#i need to cut down on distractions and unproductive things
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I'm going to go on a hiatus from here for a while, I don't know how long.
It's starting to genuinely bother me now jist how little I'm achieving artistically, and I'm not going to get any better if I don't try to focus and discipline myself.
I'll check in from time to time here, but don't expect much in the way of proper activity until I actually come back.
You can send any asks as normal, it may just take some time to get to them. I do have discord, so if you want to talk on there at all jist shoot me an ask (but no anons please, I can't respond privately to anons)
#theres so many things in my head that i need to get out#i need to cut down on distractions and unproductive things#so yeah if anyone at all wonders where ive gone#heres your answer
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I want to write something about how valuable fanfic is.
Of late, I have begun to be concerned about how it has supplanted the role of original fiction in my life. Not because I think fanfiction is in some sense less worthy, but because, as a writer, I see the avenues for getting paid for fiction narrowing considerably as the amount of free fiction vastly increases. Fiction that you can depend on satisfying your itch, because someone else's labour in creating a story and characters has given you, the reader, something you know you will like in each fanfiction piece.
This makes the search for fiction that I will enjoy considerably easier, but it doesn't pay anyone's bills. Not the original creator, and not the fanfic writer either.
It's a problem that I see reaching a crisis point in the unfortunately capitalistic marketplace of ideas. And not one I know how to solve.
I have written what I believe are many great stories - and plenty of shit ones, but listen, I have been at this for 35 years and am paid well-above average for someone who makes money off writing. I don't believe I have many good qualities, but there is substantial evidence that I have at least some skill at writing. I have written good stories. Some of which I am quite proud of. I fear the dream I had as a little girl of having a traditionally published novel is something I missed the boat on.
I worry my dad won't ever see the dedication I have planned to make to him for at least 20 years.
But although I really fear for traditional publishing, and authors, and books, I must say: fanfiction is wonderful.
I am, exhaustingly, boringly, sick. I keep losing friends because I can't talk about anything else or do anything fun and sometimes I haven't the brain space or emotional capacity to be anything but very difficult to know.
Any normality I manage to claw out of life depends on forcing myself to exercise my brain and my body as little as possible, in a dimly lit room, for hours or days on end.
I have never been one who was comfortable being unproductive. This constant need for rest is torture. I cannot distract myself with computer games because even the gentlest ones are full of flashing lights and bright colours.
I am an avid consumer of stories - my whole life at work and play is centred around that - and I often can't play games or watch TV. Films have to be watched in small chunks over days. It ruins a lot of them.
Fanfiction is a life saver. Dark mode on AO3 is a life saver too. AO3 never has flashing lights or rapid editing cuts that stimulate my brain into inflammation.
I can read fanfiction on my phone, with blue light filtering and the brightness turned way down, in dark mode, and - crucially - unlike traditional books, I don't have to spend precious resources of effort adapting to a new world or new characters. I can find characters and relationships and tropes that I can reliably find good fiction on for YEARS.
It isn't always easy. I have been through the entire archive for certain ships and read all the stories that aren't tagged with my specific no-nos. And some of the stories that are tagged with no-nos, because when I get desperate, I push my own boundaries. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't.
But I almost always still find new fics. Fics that I can get lost in for HOURS. And even if I would like to be able to take a break and do something else, I can't, but that's OK, because the fanfic is still there for me. I have something to do. Something with which to occupy my starved mind without taxing it too much and making me worse.
I cannot place a value on the rest fanfiction enables me to get that I wouldn't otherwise.
I am so very bad at tolerating boredom. It is galling in the extreme that boredom, or the very gentlest of activities, are currently the only things that help with my MECFS.
So, I have spent most of yesterday evening and night, and most of today, reading a wonderful fic called you are enough. Which I found because a different fanfic author wrote another wonderful fic that I am caught up on, and their only other fic in the fandom was inspired by you are enough, so obviously I had to read you are enough first.
And so I can daisy-chain fanfic authors to find vast quantities of content that are the only thing that helps me get through my symptoms and hope for recovery. I can't do that with traditional books.
And the works of fanfic authors make me cry and laugh and let me escape the prison of my body and the empty void it has left in my once active life.
And later today I will see friends because I rested all yesterday evening and night and all this morning, reading tens of thousands of words of fanfic that a stranger put their heart and skill into and set on the Internet for free.
I still worry about the state of fiction and our ability to get paid and recognised for our art in an ever more exploitative world. But fanfic is wonderful.
Fanfic saves me.
Thanks, fanfic writers.
Thanks, AO3.
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What Day is it Again?
All my days have been blending together into one big, long, endless cycle. Mostly the day-in and day-out of get up, get dressed, coffee,
kid's summer homework, kids chores, pack a lunch, go to work, feel unproductive for close to eight hours, and go home. That is my general schedule from when I wake up at 5:30 until home time at 4:30, Monday through Thursday (Sunday is similar, except I get to go home from work after only 6 hours of feeling like I'm throwing my life in the compactor).
After work, the daily routine is a bit different, depending on the day. Regardless, it is still full of hurry-up and rush, no matter what day it is. Monday is the only really laid-back night. As soon as I get home, I start making dinner so that it's ready between 5 and 5:30. Kids take FOREVER to eat (OMG it's painful some nights), and we try to cut them off at 7, so they can get ready for bed (which takes about an hour, particularly if I'm not harping on my son to stop getting distracted by every little thing).
And honestly, I should go to bed between 8:30 and 9, because I have kind of high sleep requirements. This sucks. So, I usually end up staying up later, procrastinating. If I am taking care of myself (vitamins, full skin routine, hygiene) it takes me about 45 minutes to get ready for bed. Often I am too tired, or too distracted, to do this. It is what it is.
Throw in the mix that Tuesdays my daughter has tutoring from 6 to 8 (bedtime out the window at least for her, and sometimes my son insists on staying up as long as she "gets to"), Wednesday is my son's beginner parkour class (Little Ninjas) from 5 to 6, and Thursdays are swim lesson days (5 to 6:30 when you factor in changing and that their classes are back-to-back). Sunday's spare time in the late afternoon is usually eaten up by grocery shopping.
Oh, and my husband and I usually end up trying to fit an at-home date night in there, somewhere... Often Wednesday...
We'll, what are my weekends like then? They, too, are pretty much booked up, although it being summer makes them more so, since I feel an incessant need to spend as much social/leisure time with my children as I can right now, before they become teenagers and pretend they don't know me anymore.
Once a month, we get together with our "Tribe" or "Chosen Family"; the people we aren't actually related to by blood, but whom mean the world to us, and whom often treat us/are treated by us better than actual blood relations. Tribe Dinner is held at a different person's place once a month, so we don't lose sight of these important people. It's nice to get all the "cousin's" together too, as they make their own tribes.
There are birthday parties, get-togethers with our actual families, cottage weekends (which are relaxing in and of themselves, but cause a bit of stress when planning and packing).
This week was particularly stressful and (for the kids especially) disappointing, as they were supposed to join up with some of the Tribe mothers and cousin's for a DIY summer camp, but half the clan came down with Covid. This has also required for us to postpone our annual MidSummers party, which is our biggest party of the year and had been originally scheduled for tomorrow.
Stupid Covid.
So, that's been moved to August.
Finally, there comes the last peppering of craziness in my scheduling, which is to find time for modeling, cosplay, and acting. With the kids out of school, I've basically relegated those to the back-burner. It's just too, too much.
Luckily for me, there is a bit of a reprieve for me.
Next week, the kids are in bike-camp, which, while it makes things a tiny bit more hectic in the mornings and evenings with having to get them ready a bit earlier and having to pick them up from the camp after work, also means I get a Friday to myself!
However, it won't be all fun and games, because the next day we are leaving on our annual summer vacation to Manitoulin Island.
Which will, fingers crossed, be the deserving break that I need.
In case you're wondering, I haven't abandoned the cruise-life post. The draft DIDN'T delete itself. It's just, as I had hoped, saved on my other phone rather than on the server. I will continue working on it, so keep checking back!
#krystalkamieniecki#life#daily routine#everyday#busy mom#day to day#my week#model life#models are people too#family#family life#a day in the life
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♡ general relationship headcanons w/ xiao♡
↳ gender neutral pronouns used for reader
↳ warnings | none
↳ fandom | genshin impact
—
xiao often teeters the line between a gentle and passionate lover.
there are days when his fingers skid over your palms with caution, his touch ghosting over your hips as his kisses are filled with just as much apprehension. he longs for your warmth, on the occasions where he’s too afraid to make the first move he appreciates your lack of hesitance in taking his hand.
he’s much too aware of his strength and pushes down his selfish desire in order keep you safe, no matter how much he wishes to bury his nose in the dip of your shoulder. “it won’t be a problem if i touch you,” you say, his voice of reason, and eventually he gives in and allows you to take over.
although he may seem reluctant, he melts when you brush his hair and run baths for the both of you. the sense of normalcy he was never given thaws his frosted heart to the core until it feels like you’re filling him with heat.
eventually when need overrides his fears, he intends to keep you all to himself in a room at Wangshu Inn for days. phantom kisses turn into greedy make outs until your lips are wet and bruised with the intensity of his love.
his hands leave prints on your waist if you come back from a long journey, xiao only finds peace between warm sheets and his person curled around your form.
annoyance burns through him and fills his veins when you’re out on commissions for too long—turning into a petulant child when others take your attention for more than necessary.
xiao is uncaring to people when it comes to you, your safety becoming his top priority above everything else. he may be a tad possessive towards you because of his past, the fear of losing you plagues his mind whenever you’re not there to distract him.
when you venture out beyond Liyue he stands counting the seconds till your return, what would usually feel like a blink of an eye to an adeptus turns into hours for him while you’re away.
“did you miss me?” you’ll tease as you unclip your vision from your waist, setting aside the artifacts you gathered on the desk beside the bed. the answer will come in the form of xiao gripping your wrist and tugging you down into a tight hug.
there are many private moments on the balcony of the inn, xiao takes his time peppering your face instead of observing the stars above. His preferred love language is physical touch, (you can’t tell me otherwise) and he makes it very known to you.
If your hands are calloused and scarred from climbing Liyue’s mountains, he’ll kiss every scrape until the rough textures of your palms are engrained in his memory.
mornings are accompanied by the feeling of fingertips trailing along the knobs of your spine along with sleepy kisses on your shoulder. you’ll be wrapped up unproductive in his arms until you need to use the bathroom, and even after he’ll pull you down and kiss you senseless if he’s in the mood.
when arguments inevitably happen, they’ll usually be over the blunt things he said or the overwhelming need to protect you. you know he never means to hurt you, but sometimes his words cut like a jagged knife through flesh. he doesn’t mean to be rude, but it can sure come off that way especially if he’s recently dealt with his karmic debt. since xiao has met you he’s had less time to stress and hurt over his past, so when he is reminded it puts him in a bad mood for the rest of the day.
his temper becomes shorter then it usually is, he’ll snap at you if you cling too much or if you’re too reckless.
it may take awhile, but he recognizes the change of your attitude soon enough. the only form of contact you two have is a feeble squeeze along his forearm before you head off to Mondstadt, trying your best not to let the wave of hurt show on your face.
nausea and separation anxiety creep on him slowly after your departure, a commission that’s supposed to be three days turns into five, and xiao cannot help but think you left him.
“the main roads were blocked.” you explained as soon as you got back, taking a seat beside your lover once you noticed the pure worry clouding amber eyes. “i’m okay, really.”
your boyfriend, as expected, leads you to the bed where he can bury his face into your shoulder.
“‘m sorry.” it’s quiet and gentle, something meant for only you to hear.
he’s not good at expressing his feelings; there are moments where xiao will seem reluctant to be in your presence when it’s truly the opposite. for decades he’s been apart from human interaction unless it was necessary, so it’s difficult for him to show how much he loves you.
it would help, immensely so, if you’re patient with him. there are days where he’ll drown you in affection, and others where space is more wanted, and you have to accept that.
kissing you has perhaps become his favorite thing to do. he’ll trail from your forehead, to your cheek, down to the corner of your mouth before finally, properly meeting your lips.
call out his name between kisses and he’ll press against you fervently like he can’t get enough.
while he doesn’t prefer to express his love in public, hidden in the four walls of Wangshu Inn’s rooms he’ll express that you’re the most important thing to him in all of Teyvat and beyond.
#xiao x reader#adeptus xiao x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact#xiao x gn reader#xiao x you#genshin impact x you#adeptus xiao#genshin impact headcanons#xiao headcanons
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Ummm so I'm new to tumblr so don't judge if I did something wrong.Ummm how can I be like you? Like you know? Productive and smart.I always push myself but ended up being distracted by things (I have adhd and depression).I can't even remember anything after.I suffer,and continue suffering, from my mental illnesses.I just can't keep myself on track.My family makes fun of me for trying.I'm actually trying to find a part time job here but nothing hires minors.Idk please help meee.
hi, friend! answer under the cut because this will be long.
please know you’re doing nothing wrong, and that the fact you keep trying to become better and to push yourself to always get things done despite difficult circumstances already shows that you ARE already productive and smart.
second, it also helped me when i was struggling very heavily last year to learn two things:
1) there will always be particularly bad days when you live with mental illness, but all the little efforts you take, it slowly does get less difficult. getting better does not mean completely getting rid of all the symptoms you experience, but mostly just learning the best ways and small, gentle things you can do for yourself to manage your condition.
this really requires a gentle but firm balance between pushing yourself to do the things you absolutely need to do, but also knowing when what level of work/school/self-care or hobbies is the limit, so that you don’t get too overwhelmed.
this means most of the time, you don’t have to worry about being productive for its own sake. it helps me when i feel like i’m drowning to know how little i can do/the most non-negotiable bare minimum, that still helps me not to fall behind.
^ this is a small, cheap pad of sticky notes i carry with me throughout my entire day. it’s only big enough so that i can only write a few school tasks/personal things i need to do/chores, which helps me evaluate what exactly i can only get done, especially on days where i don’t feel well. checking off absolutely everything on my tiny list makes me feel like i’ve accomplished a lot, because i i have-- they aren’t necessarily a lot of tasks, but they’re the ones that i know really do need to get done. it also helps me focus when i have a lot of nervous energy, and have a panicked sense of “so many things need to get done!!!?” because i can give myself a bit of time to sit down, maybe turn on an episode of a show i like or make some coffee, and write down my tasks. it really helps me with the faint, tiny guilt and dread i used to feel day by day that i was being unproductive or lazy, because now i know i’ve fulfilled all my obligations to myself (everything from doing laundry, to making dinner) and to other people (schoolwork and other tasks).
it’s okay to move at the pace that’s only possible for you right now. it’s better to feel comfortable with the smallest things you can do, and build on that as the days come.
2) getting distracted is normal, given Everything Happening Right Now, plus with a mental health condition that makes it hard to focus. it can also be hard to remember things when i study, because of my own health conditions, but i’ve found that the following things have helped:
regarding distraction
- use a small system that keeps you from accessing any distractions when you need to get something done. i try to leave my non-essential device in another room, and set up a timer-based blocker, to limit the websites i access.
- i try to acknowledge the distractions as they come, and try to figure out why: am i hungry? am i tired? have i gotten enough sleep? do i need a break? if it isn’t anything serious, i just acknowledge that i’ve gone briefly off-track-- without guilt, without judgment. then i try to turn my mind back to the task at hand.
- a good ambient playlist can make me feel more focused during hard tasks in the sense that i have some form of stimulation to keep the “itchiness” at bay. video game soundtracks and film soundtracks are also wonderful for long, tricky tasks.
- sometimes i just have to start to feel motivated-- the focus actually comes in in the middle of the task. the fact of starting something may actually make you feel motivated.
- procrastinate productively: sometimes when i really don’t want to study i turn on a movie or a show and use the time to clean my room or fold laundry. my life still feels put-together, and i enjoyed myself! win-win.
- and sometimes i realize that focus may be impossible at the moment: take a break, go for a run, do something you like, take a nap.
regarding learning and remembering things
i used to have the worst time recalling things for school, until i prioritized two things: SLEEP, and not cramming.
i used to get extremely poor grades in my first year of law school because i would put off studying at the last and latest moment-- a few days before exams, pulling all-nighters right up until the hour the exam started. i would also just use my free time to scroll on social media, instead of taking a nap or going to bed early.
this was absolutely wrong. during the exam, i couldn’t recall anything because i was too tired, too frazzled, probably didn’t have breakfast, and because i had started and finished half a semester of reading in one night.
my grades have gotten much better lately-- i’d like to think it’s because i’ve centered it around two things: (a) getting enough sleep every single night (helpful ESPECIALLY if you have health problems-- mental or physical), and (b) making exam day the least stressful it can be.
how do i do this?
- this means not only learning things for the exam, but also for classes on a daily period. you don’t have to study particularly hard, but you just have to study enough that you can understand what the professor is saying in class. set definite study hours every day, stop at a very specific and reasonable hour, and go to bed. try to get at least 6 hours of sleep. sleep helps me absorb everything better (idk science but this is from experience and also some very smart people i know ALSO prioritize getting sleep). wake up at a reasonable hour.
- how to study: read the syllabus, and try to get a decent overview of all the topics you need to cover before you start testing/making flashcards/doing active recall (which is IMPORTANT bc this helps you actually train your brain to retrieve information). imho as someone low-energy i find that rewriting notes/making reviewers/making flashcards makes me very tired and leaves very little time for actual studying, so it just helps to test myself by looking at the syllabus and trying to explain the concept to myself, then peeking at the textbook or materials to see what i’m missing. mind-maps are also energy-efficient ways of figuring out how concepts fit together.
- how to study for exams: the very latest you should start is a week ahead. two weeks ahead is ideal. map out how much information you need to re-learn from the syllabus. move slowly with the aim of finishing the coverage by the first week. the second is for reviewing and RESTING.
- THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXAM: do a final, gentle survey over the topics you may not understand. stop at 10 pm. go to sleep.
- EXAM DAY: you’ve done the work. take the time to eat breakfast, test yourself SLOWLY AND GENTLY (avoid reading huge chunks of textbook at this point-- youll only confuse yourself), and set up your workspace to take the exam. crush said exam.
as a final note: it can be hard to get things done when the people closest to you aren’t supportive. try to reach out on studyblr and find discord study with me servers, or study communities on reddit (they’re actually really nice), or with students in your class. if you need to talk, just dm me. you can do this friend, okay? take care always. gentler days will come.
#mental health support#mental health tips#student mental health#uni tips#college tips#study tips#how to study with a mental illness 2.0 i think???#studyblr#asks
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Out Of Comfort
Genre : Adventure, Action, Humour, Hurt/Comfort
Summary : 2 years after the 'you-know-who’, Donnie struggles to adjust with the new way of life. The precarious science blocks are back haunting him, putting him in total stress while he tried his best to keep up with the new team play and co’ord.
Chapter 2 A New Start
Welding felt relaxing, the sound of tiny sparks are like a music to Donnie’s ears. It might not be a real music, but it’s melodious nonetheless. Donnie lifted up his googles, leans back to catch a break. He almost done fixing the hover shell, not the one from yesterday, the one that he kept fixing and fixing away, despite there’s nothing wrong with it.
The one he used last night was a prototype of a new model. It still looks the same as the old ones, but he did made a few upgrades on them. It was definitely frustrating when it got busted. He’s planning to use it more since it felt lighter than the old one. But, now he needs a new shell to wear on a patrol.
He looks at the battleshell charging station. What left there was his worn down Spider-shell. Below it was none other than his wrecked and broken shells that he hadn’t repair, yet. He let out a sad sigh, he looked around him to find that his lab are somewhat cleaner, much cleaner than he remembered. Usually the lab was littered with piles upon piles of inventions, blueprints, scattered metal parts, and energy drinks.
Now, it seems as if it was untouched. The sleek metallic purple walls with LEDs are still looks fresh and new. The floor was free from dust due to the roombas roam freely without bumping into any tech pieces. And the workbench,....empty. Only his old battleshell that he kept tinkering that are currently there. Also, a cup of coffee.
Donnie about to take a sip when he realized it was ran out. He inspect the glass and saw small coffee drips down the mug got frozen in place due to a long time exposed to the AC. How long have he been there without refilling his coffee? Does he been getting the science block again?
Putting down the mug, he rubbed his tired eyes in frustration. Was he being unproductive on purpose? What is he doing here? Why can’t he finish anything?
“Hey.” the voice made him jumped, he looked back to see Leo stood on the doorway. “Whoa, it’s okay. Just a little old me.” Leo held his hands out. Donnie frowned, he turned back to his hover shell.
“What do you want, Leo?”
“It’s training time, Don. Better not coop yourself up in the lab, or I’ll let Raph drag your shell to the Dojo.” Leo ordered as he left towards the Dojo. Donnie sighed heavily, he stood up and followed him. He admit, there’s nothing else he would do, science blocks are the worst and it became a daily routine ever since their Lair was smushed to smithereens. And, the fact that he hate to obey the words Leo told him to.
He wasn’t questioning his leadership skills. If Donnie allowed himself to be honest, the Slider actually knows what he’s doing, good at it in fact. Raph at first had a hard time to adjust, now the former leader putting his trust to Leo, even Mikey approved. Donnie, however, still adapting.
It wasn’t because that he hate to admit it, it just doesn’t sits right putting the leader role to the one who usually pulled some poor one-liners out of spite and keeps bugging your work with some pranks, jokes and poking on things that could cause explosions like it was some kind of a job, because if it is, he good some pretty good records he might get himself some promotions.
And now, the true color of the team seems to emerge. We got the Leader, The Muscle, The Heart and The Brain. Although, The Brain more likely The Brain-Dead one. Stupid science block keeping him from thinking straight, not much idea that pops out other than upgrading, or upgrading the upgrade, or upgrading the upgraded upgrade.
It might be some improvement for anyone, but for the one with the giant science head-cannon looming inside his head, that’s barely even an add-on. He’s unproductivity hurts him, as if the genius inside suddenly just wanted to stop, no more mad scientist mambo-jumbo. He felt it once again, the feeling that he had gone rotten, expired, outdated.....useless.
Seriously, what will he be for the team without his big brain? What can he do other than getting kicked in the booty several times that let your little brother saves your sorry butt?
If once again, he got knocked down and having Mikey, of all people saves him, he’s going to lose his mind.
###
“Alright, my sons. Now, let us begin to--Purple, where’s your battleshell?” they stared at Donnie in his bare-shell. He rolled his eyes, dejected.
“I’ll be fine, Dad. I’m not going to hurt myself.”
“Nono, my son. I believe you, it’s just....weird seeing you without one.” Splinter simply said, trying not to offend his purple son.
“Well, it’s in repair, and my shoulders are getting tired. So....” Donnie didn’t have to finish his sentence to earned a nod from his father.
“Verywell, then. Let us start,....now!” as on cue, the whole Dojo became dark. The brothers immediately forming back to back formation, weapons at their hands, full caution. “Hamatos carries essence of life, the Ninpo. Or what most common people called them, mystics.”
Raph sense a movement to his right, Splinter came in with a kick. Mikey saw the offense, he blocked the kick, swung his nunchaku to Splinters head. The rat dodged it with ease. Upon landing, Raph coming in clutch with his fist. Splinter jumps back into the darkness. “Some may think that it is the most essential in fighting.”
The turtles back to their formation, listening to every sound to pinpoint the next attack. “Others, prefer something else.” a tail emerge from the darkness. Donnie shielded himself with his bo, the tail wrapped around the wooden weapon. Donnie expected the attempt of pulling, he pulled harder, forcing Splinter to show up. Leo anticipated Donnie’s strategy, he swung his sword at the same time Donnie ducked.
Splinter didn’t expect the timing between the two, but he flawlessly avoided himself from being cut in half. Splinter pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it onto the ground. The smoke caused them to cough, which means distractions. They have no choice but to bail on their formation.
“There will be a time where mystic powers will do no good.” Leo sense presence near him. He ducked down to escape another kick. “So, you must focus on your own ability.” He tail swipe Leo’s katanas, leaving him unarmed.
“Agility.” Splinter increases his speed, offering punches and kicks towards the turtle. Leo dodged every attack, seamlessly evading and parrying every blow. He counter-attacked Splinter’s punch, delivering a fist to his face. Splinter caught his hand and kicked Leo away, disappearing into the dark.
“Strength.” Raph blocked a powerful kick out of Splinter, pushed him back a meter. Another tail swipe, Raph let it wrapped on his hand and threw his dad away.
“Speed.” Splinter took a punch from what seems to be Mikey’s fist. Splinter blocked his next punch, only met with a swipe kick a second after. Mikey swung his nunchakus with unimaginable speed. Splinter steps up his game to blocked a series of attacks that his youngest son often called it ‘Razzmatazz’. He manage to grabbed both nunchakus and threw orange from the fight.
“And, Instinct.” Donnie dodged a powerful kick launches towards him. He swings his bo just in time to meet Splinter’s punch. Once again, he disappeared. Donnie waited, trying to hear the footsteps. Behind you! He turns to blocked another powerful kick, this time it was too much to hold, it sent Donnie flying to a nearby wall. He winced and panted, adjusting his weight to his bo.
The lights turned on, Splinter ran towards him. “I’m fine!” his voice sounded a bit too loud. Splinter flinched, he’s unsure if the pain was bearable, but he knows well how stubborn his purple son can be. He decided to let it go, “You did better, my son. If you did not block that last kick, you might get yourself hurt even more.” He thought that he should apologize, but he didn’t think purple would appreciate that.
“Alright, take a break all of you.” he put both of his hands on his back, cracking it forward. “Ugh, while I tend to my bad back, you may have some spar with each other.” he walked away while rubbing his back.
“Hey, Raphie. Wanna spar with me?” Mikey asked excitedly. Raph smiled, accepting the challenge.
“Sure thing, Mikey.” Raph readied up. Mikey activates his mystic chains and whips the nunchaku to Raph, wrapping his whole body. Raph blinks before he was pulled away.
“AAAAHHH!!!” a lod crash was heard. Leo smirks at the scene. Donnie gathers back his bearings and prepared for the sparring.
“Leo?” the slider slowly turns with his smug face. Donnie’s on his pose, “Care to join?” giving him the serious look. Leo kept his usual expression as he readied himself. Donnie strikes first, jabbing his bo to his head, Leo tilted his head to dodge. Donnie swings, Leo parried them with his katanas. He gave more barraging swings, Leo’s agility gives him the advantage. He dodged, parried him with literal ease.
Leo still using the same face. “What’s wrong, Dee-man? Can’t catch little Leo?” Donnie frowned. He swung, Leo blocked and kicked him in the gut. Donnie yelped, Leo sent another kick to the face. Donnie fell to the floor, shaking his head from the mild headache. Leo knelled down, “Aww, had enough already?”
Donnie growled. He swung to his leg, Leo had expected that. He got up and sent more swing barrage, this time a lot faster and more frantic. Leo parried a lot more on this one, but didn’t change the expression on his face. Donnie downward, Leo blocked it. Eyes meeting eyes. “Come on, Don. Is that all? I can definitely fight you blind-folded.”
Donnie’s patience grew thin. He didn’t have to tell him that. He knows he can, and he might will one day.
Donnie pushed him back, now anger are definitely involved. Leo step up his game some more every time Donnie pulled off some new combos and new speed and variety. Donnie looked at him in the face.
Shut up.
He was parried by another sword.
Shut Up!
He can’t beat him.
Shut Up!!!
He’ll never catch up to them.
Shut UP!!!!
He’s not good enough.
“SHUT UP!!!!!”
Leo flinched. Donnie panting hard, hands gripping tightly to his bo. Eyes fixated at Leo, as if he’s ready to kill. Raph and Mikey stunned by Donnie’s shouting.
Donnie growled for real, this time. The deep reptilian growl filled his throat with his fang showing up menacingly. Donnie engaging his predator side, Leo held out his hand.
“Okay, calm down, Dee. There’s no need to continue this with violence. Okay?”
“GRRRR!!!” Donnie attacks Leo with full intention. Leo no longer wanting to fight, he dodged every move Donnie makes. It was fast and chaotic, more like trying to hurt rather than spar.
“Donnie, STOP!!!”
“GRAAAHH!!!”
Raph blocks Donnie’s bo. “Donnie, knock it off!!!”
“Please calm down!” Mikey plead. Donnie ignored them all, he charged at Raph with blind rage. Raph dodged the jab, throw his fist at Donnie. He didn’t dodge, letting it hit his face. Donnie growled deeply, eyes as sharp as needle. Raph was stunned, he didn’t expect Donnie to accept the hit. He felt guilty for hurting his little brother.
Splinter ran back after being called by Mikey. “Purple!!”
Donnie saw an opening on Raph, he charge in while Raph refused to move. Leo tackled Donnie and pinned him to the ground. He refused to back down and squirmed his way to freedom as Leo gripped his limbs for dear life.
“Donatello!!!”
Leo, Raph and Donnie startled by his father’s voice.
“Enough!” Leo froze for a little while, he let go of Donnie once he felt no resistance. Donnie layed down, panting. He suddenly really exhausted. All that anger took too much energy out of him. He slowly hoist himself up to a sitting position. Splinter approached his purple son. Carefully assessing the damage around the turtle. There’s a bruise on his right cheek, might be caused by his oldest son as when he meets his eyes, he can see the guilt he’s facing.
“Purple? What is up with you?” Donnie refused to talk or making eye contact to his father. Splinter can still feel anger looming around him. Did one of the brothers ticked him off? What provokes him?
“Donatello!”
“I DON’T KNOW, OKAY!!!!” he yelled. Splinter jerked up by the sudden loud voice that felt louder to his rat ears. Donnie noticed that he went too much. “I...I just--” Donnie can’t hold back the tears that began to form in his eyes. He looked down to obscure it.
Splinter was surprised seeing his son cried. The brothers reacts the same way. Devastated seeing their usual emotionless turtle broke into tears.
Splinter held out his hand, “My son,-” Donnie swatted away his hand and ran straight to his lab. Not even the call of his name from his family can get his attention. He closed the iron-forced door of his lab, locking it immediately. Donnie sat under his desk, hugging his legs to his chest as he burst to tears. The lab was eerily quiet, the only sounds that are presence are his and the sound of his family trying to reach for him from the other side of the door.
He felt vulnerable having to broke down like this, he hates it. The way the others desperately trying to get him to open the door made it worse. He wasn’t supposed to show his weakness at the time, he’s a Hamato, a descendant of heart o’ steel. And steel has a lot influence with tech, his thing. He supposed to be able to control his feelings.
Now, his meltdown would definitely stuck in the topic for a while in this whole family situation. He knows he’s having trouble, yes he does. And he knows he needs to keep up with the others. He knows, he’s the smart one.
He tried his best, to keep up, to adjust, to be stronger, for everyone’s sake. But he can’t let his family help him with that, they all helped enough. He can’t let them once again drag their butts to fix his problems for him, no. Fixing is his thing, and he can fix his own problem by himself. Just uh, not now. He needs more time, to figure things out. His family just need to be patience, they can handle the waiting game. They’ve done this before, just like waiting for the drill out of its beta version.
He also, needs to be patience. Everything’s going to be alright, he’ll figure it out. He have to. For everyone’s sake.
###
The rest of the day passes by, quietly. Donnie had refuse to talk or eat, he sent Shelldon to grab some drinkable sustenance for him. He can handle being hungry, but thirst must be dealt with. As he recalled some research he found out that living beings can survive hunger for at least a week as long as they have enough supplies of water. Although, he can’t say the same about coffee, but not like it’s bothering him.
He waited for Shelldon to come back with a drink, his lab door still close but no longer locked. Once in a while his brothers visited him as he succumb to his depressions in his favorite purple hoodie, concealing his swollen eyes as a result from the earlier’s mental breakdown.
They talked, though they tried not to bring up of what happened in the Dojo. Leo, most of all, had a hard time keeping it cool. The red-eared slider guiltily apologized for making fun of him in training. Donnie might not talk about it, but he willing to forgive him. It wasn’t Leo’s fault that he had problems, he needs to stop playing the Blame Game.
“We love you, Don. And nobody can change that.” Leo said.
“I know.” Donnie simply replied.
His thought was broken by the sound of whirring from the purple drone who he manage to salvage, thankful that Shredder didn’t think twice and explode his core memory.
“Yo, Dee. I got the coffee for you.” the drone informed enthusiastically.
“Thanks, Shelldon.” he quietly accepted the coffee and took the first sip before once again continuing his currently favorite activity, staring an empty desk. Shelldon’s cheery attitude turned into worry as he watched his creator’s constant solitude. Slumping his upper body further back into his gaming chair, holding the coffee mug in both hands.
“Dude. You okay?” he asked for what seems like the tenth times by now. The response stayed the same.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Shelldon wasn’t happy with the answer, but he shrugged it off. He took out his lanky robot arm and grabbed something that sitting on top of him.
“Mikey told me to give you this.” he held out a box of pizza at him. “You should at least eat something, Donnie.” he plead. Donnie stared at the pizza then at Shelldon. The look of worry annoyed him. Great, even a robot is worried about him. But he knows better that Shelldon is not just a robot. He’s a family, part of the Hamato, the drone has feelings and conscious of its own.
Donnie accepted the package, he took a slice and eat it. Shelldon--although not quite visible--beaming away that he had accepted the offer.
“Thank you, Shelldon.”
“You’re welcome, Dee!” Shelldon flew off to the other side of the lab, knowing that he’d done his job. Donnie chuckled quietly as he gone. It’s weird to think that the drone behaving like a kid, which was the intention of installing the emotion-settings in the first place. He can’t remember the last time he acted like one, those days of constant playing, troublemaking and have no care in the world. He said it before; it was messy but gosh, it was fun.
Then, he heard the lair suddenly began crowdy. He didn’t realized that the door was opened, did Shelldon forgot to close the door? How could an AI forget something? Donnie have no mood to stand up or command anything for now, so he let it be. He heard a distant sound of clip-clop from hooves in the lair. The only mutant he knows that is involving hooves is Baron Draxum. What is he doing here? And the sound of chit-chats heard along with it as well, especially some faint female voices and his dad.
They all having a chat out there. How long they’ve been in this states? Why haven’t anyone informed him about visitors? Then again, he’d been cooped up in this lab and desiring for some temporary isolations, of course they haven’t inform him.
Not wanting to bother with anything about it, he continued sipping his coffee and chomped down more pizza into his throat. Not much he can do for now, other than listening the distant inaudible voices. Not even bothering to look up to the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer to the lab.
“Hey, big guy. How’s it going?” April leans her body to the door frame, keeping it cool.
“’m fine.” he answered again, too often now that it sounds more like a chanting spell. April offered a sad smile as she bring herself to sit beside the purple genius.
“Wanna talk about it?” she asked softly. Donnie sipped his mug as a sign that he refused her demands. “I see. Well, we wanted to hang out together as family to the hidden City.” she told.
“Last time we did that we got thrown in jail.” he bluntly respond.
“Well, yes. But things are different now. Now that we stopped that ‘you-know-who’, they pretty much removed the bounties from our heads.” she added, definitely sounding more excited than before. Donnie still can’t trust the sudden change, although he does agree the treatment for doing so after that horrible incident, he didn’t expect anything from the Yokais but pay some respect for sparing them from the devilish evil claws they called Shredder.
“Still, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Remember that time where we trust that spider lady for taking care of ‘you-know-who’, and look what she did, total havoc, everywhere.”
“Well, at least she did help out with locating the....uuuh....”
“Empyrean.”
“Yeah, that. If it wasn’t for her, we might not be able to save the day and,... You know what I mean.” she reluctantly continued her sentence. Donnie can tell why, he also didn’t want to think of what happen if they can’t find where Shredder had kept their father hostage. Can’t probably sleep knowing if they were too late, Big Mama was indeed offer a huge help even though she’s only can help telling them the location.
Although, the point still stands, she wasn’t a type of person that can be easily trusted. Things happened because of her, and they suffered the most of it. Can’t believe he wished that he should’ve listen to Leo the first time, probably one of the reason why he can be such a good leader.
“Look, I know it’s hard to believe it that way. But I promise, I got some good hunch today. Everything will be fine. You can blame me if anything goes wrong in your way, okay?” And there it is, the classic humble April. The very things he envies the most out of her, dare enough to take the blame and always be there with positive attitude.
And, yes, April always had a strong hunch, it never failed them and they all knew that. If she thinks everything will be fine, then it will indeed.
“So, do you trust me?” she stood up with a big confident smile on her face. It somewhat contagious and made him smile as well.
“Of course, you’re the only human that I trust in this world, April.” he responded, with less tense or sad tone.
“What, you still don’t trust Casey?” as on cue, a loud non-feminine female voice shouting in the background, followed by what sounds like his brothers shouting back at her. Donnie grimaced at the behaviour of that girl. Ever since the former Foot-clan helped out with defeating Shredder, the group immediately warmed up to her. Except for Donnie.
He still respected her for saving his father, however he never had any connection with the girl. Her risk-loving-fight-adoring attitude giving his big bulky brother, Raphael a worthy friendly match. She didn’t even flinched by his loud thundering roar, if by chance she roared right back. And her chaotic energy is enough to keep up with Leo and Mikey.
Donnie didn’t share much with such connections, in which he easily-predicted, the girl hates science. Although, she does find his inventions as cool and awesome, she might thinking about exploding it in place though. Leo would be proud.
Also, she’s terrifying, not as much as April, but she gave him too many goosebumps for the past years.
“In theory, she might be the last person to be trusted when it involves ‘safety’. Please don’t tell her that!” he semi-whispering, not wanting her to charged in and wreck something explosive in his lab.
“Your secret safe with me.” she gestured a zipping motion across her mouth. Donnie chuckles, “Now, come on. Everyone’s waiting. You don’t have to take your hoodie off if you don’t want to.”
Donnie smiled at that, he stood up and let April grabbed his hand leading him to the group. “Thanks, April.”
“Anytime, Dee.” she grinned at him.
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt fanfiction#oc crossover#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt leo#rottmnt raph#rottmnt mikey#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#fanfiction#fanfic
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So that was really fun! ^o^ Just finished Shang Chi for the first time.
Well, the credits are playing, so I haven't gotten to the post credits scene yet. But this was really fun! I don't know whether to kick myself for continuously putting it off, or for feeling validated, because I put off watching my backlog because when I know something might be good, I get so engrossed, that I preemptively feel guilty for doing nothing but watching intensely. lol And that was worth watching with my undivided attention. ^_^
LOLOLOLOL Ok. Just finished the first post credits scene. Can I just note, that this movie has made me laugh out loud, several times? I love it! The running gag with the karaoke, the quick cuts, the sudden awkwardness/normalcy within crazy situations---like when Shang Chi's sister and Katy were complimenting each other---Just so funny. Endearing. This is a great, fun movie. ^o^
I don't want to dump on Eternals, but I have to be honest: The reason I ended up watching Shang Chi tonight was because I got bored with Eternals. I was going to watch that for the first time tonight, but then a minute in, I was so bored, I wanted to watch something else. Then I remembered that I hadn't watched Shang Chi yet. I feel kind of bad about that though. I know The Eternals has been getting lots of bad reviews, but I'm always in the mode for playing something less than interesting in the background. It's not distracting, I don't have to feel guilty for being unproductive while engrossed in a movie/series, the background sound keeps my day going, etc. But Eternals started off with this long exposition text, with so many character names and situations to picture, and I just couldn't believe how bored I got. Why was I willing to sit through Star Wars crawl text and not this?!? What is wrong with me?! Has streaming and social media cut down my attention span into little pieces, like everyone warned????? I really didn't want to believe that I had lost the ability to sit through text. But then I started watching Shang Chi, and I was immediately ok with reading its subtitles. Just like I always do, because I watch anime subtitled and now that my hearing is becoming unreliable, I watch everything subtitled. So it can't have been any reluctance to read. Then I realized that The Eternals was breaking the cardinal rule of writing: "Show; don't tell". Because in contrast, Shang Chi was ALSO giving a lot of exposition, it was even including narration that was literally "telling" the audience information, but it was *also* SHOWING the story that the narration was telling. Compared to The Eternals, even though Shang Chi's exposition included an overt voiceover narration, Shang Chi still felt more like _showing_ a story more than _telling_ the audience things.
Wait. 2nd post credits scene. Please don't tell me she's continuing the crime organization. Please tell me she is actually turning the Ten Rings into a good organization now. I mean, they said she stayed behind to dismantel the 10 Rings. Maybe she needs her own force, in order to dismantel the different parts of the 10 Rings that resist dissolution? Speaking of which, Black Widow's movie also ended with a kind of creation of a force that's going to go around the world, doing operations. Makes me think that if we have several MCU movies doing this now, then maybe Phase 4 is going to invovle a need for several protagonist "armies". At the end of Avengers Endgame, we pretty much got an army of Avengers. What kind of threat in Phase 4 needs _several_ armies of "Avengers"? Well, that would fit in with each Phase's need to ramp up threats. And I really hope the 10 Rings is becoming an army for good, just like the former Black Widows de-brainwashing the other Black Widows. Because I just watched this whole Shang Chi movie where Xialing was an ally and cool. I don't want to think of her as now being an antagonist, head of a crime organization, that some MCU protagonists that we'll empathize with, will have to eventually fight. ;o;
9:51 PM 1/13/2022
So. Post-notes on Shang Chi:
I felt uncomfortable when the fight between his parents' first meeting was clearly trying to suggest romance between the two, because we just saw that guy escape his falling jeep, without even trying to save his associates, and without even showing any remorse for them falling off the cliff. To me, he was clearly an a$$hole. If there was any reason to be wary of Xu Wenwu, it was from that moment, for me. The movie sure did try to make him seem sympathizable, as it went on. I'm just glad that the movie seemed to also share my continued wariness of him. Honestly, it wasn't until he kept persistently insisting that he was going to save his wife, the movie started showing us the hallucinations he was seeing, how he let his children escape without trying to chase and kill them, the movie showed his grief over his wife's death, then I could be sure he wasn't just lying about "I'm going to save your mother behind the gate", it wasn't until then that I could start to sympathize with his character. And I really enjoyed how the movie was able to not force sympathy for him, before I and whatever audience was ready. I think it really helped enable understanding Shang Chi's position as his conflicted son. And when the movie finally made us feel sympathy for Xu Wenwu's death at the Dark Gate, that was the wholly appropriate time for such sympathies. It made what he was doing feel misguided and tragic, more than just "bad guy doing bad things". So I/we were able to have just enough sympathy for him, to understand the moment when he realized that his remaining family is what was really important, just like Shang Chi had just told him, the quick montage emphasizing that change of heart, without even any voiceover to state that. Yet it was still effective. But let's be serious. As soon as the exposition explained that he was immortal and his immortality barely came up---I mean, most immortal warrior stories involve constantly showing how the immortal could have died in a fight but was invincible from death instead---then the movie started introducing creatures whose threat was specifically to eat souls, we know he was going to die by getting his soul eaten. How else do you kill an immortal? lol Still a satisfying end.
I also liked the twist about Shang Chi having actually killed his mother's murderer and run away because he couldn't live with what he had done, versus his lie about running away to avoid becoming a murderer. I saw that twist coming moments beforehand, and I still gasped. Good twist. I know his resolution during that confession scene, to become the killer his father created, by resolving to kill his father, was really counter to any kind of satisfying protagonist Growth. But I was really surprised that no one said anything to contradict that, nor was there even any internal/self monologue on Shang Chi's part, about learning to break the cycle of the bad things his father tried to teach and turn him into. Instead, the story *showed* that lesson and Growth. There were lots of little things like this, throughout this movie, that made me appreciate how well made this movie was.
I had heard some reviewers complain about the CGI on the magical creatures, but I don't know what they were talking about. I was happy with Morris, the kirin, the dragon, the guardian lions, etc. Then again, I can't see the difference between IMAX and regular film, and lots of times I've been perfectly fine with special effects that other people complain about. But I don't care. I enjoyed the creatures. ^-^
I will say that the final battle scene felt a little long---But it was still interesting, and thrilling, and emotional. It was never boring. It was long, but in the same way that a real battle or an adventure story is long. There's just lots of stuff happening. And it isn't always just like the quickly punctuated 3rd acts of most Hollywood movies. I mean, MCU is still very Hollywood, but this felt different. In that it felt long. But long can be refreshing after so many years of Hollywood 3rd acts trying to rush towards the satisfaction point. I appreciated that too. I know Spielberg said once that he loved how George Lucas halved Spielberg's original cut of the Indiana Jones Ark opening sequence, to make its impact more powerful and cause the audience to want to see the whole movie again. But this final battle in Shang Chi had a lot of interesting things happening in it, including emotional character resolution dynamics, and I'm glad it wasn't cut out.
Other random things I liked:
Wong and Abomination cage fighting for extra tuna sandwich money. I presume. ^-^
Razor Fist showing just enough emotion so that he felt more like a goofy sidekick than a bad guy that we'd feel weird about him teaming up with the protagonists during the final battle. I liked how he seemed to show worry in his face for his boss, while telling Xu Wenwu that the 10 Rings were ready. I like how he yelled that it was his car that Shang Chi's group was stealing, and that his car had all this personality on it. I liked the "Street Fighter II" live action movie's Zangief vibes he was giving off. lol
I liked how the protagonists interjected "normal" reactions too all the crazy stuff they had to adapt to. lol During more serious scenes, it felt like more empathy than the serious characters like Xialing and Shang Chi, had had in a while.
I liked that Xialing was cool instead of another antagonist to worry about.
I liked how they switched between English and Chinese, constantly. Feels just like how I grew up.
I liked the Millenial/GenZ realities vs all the high aspirations everyone's Asian parents had for them. So relatable. I mean, if Katy is happy parking cars, then that's fine. But listening to her gab about jumping from one interest to another, only because she was afraid of eventual disappointment, made what the old lady reply, "if you aim at nothing, you'll hit nothing", feel most appropriate. Still, I liked the wiggle room for middle ground, and not just a condemnation of people trying to find their feet AND keep their mental health in this economy.
I liked Morris and how Trevor Slatery was there as translator for Morris. I liked that their functions were so useful, that there was never time for the story to sag under the weight of Slatery performing a "comedy moment". The closest was his storytelling about Planet of the Apes in the car, but even that conversation quickly gave context and moved along.
I liked how this movie was constantly moving, from interesting events, to funny character moments, to the plot, etc. Not a lot of fat on this script. ^_^
Maybe I'll remember more stuff to note later.
See? This is the other reason I avoid watching good movies/series. On top of all that time I spent too engrossed in the movie, to multitask anything else, now I've used all this time to write all these reactions. Because it was just that good, all I wanted to do was write about it.
This was a fun movie. ^_^
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LOVED Blair as sickie!!! More of those would be amazing!!! Could you write something with her having really bad period pains and getting sick from it??
The morning started like any other – with a sharp stabbing pain in her lower belly. Okay, so maybe not everyone’s typical morning but perhaps a prison inmate could understand the pain that Blair was feeling. She had barely opened her eyes before the ache was radiating throughout her entire body. At first it came all at once, like the burning sting just after taking a shot of vodka. Then the pain dulled to a constant throb, the way that too much vodka eventually produced hellish nausea.
Hellish nausea indeed. Blair curled in on herself and scrunched the blankets in her grip. Beside her, Dakota was just beginning to wake up. She heard him yawn, roll over, and mumble something about the beauty of Saturdays. You’ll forgive Blair if she couldn’t see the beauty of that particular morning.
“You awake, babe?” Dakota asked while kissing her shoulder. She was turned away, meaning he could not see the grimace on her face.
The only reply that Blair could muster was a low groan. She dreaded what was to come. Her body was barely awake at this point and it was already flooding her senses with hurt. This pain was not unfamiliar, but it arrived like a freight train every time.
Dakota stretched and bumped Blair’s back in the process. She let out a small whimper that he didn’t hear. It was like sharing a bed with an oblivious bear. He dragged his hand up the side of Blair’s warm body, wanting to hug her closer. As his hand glided closer to her belly, Dakota was treated to a very sudden reaction.
“Don’t touch me,” Blair whined and curled into a tighter ball. She swatted his hand away to replace it with a bundle of blankets.
Who needs coffee to wake up, Dakota thought! He was wide awake now. With his hands hovering in the air and an expression of alarm on his face, Dakota slowly sat up on bed. “Hey, hey, what’s going on, Bee?” The bed creaked as he tried to peer at her face. Unfortunately, her face was shoved into the mattress. “Did I cheat on you in your dreams? Because you know that dream me is not really me.” He chuckled, expecting at least a giggle but got nothing.
When Blair didn’t offer any sort of reaction, Dakota’s expression turned serious. He went to put his hand on her shoulder but stopped just before touching her. “Did I do something wrong?” It seemed quite unlikely given that he hadn’t even been awake for five minutes, but he learned to assume guilt until his innocence was confirmed. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”
“…no,” Blair mumbled. She squeezed her eyes shut and mustered all the strength she had to speak in full sentences. “It’s not you…it’s my tummy.”
“Your tummy?” Dakota had to suppress a smile; Blair never described her stomach in such an adorable way…well except when she – “Oh, I see…cramps.”
Finally, his girlfriend nodded, letting him know that he wasn’t completely clueless. As she nodded, her hair rubbed against the pillow and bunched up around her head. It was tangled mess of frozen knots, similar to how her internal organs were feeling just then.
“Are they really bad?” Dakota asked. Yeah this was a helpful thing to ask. He definitely was not scrambling for a way to comfort her. She nodded. Okay, okay, that was to be expected with the way Blair was hugging her midsection. “Can I get you the hot water bottle?”
“Yes, please.” Blair sniffled and swallowed hard. The mattress swayed like a waterbed as Dakota stood up, and it turned her stomach. “Wait.” she reached her hand out to grab Dakota’s wrist before he left. “And a bucket.”
The quest to find the hot water bottle was momentarily abandoned as Dakota took in the pained expression on his girlfriend’s face. Her request for a bucket came out so softly and weak that he couldn’t help but drop to the floor by her side of the bed. “Oh baby, you nauseous?” He brushed her hair away from face and touched the soft skin of her cheek. “That’s okay, I’m gonna get everything you need. I’m gonna make you feel better.”
Every time. Every time Dakota said something to that effect. It was always a promise that he would magically make the pain – that he knew nothing about – go away. And every time, there wasn’t much he could do other than sit with her until it passed. Blair appreciated it, nonetheless.
Before Dakota came back, Blair huffed out a sigh and walked to the bathroom. As she went down the hallway, she stood hunched over feeling like her uterus was being wrung out like a wet cloth. She tidied herself up, though still felt disgusting as she walked back to bed. It was going to be one of those days. A most unproductive and lazy day. Being vertical did nothing but shift the pain. The ache wrapped around her tummy and squeezed her lower back.
When Dakota returned, Blair was back in bed, lying perfectly still. He put the bucket on the floor by her head. He also invited Blair to sit up so she could take a sip of water with pain meds. She did so slowly.
“There you go,” Dakota said as he took back the glass of water and placed it on the bedside table. “Now lie back down.”
Blair did so and waited for Dakota to join her in bed. Like puzzle pieces they fit together nicely. Dakota was a hesitant puzzle piece because he didn’t want to hurt her. Slowly, he brought the hot water bottle to her lower stomach and held it there while they cuddled. As per usual, he was the big spoon but now his job was to keep pressure and warmth where she needed it.
“Is this good?” he asked.
Blair settled into a comfortable position. “Lower,” and she guided his hand down to where she needed the heat. It was a nice distraction from the twisting and the dull ache. The heat enveloped her lower belly, like the way Dakota’s body kept her warm. She put her hand over top of his, taking a moment to trace the veins on his hand.
The pain faded for a few moments, during which time Blair might’ve fallen asleep. If she did sleep, it was shallow. Dakota listened to her ragged breathing until it even out. He dared not move. It was as if a kitten were sleeping on him and his only job in the world was to keep her warm. Sadly, he could feel the water bottle cool down, and when that happened, Blair started fidgeting and shifting around restlessly.
“Ugh Kota…” Blair whined and wound herself into a deeper fetal position. “I feel so gross.”
“I’m sorry.”
She moaned and pressed the water bottle deeper into her abdomen. The water had cooled down, but she was still trying to extract the last of its heat. The nausea was back in full swing and nothing could quell it. “…’m queasy.”
“Should I refill the hot water bottle?”
“I dunno…” Blair really didn’t know. She just wanted to feel better, but that was sounding more and more like a dream.
Dakota bit his lip in worry. The only thing he knew what to do in this situation was to just get her stuff. But what kind of stuff did she need if she didn’t know herself? The water bottle had proven itself useful in the past, so why not now? “I’ll be right back.”
“Please don’t go.”
“Honey, I’ll be fast. I’m just going to heat this up again.”
“But…my belly hurts.”
Dakota chewed the skin on his thumb while listening to his girlfriend whimper. He must make it better. He must. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
Promises didn’t mean much when Blair’s sense of time was warped. Dakota could have been gone only a short while like he promised, but to Blair every minute felt like an eternity. She wished that Dakota had never left because she really didn’t want to be sick alone. Unfortunately, that’s how things were looking. There was a low throbbing pulse in her lower belly that sent waves of nausea lapping against the shores of her body.
There was no delaying it anymore. Her poor empty stomach didn’t realize that she had nothing to bring up, but it was going to try anyway. The human body must really think that all pain swims in the stomach and that vomiting is the quickest way to get rid of it. Blair knew that even if she threw up, the pain would not be expelled through her mouth. Oh well, her belly didn’t know that.
The organ churned and forced Blair onto her elbows. She hoped to God that the bucket was where she thought it was because she only had the energy to lean over the side of the bed and open her mouth. A harsh cramped seized her insides. Her abdominal muscles spasmed as she heaved a thin thread of saliva into the bucket.
Of course, that was when Dakota came back. “Oh no, okay…fuck, alright.” He tossed the hot water bottle onto to the bed because it wasn’t going to be much help at this point. And then he knelt by Blair’s head. Her weak little heaves caused her whole frame to shiver as she brought up frothy saliva. She was practically hanging off the bed with spit hanging from her lips. “I’m here, I’ve got you,” Dakota mumbled as he kept her from falling. He lifted the bucket off the floor and held it under her chin.
Like rag doll, Blair’s head lolled forward. “Kota, it’s really bad.” Her voice was echoed by the bucket. A dry heav tore up her throat, making her clutch her chest. “There’s nothing…uurp…in my tummy.”
“Shh, shh,” Dakota cooed as held Blair’s face in one hand. Her hair was tangled around his fingers. “Just let it happen. It’ll be over soon.”
“I hate th–” her sentence was cut off by another harsh retch that proved fruitless, as expected. Blair was glad that Dakota was holding the bucket for her because she was busy hugging her middle. She groaned as each heave caused her muscles to tighten painfully. It was a vicious cycle where the pain led to the vomiting, which caused more pain. By the end, Blair was drenched in sweat, her hands were shaking, and her pelvic muscles felt like limp noodles still burning from exertion.
“Are you finished, baby?” Dakota asked as brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I think so.” Blair fell back against the headboard with a sigh. “I’m tired, and still achy.”
Dakota clicked his tongue against his teeth. “What can I do?”
Blair extended her arms out as if asking for a hug. “Just cuddle with me.”
“I can do that,” he answered while setting aside the bucket. “I can do that very well, you’ll find.”
Dakota was right. He was a great pillow. He put his arm around Blair’s shoulder, and she curled her body against his side. With her head on his chest, she fell asleep to the rhythmic pattern of his breathing. Dakota kissed the top of his girlfriend’s head, hoping that she’d sleep for the next three days
#emeto#emeto fic#emetophilia#Blair#Dakota#sickfic#nausea#puking#puke#period pain#pain induced#cramps#my ocs
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spravey office romance but like... they're not cops and theyre nice to each other
ask and you shall recieve!! (two months after you asked... oops)
here is some good ol spavey, vaguely inspired by the office, where they are in fact nice to each other!!! its like 2.8k, modern au, and fuck it disabled!spot rights he’s in a wheelchair because i said so. here you go anon!!
-
"David... Davey. My office, now. Get in here."
Davey can't roll his eyes quite hard enough to express just how annoyed he is in this moment. Race shoots him a sympathetic look from across the office.
"Coming, Mr. Wiesel!" He's thankful his desk faces away from his boss's office, so he has time to school his expression into something happier before he turns around. "Can I help you with something?"
Now... Mr. Wiesel isn't the worst boss in the world. He really isn't. But he most certainly isn't the best either, despite what his favourite mug (that he probably bought for himself) might tell you. He's nice enough most of the time, and he seems to try his best... but god is he ever incompetent.
Like right now, he's probably going to task Davey with something that could've been handled by literally anyone else. Davey has actual work to do— he's not sure what Wiesel even does all day in that office of his, because he seems to delegate everything off to his unfortunate employees. He's a regional manager, in charge of sales and finances for the Manhattan branch of a major New York City newspaper, and yet he seems to have the brain of an actual goldfish.
"Secret meeting," Wiesel says, as Davey walks in. "Close the door behind you and sit down."
"It's not exactly a secret, sir," Davey replies, though he does as he's told anyways, settling into a chair once the door is closed. "You yelled across the office to tell me about it."
Also, he's immediately going to disclose every detail of the meeting to Race and Jack as soon as they're done in here, but Wiesel doesn't need to know that.
"Details, shmetails," scoffs Wiesel. "I have an important job for you."
This can't possibly be good.
"I have a lot of other work to do," Davey sighs. He truly does— he's the head of accounting for their office, and they're in the middle of a company audit. "Jack didn't look that busy, I'm sure you could give him something to entertain himself with."
Jack works in sales— which basically just means he has to convince distributors that newspapers totally aren't a dying medium, and they should definitely keep buying their copies to sell. He's remarkably good at selling newspapers, but he's also easily distracted and seems to have far too much time to plan stupid office pranks.
"I don't trust Jack. Salesmen... they're too charming. You never know what they're up to."
Okay, so Wiesel is batshit fucking insane. This is, unfortunately, par for the course that is trying to hold any kind of conversation with him.
"What is it you need me to do, sir?" Davey is beyond exasperated. Why he of all people had to become Wiesel's favourite employee, he'll never understand. "Again, I'm already very busy."
"It won't take long, don't worry." Wiesel smiles wide. "I want you to be our official welcoming committee. We're getting a new employee."
Davey can't physically stop his eyebrows from shooting up, practically to his hairline. What?
"Look, boss, the audit isn't finished yet, but I can tell you that it makes absolutely no financial sense to hire someone new right now." He knows he's talking to a stubborn brick wall, but he continues anyways. "We're barely turning a profit, and some of our numbers don't make any sense. Why do we have two janitors?"
"I wanted to give my nephews a head start in the industry!"
"The... custodian industry?"
"Morris and Oscar are smart boys, they'll make something out of it." Wiesel shakes his head. "Anyways, we're just getting a transfer from the Brooklyn office. He won't even be on our payroll. Corporate is sending him in because they think our office is... unproductive."
It's like it physically pains him to say that last word, though Davey knows it to be true. He wouldn't be surprised if they get downsized in the near future.
"Okay..." Davey sighs. "You just want me to say hi to him, then?"
"More than that, David. Show him around. Give him the good ol' World Welcome."
"Is that a thing? Am I hazing him?"
"Oh my god, yeah—"
"No." Davey cuts him off before that idea can escalate, regretting that he even brought it up. "Okay, I'm going back to work. I'll say hi to him when he gets here."
-
Rather than go back to his own corner of the office, Davey makes a beeline for Race's desk.
"Did you know we're getting a new guy?"
Race, being the receptionist and all, generally keeps track of anyone who comes and goes from the office. However, he's either hungover or high a good fifty percent of the time, so he's not the most reliable source.
"I think I was probably supposed to know that," Race says, frowning at his computer. "I skip the emails that don't look important. Lemme go check."
"A new guy, huh?" Jack asks, sauntering over from his desk, which is only like ten feet away. "I need to start planning a welcome prank."
"No, you absolutely do not."
Before Jack can go off on some prank-related tangent, Race interrupts.
"Found it! Weasel emailed me this morning. He said: New guy is called Sean Conlon. Transferring in from Brooklyn for a week. I heard a rumour that he doesn't have legs."
The three of them share a moment of confused silence.
"Maybe he'll get along with Crutchie," Jack offers. "You know... since he only has one leg, and this guy has no legs. They could, like, bond."
Davey chokes on a laugh— he definitely feels like he shouldn't be laughing, but he can never help it when Jack says shit like that.
"Okay, I'm glad you got that out now. You know how badly Weasel handles sensitivity training, so let's avoid it if we can."
Their last round of sensitivity training was due to Wiesel's running gag of only speaking to Jack in broken Spanish. Jack is originally from New Mexico, he's Navajo, and he doesn't even speak Spanish. Jack thought it was hilarious (while ridiculously offensive), but it was making the entire office uncomfortable, so someone must have anonymously called it in to corporate.
"You mean we can spend a whole day listening to Weasel tell us he's not racist again? Sounds like a party." Jack laughs. "But yeah, I'm not stupid. I'm not gonna make fun of a guy with no legs."
"We don't even know that he doesn't have legs," Race interjects. "At this point I don't believe anything Weasel says, especially if he's willing to admit it's a rumour. Where did he even hear that?"
Davey shrugs.
"Who knows. Legs or not, we're gonna be nice to the new guy. Weasel made me the designated welcoming committee, so I'm officially adding you two to my team."
"Extra work?" asks Race. "Not happening."
"You've been playing the Sims all morning. You haven't been doing any work," Jack points out. "Can we go on a donut run at lunch and have a staff party for him?"
Davey can do nothing more than sigh. There's no reasoning with Jack when it comes to his obsession with throwing pointless staff parties.
"Sure. Whatever. No balloons, though."
And that's that— they head back to their own desks and wait for the new guy to show up.
-
The elevator dings about twenty minutes later.
The guy does, in fact, have legs— though he's using a wheelchair, so they must not work very well. That's probably where Wiesel got the rumour from. He's got a grumpy look on his face, like he's not particularly thrilled to be here, and a messenger bag on his lap. Above all, Davey notices, the new guy is really fucking hot.
He makes his way over to Race's desk to check in, and Davey decides to wait a moment before going over to introduce himself, so as to seem like he hasn't been obsessively watching the elevator for his arrival. He needs to compose himself— his tie is feeling a little too tight. Holy shit, that man is so beautiful.
Race, ever the professional, pulls out one AirPod to greet the new guy, and they have a short conversation that Davey can't quite overhear. It ends with Race shouting Davey, come here! because apparently no one in this office knows how to use the paging system built into the phones on everyone's desks.
"You called?" Davey sighs, as he approaches the reception desk. "I don't sit that far away, you really don't need to yell."
"Yelling gets things done," says Race with a shrug. He gestures to the new guy. "This is Sean, he's the assistant manager from the Brooklyn branch. Sean, this is Davey. He's the manager's assistant at our branch."
"I'm not Weasel's assistant," hisses Davey, glaring at Race. "I'm just bad at saying no to him." He turns to Sean and extends a hand to shake. "David Jacobs, head of accounting. Sorry about Anthony— I swear we're not all like this."
Race scoffs.
"Please, I'm hilarious and everyone loves me."
Davey and Sean both pointedly ignore him.
"It's nice to meet you," Sean says, with a handshake so firm that Davey nearly goes weak in the knees. "I'm looking forward to getting to know this location."
God, he's a sucker for a professional. This is either going to be the best or the worst week ever, and Davey has no clue which way it'll go.
-
He shows Sean to his desk, manages to stop Jack and Crutchie from setting off a party popper behind his head as a welcome prank, and then finally tries to get back to what's he's actually supposed to be doing.
It doesn't last long— he gets a text from Race just a few minutes after sitting down.
Racer: new guy is fiiiiine as hell ain't he
Racer: i mean just look at that smoulder while he works
Davey: he's too old for you, don't even think about it.
Racer: heyyy i'm 19 now >:(
Davey: and he's gotta be at least 25
Davey: not happening, kiddo
Racer: look at me
Davey looks up from his phone, only to see Race flipping him off. Okay then.
Race somehow got hired here straight out of high school, while everyone else in the office has at least some college education— making him the baby of the bunch. While hilariously incompetent at his job, he is fun to be around, so Wiesel has kept him on. He's become Davey and Jack's pseudo-little-brother, much to his annoyance.
Anyways... back to the audit. Davey can hardly focus. Sean is sitting right across from him, and he feels like a stupid teenager with a crush on someone in his class because he just can't draw his eyes away. The morning goes smoothly, though, apart from Davey's heart fluttering a little every time he looks at Sean. In fact, it almost feels too good to be true... until Wiesel finally emerges from his office.
"A wheelchair!" is the first thing he shouts, which makes Davey want to smash his head through his computer screen and then throw himself out the window. So much for his hopes of avoiding sensitivity training. "Isn't that neat! You must be our new friend from Brooklyn."
Sean looks almost stunned, which is the most emotion he's shown since he got here.
"Sean Conlon," he says, slowly and confused, definitely offended, but still sticking out a hand to shake. "Um... I take it you're the branch manager. Is the wheelchair going to be a problem?"
"Oh, god no!" Wiesel replies, shaking Sean's hand far too enthusiastically. "We love disabled people here. I mean, hell, David over here is gay!"
Davey very nearly spontaneously combusts with the heat that immediately rises to his cheeks. He ducks his head a little to hide the blush and avoid eye contact with anyone. He's certainly not the only queer in the office, but he's somehow the only one Wiesel has picked up on, and he loves to make stupid comments about it. Davey is simply far too awkward to stand up for himself when it happens.
"That's... not a disability." When Davey looks up, Sean is staring Wiesel down with a look that screams you're getting fired if there's anything I can do about it. "Frankly, that's incredibly rude to both David and myself. Is this the standard of conduct you set for your employees?"
"Woah," Wiesel immediately starts to backpedal. "Calm down Mr. Professional! It's just a joke between friends."
Sean's expression doesn't change.
"Jokes are supposed to be funny."
From a few desks away, Jack and Crutchie burst into silent, muffled laughter, while Davey shoots them a desperate look. What the fuck does he say? The entire office has gone quiet, watching the standoff go down.
"Davey!" Wiesel says, frantically. "You thought it was funny, right?"
Davey swallows nervously.
"Actually, it's really hurtful when you say stuff like that." He's shaking a little— standing up for himself is not something he typically does. "My identity isn't a joke. It's part of who I am."
Wiesel doesn't seem to know what to say, and Davey can do nothing but wait for some kind of response. His face is burning and his palms are sweaty— it's humiliating.
"Period! You tell him, Davey!" Jack shouts, from his desk, which instantly breaks some of the tension. "Get his ass!"
"I think I'll be taking this up with HR," Sean says, once Wiesel has been quiet a little too long. He's so smooth with it that Davey's heart flutters a little. "I'm getting a sense that this is a running issue— I'd like them to have a look into your position here at the company. It was nice to meet you, though."
And then he turns back to his computer to work on whatever he was doing. Holy shit. There's a general rustling of papers and clicking of mouses around the room as everyone follows his lead, and Davey has to bite back a smile. It felt kind of good to stick it to Weasel.
-
The work day is pretty much over, Davey is packing up, and he really wants to figure out a way to make conversation with Sean.
He's so cool. He's so damn cool, and he's hot, and he's well-spoken and professional... Davey is desperate to at least be his friend. It's a Monday, not typically a night he'd go out for happy hour after work, but he's considering making plans anyways. He is the welcoming committee after all.
He shoots off a group text to Race, Jack and Crutchie, suggesting a little welcoming party at their usual bar down the block, and everyone drops a like on it within moments. Perfect.
"Hey," he leans over the little gap between their desks and can't stop himself from smiling. "A few of us are gonna go for drinks once we clock out, and you're more than welcome to join us."
Sean finally cracks a real smile, and Davey nearly passes out. He's gorgeous.
"Really?" He looks so happy just to be included. "That sounds fun, I'd love to."
-
"I'm really sorry about earlier."
Davey and Sean sit at a table, while Jack and Race play pool, and Crutchie tries his best to make a move on the bartender that he's been crushing on for ages. It never quite goes his way, but his commitment to the cause is admirable.
"What?" Davey asks. "Why? It was so nice of you to stick up for me!"
"I just feel bad that you got dragged into it," Sean sighs. "I mean, um... I'm gay too. So I kinda know how it feels when people say stuff like that, and sometimes it really is easier to brush it off. I didn't mean for you to get put on the spot like that."
Davey shrugs, trying to play off the way his heart has begun to flutter with the knowledge that he might have a chance— Sean is gay! This is too good to be true.
"It felt good to finally say something," Davey chuckles. "It was about time someone put him in his place. He's old and out-of-touch."
"And an asshole."
Davey laughs, loud and abruptly.
"Yeah, you're right. He's an asshole." He pauses, unable to stop smiling. "I'm gonna go grab another beer, can I buy you one?"
Sean, once again, looks surprised that Davey is being so nice to him, and his face breaks into that incredible grin from before.
"Sure, yeah! That'd be nice! Thank you so much."
And if the evening ends with a folded up napkin with a messily scribbled phone number and a note about the stupid nickname all my friends usually call me being casually slipped into Davey's back pocket... well, that's no one's business but Davey and Spot's.
#spavey#davey jacobs#spot conlon#racetrack higgins#jack kelly#newsies#newsies fic#my writing#my tag list hasn’t been updated in a very long time so i’m gonna scrap it and make a new one if there’s interest#let me know if you wanna be tagged in the future
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vernon; blossomed (m)
feat. tattoo artist!vern x flower shop fem!reader based on nonnie’s big brain
genre/warnings: flangst, lang, wild generalizations of how tattooing works, gratuitous love for side characters, mild drinking, phineas and ferb references, mild foreplay
word count: 12k
Vernon called you his Rose.
Not exactly his Rose, because you were definitely not anyone’s property and he wanted to give you nothing but your full autonomy, but it’s because he’s never had the chance to ask for your real name.
But when he first spotted you in the little lavender and honey colored flower shop across the street, you were tending to the rose bushes at the front entrance. You were cutting roses and you didn’t look utterly graceful, in fact you stabbed yourself more than once with the thorns. He couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed when your co-worker had to hand you a new bandage every minute.
He decided then that he liked you, even if it’s not wholly sexual or romantic, he liked you.
Or maybe he just liked the idea of you, the way you’d lounge around in the canopy swing with your boots tucked under the seat, fluffy yellow socks wiggling out in the sun. Sometimes you’d read a book, sometimes for well over an hour. He liked how you soaked up the heat and created your own little world, happily unproductive.
It was only a seven meter walk from the flower shop to the tattoo parlor, but the view from his front window required zero walking distance and a sure-fire lack of ever bumping into you.
“Vernie’s got a crush on the Flower Girl,” Yoongi sing-songed, chugging along a box full of random-ass materials that Vernon was supposed to clean in the morning.
Vernon scowled, and swatted away the older one’s hand when it dived in front of his face.
Yoongi whistled like he was an old-time animation, singing the day away. “Vernie’s stalking his crush.”
“I’m not stalking,” Vernon snapped, swiveling around in his rolling chair. “that involves shit like literally following her around, photography, I dunno, being a weirdo?”
“You definitely qualify for one of those.” Yoongi replied tartly, and he fought the urge to grin when Vernon finally turned back to the window, only to narrowly miss your form. The swing was now unoccupied, the only thing remnant were your working boots lined up against the entrance. “It’s been what, two weeks? Just ask her out already.”
“You think I would’ve done that by now if there wasn’t a reason why?“
Soooo you were dating someone. Some super tall, super handsome guy would stroll up to the flower shop every morning, coffee in hand. Before you’d take your proffered coffee, he’d pucker his lips for a good-morning kiss in repayment. Vernon looked back to Yoongi, who was staring right back at him and confirming his suspicions that yes he was being a fucking weirdo for paying attention to things like that.
Yoongi pressed his lips together, puffing his cheeks out in slight irritation. “So you’re stalking a taken girl,” he whistled lowly, “should I regret hiring you?”
“Not funny.”
“As repayment for effectively creeping me out,” The older one slipped his hand into his electric yellow windbreaker to twirl Vernon a ring of keys. “You’re closin’ up for tonight.”
The brunette’s jaw dropped to his lap, and he got up from his spot by the window. “What? What happened to Minghao?”
“Sick,” Yoongi shrugged.
Closing up meant that Vernon had to stay until 12AM, at the very least. The area was off a college town and that meant a lot of young lucrative artists would stop by pretty late, hence the closing time. Usually Yoongi and Minghao were the night owls, but tonight Minghao was supposed to fly solo because Yoongi landed a last-minute recording gig. “C’mon, can I at least close early?” Vernon whined, “it’s summer. No one’s here.”
“What, ya gotta date or something?” Yoongi smirked, swinging the entrance open. Halfway out the door, he added loftily, “don’t forget to water Patricia. It’s been two weeks.”
The door slammed and Vernon was left alone. He spared a glance at the window, only to see that your boots were now gone from the patio and only one light was on in the shop. Vernon turned to his company for the night, their jade succulent, aptly named Patricia Planty.
With Patricia Planty watered and a stomach full of Wendy’s nuggets in his body, Vernon busied himself up for a grueling five hours. Thankfully he brought in his laptop, as if he were expecting Yoongi to pull a fast one on him tonight. He drew some random things on his tablet: rockets, stars, the occasional squirrel, and roses. When he was tired of drawing, he’d blast the speakers off the joint and mess around with some of his music programming. When he was tired of doing both, he’d vegetate on the couch and read Reddit articles.
It was past eleven when the first customer of the night stumbled in. Vernon fought the urge to groan, putting down the pen of his tablet on a particularly intricate constellation.
“We’re closed!” He yelled through the office door. A white lie, but who would know?
“Google said you were open until 12!” A voice yelled back, sounding slightly strained.
Crap. Vernon lowered the volume and pushed away the swivel chair, swinging the office door open. With a rough clear of his throat and hoping not to look like too much of a jerk, he faced his customer, “Welcome to Nu ABO—”
It was you. Cheeks ruddied, and your eyes glassed with a fresh glaze of tears. Your lower lip worried into a wobbly frown. Vernon’s Reebok’s glued to the concrete of the parlor, effectively stopping him in his tracks. The smell of mulch and a mixture of flowers penetrated his nostrils, but it did nothing to distract the utter hurt etched on your face.
“Um, hey,” his voice was gentle, yet unsure. “What are you doing here?”
You just looked at him, incredulous. Vernon could have sworn he saw your left eyebrow twitch. Of course, you’ve never met him in your entire life, yet Vernon felt like he knew you since the beginning of your summer work. “Gettin’ a tattoo.” You replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, rubbing away a stray tear.
He didn’t want to say it, but Vernon sighed and reasoned, “But it’s just that, ya kinda look—”
You brushed past him, going straight into the artist room and plopping on the worn leather chair meant for customers. It was still high up because Vernon was cleaning the underside of the metal, so you had to do a little hop to get on. “I don’t care what kind of design. I looked up your Yelp online and everything looked pretty good.” And you then proceeded to unbutton the top of your blouse.
“Holy shit,” he bounded over to you, grappling his fingers between your shirt before you could undo the rest of it. His breath was probably hot and heavy, compared to yours which was fresh from the cool summer air. Your faces were so close, closer than he ever fathomed. He didn’t think you two would meet this early in the year, as he was emotionally preparing to visit your flower shop at the end of the month, making up some spiel on how he needed to purchase real roses to replicate a commission. Not now. Now was a spontaneous episode, where he was trying to refasten your shirt and ignore the petal pink lace of your bra baiting his eyes.
When he sensed that you would in fact, stop taking your shirt off, he backed up. “It’s just that, after eleven we don’t really apply tattoos. We just take consultations.” He tried to sound defeated, rubbing the back of his neck. Again, another lie. But Vernon wasn’t about to ink you on the spot, especially when you looked like this.
“Is it because I’m upset?” You cried, “because I assure you, I’m in the right mind!”
He winced, lolling his head back and forth. “That’s debatable.”
You frowned, “C’mon, I have money. Just do me this one solid.”
“What? No, you don’t even know what you want!” Vernon was exasperated. Not that he imagined the first time meeting you would be a walk in the park, but at the same time he wasn’t expecting to argue with you.
"Don’t you want to be part of my spontaneous young life? Give me a tattoo that I’ll think about with my children 30 years from now?” He would laugh if you didn’t look like you were crying a river ten minutes ago. “As long as it’s not a tramp stamp, because I don’t think I can pull that off—"
"Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?” Vernon blurted out before he could regret it.
Your face morphed into something Vernon couldn’t understand. Pain, for sure. But a sort of relief knowing that you didn’t have to hide it. “Damn,” you give him a tired smile, “does the whole town know or something?"
You cried again. This time, Vernon reacted quicker. Pulling out a Wendy’s napkin from his flannel pocket, he proffered it to you. He was thankful you didn’t question whether it was clean or not (it was!) and you proceeded to cover your snot and tears all over it.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
You sniffled and blew a particularly large chunk of snot before you shook your head.
"Do you… want fries?” He gestured to the small table in the room, which had some leftover fries from his combo. “I can heat ‘em up in the microwave."
Due to the fact that you ran out of tissue room, you rubbed your face with the entirety of your sleeve. You peeked out mid-rub, and replied with a soft, "hell yeah I do."
His heart twitched. Even betwixt your teary expression, you were so freakin’ cute. He shuffled back to the office, nuking the leftovers in the microwave until they were piping hot. Vernon waited a bit for them to get cool, and fiddled with the music so a soft R&B playlist bounced off the walls. He couldn’t believe you were here. Scratch that, he could, because you were bound to run into him one day due to pure proximity.
But he didn’t imagine you’d be plopped in his artist room at 11:32, bleary eyed and shoving potatoes in your mouth.
Vernon busied himself with his phone, and typed a hasty you wouldn’t believe what just happened… to the employee group chat.
[June 11, 11:33PM]
Bo$$ man: dont tell me u put aluminum in the microwave AGAIN
Hao hao: the chinese mafia came for me, didnt they? good thing I called out
Jeonghan is a prick: use your resources! sharp items are everywhere :) emergency money is under Patricia’s table
Bernie: tf is wrong w all of you
Bernie: SHES HEREEEEEE
"M'sorry,” you mumbled with a mouthful of fries, breaking Vernon from his mid-text crisis. He felt his phone buzzing like hell as he shoved it in his pocket, but ignored it for the sake of you. Your previous high of emotions has long worn off, and now you were looking a little embarrassed as you fixed your gaze on the empty container of fries. Your face is blotchy and red, and you’re especially puffy due to the salt you just consumed. “I should go home."
He didn’t want to be intrusive, but the look on your face showed it was clear that you didn’t want to go home just yet. Drumming his fingers against the metal table, he casually suggested, "Why don’t I do your back?"
You looked at him like he was crazy. "You still wanna tattoo me? After I cried like an idiot and ate your fries?"
"You’re not an idiot for being upset. And I offered you my fries.” He pulled out an ink canister, and a thin needle. “This is temporary ink we use to practice, or for customers who wanna test out the look. Lasts one to two weeks. And y'know, it’s a nice distraction."
You looked skeptical, unsure of his kindness. "Why my back?"
He shrugged, "It’s the biggest canvas. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to look at it."
Still, you’re not convinced. There was something strange about him, something almost too sweet. While your schema may be marred by television and movies, the man in front of you didn’t seem like he quite fit into this little shack. He’s full of color, in his eyes and in his stature, his words clean and pure as he tries to soothe your aching heart. And as much as you tried not to check him out, you spotted no tattoos on any viewable part of his body.
"And it’s kind of cathartic, really.” He watched your lips quirk up in a smile at the word usage. Not only sweet, but probably smart. Your first smile all night. Cheeks effortlessly heated, he continued, “you kinda just let go into the feeling. And it’s always fun to not know what’s been drawn until the very end."
You’re curious. There’s excitement in your vision as he gestured to the available cot, inviting you. "Alright. Ink me up."
Vernon grinned, and started preparing the workspace. Handing you a medical gown, he quickly shuffled away to prepare the ink and needles. He didn’t really work with the clients as deeply as this, he was really just a glorified secretary that took care of the consultation. While he washed his hands, he heard the faint rustle of fabric, definitely your shirt and bra. He turned up the temperature of the water, acutely aware of how hot his hands were getting.
"Um,” your voice is muffled from being pressed up against the cot, your face presumably propped with pillows. “So are you Yoongi?"
"Nah, I’m Vernon.” He wheeled over a cart full of supplies, the metal clanging against the concrete. “’M usually the guy who wipes the sweat off his brow."
You hummed your own name in response, resting your cheek in the plushness of the cotton pillow. There’s a number of sounds paired with the R&B in the background. The smack of Vernon putting on gloves, the click of the needles and the slickness of the balm Vernon has applied on your back. His touch was warm, as his palm crescents across your back to soothe the balm into your skin. He then wiped it down with a paper towel until your skin was smooth and dry.
"Any ideas yet?” He asked, and from the corner of your eye you see him switch out a needle for a new ink pen.
“Maybe, stars?” Your voice is muffled against the cushions, as you’re hugging them close to your body. “And maybe something inspired by Spiderman? I liked that new one with Miles, he’s a cool one."
You could hear the smile in his voice, "I liked that one, too."
You stuff your own smile in your pillow, how embarrassing could it be that this stranger can make you feel better so fast? Mingyu would be groveling if he saw you now, topless, letting a man ink you up in however way he wished. "Will it hurt?"
He chuckled at that, "Nah. The ink will sit on top and sink in, I barely have to apply any pressure. Just relax."
Under the discretion of Vernon, who offered you fries and liked Spiderman, you relaxed. The first stroke of the needle and you were a goner. You closed your eyes and let him do his thing, You couldn’t tell what exactly was going on through his mind as he was painting your back, but you could tell his art was rather cacophonous: stiff pokes here and there, smooth strokes, and wide breaths of ink staining your back. The ink melted into your skin, bonding to your cells under Vernon’s careful control.
It was almost 1AM when he finished. He tapped your back, urging you up. Tired, and slightly dazed, you sat up. You realized a little too late that you’re only wearing a thin hospital gown, the straps having fallen midway through the process. The air was cool against your skin.
Vernon totally would’ve gotten a complete view of your sideboob if he wasn’t blushing like a maniac and looking away, and you respected that. His arm is punched out, fisting your button down. You hastily snatched it away, and turned around in order to look decent.
“The ink won’t show up fully for another six hours, so until then let me know how you like it.”
“Thank you so much,” you smiled gratefully as you do the last button of your blouse, and pulled out your phone. “Do you accept Venmo or Cashapp?”
“Oh, yeah.” He accepted the proffered device, and put in the necessary charges.
Once he gave back your phone, you added a sizable tip to the price he typed up. “The time really flew by,” you noted the time on the corner of your phone, 1:07. “It was really, an experience like you said.”
He shrugged, and threw you an easy smile. “I try.”
"Can I get a real tattoo from you someday? Y'know, when I’m ready?"
"Ah, no. I’m not really under the apprenticeship.” He looked bashful when he said it, as if he were caught doing something wrong. “I just work here for the part time money. I do art on the side, though.”
You had the urge to ask what he doesn’t do on the side, but it was late and you were probably holding up the poor guy for your trivial questions. “Regardless, I’m still thankful it was you that did this for me.”
In three strides, he opened the small door for you. “My pleasure. Have a good night. Or, morning. Or if you’re one of those people who don’t consider it morning unless it’s light out, then good night?”
“Good night,” you giggled, “get home safely.”
“You too.”
The screen door slammed shut behind you, along with the main door. Your car is parked in the grass patching of the flower shop. You jogged over, and the summer air made you shiver, your back still raw and warm under Vernon’s touch.
You couldn’t wait until the flower shop closed.
If Wonwoo noticed that you moved the porch swing relative to the placement of Nu ABO, he hasn’t brought it up. You weren’t spying on Vernon, no. But your skin was starting to itch with curiosity and in your haste to leave last night, you didn’t even ask what he designed on your back.
“Are you stalking the tattoo guy?”
Despite the voice being petal soft, you flinched. Assistant Manager Joshua Hong with a bouquet of boat lilies, was accusing you of stalking. His Converse tapped rhythmically against the wood paneling, looking down at you like a guilty child.
“What?” you floundered, waving around the florist magazine in your hands. “Josh, I’m studying! And the sun was in my face so I moved the swing.”
“You’re studying,” Joshua flickered his eyes to the run down shack across the road. “The tattoo guy?”
“I already said I wasn’t!”
“Then you’re telling me you spent all last night doing that,” he reached over to tug at your starched work collar, “all by yourself?”
Your hand flew to your neck, as if you were trying to hide Vernon’s hard work. “I just wanna see what he did, all right? And I’m trying to be very patient until closing because if Wonwoo sees me going there,” you jerked a head none-too-gracefully at the direction of the parlor, “he’s gonna tell you-know-who.”
Joshua frowned, because he already knew. After all, he stayed in the back room with you all last night, wiping away your tears. “Well, whoever did it is truly an artist,” he said genuinely, “it’s beautiful.”
Joshua finally left you alone, and you suddenly felt emptier than before. Sure, the breakup with Mingyu was conventionally bad, but why were you so conflicted with your feelings? You didn’t want Mingyu to know you were hanging out with other guys, but you wanted to let go of him. Maybe you were trying too hard too fast.
But Vernon made everything so, so easy.
No, you are not letting him be a rebound. The inner conflict in your head was giving you a massive headache, you couldn’t tell if the vibes you were feeling last night were because of the recent breakup or just an authentic spark.
The storm door shuttered boldly, and you jumped. Wonwoo stepped out, and gave you a weird look. “You alright?”
“Me? Yeah, fine.” You gripped the collar of your shirt and pretended to fasten the buttons.
He was unconvinced, either that or the pinched look he was sporting was an indicator of a bad day. “Listen, I know things are gonna be weird because my best friend is your, y’know,” he trailed off, painfully trudging through this conversation as easily as trudging through quicksand. “He’s gonna stop by a couple more times during the week, doing me a few errands. So if you wanna take the week off, recalibrate before the the month ends, just let me know. ”
“Won, please,” you wanted this to end, “we don’t have to talk about this, alright?”
He awkwardly twirled around his car keys. “Alright.” As simple as that, he threw himself in his sedan and drove off, dirt brushing the pavement.
You glared at the dust cloud until his car was far from your sights, the mustard color blinding your vision. “Honestly,” you said to yourself, finally hopping off your swing into the direction of the shack, “he thinks I’m five and never experienced heartbreak.”
“Welcome to Nu ABO!” this voice was different, and you slowed your steps. It doesn’t quite have the husk that Vernon’s voice held, but definitely matched the energy. The boy stepped out, and his eyes sparkled in recognition. “Flower Girll,” he said to himself, and you suddenly felt like you got caught, “I don’t think we’ve met before.”
"We haven’t,” you replied warily at the pet name, “where’s Vernon?"
"Oh, he’s around.” The guy waved noncommittally to the air in the room, crouching his head to look down at you. He stuffed his hands in his black overalls, which covered a painfully bright rainbow tye-dye tee. “Curious to see Vern’s ink though. He’s only ever done small stuff.”
“I thought he wasn’t an apprentice.”
He flicked his wrist around to show you a beautiful line of Chinese calligraphy. "Keep the secret between us, ‘kay?” He winked.
“Minghao, leave her alone.” Vernon stepped out of the small bathroom hidden in the artist room, a white towel behind his neck. You took in his disheveled appearance. His face was red from washing his face, and he wore the same clothes from yesterday. “Hey.” He said.
“Hi,” you replied, “did you sleep here last night?"
"Uh, yeah.” Vernon rubbed at his neck again, and stuffed the towel in his backpack. “I usually do the morning and afternoon shifts, I covered for this guy last night,” he jabbed his fist in Minghao’s shoulder, “but still had to do my day shift.”
“So,” Minghao rocked back and forth in his boots, “why are you here?”
You suddenly felt self-conscious, and gripped your phone between your two palms. A little part of you was disappointed that Vernon was not alone, but another part of you was relieved. It helped slow down the pace of your feelings (feelings?) that was heading in a direction you were not anticipating. “I wanted to say thank you again for last night.” You coughed, and Minghao grinned wider at your explanation. “And I was wondering if you could take a picture of my back? I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”
He beamed, and you could tell he was happy that you wanted to document his work. “Oh, of course! I completely forgot last night.”
Vernon moved to grab your phone, but Minghao swiped a hand in front of him. “Can I take your photo?” He asked you, although the look in his eyes said that you didn’t have much of a choice.
Your cheeks burned at the sudden intrusion. “Huh?”
“I mean, have you seen this guy’s Insta?” Minghao scoffed, albeit playfully as Vernon mirrored your flush.
“What are you talking about?” Vernon exclaimed, thoroughly insulted, “my profile is tastefully abstract.”
“It looks like it was tastefully done by a three year old.” Minghao pulled out his iPhone, and adjusted the filters. “I’m doing you a favor here, Flower Girl.”
You looked warily at Vernon, who slumped in defeat, “If you’re going for that e-girl vibe, I guess Hao’s a better photographer.”
“Better than your pictures coming out blurry.” Minghao shot back, holding the camera to your face. “There’s no light in here,” Minghao glared at the singular window in their tiny studio, the sill decorated with a single jade succulent. “Got any ideas?"
Vernon shrugged, "You said I have the taste of a three year old, so."
With Wonwoo gone for the day, you realized that you did have an idea of where you could take a tasteful picture. The thrill excited and terrified you. You only wanted a simple picture to see what it looked like, but Minghao looked as equally as excited to see your ink. Maybe it was the fact that the art was fleeting or that Vernon was really that talented, but it encouraged you to offer the setting up.
"I think our greenhouse has plenty of light,” you gestured out the studio’s only window, which was in perfect view of the flower shop. “We should be closing up soon, so it’s free."
Minghao nodded approvingly, "We can try."
And with a hasty "be back @ 4:20!” sign taped on the front door to Nu ABO, the three of them walked across the street to the greenhouse.
You went in first, nearly bumping into Joshua who was bent over, pot in hand.
“Hey Josh,” you grabbed the keys from the front desk, “borrowing the greenhouse."
"Hey Josh,” Minghao and Vernon mimicked, who found it amusing that you just brushed by without an introduction.
You rolled your eyes, hearing them exchange pleasantries and bro fists. The plexiglass doors to the greenhouse unlocked with a turn of your key, the smell of heat and grassy rain hitting your nostrils. Joshua placed the pot somewhere, following suit as the boys were right behind you.
“Awesome,” Minghao exhaled, stepping further into the greenhouse. It was a small one, but comfortable enough for a couple patrons to browse around. “I’m gonna move around some plants if that’s okay, I gotta vision.”
Joshua looked a little frazzled watching Minghao talk to himself and start moving the settings around (“The hydrangeas don’t go there, are you crazy?”) and started helping Minghao move the pots and placements around. You and Vernon hung around the entrance, giggling to yourselves.
You tried to bump his shoulder, which didn’t even reach his. “So, what’s your Insta handle?”
He quirked his brows at that, “Why, so you can judge my aesthetic too?”
“No,” you replied, faking your shock. “I would never insult your taste!”
With a roll of his eyes he said, “Speaking of taste, since your shift is over and my shift is over,” Vernon rocked back and forth on his feet. “Wanna grab a bite?”
Something’s fluttering in your stomach, and you stomp it down. It’s an innocent invite, yes. Unfortunately it was not-so-innocent in your twisted mind knowing that you are still fresh from a breakup, yet your backed is marked with Vernon’s work. “You must be tired though,” you tried to reason, “you should get some rest, I don’t wanna bother you.”
“Not a bother,” he said immediately, “besides, I wanna ask you something.”
That got you curious. Before you had a chance to ask, Minghao was ushering you over, telling you to stand in front of a bundle of orchids. They’ve bloomed a Canary yellow, encasing you in a golden ring of flowers overlooking the terrace. The new friend has gestured for you to undo your shirt and he turned away in respect. It’s different with an audience and an expectation. You made haste to undo the buttons of your blouse, then your bra, throwing it aside. You felt the warm, moist air kiss your back, and you heard a low whistle coming from Minghao.
“Beautiful,” Minghao exhaled, “Vern, you’ve outdone yourself."
Beautiful. Vernon made you beautiful.
Your body was simmering, and you could do nothing as you let Minghao photograph you. You focused your eyes on a puddle dripping from a faucet in front of you, counting the seconds between each droplet.
“And, done.”
You shoved on your clothes, and felt extra awkward as you fumbled to reach for the straps of your bra. You nearly slipped on the puddle as you walked back to the boys, who were busy over Minghao’s shoulder.
“Super awesome,” Minghao handed you the phone brightly, “so much texture and feeling.”
The screen showed a halo of foliage that surrounded your bare back, blush orchids kissing the frame with color. Your work shirt bundled under your hips, and fell under your elbows to reveal a city sky. You were breathless, zooming in to capture every detail of the ink. A navy sky, blanketing buildings across your back in a diagonal, splaying from the bottom right to the top left. On the bottom, skyscrapers reaching for the stars.
If you zoomed in enough, you could tell that the stars were shaped like roses.
“I don’t know how many times I’ve said thank you in the past two days,” you started, causing Vernon to grin widely. “But thank you, I’ve never felt so beautiful.”
Vernon scoffed, “I didn’t do anything, I’ve only enhanced your beauty. That’s our shtick.”
You handed Minghao back your phone and thanked him. He then rushed off, saying he had to stay at the parlor since Yoongi was coming soon. Immediately, Joshua began putting back the plants in their rightful places. You and Vernon followed suit, starting with the smaller ones.
“So,” Vernon picked up a tray of succulents, “are we still on for dinner?”
Wide-eyed Joshua crept in-between the foliage, laughably appearing under a series of hanging plants like a madman. “Dinner?” he asked, looking between you two.
“Yeah man,” Vernon reached to pull Joshua away from the plants, “wanna come?”
Simultaneously disappointed and relieved, you let out a subconscious exhale. Joshua was coming, which meant that there would be no possibility for feeling weird (or catching feels), being awkward or fighting any oncoming feelings with Vernon.
"On Thursdays there’s this really good half-off sushi deal by my place. We can take out and eat at my apartment?” Joshua’s kindness was palpable at the offering of his home, and the both of you smiled gratefully.
Not more than two hours later, the three of you are bundled away in Joshua’s two-room, empty boxes of carryout stacked high. The television was playing reruns of Full House, the only source of light in the dim space.
“Are you gonna go home soon?” Vernon asked, and turned his head to the corner of the room. Joshua is cuddled up in the single couch, tucked in a wearable blanket with the armholes.
You shrugged, “I dunno. Usually I crash here for sushi nights,” you patted the couch lovingly, “This is my second bed.”
Vernon chuckled, tucking his feet under his thighs. It made him look impossibly small in comparison to how tall and lanky he actually was.
“So, what did you want to ask me?”
Vernon looked between his legs, as if he were trying to piece his words together. “Long story short, I got waitlisted at my top graduate school option,” he then pulled up his phone, revealing the picture of your back that was taken that afternoon, “but I was thinking that if I made a portfolio of this kind of art, it would really tip my application over the edge. Originally I was thinking of just sending my usual art, but it just popped in my head today while we were doing it.” He looked up through his eyelashes, wisps of copper looking expectantly at you. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be my canvas?”
“Live art,” you surmised, “honestly, I’m honored that you would want me to be a part of something so big. You think I’m that good?”
No, you weren’t doubting Vernon’s art one bit. The fact that your back would be out on display for a bunch of strangers was unnerving, to say the least.
“Are you kidding?” Vernon zoomed out of the image, revealing the curve of your back and the generation of life reflected in the greenhouse. “This is wicked. You’re stunning. We’d make a great team!”
You felt your body heat at the statement. His presence was almost too refreshing, and you wanted to return the favor of helping you out last night.
“Lucky for you,” you shot a quick text to Wonwoo, “I’ve planned to take this week off.”
Over the course of the week Vernon wanted to do an artistic timeline of sorts, adding and retouching the already existing ink on your back until the canvas was full. It felt fulfilling, letting yourself become a vessel of success for someone. The following day, Vernon shot you a text revealing his portfolio, and said how excited he was to see you.
You met in the shack after his shift, and Vernon let you into the office and locked the door. You can hear the rap being played in the artist room where Minghao and Yoongi were working with a client.
The artist was muttering to himself as he invited you to sit at the couch. Something about whether he wanted to start from the “top-down” or “bottom-up.” Instead of contributing to his madness, you turned away from him and started shedding your shirt. Today was a plain cotton shirt, and you shucked it off and balled it in your arms.
No less than five seconds was Vernon’s hands on your back, and despite the warmth radiating from his fingertips, you couldn’t help but shiver. Vernon had explained that while he did a large portion of your back the first time, there was still room for growth and he wanted your back filled by the end of the week.
“Do you mind if I,” his hand hovered over your bra.
You shook your head, and with his thumb and forefinger he flicked off both your bra straps with ease. Your hands flooded themselves in the fabric of your t-shirt, which silently accepted your death grip.
“Sorry, do you feel weird?” He definitely sensed your lack of vocality, and put one strap back in case.
“I’m fine,” your voice is light, what else could you say?
“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and resumed his work.
You opt to take in the sounds. Minghao laughed about something in the other room, coupled with the zing of the needle. The music pulled to a stop and boomeranged back into a smoother arrangement.
“I think we’ll start from the bottom-up and build from there,” he then placed his hands around your waist, poking at the dive between your waist and your bottom.
There’s an unmistakable heat that pooled within you, which caused you to wring your shirt harder. It was going to be a long week.
By Wednesday, he was in your apartment, working on the sides of your waist. The day after every session, Vernon would take a picture of yesterday’s work and show it to you. A gummy grin would always take over his face, either proud of himself or happy that you loved the new addition.
Despite the fact that the only thing covering your body was a thin gown medical taken from the shop, every pore of your body felt unbelievably hot. You really shouldn’t be mixing alcohol on a Wednesday night, but Vernon was excited that he was halfway done with the project and it was time to be “poppin’ bottles.”
You felt a little drowsy as a result of that, but nothing terrible. Like he said, the feeling was cathartic.
“Aren’t you drunk too?” you murmured into your navy blue whale plush, “what if you accidentally stab me?”
Vernon laughed, and it shook the couch. You couldn’t see his face as he sat on the floor, getting in the crevices of your skin. He poked at your skin a little harder than usual, as if he were testing the possibility. “That’d still take a lot of strength.”
“You’d be surprised,” you sighed, “those little sticks florists use to keep the babies upright? Flat as a thumb and I still manage to impale tomatoes with them.” He doesn’t respond to that, and you’re left drowning in your own answer. You wondered if he truly thought you were a crazy tomato-killer, or was concentrated on detailing a particular patch of skin. “Can I tell you a secret?” you blurted, “honestly, I think flowers are beautiful, but I really hate working at the florist. The only reason I’m doing it is because Joshua really needed the help and he knew I wasn’t going to do shit until my city job starts in September.”
“Huh,” Vernon stopped, resting the heel of his hand on your back. “That’s funny. Explains all the cursing when you’re cutting roses outside.”
“You’ve watched me outside?” you grinned into your cushion, “creepy much?”
“Do you wanna know a secret?” Vernon blurted, evading your question with one of his own, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since you came by in May.”
You tensed, and if Vernon noticed, he didn’t react. He kept on doing his business, marking your back with baby’s breath. It had to be the alcohol talking. If he drank at all, you couldn’t even tell because you couldn’t get up and he was strikingly coherent. All this time, and you didn’t even notice?
“You don’t have to answer,” he said, as if he knew you were strung speechless. “I just, wanted to say it. We’re cool.”
And you agreed, pretending to fall asleep.
Friday was around the corner before you knew it, and Vernon wanted to photograph the final piece where it all started. The greenhouse was devoid of human life at the crack of dawn, unless you counted Joshua who was asleep on the counter because he was the only one with a key that knew of your recent escapades with Vernon.
Vernon was just as tired as you are, but he was adamant about having the photo taken at dawn, as the first picture was taken in the late day. There was some contrived symbolism attached to it that you didn’t really understand, but you trusted his vision. Besides, your panda eyes wouldn’t be revealed in the photo, so you could master the art of sleeping upright while he took photos.
“Alright,” Vernon set up his camera. He was dressed in a university zip up and matching sweatpants, like he just rolled out of bed. “Everything’s set up, whenever you’re ready.”
Likewise with you, and you pulled off your hoodie, not bothering with a bra. Despite the fact that the room was temperature controlled, the cold morning air still managed to worm its way to your bare top. You quickly rubbed down your gooseflesh with your palms.
You two engaged in a comfortable silence as you tested out your poses and he adjusted his frame. After a couple of practice shots, the air seemed calmer.
“Cold?” Vernon asked casually.
“Anything that isn’t under the sheets of my bed is cold as hell,” you muttered, trailing your fingers delicately across your waist.
“That’s a nice pose,” Vernon said to himself, “we’re almost done. Then you can go to bed for the rest of your day. Unless you’re down for breakfast?"
You two still haven’t spoken about his little confession the other day, but in all honesty there was no reason to bring it up. Your lives were going in different directions, and you knew Vernon deserved more than a halfhearted summer fling.
"I think I’m down for bed and breakfast,” you replied wryly.
“Smart girl,” Vernon chuckled, “can you change your pose for me? Like, pretend that you’re stretching.”
You didn’t understand what he meant by that, so you ended up flexing your arms in different directions.
“No, we’re not doing yoga.” He let his camera swing around his neck as he rushed over to you. The sun was a soft white, the antithesis of golden hour as you two rushed to make the magic happen. He grabbed your arms from behind, twisting the left wris in an unusual angle.
"Ah, Vernon!” You jerked around to face him, now fully awake. “I’m not a Barbie doll, you can’t just move me like that."
Vernon doesn’t respond. He let go of you as soon as you screamed, eyes blown wide and pupils a thick black. His stare is frozen to yours, and his hand is in mid-air, a centimeter away from your bare breasts.
"Oh,” you said, “did I whack you with my boob when I turned?"
"Yeah, you boobed me.” Vernon looked afraid to stare anywhere but your face. “I’m so sorry."
"It’s okay,” you bit the inside of your lip, “I don’t mind if you touch me there."
Now, Vernon looked terrified.
It’s been a long week. A long, surreal week. You wanted to tell Vernon about your conflicted feelings, you wanted to ask about his little crush, and what on earth did he find appealing about you. You wanted to tell him how much you trusted him with your body, and how you wanted him to do more to you than just ink.
It’s then, the gaping boy shook himself together. His hands encircled your neck, haloing at the finishing piece of his work, an echelon moon. Vernon’s fingers trailed to cup your face, and you felt your whole body warm in anticipation. Patient, you waited for his carmine eyes to flutter shut, and you smiled, finally closing yours—
"The fuck is this?"
In an instant, the air was sucked out of you like a blackhole, and Vernon immediately shielded you, throwing his jacket across you like a towel.
"Mingyu,” you said shakily, clutching the cotton coat tighter around your form.
It’s then that a no-longer bleary-eyed Joshua stumbled into the greenhouse, seconds too late.
Mingyu threw down the sack of fertilizer he hauled on his back, black dirt smattering the floor. “Its been barely a week and you’re fucking someone in the greenhouse, of all places?” Mingyu was angry, plain and simple. “I thought we agreed on a break."
"You agreed on a break,” your thighs were numb from leaning on them, but Vernon’s hand on your back encouraged you to get on your feet. “I agreed that two years was too long to wait."
"And who are you?” Mingyu squinted his eyes at Vernon.
“He’s none of your business,” you stepped in front of him, tugging his hoodie closer around your frame.
Mingyu’s face fell in realization, and he looked between you two with forlornness that made your stomach churn. “C’mon baby,” your nails embedded themselves in your palm at the jab, “can we go outside and talk about this?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice was paper thin, but loud enough for Mingyu to hear across the room, “I’d prefer you leave us alone, and do not talk to me ever again.”
It took all your composure to turn around, and you glared a hole into Vernon’s chest. You felt your body bleed goosebumps around your arms and legs, not out of weather, but out of anxiety. You hugged yourself to shut the prickly feeling down. You heard Joshua do the only helpful thing this morning and it’s his soft utterances that finally pulled Mingyu out of the greenhouse. ,
What’s left is the drip of the hose, and the two of you, unmoved.
Thankful for the silence, you looked up at your companion, who was speechless. Vernon’s lower lip was puckered out slightly, face contorted as if to say I’m sorry, that kinda sucked. The tell-tale signs of emotional overload began to prick at your eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” you wiped your face. Since when did you start crying? “I’m so sorry that I let all of this happen, and I let myself let this happen, and I’m such a mess and I’ve been trying to hide it all this time, but I’m selfish and I just wanted to see what would turn out of it.”
“What are you apologizing for?” Vernon tried to lighten up the mood, and offered you an easy smile and reached for a hug.
“I’m sorry because I don’t know if I like you or not!” you outburst, and pushed him out of arm’s reach. “I feel so fucking guilty I just got out of a relationship and I can’t tell if I like you or I like your attention, honestly. And it isn’t fair because you’re just so sweet and kind and easy to love. Either way at the end of the summer I’m moving into the city for my full-time job. And I, I, I don’t know!”
Vernon forced his way into your space, barely a foot apart. He didn’t touch you, but his warmth still emanated from the jacket you were wearing. He didn’t seem upset, then again you were probably upset enough for the both of you.
“Hey, I offered to do your back because I knew you needed a distraction,” Vernon said softly, “no strings attached, ever. You do you, right? Focus on yourself.”
You wished he was mean about this. It would’ve made it easier. “What if this is the last time we talk? What if I want to ignore you for the rest of the summer?” you murmured, already knowing you. should enjoy these final moments.
“We’ll live,” he shrugged, and finally broke the space between you. His lips planted themselves between your forehead, melting away the lines that marred your brows apart, “and we’ll heal.”
The city was daring. The city was unforgiving.
You tugged your scarf closer around your neck, which constricted your airflow but also prevented any possible windchill from slicing your neck. In your other hand you were hauling a week’s worth of work in a luggage that had once packed your things in August and sent you to this very career path.
As much as you loved your new life, you wished things would be a little more boundless. The box of your workspace, the box of the elevator, and the box of your goshiwon apartment were starting to feel particularly stifling this weekend.
It was Friday (or FriYay, as your co-workers dubbed) and that meant a weekend vegging out with a comfort meal and a new movie. There was a Burger King and a Gongcha under your apartment complex, both calling your name.
Boba and burgers, the perfect way to end a week.
You munched on your fries as you scanned the Gongcha menu, craving something sweet to contrast with your salty meal.
It is then a low, sultry whisper sauntered in your direction (in a Gongcha, with children) and you almost choked on your fry. “I would know that back anywhere,” the offender drawled.
What a strange pick-up line. The paper bag crinkled in your grip, and you turn around to see a familiar perky face in a scarlet Adidas tracksuit. Of all the places, he was here.
“Hey, Flower Girl.” Minghao greeted, wiggling his fingers in a wave. He was on a tall stool, long legs splayed out and a cup of oolong milk tea hung lazily in his grip. His cup was at least 50% ice, and he was shaking the cup like a rattle every ten seconds.
“Normally, people would start with a simple hello,” you replied wryly, ushering him over to wait with you in line.
“Normally,” Minghao shrugged, and slipped an arm around your shoulders as if you were long lost friends, “how have you been doing? Planting gardens for the spring?”
“Please,” you scoffed. To Joshua and Wonwoo’s chagrin, you’ve forgotten a lot since the summer. “I can’t even make a corsage anymore, my brain’s on overload. What about you?”
It looked like he was waiting for you to ask that. You barely got your order in before he started spitting out his story. “Didn’t you hear?” Obviously you didn’t, and he didn’t give you a chance to answer. “Two letters. RM.” Again, nothing. “The RM? The hottest rapper in Korea? Anyway, he was one of our clients in August—he got a sick design of a koala and an alpaca, cooler than you think—and gave us a massive tip on his Instagram story. We were famous overnight! We were getting crazy clients left and right—fuckin’ Sana wanted a little heart on her sternum, hottest thing.”
“So you were able to relocate the parlor to the city?”
“The big push was when Yoongi dropped RM his demo,” he shook his cup furiously, ice clanging, as if he never got tired of this story. “Like, I didn’t even know they were texting! I’ve been running the parlor mostly, I’ve always wanted to live in the city, but RM funded a lot of it and is helping Yoongi make his mix.”
In the back of your head, the question of an aspiring grad student was niggling in your brain, but you pushed it down. “So, if Yoongi’s working on his demo and you’re supposed to be running the parlor, why aren’t you there now?” you asked.
He stared at you as if it were the most obvious choice. “Because I’m here, drinking boba with you.” Minghao then grabbed your finished drink from the employee’s hand, ushering you out the door. “And now you’re going to follow me, because my break was over fifteen minutes ago.”
“What?”
“I have your boba,” he’s already out the door, waving your precious beverage like a fish to its line. “Hurry up, now I’m sixteen minutes late!”
You groaned, lugging your suitcase full of work and now cold french fries back into the freezing weather. The wheels of your suitcase are cracking in exhaustion, mirroring yours. You just wanted your damn milk tea, hot fries, and a Netflix catch-up. What was the point of following Minghao to Nu ABO, when there was no reason to be there other than …
“Oof!” your face slammed into Minghao’s back. The light was red. “Did Vernon move here too?”
“Duh, who else would be covering for me?”
“You’re trying to set me up!” You cried in betrayal, jabbing him in chest with your finger. “Y'know what, I’m just going to get another boba. You keep that.”
You two glared at each other. Minghao looked relentless, ignoring whoever was bumping into him on the streets. His eyes suddenly glinted to your rolling luggage, and he snatched it from your grip, running into the streets.
“Can’t replace your work, right?” He laughed, forcing you to chase him down the block.
You felt sweat start to develop on your back, contrasting with the icy weather. Your work blazer and pinstripe loafers were not suited for vigorous activity. Minghao has an unfair advantage, being tall and athletic, and you had just finished half a bag of Burger King. Damn him.
Minghao stopped in front of a sunken in building, with stairs leading downwards to a neon-lit parlor with the name glittering in electric periwinkle font. Flustered, you gasp at the cold air, finally able to stop. Despite having lost your breath ten meters ago, you managed to tell Minghao you’re proud that they have a real parlor.
Your heart was beating in your ears, and you can’t tell whether it was because you haven’t worked out in months, or because Vernon was behind that door.
Minghao dumped your luggage behind the reception area, and went straight into the artist room. This new parlor was much bigger, so when Minghao disappeared into a hallway he was out of your sight. You wait around, letting yourself sink into the familiar hip hop playlist. There are pictures littering the walls, all covered with a clean black frame. You see Yoongi and the supposed RM, sporting his koala and alpaca ink (which actually did look sick) and some photos of Minghao’s work, all of his designs being simultaneously colorful and graceful.
It’s then in the epicenter of this wall is a long black frame that cut across the horizon, seven images of a woman with flowers and stars inking her back.
Your back.
“Beautiful, right? I’m sure it takes you back.” Minghao was over your shoulder, flicking his fingers between the photos. “Lots of customers have requested these designs. He never makes them the same way, though.”
Instead of answering, you followed Minghao down the hallway and into the artist room. Vernon had just finished with a client. Poking in head first, you saw him ticking off protocol off a printed list, speaking concisely. The client was listening intently, and you see he has an arm sleeve with peonies. It’s then he noticed Minghao intruding once more, and frowned.
“Dude, you got milk tea without me?” Vernon said, affronted.
“Ya didn’t ask.” Minghao vigorously shook the ice in your tea like a baby rattle.
“You didn’t mention it, therefore I couldn’t have asked.”
“You’re so smart, Hannie,” he beamed at him like a proud parent complimenting his son, “that’s why he’s going to grad school.”
You let yourself in fully, and you felt shy as Vernon’s lips parted slightly upon realizing who his second guest was.
“Hey,” Vernon exhaled, and gave you a small smile. He looked happy, content. As handsome as ever, he ran a gloved hand through his hair, soft curls bouncing as he shifted around the parting. “This is uh, a surprise.” his eyes flickered to Minghao, who held his arms out in a passive shrug. “A good one to end the week.”
“Hi,” you bit your lip, feeling shy, “so, you decided to get certified and you’re going to grad school? I missed out on a lot.”
“That’s okay, we got time.” Vernon assured, “besides the fact that I got a project due tomorrow morning that I’ve barely started, and then I have a field trip I gotta go to on Sunday—”
Before it could drag on any longer, Minghao hacked out a very loud, and very fake cough. You broke out of the rêve, and muttered a “gimmie that” before snatching your precious bubble tea out of Minghao’s hand.
Vernon mirrored the cough, more out of embarrassment than annoyance. “Lemme finish up with this client, yeah?” And he jerked his head back to the patient, going on about safety.
Minghao led you out of the room, whispering a “you’re welcome” in your ear that taunted you for the rest of the night.
Vernon finished at 5, just like he did back in the little shack at university square. He came out in a 2XL neon green hoodie, leading the client out the door and telling him to “take it easy”. As soon as the client’s gone, he comes over to you. You’re still staring at your pictures, as if you couldn’t believe that you were on display, looking like a tasteful nude model.
“Hi again,” he said, dusting the imaginary dirt off his pants.
“Hi,” you replied, feeling tingly at the sound of his voice. Did you really miss him that much?
"Um, is it cool if I hug you?"
It certainly has been awhile. You nodded, unsure if you could form a coherent response because you could tell Vernon was blushing and he was being too damn adorable for you to handle.
Upon permission, he brightened. The warmth of his cotton hoodie enveloped you like the way hot chocolate feels after a cold day. You breathed in his scent, realizing how much you missed the scent of fresh laundry, especially on him.
"How are you?” He asked casually.
“Uh, m'okay.” You answered softly, “a little cold nowadays."
He hugged you tighter in response. With one more squeeze he let himself go, but kept you at an arm’s length. "Wanna get dinner?"
You looked at him funny, "didn’t you say you had a project due tomorrow morning that you haven’t started?"
Without missing a beat he altered, "Wanna get takeout? I’ll do work and eat while,” his eyes darted to your luggage, “you do work?"
While you wanted to say that it was Friday (FriYay!) and you weren’t planning to open Pandora’s Box until Sunday night, you obliged and followed him to his place.
On the way over, Vernon got his well-needed milk tea (and your second round) with two matching cartons of jajangmyeon. You trailed behind him rather than next to him, due to the fact that he was also lugging a Joshua-sized canvas on his back. In fear of being knocked out or ruining his work, you settled for walking a meter apart.
Vernon lived on the second floor of his complex. You imagined a sizable one-room similar to your goshiwon, but you’re in awe when you see a fully furnished living room and kitchen. You smiled at the singular jade plant decorating the windowsill, one you remembered as Patricia Planty one session months ago. The hardwood was so shiny you could see your reflection in them. Kicking off your shoes, you stumbled over the kitchen countertop, reveling at the onyx granite.
"I’ve never seen this much granite in my entire life!” You cried, spreading your hands over the cool rock. It was so well polished, you could see your reflection. He was certainly living the high life this year.
Vernon shook his head, setting the take out down and pulling out the containers. “It’s RM’s old place. I rent it out with the guys."
"God, this is ten times better than my place! Your kitchen is bigger than my apartment!"
He flicked your bowl of jajangmyeon over to your side of the countertop, the sauce and noodles premixed for you. "Eat up, babe.” He stuffed a radish in his mouth, now working to mix his own noodles, “we got a lotta catchin’ up to do."
Whether it was your hunger or the casual use of the word "babe”, you abandoned the granite for now and did as told.
An hour later, you’re flipping through their mounted TV, taking full advantage of their Disney+ subscription as Vernon is laying on the floor.
“I thought you were working,” you chastised, letting yourself sink further into their couch. It was like resting on a big, fluffy marshmallow. You never wanted to leave.
Vernon is splayed out like a starfish, papers and watercolors spread around him. His large body stood out against the white linoleum floor, his neon green hoodie reflecting on the shiny surface. “I am.” he replied blandly, “I’m waiting for lightning to hit me with a burst of inspiration."
"Grad school’s biting you in the butt?"
"Big time."
Another bout of silence hit the two of you, and it was surprisingly nice. You finally started to notice that Vernon is picking up some art utensils and is doodling something. (He still is on the floor and hasn’t sat up properly, but progress is progress.)
It felt oddly domestic, but you didn’t mind. There was no need to ask about the past, Kim Mingyu, or any other silly drama you two entrapped yourselves into last summer. What mattered now was the warmth of each other’s presence on this chilly night.
Your eyes are heavy and fighting against the long day, and before you know it, you’re asleep just as Rapunzel escapes Gothel’s tower.
You haven’t awoken to the morning sun in a long, long time. While the notion sounded awfully depressing (because it was), you really didn’t have much of a choice because the goshiwon was closet sized, and closets had no windows. But today, the sun blasted you, forcing you up. This was accompanied by the the tell-tale sounds of breakfast, which was weird because you only ever ate cold food in your room, because there was zero ventilation. The scent of dark roast muddled your senses, forcing you awake. You twitched at the sudden stench, and snapped your back straight. Were your walls always this pristine white?
"Didn’t know you were this early in the game, Flower Girl."
You never went home. While Vernon was long gone and probably off presenting some haphazard art, Minghao and Yoongi (for the first time, in the flesh!) were watching you from their marbled island, while you rubbed the crusties out of your eyes. "Usually, encroaching on a significant other’s apartment is reserved for the 5th or 6th date.” Minghao teased, waving his Nutella toast in your face.
“Oh, shut up,” you glared at Yoongi, who was slowly chewing on his own toast. There’s was black spark in his eyes, like he’s relishing on whatever has unfolded. “And you, you. I know this is the first time we’ve met and you haven’t said a word. But shut up too. Your thoughts are awfully loud.”
You’re embarrassed, and you pull up your hands to mediate your fired cheeks. Instead of your palms, you feel worn cotton dabbing at your face. You wiggled your fingers under the neon green hoodie. Vernon put on his clothes for you to wear. You were in a very uncompromising position, and his roommates were reveling every second of it.
Yoongi shrugged, throwing you a flippant grin. “Whatever you say, Flower Girl.”
Contact emerged in the form of texts and images. You wondered how Vernon managed to keep things casual in light of how sudden your meeting was, but you relished in the way things fell naturally.
[February 19, 2:10PM]
Vern: Is this still your number
Vern: If so, here’s what i submitted for my project
Vern: IMG.934
Vern: if not, pls enjoy this picture of a pink platypus. the medium was watercolor nd if you’re curious, i got the idea from sunsets and phineas and ferb. Enjoy your day
You: hey look, there’s perry
Vern: nice
Vern: wait, this doesn’t confirm if ur u or a stranger
Vern: are u just a perry enthusiast
Vern: evidence pls
[February 19th, 6:08PM]
You: IMG.48
[February 20th, 12:22AM]
Vern: ooh
Vern: look cute in my hoodie
You’ve toggled with the idea of just cutting straight through the bush and asking him out the next time you see him in person. A little part of you liked the chase, however. That feeling where you’re tugging between friendship and something more, and you can’t help but feel like you’re fifteen everytime his name popped up in your messages. You self-dubbed it the-honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase.
[February 27, 5:34PM]
Vern: what are you up to
You: it’s hour 32. I’ve been under the covers and have survived solely on celery and honey-butter chips. currently binging all netflix comedies. debating on whether to send for help otherwise i may never get up
Vern: that’s the spirit
By the time two weeks passed, you felt confident enough to ride off the mutually weird text messages and constant contact to meet with him. By then, you’re knees deep in the honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase. You’re languidly floating in that river, hoping you’re not rushing it by agitating the waters.
[March 8th, 10:10PM]
You: hey
You: you up?
Vern: nah. mastered the art of sleep textin
You: just wanted to ask if you could help me pick out a tatt that would fit me
You: if you were available. I’ve heard from the mullet-monster that you’re a hot commodity drowning in appts and deadlines
Vern: wait forreal?
Vern: i can pencil u in. tomorrow night @11?
You: so soon? What happened to being busy
Vern: not for u. Already have an idea in mind
By the time you arrived Saturday night, Minghao was slapping your back across the door, gabbing on about a “major banger” they were missing uptown. He looked the part, the only person you knew that could fill out an all-studded denim fit. Like a disco ball at a rodeo. He barely said good-bye before he hopped in a Lyft, cheering for freedom.
You poked your head into the artist room, and saw Vernon playing on his phone. His fist dug into his cheek, carob pupils glazed over. You almost felt bad for wanting his attention this late.
“You usually do the day shift,” you commented quietly, holding up a bag with two milk teas in hand.
Vernon looked up, illuminating in a half-smile. “Y’know me, always covering. Just for the hour though, this shouldn’t take long since we’re just looking at ideas.”
He slapped a hand on the client chair. This one was much better than the cot they had in their shack. This one was pure leather and gleamed high quality. You placed your drinks on the countertop and eagerly bounced onto the seat. “Comfy,” you murmured, and wriggled your sneaker-clad feet.
“Good,” there’s a sharp snap from the plastic seal and Vernon is sipping into his milk tea seconds after you put it down. He’s chewing on a particularly large gulp, gnawing on pearls like no one’s business. With his rolling chair, he slid over to you, seamlessly reaching for your wrist.
If he noticed that you’re wearing a particular neon item, he doesn’t comment. He turned on the overhead lamp, letting a soft white light bathe your form. When he finally spoke, he chanted your name in a sing-song, tapping your wrist in beat. It’s as if he were envisioning the color blooming on your skin.
You let him do his thing, and he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery. You see pictures of his friends, some of his family, and digital art. He scrolled slower at the myriad of images: a colorful orca, lavender constellations, and budding roses.
You were seeing a lot of flowers nowadays, with the burgeoning of spring and the recent ending of Valentine’s. It’s only now that you notice how apparent the theme is throughout the parlor, particularly in Vernon’s affinity.
“Why don’t you call me it?” you asked softly, peering over his form to see him mulled over a picture of periwinkle lupines.
“Huh,” he’s distracted, and has now swiped back to the colorful orca image.
“Flower Girl,” you uttered, “they call me that, but you don’t.”
Vernon clicked his phone down, the lupines flicked away. He peered at you through his lashes, the white overhead making his eyes appreciably bright. “Before I knew your name,” he started slow, making faces to himself as if he were debating on whether to tell you, “I’d call you Rose. You were always by the rose bush planted outside the shop.”
“Avoiding work,” you crinkled your nose, however relished in the endearment, ���being named after a rose is too big a compliment.”
He snorted, “That’s what they said. Hence, Flower Girl was born,” he’s easy about it, but now he’s put his phone down and is rubbing circles in your wrist. You wonder if he felt how clammy your palms were getting from the minute intimacy.
“You know what flower I’d compare to you?” you asked, “freesias.”
“And what do those mean?”
“Thoughtfulness,” the pad of his thumb still lingered on your skin, his grip painfully apparent. “And renewal.”
“Why renewal?”
“Because,” you swallowed, “you make me feel renewed. And this time I’m sure it’s because it’s you.”
Vernon looked like he wanted to smile, trying so very hard not to embarass you whilst you poured your heart out with delicacy. His coral lips were tucked in a thin line, teeth biting at his lower lip. Drop by drop, he was going to accept that dew with as much care as possible. “Only me,” he inquired, pressing into your pulse.
Your mouth was sand dry. “Uh-huh.” You exhaled a breath long clutched in your throat, hot air fanning into Vernon’s face. He paid no mind, and (to no avail) was still trying to hold in his smile. “You’re dimples are showing,” you whined, poking the little dip in his cheeks with your free hand. “Use your words.”
“Like?” he elongated, playing dumb. You supposed you earned his brand of torture, after all, seven months is a long time to make up for.
“Like how we want the same thing?” you tried.
“How do you know I want what you want?” he feigned, furrowing his thick brows. Acting could’ve been another career possibility for him, portrayed by the way his eyes were blown with confusion, his mouth parted like a kitten.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Forget words!” you broke, nearly shaking from the nerves.
It’s then that Vernon finally gave you a concrete response. His grip on your wrist was near painful as he eagerly tugged you closer, kissing you. There’s enthusiasm in every action from the way he pulled you closer, large hands melding to cup your cheeks. A little part of you is both breathless and invigorated at the energy stinging the room, and you can barely keep up until Vernon spilled kisses down your neck.
He threw up the armrest holding him back, tucking his knee between your legs as he lapped you up, kissing you fully. The chair was much too small for the both of you, his large body pressing you further into the cushions.
He sat up a bit, bumping his head on the lamp. He paid no mind. “By the way, I like you, too.” Vernon puttered cheekily, rubbing his scalp. Just as swiftly, he latches onto your neck and sucks at a sensitive spot. You can feel his teeth showing from the smile in his kisses. His thumbs rubbed lazily over your jaw, enjoying the feel of your soft skin under his rough palms.
“Really,” you exhaled, relaxing against the headrest as Vernon’s wandering hands traveled lower. “Had no idea.”
“But I’m happy,” Vernon is fumbly and sweet, mumbling in the crook of your neck while his fingers toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants, “happy you’ve healed, and happy for us.”
He’s excited, almost too excited. The space between you two was warm, the lamp beating under your skin, awakening something between you two that was left behind that summer. It’s as if winter left him dormant, and you were the fresh flower waiting to be bloomed under his touch.
“Are you always,” you gasped, two fingers already worming their way inside your panties, “talkative at this part?”
“Not if you wanna talk,” and the ever-zealous Vernon Chwe gets to work, sticking out his tongue in surprise when he finds that you’re already drenched. “Shit, you’re so beautiful,” he holds onto that word dearly, and pressed his forehead against yours, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to hold you like this,” he reached for your delicious bud, and you felt your senses flower into pleasure.
He makes a noise, low in his throat as he watched you melt against the seat. “I like you like this,” he said thickly, his voice matching the slick sounds emitting from yourself. “Comfy, relaxed. You always looked so stuffy in those work suits,” you feel wholly undeserving of this worship, as he licked a long strip from your collarbone to your neck, “would love to help you chill out a lil’ more.”
A whine bubbled from the back of your throat, your eyes rolling shamelessly as you feel the pads of his fingers working circles between your folds. “Ah, I’ve—I’ve fantasized about this,” you confessed, “every time you’d ink my back. At one point we just stopped covering myself with those stupidly thin gowns. All you had to do was turn around.” Vernon blinked rapidly, mental pictures ticked like film in his pupils. His hands stuttered across your slick, inserting two fingers between your folds as you continued. His pace was slow, yet purposeful as he made sure you felt him with every thrust. Rings adorned his fingers, and the cool sensation surprised you. You shivered in pleasure. “Mm, I’ve imagined us kinda like this in that little shack, hard against the cot overlooking the shop,”
“Dirty,” he said, as if recalling the weather.
“And ah—wondering what kind of tattoos you have,” and in your haze you reached for him, your hand gripping firm at his gunmetal belt buckle. You tucked your fingers between the button of his light wash jeans, palming the telltale signs of something hard, “please? You’ve done too much for me, lemme return the favor.”
“Not now,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “you can guess my ink on our way home.”
“Wha?“ You’re dazed, feeling warm with affection and drowned in the moment. You feel his fingers, slowly pumping out of its rhythm and resting on your thigh. You groaned at the premature end, his shiny digits resting on your fleece sweats.
“They’ll kill me, this is new leather,” Vernon said, “and now we can afford security cameras, which are so small even I can’t find them.”
“Unbelievable,” you laughed. You’re not frustrated, only endeared.
“Besides, I’d rather have our first time somewhere private. Undisturbed,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "somewhere where there’s lots of granite."
You melted, pulling at his collar to pepper kisses on his nose. The mention of coming home to his pretty kitchen was icing on the cake. "You know how much I love your granite."
(After your granite fantasy was fulfilled, you spent the rest of the weekend huddled in Vernon’s room. You’re living off take out and mutually satisfied with the unhealthy means. When you’re not eating or watching movies, the two of you are drafting your first piece.
Freesias and pink roses.)
(His tattoo was also very cute.)
#vernon#vernon fic#seventeen fic#seventeen smut#vernon smut#vernon fluff#seventeen fluff#vernon fanfic#hansol vernon chwe#seventeen scenarios#kpop#kpop fic#kpop scenarios#kpop smut#blossomed
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Sprinkles and Cream
Fandom: Stray Kids
Sickie: Jisung
Caregiver: Hyunjin
Noone’s POV.:
To say Jisung had a bad day would have been an understatement. He was the only member who had been called into the studio on their off day and not for something good. The producer had reviewed the rap lyrics Jisung had written and there wasn’t a single line he didn’t tear apart. With each passing minute the young rapper became more frustrated. Apparently, the hours of work and the effort he had put into writing his lyrics were all for nothing. Not only was he frustrated, he was also hurt. The words had all come from heart and having them dismissed that harshly broke the boy’s heart. He’d have to start all over again, with a lot more pressure too because the deadlines were much closer now. Besides having an already packed schedule, he’d also have to come up with new lyrics. He didn’t even know if he could think of different lines after he had already spilled his heart over the pages but he nodded along with the producer and bowed politely, taking the papers covered in red marker and promising he’d do better. Being the professional he was, Jisung held it together as long as he was in the studio but the second he was dismissed, he hurried to the bathroom, shoving the crumpled up lyric sheets into his back-pocket.
Hiding in one of the stalls for the fear of someone witnessing him cry, he took out his phone texting their leader, who had helped him with the lyrics, revising and rephrasing. He didn’t want to make a phone call, not trusting his voice not to break and give away the fact that he was crying. Chan was understandably stunned that the other’s entire lyrics got rejected. He had read over them multiple times and was satisfied with the way they fit into the entirety of their song. Being a composer and songwriter himself, the older boy knew that his dongsaeng’s word came from heart and held a strong meaning for the other. Knowing just how much Jisung had to be hurting at the harsh words of their producer but not being able to help him where he was at, all the leader could do was to tell Jisung to come home. They’d go over the lyrics together and see what changes the producer wanted after the younger boy had calmed down a bit. Yes, it would be stressful starting all over again while following their schedule but they’d manage. Especially because the leader knew Changbin would be helping too. 3racha never left each other hanging, as all of them had been in similar situations before.
Bang Chan himself wasn’t at the dorm this particular moment. He had taken most of his dongsaengs out on a shopping trip only leaving behind Jisung who had gone to the studio and Hyunjin who had already gone shopping twice this week and preferred to stay at the dorm watching dramas. The leader knew he wouldn’t be home before Jisung got there, so he told the younger to make himself some hot chocolate and maybe listen to some music to relax. He shouldn’t look at the lyrics yet but instead clear his mind, so they can work on it together later. Chan also texted Hyunjin, warning him to go easy with his teasing since the younger rapper was having a rather shitty day. Hyunjin agreed and continued watching his drama till he heard the front door open, revealing a slightly rough looking squirrel. The boy’s eyes were still reddened a bit and his lips formed a small frown.
After kicking off his shoes, the rapper made his way to Chan’s room, placing the dismissed lyrics on the desk for them to work on later, and then went to his own room to put on a more comfortable outfit. He walked past the living room, weakly greeting Hyunjin. “Sungie, come join hyung. The protagonist is soon going to find out that his girlfriend is cheating on him and I need my emotional support squirrel when that happens”, the dancer whined dramatically. “One minute, I’ll make some hot chocolate. You want some?”, the younger called from the kitchen to which his hyung only replied with an impatient ‘no but hurry’. Jisung didn’t hurry all that much. He took the time to add a good amount of whipped cream from a spray-bottle in their fridge, creating a small mountain on top of his hot chocolate and covering it in a ton of sprinkles afterwards. When he was done preparing his cup of diabetes, he joined his friend on the couch.
“Yah! Would you like some hot cocoa with your mountain of sprinkles? Seriously Sung, are you trying to put yourself in a sugar coma?”, Hyunjin laughed taking a glace at the younger’s cup. Smiling innocently, Jisung scooped up some cream and sprinkles with a spoon, letting them crunch between his teeth before answering: “None of your business, stocky-boy. You know, having some sugar here and there wouldn’t hurt you.” The dancer then remembered to keep the teasing light and only chuckled, letting the other have his way, as they continued to watch a few more episodes together. Jisung had basically decided to just drown his hurt in sugar, preparing himself another cup of cocoa somewhere along the third episode, covering it with at least the same amount of sprinkles and fully ignoring his hyung’s frown. Hyunjin was determined to distract Jisung from everything work related, having noticed the younger’s tear-stained cheeks although he didn’t comment on it. There was only one thing the dancer was a bit critical about and that was the younger having a second cup of his sweet beverage. He knew chocolate was comforting, so he had no issue with the first cup but how was the rapper going to stomach two of them? The older could only speak for himself but he would feel really sick after only having half of the cup Jisung had devoured and now the younger was having another one? Knowing he’d only upset the younger but not stop him if he commented on it, Hyunjin stayed silent and observed curiously whether Jisung would actually finish his drink or not.
It had been half an hour since the rapper had finished his second cup of hot chocolate, surprising both Hyunjin and himself, when Hyunjin heard a small moan coming from the other side of the couch. “I’m never eating anything ever again”, the younger pouted palming his stuffed belly, which let out an audible gurgle in return, making Hyunjin flinch: “You ok over there?” Jisung nodded quickly before shaking his head in defeat. “Stomachache?”, the dancer guessed but the other only frowned: “Kind of but I also kind of feel like I’m going to be sick.” Hyunjin gave a small laugh, he wasn’t too worried since the younger’s voice held no hint of urgency. “I guess that was about a ton of sprinkles too much. Just let it settle and don’t move too much. You’ll be fine”, the dancer chuckled and patted his donsaeng’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’m serio-“, the younger started, cutting himself off with a gag. Cursing, Hyunjin jumped up from the couch and grabbed Jisung’s arm, dragging the younger to the bathroom. They made it just in time for the rapper to bring up a small wave of his stomach contents, colorful sprinkles comically decorating the toilet bowl before getting washed away by another larger wave. Feeling his own stomach twist, the dancer told myself ‘Come on Hyunjin, get it together and be a good hyung!’ before sitting down on the bathtub to comfort his dongsaeng.
Hyunjin had pulled out a few hairclips out of his own hair and pinned the younger’s hair out of his face, just in time to watch his squirrel-cheeks puff out. The dancer quickly looked away, rubbing Jisung’s back as he tried to ignore the sound of liquid hitting liquid, only glancing back at the other when he heard soft sniffling sounds. To Jisung this was just the cherry on top, after already having had a bad day and he couldn’t help the tears flowing from his eyes. All he had wanted to do was have a fun off day with his friends and what did he get instead? “Hey shh, you’ll be ok, squirrel”, Hyunjin hushed, wiping away some of the tears. “Hyung”, the younger whined, startling his hyung. The older was rarely referred to as ‘hyung’ by the rapper because he often acted younger than the rapper himself despite being physically older. Hyunjin knew for Jisung to use honorifics with him, the younger would have to feel really vulnerable and it was a way of giving in to being weak. “It’s ok, hyung is here. You’ll be ok. You just need to get rid of everything that’s making you feel bad and everything will be fine”, he promised his dongsaeng after getting over the shock of being called ‘hyung’.
Hyunjin knew Jisung was fighting the urge to get sick, struggling hard to keep his rebelling stomach in place but soon he lost the battle, heaving up two larger waves almost back to back, scaring himself and grabbing onto his hyung’s hand for support and reassurance. “That’s it, Sungie. Almost there. Just get it all up. You’ll feel so much better afterwards”, the dancer encouraged. Jisung wanted to believe him, he really did but he freaked out when he started to choke on some of the sprinkles he coughed up. Hyunjin was quick to grasp the situation however, patting forcefully between the rapper’s shoulderblades till he heard the younger draw a shaky breath in. “Do you think you’re done”, he asked when Jisung hadn’t thrown up anything else in the last few minutes. The dancer was almost certain there was nothing left, having witnessed just how was the boy’s tiny body could eject. To his surprised, the younger shook his head, palming his sore middle with a pout before scrambling back over the toilet with an unproductive retch. Sighing, Hyunjin traced the whimpering boy’s spine and cringed when another, harsher retch managed to bring up a small trickle of bile, indicating that Jisung was indeed empty. The dancer had really been able to feel the effort it took to bring that up by the way his spine rippled under his hand. Spitting weakly, the rapper tore of a piece of toilet paper to clean himself up before flushing the toilet and announcing: “Now I’m done.”
He let his friend pull him to his feet and sat down on the closed toilet lid, accepting the toothbrush Hyunjin pressed into his hand. “I’ll get you some water and maybe tea to settle that upset stomach of yours”, the dancer smiled, “if you want we can take a nap and cuddle a bit till you feel better.” – “That’d be nice, hyung. I’m exhausted”, Jisung rasped with his voice strained from getting sick. His head had started hurting from the strain somewhere along the way too and he wanted nothing more than to lay down. Feeling unusually protective of his dongsaeng, the older gave him a quick hug before disappearing with the words: “Alright, finish up and I’ll meet you in your room.”
Of course, the dancer stuck to his promise, holding the other, who was knocked out almost as soon as he got under the covers, tight for almost two hours. No, it wasn’t usual for the pair to show how fond they were of each other, spending most of the time insulting the other but they both knew, should times get hard they’d have each other’s back.
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How do you manage your time??
ha, i am probably the wrong person to ask tbh. the glib answer is “poorly!” the thoughtful answer is under the cut.
everything goes into gcal because otherwise i forget it exists. work stuff, social stuff, any tasks i want to time-block. right now this includes walking the dog, which has cut 2.5 hours out of my day. 😅
i despise planners, but i love a notepad. mine is for daily todo lists and scratch notes, and is split down the middle for work things and not-work things.
i like to physically write down all my tasks: work todo items, notes that come out of meetings, any errands crap, personal project todo items, grocery lists, what i’m making to eat, what i’ve fed the dog.... legit everything i need to remember.
if todo lists intimidate you, i suggest making the first item on the list something you have already done, and then you may begin by checking it off with a flourish.
the notepad i’m using now is from kikki.k, but i don’t see anything similar for sale in their online shop. a lot of what’s out there is obnoxiously twee, but this one or this one or this one look passable. i used to have a weekly one for the office and a weekly one for home but since i’m wfh now, everything just goes on the same pad.
i like the pomodoro method, especially for workdays when i have a lot of tedious work to do that i’m prone to getting distracted from. i have a chrome extension for it.
the “force yourself to do the worst thing for fifteen minutes” technique in which you then realize the worst thing only took five minutes to do and you’ve been putting it off for literal weeks. (phone calls are a big one here. for me, ditto vacuuming and cooking.) i like to do this while drinking my coffee in the morning, because i have the most energy in the mornings. you could also try listening to a pump-up playlist or podcast.
inbox zero. emails get answered, labeled and archived when they come in. i never want more than ten emails resting in there and preferably less than five, and saturday morning i will bash it back to actual zero if it’s crept up. (friday afternoon, for my work inbox.) otherwise i become intimidated by my email inbox, which is a path to misery. this is, for some reason, easier to do when not at home... i used to do it on the subway, and recently i’ve been handling it at the dog park.
if you are feeling stressed and unproductive, drink a glass of water and go for a ten minute walk. you have gotten nothing of value done in the past thirty minutes. the ten (or twenty, or thirty) minute walk is preferable to another ten minutes of sitting in front of your computer and continuing to get nothing of value done.
caveat that i’m currently covid-remote for work and i have very few meetings and very flexible working hours. i have project deadlines (some external and some self-imposed) but i’m trusted to manage my own time. obviously if you’re like, trapped in zoom or micromanagement hell, ymmv.
if you’re currently in college... well, personally i never went to any of my classes which freed up a lot of time lmao. but i don’t know if i can, in good conscience, recommend that technique. 😛
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Quarantine Survival Guide
With more and more places shutting down work or school, and people going on self-imposed quarantines to be safe and keep those around them safe, it’s high time that we figure out a game plan about what to do about the virus.
Disclaimer
I am not a doctor, nor am I pretending to be such. This is generalized information. Please do your own research, or contact your general physician if you have health related questions or concerns.
What is Coronavirus?
COVID-19 is a strain of the coronavirus, which has been around for longer than you think, though we generally have antiviruses, cures, or immunities to the majority of the strains. It originates from animals and is now transferable from human to human. The reason why COVID-19 is different from any other virus is because it’s so new, there are no vaccines for it, and our bodies haven’t naturally developed antibodies for the virus either, which means that nearly everyone who comes into contact with it will get it, though the extent of symptoms and how much it affects you depends on factors such as your overall health and immune system.
The symptoms include a cough and struggling to breathe, along with a fever and related aches. If you are more prone to illnesses because of your age or immune system, then you can possibly get pneumonia or serious illnesses.
You’re at risk if you’re a child or senior, or if you have an autoimmune disorder of some sort. If you are already more susceptible to pneumonia, then this is a dangerous virus for you, but otherwise, all you will feel is a few days of flu-like symptoms before you’re better. Even if you show very few symptoms, the virus can stay in your system for over two weeks, which is why the quarantine is necessary, so that the virus has time to die off.
You can prevent catching it, or passing it onto those around you by frequently washing your hands, avoiding touching your face, and if you’re feeling under the weather, then keeping physical distance from those around you.
You can find daily updates at WHO, and resources at Harvard Health Publishing.
How do I work/study from home?
One thing that’s great about going to school or work away from home is that it encourages you to build a routine and discipline, which is something that falls apart if you spend too much time at home. You can replicate that by pretending that you are still going out by following these steps:
Follow the same time schedule. If you wake up at 7, keep waking up at 7. The time you would use for transportation, use it for some form of exercise. Get ready at the same time. Eat breakfast and lunch at the same time. If you normally have this particular class at this particular hour on this particular day, that is the subject you’ll continue to be working on during that time.
Get ready for work. When people think of homeschooling or working from home, one of the ideas that seems appealing is not having to get dressed up. Wouldn’t it be great if we could do all our work in our pajamas? The problem with that is that it decreases your productivity, since your mind associates certain clothes and behaviors with shutting down for the day, like wearing pajamas or sitting on the couch. But if you get dressed as if you’re about to leave for school or work, then your mind is accepting that you are done resting for the day and it’s grind time.
Have a space just for work. Adding to the previous point, if you have a specific space where you just do your school or office work while you’re at home, which shouldn’t be in your bedroom, then your mind will assume that place as your workplace. But if you work on the couch or bed, which are places you normally relax, then you’re more prone to getting tired or distracted.
Minimize distractions. You’ve gotten ready for the day. You even got your work space ready and your cute highlighters ready to go. But now you’re hungry. Or thirsty. Or you need to check your phone. Bring some healthy snacks to the table, which should cause minimal mess or effort to eat. Pre-cut fruits with a fork is a great option. So are oven-baked tortilla chips with salsa dip, as long as you keep that a bit away from your work. You can also try apps like Forest, or Tide, to help you stay off your phone for a certain set of time. If you must listen to music, then stick to classical music. I’m partial to Chopin and Mozart, but it’s up to you, as long as it’s classical.
Try the Pomodoro technique. Working for hours at a time is very unproductive, contrary to what one might think, partially because your attention span lasts less than half an hour before you need a break. You can try to break your work into chunks by setting up a timer for 25 minutes, taking a break for 5 minutes, and then working for 25 minutes again. You can use the apps mentioned in the last point. Tide even has a chrome pomodoro extension with white noise that you could use.
Use online resources. Just because you can’t ask your teacher a question in person doesn’t mean you’re helpless. Tons of resources, such as Khan Academy, or Crash Course, can help you understand the concepts more. They may even help you get ahead in courses that you have a good understanding of already.
What to do with all this extra time?
While imposing a quarantine slows the spread of the virus, we’re faced with an entirely different situation. We’re so used to rushing to work/school, then rushing back, and constantly busy and interacting, then when we don’t know what to do now that we are alone. When you’re not working or studying, you can do the following:
Catch up on chores and errands that have been piling up around the house. Do that thing you kept postponing because of your job or school.
Pick up a new skill. It can be anything you’ve wanted to be able to do, but didn’t get a chance, from sewing, or playing an instrument, to speaking a new language. You could even learn some basic plumbing and tools skills and install a bidet so you don’t have to deal with the toilet paper crisis again.
Read a new book. If you don’t have any books at home, you can check out options such as the Open Library, or even Wattpad.
Start a new show that has a lot of seasons, or long episodes, such as Supernatural, Gossip Girl, or even Critical Role.
Practice your cooking skills with all the items you hoarded.
Rearrange the furniture in your house/room to make it feel like a new space.
Keep moving. Find a workout routine that works from home, or do something like yoga or dancing. If you’re not going out, you’re not being as active, which is not good.
Keep in touch with friends. Text and call them frequently. You could even have a remote Netflix session with your friends, or significant other, using the Netflix Party extension.
Learn to play poker, unless you have an addictive personality. Then you can learn cool shuffling tricks to impress friends at all the parties you’ll go to once the quarantine lockdown is lifted.
Draw and write. You don’t have to be an author or researcher or an artist. Just draw things you see around you. Write about how you’re feeling. It can help with the isolation.
What can I do as a parent of kids staying home from school?
If your job hasn’t imposed a quarantine yet, try to see if it is possible for you to work from home.
If you can’t be home, see if you have one parent, if there’s more than one, or extended family or friends, who do not have babies or elderly, or members with compromised immune systems, and see if it’s possible to do a lockdown together if none of you have caught it yet.
Devise a family plan so that everyone is on the same page. Use the above-mentioned tips and adapt them to fit your family’s needs. You can also find other things you can do that haven’t been mentioned here.
If you are working at home, or are a stay-at-home parent, have designated work hours that reflect the schedule you regularly have. You can say that for these two hours, everyone does their work. The kids do their school work. The adults do their work. And then you can have a break to talk, play, or eat.
You can look into homeschooling blogs and see how homeschooling parents set up their schedules, and if they have tips or online resources that may help. They have been doing this for longer and know ways to manage routines of multiple members of the family who stay at home, or even work while their children are homeschooled.
💋
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10 Dates | The Test Date
Summary: Kim Junmyeon was the epitome of a perfect catch - he was successful, handsome and everything you currently didn’t want in a man. Yet after agreeing to his request to give him 10 dates in total to change your mind, you realised you might have been looking for someone like him all along.
Pairing: Kim Junmyeon x reader
Genre: dating au / romance
Warnings: none
Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
“I cannot believe you had a guy court you so romantically!” Kelsi exclaimed as you paced the floor of your shared apartment the following morning. You had managed to get home last night and into your bedroom unscathed, not having the energy to deal with her swooning, heart-eyed exclamations so soon after your ordeal.
It was barely tolerable now as you rolled your eyes in her direction.
“I don’t think it’s romantic. I mean, Y/N said she didn’t want to meet with him again. Why are you agreeing to his offer? You should message him right now and say you’ve thought about it and you’re not interested. Why lead him on like this?” your other roommate Ayla expressed, forever the logical one of the pair. She sat down on the couch beside Kelsi and gave her dreamer of a friend a scrunch of her nose before biting into her toast. “Who is this guy anyway?”
“Kim Junmyeon, CEO of Kim Industries,” Kelsi announced and Ayla snapped up in her posture, her eyes turning round as she stared at you.
“The Kim Junmyeon was your date last night?”
“Yeah.”
“And you managed to turn him down? Wow, more power to you, my independent friend! Who needs a man?!”
“The whole thing is, Y/N doesn’t want to remain alone,” Kelsi announced, Ayla’s expression growing thoughtful.
“Then why turn him down?”
Sitting down across from them with a heavy sigh, you threw your hands up in the air. “He’s amazing.”
“I’m not following.”
“She’s gone mad,” Kelsi concluded and you shot her a look. She merely shrugged and stole the second piece of toast on Ayla’s plate.
“He’s everything you’d want in a guy and more. If, successful yet humble, funny and handsome, incredibly engaging and has a five-year plan in place, is your kind of guy.”
“Y/N, what are you talking about? That is your type.”
“And how has that fared me thus far?” you offered, both of your friends looking at one another. You groaned. “I end up falling out of whatever magic spell they placed over me. They turn boring. Or I feel as if each day is the same at their side with no excitement. I want something more than that. I don’t want to grow complacent yet again.”
“I still stand by the fact that someone like him could hardly make you complacent.”
Ayla shook her head, looking at you intently. “No, I can understand Y/N.”
“Really? Not you too!”
“So if you felt like this, why agree?”
“I don’t know! I felt bad for him. He was so certain about this being the right decision.”
“You’re curious,” Kelsi answered and you nodded.
“I won’t lie and say I’m not.” You then scooted forward on your chair. “However, I do want to make a plan.”
Ayla grinned. “I’m listening.”
“Well, I figure it’s in my court now. Yes, I’m interested in why he was so persistent, but at the same time, I know I want to have something in place to fall back onto.”
“Like, not making it easy for him?” Ayla offered and Kelsi whined.
“Ladies, we’ve all watched How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days and we know how it ends. Don’t mess with him!”
You and Ayla shared a growing smile. “Not to that extreme but I could test him.”
“Has Junmyeon organised the next date?”
“No, he said he hoped I would contact him first when I’m ready to pick up on his offer. Do you think I should suggest the next date?”
Ayla reached forward for her laptop and started typing. Kelsi leaned over. “What are you googling?”
“I’m looking up what are the best second date ideas.”
“Oh finally, someone’s thinking sensibly.”
Ayla smiled smugly. “So we can plan ways to help Y/N test him.”
“What does it say?” you wondered, moving over to see the results.
You settled on meeting Junmyeon for a brunch date three days later. The articles that had surfaced in your search said that brunch dates were trending this year, and you could see why. It wasn’t too early in the morning when the rush of starting the new day could distract you, nor was it too close to the afternoon, making you unproductive when you finally got back to the office.
It also had a time-limit, and that was what you were most excited about, even though you apologised after meeting Junmyeon in the coffee shop you agreed upon for suggesting such a short date. “I have a meeting at one to prepare for so it actually perfect timing.”
“Oh good,” you breathed, sitting down, only to realise you hadn’t yet ordered. You were surprised to see Junmyeon hadn’t either.
He grinned. “I’m curious what your beverage of choice is.”
“Really?”
“Apparently they say you can tell a lot about a person by what they choose,” he explained in a serious tone and you tilted your head to the side, expecting the rest of the information. Junmyeon grew amused. “I actually don’t know anything more than that.”
Laughing at the unexpected answer, you then leaned back in your chair, holding up your index finger and judging him playfully. “Let me guess, caramel macchiato, with an extra pump of caramel.”
“Oh that’s an impressive guess!” he replied and for a moment you believed you had it right. He smirked. “Americano.”
“Iced or hot?”
“Either,” he offered and you nodded, getting up before he could do anything further. After ordering the drinks and a couple of paninis, you returned to the table to a very impressed Junmyeon.
You eyed him carefully. “You’re not put out?”
“I’m honoured actually. Most people expect me to hold out my credit card for everything. It’s nice to have someone pay my way.”
You were surprised by his honesty and it made you feel really good about your gesture. So much so, that when your food and drinks arrived you were already deep in conversation with the man and completely forgetting all about your initial hesitance when you entered the café earlier.
However, you were thrown off when you heard your name being called out.
Ayla waved energetically as you blinked rapidly.
Of course, the plan.
Whilst you had gone with a good date environment, Ayla and Kelsi had agreed to turn up and crash the date.
“No guy appreciates it when friends turn up. They get frustrated that their alone time with you is cut short.”
You smiled weakly, unsure why you were more than flustered about their arrival. You had known it was going to happen, after all. “Oh uh, hey guys.”
“Friends of yours?” Junmyeon asked and you nodded. He wiped off his hand and then stood up, reaching out to shake their hands in greeting.
Ayla smiled chummily. “Are you busy right now?”
“It looks like you’re on a date, we should leave you both to it,” Kelsi attempted despite the evident admiration in her gaze at the man across from you.
Junmyeon shot you a look before shaking his head. “Oh no, please, join us.”
“We shouldn’t,” Ayla replied despite sitting down. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Any friend of Y/N is someone I want to get to know.”
“Really?” you asked genuinely and Junmyeon nodded.
“Well then, if you’re interested, we’ll oblige,” Kelsi breathed, nudging you not so subtlety repeatedly in the side.
You gave her a hard look and then smiled back at Junmyeon weakly.
He was easily in his element. By the time your second date had ended, Kelsi was easily a goner, and even Ayla was intrigued.
“He handled that all too smoothly.”
“Maybe it was the wrong idea to test him,” you admitted and Kelsi nodded animatedly.
“He’s an actual living breathing God.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Ayla announced, swatting her friend away. “I did like him though.”
“He was really attentive, wasn’t he?” you mentioned softly, thinking of the way Junmyeon had smiled warmly at you and held your hand just a moment ago.
“I’ll call you soon, okay?”
Maybe ten dates with Junmyeon would lead to something more than you had anticipated.
_________________
Part 3
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I already wrote this post, but I’m coming backk up to the top to put a cut bc it’s p long.
my brother is singing falsettos out loud & I’ve already had a stressful day bc I’ve done nothing (lack of structure & lack of productivity gives me really bad anxiety) & he’s either singing out of key & out of time, or it just sounds really bad without the music. He’s the only one who can hear the music bc HeadPhones. & also the falsettos is probably really bad for my mom bc she’s mad that dad left her, esp bc the house is a mess & stressing her out & she needs to go grocery shopping & he used to do that “but now he doesn’t because he stopped loving [her]”, so my bro singing fucking falsettos is really bad. I can’t cook supper bc I don’t have a recipe & the stuff is still frozen & idk what kind of dough I should make & besides the kitchen is a mess & he won’t fucking clean it. I mean it’s also partially my fault bc I’m a lazy adhd mofo, but it’s his job today & my job to cook. I need to get into the kitchen & cook before mom & my OTHER brother get home from shopping but I can’t bc he’s just drawing & singing & the singing is so annoying- I was trying to listen to a thing but I couldn’t fricking hear it bc adhd auditory processing disorders, it didn’t have fucking subtitles or anything & it was not great audio quality & I couldn’t differentiate between the words he was singing, & I couldn’t hear the quiet parts when they overlapped with his singing. I wasn’t going to write all of this I was just going to say that his singing makes me want to cut myself, but apparently there’s a lot more to it. also I don’t want to end up cooking while mom is home bc I don’t have any drawings on my arm & mom is fucking nosy & wants to see my scars so I have to work extra hard at hiding them but even with ppl who arent nosy, like my little bro I don’t like them out, but the longer my older bro sits there fucking yelling out of key, the longer I’m delayed & I won’t be able to cook. By this point, I won’t even be able to cook the meal I was planning on, I have so much shit to do I’ve missed so much & I’m so behind, but I’m so incapable of doing anything like i can’t do chores bc I use the excuse I have homework but I never fucking do my homework so I’m also behind in school & even with the stuff I like like dnd & writing & violin I can’t do, & I skipped online kung fu & I’ve been slacking off under so many excuses but I’m just being lazy & anxious & I also gained so much weight & it makes my body feel so bad & i know this isn’t my body’s happy weight & being fat makes my boobs bigger & I’m fucking trans & I hate them I even tried cutting them off myself & ended up waiting 15 hours to go to the hospital so that I wouldn’t make mom suspicious (& they put me through triage really fast bc apparently I did a lot of dammage- I was planning on giving myself stitches, but my icepack melted & I couldn’t numb my body anymore so they’re lucky I even went to the hospital, it was bad bc I had to walk 20 minutes either way weighted down with a fucking toolbox & I waited outside in the cold bc my phone died & thus:) mom found out anyways so I lied to her about going to buy drugs bc obv /that’s/ a better idea than telling her I went to the hospital & SHUT UP UNNAMED OLDER BROTHER ok he’s between songs now. If I told mom I went to the hospital she would ask why & be like “y didn’t u tell me” & “r u cutting urself again” & like yeah bitch I have been for a while ik the social worker said I should tell you a codeword, but I don’t do that bc u blame yourself or cry or want to talk about & I yes I fucking cut myself what of it? Yeah I tried fucking removing my own left breast, bc u arent’ supportive of medical transitioning, at least not when they’re ur kids. Ur mad at dad bc he got a tattoo bc it’s body modification & thus uncatholic, but u’ll support ur catholic university friends gettin gtheir eldest daughter a reduction bc her boobs are big & painful- bitch what’s so different about me? I went so far as to try giving myself a reduction, you say you’re concerned about me mutilating my body & making bad decisions, but, you know what? because of this I have legitimately mutilated my body, & made a dangerous & bad decision. isn’t autosurgery proof that I need top surgery bc it’s a danger to my life if I don’t get it? The government is able to pay for it I think & bc it’s a danger to my health (& i get pain & I can’t work out & I get back pain & my skin pulls & hurts & if I jump my tissues yank my skin & it hurts & it puts so much strain on my back, & binding gives me pain, so I need a reduction as much as your catholic university friends’ daughter does) I should be abe to qualify. Even if I don’t qualify yet & have to wait two years, at least that would be the start of two years now instead of in a long time, I mean, mum, you say you want me to talk about it & you’re afraid I’m rushing into it? guess what? They are too! the healthcare system will make me do a bunch of shit to qualify, & tbh, I think that they are better qualified to talk to me about surgery & what I really want than you. Fucking finally, I hope my brother is done his play & finally shuts up. TA MA DE FUCK NO HE’S STARTING AGAIN CROWS DAMN IT CROWS CROWS CROWS & MAGGOTS I”m not even gonna be able to make anythiung for supper & i have no ideas besides the long one which I don’t have time for anymore. fine. whatever. I’ll go SH in my room. I won’t even work on fanfic bc I’m too fucking adhd & broken. I fucking hate it when ppl say “we;re all a bit adhd” like no bitch shut the fuck up, we all struggle with the things adhd ppl struggle with sometimes, but adhd is a neurological condition that makes those struggles so commonplace & intense that it affects our everyday lives. & no. adhd does not mean we’re more creative. Even if we do have more likeliihood of coming up with funky ideas, most of us struggle to articulate them or understand them, or we forget them as soon as they come. you’re not adhd bc you’re a little more creative, youre just an ableist asshole & fuck you. adhd isn’t creativity its’ a fucking disability. I’m directing this at those fucking parents who have the lovely nd daughter who gave me a hug, but you two are motherfuckers. Yeah I get thaat adhd, once you learn how to mannage it, can be useful, & I understand that part of the reason this disability is so hard is bc society isn’t designed for it (like a lefty using right hand scissors), but ot’s still fuxking REAL & if you can’t deal with it yet, it 100% is a disanbility. OK? Ok. I had smth I was going to say earlier, but I got distracted by smth else that made me mad, so I never got around to it. Youo know what I love? I fucking love how tumblr has next to no character limit so I can just type as much as I want. You know what I don’t like? I’ll probably get deactivated by some SJW maggot-eaten crow-fucker who thinks that my rant& mentioning my failed ed & my self harm (oh fuck shut up, my brother is chanting “dumb”) so anyways some fucking sjw fuck-hole will report this post & my blog & I’ll be deactivated for simply getting angry on tumblr. It’s fucking tumblr! You used to be able to say whatever you needed to say! But now, esp us ppl w EDs, have no safe place to talk about our issues (at least, not w/o fear of gettin gterminated for “encouraging” EDs, when we’re just trying to help ourselves). Anywasy, sorry for all the swears & go se, I swear when I’m mad. I’m gonna go do smth, idk what. Can’t be anything productive, Can’t even be unproductive stuff I like, like watching youtubem, or smth cathartic like playing fiddle. I might just go & bleed a bit & ignore everything for a while. I nkow that the world will still be stressful when I get back, & I’ll still have to cook, & I’ll still be behind in school, & mom will still be broken-hearted over dad, but I’m feeling calmer just thinking about it so that’s what I’ll do.
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Amity’s Blame Game
Whenever Amity gets into an incident with someone else, be it Willow or Luz... While her judgment HAS been corrupted by abuse and indoctrination, she’s nevertheless a bright enough kid to –usually- understand that it isn’t her fault (at least not completely)! Such as when Odalia and Alador forced Amity to cut ties with Willow because she was too ‘weak’… How Willow ‘stole’ Amity’s Top Student star because she just wanted one passing grade in a class where the professor was way too harsh… Or how Luz had her conflicts here or there with Amity, at Covention or the library!
Amity knows that whatever happened in those episodes wasn’t her fault, but at the same time she knew somebody was to blame… And while the culprits behind each mess are obvious to the audience (the professor, Lilith, Odalia and Alador), Amity’s indoctrination prevents her from recognizing the adults in charge as the ones who messed up. Instead, this leaves only Luz and Willow as the alleged culprits to blame for each situation, as Amity is unable to acknowledge that it’s actually the adults who are setting these kids at each other’s throats in the first place! Amity calls out Willow and Luz for cheating, and gets upset at Willow for not being strong enough to be her friend… But her indoctrination keeps her from realizing that it’s the system and other people who set up these sorts of situations, that force Luz and Willow to cheat, or else accuse others of not being good enough, by setting a ridiculous standard in the first place.
But when Amity DOES recognize that neither Luz nor Willow were at fault here? To her, somebody has to be blamed for what went wrong, which is not only indicative of the punishment-oriented way she was raised by Odalia and Alador… But it also shows a lack of nuance on Amity’s part to consider that maybe both sides were neither good nor bad, and just trying to survive in the system; Because it’s all part of the black-and-white views placed onto Amity by the Coven System! There’s no room for subtlety nor nuance when approaching a conflict, it always boils down to one side being right and the other side being objectively wrong- Which is a reflection of Belos’ propaganda upholding the Emperor’s Coven as a perfect, infallible organization that can never do wrong and always knows what’s best for others! If anyone resists Belos, it’s clearly their fault, not the Emperor’s for persecuting them in the first place.
Amity knows somebody is at fault here, and while she’s smart enough to know it’s not HER, Amity’s indoctrination tells her that the adults aren’t to blame either. That just leaves Luz or Willow, etc. So when Amity does realize it’s not Luz/Willow’s fault? Again, it can never be the adults or those in charge who mess up… That leaves only one other culprit –because there HAS to be a culprit- and that’s Amity herself! As I’ve said before, Amity’s got a lot of self-loathing, and she can only bear to beat herself down, so much. She’s desperate for validation from her abusers, and amidst constantly being uplifted as better than the rest because she’s a Blight… This often leads to Amity having a false sense of pride and superiority in order to feel better about herself- But in the end, this ‘confidence’ is merely superficial and easily collapses to reveal the truth of her insecurity.
Amity tries to cope with the constant blame by her parents and the system for not being good enough… And she does so by blaming other kids like her, to an extent! It’s the smallest mercy she can allow herself- That if Amity isn’t the Top Student like she’s supposed to be, maybe it’s not really her fault after all! Maybe it’s just the fault of the actual Top Student for secretly cheating, this whole time! Amity at least recognizes there’s a problem here, but like many other characters, she handles it in an unproductive manner- She KNOWS she’s not a bad person, so clearly this means somebody else is! When in reality, it’s way more nuanced than that… And in some cases, it’s actually a not-so-infallible third party to blame.
Again, this likely stems from the abusive way Odalia and Alador would’ve raised Amity, constantly focusing on where a kid did wrong, making them feel bad, finding a scapegoat for things… It’s part of Belos’ propaganda, over-simplying reality to a deluded, Good VS Evil fantasy where all of life’s ills can be lumped together and blamed onto this particular person! There’s no room for consideration that maybe the circumstances and environment are bad enough to enable others to make this sort of ‘wrongful’ decision… Clearly it’s just the individual to blame here, definitely not the system! When at times, it can be both… And sometimes, it’s just the system at fault here!
So when it becomes clear to Amity that Willow and Luz aren’t at fault here? Well, there HAS to be a bad guy… And like I said, Amity’s issues all come from a core of self-loathing deep down. She’s trying to be better than constantly hating herself- But when she realizes she made a mistake, Amity relapses into beating herself down as the reason for all of her problems. She retreats back to hating herself because that’s what she’s most familiar with. Amity’s mind has normalized self-loathing and will find any reason/excuse to torment herself- Amity always feels like she’s messing up, and she’s desperate for at least some tangible answer, no matter how absurd, under the hopes that Amity can then work on a problem she can recognize… Or at least to give herself closure.
Otherwise Amity sometimes tries to –unproductively- handle this unfair blaming of herself, by instead blaming other people who aren’t at fault and turning them into a scapegoat. And, while it’s good that Amity is making the first step in not lashing out and projecting her pain and issues onto others, and is no longer blaming these random innocent people…She’s still got a lot more work to do. What she’s done wasn’t enough… Not because Amity isn’t good enough, but because she needs to learn not to be so hard on herself in the first place, that there’s no unattainable standard she needs to reach- And even if Amity DOES mess up, the system and her abuse greatly exaggerate her blame and flaws in each scenario, to distract from their own.
Obviously it’s going to be terrifying, admitting that the system and/or her parents are at fault here, and to Amity she might assume that she’s just trying to find another scapegoat, like she did in Luz and Willow- But no, in this scenario she IS correct, she’s not to blame… But neither are her friends! It takes a lot of courage to love oneself, and they say that it’s an act of rebellion towards the system to do so.
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