#I have been working on this for a week and am running out of things to come up with for languages

[batrogers]

I work in massage and was just speaking with my mother about this today, and it reminded me that honestly -- yeah. I run into adults with this issue all the time, in fact.

I do deep tissue massage. A lot of people expect that it will hurt. Many think it has to hurt. And sometimes it does! But I am perfectly capable of getting similar results with less pain if someone needs that and asks for it, and if someone is in too much pain to handle they will get no results because their body will tense up at the prospect of being touched.

Someone who wants me to get rid of their migraine is quite often willing to put up with a lot to get that result (a little pain now to remove the ice pick of pain spiking into their eye socket--) and I respect and listen to that...

but I've started repeatedly telling people "It doesn't have to hurt. You do not need to be in pain to get results. You can let this take longer if you need to, to get where you want to be. This is all up to you."

The fact that more than one person has been surprised to hear me say that, that I'm asking "Is this okay?" every five to ten minutes, that I'm noticing when they flinch and sometimes I'm asking to get them to speak so I can hear if they're hiding pain...

We have a lot of problems with consent in the medical field. We have so many problems with trust, and it damages people's health in so many ways.

If I think someone would benefit from work on their hips and glutes in pursuit of helping their lower back pain, and they've not given me permission to work there, I will just explain why I think that. I'll explain the connections between muscles and bones, explain how hip alignment can affect it, and I'll explain things they can do for themselves to try and fix it, too which does not require them to accept touch they do not want.

Often they don't change their mind, but I owe them the professional respect to mention it -- I want to help them! -- and to leave the choice up to them what to do about it.

A child can understand why you need to do something. You can explain these things to a child, too. You can stop and ask why they're scared; you can explain how much it has to hurt and what can be done to make it hurt less. You can let them choose, or at least let them know why that's not the case if this is a (truly and imminently) life-threatening situation.

Vaccinations may save their life, but there's not really a time limit on when they can get them. You can give the child another week, another month, another year. You can give them more information. You can ask why they're scared.

A massage is, for most people, an extremely positive thing and often a completely optional one, that people seek out just to feel better, or before going to a doctor or for long-term management of a problem. I don't take insurance; they're paying out of pocket at least up-front to see me.

So why do I have people who expect me to hurt them, too?

Also on topic of Consent: whenever somebody says "Kids should have bodily autonomy!" some guy always is like "You are too unrealistic. What will you do when a kid is seeing the doctor and doesn't want to get a shot? Would you just let them refuse the shot?"

Yeah I probably would. You're straight up asking the wrong person if you want the nice normal answer here. Doctors and nurses forcibly doing (relatively routine) things to my body against my protests when I was a small kid fucked me up so bad that as an adult anything medical related is a huge trigger for me, I've had persistent intrusive thoughts and recurring nightmares about medical procedures, and I can't have even the most basic tests and health checks done on top of it.

I hate talking about it because I can't get comfortable calling it "trauma" and I don't have any other words that are useful, but it's made my life so much harder and really scary since if I start having a weird symptom, there's nothing I can move myself to do about it.

I figured out a loophole where going to a pharmacy instead of a doctor's office for vaccines reduces some of the stress, but I was still in stress and misery for days before I went to get my tetanus shot. The repulsion is so intense it feels like I literally don't have control over myself, it feels like I can't make appointments or plans about such things out of my own free will, and so every year I have guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt about how I should get the flu shot, and it does nothing but ineffectually hurt me.

Vaccines save lives and all that, but when it comes right down to it, I don't think it's actually a net benefit to public health to give any percentage of kids lifelong psychological scars so deep and painful they're almost completely barred from accessing health care as adults.

I know I'm not the only one, far from it.

[sunshineyuyu]

gravitational attraction (k. ys)

★ summary: you’re taking intro to physics late as an upperclassman, but thankfully there’s another student in the same predicament–kang yeosang. the two of you end up as lab partners, and as the semester goes on, you become friends and maybe something more. ★ pairing: yeosang x gn!reader ★ genre: college, fluff ★ word count: 3.4k ★ tags/warnings:  college soccer player!yeosang, no y/n, physics lab partners to lovers, intentionally lowercase, platonic (or is it?) bed sharing/cuddling, this is all fluff :3 ★ notes: i know yeosang is actually really smart he'd probably be helping ME with physics in reality ! as always, beta'd by @starhwas-bunny ♡ ★ masterlist | read on ao3

you meet him during your first physics lab.

you’re a junior sitting in a class of mostly freshmen, all buzzing with that excited hum of making it through their first syllabus week. while you click your pen aimlessly, you think about the several ways you could’ve avoided taking introductory physics this semester: you could’ve manned the fuck up and gotten it out of the way freshman year, but you’d been scared off after doing poorly in high school; you could’ve taken it sophomore year, but that you would’ve had to take physics and linear algebra in the same semester; you could’ve switched your major entirely!

but unfortunately, you’re not sitting in the quad with your friends, leisurely throwing a frisbee while nursing a cold beer. instead you’re sat at a lab station, waiting for the teaching assistant to give instructions, and cursing yourself for arbitrarily choosing 2:30-5:30 on fridays as your designated weekly lab time.

you glance around, noticing how the other lab stations are filled with at least 2 people already, most of them chatting quietly. it’s not that you mind working alone―in fact you usually prefer it―but you’re shit at physics and you’re hoping for a budding astrophysicist to choose you as their lab partner.

instead, right at the moment that the TA clears his throat to introduce himself, the door into the lab creaks open and a chocolate-haired boy steps inside, calmly but a little breathlessly. he pinpoints the only seat still available (the one next to yours) and makes his way over. he moves with a kind of shamelessness that tells you he’s definitely not a freshman.

he’s lowkey jacked, you notice as he sits down beside you. his shoulders are solid and prominent, and you can see his biceps flex as he grabs a pencil out of his backpack. his hair falls over his forehead and just barely into his eyes, but he runs a hand through it to sift it out of the way. he’s attractive, your brain supplies uselessly.

right next to physics in your mental shelf of things you’re bad at is talking to pretty boys.

and oh, he is very pretty.

over the next hour, you learn that although your lab partner is quite beautiful, he’s also quite dumb. as nervous as you’d been about physics lab, this first one is simple enough, and you end up having to coach the boy sitting next to you through basic kinematics.

“thanks,” he says, scratching the side of his neck with the back of his pen. “i missed a couple lectures.”

“it’s the first week,” you say. “you’re already skipping classes?”

“the season just started and my sleep schedule is still a little wack,” he winces. you don’t blame him though―lecture for this class is at 8 am.

“season?” you say.

“soccer,” he says.

“oh,” you say. “that’s why you’re so…” you break off before you accidentally tell him that he’s jacked to his face.

he just hums in response.

thankfully, the two of you manage to finish the lab in less than two hours, and you note with a decent amount of satisfaction that there’s at least five other groups still working. you scribble your name at the top of your lab report, before trading to fill in your name on his sheet.

you glance over at his name.

kang yeosang, it reads. his handwriting is neat and thin.

“uh, so see you next week?” he says, as you exit the classroom together.

“yeah,” you say.

⋆⋆⋆

it takes fifteen minutes for the two of you to find the study room, which cuts into the two hours you’d reserved the room for. you’ve worked up a sweat while frantically walking around the third floor of the library, from both embarrassment and the presence of yeosang, who hovers over your shoulder as you lead him on a wild goose chase. you finally unlock the room and walk inside, only to be met with a whiteboard covered in phallic drawings and a questionable stain on the chair you happen to choose.

while you wrinkle your nose at the stain and tug on the hem of your shorts so that you can avoid any direct skin contact with it, yeosang settles into his chair and begins taking out his laptop and notebook. 

“how many problems did you get done?” you ask, mirroring his actions with your own things.

“bold of you to assume i started,” he says without a note of shame. he lays out his notebook and pen and calculator and looks up at you expectantly.

“yeo-sang,” you say. “it’s due tomorrow!”

“tomorrow at 11:59 pm,” he says. “that means i have all of tonight and all of tomorrow.” he pauses while you finish pulling up the assignment on your browser. “and i have you to help me.” he smiles at you smugly.

“bold of you to assume i’ll help you,” you retort.

he pouts, which creates an interesting contrast against his strong, muscly college-athlete figure.

“at least try every problem before i give you the answer,” you mumble, because you could never refuse kang yeosang. you cross your arms across your chest, but yeosang is smiling again. “you know if you don’t actually do the homework you’re not going to do well on the exams.”

yeosang hums in response, and you sigh.

over the next half hour, you walk him through the first few problems that you’d managed to finish relatively easily. he honestly picks up material faster than you give him credit for, and he’s never shy to ask even the dumbest questions. as you draw out a free body diagram to explain a question on potential vs. kinetic energy, a shiver runs through your spine. while the blasting ac had been welcome at first, you’ve always been sensitive to the cold, and your body is starting to reject the cool breeze. you can feel goosebumps on your arms, and your legs shake slightly.

of course yeosang notices.

“are you cold?” he asks.

“it’s one of my things,” you say, teeth chattering and waving a hand to brush his concern away. “i’m always cold and i cry at everything.”

“i’ve never seen you cry,” he says.

“hmm,” you say. “i cried during the midterm.”

he narrows his eyes. “you got an 84.”

“i thought i failed!” you say. “anyway.” you turn back to the diagram, adding extra arrows and labels. “so do you see how the potential energy becomes―”

“here.” yeosang shoves something at you, navy blue and soft. you blink at it until he unfurls it for you. it’s a hoodie. an official university athletics branded hoodie. 

“i’m fine!” you say, and with the rush of heat in your face from kang yeosang offering you a jacket, you honestly don’t feel the chill anymore.

“it probably smells kinda bad but―here, take it. you’re shivering.” a light pink dusts his cheeks, and he avoids your gaze. to save him the embarrassment, you take the hoodie from him. you stare at it in your hands, before finally pulling it over your head.

it’s so soft and warm, and you almost immediately feel your body temperature evening out. 

“thanks,” you say softly, burrowing into the neck of the hoodie. it does smell a little interesting―cologne and aftershave trying their hardest to mask the smell of sweat. but you don’t mind, because it smells like yeosang.

“not a big deal,” he mutters.

the two of you keep working on the homework for the next hour, and you manage to finish 13 out of the 15 questions. the last two are the hardest and longest, and it’s already nearing the end of your reservation for the study room.

yeosang yawns and rubs the heel of his palm into his eye.

“i can ask ryujin for help,” you say, knowing that yeosang’s strict athlete’s schedule means he should already be in bed by now. “and we can work on the last two problems tomorrow?”

“sounds good,” yeosang says. “i’m so tired.”

you pack up in silence. the two of you manage to find the elevators without much hassle, and the ride is likewise quiet, punctuated by yeosang’s occasional yawns. you stare at your hazy reflections in the elevator doors, eyes running over how his hoodie sits on your figure. you hate how much you like it.

you return the key for the study room to the front desk, and you walk out of the library together.

“i’m heading this way,” you say, gesturing in the opposite direction of the parking lot. “gotta meet up with ryujin to get that help.”

“thanks, again,” yeosang says. “i owe you.”

“good night, yeosang,” you say.

“see you tomorrow!” he calls, yawning again and turning to trudge away to his car.

he doesn’t ask for the hoodie back, and you nestle into it even thought it’s warm outside.

later, while you brush your teeth, sleeplily getting ready for bed, you catch a glimpse of white text in the mirror and you contort yourself to read the back of the hoodie. in thick square text is his last name kang and his number 8. you flush, realizing that you’re not only wearing his hoodie, you’re wearing his name and number.

⋆⋆⋆

you brush pale green crumbs off of your practice exam, scowling at yeosang seated next to you, munching contently on a stick of matcha pocky.

“stop making such a mess!” you complain, sending your shoulder into his to give you some space while you read over the last free response question.

“i don’t get this at all,” he says, peering at the question too. “i’m totally gonna fail this midterm.” he groans and drapes himself over the back of his chair, letting his head hang back dramatically in despair.

“with that attitude, yeah,” you say. you rummage with the foil packet of pocky, finding it disappointingly empty. “did you seriously finish all of the pocky? that was my last bag!”

his head swings back up to give you a sheepish grin.

“you owe me,” you mutter, reaching over the desk to swipe his still unfinished bottle of calpico. he doesn’t fight you, but watches quietly as you unscrew the cap and take a deep drink of the thing.

“there,” you say. “we’re even. actually―” 

you tilt your head back and raise the calpico to your lips, draining the bottle.

“there,” you say, slamming the now empty bottle onto your notebook with a satisfying plastic crunch. “now we’re even.”

“you didn’t waterfall,” yeosang chooses to comment. you whip around to stare at him.

“so what? do you have cooties?”

he hums instead and tugs the practice exam out from under your hand.

“so you’re totally gonna have to walk me through this whole problem.”

the sun sets, and the natural light seeping in from your large windows fades from white to orange to red to nothing. in the thirty minutes since the room has plunged into semi-darkness, neither of you have gotten up to turn on your ceiling light. instead the two of you sit crouched over your desk, illuminated by your desk light and the rotating rainbow colors from the LED lights that wrap around your walls.

“i’m going to fall asleep,” yeosang finally announces, throwing down his pen and collapsing over the desk, eyes shutting and forehead thumping against the wood.

“we still have three practice problems!” you say, nudging at his shoulder. it’s surprisingly taut under your finger, and you flush thinking about the amount of muscle packed into his body.

“i’m too tired,” he whines, muffled.

you consider his statement.

“why don’t you take a power nap?” you suggest. “chaeyoung does it all the time. she takes, like, fifteen minute power naps and feels loads better and just keeps studying.”

yeosang perches his chin on the desktop, peering at you through half-lidded eyes.

“how does that even work?” he says. “i don’t think fifteen minutes is enough.”

you shrug.

“she sent me an article once.” you begin pushing him towards your bed. “i think there’s science behind it. just―nap. i’ll finish the problem we’re on and then we can switch for the next one.”

it’s a testament to his fatigue that you’re able to maneuver him out of his chair and onto the bed behind you. you think vaguely of a different context for you to be pushing him onto your bed, but you dismiss those thoughts quickly. your biggest concern right now is making it through this practice exam, especially when one of your friends had mentioned how much the professors like to reuse old exam questions. and you aren’t going to do it alone. after you’d helped yeosang through the last five homework assignements, he’d promised that he’d work through the practice exams with you, and you aren’t about to let him flake on you when it’s only 11:30 pm.

“fifteen minutes,” you say, setting the timer on your phone and showing it to him.

he’s already made himself at home on your bed, wrapping himself in your soft blanket and grabbing your favorite cat plush to sandwich between his arms.

“don’t squeeze her like that,” you complain.

“shhh,” he says. “don’t make me waste my fifteen minutes.”

you huff, but you drop it, heading back to your desk to decipher the question you’d left half-finished. 

five minutes later, yeosang’s soft snores are the soundtrack to your struggles through the next problem. you’re tempted to check the answer key, but after preaching to yeosang the consequences of just looking up answers without doing the work, you’re caught in your own high standards.

eventually, your phone chimes to indicate that fifteen minutes are up. you swivel around in your chair, intent on tormenting yeosang but you find him still sound asleep, snuggled deeper into your bed. he’s tucked your plushie under his chin, his grip looser around the stuffed animal’s round body. vaguely, you think you might be a little jealous of that inanimate object.

you’re so fucked, you think numbly, evaluating the situation.

you have a midterm in two days, and a slumbering hot athlete in your bed.

why on earth did you think convincing yeosang to take a nap in your bed would be a good idea?

you shut off the alarm when it becomes clear that nothing will rouse yeosang from his slumber. you figure he needs his sleep, and you’ll wake him up when you finish the practice exam.

an hour later, yeosang’s still sound asleep and at the rate your yawns keep increasing in frequency and length, you’re heading in the same direction.

you’ve managed to finish two out of the last three questions, but the final problem is so convoluted and scary that you betray your own principles to just copy off of the answer key. 

you clean up your desk and shut off the desk light, shuffling towards your bed. you poke and prod and whine at yeosang to wake him up.

“yeosang,” you say, focusing your attacks on his shoulders. it’s the one area of his body you allow yourself to touch. anywhere lower and you think that you’ll be picturing exactly what is beneath your hand, and anywhere near his face will make you want to kiss him stupid.

“yeosang. yeosang. yeosang,” you chant. “wake. up. stupid.”

he finally stirs, shifting onto his back and exposing a small circle of darkened fabric on the pillow case where his mouth had been seconds before.

“you drooled on my pillow!” you shriek.

“shhh,” he mumbles. “i’m sleeping.” his voice is deeper, shrouded in sleep, and oh, it sends a tingle down your spine.

“no!” you say. “you’re leaving. go home. i finished the practice exam so i’ll just go over it with you tomorrow. you owe me big time.”

“but it’s so comfy,” he says, his eyes still shut and voice still husky. “my bed isn’t this nice.”

“it’s memory foam,” you mutter.

“mmm,” he says, and then suddenly you feel a hand, a large and warm hand wrapping around your waist and tugging you down. you tumble onto yeosang, face positively on fire as your hands go out to catch yourself and oh―

your cheek is pressed up against his chest―his very firm chest―and your hands are grazing the sides of his equally firm abdomen.

“hm this is nice,” he says, the arm around your waist tightening. you feel his chin brush against the crown of your head. 

“go home, yeosang,” you say, but without any of the conviction you’d had before. you’re cuddled up against your insanely attractive crush, and even you understand the need to take advantage of situations handed to you on a platter.

“nah,” he says. “too tired to move.”

you laugh quietly into his body.

“at least let me get under the covers.”

⋆⋆⋆

he confesses under the illumination of the numerous string lights strung along the porch of your favorite burger joint. it’s a chilly december night, and yet you’d been craving a birthday cake milkshake, and like always, yeosang had obliged.

“you know i like you, right?” he says, licking at the bit of pink shake dripping over the edge of his cup.

you freeze, quite literally, since you have always been sensitive to the cold. the milkshake hits your head in a splitting brain freeze, just as a particularly strong breeze ruffles through your hair.

“huh?” you manage.

“i like you,” yeosang continues, casually. he’s taken off the plastic cover of his shake and he’s digging at the shake with a spoon. “i feel like i’ve been pretty obvious about it, but i figured it was about time i confess for real.” he takes a spoonful of his strawberry shake into his mouth, savors it and then swallows. “especially since you’re going home soon so i won’t be able to see you in person for, like, a month.”

he hums around another spoonful of milkshake, while you nearly drop yours in surprise. your mind moves in fast forward until suddenly it cuts to complete emptiness. you stare at yeosang, mouth agape and head absolutely empty, no thoughts.

“what?” you shriek.

this causes an actual reaction in him. he jumps a little and turns to you, eyes slightly wider and spoon hanging out of his mouth.

“you like me?” you say, voice shrill.

“yeah,” he says, a little incredulously. “i thought you knew?”

“i- you- you thought i knew?” you say.

“it was obvious?” yeosang says.

“how was it obvious?” you ask.

“i dunno,” he says. “like i gave you my hoodie. isn’t that a thing boyfriends do? and i tease you all the time? and i slept over. we cuddled.”

“that- it- it wasn’t- it was purely platonic!” you hiss, ripping off your thick scarf so the cold can combat the warmth spreading from your cheeks to your forehead.

“oh,” he says. “so does that mean you don’t like me back?” he peers at you, almost void of emotion, still sucking on that stupid spoon.

“what makes you think that?” you say, breathless now.

“you said the cuddling was platonic,” he says.

“that’s- that’s because i didn’t know how you felt,” you say.

“and now you do,” he says.

“and now i do,” you parrot.

“and?” he prods.

“and―” you gulp. “―and i like you, too.”

“hmm,” he hums. “good.” he’s smiling now, this stupid shit-eating grin that you’ve only ever seen a handful of times. yeosang’s not one for big expressions, but this―

this is how you know he’s not joking with you.

“good?” you repeat faintly.

“yeah,” he says, setting down his milkshake and spoon onto the table. “so, can i be your boyfriend?”

“boyfriend?” you say.

“i thought i was the dumb one in this relationship,” he says.

“relationship?”

“seriously?” he sighs. “alright, how about this.”

he surges forward then, hands cupping your jaw. his lips slot over yours and suddenly you’re kissing kang yeosang. closed mouth, but substantial, and oh his lips are so soft.

yeosang pulls back, but his hands stay on your face, thumbs rubbing circles into your cold and slightly numb cheeks.

“oh,” you say.

“yeah,” he laughs. “you get it now?”

“yeah,” you say. “yeah―you can be my boyfriend.”

[jeonginslefthand]

A day in your garden 🪴 🌱

Pairing: FlowerShopOwner!ChoiSan x reader Genre: Little Shop of Horrors AU/Fluff Word count: 3.7k+  Plot summary: You decide to see that flower shop owner again and he decides to show you his favorite place.   Warnings: Murder towards the end. That’s it. A/N: This is part two of my Little Shop on 8th Street series! For those who’ve been keeping up so far, thanks for waiting so patiently!! Also, this is technically my last fic for the year so have a happy new year everyone, and here’s to more writing in 2025!! Click here for part 1 of the series! Little Shop on 8th Street masterlist ATEEZ masterlist

~~~

After a long day of running more errands, you swiftly lay down on your bed as tiredness washes over you. You pull out your phone to begin your nightly doom scrolling, but your mind continues to wander off to the flower shop owner San. You replay your interaction with him today over and over thinking of all the things you could’ve said to him, questions you should’ve asked to get to know him better, wondering when you could see him again. Your heart flutters thinking about his visuals, the structure of his beautiful face, the slickness of his hair, the way his shirt perfectly hugged his toned muscles, it’s an image you paint in your mind over and over again. Until you break out of your trance and come back to reality.

Wait, why am I acting like this? You think to yourself. You haven’t felt this way about anyone in a while. You also don’t usually believe in love at first sight, but something about San is different. Maybe you are too focused on his looks, or maybe it’s the way he carries himself. Maybe it’s his passion for what he does. Whatever it is, you want to see where this goes and that hopefully it works out well. 

~~~

A week passes by and you return to the flower shop once more. Only this time, you’re not looking for anything specific, at least regarding plants. This time you’re hoping to see the owner again, who’s been making your heart race every time you think of him for the past week. You walk up to the door only to be met with a disappointing sign posted on the door. 

“Little Shop on 8th Street will be closed today. Come back tomorrow!” The sign read with a cute drawing of a bunny in the corner. 

“Dang…” you say to yourself. A part of you understood. It seemed like he ran the shop by himself. Of course, he’ll need a break now and then. Maybe you can stop by tomorrow. You still have work in the morning, but can always visit in the afternoon.

“We’re not closed for my new favorite customer!” you hear a voice behind you say and you turn around startled. 

You see a smiling San towering over you as he’s carrying lots of gardening supplies and a heavy bag of soil. 

“Jeez this is the second time you scared me like that!” you respond. 

“Sorry, bad habit of mine. Do you want to come inside?” 

You nod in response and wait for San to get the shop keys. You notice him struggle reaching for his keys and you offer to help hold some of his supplies. He eagerly agrees and hands you some plant potting and plant seeds. He then successfully reaches his keys and opens the door to the shop, leading you inside. The shop looks just about the same since the last time you visited, but there’s a feeling of emptiness this time. Maybe it’s the knowledge that no one else will dare enter the shop, but following around San while standing mere inches away from him feels different than the last time the two of you were in the shop alone.  

“I realized I never got your name the last time,” San says breaking the silence. 

“Oh! I-It’s [Y/N]!” you stutter startled by his sudden statement.

“[Y/N]... such a lovely name! A pretty name for a pretty girl like you!” San responds making you blush hearing your name from his mouth. 

San leads you to the back of the store to a storage room and turns on the lights. You’re welcomed with more gardening supplies, plant starters, and flowers growing small buds that aren’t in bloom yet. 

“You can put the gardening supplies over on that shelf,” San says breaking you from your trance.  

“Oh! Okay!” you say eagerly heading over to the supplies. You begin sorting through the supplies, doing your best to figure out where the right places are. You eventually pick up on where things go, but get stuck on the last item realizing it goes on the top shelf. You do your best to reach the shelf but continue to struggle for a while trying to find a way to reach the top. Until you feel a hand graze your wrist and take the supply you were holding, moving it to the top shelf. 

“You know you can ask for help! Nothing wrong with that!” San says behind you. You start to realize how much taller he is than you. And how bigger his body is compared to yours. Add that with the sound of his breathing filling the room and the air of his breath running down your neck is enough to give you goosebumps, making this situation more intimate than anticipated. 

“G-good to know!” you respond holding back how worked up you are right now. “Anyway, that was the last thing I had so I’ll be on my way ou—”

“Wait! I want to show you something.” San interrupts. 

“Yeah?”

San steps away and begins walking out of the storage room as you follow. You both walk around the shop until you reach a staircase and you follow San up. This leads you both to the shop's second floor where you’re now standing in a common area. You look at your surroundings, noticing the kitchen with the sink halfway filled with dishes, the couch mostly clean with some clothes here and there, and another staircase you assume leads to a third floor. San quickly realizes the mess and frantically straightens a few things up. 

“Apologies for the mess. Had I known you would stop by, this would have looked much neater,” San explains as he throws clothes into a laundry area. 

“It’s okay! I’m the one who stupidly stopped by on your day off.” You respond. “And trust me, my place is much worse.”

“I would love to see it sometime! I’m sure it’s lovely messy or clean.”

“Hmm… maybe give me a heads up so you can see it in its fresh clean state!”

“Or maybe I’ll swing by on your day off! Then we’ll be even no?”

“Fair point. Now I’m sure the thing you want to show me is not your living room right?”

“Oh! That’s right! Follow me.”

San walks up the second set of staircases and you follow. The stairs lead to a rooftop patio filled with an assortment of plants. You recognize some you have seen in the store, but plenty of others you haven’t seen. The collection of plants are arranged like a garden. With the carefully crafted color scheme and the combining scents of the flowers filling your nostrils, you feel like you could get lost in this garden forever.

“This is so beautiful…” you say to San in awe.

“Welcome to the Little Shop’s secret garden! I come up here to work on personal plant projects and sometimes to get some fresh air after a long day.” San replies.

“Personal projects? Like what?”

“Well… I like cross-breeding different flowers. It’s so interesting to see what new features come from them. And sometimes I grow the plants I sell here. I have to know how best to take care of the products so I can inform the customer. What better way than to experiment in my own home.”  

“That’s amazing!! And cross-breeding is difficult. Tried it one time and didn’t get far…”

“Takes a lot of practice. Everything that goes into the process is very strategic. Believe me, it took a long time to get my method down.”

San picks up a watering can and starts walking around. You tag along admiring the array of plants bringing life to the patio. As San is watering plants, he stops on a particular flower. You stand next to him, feeling something drawing you to the flower. 

“Seems like you like the lilacs!” San says.

“Had a feeling they were lilacs. They look a bit different though.”

“These are my crossbreed lilacs and they’ve been the most difficult ones. They only crossbreed with other lilac species so it’s been a lot of trial and error, mostly error.”

“The way the colors blend is so pretty, reminds me of a sunset. And the leaves… they’re shaped into tiny hearts.” You go to touch one of the leaves as you’re admiring them. 

“Want to know something? The two breeds that created this can only be cross-breed with each other. I tried other lilac breeds on them but it hasn’t worked out. It’s like the two breeds were made for each other. Like they were waiting for their perfect match.”

“Huh, true love found through plants… who would’ve thought—” You think to yourself. 

San gets closer to the lilacs as he carefully waters them. Something is soothing about the way he waters this specific plant. The way each droplet falls on each leaf perfectly and how he monitors the amount of water going in. Delicately tipping the watering can making sure the water pressure is just right, like the lilacs could break at the slightest miscalculation. 

You follow San around some more as he waters more plants. He even hands you the watering can and lets you water some of the plants. You’re very familiar with this sort of task but you still allow San to help you. And by helping you, putting his hands where your hands are, and guiding them to water the plants with just the right amount of water. 

Following the garden adventure, you stay a little longer in San’s apartment. San pulls out some wine and two glasses and you both begin to loosen up and get comfortable. A little too comfortable. 

“So what’s a handsome man like you really doing in this small town?” You ask in a more sultry tone than usual.

“I already told you, I wanted to get away from the big city. I love the smaller towns anyway. They have so much more to appreciate than the crowded stuffy cities.” San responds. 

“Reallyyy? Are you sure you’re not getting away from other things? Like a dark secret past? Or… a dark secret ex?” You mentally question why you said the last part. Why would you randomly ask about his relationship life when you barely have gotten to know him?

“You’re funny. Unfortunately, there’s no dark past or… crazy ex for me. I had a… pretty uneventful life in the city…”

“Dang. Not even one crazy ex story? I feel everyone has a crazy ex story.”

“Not me, unfortunately. But… what about you? Do you have a crazy ex story?” 

“Oh yeah! This one dude I dated Minho was insane. I don’t know why I even dated him. First, he was so obsessed with his cats which was weird but I didn’t think anything of it. Then he would always get jealous when I hung out with my guy friends, a little too jealous. He even got jealous when I hung out with my brother once and it was super weird. One time, we were on a break from each other and it turned out that he was stalking me and taking pictures of me wherever I went. It was so strange!”

You kept going on and on rambling about Minho as the alcohol fully took over you. In your mind, you wondered why you were even telling all this to San. Being with Minho was not the best moment of your life but here you are joking about it like it was nothing. Part of you wondered if you would have been able to tell all this to San without the alcohol. Perhaps he just has a presence that makes him easy to trust. After all, he did let you into his home so you assume that there is some connection between you two.

“Anyway, I definitely only kept going back to him because he was hot and I was desperate. I mean who wouldn’t keep going back to a beauty like this?” You wrap up by showing San a picture you still had of Minho. “It’s a shame he turned out to be a psycho…” 

San closely examines the photo like he wants his face imprinted in his mind. He chuckles and mumbles “Not as pretty as me though.”

“What was that?” You ask. You heard what he said, you just wanted to hear it again.

“Nothing,” San responds. “Anyway, it’s getting late and you are in no position to drive home. Do you want me to call a cab?”

“It’s fine. I walked here and I can walk back.” 

“Then, let me walk back with you!”

You let San walk you back to your home. The two of you are about to part ways on your porch when San suddenly says “Do you maybe want to hang out again sometime? Maybe we can go somewhere that doesn’t involve flowers.”

You pause, shocked at the sudden proposition. “S-sure I would love that!”

“Great!” San pulls out a notepad and pen from his pocket and starts writing something down. He then tears the paper off, folds it, and hands it to you.

“Here’s my cell number. Text me when you’re available!” 

“Well, guess I’ll be seeing you again soon!” You smile. 

You unlock your door and head inside and you see San start walking back toward the direction of his shop. As you close the door you giggle to yourself feeling like you just scored big time. You open the note and pull out your phone ready to save his number as you read it to yourself:

“3XX-5XX-8XXX! Text me soon dear ;)” it reads with a bunny doodle and some flowers surrounding it. 

~~~

Three days pass without San hearing from you. He worries a little bit that he was too forward, but also assumes that you’re hopefully just busy. He keeps himself distracted by interacting with the other customers in the store remembering he still has to make a living. 

About two hours before closing San decides to clean up around the shop and he hears the front bell jingle. 

“Oh hi! Welcome to the Little Shop!” San cheerfully says looking up toward the door. “Anything I can help you with today?”

“Oh, I’m just looking around for now.” A man with a soft voice says.

“Well let me know if you need any help! You can come find me at the register.” 

San finishes cleaning his area and walks back to the register. He also gets a clearer look at the man who is currently checking out the begonias. In his mind, San feels he looks familiar and he’s searching through his mind where he’s seen his face before. And then the dots start connecting and a lightbulb lights up in San’s mind.

“Oh. My. God. THAT’S Y/N’s ex!” San thinks to himself. Granted he was a little tipsy when he saw the pic of him, but San was sure that was Minho. He looked a little different from the photo, possibly because of his longer hair, but his facial features are an exact carbon copy. 

San wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand, he thinks he should leave him alone and let him shop like a normal customer. On the other hand…

“Audrey keeps pestering me about needing to be fed. And that plant’s not gonna last on my blood much longer. It’s not like I would be killing an innocent person either. He seemed like he caused so much pain in Y/N’s life, despite her hiding it through her jokes. And I can do it discreetly now that I’ve waited long enough to drive out suspicion…” 

“Hey! Flower boy I need some help!” Minho calls out to San.

Snapping out of his thoughts San quickly walks over to Minho, holding two flower pot samples. 

“Which one would be the better option for my girlfriend? It’s our anniversary and I want to get something special.” Minho asks. 

“Well I’m not familiar with your girlfriend’s preferences, but for an anniversary, I would recommend the lilies. They’re in season and will look stunning bundled in a bouquet.” San responds. 

Minho contemplates San’s suggestion and nods in agreement. 

“Alright! Then I’ll take two bouquets! One all black and one all pink.”

“Great! Follow me to the register and I’ll ring you up and get some more information!” San responds, putting on his best customer service voice. 

San leads Minho to the register and starts ringing him up while taking down other important information.

“So I will need time to prepare the arrangement which should take about 1-2 days. I will contact you by phone when the flowers are ready. Would you like to add a personalized note with the bouquet?” San says to Minho.

“Actually yes,” Minho responds clearing his throat. San prepares to write down the message in his notes.

“Awesome! What would you like the note to say?”

“To my kitten… Fate may often separate us, but it will always align for us to be together. Love you dearly my darling Y/N, waiting for fate to bring you back soon.” 

San stopped his writing as soon as he heard your name. Now he can confirm, this dude is psychotic. He also now knows that he’s been lying the entire time. According to your tipsy rant last night, you’re not his girlfriend, at least not anymore. 

“This man is beyond insane he’s delusional… just what is he planning?” San thinks to himself. 

He pretends to write down the part that he missed after your name and seemingly reads it over to himself. 

“Huh… interesting note for an anniversary bouquet. Is your girlfriend traveling right now?” San asks.

“Not really. But um, we haven’t seen each other in a while, and last time we talked she said she wanted to “take a break.” I hope to make up with her on our technical anniversary with these lovely flowers.” Minho responds. 

San pauses to think to himself again. 

“I was hoping this guy had changed and gotten over Y/N but seems like that’s not the case. I can’t let him get close to Y/N. Who knows what he’ll do if I let him go…” 

San returns to reality with Minho.

“Well, if that’s the case… might I recommend one more flower to add to the arrangement?” San says.

“Hmm, depends on what it is,” Minho responds.

San walks across the store to a cabinet. He opens the cabinet that is filled with fresh poppy flowers. He takes one of the yellow ones and walks back over to Minho, holding the flower between the two of them but holding it closer to Minho.

“These are a rare breed of California poppies. I think this would show how much you value and care for your girlfriend. Also, they smell nice and can lift the room's mood. Go on, take a sniff and see for yourself…” San explains. 

Minho gets a good whiff of the flowers and lets out a pleasant sigh.

“Wow… they smell delicious. You know they remind me of—” Minho starts, but cuts himself off as he passes out on the ground in front of San. 

San puts the plant down on the cashier counter and quickly walks to the door, adjusting the front sign from “Open” to “Closed.” He quickly walks back to Minho’s unconscious body and leans over to pick up his legs.

“Oh, one more thing I should’ve mentioned… poppy scents are so intoxicating, they can also be used to render one unconscious. So don’t sniff them for too long.” San says to Minho almost mockingly. “Oops! Guess I should’ve said something sooner.” 

San hums to himself as he drags Minho’s body across the shop floor into the forbidden room where he keeps the now larger plant. He unlocks the door and the plants sprouts up hearing San enter.

“Guess what Audrey? Looks like you’ll be eating a real meal tonight!” San says in his usual happy upbeat tone. He’s also happy that he won’t have to use his blood for the next few days.

“About time flower boy! I’m dying here!” Audrey says in response.

“Yeah, I know. It’s all I’ve been hearing from you for the past few days. ‘Oh I need some food’ ‘Some real human food’ ‘Get me some human food…don’t you love me boy?’ I’m sick of the whining so hopefully this shuts you up.”

“It would if you quit your yapping and gave me the damn food.”

San pulls Minho closer to Audrey and takes a step back.

“He’s all yours!” San says smiling. 

Audrey uses one of its vines to wrap Minho up. The plant brings Minho closer to its mouth getting a taste of the savory meal to come. Minho however, slowly starts to wake up and notices what is going on, and begins to let out a scream. But Audrey uses a smaller vine to cover his mouth. San walks over closer to Minho and leans in toward him.

“Shhh. Not too loud. The lovely baker next door will get suspicious.” San softly says with a sly smile.

Minho angrily mumbles something, but San couldn't care less what he has to say now.

“Well, let’s say I heard a thing or two about you, and now… this is your karma.”

Minho says another muffled line.

“Don’t worry I’ll be sure to deliver the flowers personally to Y/N. On the house!” San says in response. 

Minho struggles to get loose and tries to call out for help. However, San steps backward as the large plant throws Minho into its mouth taking a big chomp. Some blood splatters as Audrey bites down and San closes his eyes as some of the blood accidentally sprays on him and his clothes. 

“I always forget this happens sometimes…” San mutters to himself a little annoyed. 

San walks over to a corner and gets a mop and a towel to start cleaning up Audrey’s mess. As he’s cleaning he feels a buzzing in his pocket and takes out his phone to see what’s going on. He smiles when he sees it’s a message from you. 

“I guess we’re both having good days Audrey. Seems like I got that date with Y/N!”

~~~

If you enjoyed this leave a like, reblog, and/or comment! I appreciate it and thanks for reading. If you would like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know with a comment too! 🫶

[balrogballs]

in the illustrious history of balrogballs making a joke on Tumblr and then writing a whole ass fic around it, from breakfast blowjob productions, comes a new instalment:

balrogballs joking about a Bollywood Silmarillion adaptation where the Fëanorians are South Asian coded and Elrond, due to his kidnap fam upbringing, has the FUNNIEST colonial hangover known to mankind…

… and then a month later working on a period-AU oneshot set 20 years after the fall of the British Raj, where Surrey-based Elrond returns to India for the first time since he and Elros - the lost children of two British colonial officers - had been taken away from the notorious freedom fighters who found them and raised them.

enjoy an excerpt!

When he and Elros were eight years old, Maglor Fëanorian had told him about the walls of the West. Well, he didn't tell him but Elros had read it in a diary Maedhros kept during his days as a student in London, because Elros was the kind of child who shamelessly used other people’s diaries as storybooks.

So that was where Elrond Peredhel read about the walls of the West. How the bitter water from their seas runs through all the rivers on earth, how high they can rise to keep out outsiders, how they flow from the heart of London and twirl out across the world like barbed wire, propelled by the sea. The walls of Maglor’s house in Kozhikode, Elrond used to think, must have been too high on the cliffside for the sea to reach. As pockmarked as they were, they had always welcomed him and Elros with open arms and a kiss.

On most weeks, when Maedhros got home from another Congress meeting or some revolutionary circle or the other (it goes without saying that none of Maedhros’ comrades knew that he and his brother had taken in not only two grey-eyed British children, but the grey-eyed British children of the sisterfucking chutiya Viceroy’s sisterfucking chutiya secretary), he would always bring them a bag of hot, roasted peanuts.

A bag each! A bag each, because Maedhros just knew things like that, just knew that twins treasured every little thing they didn’t have to share. Even nothing-things like bags of peanuts. On those nights, when Maedhros put down a cushion and sat against the wall, spine to stone, Elrond would lean into his carefully-guarded, coiled-tight body and fall asleep to songs about the walls of the west. They had been very young. They had been young enough to call Maedhros ‘Baba’ and Maglor ‘Abbajaan’, and persist until it meant something.

The house was near the sea. The house that once would have been breathed in, had the sea yawned: these days, it is enveloped by the petrol-diesel-tar of the apathetic Sand Banks Road. Elrond can, had he wanted to, walk to six phone shops, even though he only has one phone. He tries to be content with the knowledge that Kunjiraman Vakeel Palam still exists: that he has to cross it every day to get to his house. The house by the sea. The one in which he and Elros and Maedhros and Maglor had lived and loved with no expectation of being loved back. Two violent freedom-fighters, and the left-behind spawn of the sisterfucking chutiya Viceroy’s sisterfucking chutiya secretary. The setup to a bad joke, the bones of a little life, wrapped in the cloying, earthy red around the house. At some point, a slow, jagged cat had wandered in and never left. He was the thinnest, reddest cat the fourteen-year-old Elrond had ever seen, half an ear missing, and mean for the sake of being mean.

He and Elros had taken half a year to name it. Were you supposed to give an Indian cat an Indian name? It was Maglor who put his foot down in the end. He didn't think he could live with a cat called Ramachandran. That’s simply “too Orientalist, Elrond, even for you. Someone would probably beat you up in school if you and your grey eyes went around telling people you owned a cat named Ramachandran, and I am telling you now I will not just turn a blind eye to it, I will be personally sending sweets to the child’s house”.

So they named it Rusty, and Rusty it was to everyone except Maedhros, who called it nothing, because “a cat that runs away from small rats does not deserve a name.”

[dragonkeeper19600]

More Warden Ingo Headcanons

Part two to my previous post about Ingo in Hisui, which you can read here.

Where Ingo lives: Ingo has a private hut out in the Coronet Highlands, sort of like the one Iscan has in the Cobalt Coastlands. That was where he was living after he was made Sneasler's warden and before he met the player character. He also has a hut in the Pearl Clan Settlement. That location in the Alabaster Icelands is where he stores the belongings he had on him when he first arrived in Hisui (namely, his other clothes, his apartment keys, his wallet, and his Xtransceiver, which has long since run out of battery).

He absolutely refuses to throw away any of the belongings he had when he arrived, even though his work shirt and gloves are full of holes, and he doesn't remember what the Xtransceiver is even for.

There wasn't much in his wallet except for some cash and his trainer card, which has his photo on it. When Ingo found his trainer card in his wallet, he was able to recognize himself as the one in the photo, but couldn't understand why he was frowning and pointing like that. He was all, "This must be me, but why am I making that face?"

The face in question.

Even before he lost his memory, Ingo didn't have much awareness about his facial expressions. Pokémon Masters shows that Ingo genuinely doesn't realize that he's always frowning.

After moving to Jubilife, Ingo sleeps in the building behind the Training Grounds. Zisu also sleeps in that building but in a separate room. (I don't ship them.)

He still sometimes goes to the Coronet Highlands or the Alabaster Icelands for warden duties.

Not so much a headcanon as an observation: A lot of the Pokémon in Ingo's team at the training grounds are the evolved forms of Pokémon you can find in Unova in Black and White 2. Magnezone, Probopass, Tangrowth, and Gliscor are all obtainable in Black and White 2. Machop and Abra, meanwhile, are obtainable in the White Forest, which is a location exclusive to White. Even though he has no Gen V Pokémon on his team, his team is still connected to Unova, and especially White version.

The Razor Fang he used to evolve Gligar was actually purchased from the Gingko Guild.

None of the human characters have ever seen Ingo cry or laugh. He has, however, cried in front of his Pokémon. Gligar, in particular, has sat up with him many a night as he cried.

Ingo had only met Volo twice before running into him in the Ancient Quarry while escorting the player character. Volo doesn't take his job as a salesman very seriously, but when he found out about Ingo, he asked the merchant who normally goes to the Pearl Clan Settlement if he could go in his place that week, just so he could meet Ingo.

Ingo never knew quite what to make of Volo. He seemed friendly enough, but some of the things he said were a little...off. He once commented to Ingo that there were certain people who might envy Ingo's amnesia because it would relieve them of their painful memories. Ingo responded that he couldn't agree; he would rather keep his painful memories because he feels hollow without them.

Afterward, Ingo wondered if "certain people" included Volo himself.

Still, Ingo is grateful to Volo for selling him an empty notebook, obtained from the Galaxy Team, which Ingo uses as a journal. Ingo had been wanting to keep a journal for a long time, and he really appreciated that Volo was able to get one for him.

Ingo has no idea that Volo is the one who opened the Space-Time Rift.

The first time Cogita came to Jubilife Village (during the crisis when the sky was blocked out), she actually caught Ingo's eye. Ingo was working with the Galaxy Team and the other wardens to keep people calm. As he passed by the Clothier (where Anthe works) he happened to see Cogita inside and was struck by her beauty.

It wasn't love at first sight or anything. It was more, "Wait, who's that? Oh, she's lovely..."

He was struck by a strange sense of déjà vu. After a moment, he realized her resemblance to Volo and figured that's where the feeling of familiarity was coming from.

In reality, he'd had a similar feeling of déjà vu when he first met Volo. He even asked Volo if they had ever met before, but Volo answered (truthfully) that they hadn't.

Of course, who Ingo was actually remembering was Cynthia, who he and Emmet had become acquainted with through her trips to Unova.

Basically, Ingo's complete train of thought when he first saw Cogita in the Clothier was: 1. Who is that? 2. Oh, she's lovely... 3. She seems familiar... 4. Oh, she looks like that merchant, Volo. 5. Yes, that must be it. 6. I've been staring at her for a while. 7. I should go.

Since then, whenever Cogita visits Jubilife (which isn't super often), Ingo takes notice. He doesn't follow her around or anything, but she has to pass by the Training Grounds to enter the Galaxy Hall, and whenever she does, he quietly gazes at her from the fence.

He has no plans to actually approach her. With the gaps in his memory, Ingo feels that he's "incomplete" as a person and doesn't think he has anything to offer her.

He's also worried that he may already have a spouse or romantic partner somewhere that he's forgotten about. (He doesn't.)

Cogita has actually noticed him staring at her. (He's not being nearly as discreet as he thinks.) She's not alarmed or offended by it. She thinks it's kind of funny. Cogita isn't the type of person to be surprised that men are checking her out.

[skyfallscotland]

I don’t know if this is weird, but I don’t have many friends and I am weird, admittedly so…yolo, but this is just a diary post really of all the things on my mind right now.

• The response on ink & mistletoe was really lovely and I’m especially grateful for it while I’m still having a rough time.

• I really wanted to write more this week because I wanted to finish off ink & mistletoe and Truth & Talon before Onyx Storm comes out, but I have a migraine again and I’ve just been so exhausted it’s not happening, which sucks.

• I did start a new book though—my first of 2025—Just For the Summer by Abby Jimenez. One of my resolutions for the new year is to read more actual books, so I’m off to a start at least. One thing that wigged me out though, it’s first person past-tense? What the fuck is that, why are we doing that? My brain does not like.

• Speaking of Onyx Storm, should I start posting my theories now as I write them, or just save it for one big post a few days before?

• I’m still incredibly bothered by not only the continuing trend of oh surprise another special edition with content not available to you! But also mostly the response from other people to it, mostly Americans, because no one else is saying “no one’s making you buy them all” or “having choices is a good thing” because uhh *checks notes* we don’t? We just pay twice the amount of money you do for made-in-a-sweatshop, falling apart crap with less features.

• Also, just as an aside so you all are ready, I’m fairly certain there’s a special edition of Iron Flame coming…probably with bonus content. Someone asked if she was going to do one because it just had plain edges and she replied with a winking face. I’m going to say in Feb/March, and with dragon edges to match OS & the original FW print run. Call me Cassandra, idk.

• My (undiagnosed, I guess) OCD is getting worse, so if anyone has any tips or tricks for that throw them my way because seeing a psychiatrist in this town is not only the price of a small car, but almost impossible. Everyone’s books are closed, because we’re all a fucking mess apparently idk. They did say they had someone who might find me and my eclectic collection of mental illnesses “interesting” though, so I at least get to send my referral through 🙃

• Lastly, I am once again calling for people to stop drowning. If you come to Australia, please understand how rips work. If you’re not a strong swimmer, don’t swim anywhere there aren’t lifeguards. You are not as safe as you think you are, I promise you. Almost every day there’s been another drowning death that’s been entirely preventable and it’s infuriating, half the time there are kids involved. Don’t put your kids at risk for fuck’s sake. View the below if you’re curious (or coming here). I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t spot them from front on, most people can’t unless they grew up on the beach, but again, if you can’t that’s why you shouldn’t swim anywhere help can’t get to you. 31 people drowned in four weeks is madness when there are over 600 patrolled beaches in this country. And people worry about the wildlife, good lord.

[dorritoni]

02. whatintheskibidisigma

Manager: “We need to talk about what happened out there”

y/n: “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I just… froze”

Manager: “I know what happened. Or rather, who happened”

y/n: “It wasn’t—”

Manager: “Don’t lie to me. I saw your face the second you looked at them. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed it, either. You’ve been on edge for weeks”

y/n: “I thought I was ready. I thought I could handle it”

Manager: “You’re not ready. And that’s okay. But we can’t keep pushing forward like this and hoping it won’t happen again”

y/n: “So what? You’re pulling me out?”

Manager: “I think you need time. real time to work through this. No competitions for a year. Just training. There’s a rink nearby, and we’ll keep you on the ice, but at your own pace”

y/n: “You can’t be serious”

Manager: “I am. You’re too talented to let this destroy you. One year. Then we will reevaluate”

y/n: and what if I can’t come back from this? then what??”

Manager: “You will. But only if you give yourself the chance to heal first”

*2 days later*

You and your manager arrive to the local rink early in the morning when they have just opened to sign up , going over everything that u need to work on so u won’t mess up even if you’re nervous , then u spot someone walk in , it was a tall boy with black hair , skates in one hand and a phone in the other , the boy speaks up “mom , i came now because i wanna leave early to hang out with sohee later , okay?” as the boy looks up from his phone , he sees you , his idol looking at him. he immediately runs to the bathroom.

by the time you finish going over everything , the boy comes out of the bathroom , looking at you , you shoot him a small smile and almost a whisper like “hi” his cheeks immediately turn a light shade of pink as he struggles to speak , instead , he decided to put on his ice skates and just go on the rink.

“Ok i think we’re all done , you can start training tomorrow, i’ll assign someone to show you around before we open tomorrow just so you know where everything is so make sure to come on time okay?” says anton’s mom , the rink’s manager. “sure thing! thank you again mrs lee.” You respond and head out with your manager , shooting one last glance at the boy out of curiosity.

taglist is open! @molensworld @rckstar1ton @dreamiestay @antosaurius @yoursyuno @ramyeonzprincess @sqh3e @taroddori @profoundruinsunknown @jkeydiary @antonsintown @hellosung @03haile @prettiann @ant-onie

previous | masterlist | next

note: i hope yall dont mind that i changed the meme pfps for some characters it looked weird idk😭 ANYWAYSSSS Y/NTON FIRST MEETING RAHHH

[itooaminthisepisode]

hiii thanks for the tag!! held off on posting this cause i knew i would be uploading another fic by the end of the year and i wanted to include it lol :3

thank you @spicedrobot for the template! and without further ado, here's my wrapped!

66k words is an absolutely insane number of words that i never dreamed i would be able to write in the span of a year and yet somehow here i am. Holy Shit!!! i'm pretty sure that's more writing (or at least creative writing) in one year than i've done in the rest of my life combined.

without further ado here's an overview of all the fics i've written this year, with a little added commentary because i love yapping!! below a cut cause it got kinda long:

something sweet and safe - after wilson flirts with a nurse at work, house decides to put him in his place.

this one was my first published smut and my first foray into horrible freaknasty old man porn!! dove straight in headfirst and have never looked back since :3 need to do something with this dynamic again at some point... hmmm ;)

sick little feelings in my sick little brain - house makes wilson piss in his mouth. that's it, that's the fic.

piss md!! featuring house and wilson's (absolutely canon) shared piss kink!! i just think house should make wilson do horrible humiliating things alright. also i've had a sequel outlined for like literally MONTHS at this point i just haven't gotten around to it yet... but next year. stay tuned👀 (also maybe a third one as well we'll see how it goes!!)

wiped away my thoughts and cares - wilson sometimes struggles with incontinence. house decides to help in a rather... unorthodox way.

wilson abdl because i cannot resist putting that man in a situation!! spent two hours total writing this one (including editing) which is literally the least time i've spent on a fic Ever and somehow it's my favourite out of all 38(!!) that i wrote this year. this is another one that i am doing more of in 2025 trust🤞 little wilson is so precious to me i cannot resist him🥺

look at those puppy dog eyes - house and wilson try out petplay for the first time, and - to no one's surprise - they like it. a lot.

this is actually the first fic i started writing in 2024! i just got major writers block towards the end and left it sitting half-finished for months. but then i wrote a couple other fics and came back to it with fresh eyes and i'm really proud of how it turned out!! another dynamic that i rotate in my brain a lot. ouppies <3

i wanna throw you to the hounds - house is a werewolf - and sometimes, he can get a little... frisky when he's transformed.

this was the fic i was most nervous to post (yes, even more so than the abdl one), but im so glad ppl seemed to like it cause like. Waow :3 another one where i just put wilson in a situation!! also i love writing him having a moral crisis but doing it anyway purely cause house wants to :3

whumptober 2024 - all the filled prompts from this year's whumptober! some are short, some are longer, all of them are emotionally damaging in some shape or form.

okay look if i listed each individual fic in this series we'd be here all day so i'm just gonna talk abt whumptober as a whole. but it was SO MUCH FUN!!! wrote em in like three weeks, was churning out like 2 or 3 a day by the end, and was delirious with fever for a significant chunk of time but i'm so proud of myself for finishing in time!! if all goes well i'll be participating in 2025, albeit with slightly better planning and pacing this time!! :D

can you catch me when i'm falling down? - wilson's been having a bad day. luckily, house knows just what to do to make him feel better.

my gift for @russell-crowe as part of the 20th anniversary exchange! it was a little different to write to someone else's specifications cause i've never done it before and it's out of my comfort zone, but it was a super fun challenge and i enjoyed it a lot!! will definitely participate in this again if it runs in 2025, cause it's such a good way to feel connected within the fandom!! :D

this year's for me and you - house hangs mistletoe above wilson's doorway in an attempt to fluster him. wilson isn't so easily fooled, however, and he finds a way to beat house at his own game.

my final fic this year!! this one is another gift, this time for @nekomura-chanzu as part of the holiday gift exchange!! had a blast writing this one, it was a nice break from all the whump and smut. nothing like a sweet silly fluff fic to end the year with a bang! :3

and that's it!! what a brilliant year it's been, and here's to 2025 being even greater!

i never know who to tag for these things (social anxiety will do that😅) but to any housefic authors seeing this, feel free to add on!! <3

my ao3 wrapped! tagged by @greghousebignaturals, template by @spicedrobot

2024 was my first year of getting back into writing fanfic since literally 5 years ago - and I only got back into it in the second half of the year (and I'll still be posting more stuff before 2024 is over lbr)

very briefly, these are the House fics I wrote this year, in chronological order:

Kill the Mood: Hilson try doing doctor roleplay during sex (and fail)

Bonk: Wilson gets a concussion :)

Don't Touch Me: Wilson hates physical contact and has a bad time

inappropriate use of hospital technology: House sends Wilson a dickpic and trans!Wilson jerks off about it

acting like a tough guy: House avoids Wilson on Valentine's Day (Wilson is very endeared by this)

sleep(less): Wilson is sleep deprived to the point of hallucinating a week after he started dating House

Slow Blink: Wilson is turned into a kitten. House is confused by cat body language

ow: trans!Wilson has period cramps

oh, and one more thing: Wilson gets hurt, House mother hens him, Wilson is a little shit

Want/Deserve/Receive: Wilson starts dating House and freaks out because he doesn't feel like he's allowed to be happy

the truth I chose to bend myself around: House accidentally takes truth serum. Nobody believes him (wip)

Tie Me Up, Pull My Leash: Wilson bets House to wear a tie and then tugs on it like a leash and they make out about it

I'm tagging @itooaminthisepisode and @oldmanffucker and @coffins-and-marbles and @defibrillism (if you wanna)

template below

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[aforeffortenjolras]

really trying to find ways to take care of myself that are doable and enjoyable when possible. and i really feel like with meditation i've had a lot of progress in letting go of things and being able to not get bogged down by circumstances, and i'm having so many more good days and just feel so much lighter overall :)

[risingsunresistance]

...ok orange it is then-

[guhhhhhhhhhhh]

Oh little people in my phone, we're really in it now 😔😔

[rubiesintherough]

.

[eccentriccryptid]

.

[mutalune]

on one hand I am very glad that ketamine therapy has been helpful for my severe depression and anxiety and ptsd and whatever else is going on up there, and I’m grateful that it’s available to me as part of my treatment plan

on the other hand I’m not a huge fan of the payment for that help being a 50/50 chance every time of having a bad trip that unlocks some deep scary part of my psyche and then having to address all of that in therapy until the next trip