headed to work, but stopped by a close bar to pick up a coffee.

You’re just about to pay for the purchase when something grabs your attention: all of a sudden, you see an announcement of a 2-days sale in your favorite mall pinned to the bar’s bulletin table, and despite of the fact that you have no time to finish your coffee, you keep looking at the flyer and can’t get moving.

Most likely, it is an attractive visual element embedded on that flyer that made you think of it. Some designers work their way with catchy fonts; others use beautiful images and rely on striking color contrasts. In short, the final product is both charming and compelling.

Before we’ve moved any further, try to remember that a flyer is not a way to express your creativity, but a form of advertisement that must correspond to what common viewers describe as creativity. The main purpose for each flyer is to attract attention, as if it doesn’t do this, it won’t do anything else.

For a memorable flyer design, ensure you’ve got:

A focal point/element that is not cluttered

Image source: Joris Rigerl

There is a focal point in every design, and that’s the main part of the layout where viewers direct their attention.

It can be the font, the image, the headline, or the background color – whatever it is, it will be the first thing a person will pay attention to. Because of this, you must keep all clutter off your focal point, so that viewers would immediately understand what you’re trying to tell them.

Images that explain

Image source: Dave

Images are quite common on all types of flyers, and that’s because visual messages are easier to ‘digest’ than textual ones’. You can either use a basic photo, or a multifaceted one on the background, but make sure it helps viewers understand the content.

Fonts that are suitable

Image source: Corinne Alexandra

Many designers neglect the importance of typography in flyer creation, but the truth is that fonts matter just as much as images do. They sort of reveal the ‘character’ of your events, and support the theme and the purpose of your flyers.

Direct calls to action

Once you’ve handled choice of colors, imagery, and copywriting, it is time to complete your work making a direct request for viewers. In most cases, it comes down to the simplest marketing concept of trying-and-testing, which basically refers to you popping the question right below the informative part.

If you expect viewers to do something related to the event, ask them to. Believe it or not, people respond positively to this type of requests, because they like feeling involved, and being an active part of what is going on.

In most cases, you can achieve this with simple sentences such as ‘Visit us today’, or ‘Like us on Facebook’. Making friends, as usual, is not rocket science.

Get inspired

Nowadays, when there are millions of media organizations and individuals competing for attention, turning eyeballs on your side has become a daunting challenge. You need to design a flyer that has never been seen before, but still comply with some basic rules without which people would surpass it.

The truth is that you need to be extra creative to stand out of the crowd, because everything else than the best may end up in the recycle bin. If you run a business, or are organizing a fundraising for your community, this is the last thing you want.

Here are some very interesting examples that can help you prepare your new project:

Minilogue Flyer

JOHN MOON’S FLYER

Cloud 9 Heaven’s Portal

SWP Beach Party 08 flyer

Philippe’s B-Day Flyer

BLVD-Nights Flyer

Vibetown Flyer 2

Randall Flagg Show Flyer 2-25

House flyer

Emigration Flyer

Fidel Club Flyer

Connection Flyer

Another flyer

Rausch Flyer

Halloween flyer

Talk Is Cheap Flyer

Dancenight Mit Dj Edge

Flyer Electro Night

Stel + Kosmas Epsilon Flyer

PartyOn Flyer

Attitude flyer 2

Party Flyer -PSD-

Sexy Black Party Flyer

School PROM FLYER

Funked Flyer

Latin Mardi Gras flyer Party

Touch my soul Flyer

The Black Panther Party

Chameleon – Octopus flyer

Disco Club Tropical Flyer

Chameleon – Candy factory flyer

Flyers selection 1

Beach Party Flyer

Flyer aelaat studio

Fight Global Warming Flyer

from Web Development & Designing http://www.designyourway.net/blog/design/how-to-make-a-good-flyer-modern-flyer-design-inspiration/

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