#i do have a box of repeat figures to decide whether to sell or open and play with
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jedi-bird ¡ 1 year ago
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Filled up the cabinet; still only about half way through my Star Wars collection though I do need to sort through the 3 3/4 figures for possible repeats (already pulled quite a few). Put out the donations and even got another box ready; decided not to keep most of my mom's figurines now that the day of horror has past and I'm more level headed. Recycle can is almost completely full. I'd like nothing more than to go take a shower and relax for the rest of the day but I have to stay downstairs to let the truck in the gate whenever it arrives. Drawers will have to wait until tomorrow when I hopefully have more energy.
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babylooneytoonz ¡ 4 years ago
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Fear - Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader
Requested by: Anonymous (Thank you! ❤️)
Summary: Tommy and his second wife, Reader, an independent, successful business woman are living a fairly happy marriage until the reader finds out she's pregnant. Things take a wrong turn when their work life clashes with this news and in the end, the Reader takes a devastating decision. Without consulting her husband.
Warnings: Light angst , mentions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy
A/N: Not my best work, I'm so sorry if it wasn't that good.
Gif credit: @nofckingfighting , @thepeakyfookinblinderss ❤️
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By the time you and Mr. Thomas Shelby were celebrating your first wedding anniversary, you were swimming in riches, riches not given to you by your husband in love, but gifted to yourself by you, as a part of self pampering. You had been your parent's only child, a girl, and this is how you had been brought up, extremely loved and pampered, but still carved out in a way to face the hardships like a man. While men and young boys left England to fight the war, which included your father, who never returned, you took it upon yourself to take over his business of running the pub he owned, which automatically fell to you after his death.
Soon, your twenty third birthday was upon you, and you found yourself going to Birmingham city for the first time, with the motive in mind to expand your business and open a pub in Birmingham city as well. But for doing that, you realized you needed a plot, and of course, you needed the Peaky Blinders backing you– because Birmingham City was a city of gangsters, latched to each other's throats, fighting their own internal wars and an independent business run by a woman would hardly grow in a city like this.
So, you'd done what any other person would have done in this city. You had met the leader of the Peaky Blinders, who you had no idea would be your husband just two months after that encounter, with the mind to strike a business deal with him.
Of course, you didn't get the plot you had your eyes on– he was not ready to sell it to you for any price that you named, but you did end up piking the gangster's sudden interest. It was only two days after the meeting you started unknowingly bumping into him at all the odd places– the supermarket, the theater and even outside the railway station when you were travelling to and from London.
Finally, giving in to your own secret temptations– it would have been a lie to say that his icy blue eyes did not haunt you at nights, when you were alone in your cold bed ; or that you didn't think twice about his cheekbones, or imagined his taut chiseled body underneath his ivory shirt– you finally agreed to go out with him. And it was amazing. Tommy Shelby courted you for two months until he finally propped the question of marriage.
You could feel Aunt Polly's piercing gaze on you, but you didn't look up from the file you were going through, doing your math in your head, your glasses pushed over the bridge of your nose.
"Jesus, (Y/N), when was the bloody last time you had anything to eat?"
Polly tapped her manicured fingers against your desk, loud enough to make you snap your head towards her. You almost shrug your shoulders incoherently.
"In the morning? I don't remember."
Polly's lips broke into a weak exhale, her hand reaching out and grabbing your file, pulling it away from you.
"What the fuck?" You protested, trying to take your file back but Polly had it securely held, tucked under her arm.
"Enough, love. I'm not going to bloody sit and watch you starve yourself."
"Pol, I'm really not hungry." You whined but let the older woman drag you along towards the dining room anyway because you really needed to stretch your legs.
You and Polly stepped into the dining room of the Arrowe House, sliding yourselves down on chairs next to each other. While you slowly nibbled on a loaf of bread, Polly sat comfortably, her back resting against the backrest of the chair, a lit cigarette in her hand, her eyes on you. You grabbed the cloth, wiping the remainder of your food from the corner of your lips when a loud gasp escaped your lips. You looked down to see Polly's hand groping at your breast, causing you to wince and slap her hand away.
"For fucks sake, Polly? That hurts!." You snapped at her, only to watch a smirk break out over the corner of her lips.
"Sore you say?"
"Its-Its nothing." You whispered, your face suddenly feeling flushed. It was not a surprise to you, for you had known it since a week. The midwife that lived in back in London, the one your mother often went to, before her death, had confirmed it for you. It had been a week of planning and plotting, worrying endlessly, and you had still not made up your mind whether you wanted to have a baby yet or not.
"Does my nephew know?"
You couldn't help but swallow the bile forming in your throat. You had no answer because you couldn't build up the courage to speak to Thomas about it. You wondered how he would react. Of course, he was just as busy with work as you were. You two had two very similar lives. You were two devoted people, devoted and swimming in work and business. You doubted if there was a place of a baby in either of your lives.
"I peg your silence for a no. Let me ask you this, love. When do you plan on telling him? This is indeed a good news."
You were snapped out of your thoughts when Polly spoke again. You drew a faint forced smile over your lips, a pathetic attempt to mask what you were feeling inside – emotional turmoil. As if on cue, Polly's warm palm took your hand in hers, her fingers clasping shut around yours.
"What's on your mind?"
You parted your lips, unsure of how and what you were going to say to her. How were you supposed to tell her that you didn't think that neither Tommy nor you, were perhaps, ready to be parents yet? Your mind was distracted and your hand unknowingly flew to your almost non existent bump, unconsciously stroking over it. Finally, with a finality in your eyes, you pushed your head up and gave Polly a stare down. You knew what you were thinking was the biggest sin in the eye of God, but somehow, it scared you, thinking how this baby's life would be if you actually decided to have it. You feared how this little life that you had created with Tommy would be subjected to a life neglected by the both of yous. Worst of all, you had this deep, lingering fear coiling deep within the pit of your heart, that maybe Tommy wouldn't want it. So before you could let your own heart shatter, hearing him say how he didn't care for the baby that was growing inside of you, how he would ask you to visit this woman who was an expert to deal with these kind of situations, you will confront him yourself and tell him that before he can say it to you.
"I just – I don't feel so well, Pol." You pursed your lips and lied blatantly to her.
• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •
Your eyes were fixed on the massive pendulum of the grandfather clock in the dining room, swinging sidewards, your palms nervously tapping against the surface of the dining table. You were waiting for your husband to return home because you couldn't delay speaking about this anymore to him. A part of you felt guilty for having kept this a secret from him from such a long time, after all, the baby was his as much as it was yours.
He had every right to know, even if you didn't want to keep it.
Your thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the front door opening. You waited a few minutes until a familiar silhouette approached the dining room, the footsteps getting louder and louder, probably owing to the fact that the lights were switched on. Tommy poked his head through the door and when his eyes fell on you, his eyes softened and he walked inside, towards you.
"Why aren't you in bed, love?"
You could see how tired your husband was, his eyes were droopy, dark bags crimson underneath his swollen eyelids, his face a paler shade. He never listened to you – he just worked and worked and worked, pushing beyond his capacities often, pulling in all nighters, mostly when you didn't even have a clue where he was or what he was doing. The truth was, it were all these reasons that made you feel not ready to be a mother, yet. What were you supposed to do alone? You didn't want to raise this child alone. Just having Tommy's name as his father but hardly ever getting to spend time with him, that scared you.
"I wanted to speak to you." There was a deep silence lingering in the room, only to be broken by the sound of your weak voice.
His lips parted in confusion, his usually calm ocean like eyes slightly widened. He gave you a shake of his head.
"Tommy, I –" You swallowed the lump forming inside your throat. Your heart was wildly hammering inside you chest and it felt like it was going to pop out any second. You took a step closer to him, nervously fiddling with your fingers.
"You want a divorce? Is that what this is?" Tommy's words caused you to take a sharp intake of breath.
"No! I – A divorce? No. I just – Tommy, I'm pregnant." You blurted out.
Tommy froze for a split second, only to finally relax in his posture and reach for his box of cigarettes while his eyes were fixed on you.
"Is it true? Are you really?"
His voice was neutral, you couldn't figure out if he was angry or ecstatic.
"I know Tommy, I know we are fucking busy people, and there's no room in our marriage for a baby. Which is why I'm going to go see that woman the next town, to you know–" Your eyes had watered up and your throat suddenly felt parched. You slowly turned to your side, your face now shielded from Tommy's views. You quickly brought up your sleeve to your eyes and wiped your tears.
"You want to go to that woman next town? To get rid of–" It was as though Thomas was repeating your words to himself, his index finger swaying in the air. Suddenly, he took a step closer to you and snatched the lit cigarette from your hand, bringing it up to his lips, casually. He looked so casual, how could you even know that a storm of rage was brewing up inside him.
"Should I not, Thomas? Are you ready for a baby? Are you then?"
A part of you wanted to hear him say yes, a small maternal side of you, that had already started to love that little foetus inside you deeply. That part of you wanted Thomas Fucking Shelby to stop you and tell you that you two could work through it, that he would make this work. A baby. He would love to have one with you.
"I think it would be for good. You should take Polly with you."
It would have been a lie to say that your heart didn't break at his words. Of course, he wasn't ready. You gave him a weak nod of your head and turned around, walking into your bedroom.
Three days passed and the tension between you and Tommy didn't wash away. He barely spoke to you twice in these three days– not that you had wanted him to– you were as mad as he was. With each passing day, your anxiety and your reluctance had grown. But finally, the day was here. Today, Polly was taking you to this woman the next town.
You and Polly sat at the back of the car, a young Blinder boy driving you to the the location. You couldn't bring yourself to meet her eyes at any cost, so you kept your eyes placed on the passing silhouettes of the old, greying buildings.
"Look at me, will you?" Polly's voice beckoned to you, forcing you to sharply turn your head towards you.
Her eyes were soft, you could see pale wrinkles under her eyes. Her warm palm took yours in hers and squeezed it.
"Us fucking women have been always forced to make difficult choices, love. You know I–" Her lips trembled, her eyes started growing moist. "– If I could bloody go back in time, I would stop myself from giving up on my children. I curse myself (Y/N), every night, even though Michael's here with me now, but I missed his childhood. I missed watching him grow. You know you don't have to do this."
You swallowed the lump in your throat and parted your lips, struggling to push words out of your mouth, to vent out how you really felt, so you lied.
"Polly, we are not ready to be parents. The life we live, as long as it's just me and Tommy, it doesn't worry me. But bringing a child into this world of crime, of death, it would be wrong of me to be so fucking selfish."
"And isn't it selfish of you to deny your baby the chance to choose his own life?"
It felt as though someone had wrapped his palms around your neck and blocked out your oxygen supply. Lucky enough, the car came to a halt and the Blinder boy turned towards you, his eyes drawn to Polly as he informed that you were here. Polly nodded and stepped out, you following.
The street was quiet and lonely, with not many souls in view, unlike the bustling streets of Small Heath. The woman's house was the corner most so you and Polly, wrapping your coats tighter against your bodies to shield yourselves of the chilly wind, walked along until you both were standing against an old looking door with a massive lock on it.
"What the fuck?" You cursed, frowning. "Are we at the right address?"
Polly nodded and shrugged, pulling out her box of cigarettes.
"Of course we are, this is where she lived. Wait, I'll ask the neighbours."
You kept standing there, underneath the porch as Polly walked up to the house next door, her heels clicking against the gravelled floor. You saw her talk to a woman with greying hair, their eyes momentarily turning and fixing on you, making you feel uneasy. Soon, the woman had shut the door and Polly was making her way back to you. You could see that there was a faint smirk ploying across her face.
"Well, seems like your husband was here."
"What? Tommy?" Your eyebrows perked up.
She hummed and nodded, her hand mechanically moving up and her cigarette pressed to her lips.
"The woman said that the Peaky Fucking Blinders paid the woman a visit, and ever since, the woman's gone."
It all made sense now. Of course, Thomas Fucking Shelby. You wondered if he had killed the woman, or just threatened her enough to run away.
"Do you know anyone else?"
"Unfortunately not, but I will see what we can do. For now let's just go back love."
• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •
You were fuming.
To say the least, your cheeks felt like they were on fire.
Three days.
Tommy hadn't looked you in the eye.
But today you wanted to confront him.
Ask him the reason why he was interfering in women's business.
So you were waiting. Sitting on the loveseat in your shared bedroom with Thomas Shelby, tapping your fingers against your thighs. It was almost midnight when the door to your bedroom finally opened and Thomas walked in, as usual his cigarette held in his fingers. He had probably hoped to find you in bed , sleeping but when he saw the empty bed, his head sharply turned towards you at first before he forced himself to ignore you and move towards the closet to grab his t-shirt and his boxer shorts.
"Where is that woman Tommy?"
You saw him stiffen for a second before turning around and raising his eyes, until his blue eyes were fixed on yours.
"London, Bristol, I don't care where the fuck she went."
You stood up, walking up to him until you were standing in front of him.
"Why Tommy? What the fuck?"
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"Why. Why? WHY? If you can decide and fucking come to a conclusion without even letting me know, why can't I eh?" He screamed, causing you to flinch and step back, still furious.
"This isn't fair Thomas, this fucking isn't fair. These are our matters."
Tommy suddenly grabbed you by your arms, his nails almost digging into your flesh as he almost shook you.
"What did you expect me to do? To just let you go and end what we had created?"
Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes filling up with water.
"You said you didn't care." Your words came out a mere whisper and your body felt like jelly, almost ready to melt into his arms.
"Of course, I fucking care. Is that what you fucking think about me? For fucks sake, I - I know I might not be a good father, I might even fucking be like my own father but that doesn't mean I want you to fucking go and end what we created." Tears were brimming in your eyes and when you blinked, they spilled out, warm salty water rolling down your cheek, a faint smile breaking out on your lips. Tommy's expressions softened and he found his palm reaching for your face, his thumb stroking over your cheek, over your tears. "Why did it even cross your mind? The fucking thought of doing what you were going to do."
You closed your eyes for a brief second and fluttered them open again, leaning into his touch.
"How can we be good parents Tommy if we have a life of our own? Where you can't stop risking your life everyday and I'm not even sure if I would fucking see you again?"
Tommy looked like he could kill you. He had a burning red rage lingering in his eyes but yet, he had a soft look on his face, a look that was only reserved for you. He slowly let go off your arms, looking down at your stomach for a quick second and then back up.
"That child deserves to be allowed to live as much as you or I did, (Y/N). I don't care if I have to change my lifestyle. I don't care if I have to give up on some things that I did before this. I want this child, love. I want this. With you."
A small smile broke out against your lips, but as soon as it had broken out, it washed off again, when the realization hit you.
"Tommy, it's not easy. It's a lifetime commitment. From you. From me. It means keeping our baby safe from whatever it is that could potentially harm it."
His warm palms grabbed your cheeks, pulling your face upwards to meet his gaze.
"I promise you love, no one would lay a fucking finger on you or our baby and live."
You knew what he meant was true – every single word of it – and you didn't doubt on what Thomas Fucking Shelby could do for his family. This scared you a little but you closed your eyes, telling yourself to trust on the man that loved you, and who loved the baby growing inside of you, he would never let any harm come to you or your baby.
[ Tagging list : @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theamuz ]
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botanicials ¡ 4 years ago
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wish this was the full part, but here is a sneak peak of falling in love at a coffee shop. the first few rough paragraphs. coming soon! littles will be posted until then ❣️
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falling in love at a coffee shop
i. (sneak peak!)
October 13
The cold NYC wind is forgiving for once, all things considered. You had just spent your evening watching over seven sugar high eight-year-olds that had decided finger painting was the ideal after school activity. It was laborious at times and their parents probably weren’t too pleased, but the kids were happy.
Your phone is warm against your cheek as you walk, owing to the Disney Favorites playlist you were asked to play- and Eloise skipping nearly every song that wasn’t sung by Elsa or Moana. Your mother’s words are insistent in your ear: plane tickets, dinners, graduation details.
“It isn’t for another… what? Four months? We’ll figure it out.”
You hear your mother sigh. “I’d rather plan everything out now, the end of the year brings me enough stress as is.”
“It-“
“And what is it with your graduation ceremony being in January? Such an odd time. I mean, right after the holidays? Don’t they realize we might want a bit of a break?”
You laugh lightly at that, eyes spotting the familiar rusting sign hanging up ahead. “Um, has to do with my hours and the kids’ semester ending. I don’t know. Tickets should be cheaper, they usually are after Christmas.”
“Suppose that’s a positive.”
“Definitely a positive- I’ll call you later, I’m grabbing some food so I can hurry up and get home. There's an apron covered with paint in my bag and I’m convinced it’ll stain everything I have inside.”
You begin to unwrap your scarf from your neck as you near closer to the mahogany red door, turning to push it open with your side. “You put an apron covered in paint in your bag?” She sounds incredulous.
“It’s rolled, mom. I’ll call you later.” You repeat.
“Soon.” She says, and you hum before finally ending the call.
A gust of warm air hits the chilled skin of your face when you enter, along with the strong aroma of brewing coffee and a hint of vanilla. You move quickly to close the door behind you, not wanting to disturb anyone with the reality of what they’d have to endure once they leave.
“Welcome in.”
Your eyes follow over to the voice that called out, to catch him take a quick glance at you before turning to meet your eyes again.
He’s not much taller than the familiar college students that work here, but judging from his shoulders, his build is clearly much larger. Atop his wool baby blue sweater is a- definitely used -burgundy apron you’ve seen time and time again. Who you haven’t seen, however, is him.
Once his eyes flicker to the new customer in front of him and back to you, you realize that you’d completely ignored his greeting. And hadn’t moved from the door?
You find yourself sending a clumsy smile before moving across the hardwood floors to stand in line behind the short balding man repeating his order.
Your phone is in your hand a moment later, needing a distraction as to not ogle at the pretty green-eyed barista any longer. Your thumb instinctively lands on Instagram, as much as you wish it hadn’t.
A selfie of an old friend from high school.
A photo of someone’s newborn. The third you’d seen this month.
The conventional food flat lay.
You hear the man in front of you make a second order of two dozen bagels for a big meeting tomorrow morning. “Hoping for a promotion,” he says, a clear smile in his voice. You silently wish him the best. With bagels from Coldwell’s, he was bound to make a good impression.
You’ve been coming here since the beginning of your junior year, finding the cozy café to be a home away from home. You’d discovered it after moving out of your dorm, it was an unmistakable upgrade from the campus coffee shop you were forced to visit every morning.
Thick floor to ceiling windows on one wall, exposed brick and a menu on another; coupled with the bulbous string lights, numerous plants hanging from the ceiling and perched on shelves with the occasional vintage record. 
There were unspoken sections inside; couches and low tables for group study sessions, a line of comfy booths along the back for brunches and dates, a few tables with mismatched wooden chairs for those who’d rather spend some time alone. It was always clean and well kept, and during Christmas, it smelled of nutmeg.
Depending on which barista had their phone connected to the speakers, the shop was either playing Spotify’s Chill Lofi Study Beats or smooth jazz, both welcomed by the regulars that filtered in day-to-day.
You hear the last drop of the bagel slicer when your phone buzzes faintly. Milo: We should go for breakfast one morning. When are you free? :)  That message alone was enough for you to stuff your phone into your bag. Jesus Christ.
You watch the man’s scuffled loafers as he makes his way out, the arm free from two large boxes lifting to wish his barista a good night. Speaking of, he’s got a welcoming grin on his face when you step to the counter. There was no doubt he was recalling your odd entrance.
“Hello.”
His eyes are bright, they remind you of a dewy morning in a garden - and you wish you were in the right state of mind to watch him the way he was watching you. “Hi, um”, your eyes fly up to the menu as if you weren’t sure of exactly what you were getting. “Are you still selling those bottled fruit drinks? I usually get them in the morning.”
“The Pressed ones? Got a few in the back but I’ll grab one for you. What flavor?” You take a second to inwardly scold yourself for focusing too hard on the way he’d flavor, there was no second-guessing on whether he had an accent or not from moments ago.
“Blackberry,” you say, sending a small smile.
He taps at the screen of the POS, his lips tucked into his mouth as you reach into your bag for your wallet.
Not there. No. Not that pocket either.
You frown.
“So, a blackberry Pressed, anything else?”
Your head is nearly inside of your purse as you move your belongings around, cautious of smearing Crayola paint anywhere. “Please, a blueberry um...”, you flip the apron to stick out a bit and allow you more room to see, careful not to squeeze it too hard, “bagel?”
A beat of silence.
“You sure?”
Your head snaps back up to find the barista- Harry, his name tag reads, it suits him -smiling at you, teasing.
You laugh at yourself a bit before buttoning your bag closed. Your wallet was nowhere to be found; which would frighten you if you hadn’t already left it in the classroom twice this week. “Yes-. Yeah, sorry my brain is like, fried from studying.”
“No, yeah totally get it,” he says. Tot-ally.
You find yourself contemplating on whether you should tell him to completely scrap your order or give in and finally figure out how ApplePay works. He scratches at his chin. “Erm.. cream cheese?”
You have some at home. “No, thank you.”
He nods and you take a glance at the tiny hoop earring that catches in the overhead light as he does. You’re just about to resume digging in your bag to check one more time, when he surprises you by saying something that isn’t your total. “What are you majoring in?”
You readjust. “Education. I want to teach 3rd grade.”
“Do you?” His smile is wide and you notice the dimples that sink into his cheeks. Because of course, the guy has dimples.
His genuine happiness takes you by surprise and you laugh. “Yeah, I graduate this year. Well- hopefully. Still have to pass my finals.”
He’s still tapping at the POS- definitely taking much longer than normal, but you don’t mind. Thankfully you had nowhere to be for once.
“M’sure you’ll do great.” You smile, despite the fact that his eyes were still on the screen in front of him. “I um, I graduated just last year,” he looks up to see your eyebrows rise in question. “Film.”
“Film?” you repeat. “I.. Honestly, I can see that.” The earring, the eyes, his style. It made sense.
Tap. Tap. You catch the price going down.
“That because I’m working at a coffee shop?”
“That- What? No, no. I-“
He lets out a boyish giggle and shakes his head. “Only joking. That was a bit of a dig to us film majors, hm?”
“A little. It just makes sense,” you continue. “You look like a film major.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s a compliment,” you say, and his lips twist to fight a smile.
“I’ll take it,” he says, slipping a glove onto his left hand. Your eyes immediately take notice of the cross etched next to his thumb. “Total comes out to $3.21. I’ll go grab your-“
“You didn’t have to do that.” You’ve ordered this countless times, and though Anne let you have your things for free when no one else was around, it’s always come out to $6.78.
Harry only frowns, shaking his head. Don’t worry about it. “I’ll go grab your drink.”
“Sure. Thank you.”
The second he disappeared into the kitchen  you’ve seen so little of, you quickly lift your wrist to try and figure out how this stupid watch worked.
You told yourself to test this out at some point, but you just haven’t had the time. The pad of your figure taps and swipes against the tiny screen, nothing screaming pay with me!
Not that app.
Not that one either.
Had you even set it up?
You hear the door smack lightly against the wall. “Alright here’s- oh,” Harry stumbles upon return, eyebrows drawn together. “Did the card not work? There’s a chip at the bottom-“
“No, I was- I left my wallet at work and I’m trying to..” You point at the card reader. “Does this have Apple Pay?”
His eyes flicker between your watch and the reader before nodding. “Yeah, you’ve just got to..” he leans over the counter a bit and his hand hovers over yours. “May I?”
With confirmation, his nimble fingers press lightly into the inside of your wrist, tilting it toward the reader. His touch is soft- he’s excessively gentle despite only adjusting your hand. He moves his thumb to double click a button on the side of your device, the palm of his hand brushing the side of yours.
The both of you look up at one another, eyes meeting in much closer proximity than any time tonight.
You can’t possibly pick up a guy at a coffee shop. Right?
Ding!
You look down at your wrist that’s still in his hold, your tiny screen now displaying a successful checkmark.
He swiftly pulls his hand away, the gloved one quickly grabbing your bagel as the other grabbed a waxed baggie. “Sorry-“
“No, thank you.” You can’t help but let out a clumsy laugh at the moment the two of you just shared. Silly, you think to yourself.
“To go, yeah?”
“Please.”
He smiles, eyes focused on the screen before the printer hums to life and begins to spit out your receipt.
You watch as he works the bagel slicer and toaster without conscious thought, large hand pulling off his glove before taping the flimsy paper to the front of the bag. He’s sliding your items over to you to grab when you speak once more.
“And thank you again, for the discount.”
He only shakes his head, lips turning down into a funny looking frown. “Don’t worry about it, really. Good luck on finals.”
You smile gratefully, managing to hold your juice and bagel in one hand as you make your way back over to the door. “Thank you! Have a good night.”
“Bye, love you—“ He practically chokes on his own spit, turning quickly to cough steadily into the crook of his elbow.
You were halfway out of the door when you heard him, and now you stare, amused as the cold wind nips at the left side of your face. “Love me?”
“I-“ His nose crinkles, and he coughs one last time. “Sorry, I-“ You watch as he visibly relaxes once his focus is back on you and not on trying to breathe correctly. 
Your head is tilted to the side, an obvious glint in your eye.
He lets out a breathy laugh before trying to continue. “I don’t-” Your eyebrows rise as he stumbles. “- love you. I just- I say it to friends a lot and I guess it… slipped? I don’t know-“
“I’m teasing.” You call out over the wind that blows through as you push the door open wider. You can’t help but laugh to yourself as you move to leave. “Don’t worry. Bye, Harry.”
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evansyhelp ¡ 4 years ago
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✧  TEXTURES  –  A TUTORIAL BY EVANSYHELP. 
In this (long and image-heavy) tutorial, I’ll be showing you how I make textures, as requested by a very kind anon. I use Photoshop CC 2019 but you should be able to replicate my methods on most editing software. Please like or reblog this post if you find this helpful!
Index.
Ethically Sourcing Your Images.
Finding The Right Image.
Making Your Texture.
Other Tricks I Use.
Quick Recap.
Making Textures Without Images: Speedrun.
Outro.
Ethically Sourcing Your Images. 
I will be explaining a couple quick ways to make textures without any images at the end of the tutorial, but since my personal favourite way involves images and that’s specifically what the anon requested, that’s what the majority of the tutorial will be focused on.
The first step, naturally, is finding an image to use. My personal favourite site is Unsplash, but there are plenty of options out there. 
What you need to keep in mind is what kind of license the images have. Unsplash is free for personal and commercial use with no attribution required, which makes it perfect for things like this. There are more sites like this in my free for commercial use masterlist (linked at the end of the post), but unless you’re using them in products you’re selling (like graphic commissions), the commercial aspect isn’t something you need to worry about. Just check the site/photographer’s rules to make sure you’re allowed to edit the images for personal use, and whether attribution (credit) is required. 
Another important thing to keep in mind is that these sites typically never allow you to redistribute the images as they are. That means you can’t just go to Unsplash’s texture category, save the images without any changes, and reupload them in a texture pack on Tumblr. That’s stealing. We don’t do that.
Finding The Right Image.  
Knowing what kinds of images will make good textures is a learning curve. My first couple texture packs are rough compared to what I make now, because I basically taught myself with no guidance and learned through trial and error. But with practice, I learned what worked and what didn’t. 
You want your images to be HQ, either with no ‘subject’ (ie. a person) or with a large background. Higher contrast is better but not super necessary. You should hopefully be able to envision what kind of texture you want to make before you even touch the image.
Making Your Texture. 
For the majority of the tutorial, this is the image I’ll be working with. Credits can be found in the link at the end of the post. 
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Open your canvas. You can make specialised textures, like 100px for icons or 540px for Tumblr graphics, but I personally prefer to make them large for versatility. I’m using 800px in this tutorial. Once you’ve chosen your size, upload your full-size image into the canvas. This is where the fun begins!
Drag the image around into a nice position. Or use Edit > Transform to rotate, flip, and warp the image in different ways. Or use Edit > Free Transform (Ctrl+T) to change the size or the angle more precisely. Or probably some combination of all three! With Free Transform, make sure this aspect ratio anchor is selected so you don’t butcher the quality of the image, unless you’re warping it intentionally:
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This is all very individual to each image you use. You might want to flip one, shrink another, put another at a 30 degree angle. Just experiment until you end up with something you think would look awesome as a texture. For the sake of providing a good example, I flipped this image vertically, shrunk it to 80% its original size, and rotated it until it looked like the smoke/cloud was coming from the bottom right corner. This is what we have:
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Then we move onto enhancing. Textures work best when there’s a lot of contrast because it’s easier to manipulate the blending modes. So if your image isn’t already high contrast, these adjustment layers (Brightness/Contrast, Levels, and Selective Colour) are your new best friends:
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If you don’t see this on your Photoshop, go to Window > Adjustments and it should pop up. Again, just experiment, because different images will require different things. Essentially, you want to make the darks darker and the lights lighter. Something I like to do is add a Selective Colour layer and use the Black slider. Pick out the primary colour of the image, and then Whites, in the drop-down menu, and move the bottom slider (left to lighten, right to darken) until you’re satisfied. Like so:
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So with those Selective Colour settings and the following Levels settings, here’s the before and after of my image.
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Much better contrast! If you want to end here, you can, but I personally prefer grayscale textures a lot of the time because it makes it more versatile. Instead of being forced to make a blue graphic because this image is blue, I can make any colour graphic I want with one simple black and white Gradient layer. Photoshop does have a default Black & White adjustment feature, but I prefer using Gradients.
Pro tip: if your image doesn’t have a pure black, you can keep the darkest parts of your image dark by using the left slider, shown below. 
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A lot of the time, I’ll also decrease the opacity of that Gradient layer, to somewhere between 80% and 95%, so just a hint of the original colour comes through. This gives it more dimension in my opinion, while still keeping it mostly neutral. Here’s 100% vs. 85%:
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You may find that you want to add a little more contrast after. With this texture, I decided to grab another Selective Colour layer, pick ‘Black’ in the drop-down menu, and pull the Black slider up to +40. I also settled on 95% opacity for the Gradient. And here’s the final product!
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Other Tricks I Use. 
That covers how I make a lot of my easier textures, but here’s a quick run-through of other, slightly more complex tricks. I’ll be working with this image (again, credit at the end of the post):
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This, of course, is not as obviously texture-worthy as the previous example, but I love textures with strong lines, so here’s how the magic happens! I wanted to get rid of the detail on the bottom half, so I used the Polygonal Lasso tool to select it:
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Then I used the eyedropper tool (the 4th symbol under the polygonal lasso in the image above) to select the blue of the sky and, on a new layer, painted that selection completely blue. I decreased the opacity to 90% just so it wasn’t a total block colour, but not enough that you can really see the lines. I repeated this process for the sky, so it looked more consistent with the bottom half.
Then, using the eyedropper tool again and making a new layer for every colour, I went in with a small soft paintbrush and painted out the harsh vertical lines on each segment of the stripes. I didn’t want to make them totally perfect, but I painted over the bulkiest interruptions. 
I added a black and white Gradient layer, using the slider tool I showed you before to darken the darks and lighten the lights, and decreased it to 50% so that it wasn’t totally black and white but still more neutral than the original. Here’s the result:
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Another fun way to shake things up, which unfortunately will require Photoshop (CS6 should be fine, not sure about earlier versions), is the Filter Gallery. Go to Filter > Filter Gallery, and you’ll find a TON of effects that change your image drastically. Most of the default settings are nightmarish, but you can play around with the settings panel on the right.
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Here’s just a few results that are possible with the Filter Gallery, labelled for convenience. You can view the HQ versions in the link at the end of the post.
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Quick Recap. 
So you don’t have to reread this obnoxiously large tutorial every time you want to reference it in the future:
Choose a HQ image.
Resize, rotate, flip, and/or warp.
Enhance the contrast.
Black and white!
Paint over problem areas!
Filter > Filter Gallery.
Making Textures Without Images: Speedrun.
We’re almost done! There are some tools built directly into Photoshop that can allow you to make textures completely from scratch, and I’ll briefly cover my favourites here. 
The first is pattern fill layers. I spent too many years not appreciating the patterns feature in Photoshop, but they’re great. Go to Layer > New Fill Layer > Pattern, click ‘OK’ on the box that pops up, and another box will pop up to let you choose your pattern. 
By themselves, they are UGLY. It can take a while to figure out how to use them. But if you change the scale, change the blending mode, and change the opacity, you have thousands of textures at your fingertips. And if you add two or three together? Billions of possibilities. I can do a more in-depth tutorial on patterns if y’all are interested, but here’s two examples I just whipped up in a matter of minutes, using two patterns on each:
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The next feature is gradient fill layers, and the gradient tool. Go to Layer > New Fill Layer > Gradient… to select a gradient (or make your own!) and an angle, OR use the gradient tool (featured below) to drag the gradient across your canvas manually. On its own, boom, that’s a gradient texture. Paired with a pattern or put through the Filter Gallery? Even better!
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The last is brushes. Brushes can be great for textures because there are so many kinds. You want to make a paint splatter texture? Paint splatter brush sets are everywhere! You want to make a smoky texture? You can get brushes that look like smoke! Smudged? Scratchy? Grunge? Halftone? Light leaks? Torn paper? Brushes have your back. 
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With all of these features (and things like actions, too!), your saving grace is going to be this little cog wheel shown below, and the list you’ll find under the Reset/Save/Load section. There are SO many more options built directly into Photoshop that you don’t even see right away, because you have to add them manually from this little cog wheel. 
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And you can download countless more patterns, gradients, and brushes from sites like Brusheezy and DeviantART. A couple tutorials on downloading and installing them can be found in the link at the end of the post, but remember, download these things ethically. If you want to sell products that use a custom brush, it’s your responsibility to find brushes that are free for commercial use. If you don’t want to credit the creator, it’s your responsibility to find resources that don’t require attribution. 
Outro.
I think that’s everything, guys! If you found this tutorial helpful or otherwise enjoy my content, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi! I offer exclusive rewards, like custom graphics, to everyone who donates. 
Due to Tumblr’s latest rules about links, you can find the credits list, the promised bonus tutorials, other important links, and the full-size HQ versions of the textures made in this tutorial over here.
Thanks for reading!
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bokutokoutarou ¡ 4 years ago
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— dizzy
pairing - bokuto koutarou x reader | wc: 1k
synopsis - your boyfriend’s idea of ‘important’ is figuring out how many cartwheels it takes to go around the entire gym
prompt - 41 from this list
↬ “why do i always fall for idiots?”
[a/n] - i would sell my soul for this fool i stg
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“[Y/N], [Y/N], [Y/N]?” your boyfriend frantically shook your shook your shoulders, making your heavy eyelids snap open.
“Huh?” you stifled a yawn, swallowing to alleviate the dryness of your throat. You blinked a couple times to get used to the bright light of the gym, and the back of your neck ached from resting your head against the wall behind the bench you were sitting on. “Was I asleep?”
“Yeah, sorry for waking you up babe, but it’s really important.”
Really important? You gripped the edge of the bench tightly, your eyes darting around the gym in search of any signs of disaster. Did someone get hurt? Did he get hurt? Your nerves were immediately on edge, yet any sense of panic racing within you disappeared the moment Bokuto opened his mouth to speak again.
“How many cartwheels do you think it’ll take to go around the gym?”
You stared at him for a second, your mind going blank. You rubbed your eyes, thinking that you must be dreaming because of how absurd his question was, yet when you moved your hands away from your face you were met with your boyfriend’s owl-like golden eyes staring at you in anticipation.
“How many....cartwheels?” you blinked a couple times, pondering whether you had even heard him correctly. Yet the dual-haired male nodded his head eagerly, his lips pulling upwards into an excited grin.
“Yeah! I tried asking Akaashi, but he told me to go ask someone else. Then I tried asking Konoha, and he told me ‘150’,” Bokuto said, taking a seat on the bench beside you. “But that’s sounds too high, don’t ya think?”
Your eyes circled the gym’s perimiter, trying to visualize someone doing cartwheels around it. You caught sight of Akaashi, Konoha, and Sarukui putting volleyballs back into the storage bin, and you saw the rest of the team heading into the change room. Your eyes finally met Bokuto’s again — he was staring at you with the same amount of anticipation as before.
“He could be right, Kou,” you shrugged your shoulders. “The gym’s pretty big.”
“I know, but 150?” Bokuto repeated the number, distress lining his features. “It’s just...so much.”
You almost let out a laugh at how concerned your boyfriend was, yet you managed to hold it in. “Y’know, if you’re so curious, then why don’t you try it out for yourself?” you offered teasingly, your lips curling up into an amused grin.
Yet all signs of amusement left your face the moment you saw Bokuto’s eyes light up as though he had been struck with an epiphany.
“That’s so smart!” Bokuto beamed, immediately standing up from the bench. “Thanks, [Y/N]!”
“Wait,” you reached out to clasp his wrist, yet he was too far away from you to reach. “I didn’t actually mean—”
But it was too late. Your boyfriend had already started cartwheeling around the gym’s perimeter, shouting a number after each flip.
“One, two, three...”
You felt a cold hand tap your shoulder. “What’s Bokuto-san doing?”
You looked to the right of you to see that Akaashi, Konoha, and Sarukui had given up on putting the balls away, instead deciding to witness the show that their ace was putting on.
“What does it look like?” you shrugged your shoulders, letting out a small sigh as the three boys sat down on the bench beside you.
“Ten, eleven, twelve...”
“He’s gonna fall on his ass,” Sarukui snorted, amusement lining his features.
“Yeah, and hurt himself...” Akaashi muttered. “Bokuto-san,” he called out to the boy, his voice sounding utterly exasperated. “Please stop.”
Yet the boy didn’t stop. He continued to cartwheel around the gym’s perimeter without a care in the world.
“Seventeen. Why? Eighteen...”
You had to admit — it was kind of funny seeing your boyfriend flip around the gym as though he was an acrobat instead of a volleyball player, yet you had to agree with Akaashi on this one. He needed to stop.
“‘Cause you’re gonna get dizzy,” you chimed in, a hint of worry laced in your voice.
“Twenty-one. Dizzy? Twenty-two. I’m not — twenty-three — dizzy.”
You shook your head in disbelief. You were getting dizzy just looking at him.
“Hey,” Konoha nudged your shoulder. “Do ya think he’ll start over again if we make him lose count?”
“Don’t...” Akaashi urged him, yet Konoha was already up off his feet.
“Hey Bokuto!” the boy called out. “Thirty-three, twenty-seven, sixty-nine!”
Bokuto let out a groan of annoyance as he did another cartwheel. You could practically hear his pout in his voice.
“Thirty. This isn’t fair. Thirty-one. Stop distracting — thirty-two — me,” Bokuto whined as he cartwheeled around the corner of the gym.
This time Sarukui chimed in. “Forty-seven, thirty-nine, seventy-three.”
Bokuto let out another groan; this one more annoyed than the last.
“Stop guys! Thirty-seven. This is very — thirty-eight — important.”
“It really isn’t,” Akaashi clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. The black haired boy then stood up from the bench — probably to go stop Bokuto himself — yet Konoha pulled him back down.
“C’mon, this is funny,” Konoha grinned. “Let’s just wait and see how long it takes for him to give up.”
“Forty-four, forty-five, forty-six...”
“He’s not gonna give up,” you let out a dry laugh, looking Konoha dead in the eye. “That’s the problem.”
“Wait a second...” Akaashi furrowed his eyebrows, his gunmetal blue eyes glued to the dual-haired boy. “He’s not turning.”
“Huh?” your eyes darted back to your boyfriend, and your breath hitched in your throat when you saw that he hadn’t turned around the second corner of the gym like he had the last time.
“Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four...”
“Kou!” you stood up from the bench, panic lining your features. “You’re going to bump into the—”
Crash!
“—wall...”
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You let out a small huff as you pulled a band-aid out of it’s thin wrapper, carefully peeling the edges and placing it gently on your boyfriend’s scraped knee.
“I’m so dizzy,” Bokuto whined, a small pout forming on his face as you pressed down lightly on the band-aid to make sure it was secure.
“Hmm, I wonder why?” you surpressed a grin as you went to take another band-aid out of the first aid box. “Why do I always fall for idiots?”
“‘Cause idiots have the most fun,” Bokuto gave you a dazed grin, yet he let out a small hiss as you put another band-aid on his scraped elbow. “You’re lucky, y’know.”
Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you started to unwrap one more band-aid. “Lucky? Why?”
“‘Cause outta all the idiots out there, you chose to fall for the handsomest one,” Bokuto beamed, yet he winced again as you put a final band-aid on his other elbow.
You rolled your eyes, a small smile threatening to emerge on your lips as you stared at the scraped up boy before you.
“I sure did.”
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dream-a-little-bigger-x ¡ 4 years ago
Text
Chapter 1 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie
Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream? 
Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox) 
Warnings: mentions of death, the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one. 
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Chapter One
~|Emily Fox| ~
As a seventeen-year-old, you should not be left to your devices. Unless you have no other choice. When you have a dream your parents have called unrealistic without ever listening to what you were actually capable of, you have no other choice but to move out and fend for yourself. Thankfully, I can stay with Uncle Mitch for a while until I’m off to college.  Since leaving my parents’ house at fourteen, my life has consisted of high school, working at the music store, write songs – if I have the time –, help Uncle Mitch around the house, sleep, repeat. It’s been a chore. But I just about manage. 
“Please, don’t touch the guitars without a supervisor, ma’am!” I say loudly from across the shop as I catch her hands rising up to pick up one of the acoustic guitars hanging on the wall for display. I rush over to her, dodging clients testing out guitars and pianos I’ve helped before. While the forty-something woman stares at me with an intense glare, I pick up the Gibson guitar for her and hand it over, offering her my fakest smile. “This one’s a nice one!” I tell her as she handles the guitar very clumsily, nearly dropping it. “What do you know about guitars?” she snarls at me. “Well, for starters, I work here, so I’m supposed to have some knowledge about guitars. Secondly, this is a bass guitar. Never just call a bass a guitar.” The woman rolls her eyes and when she casts her gaze on the strings, I roll mine. I’ve had my share of forty-something old women coming in here to buy something for their spoiled little sons, pretending they know more about guitars of any kind, pianos and drums while I have been brought up listening to Uncle Robert talking non-stop about all of his instruments. He taught me how to play each and every one of the instruments and brought me into the world of rock. If he were still here, I wouldn’t be working in a music store, trying to pay for my own apartment or my college tuition. He believed in me from the second he heard me sing and play piano. He still believes in me, I can feel it. Staying with Uncle Mitch – Uncle Robert’s husband, now widower, has been a lot more healing than it would’ve been if I still lived at my parents’. “I know that,” she grumbles, then looks back up at me. “If you know so much about everything, you little know-it-all, why don’t you tell me something more about this one?” I refrain myself from rolling my eyes again, and instead ball up my fists to put all of my anger there. “This is the Les Paul Junior Tribute DC bass. It’s actually a tribute to the historic Gibson EB-0 bass from the late 50's, but with modern features. The short scale length is actually chosen by many for its strong fundamental tone and sits perfectly in a track when recording. The mahogany double cutaway body and maple neck with rosewood fingerboard balances perfectly when playing either sitting or strapped on. It's equipped with a single expanded range LP BassBucker pickup with single volume and tone controls for simplicity. The volume pot has a push-pull feature to coil tap the pickup scooping the mids for further tone shaping possibilities.” I’ve explained this many a times, so it almost sounds as if I’ve learned it by heart. “Oh! And it comes in four different finishes; Worn Ebony, Worn Cherry, Blue Stain and Worn Brown.” The woman looks at me, clearly impressed at my knowledge of the bass in her hands. I’m pretty sure I could’ve told her anything and she would’ve believed me. “I want to speak to the manager,” she then says and pushes the bass guitar back in my hands as if handling a cardboard box. If my reflexes weren’t what they are now, we would’ve had a broken bass and I would be the one that had to pay for it. “What for?” I ask, my anger slipping through into a vicious snarl. “Just because you learn everything by heart, doesn’t mean you’re a good salesperson.” I open my mouth to say something, but I know I can’t win against a Karen. So, instead, I plaster on my best fake smile and say “Of course, give me a second.” I turn on my heel and make my way back to the cash register to get Ash, my manager who’s been nothing but an absolute gem to me. She wasn’t looking for any employees, but still hired me when she saw how desperate I was and how good I was with the instruments. She even lets me write songs after hours. “Karen alert?” Ash asks when she sees my annoyed face, at the brim of exploding. “Yep, at the bass guitars,” I tell her and take her spot to handle a paying costumer. Ash hops over the counter and makes her way to the Karen at the bass guitars. Only for her to leave the store in an angered rush without any bass guitar for her precious son. “That’s 44 dollars and 97 cents, please,” I tell the guy who’d come in for guitar strings, picks and some polish. He looks about my age. Dark hair gelled back, green almond-shaped eyes and rosy cheeks. He hands me the cash with a cute, nervous smile. “Thank you! And here’s the three cents change,” I hold out my hand for him to take the three cents, but he shakes his head. “Keep it,” he winks at me before grabbing his purchases and leaving the store. Leaving me all flustered and blushing. I hate when cute boys come to the shop and have the audacity to do this stuff to me. UGH. “Got rid of our Karen,” Ash tells me, “You can get back out there. I think the little girl over there at the piano could use some of your expertise.” She points to a fourteen-year-old gliding her fingers along the big wing of the white piano in the middle of our store. “Hi,” I say as I approach her, making her jump slightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Emily. Can I help you?” She scans my face for a moment, as if assessing whether or not I’m trustworthy. I guess she decides she does when she opens her mouth and four simple words flow out of it. “Do you play piano?” I’m a bit taken aback by the question. None of the costumers have ever asked me that question. “Yes, I do, actually,” I reply honestly. “I want to learn how to play the piano, but my mother doesn’t allow me. Says it’s too expensive. The piano, that is. And lessons are expensive too, she says.” She stops talking for a moment as if thinking about what to say next. “Will you teach me?” “Oh,” I manage to bring out, “I—we don’t really offer any piano lessons in the store. We just sell them.” Her eyes water and she visibly swallows a lump in her throat. “Okay…” she whimpers, making my heart break just that bit more. “Will you play me a song though? I love hearing people play.” I take a deep breath as I think about how to turn this girl down. But then I remember my parents turning me and my dreams down. “Sure, I can play you a song. Any requests?” I ask as I sit down on the stool in front of us, patting beside me to invite her too. “Surprise me,” she says, shaking her head with a big smile on her face. I carefully touch the keys as I think of a song to sing. Once I’ve figured that out, I begin to play the right melody and then chime in with the lyrics I’d written with Uncle Robert when he was still alive. The song I cherish the most and wouldn’t share with anyone. But this girl reminds me too much of myself, and I think she might take something from the message. “Here's the one thing I want you to know You got someplace to go Life's a test, yes But you go toe to toe You don't give up, no, you grow.” The girl looks up at me with big Bambi eyes, urging me to continue. “And you use your pain Cause it makes you you Though I wish I could hold you through it I know it's not the same You got living to do And I just want you to do it So get up, get out, relight that spark You know the rest by heart” As I begin the chorus, I hear drums backing me up from somewhere inside the store, and when I look around, I find Ash behind a drum set with a smile on her face as she helps me out a little. “Wake up, wake up, if it's all you do Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost, it's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up, wake up” By now, Ash and I have gained an audience. Most of the costumers in line don’t even mind having to wait to pay until we’re done with this outburst of ours. “Better wake those demons, just look them in the eye No reason not to try Life can be a mess, I won't let it cloud my mind I'll let my fingers fly” The girl next to me still has the same expression on her face. Eyes pooled with admiration and inspiration. Exactly the reason why I make music and why it’s been a dream of mine to make a career out of it. “And I use the pain 'cause it's part of me And I'm ready to power through it Gonna find the strength, find the melody 'Cause you showed me how to do it Get up, get out, relight that spark You know the rest by heart” I go for the chorus again, and then pop in with the bridge. The one I added to uncle’s song. The costumers in the store stare at Ash and me with smiles on their faces whilst swaying along to the song. “So wake that spirit, spirit I wanna hear it, hear it No need to fear it, you're not alone You're gonna find your way home” I close my eyes as I hit that high note, then stop playing for a second whilst starting the chorus for the last time. Even Ash backs me up with some backing vocals after having heard the chorus a couple of times already. “Wake up, wake up, if it's all you do” The both of us pick up the melody again, putting more power behind the rest of the song. “Look out, look inside of you It's not what you lost, it's what you'll gain Raising your voice to the rain Wake up your dream and make it true Look out, look inside of you When you're feeling lost Relight that spark Time to come out of the dark Wake up, wake up” I hit the last couple of notes on the piano before a roar of applause and cheers fills up the entire store. The fourteen-year-old beside me is clapping the loudest of them all. Her eyes still wide and admiring and full of life. “What’s your name?” I ask the girl, causing her to stop clapping. “Kayla,” she replies. “Listen to me, Kayla. Even if your parents don’t agree with your big dreams, please, never give up on your dream! If this is really what you want to do, go for it. You’ll find a way, I promise you.” A tear rolls down her pink cheek as her bottom lip trembles slightly. “Don’t give up, okay?” She nods her head vigorously. “Thank you, Emily!” she wraps her arms around me into a tight hug before hopping off the stool and rushing out the store. As I watch her run out, my eyes land on a guy. Somewhat my age, I think. I can’t really function for a second as his hazel eyes stare at me and with his mouth curled up on one side. When I finally manage to move again, my eyes scan him entirely. His brown hair sticks out from underneath an orange beanie, his nose fine and cheekbones defined. He’s wearing a flannel shirt over a grey muscle tank and ripped black jeans. I give him an awkward smile before heading back to the cash register. “Can you do register for a moment? I need to check something in stock,” Ash asks me, and I simply nod before helping the next costumer. After the fifth costumer, the boy who’d been staring at me before shows up in front of me. “How can I help?” I ask with my best customer service-smile. “By giving your number,” he replies coyly. I was going to give him the cute boy card until those words came out of his mouth. “Sorry, my number ain’t for sale,” I reply and look behind him, “Next!” “Oh, no, sorry! Uhm, I don’t mean it like that, I—” Before he can mutter another word, I interrupt him. “Are you going to purchase something, bro?” He opens his mouth, then closes it again, looking like a goldfish. “Uhm… No… I just—” I interrupt him again. “Next customer, please,” I stare at him intensely, hoping that’d chase him away. He knocks on the counter before moving away, clearly defeated by the rejection. I can’t believe douchebags like him still exists in this generation. People need to learn manners. “Hi, how can I help you?” I ask the next customer, bringing back my best smile. Just got to move on, just as I moved on from dealing with a Karen again today. Best way to do that, is focus on all the other customers. For the rest of my shift, I have not been able to shake the cute-but-rude guy from before. There’s something about him that haunts me still and I can’t seem to figure out what it is. Not even when I’m focusing on cleaning up the store. As I’m dusting the piano, I hear the bell above the door ring. “Sorry, we’re closed!” I yell without looking up from the piano. “Are you going to play again?” The voice sends shivers down my spine as it takes me right back to that one douchey line it uttered just a mere hour before. “Again, we are closed, sorry.” This time it comes out more like a snarl and with a bit of poison. The boy in front of me chuckles and holds his hands up in defeat. “Listen, I’m sorry about before, but—” he steps closer to me, but I hold up my finger to make him stop, and it seems to help as he simply freezes in place. “But the store is closed. Goodbye now.” I go back to dusting off the piano and wait for the bell to ring again, but it doesn’t. Instead, the sound of guitar strums reaches my ears. “You can’t touch any of the guitars without supervision,” I tell him sternly, but when I meet his eyes and they’re looking at me intently as if urging me to do something. “You’re supervising me, aren’t you?” he asks cockily, still stroking the strings, creating a beautiful melody that fills up my head. “What do you want?” I ask bitterly, looking at him again, and hoping it would make him leave faster. “For you to sing.” “Sing what?” He shrugs, leaving me to wonder what he means by that. “I have a lot of work to do, dude. Please, leave,” I sound pathetic, nearly begging him to leave. I’m only a step away from begging on my knees. The sound of the guitar abruptly stops when I go back to cleaning the piano. “Listen, I just wanted to tell you that what you did earlier today was amazing. You know, not a lot of people have the power you have. Did you see what you did to all those people in here? Imagine doing that for thousands of people! Have you ever thought of that?” I turn to look at him, suddenly having the urge to tell him everything. Then I remember what a douchebag he really is. “I don’t have time for this. Please. Leave!” I shout at him before heading towards the cash register to start counting the money. It’s silent for a while until the bell over the door breaks it. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. This boy did something to me without me even realizing it. Nope. Can’t trust boys. They don’t do anything but break hearts and be douchebags. But this one somehow seemed different. No other boy has ever left such an impression as he did. And I didn’t even have a proper conversation with him. I just hope I don’t have to see him. Like ever again.  
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detectivedreameater ¡ 4 years ago
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You Like Jazzcuzzis?|| Tommy and Marley
TIMING: Happy Hour PARTIES: @wrightnotwrcng and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Mara vs. Bugbear Ultimate Smackdown 2020! Tickets on sale today only! We’ll sell you the WHOLE SEAT but you’ll only need the edge!  CONTENT: Blood mentions, mara slander :/
It wasn’t often lately that Marley could catch enough of a break to enjoy a day off at the bar. She used to frequent all the ones down on Amity-- they were good places to pick people up, or even catch someone in an act that would leave them in her debt, sometimes both-- but lately, too much had been going on for her to want to. Usually, she’d just head home and flop onto her couch. She needed to go back there anyways to make sure JD was fed and hadn’t chewed through her furniture, and at that point, she’d either just call up Anita, or Jane, or Lydia. But now, most of them were out of commission and Marley still felt a strange burning feeling whenever she asked Anita over. So she’d opted for a bar today, on her day off. She’d practically forced herself to take today off, after everything that had happened with jane and the disastrous bowling excursion. There wasn’t much going on at Shanahan’s during the day, but she didn’t altogether mind the quiet. She did, however, notice the man in the corner that had been casting glances her way the entire time. With a sigh, she decided she did have the patience to take a man home today, and she picked up her drink, sauntering over. Slid into the seat next to him, not looking at him yet, before saying, “I see you’ve got an eye for the top shelf.” Pointedly not saying whether she meant his drink of choice or herself. Raised a brow, finally turning to look at him out of the corner of her eye, hidden well behind dark glasses. “Come here often?”
A cop had been digging into things she shouldn't have, and obviously that was nothing new for Tommy and Roy’s operation— but it was still something that needed to be addressed. So here he was at the same bar one Marley Stryder had decided to frequent in the day off from her work. If you could call it work. Tommy wasn’t entirely sure that being a narc was a job, probably more of a personality flaw. The repeated looks had thankfully done their job, bringing his prey to him as she walked her way over to the bugbear, and opened the conversation. You had to let the woman think it was her idea to start things like this. Otherwise, they’d never listen. “You saying I have good taste?” She’d be right. He had a decent eye for a good bit of flesh and bone. Tommy gave her a quick once over while he chewed on the toothpick stuck between his teeth. She did look like she’d make a nice little snack. Maybe a little tough or stringy if her demeanor was anything to go off of. But that’s what the toothpick was for. “Tommy,” he said simply, offering her a hand to shake in a cocky maneuver. “You like jacuzzis?”
The question struck her as odd at first, but she’d heard odder. Marley took his hand and shook it. His shake was firm, his palm slightly callous. Someone who liked to work with their hands. Well, that boded well for her, didn’t it? Settling into her seat, she took another sip of her drink before giving him a sidelong glance. “Jacuzzis can be nice,” she said, “if you have the right company.” The words still settled strangely in her stomach, like they were wrong, like saying them to someone else was wrong-- but she opted to ignore that feeling for now. She needed a goddamn break, and she wasn’t going to let anything take her out of that mindset. “I’m Marley. So what about you? Are you a jacuzzi enthusiast?”
About now would be when Tommy usually mentioned that he preferred jacuzzis filled with blood or some other vaguely unsettling substance, just to plant that first little seed of uneasiness to set someone on edge, to trigger that prickling along the neck of their spine. Then later— it would blossom into a full blown fear, and he’d have his meal for the night. But that wasn’t what he was here for on this particular evening. No, he was meant to reel this one in, not frighten her off. “Oh, it’s all to do with company.” If you got someone who didn’t scream enough, if just didn’t make for the same experience. Where was the thrill? The drama? “And you could say that,” he offered back with a smile that was always sharp. Grinning was one thing Tommy felt like he hadn’t entirely gotten down pat after making the switch from bear to human. “Do you wanna know what enthuses me even more, though?” 
A grin sat awkwardly on his face, almost as if it didn’t belong there. But his jaw was set and chiseled, and he had the kind of eyes that would draw anyone in. Marley saw these from an outside perspective and appreciated them. It didn’t even occur to her that there was anything else behind his intentions, the weariness of the week weighing down on her and closing her eyes to what she would have normally seen in plain view. Instead, she wanted to play with his wit and his words and possibly later, his sharp smile. “You know, I think I do,” she said back, with a lowered voice, keen and intrigued. Sometimes it was fun to play with your food first, despite what anyone said. Not that she entirely planned on feeding on him, but she found herself more lax with rules when it came to men. Food and fuck was easier to come by with them, after all. “Tell me?”
That strange grin on Tommy’s lips only grew wider as she continued to dive deeper into the conversation, the woman obviously thinking they were going to have a different sort of snack tonight. And though Tommy generally only slept with humans if he was planning on eating them, he might have made an exception for her. He didn’t feel any prickles of fear coming from her yet, which he supposed was a good sign. If she’d scared easily, she would have made a lousy operative for Roy. “Then I’ll tell you,” he echoed back in that same low voice, figuring that if she was having fun with the game she’d made of this back and forth, there was no reason to break it. “I love a woman who takes things into her own two hands, and isn’t afraid of the consequences.” Just like she’d done with the evidence and Erin Nichols. “But a person who knows how to deal with the consequences if they do come up. Like the jack in a box of consequences, you know? Who doesn’t love a good jack in the box? Would you know anything about that?” Then, as if he hadn’t just spoken about being a dirty cop, Tommy was ordering another drink from the bartender before looking towards Marley. “And what’ll it be for you?”
Marley liked a man that could keep up with her, too. She wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of that satisfaction and say it, though, so she just listened. Until his tilted metaphor hit her ears and she felt her skin bristle. It was not fear, no-- she did not fear much-- but it was something close. It was an anxiety that made her heart thrum a little faster than she wanted it to. He was asking her what drink she wanted now and the bartender was standing in front of them and she blinked from her haze and tried to smile. “Another of the same,” she managed to say in time to make it not seem suspicious, to feign as if she weren’t thrown off-guard by his sudden words. When the bartender left to make their new drinks, she lowered her voice again and turned to face him more squarely. Was this a threat? How did he know? She wasn’t reading too into his words, was she? “I’m not entirely sure what you mean,” she said, “I find jack in the boxes to be rather boring, actually. Something so simple could never catch my attention.” 
This had to be a careful thing. Tommy didn’t want her to think he was accusing her of anything. “Don’t worry,” he said quickly, hands raised and open as if showing he didn’t have anything threatening within them. “Think of me as a fan, an admirer of your work, you know? I don’t know if I’d have been able to do what you did with the information. I’m not going to tattle on you. I just wanted to let you know that I thought it was almost as cool as a jacuzzi.” Then he leaned back into his chair, scratching at his beard with an almost pensive thought. “Nahh, jack in the boxes are so unpredictable they could never be boring. They get people when they least expect it, you know? They get that little spark of alarm and then they laugh. Isn’t it kinda funny? How everyone laughs right after they get scared?” Sometimes he just loved to bite down on someone right after they’d begun to laugh, to feel that last bit of fear draining away into relief, only for it to turn to fear again as their bones crunched under his jaws. A wistful sigh fell from the bugbear, as if he were already planning on how he’d make the daydreams come true once he was done here.
His words somehow brought little relief. Marley didn’t like the idea that anyone knew what she’d done, and her mind scratched through itself to try and figure out how he did. Unless he was someone else on the inside, it didn’t seem possible. Unless… She straightened in her chair. His demeanour was too relaxed, she realized. He must have thought he had the upper hand here. And it was with sound clarity that she remembered he did. Daylight trickled through the windows and aggravated her skin. She was not powerless, though. She would need to play this one carefully. “I’ve heard that it’s a natural response to fear,” she said slowly, taking her drink and sipping it. Squeezing the glass hard to hide the shake in her hand. “Laughing. Just as it is a response to pain.” She took one more drink. “So,” she then said, turning her eyes on him. “If you’re not here to rat me out, then what are you here for?”
It was hard for Tommy to remember a time when he’d feared someone or something. He wasn’t in the business of experiencing the lesser emotion, not when he was the one responsible for doling it out. “Hey, I’ve heard the same exact thing,” he replied with the smallest chuckle. “Still kinda funny though, isn’t it?” But it was time for them to get to the meat of the matter. “Like I said, I’m a big fan! I’d love to get to see some of your work up close and personal! Maybe even on some sort of tag team situation some time, you know? We could make it mutually beneficial for the both of us.” It’d be foolish to expose the entire underbelly of Roy’s organization off the bat, not when he didn’t have a single reason to trust the woman in front of him, even if she wasn’t exactly the most moral of cops, apparently. “So what do you say? You could show me some of your’s, and we could show you some of our’s, and I’m sure it’d be great fun! We’d make it worth your while obviously. Whatever you want it, you name it. We can get it for you.”
He wanted her on his side. After everything that had happened, Roy Chambers had really sent someone to ask her if she wanted to join his side. Marley’s hand tightened so hard around the glass she worried it might break in her hand. Through clenched teeth, she tried to smile. Play it cool. Play it cool. She drew in a breath and held it. “Very funny,” she answered, jaw clicking. “You know what else is funny?” She held herself up a little higher, sipping her drink casually now. Let the alcohol linger on her lips for a moment before she swallowed. “You boss thinking that I want anything to do with the people who killed my fucking partner.” So much for subtle. She slammed her glass on the counter, hard, and turned to look at him with a vicious stare, her eyes flickering as she looked into his. But nothing happened. There was no spark, no dissolving of the world around them as fear took over, and with a profound clarity, Marley realized she’d found herself face to face with the only creature who could resist her gaze. 
“Shit,” she muttered. In the next second, she had jumped out of her chair, spun it around, and kicked it at him, reaching down to draw her gun, hoping against all odds she could draw it faster than he could react. It wasn’t likely.
Another sigh dropped from Tommy as Marley dropped the word partner. He hadn’t told the bugbear that little detail. Or maybe he hadn’t realized. Either way, it was inconvenient— and probably not entirely conducive to bringing the woman onto their side. Oh well. Might as well have a bit of fun now, right? And fun there was to be had. As the mara’s eyes flickered in and out, a slow smile spread over Tommy’s lips? “A mara? Aww, are you sure you don’t wanna join?!” he yelled as he launched himself over the bar, landing behind it for cover at the moment. “Just think of all the fun we could have! Together!” Of course mara were inferior to bugbears, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t always a good time teaming up with one. Of all supernatural species, the hags understood best what it was to feel that glorious river of fear manifesting in a person. While her gun was raised, another delicious idea came over Tommy. “Get down, she’s crazy!” he yelled out to the other bar patrons, feeling their worry instantly spark. And then came the loud bang of gunshots, a few of them in quick succession as the auditory illusion rang out through the bar. Panic began to flare, sprouting on his tongue like a lovely and flirtatious appetizer. Now that was good. Like honey to a— well, a bear. With another flex of his abilities, fake flames sprang up in front of the exit to the bar, seemingly trapping those that were trying to escape. And then Tommy began his shift.
The man’s laugh rang out around her. Bugbear, of fucking course. Cheap, stupid animals, the lot of them. Thinking their parlor tricks and illusions were worth anything. His powers didn’t work on her, though. Marley did not see his fire or hear his fake gunshots. Her weapon was drawn, but she did not fire yet. People needed to get out, first. As she moved towards them, gun still trained on the man hiding behind the bar, people started moving out of the way. Hurriedly, frightened, tripping over themselves and the chairs in their way. “Get out, now!” she shouted, “Police!” They were screaming, stopping at the doorway. Shit. There must’ve been an illusion there. “Just go!” she shouted at them, shoving someone through, turning herself away from him for just a moment to get them out. “It’s not real!” 
Then she heard the ripping of cloth, the groan of wood being displaced. Glass shattering as a form too large to fit into a space a human once stood was filled with that of a bear. Fuck. Fuck. She stood her ground between the panicking people and the bear and for the first time, she felt a hiccup of fear. “Get down!” she shouted behind her, and fired. But bullets, she remembered, were nothing to a bear. She was nothing to a bear.
The droplet of fear working its way through Marley was all Tommy needed. He couldn’t harm creatures that weren’t afraid, but even an ounce of terror would be more than enough to do them in when it came to his teeth and caws. A grizzly bear the length of a truck bed, and the width of at least three people roared it’s way out from behind the bar, already lumbering towards Marley. A bullet caught him in the shoulder, but it wasn’t anything of major consequence at the moment. Another roar filled the bar, resulting in a direct spike of fear from those still trying to find a method of escape. Tommy drove the flames higher, the literal picture of a devil forming from them, and rushing itself into the faces of the ones closest to the door, and those that were heeding Marley’s words. A scream went up from them, and Tommy rushed the cop, raising a paw of razor-sharp claws to try and swipe across her face.
“Don’t look at it!” Marley shouted, twisting to push more people through whatever invisible fire they were shouting about. More intense screaming and Marley was scrambling. Something in her was urging her to stay where she was, even when she heard the roar and the entire bar shook. She needed to make sure these people go out first, that was her job, her duty. She’d never cared about something like this before, it had always just been about her. Her own survival. Her own self. The bear barreled straight through her warning shot and at the last moment, she moved to the side, away from the people, leading him off from them. Raised her gun, but-- claws swiped hard and angry across her face. It didn’t burn right away, but the sting of it was felt as soon as air rushed in. The crack of her neck as her head whipped to the side and her body was thrown against a booth, landing on the table, echoed in the bar. More glass shattered, plates flying off the table. Hot, sticky blood poured from her face. Her gun lay on the other side of the bear. She pressed a palm to her face and winced. People continued to scream. The bear was still here. She needed to get him away from them. 
Tommy hadn’t had a meal this good in weeks. All these people in the bar were just ripe for the plucking, and a very large part of him was considering abandoning Marley all together just to take a little nip of one of the establishment’s guests. Hold on, had that guy peed his pants? A strange and harh bark of bear laughter rumbled through Tommy as he took in the sight, absolutely reveling in the chaotic fear. The blood on his claws only added to the beauty of the symphony of fear, but it also served as a reminder. The mara was probably the biggest threat in the place, even if her abilities were rendered useless against him. So again he rushed her, another great bellow ripping itself from his maw as he aimed to chomp down on the arm that held her gun.
He was momentarily distracted by the rushing panic of the patrons. Most of them were outside now. Good. She could concentrate on this stupid fucking bear now. Marley pushed herself up with a groan. Blood was running down her face, her neck, staining her clothes. Thank god she wasn’t wearing white. Blue smeared across her dark skin, plastering her hair to her face. The bear was charging again and she extended her leg, heel kicking a chair into his path. It wouldn’t stop him, but slow him down. A chair, after all, was no match for a bear. And neither was she. She jumped from the table to the bar top, air wheezing from her lungs as she met the wood countertop hard, before flinging herself over. She heard the bear crash into just where she’d been, his jaw clicking closed so hard in the space where she’d just been she heard them. She grabbed a bottle from the shelf and winged it straight at his face. Then another. And another. Moving along the wall, searching for her gun. Inching towards the exit. Dammit, why didn’t she have her radio on her? She needed back up. She needed to get out of here. What she wouldn’t give to be able to turn intangible and escape, what she wouldn’t give to be like Felix and disappear into shadows.
Tommy barely noticed the chair, barreling through it as his jaws closed onto empty air. A small growl of frustration later, and he was beginning to question whether or not this woman was worth the trouble. Most of his snacks were gone now, and though he’d certainly hunt down a few of them later by scent— it would have been more fun if he’d gotten to maul them here, especially in front of the other patrons and Marley. She was trying for the exit, and he wasn’t about to let all of his little toys escape in this madness. Bolting for the door, he turned in front of it, using his giant bear mass to create a blockade of fur and teeth. Then he raised himself to his hind legs and full height, paws splayed with claws glistening in the low light of the bar as he launched the full force of his body towards the mara, aiming to crush her. 
The bottles smashed uselessly against his hide. Fucking bears. Marley dove down to reach for her gun but by the time she’d made her way to the end of the bar, the bear was there again. Fuck it. She wasn’t dying here. She dove to the gun and bear paws came down right where she’d been. The cool metal of her glock slid into her hand and she pressed it against his side and fired once. It echoed loud in her head and she managed, just barely, to move herself out of the way as the full weight of the bear came down. Something crunched in her leg and she cried out, struggling to move herself from under him. Used her other foot to push against him, trying to free herself. If those claws came swiping again, she wasn’t sure she could move in time to not meet their full ire. So instead, she took the preemptive and aimed the gun at his head, ready to pull the trigger, blood smearing over one eye, clouding her vision. “Get fucked!” she shouted, and pulled the trigger. Sirens wailed in the distance.
The sound of the detective crunching underneath Tommy was enough to bring another jubilant roar from his lungs, all too thrilled with the strikes he’d gotten in. As Marley’s foot caught purchase and pushed, he simply pushed back, leaning his weight on the leg he’d heard that glorious and telltale sound from. Hm. The gun was back. As it came into the corners of his sight, Tommy jerked his massive head to the side, avoiding a shot to the brain, but feeling a flicker of annoyance as the bullet singed a trail across his shoulder. It was times like these that he wished he could talk in his bear form. He would have loved reminding Marley that getting fucked was exactly what she’d been trying to do in the beginning of their encounter. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. The sound of sirens was enough to give Tommy pause, ears pricked to the sound of their approach. Marley would have been easy enough to handle, but an entire brigade of cops? It was most likely best if he scattered now, went after the cop another day when she was alone in some dark alley, and he could really savor the kill. Raising himself up once more, he tried to side-swipe Marley away, to bat her aside like a horse would bat a fly. Then he was making a break for the door of the bar, shattering through it with brute force.
The bear was much bigger and stronger than her, which was expected. But in all her life, Marley had never imagined herself having to fight one. She supposed she’d have to rethink her life plans at this point, then, and make sure she knew how to better fight a bear. She was actually a little disappointed in herself for not thinking of it earlier. Bugbears were a thorn in her side since she’d found out what she was, and even Peter had told her to beware of them and their ability to be unaffected by her own abilities. She loathed it in this moment, as she watched the bear swipe at her again. She was on her back, too vulnerable to move much more than curling into a ball to embrace some of the impact. Though claws did not dig into skin this time, the weight of just one paw soaring through the air was enough to toss her from the ground and into the bartop. She hung upside for a moment, though it felt like hours, before her body crashed back to the ground and the world came with it, spinning in every direction. She could feel hot blood pouring up her face now, smearing into her hair. Shit, she’d have to wash that off later. She heard wood splintering and glass breaking and more screams, and then loud sirens. But no more bear.
She stayed laying there for a long moment, waited until she saw the shoes of her comrades rushing in through the destroyed doors and into the desecrated bar. Someone was saying her name, but she couldn’t focus enough to hear them. They would see her blood if she didn’t move. She needed to get out of there. But when she tried to move, her body was too stiff and too bruised. She just needed to rest for a moment. Close her eyes just for a moment. And then, she’d get back up and she’d hunt that stupid fucking bear down and she’d shoot him in the face. See how he liked it.
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littlegiantslight ¡ 4 years ago
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Little Giants
After the success from the boys of the volleyball team, it’s time for the girls’ soccer team to take the spotlight and march their way to victory.
Under the command of Aiya Takahashi, this team will go through challenges, adventures, struggles and joy together. After all, the union leads to strength.
Part1 & Part2
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The next morning, outside Takahashi’s door, was a motorbike ridden by a girl about her age. Taking of the helmet, a bob of bright blonde hair balanced a bit and shone under the multiple rays of sun. She pulled the rest from her bike and walked to Takahashi’s door, knocking multiple times, calling her name as well.
“Aiya Takahashi, you better come outside before I break in!” The girl threatened as a joke. “Come on! Come on!” She repeated and knocked on the door again.
Takahashi was left without an option. It was obvious that by the voice it was her old classmate and great friend Saeko Tanaka. That girl would make everyone’s spirits lift whether they wanted or not. There was something about her that made that happen, but Takahashi never really found out what it was.
The coach opened the door and allowed her to come in, but Saeko’s arm went around her neck right in that moment, pulling the old friend back in the house. With a kick from the blonde girl, the door was closed shut and the two headed to the small kitchen.
“I heard you had a break today! And I also heard Tenma is in town and Akiteru is free as well. That being said you’re joining us! I don’t wanna hear excuses…” She spoke with her normal assertive tone. Saeko held the coach’s hands, waiting for an answer.
“Can I get ready at least?” Aiya asked, her voice still tired from being barely awake. Saeko nodded after feeling the scent of Aiya’s morning breath, giving her the disgusted look. “Don’t make that face, you’re the one who made me leave the bed this early in my day-off…” Aiya complained to her, making the blonde girl chuckle softly.
Takahashi returned to her room and looked at the old yukata from Ukai’s grandmother. She had to return it, before she would forget it. Putting the old cargo pants and brown turtleneck shirt, Takahashi left the room to the bathroom where she found Saeko checking her looks. “I swear, I don’t understand why you care about the way you look so much. Get out, let me brush my teeth!”
Saeko simply sat on the toilet watching Aiya brush the teeth and finishing her hygiene routine by tying her hair in a ponytail. The blonde girl softly pushed the dark-haired girl out of her house, only allowing her to close the door. Outside was waiting a figure that was about as tall as Aiya and slightly taller than Saeko.
“I hope you missed your old kouhai!” Saeko said motioning towards Tenma that an annoyed expression on his face. “Oi! Lighten up!” Tanaka nudged his side pointing towards the old manager.
“Honestly, I’m still half asleep, I can’t believe you forced me to leave the bed so early…” he sighed completely tired and half asleep. Aiya chuckled how he was still the absolute same, just a little more grownup. “However, it’s nice to see you again Hashi-San!” He spoke in a slightly happier mood, his hands awkwardly going to his pockets.
“Same goes for you! Wait! I know what you’re doing here…” Aiya spoke looking at Saeko with a soft glare, filled with happiness way deep inside. “Now we only need Aki-kun!” She said and got a sigh from Tenma again.
Not far from their location was arriving a car, driven by a tall blonde man, well dressed and looking quite happy. It was like he heard them calling. The older Tsukishima brother was there as well. The old group was back together.
It was visible in Aiya’s face the happiness that reunion brought her. She would often hang out with Saeko, but the other two boys were pretty rare. Only in situations like the one she was in that moment. She missed Tsukishima’s warm hugs and conversations and Udai’s wise jokes and memories from their old days. Somehow everything was coming back to her and it never felt so warm.
After pulling over, Tsukishima left the car and walked to the group and greeted everyone with his warm smile. One could say he was the perfect gentleman. He greeted both girls with a polite bow that was followed by the warmest of hugs and Tenma was greeted with an old signature handshake from their old days. Tenma was still hurt about Akiteru abandoning the team, but it was something they didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Akiteru could always count on his support as long as he was happy.
After talking for a bit, the group decided to go to the old park where they used to study and help each other in times of need. But, before heading there, Aiya asked Saeko to stop at Ukai’s store to return something. It was obvious that Tanaka would make the joke of returning his heart since she stole it from him and Aiya almost was the cause of an accident for shoving her so harshly. The girl was used to teasing her friend since they were young, so that was nothing different. However, they did stop at his store and warned the boys to keep going to the park and get the stuff ready.
Aiya asked for Tanaka to wait for her so she could give back the old yukata to Ukai, but Saeko just forgot her manner and followed her in, mostly to see what she was handing to the blonde man. Takahashi walked to Ukai who almost immediately stood up to greet her, hoping he would have some work to do that early in the morning, but was kind of disappointed when he saw the yukata in her hands. She thanked him and his grandfather for allowing her to keep the yukata for the night and asked to get her some meat buns for the way. But right when she was about to pay the food, he stopped her. Takahashi just looked up confused.
“It’s on the house and take the yukata. My grandma doesn’t use it anyway…” He said with his calm expression, putting the meat buns in the box and inside a bag so she could take them. “Thank you for the care though…”
She simply nodded with a warm smile, but Saeko quickly jumped on her and tried to make her change into the yukata, giving her the excuse that it was warm and sunny, so it would be perfect. Yet, Aiya said that she couldn’t, not only because she had no place to change, but also because it was an old piece of clothing. She didn’t want to ruin it.
“Come on, don’t be a party pooper! You are going to be mistaken with Tenma someday because you always wear those clothes. Just this once, also,” she stopped as she walked to the other side of the store, bringing back a pair of traditional sandals and hair decorations. “look at what Coach has in the store!” She handed to Aiya with a teasing smile, seeing how flustered Ukai was getting. “I bet Ukai wouldn’t mind letting you borrow these for a day…”
“Saeko, please stop. I’ll pay for the buns and the sandals and whatever that is.” Aiya said in annoyance. “Just please stop acting like that…”
“If you want, there’s a changing room in the back for the employees, if you’d like…” Ukai started before being rudely interrupted by Saeko.
“She would love that!”
Aiya wanted to curse her existence as she headed to the old employee room to change. The pearl-colored yukata covered her body perfectly, just like the night before. The reddish piece of fabric that tightened around her waist and completed the look made her look fancier than the usual tom boy clothes. Her soft hair covered in dark blue highlights seemed to shine brighter than before, tied in a perfect ponytail and careful decorated with some hairpins with flowers. The whole looked was completed with a pair of traditional wooden sandals that were just perfect for her feet. She sighed once all was ready.
In the store, Saeko was trying her best to make Ukai crack admitting his old crush over Aiya. Still, Ukai was smarter than that. He was used to those tricks coming from the young blonde girl. She could ask him if he were looking for someone or if he liked someone with every single word in the dictionary, he would know the perfect way to not answer every time. He was a high school coach after all, he knew how to deal with that. Suddenly, Saeko stopped the questionnaire and looked at Aiya’s figure leaving the changing room. Ukai found weird that the blonde stopped questioning him and looked the same way to see what was so fascinating that made her be quiet, but he couldn’t blame her.
Both blondes were starstruck by how radiant the traditional wear made Aiya look. She looked like true nobility or even like an actual princess in their eyes. It wasn’t usual to see her dressed like that. Her old bangs, already overgrown, covered her left eye partially, her hair shinning like she was under the bright daylight. Truly fascinating.
“Tanaka can you please hold my clothes or put them in the bike, please? I’ll be right there.” She asked innocently, handing her clothes to Saeko. The girl simply nodded and headed to the bike, still not believing her eyes. Aiya was actually wearing something girly and she looked beautiful. “Ukai, please, I can’t let you offer so much, so here. This is all I have with me. Please, accept it.” The young coach put on the counter, looking down in gratitude to his previous offer.
“Next meal is on me. You can’t say no…” He suggested, accepting her money to pay the stuff. “And thank you for keeping the yukata. I can’t wait for my grandma to see you like this one day.” He smiled proudly. His grandma worked in a farm and would often bring food to sell in the store really early in the morning, so it was almost impossible to catch her on time. Just like Ukai Sr, his wife was a hard-working woman and a great commander. Ukai was really proud of his old farts.
Aiya smiled and waved, thanking him again before leaving, just to see Saeko waiting by the bike for the young coach to get back. Takahashi clumsily climbed onto the bike adjusting the yukata so she could be comfortable. As soon as Saeko sat as well, Aiya held her closely, feeling her body jump with the sudden embrace, making her laugh softly. The bike was on and ready to roll.
Holding Saeko slightly closer so the wind wouldn’t ruin her looks that she took so long to put together, Aiya started to drift off to dreamland. The soft side from the young coach made Saeko blush slightly and smile like a little kid. As soon as they arrived at the park, the blonde girl smacked Aiya’s leg softly to warn her of their arrival.
The two walked side by side, getting weird looks from older ladies and drool from some boys that skated nearby. Saeko looked like she was about to bark at every person in the area around them, while Aiya just didn’t mind and held her own hands in front of her stomach, like she had her hoodie on. Not far from them, their dear boys waved so they could see where they set everything, which made Takahashi pull Saeko by her wrist to speed themselves to the little camping spot the boys created.
“What happened to your clothes, Takahashi?” Akiteru asked noticing the complete change in the coach’s outfit. “Not complaining or anything, it’s just been a while since I saw you in something girly or well…” he stopped to think a good word to describe that look, “traditional?” He wondered, chuckling softly.
“Saeko forced me to keep it and make a scene with it, now she’ll be our guard dog to keep weirdos away. Isn’t that right, Tanaka?” Aiya asked looking down at Saeko with a fake smile like she didn’t just say something that would be considered insulting. The fact that Tanaka actually said that it was exactly her job to grant Aiya some peace, even if it meant barking at people, didn’t surprise anyone present.
Both boys laughed with the whole situation, which made Aiya’s annoying grew bigger deep inside her. But she was there to have some fun and relaxation.
The day was either spent talking or buying stuff to eat. The talks would go from old memories to stories about their works and things that would happen in their lives at home. While Saeko and Akiteru had the chance of talking about their brothers, Aiya would talk about her girls and how they were getting better every time and Tenma would spend his time talking about the stuff he would write to publish at his work.
Later that day, back in Karasuno High, Yoko and Hana were about to leave and go to home when both Noya and Ennoshita stopped them. They almost felt when the two boys pulled their backpacks. The girls looked at them dead in the eyes, with clear annoyance.
“Come with us!” Nishinoya ordered, looking all high and mighty. Typical, thought the girls, but trusted them and followed them to the gym.
The gym was completely empty besides the figure of three people that sat in the center of the court. You could hear a strong male voice explaining the old note he held. By his side, the girls’ captain completed what he said, and gave examples to the other boy, this one with a pretty recognizable buzz cut. The four students sat by their side and joined the study section.
“You girls remember Tanaka-san? Tanaka, in case you forgot, these are Yoko and Hana.” Kiko introduced them again. “Also, Azumane-san, these are my girls.” The captain said putting a hand on his shoulder to call his attention to them.
Both Tanaka and Asahi greeted the girls and welcomed both Ennoshita and Nishinoya back to the circle. Yoko noticed that Narita and Kinnoshita weren’t there, but Enno simply said they preferred to study alone.
The whole group of second years heard their senpais explanations and examples for their tests and eventually made a questionnaire, specially prepared for each one of them. Kiko made for her girls and Asahi for the boys, but they would both correct it together once they were done. If one of the questions was wrong, that question would be asked to the whole group, so the third years would try to gather common doubts for another study session.
Despite being on different classes, Kiko and Asahi would get together quite often to study or to spend some time relaxing before a game or exam. Asahi, being the anxious boy he is, really appreciated her company. Her talks sometimes reminded him of Daichi’s, but ten times calmer and without so much teasing behind her voice. On the other hand, Asahi wasn’t exactly the best and he was well aware of that. So, his support would be little art dates, where Kiko could learn how to paint or sketch and Asahi would keep trying to make some new designs for his ideas. Kiko really liked that time they spent together.
Back in the Satoshi household, everything was really calm. Jin and Kenta would help each other during homework and studied quietly next to each other. Kenta would often show a picture of a weird looking animal from his science textbook to Jin and joke around to make her smile, always with success. Jin would do the same, but instead of making jokes about the animal, she would say it looked like her brother, leading to a very joyful pillow fight.
After the fight, the two of them were clearly tired and their jet-black hairs were a complete mess. But that didn’t stop them from having a good laugh. Like every night before, Kenta hugged his sister and thanked her for the help she has been giving her. Jin would thank back, knowing that the reason he was thanking her was completely different. Keeping a secret like that was hard, but she wouldn’t let a single bit of it slip out of her mouth.
Aiya returned home with Akiteru and thanked the older Tsukishima for the ride home. She carried a bag with her clothes and some food that was left and walked calmly to her door. Once she was actually indoors, she set down the bag and walked to the bathroom to see how tired she looked. Her hair was still untouched, and the outfit was practically immaculate. It was almost like magic.
The coach freed her hair and got out of the yukata, putting it aside to wash it as soon as she could. She didn’t even dare to have a shower so late at night, so she simply went under the warm sheets in underwear. A choice she would truly regret in the next morning. Just before falling asleep, she checked her texts and saw this picture of Ukai Sr.’s wife when she was younger, wearing the yukata.
“You two are identical. Thought you should know…”
Aiya simply smiled and settled the phone down, before falling peacefully asleep after that day.
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kittinoir ¡ 4 years ago
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Echoes of You ch. 18
Read on Ao3
Chat Noir couldn’t get the taste of Marinette off his lips.
He’d practically begged her not to join the fight again, nearly paralyzed by the fear of something happening to her and not being able to do anything but watch. It had never bothered him before, but then, blind trust in his Lady had given him false confidence. The Miracle Cure could fix anything, and together they could beat anything Hawkmoth threw at them. Now Red’s inexperience made them vulnerable. She was growing in leaps and bounds, but she just didn’t have the skill that came with over a year’s worth of practice.
He’d been afraid Marinette would distract him on the field, but he’d never imagined she could do it from over five kilometres away. As if to prove his point, Red’s yo-yo came flying out of the twilight and nailed him in temple.
“You’re not focused tonight,” Red accused as she appeared from around one of the many trees in Trocadero. “That’s, like, the fifth hit I’ve landed.”
“Maybe you’re just getting better,” Chat Noir lied, rubbing his head. Thank god the Miraculous absorbed most of the damage or there’d be a lot of questions about the crown of bruises he’d be sporting the next day.
“Don’t insult me,” Red scoffed, rolling her eyes. As she did he had to wonder how he’d never noticed how Chloe-like she was. It must have been the black hair throwing him off. “You’re just getting sloppy. What is it this time? Finally found your mystery Bug?”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” he snapped. She raised her palms in a gesture of peace as he glared at her, but the truth was it was his own guilt that was eating away at him.
He’d known - he’d known - he was confused about Marinette, and he’d convinced himself to see her anyway. ‘For her own good’. To protect her, because he couldn’t lose someone else. And then kissing her, not once, but twice, because no matter how hard he tried to keep her at arms length, he couldn’t stop himself from crossing the line, again, and again, and again.
And the past four days had been agonizing - not just because he’d laid awake every night convincing himself not to pass by her place until he fell into a restless sleep, but because he had to face her every day at school. And that, it turned out, was every bit as challenging. He’d catch the scent of lavender and vanilla, or their hands would brush in the hall, and he’d find himself swaying towards her like a star caught in her orbit.
He’d known he could fall in love with her. He just hadn’t known she’d be so addictive.
And in the meantime, his Lady was still out there, counting on him. He’d tried to fix things and all he’d done was make them more complicated. He still loved his Lady. A part of him thought he always would. But Marinette… that could be real, he realized for the first time. Attainable, and good, and steady. Different, but just as good as what he felt for his Lady, if he let himself pursue it.
And he was surprised to find he wanted to.
“Just a rough couple of days,” Chat Noir said, rolling his shoulders back. “Running extra patrols, that kind of thing. Let’s go again.”
Red raised a brow. “You sure?”
“This is all the time we have to prepare,” he said, squaring up. “We should make the most of it.”
“Well you two look much friendlier than the last time I saw you.”
Red scowled over Chat Noir’s shoulder, and he turned to see Salem leaning against a tree-trunk, half in shadow. At least they could agree on how they felt about their guardian.
“I was beginning to think you took off with the Miracle Box,” Chat Noir said, sheathing his baton. 
“Thought about it,” Salem admitted breezily. Chat Noir believed he probably had. “Decided I wouldn’t get too far, especially considering the…limitations on it.”
“I thought you couldn’t open the tablet,” Chat Noir said cautiously. 
Salem shrugged. “Couldn’t. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened, if they’re paying attention.”
“Uh, anyone feel like cluing me in here?” Red asked, crossing her arms. 
“Not really,” Salem said. For once, Chat Noir agreed with him. The fewer witnesses to this discussion, the better - especially since that witness was Chloe. His Lady may have trusted her, but he was still reserving judgement. “You can go, Lady-brat.”
Red’s scowl grew more ferocious, but she swallowed any retort that might have been on her lips. “What-ever. I’m out.”
Chat Noir crossed his arms as he listened to Red leave and subtly repositioned himself in front of Salem. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t go far, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Salem anticipated that as well. 
“So you still haven’t found her,” Salem finally said. “I must admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t realize she was the entire brains of your little operation.”
Chat Noir stifled a wince, glad for the mask on his face. “My Lady knows I like a challenge,” he retorted.
“No, I guess she wouldn’t have made it easy.” Salem began to casually stroll around the hero. 
“Don’t tell me you’ve figured it out?” Chat Noir said, hope creeping into his voice. “Care to share?”
Salem snorted. “No, unfortunately your Lady is as elusive to me as she is to you, Adrien.”
Chat Noir’s ears rang with the sound of his name, so nonchalantly dropped he almost missed it. His heart began to pound in his chest. He’d been so hell-bent on finding his Lady and shocked at discovering Chloe that he’d never imagined a scenario where he’d be caught out, and certainly not by someone he wasn’t sure he could count among his allies.
“It isn’t like her to make mistakes,” he said smoothly. He didn’t allow any of the storm he was feeling to show on his face. For all he knew it was a bluff anyway.
“It was never supposed to be me; it was supposed to be you,” Salem continued as though he hadn’t expected him to make it easy. “In the end, it was no different from any other thing in my life..”
Salem ripped his hood back as his mask dissolved into smoke, revealing a familiar face.
“Felix?”
His cousin glared back at him, producing the same delicate Miracle Box he’d first seen months ago. “It was never meant for me,” he said, holding it out. “Getting Trixx to come out and play was a challenge, but in the end he did it for the same reason any of them have even deigned to speak to me - for her. Your Lady.”
“You’re supposed to be in London,” Chat Noir said stupidly. The mundane detail was the only thing he could seize on. The rest of it couldn’t make sense until that did. “How…?”
Felix sneered. “Seriously, Adrien? How hard is it? I was there, ok!? I was there that night. I was outside because I was trying to figure out how to steal the other Grande de Vanily ring. My mom didn’t know, no one knew. It was a mistake. Ladybug saw me and thought I was you, and she gave me the box. She was scared, and it all happened so fast. I think she was afraid you’d try to stop her, and then she disappeared just as quickly.”
“It’s been you the whole time…”
“More or less,” Felix said. “Like I said, Trixx was…generous enough to help out from time to time.”
“That night on the Eiffel Tower?”
Felix nodded. “Sneaking out of the house after nine is one thing, but travelling to a different country is quite another. Needless to say Kaalki wasn’t nearly as co-operative.”
Chat Noir pounced on his cousin, pinning him to the ground. Miraculous-born strength made it easy, and he had to remind himself not to hurt his cousin. “I asked you a thousand times,” he ground out, “For the details of what happened. And you told me there were no messages, no more answers.”
“Forgive me for not wanting to get mixed up in all this,” Felix snarled. “What was I supposed to do, leave a trail of rose petals to my front door for him to follow? Not all of us have a side-kick to throw under the bus when the bad guy comes knocking!”
Chat Noir hit him. He felt cartilage tear under his knuckles. Blood gushed down the front of his cousins’ jacket. Too late, he realized Felix had let him pin him - he was still using Trixx. He remembered, though, when Felix punched him right back. The two rolled across the grass tearing at each other until they stopped as suddenly as they had started, flat on their backs on the grass, out of breath, and staring up at the night sky.
“Feel better?” Felix panted, swiping blood of his face.
“Not as much as I thought I would,” Chat Noir admitted. “Sorry about the nose.”
But Felix shrugged. “Maybe now people will stop comparing me to the great Adrien Agreste. Besides, I know you were holding back.”
Chat Noir frowned and winced when he pulled his split lip. “What makes you think I was holding back?”
“You didn’t cataclysm my face,” Felix said, groaning as he sat up. “I guess I should thank you for that.”
“You didn’t deserve it,” Chat Noir said, sitting up as well. “Hawkmoth on the other hand…”
“I have to agree with you there,” Felix said. “That man has made my life a living hell ever since this happened. I have no idea how you’ve put up with it for almost two years. And Adrien…I never would have tried to sell you out to him if I’d known you were the one behind the mask.”
“I know,” Chat Noir said. He wasn’t sure how he felt knowing Felix would have been fine selling out a stranger, but supposed it was the best he was going to get. “Is that why you decided to tell me it was you? You want out?”
“Out?” Felix repeated. “Are you kidding? I want to take that man down.” 
Chat Noir frowned. “Because you felt threatened for seven weeks any time you showed up here as the guardian?”
“Do I need another reason?” Felix demanded, but his shoulders sagged. “Whether it was an accident or not, Ladybug chose me to be the guardian. It started out with me trying to prove to myself I could be just as good a choice as you. I didn’t realize she’d picked you because you were her partner, and I thought I didn’t care, but…”
“Are you trying to say you got invested?” Chat Noir asked.
Felix rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say I want to see how it ends. Besides, you guys need some more morally grey heroes to do the dirty work.”
“I don’t know that withholding information, manipulating people, and theft makes you a hero, Felix,” Chat Noir said. “But…and I’ll deny this if you ever bring it up, especially to Ladybug, you might have a point.”
“All true,” Felix admitted. “Maybe this will make up for it; Trixx, let’s rest.”
Chat Noir squinted as bright orange light lit the empty park. The little fox kwami spiralled forth and dove into Felix’s waist coat pocket, rummaging around for god only knew what snack he preferred. 
“You wanted information,” Felix said as Trixx reappeared with some snap peas. “They won’t talk to me, but they’ve been dying to talk to you.”
“Chat Noir!” Trixx sailed over, nuzzling his cheek bone. “So many things to tell you!”
“And you kept them to yourself because…?” Chat Noir asked as he held out his hand for the kwami. 
“First of all, you’re tough to track down,” Felix said. “And second of all, I wasn’t sure I could trust you. I didn’t put together you were Chat Noir until like three nights ago. I thought there was a reason Ladybug didn’t trust her partner with the Miracle box. I didn’t realize ‘Adrien’ was her partner.”
It made sense, in the worst way. The events of the past two months were beginning to remind him a little too much of one of Shakespeare’s tragedies for comfort. Missed messages. Mistaken identities. He had to make sure their story didn’t end the same way as those ones.
“Hey, Trixx,” he said, turning to the kwami. “Thanks for helping Felix out the past couple of weeks. What’ve you got for me?”
Trixx floated slowly into the air, spreading his arms. “The fox is the Miraculous of illusion,” he declared. “When I’m in play not everything is as it seems.”
“I know,” Chat Noir said, confused. “You and Alya have helped me and Ladybug out a bunch of times.”
“Not just her,” Trixx said, leaning in. “And not just me. I’m not the only one who makes people see things that aren’t there when someone needs to be in two places at once.”
“Two places at…are you saying Ladybug used you to appear in two places at once as her civilian self?”
Trixx smiled. “It’s easier to use me than a disguise, although a lie will do in a pinch.”
Wayem. He’d used Wayem as a distraction, and a lie…when he’d called Francios Dupont an elementary school. That had been his lie.
“You can’t give me a name, can you?” Chat Noir asked. He knew the answer and wasn’t surprised when Trixx shook his head, but he’d had to ask, just in case. “Did she use you before or after she became the guardian?”
“Before,” Trixx said, somersaulting through the air.
“Finally asking the right questions,” Felix muttered.
“There were too many times,” Chat Noir said, frustrated. “It could have been anytime in the past seven months. For all I know it could be Alya herself, or any one of the civilians Ladybug and I rescued. I don’t know how long Ladybug had access to the Miraculous. I never thought to ask later. It didn’t seem important.”
“Sleep on it,” Trixx suggested. “It’s not so complicated. Follow your heart. Sometimes instead of looking for what’s wrong, we should look for what’s missing.”
“Do you ever speak in anything other than riddles?” Chat Noir muttered.
“When the occasion calls for it,” Trixx said succinctly before drifting back to Felix.
“You should take this,” his cousin said, picking up the Miracle box from where it had fallen when they’d fought. Chat Noir hadn’t even noticed it, and he wondered if that meant maybe Felix should keep it.
“She named you,” Felix said, as though reading his mind. “More importantly, she chose you. It belongs with you. It’s safer with with you.”
“Not if anyone else figures out my identity,” Chat Noir mumbled, but he took the box.
“That secret’s safe with me,” Felix promised. 
“It was safe with Ladybug, too.” In the end, she’d been right. They were only as safe as Hawkmoth’s latest akuma, and the best kept secrets were the ones you never shared.
“What’s done is done,” Felix said, not unkindly. “It’s time to look to the future. The way I see it, there’s only one way to fix everything so it’s safe to find your Bug.”
“Oh?” Chat Noir flexed his claws. He had the Miracle box, he had the tablet; he was ready to get his Lady back. “What’s that?”
“We have to take out Hawkmoth.”
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milkchu ¡ 6 years ago
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❝anyway the wind blows❞ five.
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Summary: (Y/N) Mercury’s journey of love, fame, and pain, alongside what would become one of the most legendary bands ever, Queen.
Pairing: Borhap!Queen x Reader, eventual Brian May x Reader
A/N: sorry i haven’t been posting !!! this chapter was kind of a pain to write so i apologize if it does seem kinda bad heuheuhsudh. happy reading! 💓
Warnings: Mentions of drinking and smoking, suggestive themes
{previous chapter} {next chapter}
“Do you really think she’ll sing this?” Roger asked, holding onto a piece of paper, while looking at Brian, confused.
Brian shrugged, “It’s worth a try.”
“I do kind of like the song,” Roger said, “But, it’s literally about girls’ arses, Brian, she’ll never sing this!”
“Sing what?”
Brian, Roger, and John all jumped at your sudden appearance, letting out breaths when they see it was just you, sipping on a juice box.
Brian then cleared his throat, and stammered, “Oh, uh, it’s noth-”
“Brian wrote a song,” Roger interrupted, immediately handing over the piece of paper over to you.
The curly-haired guitarist then smacked his blond friend’s arm in annoyance before he started to tap on his chin in nervousness, cheeks warming up, while watching you read the lyrics.
Roger expected a sour look to appear on your face while you read the paper, but then got a smile slowly growing on your face instead.
“It’s alright if you don’t want to sing it,” Brian sighed, “I was stupid to ask-”
“Fuck yeah, I’ll sing it.”
I've been singing with my band
Across the wire, across the land
I seen every blue eyed floozy on the way, hey
But their beauty and their style
Went kind of smooth after a while
Take me to them dirty ladies every time
You couldn’t decide whether you loved America or not. It was definitely your kind of place but, some people can be such a drag.
Like last night, all four of you were out in a random pub and this stocky man kept flirting with you but luckily, your three favorite lads were there to protect you.
All of them were pissed off by it, especially Brian. You didn’t think that it would still irk him until the next day.
Maybe he was just was protective of his friend?
All of the bus trips to different parts of America mostly consisted of you sleeping, drinking, smoking, destroying the lads in Scrabble, and, Roger, sometimes Brian and John, picking up a few girls here and there.
It was a quite annoying and it bothered you a lot, but that was the new lifestyle, I guess.
C'mon!
Oh, won't you take me home tonight?
Oh, down beside your red firelight
“We love you, Cleveland!”
“We love you, Houston!”
Oh, and you give it all you got
“We love you, Denver! Very happy to be here!”
Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go 'round
Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin' world go 'round
“And are the crowds big?” Matthew asked through the phone.
“Well, we’re selling out every night. I just wish you were here to see it, they really love us.” You replied, leaning against the payphone.
“We love you, Portland!”
Hey, listen here!
Now I got mortgages on homes
You can’t help but playfully tap Brian’s arse, “He’s got a big arse, too!”
I got stiffness in my bones
“We love you, New Orleans!”
Ain't no beauty queens in this locality, I tell you
“We love you, Atlanta!”
Oh, but I still get my pleasure
Still got my greatest treasure
You called over the blond drummer to the front, “Rog! Come down here and say hello!”
“We love you, Pittsburgh!”
“Roger!”
Heap big woman, you done made a big man of me
“I’m good, I just miss you,” Matthew said, feeling a bit lonely in your shared flat.
“What are you doing? You can’t possibly be having any fun without me.” You replied, playfully.
He chuckled, “Nothing as exciting as America.”
As he was saying this, you noticed a familiar man pass by you, you didn’t realize you were staring until he, himself, stared back and had a little smug smile on his face.
He continued to walk towards the bathroom, your eyes not leaving him.
“Say hi to the boys for me,” Matthew’s voice snapped you back to reality, before you stammered, “I will, I love you.”
“Bye, (Y/N), I love you.” Matthew breathed, before ending the call to go to work.
As the man opened the bathroom door, he looked back toward you once more with a suggestive smirk and went inside.
You put the phone back and leaned against the wall, getting a view of his black t-shirt that had your band’s logo on the back above the word, ‘crew.’
Get on your bikes and ride
Ooh yeah, oh yeah, them fat bottomed girls
Fat bottomed girls
Yeah yeah yeah
Alright, ride 'em, c'mon
Fat bottomed girls, yes yes
 Looking at the closed door with a sigh, you began to reflect on all the times you had felt this way, or had this kind of moment.
 You felt. . . somewhat unhappy or empty. But, what more could you ask for? You and your band were literally rockstars at this point. 
You still couldn’t quite figure it out yet but luckily, the amazing shows and its crowds were there to distract you from it.
 After you had all returned home from the tour, a meeting was set up between the band and Ray Foster.
 It was way past the agreed meeting time and Ray Foster’s office was currently in complete utter silence, except for the occasional tongue-clicking and sighs, as everyone including Reid, Paul and, Jim Beach all waited for you.
The silence was suddenly interrupted with the door slamming open, “Hello,” You greeted, walking in with an outfit that clearly contrasted everyone else’s.
“You’re late,” Foster said with a somewhat annoyed tone, as you made your way to the empty seat, “Am I?”
As you passed by, your bandmates’ eyes couldn’t help but follow your ‘figure’ that Brian definitely did not write that song about, wearing the shortest shorts they’ve ever seen.
Paul smiled, before gesturing towards the empty seat, “Saved you a seat.”
“Lovely,” You said, before sitting down, immediately grabbing a cigarette from your jacket pocket.
“Okay, so, now that we’re all here, Jim, this is Ray Foster, Ray, this is the band’s lawyer, Jim Beach,” Reid introduced them.
“Oh, you must stop calling him that,” You said, as you lit up your cigarette.
Reid sighed, “That’s his name.”
“No, we cannot keep calling him ‘Jim Beach’. No, that’s absurd, not to mention, unspeakably boring.” You counter, before taking a drag.
“Miami,” You announced, Brian letting out a chuckle, “From now on, I dub thee, Miami Beach!” You grinned, as you pointed towards him.
 Jim chuckled, “The sun always sets behind you, doesn’t it? On. . . Miami Beach.”
You shot him a smile in amusement, “Hm.”
“Right. Now that everybody’s got an acceptable name, let’s get to it,” Foster began, “Look, we just really need something special. More hits, like Killer Queen. . . only bigger.”
You grabbed a record from the bag beside your chair and stood up, walking towards the record player by Foster’s desk.
“It’s not bloody widgets we’re making,” Roger chided, “We can’t just reproduce Killer Queen.”
Replacing the record with the one that you brought, “No,” You set down the tone arm onto the record, “We can do better.”
As music started to play, you looked towards your bandmates with a knowing smile before taking a drag out of your cigarette.
Brian looked at you in amusement as you started to sway around behind Foster, “It’s opera,” Foster said with a deadpan tone.
“Opera!” Reid nodded, before Paul joined in too, “Opera!”
Your bandmates nodded in enjoyment as John says, “Yeah, there seems to be an echo in here!”
Swaying along with the music, your bandmates join along as well, while Foster just looked at you in bewilderment.
As the louder part of the song came, your hand moved along with it, ending literally with a bang on Foster’s desk.
You and your bandmates began to shake, trying hard not to laugh out loud at Foster’s reaction.
Afterwards, you slowly swayed your way back to the record player, before turning down the volume.
“See, we don’t want to repeat ourselves, the same formula, over and over,” Brian explained.
“Formulas are a complete and utter waste of time,” You continued, as Brian nodded in agreement.
“Formulas work. Let’s stick with the formulas, I like formulas,” Foster said, a smile growing on his face.
Completely ignoring what he just said, “We’ll call the album. . .” You looked over towards your bandmates, “A Night at the Opera.”
Foster sighed, “Are you aware that no one actually likes opera?”
“I like opera,” Miami chimed, “Do you?” Foster looked over to him before Reid chimed in as well, “I do.”
“No, don’t misunderstand, darling. It’s a rock and roll record. . . with the scale of opera, the pathos of Greek tragedy, the wit of Shakespeare, the. . . unbridled joy of musical theater,” You grinned.
Your bandmates nodded in agreement, before you continued, “It’s a musical experience, rather than just another record.”
“Something for everyone. . . something. . .” You looked over towards your bandmates, “Something that will make people feel belongs to them.”
“We’ll mix genres, we’ll cross boundaries, we’ll. . . we’ll speak in bloody tongues if we want to!” You chuckled.
“There’s no musical ghetto that can contain us!” Roger argued.
“That’s it,” You pointed towards him.
“No one knows what Queen means because it doesn’t mean one thing!” John added.
Foster sighed, before looking over towards Reid, “What do you think, John?”
“I. . . agree with the band,” Reid gestured towards you all before Foster replied, “Of course you do. How about you, uh. . .”
“Miami,” Jim answered, as you look at him with a grin, “Fortune favors the bold.”
You turned towards Foster, placing both your hands on his desk, “Surely, a man of your. . . unique taste isn’t afraid of a little risk?”
Foster then shook his head at you, “Please don’t make me regret this.”
You grinned as you pointed towards him,
“You’re fun.”
atwb taglist; @yoonlatte // @alexfayer // @everything-you-dont-wanna-be // @itsametaphorbriansblog // @marequeenii // @killer-queen-xo // @jedi-dreea // @achernarsaa // @nevaeh-potter15 // @banana-tree-freddiemercury // @rogertaylorssunglasses // @pyrotechnic789 // @mirkwoodshewolf // @stuff-exists // @toger-raylor // @langdonzvoid // @imamazzellhoe // @tbird20165
others; @icantgetnorelief // @b-hardys // @spideyyypeter // @hunterswearingplaid
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bestsuccessstories ¡ 5 years ago
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STORY 1
TRUE SUCCES STORY OR “OUT OF THE WOODS”
When you decide to hunt your dream, sometimes you may feel like Prince Charming.You have to go into the dark woods alone, get lost, then climb to the tallest treetop to actually see your path (Prince Charming, as well as success hunters is not provided with a map)Afterwards, it is required to defeat several very wicked withes and train your dragon, meanwhile, the magic volcano continues erupting behind you.Only after these entertaining activities have finished could he have an entire Kingdom in addition with a pretty Princess.
Yes, a way to your dream can be covered with fear and doubt.That’s why  very important to remind yourself, that this road dotted with mountains will lead you to the most beautiful destination you have ever seen and the harder your path is, the more beautiful view you will admire in the end.What truly helps success hunters, is an example of those, who managed to get out of the darkest woods and made come true the most impossible dream (leaving all very wicked witches and dragons crying behind).
This is a story like that (a real story of a successful company, try to find out the name in the end)
Once upon a time, two success hunters decided to completely change their routine and moved to San Francisco, ready to realise their dream. As it should be, when your dream is big enough, there are always difficulties arising.Without employment, it was quite hard to pay the rent and they were looking for a way to earn some extra money.They noticed that all hotel rooms in the city were booked, as the local Industrial Design conference attracted a lot of visitors.
True success hunters always sees the opportunity in every difficulty.Our heroes bought a few airbeds and put up a website. The idea was to offer visitors a place to sleep and breakfast in the morning. They succeeded and the first guests were sleeping on their floor (a 30-year-old Indian man, a 35-year-old woman from Boston and a 45-year-old father of four from Utah)
After they had those guests, they did nothing for about four months.There were no more bookings through their website, so they didn’t think the ‘airbed thing’ would work and they decided to came up with another idea.They were trying to build a roommate matching website.It supposed to be Craigslist meets Facebook, for roommates with profiles. Then one day they typed roommates into Google and realised that someone had already built that site. And this was about four weeks after they started working on it.
The main secret of all success hunters is that their dreams are bigger than any obstacles, so they kept working and returned to the original idea. Deciding to stick with the ‘airbed thing’ they found a corder and a third success hunter got to their team.
The major problem was that the site only had two users, one of them was its co-founder. First time they launched at SXSW(Conference & Festivals celebrate the convergence of the interactive, film, and music industries), and only received two bookings(almost a year they had original idea). They built three versions of a website.There is a saying: if you launch and no-one notices that, just launch again so they did.
By the third version it was the Demographic National Convention, all the hotels in Denver were sold out.They decided that was a right time to do a big launch. Barack Obama was coming to Denver, and 80,000 people were expected to visit, but there were only 27,000 hotel rooms.That weekend their website received 80 bookings. The weekend after, they received no bookings.
The same pattern repeated itself for months. They got to about 30,000$ in credit card debt. Our success hunters would go and get credit cards and max them out, and then they would keep getting more credit cards until the bank stopped giving them to our heroes. They were tens of thousands of dollars in debt.
Everybody thought they were crazy, no-one supported them, they had no money. One of our hunters would wake up in the morning and have a panic (Later, he admitted that it was the best weight lost program ever, he probably lost 20 pounds) Every morning he felt his heart pounding, but over the course of the day he would convince himself that everything is going to work out fine (I’ve got a plan, it’s all good-affirmation, he highly recommends) and by the night he would go to bed really confident. The next day, there was like a receipt button and every morning started with panic again.
The day they launched, they had a meeting with a well known investor.There site was down, they didn’t bring a slide deck and that wasn’t a super successful pitch.“It was mostly me and him staring at each other for an hour and he did not invest” will say one of our hunters a couple years later in the interview.
They reached about 20 investors about 15 even didn’t reply to their emails.
They managed to organise another meeting in the cafe.In the middle of the conversation, their potential investor gets up and leaves (that was the last time they have seen him).
They were in debt and trying to figure out how to pay the rent, after the convention they returned back to zero.They built a website, spend a year on it and no-one using it, no one want to come or list their homes because there were no travellers, no traveler want to come to the website where there are no homes.No one wants to be the first person to try the idea like this.Most people thought that was insane.
People around them were receiving funding and developing their companies. The story of our hunters was nothing like that, but they kept working when most people would give up.Very well-known fact (every success hunter must follow) that if you don’t believe in yourself, pretend that you do and, at some point you will.
One night, they were thinking how they are going to pay the rent and keep the company working. They had an idea to provide a breakfast to people going to Demographic National Convention. They were thinking that would be nice to have  a branded breakfast like cereal and they came up with idea Obama’s O’s and Cap’n McCain’s cereals. The front of the box was stamped with “Hope In Every bowl” and on the back it called itself the “Breakfast of Change.” The side of the Cap’n McCain’s box sang the praise of eating squares (Os may look pretty, but have you ever noticed there’s something missing? That’s right, there’s a hole in the middle of every O. With Cap’n McCain’s you get a whole piece of cereal in every bite).They called local cereal companies which said ‘Great, we would like to work with you, all we need is non-refundable deposit’(which was a huge amount of money for young startup)
Another one success hunter’s statement claims that when one door closes, another opens. Finally, they meet a guy who has got a print shop (not a cereal company).He wanted to help and said that he could print a 1000 examples for free (If you succeed and sell this, just give me the royalty).They were literally assembling these boxes in their kitchen (thousand boxes assembling with hot glue).Sitting on the kitchen, they were wondering whether Marc Zukemberg was assembling cereal boxes when he first launched Facebook (unlikely). Was that a good or a bad sign?
So, they had to fold a thousand boxes, pack cereal in them, and sell them for 40 dollars a box. They thought, ‘who is going to pay 40 dollars a box’ but they were limited edition, and they ended up selling about US$30,000 worth of this cereal. But the money they earned only went so far, and in November 2008 the company was broke once more. It got to the point where one of the success hunter’s mother called him and said, ‘look, if you need money I will send you. You don’t need to have strangers in your home to make money’. This was the moment when he started to question the decisions he made in life to get him here. He didn’t felt successful, or smart, or talented. He only felt that the world was against him.
It was a time they decided to enter famous startup accelerator Y Combinator. When they met Paul Graham ( co-founder of Y Combinator),first question he asked was ‘people are doing this?’. They told yes, and he replied,’what’s wrong with them?’ (In the end the interview he thinks it’s the worst idea ever). About to live, they handed him a box of Obama O’s and he said,’if you convince people to buy a box of cereal for 40$, maybe you will convince them to stay in another people’s rooms’. So he let them to Y-Combinator. The company spent the first three months of 2009 at the accelerator, working on perfecting their product.
Over the course of 2010, the site’s weekly revenue doubled. Then it doubled again.They renamed the company and soon received another $600k in a seed round from Sequoia Capital and Y Ventures.
However, not everyone was as impressed with company’s business model.Even during Y Combinator, they still got rejected by investors.The young startup was turned down by Fred Wilson and Union Square Ventures—a decision he now admits wasn’t a good one (in 2011 Union Square kept a box of Obama O’s in their conference room to remind themselves not to make the same mistake again).
Also, the website wasn’t gaining much traction in New York, so our hunters flew out and booked spaces with 24 hosts to figure out what the problem was. As it turned out, users weren’t doing a great job of presenting their listings (the photos were really bad, people were using camera phones).There were no bookings because users couldn’t see what they were paying for. Success hunters got used to challenges, so they found a solution.They rented a $5,000 camera, planning to take professional pictures of as many New York listings as possible and by the end of the month startup’s revenue in the city had doubled.That’s gave them an idea to launch a photography program (hosts could automatically schedule a professional photographer to come and photograph their space).
Four years after the first air mattress guests, company was already in 89 countries. It also won the break-out mobile app award at SXSW (and that’s after its lukewarm launch at the festival in 2008).The same year, one of the valley’s biggest VCs put $112 million into the startup, valuing it at over $1 billion. That made company  a “unicorn” in Silicon Valley.
After years of doubts, debt and disappointment, success hunters came out of the dark woods and showed the world what the true success supposed to mean. In 2011 startup closed a US$112 million round of venture funding. Three years later, it received US$475 million more. In 2015, it collected another US$1.6 billion dollars in the financing alone.
Company has  reached a US$25.5 billion valuation. That makes it bigger than Hilton Worldwide, InterContinental Hotels Group, or any other hotel chain on the planet Earth.
Our success hunters are famous not only for disrupting an industry, changing the game in hospitality, and generated billions of dollars in revenue for themselves, and their users.The main thing, is that they gave a faith to young people all over the world.They showed us, that no matter how huge is your dream, it can become reality. No matter how difficult and hopeless your situation is, it’s all going to work out in the end if you will keep trying. Because every failure brings you closer to success.When you stop believe you actually could reach the top, remember, it always seems impossible until it’s done (Then, you can write a manual called ‘Through the dark woods’ which could help future generations).
You don’t need a supernatural power or a pixie dust to make your dream come true, just be desperate for success and success will be desperate for you, this will be a mutual love in the end. As you know Fortune, is a Lady and Ladies requires dedication.So she will need some time to check whether you are ready to keep going when things will get harder (definitely they will, because very wicked withes are payed well to do their job)but if you show a bit of persistence, she will become your Godmother.You always will hear her kind voice whispering to your year and lightening up your way in the dark woods when very wicked witches will try to lead your astray.
So be it
P.S.You probably guess that the company name was Airbnb and success hunters that inspires us are:Brian Chesky ,Joe Gebbia, Nathan Blecharczyk
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staticscreenwriting ¡ 6 years ago
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the same sunset  - chapter three
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Chapter three - trashed
Masterlist : add /tsmstorymasterlist after my URL
The music sounding from Carol’s house can be heard all the way to the other end of the street where Billy parks his car in the driveway that leads to nowhere. It seems there has once been a house there but now it’s just a deserted spot being used by teenager to park their cars whenever Carol decides it’s time to throw another rager.
Walking down the street towards the party, Billy can’t help but admire the confidence Cleo seems to emmit. It’s different to his. His is fake and take all the effort in the world to uphold. Hers seems to come natural. No effort at all.
“ You know “ she speaks up as they’re just a few houses away from Carol’s “ you can go in first if you want. They’re gonna talk if they see us arrive together. And I’ll have you know, as hard as it is to believe, I am not the most popular person. So if you don’t wanna ruin that cool brooding bad boy persona you have going on, I understand. They don’t need to see us together. “
“ Don’t make a big deal of it, then they won’t “ Billy replies. Back in California he was a different person. People there had known him since childhood and with them he didn’t ever really have to think about any image he wanted to uphold. He was just Billy. His mullet, the camaro, the music and the jeans. Those were just things that belonged to him as much as Max’ red hair belonged to her. They mean different things now.
In California he was Billy first, all the other things came with him.
Here they saw the car first, the outfits, the attitude. The loud music and the constant unbothered look etched onto his face. And from that they made up their own image of who he was. And it worked in his favor really. He’s adored by the girls and admired by most boys. And if that means he has to pretend not to be bothered by shit than so be it. Seeming numb is easy. He’s gotten a lot of practice at home.
“ Oh boy, you’re so not a small town boy. “ Cleo says and skips ahead of him a few steps, giving Billy a perfect view of her ass in jeans that are fitting like a god-damn glove. He can’t suppress a smirk, thinking back to Pete’s disapproving look back at the diner.
There’s a red solo cup pushed into his hand as soon as Billy enters the house. That awful “I Ran” song is blasting through the stereo and Billy remembers the reason he usually gets shitfaced at Carol’s parties. The music sucks.
Cleo walks further into the room and is swallowed by the crowd before Billy can figure out where she’s going. Only a mess of blonde hair visible as she squeezes herself between the dancing teenagers.
“ You know, when you asked me about her I just thought you were curious. Didn’t think you were into her “.
Of course it’s Tommy who hands Billy the drink, he’s probably been sitting by the door waiting for him to show up. It’s a little sad really, Tommy’s been following Billy around like a lost puppy from day one. But then again, no matter how annoying or clingy he is, Tommy is not a bad guy. He’s just not the brightest crayon in the box but Billy can deal with that. Also he’s Billy’s walking encyclopedia on all things Hawkins High and always knows when and where the parties are happening.  
“ Shut up, man. It’s not like that. I uh — I work at her dad’s diner. We were just carpooling here. That’s it”.
“ You have a job ? “ Tommy asks dumbfounded. His eyebrows are raised in question and for a moment it makes Billy angry.
“ We don’t all have a dad who blows money up our ass and buys everything for us, Tommy “
It’s a little harsh, Billy admits that, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Tommy’s dad is the owner of some big ass lumber yards all over Indiana, dispensing wood to all kinds of high class furniture stores to make fancy sofas for fancy people, like Tommy’s dad.
Billy’s met him a few times and he seems to have zero backbone and the personality of a sponge but his wallet is wide open. Probably to make him feel better about not giving a proper shit about his son. As long as Tommy doesn’t get too out of line, his dad doesn’t really pay him any attention. He’s supposed to take over the business someday in the future. That’s the end game. Everything until then doesn’t really matter.
“ Hey sorry, man. That’s not what I meant. I think it’s cool you’re working. Do you think you can get us a discount if we come around ? “
Billy only shakes his head, a smirk finding a way onto his lips again. Tommy’s a fucking nuisance most of the time, like everything and everyone in this place. But he’s honest and Billy can appreciate that a whole lot.
“ Dunno. “
As he takes a drink from the cup, Billy immediately regrets his decision. It tastes like Cranberry juice and disappointment. Whatever vodka concoction they’ve mixed together, it fucking blows. Like a prom punch spiked by some over enthusiastic junior.  
“ Thomas, show me where the beers are and we can see about that discount “ Billy says and throws his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. If he was gonna enjoy this party, bad music and shitty drinks and all, he needs beer. Lots of it.
- OOO -
Billy’s hands softly trail down the path of Erika Kapelsky’s curves. There’s some Bon Jovi song playing over the speakers and she seems to go wild on that stuff. Her ass has been rubbing his crotch for the last 5 minutes. At this point he is 99.9% sure he’s gonna score big time. He’s heard she gives great head. That she’s flexible too.
“ I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. Take me home when I come back ? Parents are on a business trip “ she murmures into his ear and softly bites his lobe as she pulls away.
That’s the good thing about rich kids, Billy thinks. Their parents are always on some uber important trips for work. It’s like they’re preaching abstinence and safe sex and then do everything in their power to make sure their kids get laid as much as possible. Like leaving them alone in a big ass mansion.
“ Sure “ he agrees and watches her walk away, hips swaying dramatically. She knows how to put on a show.
“ Erica huh ? Nice one, dude “ it’s like as soon as he is alone Tommy gravitates back towards Billy. Sometimes it makes him feel like he has an actual friend. Other times it’s just annoying.
“ Yeah “ as Billy looks towards the door Erica has just disappeared through, his eyes catch movement coming from the hallway next to it.
The big mess of blonde curls on Cleo’s head is bobbing up and down as Cleo hurries down the hallway. There’s stains of what Billy assumes is the shitty prom punch all over her shirt and she’s … crying ?
He doesn’t know for sure but she’s angry that’s obvious. Her lips are pulled into a scowl and her eyebrows are furrowed. She squeezes her way through the crowd and towards the door.
For a moment Billy wants to follow. Wants to figure out what happened, if she’s crying and why. He doesn’t though.
Not his mess. Not his problem.
That’s something his dad always says. It’s a motto that’s been drilled into Billy’s head ever since he was a kid.
He remembers when he was just a little boy, maybe 5 years old. Back in California when his mom was still alive. They didn’t have shit back then but a tiny house and a rusty old car. His mom was working at a beach hut in the mornings, selling overpriced postcards and plastic seashell necklaces to tourists. Dad was constantly between jobs, saying that he just hadn’t found the right one yet. Truth is, no one wants to hire a raging alcoholic.
They didn’t have much back then but Billy liked the house, liked the neighbourhood, because there were kids there. One of them was Gracie Tempers. She lived across the street and she came over to Billy’s house a lot because her mom was working late and Billy’s mom was home in the afternoon to have an eye on the kids.
Gracie’s mom would always come and pick her up, never her dad. And she always had a cup of coffee with Billy’s mom. She was crying a lot but back then little Billy had no idea what was going on. She had a lot of black eyes too.
One night Billy couldn’t sleep so he snuck towards the kitchen, hoping to find his mother still awake so he could ask for a warm milk with some honey, his mom’s special.
Instead he found mom and dad arguing, again. When he heard Mrs. Tempers’ name he decided to hide behind the door and listen. They were yelling. Actually it was mostly his dad. Actually it was only his dad. His mom was talking in a quiet hushed voice. So timid. So scared. She wanted to help Mrs. Tempers. Wanted to “ call the cops “ Billy didn’t know what was going on then and he didn’t know if that was a good thing. Mom always said the police was someone you could go to whenever you needed help. Dad called them corrupt pigs.
Anyway. She wanted to call the cops and “get her away from him”. Billy didn’t know who “he” was either.
But no matter how hard she was pleading, how reasonable she was explaining. Dad’s booming voice kept repeating “ This is not your mess, Rebecca ! Not your problem ! “.
Cleo isn’t’ his mess either. Isn’t his problem.
So instead of going after her, Billy turns back towards the door waiting for Erica to be done so he can take her home and create a whole different kind of mess.
- OOO -
The cold air nips at Cleo’s nose as she walks down the street of this seemingly perfect suburban hell.
She should’ve known better. That’s the bottom line of it all. Should’ve known that showing up with Billy Hargrove would cause unwanted attention. Negative attention. That people would take it as some kind of threat to their social status.
Tina has always been a mean person. Someone that doesn’t lash out but observes. She schemes and calculates and figures out where to hit people so it hurts the most and leaves the most damage.
And whether she does it just out of pure spite or because she has some deep rooted insecurities that she wants to hide behind her malice, Cleo doesn’t know. In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway.
What matters is that Cleo should’ve known better. Billy is all Tina wanted since the moment he stepped foot onto the grounds of Hawkins High. And when Tina feels even a little threatened in getting what she wants, she knows exactly how to retaliate.
Cleo roughly wipes away the tears still rolling down her cheeks. Tina’s opinion shouldn’t matter. Her words shouldn’t matter. And really, they don’t. That doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.
And it’s not even the stuff about Cleo that hurt. It’s the stuff she said about her mom. Those things cut deep. Those things, Tina really doesn’t know shit about. But the worst thing ? Carol stood there and she said nothing and she did nothing. Just turned away as if she hadn’t held Cleo’s hand at her mother’s grave. As if she didn’t take care of her when she had a panic attack the night before the funeral.
As if she hadn’t been an important part of her life for so long. For the good times, but especially the bad times.
Sure they aren’t friends anymore, fair enough. But does that mean all that once was is erased and means nothing anymore ?
The air stings against Cleo’s bare arms, clings to the wet patches on her shirt. This night is a complete and utter mess and she should’ve known better.
There’s a light still burning on the porch and one in the living room. No matter how easy going her dad always pretends to be, he’s still a dad. A dad who acts like he got caught up watching old football games but really deliberately stays up to make sure his girl is getting home okay.
On one hand, Cleo is eternally grateful for the wonderful dad she has. On the other hand, it makes hiding stuff so much harder. Like tear stained cheeks. And punch soaked shirts. And anger. And sadness.
“ Hey kid, I — Cleo ? “ the smile on her dad’s face immediately falls as he takes note of her obvious misery.
“ It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m okay, can we — can we not talk about it ?”
Ever since Cleo was a kid, mom was responsible for the emotional stuff. The long talks and the cheering up. For the rough stuff. The sad stuff.
Dad was the goof who went and bought entirely too much ice cream and put on her favorite movie even though they’d all seen it a million times before.
Ever since her mom was dead, that kind of shifted. Dad had to be both, the goof and the emotional support system. And it is weird for everyone involved. Neither Cleo nor her dad are particularly good at talking about their feelings so after a while they put a system in place that seems to work for them both.
If one doesn’t talk about it on their own accord, no questions are being asked. It’s easier that way. Or maybe they just pretend it’s easier. Either way, Cleo is grateful about that system right now. Because how would she even begin to explain that it all starts and ends with that fact that her mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for her ?
“ Uh — yeah sure. Sure. “
“ Cool, thanks “ she nods and walks towards the stairs. As she is about to round the corner, her dad’s voice echoes through the halls, calling out to her.
“ Cleo ? “
“ Huh ? “
“ There’s some mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer. Just — just if you need it. “
And for the first time since running into Tina, a small smile finds its way onto Cleo’s face.
- OOO -
Billy’s head feels like exploding. Like he’s in a comic and a big ass anvil has been dropped down on him.
The morning sun is shining brightly but the air is cold as he climbs out of Erika’s bedroom window and walks down the street lined by identical houses with identical white fences. There’s perfectly cut lawns, even in the winter, and the frost clings onto the grass making it glimmer in the sun.
The mailboxes are pridefully displaying the names of the families, some of which Billy recognizes from school. Of course people would want others to know they live here. These houses are massive.
He wonders if the people here are genuinely happy or if they have to play pretend, just like he does. He wonders if things were different would his family live in one of these houses. If Neil wasn’t such a fuck up and actually had a proper job that could provide the family with a better living situation, would he be less angry? Would Billy be ?
After a few minutes of passing big ass houses and pristine lawns and picket fences and artsy mailboxes, he arrives at his car.
There’s noticeably less cars here now than there were last night. Next to his Camaro is Tommy’s car which means he’s probably stayed over at Carol’s last night. Whatever those two have, Billy thinks, is a big old mess. They’re constantly at each other’s throats. Either fighting or making out. It’s exhausting for him, and he’s only watching from the sidelines.
Billy slumps down into the driver’s seat of his beloved Camaro. It smells like leather and cigarettes and honestly, it’s a smell that’s become incredibly comforting to him. His car is so much more than just a status symbol. It’s his way out. His escape. When things at home get too bad he can always get in his car and drive around. Aways from the yelling. Away from his father’s anger.
Away from home.
He turns towards the passenger side of his car, itching for a cigarette and hoping to find on in the glove compartment. Instead he’s faced with Cleo’s denim jacket discarded on his passenger seat.
He wants to ignore it. Pretend it isn’t there and just wait for her to come and get it. That’s another thing you learn in the Hargrove household. Don’t let your shit lying around or it’s gone. Neil never had any respect for any of Billy’s things so if he wasn’t being careful with it, Neil would just throw it in the trash.
He wants to ignore Cleo’s jacket so badly. But he can’t. He doesn’t.
- OOO -
The Finch’s two story home is painted a pale blue color. There’s paint chipping from the doorframes and the windows. The front yard looks clean enough but it’s not even close to the front yards he’s seen in Carol’s neighbourhood.
Their little white mailbox says “Finch” in what seems to be the handwriting of a young child. There’s 4 handprints. One big one that he bets belongs to Pete. A bright red one that he can only imagine belongs to a slightly younger version of Cleo. There’s a teeny tiny one that he’s sure is Charlie’s. Then there’s another one. It’s smaller than Pete’s but only slightly bigger than Cleo’s.
His heart drops a little at the realization of who’s handprint it is.
He wonder how she does it. How she lives through losing her mother and doesn’t end up resenting the whole world for it, like he does. He wonders if things would be different if Neil wasn’t such a piece of shit and actually gave a damn about Billy and his grief and this perpetual feeling of anger and bitterness. If he had someone like Pete in his life, would things be — ok ?
His mind drifts back to Cleo’s words from that time in the diner when she made them grilled cheese “Things are rough all over”. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re rougher for some though.
Denim jacket grasped tightly on one hand, Billy walks up the porch steps towards the door with the chipped white paint and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t know what to say to Cleo when she answers, if she answers. It’s not like he cares about her particularly much or about the fact that she was klutzy enough to leave her jacket, in the middle of November no less.
He’s not sure why he’s here in the first place. Maybe because her crying face has sneaked it’s way into the back of his mind every one in a while since last night.
Or maybe because he feels guilty for not bringing her home safe as he had told Pete he would.
Or maybe because he was curious about what happened.
Or maybe all of the above.
Though it’s not Cleo that opens the door. It’s a wild mop of bright red hair and a smile missing one tooth.
“ Billy ? “ Charlie asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“ Hey. ‘s Cleo home ? “
“ No. Why ? “
He hated being questioned. There’s hardly any privacy at home. Every part of his life seems to be considered public property to Neil. Secrets are dangerous. So when you are asked, you either answer or you face the consequences.
“ She left her jacket in my car. Hey where is she ? “
“ What does it matter ? “
“ I wanna give it back “
“ You can just leave it here. She’ll be back home eventually. “
Charlie seemed nice enough for a kid that one time he met her, but Billy can’t deny that right now she’s seriously testing his patience.
“ I know I can but I want to give it to her personally. If that’s okay with you of course. “ he snaps at her and immediately feels bad as he sees the sliver of uncertainty and — fear in her eyes.
“ Look — “ he starts and pinches the bridge of his nose “ — I let her leave the party alone last night and I feel bad about it, okay ? So just tell me where she is and I’ll give this thing back and say sorry and then we can go back to seeing each other at work and that’s it .”
Charlie bites her lip in uncertainty. Billy can see her considering all options. Finally settling on the thought that her sister deserves an apology if Billy is willing to give one, Charlie grants him a small smile and replies “ you know where the old junk yard is ? “
- OOO -
The november sun stands high up in the sky when Billy arrives at the junkyard. There’s a lot of shit lying around. Mostly tires and bottles, pieces of wood, half gutted cars and a variety of metal signs that seem like the used to decorate the shop fronts of Hawkin’s downtown once upon a time.
He spots Cleo the moment he steps out of his car. She’s in a pair of ripped jeans and a gray sweater that looks 2 sizes too big for her and falls off of one shoulder. Her blond curls are pulled into a messy ponytail but a few strands have escaped and frame the side of her face.
The thing that makes him wonder though, is the baseball bat clutched rightly in her hand.
He can her Black Sabbath playing loudly from small radio propped up on an old oil drum.
The pebbles are crunching beneath his boots as he approaches her and when she lifts her head, Billy can see nothing but annoyance in her eyes.
“ The hell are you doing here ? “ she asks, her voice rid of all her usually bubbliness.
“ You left your jacket in my car. You know, where I come from girls do that to make boy call them back. “ he says and smirks. He knows that wasn’t her intention but if there’s an opportunity to tease, Billy sure as hell isn’t gonna let it go.
“ Well here it just means that I forgot my jacket. Sorry to hurt your ego. “
“ Oh it doesn’t. Trust me. “
His gaze moves from her towards the baseball bat, then back to her. “ What the hell are you even doing with that thing ? “
Billy can see the smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. It’s tiny and barely there but he can notice it anyway.
“ Break stuff. “
She accompanies her words with a swing of the bat , slamming it into one of the rusting cars. There’s the crashing of metal and glass and the music all mixing together to create a melody of absolute chaos.
Cleo pulls back again and places another hit against the vehicle. Then another. And a fourth before she blows one of the stray curly away from her face and glances at Billy through the corner of her eye “ you wanna try ? “
He shrugs and takes the bat from her hand. “ You gotta make it count though. “
“ The hit ? “
“ Mmh “ Cleo nods then hoists herself up on the hood of another car.
And Billy makes it count. Not the first time. But when Cleo calls out to him to “ think of something that makes you really fucking angry “ he puts his all in the hit.
He thinks of his mother dying. His friends who don’t bother calling. His dad. All of it. Everything. 
It’s like with every time the bat descends onto the metal, his shoulders feel a little lighter. Like he gets to let go of his anger for a moment there and channel it all into the task of destroying the damn car. It’s what it feels like whenever he gets into fights only without the stupid consequences.
“ Feels good ? “ Cleo asks, sipping on a bottle of what he assumes is beer.
And when he looks up at her he can’t help but smile. Genuinely smile “ feels awesome! “
- OOO -
The two teens are lounging on the hood of an old Cadillac from the 50s sipping on their beers and watching the sun slowly set behind the trees. The junkyard sits atop a hill and you can just make out the outskirts of Hawkins from up here.
“ Why’d you come ? You could’ve just left the jacket at my place and leave. “ Cleo asks, eyes trained on the horizon.
“ What do I know. Thought I owed you this much. “
“ Why would you owe me ? “ she still doesn’t look at him but as Billy glances at her, he can see her pull her eyebrows together in confusion.
“ I saw you crying and I — ugh I don’t know okay ? Just wanted to see if you’re alright. Don’t make a big deal of it. “
She doesn’t. It makes her smile anyway.
“ Well thanks “
“ Whatever. “
For a moment it’s silent then Billy speaks up again.
“ What was that about anyway ? The whole crying thing ? “
“ They talked shit about my mom “ Cleo says and takes the last sip from the bottle before throwing it against the mount of trash making it break into little pieces.
“ That sucks. She’s dead right ? “ It might sound heartless and brash to some but Billy hates it when people sugarcoat stuff to him for no reason and something tells her Cleo isn’t that different when it comes down to it.
“ Yup. Yours too, huh ? “
Billy nods “ Yeah “
“ What happened ? “
“ Cancer. Yours ? “
“ Car accident. “
“ Fuck. “
“ Yes. Fuck. “
Billy turns his head to the side so he’s facing her and Cleo follows suit soon after.
“ That why you come here to break shit ? “ he questions, taking his last sip of beer then following Cleo’s earlier action of breaking the bottle against the pile of trash.
“ I was — so frustrated. With everything. I knew Tina was gonna talk smack when she sees me showing up with you but deliberately bringing up my dead mother to hurt me ? That’s low. “
“ That’s fucked up. “
“ That’s a highschool girl who feels threatened “
Billy lets out a humourless laugh “ It’s not fair though. She doesn’t know what the hell it feels like to lose your mom. You shouldn’t have to deal with her using that to hurt you just because she thinks her pussy is some kind of otherworldly experience that gives her the power to rule this trash pile of a town. For the record, it’s not. “
Cleo snickers and Billy thinks she looks fucking cute when she does it.
“ Can I ask you something ? “ Billy wonders, looking at Cleo expectandly.
“ I guess. “
“ Are you angry ? Because I — I don’t think I have felt anything but anger in so long. I’m so mad at god or the universe of whatever. Whatever is responsible for taking my mom away. My dad — Neil, he’s an absolute asshole. Always has been but mom — mom was good. So why did it happen to her ? It makes no sense and it drives me insane to think about it. It makes me so so furious. “
“ What makes you think I’m not angry ? “
“ You don’t seem angry. “
“ Well I am. I just — life needs to go on, you know. I gotta help dad with the diner and make sure Charlie is happy and healthy. I am angry I just literally do not have the time to dwell on that feeling. “
It makes sense, he think. Back in California life was shit too but he had friends there and stuff to do to take his mind off of things. Hawkins is quiet and empty and boring and his mind gets all the time in the world to think about the sad stuff. The shit that makes him angry.
“ Well look at us sharing sob stories like some kind of dead-moms-club. “ he scoffs but allows a little smile to tug at the corner of his lips which grants him a smile from Cleo in return.
“ Oh shut up, Billy “
And as her laughter echoes through the air and he looks up towards the November sky, he doesn’t feel so angry anymore, at least not for that moment. He’s not happy either but he’s content. And maybe that’s all he can ever ask for. To not feel angry all the time. To get a single moment of relieve. Of lightness. Of ease. Of laughter.
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orangeblossomstudies ¡ 6 years ago
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Part 1 of Surviving University (and other not so fun but important things)
College can be a trip sometimes so, seeing as I’m going into my third year, I think I have enough background to put together a list of tricks and habits that have both helped/hurt me in the long run. I struggled really really hard when transitioning from high school to college because I have severe social/general anxiety and am not good at dealing with new situations. My grades reflected that for my first semester, but I learned fast and am now going strong!
note: not all of these may apply to you and your university as every place is different! Despite this, if you are an incoming first year or struggling college student, I hope at least one of these tips help you!
Major/Minor
Picking your major (as well as double major or minor) is very important, but as a freshman, it isn’t something that should be a huge worry. These things are easily changed in the beginning; however, you need to figure out within the first semester where you are going because the longer you wait, the more money you are wasting on classes that may not be necessary. 
I personally changed from Biology (what even was I thinking) to English after my first struggle of a semester (dropped a class and got my first D ever) and am doing just fine. Figure out your grounds, whether what you chose is too hard or uninteresting and make changes where it is needed.
The major you pick does not dictate the graduate schools you will go to.
You could be a biology major and decide to go to IT school, or an English major who decides to go to medical school. It’s all fair game. What does dictate this is the entrance exams you take (GMAT, LSAT etc.) as well as any higher level undergraduate classes which may be required (specific to the graduate school). It is definitely harder for a non-major to do this as it will cost more time and money to take these extra classes which may or may not go towards your declared major, but it isn’t impossible. Don’t sell yourself short because you can actually do anything if you work for it. 
Scheduling
Rule number one of scheduling is to get your schedule together before the window for enrollment opens. At my school, the window date depends on a whole slew of qualifications (year, grades, specific college at the uni etc.) but it could be different anywhere. Know when your window is (time and date!) and have a “dream” schedule prepared ahead of time as well as backup classes which can take the spot of courses you may not get in time. Sometimes you won’t get all your desired classes, but more often then not you will get most of them if you come prepared.
Check often on the classes you picked in case they have closed (no more seats available) before you reach the enrollment date. You don’t want to be caught with your pants around your ankles when the time comes to click that button and the classes are all gone.
Also, go to RateMyProfessor to see if the teacher is right for you. Students can be brutally honest so see what they have to say about the teacher and their style and gauge if you’re willing to deal with that.
Having classes that are all different is common for the first year or two as they are entry level classes that are required for the school. However, as you reach your upper-level courses, your schedule will start to have more and more same-subject classes according to your major (my next semester is three English classes, Chinese II, and another class that is technically another English). Don’t let these menial classes get you down (as they do for some when taking classes that seem pointless). Instead, focus on how each one finished is one step closer to being able to take courses that you will actually enjoy and that pertain to your major.
As a side note to those who end up doing particularly bad in classes they have no interest in (like me): don’t underestimate the impact ONE bad grade will have. I dropped from a 3.7 to a 3.2 in a single semester because I was struggling in a major I had no business in and the classes were so. fucking. boring. I’m now at a 3.68 and rising since then, but that is due to hard work and straight As for 3 semesters straight. So, please, respect the boring classes and just get through them. (I’m cheering you on!)
Schedules are usually customizable in college (at least in America), given you put effort into moving classes around and fitting things together. You could have classes five days a week or four days, have 2 hours breaks in between classes or 15-minute breaks (note: I’ve done this. Not highly advised but doable. I recommend going to google maps and seeing how long it takes to walk from class A to class B and so on), or have four classes one day and only one on another. Don’t sell yourself short and really put time into making what you need possible.
I’m not going to say to take or not take 8AMs. Honestly speaking, I’ve taken them every semester since I entered college. It’s all up to the person and how they want their day to go. Some people would rather have their day start at 8 and end at noon (or sooner!!) and be home rather than start at 9 or 10 and get home at 4 (or later). Some people don’t care. Take the classes you want to at the times you feel comfortable with and don’t let anyone make you feel shit because of it (because screw them lol)
So at my college (for most classes) eating and drinking is totally okay and no one gives a rats ass about it, so I’d advise you to just read the syllabus and make sure your teacher doesn’t have a no food/drink policy if you run late or want to snack in class. Otherwise, try to find time during your day to schedule lunch, whether that means during your study break between classes, or after all your morning courses are over and you can head home (lol me?)
As much as I dread interacting with strangers, I highly recommend going to your counselor at the beginning or end of every semester to make sure you are on track and taking the correct courses. That being said, don’t rely on them fully. They are human, they make mistakes, and they also may not know you on a personal level. Schedule making is something that should mostly be in your own hands and relying on the counselor will only leave you at risk for not only a crappy schedule but also for a bad relationship with these people who are only trying to help.
DO NOT I repeat DO NOT SCHEDULE TOUGHER CLASSES ALL IN ONE SEMESTER. JUST DON’T. Why? Because you don’t have to. Why struggle to get good grades because every single class you’re taking is hard for you when you could spread those tough classes throughout the four years you have to complete them?
And last, but certainly not least, don’t just focus on the next semester. Look at the big picture. What are all the courses you need to take in the next four years? Is a minor required? How about double majoring? How many more courses does that add? Can you do it all in four years or will you need to take some classes in the summers? Planning ahead and seeing what you have to do and how much you have accomplished already is a sure-fire way to keep yourself motivated and relieve some anxiety that comes from feeling like you’ll never get it done in time.
Thanks for reading and I hope this helps! If you have any questions (about these or about something you’re concerned/need help with) feel free to drop into my ask box and I’ll be more than willing to help where I can!
I plan to post part two next Sunday so stay tuned! I’ll be covering eating as a college student and things that you may need to know for the first day of classes. Many of these things will help with first-day anxiety (at least I hope to ease some of that!)
Thanks again and have a good day!
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justawaychan ¡ 6 years ago
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Gin-san and The Parfait
Note: Hey guys! I wrote this horror (?) fanfic for Gintoki’s bday 2 yrs ago. I finally edited it so I’d appreciate it greatly if you guys can give me feedback! It’s my first time writing a horror one, and tbh I imagined this story line in video/manga format. Please don’t be too harsh on me! Thank you and enjoy!! ^^
Lesson 1010:
When Your Doctor Tells You To Lay Off The Sweets, You Should Probably Listen To Him
 “Parfait, parfait~
Strawberry, strawberry~”
 Gintoki hummed mindlessly as he opened the door to the restaurant, ready to order his all-time favorite dessert. To his surprise, a perfectly concocted parfait with fresh strawberries and strawberry/chocolate Pocky sticking out on the side was waiting for him on the bar counter. A shiny silver spoon was laid out next to it.
“HO HO HO ~" He mused.
"I guess the owner finally realized what a valuable customer I am!”
He jumped to a seat at the bar, pulled the dessert close to him, and admired its beauty with twinkling eyes. A minute later, he finally grabbed the silver spoon, kissed it, and readied himself for battle. He started with a spoonful of strawberries at the top, chewing every bit of the fruit slowly, savoring its sweet yet tangy flavor. He headed for the Pocky after, dipping the chocolate-covered tips into the strawberry cream, biting them piece by piece. Once the garnishes were gone, he unceremoniously dove right into the main course. Spoonful after spoonful, bite after bite, Gintoki showed no signs of slowing down. After all, hesitation in battle could be deadly. The only time the White Yaksha would stop was to loudly sigh in satisfaction. It was during one of these interludes, as he leaned back on his seat, that he finally looked around the restaurant. It was empty and eerily quiet - there were no annoying yelling of the regular Amantos, the stuttering of the new waitresses in their short frilly aprons, or the crying of the grade school kids who wanted to leave and play at the park nearby. Odd, he thought, but Gintoki being Gintoki, pushed the uneasiness to the back of his mind and refocused on finishing his parfait. He was midway putting another spoonful in his mouth when it happened:
  click  
             ti-nk
                           B     A     N    G    G   G  G  G G  ! ! !!!
                                                                                              the lights went out.
“Cho-cho-chotto…" Gintoki stuttered, trying to reach the bar counter from the floor. "A-a-ano…”
Silence.
“Yo-Yo-You se-se-see, I have ni-night blindness and I dropped my spo-spoon and I still have some pa-parfait left and I don’t want to be rude and not fi-finish the whole thing CAN YOU HEAR ME???!!!”
Silence.
“Ha! This is so funny! You’re really funny!! This is a great prank!!! HA HA HA!"
Silence.
“O-O-Onegai… just le-le-let me finish my parfait and I-I-I’ll be on my way…”
 Silence...
                       H E  A  V Y     B R E A  TH I  N G
                                                                                      ...more silence.
 “G  A  A A  A  A  A  A A A A  A  A A  A  A A A  A H  H  H H  H  H H  !  !  !  !  !  ”
       d         a        s       h  
                                                     crash-bang!
                                                                        kreen ~ jin-gle!
                                                                                                 B A M M M M M M
Panting heavily, with his hands on his knees, Gintoki barely kept himself from collapsing to the ground. He looked up and noticed a crowd of people staring at him and whispering, but the loud pounding of his heart prevented him from deciphering what was said. Passersby glared at him for taking up too much space on the sidewalk, mouthing the word "crazy" as they walk past him. Not wanting any more attention than he already had, Gintoki stood up straight, dusted his yukata, and casually walked off.
"F-Funny old man!" He shouted at the restaurant, nervously glancing at the people watching.
"I-I'll definitely get you next time! Ha ha ha!"
What transpired back there was nothing but a simple, random power outage - at least that was what Gintoki wanted to believe. It was just his luck that he was all alone when it happened, no big deal. Still, Gintoki's adrenaline hadn't gone down yet. He speedwalked away from the restaurant, checking behind him a few times to make sure no one was following him. He only slowed down when he couldn't see the diner anymore. Calm and relieved, he started wondering when their next job would be since rent was due next week, which then reminded him that he still owed Otose-san last month's rent. He scratched his head; all this thinking was going to make him bald. He then wondered whether he could sell his hair, but thought against it because who on Earth would want a naturally permed silver hair anyway? He realized, at this moment, that the street he was walking on was empty, and he, yet again, was alone. He then saw Madao up ahead, sitting on a flattened box in front of the convenience store with nothing on but his sunglasses – no shirt, no pants, no nothing. He was surrounded by his usual dark, gloomy aura, and Gintoki wanted nothing to do with it, or him. Looking straight ahead, he hastened his pace.
“Oy,” Madao called out softly. “Gin-san...”
Gintoki ignored him and proceeded onwards.
“Oy~ Gin-san, how was the parfait?”
Gintoki, unrelentless on his purpose of ignoring Madao, treaded on without a glance towards the latter's direction. He turned right at the corner at the end of the street, then another right on the next. It was about a mile past the store when he started to slow down. Finally able to collect his thoughts, he remembered what Madao said.
How was the parfait? echoed in Gintoki’s head.
How was the parfait?
Gintoki came to a halt. Sweat formed on his forehead, with some already trickling down his face. He could hear his heart race back up again. He looked around and found himself in a yet another empty street, dark and desolate.
Good grief, he thought.
Did everyone decide to stay at home today?! The dramas don't start til 8 pm anyway! What, do they all have hemorrhoids and need to-
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-
He was in the middle of his ruminations when he heard loud, heavy footsteps coming from his left. He saw through his periphery a dark alleyway from that direction, and a dark silhouette moving towards him.
-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-
The footsteps were getting louder and closer. He heard heavy breathing, but whether it's from the stranger or from him, he couldn't tell - his pounding heart was too loud. With adrenaline kicking in, he only had a few seconds to decide whether to run or fight. Whoever it was, he knew he could take them on, given they were human, or even Amanto. But, his mind interjected. But if it's a g-ghost...
-tap-tap-tap-tap-
Gintoki decided running was the only option for him in this situation. After the incident at the restaurant, it might be an omen from the gods that he, like everyone else, needed to stay home tonight. He tried hastily to move his feet - left, right, left, right - but they won't budge.
-tap-tap-tap-
Desperate, he punched his thighs a few times as some kind of reset. Gah! This is not a video game! Why the hell are you guys lagging now that I need you to work?!?!?
-tap-tap-
Left with his only other option, he gripped the handle of his wooden sword.
-tap.
The footsteps stopped. Gintoki was getting ready to strike back when he suddenly heard a familiar voice. 
“Dono, have you seen Madao?”
“O-Okita?” Gintoki blankly asked.
“Haiiiii…” Sougo replied, coming out of the darkness eating ice cream.
“Wha-What the hell are you doing in a dark, creepy alleyway eating ice cream?!?” Gintoki shouted. “…scared the shit out of me…”
“Oh, did I scare you? My bad~” Okita said half-heartedly. “Anyway, have you seen him? MADAO.”
“Ma-Madao? Wha-Why are you looking for him?”
“Well, he’s kind of a prime suspect right now,” Okita answered as he licked his ice cream.
“P-Prime suspect...?”
“Uh-huh.” Lick. “Allegedly, he killed the owner of the restaurant by the station. The employees last saw him with the owner, and they seemed to have been arguing about paying for a parfait or something.”
“Re-restaurant by the station? Pa-parfait?” Gintoki repeated.
“Yeah, the one you go to a lot. It was just chaos this morning – blood everywhere, body missing, employees were in shock. Some of them even passed out, had to go to the hospital by ambulance.” Okita explained, still eating.
“T-This morning? But I was just there… an hour… ago…” Gintoki gulped, his words trailing off.
“Dono?” Okita took his focus off his ice cream, looked up, and watched Gintoki with interest.
“N-Nothing. About Madao, I-I haven’t seen him at all.” Gintoki replied, his voice cracking towards the end. Okita stared at him. Gintoki averted his eyes away from Okita’s gaze, and tried to act as nonchalantly as possible. He started humming the new song that Otsuu-chan released, making a mental note to beat up Shinpachi later for getting it stuck in his head. He even started to mumble about the new Jump coming out this month. But Okita kept his stare, one side of his ice cream starting to melt. Gintoki, feeling the pressure of not telling the truth, was thinking of excuses to use to get out of the situation.
"Okita, I-"
“Well, if you do see him, give me a call. I’m going to head back to HQ. Hijikata might be looking for me and he’ll give me hell if he saw me eating ice cream while on patrol. Not that I care though,” Okita interrupted, licking the melting part of his ice cream before finishing it off in one bite. “Jah ne~”
“M-Mhm, jah ne...” Gintoki mumbled, waving goodbye to Sougo. He started walking towards the Yorozuya again. He couldn't fully comprehend what Okita told him and didn't really want to. Moreover, he didn't understand why he lied in the first place.
“Oh, Gin-san!”
Gintoki turned around, ready to come clean to Okita just in case he figured it out.
   “   H   O   W      W   A   S      T   H   E       P   A    R    F   A    I    T   ?   ”
 "G A A A A A H H H H H ! ! !” Gintoki screamed, running as fast as he could away from the streets and into Otose-san's bar. It wasn't Okita who called him back in the alley. For a second, he thought he saw Madao's face. Scratch that, he was sure it was Madao - who couldn't recognize those sunglasses of his? But if it was Madao, Gintoki thought, why the hell was he looking like a ghost and screaming at me like a damn banshee? How the hell does he know about the - ?
Gintoki became aware then how dark the bar was. Around this time usually, the old hag and Catherine were busy getting ready to open up shop, with regular customers coming in right after work.
“Gin-san…” someone in the dark called out. “How was… the… ”
Gintoki blinked, clumsily opened the door, closed it behind him, then sprinted up the stairs into his apartment. He slammed the door shut, locked it, then double locked it as if his life depended on it. Feeling safe and secured, his breathing started to come down. He collapsed into the couch, and started to take off his yukata, thinking how great a shower would be right now. He couldn't believe the amount of sweat he produced in a short amount of time. He was halfway inside the bathroom when he noticed how unusually dark the apartment was. He gulped. His instinct told him to run, but his pride wasn’t letting him. This was his house after all. He wasn’t about to let his house scare him off, not one bit. He tried turning on the lights, but either the switch wasn’t working or the bulb burnt out. Damn Kagura for always leaving the lights on! Gintoki complained. So he started looking for candles. He looked everywhere – the drawers in the kitchen, the cabinets, on top of the fridge, under the sink – he found none. He started to panic.
“Cho-cho-chotto. Thi-This is my house! Why am I sc-scared?!? Hahahahaha..."
Then he heard feet shuffling.
“H A H A H A H A H A H A,” he laughed maniacally while slowly finding his way towards his room. When he found the door, he quickly opened it, leapt inside, and bolted it. He pressed his ears on the door, straining to listen for more footsteps. It was quiet. He breathed a sigh of relief. He felt heat radiating inside his room and noticed how brighter it was getting. With one hand still on the doorknob and the other on his sword, he slowly turned around.
P O P !  went the confetti canons.
                            “ H A P P Y     B I R T H D A Y ! ”
 Everyone shouted, though discordantly, with some already singing the Happy Birthday song. He could hear Shinpachi’s tone-deaf singing; Zura’s obnoxious laughter, telling Elizabeth how he thought of this surprise party for Gintoki but Kagura yelling at him for taking credit for her idea; Kondo's annoying laughter followed by him choking after getting kicked by Otae; and Sa-chan declaring herself as Gintoki's only-needed present. Everyone chatted away, mostly complaining about how long they waited in the dark, and how there better be food because they were starving. Tama then started passing out plates in the back as if on cue. The room was so loud and lively that the guests didn’t notice how silent and pale Gintoki had become. After all, in front of him, holding the cake, was none other than Madao’s half-illuminated, grinning face.
“How was the parfait, Gin-san?”
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dragonshost ¡ 6 years ago
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Now Leasing: New Beginnings
Chapter 2: Water
Rating: T
Pairing: Cobra x Lucy
Genre: Humor/Romance
Summary: Lucy has finally achieved her dream, and finalized the purchase of her family's former home. When she goes to inspect the Heartfilia mansion, however, she finds some very familiar people already occupying it. For CoLu Week 2018.
Word Count: 2,025
On FFN
On AO3
Excited that it’s already day 2 of CoLu week!  I’m having a lot of fun reading everyone’s entries!
“There are squatters in the property,” Lucy hissed into her portable lacrima from the safety of the bathroom.  “Please explain to me as to how the inspection missed that!”
On the other end, her real estate agent began to sputter.  “Excuse me, there’s what in your house?”
“Squatters!” Lucy half-cried.  “One of which was actually popping a squat when I found him!  In my bathroom!”
“Squatters?” repeated the agent meekly.
“Yes!”  Lucy inhaled deeply, and then let it out in a great rush. “Trespassers, home-invaders, what have you.  How did that get missed, exactly?”  A knock on the door echoed in the small space.  “You know what?” Lucy told the stupefied man.  “You get back to me on that, because now I have to go deal with these assholes.”
She hung up and placed her head in her hands.  This was terrible.  This was indescribably horrible.  The only saving grace of the situation was that she recognized the two people she’d seen. Otherwise, she would have already drawn her keys and blasted Cobra off the damn toilet.
“I heard that!” came a muffled shout from outside the bathroom.
“Good!” Lucy shouted back. “I hope you realize that you’re an asshole!”
“Was never in debate! Ouch!  Dammit, Meredy!  What was that for?!”
The familiar, sweet voice of the pink-haired woman arose from the other side of the door.  “I’m sorry, Lucy!”
“I’m not! ��Ouch! Seriously?!  What is wrong with you?!”
Meredy ignored him. “I promise there’s an explanation for this!”
With a sigh, Lucy opened the door.  Meredy stood there, apology clear on her face, beside a grumpy Cobra who must have put the reading glasses away somewhere because they were nowhere in evidence now.  “There!” he said, rolling his eye.  “Was that so hard?”
Meredy gave him a swift elbow to the side, paying no attention to his answering hiss.  “Lucy,” she said.  “It’s… it’s good to see you?”
Stepping forward, Lucy hugged the other woman.  “Yes, it’s good to see you, too.  But what are you doing in my house?”
“Living here without permission,” Cobra chimed in, bluntly.  “I thought that was obvious.”
Instead of refuting the statement, Meredy squeezed Lucy back and then stepped away from the embrace. “Again, I swear there’s a reason.”
“Out with it,” the celestial mage demanded.  “While you’re at it, where’s the rest of your group?”  She held up a finger before Cobra could make another snarky comment. “Don’t even start with me right now. I know they’re here, too, I’m a lot stronger than I used to be, and I’ve already wrecked this place a couple of times before.  I have no qualms about doing so again if I get to smash your smug face in.”
“Oooh, scaaaary,” Cobra muttered.
“Where are they, Cobra.” Lucy wished her glare could turn people to stone like Evergreen.  “I have a few words to say to your fearless leader.”
Cobra snorted, aware of exactly what those words consisted of.  “The others are out right now, but they’ll be back later.  Sorano is the only other one here.”  Abruptly, he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway. “Come on, she’s in the kitchen.”
With no other choice, Lucy followed him.  Meredy tagged along close at her heels.  “Would you buy that we didn’t know it belonged to you?” Meredy asked nervously.
Lucy gestured to a family portrait on the wall as they passed it.
The woman winced. “Okay, we knew it used to belong to you, but we had no idea that you’d bought it back, I swear!”
At Lucy’s incredulous expression, she took a deep breath, and began to explain.  “Well, you see after Ul and I busted Jellal out of prison, we happened to come upon this place during a storm.  We were able to get in through a window that the storm had ripped off…”
“Excuse me?” Lucy squeaked. “A storm did what?”
Meredy nodded, some of the tension draining from her shoulders.  “Ripped the window right out.  It nearly hit us, actually.  So we took shelter in here that night.  I swear we didn’t know at first – there was no power because of the storm so we couldn’t really see much in here.”
“You had to have figured it out sometime,” Lucy said, as they entered the kitchen.  She raised a hand in greeting to Sorano, sitting at the small staff eating table with a sandwich halfway to her mouth.  “Hello, Sorano.  So what happened after that, Meredy?”
Sorano peered at her fellow celestial mage, the blonde woman taking a seat with her.  Her gaze flickered back and forth between Lucy, Cobra, and Meredy in silent, confused entreaty.
Meredy gave her an apologetic glance, and then turned to Lucy, sitting down next to her.  “We stayed here a few more times after that,” she admitted.  “We were on the run, no one lived here anymore, and there was power and running water. Your father had already started his life as a merchant, there were barely any buyer prospects coming by, and you were… lost, on Tenrou.”  Shrugging slightly, she continued, “We used this place as a sort of… home base, I guess.”
“And not much changed once we joined,” Cobra stated, leaning on the counter next to the fridge.  “I would warn everyone else if a showing was about to happen, and we’d clear out for the afternoon.  Other than that, it was a pretty sweet deal.”
“Which begs the question,” hissed Sorano, “as to why you didn’t say a word this time!”
“I was on the toilet!” he protested.  “What more do you want from me?”
Lucy placed her head in her hands.  This was not how she pictured life with her home back would go.  Loneliness, she had anticipated.  Gutted rooms, ghosts of the past around every corner.  Maybe even finding some hidden water damage left over from when she and Aquarius accidentally flooded the third floor when Lucy was a child.
What she had not predicted, was that a group of seven formerly wanted mages would be living rent free within the building.  “And once you guys were pardoned?  Why didn’t you leave, then?”
The three grimaced, but it was Cobra, not Meredy, that responded to the question.  “Do you really think people were all that willing to rent to us?  Or that it was easy for us to find legitimate work?”
He had a point, but anger stirred still inside Lucy’s chest.
Meredy patted her back soothingly.  “I’m sorry, Lucy.  If we had known, we would have cleared out and you never would have known the difference.”
The celestial mage sighed, and then raised her head to look into the other woman’s pleading eyes.  “Give me one of whatever Sorano’s got, and I’ll consider forgiving you.”
Lucy felt immensely better after she’d gotten some food into her stomach, and she was beginning to see the upside to having Crime Sorciere living in the mansion all this time. Meredy was able to give her a pretty precise idea of what family valuables still remained after the creditors had swept through.  She hadn’t gotten a great look at it all when she’d been here before, and it at least gave her some notion of where to begin looking for specific items.  A game plan was already formulating in her head as to how to box up what she needed to, and whether she would need to restore others. Sadly, Lucy knew she did not have the funds to hunt down the things that were gone forever, like her mother’s old jewelry or her father’s rare book collection.  Those were long gone and sold off by the creditors along with countless other mementos.
As it was starting to heat up in the kitchen even with its superior ventilation, Lucy decided to call it good.  “Can you guys point me in the direction of a bedroom that doesn’t have a whole lot of dust?”
“Most of the bedrooms are in good shape,” Meredy informed her.  “They had a cleaning service through here a couple of weeks ago.”
“And that didn’t raise a warning flag with you guys?” questioned Lucy.
The three collectively shrugged.  “They come through here every once in a while to clean the place,” Cobra stated. “Didn’t think much of it at the time. It’s not like they were told that the place was selling.”
“Surely the inspector could have clued you in…?”
Sorano gave her a half-hearted shrug.  “There’s been some near purchases before.  We weren’t confident that it would go through this time, either.”
“And why’s that, exactly?”
“We did a fairly good job of convincing them that the place was haunted.”
Lucy’s mouth fell open at Sorano’s confession.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Cobra said with a grin.  “It was never purchased until now because of us.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I thank you, Cobra,” Lucy hissed at him.
“Is that a challenge?”
Sorano slammed her open palms down on the kitchen table, startling Lucy and Cobra with the sound. She pushed herself to her feet and shook her head at the duo.  “Look, Erik, I realize how much fun it is to push her buttons, but it’s way too goddamn hot for that right now.  So stuff it.”
“Stuff it up your ass, you albino turkey,” Cobra responded, grouchy at having his fun ruined.
As the two descended into bickering, Lucy cast an inquisitive look at Meredy, who shrugged helplessly.  “They’re always like this,” she informed the celestial mage.  “It’s hard to tell beneath all of the arguing, but I’m fairly sure they love each other.  You know – sibling stuff.  What’s really funny though is when they drag Macbeth into their fights, and Richard feels compelled to stop them.”
Lucy couldn’t help but snort at the mental imagery.  “They sound like Gray and Natsu, honestly.”
Both Sorano and Cobra rounded on Lucy.  “You take that back!” they demanded in unison.
“You see?”  Lucy gestured at them but addressed Meredy. “Exactly the same.”
Meredy giggled, glancing over at her steaming friends.  “I think I see it now.”
“Et tu, Meredy?” Sorano grumbled.
Suddenly, the pink-haired woman brightened.  “Oh, I have a wonderful idea!  Why don’t we all swim in that one pond?  It’s only a few minutes from here, and it would cool us down.”
“I think I remember that pond,” Lucy mused aloud.  Although, when she’d known it, it had been full of leeches.  But maybe those had been gotten rid of?  Meredy sounded as if she’d gone swimming there before.  “But what’s wrong with the pool?”
“It was drained a while back,” Cobra explained.  Mischief glittered in his eye.  “Needs to be cleaned, too.
Lucy nodded.  “Yeah, okay.  That makes sense.  Let’s go to the pond, then.”
The pond had not been cleared of leeches, as it turned out.
The group found themselves back at the mansion in short order, dripping wet and miserable.
“Just wait until they’re done drinking,” advised Cobra with a grin.  “Once they’re full, they just roll right off.  Or so I’ve been told.”
“You’re an ass,” Lucy informed him, which only made his grin wider.  “You waited until we went in to see what would happen, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.”  He snorted at her.  “Do I look stupid to you?”
“No, just half-blind.”
Instead of angering him, Lucy’s words glanced right off.  “Right.  Well, you all have fun with the leeches.”  He then walked off, laughing at their plight.
Sorano’s eyes narrowed at his retreat.  “I say we dump these guys in his bed, see how he likes the surprise.”
“I heard that!”
As the white-haired woman started swearing, Meredy gave Lucy a small smile.  “At least we’re cooled down now, right?”
“I think that’s more from the blood loss than the water.”  With a gesture at the courtyard fountain, Lucy suggested, “How about we just use the fountain to cool down from now on?”
Water ran down the side of Meredy’s face, but Lucy couldn’t tell if it was from the pond, or if it was sweat.  “Yeah. That sounds like a safer plan.”
A sudden wave of dizziness overtook Lucy, forcing her to grab hold of Meredy’s shoulder to keep from falling over.  “Um… I think I’m going to go lie down for a few minutes,” she told her.  “And then I’m going to… give Wendy a call.  You know.  Just in case.”
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meshugana1 ¡ 7 years ago
Text
The sexual tourettes one was my favorite. So hot. A shy girl and a very not-shy prostitute find their personalities are slowly swapping
You got it buddy!
   Saveta sat behind her counter and thumbed through a book, dying for a customer to come into her shop. She never understood why she couldn’t drum up more business, she’d been at this for over a hundred years so you’d think she would’ve figured it out by now. She sighed and her heavy breasts stretched the top of her dress and she rested her chin in her palm. She hated reading but she needed to do more of it, but she never felt like she understood the subtext or anything like that. Just then she heard her bell ring and she looked up at the door with an excited smile.
   A young woman entered the shop this time. She stepped gingerly and avoided the worn out section of the floor, it was easy for her since her eyes never left the ground. She styled her hair long and it helped to obscure her face quite a bit but Saveta could she wore glasses and was likely much prettier than she thought she was. She wore a grey sweater thick enough that it gave no indication of her body shape. Coupled with demure posture she gave nothing away about herself at all. “Hello,” Saveta said, “welcome to Saveta’s curio shop! I’m the owner so if you need anything just let me know.” The girl nodded and gave a cursory glance to every shelf she passed.
   After about fifteen minutes she balled her fists and walked up to Saveta. “Um…excuse me, but…do you maybe have like…a…necklace or…something? It’s ok if you don’t.” She never once made eye contact and Saveta thought she was so cute she almost started petting her. “As a matter of fact I do,” she said, “Just wait right there Alice and I’ll be back in a minute.” After that, she left behind a curtain into a back room. ‘How did she know my name?’ Alice thought. She was internally debating whether to leave or not. Jewelry was so expensive though and maybe this place was a little cheaper. She just wanted to break out of her shell a little and some nice jewelry might be a conversation starter.
   Saveta came out of the backroom a second later holding a small box. “I think this particular item will suit you nicely.” She opened the box and pulled out a solid gold chain with a yin-yang symbol attached to it. Alice didn’t understand but her eyes were immediately drawn to it and it was a struggle to look away. “This is a nice little item, it was made in the—” Alice reached up and snatched the necklace from the woman’s hands and wrapped it around her neck. “I’ll take it,” she said taken aback by her boldness. The transaction was simple after that, Alice was shocked that this woman only wanted thirty dollars for it but didn’t ask questions. Saveta walked the girl out and reminded her to come back again soon. When she was out of sight the smile fell from her face and she cursed herself, she absolutely hated that she could only sell an item for whatever the person could afford. Whoever thought up that stupid rule? But she went back to her shop and her mind wandered to that shy girl. ‘She’ll be fine, all the necklace does is draw people to it. As long as she doesn’t give the other half away nothing would go wrong,’ she thought.
   Alice was walking back toward her usual haunts when she slammed into a woman coming from the other direction. “What the hell you stupid bitch! Watch where the fuck you’re going!” The woman yelling at her was tall and had dyed platinum blonde hair. She stood on seven-inch heels and her skirt and tube top were barely preserving any what little modesty this woman had left. She removed a new cigarette from her purse and took a long drag from it. “What’s wrong? You looking to score little lady? It’s all yours for a hundred dollars a pop, haha!” she said accentuating her curves with her hands. Alice turned crimson and sat up as quickly as possible and left, walking as briskly as she could. Crystal hated girls like her, stuck up and scared of her own shadow. All the little brat needs it a pipe to suck on and she’d be fine.
   She was about to move along and look for a John when she spotted a bit of gold on the ground. She picked up the simple chain and saw a cute looking symbol on it. It kinda looked like a white boob with a black nipple, without a second thought she wrapped the chain around her neck and found she liked the way it nestled into her cleavage. She looked over her shoulder to make sure that mousy bitch wasn’t coming to claim it and went to look for someone to milk her money from, neither one of the women noticed that their halves of the necklace took on a subtle glow.
   Alice continued to walk to her favorite hang out at the Tardis bookstore, it was a Tuesday so she was excited to see what new books had released today. It hardly seemed abnormal, but for some reason, Alice had decided to wear her hair back. She walked in and immediately said hello to the manager Donald. Donald had worked at this store for six years and he had seen Alice come in at least three times a week every week and she had never once said hello to him, he absentmindedly waved to her. Alice was feeling an uncharacteristic skip in her step as she perused the shelves for anything that tickled her fancy. It was then that she spotted Tim in the corner checking out the new Thor comics, typical that now Thor is a chick he’s suddenly interested.
   She had a thought then, she spent all her money on the necklace but there were quite a few books she wanted that came out today, but Tim always had plenty of scratch with him. She turned her back to him and took off her sweater, releasing her full DD-cups that stretched the fabric of her shirt. It was funny, she always hated wearing revealing clothes before, she just didn’t like the idea of being objectified but now she didn’t seem to mind the idea at all. She sauntered over to Tim holding her little stack and pressed her breasts into his back, “Hey Timmy, you liking your book there?” Tim spun around and was amazed to see Alice dressed like she was, he had never seen her in anything except her sweater but now that he could see her incredible tits he felt his blood rush around his groin. “Um…yeah, it’s uh, its ok. How are you?” Tim waffled. “I’m ok, I guess,” Alice said, her arms clasped behind her as she rotated her chest back and forth for him, “I’m just a little down that I don’t have the money to buy these books here today…”
   “R…really? I mean…I could buy them for you, ya know. If that’s ok?” “I don’t know, I’m not sure I could take advantage of you like that Timmy.” “It’s no problem, really. I was thinking of getting some of those too. Who knows? Maybe I could come over and borrow them sometime? Tim said, sweating bullets and too caught up in Alice’s tits to realize he’s just about to pop a hole in his jeans. “Maybe, or you could just come over tonight and let me suck your big cock as a thank you?” Alice had a slight blush on her cheeks, she was so happy she found the courage to be so forward with someone. Tim seemed to lose his balance for a second when she said that and she looked down and saw a small wet patch on the front of his khaki pants. “Y…ye…yeah. That’d be uh cool. I’ll just go and pay for these.” He said avoiding eye contact and grabbing her things for her. She followed him to the register and watched as Donald rang him up. She was about to leave with her ill-gotten gains when she had another idea. She turned around and walked over to Donald and said: “Hey Don, I think I’ve got a fun idea for a job you could give me.”
   Crystal felt off ever since that mousy bitch bumped into her. She had no idea how to explain it, she felt like she was showing way, way too much skin and she just felt so anxious. She remembered ladies she read about in books that hooked and she didn’t recall them having to show so much. She liked it when she left the house this morning so why did it bother her now. Her frustration was manifesting itself as fidgeting and she refused to stop much to the annoyance of the other girls. Her hands were alternating between trying to cover her big fake breasts or her bottom and especially her crotch. What made her pick a skirt that was so small? Every single person who walked by took a look at her. Before she enjoyed it but now it was like she could hear every single person's judgments of her. ‘What a slut’, ‘bet she’s cheap’, those clothes are gross’, ‘she’s not pretty enough to be out here’, all of these were playing on repeat in the poor girl's mind as the potential business pasted her by and she thanked God she never got picked. It reminded her of high school when she prayed that the teacher wouldn’t call on her to give the presentation that she never did.
   But a moment before she could no longer take it and left, a car pulled up beside her and a man rolled down the window. “Evening, are you…uh, are you free tonight?” Crystal froze, she was paralyzed with anxiety but reflex kicked in and she shakily nodded her head. He looked at her and asked, “Is this your first time working?” Crystal didn’t want to tell him that she was a pro who had the yips or whatever was going on so she just went with it and continued to nod her head. “Ha, me too. So, would you like to come in?” Crystal said nothing and just operated on autopilot as she walked like a zombie around to the other side of the man’s car. Her eyes never strayed from facing forward as she sat next to him. He whole body trembled and she tried will herself to discuss her fee, but no words at all seemed to come from her. “Are you nervous?” He said, his voice was filled with genuine concern. “My name is Michael, what’s yours?” Crystal tried to swallow her anxiety as best she could and she managed to weakly croak out “C…c…crystal.”
   Michael made no move to touch the nervous woman, he wasn’t even sure what to do himself. He had never paid for sex before but the loneliness had gotten to him and desperate times and all that. The humanitarian in him though compelled him to help this poor girl. “You know, I don’t really think I need…uh, your services right now. But how about I take you to dinner? My treat of course.” Crystal had never met a John that was so nice, she couldn’t take advantage but she was still too nervous to speak and before she could find the words they were off to a really nice street side restaurant.
Three months later…
   Crystal walked down the street in her thick fleece coat and her skirt fell to about halfway down her calfs. She was still way too nervous to make eye contact with anyone and bumped into a few people, but thanks to her new boyfriend Michael she was making a lot of progress. She was very happy he liked her but all the self-doubt and insecurity never seemed to leave her. She was walking past a bookshop when a wall of people blocked her path. The bookstore was overcrowded and a line was trying to form on the street. She was too timid to try and make her way through so she merely waited until an opening was made. She looked into the store and saw what all the fuss was about. There was one of those cosplay girls in there and it looked like she was signing autographs or posing for pictures or something.
   She looked almost familiar but her costume mad it had to tell. She wore a blood red singlet and some kind of armor on her arms and legs. The singlet was really tight and it made her boobs look really huge and it looked like it ran all the way in between her butt cheeks, making her look almost naked with how flushed it was to her skin. She turned to face the window and Crystal turned red as she saw the incredibly obvious camel toe the girl had. Space had finally opened for her and she darted past the crowd. She remembered when she wore revealing clothes like that without crying, she wished she was as confident as that girl.
The end. Hope Y'all like it!
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