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hooked-on-elvis · 1 year ago

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How did Elvis took care of his awesome hair? 🚿🍃

Plus, a quick overview on one of the King's hairdressers and Memphis Mafia man, Larry Geller: How somewhat he was the friend Elvis needed and how Elvis' over-controlling inner circle banned Geller from their surroundings for a while.

I was actually looking if I could find Elvis' haircut name - precisely the type of haircut he had on the '68 Comeback Special and "Charro!" (1968), since I'm a girl and I have zero idea about the names for male haircuts but I just love that haircut he had so much I wanted to talk about it... anyway. But I found an article about Elvis' hair care routine and that sounds very interesting to me, so it might be something you wanna know too.

This is told by Larry Geller, so this means this was Elvis' hair routine starting from mid 60's on, precisely from 1964 to 1967, and possibly also from late 1972 to 1977 *, periods in which Larry was responsible for taking care of the King's hair.

Geller, who will be launching his own line of organic hair products later this year, tested out some of his first custom mixes on Elvis. “I used to go to the health food store and get a benign base shampoo and get some vitamin capsules and pour 99 percent pure aloe vera and other herbs into it, and shake it up,” Geller tells Yahoo Beauty. “That’s what I used on Elvis’ hair. He said to me, right from the get-go, ‘You can do whatever you want with my hair, but one thing — make sure I keep it!’” Source: Yahoo Beauty: Elvis Presley’s Hairstylist Spills the King’s Secrets by Lilit Marcus. The article was shared on a Graceland's website on January 28, 2014.

Elvis, you're the best, man. LOL. Just that comment is worth this entire post. It made me laugh. But the article goes on.

Then there was the daily routine. “I shampooed his hair regularly, usually every day. I would massage his scalp for a few minutes, then brush his hair at least 50 or 60 strokes. I was focused on long-term health of his hair, which was so important,” Geller explains. He also used products like vitamin E and jojoba oil to style Elvis’ hair and replace conditioner. Hairspray was used to set it, with Geller alternating multiple brands so that none of them would dry out Elvis’ coif too much. As for its color, Geller dyed Elvis’ hair every two to three weeks with a L’Oreal formula. What did the two men discuss during all that grooming? Religion, philosophy, books, life, and anything else you can think of. “Elvis had everything,” says Geller. “He was an extraordinary human being. He had the greatest eyes, the greatest voice, fans galore. He also had great hair.”

Elvis in "Frankie and Johnny" and "Spinout", both 1966 movies.

Larry Geller styled Elvis’ hair for: "Roustabout" (1964), Girl Happy (1965), Tickle Me (1965), Harum Scarum (1965), Frankie and Johnny (1966), Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966), Spinout (1966), Easy Come, Easy Go (1967), Double Trouble (1967), and Clambake (1967). Geller prepared Elvis’ hair for the last time for his funeral in August, 1977.

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Elvis' hair must have been so good smelling and soft. Washed every day, organic products to make it smooth and shiny as it was. 🫠🥹

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Now, if you want to understand why there's a pause in Larry's association with Elvis, here it is:

LARRY GELLER QUITS WORKING FOR ELVIS IN 1967: INDIRECTLY CAUSED BY ELVIS' HEAD INJURY POSTPONING THE FILMING FOR 'CLAMBAKE'.

On March 9, 1967, Elvis was staying in him home in Bel Air, Los Angeles, and one incident (Elvis tripped over a TV cord in his bathroom and banged his head against a porcelain bathtub) caused the beginning of the production for the movie "Clambake", for which he was preparing to, to be postponed. Colonel Parker was fuming when he heard about the need for Elvis to take a couple of weeks of resting to recover from the mild concussion he had. It was a critical moment in Elvis' life. By the time the filming begun, Elvis even put up some weight from his normal 170 lb (77 kg) to 200 lb (91 kg) — I said it before, whenever this happened to Elvis' body it was because he was extremely distressed. He was an emotional eater.

Getting back to the accident, Parker even thought Elvis did it on purpose not to fulfill his Hollywood commitment since Presley clearly was not happy about his movies anymore, something Parker somehow blamed it on Elvis' spiritual quest. He pulled some strings to manipulate Elvis to remove Larry Geller from his inner circle by saying to him that all that spiritual thing was getting too much into his head, distracting him from his business obligations. If not enough Parker said to Presley that Larry Geller was brainwashing him because of some personal agenda he must have had in his mind — it's mentioned by someone, somewhere (i'm sorry, I'm not gonna remember where I've read it now) that Geller was planning on using Elvis' money to open a religious study center or something like that).

Basically, Parker thought Larry was a threat because if Elvis decided in throwing his career away, like some say he was by becoming a preacher, Parker would lose his most profitable and only client. Consequently all the religion and spiritual "shit" (as they called) that Larry Geller had put inside the King's head (as they thought), presenting him with many books and having deep conversations for hours with Elvis about several religious and spiritual subjects but not exclusively that, they also talked about meditation and self improvement as a human beings, astrology and so on, all of that was threatening Parker's plans over Elvis.

But Parker didn't make it on his own. Even Priscilla says in her memoir book that Elvis was obsessively reading non-stop and wanting to share his learning with everybody else, but his friends and herself didn't care about none of this self-improvement and religious talk. His inner circle even looked at Presley's spiritual quest as somewhat annoying, including Priscilla. Their thoughts about Larry Geller were something like "Larry changed his mind. Elvis is not spending time with us as he used to." Ugh!

Nobody actually told Larry to leave, tho, and Elvis wouldn't do such thing if he didn't have a good reason to - until this point Larry was a confidant to him, one of the only people he could talk about life and wonder what was God's plan for him, his true life mission, something Elvis would never cease trying to understand. However, Elvis' inner circle and Colonel Parker begun making Geller feel uncomfortable, unwelcome among the group, while they took Elvis' attention back to them, practically forcing Geller to decide to finally leave and go away for good, and he did it. But it was not something definite.

Many things happened in Elvis' life since Larry Geller and him went different ways but by August 1972, tho, Geller got back in contact in Elvis when he attended one of Presley's concerts in Las Vegas, and from then on Larry begins working for Elvis again, till the end of the King's life in 1977.

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis history #elvis presley history #larry geller #memphis mafia #colonel parker #priscilla beaulieu #priscilla presley #elvis hair #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis fandom #60s elvis #70s elvis

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lukiatheghost · 4 months ago

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GAÏA

Gaia, one of the first deities to emerge from Chaos, embodies the Earth itself. She is the source of all life, shaping both the realm of the gods and that of mortals.

You could say Gaia is the grandmother of everyone!

First, she brought forth Uranus (the Sky), Pontus (the Sea), and Ourea (the Mountains). And when she united with Uranus, she gave birth to a rather lively bunch: the Titans, Titanesses, Cyclopes, and Hecatoncheires.

Ah, the Hecatoncheires... guys with 100 arms and 50 heads each! Let’s just say family hugs must have been a bit... complicated.

Now imagine managing this divine family with all their "little quirks"... good luck, Gaia!

The Titans and Titanesses, twelve in total, were the first children of Gaia and Uranus. But, spoiler alert: Uranus wasn’t exactly a fan of his offspring…

Among these twelve famous children were Oceanus and Tethys (the sea, no big deal!), followed by Coeus and Phoebe (the sky and the moon), Hyperion and Theia (the sun and sight), Cronus and Rhea (time and fertility), Mnemosyne (memory), Themis (justice), and finally Crius and Iapetus (the pillars of the world).

Uranus decided that the best solution was to force Gaia to keep them inside her. Yes, you read that right: no outdoor adventures for these kids! Of course, at first, Gaia groaned in pain. But after centuries of brooding in the dark, she started to get seriously angry.

And that’s when she came up with a plan to get her revenge on her dear husband…

The Mutilation of Uranus by Saturn, showing Cronus (Saturn) castrating his father Uranus, the Greek sky god before Zeus, oil on panel by Giorgio Vasari, 16th century.

When Gaia had enough of Uranus keeping their children hidden, she decided to take action.

With the help of her son Cronus, she came up with a plan: "Take this sickle, and when your father is resting, give him a... very radical haircut."

Cronus, armed with the sickle, did the job. Uranus was cast out of the sky, and his blood, falling into the sea, gave birth to the Erinyes and the Gigantes. But the best part? The severed part of his body, floating in the water, gave birth to Aphrodite, the goddess of love.

Gaia could finally breathe freely, while Cronus took over, for better... or for worse!

#mythology art #greek mythology #gaia #mythologie #mythology and folklore #history #art #artists on tumblr #lukiatheghost

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eris-abomination · 8 months ago

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Anyone who has ever complained about having to coexist with the “weird cringey queers” or spoken a single word about how “things are getting out of hand” needs to shut the fuck up and show some goddamn respect.

Our community doesn’t have you to thank. We didn’t gain shit from queer assimilationists who decided our best course of action was to surrender our art, culture, and identities to make ourselves more “tolerable” to cishets. We made progress throughout history because of the activists, the “weird gays,” the underground communities, the people who refused to be silenced or censored.

No matter how much you whine and complain, the people who “make the community look like a joke” are doing more for us than you ever fucking could. The drag artists, the pups, the kinksters, the furries, the people with “contradicting” labels, the neopronoun and xenogender users, the “baby gays,” the kid named Arson with a neon green side-shave haircut and 50 pride pins all over xer Hot Topic frog backpack… They’re all fighting harder for our rights than a bitter assimilationist loser smacking away at his keyboard, trying so desperately to pretend that the original Pride wasn’t a literal fucking riot.

#lgbtq #lgbtqia #queer #trans #nonbinary #mogai

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the---hermit · 2 years ago

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26|05|2023

21/50 days of productivity

Today was a bit chaotic. I am happy with everything I manged to do in the morning, because I was losing focus, but I still got a lot done. On the other hand, when I got to the hair salon to get my haircut I had to wait over 40 minutes because they were late, and that made me very unproductive in the afternoon. My goal was to write down notes for an entire chapter, and by the time I got home and everything I simply didnìt have enough time and energies to do so. I did a part, and I'll finish the rest on Monday morning. I am still planning on taking the weekend off from studying, because I really need a little break if I want to be able to work well in the next couple of weeks. I plan on doing a bit of work in the garden, and continue reading my book, and then who knows?

Productivity:

practiced Irish on duolingo (still on the bare minimum side of things but it's all my brain can handle atm)

posted this update of the 2023 genre bingo

set up the next weekly spread in my bullet journal

finished writing notes for the second chapter of M. Detienne's Creation Of Mythology

read the whole third chapter

started to write notes (and highlight them) for the third chapter

planned what I'll have to study next week to stay on track (and somehow got ink all over myself while doing that. no, I don't own a fountain pen, I am just a fool)

started downloading the recorded lectures of another class (I am downloading them just in case, I don't want to risk them being deleated. One of these days I'll download the rest)

Self care:

read first thing in the morning

got an haircut (I'm embracing the short hair for the summer, I even went a bit shorter in the back, and I am really feeling it atm)

📖:The Creation Of Mythology by Marcel Detienne, The Left Hand Of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin (little update for those who have been asking. So far I am intrigued by the story, I knew very little before going into it. I am struggling a bit because it's not the lightest read and at the moment my mental energies are not at their best. I find myself struggling the most with longer chapters, so I am pretty sure this is a me problem rn. Anyway I am enjoying it so far, I particularly like those in-between chapters that tell short stories and legends or that simply give you a bit more insight on the world it takes place it)

🎵:Calm Down (A Little Bit Calmer Now) by All Time Low (there will come a day in which I won't be obsessed by something they release, but this is not that day)

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chimivx · 7 months ago

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ghosting ↠ txt

now playing ↠ pulling teeth • green day

He left you with letters. Envelopes that took you five years to finally read, acknowledge. They take you back through your past, forcing you to make moves not only for yourself, but for your family, for your children… His children.

part five of six ~ masterlist

word count ↠ 6036 warnings ↠ (same for all parts) 18+. mentions of drugs, alcohol, smoking. swearing. explicit sexual content. these people have kids, there’s family talk, pregnancy talk. absent dad, messy family ties. stepsib shit, stepcest. infidelity. if any of these things bother you, please keep scrolling . if i missed anything PLEASE let me know!! a/n ↠ if you are new to this story, don't start here! please go to the masterlist! major thank you to everyone who's read this story. cannot believe it's almost done... <3 xo posted ↠ 6/17/24 ~ 2:50 pm est.

~ february 2024 ~

Sitting on the plush carpet of your mothers living room, a beautiful bouncing baby boy sat between your outstretched legs. Munching on his fingers with a grin on his face, he watched his big brothers as they spun around to the rock music playing from Taehyun’s brand new record player on the glass table in the center of the room.

Across from you, laying on his stomach on the floor with his chin in his hands was Minho, smiling at his cousins trying to dance to the unsteady beat of Nirvana. The kid was almost a month away from turning ten, and though you just saw him a little over a month ago at Christmas right here in this very house, he had seemed to mature so much. He and his father, who sat beside the coffee table to your left, had both got haircuts, and the color of Taehyun’s was back to normal.

Since Christmas the two of you have been talking more, texting more, letting the kids video call with one another, and things were going really well. The patching up of that relationship, the closure you both gave one another that was ten years overdue was needed, and it had helped immensely. Now you could carry on with a friendship, and be friends, something the two of you struggled with outside of one another.

Amongst the phone calls and messages there was a day spent together without kids, without Soobin, just you and Taehyun. You went for lunch, somewhere quiet in Sicuro knowing damn well you’d be too uncomfortable to go any further or into any other town. Soobin didn’t want you too far either, and you couldn’t blame him. You’d prefer it if he was always within a few miles radius of you anyways.

Over lunch, where the two of you spent hours, you shared conversation like you had over Christmas, dipping into details of life that either of you had shut out, or had been too intoxicated to piece together correctly. Your teenage life was mapped out before you, the two of you with blushing cheeks trying to work out your shared trauma.

The further you delved into the timeline the more you could tell Taehyun was trying his absolute best to stay present. His sober eyes, awake and alert, his chest taking in deep breaths to the slow count of four… Something you knew all too well. With a reassuring nudge of your foot against his underneath the table, he’d smiled, knowing that you were with him, that you were there for him. He wasn’t alone, and you vouched from then on that he never would be.

You’ve healed enough to not hold his past against him, knowing that you yourself were not a perfect person.

He apologized for the summer night at the club years back, appearing teary eyed as he fought the words out of him, every other sentence broken, his eyes finding it near impossible to look into yours. But, he did. He reached for your hand, held it gently, and apologized. And you cried, because he remembered it all. Every detail. Every feeling. He had never told another soul, he had kept it all inside, not even talking about it with the friend you once shared.

The one who turned into the next topic of conversation on hour three of you sitting in the booth in the back of the restaurant.

Things had gone quiet, after the apology was shared and Taehyun had spoken his peace, neither of you knew what to say.

At Christmas, the letters were given to you, by Taehyun himself. Envelopes you didn’t have the guts to open, but your husband did.

You had told Taehyun very little of what you felt, what you experienced. So you laid everything out there, filling in the blanks for him, telling him how it all went down, how it happened, how you wound up with your beautiful boys who were the light of your life, but beginning to worry you with their behavior.

And though tears slipped down your cheek while you spoke of your history with him, with Beomgyu, you knew you were where you were meant to be, and you admitted that to Taehyun, the once questionable fate you had succumbed yourself to, and he too agreed, Soobin was where you were meant to be. Something he’s mentioned to you before.

Pieces of past Christmas were funny, some parts making you question whether or not your certainty was correct. It’d been brought up multiple times, from two different mouths, and then, in the end, the bomb had been dropped.

The twins belonged to Beomgyu, he was their father. In your timeline, in your math, he was their father. You never had to question it, you never had to double check, you were certain. However, those many years ago there had been two of them, both boys, and they overlapped before the nights turned into one. You had no reason to question until Christmas, when your twins seemed to take to Taehyun a lot quicker than you and Soobin had anticipated. Even though the boys looked like you, looked like Beomgyu… Taehyun and Beomgyu both had the eyes, the wide, beautiful, galaxy filled, warm brown eyes. And, so did your twins.

After your mother assumed she knew who really fathered the twins, when up until that day she had seemed to believe you when you told her it was Soobin, you knew you needed a definite answer, one on paper. If not for your own confirmation, but for her. To tell her you didn’t have Taehyun’s children while he was married to another woman with two kids of their own. To not give her the satisfaction of being right, like she always wanted to be.

The kids weren’t his, and though you never spoke to her about it after, the need to prove your mother wrong persisted.

It sucked admitting it to Taehyun. It was entirely humiliating to ask him to do what you needed him to do, but he obliged. Quietly, barely uttering any other sound, he understood, and he assured you that you had no reason to be ashamed. Even he was sure that the boys weren’t his, though his thoughts were somewhat swayed over the holiday weekend because of his step-mother.

That evening after spending an incredulous amount of time out with him, he accompanied you back home where he spent a few more hours with you, Soobin and the kids, Mina sitting on his lap while he filled out some paperwork and swabbed the inside of his cheek. His kids were with Sana, the two still sorting out custody and dealing with judges and court dates.

Within the single evening he spent with your family, Soobin’s opinion of Taehyun had changed entirely, and by the end of it all he even walked him out to his car, leaving him with information and details on how to handle his situation, details you couldn’t even begin to understand. Details you wondered if you’d ever have to deal with…

Sitting here on the floor of the house you grew up in, with your kids giggling up a storm, and a piece of paper folded up in your back pocket, those same thoughts still lived in your mind. Custody, judges, court. A month later and he was still living it. Sana was relentless, she’d never give up.

Especially since over lunch that day Taehyun had told you that she’d found out about you. All of you. The time you shared. All of it, and that she had known for a long time, before divorce was even an option. Aside from the love affair you shared for half of your life, he very blatantly had cheated on her and had been content getting away with it until he grew the balls to file. It went without saying that Sana was pretty content with him getting away with it as well, as long as Taehyun kept bringing home the paychecks.

Now that they were divorced, and she was only getting a still decently sized cut for child support, she had the ability to keep the kids away from him, possibly for a very long time since she knows he’s currently fighting to stay sober. Another reason tacked onto the never ending reasons to despise Sana list.

Leaning backward, toppling onto your thighs, Wonwoo smiled up at you and cooed, his tiny hands reaching upward. Folding in half, covering him completely, you smother his cheeks with kisses and giggle along with him, the sound echoing through the room over the music. One of the twins whipped around, Chan, and dropped to his knees between your legs, one of his joints landing straight on top of your own.

Your gasp of pain, which was really just a reaction to the collision, and the way you gripped your knee over your jeans made Chan freeze for only a moment. Placing a hand over yours he scooted closer to you.

“Sorry, Mama,” he said, studying your expression, searching for the right answer. It was an accident, truly. He knew this, you knew this. Over the last few months however, these accidents have been more frequent. Keeping track of them all, keeping in mind that he was only a five year old boy, the moments of outbursts, tantrums, and accidents like this- happening to more than just you- have been too many to count.

His brown eyes, wide, waiting for you to say something, they made you gulp. Pulling Wonwoo into your arms, situating him over your left side, you nodded at your son and took his hand into your own. “It’s okay, it was an accident, right?”

“Right,” Chan said, his gaze traveling to his brother on your hip chewing on his fingers. “Can Wonwoo play?” He bounced on his knees, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was too long, he needed it cut, both twins did. The usually straight, thick dark locks were nearing their shoulders, edging the base of their neck. The longer their hair got, and the older they grew, the more it seemed to wave at the ends. Covering their ears, bangs teasing their lashes… You didn’t have the heart to cut it off.

You hadn’t seen him in years, and yet here he was, sitting in front of you.

“Wonwoo can’t play right now,” you said, tucking some of Chan's hair behind his ear, smiling as he shied under your touch.

Scooching closer to you he sat on your other thigh, cradling his chin in his hands as he watched his little brother. “Why?”

“Because he’s getting sleepy, it’s almost time for him to go to bed.” From your left you could feel Taehyun’s eyes on you.

Chan stared at the baby. His gaze unresponsive for all of two seconds. “But he can play at home?”

You gave him a smile, placing a hand gently on his back. “He can play at home, you do big kid things here, he isn’t a big kid yet. At home Daddy and Mama can watch you with him, but there’s so much going on here.” Your five year old thought to himself, still eyeing Wonwoo content on your side, not an ounce of eye contact made before he spoke again.

“But, why?”

“Hey, Chan,” Taehyun’s clear, deep voice called over to your son, his little head lifting to look over at his uncle sitting criss-cross on the carpet. “C’mere.” He waved a hand toward himself, Chan leaping off of your leg with a shout, running toward him.

Groaning, you started, “Tae, hold out your-”

But, your warning was cut short with another shout, a high pitched shriek startling Wonwoo. Chan jumped onto Taehyun, and, maybe it was dad reflexes, but he caught him. Pulling him into his chest, holding him tight, rocking him back and forth as they laughed, your step-brother shot you a look over the little one's shoulder.

“Hey, I want to play!” With folded arms Sunoo watched his brother and uncle. The smallest pout was forming on his lips. Taehyun smiled at him and waved another hand, shifting Chan over to one side, catching Sunoo with his other side as the child launched himself at him. Between laughing fits, you caught Taehyun’s eye once more, the two of you sharing a smile.

“Minnie?” Taehyun questioned, glancing at his son who watched him as well, entertained by the children attempting to tackle his father to the ground. “Wanna take your cousins upstairs?”

Minho leapt to his feet and sighed, but not with discontent, with preparation for what he was signing himself up for. Taehyun nodded toward him, then with both hands grabbed the collars of the twins' shirts and peeled them off of him. The boys, finding it funnier than anything else in the world, tossed out their little hands trying to either hit Taehyun or grab onto him.

“Minho wants to show you guys something,” he said, dodging flying hands.

“Boys, we don’t hit,” you spoke up, moving onto your knees, keeping Wonwoo on your hip. Neither twin spared you a moment. “Boys!”

“Go upstairs with him, he has something fun-”

Chan made contact with Taehyun's cheek, his palm no bigger than half the surface he’d hit. It wasn’t hard, he didn’t hurt him, but he still hit him. Sunoo was the only one to react to the sound, until their father set foot in the room, their little sister propped on his hip.

“Choi Chan!” The sound of Soobin’s raised voice spun them both right around. Taehyun dropped his hands and pulled them into his lap, sending a look your way. Your eyes apologized to him, for the smack and for what was about to happen. These moments of parenting, of reprimanding, of learning, they were becoming a wildcard, so much so that even Soobin was having a hard time figuring out how to deal with them.

A shit eating grin lived on Chan’s face as he gazed up at his father, one incredibly jarring the first time it made an appearance. Gripping the denim of his jeans, Chan bounced his knees and let out the quietest laugh. Sunoo beside him, the complete opposite.

It would be one thing if both twins were the same, if they both acted the same, and though sometimes they do, in moments like these their ways were completely different, making the parenting, the learning, so much harder.

“I don’t think anyone here found that funny,” Soobin said, his voice returning to a normal volume. Taehyun reached over to the record player, turning the volume down. The movement caught Chan’s attention. “Look at me, please.”

Sunoo was a rock, his brown eyes glued to his father. Chan however, watched Taehyun sit back in his place, and then he bounced on his toes and tried to walk back over to him. Reaching in front of you, you were able to grab onto his wrist and maneuver him back, keeping him where he needed to be. The five year old looked at you, whined, then turned back to Soobin. On his hip in a fuzzy blue footed onesie, Mina pointed at Taehyun and smiled, flashing her gappy little teeth. Her uncle pointed back to her and grinned, subsequently making Chan try to turn again.

“Chan, we don’t hit.” Soobin hadn’t moved an inch.

Your son wriggled his wrist out of your hold. “It was a accident,” he said, looking at you, then Soobin. “A accident.”

“I know you were playing,” Soobin said. “But, I saw you trying to hit Uncle Tae, and then you did.”

Chan clenched his hands into fists and stomped a foot on the ground. Covering one of Wonwoo’s ears you pressed his other against your chest, holding his head there. Even Sunoo knew what was coming after the stamp, he covered his own ears.

“ACCIDENT!” Chan screamed, covering his eyes with his hands, the tears following soon after.

Trying to take one of his hands again, he swatted you away and fell onto his knees. Sighing, Soobin put Mina on her feet and she toddled over to Taehyun, falling into his lap. Your girl wrapped both hands around one of his fingers.

“Soobin, he’s very tired,” you said to your husband quietly as he approached the fallen twin, brushing a hand gently over the hair of Sunoo still standing, hands clamped to his ears. “We’ve been here all day, no nap. That makes it worse.”

Looking at you he crouched down, laying a hand over Chan’s back. He knew what little sleep did to the boys, how it affected their behavior, they were kids. When kids were tired, exhausted even, they tended to misbehave, or throw tantrums such as this one. Chan was different. This type of tantrum happened no matter how tired he was.

Making choices as a parent was possibly the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do in life thus far. Each decision impacted your kids and had an effect on their future and the people they’d grow up to be. With Chan folded over on the floor sobbing into his hands, you weren’t sure whether to let him cry or try to get him to stand back up. Half of you wanted to pick him up and tell him it was okay, just to keep him from feeling upset, but then the other was telling you that there were consequences to his actions and he needed to learn from them.

You know, so he didn’t grow up to be someone who punched holes into walls.

Even then, with how differently his brain worked from other children, how exactly were you supposed to do that?

“Chan, when you’re ready to talk to us we’re right here.” Soobin leveled his eyes on his son, tracing a reassuring circle over his back. At a loss, feeling your own tears seconds away from spilling, you trained your gaze on your husband and took a deep breath.

His calm, gentle giant-ness was how. He was how you’d make it through, he was how you’ve made it through the last six years. He’d be able to get you through many more.

Behind the twins Minho had snuck over to Taehyun, sitting beside his father and Mina, keeping the two year old occupied. Taehyun bounced her on his knee as she traced Minho’s features with a single finger, her cousin leaning into her with pouted lips. The little girl had such an attention to details even at her small age. You were certain she’d grow up to be as smart as her father.

“Everything okay in here? Where’d my granddaughter go?” Your mothers voice was heard before she was spotted. Soobin, closing his eyes, took a short breath, and you and Taehyun seemed to do the same. Your step-brother held in his laugh, catching a glimpse of Soobin’s dismay.

Turning into the living room with her husband close behind, Joy, dressed in a strapless black jumpsuit that bunched at her ankles, leaving room for her strappy black heels to be tied there, looked over the scene on her floor, then tossed her hands out at her side.

“We’re good, Mom,” you said, grilling her from where you sat. Her tendency to get involved with parenting your children happened more often than the tantrums from the boys. She never had the chance to do it with Taehyun’s kids, so you took the brunt of it all. Another reason to be jealous of Sana.

Jin placed a hand to Joys shoulder and smiled at you, the man knowing how his wife would act. “Let them do their thing.” Joy gasped and whipped around to tap him on the chest of his blue polo.

“Mom,” you sighed, finding that Sunoo was watching them, seeing his grandmother hit his grandfather right after the start of a no-hitting lecture. Joy whirled back around with wide eyes.

“What!” Her laugh made both Taehyun and Minho cringe.

“Just… please, don’t,” you said. Seeming to catch on after scanning the room, Joy pressed her glossy lips together and cocked her chin back. Her eyes landed on the twins, scoped over Soobin’s back, took Taehyun in for a few seconds before she glared at you. For a second her lips parted and your heart sunk through the million dollar floor. “Don’t,” you spat, quickly.

“I’m bringing out the cake,” she muttered, then spun on her toes and led Jin into the kitchen.

At the mention of dessert, Chan poked his head up, his crying having ceased a few moments ago. Sunoo removed his hands from his ears and tilted his head to check on his brother, crouching down like Soobin was. The boy would always try to mirror him.

Subsequently, they both spoke to Chan at once, saying, “Feel better?”

Soobin withheld a smile, but glanced at you before taking his hands around the boy's torso, tugging him onto his lap. Chan curled up, slinging an arm around Soobin’s waist.

“Are you ready to talk?” Soobin asked. Hesitating, it took Chan a few seconds to answer with a head nod. “Can you say the word, please?”

Chan took a breath. “Yes,” he said, voice wobbly.

“It’s okay to be upset,” Soobin kept his focus down, his full attention on his son, no matter how many other people sat in this room. “You’re feeling some really big emotions and I know they’re hard for you to understand right now. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Chan whispered. His eyes found his twin.

“Are you able to tell me what you’re feeling? Can you name your feeling?”

Sunoo said, “Sadness.”

“Sunoo, let Chan answer, okay?” You popped in momentarily, giving the boy a small smile. “That was a really good answer, but let’s hear what your brother wants to name it.”

Soobin didn’t look away from the boy in his arms, not until Chan mumbled, “Anger.”

“Thank you,” Soobin said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You’re feeling red, and like you want to yell?” Chan answered with a nod that Soobin allowed. “What happened to make you feel that way?”

Your son hesitated again, this time shrugging his shoulders, mumbling, “I dunno.” Waiting for anything else to come out, Soobin shut his eyes after Chan said, “Because of Daddy.”

“Because I told you not to hit?”

Another nod.

Soobin took a deep breath. “What do you think Daddy felt when he saw you hit Uncle Taehyun? When you know you aren’t supposed to be doing that?” Chan hid his face, muttering something only for Soobin to hear. “Sadness and Anger? Blue and red? How come?” Inaudible mumbles came from your boy. “Right, it’s not okay to hit somebody, and it makes Mama and Daddy upset when you do.” Unburying his face, Chan sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Sunoo put a hand on one of his brother's knees. “I felt Sadness.”

“When I hit?” Chan asked him, and Sunoo bobbed his head. “I am sorry.”

Soobin nudged the boys back. “Go tell who you need to tell.”

Rising to his feet, sniffly as ever, Chan took his time approaching Taehyun’s side, putting a hand gently to his shoulder. Eyes darting around like mad, your son pushed out a quick, “I am sorry I hit you,” and then took two steps backward.

Taehyun, new to the whole idea of how you parent your children, gave Chan a small smile and bowed his head. Chan put his hands over his chest and tilted his head.

“Uncle Taehyun, you say that it’s okay,” Sunoo said, standing to his feet.

Soobin took Sunoo by the hand and shook his head. “Sometimes it doesn’t work that way,” he started, and both twins eyed him curiously, this being the first they’ve heard of the concept. “Sometimes… When we hurt people it affects them, and even though sometimes we say sorry, it doesn’t take away from the fact that we’ve hurt them. Some people will accept your apology, and some people won’t.”

“What if somebody hurts you and they don’t say sorry?” Sunoo asked.

Taehyun met your glance, the power within it blazing hot.

Soobin thought to himself, carefully reading the room, analyzing every energy, old and new. “Then, you have to learn to forgive them yourself, and move on, to heal. Otherwise, you’re stuck with a wound,” he scrunched his nose, “an ouchie, that can hold you back from great things.”

Chan faced Taehyun, his uncle ripping his eyes away from you to look up at him. “Do you accept my… Apology?” The five year old sounded out the word, bobbing his head as he did.

Taehyun seemed to study him, your boy with fluffy hair and sappy eyes. He was about to smile, you could see it ghosting his lips, but he waited, his mouth slightly pulling downward as your boy waited with a patience unknown to his begetter.

He could see him.

“I… I do.” Taehyun’s voice was so low it was almost a whisper. “I accept your apology.” He finally smiled, shifting his eyes to you before looking down at Mina gazing up at him.

“She thinks you are pretty,” Sunoo said, getting a laugh out of you, your step-brother and his son. Mina had a habit of staring at things, whether they be right in front of her, on a screen, if she found them enticing.

Soobin let out a harsh, breathy laugh, then stood up with, “No thank you, Sunoo.”

Darting his eyes to Soobin, Taehyun wore a cautious smile, one that grew into fruition, spreading across his cheeks as your husband smiled back, in understanding, a sight you’d never thought you’d live to see.

“Come on,” Soobin held his arms open for Mina who wobbled to her feet and rushed into his fathers hold. The twins stood on alert, eyes full of respect for their father. Once Mina was situated on a hip, her hands grabbing onto Soobin’s t-shirt, he bounced her once and said, “Let’s go sing Happy Birthday to Uncle Tae.”

About an hour after the kids climbed onto Taehyun somehow, scream-sang their birthday song to him, blew out his birthday candles, you found yourself standing around the kitchen island with Soobin and Taehyun. Wonwoo sat on the edge of the counter in front of Soobin, your husband's hands holding his waist while the little one kicked his legs and learned to hold his balance on his own. The other four took off to the second floor, most likely messing with whatever they could find in yours and Taehyun’s old bedrooms.

Jin and Joy were up there with them now, your mother with Mina attached to her hip thankfully, you and Soobin both knowing your two year old would not be left unsupervised with any of the boys. As much as they were airheaded parents, they sure were wonderful grandparents, ever since Rose was born. Even before she was born. Even now that she’s missing her own fathers birthday celebration with his side of the family, cooped up with Sana somewhere down in Avida. They loved her. They loved them all.

Squishing leftover icing on a small ceramic plate on the counter you all stood around, you eyed Taehyun and his full-of-life grin while he spoke with Soobin about Minho and the stuff he’s currently dealing with in school, how fourth grade seemed to be much harder now than it was when the three of you were in elementary school. His eyes sparkled, his eyebrows moved with a calculated ferocity. He was present. He was here, in the room with you, fully.

“Can’t believe you’re thirty-three,” you said once their conversation died down. Taehyun blew a raspberry on his lips and Wonwoo’s head whipped toward him.

“You’re not far behind.” Raising a brow he shot you a look before poking your son's cheek, getting a smile from the little one.

Smiling at him, you said, “No, I’m not, but at least I’m the last one to get there.” Soobin huffed a laugh, shaking his head. He hit thirty-three first, back in December.

Taehyun gripped the edge of the counter with two hands and cocked his chin backward, in thought, like he was struck with the same realization you were. By the first of April you’d be thirty-three, a while away from the beginning of February, Taehyun’s actual birthday happening last weekend. There was someone meant to fall between you two. The thirteenth of March, the date he’d reach thirty-three, joining Taehyun, leaving you behind.

Soobin’s voice broke through the comfortable silence. “Taehyun, when was the last time you spoke to him?” It was gentle, the question asked in the softest way possible, Soobin’s volume staying within the three feet of space you shared.

Air was knocked from your lungs at the sudden inquiry, not that Soobin never spoke of it before. The two of you planned to ask him, but you weren’t prepared for it to come from your husband's mouth. With one of Wonwoo’s hands wrapped around his finger, Soobin looked at Taehyun with a confidence, one that he’s worn in his eyes since the day he asked you to marry him. One you used to wonder if it was fueled by anything other than pure love.

Taehyun took a long, deep breath, his eyes dancing all over the kitchen. They landed on you for only a second, your own begging him to tell you, to speak to you, to speak to Soobin. It was common for him to shove everything into a box at this point, swallow the pain away, act as if it didn’t have any effect over him.

But, that was the old Taehyun.

He gulped, sinking into himself for a moment, somehow talking himself out of the hole he was ready to burrow under.

“On my birthday.”

You didn’t mean for your sigh to be as heavy as it was, but it made him close his eyes. “That’s last week.”

He nodded, opening his eyes a bit to stare at the marble under his fingers. “Yeah, he… He called me. But, before then I hadn’t really spoken to him since before Christmas.” He hesitated before adding, “Was nice to hear his voice.”

Clenching your fingers into fists, you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down hard. Across the counter from you Soobin gave you a look so intense it had the power to calm you down without saying a word. With a tiny nod toward your step-brother, Soobin encouraged you to ask him what you needed to ask, tell him what you needed to know.

“Tae,” you started, voice the smallest it’s ever been. He couldn’t look at you, but he tried. “We… we tried calling him. After you came over that night. Well, it took two days for me to grow the balls to do it.” Soobin nodded along as you spoke, eyebrows pulled to the center of his forehead, feeling everything you were feeling. “We don’t know if he has a new number, or if he was just… busy, because…”

Soobin tilted his head, stretching his free hand across the marble, barely reaching you. Intaking a shaky breath, finding Taehyun's full attention over you, you whispered, “Because I haven’t spoken to him in five years.”

“I know,” Taehyun’s voice was as loud as yours, a whisper, a secret to keep.

“We had a night, after processing a lot,” you nodded with Soobin, the two of you remembering the two days after your outing with your step-brother and how hard it was reliving everything. “And, we decided-”

“You decided,” Soobin cut in for only a moment, always telling you that it would be your choice whether or not to move forward with anything. He’d never let you forget that.

“I decided,” you looked back at Taehyun, “That I… Maybe felt ready to just… contact him and see what happened. Catch up for a second. Check in.”

Whatever emotion struck him across the face was unreadable. “He’s not… No, he can’t. You can’t.” Silence fell. Nobody moved, not even Wonwoo.

Years ago you’d have shouted at him to tell you more, to keep going, to not bottle everything up and keep it to himself. It was the most exhausting way to live, to have nothing but half assed explanations and lazy reasons as to why things were the way that they were. It was his coping mechanism, you’ve learned. He despised confrontation, he’d do anything to avoid being completely honest, because everything hurt him as much as it hurt you.

Now, two grown adults who were no longer sloppy children, you didn’t want to shout. You didn’t want to fight. You also didn’t want to push him away, knowing that if you ever did you’d be putting him back in that horrible place he fought so hard to get out of. So, you waited, for as long as he needed.

And, after a few minutes, Taehyun said, “He doesn’t use his phone, but he has the same number. It’s with Jungkook, all of his stuff is. Up in Soro, he still lives there with Chaeyoung and Tzuyu.”

“Jungkook does,” you clarified, and he nodded.

“You don’t know anything that’s happened, do you?” His question struck your heart. A sharp, twisting pain you haven’t felt since your twins were born.

Reaching a hand into your back pocket you slid the piece of paper out and unfolded it with shaking hands. Laying it flat on the marble you pointed to a 0% beside the words probable paternity. Taehyun swallowed hard, touching the edge of the paper, sliding it closer to him.

“I know one thing that’s happened,” you said. “And so do you.” He gave you a look, your stomach twisting in knots at the teal-green emotion within his eyes your kids would be able to name. “Thought this would be a nice birthday present.” He attempted to wipe the look off his face, but he was unsuccessful. “Now we know for sure, and if Joy has some shit to say we have proof.”

Soobin didn’t bother to clock your bad word. Not right now.

“Taehyun,” you whispered, eyes darting back and forth between his beautiful brown gaze. “Where is he?”

10/7/2023

…I don’t know why it’s so scary when the scariest part of my life so far has been becoming your dad. Knowing that I was struggling, knowing that I was so unhappy, it was what I had to do. She needed to go back, I know that. There wasn’t anything left for her here, nothing I could give her so she could live her best life. That’s why I admire him so much. Soobin. That’s a good man. That’s the man you need to grow up to be. To step up when a loser rolls over and runs away. To love someone unconditionally. To protect the person you love. It’s something I could never do, I just brought harm. I brought pain, and even when I had the chance to do something about it… I ran away. I don’t want to blame my brain for it, I really don’t, always hated doing that ‘cause it’s not an excuse, but… It’s my life. I know what I’m like, even though I'm not always there. My brother always told me I was really good at being self-aware and suffering because of it. So here I am. Suffering because of it. I’m not saying any of this for pity, because trust me it feels wrong to be writing any of this down. Self-aware. I’m saying this so you know the truth. So you know who I am, who your dad was. In case anything happens, in case I don’t ever get to meet you. I love you both, and I love your mom. I love her so much. Listen to her, listen to Soobin. Take after him, take after the good men in your life. Grow up strong, and smart, and kind hearted. Love your friends, love your family, love yourselves. Do good things, be good. I want nothing more than for you to have the most wonderful life…

☼ AO3 | wattpad | support | share with me ☼

thank you so much for reading. <3

#txt fanfic #tomorrow x together smut #tomorrow x together angst #txt angst #txt smut #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #soobin x you #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n #soobin fic #soobin angst #soobin fluff #nmwid #cruel summer #taehyun angst #taehyun x you #taehyun x reader

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illegally-blind-and-deaf · 1 year ago

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GUYS GUYS I HAVE A HEADCANNON ON HOW TINTIN'S HAIR WORKS

OKAY

So he has his quiff, right? And obviously it naturally stands up because we see him get wet, then when it dries it's back sticking up all over the place.

But how???? Unless my man has ridiculous volume (which makes zero sense) then there must be something going on.

We're also going to ignore that he's a comic book character who gets about 70000 head injuries and has no brain damage, but anyway that's not the point.

Firstly: what is his haircut?

The movie honestly has the best answer for this:

Short on the sides, longer on top, then slightly shorter right at the front. That's important. Remember that.

This lines up with the general male haircut of the time (30s-50s with slight variation with each decade):

(Leftie even has a quiff too!)

So, the actual haircut makes sense, but the question of the quiff still remains. I've been thinking about this a lot, when I was at church and I noticed the 9-year-old boy in front of me had provided the perfect answer. On the back of our heads, we have the spirally bits called the crown. When the hair is cut too short there, it sticks up.

(This is obviously a fake man made one, but it demonstrates lind of what the hair does. If you've seen it before, you know what I mean.)

"But Bea," you say, "crowns are at the back of the head." To which you are very correct...

Unless you are me.

I have a very, VERY funky phenomenon called a double crown. That's rare, but the positioning of my crowns are even rarer. One is at the back of my head, and the other is right at the front of my head, say... where Tintin's quiff is. Can you see where I'm going?

For this, we shall take a plunge into my camera roll to when I had a pixie cut.

You can see that in the centre of my hairline, my hair sticks up before swooping back down. Part of that is curly hair, but my hair isn't curly any more and it still does that, so, I'm blaming it on the crown.

(Also I have a very similar hairline to Tintin's, though his has a bit more of a peak in the middle. So it's entirely possible that he doesn't jave a receding hairline and just has a big forehead, but that's another conversation I'm not going to get into because why do that when you can bully him amiright-)

So basically what I'm saying is that Tintin's hair sticks up because of a funky crown situation.

Now, how does he get it neatly sticking up and not everywhere?

...

*insert sketch of Tintin with a hair curler chilling in his hair because I can't draw*

Or a hair dryer.

Eventually your hair just sticks back to place, so it probably got to a point where he would wet his hair, stick it up in a little point and it would dry in place.

...

Yes I need help. I know. But hey! Food for thought.

#tintin #Tintin's hair #i have many thoughts #teehee #les adventures de tintin #the adventures of tintin #description in alt text

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not-goldy · 3 months ago

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My heart hurts to hear about your ex. I too gave to the point of feeling depleted, used and empty . I was always the sibling that organized family dinners for family birthdays, special holidays and celebrations. I organized the gifts, using my money to float my brothers & sisters, left often with one of them not paying me back. No big deal I’d think to myself, the important thing was my loved one was happy.

My ex husband was lazy in our relationship, leaving me to organize & buy & ship Christmas gifts to his family out of town, do all the Christmas shopping and wrapping, baking, cooking while raising two kids & working full time in a high stress management position.

I fulfilled every role possible while working full time: wife, mother, maid, nurse, accountant, party planner, yard keeper, cook, therapist and was even scheduling my husband’s haircuts & dental appointments. He was “too busy” and his complaining was so irritating I would simply do it myself.

It was the loss of my health & therapy for my anxiety and depression that I discovered why I was the giver in the relationship, the hand to hold & the one to count on.

I discovered it had to do with my upbringing. My bio brother was angry and resentful after my parents divorce so if I wanted things done, I did it myself. He’d sign his name to the card for the gift I’d purchase & I’d clean the house & do the cooking for birthdays. My single mother would be too exhausted after working 50+ hours a week to support us after my father left when I was 6, my brother 9.

After my monumental effort I was praised, complimented on my thoughtfulness. This feeling of appreciation became addictive and honestly the only time my mother would pay any attention to me. She suffered from depression, low self esteem stemming from my father’s affairs. He ended up getting a single mother with two young sons pregnant and she stuck her claws in, refusing to let go.

After years of my father not coming home at nights he left one day for good. At age 10. I received a phone call from my father I had a sister. I didn’t even know she was pregnant, his visits to see my brother and I were so infrequent we hardly got passed the 20 questions about our school work and were regularly reprimanded for not helping our mother out enough. My mother liked her role as the victim so us kids often filled the role of therapist, best friend and cheerleader when she got really low. The list of chores seemed endless, often cutting into time we should have spent on homework, leaving us to finish late into the evenings or getting up 2 hours early before school. It wasn’t a perfect life but I was happy.

I continued my role of giver, never receiver in my friendships and early relationships. It was who I was, or so I thought.

After years of living in a loveless marriage we divorced, the Catholic Church be damned and I found myself on my own for the first time in many years. I had no interests, no hobbies, no passion. With two grown children with spouses of their own our group dinners moved to restaurants. I couldn’t over extend myself with family dinners, special celebrations with their busy schedules. Out of loneliness I adopted a dog. This eventually led me to volunteering for search and rescue with my canine companion & opened up a whole world of scentwork & tracking.

I became fast friends with one of the instructors and our relationship quickly progressed.

She’s incredibly talented, smart and a take no bullshit, potty mouthed, ball busting bitch. I’d die for her, I love her that much. When I get caught into my family’s drama or they pull their manipulative crap about staying at our place for a vacation, she’s there to help reel me in from over extending myself. It doesn’t happen often, I’m usually fine with setting my boundaries but the occasional weak moment slips through.

I’m still that ride or die friend, considerate and helpful sibling, daughter. I contribute to a point, never more, never less than my siblings. It was a bumpy transition, I won’t lie. My first relationship after my divorce left me resentful and bitter but it was an excellent lesson. People will take as much as you have to offer. They aren’t bad people, simply used to being receivers, telling themselves I am happy when they’re happy, which is true but only to a point. Then come to rely on us, count on us because let’s face it, we’re pretty fucking incredible.

I needed to learn to give less, limiting my time & energy to doing something fulfilling for myself. It happens to be volunteering, which one can argue that I haven’t grown, just simply giving in another way. The difference? This brings me satisfaction & happiness. I’ve improved my searching & tracking skills with my dog which boosts self esteem. The rewards are huge, a child or elderly person with dementia is found. I can rest in the knowledge that my time & energy were well spent. These people needed our team, deserved our help.

I’m not saying this is what your situation is. I am sharing my experiences in case you recognize yourself in some part. My suggestion to anyone who’s the giver in a relationship is to begin giving to yourself. Discover something new about yourself, treat yourself as you have others. Invest some time and energy in making yourself happy. We will always be givers, it’s who we are whether nature or nurture, we’re pretty much who we’re always going to be. Hopefully you’ll find something that reciprocates your energy, whether it be a person or hobby. You deserve to be happy & loved.

With appreciation for your blog & your honesty,

Carolyn

The burn out is real!!!

Thanks for sharing Carolyn.

I've been on here for quite a while and only know a handful of people by name. It's why I used to tag my posts with my name as a reminder to myself and others I'm a person. I am touched Carolyn. I used to read a lot of your messages and laugh my heart out and at a point I was always looking forward to your post till my dms became overwhelming. It felt as if everyone wanted my attention and as you mentioned I'm just drained and exhausted burnt out from giving to others even if it's something as inconsequential as my attention.

That's when I noticed things were that bad between us. I loved her so much and experienced so much anxiety when we had our last fight. Our moots tried to reconcile us and I was so looking forward to rekindling the relationship but I just couldn't bring myself to go in for more neglect stonewalling closed off communication constantly downplaying the impact of her actions on the relationship, playing the victim never apologizing first when they was wrong reducing every argument into whose right or wrong never being as thoughtful making me feeling lonely emotionally exhausted mentally traumatized and drained dealing with her baggage - so your story resonates.

I miss her and wanted her back but I just can't do this anymore not when I feel like myself again without her. It's quiet and peaceful and my brain doesn't feel like someone is pointing a sun death ray at it 247.

And I don't know why our moots keep sending my posts to her. She called and texted and said she was sorry she didn't know I felt that way at all.

I'm losing my mind over here. I think she just has to face the fact she is not the good person she thinks she is.

Your story with your ex husband sounds similar to hers though..... Or may be I just have a type🥲

She was a divorcee with kids. Had a really toxic ex husband and as you mentioned she just had too much to deal with with her ex husband. I knew her before the divorce and though at the time she made me feel and think I was the one pursuing her, in hindsight I think she played me. constantly calling and crying and sharing her challenges in her marriage calling me over because she couldn't stand being alone in the house with her husband- come to think of it she should have called the police like what was I going to do? Yet like a fool I went anyway. I was even babysitting cooking for the kids picking them from school picking clothes for them- they was our kids😭😹

I admired her strength and her resilience and saw her as a mentor of a sort because she had it all from my POV.

Before her divorce she would always use her kids and her husband conveniently as the reason she couldn't give much to me and yet conveniently set them aside if she wanted something from me. She only cared about them when I wanted something from her and gave zero fucks about them when she wanted something from me. That should have been my first red sign.

For instance, when I was sick and wanted her to come visit or wanted to go visit she would say oh my husband is gonna be around or the kids need x or y and i gotta respect my family home so I can't be there for you right now.

Yet sis was fucking me in her husband's bed while the kids was downstairs and what not whenever SHE wanted some smeshy time😵‍💫

Saw her through her divorce tried to be her pillar and support so her world wouldn't fall apart, constantly encouraging her to go for the things she felt too intimidated to try changed jobs for her moved to a new city for her constantly putting her needs first and playing dumb and stupid killed my ego and pride so she could hold on to hers but when she couldn't even bring herself to say sorry to me when she hurt me that's when I knew. Sorry is care and love and she couldn't even do that for me.

Took me too long to realize the pattern but I'm glad I'm free of her- hope they send this too to her😚

Barbara, Carolyn, Gina- I never forget names. Thanks for that very human touch it made this all the more meaningful.

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littlegreenwyvy · 1 year ago

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Wear a fucking covid mask

Wear a mask Wear a facemask, when you're indoors

Wear a N95 face mask if you're gonna be in public

wear a face mask

Wear a mask if you're going out

I don't know how to explain to people -- my friends and coworkers and family and strangers and people who make important decisions and people just living their lives -- that you are the reason over a thousand people die every week.

You are the reason I cannot leave my house without risk

You are the reason I can't go to the movies or a bar or to get a haircut or a restaurant or the doctor or the dentist or the library or go to fucking WORK OR SCHOOL without coming to terms with there being a non-zero chance I will be dead within the month.

Just because somebody had a friend over who had a ''''cold'''' last week and I happened to sit next to them on the bus.

“Oh it's not that likely” “Oh it'll be mild” “Oh HEALTHY people don't get severe illnesses”

First of all: Wrong

Second of all:

I"M NOT HEALTHY PEOPLE; I'M DISABLED FROM FUCKING COVID

"Oh it's okay because only YOU will die, not us good and healthy people : )"

My favourite is all the excuses

“Oh things aren't that bad yet so I won't take the preventative measures”

"Well I already had it and it wasn't a big deal, so I'm not gonna bother"

"I'm not gonna live my life in fear"

“Well I don't have to anymore so I'm not going to”

You SHOULD HAVE TO

I know it's an unpopular opinion, but I genuinely think that you SHOULD have to wear a face mask and stay a meter apart and take a test before going somewhere. At least in a fucking HOSPITAL or something.

I shouldn't have to BRING MY OWN EXTRA FACE MASKS because my doctor DOESN'T FUCKING HAVE ANY IN THE FUCKING OFFICE

And then they give me the fucking look

That look they get in their eyes

From my fucking DOCTOR, who I go to for my CHRONIC ILLNESS, which I got FROM HAVING COVID.

I should be able to go to work or the library or just out in public without risking catching the fucking plague.

So to all people who choose not to wear a mask: I hate every single one of you. All of you who don't wear face masks indoors:

YOU are the reason for this.

Yes even my friends; I'm sorry but I am blaming you and guilting you about it. If we lived nearby I would not be able to hang out with you because you are unsafe for me to be around. And that is fucking HEARTBREAKING. My FRIENDS, who I LOVE DEARLY, and WANT to be around, and I fucking can't, because of decisions that YOU make. All those times we talk about 'oh if we met up' 'oh if you travelled here' I can't fucking TRAVEL are you NUTS?

Do you know how long you're supposed to isolate if you suspect you've been 'in contact' with someone who had covid? CDC says 10 days from when symptoms start. If you still have symptoms on day 11? Start another 10 days.

Do you know what 'in contact' means? Maybe you do maybe you don't; I had to look it up myself, but maybe it was communicated better in your area. If you've been in the same ROOM as someone for 15 minutes; up to 2 days before their symptoms STARTED (and of course while they are showing symptoms) and up to 10 days AFTER their symptoms began. That means if you know someone had covid last week? They're still potentially transmissible. A stranger in the waiting room at the doctor's office has a cough? Possibly covid. And you know the BEST PART? We have NO IDEA how many cases are asymptomatic. That means that ANYBODY in public could potentially transmit it to you. Lower estimates suggest in the single-digits to 10s of percent of covid cases are asymptomatic, while higher estimates say up to 50%. We just don't know! There's no way to because it's not monitored fucking AT ALL anymore!

Do you know what this means?

It means there is NO WAY of knowing what the risk is. It's a gamble, full-on. Even more so than ever before. And do you wanna know what? I wanna fucking live. The potential to lose my entire fucking life isn't worth it for just about anything, if I'm being honest. I've already been through that once. I had a career in music lined up. I was just about to finish my degree as a clarinetist. I was performing in orchestras as a soloist. And you know what happened? I got covid. Suddenly my lungs and my diaphragm don't work so well anymore. For two whole years I couldn't stand or sit upright for more than an hour at a time, or else I would pass out. Nowadays it's improved; it's not more than 4 hours at a time, and I only feel faint for a while before passing out.

But do you know what that means? It means I can't play clarinet anymore. Over a decade of schooling and practicing and mastering my craft: Gone in an instant. I'll never play again. I lost my entire future and my entire career, because I got covid in 2021, from people who had stopped wearing masks because 'covid was over'. They got it. I got it from them. They survived and are fine. I barely survived and I very much am NOT fine.

This is why I'm so reluctant to take any more risk. Even if I survive, what else will I lose?

My ability to taste or smell? My muscle control? Will my heart condition get worse? Will I never be able to think clearly again? I already can't. How much worse can it get?

Sources seem to say: Much worse

I can't stress this enough that I am LUCKY to be where I am now. I can't function if I don't get more than 10 hours of sleep. I have to take medications every day to SURVIVE. At the end of my work day I pass right out, and wake up just in time to get ready for the next day at work. I do not have a life anymore. And I'm LUCKY, because I RECOVERED. THIS is what 'recovery' looks like, from long covid. It may get better over the next few years. It also might not. It DEFINITELY won't if I get covid again.

If YOU don't care about that, or about how that could happen to you, then I will never willingly be around you. Again, this even goes to my dear friends.

Wear a face mask and STOP being the problem

#vent #covid

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dropbear-sims · 1 year ago

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Welcome to Mt. Cavaro! Pt. 1

This mountain plateau was once nothing but a small seasonal hunting town. Over the last 50 years however, developers took notice of the potential of this location and now, it is a bustling upcoming town. Families and sims have moved in droves to start business opportunities or to take advantage of those who are. Some however, are just enjoying the quiet scenic views and good people.

Simply explaining and showing the Community lots in each of my districts. Business, Entertainment & Residential. I will be showing the Families in Detail in Pt. 2

The Business District

Businesses:

Flast Luxury Dealership | The dealership for those who want to impress their neighbours. Fancy, reliable and with the Flast signature of quality. The Luxury Dealership is for those who only want the very best automotives.

'New You' Salon & Spa | The luxurious Salon & Spa on the edge of Byrn Street. Need a haircut? A new makeup look? A massage? Maybe you just want to spend some time relaxing in the sauna, It's here at the 'New You' Salon & Spa

Gemstone Gallery Jewellery | Need a gift for a lover? Want to buy yourself something nice? Gemstone Gallery has a wide selection of the top-quality jewellery, with options to fit any budget.

Great Times Party Supplies | Everything you need for your next big bash of a party! Weddings, birthdays or when the parents are out for the weekend!

Polar Caps Creamery | In need of a tasty cold treat on a hot day? Or a cold treat on a cold day? (We wont judge). Come down to Polar Caps to get a delicious gourmet icecream! Or serve yourself to a nice, overly processed soft serve!

Mt. Cavaro Real Estate | The main (and only) spot to purchase your new home in the lovely Mt. Cavaro. Owned by Mr. Rodney Flast, its where many suspect the majority of his fortune originated.

Mountain Rescue Pet Centre | A sanctuary for all pets in need of a loving home and Sims who need supplies for their furry friends! Opened and funded solely by Velma Aster.

Hobby Land | Muhammad and Siti Saad love their creative endeavours, and thought they should share that with the rest of Mt. Cavaro. There's a large variety of hobby items ready for purchase!

Health Plus Pharmacy | Dr. Sato's very own pharmacy that has everything you need for your ailments.

Flast Furniture | This massive warehouse holds every new and in-style piece of furniture you could ever want. Come take a stroll through our kitchen and bathroom sets, you'll leave wishing it was your home! Have a chat with our friendly staff and discuss possible home renovations.

Cavaro Family Grocery | A new development built by Ahan and Navya Bhatt, a massive gamble that paid off- its now the 'One Stop Shop' for all things your household needs regularly!… to the dismay of the local monopoly, Rodney Flast.

Speedway Motors | Ahan and Navya Bhatt's first dip into the world of business owning, buying an old rundown shed and turning it into a Car Dealership! It only has cheaper locomotives but they still run fine!… most of the time.

Spark Electronics | Need a Phone? Computer? Speaker? Spark Electronics has everything a Sim in need of a good electronic item!

'The Look' Clothing Superstore | The most popular department store for clothing in Mt. Cavaro! So popular it's run all of the small indie boutiques and rival brands out of town. I guess having great prices and a wide selection does that!

Reel N' Sons Fish Market | For the past 20 years the Reel family have been catching and selling their fresh fish here every Sunday.

Cavaro Natural Arrangements | A small shutdown florist that has been recently revamped by Velma Aster, her once buried love for plants and flowers reignited.

Bub N' Co Children's Superstore | The absolute hub for all essential baby, toddler and children's items. Everything you could need is right here!

Misc:

Community Lots that aren't a business inside the business district:

Cavaro Community Centre | The newly renovated community centre is now open! The once old and dingy town library is stocked with new books, a new computer lab has been opened and with government funding, the employment office has been revamped. All with a new cafeteria on the second floor!

Fit & Fast | Fit & Fast is the best spot to get your workout on! There's a wide variety of machines and amenities.

Cavaro Garden & Parklands | This quaint little park has a community garden run by the local gardening association, if you ever want to grab some delicious fresh veggies and fruit it's all completely free! Too the side theres also a quaint wedding area, the perfect setting to say 'I do'.

The Entertainment District

Activities:

The Colosseum Casino | Feeling lucky? The Colleseum Casino is for both the casual evening and the (habitual) high rollers, try a game of cards, or perhaps the slots?

Cavaro Performance Lounge | Think you've got the guts to go on stage? This cozy lounge is for anyone who wants to watch or be a local talent! No need to bring your own equipment, the lounge is already stocked with all instruments and microphones!

Valley Fine Dining | The Valley is newly revamped! Don't worry however, we still keep our 5 star rating for quality, cuisine and service! The dining spot for sims with cash to spare! I downloaded this lot from:

I changed quite a bit about this lot to make it fit the vibe and aesthetic of my hood, but this is a great remodel!

Cavaro National Museum | Have a love for history? Want a day out activity? The National Museum is full of historic relics from the past. Current open exhibits: Ancient Sculptures & Fossils

Cavaro National Gallery | An Extension of the National Museum, this location has Art Pieces from all over the globe, featuring some of the best and upcoming artists of the past 5 years!

Bowling Time! | Who doesn't love a game of bowling? This colourful alley is great for a night out or afterschool activity! Competitions each Sunday!

Boxing Roo | Go the Roos! Go the Roos! Want to have a drink, watch the game and show your sporting pride? Boxing Roo is a cozy little bar for all sport lovers!

Cavaro Community Pool | For all those hot summer days or practicing for that big competition coming up. Free entry on weekends and toddler swimming lessons available all week.

In Motion Dance Studio | Dance lessons on wednesday and thursday from 5pm. Recruitments for the dance troop on Saturday 10am. The best spot to practice or perfect your next routine.

Game On! Internet Cafe | Internet being shoddy? Want to group up with some friends, drink some coffee, eat snacks and play your favourite games? This is the place! PC's loaded with SSX3, The Sims: Bustin Out, FIFA 08 and Spore!

Film House Cinema | Watch the biggest current blockbusters on the big screen! Help yourself to the concessions (for a horribly expensive price) and relax in the comfy new recliner seats!

8-bit Arcade | Nerd sims unite! The best spot to play games until your curfew, all new arcade and pinball machines have been installed, all machines set to 1 simoleon!

District Basketball Court | The best spot to shoot some hoops and vs your friends.

The Hare's Foot | I wouldn't exactly call the Hare's Foot the fanciest (or cleanest) Bar in town. Happy hour is 8pm! Also… make sure to wipe down the photobooth seats before sitting.

Lil' Putter Minigolf | Wanna Impress 'The Boss'? Wanna 'impress' your friends? 6 Holes included each with their own theme and decor!

The Drip - Retro Beanclub | Are you an absolute coffee snob? An alternative music snob? Well The Drip is for 'real fans', no normies allowed! Now selling our own Beans!

Svensson Homestyle Bistro | Opened by Lars Svensson, this bistro is for all those casual nights out with the family or a modest meal with the one you love. Featuring homely recipes you'll remember without having ever tasted! 'Homestyle' is in the name!

The Rhythm - Disco Skating | The Rhytm is the best spot for a nice family activity, or a cute date idea. Listen to the 70's disco and skate away! New Skaters welcome aswell, classes each tuesday!

The Pink Flamingo | The Pink Flamingo is the hottest spot in Mt. Cavaro, new music, good drinks and open pretty much 24/7. If you want to dance and drink the night (or day) away, the pink flamingo is your spot.

Sky High Park | A VERY normal park… for very unsuspicious bubble blowing- Nothing else, juuuust "bubble blowing".

School of Art Creative Studio | Want to practice your creative skills with a bunch of like-minded sims? The SOA Creative Studio is the spot to be, there are pottery, music and painting classes!

Lasting Connections Courthouse | If the weather isn't on your side, or you just want an indoor wedding: the Lasting Connections Courthouse will be your first choice. Stocked with everything you need to throw an awesome wedding party.

Misc:

Community lots that aren't entertainment/activities in the Entertainment District:

Empty Lot | Simply an Empty lot I have no idea what to fill with, will put in something when I get an idea.

The Residential District

Cavaro Residential Sports Oval | Soccer games each Friday at 5pm! Ages 6+ teams available!

Lil' Ones Family Playground | Simply a small playground for children.

Misc Lots

(Lots that are not in any district)

Mt. Cavaro Fishing Club | The Mt. Cavaro Fishing Club has been around since this place was simply a small hunting town. There's also a cozy little campsite if you want to spend the night outdoors! Or a cabin if you do not.

'The Tip' | Simply the garbage tip for all of Cavaro. No trespassing!.. Unless you're good at tresspassing. (Who knows, there might be some good stuff to scavenge).

(I dont know why the ground is pink, it is normal grass lol)

Cavaro Memorial Cemetary | A place to remember the Sims of the past. You may not want to visit after dark, there have been rumors of people seeing the sims who should've been long gone. I downloaded this lot from:

I changed a few things, such as swapping out the trees and adding more pavement.

Apologies for not taking Screenshots of the exterior/Interior of each lot, I didn't want to bog down this post TO much (Even though I believe its already pretty beefy. I simply wanted to share what community lots are in my hood. I will be playing this town rotationally and posting what happens, if that interests you I'd love for you to follow this blog and join me on this journey :)

#sims 2 #sims 2 custom hood #sims 2 lots #sims 2 screenshots #sims 2 gameplay #sims 2 storytelling #sims 2 cc

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alphabetboyluvr · 2 years ago

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bad decisions - jjk | ten

When his story pops up—a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus—you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel. It's a simple message—Hey—and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later. JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure? You decide that "I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead" probably won't be Jungkook's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie. You: Just wondering how the kids are. Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jungkook. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days. JustJK: Missing their mother.

Bad Decision #10 - Blonde

warnings: b is in her bleach era. love that for her!! jaykay is in the chapter for like 1.5 seconds and still manages to be the best thing about it. also if u think wow holly sometimes your chapters end very similarly, uhhh yes. ur right. mainly because my brain is smooth but also because jungkook is a creature of habit! it's within his character traits! not because im stupid! even if i am!

soundtrack: space - audrey nuna; blonde - maisie peters

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

You suppose you really shouldn't be surprised when Seokjin leaves you on read. It happens as soon as he escapes the city, just like it always does.

It's always the same; he'll come back to town for a few days—to visit friends, his family, or maybe for a haircut with the only barber he trusts—then leaves just as quickly as he comes.

The predictability of it all would be funny, you think, but your knees are getting worn out from how many times you fall for it; his charm, his deception, his pretty lips that soothe the burn of his selfish choices.

He'll be radio silent for a while, and then suddenly, as if he's finally changed the batteries in his walkie-talkie, he won't be. It'll most likely be when he's on his way back to town in a few months time.

The saddest part is that you know you'll want to see him when he does. Will have the burning desire to show him just how well you've been; how well you've coped without him.

Most of all? You'll want him to know just how much you don't need him.

Inevitably, he'll end up in your bed, and you'll end up all in your head—again—overthinking and underestimating just how easy it is for him to drop you. Forgetting just how badly he fucked you up, only for him to remind you in the most callous of ways.

When Danbi comes home on Thursday night—three days since Seokjin's last message—she knows exactly what's happened. You've got a special kind of pout reserved for Seokjin-related upsets. It's always a little soft yet incredibly hard to break.

"You gotta stop letting him in," she says over a glass of red. She hates the taste, but loves the soft buzz in the pit of her stomach. Though she's much better suited to Moscato, Danbi will never turn her nose up at free wine.

If she knew why you were drinking it, she might consider rejecting it.

Seokjin's favourite. You'd bought it on the way home from work. Just couldn't help yourself.

Had figured that at least when you hugged yourself to sleep that evening, your lips would taste like his used to do, on the nights when he'd tell you that you're the most delightful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. Would be all giggly. Wine drunk. Happy. In love.

But it's been a while since he did that. Feels like a lifetime ago, now.

You shrug as you let the ruby-red liquid swirl in your glass. Fighting against your feelings feels like swimming against the tide.

Always struggling to breathe. Never winning. Failing. Falling.

"I don't know how to, Dan."

"But you do," she insists.

And she's right. Of course you do.

His number has never been blocked, but a simple restriction of access to you would solve so many of your problems.

Thing is, you kind of like him still being your problem. At least that way, on a technicality, he's still yours. Kind of.

Every time he comes back to the city, it's still your bed that he ends up in.

Never for the night. Just for an hour or two. Long enough for you to convince yourself that he can't stay away.

The lies you let your mind whisper are insidious. You're irresistible. He's still just as affected by you as you are by him. He can't possibly leave you.

And yet he does, each and every time.

He doesn't ever let you go. Not fully. Whenever you think you're getting over it, he shows up just to get you under him; his thumb, his spell, his body.

You're halfway through the bottle of wine when Danbi tells you once more that you need to get Seokjin out of your hair.

You've reached the end of it by the time you're grabbing your purse and heading for the closest Olive Young.

It's just down the street, by the crossroads that lead into town, and the staff there have seen you in worse states. A little tipsy has nothing on the mascara-stained eyes they used to be greeted with during the worst days of the breakup.

"Sure about this?" Danbi asks just to check before you take the boxes in your hands to the counter.

"Absolutely not, but he always hated me blonde," you grin a little sardonically. The happiness that comes with this change will be temporary, but you have to remind yourself that so was he. "At least even if I can't resist him, he'll resist me."

Peroxide and perhaps a little fried, your blonde hair had caught his attention in the early days - but you had dyed your hair dark in a bid to keep it.

He'd said some bullshit in a conversation amongst friends about his preferences, and how he favoured the 'natural look'. You weren't together at the time, not officially - but everyone there was a friend of his. They all knew you'd be going home with him. It only took two boxes of dye to get him asking to be exclusive. A week later he was introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend.

Funny what a little bit of conformity can do for a man who loves playing by the rules.

You assume his desire to tick the boxes and do what is expected of him is also why he was such a bellend when it came to the glitter you liked to dust yourself in.

Nobody's perfect though, so he was willing to overlook it. Was just one of the flaws he perceived in you. When you love someone, you accept them.

He ultimately never grew to love it, but for a while, you thought he might.

Bleach boxes in one hand, another bottle of wine in the other, you waste no time and head straight for the bathroom. Danbi follows you right in. She's always there to lend a hand or at least provide a Spotify playlist to get you through your woes.

Folding the powder into the developing lotion by the sink, you know your bleach-induced bathroom antics could get you a spot in a Brad Mondo video.

All a little haphazard, you're without a mixing bowl and brush, so are having to use an old takeout container and a plastic spoon, instead.

It's not quite how the instructions suggest you should mix it all up, but no good ever comes from following the rules.

You'd tried for Seokjin, and look where that got you.

Unlike him, trusty Tupperware has never done you dirty before. No reason why it should now.

Danbi sits on the closed toilet seat, legs crossed, a small bottle of bubbles in her hand. The bubbles had been a Christmas party favour from the office job she'd quit four months ago. Rediscovered when she'd been cleaning her room earlier that day, Danbi had taken to blowing pretty little bubble flurries your way all afternoon.

Your reflection is captured in the peacock sheen of the bubbles while you study your rapidly developing hair in the mirror.

You haven't bothered to change out of your shirt. It's not yours. One of Seokjin's. It's navy, and you hope the bleach ruins it.

"I think I've fucked up," you say all rather calmy, talking about your hair and not the shirt. It's not the end of the world if you have. Just hair, you always think.

Danbi shrugs. Has clearly spent too much time in your company, because she echoes exactly what you're thinking: "Just hair, babe. It'll grow."

That's the joy of your friendship; you both encourage each other with the same dumb remarks whenever you feel like you've reached the point of no return.

After all, if you can't go back?

Go forward.

"Plus," she adds, blowing more bubbles instead of taking a breath. "You can just chalk it up to being your hot mess era."

"Been in that for months already," you smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. You prod a little at your roots, and know that you definitely should have waited a little longer to work the bleach up to them. Bollocks.

You've done this enough times to know you'll end up with a gold band haloing around the top of your hair thanks to how easily your roots always lift. Nightmare.

"Exactly, so you may as well look the part," Danbi encourages. Worst influence going, she is. Also the best at times, too. You find comfort in the fact she won't always say what you want to hear, but what you need to hear instead.

The conversation dissolves into empty chatter, gossip about Danbi's dog walking clients, mentions of Taehyung and how he's still trying to talk her into a mates-rates discount despite the fact they aren't actually 'mates'. She asked you about your Bartender That Smiles, and you say he's all good - before you have to insist there's nothing going on there.

"He's got issues with his ex," you explain.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't they all? Boys and their first loves, I swear to God."

"Not sure she was his first," you defend, though you're not sure why. The thought lingers as you rummage around for an old tube of toner that you know you have hiding in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. It's been a while since your hair was pale enough to take toner, so it's been pushed right to the back.

Danbi is shooed from her perch on the toilet seat and into the living room as you let the shower run to heat it a little.

The first crash of water against your skin is lukewarm. Tepid. Unappealing, but necessary.

You hate anything other than boiling-you-alive degrees celsius, but know you need to be kind to your hair after the torture you've put it through. The water runs cloudy until the bleach is rinsed out, and then it runs purple thanks to your silver shampoo. It pools around your feet and seeps into the drain. Wishful thinking has you hoping memories of Seokjin will do just the same.

It's just to preemptively tone it, but you can't help but worry about the pigment taking too strongly on your roots.

The ash toner you found in the cupboard is in a box by the sink. You plan on putting that over the top of whatever mess your hair is anyway, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start on the process.

The water glistens a deep violet, briefly coating your skin - and for some reason, all you can think about is Jungkook, and how you'd really like to be downing a Purple Starfucker (or five) with him right now. He really is the perfect distraction.

Still, you have a task at hand. You rinse your hair; ring it out. Sigh as you frown at the mess that greets you in the mirror—lilac roots, a yellow band haloing just like your thought it would, and silver ends. Brilliant.

It's as you're sitting with Danbi in the living room a little while later - body wrapped in a towel that isn't half as fluffy as Jungkook's favourite, ashy toner smothering your peroxide blonde hair - that you notice your phone flash on the coffee table.

Danbi clocks it first, and stifles a laugh as she reads the screen. "Isn't that the guy from the club?"

You assume she means Jungkook, and are a little perplexed to see it's Jimin's name on your screen instead.

"Yeah... Jimin. Smooth talker, shit shagger."

"A glowing review."

"Hey, I still let him think he was good," you say as you reach for your phone to read his message out loud to Danbi. "You guys out tomorrow night?"

Sipping on her wine, Danbi raises a brow. Shakes her head in confusion. "He hoping for round two?"

"Fuck knows."

It's just gone midnight, so you consider maybe he's thinking about his desire for a hook-up, and is hoping for a safe bet in the form of you.

And so you don't reply. If he double texts, you'll just lie and say you've fallen asleep.

The scent of your toner is beginning to give you a headache, so you go to rinse it and bid farewell to your final day as a brunette.

Sleep evades you. Doesn't want to let go of who you were, apparently. Wine makes you sleepy, and yet you're wired as if you've just had a triple shot americano.

But then it's three in the morning, and all you can seem to smell is the deep conditioner you bathed your hair in that evening.

Somehow, when you look to the empty space beside you - delicately ruffled, a dent prevailing in the pillow - you convince yourself that you can smell fig leaves and coconut. The notes of his favourite aftershave linger like the ache in your chest. It's hollow, and you can't work out why it hurts quite as much as it does.

If there's nothing there, how can it be so painful?

You sniff back tears that fail to truly form and pull your phone from beneath your pillow. It's hard to move your fingers when they're tangled up in puppet strings that Seokjin is refusing to let go of, but eventually you manage to tap through some Instagram stories in a bid to distract yourself from him.

Inspirational quotes don't do much for you, nor do the engagement pictures of people you haven't given a second thought since graduation. There's an abundance of them. Smiling faces. Diamonds, or maybe just cubic zirconia. Fresh sets of nails, hands that are pink and warm from the heat of whoever's been holding them.

It's a curious thought; what people who haven't spoken to you in years must think of you now.

You were the one who was going to succeed. Going far in life, made for a boardroom, would look incredible in a pantsuit—and yet you're working in a cafe, first-class degree of no more worth than the tissue paper you flush down the toilet.

See, you switched out life goals for glitter. You wear it like armour; protect yourself from the world around you. Who cares about seriousness and success when you're a constant disco? Not you. Could never be you.

Or at least, you hope that's what people think. Hope that no one realises you're covering yourself in artificial shine; like a canvas in acrylic because you were too impatient to watch the oil paint dry.

One day you'll glow. Glow for real.

For a while, you thought you had been with Seokjin.

All you see when you look in the mirror these days is tarnished silver; copper alloy pretending to be much more than what it really is. Your skin will turn green eventually.

There is, however, one person you've managed to fool.

It's a simple message—hey—and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later.

JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You decide that "I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead" probably won't be Jungkook's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie.

You: Just wondering how the kids are <3

Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jungkook. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days.

JustJK: Missing their mother.

JustJK: Perry the Pigeon almost fell earlier.

JustJK: Roger the Robin looks like he has a broken wing.

JustJK: Must be one of yours. Inherited his mother's wonkiness <3

With each message that comes through, your smile grows wider in the midnight darkness of your bedroom.

You: Careful or I'll file for joint custody.

You: Get poor Roger away from his father's cruel remarks <;/3

There's an ease to how you joke together, both aware of how unserious you are. There's no second-guessing, no worrying about saying the wrong thing. If you do, you'll say sorry and move on. No harm, no foul.

JustJK: Your appeal won't hold up in court, Byeol.

JustJK: You've neglected them ever since you spawned them.

JustJK: Haven't even paid them a visit!!!

Laughter stifles in your throat as your body curls up into a more comfortable position. The audacity of this boy, you think, ignoring the way he manages to get you entirely focused on something that isn't your own despair.

You: You've got full custody!!!

JustJK: And you're still allowed to come for supervised visits!!!!!

JustJK: smh and to think you call yourself their mother.

JustJK: I'm their mother now.

You pout at your screen, and whine a small little 'nooo'.

You: They need me :(

JustJK: Come and see them, then. They miss their mother.

You: Tomorrow?

He reads the messages instantly, but takes a little longer than usual to reply. It worries you slightly. Makes you more aware of your surroundings. The scent of Seokjin's aftershave begins to permeate the air once more.

Until, all rather suddenly, it doesn't anymore.

JustJK: I'm not working tomorrow night, but Jimin's insisting on going to the paint party—you coming?

You: Will Perry the Pigeon be there?

JustJK: If he falls before I leave for the club, then yes.

It's not a bad proposition. One that quite intrigues you. One that has you agreeing, and him telling you to fuck off and go to sleep. He's got work to do, he says.

It's actually quite quiet at the club—Yeonjun just caught him looking at his phone with a dumb smile a few too many times for Jungkook's liking. Doesn't wanna get caught out again.

Especially doesn't want him catching onto the fact that there's a reason Jungkook's eyes light up like Disco Balls when he looks at his phone.

Yeonjun doesn't really have friends who are girls, Jungkook reasons with himself. Won't understand that he's perfectly capable of having a little flirt without it meaning anything more than that—after all, isn't that just what banter is? Friendly flirting? He does it with the boys all the time. Doesn't mean fuck all. Just fun.

Jungkook's a couple of years older than his cerulean-haired coworker, and has learnt the hard way that you really shouldn't escalate friends above the level of purely platonic. One day Yeonjun will realise this.

For now, though, Yeonjun'll shag anyone who looks at him in the right direction. Has probably already ruined a few good friendships. Doesn't even realise he's done it.

Jungkook trusts himself not to make the same mistakes he's made in the past with you. Thinks that he's pretty happy with how things are. Has missed the dynamics of friendships with girls. Is looking forward to Monday movie night with you and Danbi again.

And yet when he gets home to find Perry the paper pigeon on his bed, he can't help but smile.

You wake up to a picture of the fallen bird in your DMs, and even though you'll whine and complain about it when you see him that evening, all you can do is smile, too.

JustJK: Looks like we're having a wholesome family trip to Dionysus tonight.

You: Mummy and Daddy reunited at last <33 Perry will be so happy.

JustJK: It's okay, you don't have to lie.

JustJK: I know you're talking about yourself, not Perry.

Jungkook doesn't send the message where he tells you not to call him Daddy. Knows you'll read into it; tease him about it. It's not like he's got a thing for it, or anything, he just... maybe wouldn't be opposed to it, and so he'd rather not be called it when he's having casual conversations with you. Wouldn't wanna get flustered.

Part of you already knows this. Is precisely why you'd said it. It's not really your style, not the kind of thing that gets you going.

But it is also exactly why you choose to end your next message with, 'See you tonight, Daddy x'.

You're laughing as you send it.

And as he receives it, Jungkook groans. Buries his head into his pillow. Crumples Perry a little in the process. Whines.

"Don't fuck this up, Jungkook."

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

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schrijverr · 2 months ago

Text

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 24

Chapter 24 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Maddie asks Chimney out and Buck is somehow the most anxious about it. In the end, it works out for him.Though probably not in the way he’d hoped or expected.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slow burn), Madney

Warnings: referenced domestic violence, injury, near death experience, kidnapping

~~~

Chapter 24: First Date Jitters

Buck is doing great. He’s been doing better than great, he’s doing amazing actually. He and Eddie are on the same page and not heading towards divorce, settling some of his nerves. And he’s closer with Maddie, keeping up with her in many ways, including boxing practice as of January first.

It’s what he is doing now, coaching her like Eddie once coached him. Between the two of them, Eddie is the actual fighter, Buck is quite useless against an real, human opponent, always feeling too bad to go through with it. However, as a workout, he’s gotten pretty good.

“Okay, let’s work on that two-three-two combo,” he calls out, motivating her to punch more. “Okay, I want you to be ready with that devastating hook if you ever see Doug again.”

“Whoa,” she stops him, “that is not why I’m doing this.”

“Really?” Buck doesn’t fully believe her. He already feels so much anger and it didn’t even happen to him. “You don’t want to kick your abusive ex’s ass someday? ‘Cause I would.”

Maddie shakes her head, throwing a few more punches as she says: “No, I’m not doing anything for Doug anymore, okay? This is just the next chapter in Maddie’s fresh start.” She stops and grins, making him grin too. “Come on, haircut, apartment, dispatcher of the month. I don’t know if you heard.”

She is squealing excitedly and Buck just bursts with love for her. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have her back in his life and happy. Still, he has a role to fulfill as annoying younger brother, so he doesn’t say that, instead rolling his eyes and going: “About a thousand times.” He holds up his padded fists again, encouraging her to hit: “Come on.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” she shit talks as she attacks again. “I’m thriving and you can’t handle it.”

“I’m great,” he says, a little offended, because he is genuinely doing great.

“Yeah?” Maddie raises a brow, she doesn’t believe him. Rude. “You’ve been single for forever, you need to find someone.”

“Hey, I’m just fine on my own.”

“I’ve been told all about your Buck 1.0 phase and now you’re sadly pining after your best friend, who is not into you.” Ouch. “Face it, Buck, you need someone.”

“Says you,” Buck deflects. “Chimney probably told you that, huh. Because you two are always hanging out together. You’re practically dating, but refusing to do so. Out of the two of us, it’s you who seems to need someone and already has someone.”

“Chimney?” Maddie repeats, a little shrill as she starts punching harder much to Buck’s smug satisfaction. “We’re friends.”

“Except you want to date him,” he teases, continuing to do so for the rest of their sparring session.

It is not all malicious. He wants her to be happy and over Christmas he heard how Chimney had gone over and gave her some of her Christmas love back. He wants that for her. And for Chimney too. Honestly, Chim deserves some dating luck and there is no one better than Maddie, Buck can vouch for her. He has warmed up to the idea, lost some of that tension.

Buck likes to say that at the end of their session, she is at least considering it. He could be completely fooling himself, but he is pretty confident he can still read her.

After his workout, he barely has enough time to swing by home for a shower and reinstall Chris’s car seat in the Jeep, before he has to drive him from school, before racing to work. Eddie is already there, having taken his own car for a change, since Buck was meeting with Maddie.

When Buck comes in, he playfully crosses his arms and asks: “Where do you think you’ve been, turning up late like that. We were all worried.”

“I’m not even late,” Buck snorts.

“You’re late for you,” Eddie points out. “What, did you have to emotionally recover from Maddie kicking your ass?”

“First of all, she can’t kick my ass. Second of all, even if she did, I wouldn’t need to recover from it, I would be late because I took her out for celebratory drinks. However, I am not late and she did not kick my ass,” Buck tells him, changing into his uniform.

“Sure,” Eddie drawls.

“Fuck off,” Buck shoulder checks him a little as he walks out the changing room. “Any interesting calls yet?”

“Not yet, seems like a slow day,” Eddie says, and then almost as if called down, the alarm starts going.

Buck gives him a look and says: “Slow is now also banned, probie.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie retorts, a standard. Buck will likely forget this interaction, however, Eddie will not use slow again to describe a shift they’re still on ever again.

To contradict what they said about nothing being interesting, the call they go on is one of the most interesting they’ve seen in a while; a shark on the highway. Buck has gone to the aquarium quite a bit with Christopher and they’ve read up on sharks together. So, seeing them rescue the shark instead of letting it die is exhilarating.

Before they can climb into the engine, Buck leans in and whispers to Eddie: “Dibs on telling this to Chris over dinner.”

Eddie gives him a look, before he snorts: “Sure.”

Internally he can’t help the rush of affection that goes through him at Buck’s excitement at getting to share this with Chris. Buck has definitely imparted his curiosity and love for the animal kingdom onto Chris. Whenever Eddie joins in on their excursions, he often hangs back, just observing them instead of whatever they’re visiting.

“Fuck yeah,” Buck fist pumps, then quickly climbs in.

The rest of their shift passes thankfully not as Buck feared with Eddie’s comment, something Eddie is decidedly smug about. Buck would be kind of annoyed about it, but he can’t help but find it cute instead. Stupid feelings, he thinks affectionately.

At home, Buck grandly recounts their encounter with the shark as Chris hangs onto his every word while they eat Bobby’s casserole recipe. Eddie looks particularly pleased about that detail, happily munching on his dinner and content to listen to the others talk, which makes Buck feel all tingly inside.

“Did she swim, papi? Did the shark swim?” Chris asks with wide eyes when Buck has let his dramatic pause drag on for too long for the seven year old.

“She swam,” Buck reveals with a grin and Chris cheers.

“Was she fast?” Chris asks, when he’s done cheering, immediately wanting to know everything about the shark.

He and Chris talk about sharks for most of dinner, so wrapped up in the conversation that Buck doesn’t even fight Eddie about doing the dishes for them. But it is Eddie, who tucks Chris in that night, though he does read one of the stories from the book about sharks they have.

Buck stands in the hallway, fond smile painting his features as he hears Eddie’s soothing voice read to Chris. Some days, he wants to get stuck in these moments forever, never find out what the future holds, because the now is just so good.

Then his phone rings and it’s Maddie, who says “I think I’m going to divorce Doug and ask Chim out,” breathlessly the second he picks up and he wants to see what the future holds after all.

“Whoo, hell yeah, Maddie, way to go!” Buck cheers excitedly, before immediately interrogating her about her plans with a gleeful delight.

Buck is practically bouncing on his feet the whole day. Hen keeps sending him weird looks and he’s sure the only reason he’s not being asked what is up with him, is because Eddie is treating his behavior as completely normal. Something he only does, because Buck excitedly told him all about it yesterday after Chris’s bedtime.

He is circling by the balcony every so often, keeping an eye out for Maddie. So, he spots her the second she comes in, ducking out of sight so Chim, who is downstairs, will have a reason to start a proper conversation with her.

Hen spots him do that and finally breaks, asking: “Okay, what is your problem today?”

“Maddie is going to ask Chim out,” he grins. “Come watch with me?” He easily finds Eddie and whisper yells: “It’s happening,” as he motions him over.

Eddie immediately comes running, since he lives for this kind of stuff. A curious Bobby follows after him and Hen also makes her way over to him. “You sure?” she asks.

“Uh-huh, she told me herself,” Buck says, creeping closer to the edge so that they can collectively eavesdrop.

They look down to see them talking to each other, Chimney holding a stack over papers. After he’s looked them over he says: “Divorce papers? This feels so sudden.”

The two of them chuckle as Hen whispers: “She’s divorcing Doug?”

“Yeah, that’s why she’s asking out Chimney,” Eddie is the one who answers, leaning over so he won’t miss anything and too invested to notice he’s giving himself away.

Hen sends a look to Buck, who just smiles and nods, deciding to treat it as normal too. Hen takes his expression at face value and just says: “Good for her.”

Below them, Chimney unknowingly agrees with the sentiment: “This is a really big step, Maddie. I mean, he’s gonna know where you are. You sure about this?”

“Yeah, I know it’s a risk, but the only way I’m ever going to feel free of him, is to be free of him.”

“Okay. If you’re sure, then I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“Well, you told me once that your calender was wide open,” Maddie says. “When I was ready.”

Excitedly Eddie slaps Buck’s side a few times and Buck matches his energy by softly squealing: “It is happening!”

“Just name the date and time,” Chimney smiles and despite how they rag on the guy, they can all admit it’s kind of adorable.

Maddie is a little breathless with excitement when she replies: “Friday. 7:00 P.M..”

Chimney pulls a face and says: “Actually I’m busy,” and everyone sucks in a breath as they watch Maddie’s face drop a little, though she tries to hide it. Then Chimney quickly goes: “I’m kidding. Yes, I can’t wait.”

“Okay,” Maddie laughs, relieved and Chimney joins in with his own laugh.

“I’m going to kick him,” Buck mutters darkly.

“Don’t kick Chimney,” Hen scolds. “They deserve each other.”

“Not if he’s going to be a dick about it,” Buck pouts.

“Oh, shush,” Eddie hushes the two of them, so they can focus again on what is happening below them.

Maddie tucks her hair behind her ear and repeats to make sure: “Okay. I’ll see you Friday night.”

“Friday,” Chimney nods, earning him a small kiss on the cheek from Maddie, before she walks away.

The rest of them wait until she’s a bit off, giving her a chance to be away and Chimney a moment to bask, before they start whistling and applauding. “Well played, well played,” Bobby says mildly, joining in much to everyone’s delight.

Chimney gives them one tired look and shakes his head, though Buck can see that grin on there too, he isn’t fooling anyone. Still, to save face he walks off.

It gives a light atmosphere to their shift. Chimney takes the teasing pretty well and it’s clear to see he’s excited. They’re all happy for him, Buck most of all, because he is also happy for Maddie. It is clear Chimney is a bit surprised by that fact.

What he has been expecting all day happens when they’re in the changing room at the end of their shifts. Eddie got covered in blood earlier, so he’s still in the shower, same for Hen, while Bobby is still doing paperwork, so it’s just them and Buck has the time.

“Hey, man, first off, really happy for you two,” he starts.

“But if I hurt her, you’ll kill me?” Chimney fills in, not sounding too impressed.

Buck levels him a look and says: “No, you should know better than that and I’m going to say I know you better than that too. You won’t hurt her, because it’ll kill you. I won’t have to be involved.”

Chimney looks a little pale, but Buck doesn’t feel too bad; he started it.

“Will you let me say what I wanted to say now?” he asks and Chimney nods. “Okay, thank you. As I said, happy for you two, but I now know when your date will be, so you have to text me when you pick her up and when Maddie is through her front door at the end. I don’t care if you’re with her, you’ll text me.”

“What? Why?” Chimney frowns, confused and finding Buck slightly ridiculous.

“Because I am nervous for her, okay. And I will worry things are going well and if you do not text me, I will be texting her continuously for updates, she will find me annoying, turn of the sound of her phone and stop replying,” Buck explains. “Which means, I will show up to the date to check myself. Do you want me to turn up to your date? Do you?”

Chim shakes his head vigorously.

“Good,” Buck nods, glad he got his point across. “Then text me, okay?”

“Yup, yeah, okay, I’ll text you. Once when I pick her up and once when she’s through the front door at the end.”

“That’s it, good man,” Buck grins clapping him on the back.

Eddie comes into the locker room at that point in search for his shirt. He always forgets his fucking shirt and one day it will kill Buck. He has obviously caught the last bit of their interaction and is unknowingly taking advantage of Buck’s gawking silence to mockingly scold him. “Buck, stop bullying Chim, he’s had a big day.”

At that Chimney gets over his flustered state to scowl: “Oh fuck you, dude,” before stalking off without a goodbye.

“I wasn’t even being that mean,” Buck pouts, having regained his composure as he always does after a second.

Eddie levels him with a look and says: “I know you weren’t, you were being overbearing. You make the same face at other parents and teachers when you’re anxious about Chris doing something new. It’s not all bad, but Chimney doesn’t deserve that at the end of his shift.”

“It’s also the end of my shift,” Buck pouts more, a little embarrassed by how well Eddie knows him – even if it is mixed in with warmth at how well Eddie knows him – because that is totally what he was doing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie grins, his hand on Buck’s shoulder for a moment, before it’s gone. Then he’s pulling on his shirt and grabbing his bag. “Now let’s get going, I have to call tía Pepa when we get home to tell her about this.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you using my sister’s love life to amuse yourself and tía Pepa,” Buck says as they walk out of the building together.

“It’s a Mexican thing, don’t worry about it,” Eddie says, playfully bumping their shoulders together.

“We both know it’s not,” Buck complains, but it’s too fond to be meant and they both know that as well.

Later that evening, while Eddie is calling tía Pepa to update her on Chim and Maddie going on a date, Buck texts Maddie to congratulate her again. As he does that, he wiggles the same promise to text him out of her, like he’d done with Chimney. He knows it’s overkill, but he genuinely wants them to have a nice date and he knows himself well enough that his anxiety will likely ruin it otherwise.

On the evening of the date, they eat early and Buck doesn’t even pretend that he is going to help do the dishes – something Eddie usually has to fight him on, since Buck cooked, but Buck is always stubborn – instead getting his phone to see if he’s gotten a text yet.

Chris has fallen in love with a book series that Buck got him, because he used to read it when he was younger, so he’s happily ignoring both his dads while he reads on the couch next to Buck. Buck just refreshes his messages over and over again with one hand, the other carding through Chris’s curls absentmindedly, getting a comfort out of the kid’s warmth next to him.

At 7:08 P.M., he breaks. “Something went wrong. It’s been ages and I don’t have any texts. Not even one.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Eddie tells him. “It’s been eight minutes, maybe even less, if he was a few minutes late.”

“He wouldn’t be late, he’d be early. For this he would be. Besides, who takes eight whole minutes to say hello and get in the car,” Buck insists. “Something went wrong.”

“Maybe they’re going to drink something inside first.”

“Then why no text?”

“Because it would be awkward?” Eddie suggests. “Or he’s driving and figured a few minutes later won’t be that bad? Or he simply forgot?”

“Both of them?” Buck asks, his voice pitched in a way to show he doesn’t believe that.

“Both of them?” Eddie repeats in confusion.

“Yes, I asked both of them to text me,” Buck says, not even trying to defend himself. “You want to tell me both of them forgot? Neither of them texted me? Not Maddie when she saw the car, not Chimney before he got out, not Maddie from the passenger seat? Just nothing.” Eddie is quiet for a second and Buck says: “See, something is wrong.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Eddie backtracks. “I didn’t say that. I still think nothing’s up. But that is a little weird, but it could just be traffic. Did you text them?”

“Yes. Multiple times. Delivered, but no reply. They’re not even read. Eddie, I’m telling you, something is wrong.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“Go check it out.”

“You want to go check it out?” Eddie asks with a disbelieving tone. “Buck, you can’t show up at your sister’s date. She’ll never forgive you.”

“Not the date, just drive by her house. It’s so close by and if it’s all locked up properly with the lights out I know she’s gone and they’re being in love and stupid and driving my blood pressure up for no reason. Or I’ll see the lights on and Chim’s car. Either way, I get peace of mind and they’ll never know, no date ruined.”

Eddie falls quiet, thinking it over. Before he can say anything, however, Chris pipes up: “Just go, papi. Your worrying is distracting me from my book.”

Both of them are taken aback by that for a moment, then they snort. Eddie grins: “Well, if you have the Chris seal of approval to go be a stalker, then who am I to stop you?”

“What’s a stalker, daddy?” Chris asks.

Eddie’s face makes an amusing journey and Buck quickly gets off the couch as he says: “Jup, that is wholly your question. I’m gonna go check up on Maddie.”

“You suck,” Eddie informs him as he goes past.

Buck just sticks out his tongue in return, before focusing on not falling over while he hops on one foot to get his shoe on. As he makes his way out the door, he makes sure to say goodbye, telling them that he’ll be back soon.

“Of course you’ll be back soon, there’s nothing to do,” Eddie calls after him as he goes. The prick, again affectionately naturally. Buck, as always, continues to like Eddie.

Still, there is some satisfaction to be found in hearing Chris’s eager and insistent voice, asking: “Daddy, you still haven’t said what a stalker is,” before the door closes.

As he drives he comes up with a hundred scenarios in which this date could have gone horribly wrong in those short minutes. Each one worse than the last. In his anxiety, he never considered the possibility of it going very right, but the thought comes to him when he pulls in to Maddie’s street and sees Chimney’s car.

It’s now already a little later and it’s entirely unreasonable for a hello to have taken this long. So, as he drives the last bit, he calls Eddie.

“Was I right?” Eddie asks in lieu of a greeting when he picks up.

“No, piss off, I’m not there yet. I see Chim’s car.”

“So, it’s all fine.”

“I don’t know, I see lights, but I think her front door is open,” Buck reports as he gets closer. “I think I should check it out.” He adds with a mutter: “God, I hope I’m not going to walk in on them making out or something.”

“Do not go check it out, Buck. Having a brother walk in on you with a guy, especially when you know that guy, is traumatizing. Ask Adriana.”

Buck shudders slightly as he imagines walking in on Maddie fucking anyone, but especially Chimney, as he pulls up. Still, he knows how seriously Maddie takes her alarms, so to leave the front door open, is unlike her. “I’m going to check it out.”

“Your funeral,” Eddie shrugs, obviously thinking it’s a stupid idea, but knowing he isn’t going to talk Buck out of it. However, before he hangs up, he says: “But do call me the second you get back in the car. I wanna know everything.”

“You and your telenovella mindset,” Buck rolls his eyes, but the comment makes him feel a bit better as he hangs up and gets out of the car. Eddie is probably right, Buck is probably about to traumatize himself, Maddie and Chimney and in five years time, they can all laugh about it. He might even put it in his best man speech.

All of that gets thrown out the window the second he gets closer and sees a dark stain on the steps, a person in the middle.

His training takes over and he sprints towards the figure, dropping to his knees to assess the patient, phone already in hand to call 9-1-1. He barely has time to register that the patient is in fact Chimney, mind too busy with next steps.

He doesn’t see Maddie anywhere and panic is clogging his throat as he works to save Chim’s life, hoping Maddie is further in. God, maybe she’s bleeding out or already dead. Or just gone. A horrible option he hasn’t even considered until he’s being pulled away by on duty first responders, so they can take over and he hears a cop mention bloody footprints that are not his.

As he watches the ambulance go with shaky hands, phone screen bloodied and no Maddie anywhere in sight, he thinks to himself: this is probably not the plot update Eddie was expecting.

A/N:

Do I know if Chim would have survived that wound with this timeline? No. Is it fanfiction? Yes. So do I care? No. Thank you for your understanding <3

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vintagebarbershop · 4 months ago

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Cool tumblr. I'm thinking of getting a shorter cut than I'm used to, and your tumblr is a good source of encouragement / info. I'm a professional guy, mid 50s, in decent shape with a full head of hair and very short beard. I get my haircut fairly short already, go to the barber every two weeks for a haircut, and weekly for a beard trim -- I get the beard trimmed to a #1. Currently, my barber uses a #3 on the sides, and keeps the top longer, yet neatly trimmed and parted to the side.

I spoke with my barber yesterday when in for my beard trim. I told him I wanted more of a fade. He suggested going down to a #1 on the sides and fading it up, keeping it the same lenght on the top. I'd really like to try this, but need some encouragement.

Wondering if it's still professional (I'm VP level in my company). Also wondering if starting to go down to a #2 first might be a better first step. I like the way a skin-fade looks, but am afraid a zero at the bottom is too low. Would appreciate your thoughts on this.

Ideally, I'd like my cut to look like a recent post of yours, but I'm wondering if this is too short for me: https://www.tumblr.com/vintagebarbershop/762902920363655168?source=share

Would you say that the guy in this photo has a #1 on the side?

Thanks for writing in. Without seeing a photo, it's a little hard to make a firm recommendation, but I'll take a shot. I would tend to defer to your barber for that reason--you're in that chair every week so he/she is very familiar with your head/ hair/ face shape/ texture/ color/ density. Going from a #3 to a #2 is only 1/8 inch shorter, so it's a safe bet for "running it up the flagpole" to guage reactions, especially given your beard will still be shorter. That said, the shorter lengths are all about scalp exposure, so a little change can make a significant difference in appearance., since it introduces tonal value as a factor.

Every workplace has different norms for executive appearance and you'll have the best feel for that. I would say generally, though, that having faded/graduated back and sides provides a more professional look than one in which there is no discernable gradation. Another factor is the level of the fade: high, medium, or low. A low fade is the least severe (high fade, think "high and tight, military haircut") and if it's cut with a gradual taper it will yield an even more conservative look. Since you get a haircut every two weeks, you might consider taking this in stages. You won't have to wait long for the next iteration, and if you decide you went too far, it won't take long to grow out. I agree that the cut you linked to is an outstanding, very masculine one. Based on what appears to be a fine hair texture on this guy and a dark hair color, I'd say that it's definitely not longer than a #1--quite possibly an #0.5. It's what's known as a shadow fade. The photo also is an example of "cranial topography". Most guys don't have perfectly smooth scalps. There are ridges and valleys as evidenced by the areas above and behind his ear being very light compared to the area in front of the ear. A good barber will not just go over those places with a clipper guard, but will meticulously cut individual hairs and sections to get a really even fade. I cut my own hair and find that this is the most difficult task (especially when using mirrors!). In general, the shorter and higher the fade, the less this is an issue, but also the more edgy, the haircut looks. I could probably go on, but I'll stop there, LOL--if it wasn't already apparent, I really enjoy this stuff. Feel free to send follow-up questions (and if you message me privately with photos it would help me give better advice--I promise not to publish them)!

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thepromptswhisperer · 2 years ago

Text

Hair Prompts

1. Cut hair.

2. Hair carving.

3. Shave head.

4. Bleach/Dye hair.

5. Try out new haircut/-style/wig/etc.

6. React to new haircut/-style/wig/etc.

7. First grey hair.

8. Grow out grey hair.

9. Grow out hair./Let hair grow long.

10. Notice first changes in hair growth due to (gender-affirming) hormone treatments.

11. Wear a wig.

12. Wear a hijab.

13. Wear a toupee.

14. Wear a cap/hat/etc.

15. Wear a bonnet./Wrap hair in silk scarf.

16. Wear a shower/swimming cap.

17. Wrap hair in towel.

18. Bedhead.

19. Bad hair day.

20. Static hair.

21. Hair transplant.

22. Wash hair.

23. Blow dry.

24. Use hair products.

25. Do hair care routine.

26. Brush/comb hair.

27. Braid/style hair.

28. Hair rollers.

29. Make hair look presentable (again).

30. Remove bobby pins/hijab/etc. (e.g. at the end of the day).

31. Face hidden behind hair.

32. Couple hidden behind curtain of hair.

33. “Mustache” face by using long hair and holding it under the nose.

34. Hair tickles.

35. Bury nose in hair.

36. Smell hair.

37. Twirl hair.

38. Flip hair.

39. Fluff out hair.

40. Throw hair back.

41. Curl hair around finger.

42. Play with hair.

43. Gently pull on strand of hair before it jumps back into place.

44. Run hand through/over hair.

45. Move (a strand of) hair to the side/out of the way.

46. Blow strand of hair out of face/the way.

47. Tuck hair behind ear.

48. Ruffle hair.

49. Kiss on hair/bald head.

50. Caress bald head.

51. Kiss balding spot/receding hairline.

52. Donate hair.

53. Examine hair.

54. Lose hair.

55. Check for lice.

56. Shake out wet hair.

57. Send hair “flying”. (e.g. headbanging, shaking head)

58. Untangle knot.

59. Hair stuck in earring/piercing/button/etc.

60. Hair stuck to lip balm/etc.

61. Chew on hair.

62. Hold hair (back).

63. Pull hair.

64. Pull out hair.

65. Remove something from hair. (e.g. a spider)

66. Put/Stick something in/into hair. (e.g. a flower)

67. Try to not get hair wet.

68. Grow a beard/mustache/etc.

69. Shave off (facial/body) hair.

70. Trim beard/mustache.

71. Compete over who has the best beard/mustache.

72. Comb mustache/beard.

73. Style beard/mustache.

74. Beard/Mustache care routine.

75. Run fingers through beard.

76. Stroke beard.

77. Twirl mustache.

78. Mustache/Beard/Stubbles rub(s) against skin.

79. Beard/Mustache tickles.

80. Pluck/Thread/Shave eyebrows.

81. Run finger(s) through/over eyebrows.

82. Raise eyebrow.

83. Furrow brows.

84. Long eyelashes.

85. Flutter one’s eyelashes.

86. Wet lashes.

87. Make a wish on an eyelash.

88. Nose hair.

89. Pluck chin hair.

90. Wax/Use epilator/etc.

91. Arm hair stuck in watch/bracelet.

92. Play with chest hair.

93. Follow the happy trail.

94. Pubic hair.

95. Hair in mouth.

96. Find hair everywhere. (clothes, cushion etc.)

97. Hair on shower wall.

98. Get hair out of drain.

99. Wind/Wind machine in hair.

100. Hair stands on end.

101. Harm a hair on one’s head.

102. Tear one’s hair out.

103. Let one’s hair down.

#writing prompts #writing inspiration #hair prompts #writing ideas #writing #write #prompt list #prompts #beard prompts

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mari-writes · 2 years ago

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🎵🖤

“Dude, how many opening acts does Kenma have?!”

Kuroo sighs, so loudly that Bokuto has no trouble hearing it over the din of the club. He pushes a pint of beer in Bokuto’s direction, across the wooden bar. It’s obviously a peace offering.

“Chill out, he should be up after this one,” Kuroo says. “I told you he’s performing at ten. It’s not even 8:30.”

Bokuto pouts into his drink. He knows he’s being childish, but he’s just not really into the deejay scene. He doesn’t see the appeal, even though he knows it is a talent.

Kenma has definitely earned his popularity. What he does isn’t as easy as it looks; Bokuto knows this and likes supporting his friend. And Kenma IS his friend—not only his best friend’s boyfriend.

Still, he prefers other types of entertainment. Like outdoor festivals. Rock concerts. Live sports.

Dark, claustrophobic clubs blasting electronic dance mixes just isn’t his thing.

He watches, bored, as the stage crew sets up for the next artist. There have been two others so far, each a bit more popular than the next. Kenma of course is saved for last.

Kuroo pokes him in the side, hopping off his stool and hoisting his fancy DSLR camera up on one shoulder. “Let’s go, I need to get a good spot in the photo pit.”

Bokuto groans. “I can see the stage fine from here.”

Kuroo scoffs. “Like hell am I leaving you alone to get wasted tonight. Anyway, you agreed to take some videos for Kenma’s Instagram, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, for Kenma,” Bokuto says, following Kuroo as they weave through the crowd. “Not his opening acts.”

“But the next guy is Kenma’s close friend,” Kuroo explains. “They’ve been deejaying together since college. We should show him support, too.”

Bokuto sighs, defeated. “Fine.”

So far the pit has only a handful of other photographers. A few security guards are stationed there, and one of them checks Kuroo and Bokuto’s passes before granting them access.

Kuroo, who knows Kenma’s setup well, settles in just left of center. Bokuto watches as he leans down to fiddle with his camera’s controls, before turning around to take stock of the crowd behind them.

The club is filling up more now, people pushing and shoving, trying to get closer to the stage. The multicolored lights illuminate eager and excited faces, talking amongst themselves, laughing and drinking.

Bokuto can’t help but notice that there are a lot of hot people here.

There’s a cute patron standing just behind him, with glitter in their short pixie haircut and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. A young man, just a few space away, is leaning onto the barrier, his mesh shirt displaying an excess of soft-looking skin.

He then notices a beautiful woman, dressed in a tight black dress, studded choker and fingerless leather gloves, looking right at him. When they lock gazes, she smirks and sends him a wink.

Bokuto looks away, blushing. He can’t afford to get too distracted. Not tonight. He’s here for Kenma, after all.

Eventually, the lights go down, and the crowd hollers as the next performer makes his way on stage. Bokuto glances up briefly. From his spot in the very front, he can only see the person’s legs, dressed in tight black jeans and a beat-up pair of running shoes.

Bokuto scrambles to get his phone ready to record, wincing when he notices his battery is not even at 50%. He should probably only record a couple videos of this guy and save the rest for Kenma.

The set begins, and Bokuto freezes as the sounds swirl through the small club—a familiar wall of static and bleep-bloops. He realizes that he knows the song. He remembers his sister playing this album in high school.

He looks up to see the deejay bent forward, only a mop of black, slightly curly hair visible over his setup. The song continues.

Bokuto is intrigued. This guy is starting his set with a Radiohead song! He likes that band. Even their electronic stuff is pretty cool.

He leans in, listening carefully as the deejay distort’s the singer’s voice, letting the song crest, gaining momentum before crashing into a different track with a faster beat.

“So cool,” Bokuto breathes, raising his phone up to start recording his first video.

His jaw drops.

Through the camera is a vision. An angel. The most beautiful human being Bokuto has ever set his eyes on.

The young man is quite tall, perhaps close to Bokuto’s own height. He’s dressed simply in a white t-shirt that’s slightly baggy in the front. A small, silver hoop earring hangs from his right ear.

His face is both soft and sharp at the same time. A strong set of brows, with a cute button nose. High, honed cheekbones and bowed lips. A visage of contradictions that somehow work together seamlessly to create the ideal face. (Well, ideal for Bokuto, at least.)

Bokuto watches, enthralled, as the man’s long, slender fingers dance over the controls with incredible dexterity.

The deejay glances up suddenly, gifting the audience a view of his stunning, gunmetal blue eyes. “Oh gods,” Bokuto mutters, fumbling and nearly dropping his phone. His hands are suddenly very sweaty.

“Dude, are you okay?” Kuroo hisses into his ear. Bokuto nods vigorously, not taking his eyes off the performer. He’s taken to watching him half through the camera, half with his own eyes. He definitely prefers the latter.

He’s good. Definitely not at Kenma’s level, but still very talented. Even Bokuto, a newcomer to the scene, can see it. The man knows what he’s doing.

At one point, the deejay takes a brief break, reaching over to grab something on the side of his keyboard as he address the crowd through a mic. “Good evening everyone,” he says, voice soft like velvet. Bokuto feels like he might fall over. “My name is Akaashi.”

The audience cheers and Bokuto watches intently as “Akaashi” (ugh, what a beautiful name, it’s perfect) unwraps a lollipop.

“I want to thank my friend, Kodzuken, for letting me open for him tonight.” Another cheer, louder this time. One side of Akaashi’s mouth twitches upward slightly in amusement. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

Swiftly, he pops the sucker into his mouth, hunching over again to start his next medley of songs.

Bokuto is mesmerized. He can’t seem to look away. The only thing that finally distracts him is how warm his phone is getting. He’s been recording almost the entire time, unable to resist capturing every moment.

And now his phone is on its last 15% of charge.

“Shit,” Bokuto mutters, quickly turning off and pocketing the device. He needs to save at least some battery for Kenma. He glances nervously at Kuroo, who is also taking a break from shooting, bobbing his head to the music.

A sudden change in the track, from a fast-tempo beat to a sample of swirling classical strings, compels Bokuto’s attention back to Akaashi.

Who is looking directly at him.

The break in the song had allowed Akaashi to take his eyes off his setup for a moment, and without a camera phone in front of him, Bokuto is in his direct line of sight. He’s the closest person to the stage, so of course the performer would see him, even with the harsh stage lights in his eyes.

One of Akaashi’s perfect brows lifts. He blinks. Bokuto forces himself not to look away, despite the fact he is shaking from the eye contact.

And then, very slowly, Akaashi reaches to pull the lollipop out of his mouth.

Heat erupts from low in Bokuto’s stomach as he watches the candy slide from between the man’s lips. It paints his mouth a cherry red color, wet and shiny and slightly parted. His tongue darts out to lick at the sugar.

“Oh gods,” Bokuto says again, and swallows harshly. Time seems to slow down as they continue to stare at each other. Bokuto can barely hear the music or the crowd anymore. It’s just them.

When Akaashi finally looks away, Bokuto releases a breath he hadn’t realize he’d been holding. He tries to calm down and enjoy the rest of the set—he’s playing other songs Bokuto knows, including a remix of Queen and more Radiohead—but he’s finding it difficult to concentrate on the music.

Akaashi’s last moments on stage are impressive. The way he controls his decks, body relaxed and laser-focused, effortlessly weaving through songs and building to an explosive finale. It’s hypnotic.

The applause is deafening as Akaashi takes his leave. He’s definitely won over a big chunk of the crowd, even as an opening act. Bokuto joins in, clapping a bit too aggressively to not draw the attention of his companion.

“Impressed?” Kuroo nudges him in the ribs. Bokuto shrugs, trying to act casual as he strains his neck to watch Akaashi walk offstage. He also tries to convince himself he isn’t disappointed that the man hadn’t looked back one last time.

Luckily, Bokuto is able to successfully distract himself during Kenma’s set, recording clips with the remaining of his phone’s battery.

The crowd is eating out of the palm of Kenma’s hand from the moment he steps onto the stage. His friend is incredible.

Kenma’s set is long and ends without an encore. Bokuto claps, hoots and hollers along with the crowd as the man bows and waves goodbye.

“C’mon, Ken’s gonna meet us in his dressing room.” Kuroo leads the way back out of the photo pit and across the club, flashing his ID to a bouncer, who nods them both through to backstage.

“So, um, does Akaashi usually stay for Kenma’s set?” Bokuto tries to ask as nonchalant as possible, but Kuroo is obviously not fooled. His eyes narrow suspiciously.

“Yeah, almost always. Why?”

“No reason!” Bokuto swallows, nervous at the prospect of seeing Akaashi again. Will he be nice? What should he say to him? How can he compliment him without sounding like a weirdo?

“You hot for him or something?”

Bokuto chokes on nothing. Kuroo is smirking at him now, and Bokuto curses his friend’s innate (and very annoying) ability to read him so easily.

“Shut up!”

“You’re not denying it…”

Bokuto groans as they approach the dressing room. “Seriously, Kuroo, don’t say anything!”

Kuroo snorts, reaching out to rap his knuckles on the door. “Fine. But you should definitely go for it.”

“R-really?” Bokuto is curious. “Wait, do you know if he’s…”

Suddenly the door swings open. Kenma stands there, looking thoroughly exhausted, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead. “Hey,” he says. His haggard face melts into fondness at the sight of his boyfriend.

Kuroo rushes forward, lifting Kenma and spinning him around the room, ignoring the man’s weak protests. Bokuto stumbles in, closing the door behind them.

“You were amazing,” Kuroo praises, leaning down to kiss Kenma on his forehead, both cheeks and finally, full on the lips. Kenma’s hands slink around the taller man’s neck.

“Must you do this every time? I’m eating over here.”

And there he is.

Akaashi is perched on a table in the back of the room. His long legs hang over the side, swinging lazily. He’s changed clothes—he now wears an oversized t-shirt with a strange idiom written on front that Bokuto doesn’t understand, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose.

He’s hunched over eating a huge onigri. Bokuto notices some runaway rice on his chin and his right cheek.

“Akaashi-kun!” Kurroo waves. “Great set. You definitely got some new fans tonight.” He glances at Bokuto, smirking. Bokuto shoots him a scowl.

Akaashi nods. “Thank you for taking the photos,” he says, slightly muffled since his cheeks are still full of food. “Can you email me a folder of them tomorrow?”

“Definitely. You know, my friend Bokuto here took some videos. He could send you those, too.”

Bokuto, who had remained tucked into the corner of the small dressing room, freezes as Akaashi finally notices him. Their eyes meet for the second time that night. A full-body shiver runs up Bokuto’s spine.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi bows his head slightly as he continues to devour his food.

Bokuto relaxes. This Akaashi is such a contrast from the ethereal, sexy being he’d seen performing on stage. Now he just seems like a very cute human man with questionable fashion choices and messy eating habits.

No longer intimidated, Bokuto grins and steps closer. “Nice to meet you, ‘kaashi! Your set was amazing! Seriously, I’m not even into electronic music much but I was super impressed!”

Akaashi blinks. “Oh, um.” He looks back down at the remaining bit of onigri. “Th-thank you. Again. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Bokuto feels his smile widen. He shuffles out of the way again as Kenma and Kuroo start to pack up for the night, chatting away about some changes in Kenma’s set and the next few tour dates.

Akaashi finishes his snack and pulls out yet another lollipop from his jeans pocket. Bokuto tries to ignore how his body immediately reacts at the sight; his memories flood back to the slow, sensual way the other man had licked at the candy earlier that night.

“Y-you sure like lollipops,” Bokuto croaks, quietly enough so only they hear.

Akaashi shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, it’s mainly a coping mechanism.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m trying to quit smoking.”

“Ah,” Bokuto nods. He remembers his father going through a similar process.

“Would you like one, Bokuto-san?”

“Oh!” Bokuto shifts nervously in place. “Sure, I guess?”

In one fluid movement, Akaashi hops off the counter, turning to dig around inside a small backpack. Bokuto’s eyes soak in the back of the man’s slender neck, how his hair curls around it. He wonders how soft it is. His fingers twitch.

“Here.” Akaashi saunters over, candy outstretched in offering.

As space between them disappears, and as Akaashi stops less than a meter away, a strange sensation overtakes Bokuto. His body warms, as if a ray of sunshine is slowly washing over him. And when Akaashi finally passes him the lollipop, their fingers brush, and Bokuto feels something akin to an electric current.

He sees Akaashi’s eyes darken considerably behind his lenses . They stare each other, not saying anything, some strange sensation swirling between them.

Who is Bokuto kidding? It’s not “strange.” He knows exactly what this feeling is.

Mutual attraction. Immediate, undeniable mutual attraction.

When had this last happened to him? Bokuto can’t remember. He doesn’t recall being this into someone so quickly. And from the heavy lidded look Akaashi is sending up through his long lashes, it seems like Bokuto is not alone.

“Yo! Are you guys even listening to me?”

Bokuto flinches, and so does Akaashi—their bubble of sexual tension pops and they both step back to look at Kuroo, who’s grinning deviously.

“H-huh?” Bokuto stammers. Kenma passes by, rolling his eyes.

“Ken and I are going out for drinks,” Kuroo says. “We’re inviting you guys along.”

“Oh.” Bokuto clears his throat. “Um, sure! That sounds fun! How about it, ‘kaashi?”

Akaashi, whose cheeks are dusted a delightful shade of pink, nods. He glances at Bokuto, a shy smile shifting his features slightly.

“I’d love to.”

Thanks for reading! 🥰 This fic was inspired by this amazing art by Yuki on Twitter! If you enjoyed, please comment and reblog! You can also support me on ko-fi (linked on profile). Cheers! —Mari 💕

#bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #kuroken #my writing #haikyuu fanfiction #fanfic #PLEASE REBLOG THE VERSION LINKED IN THE REPLIES!!!!

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