#also i'll see how i like this font choice in the morning

[pinkeoni]

will byers x the original pride flag colors + meanings

[jonathan-samuel-smith]

i know this sounds silly, but for your writing issue, have you tried writing on your phone (if you have one capable of it)? some of my best work (and the vast majority of my fics at all) was done lying in bed on my phone because my chronic pain was acting up but i still wanted to get the brainworms Out.

I do a lot of writing on my phone too! Usually the font size is smaller so I can fit more words onto the screen but I already set it to 14pt font for the computer. I really like writing on the computer because I can see the length of my paragraphs easier so I know if I'm going too long or if I broke it up too soon. I also find that the keys are better for my wrist pain than swiping on my phone.

I think I'll end up writing on my phone for the super sons week 2023 prompts that I decide to answer with writing. Might get started on that soon just so that I can be ready. There's always going to be pain in anything I do so I have to balance how much I want to do it and what causes the least pain overall.

Sending this ask was really sweet and supportive of you and I appreciate it a lot, anon. Have a great day!

P.S. my elementary school principal used to sign off every morning announcement with "make it a great day! the choice is yours... and the time is 7:56" and I want to echolalia that sooo bad but I think it's toxic positivity. Anyway the time is 10:16

[somewhatofablog]

29/09/2023 - morning refresh

This morning, we had two sessions before we had our collaborative research workshop later that day. Since there's four small groups in our year group (only because there's so many of us lol), half of the groups were split up into two pairs. Which meant two groups would be in a class different to the other two groups. This just makes it easier for the tutors, I think.

I'm in group D, which meant I was in a class with other members of groups C and D. In this first hour session, our tutor went over the assessment framework for unit 5 and quickly went over what was expected of us when it came to creating the process book. Because unit 5 is such a short unit, I was already well aware of just how much time I'll need to spend on reviewing sessions, workshops, lecture notes and generally just starting on that process pdf.

Hence why this blog's been revived - I want to essentially almost blog daily on whatever it is I am working on for uni. So that when it comes to creating those process books, I can just come back to this blog and plop them straight into the books. My memory's also terrible, so I really need to stay on top of this whole documenting thing. Hopefully, I'll get used to this because sometimes it's weird writing up what happened and like, figuring out the writing style is a bit confusing at times. Anyways, I wrote some notes down as you can see above.

After quickly going through the assessment criteria, we all then joined up in pairs and basically criticised and analysed some of last year’s process books for this unit. We were all given A3 sheets that had about two pages from a 2nd year process book. We then had to look at it in depth and figure out why the presentation/composition/layout of the images and text worked well/didn’t work well and how these sheets could’ve been improved in our opinions. We had to consider colour palettes, font choice, compositions etc when criticising last years work. All four process books got the top grade (which is an A), yet they all presented their work in very different ways from each other. This portion of the session was useful for me in the sense that I can look at another person’s work and think ‘yeah, I could perhaps lay out my images like that too’. But it is hard to know how to properly present your work more clearly to others, when you’re more focused on trying to explain your experimentation processes and reflection to your peers and tutors(if that makes sense). Anyways, I know presentation is a weakness of mine and that’s definitely something I want to tackle this year within my work. I’ll have to play around with compositional layouts/designs and see what works well with certain projects etc.

The second half of the morning was spent taking pics of ourselves in colourful lights. I'm not actually sure why we took the pictures - I personally think we might use these photos for our next mini brief (can’t remember what it’s called lol). Other than that, was it to have a go at photography??? I’m not honestly too sure lmao.

The photography ‘studio’ was behind a screen/black curtains. Each table would go behind the screen and take photos. When it was our table’s turn, we got up and took photos of ourselves on someone’s phone, which was placed in a tripod (??? not sure if that’s what it’s called). We played with the HSI and CCT buttons on the LED lights and we got some cool colour combos out of it.

That was it for the morning. The afternoon was spent collaborating on our text analyses with each other, which I’ll write about in a separate post.

[sor-vette]

Chapter Four | Gentle Acquisition

At the turn of a new leaf, you find yourself dancing along the knife’s edge. To keep yourself from falling over, you must ask three questions: what do they have, what do they hold dear and how far will they go to make you stay with them?

▶ wc: 2.8k

▶ this series’ masterlist

▶ other works

Life at the "Soul" gallery was somehow peaceful. You spent most of the time acquainting yourself with various Excel sheets, side to side with an open tab on "how to's" for such and such files. As Sandy, your supervisor, was still on maternity leave, most contact you had with her was through a disembodied chain of impersonal emails. And so more often than not They were who you were accountable to. Nevertheless, you worked hard, especially for the approaching Monet exhibition, so the fact that you'd been practically gifted the position would be easier to swallow.

People left you alone. That first day you visited the cafeteria with Jimin side by side, they threw condemning glances and conceited whispers. One woman had muttered "whore" next to your shoulder, you not so politely told her to stuff it up her ass, or you'll shove it for her. One man had stumbled and accidentally thrown scorching tea across your blouse. You accidentally tripped him down a few steps of stairs the following hour. After that, the contact with the other workers was non - existent. You came and went by your own lonesome, mainly remaining in the four walls of your neat little office. And however hard it was for you to acknowledge, it was indeed...nice.

The sly devils kept their distance. Hovering but not breaching your peaceful bubble, and, in time, your suspicions began to dwindle away. As the season passed and the murky glide of autumn skies turned to blinding but bare winter, the seven men became a natural presence around you. Be it a coffee handled in the morning light, a kind compliment paid in passing or just the unending stream of vocal support. Even Jungkook and Taehyung, who were still terribly sorry over something, had quickly melted into their playful disposition. Scarcely you began to alter the terms from "nuisances" to "acquaintances" to perhaps tentative "friends". Though you all seemed to disagree on that choice of wording.

"Yeah, bab - Y/N, sure we're friendly," had answered Yoongi, in between fleeting, darkened glances.

It wasn't until mid - December that the grains reached their optimal grind in your clock. Jimin and Jin were deep into an intense argument, sitting next to you as useful as a third breast, even though they were supposed to go over the font choices of the Monet display. Lounging around and fighting whether cupcakes were really just cake, it was then that you hear Jane's shrill voice on the other side of the phone line.

"Please, really, please! It's urgent!" She sounds close to tears. You agonize your brain about what could have possibly happened, still, there's nothing that arises. Both Jin and Jimin go silent next to you. Jimin's hand shakily runs up and down your thigh where it had, also "accidentally" fallen during the argument, most likely worried you’ll drag him by his ear out of your office. Again.

"I can try?"

"Trouble?" Jin mouths, his eyebrows furrowing in a hard line.

"I'll see what I can do," you hurriedly tell her and drop the phone down.

"Would it be possible to ask for an hour off? I don’t usually -" Jin holds out a palm, putting a damper on your excuses.

"No need to explain, hon- Y/N. Anything can happen."

"Please, go! Everyone will understand," Jimin reassures. You pat him slightly on the top of his head as thanks. He melts into a putty underneath your touch before gathering himself up to diligently push you on your way.

You run to the first taxi available, jogging through the swaying piles of browning, dead leaves and jump in without another thought.

In the small office, there now sat a simmering silence. Both men looked at the door, eyes glowing a similar deepened shade of amber.

"Why do I feel like this isn't good?" Jin questioned rhetorically, tone dropping to a chilling annoyance.

"Well, it's been four months already. We've never taken so long," Jimin argued passively. He too was overcome with a sudden wave of possessiveness. In unison, they sneered at the phone with a contemptuous frown.

"She avoids all my invites to a restaurant...” Jin grumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

"Maybe, she just doesn’t like you,” Jimin thought out loud, lip caught between his teeth.

“OW!”

You can't help but stare at Jane in wonder. The height of panic has disappeared entirely from her intonation. She shuffles her weight awkwardly, pulling at the sleeves of her pink jumper.

"So, nothing happened?" You clarify with an arched eyebrow. As you look above her shoulder, frankly, all that there is to be found is a pigsty. The aroma alone that wafts from her open doors could bring tears into someone's eyes.

"Well, yes and no. I... I just wanted to see you."

You can't think of anything dignifying to say.

"Couldn't you - Couldn't you just wait an hour until my work ended?"

"They let you go, didn't they?"

"Well, yes, but... Who do you mean by "they"?"

"Uh...who do you mean?"

"My management."

"Yes, I thought the same."

You stand on Jane’s threshold growing more and more perplexed by her behaviour, one second after another.

"Please come in!"

"Oh, fuc- I mean, oh, sure." Smooth.

It's exponentially worse inside. Every single available and unavailable surface is covered with something. Whether torn papers, books of varying sizes and colours, bowls, takeout and crystals.

As you make it straight away to the window, to gasp in some resemblance of breath, you keep an eye on Jane. Simultaneously Jane's best and worst quality was her insistence on all manners of cleanliness. Back in Neptune, not a day went by that she didn't nag the living shit out of everyone with ears for having a pen outside its determined cup or for eating bread that was perhaps flakier than strictly necessary.

"When you rise up, all the crumbs fall on the floor," she whined. Looking around at the surroundings, you start to seriously invest in the idea of clones.

"Jane, is something wrong? Are you - are you depressed? Or anxious?" Her back is turned to you. She is making drinks. Her hand reaches for a mug absent-mindedly, but alas it is already full of something else. She splashes the dark liquid into the sink without a second thought before dropping down two teabags.

You recoil.

"It's for me," she explains with an odd smile, turning back to gauge your expression. You try to reign in your disgust and mask it with an appeasing smile. You don't think it creates splendid results.

There's candles fucking everywhere. You see one that's on the digital piano next to the windows. The ugly curtains of that particular window have a disquieting patch of soot, staining the bottom edge. Without saying anything, you discreetly relocate it on the table.

Jane ends up pouring you coffee in a small, blue vase.

"It's completely clean," she points out as if that was the deciding factor. When you opened your mouth to object, her breath had hitched; you fear she might burst like a dam at any given moment.

"It's all utensils anyway..."

You gingerly plop down on the small circular stool. Jane is right in front of you, but her eyes are misty. You suspect that she is barely registering what's happening. Could it be drugs?

You sort through the papers once again. No needles or pills were to be found. Instead, there were just rocks and crudely drawn things on crumbled receipts

"How are you doing, Jane?" Her eyes are bloodshot, and her posture slouches to a heavy degree. Instantaneously you see a reflection of yourself four months ago.

(Getting warmer...)

"Me? Oh, I'm doing..." She begins enthusiastically but then abruptly falls silent.

"I quit Neptune,” she finally confesses. You take a sip of the coffee. It is so horrid there is no question about it - Jane mixed up sugar with salt. You grimace at the vase but, for reasons unknown, still, swallow it.

"Why would you quit? Where are you working now?" Maybe that was the reason for her spiral. Depression was no joke.

"Oh, after you left, I got sick. Like really sick."

"What's wrong with you? Are you better now? Why didn't you say?" You bolt the questions at lightning speed. Jane waves about with a soft smile, almost resembling the image of her you've grown accustomed to.

"I'm fine now. It was...an inflammation... of sorts. I got it sorted out, but Mark was such an asshole about it that I quit. I mean, I was literally dying, and they still asked me to cover extra shifts," she shakes her head along with the teacup, peering deep into the muddy abyss of the tea leaves.

"My bag broke," she cries, out of focus again.

"What a cunt," you mutter sympathetically. Mark had always been a stick in the mud. Turns out he was lesser than a dog. Dogs, after all, had many admirable qualities.

"Yeah, then I quit with a big scandal."

"What now?"

"Oh, umm... I went back to my um... hometown?"

"Where is that?" Jane continues as if not hearing the question. Perhaps she actually didn't. It was a difficult wager - what kind of state she was in.

"There my mom introduced me to her friends and they roped me into helping their shop."

"Are all of these things for the...shop?" You ask a tad sceptical, vaguely gesturing over the misaligned stacks gathered in her apartment.

"Yes, they're into spiritual stuff. You know the New Age movement."

Ah, that would make sense. Jane had accurately given you all the boxes to tick away should anything strange would pop up. It was perfect. She was depressed, hence the mess. She was ill, hence the lack of contact. She now worked with spiritual shop owners hence the amassed wealth of peculiar items. It was perfectly sound reasoning. Too perfect.

(Getting really warm...!)

As far as you knew, Jane had a strained relationship with her mother. The two of you had even bonded over family problems in the first place, choosing to stay together for holidays. Secondly, the Jane you worked with wouldn't even hear a word about horoscopes, let alone work with the New Age people. Also, if she was all right now, why does she look like one step away from perdition?

"Are you sure you're alright? You just look a little -"

"Like a harpy from hell."

"A bat could also do." She gives a dry chuckle.

"I don't particularly enjoy being - being in a place where I am. I'm having a hard time choosing what would be the right thing to do." You wince again at a particularly nasty gulp. Could there possibly be bergamot in this? The brew goes down your throat like a bag of glass shards. As it hits your stomach, you shudder. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

(Oh, just you wait.)

"Is there anything I can do?" she only sighs in response, placing down her mug. Or vase in your particular case.

"No, sorry. No." You sit as the beat of silence passes. When it does Jane unexpectedly jumps up with a fresh bout of energy.

"Well, thank you very much for visiting! I appreciate it! Did you finish your coffee?"

"Uh... yes but -"

"Well, then. You'd better be on your way! When does your work start?"

"Uh, 8 am but Ja-"

"Oh, 8 am, that's so early! You should go to sleep early, so you can rise early! Ha! Just like the saying!" You find yourself grasped tightly in her talons, and promptly shoved outside in the plain beige of the corridor. You begin to gawk in bewilderment, but she utters last -

"Sleep well!" and -

"BANG!" slams the door in your face.

(Ice cold.)

There is a dark figure loitering outside your apartment. It's Hobi, you recognize, inching closer with now two shoulders at ease.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Besides Namjoon, who dropped by some documents a month ago, they were yet to invite themselves over. Despite being thankful to avoid their beautiful, pesky hands in the comfort of your home, you were also surprised. Surely Taehyung or Jimin, who pouted and whined their manipulative way into getting everything they wanted, would do just that.

You do, however, realize you don't mind seeing Hobi waiting for you. He was peculiar. Never before have you met a person, who is in equal measures both friendly and distant, open and secretive. And sure, they were all like that. Sort of like large cats. But Hobi, in particular, felt like a walk over a tightrope. Luckily, in most cases, he provided a safety net.

When he hears your voice, he skips over, wiggling, heart smile brightly greeting you home, but, as the distance decreases to an arm's length, he violently throws himself backwards. You look at him with wide eyes.

"God, what happened to you?" he asks, pressing himself further into the wall.

"What? WHAT? Nothing happened to me!" You protest petulantly, kicking open the doors to your apartment.

"You stink!! Oh, dear God, I'm going to pass! Wouldn't that be an achievement!" He goes so far as to pinch his nose shut. You give a gentle whiff around yourself. Maybe, maybe, you can sense a bit of incense but not even close to the degree Hoseok is acting.

He stumbles in your apartment, nearly tripping over the umbrella stand.

"Well, if you find me so revolting, you can always leave ~" You call out with a fake sweet smile. Hobi releases his nose though quickly scrambles into the kitchen, out of sight.

"No way! I bought a cake, and I don't want to share it with the others."

"Ah, the cupcake argument?"

"A cupcake is a cupcake, damn it! Why would anyone bother to invent different terms for them if it's one and the same!" You shrug off your coat, rolling your eyes fondly at his heated tone.

"Anyways, we can gladly share the cake if only you get into the shower."

You sigh. You don't have the heart to simply kick the man out, so a shower it was.

"Oh and y/n~?"

"Yes~?"

He pokes his head delicately out of the glass doors wearing the same hearty smile.

"Please scrub attentively. You're disgusting right now~!"

"Yes, my liege~!"

"What kind of a weird fucking cake is that?" You frown, poking warily at the red confectionery flowers. Together with the bright green batter, it makes a truly disastrous format. Like a congested rainbow piñata had rotten on top of it.

"An expensive one, so eat or have it forced down your throat." The taste is not that bad, you cautiously have to conclude. The red flowers' tangy taste compliments the overly sweet green sugar. It is certainly unique if not anything else.

Both of you sit on the ground armed with long spoons and glasses of Bordeaux. Only after Hoseok personally had dried your hair with a towel giving it an experimental sniff, were you approved as no longer being a walking biohazard.

"Is she alright, then? Your friend?" he asks, leaning against the padded seats of the sofa. In the faint candlelight, he seems to almost have a peculiar glow coming from within. Apparently, Jin and Jimin had big mouths hence why Hoseok was here.

"I don't think so," you admit truthfully. He looks at you with such an open familiarity that you feel yourself slip into a more languid disposition.

"She was weird. Do you remember Jane?" He looks sideways.

"The woman with the eyebrow scar?" You nod along.

"I don't really understand why she called me. I fear that it might be like a cry for help. But then she refused when I asked. I honestly don't know what to make of it."

"Did something bad happen?"

"Well, she was ill, apparently, and she quit her job. I get cracking underneath those circumstances. I, myself - " you begin, but as you look into Hobi's eyes, the sentence sits unfinished on your tongue.

"Yes?"

You are thrown back. Way, way back, to the image of you in pleas underneath hands and mouth that chart your stomach and thighs with intrepid care. For some reason, over time, you began to pin the images of either Hobi, Jungkook or Tae to those hazy, nightly forms, but you’d rather die than say something so astonishingly stupid out loud.

"Well, I understand losing it a bit, but she has completely reversed her life. Like 180 degrees."

Hobi sips on his wine, one hand fiddling with his earlobe. As he speaks, his eyes do not stray away from the spoon in between your fingers.

"People can change sometimes. Even the people that you know. Look at us, haven't we changed?"

You nibble thoughtfully on the sugary paste.

"Well, I wouldn't say you've changed. My perception of you has."

"For the better?"

"Yes, I'd say so," you pause on the bite as you finally notice his zeroed in expression.

"Do you want more of the cake? Why are you star-"

His lips are upon yours before you finish your sentence.

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Tag list (open):

@singukieee @ilsan-seoul @ot7nem @mayla548 @littlrmills14-blog@themasterbob @ithtefani @meowsimpson

Happy reading! As it's been raining here for days, I've been printing out chapters left and right and I'm barely restraining myself from posting every day. I cannot wait for the second part of the story to begin 'cause I'm fairly sure it will turn out way different than what you guys expect.

Thank you for your support, you all keep me going!

Also if I forgot to tag anyone, feel free to bash me.