#it was my last stop of the day approximately 10 minutes from them closing so i only briefly browsed and was tired

[kittykatinabag]

This month's win is the 100% merino wool jacket I found today at a thrift store for $35.

Those of you who know the quality of a 100% wool jacket, especially of a nice wool like merino, understand that this might be the best trade deal in the history of fashion.

Do I look good in the jacket? Debatable. It's a little big and a bit shapeless. But when the temps drop to below freezing at some point this winter and I'm wearing thick layers, it will be intentional and I will appreciate the extra room.

Also it was $35. You can't not get a wool coat when it's that price.

[yarnings]

The other day I got on the bus to come home from the mall/edge of the city transit terminal, and there were a couple of Plain Mennonite ladies, obviously in from one of the routes through the townships, taking the bus to an appointment of some kind. They weren't quite sure about which bus they were taking (since they obviously hadn't used a website to find their route), and because their destination was very close to mine (and in my usual stomping grounds) I helped make sure they knew where to get off the bus and where to go once they were there.

But it got me to thinking - I grew up without bus schedules, because the TTC didn't really put them out for the routes by my house. * But once I moved (and once the undergrad bus pass came in) I got used to carrying a collection of bus schedules in my purse. (Basically every bus that I took on a semi-regular basis I carried a schedule for. The schedules listed all the stop numbers, so I could call for the real-time departure info and plan accordingly).

But buses no longer have the schedule (including the route map) in a little box at the front of the bus. There isn't even a main bus terminal anymore, but while the rack of bus schedules was still there the last time I visited, I don't think it was stocked. The new customer service centre definitely doesn't have that rack. My kids have the relevant bus schedules downloaded onto their smartphones. (At this point it happens on a trip-by-trip basis, as we plan the route that they'll take out and back). You can still get paper schedules, if you go to city hall. Given that this is also where public health is located, and where the in-person offices for Ontario Works (welfare) are located, it would be one of the last places to lose the paper schedules.

But city hall was also one of the last places in the downtown core to have a buggy shed. (It's not there anymore. And by the time I saw it, 10 years ago, I really doubt it was still being used. I have seen... approximately one buggy in the urban centre in the time I've been here). While the schedules are presumably still where they are because marginalized people need access to them, how much of the fact that they exist for my transit system is because we have many more horse-and-buggy folks using it than the average system does.

This is a long way around to say that I think that post that suggests you need to learn non-computer ways to do a bunch of things isn't wrong. However remember that a lot of those things used to be a lot easier to do, and aren't necessarily worth the investment of your time. Navigating your bus system is one of them. Does your system even still have paper maps? (Now, I would argue that learning to plan your route using the pdf maps, whether of the individual routes or the system, is worth doing. But the way to learn to navigate the system without those is to ride it a lot. While that's a useful skill, please don't try to magically jump to it, given that you don't have the tools we used to use.)

*Technically they did, but they just gave frequencies, not times, even on Sundays when the bus only came every 10 minutes.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Staffing Inbalances

Work's becoming a bigger mess.

See, every once in awhile, we get new trainees. We just got new trainees. We got a lot of new trainees. Which means we're generating more typing. We were barely managing as it was and now we're getting more typing per day and we're not going to be able to keep up for long.

Look, here's the situation.

We have ... approximately five typists, though technically only the man-hours of four. (Two of us are part-time, but the other one only does, like, two days a week.) The full-timers are mostly 9:00-17:00 with an hour for lunch, though Goblin tends to be a little more 10:00-17:30 with a half-hour for lunch because she works from home same as I do. I personally work 11:00-17:00 (Tuesdays and Wednesdays) or 11:00-17:30 (Thursdays and Fridays). So the last of us has generally speaking logged off for the day by 17:30, and it's only really Scruffman, our manager, who's logged on at 8:00.

The doctors, on the other hand, start dictating reports at about 7:45 and if we're lucky, they finish at 18:00. And there are a lot more than five of them. Now, keeping in mind that they're dictating stuff in between cutting bits of medical specimen into bits and examining said bits, we can theoretically get a report typed faster than they can dictate one. Not always, because some are into the word salad, but mostly, yeah. Still. There are more of them than there are us, and their shifts overlap in such a way that those "more of them" are working a longer day than we do, so we're coming to the end of the shift with the queue getting longer by great leaps and bounds by doctors trying to cram in a few more reports before close of play.

The typists' primary objective is to at least get the previous business day's typing cleared and hopefully make a start on that day's typing before close of play on any given day. We've been managing. Barely. I don't think we'll be managing as of next week. There are two reasons for this:

The last few days, the doctors have been generating about 200-250 reports per day, on average. Today? Nearly four hundred. In this, I am only counting the 326 reports that were in the queue when I logged off for the day, the forty-odd reports that I typed over the course of the day (a little over half of those being urgents, because urgents take priority), and the few that Goblin deigned to pick up. And they were still working when we logged off.

There was an email from Scruffman today. Temp wasn't in today, and our other part-timer was only working half her usual hours, and since she's on short hours anyway... We were understaffed. So badly understaffed.

Because of both of those things, I pushed it way harder than I should have. I mean, significantly. I did over 100 reports today, and a lot of them were ... not short. No eighteen minute long monstrosities, but New Girl and Goblin had taken all the shorter ones and were apparently dawdling over those so I ended up with the 5-10 minute word salads and the fiddly and annoying placenta cut-ups and even the shorter ones I typed were by and large by the Annoyances. And despite the typing queue being stuck at 300+ for most of the day, New Girl and Goblin still fucking dawdled. I got two or more of the word salads done between each and every one of their reports - I checked.

But pushing myself past my limits has consequences. And worst of all, I had to go out to the shops after all that. So I am in a stupendous amount of pain right now. And next week looks like it's going to be a horror show. For fuck's sake, we should not fall apart like this when we have an absence! But they're hiring badly right now - they want all the reports done, so they get a whole bunch of new trainee doctors to get them all dictated, but they don't stop to think about the people who have to type the fucking things.

If I can even halfway recover from today over the course of the weekend, it'll be a fucking miracle.

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

Ao3 First Lines

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3 (Sort by date posted). If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have!

Tagged by the wonderful @magniloquent-raven approximately one hundred years ago. Thanks for thinking of me, bb!

1. Witchcraft does not reward shitty intentions  I (finally) finished this bad boy in February, only two full years after I posted it! LOL. 

Steve handed him his movies and opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Then he closed it again.

"Spit it out, Bambi," Billy said. Steve stared at him for a minute, glancing around to make sure Billy was the only customer at Family Video.

"I just wanted you to know that it's not your fault," he finally said tentatively. Billy thought about all the things Steve could be referring to and decided he needed more specifics.

"What are you talking about?"

"The...thing. The attraction thing." Steve gestured between them. "It's not your fault." 

2. The best-laid plans I wrote this one because I love the idea of Steve Harrington: Actual Disney Prince. Of course everyone wants to kiss him, and of course that ruins Vecna’s plans. Twice.

Henry Creel was in a good mood.

Sure, he was still hideously deformed and trapped in this barren hell dimension—thanks to one very ungrateful little girl—but things were looking up. The weird hive mind that had inhabited this world before Henry arrived had found a way through the gate into Hawkins proper, and Henry could observe and affect events through his link to the creature. He was feeling optimistic.

Things had not gone according to plan the first time he had tried this, and they hadn’t exactly worked out the time after that either. This time, though, Henry had a good feeling. He had made some changes, and he felt like they were going to pan out.  

3. All the Christmases Yet to Come My holiday exchange fic! This one was very fun to write, even if it is a little angstier than my usual fare. 

It dawned like any other December day in Hawkins, bitterly cold and gray, with clouds piling up ominously on the horizon. Fresh snow from an overnight storm sat untouched on lawns and sidewalks and roads. Frost glittered on windowpanes and the brave few who were out and about this early sent plumes of warm breath into the frigid air. Hawkins came slowly and gradually to life as the sun crept up past the horizon, people going about their business as though it was a perfectly normal Friday.

Billy Hargrove woke up in a foul mood, as usual. Thin, gray light filtered through his curtained window, and he found himself missing the sun almost as much as he missed the distant susurration of waves meeting the shore. Hawkins had always been intended as a punishment, and it was a very effective one. This fucking town had only disappointment to offer him, especially after—

Well. Billy was still insisting—even to himself—that he had been even more short-tempered than usual since November because the weather sucked, and not because he couldn’t seem to forget the sensation of Steve Harrington’s cheekbone giving way under his fists. It was getting harder to lie to himself, though. He had fractured a certain pretty boy’s face, and thus ruined any future opportunity to touch that face with gentle, reverent hands, the way he had wanted to since he first laid eyes on it in the school parking lot. Not that it would have been a possibility before that awful night, probably, but it definitely wasn’t after. Billy had broken something he cared about with his own hands; these days, it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.

4. One Prize I’d Cheat to Win Listen, I know how long it has been since I updated this. I KNOW. But I swear to you that it is still an active WIP, and I am working on the upcoming chapters. Updates are coming!

“Talk to me, Max. Something feels off. This was too easy.”

“Everything’s fine, asshole. Stop being so paranoid.” Even through the earpiece, Billy could hear her irritated huff. “I told you, I did extensive research on this one. It's easy because we planned it that way.” Billy snagged a glass of champagne as a server with a tray passed him. He sipped it as he studied the dance floor below him. Couples in black tie swayed in circles to the music. The band was set up in a discreet corner, opposite the raised dais at the far end of the room. There was a podium on it. The auction was due to start in an hour, and Billy hadn’t seen his target yet.

“If everything's fine, then where is he?” he asked Max. “This is his party in his massive, ridiculous ballroom." Who the fuck had a house with a ballroom? "He should be schmoozing right now.”

“I don’t know, Billy. Aren’t rich people late all the time? Maybe he’s still getting ready.” Given what his hair had looked like in the photos Billy had studied, he could almost believe it. Still, Billy didn't like it. Something felt off. He opened his mouth to say that again, but two things happened at once. The double doors opposite the raised dais opened and Steve Harrington stepped through them. He was wearing a beautifully tailored dark blue tuxedo, and Billy’s mouth went a little dry. The photos really hadn’t done him justice. At the same time, someone leaned up against the railing right next to where Billy was tucked into the shadows, and he felt the unmistakable press of a gun muzzle against his ribs. He took a sharp breath and let it out slowly. God damn it, he had been right. This had been too easy because it was a fucking trap.

5. The One Word My first foray into the Captain America fandom! I’ve considered deleting this until I have more of it edited (life, ugghhhh), but I haven’t done it yet. I have so much more of it written, but editing is my nemesis.  

Once upon a time, there lived two small boys. One was small and fair and fierce and the other tall and dark-haired and charming, and there are many, many stories about what happened to them over the months and years and decades of their lives.

In some stories, the boys grow up together. They laugh as they dart through grimy alleyways or cobblestoned courtyards or vast rooms where the sound of each footstep vanishes into deep, lush carpeting. They annoy each other and defend each other and vow, as children do, that they will be with each other forever.

In some stories, they keep that promise. They stand beside each other and take on every challenge with the warm, sure knowledge that there is nothing they have to face alone. In other stories, they are less fortunate. There are months and years and decades of dark and painful separation. And yet they find each other, again and again and again, on eerily silent streets and in deep forests, in coffee shops and dorm rooms, in subway cars and in quiet, too-empty apartments. They fall apart, and then they come back together.  

In this story, they start out alone.

6. Almost Enough Ah yes, the post-S4 fic that I wrote before I watched S4. Truly, a simpler time. 

It’s too quiet. Sure, there’s the soft beeping of whatever machines they have him hooked up to, and he can hear the murmur of quiet voices in the hall—even in this desolate stretch between midnight and morning, the hospital doesn’t truly sleep—but Billy was alone in the Upside Down for a long time. He craves light, and familiar voices, and the simple animal heat of other bodies close to his. Those things are not available, not here and now in the sterile hush of this hospital, but…well. Maybe he doesn’t have to be completely alone.

He carefully strips off the oxygen line and the sensors they plastered to him when he came in. There’s nothing specific wrong with him—nothing they’ve managed to identify, anyway—but his nurses all shoot each other looks and murmur about ‘sustained exposure’ and ‘delayed symptoms.’ He can’t bring himself to care. He’s alive and he’s not trapped in a terrifying mirror of Hawkins anymore and for right now, it’s enough. Almost. It’s almost enough.

He slips out of his room when the hall goes briefly still and silent. Steve’s room is three doors down on the right. The door is ajar, and Billy just stands there for a moment, staring.

Steve isn’t asleep. He’s sitting up against the headboard, knees pulled to his chest, staring blankly in the direction of the window. Billy can see a slight tremor in his hands where they’re wrapped around his knees.

7. the road not taken looks real good now I think this is still my most popular fic? I dug it out of my drafts and gave myself a public deadline, and finished it in like five days. There’s a lesson there somewhere. 

Billy isn’t surprised when it’s Robin who opens Steve’s front door. He’s a little late, so Steve is almost surely in the midst of making dinner. He issurprised when she steps out onto the porch and closes the front door behind her. Billy blinks at her. She isn’t wearing a coat, and it’s freezing.

“Todd is here,” she says, voice pitched low. Billy stares at her blankly for a moment before the sentence sinks in.

“Steve brought his boyfriend back to Hawkins for the holidays?” he asks, tone surprisingly even. It isn’t the first time Steve has dated someone since he left for college, obviously, but it is the first time he’s brought anyone home. Billy tries to fight off the surge of disappointment that he will not, apparently, be spending the bulk of this vacation in Steve’s bed, the way he always does when they’re home at the same time. They’ve been hooking up whenever they see each other for the past three years, since the first time Steve came back to Hawkins from college for a visit. Robin nods, her expression bleak.

8. Six Gifts My other holiday exchange fic! Holiday fluff is my JAM. 

It started with a cigarette.

Well. If Billy was being honest with himself, which he was trying to do a little more consistently lately, it started long before that. It started the first goddamn day, before any of the rest of it happened, with a single glimpse of big dark eyes and pale skin across a parking lot. But it didn’t go well, that first time, and Billy figured that once he’d died, he probably got to start over with a clean slate.

So it started with a cigarette.

Billy was standing in a shadowed corner of the porch at the Byers’ big new house, smoking a cigarette and half listening to the sounds of laughter and Christmas music from inside. He appreciated Max’s continuing efforts to include him in the larger group, but he didn’t really belong inside with them. Maybe he wasn’t the monster anymore, but he wasn’t one of the good guys either. It was fine. He could linger around the edges, helping out Max and doing his best to stay out of the way.  

Suddenly he heard the creak of the porch door opening and a slam as it closed again. Then he heard light footsteps headed for the same darkened corner Billy had chosen. He knew exactly who it was—he had been paying attention to that specific tread for a long time. The steps stopped abruptly as they reached the corner of the house. There was a brief silence. Billy kept his eyes fixed on the line of trees visible across the side yard, fully expecting to hear those same footsteps moving away from him. Instead, he heard a quiet little sigh.

“I hear those’ll kill you,” Steve said softly as he walked up to stand next to Billy at the railing. He gestured at the cigarette in Billy’s hand. Billy stared at him and then snorted.

“Too late,” he said drily.

9. you should come with a warning label This one is a bit of a tease. I have a part 2 mostly drafted, but editing, boooooo.  

Billy heard the door to Steve's room swing open, hard enough to slam against the wall. He glanced up to where his own door was open just a crack. He couldn't see Steve, but he could see the girl he had brought home. She was pretty. Tall, blonde, athletic. A little drunk and a lot angry, apparently.

"Come on, it's not like I lied about it," Steve pleaded. She whirled on him, pointing a finger.

"You should come with a fucking warning label," she hissed at him.

"Hey," Steve said, sounding offended, but she had already turned and was stomping toward the front door. It slammed behind her. Steve made a frustrated noise and Billy heard the door to his room slam shut, and then silence.  

Fifteen minutes later, Billy was sitting at the kitchen table when Steve emerged from his room. This wasn't an accident; Steve always got snacky when he was drinking, especially if he wasn't getting laid. He was still wearing his date outfit and a scowl. Billy took a moment to admire the way his ass looked in his date jeans when he leaned into the fridge, and waited until Steve was sniffing a box of leftovers before he spoke.

10. A few lines at a time The postcard fic! I wrote it for the 2021 Big Bang. It started as a very different story, but I’m so happy with where it went instead. 

“Billy is alive!”

Max burst into a Friday night D&D session in March and dropped that bomb, and Steve promptly dropped the glass he was filling at the sink. He took a few long moments to stare at the new crack in the glass before it occurred to him to turn off the water. He spent another minute slowing his breathing to something more manageable before he turned back to face the group eating snacks at his kitchen table. No one appeared to have noticed his reaction; their attention was firmly on Max.

Steve caught up to the conversation just as Max announced that she had, in fact, just gotten off the phone with her less-dead-than-previously-assumed step-brother. She was met with skepticism, even though they had all already lived through the miracle of Hopper reappearing, too thin and bearded and even more pissed off than usual, and telling an insane story about a Russian prison camp and the Upside Down. But this was different. After all, Joyce had told them all that Hopper was dead, and they had believed her, but they had all watched Billy die, and they could trust their own eyes.

Except that they clearly couldn’t, because Billy was alive and generally fine, living in California and calling his sister to tell her that he survived--surprise! --and was recovering in some lab.

This was so fun! I haven’t looked at some of these in a while. I’ll tag @passivenovember and @thatharringrovehoe, only if you feel like it. 

[imonawholedifferentlevel]

𝗖𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿

"𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙮"

FINALLY, it was Friday, although I had only been there for a week, it felt like an eternity in that school. Supposedly, there was going to be a celebration for the football team at Domingo's later tonight.

I thought about the commitment I made to Carol about visiting. I checked the clock, and it was 5:30pm. Since it didn't start until about an hour, I pondered on how to pass the time. So, I searched my room for something to do, but found nothing. I ultimately decided to go for a drive.

I wore a multicolored shirt with some pastel high-waisted jeans, paired with white sneakers. I grabbed my car keys and purse, then headed downstairs. As I approached the front door, I was halted by Gabi.

She ran up to me and pulled on my arm with her hands covered in green paint, getting green paint all over my right arm. I pushed her away and gave her a stern look.

"Goddamn it, Gabi! Why on earth did you do that!?" I snapped, annoyed that she had ruined my outfit. She frowned at me and replied, "I just wanted to know where you were going. You don't have to be so mean," she said.

"None of your business. Stay in your place as a 10-year-old," I said, but she refused to back down.

"If you don't tell me where you're going, I'll tell Mom you hit me," she said with a smug smile. Sometimes, I genuinely wanted to strangle this little brat. I forcefully pushed her aside, causing her to collide with the table and cry out in pain.

"Tell her I couldn't care less," I stated.

I saw tears welling up in her eyes as she began to cry loudly on the floor, making me groan. Seconds later, my mom and dad rushed in. My dad helped Gabi up from the floor, while my mom started scolding me. However, I paid no attention to her words.

This provoked her anger and the next thing I knew I felt a slap on the side of my face...this bitch slapped me.

My father witnessed the incident and shouted at my mother.

"Genesis!" That brought my mother back to reality as she gasped, covering her mouth in an attempt to apologize. "darling I-" I abruptly interrupted her, walking out of the door and forcefully closing it behind me.

I entered the car, shutting the door and inserting the keys into the ignition, starting the engine and driving away.

I could hear my mom calling out to me, but after a few minutes, I pulled over and sat in the car to let it cool down for a while. I felt something trickle down my cheek...tears, it had been a while since I shed them.

At this point, I simply needed some time alone. I couldn't recall the last time I was innocent, I'm pretty certain it was before Gabi was born.

When I was young and she came into the picture, I never had an issue with her until my parents began to neglect me and only care for her.

They missed my 5th grade graduation because Gabi had her kindergarten graduation on the same day, not to mention they forgot my 10th birthday because they were too focused on enrolling Gabi in cheerleading camp.

All those memories made me feel vulnerable, as if I never had parents, as if I was never a part of the family. It's as if they forget that they have two daughters.

At this point, I hadn't even realized I was crying uncontrollably. I didn't even realize how long I had been driving until it was already dark.

I glanced at my watch and noticed it was 7:34pm. Deciding it was time to head to Domingo's, I set off down the road, making sure to stop for gas along the way. After 10 minutes, I spotted the prominent sign. As I approached, I noticed numerous cars and some school buses, indicating the presence of the football team.

Exiting my car, I quickly checked my appearance to ensure I looked presentable. I grabbed some wipes and removed the paint from my arm. Walking up to the entrance, I could hear a cacophony of noise, including the clattering of glasses and cheering.

A crowd of people surrounded a table, where approximately 25 boys wearing varsity jackets loitered, showcasing their muscular physiques.

It was evident that they were intoxicated, as they stumbled into one another, playfully wrestling and behaving in a rowdy manner. I scanned the area in search of Carol, until I finally spotted her.

She leaned against the counter, accompanied by a tall girl with raven black hair tied back in a ponytail, sporting a full face of makeup. This must have been Carol's older sister, Barbra.

The uniforms they wore appeared rather absurd, consisting of a green and white striped top paired with a dark green skirt.

The mismatched combination seemed quite odd, raising questions about the competence of their manager. Carol had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, making it slightly challenging to recognize her, as I was accustomed to seeing her with her hair down.

As I began to approach her, it almost seemed as though she sensed my presence. She turned her gaze in my direction, lifting herself off the counter and narrowing her eyes, seemingly confirming that it was indeed me.

Barbra noticed Carol's attention towards me and looked at me with confusion, evidently wondering why I was approaching them.

When I arrived at Carol, I slightly grinned at her.

"Sorry but that outfit is really ugly" Carol rolled her eyes at me and said in a sarcastic tone.

"Well I make it look good" I chuckled at her and nodded my head she wasn't lying she actually did look good in it.

"Yes you do" she looked at me in slight surprise but it quickly changed into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Umm excuse me who are you?" I looked behind her to see Barbra looking me up and down with a slightly envious look.

"The names Penelope, Penelope Rivers I'm a friend of Carol's" I stated showing my professional expressionless face and crossing my arms Barbra looked shocked as if she just saw a famous actor.

She then began to burst out laughing.

"Wait a minute Carol actually has a friend. How much did you bribe her?" That caused Carol to glare intensely at her sister if looks can kill she would have been 30 feet deep.

I already didn't like her. I could see why Carol speaks so negatively about her everything she says is true. Well, I don't know about the youngest yet.

I moved Carol to the side, so I was standing in front of her and face to face with Barbra.

"She didn't have to bribe me at all and what kind of sister do you think you are to speak about her in such a way because in my opinion that makes you a bitch and I don't like bitchy people" I sneered stepping closer to the black-haired girl.

She immediately stopped laughing and stood to her full height as if that was supposed to intimidate me.

"I'm sorry, what was that...?" I just rolled my eyes.

"You heard me, I'm not going to say it again because I haven't even been here for 10 minutes and you're already getting on my nerves" I said.

She rolled her eyes and simply walked away, but not before muttering "bitch" under her breath. I turned back to Carol to see her on the verge of laughter, though she tried to conceal it with a blank expression.

However, it didn't last long as she burst into laughter, leaning against the counter to compose herself.

I have to admit, her laughter was quite endearing, and it was the first time I had seen her smile so fully.

I mentally captured that image to cherish later, patiently waiting for her laughter to subside. After a few seconds, she wiped away an imaginary tear and composed herself, saying, "I really need you around more often."

I shrugged my shoulders and replied with a slight smile, "It's not like I had anywhere else to be."

I noticed a small smile forming on her face, but she quickly cleared her throat, attempting to hide it.

"Yeah, you never leave unless I tell you to," she said, and I couldn't help but chuckle at her. She was terrible at concealing her smiles.

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of people chanting, "fight, fight, fight!" We walked closer to see a boy with black hair and green eyes on top of another boy with blond hair and blue eyes, repeatedly punching him. No one bothered to step in and help.

That is, until someone who appeared to be the coach emerged from the bathroom due to all the commotion.

When he saw what was happening, he quickly ran up and tackled the aggressor, pinning him to the ground while the other boy tried to squirm free from his grasp.

"Luis Enderson, what the hell is happening here?" the coach shouted.

The boy, who was presumably Luis, looked at his coach with wide eyes but remained silent. "Are you deaf?" the coach yelled again. He forcefully pulled the boy up and pushed him towards the exit.

"You're dismissed from the team since you can't properly represent our school. You will not have the opportunity to step out on the field again!" The boy exclaimed angrily and forcefully pushed the door open as he left in a fit of rage.

I struggled to hold back my laughter. He is such a fool. Who in their right mind would engage in a public fight? He definitely should be removed from the team.

I glanced at my watch and saw that it was 10:07pm. I turned to Carol and asked, "When does your shift end?"

She looked confused as she responded, "Why do you want to know?" I put on a smug smirk and replied.

"Can't a friend give another friend a ride home? Plus, I have to go back home anyway."

She nodded at me and said, "Yeah, I'll take you up on that offer. I just need to change first."

She walked off, most likely to get changed. After a few minutes, she returned wearing a black and dark blue striped sweater, tight dark blue jeans, and some shoes. Her hair was down, and she was struggling to put on her glasses.

"God damn it!" I tried to suppress my laughter as she accidentally poked herself in the right eye with her glasses.

She glared in my direction, but I could see that she was having trouble locating me since she was squinting. I walked up to her and took the glasses from her.

"Here, let me help." She stared directly into my eyes without blinking, even as I placed the glasses on her face and brushed some of her hair behind her ear. I smirked at the blush that appeared on her face.

"Are you flustered, Denning?" I teased, winking at her. She smacked my hand away, trying to fix her red face.

I chuckled and nodded toward the door, "come on, let's get you home." We both exited the diner and made our way to my car. I unlocked it, and we both climbed inside, closing the doors behind us.

"Why are you so kind to me?" I turned my head to gaze at her, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"What do you mean?" She met my gaze and rolled her eyes.

"I don't know, nobody has ever talked to me or done anything like this for me before you came along. It was always about Barbie." I nodded as she continued.

"I often wonder how my life would have turned out if they didn't exist."

"The same question I ask myself every day about Gabi. How much better would my life be if she had never entered it? What can I do to finally get rid of her?" I replied, my expression lifeless as I stared ahead.

She turned her head towards me briefly but then returned her focus to the road. "I wish I had met you earlier," she muttered.

I briefly glanced at her, my hands still gripping the steering wheel, before redirecting my gaze back to the road.

"Do you ever feel like there's something wrong with you?" she asked.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I've always felt like there was something off about me, but I could never quite pinpoint it," I replied, causing her to turn her whole body towards me.

"I understand. Being the middle child comes with its own set of challenges. You never receive much attention, always feeling like the black sheep of the family. That's been my experience my whole life," she shared, surprising me with her openness.

At that moment, I decided to be bold. I stopped the car and reached out to hold her hand, causing her to flinch back slightly and look at me in shock.

"Well, now you have someone who cares about you, and that someone is me. So, don't put yourself down, alright?" She blinked and glanced down at our intertwined hands before a small laugh escaped her lips as she linked her fingers with mine.

She affirms with a nod and gazes into my eyes, a sincere grin on her face, causing my heart to race. Afterward, she returns her gaze forward and reclines against the seat.

"It's hard to believe, but I'm beginning to develop a fondness for you," she admits. This remark elicits a chuckle from me as I restart the car and proceed to drive to her residence, her hand still intertwined with mine.

"You've been winning me over as well, Carol."

[walkswithmycamera]

FRIGILIANA - a day excursion by coach from Benalmadena Costa.

The small white village of Frigiliana, in the Axarquia region of the Costa del Sol, is often described as Andalucia’s prettiest village by the tourism authority.

It's certainly very picturesque and is in a fabulous position high above the coast offering spectacular views from various vantage points.

However, it's extremely hilly and no matter which way you look at it, there are very few flat areas to walk around and probably explains why we only got around 90 minutes to explore.

Whichever way you go, you must walk up - or down.

So, like the majority of other passengers on our tour bus, we opted for the €3.50pp tourist mini-train around the village tour, which then gave us some time to explore part of the village with the mosaic pebble patterns in the footprint of the narrow streets of white houses and shops.

My video mash up of 4 different clips taken during the tourist train ride and some photographs of our own exploration afterwards, before we headed off to Nerja as our next stop.

Commentary on the mini-train is in Spanish and English.

Apologies, this is my first long video and also mixing different clips together, so forgive me if it's a bit on the unprofessional side 🫣

RESERVATION CONCERNS:

We booked online from UK in advance of our arrival in Benalmadena, (not something we usually do, but the reason will come clear in the next few paragraphs).

The cost was approximately €33pp (September 2023). The pickup was very handy though, at the bottom of the road from our hotel. Just a quick roll down the steep hill.

We were staying at the medPlaya Hotel Bali.

If you know the location, you will already be familiar with "cardiac hill" - there's at least one with this same name in every tourist resort.

BOOKING INFORMATION:

Our online reservation was made through Rubens Excursions: https://www.rubensexcursions.com/#excursion7

The tour itself is operated by: Viajes Costafrica - website link: https://costafrica.com/ but we could find no way to book with them directly and email contact proved fruitless.

Important Note: although the coach continuously showed lots of seat availability (around 53 each time we checked) - almost all of the seats were filled after our last pickup as we left Benalmadena.

We became suspicious after noticing that no seats were being booked during the days since we had started to monitor it - showing an almost empty coach.

Yet the excursion was still operating - it simply made no sense.

Therefore, we had to assume agency bookings were not automatically added to the live system, or being taken into consideration.

It was for this reason we decided to bite the bullet - and book ahead of our arrival in Benalmadena.

The excursion runs just one day per week and ours was a 10 night trip, arriving in the evening into the resort.

It meant we were left with only one weekday to visit the office, a short walk from our hotel - the Benalmadena office is closed at the weekend.

See my previous post and photos taken in the village of Frigiliana after we finished the mini-train tour here:

THANK YOU for reading and watching 🙂

If you like my YouTube content - please Subscribe!

Shell Chapman (WalksWithMyCamera) @HaveCamera_WillTravel YouTube Channel

[sparklingchim]

long way home 13 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 1.4k

genre: dilf!jungkook, friends to lovers

rating: pg

warnings: liddol nabi is incredibly missed by oc :(, cute i love u's in the end

summary: the one where you miss nabi.

a/n: hi hello after writing this i wanna buy adorable little baby onesies too

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08| 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |

masterlist | long way home masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You couldn't stop yourself.

No one would be able to stop themselves.

You're in the baby section of a clothing store and your arm is packed with soft coloured teeny tiny pieces of clothing that you picked out just for Nabi.

You had gotten off from work and were just looking at the stores that you were passing on your way home when you saw that there was a huge discount on all articles in H&M.

You got yourself some basics and looked through some underwear when you noticed the baby section from the corner of your eye.

From the moment you entered the section and saw all of the tiny clothes from up close you knew it was over. You would not leave this store without having your hands full of bags that are filled with cute little clothes for Nabi.

You had to contain your squeaks when you saw a dusky pink coloured hat that has little bear ears on top. It looks just like the one that Jungkook had recently gotten for Nabi - just in a way cuter colour.

You couldn't wait to put it on Nabi - just picturing her with this pink fluffy hat on, her big innocent eyes watching you through her long lashes and her cheeks all chubby and screaming to get pinched, makes you want to rush to Jungkook's apartment and put the hat on Nabi.

Approximately ten minutes later your left arm feels numb from all the clothes your piling up on it.

Once you are out of the store you're heading home with 4 bags. One contains clothes that you bought for yourself and the other ones, well...they're mainly stuffed with fuzzy onesies...and all of them might have little ears that'll make Nabi look like a little bear. You just couldn't help yourself when you saw the big selection of clothing with bear ears attached to them. Perhaps you also bought her some small plushie too, which...Jungkook will not be glad to hear about because Nabi's nursery is already filled to the brim with plushies.

You blame your little shopping frenzy on the fact that you haven't seen Nabi for about four days. You're happy that Jungkook seems to go to work more regularly now and that the babysitter that Nabi once hated so much is much more welcome now, but you can't help missing her. And Jungkook as well, because he hasn't been showing up either. The past few days you've been waiting for him to visit the coffee shop in the morning, but he never did.

You struggle to fish your phone from your purse but once you finally do you call Jungkook.

You hold all four bags in one hand in order to be able to hold your phone against your ear. You're lucky to only live a few blocks away.

Jungkook answers the call within a few seconds.

"Hey," he greets, baritone voice making your tummy feel all kinds of butterflies flying around.

"I have good news - well, honestly speaking, I think they're bad news for you. But good news for me."

"Have you been buying books with my credit card again?"

"I-" For a brief second you close your eyes, not believing his audacity. "I don't have your card anymore, remember? I returned it weeks ago, dummy."

"Well, then it can't be bad news if I haven't lost any money because of it."

"Stop acting like you didn't give me your consent to buy books with your money!" A sulky pout settles on your lips.

"Eight, y/n. You bought eight books," he reminds you.

You click your tongue. "I couldn't decide. I wanted to read all of them."

"Last time I checked you had only read three of them."

"Buying books and reading books are two complete different hobbies, okay?" you defend yourself. "You wanna know what the news are?"

"I'm all ears."

"I might have bought Nabi a few things. As in, a few clothes. And some plushies."

"A few?" he inquires sceptically.

"Like...three bags."

Jungkook is silent for what feels like an eternity. Now that you are no longer focused on his voice, you are aware of the sounds of passing cars and people that you had blocked out earlier.

"Three bags?" You can clearly picture him pinching the bridge of his nose right now.

"Everything looked so adorable and cute. I couldn't resist, Koo"

"You know exactly how many clothes she already owns, y/n."

"But...they aren't as cute as the things I just bought. I swear, you're gonna freak out when I'm gonna show these onesies to you."

"What am I supposed to do with all this clothing once Nabi grows out of it?" Jungkook grumps.

"Keep them for your next baby."

"That won't happen for at least another 10 years, I hope," he mutters.

"You want Nabi to grow up all alone?"

"I can get her a dog or something."

You shrug. "Sounds fair." The wind blows hair in your face. You jut your lower lip out, puffing upwards to get rid of it. "So, when will I see my baby again?"

"You just recently looked after Nabi," Jungkook points out.

"But, that was like, last week. I miss her. Don't you have to go to work? I can watch her while you're gone," you offer.

"You do know that I have someone to look after her, right? And if I remember correctly, you were the one telling me to finally get someone to help me with Nabi."

"That doesn't mean that I don't want to see her anymore. I still love her, Koo." After a moment of silence you inquire, "Is Nabi okay with the babysitter now? Or does she still not like her?"

"Well..." Jungkook clears his throat before he continues, "Nabi is still not really fond of her, but...she's slowly getting used to her."

"Sounds good. Do you think I could come over today? I'm dying to see how these clothes are gonna look on her."

"I don't think today's a good idea," Jungkook replies, voice thick.

"Well, then tell me when you'll have time." You stop at a red light. "Where have you been in the mornings the last few days? Even the grannies that always drink their morning coffee at our place have started to miss you. They always look around the counter area where you'd usually be."

"Don't be dramatic, please," he sighs.

"I swear! I'm not making this up."

"I've just been busy. That's all."

"I hate having to eat my cookie alone," you sulk.

"I started giving morning classes again. That's why I haven't showed up," Jungkook explains.

"Really? But you hate morning classes."

"I do, but I think I'll give it a try for a few weeks."

"So I shouldn't expect to see you in the mornings anymore?" you ask, shoulders slumping at the mere thought of not seeing him in the morning anymore.

"I mean, I could try and stop by tomorrow morning if you'd like that?"

Though you'd love to see him, the fact that Jungkook only wants to visit the coffee shop because you want him to and not because he wants to, makes you shake your head to the question.

"No need to, it's fine." Squaring your shoulders, you walk across the street with long strides after the lights turned green. "You know that you can just tell me if you don't want to hang out with me?"

"Y/n," he sighs. "You know that's not the truth."

"You really make it seem that way, though," you admit.

"It's just- Nabi's slowly getting used to her and I want to use that time to work more," he clarifies.

"I understand, Jungkook. I think it's good that you're being consistent with the babysitter watching over her. I just really miss Nabi, that's all." You exhale, kinda regretting having made that accusation.

"She probably misses you just as much," Jungkook says and you hear the smile on his face as he talks.

"Are you going to work later?"

"I am actually at work right now," he says.

"Oh! I didn't-"

"It's fine, I'm on my break now. But it actually ended three minutes ago, so I gotta hang up now. Get home safely, yeah?"

"Have fun at work," you say and in the next second you're exclaiming, "Jungkook! Wait."

"Hm?" Your heart flutters at that innocent sound.

"When should I drop Nabi's new clothes off?"

"I'll text you," he replies.

"Oh, and, be so nice and send me a pic of Nabi later? Pretty please? I really miss her."

Jungkook chuckles, which elicits a smile on your lips in return.

"Sure, whatever you want."

"Thanks, love you."

"Love you too, baby.

[freakynct]

「 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 」

— 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 —

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: church boy!mark, exhibitionism, degradation, praising, fingering and masturbation

“you really had to wear such a short dress, y/n?” your mom said with an angry look to her face as she rubbed her hand through the dress, trying to fix it and pull it down.

“mom will you stop? it's not even that short.” you fought back, pushing her hand away from you with an annoyed grunt, rolling your eyes.

the sky was blue and clear but the air felt dry and intensely hot, burning on your legs and arms. luckily that was the last thing bothering you right now as you scanned through all the people waiting outside of the church, engaging in cheerful conversations and adorning big smiles on their faces. all but you. you had been waiting for approximately 10 minutes but you couldn’t seem to find mark anywhere. you even noticed some of the friends he normally hung around with talking next to the stairs but he wasn't anywhere near. you were starting to get disappointed since the only thing that made these masses interesting was mark. and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been extremely horny these past few days thinking about last time you were with him.

“y/n!” your mom called ahead of you. “you always got your head in the clouds, c’mon, the mass is starting.” you rolled your eyes and walked behind your family, dragging your feet until you were inside of the tall cold building where everyone was taking their seat. “you’re sitting with us today.” your mom spoke again, grabbing your arm but you were quick to set it free.

“no! i always sit with my friends.” you talked back, annoyance evident in your voice but your attitude was pushed back as soon as you saw your dad appear behind your mom.

“that’s exactly why. you always sit in the back and you spend the whole time talking and never pay any attention to what the pastor is saying.” his voice was low but stern and all you could do was cross your arms in disagreement and divert your gaze away from him. “so drop that attitude and don’t talk to your mother like that. now sit.” was the last thing he said before he sat down on the wooden bench but suddenly a familiar voice interrupted the heated family discussion.

“y/n can sit with me.” you almost froze at the voice right behind you, feeling his body dangerously close to yours. “i’ll make sure she pays attention and listens to everything my father says.”

you finally had the courage to look and face the boy standing behind you. his eyes that were once focused on your parents slowly looked at you and you noticed a small smile forming on his lips.

“oh lord, no.” your mom said, her expression completely changing and a nervous laugh falling from her lips. “that’s not necessary and we don’t want our daughter to cause you any trouble, mark” she patted his arm friendly but he just continued smiling at her.

“it won’t be any trouble at all, mrs. y/l/n. i insist.” you noticed you had been silent this whole time, quite frankly not even knowing what to do or say and you decided that was probably the best thing to do.

“well... if you insist then i guess there’s no problem. right y/d/n?” she turned to your dad for his opinion and he just nodded and smiled back at mark.

“sure. mark is a good kid and he’ll make sure she listens this time, won’t you son?” your dad said vividly.

“of course, sir. and i already know what sermon my father will give today so i can explain and help y/n if she doesn’t understand something.” you almost jumped when you felt mark’s hand on your lower back, and despite the simple touch, shivers went down your body all the way to your core.

“then go ahead, son. the mass is about to start.” was the last words your dad spoke before both your parents sat back down and mark pulled you with him by your waist. 

he kept his hand firmly against your back and at this point none of you had spoken to each other yet and the silence was killing you. he brought you all the way to the back and to the last benches, away from everyone, and you finally set down as his dad took the stand in front of the church and the loud angelic music started echoing through the thick walls. you finally found the courage to look at him but his gaze was fixed on the ceremony, however you still noticed the slight smirk on his lips. you looked down at your hands that played nervously with the hem of your dress until your attention was brought back to mark.

“you’re not gonna say anything?” he spoke low, his eyes still not looking at you and although the temperature inside the church was cooler, you still felt your body burning inside.

“why did you wanna sit with me?” you whispered, focusing your gaze on the small little mole on his neck.

“you always make the most obvious questions, baby.” he chuckled and you felt your heart beating faster at the sound of the petname but you couldn’t help but look away embarrassed. it was obvious. you kept your eyes down and suddenly his hand appeared in front of you, a piece of white fabric sitting between his fingers and your eyes widened as you realized what that was. “you still want this?” you quickly looked at him and this time he was staring back at you, the smirk on his lips more prominent this time and you could tell he found this amusing. you tried to grab your panties from his hand but he was quicker to move them away, shoving them back inside the pocket of his jeans. “they’re mine now.” he licked his lips and gave you a cocky smile, staring back at you. “and i’ve been having a lot of fun with them.” you felt your cheeks burning and you were suddenly too shy to look at him. you heard him softly laughing to himself at your reaction and you couldn’t help but feel your core throbbing at the thought of mark using your panties to help him masturbate which only added more to your embarrassment. 

you focused on the pastor but not on his words, you tried paying attention but all you could hear were mark’s words echoing inside your head. you almost jumped when you felt his hand being placed on the inside of your thigh, warm and soft.

“did you think about me too?” you felt goosebumps all over your body as mark whispered in your ear, so close that you could hear his breathing, a lot more steady than yours at this point. you felt his hand moving higher on your thigh. “did you touch yourself thinking about me?” his voice was raspy and his lips that were once close to your ear now moved lower to place a wet kiss on your neck and you couldn’t help but close your eyes at the feeling. “i know you did.” he placed another kiss on your cheek. “you’re a little slut and that’s what sluts do.” he whispered back in your ear and you clenched your thighs together in impulse, subsequently causing him to chuckle, his hand now squeezed between your legs.

“mark…” you whispered and it was obvious how weak your voice was compared to his, and you still couldn’t force yourself to look at him.

“shhh.” was all he said. “open your legs, baby.” he whispered and you looked around you first. everyone was still looking ahead, too focused on the mass to even notice anything going on between you two, the closest people to you sitting about 2 benches over.

you felt nervous with so many people around you but you couldn’t ignore the burning feeling between your legs any longer and something about this was exciting and new. you felt mark’s hand squeezing your thigh and that was your queue to slowly part your legs.

“open more.” he whispered again and you nervously looked at him but his smirk was gone and a more stern expression now took place in his face. “do it. now.” his voice was steady and strong although his words were only audible to you. you did as he said and you parted your legs even more, your dress coming up with it. “good girl.” it didn’t take long till his smirk was back on his lips, his hand moving slowly up your thigh and getting dangerously close to where you wanted him more. your eyes closed for a second as his fingers brushed over the fabric of your panties ever so slightly but it was enough to make you crave even more. 

“please…” you begged quietly, your hand now holding his arm.

“please what?” he asked as his fingers brushed against the fabric one more time.

“please touch me.” you were starting to feel impatient, your fingers squeezing his bicep in frustration but he just laughed it off and you almost let a moan escape your lips as he started working circles on your clit through the fabric.

“i am touching you, princess.” he said back, his face still close to you, his breath warm against your ear.

“no.” you whined. “i want your fingers… inside me.” you whispered, your head falling on his shoulder as you kept your eyes shut, focusing on not moaning out from the pleasure but your breathing was starting to get heavy.

“right here? you want me to finger you in front of all these people, hm?” you didn’t need to look at him to know he had the cockiest smirk on his face right now. his finger pushed your panties aside and you almost whined as you felt him finally touching your skin, going back to drawing circles on your clit. “you’re so wet, baby. you wanna cum so bad, don’t you?” 

you quickly nodded your head, whispering an almost inaudible “yes” as he started moving his fingers down your core and soon enough he was pushing two of his fingers inside you. you moaned against his shoulder and your thighs clenched around his hand which made him stop his movements.

“you have to be quiet. you don’t want people finding out how much of a slut you are, do you princess? or is that what you really want? people to see you cum around my fingers? hm?” even tho you shook your head no, mark could still feel you clenching around his fingers and that amused him. “look at me.” you slowly raised your head and your eyes stared back at him shyly, almost closing as he started moving his fingers inside you again, a gasp falling from your lips. “are you gonna be a good girl and keep quiet?” you nodded your head and your teeth sank into your bottom lip and this time you couldn’t look away from him, his brown eyes hypnotizing you somehow as his fingers picked up pace, and without even noticing your own hand went down to circle at your clit which caught even mark by surprise but he wasn’t disappointed. “fuck, you’re so hot.” he whispered and at this moment it was as if even mark lost control of things, his lips meeting yours in a passionate and messy kiss, causing you to let go of a quiet moan and it was as if that brought mark back to life again, his eyes scanning the room to see if anyone was looking.

“m-mark... i’m gonna c-cum.” he looked back at you again, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth and he moved his fingers faster, looking down and watching as you moved yours on your clit and he couldn’t ignore the pressure in his pants anymore, but that would have to be dealt with later. 

soon enough you were throwing your head back on mark’s shoulder and he was quick to place his free hand over your mouth, preventing you from moaning out as you came around his fingers, your body squirming from the pleasure. when he saw that it was safe he removed both of his hands from you and you gasped for air, your head still resting on his shoulder and your eyes still closed. mark took a piece of paper from his pocket and cleaned his fingers. you were startled when you heard the loud bells of the church ringing and all the commotion from people getting up and picking up their stuff. you lifted your head from mark’s shoulder and quickly fixed your messy hair, panties and dress as you heard mark chuckling beside you. you noticed some people looking at both of you as they walked by but no one seemed to know what had happened. that didn’t prevent you from blushing though, as you realized what you had done in such a holy place. mark got up and so did you. your legs felt a bit weak but you had to pull through, especially as you saw your parents approach you.

“we’re not done yet.” was the last thing you heard from mark before he greeted your parents again.

“how did she do?” your dad laughed but mark’s expression seemed serious.

“actually i noticed y/n has some difficulties.” your eyes widened at what he was saying and you looked at him in surprise but he didn’t return the look, continuing the conversation with your parents that now looked really upset and really concerned which was never good for you. “don’t get me wrong, your daughter is a very nice girl but she struggles to understand some of the concepts and gets distracted easily.” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. was he trying to get you in trouble or something? you were fuming inside and you were already preparing the speech you were gonna give him after all this, but the look your mom gave you made you more concerned about the one you were gonna get instead. “i was thinking that maybe i could have some bible study sessions with her. i already do it for some of the younger kids but i wouldn’t mind doing it with y/n, if that’s something you’re interested in.” it baffled you how polite he spoke in front of your parents when he had been calling you a slut just minutes before.

“mark that’s so nice of you, you’re such a good kid.” you rolled your eyes at the big smile your mom gave him. “but we don’t wanna bother you with our daughter.” you frowned as your mom gave you a disappointed look.

“not at all. it would be my pleasure to help her and it would make my father happy as well.” he gave them a warm smile that was quickly returned.

“if i had a son like you i would be very proud too.” your dad laughed, squeezing the back of mark’s neck in a playful way but the look of horror in his face almost made you burst out laughing.

“y/d/n, let the kid go.” your mom intervened, pulling your dad by his arm. “mark, how much would you want for the sessions?” she asked with a big smile on her face.

“oh nothing mrs. y/ln. i do it for free.” he replied but he was quickly interrupted by your dad.

“nonsense! we must pay you something.” 

“it really isn’t necessary, i don’t charge any other parents for it. i’m simply doing it to spread knowledge and to help out.” you almost puked at so much politeness. 

“why don’t you come over to lunch with us at our house today? you could start your lessons after.” your mom suggested and that was the first time mark looked at you, a smirk on his face as he saw the angry look on yours, turning back to your parents proud of what he had achieved.

“i would love to.”

[rosiehrs]

kissing lessons | rosé

group ; blackpink  genre ; fluff 

pairing ; cheerleader!!rosé / fem!reader

summary ; roseanne asks you for kissing lessons to help impress the person she had a crush on. little did you know she only used it as an excuse to lock lips with you.

warnings ; mentions of sex, swearing

a/n ; this is the first thing i’ve written in approximately 4 months so it’s very rusty but i’m pretty glad i’ve managed to finally write something – woo! also not proofread xx

word count ; 2.7k

“i need kissing lessons.”

was the first thing she said to you when she entered the room. you looked up from your book in shock, “you need what now?”

“i need kissing lessons. from you.” she repeated. you examined her, looking for any sign of humor on her face, but there was none. right before you, stood the school’s most loved and popular girl, roseanne park. the both of you weren’t that close as you were one of the middle class, average kids while she was up there, rich and popular. she always tried talking and being friendly to you, you found it odd at first as she would just come out of nowhere and suddenly ask you about your day, but you’ve grown to appreciate and love her small acts of kindness. she looked down at you with a tight-lipped smile and hopeful eyes. saying you were speechless was an understatement. did the head cheerleader and long time crush really ask you to give her kissing lessons?

“okay, hold up. could you fill me in really quickly? why on earth do you need kissing lessons?”

“It’s silly, but i kinda like someone..” she began, looking away. she tried hiding it, but the biggest smile was plastered on her face and you knew whoever this ‘someone’ was – was really special. you were flattered, but even more hurt. you had no place to be hurt as you were even closer with your locker than you were with her, but you couldn’t help it. you were more than glad that she asked you to help her improve her kissing skills, but knowing she wants you to help her impress someone else really managed to hurt your heart a little. “ms park has a crush! who’s this special someone?” you asked in a teasing tone. roseanne rolled her eyes and sat down next to you. “i’m not telling you, but i just really need your help.” she stared at you, basically begging with her eyes.

“i would love to, but you didn’t answer my question. why would you, roseanne park, the heartthrob of the school, need kissing lessons? from me?”

“because i’m pretty fucking inexperienced and have kissed like 3 people in my life? and those three people have barely given me anything more than a peck, oh and the kisses that went further made me down a whole bottle of mouthwash afterwards.” you couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s words, “also because i’ve heard you’re a pretty good kisser, but i’m not telling you where i got that information from.” you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, although you were very flattered, you didn’t know how to react. 

“come on, y/l/n. i’m not asking you to help me get better at sex- although i wouldn’t mind doing that with you-” you threw your rubber at her, making her giggle. “you suck.” you replied, making her smile. “i might be sucking something soon-” 

“park! shut up!” you scolded. she laughed at you and shook her head. “so? what do you say, y/n?” 

nodding and closing your book, you straighten your posture. “alright roseanne park, i’ll give you kissing lessons.”

roseanne looked at you with bright eyes and a wide smile, “yes! oh my god, thank you, y/n!” she replied, bringing you into a tight hug. “i owe you.” she whispered.

“you bet you do. now get your ass up and let’s get to class.”

–––

you spent the whole day worrying, it only just processed in your mind that roseanne wanted you to help her with her kissing. meaning you’d have to kiss her. panic rushed through you, holy shit. you were going to kiss roseanne park. the last period had just come to a halt and you packed your things slowly. your mind was all over the place and you didn’t know how to feel. once you stepped outside the classroom, the blond herself linked arms with you and dragged you out of school. “let’s get outta here, y/l/n.”

you let out a light chuckle as you got into her car, not long after she got in. “um, so my parents are out of town right now. should we head there?” she asked, looking at you through the rear view mirror. everything was just so bubbly and confusing, were you really about to do this? with roseanne park?

her voice snapped you out of your little mind debate, “y/n? you alright?” 

“oh no, yeah i’m fine. your house is fine.” you replied, making her giggle. “loosen up, y/l/n, i’m not gonna bite you.” 

“yet.” she smirked, you immediately looked at her – a beautifully elegant laugh escaped her lips. “i’m kidding – unless?” you smacked her leg, masking you blush away with a playful scowl. “just drive, park.” roseanne smiled and started the engine.

–––

the both of you sat down on her bed, placing your things down. rosé bounced down on the bed, excitedly, using the both of her hands to slap the mattress. “now how would you say i should improve, miss y/l/n?”

smiling sheepishly, you fixed your things. “now i wouldn’t know yet, miss park.”

“okay, so find out. i really need to impress this person.”

you kept your head down, trying to hide the disappointment on your face. she really needs to impress this person, this is just to help her with the person she has feelings for. and god, did you hate to think about it like that. but your heart was pounding and as much as you hated to admit it – you were excited to finally feel roseanne’s lips. “geez, easy, tiger. give me some time to prepare my lips or something.” you replied, making the aussie laugh. “well hurry, i need these lessons asap.”

“girl, what are you planning to do with your mystery lover? i’m pretty worried,” roseanne smacked your shoulder before grabbing her lip balm. “put it on.” 

you removed the lid of the stick and applied it onto your lips. she looked at you, as if she was waiting for you to do something. her eyes were almost screaming, “come kiss me already.”

“y/l/n, do i really have to make the first move here?” she teased, making you roll your eyes and lean in. you placed your hand on her jaw as she placed hers on your cheek. slowly but surely, the both of you started to lean in. you closed your eyes, waiting. it felt like forever until her lips finally touched yours. it felt like everything had just stopped, you knew you had to give her pointers and ways to improve on how she was kissing, but all you could focus on was how soft her lips felt against yours, how addictive the tingles felt. your lips moved against each other softly and elegantly. you were so caught up in the moment – you were running out of air, so that’s when you finally pulled away. she rested her forehead on yours, out of breath like you were. 

finally opening your eyes, the both of you stared at each other for what felt like hours. trying to really find out what the both of you were thinking. “i-” you started, your mind was blank. the only thing on your mind was the way her lips felt on yours, how soft, how sweet and how addictive her lips were. “well- i just.. you-”

“fuck, am i that bad?” she asked, worried. you were shocked, “no! god, no. you’re good, really good. i- i just don’t know how i’m supposed to help you after that.” you laughed, making her do the same. you went completely blank, you just stared at her, examined her. you really saw how beautiful and elegant she looked. “come on, y/l/n, give me something. like.. like how you felt! was i too soft? was there too much teeth? tongue, even?” she asked eagerly yet nervously. the tone of her voice and the look on her face was just beyond adorable. you giggled at the girl’s actions and shook your head. “roseanne, relax. you were great, it was – how do i say this without being creepy.. perfect? you don’t need any lessons, park.”

“oh come on, y/n. you don’t have to sugar coat it, give me the truth. go into details.. please?”

details, she wanted details. well shit.

“um, alright.. um, it was soft. but not in a bad way, it was sweet, gentle. perfect idea of a first kiss. i don’t- i don’t know how else to describe it. you’re good. end of story, park.” your words put a smile on her face, it made her feel proud, happy. “oh really?” she smirked, earning herself a smack on the arm. “shut up, rosie. you asked for the truth and i gave it to you. i’m gonna go home now..” you stood up, but was immediately pulled back down. “nuh uh, you’re not leaving. it’s been like 10 minutes, i just- i wanna improve. maybe go out of the kissing, how was the position of.. my hand? my body?”

you got to thinking, might as well give her something, right?

“okay well, maybe when you hold their cheek. just..” hesitantly, you leaned in and held her cheek in your hand. “before leaning in maybe just..” you caressed her cheek with the soft pad of your thumb making the girl blush a bright shade of red. “then when you kiss them, you could pull them closer.. like this-” softly, you pulled her closer to you. you were barely an inch away from her lips and you could feel her hot breath. everything you did made you feel so, so weak. you felt so vulnerable being this close to her. it felt unreal and you felt as if everything was just perfect at that moment.

roseanne’s eyes were glued to your lips and just couldn’t shake the feeling off, it felt so right. “should i try it on you?” she asked, breaking the silence. you cleared your throat and backed away. “um, yeah.. yeah go ahead.” you sat up straight as she brought her hand to your cheek. gulping, she caressed your cheek exactly how you did. her eyes were glued to your lips, she began nibbling on her bottom lip before pulling you closer and placing her lips on yours.

fireworks, butterflies, that was all you felt. her lips moved against yours, gracefully. before she could get carried away, she pulled back, staring into your eyes.

“i-..”

“was that good?”

“y-yeah, it was good.”

the awkward silence ate the both of you up, making you stand up. “um, i’m gonna get home. good first lesson, you’ll be fine, park.” you grabbed your things until she stopped you by grabbing your hand. “wait! i.. could you possibly.. give me more lessons? i don’t think i’m at my best yet.”

“oh, uh- yeah. sure, yeah, alright. just.. text me.” you replied, giving her an awkward smile. she nodded before standing up. “i’ll, can i drive you home?” she asked. “oh! no, please. it’s alright, i’ll just call an uber-”

“no, i insist! it’s the least i could do after you agreeing to help me out.” you were about to protest as she grabbed your bag and your hand. “come on, ms good kisser.” you giggled as you let her drag you out. 

––

“okay, what on earth is going on between you and chaeyoung?” joy, your beloved best friend asks. “i- nothing, i’m just giving her kissing lessons..” 

“you’re WHAT?!” she yelled, making you flinch. “sooyoung! be quiet!” you scolded, pulling her back down. “how long have you been giving ms. head cheerleader kissing lessons?!” she was shocked and offended - clearly. “just a few weeks.. relax.” 

“how could i possibly relax when i’ve just found out my best friend has been making out with the school’s most popular girl?! you bitch! why haven’t you told me?!” she slapped your arm, angrily. you couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend’s actions. she’s been there for you since you were 3 and you’ve pretty much told her everything that’s happened in your life, whether it’s when you had your first kiss or that one time you stepped on gum and you had to walk barefoot the whole day. “i didn’t tell you because i knew you’d tease the shit out of me!” you protested.

“well yeah, alright. understandable, but y/n?! you’ve been making out with the love of your life – how does it feel?” she replied, smirking at you. “shut up before i smack that smirk off your face.” sooyoung laughed and shoved you. “i hate you! why would she need kissing lessons? and why would she get kissing lessons from you?” she asked, disgust evident on her face and the tone of her voice. “she said she really wanted to impress the person she likes, and also i will quite literally-”

“y/n! wait up!” a familiar sweet voice called out for you. you and joy turned around, seeing the said girl running towards your direction. she had her hair in a tight ponytail and was wearing her cute, perky and hot cheerleading uniform. “hi cutie,” she greeted, making you smile. “hey chae.”

“um, i was wondering if i could have another lesson? today, after school maybe?” she asked, but it sounded more like she was letting you know. “sure,” you agreed, smiling. “alright, see you around.” she then walked off, swaying her hips and her ponytail along with it. your eyes were glued onto her and joy just couldn’t hold herself back. “oh my fuck, you whipped motherfucker.”

“shut up, chicken joy. let’s just get to class.”

“do you even know who she likes?” joy’s question really caught your attention. you’ve been giving roseanne kissing lessons for about 3 weeks and you still have no idea about who she has feelings for. “oh, um.. well-”

“ha! you don’t! you know what that means,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “no, i don’t know what that means, park sooyoung.” 

“ah, you lovesick fool.”

––

you and rosé walked into her room casually, putting your things down and talking about your day at school. you laid down on her bed, staring at the ceiling as she talked about how these boys stole her box of apple juice at lunch.

“hey.. you alright?” she asked, obviously concerned about your sudden silence. “yeah, i’m fine. i’m actually just curious about something.” you said it that way so she would ask you what you were curious about. you hated bringing things up out of the blue, it was just easier this way. 

“oh sure, what’s up, sweetcheeks?” she rested her head on her palm as she laid on the bed, looking at you with such intent.

“who.. who do you like? who means so much to you that you’d be willing to get kissing lessons from me?” the question froze roseanne up. you saw how her shoulders tensed up and how her face fell. you watched as she sat up and cleared her throat. “um.. can you come here, please?” she asked quietly, patting the space next to her. you pushed yourself up and crawled to the space next to her. “what’s up?”

“um.. how do i say this..” she fiddled with her fingers and nibbled on her bottom lip. she was nervous and you could see it. “hey, are you alright?” you asked as you placed your hands over hers to calm her down. chaeyoung looked up and pulled you in for a kiss. 

soft, gentle, passionate. it didn’t matter how many times you kissed her, it always managed to blow your mind. her tongue entered your mouth softly, she pulled you in closer with her left hand on your cheek and right hand on your waist. the lessons you gave her really paid off, she was perfect. she tilted her head to the side to deepen the kiss. once again - it felt like everything around you was floating and you were just on cloud 9. every time roseanne’s lips were on yours, you felt as if everything was just perfect. like nothing could be better. she softly pulled away with her hand still on your cheek. 

“it’s you.”

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Writing Snippet #10

O Positive

Part 2

Ok so @im-a-wonderling had a FANTASTIC idea for a snippet, but I’m putting the ask below to not cause spoilers lol:)

Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling as well for the beta read, edits, suggestions, and expert medical knowledge to help make this way more realistic than my original draft! You’re amazing!!!

—————————————————

Hero shifted from side to side as she stood in line, fingers clutching a bottle of orange juice.

“Well you’re prepared.” Hero’s head shot up as the attendant waved her forward. “Normally people wait until after to go for the juice.”

She chuckled nervously. “That’s me... prepared.”

“ID?” She scrambled through her wallet, making sure she didn’t grab either of the two aliases she’d already used at different locations that morning.

She would have used the same ID, but last time she’d tried to explain that she healed super fast- a result of her powers- and could donate more, the resulting argument had lasted nearly an hour, with nurses questioning whether her “magic blood” could even be used at all (it was perfectly normal blood thank you very much), and they’d still only let her donate the normal amount.

She handed him the correct ID, and he shoved a clipboard full of paperwork at her. A phlebotomist led her to a reclining chair. Even though she’d filled out the information twice that morning, it still took approximately twelve years to finish the stack of forms. The phlebotomist returned, and began asking her an equally long list of questions. She only half paid attention to the stream of questions.

Have you received any blood transfusions?

No.

Have you traveled in the last 6 months?

No.

Are you free of HIV or any other blood diseases?

Yes.

Have you ever been pregnant?

Yes.

Wait! No!

The phlebotomist chuckled as she snapped on a pair of gloves. “Ok let’s see that arm.” Hero held out her mark-free arm. After the first donation that morning, the needle mark and resulting bruise had been gone in a matter of minutes. After the second, she’d had to wait over thirty minutes before the signs of her deception to fade. The phlebotomist wrapped a tourniquet above her elbow before consulting her paperwork.

“It says here you’d like to do a double donation?”

“Yes.”

“You have to be 150lbs in order to donate that much sweetie.” The older woman eyed Hero dubiously.

Her throat went dry. “I know. I am.”

“I’m just going to take one bag today; you’re looking a little pale, honey.”

“But the other phlebotomist let me—”She cut off and cleared her throat. “I mean, last time I donated. It was fine.”

The phlebotomist shook her head as she felt the inside of Hero’s arm for the vein.

Hero forced a cheery smile. “This is important. I’ll be fine.”

By tomorrow, she added silently. Or the day after that...

Last time she’d only been able to get in one regular and one double donation before she’d gotten called into help with a work emergency. She’d spent the rest of the day in bed, but had woken up fine the next morning. Of course, that was only half the amount of blood...

The woman narrowed her eyes before shaking her head.

“The shortage is the worst it’s been in years, but I’m only going to take one bag today.”

“But—”

“Unless you’d like to go stand on that scale over there?”

Hero blanched, then mutely shook her head.

The woman muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I thought not,’ before raising her voice to a normal volume. “And make sure to take it easy and drink that orange juice you’ve got there.” She nodded at the bottle in Hero’s hand as she swabbed her arm with an alcohol wipe and picked up a needle.

“I will.”

————— 30 minutes (or so) later —————

Hero made it ten steps out of the building before she collapsed against the wall, head swimming. She peeled the tape and cotton ball off her arm. Blood immediately began to trickle down her forearm.

She struggled to unscrew the cap of her juice, hands shaking. Finally, she succeeded, the cap slipping through her fingers and bouncing against the sidewalk. She brought the bottle to her lips, but only managed a few sips before her stomach revolted. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, willing herself not to throw up.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, ignoring the curious stares from pedestrians on the crowded downtown street.

She needed to get home.

A quaking boom shook the ground, and Hero cracked open her eyes to see a plume of smoke a few blocks over.

Most likely the bank on main. Or the diamond store next door.

She took a step towards the plume of smoke, but the ground was still rocking, and she had a feeling it wasn’t from the explosion. She closed her eyes as panicked civilians began running to and fro.

Her phone rang out in a pealing tone, sending her a foot into the air, her orange juice falling to the ground with a sticky splash.

The emergency line.

Groaning, she accepted the call.

“Hero! Villain just set off a bomb on Main Street.”

“Diamonds or bank vault?”

“BOTH! You need to get over there now!”

Hero covered her eyes. She wanted to, she really did. If only the ground would stop moving.

“It’s my day off. Send Other Hero.” She cringed at her seemingly callous words, but she didn’t think the Hero Agency would exactly condone what she’d just done.

Even if she was just trying to save lives.

“Other Hero is undercover spying on Supervillain. Your phone shows you are six blocks away. That will take you 12 seconds to get your speedy butt over there.”

A second explosion rocked the ground.

Oh he didn’t. Hero growled, pushing off the wall and taking a hesitant step forward.

The ground was finally still. Much better. She pulled out the spare mask she always kept in her purse and fitted it across her eyes.

12 seconds, she scoffed.

————— 9 (and a half) seconds later————

Hero skidded to a halt in front of the shattered front windows of Pristine Diamonds.

The windows of the bank next door were in a similar condition. She rested a hand against the ash stained wall, gasping as the world spun.

She forced her head up, scanning the scene. A gaping hole had been blown in the wall connecting the two businesses, and smoke was still pouring out of both buildings. She darted into the diamond store, moving without her super speed through the black air. She made it to the back of the store, where the massive safe stood empty, the door hanging drunkenly off one hinge.

She cursed and made her way to the jagged hole. She was halfway across the bank lobby when a figure leapt from the smoke and she was thrown to the side.

She scrambled to her feet as Villain faded back into the smoke. His laughter echoed around her as she spun in desperate circles. The smoke thickened until it was nearly solid around her.

“You’re slow today, Hero.” The voice rang out behind her, and she whirled around, but there was nothing but smoke.

Her vision was truly swimming now. She swiped at her eyes. “And you’re extravagant. You can create smoke from nothing, you didn’t actually need to set off a bomb.”

“I was creating a passage between the businesses. They should thank me.” The voice was to her right, and she spun again. There was no point in super speed if she couldn’t see. Her head was starting to pound.

“And that outfit.” The whisper brushed against her neck, and she whirled around again, only to see the smoke curling in around the place where Villain had just stood.

She glanced down self-consciously at her pink shorts and baggy tie-dye T-shirt.

“You already ruined my day off. There’s no need to mock my clothes as well.” She huffed, taking determined strides in the direction she hoped was the door.

“Who said I was mocking?”

She sensed him behind her the instant before he attacked. She spun. He hit. She flew. Across the room. To the floor. Over chunks of rubble. And into a brick wall.

Her back cracked against the wall, knocking the air from her lungs.

Smoke swirled through the air as Villain emerged, the dark tendrils receding to lap at his heels.

He looked surprised; he’d never actually managed to land a blow that direct before.

Hero forced herself off the ground. It was time to retreat. She summoned her powers, but between her swimming head and the sharp pain in her leg, she made it only a few feet before sinking back to the ground with a quiet whimper of pain.

She forced her blurry gaze up to Villain, who was regarding her with a strange expression on his face.

“I thought you healed as fast as you can run.”

She blinked, and realized he wasn’t looking at her, but at her leg.

She looked down. Blood seeped from a long shallow gash on the outside of her calf, no doubt from a sharp piece of rubble.

Smaller cuts and bruises covered the rest of her body, and none of them were healing.

“That’s strange.” She wiped clumsily at the cut.

Villain’s eyes narrowed. “You seem oddly off your game, Hero. You haven’t lost that much blood.”

She mustered the energy to glare at Villain. “I did tell you this was my day off.”

“I wonder if it’s from the blood earlier.” She mused, floating on a hazy cloud.

The tendrils of smoke scattered as Villain knelt down beside her.

“What blood? You came to fight me when you were already injured?”

His voice sounded as though he was speaking through a tunnel.

“There’s a national blood shortage. Worst it’s been in years.”

“So?”

“So, I donated.”

Villain scoffed as he produced a cloth from somewhere and began wrapping it around her leg. “You have regenerative healing powers, a pint of blood wouldn’t have made you this weak.”

Hero shook her head and weakly held up five fingers.

Villain froze. “FIVE PINTS OF BLOOD!” He roared, smoke dancing angrily around them. “ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY INSANE!? YOU SHOULD BE DEAD RIGHT NOW!”

Her head throbbed with every word, and she flinched away.

“I heal fast.” It was barely a whisper, but his fiery eyes met hers.

“I don’t care how fast you heal. No one can survive losing half their blood.” At least now his rage was contained to a low snarl. He grabbed Hero’s hands and pulled her to her feet.

“Your hands are freezing! What were you thinking!? Why would you face me after donating that much blood?!? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He continued to seethe as he swept Hero into his arms and strode through the bank. He paused only to swing a bulging duffle bag onto one shoulder before he swept out through a second gaping hole into a back alley. A dark SUV was waiting in the shadows. He tossed the bag into the back and slid Hero into the passenger seat.

She curled against the warm leather.

“I was just trying to help.” She mumbled, her voice muffled as she spoke into the headrest.

“I know.” A hand ran down her hair. “Close your eyes. Sleep.”

She forced her eyes wider, remembering. “I can’t. I have a job to do.”

Villain shut her door and rounded the car to the driver’s side. Slipping into place, he started the engine.

“Not today.” He managed a small smile even as his eyes crinkled in concern.

“It’s your day off, remember?”

Original request from @im-a-wonderling:

“I started thinking about a story where the hero donates blood and then the villain does something that the hero has to go and face them. The villain notices the hero is off their game, but assumes they’re just tired or something. Then, the hero gets injured. The injury is really minor in terms of blood loss, but the hero is pale and sickly and can’t stand up and the villain gets all protective like “WHY would you come and FACE ME if you DONATED BLOOD today?!” And the hero mumbles “They’re having a blood shortage.” And the villain is ready to wring the hero’s neck for not taking care of themselves. So they just scoop the hero up in their arms and brings them back to their lair to feed them and let them sleep.”

Again thanks so much for the request!! I hope I did it justice:)

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

mr. worst cup

CollegeBarista!Jaemin x Reader

summary: Jaemin messes up your order and in turn messes up any chance at any sort of relationship with you (or so he thinks)

word count: 4.3k

A/N: I really hope you guys like it! 

Taglist! @eggbutnotyolk​

Mornings, Jaemin hated them. Yes, that was beyond cliche, but it was the truth. Especially right now. At approximately 7 am, Jaemin also hated being awake, Jeno, being cold, people, Jeno again, and work. 

Jaemin and Jeno both worked at a cafe near campus where Jeno worked the morning shift, had time for a quick workout, then went to school, all because he enjoyed mornings. On the other hand, Jaemin hated mornings, so he slept in, went to class in the afternoon for a few hours, and then came to work in the evenings. It was a schedule that just worked for the both of them, no downsides- usually.

But Jaemin was not in the comfort of his bed, dreaming, drooling, and snoozing away like he could have been this morning. No, he was working Jeno’s shift because Jaemin was the best friend on the planet and he would do anything for Jeno anytime Jeno wanted- no. Jeno had woken up with a high fever and a sore throat, and it was easier to wake Jaemin, his roommate, to ask for him to cover his shift than to text another coworker. Anything for the health of the general public, gag, Jaemin hated how nice Jeno was sometimes.

So after opening at a bright and early 6:45, helping only one customer in the 45 minutes that he had been open, Jaemin was starting to feel that anger from being up so early. He should have some coffee to give himself energy and help with the anger, but his brain just couldn’t seem to send the signals to his limbs to make him move. His eyes were locked on all the empty tables and chairs of the cafe, tables and chairs that were always filled during his normal evening shift. The emptiness paired with the godforsaken jazz song playing over and over and over again were driving him insane. After a five-minute war between his mind and body, he got to work making a drink for himself. His specialty iced americano with his precious eight shots of espresso. His priceless, liquid gold. He was so concentrated while making his drink that he didn’t even hear the door open to reveal his second customer of the day. 

“Oh my god, Jeno! Eight shots?” He heard a voice exclaim. “Oh, you’re not Jeno, I’m so sorry.”

“Just a minute please, I’ll be right with you,” Jaemin replied. 

He couldn’t keep you waiting forever, so he set his prepared drink aside and made his way to the customer at the counter. Oh, this cute customer. He quickly turned to the register, asking you for your order with a polite smile.

“Just a medium iced caramel latte with almond milk, double the caramel drizzle, and an extra shot please.” You recited your order.

He nodded, took the money, and began working on your order, but unfortunately, his mind was not on your order. He just wanted a sip of his coffee, for the energy to kick in. His body was craving it, the taste, the energy that would make him feel normal, like a human. He could have gotten a quick sip in if the bell over the door hadn’t distracted him. Another customer, same routine: smile, I’ll be right with you, finish one drink, new drink to make. He distractedly reached for the cup on the counter, calling out your name before turning to the new customer. 

You approached the counter hesitantly, this did not look like your drink. The bell over the door sounded again and again as you hesitantly reached for the drink that was supposedly yours. You could just ask him to remake your drink, but the line was getting longer with the morning rush beginning and you had to get to class soon. That and you would feel awful asking him to waste supplies to make a simple drink again. 

Okay, you reassured yourself, hopefully, this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe this barista just makes it differently, much differently, than Jeno does. You grabbed the drink and a straw, calling out a “thank you” as you walked out of the cafe. Stopping beside a trash bin you unwrapped the straw and took a sip of the pitch-black drink. Your face scrunched up in disgust, you could barely fight back the urge to spit out the coffee, no matter how hard your body was screaming at you to get it out.. You could not bring yourself to even look at the poison in hand so you tossed it into the bin, what a sad waste of money and his work. 

The next morning you walked in a little later, as your first class of the day had gotten canceled. You joined the line, looking at the menu because you could not and would not order your usual today. Normally you wouldn’t have to look at the menu, Jeno knew how to make your drink perfectly, but Jeno was not there. The take on your drink yesterday had scarred you, perhaps a hot tea today. 

“Hello, the caramel latte again today?” The same barista from yesterday asked. Where the hell was this guy getting “again” from?

You smiled almost apologetically with a hint of apprehension, “No thank you, just a mint green tea with honey please.”

He nodded, tapping away on the tablet, taking your money, and getting straight to work. The bell over the door became the background noise as the rush of professionals and early risers came in for their morning caffeine fix. Jaemin looked at the clock quickly, just 10 minutes before another coworker would show up to help him, this rush was too crazy. He quickly stirred the honey into the cup, called your name, and got to the counter to continue taking orders. It was too bad he didn’t get to make more conversation or look at you longer. Not in a weird way, he felt like he had barely had a chance to even get a glance at you today.

You had barely made it on time to class, sliding into your seat just a minute before your professor walked in and began a quick review of your last class. You sat back with a sigh, taking a sip of your warm drink. 

Well, this was odd, your tea didn’t taste like tea at all. Maybe it was just the first sip? No, the next sip tasted like nothing but honey. Confused, you took the lid off the cup to take a look, only to be met with the sight of steaming water mixed with honey-no tea in sight. 

After class, you sent a quick text to your usual barista and friend, Jeno, to let him know that you had notes for him. Time to carry on with your day, sadly caffeine-free.

Jaemin had had no idea that he had messed your drinks up so badly. When he had given you his americano the rush had just come in so when he went to look for his drink later he had figured that his coworker had just accidentally tossed it. The second day, he could blame the rush again. He had haphazardly tossed a tea bag in the general vicinity of the cup before passing it in your direction. So it came as a surprise to him that for the rest of the week that he covered Jeno’s shift, the cute customer that came in right before the rush, that would be you, had stopped coming in. It was a shame, but he could continue on with his life with little to no regret. Maybe he would see you again or maybe another customer would catch his eye. There was no use in dwelling on something he had no control over or wasting time letting his mind run wild with anxious thoughts of why you hadn’t come back.

That was until he came home one day a week later to find Jeno on a loud call. Jeno smiled and quickly mouthed to Jaemin that he was on the phone with a friend. “Jeno, I’m telling you. That was the worst coffee I have ever tasted. Never in my life have I had a drink that could be used to run a car. I just don’t understand how you could mess up a caramel latte that bad.” He heard. 

Caramel latte? The voice sounded familiar but he was hopeful that maybe, just maybe it wasn’t you. 

“And the next day, god Jeno, I ordered a tea because I was so nervous to order a coffee and all I got was hot water, then I stopped going until you went back.” It was you, This was the worst-case scenario and it was you, the cute customer that he had developed a tiny, little crush on. He tried to remember how he had made your orders, and he swore he made them the way he asked. But how was he supposed to remember anything correctly when he was up before 10 every day and coming in contact with a hundred people?

“Yeah, I can do Friday morning, see you then.” Had Jaemin missed the rest of the conversation? It seemed so.

“So Mr. Makes the Worst Cup of Coffee, how was your day?” Jeno smirked.

Jaemin scoffed, “We don’t even know if it was me.”

Jeno burst out laughing immediately going to explain that those were the days that he was sick while Jaemin yelled over him stating that perhaps, perhaps, it was another barista you were talking about. But they both knew that no one else that worked in the cafe drank anything nearly as strong as Jaemin’s iced americano. Jaemin sighed having clearly lost the argument, “How do you know them anyway?”

“We’re the same major,” Jeno answered with a simple shrug. Maybe it wasn’t too late for a change in major.

This customer was so close to home and he had somehow ruined one of the things he prided himself on. He was so proud of his barista abilities, it was a passion of his. Customers constantly came back for his drinks specifically, left him tips (for his drinks or looks- he didn’t care), asked when Jaemin would be back on his days off, and he had gotten employee of the month a few times. 

After that night, you had not left Jaemin’s mind. It was like all he could think about was you. When he saw Jeno, every day, he wondered if Jeno had seen you. When he woke up every morning he remembered that you were up early, bright-eyed and ready to take on the day. At work, he constantly wondered if maybe you would come in and order something. Walking across campus he wondered if he maybe had a class in the same buildings as you. At this point, it was no longer a little crush on the cute customer that came in twice a couple weeks ago, it was a crush on a friend of a friend, someone that he could actually potentially meet one day. 

Maybe he could run into you on campus, leaving the library after studying so hard that he could offer to buy you a cup of coffee. There could be a party soon that the two of you would magically bump into each other at where he could blow you away with his bartending skills. It was such a weird thing for Jaemin to experience, imagining what might be with someone he didn’t know beyond being a customer. He had been in relationships before but never had there been a person that consumed his every thought. 

Granted the day after the call, Jaemin did feel a little- or really a lot of anger towards you saying he made the worst cup of coffee that he did actually let his anger fuel his day. He was flipping violently through textbooks, punching away at the keys on his computer, nearly ripping through sheets of paper with the pressure of his pencil. He didn’t like this feeling, he had to remind himself to calm down and take deep breaths. No one had ever made him feel this angry, if it was even anger that he was feeling or maybe just sadness poorly masked as anger. That made much more sense, it really did pay off to have taken that psychology class his first semester.

You had become so involved in every part of Jaemin’s day that he just wondered if in this very moment he was imagining you walking out of Starbucks while he sat at a red light on a sunny Friday morning. Had his mind become so powerful that he could now make things and people appear out of thin air? He hadn’t tried that since he was a kid, but maybe he had just become more powerful. It couldn’t be you though right? He knew there was no way he had super powers, but there was also no way it actually was you, it would be the biggest coincidence. He rolled down the passenger side window, leaning closer to the sidewalk where you were walking towards the parking lot and gasped when he realized that his imagination was in fact, not playing tricks on him, it really was you. 

“Are you cheating on us?!” He screeched. Uh oh, he wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. The stupid mermaid was just staring at him mockingly, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. It was the worst word vomit he had ever experienced. 

You stopped and squinted trying to look at who had just yelled at you, lucky for you Jaemin was still in shock from actually yelling that he was frozen still with a hand clasped over his mouth. Yup, that would be the person that yelled. You looked him dead in the eye and took a long sip of the drink in hand. “Tastes better than yours.” You cheekily called back. 

Jaemin’s jaw dropped, he was so ready to defend his barista title, his locally-owned cafe, but the car behind him seemed to think the opposite thanks to its incessant honking because the light had been green for more than 10 seconds. Once again, you had plagued his thoughts, not necessarily in a good way though. You had betrayed him-no, you hadn’t but he was dramatic.

He could at least spend some time away from you, it’s not like he saw you out in public very often, ever saw you on campus, or came in during his shift. He was lost in his thoughts as he walked through the door to his apartment. He heard Jeno laugh, then a new voice. Very odd, but he put on a smile and reminded himself to be polite. 

“Hi- oh you,” Jaemin said. 

“Nice to finally meet you properly, please don’t yell at me again.” You smiled playfully. 

Jeno’s eyes widened comically in shock, immediately interrogating Jaemin. Why would Jaemin think it’s okay to yell at someone he doesn't know? Much less one of Jeno’s friends. Jaemin really did try to defend himself, but every time he tried to make a point it just didn’t make sense. He sounded so stupid. “I am so sorry about him.” Jeno apologized, elbowing Jaemin’s rib. 

“I’m sorry too, it was inappropriate and rude of me to yell at you.” Jaemin recited. This was not the first time he had had to apologize for yelling at someone in public. 

You waved the both of them off, “I was messing around, it’s nice to match a name to a face.”

Jaemin made his way to his room like a scolded child while you and Jeno returned to the screens in front of you, already typing away before the bedroom door even shut. Jaemin made a promise to himself that he would stay in his room until you left. There was no way that he would go out there and risk even more embarrassment in front of you, not just the customer he had a small crush on but the innocent pedestrian he yelled at that very morning. His mind was swirling with regret and thoughts of how badly he had messed up any chance he had with you. He could not go out there and ruin any remaining chance of friendship or even acquaintanceship, or even risk you going to Starbucks every day and never going back to the cafe. Half an hour later he pulled a pillow over his face to muffle his groans, these thoughts were making him crazy, one groan from his throat and a rumble from his stomach. There was no way he could wait until you left now, he had to get food. 

Jeno looked up as the door opened, “Right on time, does chicken sound good for dinner?” 

Jaemin nodded, ready to turn back and relax on his bed but instead he lingered in his doorway. He ignored the nerves in his stomach and decided that the best decision as a host in his home would be to not leave you alone while Jeno called in the order. Even if he did think you were a little bit of a treacherous snake- from a business standpoint of course.

He cleared his throat, effectively grabbing your attention, “So uh, what are you guys working on?”

“Jeno and I are partners for a project in a communications class so we have to analyze a bunch of sources and then explain why the audience could interpret each source in different ways.” You answered simply with a shrug, as if you had just told him how to make toast. 

“Well that’s cool…”

It was now or never. He could talk to you now and clear the air in hopes of perhaps forming a friendship or he could stay quiet and try his best to enjoy the awkward environment. He let out a breathy, nervous laugh, drawing your attention back, “So I think I heard you say I make the, what was it? Oh, the shittiest cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”

Your eyes widened, “No, no, no! I didn’t say that exactly, I did say though, it was the worst coffee I ever had.” 

“How badly could I have messed up your order? So badly that you had to go to Starbucks apparently.” 

“I had ordered an almond milk caramel latte and received a coffee with not only no milk at all, so it wasn’t even a latte, but also no form of sweetness. On top of that, I had one sip at the beginning of the day that kept me awake and energized until midnight. And! You gave me tea with no tea. Surprisingly though, you are not the worst barista in the cafe.” You responded with a playful roll of your eyes.

Jaemin choked on his spit, “What do you mean? I remember the first day you came in while I was making my coffee… you got my coffee.” He dropped to his knees, “Forgive me, please.”

You threw your head back with a laugh, “Get up, I’ve already forgiven you. Jeno talks about you a lot, so I was actually looking forward to meeting you anyway, even if we did start off on not so great terms.”

“They said about 20 or 30 minutes, you good?” Jeno asked as he reentered the room.

You smiled with a nod, “We’re becoming the best of friends.”

Jaemin blushed, ready to get your attention off of him, “So, you said I don’t carry the title for worst barista.”

“Wait really? Who is it then, best to worst go!” Jeno exclaimed. 

“First, is your owner, Johnny, right? Man, he makes a delicious caramel latte, the best I have ever had. Next, I guess would be Ren-”

“Renjun?!” Jeno and Jaemin interrupted. 

“Well yeah, he’s super nice and added caramel syrup to the milk I think? Not sure, it was really good, and he added the cutest little drawing on my cup. You guys aren’t last or anything though, Haechan is.” You told them with a shudder.

You all burst out laughing as you recounted the time that Haechan had yelled at you while taking a phone order and ended up sliding a half filled, kids size cup of water across the counter with your name. Another time he was so busy flirting with another customer throughout the whole process of taking and making your order that he had given them your drink too and just given you a pastry instead. Jeno told you guys about a time that Haechan had poured coffee beans on the floor, not once or even twice, but three times in one four hour shift. Jaemin added his own story where Haechan had convinced a handful of customers that they were out of coffee until Johnny came in from the back with a bag of coffee beans. 

You all wiped the tears from the corners of your eyes as you tried to catch your breaths from laughing so hard. Jeno sat up when he heard a knock on the door. It was probably the delivery man. 

Jaemin looked over at you, a happy smile still on his face. “You know, I would really like it if I could actually make it up to you.”

“Free coffee?” You asked excitedly. 

He laughed awkwardly, “Uh no, I uh, um- I think you’re really... cool?”

“This is fucking painful. Jaemin thinks you’re cute and this is his lame attempt at asking you out on a date.” Jeno jumped in, setting the bag of food on the dining table. 

You flushed, immediately feeling hot, “I would actually really like that.”

The dinner was clouded with awkwardness, little glances here and there paired with a little conversation. Now that you both knew you at least kind of liked each other, and were interested in one another there was no way he could ruin his chance by saying something embarrassing. All the conversations were basic, surface-level, first day of class icebreaker, boring. What’s your major? What do you want to do with your major? What year are you? How long have you and your best friend since birth lived together?

“Maybe it was better when you hated each other, I can practically feel the tension.” Jeno sighed, reaching his hands forward to “grab” the tension. Maybe Jeno would eat his words when the sparks began flying after the first date, maybe. Yeah, probably.

-

BONUS

“I’ve had a really good time with you.” Jaemin smiled down at the ground. The blush on his cheeks was hot while your hand in his was warm. 

“I’ve had a great time with you too, you really made up for all your little mishaps.” You replied.

Jaemin laughed, “Which reminds me, I have to finally show you that I am in fact the best barista, ever. Would you mind if we stopped by the cafe?”

You shook your head, holding his hand tighter on the walk to the cafe. He held the door open for you and guided you towards an empty seat close to the counter so you could both still talk to one another. 

“Welcome! Oh, Jaemin was this your date? I’ve seen you here before right? I’m Johnny, the owner.” Johnny greeted with a smile. 

“Nice to meet you too, I love your cafe. Jaemin is making me a replacement drink since he ruined the first couple of drinks. He doesn’t have to, but he practically insisted.”

“And you didn’t call and complain? You must have really liked him.” Johnny laughed.

You couldn’t fight the heat creeping up your neck, so you quickly looked away from the owner standing in front of you to avoid more embarrassment. 

“Ah, I’ve never made you this nervous! Here is your iced caramel latte with almond milk.” Jaemin teased as he set the drink in front of you. He looked at you expectantly, awaiting your verdict.

You took a sip, pleasantly surprised with the familiar taste of your favorite drink. “It’s so good! Thank you.”

“Better than Johnny and Renjun?” Jaemin asked.

“Maybe stop the questions while you’re ahead buddy, there’s no way it could be better than mine. Hope to see you soon.” Johnny smirked as you both left. 

Jaemin pouted the whole way back to your apartment, you had to reassure him that it was so good that soon he would get sick of seeing your face around the cafe.

He stopped in front of your door, “I don’t think I could ever get sick of your face, so I would really like to take you out again.”

“I would really love that, goodnight Jaemin.” You smiled, pulling him in for a hug before making your way inside.

Jaemin smiled, stepped back from your door and slowly began to make his way home. Walking slowly as his thoughts were filled with date ideas, your face, and just how amazing you truly were. He was so in his head that he didn’t even realize you had come back out to see him again until he felt you tug on his wrist so he could face you. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly.

He smiled widely, nodding energetically as he placed a hand on your waist to pull you closer, inviting you to do as you please. Your hands came up to the nape of his neck, nervously playing with his hair before you finally pressed your lips to his own. A short but passionate kiss, it was like your lips were made for one another.

“I’ll see you soon, text me when you get home.” You told him bashfully, holding onto his hand until it eventually fell from the distance between you two. He agreed, locking eyes with you until you were out of his sight and there was no possibility of you ever leaving his mind. Sparks indeed.

[sundaysundaes]

My Words, Your Thoughts (Teaser)

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut | Soulmate AU, Friends-to-Lovers AU

Part of the beautiful ‘Aubade’ collaboration hosted by @hyucksie​

Synopsis: As an introvert, you are familiar with the silence. Drowning yourself deep in your thoughts has been a habit you’ve become addicted to. Your life begins to change, however, ever since the day you turned twenty. Suddenly, there’s this song that’s stuck in your head, and no matter how much you yearn to hear your thoughts or be comforted by the silence, it keeps on playing. You only get to find the answer to your problem when a young, cute barista hands you a cup of coffee one day, with that song’s lyrics written on the side. And you realize that you’re not the only one who’s been hearing voices in your head.

Warnings: explicit sex, expletives, mentions of physical abuse and astraphobia (not for the main characters)

WC (Teaser): 4k

Release Date: June 27, 2021, 10 AM KST

It’s weird. It’s so weird.

It’s weird that you’ve been hearing this song replaying over and over again in your head when you’re sure you’ve never listened to it before. It’s also weird because sometimes the song sounds like the ones you often hear about on the radio—complete with instrumental accompaniment and everything—but most of the time, it just sounds like someone is humming to it. Sometimes quietly, but more often than not, vehemently like they’re having a concert in the shower, not caring if the neighbors might hear.

As someone who rarely listens to mainstream music, you don’t keep up with the trend these days but the tunes are catchy enough that you think, maybe, it’s one of those Justin Bieber’s songs people always talk about. You’re not fond of it, though, so even if you’ve heard it somewhere in a cafe or a mall, there’s very little chance you’ll be humming it in your head.

And yet, it keeps on playing.

It gets worse when it goes on for a whole day—a whole fucking day—that your brain feels like it’s seconds away from bursting into pieces. It doesn’t even sound like your voice. It seems like it belongs to a male, a bit light and a pitch higher than most. Though it sounds pleasant, the voice is unfamiliar to your ears and that’s what bothers you the most. 

Trying your best to escape, you plug in your AirPods to your earholes, choosing one of the most beloved tracks from your playlist—today, it’s Bloom by The Paper Kites—to help you relax as you lie down on your bed. But no matter how many times you turn up the volume—it’s practically turning you deaf, ironically—you can still hear that one goddamn song playing.

“Oh my God,” you groan, projecting a murderous glare at the ceiling of your room before you shriek all of your heart’s content to your pillow. “Make it stop!”

This has been going on ever since your twentieth birthday and it’s been three months since then—three months of suffering, to be exact. Fortunately for you, you haven’t been listening to the same song for those amount of time—God, you would’ve killed yourself if that was the case. The song changes without warning. It can change ten times within a day, or stay the same for ten days. You have never heard of these songs except for the popular ones, and even then, you only ever listened to snippets as they don’t suit your taste. 

So… It doesn’t make sense that you could recite the whole lyrics, does it? 

And yet, you can. 

Somehow, you already know every word, every tune, even every ad-lib in these songs and it both amazes and creeps you out. It’s as if somebody else is singing about it in their mind, and you, somehow, are mentally connected to them.

But that’s surely not the case, right?

With more days passing by, as your brain deteriorates little by little, you start to think that maybe that is the case.

Or maybe you’re just going crazy.

It’s nine in the morning and your eyes are bleary from how you involuntarily skipped sleep last night. With the loudest sigh and your half-charged MacBook sitting still in your backpack, you let your wobbly legs carry you to the nearest coffee shop. There’s a new Starbucks store opening just a couple of blocks away from your apartment and it’s perfect since you’re going to pass it every day on your way to college. 

You’re not excited though, not when you have Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror playing in your head for the, approximately, thirty-fifth time that day. And it’s only nine in the fucking morning.

When you enter the coffee shop, greeted by a cute Christmas tree and festive decorations spreading all over the place even when it’s still three weeks away from the holiday, you almost weep in joy when the song stops playing in your head. It does happen from time-to-time, sometimes it stops for a few hours before it starts again with the same song or an entirely different one. But in most cases, it only pauses for a few minutes which just doubles the torture whenever you’re trying to concentrate on your paperwork.

“Hi.” You display a timid smile at a female barista, slightly wincing when the song in your head starts blaring again, as expected. It’s still the same song this time—so that thirty-sixth by now, Jesus Christ—but instead of someone humming it, it’s the original version that plays. You’re having trouble focusing on her greeting when the sound of a synthesizer echoes through your ear, stridently so. “I would like a tall skinny latte with a double shot, please.”

“Would you like anything else to accompany your drink?”

Perhaps a gun to blow my head off? “No, thanks. That’d be all for me.”

“Is that for here or to go?”

You take a quick scan of your surroundings. You still have an hour before your first class starts and since the place isn’t that crowded, you figure you might as well just spend some time here. “For here.”

You tell her your name and slide down your card to complete the payment. “All right. We will call your name once your order is ready.”

“Fantastic. Thanks.” As the female barista takes an order from another customer, you drag yourself to an empty seat in the corner of the room, next to the glassy window where you can glance at passersby. You lay your head down on the table, cheek pressed against the wooden surface, lower lip jutting out in weariness. You’re drowsy and you want to think about the snow that’s probably gonna fall sometimes near Christmas’ Day and maybe the sight of a warm fireplace where you can cozy up with your imaginary boyfriend (also known as Jung Jaehyun—that one perfect boy who lives just across of your hallway), but no, unfortunately for you, you no longer have any space left in your brain since Michael Jackson is performing a damn concert and it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna stop anytime soon.

“I’m starting with the man in the mirror…” Great, now you’re singing it. “I’m asking him to change his ways…”

The music in your head abruptly stops again but before you can close your eyes to finally enjoy your silence, a familiar voice chimes in.

“It’s a great song, isn’t it?”

Shocked, you quickly lift your head to identify a male barista placing down a cup of your ordered latte on your table. You swear you recognize his voice but his face doesn’t ring a bell.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I don’t usually bring orders directly to the table but I think I misheard your name so I couldn’t call you out from there.”

“That’s, umm, that’s okay…” You hide the bottom half of your face behind your scarf as you’re not used to talking to a stranger, especially one that looks overwhelmingly pretty. “What did you think my name was?”

“Umm…” He rubs the back of his nape awkwardly. “I don’t think you want to know. It was a bit… inappropriate.”

“R-right…” You glance at the cup. “It says ‘Michael.’”

He chuckles but with only a slight hint of amusement in it. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to come up with something and it was the first thing that came to mind.”

“And it has…” Your eyes widen when you notice the words he’s written on the side of your cup. It’s not a greeting, it’s not a motivational sentence, it’s the fucking lyrics to Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror.

“Yeah, okay, so—” Noticing the appalled look on your face, he hurriedly tries to reason out. “I’ve had this song stuck in my head all day long—I just listened to it a minute ago while making your order—and the lyrics are just so inspirational so I decided to write that down. I hope that’s not too weird.” Then he laughs a little, a tad more genuinely this time. “But I heard you singing that song just now. What are the chances, right?”

You swallow hard. He’s been thinking about that song too? Listened to it a minute ago? What are the chances of this is happening? Is he the one whose voices I’ve been hearing in my head—

The male barista abruptly takes a step back, his tray nearly slipping out of his hold. He has a hand pressed against his ear, eyes blinking several times in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You—” He splutters, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“What?” The way he seems like he’s looking at a ghost sends goosebumps all over your skin. “What is it?”

“Think about something.” 

“Umm—” What is he talking about?

This time he gapes, his jaw dropping low. “Holy shit, I can really hear you. Think about something else—think about me.”

“Look, I don’t know you and you’re being weird.” The sudden change of conversation baffles you but when his words sink in, you can’t stop yourself from thinking about him as he orders. He’s cute, his entire features are cute—you’ve noticed that from the first second you laid your eyes on him, but what catches your eyes the most is his lips—the way they’re shaped so beautifully, like a cupid’s bow—

“You’re thinking about my lips? Seriously?” He asks, but might as well splash cold water to your face. “If you said something about my eyes, sure, I mean, they are attractive. One might even say that God Himself took the stars from the sky and put them in my eyes—but my lips? Huh, that’s new.”

You loudly gasp when you’re finally aware of the situation, hands flying to your face to cover your gaping mouth. “You can hear my thoughts!”

“And you can hear mine too!” He points out, and as startled as you are from the previous realization, you instantly frown upon his words. 

“I don’t think so,” you reply. “I can only hear—”

“Donghyuck-ah!” Another barista comes to interrupt from the other side of the room. “We didn’t pay you to flirt, come back here!”

“I wasn’t flirting!” He shouts back, tips of his ears reddening. When he turns to you again, he has a prominent scowl on his face which makes you squirm on your feet. “We need to talk about this. My break is in an hour, do you think you can wait?”

It sounds more like an order than a request. “B-but I have a class in an hour.”

“Skip it.”

It takes all the strength in your body to be brave enough to retort back with, “Why don’t you skip your work?”

“I’m already half-done with my work, I can’t bail out now.” He rolls his eyes. Suddenly, his courteousness just vanishes without a trace. “Look, I’ve been hearing your thoughts for months now and I have a lot to complain to you about.”

You grimace. “It’s not like I can control my thoughts—”

“I know, I’m not blaming you.” He picks up the tray, his gaze softening but only slightly. “I just want to complain. You’ve been driving me crazy these past few months.”

You glance away, pouting. Wow, he surely knows how to befriend a stranger.

“I can hear you, you know.” He sighs as if talking to you is exhausting, when it should be the other way around. “Look, I’m sure you’ve been going through the same thing. Don’t you want this to stop?”

You’re not wasting any second. “Yes, please.”

“Then wait for me. We’ll talk this through.” He pivots on his heels, his tray glued to his side. When you can finally breathe properly, exhausted from the social interaction as you sink back to your seat, the barista—Donghyuck—adds, “Oh, as you wait. Can you please stop thinking about my lips? Or just how cute I am in general? It’s sweet but I gotta concentrate so I won’t write another Michael on my next order.”

You slam your forehead down the table, face aflame. “I-I’ll try.”

“Thanks.”

***

“You just can’t stop thinking about my lips, can you?” Is the first thing Donghyuck states out as soon as he’s approached your table. He runs a hand through his brown hair, which looks out-worldly fluffy that you begin to wonder what kind of hair product he’s been using. “Or my hair.”

Mortified, you mumble out, “I’m sorry,” with half of your face covered by your hands. The more I try not to think about his lips, the more I do—shit, is he hearing this too—

“Yes,” Donghyuck says, but this time with an amused smile. “Man, I didn’t know my lips were that appealing to ladies. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Well, he’s making you blush for sure. “Would it be too much to ask for you to stop listening to my thoughts?”

“Believe me, woman, I’ve tried.” He groans, taking his apron off before he sits in front of you. He loosens up his collar, unbuttoning two buttons of his white shirt—which is two more than necessary to your liking—and you have to gaze away before another thought forms inside your head about a certain part of his body. 

“Sorry if I came on too strong before. I’m Lee Donghyuck,” he introduces formally, offering you his hand. You reply with your name but you’re reluctant to shake his hand since you’re sure you’re breaking into a cold sweat, and an overly sweaty palm doesn’t really scream attractive—

“It’s literally just a handshake,” he says, stifling down a laugh. “I’m not gonna start judging you about it. You’re cute, sweaty palms or not.”

You nearly choke. “If I can’t ask you to stop listening to my thoughts, can you please be quiet about them?”

“That’s also impossible since talking is an integral part of my charm.” He leans back to his chair. “I’m pretty good with my mouth.”

That was… a poor choice of words, you think, as you stare at his lips and can’t help but wonder what can that mouth do other than talking. You take a bite of the bagel you just ordered, desperately trying to avert your attention.

“It wasn’t a poor choice of words.” He winks. “I did mean that in every way possible.”

This time, you really are choking.

“Okay, so what’s happening to us?” Donghyuck questions, after you manage to shed a tear or two during your attempt in relieving your throat. “Why have I been hearing your thoughts? I don’t even know you.”

“Same here.” You’re still going through a hard time keeping eye contact with him, but with more seconds passing by—and him pronouncing every bit of your thoughts out in the open—the knots inside your chest begin to loosen. “Ever since I turned twenty, I’ve been hearing these songs playing in my head that I’d never even heard of.”

“Never heard of?” Donghyuck snorts. “What, you never listen to Billboard’s top forty?”

You weakly shrug. “I prefer indie music better. Or instrumentals.”

“I would say that you have a soul of an old lady but the way you’ve been thinking about my lips reminds me of my sister who’s going through puberty.”

“Okay, this isn’t fair.” You shake your head, ashamed and tired of being humiliated over something you can’t fix. “Why can you hear my thoughts but I can’t hear yours?”

“Believe me, you’re much better off this way.” His face contorts in pain which makes you feel somewhat sorry if he’s not constantly being an ass about it. Hearing your insult, he notes, “Also, I’d prefer to be called with terms of endearment in the future, if that’s okay with you. Something like Babe or Darling.” The way he raises his eyebrow is just strictly illegal. “And in return, I’ll call you Sweetheart.” But before you can say anything—or run toward a running bus to put an end to this endless humiliation—he questions, “Wait, when you hear the songs I’ve been thinking in my head, does it sound like the original version of the song, or like me singing it?”

Finally, a proper conversation. “If you’re listening to the actual music, I can hear the original song as if I’m hearing it through my headphones. But when you’re just thinking about it, well, I‘ve never heard you sing, but,” you decide to tease him back—which startles you from how blatant you’re being. “From how amateur and pitchy this voice sounded in my head, I think I’ve been hearing yours.”

“Cute.” He scrunches up his nose. “Okay, let’s try again. Can you hear what song running through my head now?”

You stiffen, sitting in silence. After a few seconds pass by with only you exchanging stern stares at each other, your eyes gleam with a spark of hope. “Wait, I can’t hear you. Does this mean it stops? Because we’ve met in person?”

“Sadly no, because I was just thinking about how silly you looked when you choked over your food earlier.” He chuckles to himself and sends you another wink when you degrade him in your head. “Okay, let’s try again.”

“For real this time?”

“For real this time, Sweetheart.” He closes his eyes, holding back a smile when he catches how you flinch a little at his pet name for you. This time, you really do hear him humming inside your mind. “Don’t tell me by words,” he immediately adds, “Just think about them.”

Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes too. I’ve heard this song somewhere.

“If you’ve never heard about this song, I will literally cry and apologize to the world on your behalf.”

Be quiet, please, I’m trying to concentrate.

“Worried that you’d be thinking about my lips again?”

You almost fall from your seat. Almost. Okay, you’re singing to… You knit your eyebrows together as you provide your best effort to remember the tunes. You’re singing to Super Mario Bros theme song?

“Correct.” He taps his fingers to the table, simpering. “This is actually pretty cool. We can be, like, partners in crime or something.”

You shudder. “Please don’t tell me you’re an actual criminal.”

“If looking this handsome is a crime then I am, yes. Guilty as charged.” He makes a kissy face when you think about throwing the rest of your bagel to his head. “You look like someone who writes fan-fiction about their idols having sappy first kisses in your spare time but you’re actually pretty wild in your head, aren’t you?” He loves seeing your reactions, you know that, so you give your all in trying to act nonchalant. “Now, let’s try again. Did you bring your headphones with you?”

You check your coat’s pocket. “I got my AirPods.”

“Perfect. Put them on and play something from your phone.” As someone who’s pretty carefree, he can get serious at times. “Play as loud as you can until you feel like you’re going deaf.”

“I’ve tried that many times.” You nearly wail at the memory. “But it’s hard to drown your voice since it comes from inside my head.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’ve been hearing your thoughts too, remember? Don’t you think I would at least try something like that?” You narrow your eyes menacingly at him but he simply waves you off. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m trying to do. Put them on and you’ll see.”

He’s ordering you around. He just met you and he’s ordering you around. Socializing with people in general already zaps your energy pretty quickly, so socializing with a brat—

“I’ll grow on you, don’t worry.” He smirks and you take a mental note to really learn how to control your thoughts this time.

You follow his lead, as requested, connecting your AirPods to your phone and play something relaxing—because God knows how desperately you need it—as loudly as you can bear. Okay, go try… whatever it is that you want to try.

He smiles and shifts slightly on his seat, facing the window. His eyes glimmer under the light when he parts his lips, mouthing some words—no, singing something that you can’t hear.

Wait. I can’t hear?

Donghyuck glances at you, a grin breaking further on his lips upon hearing your thought. He gestures to you to take your AirPods away and you nod. Vacation Manor’s You promptly fades as his voice enters, and it’s weird because you’ve heard him sing in your head so many times yet it doesn’t do justice to how beautiful he sounds in real life.

It’s almost angelic, the sound he makes, which is kind of ironic for a little devil that he is. His honeyed voice is soothing, almost like the patter of rain on your window at dawn, lulling you back to sleep. You’re no expert in music but to you, he sounds impeccable that you run out of words to describe how pleasant his voice is to your ears. It’s so distinct, soulful—

Donghyuck giggles. “Thanks.”

—and annoying. “Okay, so what happened?” You try to divert the topic. “I can’t hear you when you’re singing out loud, but I can hear it when you’re thinking about a song?”

“I guess so.” He furrows his eyebrows, deep within his thoughts. “I figured it out when I couldn’t hear your thoughts whenever you spoke out loud. I think we can work from this?”

“So instead of thinking about what I have to say, I should focus more on saying what I want to say?” You shake in horror. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“What, you don’t like talking?”

“I’m…” You swallow your breath. “I’m not really good at that.”

“You’re talking to me just fine now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, because you make it so easy.”

“Aaw,” he purrs, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”

“No.” You hold up a hand. “I mean, since you can hear my thoughts, I have no other choice but to speak. Also, you seem like you’re the type who just says whatever that comes to mind without worrying too much about my feelings—”

“Hey, now you’re just making me sound rude—”

“You are rude,” You emphasize. “But it works well with me because then I don’t have to hold myself back and pretend to be somebody else.”

“Why do you have to pretend?” He frowns. “Because you’re afraid people are gonna hate you? Judge you on your words?”

“It’s…” You look away, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I just… I’m trying to be a good person so people will like me—”

“I like you,” he says casually as if he was talking about having a cute Pomeranian as a pet, and there you are, almost fainting in your seat. “I mean, in the last forty minutes I’ve known you, I think you’re great the way you are. You don’t have to be good, you just have to be you.” He shifts closer, crossing his arms on the table, and lays his chin on them, gazing up at you with a soft smile that doesn’t match well with his previous attitude. “Don’t you think it’s great if people accept you the way you are?”

You hurriedly take a sip of your coffee, pretending to swallow even if it’s already empty. “You’re… not so bad yourself.”

“What was that?”

“Okay, well I think I should go.” There’s no way you’re gonna repeat that. Donghyuck titters, taking a hold of your wrist when you’re about to stand up from your seat.

“We still have loads to talk about.” You observe the way his fingers linger around your arm, his sun-kissed skin feels silky smooth against your own. “Why don’t we have lunch together? My treat?”

“D-don’t you have work to do?”

“I’ll make an excuse.” 

A barista with the word Jeno written on his name tag walks by and slaps Donghyuck on the back of his head as if it’s something he’s done on a daily basis—probably is. “You’re not going anywhere, asswipe, get back to work.”

When the brunette boy turns to you, he winces. “Or maybe you can give me your number so we can meet up later?”

***

A/N: I’m both nervous and excited for this as this is my first collaboration. Thank you so much, Denise, for having me on this wonderful collab!

[nikadoesanart]

My predictions on BSD getting animated going forward

I’ll be taking a look at the novel page counts (Japanese and English) and comparing them to the screen time they’ve gotten so far and then using this to predict how long the remaining light novel adaptations will be (approximately). At the end will also be my rough prediction/hopes for the order of some of these being adapted. I say some because I have yet to read what there is so far of the gaiden novel translations, the main story manga has essentially still been on the DOA arc almost since where the anime left off, and I personally think that it’s currently too soon for Storm Bringer (aside from money purposes).

Note, most of this was written well before the anime 5th anniversary livestream but the announcements wound up not affecting it. I then of course made adjustments as needed account for the novel content we do have so far, both in Japanese and in English (officially).

Page to Episode Count

Not counting the afterward, ads, etc for the English/US copy, Japanese is including it

Also all eng page counts are using the Yen Press release and jp page counts are taken from the fandom wiki

*148 is purely counting the Untold Origins portion of the novel. If we also count the A Day at the Agency short story that’s included before it (56 pages), then we get the full 203

Also the English page count for BEAST was noted before the English release date but after page counts have been posted by affiliated retailers, so subtract a couple pages from the written count of 176 for the time being to account for the afterward and possible character sheets being included

Now that we have our page to episode counts (as of April 5th, 2021), let’s find the actual content run time of what we do have animated so far.

Seasons 1-3 and the OVA all have the same episode length/duration. Each episode is 23 minutes, and we can subtract 3 minutes on average from that to account for the OP and ED being played. This leaves us with an average of 20 minutes of BSD story content per episode. So on average, each of the first 3 seasons contain 240 minutes, or 4 hours, worth of story content.

Dead Apple’s total run time is 91 minutes, with the OP and ED making up 9 of those minutes. However, we do have a bit of the story content being played while the ED is playing (as sometimes happens in the anime as well). To keep the math simple, I’ll be approximating story content time at 82 minutes.

Apply these numbers to the novels that have been animated so far and this is (approximately) what we get:

Now let’s use these numbers to predict the screen time needed for the other novels

Note that we can’t really use Entrance Exam as a fair measure because of how much got cut out (just compare the run time of it to Dark Era and it speaks for itself). However, the numbers for Dark Era and Dead Apple are the best ones to use, as they both have minimal changes between anime and novel and both have official English translations currently available. Take out the approximate time taken up by OP/ED and and the numbers pretty much match up.

So with that being said, we can estimate Untold Origins (only) at approximately 3 eps/60 min and 55 Minutes at 1h 40-55min/100-115 min or 5-6 eps if it doesn’t get a movie. We can also estimate the A Day at the Detective Agency short story at the beginning of Untold Origins to take up about 1 ep, probably even a bit less.

1+ 3 + 5-6 = 9-10 episodes which isn’t enough for a full single cour season unless they all get put into one big OVA season, but also 10-11 eps (or less) seasons are a thing (ie. Fugou Keiji: Balance Unlimited, Blood Lad, Black Butler: Book of Circus, The Seven Deadly Sins: Signs of a Holy War, FLCL)

My personal predictions/hopes for the anime adaptation timeline going forward

This is considering the manga content, current “pausing/stopping points” what wouldn’t be too awkward, each of the novels relevancy/necessity to the main story manga, and assuming we continue with single cour (12-13 ep) seasons

Hopefully/ideally a 55 Minutes movie

S4: ch 54-70

Early S5 (preferably) or end of S4: Untold Origins or A Day at the Agency

S5: ch 71-88/around where we are now?

A Day at the Agency can, in my opinion at least, be chucked in at any point either as a single episode OVA or as the light novel content for s4 (maybe not even taking a full episode and then starting ch 54 in the last few minutes for example). Keep in mind that the current DOA arc is a long one and has plenty to it, so personally I think it may even be better to not include a novel adaptation in a future S4, as it would likely already be a right squeeze content wise. Remember, we also have a few XX.5 chapters that are continuations of the chapter directly before them.

I still need to read what’s currently available of the gaiden novel fan translations but it can probably be adapted at any point as well. I’m estimating approximately 5-6 eps as an OVA series. I don’t really think it would get a movie, partially because you can make it only so long, especially since it’s an anime movie and unlike Storm Bringer, it doesn’t have Chuuya to practically guarantee the profit.

BEAST also doesn’t directly impact the main story and can be adapted at virtually any point. However, seeing as we do have a live action confirmed for it and it’s page count lines up very closely with Dark Era, it can be either 4 eps or (more likely in my opinion) a movie, as it can be considered almost stand alone content.

Personally, I believe it is currently way too soon to animate Storm Bringer as it came out only a little over a month ago (as of writing this) and has minimal plot necessity as of ch 91, but I do believe it should be either split into 2 movies (a part 1 and part 2) or it would need 8 episodes, likely as an OVA season. If it were to get animated sooner than 55 Minutes or Untold Origins, which I believe to be very unlikely, I feel that it would almost certainly be driven by the financial gains of Chuuya being included, and his popularity alone. Reminder, SB is about Chuuya and not SKK. Dazai’s appearance in SB is proportionally a very small percentage and he’s not even mentioned in the official plot summary.

However, you can argue that SB is starting to have some relevance now, with the recent mention of the Order of the Clock Tower in ch 90 and the increased relevance of sealed ability weapons in ch 91. However, I really do believe that you can’t adapt Storm Bringer before 55 Minutes because of Standard Island and its treaty, it also talks about sealed ability weapons, knowing who Wells is, and 55 Minutes canonically takes place during the “downtime” portion of S3. In fact, here’s Asagiri’s words directly from the Afterward (translation by Yen Press):

“this volume didn’t take place in the past, but rather sometime after the tenth volume of the manga. In other words, it’s a tale about the ‘usual’ detective agency in novel format.” (55 minutes, p 237)

Untold Origins also should be adapted sooner rather than later (at least compared to SB in my opinion) because it’s about Ranpo and Fukuzawa’s shared past, which becomes increasingly relevant ch 70 onwards, as well as the need for the ADA being founded (which ties in with Yosano’s backstory in ch 65-66).

In regards to whether I think each of these would be better suited to a movie adaptation or as multiple regular length anime episodes, it’s mainly due to page count and partly due to the budget difference between the two, as well as how difficult I think it would be to animate each of these based on what needs to be drawn. The anime industry isn’t the fastest to switch to newer technology, hence why we see issues with 3D blending sometimes. I really do think that at the very least, 55 Minutes deserves the movie budget because of how detailed and complex the architecture of Standard Island is described as, as well all the mechanical parts needed for the final battle of the novel. Hate the lizard mouths introduced in Dead Apple all you want, but you can’t deny that the 3D cgi was blended very smoothly. For any of the other novels to be movies, it’s more so because gaiden and BEAST can be considered their own stand alone stories that don’t rely too heavily on the main story in terms of when they take place and get adapted. I feel that SB is more likely to get its own season or an OVA season more so due to its length, but multiple part anime movies have also been done before (ie. the Fate/Stay Night: Heaven’s Feel movies), so it’s not entirely impossible. Especially considering that merely having any Chuuya screen time means that you can expect the profit and popularity to really go up, especially with SKK being on screen together (regardless of whether you love or hate how the fandom tends to push a shipping POV on them).

These are all of course just my hopes and predictions and estimates based on information currently available, so take them with some salt. I’d love to hear opinions on how, when, and why each of the currently non animated novels should be adapted going forward. Also please stop begging the relevant BSD official Twitter pages for SB to be animated next and go read the other light novels you Chuuya simp

[vergess]

@autismserenity​ said: Your tags are the most American thing I’ve ever read, we are truly so screwed here   

May I interest you in a more complete, and more excruciating, explanation of what I spent the last 18 months doing?

It is, I need to emphasize, fucking nasty. Don’t feel obligated, especiallly if you’ve already had A Day(tm).

There’s a lot of disease, a lot of worker abuse including sexual and racial abuse, a fine portion of letting people die for not being white enough for real medical care, all leading to homelessness.

For NDA reasons, because my former employer was just as vile as any tech company has ever been, I cannot be super specific about who I worked for. However, I can say that we handled the records and patient contact for all COVID testing for several states, as well as 2 of the 5 largest metros in the US, and several dozen smaller ones ranging from the approximate population of San Francisco, down to little towns, as well as the testing for several public school systems and at least two government agencies that I am not at liberty to disclose.

I tell you this for a sense of scale. When I say shit like, “my boss was more than happy to let thousands or hundreds of thousands die” I am not exagerrating for effect. We handled hundreds of thousands of tests a week.

Again, I need to emphasize, government agencies. Ones you would know if I named them. Ones everyone in the country knows.

And we were in charge of getting their test results from the already over swamped labs back to the patients, who often were not allowed to quarantine while awaiting results.

The fastest we got our turnaround time to on any consistent basis was about 30 hours. Often it ballooned well into weeks.

There were a number of factors for this, but the big one was always understaffing.

The staff we did have were treated like trash. One of the big selling points of this company is how “trans friendly” it is to work there. That is a lie. Every trans employee on payroll had their dead name displayed to all other staff, and until I personally changed the system setup on my arrival, patient facing trans people’s dead names were displayed to patients.

Remember that thing about “hundreds of thousands of tests a week”?

I was able to change the way patient-facing names were displayed. I was not allowed or able to alter the way internal systems displayed trans people’s names. But I was assured that it’s fine, because once you get a legal name change, you’ll be given new system accounts with your new name!

Your old accounts with your dead name would still be displayed and associated with the new ones though.

This is the “trans friendly” working environment. We were allowed to be out of the closet, as long as we were willing to put up with that. And any attempts to get it altered were the result of those nasty little transgender ingrates not being thankful enough.

Meaning that by asking to use our own fucking names we were already in the disciplinary shitter.

Another big selling point is the ~racial diversity~. The CEO was a man of colour, and so were like four other people on staff!! Wow!!!!!!!

This, too, was laughable.

Once numbers started coming in about the care gap for COVID between English and Spanish speakers, and our Southwestern US service area began to have a separate and brutal backlog just of Spanish speaking patients, my employer encouraged me to interview potential hires who speak spanish.

Fair enough! We all wanted to do our part to help close the already massive mortality gap.

So, I found candidates, did interviews, hired them, trained them, etc. But I don’t speak Spanish. As a result, I appointed 2 assistant managers who do speak Spanish to assist me in managing, you know, like the job name.

So when my super contacted them directly, completely skipping me on the chain of command, and told them to stop all of our Spanish speakers from translating helpful simple messages to send to patients, and instead start translating medical and legal documents, they very reasonably assumed I was in the know and went ahead with it.

TO BE CLEAR, that could have ended my life, theirs, basically everyone involved. Everyone in the company would have been completely fucked. At that point, my subordinates, the people for whom I am wholly responsible, were doing everything from practicing medicine without licenses, to encouraging spanish speaking patients to enter contracts that no one on the fucking executive tier could even read.

The moment I found that out, I and the A.M.s immediately started trying to get actual medical translation services to do our documents. We collected them in a neat folder. We queried translation services. We got quotes. We contacted my super and the CEO, about this over and over again for months. In the late autumn, we received approval for one of the translation services.

The CEO decided at the last minute that having people with no medical or legal training draft medical and legal forms was fine and good actually, and refused to sign the contract or send the documents for translation.

The excuse I received was that the COVID emergency HIPAA relaxations would protect us.

That’s not how that works.

Throughout all of this, Spanish speaking employees were told to either keep doing medical and legal translation work, or lose their jobs.

Oh, did I mention everyone was working between 30 and 80 hours a week, and all of us were marked as “contractors” so the employer could tax evade? Don’t worry, we filed complaints with the labour bureau.

So the entire department was let go, and “rehired” as temps through a temp agency, which because it was a temp agency could keep them marked as contractors regardless of the facts.

This change was presented to all of us, myself included, as the company getting a new accountant to handle payroll.

So if you’re keeping score, we’ve covered racism, queerphobia, medical negligence, fraud, and a frankly uncountable number of deaths.

Let’s talk about the sheer negligence towards employees ourselves. If you’ve worked in near-death medical care before, or any number of emergency services really, you know that the standard benefit suite includes either a dedicated therapist for your staff, or access to peer support groups with other emergency and medical servants through your employer’s benefits program.

Do you know what our mental health benefits were for this company?

The CEO got on a fucking zoom call with us all one (1) time, and said that if we were feeling suicidal or traumatized by the work, to talk to him about it, and he would be our therapist.

Do you know how many people per fucking day we had to contact only to be told they had already died because our understaffing delays killed them? He doesn’t. He never listened when we told him.

But let me put the cherry on the “Oh baby, you can talk to me, oooh” sundae.

Anyone who “looked” or “sounded” female, regardless of actual or assigned gender, was subject to constant flirtations and slimy, overly personal compliments about our appearances. Fortunately, at 3 levels removed from the CEO (Executives > Department heads > Managers > Employees), most of the people under my management had relatively little contact with him.

I was not nearly so lucky.

The CEO of this company has a watersports (urination) fetish. I know this, because he told me so and attempted to get me to join him in it. I have no idea how many other people in the company he did this to. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do, risk losing my job to find out? I have a fucking family to support, people.

Not that it mattered.

Eventually, all of these abuses became too much for my subordinates. Productivity fell off a cliff. Delays were getting worse and worse. In a medical emergency like this, delays=deaths.

So, like a fucking idiot, when the department heads reached out to me to ask what they could do to improve productivity, I shot down their frankly insulting suggestion of raffling a $20 amazon gift card to patient facing employees, and instead suggested a very simple, “enroll us with a peer support group, every single person in this department has PTSD from working in this pandemic.”

They were confused by my assertion of PTSD. I was asked to compile a document of complaints, concerns, and weaknesses in our patient facing services.

I and the A.M.s did so. It was roughly 40 pages long, with each page given a known problem, the reasons why it was a problem, and some potential solutions that might inspire further solutions or be able to be implemented. We submitted it. There was no response.

A week passed.

I had been working 80 hour weeks for most of a year. I hadn’t even been able to take weekends. I took my first sick day, in a company with “unlimited vacation days.”

I received a call at 3PM.

I had been fired for “differences in communitcation.” If you’ve ever seen that “Problem Women of Color in the workplace” chart? Yeah.

So had most of my department, including every transgender member of the department, and several of our extremely limited in supply Spanish speakers, who were presumed to be “on my side.”

Some of them, I barely even knew beyond the formalities of the job, and they were punished anyway.

I lost my insurance, and as a result I lost access to my medications.

But the real problem? I lost my house. And not due to lack of payment.

I lost my house, because when I got the job we waited 6 months for stability’s sake, and then readied to move out of the area. I got a mortgage on the basis of my employer’s written guarantee to the bank that I would continue to be employed for the next year at a minimum.

With the mortgage approval in hand, we entered a sales contract on our existing home.

We got and accepted an offer just days before I was fired. To keep our house meant paying a 25,000 dollar broken contract fine. We didn’t have that. We had a 10% down payment for a modest fucking place in a cheaper area, which is less than half that.

But without a job, my mortgage approval was also voided, meaning we couldn’t buy a house either.

All of a sudden, we were homeless during the plague, because my employer wrote and signed a letter to a bank guaranteeing my future employ, and then changed his mind when too many people died due to his own negligence.

Oh yeah, one last thing: the job paid less than Pandemic unemployment Assistance.

...After that, well, it’s homelessness until just last month. I... if you’ve never been homeless it’s.

It blurs. Everything is happening constantly, except for all the ways in which you are endlessly, mind breakingly bored. Bored, overloaded, and always uncomfortable.

Obviously my health would have declined regardless. Malnutrition, stress, everything.

But I was also unmedicated.

It was hell. I was in hell. I don’t know if I can recover from it, to be honest.

I bounced back from being homeless as a child. Children are as resilient as they are stupid, and the monstrosity of homelessness was little more than a vaguely remembered loathing and a panicky fear that it would ever happen again.

A child who is dying is worthy of sympathy, even if it is meaningless coos from passers by. If they have family, they may be able to rely on them too.

An adult with the indignity to die homeless and crippled, according to the average passer by, is worthy only of disgust and perhaps even punishment for being such a worthless waste.

My reward for nearly killing myself in a desperate bid to help stem the tide of COVID was the destruction of not only my life, not only my entire family’s lives, but the lives of every single family of every single employee who worked with me.

And you know what’s worse?

Each one of us still did more to limit the lethal impact of COVID than the entire united states government.

It breaks something in you, going through that.

It makes you realize that hope is a fool’s game.

But, I have ever been a fool, and so, I continue to play.

[drunk-poets-society]

ok so

this young fella is No. 85 Squadron’s Hurricane pilot Richard Lee. he was awarded the DFC and DSO for his service, just a couple months before he was shot down over the English Channel on 18/8/1940, at age 23, sadly never to be seen again.

details under the cut -

Richard Hugh Anthony Lee was born in London in 1917 (the exact date or month is unknown). Growing up, he went to Charterhouse School.

On September 1935 he joined RAF Cranwell as a Flight Cadet, and graduated in July 1937. He was posted to Debden on June 1, 1938 to join no.85 Squadron at its reformation. He flew Gloster Gladiator biplanes to begin with, before no.85 was re-equipped with Hawker Hurricane Mk1s.

No.85 sqn. Was posted in France to protect cross-channel convoys. On November 21, 1939, while on patrol over Boulogne, Flight Lieutenant ‘Dickie’ Lee scored the squadron’s first victory when he successfully attacked a Heinkel 111 which crashed into the channel and burst into flames. This also scored the Squadron’s first accolade as he was awarded a DFC on March 8, 1940 “for outstanding brilliance and efficiency”

Not much happened over the winter. That was to change, however, when on May 10, 1940, the sound of Anti Aircraft guns and Luftwaffe planes filled the air. No. 85 squadron immediately jumped into action, and within a few minutes, one section of “A” flight, and one section of “B” flight were up in the air. Lee was leading B flight with Flying Officer Derek Allen and Pilot Officer Patrick Woods-Scawen flying as his numbers 2 and 3 respectively. the section attacked a Henschel 126, and managed to severely damage the aircraft, leaving two of its crew wounded.

Later that morning, Lee was flying Hurricane L1779 into combat, leading his section again. They engaged a Junkers-88 at about 15,000 feet. His combat report reads: “after being sighted E/A dived to a very low height. i could only overhaul from astern very slowly. From 500 yards to 700 yards the enemy rear gunner fired continuously. I fired short bursts and finished ammunition closing to 200 yards. No apparent results except black smoke from one engine. My own aircraft shot badly.”

Later that evening Lee shared in the destruction of a Ju-86 with his section. Lee was the first to open fire and set the enemy’s starboard engine on fire. When they landed, ground crew found that he had fired 50 rounds from each of his eight Browning machine guns during the engagement.

on 11/5/1940, the squadron was back in the thick of it. however, this time after a busy morning patrol, Allen and Woods-Scawen returned without their section leader. Richard Lee was missing. He’d been flying Hurricane N2388, code marked ‘VY-R’ over Maastricht when he engaged a Dornier 17P at approximately 1300 hours. His aircraft had been hit by Anti Aircraft fire and he bailed out of his aircraft slightly wounded. Parachuting down, he landed in a field, where he spotted a local man passing by. He asked the man which direction he should travel to get to the Belgian tanks that were nearby. He took off in the direction, only to find out that they were, in fact, German. Lucky for him, his uniform was concealed underneath a smock or overcoat he had acquired. He was believed to be a peasant and was locked into a barn with some other refugees. Thinking quick, he climbed up to a window and noticed a ladder perched beneath it, and promptly climbed out, walked several miles, and hitched a ride with some Belgians before returning to his unit the very next day. The squadron’s diarist reported that “11/5/40. Eight E/A were shot down today. Flight Lieutenant R.H.A Lee failed to return from the offensive patrol covering the advance of the BEF over the Tongres-Maastricht Section – he was reported last seen on a Dornier’s tail at about 2,000 ft.”

On May 22, No. 85 squadron started to return to Debden to re-equip and reform, and Lee was transferred to No. 56 Squadron. The next day the squadron engaged enemy aircraft over St. Omer while patrolling Manston to Dunkirk. he expended all his ammunition in the dogfight that ensued between the Hurricanes and the 109s, before his starboard wing was badly hit. He broke off and returned to Manston unharmed, and aircraft deemed repairable.

On May 27, he flew another offensive patrol from Manston with the Squadron, flying Hurricane P3311. On this occasion he was shot down by Messerschmitt 109s during an attack on Henschel 111s. he ditched his aircraft in the sea and was fished out of the water and taken ashore an hour later.

On May 31, Lee was awarded the DSO. The London Gazette published the following: “Flight Lieutenant Richard Hugh Anthony Lee, D.F.C. (33208) this officer has displayed great ability as a leader and intense desire to engage the enemy. On one occasion he continued to attack an enemy aircraft after his companion had been shot down, and his own machine hit in many places. His section shot down a Dornier 215 in flames one evening in May, and another in the course of engagement the next day. In his last engagement, he was seen at 200 feet at the tail of a Junkers 89, being subjected to intense fire from the enemy occupied territory. This officer escaped from behind the German lines after being arrested and upheld the highest traditions of the Service.”

In June, he returned to No. 85 squadron, under Squadron Leader Peter Townsend. His experience was called upon to help bring the new recruits upto scratch before the squadron was again ready for operational flying.

On June 26, Richard Lee and his close friend Gerald Lewis flew to an investiture where Lee received his DSO and DFC for his service.

Lee’s reputation as a daring and aggressive fighter pilot was quickly spreading around the air force. Peter Townsend’s good friend Flight Lieutenant John Simpson wrote a letter to his intelligence officer, after hearing about the exploits of Richard Lee.

Simpson, who also coincidentally often flew with Patrick Woods-Scawen’s younger brother Tony, wrote “I hear that Dickie Lee has done wonders. You see how these boys, who were always looked upon as being the naughty ones, are doing so well. They needed a war to convince the old gentlemen at Whitehall. Do you remember that Dickie was almost given his bowler hat for low flying? The same low flying has apparently stood him in good stead.” (apparently he had flown through an open barn, but i have no way of confirming or denying that)

In Hector Bolitho’s book Combat Report published in 1943, he wrote of an afternoon spent with Lee, Townsend and Simpson. “Peter Townsend and Dickie Lee had been posted to an aerodrome a few miles from the house… in the early summer, John and I went out to find them… we found Peter and Dickie and took them back to the house. Dickie followed the car on a hellish motor bicycle.

It was a pleasant enough afternoon and we lay on the lawn, the four of us, with a bowl of ice, a bottle of gin, some tonic water and four glasses, and talked the world away. All three, looked older. Both Dickie and Peter had been shot down and a certain solemnity seemed to have touched them. Dickie had changed more than others.

We used to call him Dopey in the old days because he always fell asleep if the conversation took a serious turn. He was already a hero and in most newspapers there had been photographs of him receiving his decorations from the King. The long hell in France had left creases at the corners of his sleepy eyes. But he would have none of our attempts at war talk. He said that he had a date with a blonde in Saffron Walden and that he could not stay very long.

Dickie’s taste in blondes was not always reassuring to his friends, but he was obviously more concerned with his date than with our efforts to make him talk about how he has won the DFC and DSO on his tunic. I remember when he stood to go I noticed a hole in the leg of his trousers where a bullet had gone through without touching his skin.

I suppose that Peter and John and I were a bit pensive, being the older ones, so Dickie yawned and said ‘Well, I must get cracking’ he made one gesture to sentiment before he went. On the day that was declared he left his favourite pictures with me… before his squadron flew off to France.

They were photographs of friends, of aircraft, and one of a spaniel. He asked me for them, so I brought them down from the attic and he flew off to his blonde with them, piled before him on the screeching, violent motor bicycle.”

August 18, 1940 “the Hardest Day” of course, was when Dickie was lost. Flying as Blue 1 in Hurricane P2923 ‘VY-R’ during this patrol, he was last seen by Squadron Leader Townsend and Flying Officer Arthur Gowers ten miles north-east of Foulness Point chasing Bf 109s out across the Channel.

In Townsend’s book Duel of Eagles he wrote the following of Lee’s last action: “Come back, Dicky,’ I called but he was drawing away. Again and again I called, but he kept on. It was useless to chase Huns out to sea; they would be back again the next day. Something had gotten into Dicky and there was no stopping him. We were both low on fuel and I was out of ammunition. There was only one thing to do: turn back”

Like several others, he was gone too soon. Neither his aircraft nor his body were ever recovered. and aside from these mentions, and a few documents, and acknowledgement on the Runnymede Memorial, Panel 6, there isn’t much about him out there. there’s really not much one can do about that either, other than remember, and keep them alive in our thoughts; those who never returned, whose names faded into obscurity.

Source

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Wiping your tears away HCs

Warnings: Fluffy cute shit 

Characters: Suga and Oikawa

Words: 1653 

A/N GUYS I HAD TIME TO WRITE TONIGHT AND THIS IS SO BIG AND CALMING FOR ME LIKE I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I CAN EXPRESS THIS TO ANYONE BECAUSE I HAD BEEN WORKING ON 5 you read that right 5 whole essays for a midterm in one class that I only had a week to write and they were due yesterday so that was hard and took all of my energy but now midterms are over and I don’t have tests this week, I do have a couple appointments though (I’m thrilled to have a dermatologist appointment Tuesday) but sorry for the rant i am just happy and feeling like I am having a good start to my week 

Suga:

“Why am I such a baby” You kept asking yourself over and over as you found yourself sitting in the kitchen crying over...well you aren’t exactly sure what made you cry

It had been a day of tiny inconveniences and burning your food just ended up just causing you to break because it should not be possible to burn food from a bag but somehow you did

You were hungry and tired and now you couldn’t make anything happen right and the easiest thing to do was sit down and cry for a couple of minutes

What you didn’t realize was that in your couple minutes of crying Suga had come home

You heard the door open and immediately started to panic, he did not need to see you on the floor crying next to a pan of burnt food so you toss it in the trash and try to wipe your eyes and smile before he gets in the kitchen but you were too late he already saw you

“Babe??” You hear him practically make this face 🥺 at you and you turn to see him and can’t help but start tearing up again

“Babe” this time Suga whispers at you as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, “what’s wrong baby?” Asks quietly

His voice was so calm and caring that you couldn’t help but let the waterworks begin once again

You tried your hardest to look away from him so that he didn’t see you becoming a complete mess but Suga stopped you before you could turn your head

“Heyyy look at me” he cooed at you, his hands cupping your face as his thumbs came up to wipe your tears away, “tell me what’s wrong lovey and we can work through this together” you let out a big sigh as you try to choke down a little sob

Suga keeps one of his thumbs under your eye, wiping every tear before it falls and lets his other hand go to his cheek and start rubbing your cheek lightly as he calms your racing heart

Taking a deep breathe in he suddenly realizes the cause of your tears, burnt dinner, smiling to himself he pulls you to his chest and gives you a gentle hug as he rubs up and down your back gently as you try and get yourself together

“Didn’t I say it was my night to make dinner?” He smiled into your hair

You look up at him worried he is going to yell at you for wasting food (he would never but when you’re sad you never think through things logically)

“Go put your pajamas on and I’ll start dinner,” he smiles at you

You just stare up at him, unable to process what he has just said as one stray tear slips down your face which Suga promptly wipes off and gives you a little smile, “go on lovey, we can watch Halloweentown once I get this in the oven, okay?’

You give him a tiny smile that reflects right back at you on Suga’s face, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead before grabbing an apron and starting on something else for dinner

Oikawa:

It was one of the biggest of games of Oikawa’s career and you were on the edge of your seat for every play, it was now the third set and the score was 22-20 with Oikawa’s team down

You had been watching him prepare for this match for weeks, overworking himself and pushing as hard as he can in hopes that his team will make it to world championships this year

The amount of times you were accidentally awoken by Oikawa last night made it clear that he didn’t sleep, especially because you caught him watching past matches at approximately 3 am

He was up and out the door by 6 am, in a hurry to get to the court for extra practice because this game got them a straight shot to championships

You got to the arena before the game and as you watched the teams warm up you could feel the tension radiating from everyone, especially Oikawa, he was tense and his attitude sharp with everyone, not because he wanted to be mean but because he was worried and putting a lot of pressure on himself

In the past few weeks Oikawa had worked extraordinary hard on perfecting his jump serve but also adding curves to it and direction changes, you were impressed every time you saw it and never stopped complimenting him but it never seemed impressive enough to make him happy

Sitting there you couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes closed and pray to any god that would listen that this game would turn out in Oikawa’s favor, you needed them to catch up and quick

The ball was flying across the court in minute long volley’s each and you could feel everyone getting tired as the game dragged on

For the most part Oikawa had been absolutely crushing it, only letting up a couple of points but halfway through the second set the coach pulled him out and replaced him with a rookie so he could take a break and that was when things started to go poorly, you could see him on the side losing his mind as the rookie practically handed the second set to the other team and then continued to play until they were down 15-10 in the first set where finally Oikawa was put back in and he was fighting for every point with everything he had, clearly frustrated that he had been taken out for so long just to test someone else in one of the most important games of the season

Your eyes were fixed on Oikawa as he kept trying to take deep breaths as he maneuvered his way across the court, shit, the other team got the ball, and again, it was now 24-21 and you knew that this was about to end poorly

You collected your stuff and turned back to watch as the other team scored the game winning point, your eyes welling up as you saw the look of defeat on Oikawa’s face

You quickly wiped away your tears and tried to look brave as you went to go meet him outside of the locker room

No matter how strong you were trying to be you couldn’t help but start to cry because you felt so bad for him and you knew how hard he had been working

You stayed a little bit further back from the others who were waiting for the team so that no one had to see you crying which would have been fine until Oikawa walked out of the locker room and couldn’t see you over the crowd

Internally he panicked and walked straight past two men who were hounding him for an interview to come find you, you were always there and that was the one thing that was keeping him from crying himself but the moment he pushed past the reporter his heart sank, there you stood, clutching his jacket tightly around you as tears streamed down your face while you tried to force a smile when you made eye contact

Oikawa practically ran over to you and scooped you into his arms, “I’m sorry” you sob into his chest, he had absolutely no idea what you were sorry for and froze up as his mind began to think about the worst

You pulled back from him and sniffled as he looked down at you with genuine concern, “I know how much this meant to you, and how hard you worked and I just, I’m so sorry Tooru, I shouldn’t have kept you-“

His hands cupped your face suddenly as he planted a gentle kiss on the top of your head and wiped the tears from your cheeks, “stop it love” he whispered, “we lost this game but there are more, we will fight harder next time,” he pulled back and let out a little chuckle, “You’re absolutely adorable, you know that?” He teased, “I thought that you were crying because something was wrong, but no, you were crying because of me. Don’t do that lovey, I promise I’ll win the next one for you,” he smiles, but you can see the sadness behind his eyes which causes you to let out a little sob which he quickly soothes away with little words of affection and reassurance that you were loved but also mixed in his teasing that never failed to put a smile back on your face, especially when he told you that you were “only half as cute when you’re crying”

He got called to do an interview about the game so he kissed the top of your head once more as he followed the coach as you watched from the sidelines, he kept smiling over at you on breaks and when you got back to the car you didn’t go straight home, instead you went to the little diner where you met Oikawa for the first time

“Tooru, what’s this?” You asked, finding yourself tearing up again

“I wanted a chicken bacon avocado melt with my girl after a big day,” he said, not looking at you

You found yourself tearing up again, you and Tooru had met a year and a half ago at this exact cafe when you were given his sandwich and he was given yours, you both laughed about it and ended up sitting next to each other and talking for hours, the night you met him he lost another monumental game and said he needed some “comfort food” and tonight you were right back there beside him

“Hey hey hey” he sighed, wiping your tears away and forcing you to look at him, “we’re going to get cheesecake, you can’t cry” he smiles at you