s t u c k

“hey, i’ve got a question for you.” bea said as she slid into the high school office after being stopped by two teachers who asked who she was. she felt a little insulted given that both had once been her own high school teachers but once she’d told them her reasoning, they pointed her in the right direction of the front office. “i’m trying to get my little sister’s report card. she needs them to apply in another program in college and she isn’t able to come get them herself because she’s at school so i’m hoping to be able to get them and fax them to her.” did it sound sketchy? it didn’t matter because she had been her sister’s legal guardian for a few years now. “but also, doesn’t working here remind you of how old you are? i’m having too many traumatic flashbacks.”

starter for @jcspermoon​ at the high school​

-

It’s not exactly fair to say that Jasper hates his job. Not when he spends most of the day shopping on the office computer and watching tiktoks with the volume off on his phone. Every now and then he’s got to look up and walk a parent through checking their kid out for the day and if he’s really lucky he gets to entertain himself with some smart ass kid trying to circumvent the school’s policy on letting driving students check themselves out.

When the glass door opens, Jasper is sitting most unprofessionally in his chair with his legs crossed a ratty book from the school library spread open between his thighs. He finishes his sentence before looking up to see who entered. “I’ve got an answer for you,” he says, tossing his phone in the book and closing the pages around it like a bookmark. He doesn’t drop his feet to the ground, instead he grips the edge of the reception desk and pulls himself closer to the computer monitor as she explains her situation. “So, I can only release student records to the student or a legal guardian. And if the student’s an adult then I can really only release them to her,” he explains, waiting for the computer (that still runs on Windows XP for some god forsaken reason) to wake up.

Jasper manages a laugh. “I went to school here. I get full on flashbacks every time I have to go to the gym for for. Nothing says childhood like having your glasses stolen out of your gym locker and getting shoved fully clothed into the shower. Did you go here?” Finally the computer wakes up and Jasper pecks in his password. “I can print you a requisition form for her to fill out, though.”

“You did not,” Jameson scoffed. He was skeptical but, if anyone could have done their own tattoo it was probably Jasper. He craned his neck to see the design better. He had to lean in a bit to really get a good look because it wasn’t clear what it was from afar. After a few seconds too long his eyes processed the design for what it was intended to be. “Oh! Okay, yeah, I see it there. You know what? For something you did yourself it’s not bad. Did you buy a tattoo gun for that? Have you done any others on yourself or did that one teach you all the lesson you needed to learn?” He laughed, eyebrows lifting. “I can’t imagine what my dad would have done to me. How bad was the healing process?”

Jameson followed his gaze to the kid with tears in his eyes and smiled. “Guess that’s true of a lot of things. I remember getting my first tattoo and the last one – not today’s touch up but the last new one I got. but don’t remember much about the stuff in the middle. I all means something but the process of getting it? Old news. What are you getting done today?”

-

“It woulda turned out way better if i was smart enough to get my hands on a tattoo gun.” He laughs. Jasper throws his arms back behind him, lacing his fingers together to cradle the back of his head. “Dunno if you know this about me, but I was a dumbass in high school.” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t a total dumbass. Classic gifted middle school kid who didn’t care enough to apply himself to his school work when it mattered. “Did this the old fashion way. Me and some other sixteen year old idiots in a basement with a safety pen and some ink we squeezed out of a few ballpoint pens. No one wanted to go first so I volunteered.”

His parents’ reactions probably didn’t differ from your average parental outrage. “My mom wanted to kill me but she figured the infection was punishment enough.” He’d gotten grounded for a month and his mom threatened to make him pay for his own hospital bill when it got infected, but in the end she settled for a few days with no internet and forced him to get a job. Bonus, it ended up being a good story to tell. So much so, he’s had the original touched up a few times over the years to preserve the memory of being younger and stupider.

open starter → Farmers Market

You could almost always find Ryder at the Farmers Market on Sundays. Early in the morning it was usually quiet. He’d find himself lingering at stalls and chatting with people he hasn’t seen in weeks, or just letting them describe that weeks crop or whatever they were trying to sell. Most of the time he walked away with some pastries or premade food, because he knew his way around the kitchen but he was in no way professional there, so a lot of these fresh ingredients would be lost on him. Or end up rotting in his trash can when he inevitably ordered a pizza instead of cooking dinner for himself. But today’s trip was anything but quiet - it was a beautiful day and Ryder got a late start that morning which meant he was battling crowds of families out enjoying their Sunday morning. 

So instead of strolling casually from stall to stall, the ranch hand found himself looking for spaces to between large groups of people and making sure he wasn’t running into any screaming kids. He had been buying a pack of homemade dog treats for Holly when someone came at him from the right. He didn’t hear it, but he felt the kid colliding with his leg sending him running into someone standing the next stall over. “Fuck, sorry,” He said, turning to steady whoever he smashed into, looking down to make sure he hadn’t knocked something out of their hands before he snorted. “Never thought a group of kids would be able to knock me down that easy. Y’good?”

-

The farmers market is about the last place you’d find Jasper on a regular Sunday. Not when the locals are dressed in their after church best letting their tiny little demon kids run free. No fuckin’ thank you. 

Except... there’s this little old lady who sells the most incredible baked goods you’ve ever put in your mouth. And Jasper has charmed his way into a lifetime discount by promising to date her grandson if he ever comes to visit. And when a craving calls, it simply must be answered. Particularly those cravings brought on by a Sunday morning hit from what was left of last night’s stash.

Jasper is actually impressed with himself, managing to dodge bodies on his way to his one and only destination. His ego is slowly inflating like someone pumping helium into a balloon. Until, that is, someone slams into him from behind (He won’t hold that against himself--he doesn’t have eyes back there). Jasper grabs onto the nearest table to keep from falling on his ass and while he doesn’t bring the whole thing down, he hits it hard enough to knock over a few jars of jam and earn himself an evil glare from a lady with an aggressive dishwater blonde bob circa TLC reality shows of the mid 2000s. “Dunno why you’re pissed at me, lady. I’ve got all four eyes on my kids,” Jasper tips his sunglasses down to the point of his nose, “and they’re not runnin’ around here like bats outta hell.” He turns his back to her, gripping Ryder’s arm to help him steady himself. “They’re not regular kids. Those are Children of the Corn level evil but worse because their parents are rich and don’t believe in them ever experiencing consequences. You You okay?”

for: open  location: outside altered ink tattoo parlor time: mid-june

Jameson left Altered Ink with a smirk on his face. He was getting one of his first tattoos touched up as the lines had blurred and faded over the years. While he was in the chair he’d gotten a front row seat to someone getting their first tattoo and he’d had to work hard not to laugh conspicuously at the sight. “If you were getting your first tattoo, what would you get? Some people get cute designs, some people put a lot of meaning into their first one– that kid?” He gestured over his shoulder toward the shop. “He got a full-color onion head. The onion is shaded in, in color, with a face on it. I’m sure it means something to him but I think he’s about to cry from the pain.”

-

It’s been too long since he’s had the cash to spare on a new tattoo. And man, has he been itching to get some fresh jabs of ink into his skin. Jasper is cross legged in the chair, waiting for his artist to come back with a transfer for the freshly shaved patch on his thigh. He’s not sure if Hawthorne is talking to him, but fuck it. He’ll answer. 

“My guy, I did my first tat myself,” he laughs. He uncurls his legs and twists so Jameson can see the tiny warped and faded rectangle above his left knee. The letters T-N-T are etched unevenly down the length (forgive him if it’s barely legible, he did it upside down) with a jagged fuse that looks more like a fucked up lightning bolt coming out of the top of it. “It’s supposed to be like a stick of dynamite. Hurt like a bitch. Got infected and I thought my mom was gonna strangle me when she took me to the doctor.”