✴ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ / 𝖘𝖚𝖌𝖆𝖗 𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖒

“  Realistically?  I’d  probably  be  broke  and  unable  to  feed  my  skeeball  habit  and  that  would  be  the  end  of  that.  I’d  be  back  behind  a  computer  in  a  week tops. ”  It  was  nice  to  dream  of  though,  even  if  the  idea  was  utterly  ludicrous. Plus,  after  doing  everything  she  had  to  get  to  where  she was  today,  she  knew  she’d  never  be  able  to  give  up  that  kind  of  power,  even  if   it  might  very  well  be  her  downfall  in  the  end.        

                          “  Oh  come  on,  you  can’t  be  that  bad. ”  she  argued,  though  her  tone  was  teasing  and  lighthearted  as  it  had  been  since  the  beginning.  She  was  going  to  have  a  good  time  at  this  carnival  if  it  killed  her,  and she  was  bound  and  determined  to  not  let   anything  ruin  her  good  mood. “ You might  not  be a professional like moi,  but  I’m  sure  given  the  right  circumstances  you  could  still  give  me  a  run  for  my  money. ” 

      —— └ ‘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴜᴛᴇʀ's ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ sᴀᴛᴀɴ's ᴡᴏʀᴋ. i would definitely know.      ’      she mused happily, watching carefully, interest evident. the easy of atmosphere of the fair made it too simple of a task to forget the world around her. everything outside of this singular place did not exist. there was no work, no obligation, just an agenda to complete all of her carnival bucket list items before the night ended.      ‘     oh, no. i AM that bad. you don’t even want to see. i don’t want to hurt anyone.      ’

“fried pickles seem like an interesting choice,” he’s smiling, crooked and with a hint of dimple. he can’t say he’s ever tried a fried pickle in his life, but she makes it seem appealing with her eagerness. “i say we head toward those first and foremost. the rest of the carnival can wait until after we’ve silenced your growling stomach, don’t you agree?” the idea of her being hungry isn’t an appetising one. no pun intended. 

“oh, fried pickles are fine and good, but have you seen those funnel cakes walking in? they must dump an entire cup of powdered sugar on top and i crave it.” he bites the nail of his thumb as someone walks by with a waffle cone topped with soft serve and glazed fruits on top, and another holding chocolate-dipped popsicles. "keep me good, fi. if you keep me from spending all my money on terrible, delicious dessert, i’ll treat you to a face painting. we can match, and we’ll be irresistable.”

the mention of food was enough for her ears to perk up, attention caught with the fewest of words. brown eyes darted from random directions, seeking out the first stand to catch her eyes with the intent to grab hold of the other and pull them in that direction with her. this plan was halted, however, eyes widening and head nodding in agreeance with the other. ❝ there aren’t many things i wouldn’t do for a good fried pickle and carnivals have the best fried food, so that’s definitely the way to go. besides, the growls coming from both of our stomachs might be enough to scare everyone away. ❞ which was accompanied by the sound of her roaring laughter.

“ — and that’s not even the worst thing that came out of it.” Kai’s voice carries, resonating above the general din of the crowd and the music playing in the not-so-far distance. A band is currently finishing up one of their sets, but he hasn’t really been paying all that much attention to them, unlike a few of the other acts that were on before his limited attention span wore out. At this point, it’s unclear who he’s speaking to, though he doesn’t seem to have notice; he crouches just on the edge of the smoking area, examining the cigarette in his fingers as if he isn’t certain of where he got it. “Uh.” He stumbles, thought process unclear as he squints at it, and then looks back up to see, suddenly, that whoever he had been regaling with his tale has vanished.

“Shit. Was it that bad?” He asks someone stood more to his left, adjusting the framed photo he’s got clutched beneath his arm, and then straightening from his crouched position to stretch his legs out. “I think I’m an all right story teller. Hey, actually — you wanna see my dog?” It’s not his dog. He doesn’t actually know whose dog it is. He bought this picture from somebody for $13.99.

        —— └ ᴡɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀs ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ her. early morning meetings, answering emails, running around for half of the day for the purpose of someone else rather than for herself. working for other people was draining the life out of her. working for other people as well as working for herself was that much more exhausting, slowly draining her will to get up every day and going about her daily life. having the night to herself for friends and fun was a breath of fresh air.

          what was not, however, a breath of fresh air was the dull drawl of the man next to her that would not shut up. hearing him relive his college glory days was as high on her list of interests as getting third degree burns or going outside without sunscreen. voices began to blend together and the boredom was evident on fioria’s face. anything was more welcome than this.

closed starter for @ficrivs.

In the morning, Layla received several texts from Fioria. They weren’t like anything Layla has come across before, but then again– nothing Fi has done is something Layla is even remotely familiair with. She was told to meet her at the ferris wheel in the evening and although she isn’t the biggest fan of heights, she still decided to come. Dressed in her usual attire — black, ripped jeans, heavy boots, a black tee with a black hoodie and a leather jacket — she stands out from the crowd, dressed in colourful summer clothing. At least she put her hair down, trying to blend in somehow. It takes a while before the other to show up and she’s thinking of bailing and to go find the nearest bar, when she does spot Fi in the crowd. Her eyes light up for a split second, but that’s all there is to it. “Hey,” she says when the other is close enough.

       —— └ ғᴀᴄᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ was a rare occurence for fioria. when she’d met layla, all she could do was throw herself at the stern brunette because, well, that was what fi did. while the other didn’t flat out say no, she paused long enough, acted exasperated and disinterested enough, that the typically bubbly young adult faltered more than once. still, she was kept on her toes because as stand offish as layla could be, she still agreed to be around fi and her extra exuberant personality. having dawned a barely there, skin hugging red satin dress and crisp white nike’s, she commanded attention as she made her way to her DATE ( whether layla wanted to call herself that or not ). anyone else’s appreciative looks meant nothing because her focus was entirely on what lala would say; though judging by their minimal past interactions the chances of a compliment were slim to none.

I wanna be wearing lingerie picked out for me as I tip toe around the kitchen making your coffee and breakfast in the morning as you watch me and then finger fuck me on the kitchen counter

                         Despite  maintaining  a  permanent  residence  in  Brooklyn  for  the  majority  of  her  life,  Rayna  Valdez  rarely  found  herself  in  the  borough  between  work  obligations  and  her  own  personal  obligations.  Yet,  when  she  had  caught  wind  of  the  carnival  that  was taking  place  in  her  own  neck  of  the woods,  she  had  promptly  cancelled  all plans  she had  on  the  day  in  question,  unable  to  pass  up  on  the  opportunity  to  spend  the  day  in  her  favorite  place  partaking  in  cheap  carnival  fare  and  reliving  some  of  the  simpler  times  in  her  life,  if  only  for  the  day.          

                          So,  after  spending  her  morning  with  her  father  in  the bodega,  the brunette  found  herself  dressed  down  in  a  pair  of  worn  out  jeans,  a  sweatshirt,  a  messy  ponytail,  and  a  shit-eating  grin as she played her guilty please: skeeball.  She  aimed,  rolling  the  ball  and  watching  with  glee  as  it  reached  it’s  intended  destination,  setting  off  a  range  of  noises  that  only  further  inflated  her  ego.  “  Maybe  I  missed  my  true  calling  in  life.  ”          

        —— └ ғᴏɴᴅ sᴍɪʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇs ʟɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ brunette’s features as she let out a soft, airy laugh in response to the other’s confidence. there was something so fulfilling in hearing someone be proud of themselves. truthfully, seeing other people happy with themselves was one of fioria’s favourite things. leaning against the low counter, noting vaguely when the booth attendee, who looked as if he were still in high school, snuck a glance at her none too hidden cleavage.      ‘     MAYBE. but i don’t know how much of a realistic salary PROFESSIONAL SKEEBALL-ER really pays.      ’

“Food before rides is always a good idea. I remember doing that once when I was a teenager — turned out just fine for me.” Taeil is being sarcastic, of course, but it’s in that lightly teasing way that he’s almost always sarcastic. Every word that comes out of his mouth can be pinned to it in some form, just about, but it’s never meant for any sort of harm. He’s having a fairly good day so far, just wandering about and experiencing things; the company he keeps isn’t too bad either. “Anyway, I’ve never had fried pickles. You’d have to introduce me. They sound…” he pauses for the right word, and perhaps emphasis, “interesting.”

Summer had always been on of Blaise’s favorite seasons. He liked spending his time outside, much more of a nature person than he let on honestly. He’d heard of the summer carnival through a few people at the school and since he had gotten out early he had decided to swing by and see what it was all about. The air was bristling with excitement between the booths of food and the crowds of people that seemed be moving in unison. 

With no more papers to grade, and no more classes to teach Blaise bought himself a drink and decided to check out some of the games. Maybe try his luck to win a prize. “So do you think people actually win these?” He asked the person who was standing next to him, just looking up at the various brightly colored stuffed animals that were lining the game booth.  “Or are all the big stuffed animals just for show?”

          —— └ ᴡᴀʀᴍ ʟɪɢʜᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ sᴋʏ ᴀ ᴍɪx ᴏғ ʜᴜᴇs, illuminated the scene: laughing couples, close families, colourful booths where one could lose the contents of their wallet just trying to win stuffed animals that could have easily been bought - it dredged up memories for fioria of growing up and her parents always trying to carve out time for family when an outdoor event arose. nostalgia hit her with the scent of fried dough and these were the times she missed her mother most.

HC: why do you always assume i'm mocking you??? i'm really bad at sarcasm! i would legitimately hang your texts on my wall, i adore you, fi.

HC: to tell you that aliens exist, i know. and to fill your life with meaning, but that's secondary.

HC: the blue opera singer but with danny devito's face.

FL: because i can just see your face in my head because i know you that well and i just know that you're smirking which means you're mocking. oh, you liar. bad at sarcasm. WHEN !

HC: i love your little declarations of love mixed with threats of violence, fi. i would have them all over my wall, if i could.

HC: no, fi, aliens do exist. you're being silly!

HC: if it helps, i do think they exist! i hope they look like either ET or green danny devito, and absolutely nothing in between and no other variety.

FL: you know, every time you mock me, it shaves ten minutes off of my life. soon i'll be destined to die at forty with the way you treat me.

FL: wow, what a good boy. i knew i kept you for a reason.