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og-danny-dorito · 3 years ago

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[ 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐎𝐕 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 ]

v v hard to explain this concept but basically it's what pieces of them they leave behind with you that would make it known that they live with you/come to your house often. the only people not included is the blonde dude bc i didnt really think his character was around long enough to mention and all for one because hes stinky. enjoy!!

𝐃𝐚𝐛𝐢:

- black hair dye stains on your bathroom sink

- the lingering scent of weed and cigarettes in your bedroom

- stolen hoodies on your couch for convenience

- takeout boxes with his name on them that you've most definitely eaten from

- an extra pair of shoes that he could wear for taking a smoke outside since he almost ruined yours last time

- a half finished beer bottle on the kitchen counter that he'll take a sip from and then promptly pour down the sink next time he comes over

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐢:

- his nintendo switch that he keeps "forgetting" to take back to his place (its just an excuse to come back over even though he doesn't need one)

- anti-dandruff shampoo and conditioner on his ledge of the shower

- the scrunchies/bracelets he gave back on the coffee table so he could steal other ones of different colors

- fast food wrappers near the foot of your couch

- scented lotion you told him you liked on him for his skin

- a card for kurogiri's bar so you could come get him if you needed help and couldn't contact him

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞:

- dirty undershirts and sweatpants in your clothes hamper

- the smell of cigarettes and musk on your couch, bed, and blankets

- a razor and some shaving cream on your bathroom sink's ledge for when he needs to shave at your place

- the cologne you bought him on your dresser that he wears when ya'll go out

- a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand for "emergencies"

- some mugs he put in the freezer so ya'll could have something cold to drink the beers he brought out of

- a few extra towels he brought when ya'll first started sort of living together cause he thought it would annoy you if he used up your clean towels

- not really in your house but i thought i should mention it: theres a few photobooth pictures of y'all in his wallet

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞:

- a few dresses/nice blouses in your closet that she put there in case of surprise dates

- a few things of expensive lip balm that she thought you would like

- a written note that says "don't forget to eat today <3" on a container of food she packed for your lunch

- a list of movies on a piece of paper on the counter that the two of you could watch next time you meet up

- some rubber bands under the couch that she lost because she keeps having to tie her hair up

- old mascara in a drawer in the kitchen that she can't use anymore but you never threw away

𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐚:

- stickers. EVERYWHERE. mostly lisa frank and cute ones she got off etzy

- sticky notes on your bedroom wall and fridge with encouraging notes on them so you'll be motivated to get through the day

- scrunchies that she gives you to wear with each outfit so you're never under-accessorized

- smiley faces with little fangs all over your notebook pages along with little doodles of y'all holding hands

- a framed polaroid of y'all's first date

- a cook book with stars next to the recipes she wants to try out with you next

- some cat-themed utensils that she thought were cute

- "how to raise a child" books since she's trying to convince you to adopt a cat with her

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫:

- his laptop and headphone set

- some extra blankets on the couch because he likes to be warm at all times (he is technically reptillian so it makes sense)

- a small dent in the bed since he literally doesn't move from there if he doesn't have to

- a few scratch marks on the floor in the kitchen where he fell and accidentally scuffed the ground with his talons

- the armor plates for his gear that he was fixing at your place because you had the very specific tool he needed

- an extra pair of keys to his place on the key rack

- a five dollar bill with a frowny face sticky note because he lost a bet

- so many hoodies. so many. its a problem.

𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐢:

- a dress shirt in your closet that he left that you've designated as your personal nightshirt for when you miss him

- his "special pillow" he brought from home since yours were hurting his neck

- a bottle of expensive wine above the sink for special occasions

- a few potted plants that he got you in your living room to "spruce up the space"

- some books on your nightstand that he likes to read you to bed to

- a printed list of places to go eat out at (he's old don't @ him)

- expensive matching pajama sets that ya'll rarely ever wear

- a list of people to call on the fridge if anything were to happen to you and he wasn't there

𝐌𝐫. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬:

- a vase of red and orange roses on your kitchen table that he bought you last time he visited

- a bunch of really expensive jewelry he bought (NOT stole this ain't dabi) in your dresser

- some fairy lights the two of you set up in your little backyard dining area since he said it didn't feel romantic enough

- a magic book he bought for you on a shelf in your room after you kept asking him how his tricks worked

- a handwritten note from him saying "you look stunning, darling <3" on your mirror in his fancy ass handwriting

- a pair of red gloves sitting on the kitchen table that he forgot on his way out this morning

[ 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 :) ]

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brilliantobservations · 2 years ago

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Billion Dollar Pinkie

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silverbyuls · 3 years ago

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( lee hyeri, cis female, muse i ) oh snap! is that SHIN EUNBYUL they work over at high volume where some of the other employees have labeled them as THE AVERAGE JOE. that’s probably because they can be a bit ( optimistic. ) but also pretty ( dishonest. ) they’re TWENTY TWO and they’ve been living in woodstock for TWENTY TWO YEARS. it must be their shift because i totally hear THE CRANBERRIES blasting from the record store. ( a little tikes piggy bank tucked under the bed, clothing label sticking out from the back, snap clips with varnish peeling off, jelly shoes with the strap taped together, leaving lisa frank stickers along record crates ) @volumeupdates

BIO

the luke hemsworth of the family but middle child

goes by byul

tried to go by ‘e.b.’ but her mum went berserk because she’d reduced her name to two letters for the ease of her yt friends and her brother bullied her for being e.t’s ugly sister so now she tries to go by silver star (her name translated into english) but it doesn’t quite stick

claims that her older sister and younger brother stole all her beauty, brain cells and height

family invested everything into older sister so she could go to college in new york: savings, loans, moved to smaller house which is even further from the town centre

brother requires all attention as he has high hopes of getting into college on a baseball scholarship and she lowkey can’t wait until he’s far away from woodstock

her grades have always been average so no one expects her to leave – her parents talk about how nice it is that she’ll be with them forever but she knows that’s because they want her to take care of them when they’re old … which she would! if they didn’t live in woodstock

she tells them she’s going to move to california, but they think she’s as serious about that as she is about wanting to go to college, or becoming supermodel of the world, or an olympic swimmer, when she has average grades, of average height, and can’t even swim

if her life was a movie, she’d have fallen asleep in the first ten minutes – it has always been so boring and uneventful, so she lives up in her head with her fake scenarios to keep things interesting – most of the time, they’re taken straight from a book or magazine

sometimes these thoughts spill over into reality because she can’t fathom the idea of people realising she’s as plain as she is, and her little white lies give her a bit of sparkle to stand out (in her opinion)

but she will get to california!

she even has a plan:

she’s been working at freddy’s diner since she was fifteen, escaping to high volume whenever she can, a place where she can pop her headphones on during her breaks and pretend she’s getting ogled at on venice beach, but she’s terrible at saving so seven years later she’s still grinding

once she graduates high school, she has enough time for a second job and she’d dropped enough hints in front of jerry for him to kindly offer her a job. after all, she spends as much time in high volume as she does at freddy’s so there’s not much of a difference once she becomes an employee -- still floating around the place, sipping on her coke can, either people watching or people chasing -- except now she has access to the register

after a big argument with her parents, she ended up moving out into a place in the middle of town. that was never part of the plan because saving was easier when she lived at home. she’ll say things got really bad but really, she was just getting closer to her target and she wanted a valid reason to put it off for a bit longer

she was only supposed to do it once – stealing from the cash register. it was just right there, no one was around, and she thought it was going to be her last shift because jerry was angry at her for being late again (granted, he hadn’t actually been mad, but it was one of those days when everything felt personal)

besides, she’d overheard a group of girls she’d idolised in school talk about how they stole some underwear and they made it sound so cool

she felt like everyone could hear her heart thumping against her chest as she walked out of the store but the day after, no one said anything about it, no one even noticed, and she wasn’t fired. so she did it again, and again, and again, and eventually she didn’t even bat an eyelid

the extra money was supposed to help her reach her goal faster but, again, she’s terrible at saving and her parents are so hardworking, she can’t help but feel guilty and buy nice things for them every once in a while and when they ask where she got the money from, she lies and says jerry gave her a bonus for being a good employee

on the other hand, if they’ve had an argument, or they’ve forgotten about her again, she’ll have a full on les-mis-i-dreamed-a-dream episode then splurge out on a cute jacket because it’s hers and it’s new! rather than worn out hand-me-downs from her sister or brother!

started her own side hustle called the separation agency – inspired after a customer at high volume asked her to help him break up with his boyfriend. so she’s the messenger for people who have things to say but don’t have the balls to say it to someone’s face themselves. usually they’re horrible messages, like break ups. she’s had like three customers and tries to promote her side hustle whilst on her shift at high volume

she thinks her “business” could actually thrive in a bigger city which is just another reason why she needs to get out of woodstock – it’s holding her back!

anyway, jerry’s missing, which is perfect for her because she gets to come in late and not get told off, and maybe steal a little more than she usually does

PERSONALITY:

when she’s around people, she seems like an extrovert: bubbly, talkative, dramatic ... which uses up a lot of her energy and her social battery is weak, so needs her own space often, and likes doing nothing by herself so sometimes she’ll lie to get out of plans or bail last minute

she has big dreams, and talks about all her big plans, but has leaving anxiety which is why she’s shit at saving and makes up excuses as to why she can’t leave just yet

has main character syndrome -- likes to live her life as a romcom, most of her lies revolve around her love life because she wants to be seen as desirable, but also will overanalyse everything

sensitive, passionate, immature, sympathetic, fickle, clumsy, dramatic, caring, head in clouds

will pretend to knows things to fit in like ~hipster~ bands or anything really, depends on the crowd

could gladly spend all day talking to customers at work then the next day she’ll prefer to day dream in the storage room

rides a bike to and from work and almost everywhere else too -- the only one out of her siblings who had to bike to school because small car and siblings took up all the space -- she’s had the same bike since high school

loves spice girls but feels like she’ll be judged so keeps quiet and plays it when she’s closing

honestly could hate you one day and have a crush on you the next but you wouldn’t even know it -- a vicious cycle

collects stickers and leaves them everywhere and on everyone - often passive aggressive through them, basically uses them like emojis

will try to order food and get others to pay for it - especially kfc, never gets to eat the drumsticks at home so will honestly cry if people steal the drumsticks from her

buys lottery tickets and scratch cards because she has a 50/50 chance of winning

WANTED CONNECTIONS: (current connections)

start up: stolen str8 from a kdrama that ruined my life hehe her parents set her up with a pen pal to keep her busy out of guilt because they’re so busy with her siblings and work and obviously she romanticises it !!! her parents would’ve asked to lie a little bit, just so she’d be writing to someone she’d easily obsess over -- love island vc: someone who ticks all the boxes

xoxo gossip girl: someone who loves a good gossip sesh -- they probably send 👀 at each other across the store when things feel a bit tense, which is code for ‘meet me in the storage room’ so they can chat away for the rest of their shift

lunch stealer: she makes her own lunch every day and is extremely protective over it but one day it went missing and she knows it was them (maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t) so now they are her sworn enemy

sister’s/brother’s friend: therefore an automatic enemy

shut up: someone who just tells her to shut up because she chats so much shit and she’s insane - just sandra x dina vibes from superstore (x)

carpool karaoke: she hates cycling in when it’s raining, so either she’s trying to get them to be her designated driver or has already succeeded and is annoying about it

crush #1: someone she has a crush on (more of an infatuation) and they’re not interested in her in the slightest but in her head they’re giving her mixed signals and she has made up a fake boyfriend to try to make them jealous

crush #2: someone she thinks has a crush on her. either because they’re nice or tease her or just mean, it doesn’t matter, she’s insane so she’ll interpret it however she wants

ex: they never broke up, or even dated, but she thinks something almost happened between them and she thinks she cut things off by giving them space

separation agency: someone who once used the agency either out of the kindness of their heart or for a different reason entirely and now she won’t stop pestering them to try and get them to use it again

no thots just vibes: i just like this gifset tbh (x) and we can brainstorm !

#volumeintro #*releases into the wild*

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moncherifaerie · 4 years ago

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txt headcanons: your relationship as a decade

pairing: txt x reader / choi soobin x reader / choi yeonjun x reader / choi beomgyu x reader / kang taehyun x reader / hueningkai x reader

fluff

warnings: a bit of swearing because i have no filter, whoops

a/n: my head is filled with just “retro concept” because of bts’s “dynamite” comeback so i came up with this

choi soobin - 90′s

i see a relationship with soobin being very domestic but playful as well. when i think about the 90′s, i usually think of the relationships in that decade being very youthful but also passionate. with all the times i’ve done now vs. then relationship comparisons with my teachers, they always talked about how the boys back then were forced to talk to the parents first before the phone was handed off to the girls. the boys always had to have respect and kind of have something going for them if the parents wanted them close to their daughters. i just think this decade best represents what a relationship with soobin could entail.

summary:

soobin = 90′s heartthrob boyfriend material

y’alls relationship is so innocent yet domestic at the same time

cuddles and hand holding uwu

he’s close with your parents

y’all could talk to each other for hours and not get tired of hearing the other’s voice

choi yeonjun - 80′s

maybe this is a bit biased because yeonjun IS my bias, but i’m just gonna say it: i’m here to promote the relationship with greaser!yeonjun agenda. i swear i’m not a delulu and i know i’d never get into a relationship with this dude because i’m me (._.) and he’s HIM 🤩. but like could y’all imagine how cute dates to a drive-in movie or local diner would be? sharing a milkshake with him? i’ve always had a “good girl” image attached to me and yeonjun’s stage persona (yknow the one that has him all intimidating and scary AS FUCK), but the good girl x bad boy dynamic with yeonjun would be INSANEEEEE. i’m all for it and i want to see this happen. whoever ends up with yeonjun, i better see a danny and sandy from grease couple’s halloween outfit or else imma fight.

summary:

me promoting the greaser!yeonjun agenda

dates to a diner or drive-in movie

sharing a milkshake together

that good girl x bad boy dynamic got me ShOoK

yeonjun and his s/o need to have a grease couple’s halloween costume together (whether that’s sandy x danny, greaser x greaser, or badboy x nerd [something for the nonbinary pals too of course because we love and accept you here])

choi beomgyu - 70′s

y’all are the chill hippie couple. i’ve personally always associated the 70′s with beomgyu whenever i see him because something about him radiates 70′s decade energy. maybe it’s because of his love for ABBA and growing up listening to it, the way he dresses sometimes, or his passion for guitar playing, something about him screams the 70′s for me. i can see the two of you totally going out to as many concerts and festivals as you could together. i also feel like beomgyu’s the type who’d totally be down for vanlife so if you two lived in a van together and traveled around together, that would be such a vibe. thrift shopping with beomgyu is also an adventure. y’all probably have the best fashion sense of the 70′s. or maybe this is just me and i wanna see beomgyu in flares.

summary:

concert and music festival dates with gyu

he’d always be playing his guitar for you

y’all would live in a van and travel anywhere and everywhere together

70′s decade fashion royalty

i wanna go thrift shopping with beomgyu because he’d probably be the best buddy for that 🥺

kang taehyun - 50′s

we all know taehyun as the mature and “normal” member of txt, which is why i put the 50′s decade for him. i see a relationship with him being very chivalrous and domestic. (obviously all relationships with the members will be chivalrous, but y’all know what i mean) i just love the image of taehyun coming home after a long day of working and just sitting down with him and having a casual dinner and talk with him. a relationship with him is so refreshing and healing and y’all just figure it out as the day comes. i feel like an emphasis on respect for each other and communication is another thing that kind of inspired me to put the 50′s for taehyun. when i think about the 50′s, there wasn’t really much back then so you’d really have to rely on being honest and communicative with one another in order to have a relationship work then. not only was communication one of the big things, but those were kind of “simpler times” so i feel like it was a matter of you guys either found a way to entertain each other or nothing happened at all. i personally think this concept works best with taehyun.

summary:

domestic af

chill talks with taehyun over food = healing time for the both of you

taehyun will prove to anyone and everyone that chivalry is not dead

you two are very simple-minded and able to make even the most basic things entertaining and fun for the two of you

deep and meaningful talks with taehyun will always make you feel better + melt your heart

hueningkai - 00′s

the 00′s was all about it’s bright and playful aesthetic, which perfectly matches hueningkai’s personality. he’s a big ball of energy that always knows how to have fun and bring a smile to everyone’s face. a relationship with him is like a rollercoaster (peep prod. kai) because you guys could be a softest, babiest couple out there, but then next thing you know y’all be the most chaotic crackheads anyone has ever come across. collecting cute plushies and stickers is definitely a you and hueningkai thing. they’re cute and make you happy so y’all have a whole bunch of them. i just wanna wrap hueningkai in a lisa frank blanket and cuddle with him if i’m being honest.

summary:

hueningkai is a happy virus

the only rollercoaster hueningkai likes is the relationship he has with his s/o

y’all can be cute little babies or chaotic mf crackheads, choose your fighter

you guys collect cute plushies and stickers because they’re fun and make you happy

wrap huening in a lisa frank blanket and cuddle him please

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feyleviathan · 4 years ago

Text

On the North Wall

The Brooklyn skyline peeks from under a curtained window. A 1997 flip calendar is set to August, each day leading up to the current date—the twenty-first—ironically adorned with a single Lisa Frank sticker. Pale white walls serve as a tapestry for iridescent band and movie posters, long-forgotten relics of a nonextant Golden Age. The same evergreen plaid pattern splays across the curtains, the bed fabric, and the countless flannel shirts collecting dust on the pinewood floor. The north wall is noticeably blank, pale white but for several conspicuously light rectangles. A neon trashbin near the door contains a high stack of rolled-up posters and played-out 45s, all from the same band: The Honeyfuckles.

Reposing on a beanbag chair opposite the north wall is a seventeen-year-old boy with puffy eyes and a reddened complexion. A heap of newly wet tissues lay on the floor beside him, a shoddy mockery of his furniture choice. A red cord, winding from a MacBook Pro, ends in the Dr Dre headphones that rest on his ears, blaring Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell loud enough to scarcely reach the next room. The laptop, sprinkled with fresh tears, shakes from anxious legs as the boy viciously deletes all traces of The Honeyfuckles’ discography from his laptop. The year is evidently not 1997, as the calendar indicates, but some millennial year of which this boy denies the existence, as surely as he has begun to deny the existence of The Honeyfuckles.

Their affair began in a deep recess of the Internet when he was just starting to develop his musical tastes. He had requested bands similar to another favourite of his (which, oddly enough, he only listened to for ironic value), and received a single recommendation for The Honeyfuckles.

He fell in love instantly. After listening to them online, he went to his favourite record shop and custom ordered The Honeyfuckles’ entire discography on vinyl. The boy soon became sure that he was one of the only people in the world who listened to the band, as even the record shop owner—usually familiar with such obscure bands—gave him a questioning look when the boy made his order. A smile developed on the boy’s face, widening as the realisation became clearer: he was The Honeyfuckles’ sole audience.

He felt closer to them knowing he was one of the esoteric few Honeyfuckles fans. Each lyric, each melody, spoke to him privately. It was as if every track were recorded for him personally, rather than for a world of potential listeners. The Honeyfuckles seduced his ears from their musical virginity, showed him shades of melody never before experienced. They were the first band he didn’t have to listen to ironically.

They became his daydreams and his lullabies. He covered his walls with their posters; lived, breathed, and worshipped The Honeyfuckles. His bedroom, wardrobe, and electronics—indeed, his existence—became a shrine to the band. He decorated the north wall with as many posters and images of the band he could find, though there were so few that he had to fill in the gaps with self-made fan-art and handwritten lyrics. A single backstage ticket for the band’s upcoming tour sat framed on his desk, an idol to his passion. Having never seen them perform, he anticipated the gig like none other—that is, until yesterday, when he had received the vinyl of their tenth studio record, From the Ground Up.

As with all their other work, the boy had excitedly pre-ordered a vinyl copy of From the Ground Up months in advance. The shipping was late by several days, and given the band’s obscurity, he couldn’t listen online yet—his experience of the album was limited by the arrival of the 45s.

When the record finally appeared at his doorstep, clothed in bubble-wrap and a cardboard sheath, he anticipated a record comparable to all the others. He wanted his ears to be seduced again by his familiar, yet fresh, lover. He delicately eased the side A 45 out of its cover and placed it on his gramophone.

Instead of The Honeyfuckles, however, his ears were met with a strange, confounding sound—synthetic, superficial, contemporary. It was undeniably their work, but there was an eeriness about it, as if it lurked in the musical equivalent of uncanny valley. The boy found himself denying this dissonance, and listened to half of the album until he began to go mad from the cacophony. He snatched the record from the gramophone and repeatedly perused the label to ensure that the work was genuinely from The Honeyfuckles. The trademark, insignia, and production labels were all there—it had to be theirs.

He began to hyperventilate in indecision, curling up in his bed. In hopes of curing his disillusion, he stuck an earlier album of theirs onto the gramophone, but his efforts were counterproductive. He could now identify the style and tones of the new record in all their old work. With increasingly irregular breaths, he replaced the records on the gramophone, one by one, but all became indistinguishable from the newest record. They were the same album.

Horrified, he rushed out the door and rode his Dutch bicycle to the nearest Starbucks. Sipping on a tall mocha, he heard the DJ of the café’s radio station proclaim that the next tune would be from the newest up-and-coming band in America, a hit chosen by a local record shop owner. The voice was followed by a familiar tune: the first track from The Honeyfuckles’ new record. Abandoning his drink, the boy fled to his bicycle, pedalling home in wide-eyed, aching exasperation.

Once he reached his room, he began tearfully ripping down poster after poster of The Honeyfuckles. The north wall became more and more stripped until it was finally naked, left only with shadowy remnants of the torn posters. Lastly, the boy reached for the framed Honeyfuckles ticket. After a wild movement of the arms and a crash, he snatched the ticket from the broken glass, nicking himself as he did so. His hands, now bleeding, tore the ticket repeatedly until it became a shower of flakes. Exhausted, he fell to the floor and drifted into dreamless sleep. The next evening, he was sitting in his beanbag chair, blaring Bat Out of Hell, choking back tears and furiously deleting all things Honeyfuckle from his MacBook.

By winter, From the Ground Up had become the number one album in America. The Honeyfuckles’ fanbase was no longer just the boy and a few random Internet users from around the globe—its fanbase was the world. He could no longer enter Starbucks, for they’d inevitably be playing or otherwise promoting The Honeyfuckles. His other haunts, the underground record shop and radio station, had become renowned as starting points for The Honeyfuckles’ fame. They, too, had become overtaken by the band.

The Honeyfuckles were the object of every musical discussion; their discography was praised in retroactive Pitchfork reviews, they’d been on the cover and centrefold of Rolling Stone, and they even had a multi-section Wikipedia article, all signs of mainstream popularity they never had before. Whereas the members were previously anonymous, the boy now saw their faces everywhere. They viscerally repulsed him, and yet there was a curious quality to them all that the boy recognised in himself. Every image he saw of them was like gazing at a photograph of himself as a child: familiar, yet remarkably distant.

Now the boy spends his every day caged in his room, futilely searching for a band whose music can provoke the feelings once inspired in him by The Honeyfuckles. He maintains a backup disc on which he shamefully stores their discography, keeping it under the excuse that he’s too lazy to delete the songs. And yet, on lonely days, in bouts of tired sadness, he will sometimes slide the disc into his laptop and listen to a few songs until embarrassment brings him to delete the contents of the disc—which yearning emptiness causes him to resurrect just minutes later.

After one such episode, the boy decides to venture about the city in hopes of finding a lieu free from The Honeyfuckles’ fame. Boarding his Dutch bicycle yet again, he pedals until, in a previously unnoticed corner of an otherwise empty block, he sees a sign bearing the symbol of a record. He rides towards it, hope in his heart, and enters the shop nervously. Though small, he gasps in delight at detecting no signs of Honeyfuckle influence and begins to sift through the shop’s selection. He spots a tattered cassette tape from a band he’d never heard of before, The Rustic Eels, and brings it to the shop’s counter. As soon as the sallow-faced owner appears, the station changes to a song from The Honeyfuckles’ very first album.

The boy’s expression freezes as his hands drop his find onto the counter. All the feelings of the past few months flood into his mind as the song plays at an achingly slow pace, magnified by the shock of his experiences. He recalls his distraught rage of that night when the radio station first revealed his possession to the world. As images of the tattered ticket and the disposed records and the freshly bare walls pass through his memory, he becomes increasingly aware of the gap in his heart from where The Honeyfuckles were torn in those tragic few moments. Zombie-like, he pays for the Rustic Eels tape; by the time the transaction is complete, the emptiness has overtaken his soul.

Rushing out of the store, he haphazardly slips the cassette from its sheath and shoves it into his boombox, turning the volume up to eleven. He jumps on his bike and rides all through the streets, playing The Rustic Eels for everyone to hear. He needs the distraction, but the new band is so painful to listen to that it only forces his mind towards The Honeyfuckles. Tears mottle the street as he contemplates the end of their music, relegated among the masses to forgotten iTunes purchases and middle-school romance mixtapes. For all the countless mp3 players The Honeyfuckles are featured on now, for all the current magazine coverage and contemporary fame, it will all disappear in a month when they fall out of favour. The current fans will all go on to cherish another unsuspecting band until they throw it, too, into the graveyard of discarded musicians, all deflowered into fame.

The boy sobs even louder, overlaying The Rustic Eels with his tears. The Honeyfuckles were not just a placeholder on some transient pop playlist of his. They were not just another hit to him, or even another band to listen to ironically and pretentiously brag about to imagined music connoisseurs. They were an intimate part of his soul, a fundamental part of his identity. And now? Now they had been taken away from him, stripped of their value by ignorant conformists. It was as if the secret grounding his soul were presented to the universe, and now he was nothing, nothing but another consumer who had taken part in the short-lived Honeyfuckle fad.

Disillusioned a second time, the boy pedals home in a passionate frenzy. In his room, he pants wildly, filled with rage and anguish. Although he has the instinct to tear down posters and rip up his ticket—to relive that fervent ecstasy of destruction yet again—none of these artifacts are to be found. Nothing is left for him to destroy but that last CD, which he listens to only in his most desperate times. He rushes to his MacBook and ejects it, and, gripping it tightly, flings his arm towards the ground... yet he cannot let go of the CD. His hand is locked in its position, as if the CD had welded itself to it. He screams and tries releasing his grip, yet his fingers do not move from the disc. He is interlocked with this relic of his tastes, with the culture of the masses and the music of the world.

Hoping that gravity might separate him from the monstrous thing, he wildly heaves his arm every which way. Yet the more he struggles, the stronger the CD’s fusion with his skin. After much fruitless effort, he settles down, breathing heavily, and looks to his hand as he momentarily glimpses a shard of opalescence dissolving into his skin. Before he can register the illusion, however, it is gone.

Sitting on his beanbag chair, he tries moving his fingers and is finally successful. Exhaling in relief, he decides that he must have released the CD somewhere into the depths of his room. For a moment he contemplates searching for it, but then decides that it’s perhaps just as well if he lost it. Either way, he’ll never encounter The Honeyfuckles again—at least, not in the privacy of his bedroom.

And yet, strangely, he does see The Honeyfuckles again. Not a day after his curious brush with the disc, he has the urge to go to his favourite old record shop—the one overtaken by The Honeyfuckles—and re-purchase all their albums, perhaps on vinyl, and even a poster or two. Stranger still, while he does precisely this at the record shop, he also feels the desire to purchase products from other contemporary musicians. A song playing on the shop’s radio catches his attention, and he ends up purchasing that band’s entire discography too, as well as a few posters.

* * *

Springtime. The bedroom is recognizable, and yet different from how it used to be. While the same tartan fabric still enshrouds the fabrics, the walls have been coated with pop poster after pop poster. Due to the temporary nature of each band’s popularity, the posters have been plastered over so that images of the latest musicians overlay the discarded ones. Such is this cycle of popularity and decay that the posters now form an inch-thick film over the boy’s walls which slowly closes in on him. The north wall, once barren, is a renewed shrine to The Honeyfuckles’ extended period of popularity due to the success of an album following From the Ground Up.

A day ago, a song had leaked from the newly developing Honeyfuckles album. The world over agreed that it was simply not equivalent to their previous work, and journalists unanimously predicted that The Honeyfuckles’ fame was to end with the release of this next album. The boy, too, had listened to the song, and shared the public consensus: The Honeyfuckles were on their way out. In response, he had bought some posters of a new band that, according to these same journalists, was gaining wild popularity.

Today, he is reworking his Honeyfuckles shrine to support the likeness of this new band. With a deft hand and copious tape and glue, he mechanically covers up each outdated Honeyfuckles poster, symbolically denying their existence—current as well as past—in the musical world.

In a few minutes, he is finished. Satisfied with his piece, he backs up to view the north wall in full, covered with image after image of The Rustic Eels.

#fiction #hipsterism #irony #postmodern #surreal #2014

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autumnslance · 4 years ago

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🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry? - For any/all of your girls

The outside of Aeryn’s journal is trying very hard to remain as clean as the day she acquired it. It’s protected with a plain, sturdy jacket she made herself, protecting it from weather, water, fire, poison, and whatever other hazards she stumbles across day to day. The pages are a heavier duty and a bit sturdier than the typical thin sheets; the corresponding ink and pens she uses are self-made to work on them. Inside, she draws as well as writes; sketches of people she meets, places she’s seen. There are arcane formulas scattered throughout. Drafts of letters, copies of recipes, song lyrics, story outlines; the pages and margins are filled much as she can manage to not waste any space. She keeps a few loose papers tucked along the covers for notes; she won’t tear pages out if she can help it. Aeryn’s handwriting is neat and precise, in both Eorzean and Thavnairian. Occasionally the handwriting alters a bit, and she seems to be almost conversing with herself; probably just a drafts for a letter or story or something.

C’oretta’s journal is a Lisa Frank overload. It’s bright, multi-colored, glittery, covered in stickers and charms and drawings. She writes with the equivalent of a glitter gel pen, in pink of course. More of the same inside. Her writing is slanted so far forward it’s hard to read, and gives the impression of running across the page. It skips around quite a bit, leaving blank spots and no sense of chronological order. Lots of rambling about adventures, griping about work, gushing about boys. Various little sketches; nothing so skilled or polished as Aeryn’s, but still cute--C’oretta pretty much punctuates via handwritten emojis. There are bookmarks and papers and tabs and loose leaves everywhere.

Iyna keeps a magitek stylus that acts as both a written and verbal recorder. It’s the same shape and rough size, if a little heavy, compared to a traditional journal, but it’s searchable and can be indexed. She has a ridiculous number of folders and subfolders and everything’s organized and easy to find. Who wants to still use paper? Also, typing or dictation disguises the fact Iyna’s handwriting is pretty atrocious, nor does she draw. She debates decorating it to make the dark metal box less drab, but it has some nice blue lighting and she’s indecisive about what sort of things she’d want to put on it, so ends up doing nothing decorative.

Dark lets her nieces and nephews, and local child friends (like the Doman kids), decide what the dustcovers of her own trusty, battered journal look like. So it tends to be covered in children’s waxy pictures, stickers, some paint, candy stains. Dark’s handwriting isn’t sloppy, but more carefree, especially compared to Aeryn’s precision. Dark does not draw. She has papers stuffed into it, papers falling out of it, there are coffee stains; it just looks and feels and smells like a well-used, well-loved book where she’s recorded stories, songs, and some of her adventures and thoughts.

#Aeryn Prompts #Punchy Prompts #Iyna Prompts #Dark Prompts #grizguy #Prompts #Lyn Writing

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mossintheconcrete · 4 years ago

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for the flower tag... bergenia, cardinal flower, and glory-of-the-snow.

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person?

I’m more of a night person I believe? I’m more productive from 11pm-3am which is,,,unfortunate

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts?

Kind of?? the crippling paranoia in me totally think they’re fucking everywhere but realistically I only believe in ghosts at places with high paranormal activity?? like I don’t think they’re just chilling wherever but they probably hang out in the kinda places they show on buzzfeed unsolved, yknow?

Glory-of-the-Snow: What are ten things that make you happy/you’re grateful to have in your life?

1. my friends and family

2. i got a new sewing machine recently!

3. i got to climb out of a window today!

4. the sky is still blue

5. ace attorney

6. my purple hightops

7. how long I’ve been clean

8. lisa frank stickers

9. eyeliner

10. i wore a hoodie to bed two nights ago without overheating and it was great!

thank u for the ask robbie!! ilu!

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alj4890 · 6 years ago

Text

And Then I Met You

Part 4

What happens when the one you thought you were meant for turns out to be meant for someone else?

@walkerinfolkvangr @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @fullbeaumonty @cocomaxley @darley1101 @hopefulmoonobject @krsnlove @littleblossom357 @annekebbphotography @gibbles82 @bella-ca

Masterlist

Part 4

A little over five weeks after arriving in Hollywood

"Not only will this give us a chance to set everything up, it will force them to spend more time together away from work." Addison explained to Holly.

"I suppose. Do you think he will agree to it though? I mean, they are both so stubborn." Holly whispered the nearer they got to the study.

"It's fool proof!" Addison took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come in." Thomas called out.

They walked in to see him organizing the parts completed for the screenplay with Amanda's pictures and Addison's costume ideas. In the corner of the room, Amanda was typing away, only pausing to smile at them.

"Did you need something?" He asked without looking up.

"Actually, I need to borrow Amanda for a moment. I have one of the dresses nearly finished and would like some input to the final touch."

She glanced up in surprise. "Me? I trust your judgement. I'm afraid my fashion sense is subpar at most." Amanda went back to typing, thinking the conversation was over.

"Please! It is based off your imagination and I want to make sure it lives up to what you had in mind." Addison begged.

"I have learned from experience that she will not stop asking." Thomas told Amanda. "Better to go now than have endless hours of being pestered."

She chuckled and got up. "Show me what you got."

"YAY! I can't wait until you see it." Addison grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the study.

Holly waited until they were out of ear shot to enact stage two of the plan. She cleared her throat and waited for Thomas to look up.

"Yes?"

"What are your plans this evening?" She asked, while pretending to scroll on her tablet.

"Plans? I have no plans other than work." He muttered.

When she remained silent, he threw down his pen and gave her his full attention. "Why? Is there something I am supposed to be doing?"

"Yes. Ryan Summers is throwing a party at an old warehouse that holds all that old movie memorabilia you love." She stopped scrolling and looked up, judging his expression.

"And?"

"And I think you need to attend. You are considering casting him in the role of Arthur. Not only that, but you might spot your Reginald and Elizabeth there. Seeing them in an unscripted environment will reveal how much chemistry they all have." Holly argued.

He frowned as he debated whether or not he should attend. Holly stood calmly before him, waiting on his answer. He let out a beleaguered sigh. "Fine. What time is the gathering?"

"Eight o'clock." Holly promptly answered. She turned to leave and stopped.

"Is there a problem?" Thomas growled, wanting to focus on his work.

"Not a problem, just a thought. I think Amanda should go with you. These are her characters after all. I believe her input would be invaluable." Holly faced him with what she hoped was an expression without guile.

He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. "You are only considering Ryan because you heard her say that he was the one she thought of when writing the character." She reminded him.

He nodded stiffly. "Very well, I will see if she is willing to go."

"Good." Holly began to walk out again and stopped. Thomas ran an agitated hand down his face. "What?" He bit out.

"I just remembered that I booked reservations to take her to Tao tonight. I completely forgot and promised to help Addison with that costume. She needs to complete it if she is going to start on some of the other costumes." Her brow puckered as she pretended to debate on what to do.

Thomas covered his face with his hands and counted to twenty. He reminded himself that Holly was an excellent assistant and she was a friend. She was annoying the hell out of him at the moment with these sudden plans, but he could deal with it.

"Help Addison. Amanda will understand." His muffled response came from behind his hands.

"I know she will. I hate canceling on her at the last minute. She's been so excited about it. I think she was hoping to get out of the house for the night." Holly hoped that would end up being the case.

Thomas stood up and shoved his chair out of the way. "And I suppose you will tell me no other night will do?"

"Well, it is a difficult reservation to make this time of year." Holly took a cautious step back when he glared at her.

"What time is the reservation?"

"Six."

"Then I will take her on the way to the party. Will that solve everything or do you have some other forgotten plan?" He raised his eyebrows in disbelief as she actually checked her tablet.

"Nope! That will do it. Thanks boss." She saluted him and quickly left.

_____________________________

"It will really help us if you can keep Thomas distracted at the restaurant. There are a few things left we have to set up." Addison told Amanda. "His birthday was before you arrived and he hates a fuss. But, we came up with the best surprise ever. Scheduling it this many weeks after give us the ultimate element of surprise."

Amanda laughed at her excitement and puppy dog eyes. "Of course I will help. That is some dedicated party planning skills you both have."

Holly walked in on that last bit. "We aim to please. Plus, he gives amazingly thoughtful gifts for birthdays."

"I still tear up when I see my desk." Addison said, sniffing a little.

"Desk?" Amanda asked.

"He once asked me where my love of designing costumes came from. I told him about this desk my art teacher in elementary school set in a corner for me to use whenever I had a free moment. It was decorated with Lisa Frank stickers and every color I loved. And the glitter. It was everywhere." She laughed and then let out a sigh. "He found my art teacher and discovered she had kept my desk as it was. He had it shipped to my home as a reminder of where my passion originated."

"That is so sweet." Amanda said softly.

Holly nodded. "He does stuff like that for Christmas too. He never goes for the conventional stuff."

"Well, I will definitely help with this surprise. Just tell me what I need to do.

Addison and Holly beamed as they told her the plans. "Now remember, he thinks you and I were supposed to have dinner and that it is Ryan's party you are attending."

"Got it." Amanda stood up, "I'm going to finish up what I was typing and then get ready for the evening."

"We did it!" Addison squealed once she was gone. "I wonder if the sparks will keep flying."

__________________________

Thomas placed his hand on the small of Amanda's back as he led her into Tao. She paused and took in the shadowed ambiance with decoative lamps and candles flickering at each table. The Asian decor was prominent with the Buddha statues placed throughout. They were seated on the second tier of the restaurant and had a clear view of the entire place.

Amanda thanked the hostess and took the menu. Her attention wandered to taking in the sights before her. She looked up and caught Thomas staring at her. He quickly lowered his eyes to his menu.

He opened his mouth to only close it when their waiter came by. After he left to retrieve their drinks, Thomas asked her about her life back in Cordonia.

A teasing glint came in her eyes, "Haven't I bored you enough with all my stories these past few weeks?"

He chuckled. "This time I can actually listen without Addison's interruptions."

She shook her head with a smile and answered his questions. Over dessert, he brought up the pictures he had seen of the wedding at her home. "That was one of your friends, wasn't it? Maxwell, I think."

She paused a moment and nodded. If he hadn't been watching her so closely, he would have missed it.

"Yes. It was his wedding." She took a sip of water. "He met his Nadia and after a brief courtship, they decided to get married.

"You must be very close to him." Thomas noticed a sadness come over her.

"Yes. I suppose I am." She turned her head and looked out over the restaurant.

"You must miss seeing them."

"I do sometimes." A smile flirted about her lips. "I've been so busy with you though, that I haven't had much time to think about it.

"Is that a good thing?"

"It is." She picked at the cake on her plate. "I needed this."

"Cake?" Her laugh at his teasing made him smile.

"No, though it doesn't hurt." She sobered. "Working with you. Getting away from Cordonia for a while. I didn't even realize I needed a change."

His dark chocolate brown eyes studied her face. "Why did you need a change?"

She froze a moment and let out a sigh. "I needed to get my mind off of some things." She bit down on her lip as she debated on whether or not to tell him. He sat there patiently and eventually reached across the table. He covered her hand with his.

"You don't have to explain." He said softly.

"No it's fine. I...I once thought Maxwell was the one I was meant to be with." She paused when his thumb moved over her knuckles. "When I saw him with Nadia, well, there was no one else more perfect for him."

He glanced down at their hands when she slipped her fingers through his. He continued to move his thumb over her knuckles. "You hosted his wedding to another woman despite how you felt."

She gave a slight shrug. "He's my best friend. It would have hurt him if he had known how I felt. He is very tenderhearted and would have most likely eloped to keep from causing me pain. They were able to have their dream wedding and I was able to say goodbye to my imagined future."

He couldn't believe the selflessness in such an act. "Do you still have feelings for him?" He didn't know why, but he dreaded her answer and almost took the question back.

She met his eyes and slowly shook her head. "I don't think I do. I made a conscious choice to bury those feelings when they became engaged. I haven't really felt those twinges in my heart whenever I talk to him like I once did." She gave a small smile. "Perhaps my feelings for him were not as strong as I once thought."

Thomas relaxed some with her answer. He opened his mouth to only be interrupted by a lady rushing up to their table. "Are you Thomas Hunt?" She asked in an excited voice. A man, that was clearly her embarrassed husband, came up behind her.

"Yes, he is." Amanda said, trying not to laugh at the expression on his face.

"May I have your autograph? Your movie, Semblance, is one I know by heart! Casting Chris Winters and Shannon Wright as the two lovers was perfect!" She let out a soft sigh.

Thomas thanked her and handed her pen and paper back to her. "Why don't I take a picture for you with him? This way you will always remember this night." Amanda said, ignoring the glare he sent her.

The woman handed over her phone and yanked her unwilling husband in the picture. Thomas stood next to them and forced a pleasant look on his face. Amanda winked at him and snapped a few pictures. The couple thanked them and left.

Amanda started laughing the moment they were gone. "Your face!" She was able to get out between snorts.

He folded his arms and waited for her to calm down. "You had to mention a photo."

She nodded while giggling. "I'm not even sorry." His deadpan expression made her laugh harder.

He shook his head and stood up. He came up behind her to assist in pulling her chair back. He held her jacket up and waited as she slipped her arms in. She thanked him and linked her arm with his as they walked outside. "Come on, you know you are a little flattered by such attention."

"A little." He admitted.

_____________________________________

Thomas was speechless when he realized the party was for him. While people surrounded him, Amanda moved away and watched from afar. She leaned against a wall and grinned when Addison threw her arms around him when he thanked her and Holly.

As people began to mingle, Thomas searched the room for her. He stood with a few of the guests and tried to see who she was talking to.

"What do you think Thomas?" Ryan asked.

"Hmm? Sorry, about what?"

Holly looked at him in surprise. "About where you will shoot the movie."

Thomas finally spotted Amanda on her own looking at one of the exhibits. "Yes, I suppose the character would feel that."

"What?" Holly asked.

He walked away without responding. Ryan stood there in surprise while Holly's jaw dropped. She ran over to Addison to tell her the whole story.

"No! He really didn't answer the question?" She asked, bubbling with excitement.

"Yes! And he left without another word!"

They both turned to observe the two they were trying to get together. Thomas was pointing out something in one of the display cases and was giving some sort of explanation. Amanda smiled and said something that caused him to laugh. When she moved on to another exhibit, he followed her.

The rest of the night seemed to go in that same pattern. Addison drug Matt and Ryan in on keeping tabs on the couple. The four of them watched as Thomas seemed to leave a conversation if he saw Amanda on her own or near someone that had a questionable reputation. At one point, the model from the afterparty blocked his path and placed her hands on his chest.

“I was hoping to catch you alone.” She purred.

He did not even attempt to mask his annoyance. “Didn’t you arrive with Tommy Phelps? I think you should stick by his side.”

“No need to be jealous. He is nowhere near the same caliber director as you are.” She moved closer to him. He took her wrists and gently but firmly pushed her away. “Don't mistake a question as jealousy. Now, if you will excuse me.”

She stared at his back in shock that he left her. Thomas walked over to where some tables and chairs were set up. He scanned the area and saw Amanda sitting by herself. She had a peaceful expression with a touch of humor on her face as she observed the party. She was so lost in her thoughts that she jumped when he sat down beside her.

“How are you enjoying your party?” She asked once her heart had calmed down.

“It is actually more pleasant than I would have thought.” He studied her for a few moments. “Why are you sitting here by yourself?”

Her cheeks began to color. “I like to mingle then get off by myself and observe. So often first impressions are false. I like to see how people interact with others to decide on whether or not I wish to move from being an acquaintance to a friend and so forth.” She traced the ring of condensation her drink left on the table. “I suppose that sounds rather silly or conceited on my part. I’ve learned through my experiences at court that one’s time is too precious to waste on the wrong people.”

Thomas looked out over the guests. Some had their false smiles and personas firmly in place while others genuinely had their hearts on their sleeves. He thought of all the people he had wasted time on to only find out that they were not worth another second of his. He then thought of those he wanted to spend time with. At the moment, there was one that topped that list and had for a while now. He let his gaze rest on the one and took in her serene expression as she watched, with a hint of a smile, those that fascinated most people. He couldn’t think of anyone in this room he found more interesting than Amanda.

He leaned over and asked if she was ready to leave. She nodded and they found Holly and Addison. Thomas thanked them again and ushered Amanda outside. The two instigators watched them leave and grinned when Thomas placed his hand on her back as they walked to the waiting car.

When they got home, Thomas walked with her upstairs. He paused outside her bedroom. “Thank you for your part in keeping me from knowing about the party.”

Amanda chuckled. “It was the least I could do since I did not have you a birthday present.” He scoffed and said there was no reason for such a thing to be done.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Happy Birthday Thomas.” She whispered in his ear. She opened up her door and went inside.

He froze and stared at her closed door. He snapped out of the line of thoughts her kiss caused and went to his own room.

#choices rcd #thomas hunt

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