#i thought visas were only needed for certain countries or something

[rebellum]

I'm 24 I have a double major degree in gender studies and sexuality studies and I don't actually know what a visa is

[terrence-silver]

Ok ok ok! Since you'd like more travel headcanons, I wrote you a little epilogue to the Irish travels! I thought about them all afternoon! ☺️

As the farmer comes in after checking on Terry's horses in his stable, he is accosted by his wife:

"Jaysis Mary an'Joseph, Dougal Clarke, what were you doing taking that man's money? Do you want to be turned away the next time you are in trouble in a strange country, and you didn't bring your Visa, now?"

The farmer shakes his head. "Kathleen, did you see to look on him? Would have walked for ten miles more if I hadn't accepted it. I ought to have done it for the poor mare's sake, if nothing else. Swear to God, love, he insisted."

"Well, I'm not having it! We're not taking it!"

He frowns. "No, love! Paid us in dollars, anyway, didn't carry Euro."

She bites her lip. "What? So we're to go to Westport and exchange it? That won't do."

The farmer scratches his head. "Would give it back to his face but I don't know, Kathleen. It's a proud type."

They share a look. (There's a lot better not said about strange and fair folk.)

"I'll pack them a nice basket," the woman says eventually. "We'll put the money with it."

"Good woman yourself," the farmer says, before going into the cellar and getting a bottle of whiskey. "He's a good singer, I'll give him that," he muses, as he puts it on the kitchen table.

"And her," Kathleen chimes in. "That is a lovely one indeed."

The next day, Terry and beloved find the money and a little note reading Taisteal sábháilte, Dougal and Kathleen Clarke

How does Terry feel?

(Oh my god, oh my god, this is so sweet, and I love Kathleen and Dougal, they're so precious, goodness gracious! What a lovely snippet and epilogue to the story! I'm squealing! Thank you so much for writing this! I seldom get people who write goodies for me on here, so when I do, it is extra meaningful! I adore this! I've re-read it so many times! Absolutely cute. Adore the travelling headcanons! I mean, it is a given Terry has visited so, so, so many places, there's bound to be ideas circulating around it. Thank you again! I'm all smiles.) 💕

---

I think once Terry realizes that the kindly farmers where he and beloved stayed over not only packed a tactical basket of goodies concealing his own money at the bottom of the package alongside a farewell note and that on top of everything they didn't take a single penny of it, he doesn't do anything at the time --- he merely stews in how affected he is by the gesture --- he and beloved leave Ireland, go back to the States and only then does Terry decide to do something from afar because every good action deserves payback in his books. Nothing is for free and nothing should be for free, especially considering he was offered lodging while coming off as nothing more then a lost nobody on the road and not CEO Billionaire Terry Silver that people have something to gain from; namely, he entirely anonymously sends aid their way, monetarily or otherwise, concealed in such a way where they'll never perhaps suspect it was that odd traveller and his companion who did it, but rather, that it is sheer luck or chance or even just an accident and he'll be stubbornly vehement about it too, because an odd sum of money here and there means nothing to him, but maybe everything to them even if they're doing entirely fine without it and since he already gaged they're not the type to accept cash easily and have a certain sense of integrity and even pride on the matter (he would never offend them), even if it is paying for a service as simple as staying under their own roof, Terry is consistent in keeping an eye out for this couple -- an added extra bias coming in the form of them being Irish and him feeling majorly protective because of it too. As such, Terry's there ensuring that they're fine. That they lack for nothing. That they're doing well. That nobody bothers them. That they don't, per chance, need some help where he can swoop in and ensure they get it. I think this is what Terry does with everyone who shows him some manner of kindness just for the sake of it, without expecting anything in return from him.

He always makes sure such people are taken care of, one way or another.

[potteresque-ire]

More ask answer about Word of Honour (山河令, WoH) and the so-called “Dangai 101 phenomenon” under the cut ~ with all the M/M relationships shown on screen, does it mean improved acceptance / safety for the c-queer community?

Due to its length (sorry!), I’ve divided the answer into 3 parts: 1) Background 2) Excerpts from the op-eds 3) Thoughts This post is PART 3 💚. As usual, please consider the opinions expressed as your local friendly fandomer sharing what they’ve learned, and should, in no ways, be viewed as necessarily true. :)

(TW: homophobic, hateful speech quoted)

Here are the key points I’ve picked up from these op-eds:

* The state believes Danmei can turn young people queer. * The state also believes Dangai dramas can turn young men “feminine” to suit the taste of Dangai’s young, largely female audience. * The state views queerness in both sexes, and androgynous beauty in men as negative traits. * The state is wary of Danmei and Dangai’s popularity and wishes to contain them as subcultures. * The state is particularly annoyed by how the Dangai dramas have achieved their popularity with CP-focused promotions and marketing tactics, in which the actors are involved and blur the line between fictional and real-life suggestions of queerness.

What do I think of, concerning the acceptance and/or safety of … everything, with the above opinions given by the state media about Dangai?

* For c-queers, I don’t think things are different from before—these op-eds didn’t change the big picture for me. The op-eds taking traditional BL characterisation for Dangai / Danmei means the state’s intended focus of the genres is not its queerness; this is not unexpected, as the established review system is supposed to have removed the show’s queer elements, and to characterise those elements as queer would be a critique against the NRTA.

 While unpleasant, the veiled, antagonistic view towards non-traditional gender expressions and homosexuality isn’t new: the state has long believed popular culture can turn its young male audience “feminine”; the NRTA directive that bans homosexual content from visual media already makes clear its stance that homosexuality is, while not criminal, something that is Not Good in its eyes.

A (very) good thing that can be said, I think, is that none of the op-eds explicitly disapprove of the queer elements, the things that got away from being censored—of which there were, arguably, many in WoH. While Article O2a noted such “playing edge ball” (note the articles use this term to avoid mentioning “queer”), the comment right after was neutral / positive (“provide their audience with room for imagination”). Article O3, meanwhile, acknowledged that Dangai can be imitated by introducing suggestive atmosphere between male characters in their plot layout, thereby admitting that suggestive atmosphere between male characters in their plot layout is a defining trait of Dangai—and it didn’t say anything bad about it; the criticism was only for non-Dangai playacting Dangai.

This signals, to me at least, that Dangai can continue to be the cover for queer relationships to reach its audience for now — which is, perhaps, the best case scenario for continued queer representation on TV, given the current sociopolitical climate.

* For Danmei / Dangai, I’d also venture to say the genres are safe. Upcoming Dangais may need to undergo stricter / further reviews (if the rumours surrounding Immortality 皓衣行 are to be believed), and whether they can still achieve explosive popularity after such reviews remains a question; the genres themselves, however, will likely survive. 

Article O1 was a very positive, very enthusiastic review of WoH; its determined focus on the show’s aesthetics (as TU’s review) signals to me that the state approved of the genre’s take on aesthetics—which, again, also includes the aesthetics of a world cleansed of its real problems, which also aligns with the NRTA’s directive on TV / web dramas to focus on the positives of life in the country (Previously translated in this post: D12: … They [Pie note: the dramas] cannot place too strong an emphasis on social conflicts, must showcase the beautiful lives of the commoners.). Article O2b was very critical at places, but actually tried to sever Danmei  / Dangai from its major complaint, argued that the attention-grabbing gimmicks path was taken * instead of * aspiring to positively, proactively guide and display Danmei culture, therefore positioning Danmei on the “good side”.  While Danmei was named a (bad) influence for potentially turning youths queer (and predator, by the cartoon) in Article O2a, no mention was made of eliminating the genre both in the same Article or its editorial (Article O2b). The focus was placed, instead, on the subculture’s “containment”, and how it has been broken for “Rot Culture” to reach mainstream. The implied solution to Danmei’s “bad influence”, therefore, was to re-contain rather than eliminate.

[Logically, of course, this makes little sense. Blaming Danmei on turning youths queer is already confusing correlation and causation—youths may be drawn to Danmei because they are queer, rather than Danmei turning them queer. Re-containment, meanwhile, suggests that the state, which isn’t a fan of gays, is okay with Danmei turning kids gay… as long as there aren’t a lot of kids.

However, I’m hoping to tease out what the state may do, not whether the state is logically sound.]

Article O3 had the harshest wording on Danmei—“the canon and the Rot Culture behind it still hides large amounts of pornographic, violent content…”; “this vulgar custom of “playing edge ball” as a means to tempt, to lead the audience into indulging in fantasies [Pie note: sexual fantasies implied by the idiom 想入非非] have spread from visual media production…” . Still, no word on axing the genre, only containment.

* For CP culture, specifically, actor-character based CPs that are promoted with the dramas: while I don’t see it on the chopping board yet, these op-eds are, I believe, warnings for those in charge of the promotion and marketing of the upcoming Dangai dramas to tread carefully. I find the reach of these warnings difficult to predict still, because these warnings can be genuine—as in, the government truly believes the CP-focused promotion and marketing tactics are morally objectionable—or they can be more for show, in that the true reason behind the warnings is that CP-focused promotions, which also put a heavy focus on in-drama candies, make the NRTA / censorship board look like a joke and the government had to put up some objections to save face. 

In all cases, companies will likely need to talk to the government to nail down its stance. Whether to heed the warnings afterwards, tone down or eliminate the CP-focused promotions will require a thorough risk-benefit analysis. After all, CP culture appears to sits at the heart of the money-making machinery of Dangai dramas. The expenditure of fans is mainly to support their favourite actors and see their interactions, and money is, ultimately, what Dangai 101 is about.

Finally, for the sake of completion ~ how likely did these op-eds reflect the actual opinions of the state? Here are the sources of the articles:

Article O1: 上觀新聞, which is under Liberation Daily 解放日報,  the official daily newspaper of the Shanghai Committee of the Chinese Communist Party.

Article O2: 半月談 Banyue Tan, a state-controlled biweekly magazine published by the Xinhua News Agency, the official state-run press agency of China.

Article O3: 光明日報 Enlightenment Daily, a newspaper associated with Central Committee of the Communist Party of China (中共中央機關報).

None of them are of the calibre of People’s Daily (official newspaper of the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party). However, they’re all very well-respected state-sponsored sources. Banyue Tan does require an asterisk  ~ while affiliated with the Xinhua News Agency, the massive influence of which has earned it its nickname “the world's biggest propaganda agency”, Banyue Tan‘s authority on this particular issue of Danmei/Dangai has been somewhat undermined by a … strange (?) trivia to end this super long piece: the magazine has also been caught in the controversy surrounding 227. Due to its pro-TU, pro-Gg stance, antis have insisted there are Gg fans within its writer’s ranks, who have used the state-sponsored publication for their private, support-Gg purposes. To this day, the argument is ongoing—with the criticism of Danmei in Article O2 sparking another round of “discussion” due to its previous approval of TU—and the lead anti is a well-known international politics professor and CCP (Chinese Communist Party) mouthpiece named Shen Yi (沈逸), whose claim to fame was the US government cancelling his visa and denying him entry due to suspected espionage …

[Banyue Tan was not the only state-sponsored publication caught in 227′s cross-fire. This is one of the reasons why some political watchers have suspected 227 to have a political component, that some form of political power struggle was happening in the post-227 chaos and disguised as the fan war.

While the truth may never be revealed, one thing is for certain ~ fan wars are about the worst things fans can do for their favourite idols, by lending space for such veiled conflicts to happen, by lending the names of their idols / their idols’ fans to the actually warring parties who may not wish to reveal who they are.]

[Okay okay, I will shut up now :) ].

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 <-- YOU ARE HERE

[phynali]

so not to ruminate on things that vex me, but the past 2 or so months have been kinda shit, and i’m trucking along and there absolutely are high points and good things and joys that balance some of this out, but i need to vent out some of the negative emotions somewhere to get ‘em out. so i guess i’m doing that here because - 

we’re in lockdown#6 where i live (state of victoria) and it’s hard, this yo-yo of restrictions and swinging in and out of one lockdown after another. 

for those who understandably won’t know, what we call lockdown here means not just restaurant and commercial closures and mandatory working from home unless you’re in an industry where that’s impossible -- it also means no guests (0) inside you’re home unless you’re both living alone and single or else romantic partners, it means not leaving your home at all except for one of 4-5 necessary reasons, not being outside for more than 2hrs per day even to exercise, and not going more than 5km from your home unless required for work/medical/etc required reasons.

it’s intense. we spent (i think) 128 days in this degree of lockdown in 2020, never mind how many we spent in other forms of restrictions and working from home. and we’ve been back in it four (4) times in 2021 already. in-out-in-out-in-out - 

it’s taking a toll on the mental health of every person i know. we get weekly emails with wellbeing and resilience tips from my job -- not just “be productive or else” capitalism but heartfelt ones from wellbeing officers with copies of articles like this one on languishing from the NYT, acknowledging we’re all struggling and directing us to the plethora of wellbeing resources our workplace is trying to provide, not only to us but reminding us they offer it to our families too.

i’m one of the lucky ones. i’m really not trying to wallow here or to pretend otherwise. i appreciate that i can work from home, even though i can’t focus when i do and it this interacts with my adhd to fuck my productivity. even if i’m so behind and delayed it feels like i’ve lost 12-18 months worth of work and it will have long-term ramifications on my career -- even so, i still i have a job. i still get paid. and i even kept my job, a bit by the skin of my teeth but i did, when my sector downsized last year. yes, the way my employer went about lay offs left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth (my own included), but i made it through. 

and my sector, while affected, is by no means the worst of the collateral damage.

the yo-yo of lockdowns is taking a very very real toll on industries like hospitality, tourism, commerce. and the economy does have indirect effects on health and mental health as well. my friend, a waitress, was on her way to work the evening shift at a restaurant when she got the call about the latest lockdown. she had to turn around and go home because the announcement came just hours before the lockdown was imposed, and every place suddenly had to close by 8pm. bye bye evening shift. so much of the government support for these industries has dried up, has been inadequate. 

lockdowns save lives. i don’t begrudge my state for imposing one except that yes -- i’m resentful we’re here again with only six cases. i can be both accepting and grateful and also pissed and tired and more all at once. 

even more than the latest lockdown, i’m pissed about the yo-yo. that we went into lockdown in june, came out in july, went back in in july, came back out in july, are going back in now, in the first week of august. three lockdown/re-openings in 10 weeks, as if this rollercoaster doesn’t completely incapacitate our ability to plan or prepare for anything more than a week out, more than a day out -- in this case, more than a few hours out. 4pm the lockdown was announced, with an 8pm start time. as if that doesn’t have more insidious consequences on individuals and industries than a more clearly articulated and consistent approach. as if all the restaurants that got to open up this week didn’t purchase large food orders for this weekend that will spoil because they were given 4 hours notice to close their doors.

that’s the part i hate, right now more than the lockdowns themselves. consumer sentiment was at a high in april, optimism was everywhere. people felt good, and like we had a plan forward. now -- well, now my job is sending me emails about how normal and okay it is that i might be ‘languishing’ because aren’t we all?

and i absolutely do begrudge my federal government, and i’m angry with them, and this is part of why:

but i also accept, to some extent, that these decisions have all been made in difficult circumstances, and i’m not really about to pretend i could do any better. 

at the same time, australia’s vaccine rollout is among the slowest and lowest at least within OECD countries. i know that’s partly because we’ve managed the keep cases low and therefore we are prioritized less when it comes to who needs the vaccines most (and thus who is earlier in line to be able to purchase) among other geo-political reasons i won’t get into, but it still very much sucks. our timeline and ability to move forward and ability to stop having lockdowns requires a mostly-vaccinated population, and that’s not something we’ll have anytime soon.

and i am a visa-holder here and my family is back in canada and with our current border restrictions leaving to visit is honestly is not an option because i wouldn’t be able to return, to work. i’m managing that distance okay most of the time despite my homesickness and frustration but my partner’s parents are older and his mother’s health just isn’t amazing and it’s weighing on him a lot. 

a phd student i work with just had a parent die in another country while stuck here, had to drop everything to return, is devastated by not being by their parent’s side when it happened because it came on sudden, and now won’t be able to come back into australia after, will have to finish their thesis remotely from abroad. stories like that are becoming commonplace in certain circles, here. this student is not the first or only person i know who has been in that exact situation in the past year.

it’s enraging, and upsetting, and instills a sense of helplessness because -- there’s nothing that can really be done about it. there’s no good answer, but it’s scary to think of what could happen. i know it scares my husband. if his mother’s health suddenly dips -- does he drop everything and leave? how can he not? would i go with him or hold the fort here? what ramifications does that have either way?

right now, we’re in the first stages of getting permanent residency, my job is putting in the nomination, and this is one of those awesome high-points i mentioned. it’s a very much needed sense of security in my career and my future in this country. but while a PR application is pending and under review, you can’t leave the country, even in pre-covid times. it takes months to get the application fully nominated, accepted, then submitted, and months on months to process.

in january 2020 we had agreed that for xmas 2020 we’d return home to canada. obviously the world changed and we quickly determined that wouldn’t be the case. we pushed that plan back to july-aug 2021, then to october 2021, xmas 2021. my partner’s sister asked him last week if we started making plans, booking things for xmas, was calling to check that we’d had our second jabs. he had to explain the situation to her, that we aren’t even eligible for our first vaccine yet, that we aren’t holding out any real hope of visiting, not this year, not until mid-next.

anyway - i’m just. languishing, i guess, if that’s the word for it after all. i know it’s not the same as depression -- i’ve had episodes of that, been treated for it in different ways. this is and feels different, even if there are obvious similarities. whatever to call it, it sucks, and i hate it. and i hate the other lows and anxieties and crap i’ve been dealing with in the past few months as well that didn’t make it into this post about covid. crap with work, with friends, with goddamn car rentals of all stupid things. crap that’s making me anxious and crap that just needs processing. crap that is, ultimately, massively exacerbated because lockdowns turn us into little rats gnawing on the bars of our cages.

and i guess i just needed to talk about it somewhere, to organize my thoughts and free up some headspace (emotion space?) currently being used to hold these thoughts and feelings in place. i kind of hate posting personal crap like this and always get the urge to delete but i also have a hard time organising my thoughts if i don’t write them out with this intent to post. sort of want to go outside and scream at god, sort of want to phone up a friend and yell at him for an hour for being an exhausting ass, sort of want to be alone for a day to curl up under a blanket with a movie that’ll make me cry because raging at the universe is always so much easier when i’m alone and unobserved. but i guess since those aren’t especially kind or feasible i’ll post this instead.

anyway - if you read to the end of this for any reason, i’m not trying to be maudlin, and there’s really no need to respond. it’s just a feelings dump, sucking some of the poison out, not really much different than journalling but i’ve always been better at that online than on paper. 

[crescentsteel]

Just Friends - Part 6

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo , model fem reader warnings: a bit spicy at the end word count: 6.7k 

A.N:

I’m putting a short pause on this series. because it’s October: 1) kinktober; 2) Halloween drabbles

next part will be j u i c y

I listen to Erutan while writing

THANK YOU SO MUCH to those who leave wonderful comments in the chapters. I always read them and get silly happy

Lmk if you want to be part of the taglist

I accidentally deleted this chapter. I hate myself

Part 5 | Part 7 |  m.list 

Your eyes alternate among the four men who are blathering in front of you. You’ve been in events like this before, so interacting with guests isn’t a problem for you. But this. This is mayhem. Much of what they’re saying doesn’t make sense to you. You’re pretty sure that they introduced themselves, but their names didn’t stick because one would interrupt the other before they’re even comprehensible.

Despite them towering over you (except for the orange-haired guy who’s a tad shorter than the rest), they seem like boys squabbling over who gets to talk to the pretty girl first. You had to press your lips together as a disguise of a civil smile, but in reality, you’re stifling a laugh from leaking out. It would be rude since they’re guests as well.

The laugh stuck in your throat instantly evaporates when you see a familiar figure approaching, a figure you know all too well. You try to get a clearer picture, but he turns to the blonde-haired guy, only revealing his side and back profile to you.

You lose awareness of the other four from before. Your eyes are solely focused on him, waiting for him to face you so you can confirm that you aren’t daydreaming. Before you left Japan, it was frequent that you saw him in certain places you go, but it was just actually your brain conjuring his images to fill in the void you felt.

Being out of the country, the daydreams stopped. And now that you’re back, right on your 1st day in Japan, you’re back to seeing illusions? That can’t be. It’s been months for Christ’s sake. You’ve moved on. Maybe it was just someone with the same build, or ..

“I’m so sorry about th-”

Or it really was him.

You definitely aren’t hallucinating. But damn. You aren’t prepared for Kuroo to appear before you, and more so, you aren’t prepared for how he’s looking exceptionally good tonight. He’s donning a formal black suit with a red tie which you haven’t seen him in before. It was always shirt and pants. In his graduation party, it was just long sleeve polo in navy blue and black denim that he wore. You didn’t think much of it. You thought ruggedness was part of his charm. But no. This refined ensemble also suits him. It suits him too damn well.

You can’t believe it. It’s been months and yet, the sexual pull he has on you is still intact.

“Sorry about them.” He says with the signature mischievous grin he has.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ was what you want to say, but you’re on official business. You peek at the four boys, and just as you thought, they’re staring.

You give your rehearsed smile and bow. This is not the time and place for a reunion. You pray that he gets the drift.

Of course, he doesn’t. You become alarmed when he advances directly face to face with you. You take a step back to provide enough space between you two. You can’t have him too close. However, he still catches up. Before you can even react, his hand is already in your hair as his fingers tuck the strands behind your earlobe.

“How’re you, kitten?”

The feel of his skin directly on yours, despite being the lightest of touch, stirs something wistful in you. It gives you unwanted and unnecessary recollections of his graduation party.

You scold yourself mentally. Like you told yourself a while ago, this is not the time and place. When you look around, you see that the blonde and black and white guy was gaping in shock while the remaining two look puzzled.

He hasn’t changed. Still an expert on taking advantage of a situation to make you lose composure. Does he think that you’re going to let him do as he pleases?

Hell no.

You give your best goody-girl impression and beam at him.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” You say in perfect English, your pitch higher than your usual talking voice. “You must be mistaking me for someone else.”  You add. Kuroo’s brows raise at your trivial retort. You peek at the boys to see their reactions. It was priceless.

The blonde guy is slouching, his face buried on the shoulder of the orange boy while his own shoulders are shaking. Orange boy is shushing him. The black and white guy doesn’t bother hiding his boisterous laughing. The black-haired stern guy looks repulsively at Kuroo.

You can’t tell if they understood the whole phrase, but the ‘who are you’ is basic. You’re sure they got that one at least. You turn your eyes to him again and purse your lips to the side. You tilt your head a bit and flutter your eyes in a demure manner.

He grits his teeth as he shoots daggers at the four. “Scram now. Before I report you to your manager.”

“Introduce yourself okay, Kuroo?” Black and white calls out and laughs while walking away. The blonde guy joins him, letting out his suppressed laughter while hitting black and white’s back.

After they’re out of sight, Kuroo’s attention is on you again. His irritation is gone and is replaced with amusement that twinkled in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you spoke English.”

You look down and drop the doe-eyed act. In just one blink, your eyes are sharp and your lips curled into a corner. You cross your arms before meeting his gaze.

“Since childhood actually.” You say proudly with your normal voice. Then, you dive straight to the point. “What are you doing here, Kuroo?”

“I’m working. What’re you doing here, y.n.?”

“I’m working.”

He doesn’t say anything, but the devilish smirk on his face doesn’t leave his face while his eyes are glued on to you. You don’t falter. You hold his gaze with the same daunting expression. Just like before, you always find yourself wanting to topple his presumptuousness. You don’t back down. You’re always ready for whatever remark he’s going to throw at you.

But instead, you’re met with a change in his demeanor. His face softens up - his eyes glint with yearning while his previous smirk dwindles down to something that looks equally sad and glad at the same time.

You’re ready for anything, but this. You didn’t think you’d see him again, but you’ve held up well. You will not let yourself get carried away with Kuroo’s musings, be that sexually or emotionally. So you look away, breaking the spell that held you both captive. You clear your throat before speaking.

“Let’s do what we should be doing here then. See you around.” You try to dismiss yourself from the situation as quickly as you can, but your attempt to walk past him is useless. One pace and he’s already blocking your way entirely.

“Why the rush?” Something about the way he dominates the space in front of you tells you that you won’t escape.

“We’re both working right now.”

“Dinner after this, then?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance.” His eyes are gleaming in success when he hands you his phone, just like he did that morning after you had sex the first time. You know that he’s thinking the same. You share the same meaningful gaze at how familiar this scenario is.

You shake your head while typing the number you just got this afternoon.

–

You sit across Kuroo at the coffee shop he took you to.

“What’s this about, Kuroo?”

“What? Can’t I invite an old friend to dinner?

“Mmmhmm.” You browse at the menu and decide which tea you’ll have. You can’t have caffeine right now. You need to be able to sleep after this very long day.

“You look good, y.n.”

You scoff at the comment. Is this his attempt of a small talk?

“Tell me something I don’t know,” you sneer while still browsing.

“Oya? Let’s see then hmm.” You feel the table vibrate as he taps it with his fingers.

“It was shitty the way you left.” The tapping stops in unison with how you feel your heart skip a beat.

Your eyes snap up from the menu. His one arm is on the table while his hand rests on his chin, his eyes piercing yours with a serious intensity you’ve never seen before. Are you ready for this conversation? You still don’t want to tell him what really happened then. You might not feel the same anymore, but it still doesn’t sit well with you. It was your own naivety that got you in that situation. After a while in the US, it registered to you that you did not have any right to be angry at him. He hurt you, yes, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t even owe you an explanation for that night. He could have sex with anyone he wanted without letting you know. Your inexperience led you to believe that you two had some kind of exclusivity.

But you can’t have him know that. You both have nothing to gain from letting him know. He’d probably laugh at you, or worse, feel bad about it. Despite your relationship, you know he’s a good person. He might feel obligated to do something about it. You don’t want that. You don’t need that.

“Are you ready to order?”

The waiter came at the right time. Your thoughts were about to go somewhere bleak. You smile at the waiter.

“Green tea, please.”

Kuroo doesn’t move and lazily tells the waiter, “Whatever she’s having.”

You face Kuroo again, ready to answer him this time.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. I tried to tell you at the bar, but…”

Unpleasant memories surges in your head. You shake your head to chase them away. “I wasn’t feeling very well suddenly. Then I just got busy the following days. I had to process a lot of papers. Next thing I knew was I was about to leave.”

You hope the lies sounded real to him. You didn’t need to process papers. Your visa and passport are ready. You’ve always flown to other countries, courtesy of your family trips. The miserable truth was that you were wallowing in misery in your apartment.

“But I did try again, right? I mean I asked to meet up before I left.” You add casually, a tad cheerier than your earlier tone.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you leave?”

‘Because of you.’ That answer is still crystal to you, but of course, he’ll never know that. “Modeling,” was your answer instead.

His brows knit together in confusion.

“I thought you didn’t like it. Weren’t you doing it only cause you’re cut out for it?”

What. You told him that? You don’t remember doing so, yet he did. You think fast, racking your brain for something believable to back up your lie.

“I wanted to know what would happen if I actually tried.”

He just keeps staring at you as if he knows something you don’t, his eyes searching for any trace of doubt in what you just said. But you just meet his stare firmly, refusing to lose ground.

“Is it worth it?” It shouldn’t be a strange question, but the way he said it is. You must’ve imagined it, but it sounded like it quelled an inkling of loneliness. Perhaps you’re getting tired and projecting the feelings you had at him.

“It is.” The only truth you’ve stated in this coffee shop. You still saw modeling just as a job, yet you presently enjoy the hustle and bustle of making a name for yourself. But back then, it was what you hopelessly clung on to so your head isn’t full of him. It diverted your thoughts from Kuroo until you no longer thought about him, until the feelings faded.

“But enough about me. What happened to you after graduation?” You shift the subject to him so you’ll have to stop talking.

He removes his arm from the table and sits up straight. He takes his wallet out and hands you a calling card that read:

Japan Volleyball Association, Sports Promotion Division

You stare at it with amazement as you read it once again in your head. Holding the same expression, you gape at him.

“You don’t have to look so impressed, y.n.” He says that but he’s grinning too wide.

“It’s just I-I. Uh. Wow.” You struggle for the right words to say. You don’t know how to express the happiness you feel for him. You couldn’t think of a better career for him. He was so determined at university, to the point that he dropped out of its volleyball team. Yet, his laptop background was a volleyball stadium. He’s also kept his volleyball jerseys. You know because you once rummaged through his drawer to look for a shirt you can borrow. He worked hard and in the end, he was able to keep volleyball in his life in his own way.

You don’t have any passion for anything and you never had to work hard for anything. Witnessing someone strive at something and succeed, especially Kuroo who you were with at the last steps before his success, you can’t be anything but happy and proud.

Unhesitantly, you get up from your seat and sit beside him. You loop your arms arounds his neck and haul him in a congenial hug. You couldn't resist it. You had to do something to let out how you feel.

Before Kuroo can even react, you let go. Your arms drape until it is only your hands that are touching his shoulders.

“That’s great to hear! You’re perfect for it.”

He’s once again immersed in the marvel your orbs hold. Your smile reaches your eyes, and what a vision it is. He witnesses it again, how you truly value his accomplishment. You’re an international model, but you never showed this much enthusiasm when you talked about your career. Compared to yours, his job seems mundane. Yet, you celebrate it like it’s a really wonderful thing.

Rather than saying anything, he pulls you back to his embrace, wanting to feel your body against him for the second time. You gasp at his action, but he doesn’t let go yet. Only now does he become aware that he missed you this fucking much.

“Glad to have you back, y.n.” No haughtiness, no games, only sincerity. He can feel your uneven breathing and your chest beating wildly. Suddenly, he’s conscious of how good you feel like this, how you seem so perfect enveloped in his own body, how you should belong to him.

He releases you and looks straight at you, your eyes mirroring the yearning on his own.

“Let’s take this somewhere private,” he says softly. You lower your eyes. But before you do, he catches the pained glimmer in them. You push him lightly away, effectively breaking the contact.

“I can’t,” you say sternly, which winds him up.

“Why? Are you dating someone?”

“No. I just,” you suspire before carrying on, “ don’t want to go back to what we were, Kuroo.”

“And what were we exactly, y.n.?”

That’s when you return your gaze at him, but no remains of the sad glints he saw previously. He waits for your answer to the question he’s been asking in his head before you left.

A dry smile forms in your lips.

“Fuck buddies is how they call it.”

So that’s all it was to you. Can’t say he’s surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised. He wished it was something more.

“But I think that we did become friends at some point, you know,” you add, which gives him a sliver of hope. 

“And what are we now?” he presses on.

He sees weariness setting in your pretty face. As much as he wants to keep the conversation going, you look like you should be taking off already.

“You okay?” he asks.

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then proceed to rub your eyes, smearing your eye make up a bit. “Sorry, I just flew in this morning.”

“Let’s go then.” He calls the waiter and asks for the bill.

“I’ll drive you home. You still live there?” He asks, referring to your old place at Roppongi Hills.

“Yes, but I don’t have my car yet. I’ll just take a cab.”

He smirks at the misunderstanding. “What I meant is I’ll drive you home with my car.”

“Tch,” you say, but you smile softly. “To Roppongi Hills then,” you add.

He hands the bill to the waiter and doesn’t wait for his change. He gets up to which you follow. “This way, maam,” he says mockingly while leading you to his car.

He let you rest on the way. Your eyes were closed the whole time. You must be really worn out, so he just focused on driving. But the whole ride was only short. In no time, he’s already at the parking area of your place. He stares at you for a while, just taking in your presence, savoring the idea that you’re really back.

He leans in a bit to caress your cheeks. So soft and warm.

His eyes trail to your lips, which is not the best thing to do at the moment. It just fueled his hunger to claim that luscious mouth so he can taste you again. What he’d give to feel you melt in his arms again.

He lets out a harsh breath at where his thoughts are taking him. He wakes you up before he loses control.

You blink a few times and compose yourself rapidly. You unbuckle the seatbelt, but do not move after.

“I think it’d be cool if we stay like this. No sex. Friends without the benefits. Just friends.” Even though you aren’t looking at him, he knows how serious you are. 

“Yea, yea. I kinda got that already. I’m not an idiot.”

“Really? I beg to differ most of the time.” The short nap seems to have gotten some of your sassiness back.

“Well this idiot just gave you a ride home. Be a little grateful?”

“Aww. Did I finally tick you off?” you taunt teasingly, to which he mischievous grins at.

“Of course not. If anything, I’d love to accompany you to your room since you’re too tired. As a friend and all that jazz.”

You smile sarcastically and roll your eyes. “Goodnight, Kuroo.” You open the door and hurriedly step out. He immediately opens the window and yells.

“Night, kitten!” which echoes at the parking lot.

You don’t look back, but you flash your middle finger as a response while you keep walking.

He’s bawling at his seat. You’re not a person who curses. Doing so cracked him up even more. The both of you still enjoy trying to get under each other’s skin. And he’s won tonight’s round. Jesus Christ, you’re really something. When was the last time he laughed like this?

Just friends? He snickers to himself. Fuck that shit.

–

Your encounter with Kuroo somehow put you at ease. You won’t deny that something is still there. You definitely felt it, but it wasn’t as chaotic and messy as it was before. You believe they’re just tailends of the past, and now that you made it clear to Kuroo that it’s not going to be the same as before, you can have some peace of mind. All the times you both said you’re just friends, now you can actually say that without pretense.

You like Kuroo. He’s cool and you two share the same humor. With the recent lack of communication and absence of sex, you’re sure that your feelings will completely go away very soon.

But aside from him, you also want to reconnect with another friend.

You press the doorbell on Kenma’s new home the second time. What is he doing? He said he was home. You get your phone to call him, but the door opens all of a sudden. Instead of Kenma, it’s the 6���2 counterpart of the duo.

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you here?”

You two utter the same words the same time, which earns a raised eyebrow from you and a smirk from him.

If he’s here, then you’re at the right place. But why did he have to be here? You want to talk to Kenma alone. You don’t mind Kuroo, but there are things that only you and Kenma know about.

“I think I’m allowed to be at my friend’s house.” He said.

“You’re not his only friend, you know.”

Your peripheral sees something shuffle at a distance behind him. “Let her in, Kuroo.” You hear the familiar nonchalant voice. He looks at where the voice is coming from.

“Haa? I thought it was just us today.” Even though he says that, there’s a knowing tug in his lips.

“Huh? You’re the one who came here all of a sudden.”

Kenma’s annoyed voice reached your ears. You use your fist to cover your mouth from laughing, to which Kuroo pouts at.

“If you’d excuse me then.” You say teasingly while you let yourself in.

Kenma waves languidly at you with a warm smile, as warm as Kenma can possibly be. He still looks the same, except that his hair is longer now and the black roots are more prominent. He’s still wearing the regular baggy clothes, but something about his eyes seem keener.

“Heeey. How are you?” All the saltiness with Kuroo is gone, replaced by amiability exclusively for Kenma.

“All good. My channel and company are doing well recently so I moved out.”

You squint your eyes a bit. Did you hear him correctly? His channel and company?

“Sorry, I don’t quite get it. What do you mean?” He frowns, also looking confused as to why you’re confused.

“You didn’t know? He already founded his company before you left. He also has shit ton of viewers on his gaming channel. Pfft. You really call yourself a friend?”

You ignore Kuroo’s side comment. All you can think about is why you didn’t know the information he just said. You thought Kenma was just a regular student who comes over to play sometimes. Not only that, he’s nothing like the CEOs you’ve met. And he’s as young as you are!

The other night it was Kuroo, now it was Kenma’s turn to amaze you.

And just like with Kuroo, you don’t hesitate to give him the congratulatory hug as well. It’s so gratifying to know that these two you consider friends are successful in pursuing their passion.

Kuroo is a bit shocked at your gesture. He didn’t know that you two were that close for you to hug him like that. Still, he finds it nice that you and his childhood best friend get along swimmingly well. Kenma always had this aversion to people in general. He doesn’t speak much and usually won’t talk until spoken to. More specially, he’s not any good at physical affection.

So naturally, Kenma’s stunned as well. Kenma’s eyes fly to him for a few seconds, but looks down before he can figure out what Kenma was thinking. But he can imagine Kenma awkwardly pushing you away while looking uncomfortable. He already has a plan. He’ll mockingly offer you a consolation hug with open arms since Kenma will refuse to let you. He can’t wait to see you riled up.

Only to be taken by complete surprise when Kenma puts a light hand on your back while patting your head. For someone like Kenma, this is already more than just a friendly hug. What the? And to deliver the finishing blow, Kenma has this almost affectionate smile while doing those.

Goddammit.

Kuroo was feeling fuzzy earlier, but now he’s stumped and irritated at the scene taking place. Kenma never motherfucking ever hugged someone, let alone a girl. A smoking hot girl who, ironically, he’s pining after. Is something between you and Kenma that he doesn’t know about? You seem to share a deeper bond that he’s not aware of.

He’s counting the seconds in his head. When the hell are you two gonna stop this mushy touchy session?

He exhales when you finally broke off from the seemingly not ending contact.

“Wow! And I thought I was rich.” You say jokingly.

“You still are, y.n. By a lot more.”

You ignore Kenma’s last remark and let your eyes travel at his new home. Kuroo can tell what you’re thinking. He thought the same at first. It was big and homey, but a little too humble for his pay grade.

“When did you move?”

“Two days ago.”

“You should’ve told me. I could’ve hooked you up to other options.” Yep. You do share a similar opinion.

“Like Roppongi Hills?”

You look at Kenma inquisitively. “Hmm. Yeah! That’s actually where I live.”

“Kuroo told me the same thing. I wonder why.”

You and Kenma look at him simultaneously. “What? It was cool. You should see her unit. It screams ‘I’m hella loaded’.”

“Maybe I should. Can I drop by some time, y.n?”

Tsk tsk. Unfortunately for Kenma, you’re way too uptight about the privacy of your home. He practically had to force himself in. And he only stayed less than 10 minutes cause you were so uncomfortable and on the edge the whole time.

“Sure! Tell me when. I just finished unpacking my stuff.”

What.the.actual.fuck. Are you shitting him right now? With him, you were all ‘JuSt a PeeK oK?’ but with Kenma, you might as well throw a freakin tea party when he visits.

“Oy, y.n. Why is it okay with Kenma but you couldn’t wait to kick me out when I was there?”

“Uhh.. Ermm.” Your eyes drift around the room, obviously thinking of an excuse. It better be a good one because this is bullshit to him.

“I’m just kidding. I like this best. I don’t need the fancy stuff.” Kenma blurts out.

That made him snap out of it. He let out a deep breath to calm himself down. You laugh nervously but still avoid any eye contact. He turns to Kenma and finds a subtle grin on his friend’s face. It was nothing worth noticing, it only looks like a lazy smile, to a normal person that is. But he has known Kenma since childhood. That was far from a subtle grin. That was the grin of a plan being executed well.

He never told the guy what was going on between you two back then. And even before something beyond than sexual relations took place, you left, so he didn’t see the point in telling Kenma. But of course the former brain of Nekoma isn’t just for games. He has already been figured out even without saying anything.

And just now, he was being played at. Kenma was deliberately baiting him until he does something out of jealousy that could possibly advance his relationship with you. He’s almost touched at the idea, but it’s too twisted for his taste.

He moves to where Kenma is and heavily puts an arm around him.

“Ayt. Scrutinize his house all you want. We’re movin to his game room.” He drags Kenma before you could react. He strides longer to create some distance between them and you.

When you’re out of earshot, he speaks in a piped down voice.

“Since when did you know?”

“Even before you did.” They’ll have a discussion for that later, but he needs to get to his point before you catch up.

“You don’t have to do anything. I can handle this.”

Kenma gives him a disagreeing look. “This has been going on for too long. It’s getting painful to look at you two.” Since they no longer spend as much time together, he sometimes forgets that Kenma is frighteningly intuitive.

“Heh. Don’t worry about it.” He already made up his mind about it the other night. He’s just going to verbalize it for his friend to hear.

“She will be mine.”

–

Work has increased more than you’ve expected. Because of your international experience, you’ve been getting more and more offers. There were days that you’ve been in two to three shoots in a day. That didn’t happen when you were in the US. Yes, you like being busy, but it’s beginning to be too much.

It’d be weird to say that you crave for a work-life balance, since you don’t really have that much of a life. Whenever you’re free, you try to get together with Kenma and Kuroo, but Kenma’s almost never free these days. Because of it, you develop a certain appreciation for Kuroo because in contrast, he always takes up your invites. Though they’re nothing big, just casual dinner, casual chat, and then he’d drive you home. Still, it was some sort of break from work. Kuroo’s become your go-to breather when things get hectic.

At first, you’re a bit wary to spend too much time alone with him. He’s Kuroo Tetsurou, your scheming ex-fuck buddy. He might pull something similar to what he did in the coffee shop, so you’re always on guard. But so far, he’s been behaving. The conversations you usually share are work-related and the times you spent in American and him in Japan. That’s all. He barely even touches you, so you feel stupid for being so cautious.

K.O

The videogame prompt brought you back to the present. You realize you were only absent-mindedly pressing the buttons while your mind was floating ingame.

“Are you even trying, y.n.? You suck more than usual today.”

“Ha ha.” You laugh monotonously at Kuroo’s insult. You put down the controller and leaned back. You stare blankly at the ceiling. “Work’s turned me into a noob.”

You feel him shift his weight in the soft cushion, so you look at him. He puts an arm on the backrest of the couch and pulls in his left leg so he can face you. He’s wearing a loose black muscle tee that did its job perfectly. You see his toned biceps stretched out. You’ve almost forgotten how immaculate he looks underneath that suit he’s always wearing. The outline of his toned chest is also more prominent because of the thin fabric. What about his thighs? They must be as glorious as the last time you straddled him.

What are you doing? Were you seriously gawking at him just now? Your eyes almost dropped down to his lower half if you had not caught yourself. Did he notice? You pray to whoever’s in charge out there that he doesn’t. You won’t hear the end of it if he did.

You focus on his face instead, but it doesn’t help. Your mind can’t stop thinking how ridiculously sexy of a man he is. That’s saying something since you’ve worked with international male models.

God, the lack of sex for almost a year must be hitting you only now.

“That’s just an excuse.”

“What?!” You flip from your seat. Did you say that out loud unconsciously? You’re tired, but you won’t slip up like that.

Kuroo grins from ear to ear. How could he not notice? You didn’t even try to be discreet about it. He’s sure you were thinking of something sexual based on your agitated reaction. And also, it’s still engraved on his mind how you look when you’re horny. Although, it wasn’t explicit, you gave him that look. You want him.

Oh man, he’s tempted to do something about it. Very tempted. He’s willing to bet his car that if he made his move now, you’d actually let him. He just needs to get rid of the tiny space separating you two and he can touch you, feel your softness, trace the silkiness of your skin with his hands, and … ah no. He shouldn’t. He can’t lose control now. He’s been playing nice and keeping his hands to himself for a while, and he’ll keep doing so until you completely put down the walls you’ve held up against him. He can’t lose sight of his true goal, and that is for you to want him beyond sex. If he fucks you now, that might be jeopardized. No can do. He needs you to know that to him, you’re more than just a bed warmer, than just a friend.

Rather than teasing you for being so worked up, he comments on your disarrayed state.

“Work’s really whacked your brain, huh?”

You stay still for a few seconds, then groans harshly. You put your hands on your face and squeal, probably your way of releasing some pent-up stress.

“Yes! God, they just keep on coming. And I just want to relax you know. Like come on. Give me a break! I only have one body. And yes I get it that it’s up to me if I accept the job. But then it’d be a waste to refuse since I’m only starting to be known here. Can they at least not have the same schedule?”

He stares at you having your monologue and starts to feel bad for you. You never had this kind of episode even at your busiest days in university. You had good time management, but now you really are a wreck. No wonder you were carelessly eyeing him a while ago. You’re too drained to keep yourself in check. It was good to know though, that deep inside you still desire him, despite the no-sex barrier you established. Still, it troubles him to see you like this.

“Turn around,” he tells you.

“Um. Why?”

“Just do it. I’m doing you a favor, mkay?”

You glance at him doubtfully, like he’s planning to do something shady. This he laughs at.

“I’ll just give you a back massage. It’s the least I could do.”

Your eyes gleam at what he just said. “Wow. Who knew you were this thoughtful?”

“Shut up and turn around.” You comply.

“Hmm. You should take off your shirt.”

You fiercely look at him from the instruction he just gave, verifying that he is indeed going to do something suspicious. “Say what now?”

He replies with a haughty smirk, “I’ve seen you without anything, y.n. Seeing you in your bra doesn’t mean shit.”

You were about to flip. But he has a point. Also, the massage will feel better without your shirt. You sigh as you pull up the white shirt you were wearing. You slouch to cover your front. You do have your bra on and it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but still. You feel exposed.

‘This is a bad idea,’ you thought.

Kuroo thinks so too. Seeing your bare flesh like this makes him want to put into actions what he was just fantasizing earlier. He shouldn’t have suggested it.

To shake it off, he shook his hands in the air, literally, before placing a firm grip on your shoulders. You tense up at the contact, making your shoulders more stiff than they already are.

“Can you fucking relax?” he snaps. But he meant that to himself more than you. You still heed his direction anyway. When he feels you loosen up, he kneads the tautness in your muscles. Your eyes closed shut as he works on your shoulders for a bit.

“Mmmm,” you groan in relief.

He moves his hands on your arms, applying just the right amount of pressure to alleviate the tension in your body. You sat up straight when he found the rhythm and motion you liked. He tries to focus, but he constantly betrays himself. The plumpness of your chest is now for his viewing pleasure. That and your slightly parted lips and closed eyes aren’t helping the budding arousal in his shorts.

He accidentally squeezes harder which makes you throw your head back and,

“Ahhhhh”

At that moment, he can confidently attest that this is what hell is. Pure fucking torture.

He stops massaging your arms and pushes to make you slouch again. But he unknowingly does it a bit forcefully from the testosterone coursing in his body.

“Heey!”

“My bad,” he says coldly.

He continues on to your back, but does it more gently this time. He might hurt you if he’s not mindful of his strength.

From the absence of the sinful scenery, he thought he was finally safe from the lust about to rage in him. But you provided a different temptation this time. Your uneven breathing is loud enough for him to hear. Your tiny moans tainted the air, filling his head of images of you under him, writhing in a different kind of pleasure, one that will wrench out a louder, wilder moan.

“Harder, Kuroo”

His dick follows obediently. He feels his restraint ebbing away at every passing second. Damn it. He’s glad you’re enjoying this, but why the fuck does he need to suffer for it. Nuh uh. You need to have a taste of what he’s having as well.

He pulls you so your back is against him, your head resting on his chest. No complaints were heard from you. You probably thought he’s still massaging you. Well, he is, but with some extra service.

His hands move to your nape. He gives it gentle strokes with his thumb.

“That feels good,” you whisper.

“Does it now?” he answers with his voice a bit deeper than usual.

He replaces his thumbs with his middle fingers. Instead of rubbing, he slowly trails both fingers up to the back of your ears. Your reaction is immediate. You gasp as your body suddenly braces up. But he expected it. He knows those were your sensitive spots.

“Didn’t I say relax? I’m going to massage your head now.”

You abide quickly and lose the stiffness. You probably thought you just misunderstood the gesture.

He proceeds to rub your forehead with his fingers while his thumbs circles the back of your head. After a while, he caresses the sides of your face down to your neck. He does it like it’s part of the massage, until he’s delicately stroking you more than actually massaging. You remain still, but with every stroke, he feels your body getting warm. He also sees the goosebumps in your skin.

Oh yea. Precisely as he wanted.

He won’t do anything further than this, but he still has to add that cherry on top of his little seduction game.

His left hand stays on your neck while his right hand cards your hair through his fingertips. And exactly how he remembers you liking it, he fists his hand and tugs your hair.

“Hnnnnn” It was clear and crisp to him. That moan is the carnal kind that he’s been wanting to get out from your pretty mouth.

You should be yelling at him, telling him off, but you got so lost in it. Somewhere through it, you figured out that it was no longer a harmless massage. But it felt good. You couldn’t stop him. You reasoned with yourself that it was okay since technically, it’s still nothing. You aren’t even touching him, so you let yourself feel what small pleasure you could attain from it.

But the way he pulled your hair, it stirred up something in you that you’ve been suppressing arduously. And right now, at this moment, you’re willing to throw away your ‘just friends’ nonsense that you, yourself set up.

You’re about to face him when a loud thud catches both of your attention.

It’s Kenma who dropped his Switch on the floor while gawping at you and Kuroo. It clicks in your head how you two looked. You, on your bra, pressed against him with his hand on your hair.

Instantaneously, you move away from him and take your shirt to cover yourself with it. Your short-circuiting brain overlooks the fact that you should put it on rather than shielding yourself with it.

A blushing Kenma picks up his console from the floor.

“You shouldn’t have invited me if you had other plans” grumbling while heading for the door.

Part 5 | Part 7 |  m.list

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 73 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Courtney committed a fireable offense when she lost Miss Fame’s sketches.

This Chapter: Bianca rides in on a white horse, and Violet says yes to cake.

***

BIANCA: I need Courtney’s address

ADORE: Why

BIANCA: Because she seems upset and she’s not answering and I’m worried

ADORE: What did you do?

BIANCA: NOTHING

BIANCA: I don’t think

BIANCA: Something probably happened at work

BIANCA: ADORE. SEND THE ADDRESS FOR FUCK’S SAKE

BIANCA: I WILL CUT YOU OFF BITCH

BIANCA: Adore, please.

ADORE: Fine! But if she’s mad, that’s on you

BIANCA: ACCEPTED

ADORE: Just to warn you, it’s a real shithole

BIANCA: Alright, alright, just please send the address

*

Even though Bianca felt like a little bit of a stalker just showing up at her place like this, she didn’t know what else she was supposed to do. Courtney had cancelled with those few cryptic messages and then gone radio silent. Bianca knew her well enough by now to be certain that something had gone wrong, since just hours earlier, she was sending sweet messages about how much she couldn’t wait for them to be together.

She tried calling her a few more times from the car, but there was no answer. Finally, standing in front of the crumbling brownstone, she had to come clean.

BIANCA: Look, I’m sorry for taking drastic measures, but I was really worried…

BIANCA: I’m outside your building

Seconds later, her phone rang. She answered, heart filling with relief. “Hi baby-”

“What are you doing here?”

Her voice sounded broken and raw, and it was immediately clear that she’d been crying. Bianca could feel her heart in her throat, head suddenly racing with all the possibilities of things she may actually have done wrong. Had she really fucked this up so quickly?

“I was worried about you, so I thought…” Bianca bit her lip, afraid to even ask if she was the one who had upset Courtney like this. “Are you gonna let me inside?”

There was a pause, a few beats, the sound of sniffling.

“I just...I kind of don’t want you to...see it.” She sounded choked up again, voice small and soft.

“Angel…” Bianca couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. It didn’t sound like she was angry, at least not with Bianca--just ashamed of where she lived, which Bianca could understand. “Do you think I’ve always lived in a penthouse?”

“No,” Courtney admitted after a pause.

“No,” Bianca repeated. “Not by a longshot. Please let me in, I need to see you. I just want to talk.”

A few minutes later, Courtney appeared, opening the door from the basement level. Bianca raced down the narrow steps and swept her into a hug, trying not to fret too much about the way she hung limply in her arms.

She followed her inside, and while she’d been prepared for something small and substandard, based on everything she’d heard so far, this was far worse than her fears. A tiny basement unit, dank and dark with exposed pipes and what looked like the world’s oldest sofa bed. It was also clearly an illegal sublet with no kitchen--only a metal, industrial sink with an electric kettle and micro-fridge below.

Besides the bed, there was little furniture. Her closet appeared to be two wardrobe boxes, and a few other boxes were stacked next to the bed to create a makeshift side table. Bianca took it all in, wondering exactly how she ended up in such a dismal place.

But now was not the time to ask about that, not when Courtney looked so utterly miserable. Even in the dim lighting, Bianca could see that her eyes were red and swollen. She followed her to the sofa bed, sitting down gingerly beside her (and holy shit was that thing uncomfortable) and taking one of her hands into her lap.

“Tell me why you’re so upset, angel, please.”

Courtney took a shaky breath, fresh tears filling her eyes. “I did something...really terrible today.”

“Did you kill someone? Do you need me to get a shovel?” Bianca asked, and she was rewarded with a hint of a smile as Courtney shook her head.

“No, but…” Every trace of smile disappeared from her face as she said, “I bet Miss Fame is gonna think this is worse.”

“What happened?”

“I accidentally left an envelope with a bunch of her sketches in a cab.” A tear rolled down her reddened cheek.

Bianca’s eyes went wide, understanding why Courtney was so distraught. Fame rarely sketched anymore, but when she did, she was as attached to the original work as if it was a piece of her own body. She immediately went into problem-solving mode, trying to think of things to mitigate the damage.

“Have you tried calling the cab company-”

“I don’t know which cab company it was, I didn’t get a receipt and I can’t remember no matter how hard I try,” Courtney cried. “But I did call, I must have called a hundred different companies, but...I think they might be gone.”

“Okay-”

“It’s not okay! Her sketches, her original sketches! How could I have done that, I’m so dumb, I’m so bad at that stupid job!” More tears poured down her cheeks, sobs heaving her chest.

“Hey, come here…” Bianca pulled her in, hushing her softly, a hand rubbing circles into her back. “I know, I get what a big deal it is, but it sounds like you did everything you could. And I promise you, it’ll be okay-”

“How?! How will it be okay?! I’m gonna get fired!” Courtney exclaimed, and Bianca had to bite her tongue, the word ‘so?’ nearly slipping from her lips.

“Okay, well...let’s say you do get fired,” Bianca said slowly. “I don’t think you will, but if you do...would that be so bad? It’s clearly not your dream job.”

“But I need it. I can’t get my new work visa without it. It’s been months and I still don’t have the answer and-”

“You don’t have a work visa?”

“Not after March. I have an attorney who’s working on it, but he keeps running into problems and he’s already charged me so much and I don’t know-”

“Hold up. Galactica hired you, but they’re not handling your immigration issues?” Bianca asked.

“Well...Violet told me not to tell Miss Fame, so I...I was afraid to bring it up with HR. But I got the number of an immigration lawyer from Miss Fame’s contacts, and...it’s all just so expensive. He keeps asking for more money, and I can’t-”

“Wait a second.”

Bianca was no immigration expert, but she knew two things: 1, getting a work visa for an entry level administrative job was nearly impossible and 2, it was actually impossible without the full support of a sponsor company.

“Whoever that lawyer is, they’re a total fraud. Don’t give them any more money, okay?”

“Oh god.” Courtney moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Why can’t I do anything right?!”

“This isn’t your fault,” Bianca assured her. “You trusted a professional and they took advantage of you. They could be disbarred for that. And as for the sketches...stop beating yourself up. Yes, she’s going to be angry, and upset, but things happen. People make mistakes. I’ve made plenty, believe me.”

“Like this?” Courtney asked, eyes skeptical.

“I once dropped my boss’s wife’s passport off a subway platform.”

“Did you get fired?” Courtney asked.

“No. But I did get yelled at for a solid hour. Maybe two. It wasn’t a good day. But...I got through it. And you’ll get through this.”

“Maybe. But I just know I’m gonna fuck up again. Everything is...I don’t think it should still be this hard, not after 4 months. Miss Fame even said that, earlier today. I’m not new anymore, I should know better. I should be better. What’s wrong with me?!”

At first, Bianca said nothing, simply wrapping her in an embrace. She knew that Courtney was finding the job stressful--anyone in their right mind would find that job stressful. But the fact that it was this bad...Bianca felt guilty for not noticing sooner. She rocked Courtney slowly, letting her fall apart in her arms, whispering comfort into her ear.

After a while, when she sensed that Courtney was cried out, sobs slowing down and some of the tension finally melting away, Bianca pulled back and took her by the shoulders. She paused, considering for a minute if she really wanted to get involved before saying, “Maybe this isn’t the right job for you.”

“Well, I don't have another offer, so...oh, god, what am I gonna do? Is the visa thing really bad? Am I gonna get deported?”

“No,” Bianca said with a smile, shaking her head decisively. “I’ll take care of your visa. Don’t worry about it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet, but there are options. I promise, okay?” Bianca kissed her cheek softly, up near her ear, lips lingering on her tear-stained skin. “I’ve gotten pretty attached to you, so you leaving the country would be a huge bummer.”

Courtney finally seemed to relax, letting out a small chuckle, resting her head on Bianca’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave you either. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand tighter, lacing their fingers together. “Does that mean you want to come home with me?”

Courtney nodded slowly, squeezing Bianca’s hand back. “Yes please.”

“Good.” Bianca tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And, um...okay so, remember when you said that Christmas music makes you want to go to the beach?”

“Yeah…” Courtney tilted her head, puzzled.

“Well I may have booked us a little...getaway. Just for a few days. So you can have some sun and relax and get away from this dreary weather.”

“Where?” Courtney asked, eyes wide.

“Puerto Rico. It’s not that long of a flight, so-”

“But I thought you had to stay and work!”

“I can work from there.” Bianca flashed her a charming smile, adding, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you did. I’m…” Courtney took a deep breath, clearly overwhelmed, and then glanced over to where a beaten-up duffel bag lay on the floor. “I guess I need to pack some other clothes, although I’m not sure I have the right stuff here...”

“There are stores in San Juan.”

Courtney laughed, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. “I’m never gonna get used to the way you live.”

“You will. And that’s a promise,” Bianca said. “So will you come with me? Our flight leaves tomorrow at 2.”

“Yeah, of course! I just need like 20 minutes or so to pack.” Courtney’s mood already seemed to brighten as she began pulling boxes out of a stack against the brick wall.

“Of course, take your time. Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Oh. Uh...yeah, sure. It’s uh...out that door and down the hall, on the right. I share with Fred, but I think he’s at work right now, so-”

“Who’s Fred?”

“Um-”

“You know what, I can hold it,” Bianca assured her, crossing her legs.

“I’ll be fast, I promise,” Courtney said, pulling a pair of sandals out of the box and tossing them to the floor. “And B...thank you.”

“For what, sunshine?”

“Everything.”

***

“I’ll get to the dishes in a minute, mom!” Gigi closed the door behind her, looking around her bedroom in an attempt to remember where she had put her earpods. She crouched down, digging through her backpack. Symone had made her a playlist of music she had to listen to over the holidays, and if she was gonna be put on Cinderella duty, she might as well make it productive.

It felt strange to be home; the smells, sights and sounds were all exactly the same, while she couldn’t help but feel different, like she had grown up in the weeks she was away.

Some of her friends had reached out when they had seen on Instagram that she had returned to L.A, but she hadn’t responded yet. She was an adult now, with a real job, not a college kid that could mess around and do all the things she used to, hanging out in the skate park suddenly so lame and childish compared to all the things she was doing in New York.

She had spent the day in her mom’s studio, watching her work like she had done so many times before, her mom excitedly asking about what clothes she should make her, and showing her all of the sketches she had done while Gigi was away based on the pictures she had sent.

Gigi couldn’t wait to wear her mom's creations, the outfits more chic than anything she had seen in the multiple designer stores she had now been in. Sutan’s words that her style was her edge ones she had really taken to heart.

“There!” Gigi exclaimed triumphantly, pulling her earpods out of her backpack. She grabbed her phone, and was just about to get to the kitchen to do the dishes, when she saw that she had gotten a message from Symone, a massive grin spreading on her face as she slid back down to the floor, leaning against her bed to respond, her chores completely forgotten.

***

JINKX: Hey honey. Just want to make sure you made it home from the airport okay.

JINKX: I read it was snowing a ton.

JINKX: Plus you know, I haven’t heard from you in almost 4 hours so I miss you like crazy.

JINKX: ;-P

ALASKA: Haha, I’m fine. At a bar right now catching up with the bro.

JINKX: Tell him hi for me

JINKX: xoxo

ALASKA: <3

***

It was Christmas Eve Day, barely past dawn, but Courtney was already awake. She’d slipped from the bed as quietly as possible so as not to wake Bianca, padding over to the big picture window to watch the golden sunlight reflecting off the buildings, admire the light dusting of snow on the trees in the park. She wasn’t used to thinking of New York as pretty, but from up here, it really was.

“Hey...good morning…” Bianca said, her voice rough with sleep, just the way Courtney loved most.

“Good morning.” She turned around, giving her a slightly apologetic smile. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nahh...I guess my body just doesn’t want to sleep without you.”

“I love it when you’re cheesy,” Courtney giggled.

“Oh yeah? Plenty more where that came from. What are you doing all the way over there?”

“Just...checking out the view. It’s pretty amazing.” Courtney turned and headed back to the bed, suddenly missing Bianca’s warmth beside her.

“The view over here isn’t half bad either,” Bianca told her with a wink.

Courtney giggled some more, crawling toward her across the mattress. “Happy Christmas Eve…”

Their lips met in a sweet and tender kiss, Bianca’s hands cradling her face.

“Speaking of which...how do you feel about opening one of your presents now?”

“Really? Already?” Courtney asked, eyes lighting up.

“Well, it’s kind of useful, so I think it makes sense.” Bianca got up out of the bed, pulling a huge box wrapped in silver from her closet.

Courtney sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly as she ripped open the paper to reveal a gorgeous pink Fendi suitcase, covered in what had to be custom crystals. Her mouth fell open.

“I figured you could use it for our trip. You know. I’m all about practical gifts.”

Courtney couldn’t help laughing. The suitcase was anything but practical...but it was perfect, like it was designed from Courtney’s wildest daydreams.

“I don’t know if I have enough to fill this,” Courtney said, running her fingers over it, watching the way the stones glittered in the light.

“Well...that’s cool, I could use the extra space myself.”

Courtney raised her eyebrows. She’d seen Bianca’s packed suitcases, two giant Louis Vuittons and a large, matching carry-on, nearly ready to go.

“You need more space? We’re going for a week...what are you even taking?!”

“More presents,” Bianca said, dimples deepening.

“Oh my god…”

***

Violet chewed on her lip; sorting through Google images really not where she excelled. She was looking for pictures of Raja at the Met Ball, slowly combing through what she could find since her emails to Max and Pearl had gone unanswered. It was annoying, but expected. Pearl never missed out on the chance of ignoring her emails, and Max was british so he completely ignored both phone and computer the minute he left the office, so she was on her own.

“Violet?”

Violet looked up from her station at the living room table to see Sutan head peek in through the kitchen door, his phone against his shoulder, the glasses in his hair betraying that he had been working  as well even though it was Christmas Eve. “My mom’s asking if you like klappertaart?”

“... Excuse me what?” Klappertaart? Violet had no idea what that was. It wasn’t unusual for either Raja or Sutan to get a bit confused when they bounced between Indonesian and English, their sentences sometimes mixed up, but that didn’t sound Indonesian at all. “Is that German?”

“Dutch, actually,” Sutan smiled. “Remind me to educate you on the thrilling saga of Indonesia's colonial history some day.”

“Ah,” Violet felt a brief stab of shame, that information seeming like something she should have known, though she had barely even been aware that Indonesia existed before she had met her boyfriend.

“So?” Sutan walked fully into the room, leaning against the doorframe, his black pants tight in the waist, and Violet couldn’t help but admire him for a second. “Klappertaart?”

“I still don’t know what it is.”

“Oh fuck, right” Sutan’s eyes widened, and Violet laughed as she heard a noise from the phone, Murni clearly picking up on her son’s swearing, Sutan quickly putting the phone against his ear.

“Ya Bunda, ya ya, maaf,” Sutan grinned, walking over to the table before putting the phone down so he could continue talking.

“Klappertaart is… It’s a cake, that’s…” Sutan paused, clearly looking for his words. “There’s coconut and… Know what, excuse me.” Sutan held the phone up again, Indonesian falling from his lips as he talked to his mom and Violet had to hide a smile, Sutan clearly never considering what was in this mysterious klappertaart.

“There,” Sutan pulled away, “It’s a coconut cake with almonds and raisins, and we usually have it for Christmas.”

“Huh,” Violet ran over the ingredients in her head. It was incredibly nice of Sutan’s mom to ask if she liked the menu, and there weren’t any of the ingredients that she hated, though warm raisins were disgusting, but she was pretty sure she could get away with picking them off, so there was no reason to create a scene. “That sounds lovely.”

“Great,” Sutan smiled, bending down to give her a quick kiss before he returned to his phone call.

[thepettymachine]

Zodiac Legacy Challenge for the Sims 3

If you’re like me, I like a good legacy challenge with nice themes/aesthetics to place/plan out with each heir with enough wiggle room for creative interpretations. No. Well I’ve always wanted to do a zodiac legacy challenge but could never find the rules for TS3 or most of them were made for TS4.  So I guess I thought I would just make one then. 

This was all made on a whim but it’s a strong whim. So enjoy the whim. “@” me if you use the rules since I didn’t come up with a tag for this. 

Credit:

I like to credit @tainoodles‘s TS4 Astrology Legacy as an inspiration/base for this, as well as many others I’ve found online. 

A buttload of astrology sites

@starplumbob​ and @bravetrait​ for feedback. Thank you alot!

Without further ado

General Rules:

Finish the goals provided for each sign

You can move onto the next generation when all goals are met or you maintain them until the heir has aged up or both. Up to you.

 You can start on any sign but you must go in order afterwards.

If I were to start on Leo, I would have to do Virgo next.

You can select any of the careers provided for the generation.

You don’t have to use all the traits assigned to a sign, but 1-2 are required.

You can use colors for aesthetic purposes/berry purposes, but they are not required.  

Generation Aries: The Ram  

♈︎ - Is everything a game to you? Well of course it is, you’re an Aries. First sign in the zodiac that also might be banned from playing simopoly. We admire a courageous spirit that knows what it wants, is driven, and is bluntly honest with us but can you let some of us, you know….win?! Not everything has to be a competition. Geez 

Aesthetic Color(s): Red Traits: Workaholic, Ambitious, Brave, Hot-Headed Careers: Firefighter, Athlete, Military, Sports Agent

Goals:

Excel and reach the top of their career.

Fall In love and marry their first love fast

Has to do something athletic once a week

Master the athletic and handiness traits

Have them battle someone once a week

Generation Taurus: The Bull

♉︎ - What’s wrong with a little luxury in life. Food, art, sex, and your favorite snuggle blanket made of some high cotton that was not cheap is the lap of luxury for you. You can be really stubborn sometimes but once you set your mind on something, you aren’t changing it. It’s all because you know what’s best for you and nothing else matters. Aesthetic is key but you can also be a little bit greedy with your stuff. Sharing is caring Taurus

Aesthetic Color(s): Earth Tones, Pink Traits: Natural Cook, Loves the Outdoors, Frugal, Hopeless Romantic Careers: Gardner, Cook, Nectar Owner

Goals:

Master the cooking and gardening skills

Be best friends with their future spouse before dating

Learn at least 20 new recipes

Must have twins (can have more children than that)

Have very expensive/luxury items worth more than $500 in your home (it’s all about that aesthetic)

Woohoo with your spouse once a day

Generation Gemini: The Twins

♊︎ - Wow, how does it feel to be a twin. You look every bit like each other except for your dual personalities. Charming and youthful, you both are ahead of the curve as your quick wit and curiosity keeps you moving forward in life. You have alot of skills and talents and love communicating your ideas with others. Just remember where the brakes are at , as some of us can’t keep up. Tough luck you say. 

Aesthetic Color(s): Yellow, mint green, Orange, neons Traits: Charismatic, Childish, Genius, Schmoozer Careers: Teacher, Writer, Private Investigator, Magician

Goals:

Both twins have to be heir

Have a very close relationship with your twin

Master 5 skills, including charisma

Spend most of their YA dabbling in different careers before deciding on one in their adult years.

Have multiple lovers before choosing/finding the one

Have to teach their children all of their skills and help them with their homework

Generation Cancer: The Crab

♋︎ - Why so crabby? I’m sorry had to throw that one in there. You tend to be a loyal compassionate creative person who wears their heart on their sleeve. Sometimes that sleeve might be drenched in your tears as you can be considered a little bit moody but we love you Cancer. You sense what a person is feeling and you help them through it. What a great lover and friend you are!

Aesthetic Color(s): Light Blue, Gray, Orange Traits: Nurturing, Family-Oriented, Over-Emotional, Brooding Careers: Sculptor, Daycare Profession, Resort Owner/Bed&Breakfast

Goals:

Sim must have a full relationship bar with their significant other before proposing

Have a lot of handmade items in your home

Have 5 children

Master the sculpting skill

Be best friends with all their children.

Get out of the house once a week

Generation Leo: The Lion

♌︎ - Royalty must be in your blood cause obviously you are the Queen/King and we are all just your royal subjects. With a mighty roar, you demand your spotlight and capture our attention with your spontaneous passionate heart. We follow your lead, my liege. For you will not make us forget it!

Aesthetic Color(s): Gold, Purple Traits: Snob, Brave, Dramatic, Star Quality Careers: CEO, Actor, Singer

Goals: 

Live in a mansion/large house with more than 4 bedrooms

Become a five star celebrity

Marry a big time celebrity

Go on a big dates with your lover/spouse at least once a week

New Me each week - go to the spa and change your boring outfit at least once a week

Master the social networking skill

Generation Virgo: The Virgin

♍︎ - The modest stylish Virgo is always the hardest worker that delivers the best because they expect the best. You love to serve others and always pay attention to details with such an organized perfection towards the things you do. But sometimes that perfection creates high expectations of yourself and let’s just say judgement and criticism is not your color.

Aesthetic Color(s): Green, Brown, White Traits: Perfectionist, Perceptive, Neurotic, Neat Careers: Doctor, Journalist, Bookstore clerk

Goals:

Have a part-time job, make straight A’s, and join a club as a teenager

Have a college degree

Spouse must be compatible and must share at least 2-3 traits with them.

Can only have woohoo after marriage

House must be clean all the times (no outside help is allowed)

Must learn something new every week

New Recipe, read a new book, learn a new skill, take a class

Generation Libra: The Scales

♎︎ - You’re a giant balancing act, trying to keep everything fair and just. You love being around all kinds of people and also trying to make the world a better place. As much as you are a great mediator and friend, you’re also a great people pleaser. Please take time out of your day not to be around people and just focus on you.

Aesthetic Color: Green, White Traits: Friendly, Good, Social Butterfly, Party Animal Careers: Architect, Stylist, Musician

Goals:

Get Married to a sim that is complete opposite of you, then divorce them

Remarry a more compatible sim

Have 10 best friends

Host a party once a week

Complete 3 social opportunities each week

Master the guitar, bass, drums, and piano skills

Generation Scorpio: The Scorpion

♏︎ - Ah the mystery of the Scorpio. You have an intimidating front but behind that is an emotional side only certain people are allowed to see. You’re kinda into some dark occultist stuff and you’re also secretive about things. But you’re a passionate lover that can see love as a game of trials. Just a couple of tests to make sure that this is the right person for who you can finally put your guard down around. 

Aesthetic Color: Black, Gray, Red Traits: Loner, Daredevil, Irresistible, Inappropriate Careers: Ghost Hunter, Law Enforcement (Forensics/Super Spy), Cemetery,

Goals:

You have a 3 dates policy before asking a sim to be in a relationship with you

Has at least 3 enemies (stop holding grudges)

Become an supernatural/occult sim

Master the martial arts and alchemy skills

Woohoo in 5 different places with your spouse

Do something inappropriate once a week

Generation Sagittarius: The Archer

♐︎ - Sagittarius you love your freedom and the adventures that come with it. You keep choosing the nontraditional path of life because you love to move past your horizons and set your own tradition. You’re brutally honest with everything and can tend to put your own desires above your own needs. As you constantly strive to be independent, you may grow distant from those who care about you the most. 

Aesthetic Color: Red, Purple, Blue Traits: Adventurous, Easily-Impressed, Flirty, Animal Lover Careers: Adventurer, Equestrian, Photographer,

Goals:

Max out a visa in one country (if WA is applicable)

Have 20 friends

Have multiple partners throughout their life but only commit once as an adult

Have multiple kids from different partners (one has to be from another country if WA is applicable)

Have a horse, dog, cat, and/or other small animals in the house.

Be apart of all 3 social groups (nerd, jock, rebel)

Generation Capricorn: The Goat

♑︎ - Baaahh, you’re a goat. Smart and hardworking, Capricorn, you have a “get stuff done at the expense of your health and other things for the sake of achievement and financial gain” -breathes in- kind of motto. You’re so focused on reaching the top, you forget about the other things in life. But your disciplined perseverance and patience will reward you later in life.

Aesthetic Color: Black, Gray, White Traits: Workaholic, Unflirty, Computer Whiz, Bot Fan Careers: Inventor, Bot Arena/Bot Builder, Politician

Goals:

You don’t date until you’re an adult

You don’t get married until you reached the highest point in your career

Master the logic skill and a tech skill (inventing, bot building, or advanced technology)

Have more than 25,000 in savings (without cheating)

Have your children be straight A students throughout the childhood/teen years

Generation Aquarius: The Water Bearer

♒︎  - Individualistic Aquarius runs on it’s own beat. You have a strong desire for change and evolution to come to the world which is why you have a strong sense for social justice in order to make the world a better place. You care for others and that care might cause you to create a system of prioritizing them above all other things. While love is always a nice thing, you just don’t like the idea of being dependent on each other, so it would be nice if you don’t have to commit.

Aesthetic Color: Electric/Light Blue, White, Violet, Traits: Rebellious, Eco-Friendly, Avante garde, Commitment Issues Careers: Astronomer, Game Designer, Scientist

Goals:

Master the Street Art skill

Create a Utopia for the future and get a statue in Legacy park.

Have a friends with benefits relationship with your closest friend that results with a child

You never marry

Must live an eco-friendly lifestyle. (no dryer, bikes > cars, salvage everything, grow everything)

Generation Pisces: The Fish

♓︎ - You’re a fish out of water and the last constellation of the zodiac. You’re a dreamer, creative and very intuitive which makes you empathetic and open to other’s feelings. Your symbol is two fish because you tend to constantly swim back and forth between conflicting desires and have a bit of escapism problem . You can’t help it sometimes, it just how it makes you feel. 

Aesthetic Color(s): Aquamarine, Sea Green, Lavender Traits:  Artistic, Sailor, Supernatural Fan, Loves to Swim Careers: Fortune Teller, Lifeguard, Scuba Diver

Goals:

Become a mermaid/master the scuba diving skill

Marry a supernatural sim

Master the painting and writing skills

Have 2 childhood friends and keep in touch with them throughout your lives

Thank you for trying out this challenge. Feedback is always welcomed thing on this challenge.

[darkobssessions]

Oh my god I am tired.

And it can’t be fixed by a good nutrient dense meal. Several days of good nutrient dense meals. Good sleep. Animal organ supplements and cod liver oil.

Not eating sugar. Not spending a fuckton of time on facebook.

Having a course to go to (that on it’s own is EXHAUSTING ME).

Ticking items off my checklist isn’t helping. Sitting and doing nothing because I’m too tired isn’t helping. Being honest on social media isn’t helping because I get advice that literally makes me want to off myself. 

Speaking to support welfare people isn’t helping because no matter what I say I will still look like an alien with wildly gesticulating hands and I will still speak gibberish to them. They will not understand the struggle. They smile and nod with sympathy, or is it empathy? And the meeting ends and I have to leave and start again. Transitions terrify me. I tell them this and they need examples.

Where should I start? Changing a table in a restaurant sends me into a panic because I am now looking at an unknown patch of wall and even though it is the same beloved restaurant I cannot enjoy a bite of food because it feels like I am in a different ‘space?’

That I screenshot the position of my apps on my phone so I know where I had them if they get scrambled? And any change I instate I have to check I am used to it by switching back and forth between layouts to see how I feel with each one? That if change is just done without that buffer period I feel physically ill and cannot move on?

That every new job or change my partner makes to his routine is a change to my micro-routines and I spend a week or more in actual psychotic episodic stress, sobbing, melting down, with a building tension and despair, until suddenly I am okay with this new thing. Until it changes AGAIN and I am not. 

That I feel the micro differences between how things were and what they have changed into. In a way that no one else notices. If a hat gets crushed in my carry on (which my favourite new one did this weekend) and it is flattened I know it will never go back to being how it was when I bought it, even if I fidget with it, bend it and try to reshape it. It is not MY hate anymore. It is a different hat. And it will never feel the same on my head as it DID. It will probably not be a favourite item anymore after this. 

That I can tell the difference between the slight change in colour of a piece of clothing if something has spilled on it that won’t come out, or I am making art and I have second thoughts about using a certain product and then do it anyway and the end result is just a hairline difference from what it looked like before BUT I CAN TELL and forevermore that piece of art is ruined, even if I give it as a gift, I don’t LIKE it anymore and it will never be the same. When I add too much ink to some fine writing and it is ugly now. 

When something changes with my hair or my body, like going to the dentist and I am out f sorts for weeks feeling the new tooth shape in my mouth and crying and grieving over the parts that were lost. How do I tell these people this? How do I explain to them that I just cannot rest if such a change has happened without an adequate time to prepare or grieve? That in the same way a compulsion operates, I cannot complete a task if something is missing, or move on if I am not 100% okay with where I stand with regards to any one thing.

So really why would a meal help?

Or some seemingly friendly people listening (while not understanding a thing)?

Or tons of free time (I should be doing important tasks in) that I end up wasting in existential dread?

Why does it matter that my brain is a supercomputer if I can’t organise my life? If I am burned out and I DO NOT want to engage with courses that ask me to stretch myself beyond the reasonable limit of compulsions not a single one of the others has?

I am exhausted, burnt out and still every day, dancing the dance without the dopamine, and patting myself on the back for not going on a murder spree, choking up all the drugs, crying in bed all day, giving up, destroying my possessions and just screaming gutturally. 

In many ways I am destroying my life by not being able to care, have motivation or move forwards in a healthy way. 

Need this course for the visa so I can stay with my partner in his country who is the only person who really knows me and takes care of me. 

He works a full time job and I sit at home in existential dread knowing full well I should put in those job applications (for the 10 measly hours I am alloted to work weekly), catch up on university emails and work (I don’t care even though it is what has me in this country to begin with), set up my depop listings so I can get some living money...

Lists, lists, tasks, steps in order and priorities...

Or even to gather my poetry for a book. Or to write a story of my experiences. But can I do that either?

Battling with the stubborn ‘I’m not doing it’ attitude even though it IS for me, for US to move forwards.

Trying to get my stubborn brain to understand that there will only be more of this apathy, boredom and struggle UNLESS and only if I can survive through this difficult thing, make it work, and grow as a result. I’ve been through enough pain and difficulty that I cannot reasonably tell myself to just struggle with it because ‘it will be okay in the end’. It never has been before why is this time different?

By being challenged to do these things now technically it should lead to a change because we have set it up differently than it ever has been before. It could lead to becoming independent for the first time in my life. And maybe even enjoying it. Make my greeting cards and products that I have so much fun making but for lots more people than just family and friends.

Share some of my stories, writing and art.

Come out into the world as who I really am. Be a bit less afraid. Dress up how I would like to. Filter my words less.

Be in touch more with that ageless space within me from whence all this comes. Do the ancestors justice by making use of all the things they literally died to bring into the world. 

Stop being so paralysed with dread and guilt. 

Open up more.

And maybe I won’t feel happy, but I will be on my way towards fulfilled, and I have a suspicion that’s the only thing that will fill my cup

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE TROUBLE WITH THE NERDS

It may look Victorian, but a famous speaker. But in addition to such indirect competitors, I think you only need two kinds of solutions to this problem. Founders who succeed quickly don't usually realize how lucky they were. Theory: In US presidential elections, the more admirable it is. Those companies were apparently willing to establish subsidiaries wherever the experts wanted to live. But barring emergencies you have a specific idea you want to reach users, you do it consciously you'll do it even better. If another country wanted to establish a mediocre university, for an additional half billion or so you could have a great one. That's what you're addicted to. If Jessica was so important to launch fast is not so much that they've done work worth tens of billions of dollars, but that a applies to any mobile phone, and b avoid the danger of fooling yourself as well as negative. Few would be willing to claim that it doesn't matter much either way. In fact, it's suspiciously hard to find a field of math that truly has no practical use.

The cause must be external. There are things I know I learned from Paul Buchheit: it's better to start with no more than an outline of what you need to reproduce is those two or three founders sitting around a kitchen table deciding to start a silicon valley; you let one grow. With a startup, I think it's because they seem so formidable. Hype doesn't make satisfied users, at least not for something as complicated as technology. The degree of courage of past or present union leaders are somehow inferior. And even then they rarely said so outright. Next year you'll have to explain how your startup was viral.

Physics progressed faster as the problem became predicting observable behavior, instead of releasing a software update immediately, they had to submit their code to an intermediary who sat on it for a month and then rejected it because it contained an icon they didn't like? We thought Airbnb was a bad idea. Quiet is another matter. Com, which their friends at Parse took. He couldn't have afforded a minicomputer. But powerful as they are, they're not drifting. He was like an explorer looking for a territory to the north of him, I at least don't have any regrets over what might have been. As for the theory being obvious, as far as I can tell it isn't.

The ups and downs were more extreme than they were prepared for.1 Instead of version 1s to be superseded, the works they produced continued to attract new readers. It is, in some ways. And the fact that they have to be high, and if they try to be creative. One developer told me: As a result of their process, the App Store approval process is broken. On the subway back from the airport she asked Why is everyone smiling? This could become more common. Once you acknowledge that, you stop believing there is nothing else you could be called.2 Everyone knows you're supposed to buy when times are bad.

Their denial derives from two very powerful forces: identity, and lack of imagination. The record labels agreed, reluctantly. My oldest son will be 7 soon. But you have to pay as much for that. No doubt it was a waste of time to try to reverse the fortunes of a declining industrial town like Detroit or Philadelphia by trying to seem legit. So tablet makers should be thinking: what else can we give developers access to? A great university near an attractive town. People only have so many leisure hours a day, and TV is premised on such long sessions unlike Google, which prides itself on sending users on their way quickly that anything that takes up their time is competing with it. The iPhone and the iPad have effectively drilled a hole that will allow ephemeralization to flow into a lot of founders are surprised is that because they work fast, they expect everyone else to.

But none of the startup world. It was a place people went in search of something new. Bureaucrats by their nature are the exact opposite sort of people who opt out of the closet and admit, at least 3 years and probably 5. That's how it happens in books and movies, because that's why it's structured that way. Dangerous territory, that; if anything you should cultivate dissatisfaction. The main complaint of the more successful founders: The immense value of the startup hubs has: not San Francisco, Boston, Seattle. They treat iPhone apps the way they framed the question.

Notes

But core of the people who are good presenters, but its inspiration; the defining test is whether you have is so valuable that visitors should gladly register to try to ensure that they probably wouldn't even exist anymore. Starting a company just to load a problem if you'll never need to import is broader, ranging from 50 to 6,000 sestertii apiece for slaves learned in the case. Does anyone really think we're as open as one could aspire to the modern idea were proposed by Timothy Hart in 1964, two years investigating it. Actually no one is now the founder visa in a situation where they all sit waiting for the sledgehammer; if they stopped causing so much pain, it may be whether what you learn in even the flaws of big corporations found that three quarters of them.

Throw in the long tail for other kinds of menial work early in the 1980s was enabled by a central authority according to certain somewhat depressing rules many of the statistics they use the standard career paths of trustafarians to start some vaguely benevolent business.

Thanks to Tad Marko, Patrick Collison, Geoff Ralston, Sam Altman, and Mark Nitzberg for reading a previous draft.

[iwenttoindia]

Overwhelmed

With the new measures the world has taken to try and protect each other as much as possible, comes online schooling, which has started to become the norm all around the world. Many schools and universities have also made the decision to continue this practice come this fall semester.

With that comes the devastating news in the US where ICE have decided that online studying is not enough for international students to have a student visa that allow them to stay in the US. Basically, if your school decides to become more online-y, you either change schools or change countries.

I might not be in the US or a student any longer, but oh my lord is my heart heavy for students during this time. I can only imagine what they're going through. Visa issues are tough enough when the law works with you, but to have the law actively work against you during a time of LITERAL world-wide uncertainty? That's just cruel.

There are many students who don't have the privlidge of going home because of financial issues, health issues or better yet, some countries might not allowing people to fly into the country. More that that, there are some people who don't really have a home-home. For example, myself and many of my friends grew up in a country that is not our passport home and if we were to be deported, we would have to go to our passport country where for many of us have no real life there or social/familial connection, making it even harder to go back to "normal life".

I understand that being able to study abroad is a privlidge and not a "right" per say to say like we have the right to stay here. But studying abroad also means building a life, building a future in a new country, with a new community. Many students come to the US to build a better future for themselves and their families or future families. To suddenly be faced with a heart-breaking decision of finding a school that is willing to open up schools and risk the health of hundreds of people or go back to something they've never had before and start from zero?

How do you go from embracing international students and accepting their money and talent to giving them this huge burden of having to risk their lives and future and health? Our worth is so much more than just the economical gains, the intellectual gains. We are more than just numbers. But one would think that an exodus of international students also means potential brain drains and loss of tuition (also the fact that students have to pay full price for online classes tho????? Ridiculous).

I will never understand the need to remove people because they don't seem to match a certain unseen criteria without fully thinking of the repurcussions on the lives of thousands of people. Without a thought of what it would even mean to the very country itself.

Along with that, there's a whole lot of stuff that's been happening around the world that's got my brain and heart overwhelmed and unsure of what to do and what to think but this particular one hit hard and literally made me cry. Everytime I hear or think about the situation, I'm scared for the future of my friends who are students in the US. I'm worried for their lives and their futures and I hope that there is enough national outcry to overturn this cruel law that preys on yet another group of vulnerable people. International students who already have a hard time looking for jobs because recent grads always have a hard time (because you need experience to be hired for an entry level job, may the hiring model change FOREVER cause the cycle is DUMB) + companies reluctant to hire people that might mean extra costs + visa stuff that makes making future plans annoying + how're students supposed to have enough money saved up to potentially go home/stay in the country in a time where finding jobs is hard because people aren't hiring because COVID.

I can't anymore and, as bad (and maybe selfish?) as it may sound, I'm glad as heck that there are some things in my life that are going well and that I have people in my life that make me feel better.

- July 07, 2020

[straight-outta-hobbiton]

A Few Notes About American Legal Documents (Specifically For Proving Citizenship/Legal Residency and Traveling)

I work with a lot of legal documents associated with citizenship and legal residency. With the rise of legal residents and citizens unlucky enough to actually look like their ethnicity, I thought it might help to give a basic rundown of legal documents that could help in a sticky situation. It’s mostly simple stuff, but there might be something of value to your personal situation or the situation of someone you know, so, y’know.

VALID BIRTH CERTIFICATES:

Your birth certificate needs a raised seal on it, with as little damage as possible. I see a lot of folded/fucked up BCs from people in less than ideal living situations, and I understand that there are times when the only thing you can do to protect yourself is keep your shit with you all the time (abusive/controlling parents, foster care, intermittent homelessness, etc), but if the print is illegible, the seal torn or damaged, or the BC is in pieces, YOU NEED TO GET A NEW ONE. Most state ID places won’t accept it if there’s too much damage— it fucks with the security features, and most government worker grunts aren’t going to chance their jobs on faith in your puppy dog eyes.

If you need a new BC and you don’t have a way to get to the county clerk’s office (you need to go to the county you were born in, which is a hassle for some people)— vitalchek.com is a website where you can securely order your documents and have them delivered to whatever address you feel is best. It takes a little while sometimes, though, so it isn’t a perfect solution to more immediate issues.

If possible, see if you can get yourself a wallet-sized BC. I typically see older folk carrying them, but I’m pretty sure some states still offer the option. I highly recommend this for anyone who might be targeted by the current administration— again, it doesn’t solve every problem, but for right now, all American-born Latine and other non-whites can only benefit from having as much paperwork as they can. At the very least, it might slow some officers down.

IF YOU HAVE A PUERTO RICAN BIRTH CERTIFICATE, MAKE SURE IT’S THE MOST RECENTLY UPDATED VERSION. Plain PR birth certificates have been stolen from legal agencies on multiple occasions in the past to be used in the forgery of false documents for other Latin immigrants of a less-than savory nature, and it happened again in the wake of Hurricane Maria. The only BC most government agencies accept at this point have English translations next to the Spanish, and they won’t take anything older/untranslated.

PASSPORTS/PASSPORT CARDS/GLOBAL ENTRY CARDS/NEXUS CARDS:

Google the nearest place you can go to get your passport. I went to a post office and they took my picture, but not every place offers the option— you might have to go to Walgreens or some equivalent first to get your picture taken and bring it with you to the office. 

They’ll need your birth certificate when you go get your passport. They will take it from you and ship it out to whatever undisclosed location it needs to go to in order for them to print your paperwork. You’ll get it when your passport is sent to you.

It costs around $145 dollars including service fees to get your American passport, which is an unfortunate reality.

Passports take up to eight weeks to get to your house, so it isn’t a solution to immediate problems. That being said, GET IT DONE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

Passport cards exist, and they’re pocket-sized. If you’re eligible to get one (meaning you were born here or were naturalized), DO IT. GET A PASSPORT CARD AND KEEP IT WITH YOU. It’s just as good as a regular passport and far easier to keep with you if the worst happens and you need to get out. They’re also a cheaper than the average passport at a total of $65 (including service fees).

Passports/passport cards work as federal ID as well as international. In some states, children under a certain age might be unable to get state identification (in my state you have to be at least fourteen). If you have American-born/naturalized children that could be targeted and they’re under a certain age, get them their passports, get them their cards. Our government has proven they have no issue with snatching kids, but it’s a little harder to justify when the kid has legal US identification.

Global Entry Cards are accepted at every land and sea port in the US. They’re available to US citizens, legal US residents, and Mexican nationals, as well as citizens of Argentina, Colombia, Germany, India, Panama, South Korea, Switzerland, Taiwan, and the UK. This I would recommend for people who already have passports/other legal documentation within the realms of the above listed countries but are uncomfortable with the idea of carrying a passport with them. It costs about $100.

Global Entry fingerprints you, no exceptions.

Global Entry does not help you enter countries not listed above.

Nexus Cards are the Canadian equivalent of Global Entry. It allows passage between Canada and America at any land crossing as well as airports. If you have one of these already and they’ve already fingerprinted you, you can get a GEC with minimal hassle, with the added bonus of being able to cross the Canadian border freely.

Nexus Cards require interviews, and once you’ve been approved they take your fingerprints and a retinal scan. Considering we’re living in the beginnings of a Big Brother dystopia, this might make some people uncomfortable, but again, it’s a cheap option for people who might not want to carry passports. Plus, it has the added benefit of being attached to Canada, and the potential disaster of arresting a possible legal Canadian resident might be enough to stall some of the more reasonable officers. It costs about $50.

LEGAL RESIDENTS AND VISA CARRIERS, GENERAL THINGS:

If you’ve gotten your Permanent Resident card you need to make sure you get a new social security card, one without the ‘NOT VALID FOR EMPLOYMENT’ or ‘VALID FOR WORK ONLY WITH DHS AUTHORIZATION’ on the front. These cards aren’t valid to use alongside your new green card, and they can get you into trouble if the person checking your paperwork is in the wrong sort of mood.

MAKE SURE ALL YOUR PAPERWORK MATCHES. I realize that American paperwork sometimes can’t handle non-white naming traditions and that makes it difficult for you to keep your shit together. Ideally, though, whatever it says on your immigration papers should be exactly what’s printed on all your other documents— your credit cards, mail, whatever. If your naturalization paperwork lists both your mother and father’s names, you need to either make sure you have that shit on everything and if it isn’t, you’ve got a decision to make. Far be it from me to tell you what to do, but they will use any excuse to detain a ‘suspicious’ person, and dropping your second middle name on your driver’s license so it doesn’t match your visa is exactly the sort of thing they’ll pick at. My grandparents had to make this decision a few years ago— for convenience’s sake, they changed everything to match the anglicized forms of their names. I realize for a lot of people it isn’t an ideal solution, but for now, we’ve got to work with what we’ve got.

If you’re here as a Dependent Spouse (H-4) I don’t have to tell you that you’ll need your partner with you to do a lot of legal stuff. That being said, when you need to get stuff handled, please make sure your spouse has ALL of their paperwork proving they’re here legally. Even if the focus is on you, if their shit’s not in order, you won’t be able to get anything done. It is an inconvenient facet of the nature of your visa, but you’ve got to work with it until you can change your status to something less limited.

If you’re here on a Student Visa, the SAVE won’t update your status until your classes start. Keep that in mind when handling paperwork reliant on your status as a legal immigrant.

If your Permanent Resident Card has no expiration date on it, if it’s a laminated paper card, or if it’s just plain damaged— REPLACE IT. They don’t accept the old cards now thanks to a huge boom in forgeries, so particularly if you have an older relative who hasn’t been naturalized, you need to make sure that shit is up to date.

MARRIAGE CERTIFICATES:

(Marriage certificates are less important in the grand scheme of legal residency, but any little bit helps, and if you’re an immigrant married to a citizen, it’s another little piece that proves you just might have a legitimate reason or two to be here.)

Nobody is going to take the pretty version of the MC. The one you get from your place of worship is NOT the official certificate. It needs to be from the probate//surrogate’s/orphan’s court, not just signed in accordance with the official document.

It MUST have a seal on it. Not every state does the raised seal, so you have to double-check with your local, but it will have something that makes it a recognizable, official document.

If you got married in a country that doesn’t have English as the official language, you NEED a translation. In my state, you have to go to an official state translator and get— you guessed it— an official seal.

When you get married, that receipt slip they give you is not the official certificate. The official certificate is supposed to be mailed to you (the first one’s usually complimentary) after about a month. If you didn’t get it or you lost it, GO AND GET A NEW ONE. Little things like that can make or break you in the eyes of a government official.

If you have older relatives who are immigrants, CHECK TO MAKE SURE THEIR PAPERWORK IS UP TO DATE. I know it’s common for older folk to let their IDs expire because they’re in in a care facility or simply unable to leave their homes. I know that shit gets lost in the shuffle of life and most of the time those documents just sit in a box and do nothing, but this shit is important. Make sure they have their stuff and make sure their documents are all up to federal standard— relatively undamaged, legible, and with the right seals.

I know this isn’t stuff we want to talk about, but it’s important. If you are a person of one of the groups targeted by this administration, you cannot make mistakes. You have to make sure there is no reason besides gross incompetence on the part of the ICE officers for them to detain you— as we all know, they will take advantage of any excuse they can find to fuck you and the people you love over.

Don’t let them.

[frommainetospain2020]

The Visa Saga

Ultimately, the most daunting part of the pre-study abroad process, is obtaining a visa. In the era of COVID-19, this daunting task is magnified ten-fold. Not wanting to be outdone by my 2016 counterpart, I took it upon myself to be overly abundantly prepared for my visa appointment. The pandemic has limited travel to the point that people need a valid visa in order to get into the country. CIEE had to push the dates of orientation because of all of the delays with getting placements, and getting the necessary documents to people.

The hardest part of the process, as I said in my previous post, is to get the background check. The background check also requires a thing called an apostille, which is basically an internationally accepted notarization. If you ask others within my program how long the FBI apostille process took, the answers may shock you. I, however, went a different route. The Boston consulate allowed a state police issued background check. Let me back up a second. I couldn’t get the FBI background check and apostille because my fingerprints were rejected, and the places I could go to have them done were extremely limited. Because of this, I got them from the Maine State Police and the Secretary of State. My apostille, from the time I sent in the request, to the time that I received it, was about a week. The FBI, in contrast, takes like 8 weeks.

In the same regard as college study abroad Steven, I made like 4 copies of everything. If they needed an original or a copy, I was gonna be ready for it.

So, I won’t bore you with the knitty gritty details about the visa process itself. If you’re curious, it’s available online. Google it. These blog posts, while shared for you to read, are a way of helping me to remember these experiences, when I inevitably forget them a few years down the line.

So let’s get to the experiences themselves... Picture it, Bangor, August 3, 2020. I had gotten a Greyhound ticket to get to Boston because the thought of driving in Boston stresses me out. I drove to Bangor International Airport in the morning for my bus which left at 9 AM. I parked my car in long term parking (which cost me $22 after a day and a half. The second trip was more manageable, which I’ll explain in a bit). Eventually, the bus came and a handful of people got on with me.

Now, if you’re reading this, and you’re a Facebook friend of mine, you may recall a post about how you could make a sitcom solely based on the characters you meet on a bus. And to that notion, I was most definitely not kidding.

Enter character #1. Smoking mother who doesn’t understand online banking. The woman sat a few seats behind me. At some point early in the ride, she called her bank, and I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was agitated. She apparently didn’t know that certain transfers in online banking had a charge that went along with it, and was asking for the bank to remove them. Sorry lady, that’s not how it works. She also left her kid as she stepped off the bus to smoke. “I’ll be right back” she said, to her son who was like 5. In her defense, it was super quick, but anyway...

Enter character #2, the woman with a better resting b**** face than me. It’s no secret that I like to sit alone on transportation. So, I was banking on not having to sit next to anyone. Until we got to New Hampshire... There was a girl sitting across from me, and by the time we got to Portsmouth, NH, we were the only two that were sitting by ourselves. However, when a rider needed a seat, he looked at the two of us, and made the decision that I looked more approachable. At least, as approachable as one can look with a face mask. So you win this round, lady with a better RBF than me...

In all honesty, the guy who sat next to me was super nice, and helped me navigate South Station to get where I needed to go, so cheers to you friend. I don’t remember your name, because I’m writing this over a month after it happened, so I apologize.

So, after a grueling 5 1/2 hour bus ride, we make it to South Station. For this initial visa appointment, I opted to couch surf with my cousin, who lived in Boston. So I made my way to the Fenway T Stop.

When I got there, I wasn’t sure how strict Boston was with jaywalkers, so I walked to the crosswalk at the end of the street and waited for the walk signal. Spoiler alert, that didn’t really last very long...

So my cousin greeted me, but I sat quietly for a bit because my cousin and her roommates were working virtually, so I mainly just surfed the internet.

That night, we went to a Greek restaurant, and I got a gyro. Barely ate any of it, because, you know, the whole “stomach the size of an egg” thing. But I digress...

She had an air mattress that I slept on, but deflated drastically by the time the morning came.

By that point, it was time to go to my visa appointment. I made my way to the consulate, showed the doorman my ID, he printed me a name badge and I made my way upstairs. The elevators were interesting, because you choose your floor from a screen and the elevator you get will get you to your desired floor. You gotta enjoy the little things.

The appointment took a bit longer than I anticipated. The person processing the visas was in a meeting, so it was a lot of “hurry up and wait”. In this time frame, a guy went up to the counter a few times for some reason, speaking in semi-understandable Spanish. Once I finally could come to the window, there was a woman who looked like a Spanish Ariana Grande beside me. I assume she was trying to either get a green card for herself, or her American husband. At least, that’s what my subpar Spanish skills understood.

After having to fix a field on my visa application, I was told to email the consulate in 3 weeks to see if the visa is ready, so I had accomplished what I needed to do. I made my way back to my cousin’s apartment and waited until I could go to the bus terminal for my return ride.

My cousin and I then went to a Mexican restaurant, basically next door to the Greek one from the day prior. I got a burrito bowl, and again, barely ate any. To kill time while my cousin and her roommates were working, I decided to crack away at my read-through of the Song of Ice and Fire books. I eventually made my way back to South Station and to the bus terminal. This bus was PACKED. The line of people was suuuuuuuper long. I barely found a seat. Luckily, the woman I sat next to was getting off in Portsmouth, the first stop, so once she left, I had the seat to myself.

Enter bus character # 3: The loud woman who doesn’t practice common courtesy on a bus full of people. Again for all of you Facebook friends out there, I made a post about a woman that sounded like Pensatucky from Orange is the New Black. Yeah, this is her. She was talking to her boyfriend, I’m assuming, but she was doing so extremely loudly, in a practically quiet bus. The girl that sat across from me looked at me, and we both gave a look of “WTF?”. I conversed with this girl for most of the bus ride, where we talked in depth about Harry Potter, which ya’ll know I’m very oft to do.

The return to Maine was rough, because it was pouring rain off and on. Because of the weather, the bus driver said that he was gonna drop Bangor off at the park and ride instead of the airport, which posed a problem, because my car was at the airport. Eventually, he said he’d go to the airport, so it worked out fine.

So, I paid my $22 parking fee and went on my way. This was also rough, because the rain made the Interstate drive very difficult. I didn’t get home until close to midnight.

Fast forward 3 weeks. Picture it, Bangor, August 24, 2020. I, again, take the Greyhound to Boston. The same bus driver. This time, it was boarded at the park and ride, so I didn’t need to pay $22 to park there, which was nice. Also this time, I managed to keep my seat to myself, which was nice. This bus ride probably had the least amount of interesting bus characters, but honestly, I don’t mind...

The bus ride was fairly standard, the main difference between this one and the first one, is that this one had much less people at the big stops.

When we got to Boston, I maneuvered my way to the Arlington stop. I had gotten a hotel room this time, as my cousin was moving out of Boston. I stayed at the Hotel 140 in Back Bay. Not horrible, but not great... So, the first thing I did in the hotel, was the thing I do literally every day of my life. I took a nap. 

After that, I ventured out to find something to eat for dinner. I went to the Prudential Center, which was just down the street. There was a lot of construction happening, so it was a bit tricky to maneuver, but I managed. I decided to see what stores were there and see what food outlets there were. While doing this, a guy was maskless and a security guard told him to put on a mask, to which he replied “I have freedoms.” or some BS similar to that... I discovered a grocery storeesque thing called Eataly. Some of you may have heard of it. It had a bunch of Italian food and other stuff, but it was EXPENSIVE. So, long story short, I didn’t buy anything there.

The meal I ended up having was a chicken caesar salad from California Pizza Kitchen. I managed to get a couple meals out of the half portion salad. If that salad was a half portion, I’d hate to see the full sized one...

After I got the salad in a to-go container, I bought a few Vitamin Waters at the CVS right next door, and went back to my hotel. That was about the extent of what I did of interest that night.

In the morning, I wanted to try to take advantage of the hotel’s continental breakfast, but it was very mediocre, so I decided not to. I decided to walk to Dunkin Donuts. I ordered 2 egg and cheese wake up wraps, and 10 Munchkins. If my dieticians read this, I know. I shouldn’t have them. I’m making progress though, so 🤷‍♂️.

Because I’m lazy, I took the T back, because it was about a 15 minute walk. I ate one of the wraps, and a single munchkin, and then set off for the consulate, which was basically right around the corner. Went through the same song and dance, show the doorman your ID, get the name badge, go to the 9th floor, yadda yadda yadda.

So I go in, and there’s a girl at the visa counter who I learned is doing the same program I am. After her initial appointment was done, they got my visa for me. When they handed it to me, they handed it via my Italian visa. This confused me, but then I turned back a page to see my Spanish visa on the other side. So to that, I bid them farewell, the guy at the consulate said “Enjoy your time in Spain!” and I left.

Because checkout at my hotel was at 11, and my bus was at 4:30, it was gonna make for a long afternoon. When I got back to the hotel, I took a shower and surfed the internet for a bit, before I had to check out.

Once I checked out, I went to the T station, where the card that I thought had money on it didn’t, so I had to buy another. I took the T back to South Station. From there, I continued to read through the Song of Ice and Fire books, as well as checking social media, as one is oft to do these days. I used my power bank sparingly to last the time I was there. I gotta say, 5 hours of downtime in a bus terminal is ROUGH.

So, fast forward to right before boarding, and enter bus character # 4, thug looking guy with a heavy NY accent. This guy was actually super nice. We chatted before the bus boarded. He’s the same age as my mom, but honestly looked much younger to me. We mainly complained about how long the bus was taking, but yeah, despite not being crazy, I’d still classify this guy as a character.

The biggest character on this bus ride was actually the bus driver. He was, I’m guessing, from India or a similar country. When someone was parked where they weren’t supposed to be in Portsmouth, he honked his horn and loudly called them a motherf*****, so that the passengers could hear. 

I wanted to wrap this up since it’s a pretty long blog post, so basically we got back, no issues, and I drove out of the park and ride to drive home. Shortly before my exit, the right lane of the interstate was blocked off for construction. This was like 11:15 at night. So I had one lane, and as much visibility as my car headlights could give me. Unfortunately, that wasn’t much, because I accidentally hit a porcupine. 😢 I almost hit a skunk too, but he was enough in the closed off lane to be out of the way. This broke the clamp on my exhaust system and started making a noise until I got it fixed. It was a mess.

Anyway, that’s the end of the visa saga, meeting interesting characters along the way, and getting the thing that got me where I am now. In Madrid.

Fin.

[prorevenge]

Abusive spouse attempts to commit bigamy after putting me through hell, revenge commences. (OC from Nuclear Revenge)

TL;DR at end.

I’m the same person who wrote about destroying my DS ex’s world after he mentally/emotionally abused them, was chronically unfaithful, cheated while they were across the world, and then publicly dumped them on Facebook.

This is about the spouse that I married on that fateful visit by DS.

Now, when I met Cunt Face (hereto known as CF), he was ideal. He was what I thought I needed. I believed I loved him and that the fairytale was real. We met by random chance, both many hours from our homes - me whilst running away from a situation at home, he while a planned trip abroad.

I ended up in Europe within a month and we married about 10 months later. All good, right? Well... it was. Until I started racking up multiple university degrees with honours and he began to realise that not only was I significantly younger (about 17 years), thinner (a big issue in his mind, not in mind at all), and (according to him) better looking - I was now significantly better educated. He was always a bit insecure, but the degrees seemed to really push him over the edge.

While I was waiting for my spousal visa, things were falling apart. We both kind of gave up but decided to resolve to save our relationship. I moved and found that nothing he had promised to prepare had happened. The home situation was a mess. We were living with his quite elderly widower father and he was meant to be taking care of him and the household. None of this was happening. Instead, both CF and his disgusting sister (now known as Ugly Fuck or UF) were essentially living as leeches off of their 80-something father.

I tried to make things work. But within a week and a half of me landing, he threw an iPad at my head and punched the wall next to my head whilst screaming that he could have me deported at will. Okay. Well, fine. I made a promise. I kept trying. It got worse. I took months of emotional abuse, insults, threats, cursing, and everything else short of him actually laying hands on me.

Six months later, he randomly disappeared for two weeks to visit Seattle without mentioning it to me. I left. I started over with nothing much to my name but a job and a bit of money thousands of kilometres from anyone I knew. He expected me to run home. I didn’t falter. I blossomed.

About a year later, I met my present partner who has been the truest and most loyal partner I could’ve wished for. Truly, if I had to do it all again I would if I knew my partner would be on the other side.

Now for my revenge.

I happened to find out that he had a new girlfriend that seemed very serious and noticed she had mentioned wedding planning on social media. (You have to keep tabs on your abusers, especially when your safety is at risk.) Now, she’s welcome to him - the only issue is, due to draconian divorce laws in my current country, we were not divorced yet. He planned on marrying her in another country.

When we met, he told me he had never been married. I later found out he was indeed divorced. I was willing to bet he fed her the same exact lie.

So, I sent her a message. My suspicions were confirmed. He told her he had NEVER been married. I was wife number two. She didn’t want to believe it until I sent her a photo of our marriage license as well as a few wedding photos.

I did feel really badly about doing that to her because I could tell how hurt she was, but I knew it was better for her to know the truth than to inadvertently marry him the next month in Seattle as they had planned. She had children. She had a violent ex husband. She and I actually ended the conversation on a positive note with her thanking me and me apologising and explaining why I felt I had to tell her.

And then the fallout.

My phone started blowing the fuck up. Unknown number. In the evening. Hmmm. Wonder who that might be?

I was out enjoying a lovely dinner with my partner and answered a call on speaker. In came the usual threats to my person and security, blah blah blah. I could only laugh. He didn’t know where I was, nor was he getting past my partner. I could finally relax knowing I was safe, after months of night terrors.

And then...

“I HAVE LOST THE LOVE OF MY LIFE BECAUSE OF YOU! SHE HAS LEFT ME AND THROWN ALL OF MY THINGS OUT OF HER HOME!”

People, I lost it. I could. Not. Stop. Laughing. It was poetic.

He sent a similar email to my mother laced with blatant lies about me (as if she didn’t know the play by play as it was happening and as if she’d believe a word he had to say anyway).

After I got done laughing, I hung up on him and had my number changed.

Then... I remembered his sister (UF) was living at the same home.

UF has a disabled daughter that lives 200km away that she claims benefits for, including an apartment and money allowances. She then sublets the handicap accessible apartment to her boyfriend illegally whilst leeching off of her father. She’s also a thief (caught on hidden camera literally taking notes out of CF’s wallet). CF and UF absolutely despise each other and are only both living there in hopes of driving the other out in order to get the house as inheritance.

Now, if UF got reported to the council for fraud and they did minimal investigation, they’d see she was falsely claiming benefits for an adult daughter who lived far away and had her own benefits (deserved) from another council. She would lose her apartment and possibly face jail time. If she lost her apartment, it was certain she would NEVER leave the father’s home. It was CF’s worst nightmare.

So, I made it happen.

Besides, how dare UF claim money she isn’t entitled to simply due to her being too lazy to work? She was a neglectful mother when she was actually caring for her kid (leaving her kid in a wheelchair with a jam sandwich and running to the pub the moment benefit money came in), now she was lying and keeping a rare accessible apartment from someone who truly needs it.

That more than justified it.

But the thought of both of them being stuck in the same house, fighting all day and night, both too lazy to leave and too stubborn to give up the inheritance they fantasise about? That’s a lovely thought to me.

What makes it better? Knowing he cried his eyes out over his lost fiancée in that very same house, soaking in his miserable existence.

Sorry it was long!

TL;DR: Husband turned into controlling, abusive, insecure asshole. Endured 6 months of abuse before escape. Found out he was planning to marry again before we were divorced by marrying in a different country, so told his “fiancée” the truth and got him dumped. Reported his hated sister to council for benefits fraud so they are both stuck living together in same household waiting on father to die for inheritance.

(source) story by (/u/pancreasss)

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Bruised | 01 (JB x OC)

Genre: Smut, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slice of Life

Pairing: Jaebeom x photographer!OC

Warnings: Allusions to domestic violence, self-harm and depression, inferiority complex, low self-esteem

Summary: After years of not speaking to him, Alistaire is surprised when her childhood friend, Jaebeom, contacts her about the rumour of her returning to Korea. The rumour proves to be true and for a moment everything feels like the good old days. 

Yet something has changed in the both of them, but mostly in him. He is not the kid Ali once knew, but someone completely new and with a past. What has happened in the years she was away? What made him turn out like this?

But most of all, can they survive the toxicity unconsciously influencing them both?

Author’s Note: This was originally a Taehyung fic, but I thought I would rewrite and prep it for actual publishing while simultaneously replacing Tae with JB. This is because, otherwise, I will have no connection to (essentially) his character in the tale. Lastly, it is also a splendid opportunity to share the second draft of the novel with you.

Masterlist

Next Chapter

Chapter 1 Alistair

 April 7th Year 1

 Every face in the extensive swallowing crowd is a blur, nothing distinguishing one person from the next. Meaningless chatter fills the buzzing air lightly scented by the aroma of the sea despite the actual destination being a few miles from the airport where the plane has just landed in a country formerly called ''home''. Truth be told, it has always been called so regardless of the many years spent away from it.

And in that time nothing has remained as it once was, that much is already clear from merely standing here at border control among hundreds of suitcases like the one held firmly on the right side, fingers wrapped around the British travel documents that have formed an escape from a place which is gladly left behind. Happily, a piece of Hell is traded for a slice of the past that is inherently different from what can be remembered, even though this is logical since this city is alien territory.

Nevertheless, there is one thing from the past that has apparently been continuous: him, the childhood friend that has unsuspectedly been found in a place of old.

One step further towards passing customs, towards getting the Visa checked and that stamp of allowance in the brand new passport containing a name that has been greatly discussed in the news in Korea and in the social circles of Britain, though it shall soon mean as much as the next one.

More waiting, thoughts wandering off to the Siheung mochi shop boy with the slight overbite when smiling and who had been the sole friend during the youth spent carelessly, free of the burdens that would come upon the return to the land of origin.

To the roots of a hellish life.

I wonder if he is still the same or would that be an idle wish?

Years have gone by and in all honesty, it is not to be expected for the lad with caramel skin to be the same because how can he be when both of us have grown up? The answer to the question would not be unknown if only the probably biggest regret in the entire twenty-one years of living did not exist, if only contact was maintained after the move to the United Kingdom.

The one digital conversation that surprisingly happened did not give any clues to go on to use in creating an image of the contemporary version of the companion unwillingly abandoned, so there is next to nothing known about how time and life has treated a best friend turned stranger. How the silent period apart has shaped character and shall influence the reunion on the horizon.

Another advance temporarily breaks the reverie to step in the direction of the birch counter behind which sits a stern-looking customs authority, blank yet overtly bored expression unwavering while checking the presented papers and finally putting a stamp in the little booklet, parting our ways with a stern nod.

The reminiscence begins again on the way to the hall of arrivals where a familiar comrade is supposedly waiting among the many shops and eateries. The thought that has been gnawing away at common sense continues to feed the sense of guilt which has grown immense due to the days spent apart without any indication as to well-being. Not that it was necessary to talk about since the personal problems would only be a burden to the other party and there was no solution to them until this opportunity arose.

Even a simple greeting was apparently too great a grace.

Mayhaps, if contact had been maintained, disgraced sneakers would not have committed the mistakes they have.

Have been safe from harm.

From lonely pain.

The effects of which were unconsciously pressed upon an absent supporting pillar.

Why did I leave you alone?

A couple of days ago, an extraordinary contact was established by the adult version of a forgotten childish soul by email. The moment weary eyes wandered to the newly arrived message after having answered a few job-related ones, a sharp intake of breath accompanied by a sudden giddiness guided the fingers rapidly sliding over the keyboard to the mousepad to click on the notification, having to make sure it was truly him and confirming it. It was astonishing to learn that the five years older chap still had the personal email address turned into a professional point of contact after all this time.

It meant he still had not forgotten about the one who was forced to go.

The rapid exchange, replying a few moments after one another and hence keeping the conversation flowing, consisted mostly of small talk and a little bit of catching up. The topics were pretty haphazard thanks to the attempt to try and cover as many subjects as possible within what felt like little time. Notwithstanding, it felt as if the childhood friend from Siheung was beating around the bush.

The text in the correspondence from his side contained hints to something bigger, continuously referring to it by words concealing the true intention without ever explicitly saying what wanted to be said. At a certain point, though it could also have been due to the throbbing of the right cheek and the echo of fighting parents downstairs in the salon of the country mansion, impatience overpowered a formerly ecstatic yet calm attitude and the confrontation was met head-on. ‘Beom, is there something you want to say?’

‘Huh? What do you mean?’ Even though the lad’s presence was only felt in the bedroom through the screen, the wondering look that would have appeared on a tanned face could almost be seen. Well, sight perceived the mental picture of Jaebeom as the kid that could look so questioning, so puzzled yet astonished by the world.

When not looking like a big grumpy cat.

It looked like some things still needed to be spelled out, although that tends to happen when it comes to men because some evidently need clarity. Withal, this does not mean that more explicit explanations always lead to positive outcomes. 'It’s just a hunch, but it feels like you have something to say.'

For a solid ten minutes, there was no answer. Henceforth, defeated by the radio hush likely signifying a chance of reconnecting was already lost, the bedchamber also functioning as an office was left in favour of acquiring a warm cup of coffee. Sneakily, to avoid the unworthy bastards roaming the lower floors. Luckily, the mission leading to the kitchen was successful, going back and forth without bumping into anybody.

A moment devoid of unjustified harm.

The relief felt at the fact of having avoided additional damage and the sensation of warmed fingers clamping a steaming mug of caffeine, returning to the room unscathed to a response from halfway across the globe, knows no likeness. It was the smallest yet sole piece of positivity gained in a long while.

Sighing with a hint of delight, a seat on the grey desk chair was once again taken, nipping at the hot drink before reading the received answer. An answer that made the liquid gold almost spill all over the keyboard. 'I heard this rumour about you coming back, so I thought I would pick up contact again. After all, how could I not if my friend will return to Korea? I mean, if it's true of course.'

That word, ''friend'', gave a sliver of hope when regarding it among the rest of the text. After the extended period of not hearing anything from the wrongful side, Jaebeom still considered the friendship established in the mochi shop and strengthened on the streets a long time ago as having survived the often destructive influence of being separated. Even though there was every right to be mad because contact was cut off after the departure.

To leave a worthless girl behind as she had him.

Notwithstanding, that was then and this was the present.

We were still partners in crime, weird as it might have sounded when pondering this thought later on the plane. 'Yes, I am.'

Over the course of the past few months leading to the email, enough money was gathered to be able to afford an own place overseas in South-Korea, in the country where the tale of two estranged saviours began, far from this disgusting house carrying the title of ''home''. Too much hurt had been had here and no more could be tolerated because, if it had not known an end, perchance the razor would have been pulled over the tender skin of the wrists a long time ago. Nonetheless, each day formed a new battle to fight, a new test to see whether the miserable faith in something better waiting in the future was true.

And it was, the long-awaited chance of escape presenting itself after hard work, pulling all-nighters editing photos and long hours contacting people in relation to jobs.

'Going back to Siheung?' Memories of the days our parents would go to the city together and take us with them to walk along the harbour and have a picnic in the Siheung Lotus Theme Park resurfaced, sight obscured by the phantom of lush blooming flowers and genuine laughter filling ears that had heard nothing but spite once the apartment next to Beom's was left behind.

A plausible assumption were it not for the fact it was not the planned destination of return because of the need for new experiences. Besides, a drastic change of life would perhaps keep the demons at bay long enough to figure it all out and find a definitive flight from them. 'No, I’m actually moving to Busan. The sea might do me some good.'

Despite living on a big island, never had the pleasure of living by the sea or any kind of water been experienced. Furthermore, due to the love of the child for the ocean forming part of today's persona, it was rather quickly decided to move to the harbour city of South-Korea.

'Really? I do so happen to live there too.' It was an odd thing to read and had to be reread word by word twice before the meaning of it became clear.

A reunion.

We could see each other again.

The anticipation accompanying the realization made the corners of the mouth curl up into an uncharacteristic delighted smile, the most sincere grin that had been formed in a long time. For all that was known, the boy with skin like honey still lived in the town that held shared memories yet now we had the chance of creating novel ones together as we would begin anew in a foreign place.

We would try again.

Together.

A fresh start with you will hopefully make me forget this hell. You always managed to take the pain away.

'You moved?' Eagerly, the rest of the story behind this sudden revelation was awaited, sipping on the caffeinated beverage of the gods that, naturally, had the opposite effect of the intended goal of bringing calmness to the enthusiastic composure.

'After grandmother passed away we moved to Busan because the south is cheaper. Dad found work there after he was fired.' The tranquillity nullifying the excitement set in, albeit it not thanks to the drink but by means of the curious absent sign of news about the city boy's mother, which struck as rather odd since the cheery lad used to talk about the lovely, according to the brightly told stories, woman all the time. The same went for the grandmother who basically raised Jaebeom, so seeing such a short notice about the dear old lady who always brought handmade mochis to us and made extra ones while we ran around town felt weird as well.

Putting the half-empty ceramic cup aside and with a sense of oppressing hollowness, the part that felt alive ignited the ideas of being to blame for not being there when a friend was obviously needed to help deal with the sorrow. Digits hovered above the keys, doubtful of what to write in response since nothing could be deemed sufficient in conveying the sincere apologetic feelings.

Eventually, they settled on typing out the idea that seemed to be the best of them all in that regard. 'I know it is too late, but I'm sorry for your loss. How is your mother?'

'I don't want to talk about it. I can pick you up from Gimhae if you want. You don't want to get lost, do you?' A dark thought occurred and directly it was understood why there was no elaboration on the situation concerning the two women.

They abandoned him as well.

Forced by Death.

A grim repeat of the goodbye nine years ago.

I should have been there for you and I wasn’t. Jaebeom, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But maybe I can make it up to you. I have to.

Maybe over time, there will come a moment to open up to willingly talk about it, but until then there will be no questions for they also have the potential of ruining the chances of righting the unintentional wrongs of the past.

The heavy topic was disregarded in favour of something positive. Skimming over it felt selfish in spite of silently agreeing to do so, especially because of the urge to stay afloat a bit longer. Swim a bit longer in an amiable reality before sinking down the dark spiral again come morn after a night of , hopefully a few hours of nightmare-filled sleep. 'That is much appreciated. Maybe you can show me around the city a bit?'

'I am already looking forward to it. I have to go now, but I'll certainly talk to you later.'

In the days after that digital re-encounter despite the abyss of separating miles, we almost spoke on a daily basis to talk the details of the future journey through, Jaebeom inquiring by mail multiple times like Mother Goose if all the essentials had been packed and at least double checked. Still as caring as always beneath the tough exterior, so it would seem. It felt just like the good old days, as if nothing had changed aside from having grown older.

That was at least already one thing that made it feel like the right decision had been made and gave cause for hoping that many of those tender moments would come to pass.

A correct assumption.

Partially.

Now that work has been taken up as a photographer, there is the freedom of going wherever is desirable. It is unlimited, empowering. And, as it would seem, the road that preluded a return to the only place in the world that could truly be called ''home'', in spite of being the daughter of a British-Irish couple.

Father is an ambassador for the Crown who was stationed in Siheung, where he and his wife bought an apartment in a quiet street filled with independent shops among which was a little rice cake shop run by an old lady. The place where Mother gave birth to a daughter.

It so happened to be close to where Beom lived with his parents and grandmother. Next door, in fact. The tall tough-looking boy with the goofy smile and slight overbite obviously showing when aggravated was the first friend ever made and most likely the only one. Nobody across the seas has ever been deemed worthy to be called thus nor has stayed long enough to even pass the unconscious assessment.

Just before high school would start, Father was called back to England and since his daughter was done with primary school, it was insisted upon a return to the island nation was made. The days in anticipation of the change of scenery were filled with protest, none of them to any avail, because what could a little girl truly accomplish alone? Henceforth, the United Kingdom was travelled back to and ordained the vicious punishment of having to spend the rest of a life that would soon turn miserable there. All the while dreaming of going back someday and escaping the aristocratic hell.

Thanks to an education at home and the embassy, where a private teacher was hired to provide lessons, it was possible to skip a year in high school since the mind was ahead of everyone else’s. Because of this, a bachelor in English could be achieved early at London University, completely according to the wishes of the gruesome puppeteers.

Such was the plan in any case, until the passion for photography was found and it was decided to pursue a career in that, spiting all the expectations of a future that had never been created at one's own hand.

Finding a good and trustworthy agency to work under proved somewhat difficult, but after putting multiple hours fuelled by coffee into online research one that was looking for freelancers was found and applied to. After sending in a barely existent résumé and visiting the agency for a second interview, it lead to being hired so that now the job of a freelance lensman is proudly added to a fairly short curriculum vitae.

Nevertheless, thanks to some well-paid assignments, and a little bit of help from the man and woman who once served as legal guardians, it was possible to leave the native country and depart for the second home in the world.

The only shelter from the ever-lasting storm of reality.

At long last, it was finally possible to return to the grumpy though sweet-hearted Siheung boy.

[steveramsdale]

Big dipper Blog - 10.10

This blog is, essentially, the same as last week’s. There are some alternative factual details, but they are superficial. Anyway, you could just reread (or remember) last week’s offering and save yourself a bit of time. If you do decide to read on, we could make it more fun. You could try to decide for yourself the highest high and the lowest low. Remember, it’s just for fun. There’s no prize, so don’t write, text or email.

I think, as people, we are supposed to grow, to learn, to develop. That’s the most startling revelation you’ll read today. Adversity can be, I’m told, an opportunity for such personal growth. It may, in fact, be true, that I have been learning about myself. I wonder if my ‘issue’ is that if one thing is wrong, it affects everything else. See what you think.

On Saturday, my chief goal was to get the car de-registered and get the papers I need for me to be able to export it. The police centre I needed to go to was advertised as opening at 9:30 so I had time to get up and get sorted. I had a wonderful colleague on notice to be available for telephone translation if necessary.

I took a 6am trip to the shop through the park. Many people were already out running, I’d say 100 or more and it’s not a big park. Much of Tashkent has given up on lockdown.

Soon it was time to head off for the simple process of taking my car off its registration here! Google maps took me behind the centre where there was no gate. It was not difficult to find a way round to the front. That was the last time a problem was easily solved on Saturday. When we got the van and went to register it for the first time, the father and son who sold it to us, took me and helped. Even so, when we got there, they accepted the help of a man who was at the centre to do just that - help, for a fee, people through the process. He charged me about £20 but probably saved us 3 or 4 hours by knowing what to do and going to the front of queues. When I returned to the scene of this lengthy but problem-free process, there were, again, these free-lance ‘sorters’ and I decided it would be worth accepting help. The price was about the same. However, the first problem emerged in minutes. The address. I knew, back in September, that this would be a problem one day, would bite me on the bum. Sorry, I forgot to say that this blog would contain strong language and adult themes. I have a credit card-sized, well, card which is my ownership document (log book). It has all of the details about me and my van. So, of course, the address is our old address. Now, in my passport, I have my new address. I did not sort this out. The people at the centre said they could not de-register me until I changed the address (of course I questioned this), and that I could not change he address there but had to go to the centre in Yunusabad. I paid about £2 for something and my assistant asked for (and received) about £5 for his help. I set off for the other centre.

Long-time readers may (won’t) remember that at the original registration, we also went to two centres - the wrong one first. The centre I had to go to now was that ‘wrong’ one. I love symmetry, and here it was. When I got there, again came the offers of help. There were more guys here and they wanted £60. I declined, at this rate. I first drove into the inspection hall. Here they check the car against the ‘tec-passport’ as the credit-card is called. They match up the chassis number, etc. I had the papers from the first centre, so that went through without a hitch. Thereafter, the day was just a big hitch or series of small hitches that’s looked like one big hitch. We return to the Uzbek system, seen at the Kazakh border (remember) of needing to go from window to window, room to room. However, I was soon (a relative term) told that I would not be able to deregister the van until I had proof that I was leaving the country too. This would be in the form of a stamp in my passport given by my landlord! This cuts a longer story short and, by now, includes Miss Viktoriya as my telephone translator. I was certain that this could not be right (by the way, the miss-matched address was no longer an issue. It would mean, for example, that an Uzbek could not export a car to a relative in Russia! I tried explaining this, we went back to the main hall to talk to the boss a couple of times, but no one was changing this story. I phoned Pim, the export guy who has helped with every stage of this van conversion, and he put me on to a colleague. We talked and he also spoke to the officials there but got the same answer. Pim then told me that his people would look in to it more on Monday (yes, this story goes on) and help to sort it. The woman I had been dealing with insisted that I go back to the other centre and get my £2 back - which was an incorrect charge. She even phoned them to arrange it for me. I didn’t go back. Not for £2.

As an aside, there has to be a better way for the authorities to organise this free-for-all. The system is not a system. Queuing is almost non-existent and the mass of people at peak times is ridiculous. The spivs there to help....It is bad enough in normal times, but while a pandemic is still around....

So now I was free, for the rest of Saturday and Sunday to worry and consider the prospect of being unable to send the van (and the ridiculous amount of other stuff) home. Here is where I realised that this one problem took over everything. I heard that cafes and restaurants would be allowed to re-open on Monday and immediately thought of Ecorn. I should have been more happy. I wasn’t. I did decide I would go and have a chicken caesar sandwich after work on Monday.

Monday was a tough day. There quite a lot of end of year stuff at school, practical stuff, which I’m finding stressful. Then there’s this. The rule is ridiculous but it seems to be the rule! Then, some good news - someone offered to help me. I had called Ekaterina, the woman who deals with staff visas and registration. I thought that she would know about this stamp I needed or would be able to find out. She did not know about the stamp but said that she would go with me to the car centre to find out about it. I still had the papers. We went after my last lesson and when she was free. We went to the office of the ‘Saturday woman’. She wasn’t in the office but her colleague remembered me and said I could go to the main room. We went across and up to a free window. Ekaterina spoke to the police officer there. He immediately told us that no such stamp was needed and, had I brought the car, or even just the number plates, he could have done it there and then! We had gone in a taxi. I asked if there was time for me to go and get the plates then, but there was not. I resolved to go early the next day as he said it would take about 30 minutes. And suddenly the world was full of sunlight and joy again. I looked with pleasure upon my fellow Uzbeks, pushing to the front of queues and standing too close to each other.

We shared a taxi as Ekaterina lives quite close to the centre. I enjoyed (really enjoyed) my Ecorn sandwich. Life was good again. As an aside, these were my first taxi rides since The 22nd March. I saw Z—- JB so I’m sure KB is out there somewhere. Will I see it?

On Tuesday morning, as planned, I went back to the Gai. It opens at 8 so I was there at 7:30. The officer from the evening before was the first to arrive and had the key for the room (more of a hall, really). My first lesson of the day is at 9. School is a 15/20 minute taxi ride away away (I was going in to school to do some of the other jobs I have to do), so this would be a doddle. I was the only customer. I had the number plates and the documents and handed them over. The officer began the process. After about 20 minutes we went over to the cassa (the payment room. He took me. It was about £6. The woman there said I should go back to get my refund (I had given her my receipt from the other place). I agreed that I should but did not say I would not. A taxi there and back would be about £4! We returned to the main room. he continued the process. Time continued to move on. More customers began to arrive. Many went to my guy’s window and he flitted between my job and theirs. None of them could see the ‘maintain distance’ stickers on the floor. These were very obtrusive, written in Uzbek and Russian and invisible to local men. As time ticked on, it was clear I would be late for my first lesson. I sent my students an email. I waited. Eventually, my officer moved across the room, to a computer. This is it. he’s going to print my papers. After about another 20 minutes, I saw the ‘printing’ notification/animation appear on his Windows ME screen. And, five minutes later, he was handing me the paper work. It was done. My first lesson of the day was abandoned but I had what I needed.

One more observation here - no one in Tashkent will be getting coronavirus of the chin.

While I was feeling sorry for myself, over the weekend, I saw people collecting rubbish being moved on by the police. I have mentioned previously, that there are always people sorting through the rubbish bin. The mostly seem to be collecting plastic bottles but take anything of value. This group of four had huge bags of plastic and were near ‘my’ bins. I have no idea why four police men were moving them on. I wondered how many plastic bottles you would need to collect in a day to ‘make a living’. I also wondered what these people had done wrong, ‘stealing’ my rubbish. I also wondered why I had been feeling so sorry for myself trying to sort out my ‘huge problem’. Perspective. It had gone. It has returned but I did not know it could be so fleeting.

I did some lessons at school on Tuesday and began all of the sorting, packing and tidying tasks. Mafirat, my TA, was in too. The internet is not great at school! It was good tom see people, but I was not entirely comfortable.

On Thursday, working from home again, I decided to go for coffee out before work. While walking round I saw two kittens playing and stopped to say ‘hi’. One had jumped into a ditch but the other stopped and looked at me. It the looked back at its mother (I’m guessing but 99.9% sure). She came stalking round a bush. She was ready to attack me if necessary. It was not necessary.

The fire engine and disinfectant squad were also back. While I was out, they sprayed all the way up the stairs in my building, so I imagine they were going through all of the buildings.

Thursday was also the day I would take the van. I had loaded everything. I had stuck the paper transit number plate in the front window. I was ready to go. It is a short drive to Pim’s warehouse. Of course I was stopped by a police man. he wanted to know why I was driving without number plates. As soon as I showed him the paper plate stuck in the window, he was fine. At the warehouse, about six guys unpacked everything and re-packed it in their boxes. It was (is) a ridiculous amount of stuff. And so, I left Munisa with strangers, to travel alone on the journey we should have made together.

And if I did stop at Ecorn and have another caesar sandwich, that’s nobody’s business but mine.

There were children playing inside my building. This is the first time this has happened. I could hear three or four playing further up the stairs - laughing and running around. Later, while I was talking to Mairi and Fred, they were outside my door. They were having a good time. I don’t know why they were playing on the stairs and I don’t mind. It was nice to hear voices and laughter.

Also on Thursday, in my last lesson of the day, guided reading, two notable things happened. A high and low (you decide). In our morning English lesson, we had defined some vocabulary, including ‘bittersweet’. We had talked about the meaning, in terms of taste, of the two parts of the word. They said they were happy that they understood it. The guided reading was Kensuke’s Kingdom. I had not realised it was the last chapter. We were suddenly at the end. I can assure you there are no spoilers ahead. As I was reading, I suddenly found myself getting emotional. The two main characters were interacting and I felt that I was going to cry. In fact, I did. The events of the last two or three paragraphs got to me. They are relevant to my situation, I suppose. This has never happened to me before in a lesson. I always tear up at the end of Sister Act 2 (the cinema’s greatest achievement) but this is a new one. One of the students said “Oh Mr Ramsdale, don’t cry!” The postscript didn’t help, but I regained my composure.

We talked about the complex emotions of the ending. One of my brightest students only every joins in through the chat. I looked in the box and she had written one word. -‘bittersweet’. My work here is done.

I know it’s been a longer one, but there are a few loose ends and thoughts.

Returning to an old them, I heard ‘unite together’. I also heard ‘plateaued off’. Unnecessary, people. Perhaps I should have said ‘returning back to an old theme’.

I saw JB. Driving over to the centre, I saw E___JB. So they’ve been out for a little while. Appropriately, the driver got that plate from one of the centres I went to this week!

Let’s finish with Trump. I mean that in both senses of that sentence. This week he again asserted that testing causes cases of the virus, so testing is bad. He also said that if people stop calling others racists, racism will quickly go away. At what age do toddlers acquire the concept of object permanence? He’s not there yet. If we can’t see him, will he cease to exist?

And that’s it. What sort of week has it been? Bittersweet.

See you next time.

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC Genre: BTS Mafia!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Smut, Slow Burn WC: 3222 “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

AO3 | WP

Chapter 08: Am I Wrong?

“Did I say something wrong? Did I lie?”

“Hey, Eden! When are you going to take a break?”

She grunted while shifting her back on the creeper, the wheels creaking as they slid along the concrete. Sweat clung to her brow and she attempted to swipe it away with her forearm. Eden could feel the bandana beginning to soak with sweat, but she refused to stop. Her grip tightened on the socket wrench in her hand, her other hand moving to swivel the under-hood light so she could get a better look at the various rods and pipes situated in the underbelly of the vehicle.

“Seriously, you’ve been at it for three hours straight.” Minki knelt and peered at her from beneath the vehicle. “You need to take a break.”

“Then you take a break,” she said, the heel of her boot scraping along the ground, "I’m not stopping you.”

There was a collective chorus of groans that echoed in the shop. She smirked, ignoring the drop of oil that fell on her cheek. Eden knew that she probably did need to stop and take a moment. But she was stubborn. When she set her mind on something, be it a hobby or a work order, she always saw it through to the very end. She knew her employees were probably aggravated with her for always taking on the most complicated jobs, but succeeding in even the most impossible endeavors made her reliable. Reliability equaled reputation growth.

And a good reputation ensured a steady flow of regular customers.

Even though it was the 21st century, women in certain types of vocational fields were frowned upon. It was even worse in South Korea. At least in America, she only had to deal with the occasional discriminatory remarks. Mostly it had to do with her skin color and her status as an orphan. But here? Well, they judged her on her skin color, her social standing and her occupation. Triple threat – a term she’d been wearing as a badge of pride.

Maybe that was why she was surrounded by co-workers who were similar. Not necessarily due to the outward appearance, but all of them were relatable in a way. But if they were passionate about their jobs, then that was all Eden cared about. It’d taken her long enough to build up her shop and secure regular business. Now she could say, with confidence, that she’d achieved success on her own terms.

Yoon Minki, her assistant and one of her best friends, sighed as he grabbed at her foot and began to shake it back and forth. She lifted her head up so she could peer at him from just over her stomach. He looked like he was torn between scolding her or just giving up.

If she ignored him and went back to work, the former would start up.

Eden sighed, setting the socket wrench on her stomach. “What?”

“Food.” Minki emphasized this by shaking her foot again, this time with more force. “Now.”

“Fine,” she clipped, dragging the heels of her boots toward her so she could slide out from under the car on the creeper. Looking up, she saw her other employees grinning. Had she really been the reason they were waiting? She set the wrench down on the ground and stood up, dusting off the backs of her overalls. “Alright, let’s eat.”

Entering the main office, they all crowded toward the back room where there was a small kitchenette. Minki began setting utensils down around the table and Jumin started putting rice into the metal bowls. The side dishes were already out and the excitement at the prospect of finally eating could be felt all around the room. Eden pushed passed the others as they began to take their seats and Taejun kicked her chair out so she could slide into it. Hyuksoo ladled bean sprout soup into larger metal bowls and set them down in their appropriate spots. Everything smelled delicious and Eden felt a twinge of guilt. She really needed to stop hyper focusing when she was at work, otherwise she was going to starve her employees half to death.

Once the table was set, they all clapped their hands and began digging in.

The conversation circulated around the table and laughter boomed in the small break room. Eden nearly choked on the spoonful of rice she’d swallowed. Minki handed her a cup of barley tea and she washed down the rice and kimchi in her mouth, unable to stop herself from laughing at the insults being fired back and forth between Taejun and Hyuksoo. Jumin fussed at them for causing such a ruckus at the table and Minki joined in on the teasing.

The five of them were like family and Eden wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Her eyes lingered on her phone that sat just in front of her rice bowl. Eden’s smile fell as she lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips, as if she were anticipating it to light up. When it didn’t, she sipped the soup in frustration and set her spoon down roughly in the metal bowl. Minki seemed to notice something was off and he gently nudged her with his knee from under the table. Casting him a sidelong glance, she tried to play it off like it was nothing and resumed eating – her mind only half there with the boys.

The other part of it was occupied with thoughts of Min Yoongi.

It would be a lie to herself and anyone else if she said she still didn’t still have feelings for him. But there was a part of her that knew it probably wouldn’t last. After all, what would a self-made successful entrepreneur like Min Yoongi want with an orphan auto mechanic like her? He probably came from a good family and he’d even hinted that his parents were simple farmers who had tons of land out in the countryside. He’d merely gone into the business venture side so he could help his family more, so they could live more comfortably.

In other words, he came from the chaebol lifestyle on the rural spectrum.

Eden was only half Korean. Sure, that enabled her to have the same rights as Korean citizens thanks to the F4 visa she applied for when she first arrived in the country. Doing a little research, she was able to find out that her own mother came from a line of nobility. But that’s where all the investigation stopped. Eden didn’t want anything to do with it and she did her best to ignore her curiosity. If she dug up any more info and found out that she was some kind of aegissi to some line and would have to give up her current life, she didn’t think she’d be able to handle it.

So, she left it alone.

Even though Yoongi had grown close to her during those first three years, dating for two of them, Eden knew it would fall apart eventually. He was constantly coming and going from her life while she remained where she was, working and covering herself in oil and grease. She was a literal grease monkey and every time she made him wait so she could clean up before going out while he was always looking dapper, there was a twinge of guilt there. Eden knew that there were better women out there for him – someone that fit his status better than her.

There were moments when she even believed he was mostly amusing himself with her. Eden could have almost been content with that. Almost.

But she refused to feel ashamed of herself every time they went out somewhere. And she didn’t know many of his own personal social circles. Again, he was probably too embarrassed to bring her around. She wasn’t rich and while she finished college, she’d hardly call herself scholarly or an intellectual. If anything, Eden knew what kind of nerd she was, and it certainly wouldn’t have suited the tastes of any of Yoongi’s colleagues.

So when he showed up at her shop the other day after months of not seeing each other, Eden believed that maybe, just maybe, they would try to start over. That he would treat her as more than an impulsive drunken fling. Maybe they could do things differently…

Instead, she was offered friendship and no contact after nearly a week.

Is he jerking me around again? she thought, irritation sparking at her temple.

No sooner had she thought that, her phone lit up and her heart leapt into her throat. As her eyes zeroed in on the screen, however, a different name popped up. Her placid expression transformed into mild annoyance. The “mutt” was being ever persistent.

Petty Mutt: Hey, you busy?

Eden stared at the phone, her hands refusing to move to pick it up. Minki seemed to notice and he peered at the screen, his gaze lifting back up to stare at the side of her face. “You’re not gonna answer?”

She resumed eating as the screen went dark. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m eating.”

Minki snorted. “Right, because eating stops you from playing on your phone.” She could feel his shit-eating grin without even having to look at him. “Doesn’t stop you from playing those otome games.”

Eden aimed a swift kick to his shin and he half yelped; half laughed while leaning down to rub at his leg.

“Don’t talk shit about my otome games,” she snapped, shoveling more rice into her mouth, “Sarutobi Sasuke doesn’t give me any grief like you fuckers do.”

“Psh, yeah right,” Minki said, still laughing, “like that can substitute a real relationship.”

“Real relationships are a joke,” she said while casting him a sidelong glance, “they only end in disappointment. At least if I’m not satisfied with an ending, I can just restart or delete the app completely.”

Her response came out colder than she’d intended. The table grew silent and she set her chopsticks down while the others looked at her cautiously. It wasn’t like relationships were a taboo topic in her circle. In fact, she encouraged it for the others. The last thing she wanted to deal with were lovesick issues while they were at work. If they were happy with their significant others, then that meant they would work hard so they could hurry up and clock out to be with them.

But for her, she just didn’t care for them. All it ever did was end in disappointment, leaving her feeling inadequate.

Her phone lit up again.

Petty Mutt: Fine, don’t answer me. I’ll just stand out here and wait until you come out.

Eden stood up, the legs of her chair scraping loudly along the floor. Everyone else jumped at the sound, clutching their rice bowls to their chests. She hadn’t meant to startle them, but she couldn’t help her seemingly involuntary reaction.

“That little shit,” she muttered, shuffling around the boys and making her way out to the shop.

Crossing the full expanse of the shop, she pressed the button near one of the garage shutters and it rattled to life – lifting slowly. Her eyes shifted to the ground and she could make out a pair of black and white Chucks nestled under the hems of dress pants. She watched the shoes shifting, as if the person were turning, and when the door slid up fully, she was greeted with the cheeky grin of Jeon Jungkook.

He waved to her, his silver rings reflecting off the setting sun just behind a few of the buildings from across the street. Eden folded her arms across her chest, not caring that she probably looked a mess. Her hair was pulled back in a braid that fell across her shoulder, her bright red bandana hiding the rest of her fringe beneath. Her work gloves hung out of one of the pockets of her faded overalls.

Jungkook pivoted on his heels, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he rocked back on the heels of his sneakers. This made her eyes narrow as he continued to beam at her, like he’d just found a mountain of gold or something.

“Why are you here?” Her tone was gruff and completely unwelcoming.

He continued to smile. “Isn’t it almost time for you to clock out?”

Eden’s arms fell to her side and she jammed her thumb into one pocket, resting her weight on her back leg. “And that’s your business how, hm?”

“I wanted to walk you home.”

“You upfront about your stalking now?”

Jungkook pouted and she didn’t know if she was more irritated that he was giving her that expression or that she felt like she’d just kicked a puppy.

“Why you gotta be like that, Eden Noona?”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, stepping out of the shop. She pressed one of the buttons on the clicker in her pocket. The garage door closed behind her. “We’re not close enough for you to address me like that.”

His brows furrowed, a pained expression flitting over his features and her heart twisted inside of her chest. Now she really did feel like she’d just kicked a puppy.

“…sorry.”

Eden looked at his pitiful face and she groaned, turning her head away from him. If she didn’t look at him, maybe she wouldn’t feel bad for what she’d just said. “Forget about it.” She continued to look away from him. “What do you want?”

“I already told you that --”

“I don’t need you to walk me home.” Eden gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m a grown ass woman and can take care of myself just fine.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them before she heard him sigh. “…it’s because I’m a gangpae , isn’t it?” He looked at her and she could feel the weight of his gaze on top of her. “You don’t want to be seen with some punk like me, huh?”

Eden felt a flash of anger explode across her chest. “That’s gotta be the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” she said loudly, “you take me for some kinda judgmental little --”

Her words were cut short when she saw Jungkook advancing toward her. Her eyes widened as he immediately began crowding her personal space, her back pressing against the metal garage door. He shot his arms out, his palms slamming into the door on either side of her head. Eden took a moment to search his face, to see if there was any rage or hostility there. But there was none. She heard a soft scraping sound around her ears and could see his palms curled into fists.

“Then why?” Jungkook wasn’t yelling, but she heard the desperation in his tone. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

A lump was forming in her throat and she was doing her best to swallow it down. She wasn’t sure if there was an answer that she could give him that he’d be satisfied with. Especially since he’d been adamant about chasing her for months now. Eden wasn’t one to judge anyone for their background, considering what her own was. But she didn’t want to get hurt again. She didn't want to take the risk.

Jungkook had been persistent in his attempts to get her attention. She’d give him props for his tenacity. Most men would have given up. Most men had given up. And she honestly didn’t understand what he saw in her that day he brought his motorcycle to be serviced. But ever since then, he’d been in hot pursuit – taking it to new levels she’d never experienced.

Seriously, who would go out of their way to steal a girl’s phone number?

He wasn’t ugly, he had a sweet smile and he was genuinely a nice person. Eden had seen it for herself. What asshole went around helping old ladies with their groceries, or made sure kids didn’t run out in the middle of the street and get hurt? Jungkook even smacked teenagers who were trying to play hooky, even going so far as to drag them back to school by the scruffs of their uniforms.

Him being a gangster had nothing to do with her pushing him away.

Regardless of why he lived the life that he did, why he chose that path, it held no precedence on her keeping him at arms’ length. She just didn’t want to get hurt. Not again. Eden knew what she was worth and knew what circles she didn’t want to be around. She knew that she didn’t want to deal with any bullshit and the last thing she wanted to do was tangle herself (or her heart) in a place where it would be difficult to climb out of. Being stuck between a rock and a hard place? No, she wasn’t about to deal with that shit again.

“It has nothing to do with you,” she replied, her voice softer than earlier, “I wish you’d get that.”

J ungkook leaned in closer, causing her to press the back of her head further into the metal surface. “Well, I don’t.” He continued to look at her with that hurt expression, inadvertently breaking her heart just a little bit. “I don’t get it at all.”

Eden sighed but said nothing. She didn’t know what to say and it wasn’t like she was against the idea of getting to know him better. He was stubborn as her, if not more so.

“Just…just let me walk you home?”

Lifting her eyes to meet his, she saw his gentle smile return even though his brows were furrowed.

“Please?”

The lump in her throat settled just a smidge. All she could do was look at him as he patiently waited for her response. She knew the smart thing to do was tell him to fuck off – to leave her alone and to never show his face in front of her again. It wasn’t like he hadn’t made it clear that he was attracted to her and it would be a lie if she didn’t find it a little flattering.

…oh, goddammit .

“��fine,” Eden muttered, knowing that if she tried to come up with any sort of excuse, she’d flounder under his insistence. “I need to finish up the paperwork for today so just…” She paused, pointing at the ground. “You wait here, you got that?”

Jungkook pushed himself off the door, standing at his full height. He beamed down at her and Eden rolled her eyes before turning away from him to hide the warmth crowning her cheeks.

“Kay!”

She pushed the button on the clicker again, the metal shutters sliding up so she could step back into the shop. When she stepped inside, she slapped the button on the wall to close the shutter back behind her. Eden took about two steps before she was face-to-face with the rest of the boys, all of them clinging to their rice bowls and eyes wide as saucers.

She frowned. Those nosy little shits…

“Get the fuck on!” she bellowed, pointing back to the break room area, “and clean the damn table!”

“Yes Ma’am!” they yelped, scrambling to the back.

Pressing the back of her wrist to her forehead, she sighed. “…why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?”