I don't own FT (is this really neccessary? I feel like it's not bc FFN should already cover this shit for us but whatever. I have like, $3 you can't touch me bitch.
YouTuber AU. HIGHLY inspired by my fave YT fam; tgfbro + by Jay Swingler (Jay's editing is to die for, omg), Evelina Forsell, a little bit of Marzia and ofc, the Cancer Crew.
REGARDING LENGTH: pretty much going to be an on-going drabble-like thing. I'll upload when I feel like I have enough material.
unsaved info / joji
tightrope / XXXTENTACION ft. Scott James
my own / ODIE ft. Ya'qob
mirror / ℒund
/
plastic taste no. 1
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Twenty-three year old cluster of stardust. Let's explore the world together.
A plastic obsession, an entire life built from the click of a button. A small smile—hidden, almost fake. He sees through it as clear as day. Clicks subscribe, wonders why no one else notices.
"She's a weird one, Happy," he ponders, pauses a recent travel vlog to pet his cat.
The creature purrs, tail swishing. She lights up the screen again. Soft, pastel grunge theme. Whoretastic Barbie with a law degree wardrobe. A brightening filter— so subtle, he almost doesn't notice.
"Hello, Tokyo. I've missed you."
A slight accent. Swedish, he thinks. Perhaps even Finnish. He compares her to Lagertha, almost laughs himself silly. A burning cigarette forgotten, tendrils of smoke drifting towards the ceiling. Loosies are illegal written in perfect scripture across the cigarette pack; Erza, trying to scare him away from dangerous habits.
A marvel of editing. His chest feels light, lips loose, eyes feasting. He clicks every download link in the description, pays for a Chloe Burbank album. Baby I might—if we, don't have the time to—be free.
"I think I like her," he hums, decides to perhaps mention her channel in the next upload.
She could use the exposure.
I'm a fucking mess and I know it. Sub for shenanigans.
Sitting in a spray-painted bathtub. Reading questions off a cracked phone screen. Shirtless, nipples clamped with pink clothes pegs. A cigarette, dangling from the corner of pursed lips.
"You're a retard," he barks a laugh, looks at the camera incredulously. "Well, that's fucking offensive. Next."
Cut to a close up of a rust-spotted ash tray. I heard you was looking for a gangsta—where did you go? She appreciates the aesthetics, pulls her robe tighter around her shoulders. Grainy filter, crackling cassette tape stock.
"Latest obsession."
His expression is warm, secretive.
"Gotta be lovelucy, hit her up. But don't tell her I sent you. What am I, a fucking creep?"
Behind camera, there is a snort and a choked yes.
A flash of pain as he tugs at the pegs, yanks them off violently. Don't say I never tried BDSM, ya sick pricks.
She rewinds, plays his voice saying her name on an endless loop. A girlish crush, two years deep, finally realised. A squeal, chair tipping back, crashing and burning through DIY backdrops.
"Ohmygosh," breathless, lo-fi playing through an expensive sound system, "that did not just happen."
"Hello, Helsinki. I'm home."
Drone shots of a city so far from him. Beautiful, filled with light. He can smell chestnuts, forest air, snow. A lesson in the language of Finns. He repeats the words soundlessly, likening her voice to a lullaby.
"There is beauty everywhere. You just need to look hard enough."
A rainbow oil stain. A cat curled up on a park bench. Pink-tipped fingers, frost bitten. Skyscrapers. Lakes. Children sipping from a drinking fountain. An ocean.
She plays his latest outro song. The sun started falling when you woke up—the girl with the golden heart I killed from the inside out—don't leave this town, my dear.
"You're a perv," his roommate comments, "she's got good tits though."
"Fuck up, and stop playing shitty music every time you jack off."
"I'm Snapchatting this. Say hey to all your fans, retard."
He flips the bird. "You can all suck my—"
"Natsu Cuntneel, bad to the bone, living off cash loans—"
"With a dick like an ozone, amiright?"
Gray posts the video, draws over Natsu's head in hot pink and turns the scribbles into a detailed cock.
LiL PEEP and Fetty Wap, star shopping and trap queens. Creaking office chair, stripper room mate. Yellow AUX chord and a stolen set of college-boy weights.
"I think I'm gonna reach out to her."
Gray shrugs, waves a hand. "Go for it. Subs would eat it up. Have you seen some of the fan edits circling around?"
Lund on a loop. Smiles and edited movie scenes. Hands trailing up quivering thighs, cut to a girl with sad, sad eyes. I thought I saw the devil. Hospital; from when a video went horribly wrong and he recorded the whole thing. Lucy in Paris, Lucy in Tokyo, Lucy in St Petersburg. Natsu in a ring with tattered boxing gloves and sand bags strung from the ceiling. She paints her office walls, Michaelangelo and Johann Bayer. Natsu covered in paint, Lucy grins secretively.
"Shit," he breathes, posts it to twitter; captions you guys have too much time on your hands the fuck.
Within a minute, someone's tagged Lucy and she's commenting.
I think it's pretty cute
Gray whoops from the living room, rushes in to Natsu.
"Bro, you got a solid chance here. Hit her up. Now is the time."
Natsu stares blankly. "Okay, Tiffany. Should I wear the pink dress or the blue hotpants?"
A clip behind the ear, sneers. "Fucker. I'm trying to get you some pussy so I don't have to deal with your useless bullshit anymore."
"That's better. Now get out."
A click. New window. Two little words
a whole world of new beginnings.
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tbc